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fastandcarlos · 1 month ago

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A Decade Of Love : ̗̀➛ Charles LeClerc

summary: as you and charles celebrate ten years together, take a look at a snapshot of your social media for each one of those years

pairing: charles x childhood sweetheart!reader

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2015

liked by georgerussell63, charles_leclerc and 4,859 others

ynusername: turns out dating a racing car driver doesn’t stop him being a sickeningly sweet boyfriend too 💕🥺

797 comments

username1: I can’t get over how much of a sweetheart charles is 😭

charles_leclerc: you’re not supposed to expose this side of me to the rest of the world ❤️

username2: the little note on the coffee cup, I can’t-

pierregasly: I refuse to believe that charles managed to make a meal that delicious 🙂‍↔️

username3: now that is a man who suits racing gear!!

georgerussell63: this screams like an apology for ignoring you for the entire weekend whilst racing 🤷🏻‍♂️

ynusername: @/georgerussell63 not a single damn text 😭

username4: why do I get the feeling we’re going to be seeing these two in many racing paddocks in the future??

arthur_leclerc: can you have a word please? he’s not this nice to me 💔

ynusername: @/arthur_leclerc isn’t that the job of a brother?? 😂

username5: officially decided that I need to find myself a charles leclerc to love me 😂

alex_albon: stop showing off how lovely your boyfriend is 🙄

username6: wishing I had a guy to bring me breakfast in bed too…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2016

liked by alex_albon, nyckdevries and 37,953 others

charles_leclerc: the most chaotic year…gp3 series 🏆 ferrari academy ✅ haas test driver 🏎️…so excited to see what the future holds now!

3,969 comments

username7: can’t believe the progress you’ve made this year charles, we’re so proud of you!!

alex_albon: now you’re just showing off with all these achievements 😂👏🏻

username8: a season that most could only dream of 👏🏻

ynusername: could not be prouder of you…only upwards from here 🥳

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername thank you for constantly dealing with me stressing this year 😂❤️

username9: ferrari are the luckiest team in the world to have you ❤️🏎️

nyckdevries: an honour to share the track with you this year ☺️

username10: counting down the days until we inevitably see you in f1 now… 🤞🏻

scuderiaferrari: we’re so excited to have you on board charles, congratulations on a brilliant season!

username11: I hope you’ve got a bigger trophy cabinet at home 😂

pierregasly: I’m so proud to see you achieving your dreams brother!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2017

liked by landonorris, ynusername and 68,492 others

charles_leclerc: such an incredible season, so proud to be the formula 2 champion. thank you to the amazing team who have supported me this year and all my family and friends for making so many sacrifices for me too ❤️🏎️

15,942 comments

username12: speechless, so unbelievably proud of you charles ❤️

pierregasly: can’t wait to see you show them how it’s done next year 🥺

username13: shut up the face on the first photo melts me…

ynusername: you never fail to blow me away with how talented you are 💕💕

username14: such an insane driver, f1 has no idea what’s about to hit it 🏎️

arthur_leclerc: okay, I’ll admit it, it’s pretty cool being able to say that you’re my brother 🙄

charles_leclerc: @/arthur_leclerc I knew you loved me really

arthur_leclerc: @/charles_leclerc let’s not get ahead of ourselves here 😂

username15: one incredible season, enjoy your rest as you deserve it 😘

alex_albon: such a joy to share the track with you again this year, good luck for next year buddy 🏆

charles_leclerc: @/alex_albon ik you’ll be there to join me soon enough!

username16: will f2 ever see a more dominant champion in its existence than you?? (no is the answer btw)

landonorris: at least you’re going one of us might have a chance next year 😂

username17: still not over how amazing this season has been, I can’t stop crying 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2018

liked by arthur_leclerc, lancestroll and 13,960 others

ynusername: spend half my time lost around the paddock 😂 but I’m so proud to watch you achieve your dreams charles (even if I can only wave to you from the other side of the garage!!)

3,078 comments

username18: I can’t believe the guy I supported in go karts all those years ago is in f1 🥹

arthur_leclerc: we can be lost together soon enough 😂

username19: yn you must be so proud of your man!

maxverstappen1: it’s been so nice to see you again recently and catch up after all these years!!

username20: thank you for being by his side for all these years ❤️

charles_leclerc: I love having you here with me for so many races, thank you for always supporting me 💞

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc i wouldn’t have it any other way ☺️

username21: girl I feel you, I went to one f1 race and spent most of it staring at a map 😂

pierregasly: I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve found you lost this year 😝

ynusername: @/pierregasly no one prepares you for how much busier f1 is compared to f2…

username22: it must be amazing to get to see f1 up close and personal like this

landonorris: I won’t be coming to you for directions when I join next year then 😂

ynusername: @/landonorris got no idea where mclaren is half the time anyway 🙈

username23: I bet charles is just happy to have you there, we all know how much he adores you!!

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2019

liked by lewishamilton, scuderiaferrari and 289,694 others

charles_leclerc: dreamt of this moment for so long, officially an f1 winner, don’t think I’ll ever tire of hearing that 🏎️🏆

59,491 comments

ynusername: I’ve just about managed to pull myself together 😂 so proud of you my love 💓

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername thank you for always cheering me on even when I’ve doubted myself ☺️

username24: we’re all so proud of you charles, we knew you could do it!!

maxverstappen1: good job my friend, we’ve talked about this for so long and now it’s finally come true 🏆

username25: fyi I will not get over this for a very long time 🎉

sebastianvettel: congratulations partner, the first of many for sure 🍻

username26: I’m not sorry for how emotional I’ve been all day about this win

alex_albon: knowing how hard you’ve worked, there’s no one more deserving of this 👏🏻

username27: is there a more deserving man in f1? no, I think not.

scuderiaferrari: we couldn’t be prouder to have you on our team charles 🏎️

charles_leclerc: @/scuderiaferrari thank you to the whole team here and at home for all their hard work ❤️

username28: your dad would be so proud of you today charles ❤️

username29: I’ll remind you that you’re an f1 race winner everyday forever 🫶🏻

landonorris: thank goodness there were no “inchidents” in the race to ruin things 😂

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris 🖕🏻🖕🏻🖕🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2020

liked by arthur_leclerc, pierregasly and 429,707 others

charles_leclerc: missing all the fam right now, and wishing I could get back behind the wheel - lucky for yn tho as she’s stuck with me 😂🫶🏻

69,402 comments

scuderiaferrari: we all can’t wait to be back and enjoying race weekends too ❤️🏎️

username30: how is it fair for a family to look as good as these guys??

ynusername: it’s cute that you think I’m lucky with your ass annoying me constantly 😂

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername I can expose your habits too if that’s a challenge???

ynusername: @/charles_leclerc I’m sorry I love living with you sweetie 🥺

username31: so pleased you and yn have each other during these uncertain times 🫶🏻

username32: can’t wait to see you hopefully back around the track once everything is safe again

arthur_leclerc: I miss you guys so much, hopefully not too much longer until we’re reunited ❤️

username33: please make sure you stay safe charles 🙏🏻

username34: I bet poor yn is being driven insane living with charles 24/7 😂

pierregasly: offended that I wasn’t included in this post…

charles_leclerc: @/pierregasly dedicated post just to you incoming…

username35: idk how much longer I can cope without f1 in my life 😭

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2021

liked by carmenmmundt, sebastianvettel and 97,592 others

ynusername: drove me all the way out to the middle of nowhere to ask me to marry him, easiest yes of my life 🥺🥂

26,942 comments

carmenmmundt: stfu I’m so unbelievably happy for you both ❤️❤️❤️

username36: I cannot begin to tell you how happy this post makes me!!!

carlossainz55: might’ve just shed a tear when I saw this post 🥲

charles_leclerc: no one else I’d want to spend the rest of my life with, I love you darling 💞

username37: he finally did it my faves are engaged ahhhhh

username38: is it acceptable to cry over someone else’s engagement btw???

landonorris: wedding of the century pending…⏳

arthur_leclerc: couldn’t be happier to finally be welcoming a sister into the family 🫶🏻

ynusername: @/arthur_leclerc and just so you know you’re definitely in my top two when it comes to brothers in law 😂

alex_albon: congratulations you two, lily and I could not be happier for you ✨

username39: wish I was a fly on the wall during the conversations as to who best man is gonna be 😂

pierregasly: he’s talked about doing this for so long, glad he’s finally done it 😍

username40: all my manifesting has finally paid off 🙏🏻

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2022

liked by carlossainz55, landonorris and 1,593,068 others

charles_leclerc: taking us back to the place a year ago when I asked my best friend to marry me, still the best decision of my life 💞🌊

104,856 comments

username41: charles is such an old school romantic I love it

ynusername: still just as special as it was the first time around 🤍

maxverstappen1: please tell me you didn’t actually let charles be the one in charge of that boat 🤦🏻‍♂️

ynusername: @/maxverstappen1 I promise it was somehow returned in one piece

username42: and he still looks as happy as he did a year ago too 🥺

pierregasly: offended that you somehow think you’re his best friend 🤯

arthur_leclerc: @/pierregasly me too, cause obviously that’s my role and not yours 😉

georgerussell63: he’s just a hopeless romantic isn’t he 😅

username43: not all the boys just rinsing charles for being in love lmao

landonorris: if anyone wants an example of a soft fiancé…here you go!

carlossainz55: I’m just here cause I’m enjoying watching charles get wrecked in the comments 😂

username34: 🍿🍿🍿

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2023

liked by charles_leclerc, danielricciardo and 294,608 others

ynusername: best day of my life 💍💒

48,492 comments

carmenmmundt: thank you for inviting george and I to be part of your special day 💕

username35: these photos are the definition of STUNNING ✨

danielricciardo: please tell me charles managed to make it home in one piece??

ynusername: @/danielricciardo he’s currently crying about how hungover he is 😂

alex_albon: couldn’t be happier for two of my favourite people in the entire world ❤️

username36: can we pause for a second cause charles has officially taken my breath away

sebastianvettel: congratulations, you look absolutely beautiful yn!!

charles_leclerc: I love you, can’t wait for forever with you 🥂

username37: I always knew charles would look good in a suit but damn I was not prepared for this

lewishamilton: arguably the best wedding I’ve ever been to, such a lovely day 🫶🏻

username38: I can’t wait to see the rest of the photos after seeing these!!

landonorris: I think I’ve just about stopped crying now 😭

kellypiquet: without shadow of a doubt the most beautiful bride I’ve ever seen 🤍

username39: don’t think I’m gonna be over these for a long time…

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

2024

liked by carlossainz55, arthur_leclerc and 2,605,638 others

charles_leclerc: don’t think this will sink in for a while, thank you to everyone who supported me in monaco this weekend!! so proud to finally win my home race, now to celebrate in style 🎉🏎️

285,047 comments

username40: all the hard work has finally paid off…king of monaco ❤️

ynusername: don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of you in 10 years, lifelong dream accomplished 💞👑

charles_leclerc: @/ynusername you’re the best, couldn’t have got here without you ❤️

carlossainz55: couldn’t be happier for you, I know just how much this means to you!

username41: we’re all so proud of you charles, congratulations on an incredible win

arthur_leclerc: after so many near misses, it just makes this all the more sweeter brother 🏎️🏁

username42: no one prepares you for the emotion of charles winning monaco wtf 😭😭

pierregasly: the one you’ve always dreamt of, so glad it came true!!

maxverstappen1: enjoy the celebrations tonight, you so deserve this!

username43: my heart is still racing, feel like im in some sort of dream…

landonorris: don’t think that smile will be leaving your face for a while 😂

charles_leclerc: @/landonorris just me trying to fight back the tears 🥹

username44: no one can take this moment from you charles, soak it all in 🍾

scuederiaferrari: the whole team could not be prouder of you, congratulations charles ❤️🏎️

˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

1K notes · View notes

chatsukimi · 2 months ago

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ʜᴇʏ ʙᴀʙʏ, ʙᴀʙʏ

featuring: gojo satoru x reader. humour + hurt no comfort. synopsis: a collection of you and gojo's voicemails/calls to each other throughout the years. masterlist

july 7th, 2006. 11:23am.

"heyy babyy, you miss me?"

cringing to yourself, you listened to your classmate, gojo satoru's, first voicemail to you. the windows were open in the classroom, summer wind blowing in. the heat was almost as annoying as the blondie's voice. gojo and geto are staying at some estate in okinawa to catch some special grade curse.

oh, and for the record, he was not your boyfriend- whatever pet names he constructed for you were his business only.

you'd tried and failed for him to stop.

"... geto says it's a huge curse we're catching. pfft. i think it's easy peasy. and-"

you heard very distinctly geto's voice hollering at gojo on the other line. pinching your lips together, you resisted a smile. what a menace, leaving his friend in the midst of battle just to send a voicemail to you.

it almost warmed your heart.

"-ok, looks like he's having trouble. aww, suguru, do i have to hang up?" a cacophony of harsh bangs and shouting later, you were furrowing your brows and gojo was back on the line. "ok, he thinks you aren't important enough to voicemail right now-"

"i never said that you stupid-"

"harsh," gojo retorted in a strangled tone right back, the faux offence grating your ears. "he doesn't think i should be calling you right now. inconsiderate." then, in a breathless whisper, he said, "call me later, mk? don't forget to congratulate your boyfriend. i expect a hero's welcome!"

the line cut short.

you texted him straight after: i am not in a relationship with you.

september 1st, 2006. 9:49pm.

"hey baby, i'm out on a mission right now. what's your favourite sweet? they've got mochi, mooncakes, and some pocky. chocolate, strawberry and cream flavoured. tell me and your beloved will bring you his war spoils."

at this point, you'd gotten used to his endearments already.

in your room, all cozied up in your blankets with a hot cup of honey-water in hand, you stared out the window, admiring the nighttime stars. somewhere out there, gojo was fighting.

"you've got to start answering my calls." you could hear him pouting so vividly it chilled you. "wanna hear your voice, baby."

his voice, you realised, was a nice accompaniment to your nighttime routine. he spoke neither too slowly nor too fast. nice and smooth too...

wait- what? you snapped out of it. no way you just complimented gojo satoru.

you dropped the phone on your bed, resolving to ignore him this time.

and the way he haunted your sleep.

may 25th, 2007. 2:00pm.

"baby baby baby, i'm this close to killing all the higher ups," satoru was mumbling against the phone, the usual smoothness of his voice sunken into callousness. you still couldn't believe he was talking to you like you're there with him; he's miles away. "a two week mission. what were they thinking?

"hmph. it's not even a curse i'm suited to." suddenly realising what he insinuated, gojo added, "easy to exorcise, of course, but so troublesome. they should've hired someone with a slower, more detective-heavy technique. they're keeping me away from you... god, are you forgetting me?"

you listened to him while standing outside a classroom at jujutsu high. geto gave you a wry smile: can't get enough of him, mm? you shot him an angry glare.

it didn't prepare you for the sound that slipped out of the phone.

a whisper.

"do you think i should?"

then you were clutching the phone to your ear, fighting the urge to put his voice on speaker to hear properly, clinging onto every word that escaped him.

"d'you think i should kill the higher ups?"

for the first time since being forced to receive gojo satoru's number, you pressed call.

"... hey bab-"

"gojo satoru," you said his name with a meaning, like you knew exactly what it was meant for, to strike him at his very core. "i like you. stop thinking about murder."

november 20th, 2018. 5:24pm.

"babe... talk to me. i'm sorry, didn't mean to get trapped in that box in the first place. it's just part of the job. it's nothing. i'm the strongest. plus, i got out just fine.

"i..." careful and slow, his tone resumed a certain responsibility. it showed that he was trying. "... should've been careful, for you. i know that now.

"just come back and talk to me."

november 20th, 2009. 6:30pm.

"babe babe babe babe baby. please..."

november 28th, 2018. 10:23pm.

"hey baby, i'm thinking of taking a break from the jujutsu world after this. let's go on a nice holiday, just you and me. god that'll be fun... m'thinkin of you on the beach." a cheeky lilt crossed his voice. "hah- just joking... maybe. hold on a little more, mk? year's nearly over. i'll pay for it all, the trip. and, well, you know what we were saying about getting married... yeah. okinawa's a pretty place, isn't it? i overheard nanami talking to his friend bout it just then actually."

december 1st, 2018. 00:58am.

"hi baby. it's late. i know. i've been busy." he paused.

silence flooded the line for about five seconds. it was as though his lungs were convulsing in bursts of breath under the weight of things unsaid. he kept quiet.

then, he was moving around, shifting uncomfortably. he wanted to end the voicemail, didn't know why he started it to begin with.

all you heard before the voicemail ended was:

"stay safe."

december 24, 2018. 4:35am.

"hey baby, i just wanna say... i love you."

you lift your hand up to your mouth, bottling the cry that aches to get out of you. the brutally familiar voice of the white haired sorcerer rasps against your ear. then he breaks out in a dazzlingly clear laughter.

"i... really do. this isn't a joke or anything. i know you know already, but i wanted to tell you." you could guess the ensuing words straight from his mouth. "i don't know if i'll win."

there it is. despite yourself, you smile, treasuring the vulnerability he's shown.

"sorry, i'm not sure why i said that. of course i'll win." you can imagine him puffing his chest out on the other line, confidence filling up his voice once more. "but maybe... in case i don't...

"we had a good run, didn't we?"

you let out a shaky breath.

yeah. we did.

"when i come back, i expect a hero's welcome. ok, babe?"

you're chuckling to yourself as he rambles on and on about kikufuku mochi and a holiday in okinawa, just him and you. no higher ups allowed. no responsibilities. you enjoy the lilt of his voice, terrifying smooth and there despite no real presence.

at last, you put down the phone. a low static drones throughout the apartment.

your photo albums collated on the cupboards, the messy unmade bed, just as you'd left it. two mugs in the kitchen. two pairs of slippers at the doorway.

your thumb drifts away from the replay button. you close your eyes, willing his stupidly annoying voice to haunt you one more time. to taunt you, to tease you, to tell you what you want to hear.

not gojo's very last voice message.

"yuta..."

you couldn't bring yourself to look up. the height, the weight, the figure. shoko had told you to prepare yourself to see the exact replica of your lover before you.

you know that is impossible... nothing could replace satoru.

your resolve is knocked out of you when you see him. only a glimpse... but the same face, same lips and nose and hair and- oh, your breath catches. same eyes. maybe you couldn't... maybe you couldn't tell the difference after all-

"y/n?"

finally you gather the courage to study him properly.

"yuta," you acknowledge.

you know for certain this is not satoru.

for your satoru had a different voice, clear and powerful as the ocean waves. your satoru spoke with purpose, the undeniable confidence he was right, always, and could not be knocked down. your satoru had a penchant he would not let go of calling you baby.

539 notes · View notes

buckets-and-trees · 5 months ago

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Puzzle Pieces in the Dead of Night

Characters/Pairings: soft!dark and rough Nomad!Steve Rogers x Female!Reader Word Count: 1.5k Summary: March 21, 2018. Still on the run, still in exile, you still never know when he will show up, but tonight Steve visits you again.

Content/Warnings: explicit smut: semi-rough sex, hints of somnophilia, manhandling, finger sucking, choking/breathplay, vaginal penetration, unprotected sex/creampie

Author Notes: Well, y'all did vote for more rough Nomad Steve. This is connected to the previous encounter/situationship from It Fit Too Right, with this happening just over a week later, but this has next to no plot, just smut, so you DO NOT need to have read the previous part. HAHA, THAT CHANGED, AND NOW IT'S PART OF THE FULL ON EXILED NOMAD SERIES. Title inspo from Taylor Swift again.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

It’s the jostling of your lower half that woke you up. You groaned sleepily and tried to reach for the covers that had gone missing, only your hand met the warm skin of a thickly corded bicep. You inhaled sharply, suddenly more awake, and smell him. Musky, leather, a hint of something spicy you still haven’t been able to identify, and some natural sweat. His scent has been embedded into your mind at this point.

“Steve,” you murmured.

The jostling had been him removing your underwear. You’d been sleeping on your side, and he kept you that way, only bending your knees a little more as he knelt behind you and lined up his cock with your cunt. Steve’s hand moved smoothly down your thigh to the crook of your knee, where he gave a soft squeeze. Then he leaned forward, and clamped his big hand down on your forearm, pinning it to the bed and bracing himself above you. You weren’t wet or ready for him yet, but he made do with only the precum leaking from his tip and pushed his length into your tight channel in one thrust that forced the breath out of you in a huff, burying himself inside you.

Your hand went down to paw helplessly at his hip. He gave you only a moment to take in the overwhelming fullness, and then he took up a blistering pace of shallow thrusts. Your shoulders shrank forward, hunkering in on yourself, and on the spot where his hand anchored your arm to the bed. You brought your other hand up to curl over his.

“Fuck, you feel like heaven,” he groaned.

And it did feel good, being too full of him. Your body agreed, welcomed him, slickening up to accommodate him.

He brought his free hand up to grip the back of your neck, angling your head where he wanted it. He nipped at your ear, licked the shell of it, and just kept you close, his heated breath over your skin yet another point of closeness and the feeling of being overtaken by him.

Steve shifted the grip on your arm to instead grasp both of your wrists and push them further up the bed. You wouldn’t fight him, but now he owned the restriction. You were trapped – and willingly so – beneath him. The rhythm of skin slapping against skin underscored your short little moans.

He slid the other hand he had on you from the back of your neck around beneath your head to cradle the side of your face, cupped your jaw, and then his thumb pushed insistently into your mouth. You closed your lips around it and sucked gently, still moaning. The pressure on your tongue had you surrendering even more to him. He was here with a single objective: pleasure. And if he was going to use your body as that vessel, you would yield in order to extract every moment of bliss you could in return.

Steve kept the same pace far longer than usual did. The sensation was good but unsatisfying. It felt like he needed to fuck you to fuck, to feel. He was not yet building toward his orgasm or yours. You let him keep taking what he needed, losing track of the passing of time in the dead of night, only dim illumination bleeding in from the bedroom window.

When your hands finally started to feel numb in his grip, you twisted them gently beneath his hands. He grunted and released them. “Sorry,” he muttered against your shoulder. Gruff, but aware.

He then moved you to lay flat on your stomach. He slipped his thick thighs between your legs, spreading you open, and inserted himself into your pussy again. At this angle, his cock dragged against that spongy spot on the front of your walls with each thrust, and he kept the steady pace he had before, but went for deeper thrusts now.

You didn’t put on a show with the sounds you made, never had with any previous partners, but Steve knew how to manipulate your body too well, and gasps, moans, groans, cries, and sometimes screams, flowed freely from you. You couldn’t keep them in. You wanted him to know how you felt, and you also had no fear of judgment from him. He only ever encouraged you to let loose of all inhibitions with him. The gratified moan that melted out of you when he fucked you at this angle couldn’t be helped.

Steve pressed his palm down between your shoulder blades, forcing some of his weight down on you. His mere physicality was intoxicating, and he always used his body as much as he used yours when he came to you for sex.

And now the pleasure mounted beneath him as he fucked you into the mattress.

You gripped the sheets, tugging as the tension built, your muscles went taught, and toes curled. You hung for just a few moments at the edge, and then a violent shiver went down your spine as your orgasm finally cascaded over you.

Steve groaned as your pussy clenched around him, and he squeezed your ass, groping the flesh.

You took in a lungful of air on your way back down and keened softly as he continued fucking you. “Good girl.”

He pulled out of you, and you whined.

“Not done with you yet,” he chuckled darkly.

In another swift movement that belied his preternatural speed and strength, he had you on your back, and pressed your thighs up against your chest. He drug the head of his cock against up and down over your swollen clit, making you whimper for him.

You recognized that look.

He needed to be in you even deeper, needed to dominate you, and look into your eyes while he did it.

When he fixed you with that look, your belly burned, and you needed it, too.

“Steve,” you begged.

No more warning, all the endless build up was only the preparation for this.

He pounded into you. His thrusts were brutal, drawing his length in and out in long strokes now. You felt it in overwhelming force. You didn’t want anything else. You wanted him to lose himself in you.

His hand moved to your neck, and you were already breathless, but he applied pressure there, restricting your air. It was a testament to his senses and skills that he could so carefully watch for your safety while continuing his deep and relentless thrusts. You let him steal your breath, one hand gripping the forearm pressed between your breasts to hold your throat. When you tapped at him, he was already letting up, and the flood of oxygen back into your lungs surged to spike your second orgasm while he ground his pelvis down against your clit. A silent scream was all you could manage.

Steve claimed your lips in a messy kiss as he came, hips stuttering, and then continuing in purposeful thrusts as he pumped you with his cum.

Finally, he let your legs relax and drop back to the bed. He let his full weight drop down onto you, and you let your fingers trail lightly up and down his spine as he caught his breath in the crook of your neck.

But Steve didn’t linger as long as you hoped for, biting your lip and turning your head away from him when you realized you had hoped he would stay there.

He left the room and entered your modest en suite bathroom. You listened to the sound of him cleaning up, then getting a washcloth from your cupboard, dampening it, and bring it back to wash you up – as he always did.

But it didn’t always mean he would stay.

Broken beast of a man as he was, it was laced through with glimpses of a more tender side of him – the side that you saw enough of not to be afraid of him.

The side that was becoming too much of its own danger to you. The side that made you yearn for him – not wanting the mind-blowing sex, but him.

When he returned to the bed, you tried to steady your breath and didn’t look at him.

When he slid down behind you and wrapped an arm around your front, you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

Of course, he felt and heard it.

“You okay?”

“I thought you would leave.”

The last time he’d come to your bed - a week and a half ago - it had only been for a quick fuck, and then he’d disappeared within the hour. You had been left wondering if you'd be reduced to only quick fucks.

“Not yet,” he said. He pressed a kiss just behind your earlobe. The gesture was too intimate for what the two of you were not. “I have the weekend,” he promised.

And you could not deny him.

You laced your fingers with his and sunk back against his chest.

You knew you could not have him, but you were as selfish as he was.

↠ Masterlist | Aspen's Ask Box | Field Guide to the Forest

I honestly don't know what to say here. I watched something that implanted this scene into my brain, and that is all the explanation I have.

read more of the Exiled Nomad Series

#steve rogers #nomad steve #steve rogers smut #steve rogers x reader #female reader #aspen wrote something #chris evans characters #exiled nomad series

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mysunshinetemptress · 4 months ago

Text

I Hate Her

Leah Williamson x reader Warnings: None

You had played as a centre back since you were six years old and asked to play on the Under 10s boys team. Your dream had been set from then, you wanted to play professional you wanted to play for England.

You sign your first academy contract for Manchester United a year later but continue to play for your local team wanting to practice and play as much as you could in hopes of someday making the England team.

You get a call up to your first youth England squad at 13, to say your excited is an understatement only you spend the entire camp on the bench as Leah Williamson is picked over you to start, the Arsenal academy player, future Arsenal player. Leah stared at you as she walked past the bench "Maybe they'll choose you next time." You decide then and there that you hate her.

United don’t have a women’s team and so you sign with Blackburn Rovers just before your 17th birthday. You love it Blackburn have given you everything you’ve wanted your their starting Centre Back, they see how hard you work and it pays off in the England Youth camps, you make your debut against Spain, Leah’s sick for the debut and you can’t help but repeat that in your head, that’s why your being picked not because ur better.

United form a Women’s team to take part in the championship in 2018 which is perfect for your because your contract with Blackburn Rovers ends and your free to sign with your childhood club in the summer.

It’s Leah’s turn to hate you when instead of joining the U23s camp you get called up to the Senior squad for a camp. You, your on a championship team that only got formed this season, you who has only been chosen over her a handful of times and now Phil Neville thinks your better then her, hardly.

Joining the senior squad felt surreal. Familiar faces like Lucy Bronze and Steph Houghton greeted you with genuine warmth. During training sessions, you pushed yourself to the absolute limit, determined to prove your place wasn't a lucky break. The coaches, Phil Neville included, seemed impressed. They challenged you , tested your tactical awareness, your ability to lead the defense under pressure. It wasn't easy, but you held your own, fueled by that quiet fire within.

One evening, Neville called you into his office. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs. Were you getting sent home? But no, his words were unexpected. "You've got something special, kid," he said, a glint in his eye. "A raw talent, a hunger I haven't seen in a while. We're planning a friendly against Germany next month. Be ready."

News of your potential debut spread like wildfire. Back home, your family erupted in cheers. Blackburn fans were ecstatic, their underdog defender on the cusp of playing on the biggest stage. But the media frenzy was a different story. Headlines screamed "Unproven youngster" and "Neville's gamble." The narrative remained the same - you were the fluke, the temporary blip in Leah's meteoric rise.

That night, staring at the ceiling of your hotel room, a fierce determination took hold. This wasn't just about proving yourself to the coaches or the media. This was about proving it to Leah, to everyone who doubted you. This was about carving your own path, a path that wouldn't be defined by being "better" than Leah Williamson, but by becoming the best damn defender England had ever seen.

You come on against Germany in the 89th minute, you know then and there that u are going to have to fight for your life every time you want to make it on to the pitch for England either over Leah or along side her you will have to fight.

And fight you do.

The following months were a whirlwind. You were in and out of the senior squad, each call-up a hard-fought battle. Leah was a constant shadow, a relentless competitor. You pushed each other to new heights, your growth fueled by the desire to outshine the other.

The 2019 World Cup was on the horizon, and the competition for places was fiercer than ever. You were on the cusp, but the final squad selection was a knife-edge. Days turned into nights as you waited for the dreaded or the desired call. When it finally came, your heart pounded with a mix of joy and disbelief. You were in. But so was Leah.

The World Cup was a dream realized, a tournament that would define careers. You played your part,even it was for less minutes then you would have liked (It was still more than what Leah had been given.) solid in defense, a calm presence in the face of adversity. England's journey was a rollercoaster of emotions, culminating in a heart-stopping final game for third place against Sweden.

The bronze medal match was a bitter pill to swallow. A valiant effort, but ultimately falling short. The weight of the loss hung heavy in the dressing room, a stark contrast to the jubilant scenes from the other side.

You had cursed at yourself in the eleventh minute as Asllani out ran you and sloted the ball past Telford, Steph had come over tapping your back whispering that it was ok it was one goal as Alex and Lucy followed both squeezing your arms as you all walked to reseat, you quickly turn to telford letting out a small sorry, to which she shakes her head sending you a thumbs up before you turn as Ellen White starts the game back up.

You hoped that Asllani's goal would be your one and only but Jakobsson makes a run in the twenty second minute and this time you make sure you catch her running in front of the swedish player you slide infront trying to cut her off but she breaks left and you can do nothing but sit on the ground and watch as she rolls it into the back left corner. You fall back hands covering your face. It's Lucys turn to pick you up "Your trying your best, you corrected your last mistake by being on it more." You shook your head "Yeah but she still scored." Lucy sighed knowing she wasn't going to break through the doubt that was bubbling in your head instead she pulled you into a hug and headed back into position, as you once again turned to Telford who before you could even open your mouth was already shouting at you "It's ok kid, you tried." you dropped your head nodding just as the ref blew the whistle to restart the game.

You came off at half-time for Rachel Daly, you had refused to speak to anyone, you had refused to join in on the celbrations in the thirty-first minute as Fran Kirby scorded but now as you walked down the tunnel you tried to shake all those feeling, you had played in your first World Cup, you had played 45 minutes in a tough match, you were good enough for Phil Neville to think you belonged there.

Those thoughts came crashing down as Leah walked past you hitting into you harshly.

Leah's harsh collision sent a jolt of pain through your already bruised ego. You stumbled backward, your breath catching in your throat. Her eyes, cold and calculating, held a mixture of contempt and something else, a flicker of something you couldn't quite decipher.

You spun around, your face flushed. "What the hell was that for?" you demanded, your voice laced with disbelief.

Leah's eyes narrowed, her expression a mix of defiance and something else you couldn't quite decipher. "You were out of position," she snapped, her voice barely above a whisper in the echoing tunnel. "Two goals down, and you're daydreaming."

The accusation stung, but you refused to back down. "I was trying to cover," you retorted, your voice rising. "It's not like I wanted them to score."

A tense silence fell between you, the only sound the distant cheers of the crowd filtering down the tunnel. You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks, a familiar sensation of being under scrutiny.

"I wouldn't have let them through." You walk towards her your finger poking her chest "Yet he didn't even give you the chance, he chose me over you."

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endless-ineffabilities · 7 months ago

Text

The Bolter (part six) (18+)

Steve Rogers x f!reader / Bucky Barnes x f!reader

synopsis : Steve carries out his decision to return to Peggy, aiming to live out the rest of his days with her. But this means he's leaving everything behind - he's leaving you. Did he make the right choice? Will there be anything left with you to come back to?

in this chapter : Bucky and the reader finally give in to their desires. In 2018, after the battle in Wakanda, Steve Rogers decides to be selfish and takes what he deserves (also known as, smut-filled self-indulgent chronicles with our super soldiers) + in the 1950s, Steve is greeted with the most unexpected of visitors

themes/warnings : language, smut ahead! 18+ - minors dni

word count : 4.3k

main masterlist ▪︎ series masterlist

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

It felt strange at first, feeling Bucky's lips against yours.

He's gentle, each kiss punctuated by a pause, like he's savouring each one.

He's worried that you might not kiss him back and that you don't feel the same.

But how could you not feel the same? How could this not feel right?

He pulls back for a second, and he takes you in. Your eyes blinking at him, lips left parted with a wet sheen over it.

He smiles. You mirror his gesture.

It's okay, he tells himself as he presses his forehead to yours, I am not alone in this.

He looks on as his warm-blooded hand grazes down to your collarbones, snakes above your ribs, then halts by the curve of your hips, gripping with a bit more strength, his reservations easing.

He wants more. His deep blue eyes beg the question.

That blue reminds you of someone else's for a split second, ones you would recognize anywhere, ocean eyes that you think you would love for all time.

Or so you thought.

Kissing Bucky feels like waking up from a drawn-out fever dream. All your life, you've been on the run, never quite finding a haven. Save for that cabin, many years ago.

But now, you could have this, and this something - someone - could actually be just yours.

You pull him back in, giving in, shivers running down your spine when his tongue snakes past your lips and dances with your own. His hands cup your backside, then lifts you up to wrap your legs to around his waist.

He slams you back against the wall as a result, and Bucky is quick to appraise you, asking, "Is this okay?"

Letting out a shaky breath, you affirm, "Bucky, this is more than fucking okay."

His body slumps in relief against you, and he nuzzles your neck, breaking into a grin, and god help you if he doesn't feel better than the warmth of sunlight after an endless winter.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 《18+》 ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

He kisses you again, messily sucking at your bottom lip as he deftly carries you over to your kitchen island. You feel flushed when he pulls back to admire you, his pupils dilated, and says, "You taste so good, doll."

"Bucky," you pant, your fingers curling at the back of his neck.

"So good," he repeats. "I bet you taste good all over, too."

You're suddenly grateful to be wearing only teensy pajama shorts, feeling the rough pads of his fingertips pressing against your skin. The ridges of his bionic arm leaving tingles in their wake.

He lowers himself, until his face is level with your regrettably still-clothed crotch. His every breath gusts between your inner thighs, and when he bites his lip and slowly pulls your shorts and underwear down, down, until they slide off your ankles, the hungry look that forms on his face is almost enough to make you explode.

"You don't know how much I've wanted this," he whispers, lips gliding along your upper thigh, until it lands at the crest of your labia, where he places the softest, open-mouthed kisses. Your ass presses against the cold tile on your kitchen counter instinctively, your tight-knuckled hands bracing at your sides.

Maybe this is all a damn good dream. Maybe you imbibed yourself to sweet slumber, white wine bottle rolling empty by your bedside table.

Bucky licks a stripe along your cunt, before eagerly sucking at your throbbing opening. He uses his bionic fingers to stretch you open, sliding in and out, as his tongue plunges just above. After a while, he looks up at you for assurance.

Yes, god yes.

He's real and he's warm and he's here.

"Say you're mine, doll," he says. It's a command, but it comes across almost pleading. You can't exactly fault Bucky for having his fair share of doubts and insecurity. Steve Rogers has a light that is hard to eclipse, even in memory.

But that's all he is now. A memory.

There are voices in the back of Bucky's mind that taunt him, saying, she'll never be yours. Not really. How could she, when you don't hold a candle to her former lover? The hero, the soldier, the Avenger.

But he drowns them all out, even just for tonight. One look at you falling apart from his touch is enough to quell all of his worries. I deserve this, he thinks. Steve left to get what he truly wants. Who's to stop me from doing the same?

"All yours," you say. "I'm all yours."

His heart soars, and his lips stretch out in a smile, glistening from the juices of your cunt.

He stands, his face levelling with yours, and his mouth gravitating towards your own. Your hands find purchase in his hair, holding him ever closer, fingernails massaging his scalp.

He groans in pleasure at the sensation and against your lips, he admits, half-muffled, "I could kiss you forever."

"Good thing you super soldiers live quite long then."

"Hmm," he agrees, then adds breathlessly, his blue eyes burning into you, "I wanna... wanna fuck you, doll. Would you let me have you?"

By his tone, you almost wonder how he held himself back from adding please at the end.

"Bucky," you can't help but smile, "do you even have to ask?"

And it's a goddamn blissful whirlwind from there.

He pulls you from the kitchen island, and you land clumsily on his shoes, tripping into his arms in the process. He laughs, jokily saying, "My girl right here..."

"Yeah," you wag your eyebrows, "I am so smooth."

"It's almost impressive," he responds, both hands framing your face, about to lean in.

"Almost?" you reach up and trace his lips.

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you were some secret agent or something," he makes a suspicious face, and it's all so silly that you break out into a giggle.

"Oh yeah?" you play along, while you two sway aimlessly, arms wrapped around each other.

"Yeah," he nods, then says, "come here and kiss me already."

"Just a kiss then?"

"A kiss," he nips at your earlobes, "then y'know, maybe we can make love and all that," then he pecks at the corner of your lips, "maybe... I dunno... you'll finally let me fuck you senseless." He shrugs at that, as if it was the most obvious thing.

You come to realise that Bucky Barnes has perhaps always been this charming. Was he like this in the 40s - a smooth talker, perennial ladies magnet? You remind yourself to ask him about it later.

But now... now the two of you stumble into your bedroom, in a flurry of kisses and the rest of your clothes haphazardly thrown on the floor.

Taking him in, you see how Bucky is undeniably well-built, his every muscle defined and trained to perfection. He makes a sound of appreciation when the last article of clothing is stripped from your body, his hands grabbing on the closest patch of skin he can find. "You're so beautiful," he preens, squeezing at the mounds of your breasts. He then guides you down on your bed, his mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and gently nipping at the flesh.

"Are you kidding," you can barely speak, eyes shut in pleasure, when he plunges his fingers back into your soaked cunt. "Have you seen you?"

He merely continues, watching as you grip his wrist and beg, "Just like that, Buck... so good... faster...."

Adding a third finger in, he whispers in your ear, "You gonna come for me, doll?"

"Y-yes... keep going..."

"So damn perfect," he purrs, fingers making hook motions inside of you, speeding up the pace.

He alternates between kissing you full on the mouth, and nipping at your neck, letting you take grateful breaths of air. Your chest rises and falls almost in sync with his fingers audibly slopping in and out of your cunt.

Bucky can't seem to take it any longer when straddles you, lining up with your entrance. His sucks your pre-cum from his fingers before giving his taut cock a few strokes for good measure. He tilts his pelvis forward, his tip pressing right against your opening. Keeping it in position, he half-crawls up to you, until his forearms brace by the sides of your face.

His pupils are blown out and his eyes appear entirely darkened when they meet yours. You nod once, biting your lip in anticipation.

His cock enters you, stretching you out wide. It's a familiar kind of pain, one that's most welcome. He watches in awe as your eyes roll to the back of your head as he slides in, inch by inch, until he's fully sheathed.

He lets out a deep exhale, partially in relief. He's here, you've accepted him and you're only his for tonight.

You catch him smiling to himself, and ask, "Amused, Buck?"

"Oh, it's nothing," he replies. He slides out of you just so, before burying himself back in, right to the hilt. A moan bubbles out of you throat.

"Just thinkin' about how lucky I am," he rasps through another quick snap of his pelvis. "Thinkin' about how damn perfect you sound, taking my cock in so well like that."

"Mmmphh," is all you can manage, when he picks up the pace, slamming into you with every thrust, his balls slapping against your ass. He sits back, lifting your legs over his shoulders.

The new angle allows him to plunge in deeper, hitting that one sweet aching spot each time.

"Bucky," you moan, hands reaching to steady yourself using the headboard, greedily looking to where his body connects with yours. To where his thick cock disappears inside your pussy, again and again.

It turns sloppy, frantic, your legs freely extending to the sides. Beads of sweat forming by his brows, grunts freely emanating from his lips. He falls forward, and you wrap your arms around him, nails scratching his back.

"Oh yeah, doll," he would say, "...feel so good... so good..." until the words are no longer coherent, his pelvis jackrabbiting with no rhythm.

"Bucky," you moan, feeling your release nearing, getting hotter and hotter.

His forehead connects with yours, and with one wet all-tongue kiss, you feel him convulse inside of you, filling your insides with his cum.

He makes sure to keep moving, to keep kissing you all over, until you follow not long after.

Hands gripping the sheets, you're overwhelmed with bliss. It's all pleasure, all warmth, all Bucky.

He collapses next to you after a moment, breathless. The two of you share the smile of satisfied lovers, and he wants to say more. He wants to say it, but the confession isn't fully formed.

Not yet.

For now, this is enough.

You lean in and press a gentle kiss on his lips.

Oh yeah, he thinks. This is more than enough.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2018, two nights after the battle in Wakanda

Once it started, it was like dominoes cascading right into place.

There was no stopping it - you and Steve definitely had no desire to stop.

He appeared in the doorway of your quarters just after midnight, the Avengers compound somber and silent. Once he spoke your name in that low voice, you knew what he wanted.

You wanted it too. Needed it even.

You both did everything you could, put it all on the line and it was all lost in a single second. With just a mere snap.

You were still trying to process the depth of your loss, still haven't reached out to your friends to check if they still existed. You didn't want to face the possibility of calls unanswered, no one left on the other line.

Steve was the same, but he bore it harder than you. In that moment, he hated himself - the so-called leader of the Avengers, ever the figurehead of guidance and hope. Everyone always looked on him to be perfect and dominant and steadfast.

He knew none of that would ease up anytime soon. And to the rest of the world, he would have to be Captain America. They would look to him for answers, and advice on how to proceed. He would be expected to carry everyone through their pain, and he would.

But who was ever there for him? When will he ever be allowed to just be Steve, and to show that he also feels completely vulnerable, especially in that time?

He whispered your name, just the once, and that was all it took.

America's Golden Boy had been holding everything in ever since they got him out of the ice. That night, you allowed him to release it all, and the two of you collided in a frenzy of lust and longing, frustration and defeat.

And unbridled love.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ 《18+》 ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

Steve kissed you hungrily, much harder than he did right after the battle, if that were even possible.

That kiss had been bruising, but this was uninhibited.

No, there was nothing unsure in his movements. There was no doubt of what he wanted when he picked you up bridal-style, biting at your neck.

He gracelessly plops you down on your bed, and you bite your lip at the sight of him. He'd shaved again, so it was easy for you to spot the fleck of fresh blood on his lips.

He took notice, and he carelessly ran his thumb over it.

"You bit me," he said, "you fucking minx."

Steve Rogers sure had a mouth on him when he wanted to.

Getting on your knees, you pull his hand to your lips and suck the red spot off his thumb.

"Goddamn it, angel," he whispers huskily, eyes glazing over in lust.

Angel. You felt your warmth pooling down below.

He hurriedly stripped off his white shirt and stepped out of his navy sweatpants, then beckoned to you with a tilt of his jaw, "C'mere."

Standing upright by the foot of the bed, he simply watched as you crawled closer to him.

You knelt on the bed, palms pressed against his bare chest. Even at that height, he was still angled at almost a foot taller than you.

"What do you want?" he asked, his fingers tilting your face up at him. "Use your words, angel."

Tell me you want me.

"Steve," you started to say, but your words fumble when he started peppering soft kisses on your neck.

"Mmm," he purred against your skin, "what was that?"

"I... I want you."

His stony mask fell, but it was short-lived. His lips curled right back into that imperious smirk.

He then bunched his fists in the neckline of your shirt, then rips it down the middle, like it was nothing but paper.

Your torso left bare to him, he cast a hungry look over the curve of your breasts, before his eyes met yours again.

"Off," his fingers ran along the waistband of your trousers, drifting against your skin and leaving goosebumps in their wake. "unless you want me to rip it apart, too."

His commanding voice made you scramble to follow, shakily pulling your trousers off and pushing them off the bed.

"All of it," he impatiently added. So you complied.

Aye, Captain.

Your underwear landed atop your trousers on the floor. You were exposed to him, fully, cold air making your nipples rise on attention. He shamelessly took you in, but he does not make a move just yet.

He made it known that you should follow his orders. "Well?" he said. "What are you waiting for?" His eyes lower to the shape of his cock straining against his boxers, then back to you.

Licking your lips, you lowered the cotton, until his erect manhood was revealed to you in all its glory, glistening at the tip. You'd imagined it, many times before, wondering whether the serum also made this part of him enhanced.

And it did. God, it did.

Or maybe Steve Rogers has always been this blessed.

Your eyes flit to him for permission, and he just looked amused. Gripping at base of his length, you angled your head forward, and let your saliva drip down on it. You use the wetness from your spit and his pre-cum to give his cock several, good strokes, making it twitch in the process.

He hummed, the sound deep in his chest. "Good girl," he praised you, making your whole body feel like fucking jelly, "don't keep me waiting, now."

Your mouth formed an O-shape, sliding down on his cock, and you take him in fully until his tip touched the back of your throat. He fucking moans, the sound so lewd to your ears, disjointed by his little shaky breaths.

"That's my... good... girl," he praised, when you moved your head up and back down, lips gliding smooth on the thick girth of his soaked cock. He pressed his palm on the back of your head, guiding you, making you suck him a faster pace.

It's too much - your own increasing pleasure, and the sensation of his cock repeatedly hitting the back of your throat - that errant tears escape the corners of your eyes.

"Shhh, my angel," he purred. "I'm coming... just you wait..."

"Mmm," you could barely make a sound, only glancing up to appreciate him. His eyebrows are ruffled, maroon lips parted and panting, his head tilted to see his good girl at a better angle.

His moaned loudly, almost growled, the sound rumbling in his chest. "Fuck, fuck," he curses, "I'm so close..."

You slid him in deep one last time, before he pulled out of your mouth suddenly, pushing you to your back. He clambered onto the sheets in a flourish, before releasing streams of hot milky cum on your chest.

His fingers squeezed his cock, as he emptied himself onto you, watching as the rivulets stream from your nipples down to your bedsheets.

"Steve," you watched in amazement, entranced by the sheer pleasure in his expression. "Take me."

"Oh I will," he promised, still stroking himself at the sight of you. He's hard again, and you just laid there, aching to be filled.

He positioned himself, darkened gaze greedily taking you in, pleased by the unabashed desire on your face. He doesn't break eye contact as he mercilessly pushed his cock inside you in one fell swoop. The sheer size of it gave rise to a slightly painful sensation, and you bit your tongue to keep from screaming his name.

He didn't like that, didn't take to the idea that you were holding back.

"Scream my name, angel," he prodded. "You know you want to."

And scream his name you did. You couldn't help it, repeatedly exclaiming, "Fuck yes, Steve," as he pounded into you without abandon. He gave it everything, let go of it all, with each relentless thrust.

Your eyes were closed in sheer pleasure when suddenly he deftly twists your body over, his cock never leaving the slick warmth of your pussy.

The sudden change in position rendered you alert for a moment, your hands out reaching out to brace yourself.

You're left on all fours, hands gripping the sheets, as Steve kept slamming into your dripping cunt. He kept a tight hold on you, squeezing your raised ass, using it to bury himself even deeper.

He made you see stars with every sharp snap of his hips, made you moan his name again and again. Your cunt getting slicker, the warmth in your belly spreading each time he praised you with, "My good girl," or, "You take me so well, angel."

He soon released again inside of you, then pulled out, your pussy dripping with his cum. But he wasn't finished just yet. He effortlessly carried you over to one side of your room, your back pressed against his chest.

You immediately realised what he wanted to do, when he stopped right in front of the full-length mirror, and bid you with a stern, "Hands up."

You braced your palms against the glass, catching his eyes in the reflection which were clouded over in sheer lust. He pressed his palm on your lower belly and takes you in from behind, his cock sliding right back into your cunt. The pleasure of it hit so damn good, that you knees almost gave way.

"Look at how good you take me," he groaned from behind you. "Look at how beautiful you are, angel."

Your moans melded with his, along with the slick constant sound of his cock plunging into your sore pussy.

At some point, you fell forward and the motion made him follow. Your breasts pressed against the mirror, and he tilted your head back to sloppily kiss you, one hand applying pressure on your neck. He left bites on your neck and shoulders, his sharp teeth sinking into the skin to muffle his moans.

He fucked you wildly, drunk on the sight of your blissed-out face in the reflection. When your release came, it fell almost in sync with his, cum spilling down your thighs.

It took a long while to come down from such a high, and you lay in bed, letting everything sink in. You watched as he retrieved a wet towel from your bathroom and cleaned you up promptly.

When he joined you a moment later, he encased you with his entire body, legs entwined with yours, face nuzzled against your neck.

You felt tiredness quickly setting in, as you stroked his face, lovingly whispering, "How about we just go back to our cabin, hmm?"

That was just a dream, and you both knew it. The world just wasn't in the habit of allowing you two to simply be happy.

In that moment, Steve wanted to cry. Because you were perfect, just so perfect, and he wasn't.

He could never be good enough, never be the Steve you thought he was. Your Steve. All he was is a man out of time, a man who can never come home from the war.

He was broken, and all he had left was the last truth he held onto, the one thing he could give you.

"I love you," he whispered as you drifted to sleep.

He wouldn't be there when you woke in the morning. But you would remember everything, and like a resounding echo, his words would never leave you.

I love you.

If only that was enough. If only that made him stay.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

2024, seven months after Steve's departure

Bucky stays over for the night, and you wake up in his arms.

It's a lazy day, no routine in place, the two of you falling in and out of sleep, talking nonsense and sharing food. Smiling against kisses. Having to bite your lip at the sensation of his metal fingers pleasuring you over again.

At some point in the early evening, you decide to wash up and get dressed. You settle on the couch in your living room, as he takes it upon himself to make sandwiches in the kitchen.

You switch the TV on and the main news channel appears, the sound lowered as you watch Bucky find his way around your cupboards.

"Need any help?"

He winks at you, funnily waving a piece of toast up, "I got it, doll."

Then something flashes from the corner of your eye, that metallic red, white, and blue.

It's on the screen - that shield - being paraded around by some stranger.

Your heart pounding, you increase the volume to the maximum, and Bucky's attention is immediately piqued.

The sounds of a full marching band erupt in your apartment, theme music being played in what looks like a high school football field.

Bucky is now at your side, his work in the kitchen forgotten.

John Walker is our nation's new Captain America, the screen reads.

"What the fuck?" you exclaim.

▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎ ▪︎

The 1950s, seven months after Steve's arrival

The visitors at the door render Steve alert, the sight an immediate wake-up call to his senses.

Nothing ever happens in his life in this time. There is no reason to look out for danger in his calm piece of suburbia.

Steve doesn't understand why it feels like he all but welcomed the presence of a threat, his neurons finally firing back up, all of his senses heightened.

"Loki," he greets coldly.

"Right," Loki says, then turns to his companion, "I told you he wouldn't be too eager to see me."

"Come on now, what do you mean?" the man responds. "This is Steve Rogers, he's possibly the most polite person of his time."

"Okay, but even this dutiful soldier would surely punch me in the face after what I tried to do to his world - "

"Well, you were being plain ridiculous when you made everyone kneel," the man says, without missing a beat, like he was simply talking about something regular that occurred over lunch.

"I know, I know," Loki shakes his head. "Can't we just forget about that?"

"Stop," Steve snaps, and the two visitors fall silent. He addresses Loki, "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Oh," the man smiles, "Language, Cap."

He's met with an impatient glare from Steve who towers over him.

The man balks, "Hmm, isn't that a thing you say to - "

Loki only shakes his head at him.

"Well," the man straightens, "it's a pleasure to meet you, Captain," he offers his hand, "My name is Mobius and I work for the TVA."

Steve reluctantly shakes his hand, while routinely keeping watch on Loki.

Mobius, aware that Steve's sense of suspicion has no chance of easing, goes straight to the point.

"Steve, we're here because... well... you're not supposed to be here."

Read part seven here ~

taglist (let me know if you wish to be added!) : @vicmc624 @littleliyah16 @babezawa @klammykayla @justsebstan @blue--ingenue @numblytemporary @bradshawass @delicious-xx @mrsevans90 @heartarianagran @tinystarfishgalaxy @kyoquixote @mochibochinochi @spngingerbread21 @zbeez-outlet @rena15 @raging-panda @marveldaydreamer @integers @torntaltos @imthebadguyyy @iidear @blackhawkfanatic @smhnxdiii @nommingonfood @fortunatelyweepingninja @cyberaestheticals @loki-laufeyson68 @queenofshinigamis @samkickikc @utterlyhopeful-fics @mthealy

I know what you're thinking - how can Steve still leave after ALL THAT???? Well, he's a complicated man, darlings. And he'll battle his fair share of self-loathing and depression in the years prior to Endgame. Love is brutal sometimes, and Steve just won't be able to allow himself to succumb to it when he's not at peace :(

Also - I wanted to reverse the usual theme of Steve being the gentle lover, and Bucky being darker and self-assured. But I wanted it to still make sense - here Steve was rough because he's using it as a form of release, after all the trauma he went through. And sweet Bucky was understandably a bit reluctant because he doesn't trust himself completely yet.

you get the gist ;) I've loved each and every one of your comments/messages etc. Stay tuned for more of our beloved bolters 💙

#steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers imagine #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #the avengers #mcu #chris evans #sebastian stan

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theetherealbloom · 5 months ago

Text

CLOSE TO YOU

Summary: A commute crush turned meet cute with Pedro Pascal

Paring: Pedro Pascal x Fem!Reader

Warnings: strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, Commute Crush, TOOTH-ROTTING FLUFF, Slight Angst, Meet-Cute, Swearing, Anxiety, Surrounded by A-Listers, Cheesy Dialogue, Romance, Kissing, Alcohol, Club/Bar Setting

Word Count: 2.2k

A/N: Happy Close To You release day! I’ve waited for this song since 2018 LMAO. Usually, I don’t write about real-life people, but I really can’t help it since this song is SO Pedro Pascal-coded. Just know that this is fictional and if this isn’t for you, you don’t have to read it! Keep scrolling :> And for those who stay to read this delusion of a fic, hey girlieeee I see you <3

P.S. I’ll be doing a bunch of fics related to Gracie’s new album that comes out next week!

Song: Close To You by Gracie Abrams

| Main Masterlist |

It all began as a harmless crush on your morning commute. The New York subway was your daily stage, a bustling backdrop as you headed to meet a client. As a social media coordinator, your days revolved around managing high-profile partnerships, coordinating with celebrities and Instagram influencers to craft campaigns that seamlessly blended their brands with consumer appeal.

But today was different. And of course, you recognized him.

You noticed him immediately – Pedro Pascal, seated right in front of you. Lost in his book, with a iced quad espresso in a venti cup with extra ice and six shots cradled in his hand, he exuded an effortless charm. His dark, curly hair framed those whisky eyes that glanced up and met yours. Just for a second, you were frozen in time, captivated by his gaze. You quickly looked away, not wanting to seem rude, yet feeling the familiar flutter of a crush brewing.

Did he smile? You swore he did, and your heart skipped a beat. The train doors opened, announcing your stop. Reluctantly, you stepped off, joining the throng of commuters spilling onto the platform. As you ascended the steps, the city's vibrant energy washed over you, but your mind was elsewhere.

Walking towards the restaurant for your client meeting, your thoughts kept drifting back to him. The way his presence ignited a spark within you, a longing that seemed almost irrational. Here you were, burning for a man who didn't even know your name. And yet, in the anonymity of the subway, a fleeting connection had stirred something deep inside you.

It had been a few weeks since that subway encounter, the memory of Pedro Pascal’s whisky eyes lingering in your mind. In the meantime, you had started managing social media for Sarah Paulson, whose busy schedule had her juggling multiple projects and interviews.

Sarah's latest project, a Broadway play titled Appropriate, was garnering critical acclaim and several award nominations. Your job was to promote her involvement, ensuring every post captured the essence of her talent and the play’s success. Though you hadn't been working with her long, you were pleasantly surprised when she invited you to watch one of her performances.

That night, you arrived early at the Belasco Theatre, adorned in your favorite long dress and practical flats, mindful of the commute back to your apartment. Ushered to a seat close to the front, you settled into the plush red velvet, feeling a mix of excitement and anticipation. As the audience trickled in, you busied yourself with casual texts to friends before putting your phone away, taking in the theatre's intricate architecture and the stage's grandeur.

Moments later, an usher guided someone to the seat next to you. Curiosity made you glance to your right, and there he was—Pedro Pascal, settling in beside you. Your eyes widened in recognition before you quickly looked away, a quiet panic bubbling in your stomach and tightening your chest. You fidgeted with your fingers, a nervous habit, trying to quell the flurry of emotions and resist the urge to stare.

As the house lights dimmed and the show began, you couldn’t help but steal occasional glances at him. The man who had unknowingly captured your heart was now mere inches away. The performance on stage was captivating, but you found yourself equally entranced by the man sitting next to you. In the soft glow of the theatre lights, you wondered if he remembered that brief moment on the subway, and if fate had just given you a second chance to connect.

When the show ended and the cast took their bows, the theatre erupted in applause. Pedro, sitting right next to you, cheered loudly when Sarah stood with the rest of the cast on stage. His genuine enthusiasm for his friend made you smile, and as you glanced at him, he looked down at you with a radiant grin.

Your heart raced, and for a moment, you felt a concrete connection that was almost tangible. Both of you opened your mouths to speak, but just then, an usher cleared their throat, drawing your attention.

“Mr. Pascal, Sarah Paulson is asking for you backstage… if you would follow me, please,” the usher said, causing Pedro to hesitate, torn between staying with you and fulfilling his friend's request.

“Uh,” Pedro began, glancing between you and the usher. Seeing his dilemma, you made the decision for him. Gathering your things, you offered a polite smile to both Pedro and the starstruck usher.

As Pedro glanced back at the usher, you seized the moment to make your getaway. You might have heard him call out, "Wait!" but you didn't stop. Stepping out onto the bustling street, the city lights of Broadway twinkled around you, a stark contrast to the growing ache in your heart.

The possibility of what might have been gnawed at you, the fleeting connection slipping through your fingers. A voice in the back of your mind echoed doubts, whispering that you didn't quite belong in this world of beautiful, glamorous people. You tried to shake off the feeling, but the bittersweet sting lingered.

You begin to walk away from the theatre, weaving through the crowd lined up for autographs by the backstage door. Just as you're about to cross the street to catch your subway, your phone vibrates in your clutch. Stepping aside, you see Sarah Paulson’s name flashing on the screen.

Shit.

You quickly answer, praying your voice doesn't betray your nerves. "Hello?"

"Hey!" Sarah's voice is warm and enthusiastic. "How are you? Did you enjoy the show?"

"Yeah, I did! You were absolutely incredible," you say, offering genuine praise and shifting your weight to your other leg.

"Thank you so much! Oh, where are you right now? Are you still nearby? I had told the usher to bring you backstage with Pedro, but it seems like they forgot."

"Oh, um, yeah, I'm near the backstage door," you reply, glancing at the crowd still waiting for autographs.

"Perfect! Some of us are going out for drinks later, and you are welcome to join us!" Sarah’s excitement is infectious.

You stammer, "Uh, I..."

"It'll be great! I promise. I'll introduce you to everyone. You're my best social media manager by far."

Taking a deep breath, you muster, "Okay, yeah, I'd love to come."

"Great! I'll send you the address of where we're headed. We'll meet you there!" Sarah says, her smile practically audible.

"Alright, see you soon." You end the call with a click, clutching your phone tightly as you take another deep breath to steady your nerves and keep the world from spinning.

A ping alerts you to a new message. Glancing at the notification, you read the address and know exactly where to go. With a mixture of excitement and anxiety, you put away your phone and head towards the bar, the city's lights guiding your way.

It took you a while to figure out how to get there, but eventually, you arrive at the bar. As you step inside, a warm hum fills your body, the lights and the pulse of music thrumming through the room. The smoky, dark atmosphere feels electric, bodies moving in a rhythm that seems to make the air itself burn.

Under the soft pink light, everything seems slightly surreal, yet oddly perfect. You spot Sarah, who immediately pulls you into a warm hug, which you happily accept. As you exchange pleasantries near their table, you feel at ease, enjoying the camaraderie.

Then, suddenly, you sense a shift. You glance up and see Pedro looking right back at you. Your heart skips a beat as your eyes meet, and in that instant, the crowded room seems to fade away.

There he is, the man who had unknowingly captured your heart, his gaze steady and intense. As Sarah guides you over to introduce the rest of her friends, castmates, and of course, Pedro, you feel a pull between the two of you.

You muster the courage to speak, telling him your name, and even through the loud speakers and endless chatter, you hear him say your name with a breathless relief. Finally meeting the mystery girl he saw on the subway seems to have stirred something within him.

When you shake hands, there's a lingering touch, a silent acknowledgment of the connection between you. You can't help but duck your head a little, feeling shy under the intensity of his gaze.

"Nice to finally meet you," Pedro says, his voice soft yet filled with warmth.

"Likewise," you reply, your own voice tinged with a hint of nervousness.

In that brief exchange, you both sense something unspoken, a silent understanding that this meeting is more than just chance. And as the night unfolds, amidst the laughter and music, you find yourself drawn to him, unable to resist the magnetic pull of fate.

As Sarah goes to mingle with the rest of the group, you both stand there, caught in a moment suspended in time. The air crackles with anticipation, and you can't shake the feeling that if you asked him to, he'd give up everything just to be close to you.

"You have a way of lighting up a room," he says, his voice low and full of sincerity as he leans in closer.

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his words, and you find yourself smiling despite yourself. "And you have a way of making me feel like I'm the only one in it," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

As the night wears on, you find yourself completely enchanted by Pedro. His easy charm and quick wit captivate you, and it's as if the two of you are in your own little world, separate from the chaos of the club.

He tells you stories about his acting career and his passion for music. You share your dreams and aspirations, feeling a sense of comfort in his presence that you've never experienced with anyone before.

Throughout the night, there are moments where your hands brush against each other or your eyes meet in a lingering gaze. Each time it happens, a spark of electricity shoots through your body, igniting a fire within you.

At one point, he leans in closer to whisper in your ear over the loud music. "I have a confession to make," he says, his warm breath tickling your skin.

You turn to face him, your heart racing with anticipation.

He chuckles softly, the sound sending a delightful shiver down your spine. "I can't deny that you've caught my attention since the moment I saw you on the subway."

The admission sends your heart racing, and you can't help but feel a surge of boldness. "Funny, because you've been on my mind ever since," you confess, meeting his gaze with newfound confidence.

His eyes light up with a mixture of surprise and delight, and you can't help but be drawn to the way his lips curl into a playful smirk. "Is that so?" he teases, his voice a low, husky whisper that sends a shiver down your spine.

You nod, feeling a rush of exhilaration coursing through your veins. "Absolutely," you reply, unable to tear your gaze away from his captivating stare.

Before you can say another word, he takes a step closer, his movements slow and deliberate, like a dance choreographed just for the two of you. Your breath catches in your throat as his hand brushes against your neck, sending tingles of anticipation racing across your skin.

And then, in a moment that feels like it's been plucked straight from a romance film, his lips meet yours in a soft, tender kiss. Time seems to stand still as you melt into his embrace, the world around you fading away until there's nothing left but the two of you.

As you pull away, breathless and exhilarated, a sense of euphoria washes over you, like a chemical override in ultraviolet. "I just wanna be close to you," he murmurs, his words sending a thrill through your entire being. A smile dances at the corners of your lips as you revel in the electric connection between you.

"And you could be mine tonight," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper, the words tinged with a hint of playful flirtation.

He chuckles softly, his eyes sparkling with affection as he leans in closer. "I think I could get used to being yours," he says, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity, melting away any lingering doubts or fears.

He can't wait to fall in love with you.

#pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal fanfiction #pedro pascal #pedroispunk #ethereal writes #pedro pascal smut #pedrohub #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal character fanfic #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal x fem!reader #joel miller x f!reader #yes im delusional

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imaginaryf1shots · 5 months ago

Text

Red Line | CL - LH

WC: 5K

Charles Leclerc x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader

Summery;(REQUESTED) You have had feelings for Charles for years, your best friend. When he fails to return your feelings and a new Ferrari driver joins the team, he shows you attention and care. It is less complicated.

Warning: angst?

AN: i debated who she should end up with, but he's my number 1 driver, and I'm WEAK for him.

Masterlist

Charles Masterlist

Lewis Masterlist

You have been working at Scuderia Ferrari since 2018, you started as an intern under the engineering team, you quickly became a permanent engineer for Charles in 2019 and have continued to develop and grow as the time went on. Maybe it's because you joined the same year Charles did, or it's because you were one of his first engineers when he started working for the red team, but the two of you have grown so close to each other. You consider Charles to be one of the closest people to you, during work hours and out of work hours. You see each other a lot even in the off-season. Charles values your opinion and cares a lot about it, he also considers you one of his close friends. Whenever you’re in the paddock you're always close by, he can depend on you. He prides himself in knowing you, he knows your coffee order, your favourite food, your dreams and hopes, he knows it all.

The moment Charles joined the team, you just clicked, your connection instant and so effortless. You both don't have to overthink it... at the start at least.

On long days, feeling the effect of the jetlag, when you'd almost drop from how tired you are, Charles always brings you coffee for a boost. On days where you're both in Maranello, he'd always offers you a ride back to the small house you have in Italy, he always insists that it's on his way but both of you know that it wasn't. He's always been patient and calm, and that made him a good listener. On plane rides when only the two of you are awake he'd just happily sit down and listen to you vent, his patience seemingly endless.

Even the fans picked up on the bond between the two of you, some speculating you're a couple. Thankfully it wasn't a big thing or it would have affected your job, but every now and then you both get those kinds of comments. And maybe you just had the smallest hopes that you were an actual couple, those feelings you have slowly ate at you every day. You were in love with Charles, the intensity of your feelings scared you. You can never tell him what you're feeling with the fear of ruining the perfect balance of your friendship. And even though he treats you in a way a partner would on a lot of occasions, he acts completely oblivious to it, as if everything he does with you he does for everyone else.

On a late evening, as you looked over the latest numbers and data, Charles came seemingly out of nowhere with two cups of coffee in hand.

"Long night, huh?" He said, offering you the coffee, you smiled, grateful for his gesture.

"Thanks." You take a sip and sigh in content. "You always know when I need the caffeine boost."

Charles leans on the desk beside you and grins. "It's the perk of knowing you so well, how are my numbers?"

"Not good." You tease him, Charles leans over to see what you're looking at. "They're saying you're too nice."

Charles laughs and rolls his eyes. "I'll try to be less nice then, maybe I'll start with you."

"Come on now, I was just joking." You pout at him and he smiles.

"How long until you finish up?" Charles asks and you hum.

"Not long, I'm just finishing up." You tell him, and he nods but doesn't move.

"Do you need a ride?" Charles asks, his eyes not straying from you. "I'm heading out."

"You're staying on the other side of town." You raise an eyebrow, those words you say to him every time.

"It's no trouble, besides it's an excuse to spend more time with my favourite person on the team." Your heart skips a beat at his words and you can't fight the smile.

"Alright, I'll take you up on that."

Those kinds of things your mind wanders to, especially on those sleepless nights while you're lying in bed. Your mind always goes back to the little moments that you shared, the moments that got your heart to flutter, the lingering glances, the causal touches, and the shared laughter. You cherish those moments, holding them close to you like precious and delicate Chinas. But there was always doubt. Did he actually feel the same way? Will he ever feel the same way? Or are you just destined to always be his friend?

Your thoughts all came to a halt when the room buzzed, by the new arrival. The room was alight with anticipation as Lewis Hamilton walked in, his presence commanding attention. His move to Ferrari is sensational, the talk of the paddock all of last year. The move turned F1 upside down. Lewis greeted everyone with a practised charm, a smile on his face, he wanted to seem genuine, he wanted to not come across as a big headed driver and just to get to know everyone he works with, to create a harmonious and smooth working place. Lewis met everyone's gaze as he greeted them, but when his eyes met yours, something shifted.

"Hey there." Lewis said, approaching you with a smile. "You must be the genius behind these impressive numbers."

You laughed, feeling slightly flustered. "I'm not too sure about the genius part, but I try my best. Welcome to Ferrari, Lewis."

"Thanks, it's great to be here." Lewis said and looked around the room before his eyes settled back on you. "I've heard a lot about you, mind if I pick your brain a bit?"

"Not at all, what do you want to know?"

And so you and Lewis stood talking for a bit, before he was whisked away to continue his tour and meet the rest of the workers. But as his presence became permanent in the factory you found yourself spending a lot of time with him. He often sought you out and at first it was just to understand all the data and how the new car will function and he had ideas that he wanted to see if it could be implemented or not. Your conversations flowed easily, from the team, to the car to your role it all went and flowed easily. And you found yourself thinking more about Lewis and looking forward to your time together.

Lewis had a knack of lightening the mood and making everything seem so effortless. It's a trait that you appreciate. It was refreshing.

One afternoon, you were reviewing data together. Lewis leaned over your shoulder, his proximity causing you to lose focus for a moment.

"So what's the secret sauce here?" He asked his tone playful, it was as if he had no idea what he was doing, as if his proximity was not having any effect on you.

"If I told you, it wouldn't be a secret then, would it?" You laughed, nudging him lightly.

"Fair point, but come on, give me something." Lewis smiled at vou. "I promise I won't tell anyone.”

"Alright, alright." You said after rolling your eyes, your smile showed that you're actually okay with it. "It's all in optimising the balance between speed and control, especially in the corners. We've been finetuning it for months."

"See, now I'm learning something, you really are the genius everyone says you are." You blushed and shrugged, brushing off the compliment.

"It's a team effort."

"Yeah, but each team has its MVP." He said and his eyes locked with yours for a moment longer than necessary.

One dqy, you were in the garage with Charles, adjusting some settings to his car, when Lewis came a playful grin on his face.

"Hey, engineer extraordinaire, got a moment?" Lewis asked, his eyes filled with mischief.

"What's up, Lewis?" You looked up at him already amused.

"I've got a serious question for you, it's about strategy." Lewis leaned next to you, his eyes going to Charles with the playful look on his face. Charles watched the interaction with intrigue, he of course noticed how close you and Lewis became, but he never actually saw you interact.

"Go on."

"Pineapple on pizza, yes or no?" This was not what you expected at all, Charles was even surprised, but where you laughed he did not.

"Really? That's your serious question?"

"Absolutely, it's crucial information." He said laughing along with you.

"Well, if you must know, I'm a pro-pineapple." You shrugged, throwing your hands up. "Controversial, I know."

"I knew I loved you for a reason, you've got good taste." Lewis winked at you before he patted Charles's shoulder and left you back to what you were doing.

"That's it?" You asked after the older driver.

"Yeah." With a wave of his hand over his shoulder he was out of sight. You shook your head and went back to what you were doing before he came in with a smile on your face.

"Huh." Charles mutters frowning, things are changing, and it's making him feel some type of way, he has no idea what to feel about it.

As your relationship grew and your banter continued, you found yourself looking forward to these light-hearted moments. Lewis had a way of making the most mundane topics entertaining. He was effortlessly funny, and his humour was a refreshing change from the intense atmosphere of the garage.

One evening, after a particularly long day, you found yourselves alone in the garage. You were finishing up some data analysis when Lewis wandered over, two bottles of water in hand. You got dejavu, as your mind flashed to when Charles would get you coffee and drive you home whenever you had long days.

“Thought you might need this.” He said, handing you one.

“Thanks, Lewis, you’re a lifesaver.”

He took a seat next to her, watching her work. “You know, you’ve got this incredible focus. It’s impressive.”

You smiled, a little flustered by the compliment. “It’s part of the job.”

“Still, it’s something, I’ve been meaning to ask, how did you end up here? With Ferrari, I mean.”

You paused, considering how to condense years of passion and hard work into a few sentences. “I’ve always loved racing. Grew up watching it with my family. I studied engineering because I wanted to be part of this world, and Ferrari… well, it’s the dream, isn’t it?”

“It really is, and you’re amazing at what you do. The team’s lucky to have you.” Lewis nodded, genuinely believing his words.

“Thanks, Lewis. That means a lot.” You felt a blush creep up your cheeks.

As the days turned into weeks and the weeks turned to months, you noticed more about Lewis. His dedication to his craft, the way he treated everyone on the team with respect, and his infectious enthusiasm. He was different from what you had expected, and you found yourself drawn to him in ways you hadn’t anticipated.

There was a particular day that stood out. You had a meeting scheduled and as you waited for it to begin, you were both early. Lewis started telling a story about an adventure he had on a race weekend in Japan.

“So there I was, completely lost in Tokyo, and none of my apps were working. I couldn’t read the signs, and I was pretty sure I was going to end up on the news as the driver who went missing in the middle of a city. Then, out of nowhere, this old lady comes up to me and starts speaking perfect English, asking if I needed help. Turns out she used to live in London. She got me back to my hotel, and we still exchange Christmas cards.”

“Only you, Lewis. Only you.” You laughed, shaking your head.

“What can I say? Adventure finds me.” He said with a wink.

It was in these moments that you started to notice his attractiveness, not just physically, though he was undeniably handsome, but in the way he carried himself, the kindness in his eyes, and the warmth of his smile. He made you laugh, made you feel seen and appreciated. It was a stark contrast to the complicated, often unspoken dynamics you had with Charles.

As time went on the lines between her professional and personal life began to blur once more, but with a new Ferrari driver. You and Lewis continued to grow closer, your bond solidifying with each shared laugh and meaningful conversation. Yet, with each passing day, the tension between you and Charles grew more.

One morning, as you arrived at the garage, Charles was waiting for you, his usual easygoing demeanour replaced with a more serious expression. Something that you picked on instantly, you can read Charles easily.

“Hey.” He greeted, handing you a cup of your favourite coffee. “Got a minute?”

“Sure, thanks for the coffee” You replied, knowing that something big is about to drop. “What’s up?”

He led her to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of your colleagues. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something. It’s... about Lewis.”

You sighed inwardly, bracing yourself. “What about him?”

“I’ve noticed you two have been spending a lot of time together.” Charles ran a hand through his hair, a habit you knew indicated he was stressed.

“Yes, we have. He’s new and has a lot of questions. We’ve become friends.” You nodded, keeping your voice steady.

“Friends?” Charles echoed, a hint of scepticism in his voice. “It seems like more than that.”

“Charles, we are friends.” You looked him in the eye, his stare was unwavering, you’ve never hidden anything from Charles, it wasn’t in your nature. You blinked a few times before you continued, your voice dropping a little. “I may have feelings for him and I’m pretty sure he feels the same.

His jaw tightened, and he looked away for a moment before speaking again. “I just don’t want to see you get hurt. He’s got a reputation, you know.”

“Lewis has been nothing but kind and respectful to me.” You countered. “I appreciate your concern, Charles, but I can handle this.”

“Alright. Just... be careful, okay?” He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly.

“I will.” You promised, feeling a mix of relief and guilt as you walked away.

That evening, after another successful session, Lewis invited you out for dinner. As you sat in a cosy restaurant, the conversation flowed easily, and you found yourself relaxing in his presence.

“You look like you’ve got a lot on your mind,” Lewis observed, his eyes searching your face.

“Just the usual stress of the job.” You smiled, waving him off. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Anything I can help with?” It takes you a moment to answer before you decide to confide in him,

“It’s Charles. He’s... concerned about us spending time together, he thinks I might get hurt.”

Lewis’s expression softened. “I understand where he’s coming from, but I want you to know, I’m serious about this. About us.”

“I know.” You said, reaching out to squeeze his hand, fighting the blush from forming on your cheeks. “I just need to figure out how to manage everything.”

Charles sat alone in his hotel room, the dim light casting long shadows on the walls. The conversation with you earlier played over and over in his mind. He had always thought your friendship was special, but seeing you with Lewis had stirred something deep within him, something he couldn’t ignore any longer.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, a new message from you: “Thank you for understanding, Charles. It means a lot to me.”

He stared at the words, feeling a pang of longing and regret. How had he not seen it before? The way his heart quickened whenever you laughed, the comfort he felt in your presence, the jealousy that gnawed at him every time he saw you with Lewis, it all pointed to one undeniable truth. He was in love with you.

Memories flooded his mind: the late-night conversations, the shared glances across the garage, the way you always seemed to know what he needed without him having to ask. He had taken it all for granted, thinking it was simply the bond of close friendship. But now, faced with the reality of losing you to someone else, he realised just how much you meant to him.

Charles leaned back against the headboard, running a hand through his hair. How could he have been so blind? He had always been there for you, and you for him, but he had never allowed himself to consider the possibility of something more. Now, it seems, it might be too late.

On track after that, Charles found it hard to focus. His mind was clouded with thoughts of you, of what he needed to do. He watched you from a distance, your interactions with Lewis emphasising the urgency of his situation. He couldn’t stand by and watch you slip away without at least telling you how he felt. And from then on tension between him and Lewis started to mount.

One afternoon, as the team prepared for a crucial race weekend, the tension between Charles and Lewis came to a head. They were in the garage, going over the final preparations, when Charles finally voiced his frustration.

“Lewis, can we talk?” Charles asked, his tone clipped.

“Sure.” Lewis replied, sensing the underlying tension, and he had a pretty good idea why Charles wanted to talk to him.

They stepped outside, away from the hustle of the garage. Charles turned to face him, his eyes blazing. “What are your intentions with y/n?”

“My intentions? I care about her, Charles.” Lewis raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the directness. “Isn’t that obvious?”

“She means a lot to me.” Charles clenched his fists, struggling to keep his emotions in check. “I don’t want to see her hurt.”

“And you think I do?” Lewis shot back, his voice rising. “I’ve been nothing but honest with her. What about you, Charles? Have you told her how you feel?”

Charles was silent, the truth hanging heavily between them. He hadn’t, and now he feared it might be too late. It seemed that even Lewis knew about his feelings even before he did. Charles gave Lewis a nod and left him abruptly.

His feelings weren’t just affecting his relationship with you, and with Lewis but it started to be felt by the team as well, and it wouldn’t be long before the fans started to spot it as well.

Inside the garage, you could sense the growing tension between the two men. It was affecting the team’s morale, and you knew you had to do something. So you approached Charles.

“Charles, we need to talk.” You nodded to the side for him to follow her.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked once you stood in a quiet corner.

You took a deep breath, gathering your thoughts. “This... thing between you and Lewis, it needs to stop. It’s affecting the team.”

“I know.” He admitted, his voice unsteady. “I just... I can’t stand the thought of losing you.”

“You’re not losing me,” You said gently, giving him one of your smiles that always calmed him down, but it seemed like it wasn’t working at this moment. “But you need to understand that I have feelings for Lewis. And I need you to respect that.”

“I’m trying. But it’s hard.” Charles looked at you, his eyes filled with a mixture of pain and longing.

“I know it is.” You replied, placing a hand on his arm and his heart skipped a beat. “But we’ll get through this. We always do, as friends.”

This sent a bang to his heart, how many times he’s called you a friend not knowing the effect it had on you, it seemed like now he knows.

”What?” You asked, seeing the look on his face. “You have something you want to tell me.”

”I-uh…” Charles trailed off, his confidence suddenly gone.

”Charles, just say it.”

Charles took a deep breath, trying to steady his racing heart. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking, and there’s something I need to tell you. Something I should have said a long time ago, and maybe this is not the right time but I can’t hold it in any longer.”

“Okay. What is it?” Your heart started beating fast in your chest.

“I’m in love with you.” He blurted out, the words rushing out in a torrent of emotion. “I have been for a long time. I just... I didn’t realise it until now. Seeing you with Lewis made me see what I’ve been too afraid to acknowledge. I don’t want to lose you, not like this.”

“Charles... I...” Your eyes widened in shock and confusion, those words you’ve longed to hear for years, and here he is saying them to you, but… it’s a bit late. This just complicated everything.

“I know this is sudden,” He continued, his voice trembling slightly. “And I know you have feelings for Lewis. But I had to tell you. I couldn’t keep it to myself any longer. You mean everything to me, and I can’t stand the thought of not trying.”

You were silent for a long moment, your gaze dropping to the ground as you processed his words. When you finally looked up, your eyes were filled with a mix of sadness and uncertainty.

“Charles, I... I don’t know what to say.” You admitted. “This is a lot to take in. I care about you so much, but I also have feelings for Lewis. I’m- I'm just so confused right now.”

“I understand.” He said softly. “I’m not asking for an answer right now. I just needed you to know how I feel. Whatever you decide, I’ll respect it. But I couldn’t let you go without telling you the truth.”

“I need some time to figure this out.” Your emotions were everywhere and you couldn’t make sense of them.

“Take all the time you need.” He replied, his voice gentle. “I’ll be here, no matter what.”

As you walked away, Charles felt a strange sense of relief mingled with apprehension. He had laid his heart bare, and now the rest was up to you. All he could do was hope that, in the end, you would see that he was the one who truly loved her, that with all your shared memories spent together you’d choose him, and that it wasn’t too late.

As you walked away, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of the situation pressing down on you. Your mind is spinning, the weight of his confession pressing heavily on your heart. As much as you had longed to hear those words from him, the timing felt like a cruel twist of fate. You needed clarity, and the only person who could help you find it was Lewis.

So that evening, you went to Lewis’s hotel room. The city lights outside cast a warm glow, creating an intimate atmosphere. Lewis welcomed you in with a gentle smile, sensing the turmoil in your eyes.

“Hey.” He said softly, leading you to the sofa. “You look like you’ve had a rough day.”

You nodded, your emotions still raw from your earlier conversation with Charles. “I need to talk to you about something important.”

“What’s going on?” Lewis sat beside you, frowning.

“Charles confessed his feelings to me today.” You took a deep breath. “He told me he’s in love with me.”

“I see.” He knew about his feelings, but he didn’t think Charles actually had it in him to confess. “ And how do you feel about that?”

“It’s complicated.” You admitted, your voice trembling. “I’ve had feelings for Charles for a long time. I thought he only saw me as a friend, so I never said anything. But now...”

“I understand.” Lewis nodded, his gaze never leaving yours. “This must be really confusing for you.”

“It is.” Your voice barely above a whisper. “But the thing is, I’ve been waiting for Charles to notice me for years. And while I was waiting, I met you. You’ve been so kind, so genuine, and… I couldn’t help but start to have feelings for you.”

“I care about you a lot.” Lewis reached out, taking your hand in his. “More than I’ve cared about anyone in a long time. But I don’t want to be with you if your heart is somewhere else. You deserve to be happy, whatever that means for you.”

“I know. And that’s why I need to be honest with you.” Tears welled up in your eyes as you squeezed his hand, it’s all too much for you. “I’ve spent so much time waiting for Charles to return my feelings, and it’s cost me a lot of happiness. I don’t want to waste any more time. I want to give us a chance, Lewis. I want to see where this can go.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.” Lewis’s eyes softened with relief and warmth.

“I’m sure.” You nodded firmly, your decision made. “You’ve shown me what it feels like to be appreciated and cared for. I don’t want to let that go.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He smiled, a genuine, heartfelt smile that made your heart flutter. “I promise, I’ll do everything I can to make you happy.”

You sat in silence for a moment, the weight of your decision settling between you both. You felt a sense of peace, knowing you had made the right choice for yourself. The future was uncertain, but with Lewis by your side, you felt ready to face it.

After your talk with Lewis, and your decision being made, you were filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension. Being with Lewis felt right, it was easy and your bond just grew stronger every day. He made you laugh, supported your ambitions and treated you with a level of respect and affection, you hadn’t realised you were missing.

But your past with Charles still haunted you, you saw him every day for work and there was a subtle tension over you and it affected the team dynamic. Charles was professional, as always, but there was a distance and coldness to his demeanour that hadn’t been there before. It hurt you to see him struggling, but you knew you had made the right choice. For yourself.

After a race weekend, that was hard and gruelling on you and Lewis and the rest of the team, Lewis took you out to a quiet restaurant. The conversation was light and filled with laughter, a welcome respite from the pressure that is their work.

“Can you believe how many laps we ran today?” Lewis joked, shaking his head. “I thought my arms were going to fall off.”

You laughed, enjoying the ease of your banter. “I was beginning to think they’d made you a permanent fixture on the track.”

As you continued to talk, you felt a warmth spreading through your chest. This was what you had been missing—genuine connection, unburdened by years of unspoken feelings and what-ifs.

Meanwhile, back at the hotel, Charles sat alone in his room once more, he was staring at his phone. He had been avoiding you, unsure of how to navigate your new reality. The thought of you with Lewis was a constant ache in his heart, but he couldn’t deny that you seemed happier. Unable to bear the silence any longer, Charles decided to reach out. He typed out a message, his fingers hovering over the send button before finally pressing it.

Can we talk? I miss our friendship.

Your phone buzzed just as you and Lewis were finishing dessert. You glanced at the screen, your heart sinking slightly at the sight of Charles’s name. Lewis noticed your expression and raised an eyebrow.

“Everything okay?” he asked gently.

You nodded, showing him the message. “It’s from Charles. He wants to talk.”

“Do you want to go see him? It’s okay if you do.” Lewis took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

“I think I should.” You said softly. “We need to clear the air.”

Later that evening, you found herself outside Charles’s hotel room, your heart pounding with a mix of anxiety and resolve. You knocked gently, and a moment later, the door opened to reveal Charles’s weary face.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in.

“Hey.” You replied, taking a seat on the edge of the sofa. “You wanted to talk?”

“I did.” He nodded, closing the door and sitting opposite you. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I said to you, and I realised I was being unfair. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

“Charles, it’s okay.” You said softly. “I’m glad you told me how you feel. But I also needed to be honest with myself. Waiting for you for so long, it was hard. And in that time, I found something real with Lewis.”

“I understand.” He looked down, his expression pained but accepting. “It just took me too long to see what was right in front of me. I don’t want to lose you as a friend, though. You mean too much to me.”

Your heart ached for him, for the years of missed opportunities and unspoken words.

“You won’t lose me, Charles. Our friendship is important to me too. It’ll take some time, but we can find a way to move forward.”

He nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “I’d like that.”

And so the tension began to ease, it took time, but you and Charles found a new rhythm. Your friendship slowly mending as you navigated this new phase of thier relationship. Lewis was a constant source of support, his presence a steady anchor in the shifting tides of her emotions.

And so one race weekend, as the team prepared for another race, you found yourself standing between Lewis and Charles, the three of you chatting easily. There is a new understanding between you.

“Ready for this weekend?” Lewis asked, grinning at you.

You smiled, feeling a sense of contentment you hadn’t felt in a long time. “More than ever.”

Charles chimed in, his eyes warm with genuine affection. “We’ve got this.”

In that moment, surrounded by the people who meant the most to you, you knew you had made the right choices. Your relationships weren’t perfect but it was close to it. Most importantly you are happy.

Maintaglist:

@gnatthefly . @mochimommy2002 . @llando4norris . @mrswolffs-blog . @barcelonaloverf1life . @c-losur3 . @mysticalpenguinarbiter

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yourimagines · 6 months ago

Text

Believing in you

* English is not my first language I apologise

* Triggers: bullying, online hate, swearing and fluff

Summary: Y/N is Lando’s girlfriend, she’s been there for him since the F2 and believes in him, even when it looks like he’s never going to achieve the things he really wants, becoming a race winner in the formula one.

Lando POV

It was an amazing feeling to win my first race in formula one. Everyone was cheering and chanting my name. “Lando, congratulations on your first win. How do you feel.” One of the reporters asks me as I walked back to my car. “It feels good, I don’t have words for it to be honest. I just want to smile.” I flashed them a smile and got in my car. “First stop the hotel, then the after party.” I said to myself as I drove away from the circuit. My mind wandered off to my girlfriend y/n, who was back in Monaco. “She’s probably screaming.” I smiled about that thought, her in my hoodie, screaming at the tv in happiness. Maybe a few tears involving as well. ‘She’s been here since the beginning….’

Flashback to 2018

“Come on Lando, just be positive about it. Maybe they want you to be their next driver, you’re already their reserve driver.” I just had a talk with McLaren about me being their reserve driver and test driver. They didn’t said anything about me actually driving for them, only about testing the car and being available during the race weekends. “They probably want George, just like Mercedes…” I sighed and sat down defeated. “Lan…I know it seems like the whole world is against you but I promise it’s not the case. Just don’t bring yourself down.” She wrapped her arms around my neck and sweetly gave me a peck on my lips. “I believe in you Norris.”

End of the flashback

I stopped the car in front of the hotel and got out, people were screaming at me and singing that song about me. “Thank you guys.” I waved at them and went inside. I quickly went to my room and sat down on my bed and took a look at my phone. She had texted me about how proud she was of me and that she knew today would be that day. ‘God….she’s perfect.’ I quickly send her a text message back and sent her the same picture I sent to my parents, me smiling happily at my phone while holding the trophy.

Flashback to 2019

I was nervous for my first race for McLaren. My girlfriend y/n was here to support me and so were my parents. “I believe in you Norris.” She says as she placed a soft kiss on my cheek. “Don’t get your hopes up, I’m never this good as my teammate Carlos.” She rolls her eyes and shakes her head. “Stop talking like this…it’s your first race of course you probably won’t defeat him but that doesn’t mean you are a bad driver Lando.” She gently brushed my shoulders before letting me go to the race track. “I’m always supporting you, no matter what.”

End of the flashback

The team picked me up from the hotel and went to one of the most popular clubs in Miami. “It’s going to be a hell of a party, I heard max is also coming.” I nodded and looked outside the car window, seeing the buildings passing us by. “Maybe Pierre as well…” they were talking about everything, the clubs, the drivers. I can’t blame them, they are just excited about my win.

Flashback to 2020

“You’re going to be on the podium today, I just know it.” She says through the phone. “I don’t know, maybe I crash and die…” I joked but she didn’t find it funny at all. “Lando! Don’t say that…it’s not funny.” She was a bit upset about the little joke I just made. “Okay okay, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She only shook her head at me. “You’re on the podium today Norris, don’t be an asshole to me, you know I miss you right now.” She looked a bit sad at the camera. “I know you are, I miss you too.”

End of the flashback

I did get on the podium that weekend, my maiden third place. I was over the moon with that one but of course I wanted more. “You want an other one?” A young girl asked me as she raised her empty cup. “No thanks.” I said politely as I didn’t want her to think I’m available. “You sure? It’s free.” She gave me a wink and a broad smile. “Yeah I’m sure.” Before something weird could happen, max showed up with two drinks in his hands. “One for you.” He handed me a drink and smiled at the girl. “You okay?” She nods and disappears. “Weird, what did she want from you?” “Everything, I guess.” I joked as I took a sip from my drink. Max laughed and patted my shoulder. “Ladies man.”

Flashback to 2021

Rumours were spreading around the paddock that I was cheating on y/n with some other girl. Of course it’s not true but it did made a scar in our relationship. All the hate to me on the internet, being a shitty driver and a cheater. “I believe in you Norris, I trust you.” She says as she was helping me to pack my bags. “I know, it’s just frustrating that others see me differently.” I sighed and rubbed my face. “I’m not a cheater, you know her she’s a friend of max.” I shook my head and sat down, feeling worthless. “Hey, I know you didn’t cheat on me.” She sat down next to me, laying her hand on mine. “We’ll get through this, I love you Lando even with those shitty rumours.” I looked up at her and tried to smile at her. “I know.” I whispered as my voice faded. “Come here.” She opened her arms for me to hug her. “You’re not alone in this Lan.”

End of the flashback

It was very late when I arrived at the airport, Zak and the rest were there as well. Ready to board the plane. “I’m so dead.” I said as I sat down in my chair. “Me too buddy.” Zak said as he sat down in front of me. “What are your plans back in London? Visiting some family or friends?” I nodded tiredly as I checked the time. “Yeah, my parents first, maybe some friends.” He nods and gives me a pat on my shoulder. “You doing fine Lando, we’re all happy to have you in our team.” I smiled tiredly and looked outside the window. “Yeah…I’m happy too.”

Flashback to 2022

“Let’s move in together.” I said to her as we were building some legos together on my apartment floor. “Your serious?” She looked surprised at me as I just asked her to move in with me. “Yeah, why not?” I shrugged and went further with our build. “Omg you’re actually serious.” She throws her arms around my neck and pushes us down on the ground. “Love, of course I’m serious. You basically live here already.” My arms snaked around her body as she started to give me a few kisses. “I’m so excited to live with you, I need a job here and learn some more French.” She was rambling about everything, when she should move to Monaco and how to plan her days. “You’re going to be fine, you don’t need a job. You’re dating this muppet remember.” She giggles and shook her head. “I can’t do that, but thank you for your offer.”

End of the flashback

I landed in London and went immediately to my parents house, feeling happy but also drained by all the attention and stress. “Hello honey! I’m so proud of you.” My mom said as she greeted me with a hug. “Hi mom, thank you.” She guided me inside their house and saw my dad and my siblings waiting for me. “Hey guys.” “Congratulations son.” My dad immediately pulled me into his embrace. “Thanks dad.”

Flashback to 2023

She was there as I stood on the podium again, she was smiling happily at me. I was feeling proud to make her that happy and she made me happy too. “I’m so proud of you Lan.” She hugged me as soon she got the chance. “Thank you my love.” She placed a kiss on my cheek and smiled happily at me. “I knew you would be on the podium today.” It always feels bittersweet, being on the podium but not as the race winner. “Yeah, I’m still Lando Nowins.” She stopped smiling and slightly slapped my chest. “No, don’t listen to that crap. They are haters Lando, there are enough people like me that are supporting you.” I shrugged and wrapped one arm around her shoulders. “Whatever, let’s just go back to the hotel and celebrate.”

End of the flashback

I was a few days in London before I traveled back to Monaco, back to my girl who was waiting for me. I opened the door and before I could step one foot inside she flew into my arms. “Lan!” I almost fell as I catches her, holding her tightly. “I’m so proud of you, I knew it.” She buried her face in my neck and I carried her back inside, closing the door behind me with my foot. “I know, I knew it too baby.” She had tears in her eyes, looking so proud at me. “No more Lando Nowins.” She said with a giggle and I joined her. “You know that makes me even more proud, proving them wrong.” She nods and kisses me. “You were never Lando Nowins to me.” I smiled at her and sat her down on our kitchen counter. “I know, I’m your muppet.” She laughs and nods. “I freaking love you.” I said to her as she looked so beautiful to me, that proud feeling was there again. “I love you too Lan.”

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scarletlizzard · 9 months ago

Text

Epilogue

Sessions Series

Paring: stalker Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: stalking, mentions of a knife, smut, smidge of somnophilia, fingering, strap on use (R Receiving), surprisingly fluff. This type of relationship is super toxic, okay!!

Masterlist

A/N: Thank y'all so so much for reading this series. Truly has been so nice seeing everyones comments and reblogs (the tags kill me every time)! This was my first series and hopefully there will be more, I really enjoy writing and am happy to share with you kind people. Let me know if you have any questions, would love to know what you think!! Thanks 💚💚

New Years Eve 2018

Your senses were heightened as you became aware of a set of eyes on you. Her gaze fixated on you from across the room, behind the crowd of people that swarmed around you. You watch with a familiar spark in your chest, a sense of safety that your shadow was watching over you.

"They're about to start the countdown, I'm going to find Maria!" Natasha yells closely to your ear, breaking the eye contact you held with Wanda.

You give her a small smile and nod, "Alright, find me after!" Before kissing her cheek and giving her a short hug. You watch your best friend push through the crowd until you can no longer see her red head, and your eyes travel back to your shadow. Panic settles in when you realize she's nowhere to be found.

Around you people begin pairing off, touch hungry ones scanning the crowd for a last chance at a kiss before the New Year. A touch on your shoulder makes you smile and turn around, but instead of seeing your Wanda, you see a drunk man attempting to balance himself in front of you.

"Hi sweetie," he slurs, resting his hand on your shoulder. The '2019' glasses he wore took up most of his face, a drink in his other hand sloshed onto your shoes.

"I'm sorry, I'm looking for someone..." You groan and try to push his hand off of your shoulder. To your suprise, he keeps it there.

"I'm somebody, you found me!" His words slur together as he presses closer.

"Seriously? Get off!" You raise your voice and put your hands on his broad chest, pushing him back. It's only a second later that you feel a body pressed against you from behind, the intoxicating scent wrapping around you.

"Hey man, I'd back off." Wandas husky voice sounds from behind you, but she moves to step in front of you as the man steps forward again.

He laughs and holds up his drink towards her, "We're just having fun, you wanna join in?" He slurs again, and Wanda makes a face of disgust.

"Just go away before we do something we'll both regret," she threatens. It's then you notice her hand is behind her back, settled on what you know is a blade hidden underneath her jacket.

Instinctively you reach out, resting your hand on top of hers. You watch as her shoulders drop and her grip on the handle softens. A blush creeps up your neck as you once again realize the affect you had on her.

Who, really, was the mouse?

"Fine, fine, you two are no fun," the man mumbles with a shrug, leaving the two of you in the crowd.

Before Wanda can turn around, you wrap your arms around her stomach, hugging her from behind. You feel soft vibrations from her back as she chuckles, turning in your arms.

"Okay, little mouse?" She asks softly, her demeanor changed in an instant as her green eyes meet yours. You nod and slide your hands up to her shoulders.

"I was hoping you would show up," you bite back a smirk as she leans in. The crowd begins counting down, signaling the seconds to midnight.

10... 9... 8...

"I'm always there, you know that," Wanda rasps in your ear, placing a soft kiss just below.

7... 6... 5...

The thought doesn't bother you, of her always being there watching. Waiting. Instead of dread, you felt comfort. You knew she would always be there. One hand cups her face as she continues to leave soft kisses across your jaw.

You would take any bad, as long as you had this good. As long as you had Wanda.

4... 3... 2... 1...

As cheers errupt around you, shouting, "Happy New Year!" You waste no time pressing your lips to hers, your fingers tangling into her soft brown hair. Wanda holds you tightly against her as she slips her tongue into your parted mouth. You savor the flavor of mint on her tongue, biting down softly on her bottom lip. She groans into the kiss, and you can't help but smile.

"You're going to be the death of me, little mouse..." she sighs onto your lips, and you nod.

"You love it..." You giggle, causing her to laugh. She pulls back with an unfamiliar look in her eyes, lips parted like she wants to say something. You wait, but only watch as they pull into a crooked grin before kissing you again.

***

January 2019

Wanda peers through the darkness into the windows of your house, her figure disconcernable against the shadows.

You walk around, a prickling sensation on the back of your neck, knowing someone is watching your every move. Despite the comforting warmth in the room, a shiver runs down your spine, knowing your shadow was just outside.

But instead of fear, instead of unease, you simply walk to the front of the house and stare out the window.

Wanda remains concealed, her presence a silent observer in the stillness of the night. She looks with curious eyes before realizing what you were doing, and a smirk forms on her face.

Your hands move to the locks, opening them up with a 'click'. As you stare off into the shadows, a sense of vulnerability washes over you, the feeling of leaving the windows unlocked. You have to lock and unlock it three more times before you're comfortable.

"Little mouse.." A whisper in the dark, a body next to yours as you stir in your sleep.

You could've sworn it was a dream as her hand traveled down your body, cupping your clothed pussy. She ran small circles over your clit, the clothing between become wetter. You felt your skin burn under the covers, aching for her as she teases you. Then her hand slides inside of your pants, rubbing against your now sensitive clit.

You awake with a start and attempt to sit up, but her other hand immediately covers your mouth and presses you back onto the pillow. Your hands fly up to her wrist that held a hand over your mouth, your breathing ragged as you attempted to figure out what was going on.

"It's okay, pretty girl. Just let me take care of you.." Wanda whispers, slipping her fingers inside of you. Her body presses further against you as she moves her wrist, her fingers pumping in and out of you at a quicker pace. Your moans muffle from her hand on your mouth.

"Such a good little mouse.." She praises, trapping your moans into the palm of her hand. "You were just begging for me to sneak in, needed me to come fuck you huh?" Her tone is condescending, but you only groan in response as her lips attach to your neck.

"That's it, just like that," Wanda chuckles darkly as you squeeze her fingers tightly, her thumb moving circles on your clit. "Now I want you to be a good girl and cum on my fingers, okay?"

As she sucks the skin on your collarbone, you follow as she commands, coming on her fingers and biting down harshly on her hand. Wanda moans at the feeling and the way you fall apart for her. You knew by the sound of her belt unbuckling that it would only be the first of the night.

***

February 2019

"So you and Wanda, huh?" Natasha laughs, shaking her head. "Was the therapy that good?"

Your face turns a dark shade of red as you think back on your sessions, the dark road it led you down. You shrug and take a sip of coffee, "I suppose it was..."

There was no way you could tell Natasha everything. You wouldn't. The Cat and Mouse game you and Wanda played was special, just for the two of you. But there was no way you could hide your feelings for her anymore, or the marks she left on your body, from your best friend.

"You're happy?"

"For the first time in a long time," you answer honestly. Through the whirlwind of emotions Wanda caused you, you knew you were.

"Taking your medication again?" Natasha raises an eyebrow as you tap the side of your cup 4 times absemindetly.

"It'll never go away..." You refer to your compulsion, "But I'm learning to cope with it."

"Good! Now, when are we going to go on a double date?" She smiles widely at you.

A date... you couldn't imagine Wanda taking you on a date. Maybe you could sit at a nice restaurant and she would watch from across the street. Maybe four rows away from you as you sit in a movie theater. Would it always be this way? Always about the chase?

"Hopefully soon," is all you say, a small smile planted on your lips.

***

May 2019

The microwave beeps from across the kitchen, and you set your glass of wine down before walking over and pulling out a bag of freshly popped popcorn.

Wanda watches hidden in the shadows as you grab a second glass, filling it up and topping off your own. She raises an eyebrow at the sight. Jealousy seeps in through all the cracks of her chest. She knew for a fact that Natasha was with her girlfriend tonight, and you never had anyone else over, especially this late at night.

Two glasses of wine sit on the counter along with a bowl of popcorn as you grab your phone. Her heart races as she sees the smile spread across your lips as you stare at the small screen.

A vibrate from her pocket distracts her from you.

Wanda takes her phone out to check the text, shaking her head with a sigh. She laughs at the message with the ridiculous nickname. It was only fair, she supposed.

You - Want to watch a movie, kitty?

She looks up from the screen to see you standing by the window, waving at her. Wanda tucks her phone back in her jeans and walks towards your house, where she finds the front door unlocked.

"Do you ever get tired of watching?" You ask curiously. Wanda now sat next to you on the couch, her arm wrapped around your shoulders as you leaned into her warmth. New and uncharted territory, the most normal interaction the two of you had privately. It felt so natural. You longed for this.

"No," she answers sternly, reaching into the bowl you held and tossing some popcorn into her mouth.

In the months Wanda had revealed herself as your shadow the two of you became closer, but she still felt out of reach. You noticed during sex that she would never let you touch her, and you craved to reach out and caress her. You didn't know why, and any time you tried to ask her, she would shut it down and become distant. Wanda still watched, too, every night. Any time she wasn't in the room with you, you could feel her eyes on you. By now, you didn't mind it, but you were starting to want... more.

"What if you... didn't have to go far to watch me?" You ask casually, keeping your eyes on the movie that played in front of you.

"What do you mean?" Wanda asks, and by the tone of voice, you could tell she knew what you meant. She wanted to hear you say it.

You lean forward to set down the bowl on the coffee table and move to situate yourself to sit on her lap. Your legs straddled her thighs, and your hands rested on her shoulders. You let the nail on your finger scratch up and down the side of her neck softly.

"Baby.." You whisper to her, feeling her strong hands grip your waist. For some reason, Wanda loved when you called her that, and you saved it for times like this.

You grab her jaw in your hand, tilting it to the side so you had full access to her neck. Your lips descend upon the soft skin, tongue licking a stripe to her pulse point. Wanda shifts beneath you, fingers fidgeting against your hips as you begin to bite down and suck.

"Is that what you want then, little mouse? Did you fully think about what that means?" Her voice is laced with lust as you trail down and leave another mark. "It means you'll never be alone, you won't sleep alone. It means I can use you whenever I please..." Wandas hands travel underneath your shirt, exploring your back.

"I know.." You mumble against her skin, your hips rolling slightly down against her to find she was definitely packing.

"It means you'll belong to me. You'll be mine, completely," Wanda growls as you leave another mark, her senses failing her as you continue to grind against her.

But you stop suddenly and remove your lips from her neck, your hands on either side of her face.

"I always was, baby. I am... completely," you whisper and look into her eyes, finding that same look she gave you on New Years Eve.

Wanda kisses you passionately, slipping her tongue into your mouth the second she can. Her hands travel your body before she's pulling your shirt over your head, you do the same for her.

"I need you so fucking bad," you groan against her lips, the ache between your legs growing as you throb around nothing. Wanda nods and hums in response, lifting you up and laying your back on the couch.

She slides her hand into your panties, feeling just how badly you needed her. "All mine, huh?" Wanda chuckles as her fingers pump inside of you.

"Completely," you moan out as she begins kissing your chest. You reach around her to undo her bra, sliding it away so you can feel her breasts pressed against you.

Wanda marks your skin as hers, fingering you until you're falling apart underneath her. You watch with wide eyes as she takes her fingers out of you and puts them into her own mouth, sucking your juices off of them.

"Mmm, you taste so good, pretty girl.." Wanda gushes and then chuckles as a whimper leaves your mouth. She then leans down and kisses you in a quick and sloppy kiss, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. She parts to unzip her jeans, sliding them off of her before lining her strap up between your legs.

Wanda slides in, filling you up completely with her faux cock. The position, the closeness, this was all so new. Usually you were bound or on your stomach. This was different. It was so much more intimate. She moves her hips slowly against yours, a low moan escaping her throat.

"So good, detka.. always so fucking good," she groans and lets out a few Sokovian curses as she thrusts harder into you. Her arms rest on either side of you, holding her weight above you. You take the opportunity to wrap your arms around her.

She tenses and begins to pull back, but your legs wrap around her hips tightly to pull her closer into you. You both moan at the feeling of closeness, her being deeper than ever in you, and Wanda finds herself lost in you. She lets your hands roam the skin on her back as she fucks you.

"Baby - feels so good!" You cry out in her ear, the weight of her body pressed down onto you as she grunts against your neck. Your nails scratch down her back, causing a guttural moan to escape her lips. You throb around the plastic cock at the sound of it, wanting her as close as possible.

"I know, I know... so good... Christ," she praises you and moans in agreement, pace picking up. You can feel the muscles in her back flex as she pounds into you. The way she's moaning into your skin, you can tell she's close.

She fills you completely with every thrust, hitting that one spot that makes you see stars over and over again. Your fingers feel every inch of skin she'll let you touch, from the few moles that spread along the top below her shoulders to her back dimples on the bottom. You let your nails mark into her skin again, and Wanda feels on cloud 9. Pure bliss.

"Fuck, pretty girl I'm gonna cum," Wanda moans in your ear and picks her head up to look in your eyes, finding only pleasure written on your face. You nod at her words and hold onto her back, your legs still gripping tightly around her hips to bring her desperately closer to you.

"Me too, baby, I-I'm so close!" You gasp, feeling her lips on yours.

"Fuck, fuck! Always.. so good, fuck, I love you so much.. oh God," Wanda moans into your mouth as she thrusts into you, fucking you hard into the couch. You don't have time to register what she says before the tight coil that had built up inside you releases. A wave of pleasure crashing over you.

The two of you come at the same time, the sounds of your moans and Wanda chanting your name as she slaps her hips into yours. Wanda slows to a stop once she's sure she's taken everything she can from you.

Your chest moves rapidly as you look up at her, her jaw tense as she lets out one last groan. The muscles in her back tense up as your fingers trace small circles on her skin, and she begins to move away.

"Stay... don't move, please?" You whisper, pleading with her. Wanda sighs and gives in, too tired to move. Your heart races as you replay her words over and over again in your mind.

You bring your other hand up, stroking her brown strands of hair that splayed across the two of you and closed your eyes. Wandas arms wrap tightly underneath you as she rests her head in the crook of your neck.

She had never let you hold her like this before, touch her like this. You knew what she said was true. Her words were not just words spoken lightly. Maybe she hadn't meant to say it then, but you knew she loved you. You knew she would never let you go, even if you didn't love her back.

But you did. With all of your mind, body, and soul. Everything that you were, are, and will be.

More than you loved the special bottle of red that sat on the counter, more than the feeling of a paintbrush in your hand, more than I Love Lucy, more than counting to four.

Wandas breathing slows against your neck, her body fully relaxed as you caress her. You had never seen or felt her so at ease before.

"I love you..." You whisper as you hear soft snores fall from her lips.

It doesn't take long for you to fall asleep after, the sounds of her quiet snores and slow breathing along with the comforting weight of her body on top of yours, lull you to sleep.

Dreaming, hoping, there was a way Wanda would give in to you.

To let the game fade away.

But when you awake in the morning, you're alone on the couch. A blanket covers your naked body, hopes and dreams fading away into reality.

Wanda was gone, and the worst part was you knew she would be back, out of reach again.

You give yourself a moment on the couch, only a moment to cry, before wiping your tears and shaking the sounds of her soft snores out of your mind. The way her body melted into yours as your hearts beat insync, the way she kissed you lovingly, the words "I love you" slipping from her lips in a desperate, intimate moment. It was all a game, after all.

The wine glasses and popcorn bowl were missing from the coffee table. Curious, you wrap the blanket around your body and walk to the kitchen. The dishes were clean and sitting on the drying rack. It was then you saw on the counter a glass of water and a bottle of your medication along with a paper and pen. You slowly pick up the paper, an old receipt you had lying around, and read the note:

I'll be back later with some boxes. Don't forget to take your medicine.

The curved letters tug at your heartstrings, the next lines causing another spark to ignite in your chest.

I love you

If the game was still afoot, Wanda was winning, because you were utterly and irrevocably hers.

***

October 2019

In the sunlit room, you stood in front of a canvas, wooden brush in hand. Each stroke, movements precise and deliberate, guided by a vision taking form in your mind. You inhale the scent of oil paint as you take some more on your brush before leaning in, adding intricate detail to breathe life into your creation. Time seems to stop as you lose yourself to the creative side of your brain.

You don't hear the creak of the door opening, or feel Wandas gaze on you as she stands in the doorway, admiring you.

The large button down you wore loosely was covered in paint, a work of art in itself from all the leftover paint of paintings you had done. You hummed along to the music, playing softly behind you, tongue between your teeth and brows scrunched together as you concentrated on the small details.

Wanda can't help the crooked smile on her face as she takes in the sight of you in your element. Her heart pounding out of her chest as you brush a piece of fallen hair out of your face. She walks closer, setting her hands on your waist.

You gasp at her touch, the feeling of her nose tickles your ear as she kisses your neck.

"Baby.. you scared me," you giggle and rest a hand on top of hers, leaning back against her.

There it was again, that feeling Wanda would never get used to. The feeling that wanted to drop her to her knees right there and whisper devotions between your legs, something she did more often since you had moved in with her.

"I got tired of watching," Wanda jokes, a rumble in her chest as she laughs. You turn yourself in her arms, resting your hands on her chest.

"I don't mind you watching... but I prefer you touching," you whisper the last part sinfully, the word darkening Wandas emerald eyes. She picks you up easily, you squeal with excitement, and wrap your legs around her waist.

And there on the floor, in the room Wanda had transformed into your art studio, she whispered those devotions against your skin and between your legs.

You lay on the cloth tarp that covered the floor underneath your canvas, drawing patterns on the skin of Wandas stomach. You turn in her arm to look at her.

A jaw sculpted by God, green eyes blessed by the angels, and a smile gifted from the Devil.

The sun shines on her face, highlighting smudges of green paint on her cheek. You giggle and let your fingers travel to the colored paint stripes spread across her body, a handprint on her shoulder.

"You're my favorite work of art," you murmur to her, feeling her thumb brush the paint on your hips. She smiles, your favorite crooked smile.

"Little mouse?" Wanda asks, her voice low and calm as she stares into your eyes.

"Yes, baby?"

"Marry me.."

And it's not a question, it's a statement. A declaration. You didn't need a moment to think, because you already knew you were hers, forever.

"Yes," you say anyways, nodding your head. Wandas' smile widens, and she lifts you on top of her, kissing you the best she could without letting her smile go.

***

Christmas Day 2021

The snow crunches under Wandas' boots as she watches you walk from the kitchen to the living room, a towel on your shoulder. Your hands fumbled with something unseen, hidden from her view. Your brows furrowed in concentration, and you shook your head, mumbling something to yourself.

And then you looked up and saw her. The widest smile overcame your face. You radiated pure joy.

Wandas' heart sped up at the sight of you as she carried wood and walked towards the front door.

"Reminiscing, kitty?" You purr as you greet her at the door with a kiss and a hug, she hums against your lips.

"You don't miss it, little mouse?" Wanda chuckles and kisses your jaw, the wood dropping to the floor.

"Not when I have all this..." You sigh happily as she kisses down your neck, her hands moving under your shirt.

A cry from the other room interrupts the moment.

"Mm, those boys always know when to start, don't they?" She mumbles, "I knew when I heard twins, they would be trouble."

Wanda hears a radiant laugh escape your lips, and she gives you a crooked smile in return. You cup her face in your hands, the ring on your fourth finger on the left hand is cool against her cheek.

"I loved you then, and I love you even more now, Wanda.." you whisper, breath fanning against her face.

"I love you even more, little mouse.." she says softly, giving you one last kiss before walking into the living room, your hand in hers.

#marvel #wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x you #wanda x fem!reader #elizabeth olsen #dark wanda x reader

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formulawolff · 2 months ago

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night changes - d.r.

pairing: fem!reader x daniel ricciardo

word count: 1k

warnings: some cursing here and there, alcohol consumption, danny bein' a little shit, mostly cutesyyyyy shit hehehe, yadayadayada

a.n. -> yes, this fic is based off the song night changes by one direction. (and a request that was sent in!)

⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹ . * ꙳ ✦ ⊹⨯ . ⁺ ✦ ⊹ ꙳ ⁺

clink, clink, clink!

lightly, you tap your spoon against the champagne flute, clearing your throat. as hundreds of eyes fall on you, there's a beat of silence. anxiety courses through your veins, yet you know you have to persevere.

after all, this wasn't about you.

it was about danny.

"good evening, everyone," sucking in a breath, you shift uneasily, the nerves overtaking the buzz for just a moment, "first of all, i would like to thank everyone for joining us in celebrating our love. i cannot express how grateful i am to be surrounded by all of our dearest friends and family members."

daniel is beside you, perched in his chair at the head table. the golden hue of the lights create a warm ambiance, softening his features. yet, when you glance over at him, you can't help but notice the stars that glisten in his gaze.

he nods, encouraging you to continue. taking your hand, fingers intertwine with yours. he gives you a gentle squeeze, dimples forming as he bears a quaint grin.

"before we begin the real party, i wanted to present daniel with a gift. i was going to give it to him during our rehearsal dinner, but i decided to wait. i figured it would be best if you all were here to watch it as well."

your hand trembles, yet you continue, the words thready as you fight the lump forming in your throat. tears begin to well up, blurring your vision as you look back down at love of your life.

"d-daniel, i know this gift is extremely corny, but i think it best represents our love story. you are the man of my dreams, and i cannot wait to love you and show you off for the rest of our lives. i hope that by the time this is finished, everyone will know how much i fucking adore and cherish you. max, could you please roll the gift in?"

max verstappen, the best man, gives you a salute, promptly disappearing behind an array of flower garlands. to your far left, a white sheet rolls down from a wooden setup, a specially crafted rig from your father for the big day. max wheels in a cart, your laptop resting on the top shelf.

he plugs a cable into the designated port, giving you a thumbs up. as you sit back down, daniel places a hand on your thigh, leaning over.

"what is this?"

"just be patient," a giggle bubbles up in your throat, "you'll see in just a few seconds."

the lights of the outdoor venue dim as an image projects onto the sheet, the crowd maintaining their silence. there are a few whispers, but you ignore them, honing in on the display before you.

"hey guys," a clip of you begins to roll, "you will not fucking believe what just happened! daniel just won in monaco!"

"holy shit," daniel's voice is barely a whisper, almost breathless, "baby, where did you-"

"shhh," you place a finger on his lips, "just watch!"

a new clip flashes on the makeshift screen, the moments following his 2018 monaco win. he's at the edge of the pool, surrounded by the red bull crew. you're there as well, lingering in the background. yet, daniel is persistent to have you front and center, grasping your arm gently. he manages to pull you into the pool with him, the two of you erupting into laughter as you come to the surface.

there's a second where you see him cup your cheek, his thumb brushing a soaked strand away before he pulls you in for a kiss. members of the crew dive in, filled to the brim with euphoria.

there are a few photos that flash across the screen. one from daniel's debut as a formula one driver, where the two of you swore you were "just friends." then there was one of the two of you as children, bearing wide, toothy grins as you played outside. another is your prom, where daniel flew in from australia to attend the dance with you.

flash forward to his time with red bull as their third driver. the two of you are filming a tik tok, more than likely for a sponsorship on your end. the video shows daniel playfully slapping your ass before you hiss at him, reminding him that the camera was on. he just shrugs before making eye contact with the lens, smacking your buttcheek once again.

another video rolls, a tender moment of the two of you dancing at a wedding a few years back. he's holding you close, your head resting against his chest, your lashes fluttering as you sway along to the music. his head lowers, the australian whispering a strand of words that weren't quite picked up by the audio.

the audience coos as there is a plethora of baby photos that appear, as the two of you practically grew up together. since your father was stationed in australia till you were thirteen, you shared many fond memories with daniel.

truly, you had no idea how intertwined your paths were until it all unfolded on screen before you.

he was your soul mate. the only man you had ever loved. and the only man you were going to continue to love.

until the end of time.

"that was the moment i knew i was going to marry you," his voice shakes, and you can't help but notice the glimmer of a tear as it rolls down, "fuck, how did you even find these?"

heat floods your cheeks, "i've been saving them here and there."

he takes your hand, bringing it to his lips, "that was a beautiful gift, my love. i couldn't imagine anything more perfect than that."

"it wasn't corny?"

"far from it," shaking his head, a hand reaches up, cupping the back of your skull. he brings you in, eyes still misty from tears.

"that is going to be something we show to our future children. and their grandchildren. and you know what they'll all say?"

"what?" your lower lip trembles, your own tears pooling up.

"they're all going to say, 'they were so in love. i hope that we find someone who we can love like that.'"

#daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo x y/n #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 x reader #formula 1 x reader #oracle red bull racing #daniel ricciardo x you #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fanfiction #f1 fic

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meazalykov · 3 months ago

Text

gold or silver

laura freigang x reader

summary: you say words you don't mean.

warnings: reader's mentality is.. harsh in the beginning. jealousy. bits of angst.

it's the 40th minute and you were frustrated.

as an attacking midfielder, it seemed like you were doing everything.

you were helping the offense with your creative chances, you were clearing goals to help with the defense, picking up any pieces that horan or coffey failed to receive.

your body was tired and your mindset started shift into playing aggressively, anyway that will help you win against the germans.

by now, you'd start your aggressiveness with any other team-- but the germans had something special with you.

having two german parents made you eligible to play for the german national team. you were born in the United States and were raised in the US for your entire life-- the decision to pick a national team was hard.

back in 2018 when the united states promised to put you on the 2019 World Cup roster, you accepted.

it didn't help that they were the best team in the world at that point.

it made it special that you played for bayern munich, a bavarian club. most of the german girls on the gerwnt were your bestest friends, you've considered them to be your non-biological sisters.

one of those non-biological sisters, sydney, introduced you to laura back in 2021.

the both of you hit it off, the chemistry was undeniable and you've been with the older girl for 3 years now.

mallory swanson shoots the ball towards the goal in the 44th minute but it deflects off of the goalpost, the ball lands on your foot and you shoot the ball-- only for it to launch into the crowd.

you yelled in frustration as sam reassures you that you'll get it next time-- again. this was your third huge opportunity of the night and you didn't make a single goal yet.

nobody did. its nil-nil.

when the referee blows the whistle for halftime, you groaned out in frustration. hearing this, trinity jogs by your side as you both head back to the dressing room.

sitting down by your locker in the dressing room, you cling onto the bottom of your red shorts and take a sip of water out of your gatorade bottle.

the entire dressing room was frustrated-- the many missed chances wasn't acceptable.

after emma came in the dressing room, surprisingly calm while talking about the switches in play, you look up to the ceiling in silence.

"hey y/n." sophia places her hand on your right knee. you look towards her and raised your eyebrow, signaling for her to talk to you.

"are you okay?" sophia asks with a light smile.

"not really, are you okay?" you ask back.

sophia shrugs her shoulders, "I've been better."

that response breaks a smile from you.

"I just want to help you guys score, or at least score myself, I hate this deadlock we are in." you speak, going to take another sip of your water bottle after.

"I'll score for you and the team in the second half, I promise." sophia says.

"but honestly, I thought that your bad mood might've been about playing against laura and your german friends." sophia continues.

"no-- not really." you place your water bottle down and bend down to fix your cleat laces.

"huh?" sophia says, surprised.

"I mean, I am determined to help us get a medal. I'm not letting a relationship get in the way of our dreams." you say.

"and I know laura thinks the same way. yes, I am a little scared that she will resent me if we win and she doesn't-- but if that is a huge problem for her, maybe we aren't meant to be." you continue.

sophia knits her eyebrows together as you finish tying your cleats.

"she wouldn't resent you. are you saying that you would have resent for her if germany wins tonight?" Sophia asks.

"no, because I'll make sure they wouldn't win." you say, standing up and jogging out of the dressing room.

in the 61st minute, you push down and block a huge chance coming from nicole-- your girlfriend's frankfurt teammate.

seeing her fall after her failed chance, you walk up to her and help her when you realize that she had a cramp in her leg.

laura is subbed on her nicole afterwards, which made you feel nervous.

seeing her come onto the field, your tough façade faded away at the sight of her. you couldn't play mean when it came to her-- she made you feel loved and soft.

you didn't think it, but subconsciously, you make a note to be aggressive towards every other player except for her-- unless you absolutely had to.

in the 72nd minute, laura gets the ball and nearly gets the goal against the united states. noticing the position between her and crystal dunn, you reached your hand up because she was offside.

when the ref called for it offside, laura walks closer to you frustrated.

something inside of you feels heartbroken when she walks by you without bothering to look at you-- or gives you a signal that she notices you.

did she hear your conversation with sophia? no way, the American locker rooms aren't near the german ones.

was it because you were the first to urge the referee to call off-side? maybe.

in the 94th minute, you ran the ball up the field and passed it to mallory.

mallory, seeing no free space thanks to feli and kathy, passes the ball back to you. as you get the ball and dribble around feli, you pass the ball over to sophia.

berger fails to grab the ball from sophia's feet as she shoots the ball into the undefended goal.

1-0.

you feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you dart towards sophia, who’s grinning like she’s just won the entire tournament.

she practically tackles you in the celebration as you both crash to the ground, your teammates piling on top of you.

the scoreboard flashes 1-0, and the realization hits you—you’re just minutes away from securing a spot in the gold medal match.

you finally stand up, breathless and exhilarated, giving sophia another congratulatory hug. you gave the assist and she got the goal.

she smiles at that thought, her eyes twinkling with mischief as she points at you and says, "i told you i’d score a goal for you."

"and it was perfect, soph!" you laugh, your heart swelling with pride and affection.

your voice carries your excitement, and for a moment, the world seems to pause around you, focusing only on the joy of the moment.

but then, out of the corner of your eye, as you’re jogging back into position, you catch sight of laura.

she’s not far, standing near the center circle, her posture stiff, eyes fixed on you with a mix of confusion and something else—something you can’t quite place.

her brows are knitted together, and she’s biting the inside of her cheek, a habit you know all too well.

you feel a pang of guilt but push it down, focusing on the game at hand.

laura’s mind races as she replays your words in her head. "scoring a goal for you?" the phrase echoes, unsettling her.

of course, she trusts you—she has to. but seeing you so close to sophia, hearing the way you cheered for her, stirs a gnawing insecurity within her.

she shakes her head, trying to rid herself of the thoughts. now’s not the time. there’s a game to win, and the germans are still in it—barely.

the game restarts, and you see laura moving with renewed determination. she’s pushing forward, trying to lead her team to an equalizer. every touch she makes on the ball is sharp, decisive, but there’s an edge to her play now, something almost desperate.

you can’t help but feel a twist in your gut every time she gets close to the goal. she has to be stopped, even if she doesn’t want to be.

in the 96th minute, laura receives the ball just outside the box. she fakes a shot, sending emily off balance before cutting inside.

your heart skips a beat as you watch, silently praying she doesn’t score. it’s a terrible thought, but you can’t help it. the idea of seeing her disappointment if she misses, or the tension if she scores, is almost too much to bear.

laura shoots, the ball curling towards the far post, but it’s just inches wide. the ball goes into the crowd and you exhale a breath you didn’t know you were holding. the sight of laura with her hands on her head, staring at the missed opportunity, brings a lump to your throat.

when the final whistle blows, the stadium erupts in cheers for the USWNT, but your gaze is locked on laura. she’s sitting on the grass, staring at the ground. your feet move before you can think, crossing the pitch to her.

you should be celebrating with your team, but that's not your main concern. as much as you said it did in the locker room.

“laura,” you whisper as you reach her, crouching down.

laura looks up at you, her eyes tired and exhausted, and for a moment, the world falls away. it’s just you and her, and the weight of the game feels inconsequential compared to the heaviness between you.

“i’m sorry,” you say, knowing it’s not enough, but it’s all you have at the moment.

“it’s okay. you deserved the win.” laura shakes her head, managing a small, sad smile. her voice is soft, but there’s a crack in it that makes your chest tighten.

“it’s just a game, laur. we’re still us. and i believe that you guys will go and win bronze.” you reach out, gently brushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear.

she nods, but her eyes tell a different story—a story of doubt, of worry, of wondering if the game really is just a game, or if it’s something more. something that could wedge itself between the both of you.

“i saw how you looked at sophia,” she admits, her voice barely audible.

“what did she mean by ‘scoring for you’?”

you open your mouth to respond, but the words catch in your throat. how can you explain that it was just a friendly promise, a moment of celebration? that it means nothing compared to what you have with laura? you can see the doubt in her eyes, and it scares you.

“it was nothing, i swear,” you say, squeezing her hand.

“sophia’s just… sophia. she’s engaged to michael and i do not have feelings for her outside of platonic ones. you’re the one i’m with, the one i love.”

laura takes a deep breath, nodding again, but you can tell the seed of doubt has been planted.

the victory feels hollow now, and as you pull her into a hug, you can’t shake the feeling that this game has cost you something far more important than a spot in the gold medal match.

so much for what you said in the locker room at halftime. you’re terrified that you might’ve manifested something.

you hold laura close, feeling the tension in her body as she tries to keep her emotions in check.

the cheers and celebrations around you fade into the back of your mind, replaced by the sound of her uneven-- and tired--breathing.

you hate this—the way the game has twisted something as pure as your love for each other into a source of tension.

“laur,” you murmur against her hair, trying to comfort her as you sit on the grass,

“you’re the one i’m going to go home with after this all ends. none of this changes that.”

she pulls back slightly, her eyes searching yours, trying to find reassurance in your words.

“but it does, doesn’t it? we’re always on different sides out here, and it feels like… i don’t know, like we’re not on the same team anymore– i mean we aren’t physically– but i mean with us.”

the vulnerability in her voice breaks your heart. you never wanted this—never wanted to be the reason she felt insecure or doubted what you have together.

you cup her face gently, your thumb brushing away a tear that threatens to spill over.

“we’re always on the same team in this relationship,” you say firmly, hoping your conviction can bridge the gap that’s opened between you.

“what happened on this field stays here. it’s just a game, but you and me? it exists everywhere else.”

laura looks down, her lips pressed into a thin line. “it’s hard to separate it sometimes, you know? watching you celebrate with her, hearing what you said echoing outside of the locker room at halftime… it hurt, y/n.”

the honesty in her words cuts deep, your heart drops and you feel a huge wave of guilt hit you. she heard what you said.

you wish you could go back, change how you reacted, change what you said to sophia, change how you celebrated. but you can’t. all you can do is try to make it right now.

“i didn’t mean to say that.. or to hurt you,” you whisper, your voice thick with emotion.

“sophia and i—we’re just friends. she was just trying to cheer me up, that’s all. i don’t think that you’ll hate me like I said in the locker– the emotions of this game were just–” you cut yourself off, finding no excuses.

“you’re the one i care about, the one who matters to me.” you say with full sincerity.

“I know that, but it’s hard when we’re out here, competing like this. i don’t want to feel like i’m fighting for you.” laura’s eyes soften, but there’s still a shadow of doubt lingering.

the feeling of playing against you all of the time is starting to catch up to the german girl.

she's never been your teammate on the pitch, just an opponent or rival.

“you’re not,” you insist, your grip on her tightening as if you could physically hold her fears at bay.

“you have all of me, laura. there’s no one else, and never will be.” you stare into her eyes.

she nods slowly, taking in your words, and you can see the conflict in her eyes begin to ease, if only slightly.

“i want to believe that,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “but this… it’s just hard.”

you pull her into another hug, wanting to shield her from the pain, to show her that nothing has changed between you.

“i love you, laur,” you say, the words a promise as much as a declaration.

“we’ll get through this, together. when you win that bronze medal, i promise i’ll be there to celebrate with you.”

laura lets out a shaky breath, her arms wrapping around you tightly. “i love you too,” she murmurs against your shoulder.

“i just… i don’t want to lose you and three years of us to this– to a football match if anything.”

“you won’t,” you assure her, pulling back just enough to look her in the eyes.

“we’ll figure it out. we always do.” you say. this is true, you guys have solved small disagreements before and have made compromises.

a small, fragile smile forms on her lips. not caring about any cameras or teammates that could see it– you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

the sound of your teammate, sam, calling your name pulls you back to the present. you know you have to go, to join them in celebrating the victory, but you’re reluctant to leave laura’s side.

you’d stay by her side forever if you could. ninety minutes of rivalry exhausted you.

laura notices your look at sam and gives you a small nod.

“go,” she says, her voice steadier now. “you deserve to celebrate. i’ll be okay.”

“are you sure?” you hesitate, searching her face for any lingering doubts.

“i’m sure. we will talk more later back home, okay?” she smiles, a bit more convincingly this time.

you nod, pressing one last kiss to her lips before standing up.

the joy of the journey towards gold feels muted, but as you jog back to your team, you glance over your shoulder at laura.

she’s watching you, and there’s a small smile on her face, one that tells you she’s trying to be okay..

as you rejoin your teammates, the cheers and laughter envelop you, but your mind is still on laura.

the victory with your national teammates is bittersweet, a reminder of the delicate balance you have to maintain between your love and your rivalry when playing on the national level– even club level since you play for bayern and she plays for frankfurt.

but you’re determined to make it work, to ensure that no game, no matter how important, comes between you and the woman you love.

you’re determined to show laura that she’s the most important part of your life—on and off the field.

well, after you win that gold medal for your team.

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

#laura freigang #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #uswnt x reader #gerwnt #woso imagine

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strawberrychampagneglass · 3 months ago

Text

Roses - pt. 1

Paige x Azzi

CW: cursing, implications of domestic violence (ONLY AT THE END), angst, maybe some fluff?, pining

9.3k words DAMN

A/N: holy shit guys I did not think I could pull this off and to think that this is gonna be a series is wild to me. Jokes aside, this took me about 2.5 weeks so expect (somewhat) infrequent updates due to school work and all that. Ik y'all have been waiting so I'll drop the first chapter. Something to be mindful of: initially this thing was in GSV then I changed it to LA last minute and then I changed Nika to Cam and Gabby to Dearica because Gabby and Nika didn't make sense to me at all so yea enjoy AND PLEASE DO GIVE ME FEEDBACK!!! I appreciate it a lot I WILL ADD A MASTERLIST WHEN MY HEART COMPELS ME TO

October 15th, 2028

Los Angeles, California

“Azzi,” her urgent voice calls out to the dark. She nearly trips over the entrance mat as she enters her apartment in the early morning hours. She drunkenly yells for her again as she stumbles towards her bedroom.

The only response she gets is an echo of her voice.

She lands in her bed with a soft thud, her hand searching for the familiar warmth of another body. When she feels the cold bed sheet under her hand instead, the only thing she can hear is the hammering inside of her head while her heart throbs, threatening to pry itself out of its cage. Tears well in her eyes as she falls asleep.

When she wakes up and checks her phone, she has one notification: a text message from Curt Miller. While it makes her heart palpitate as she remembers the happy memories, alarms blare in her head, reminding her of the bad that outweighed the good.

Her excitement quickly turns to bitterness. Paige doesn’t want to play on the same team as Azzi. Not after the incident in her redshirt senior year. Not after their catastrophic argument at the 2025 WNBA draft. Not after she saw a new person with her Azzi. Not after she saw the diamond-studded ring on her fourth finger.

Most of all, not after she built a stronghold with the most formidable defenses around her heart.

July 29th, 2018

Minsk, Belarus

The Belarusian crowd roars during the FIBA U17 Women’s Basketball World Cup final, drowning out the melody created by a screeching flute and deep, dulcet drum. With a very comfortable 32 point lead against the French in the middle of the fourth quarter, Paige is subbed out. She accepts the high-fives from her teammates before taking a seat at the end of the bench. Cheers flood the bench while they watch the clock wind down intently, waiting to relish in the intoxicating adrenaline following the victory.

The blonde raps her foot against the floor anxiously; her jaw propped up by her clenched fists. From the point of view of her teammates, she is engaged in the game. However, inside of her mind, a storm brews. She thinks of her best friend, the brunette girl with the number 6 on her back who is sat two seats to her left. Paige indulges in the memory of her fingers lingering on Azzi’s for that extra second after a high-five, their intertwined hands during the national anthem, and even when their shoulders brushed together in the team huddles and neither of them moved.

Her mind continues to wander until the bench unexpectedly explodes with chants of “USA” as the clock winds down into the last minute of the game. Paige springs from her seat on the bench, hollering as the adrenaline pumps through every vein in her body. When the final buzzer sounds, she shakes hands with the opposing team before hurling herself into the sea of navy jerseys.

The rest goes by in a blur, her adrenaline depletes rapidly. The energetic girl is uncharacteristically quiet during their team dinner and even on the bus ride home where she opts to sit alone in the back, leaning her head against the cool window that soothed her aching head.

As the bus pulls up to the hotel, Paige and Azzi lock eyes from opposing ends of the bus. The fatigue she once felt is quickly replaced with delight when Azzi gives her a tired smile with softened eyes, making her heart beat erratically. It’s still early in the evening, but the team agrees to celebrate in Cameron Brink’s room, without the coaches’ knowledge. While the team shuffles off the bus in a single-file line, Paige pushes through the never-ending hoard of her teammates until her eyes rest on a familiar brunette. She puts her hand on the brunette’s cold shoulder, catching her attention as she leaned into the warmth of Paige’s hand. Azzi chooses to ignore the pink that rose to the older girl’s cheeks and smiles at her.

“Are you going to Cam’s?” Paige asks sheepishly, trying to hide her smile. Azzi chuckles before responding with a nod.

“She is my roommate, so I guess I’m obligated to go.” Paige grins from ear-to-ear as they chat until they reach their respective hotel rooms. She changes into sweatpants and opts for a Hopkins Basketball hoodie. Although it's the middle of summer, the temperatures in Minsk are frigid compared to the Minnesota heat.

Furtively leaving her hotel room, she spots her teammate, Zia Cooke, attempting to sneak several bottles of cheap vodka into Cam’s room, her shoulders are tense and eyes rove across the empty hallway. Paige giggles before walking over to the shorter girl to offer a hand. When her teammate’s eyes land on her friendly face, the muscles in her shoulders loosen.

“Paige, thank god,” she breathes, relieved. “I was so scared that Carla or Stephen would jump out of their rooms.” Paige laughs at the image of Coach Berube catching Zia while looking like a deer in headlights, juggling 5 bottles of vodka. Feeling bad for her teammate, she takes three bottles from her arms and opens the door to Cam’s room. The two girls are met with 10 pairs of curious eyes who cheer at the sight of the vodka bottles.

***

An hour later, the potent odor of vodka floods the room. Most of her teammates gossip about their crushes back home; others watch the late-night shows on the Belarusian TV channels, a few are even snoring obnoxiously on Azzi’s bed. Paige, who is completely sober, feels irritated from her spot on the floor as she watches the dramatic show that is being projected on the TV. She isn’t sure if it was the lack of alcohol, or if it was the sight of her best friend who presses her body against Hailey Van Lith while an arm that wasn’t hers is strung around the brunette’s waist and resting on her toned abdominal muscles.

When Azzi notices the blonde’s glare at Hailey, she walks off the bed and carefully treads towards the table of alcohol, pouring a full glass of vodka. Her eyes flick to Paige, who stares at the glass of vodka in her hand. Unamused and frustrated, Paige returns her attention to the show on the TV until she feels a warm hand tilt her chin back. Azzi looks at her, emotionless, as she stands behind her. They stare at each other wordlessly before the older head lands on a soft, toned leg. Her lower lip meets the cool rim of the glass that Azzi filled with vodka.

The brunette moves her face closer before she tips the glass upward while noticing a light streak of red across Paige’s cheeks. “Drink,” she whispers, and Paige complies. She feels the alcohol burn her esophagus as she swallows the oily and bitter liquid. Their faces linger in the close proximity as they breathe in synchronization. It takes every ounce of self control in Paige’s body to not close the distance between their lips.

“You look pretty,” Paige smiles, hoping for a laugh and a friendly slap across the shoulder from her friend. Instead, Azzi returns a frown with furrowed eyebrows, moving her head away.

“Paige, I can’t enjoy my evening when you’re glaring at everyone I’m sitting with,” Azzi huffs with an edge to her voice. “Go get drunk and leave me alone.” Paige scowls; she knows that Azzi isn’t exclusive to her, but she wants some exclusivity. At the end of the day, they’re just best friends, nothing more. Nevertheless, the thought of another girl’s body pressing her body flush against Azzi infuriates her. From her spot on the floor, she feels the warmth of her friend’s body disappear as she walks back to her spot next to Hailey.

She grabs her wallet and phone and leaves the room.

***

When she returns to her hotel room hours later, she slams the newly-bought bottle of vodka on her nightstand, shaking the entire room. It isn’t a big bottle; it’s around the size of a Gatorade bottle. The cashier at the convenience store didn’t bother checking the 16-year-old’s ID, assuming she was of legal drinking age. She popped the cap off the bottle and brought it to her mouth. Her lips begin to form a suction around the opening as she tilts her head back, swallowing the searing liquid. She throws the rest of the liquid down her throat when the thought of Azzi’s words cross her mind. She tightens her grip on the bottle and her tongue scours for the last few drops of the liquid, hungry for the feeling of the alcohol. She sits on her bed in silence, staring at her feet until she feels the effects of the alcohol course through her veins. Her vision begins to blur and the entire room begins to swirl. Through her blurred vision, she still manages to identify the lamp that sits perfectly still on the nightstand. Her free hand reaches for the dangling chain that serves as a lever for the light. Giving it a slight tug, the light flickers briefly before illuminating the entire room. To her shock, a familiar brunette girl with bronze skin sits across from her.

“Are you done being an alcoholic so we can talk?”

“Azzi, what the fuck?” the blonde stammers, frustrated. She sets the bottle down and stares at her friend in disbelief. When Paige gets no response from her, she stands up and starts stumbling towards the door, nearly tripping over herself.

“Paige, wait,” Azzi catches the blonde, observing the older girl’s cloudy eyes. Even while drunk, her blue eyes remind her of her lake house; her second home. The thought makes her heart flutter despite the agonized look painted across her best friend’s entire face. “I’m sorry, we can talk about this if you want. I know I hurt you, and I take full accountability for it.”

Paige knows she is in damage control mode, but she has a soft spot for the girl; a part that is willing to forgive her and move on.

She chooses to ignore it and let her irritation control her words. “You didn’t want to talk before, so you don’t get to talk now,” she hisses. Azzi flinches, unaccustomed to her hostility. “You told me to leave you alone, and now you’re in my room, begging for forgiveness. I don’t understand you.” Her arms fly erratically before reaching the collar of her hoodie, tugging it down to ease her tense muscles.“For god’s sake, we’re best friends. Sure, best friends tell each other everything, but my best friend doesn’t get to tell me to leave her alone and show up in my hotel room 2 fucking hours later.”

“I’m not yours, Paige. You don’t have any right to control my actions.” The retort makes Paige wince. “If I want to be with Hailey, you have to respect that. I have a right to be frustrated because I don’t belong to you.”

“Okay, how about a heads up next time instead of you getting cozy with someone else in front of your best fucking friend. I thought we agreed that we would ‘see each other later’”

“She was drunk and she came up to me, and we did see each other. There was nothing binding about that agreement. I can be friends with other people and you can too, unless I’m your only friend.” Azzi’s anger rises as well as she picks at her cuticles.

“You’re an asshole.” Paige breathes, releasing the hoodie. “You tried to get me drunk while trying to seduce me.” The other girl’s mouth opens before getting cut off. “Then, you went back over and cuddled up to her. I don’t have a problem with you seeing people, but even a short-term notice would’ve been nice. It’s fucking awkward when I’m sitting there–surrounded by drunk people who are all passed out on the damn floor–and my best friend is cuddling up to a person we barely even know.”

“You know what? You sound really fucking insecure right now. Maybe you should go book a flight back to fucking Minnesota and we’ll never have to see each other again. You’ll never get jealous over me when I go on dates with other people.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, she wishes that she can take them back and shove them down her throat. Paige stares at her, emotionless. After a few minutes, Azzi’s voice cuts through the thick air. “Say something, please. You’re freaking me out.”

“I wish I was yours, Azzi,” Paige whispers softly, so softly that Azzi thinks she mishears. She scowls, but her heart flutters from the confession.

“I need you to tell me that when you’re completely sober. I can’t trust you when you’re drunk.” she sighs, looking at the blonde who has tears brimming in her eyes. However, she can’t shake the warm, fuzzy feeling in her heart from her words. She can’t describe the feelings, and the thought of treading into unexplored emotional territory makes her queasy.

“I wish I was yours,” Paige urges, with genuine sincerity in her tone despite the alcohol.

“Paige–”

Before she could finish her sentence, Paige grabs her wrist and pulls the younger girl into her. The blonde drags her along a premeditated route, stumbling several times. Biting the nails on her free hand, Azzi’s mind swarms with endless possibilities of danger; they could be kidnapped by random Belarusians, the coaches could catch them while getting a midnight snack, or they could get lost and never see their families again. But Paige was Paige, guiding her to their destination. The warmth radiating from the other girl’s body hypnotized her. It felt safe. Too safe.

Paige leads her through the maze of the city until they reach the edge of a river. Even under the late-night sky, airplanes weave between silhouettes of clouds; their green and red lights blink, bringing life to the sky. The city is calm and serene at this hour, with the occasional passer-byer that ignores the two girls. The solitude is disrupted by cars gliding across the bustling road across the river bank with horns that blare occasionally. Street lights hug the river bank; streaks of yellow and orange rippled back and forth on the water. The breeze is soft, like a baby’s blanket. It carries the occasional, faint scent of cigarette smoke which is unexpectedly comforting.

The two sit in mutual silence, away from each other. They both avoided the topic of the prior conversation. Paige hums softly, her body warm from the alcohol. “I didn’t know they had fireworks this late at night.” Her speech is slurred, yet Azzi still laughs in response. The sound of her laugh is like a piece of music written by Beethoven to her; a sound that can be played over and over without getting old.

“They’re not fireworks, they’re street lights reflecting off the water.” The blonde squints, squatting on the large cement block that she had been sitting on. As she cranes her head closer, nearly falling off the block, Azzi scrambles to catch the blonde as she reflexively yanks her waist backwards. They laugh before Paige puts her hand on hers.

“You’re acting really sober,” Paige declares while studying Azzi’s facial features.

“I am sober, so I think it’s a good thing that I’m acting sober.” The younger girl chuckles, punching her friend’s arm lightly with her free hand. Flustered, Paige averts her gaze to the shimmering undulations on the surface of the water. Unsure of whether it was the alcohol that was twisting her mind, or if it was the dim, golden lighting that lights up the left side of Azzi’s face, all she can think about is that her best friend is beautiful. It drives Paige insane; her bronze skin gleams and her umber eyes light up and become a light, almost golden shade of brown.

“Sometimes I wish that you could be in Minnesota with me all the time.”

“Well, you could come to Virginia and stay with me…” Azzi proposes before smiling at Paige, but she doesn't meet her eyes. The blonde is scrunching her face with her attention on Azzi’s arms, and not her face. “What’s wrong? Paige?”

“You’re cold,” Paige whispers, shifting her weight so she and Azzi sit facing each other. Trailing her hand up the other girl’s arm, her fingertips dance along the mountain ranges of goosebumps on her tender skin. Paige’s warm touch makes her feel something. Their eyes clash, uncertainty swarming in both pairs. “I meant what I said earlier,” Paige glances at her lips, breaking the eye contact. “I wish I was yours.” Her hand reaches for Azzi’s cheek, cupping it lightly, and the brunette melts into her touch.

Panic rises as a lump in her throat. They’re young–too young. Azzi’s feelings are new and confusing. She doesn’t know what love feels like and it scares her. As a kid, she was told that “love” was when two people cared for each other a lot. It was obvious that they care for each other a lot. They talk for hours, each word flowing effortlessly while they howl in laughter about something that the other said. Every touch they share is electric: sparks fly erratically through every vein of their bodies. After every argument, Paige is the first to apologize because she knows that Azzi overthinks.

She moves her face closer and drapes her hands on the blonde’s nape. Paige takes the bait.

Her slightly-parted lips meet Azzi’s warm and soft lips. She closes her eyes, pulling the younger girl’s face in before pulling away after several seconds. The kiss is short, but sweet. Azzi looks at her hands, not wanting to meet the blue eyes knowing that she made a mistake, and the kiss shouldn’t have happened. The once well-established boundaries of their friendship are permanently breached. Yet her cheeks flush and she misses the warmth provided by the close proximity of Paige’s body.

“Raise your arms,” Paige mutters shyly as Azzi is enveloped in the warmth of a thick hoodie. Paige’s hoodie. The scent of Paige’s rosy perfume encases her and a contented sigh escapes her lips.

“Are you cold?” Azzi observed her best friend’s exposed arms.

“Nah, I’m alright. You can keep that by the way,” she motions to the hoodie that hugged Azzi’s torso. “It can be a souvenir from Belarus from me. Something that can remind you of tonight forever.” The brunette smiles and wraps her arms around the blonde; she is the clay that Paige can shape into anything she wants. They just fit together.

The girls dance through the city and totter unsteadily to the hotel, where they collapse in the comfort of Paige’s bed, satisfied laughs slipping out of their mouths after sneaking past the rooms of their teammates.

“Would you like me to walk you back to your room, Madame Fudd?” Paige teases before a pillow slams into her face. “Hey! Azzi!” She shrieks, scrambling to grab another pillow before falling flat on her face. Azzi laughs hysterically for a few moments until the room stills into an unsettling quiet.

“You’re so chivalrous, Bueckers.” Azzi looks around her room, fidgeting with her fingers. “But, uh, since there’s a few drunk bodies on my bed,” The blonde cocks her head at her and smirks; the simple motion makes her heart lurch. “And also because you also don’t have a roommate and I thought that you might be a little lonely tonight, especially because you’ll be hungover in the morning, I was wondering if I could stay here tonight.” Paige breaks out into an ear-to-ear grin and tackles her in a bear hug, shoving them to the bed where their bodies melded into each other.

Amongst the clamor, there is an uneasy feeling in Paige’s gut that she can’t shake, but she chooses to ignore the feeling as she lets her body intertwine with the younger girl’s.

October 19th, 2028

New York City, New York

Azzi is selfish.

Anything she gets her hands on, she wants to keep for herself. She is a hoarder who wants to keep everything that she loves forever.

Unfortunately, when you fall in love with everything, you can’t have it all.

She paces back and forth at the gate, biting her nails and avoiding the gaze of her fiancé. Tugging the collar of her hoodie from her high school days over her head, she allows a satisfied sigh to escape her mouth as she is cloaked with a comforting rose scent. It was nostalgic; it held so many memories that felt so important and so irrelevant at the same time. But the scent made her feel hopeful of something she couldn’t place.

“Is everything okay, babe?” startled, she drops the hoodie to smile weakly at her fiancé.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little tired. The thought of everything scares me a little.” Azzi chuckles. Instead of a friendly smile from her fiancé, she notices his scowl at the text on her hoodie. Her heart drops into her stomach, knowing that this would prompt an argument from him over a certain college teammate.

“I’m so happy you finally chose to leave the cesspool of New York,” her fiancé sneers, “and, I’m so excited to soak up the LA sun.” Azzi doesn’t react to his comments, avoiding an argument at all costs. He came to all her games and cheered her on, but he always hated New York City. It was either too cold or too hot, too rainy or too sunny and never the perfect balance between the two.

As long as he’s happy, I am too.

Los Angeles, California

Paige is protective.

She loves her possessions and hates it when people take them. She wants to shield everything she loves from hurt and pain.

Orange and pink rays of sunlight stream through the tall glass panes by Paige’s bedside, bathing her bedroom in a warm glow. She stirs awake, her sore body begging for 15 extra minutes of sleep. Her throat feels raw and her eyelids are weighted. Instead of fighting against the weight, Paige lets her eyes close while thinking about the consequences of not showing up to Azzi’s welcome party. When she first caught wind of the news, she called Cameron Brink to come to her apartment. She complained to her for hours while blackout drunk before inevitably passing out. When she woke up the next morning to dozens of angry texts from Cam, she apologized profusely, showing up to her apartment with the shoes that her friend had been eyeing for months and bags of Sour Patch Kids.

It was safe to say that Paige wasn’t allowed anywhere near alcohol tonight if she chose to go. At least, not under Cam’s watch.

The Sparks had an extremely successful campaign last year and capped off the season with a championship title along with Paige’s first league MVP and finals MVP awards. The feeling is still surreal, and the thought of it pumps more adrenaline through her body. Even though the season was extremely successful, the threat of injuries plagued the guards last year. Also, the Sparks were in desperate need of a guard with the ability to knock down shots and step into the role of a strong playmaker.

Was she expecting Azzi to join the Sparks? Eventually, yes. She is desperate for a championship run.

Did she want to celebrate a piece of her past she let go before her birthday? No.

Is she happy about it? Absolutely not.

Her phone began to vibrate violently under her pillow, prying her from her thoughts. She rolls over to scrutinize the contact name with a groan. Her blood runs cold and she taps the green phone icon on the 4th ring.

“Paige! Thank god I got in contact with you.” Katie Fudd exhales. Paige feels the weight of her panic that reciprocates her own through the phone. “I know we haven’t really talked in about, um, three years,” she pauses, unsure of how to continue when she hears Paige’s sharp inhale, “but, have you heard from Azzi recently? She’s supposed to be arriving in LA today, at least that’s what the media says.”

“No, I…I haven’t heard anything, Katie,” she rasps, her throat ablaze. Her lips run dry. The media?

Paige makes small talk with Katie, catching up on major events in their life while both of them try to avoid the topic of Azzi. It was brought up once and Paige could barely perceive the muffled, yet pained sobs on the other end of the phone.

“I know you have your Unrivaled league coming up in the new year, but it would be great if you could come visit us during Thanksgiving or even Christmas,” Katie proposes as they near the end of their conversation.

“I’ll take a look at my schedule and try to pull some strings, but no promises. I have plans to visit my dad and Drew over the Thanksgiving weekend in Maryland, so we’ll see what happens.” Paige replies, acknowledging the piece of her that wants to let the past go. The part where she was too close to Azzi and her family. She knows that visiting them means treading into foreign territory.

“We miss you, Paige. Jon and Jose miss their ‘son’ too,” Katie laughs, relieving Paige of a heavy, bone-crushing weight on her heart. “Happy early birthday too, we could never forget. We love you, you’re still family to us.”

Paige smiles, a genuine ear-to-ear grin. “Love you too, Kaite. Tell the brothers and Tim I say hi as well.” She says before hanging up.

“You’re still family to us.” The words rang in her head, warming her frozen heart. It wasn’t enough to thaw it, but it was enough to invoke thoughts of hope. She was torn from her reverie by a knock at her door. Humming to herself as she sauntered out of her bedroom, she opened the door to her apartment.

“Woah, I never thought I’d see you smiling like you’re on Disney Channel,” the blonde at the door laughs, surprised. Paige scowls at her words which prompts Cam to laugh harder. “I did bring breakfast though, knowing your current mental state. You look like shit, Paige.” She sets two paper bags on Paige’s kitchen island. They sit across each other on the spinning bar stools Cam loves.

The two chat buoyantly; Cam tells her stories about her boyfriend, Ben, and his new obsession with cars or whatever. Paige doesn’t really pay attention to her rambling because of a painful ache in her heart. Even though it had been a year since Cam moved to Los Angeles, the two still learn new details about Over the past year, Cam used the fact that the shorter woman struggled to maintain a relationship for more than a few weeks as the butt of all her jokes. Despite being annoyed at first, Paige was quite amused with herself.

“Azzi’s mom called me earlier,” Paige abruptly says, interrupting Cam in her spiel about her brother’s recent breakup.

“...is that why you were smiling earlier? Paige, not even 5 days ago you made me-”

“From what I’ve…figured out, they haven’t been able to get in contact with Azzi. Katie seemed distraught when she accidentally brought her up.”

“Are you implying that she got kidnapped?” Cam laughs uncomfortably, trying to avoid the weight of the situation.

“It’s a possibility.” Paige mutters. Cam stops laughing and an uneasy silence drapes the room like a heavy curtain.

“I guess we’ll find out later, but don’t stress about it. You could be overthinking the entire situation. Don’t make that face, I know that you don’t want to go, but out of respect for your future teammate, you need to.” Cam sighs while rubbing circles on her temples. “I’m going to pick her and her supposed fiancé up at the airport. I’ll let you know how it goes.”

“Thanks for breakfast, Cam. Drive safe,” she calls out as the door to her apartment shuts. And suddenly, her mind is thrown back 5 years to the keychain that Azzi bought them in their early 20s as a gift. Drive safe, I need you here with me. I love you.

***

“Azzi Fudd! This is Kendra Andrews with ESPN. What are your thoughts on the Sparks franchise?”

“What prompted the move from New York to LA?”

“How do you plan to integrate yourself into the team?”

“What excites you the most about the LA Sparks franchise?”

Dozens of reporters and journalists surround her. They fight amongst each other to thrust microphones into her face. Sweat beads down the back of Azzi’s neck as she tries to answer as many questions as she can while being mindful of her fiancé’s limited patience. He had gone on his phone, ignoring Azzi as she drowns in a sea of cheap cologne and felt-tipped microphones. She quickly interrupts the reporters after 10 minutes and bid a polite farewell. Her heart stings with a bit of remorse when some of the reporters in the crowd express their frustration through whisper-shouts to their colleagues because they got a different answer than what they would’ve hoped. As she makes her way to her fiancé, her head hanging low, she mentally prepares herself for the incoming argument.

“You’re a piece of shit,” her fiancé hisses, “you took ten fucking minutes to talk to some fans.”

“Please, not here. Not while the reporters are still around,” Azzi whispers, frantically scouting for reporters.

“Save your bullshit for later. Call an Uber and get me out of here.” While leading her fiancé towards the airport exit, Azzi picks at her cuticles. “Oh, and next time,” her fiancé continues, “don’t be a pussy-sucking people pleaser and just give them an autograph. I don’t have the time for this, there are better things I should be doing that does not include waiting for you.” Tears begin to well but she blinks them back, trying to put up a facade for the public as she smiles half-heartedly for selfies. The lump in her throat threatens to roll out of her mouth. The thought of a night in the hotel sends a cold bead of sweat down her back. She doesn’t want to be left alone with her fiancé. She doesn’t trust him.

A firm hand grabs Azzi’s wrist, pulling her back into the present. She rips her hand away reflexively before processing the familiar face that belonged to her temporary roommate in Belarus. For the first time since she left New York, Azzi breaks out in a full-faced smile and throws herself into Cam’s open arms.

Her mind wanders to the other future WNBA teammate, who she had not seen since the 2025 WNBA draft. The thought of her quickened her heart, but the feeling sours when she becomes aware of her fiancé by her side.

“I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever, oh my god,” Cam laughs, punching Azzi’s arm lightly, a gesture from her USA basketball days when Coach Berube made an off-handed comment. She flinches in response, which Cam chooses to ignore. “Oh, and you must be Azzi’s fiancé. I’ve heard so much about you, and it’s so nice to meet you. I’m Cam,” the blonde chirps, turning her attention to Azzi’s fiancé, offering a friendly smile and a hand. “I don’t think I ever got your name.” Her fiancé remains silent, but his jaw muscles tighten and his cold, green eyes look at her with animosity and spite. Not wanting to raise suspicion, Cam plasters a smile and leads them to her car.

Cam makes a mental note to tell Paige about their interaction with an emphasis on the flinch.

“...This is the Uber you ordered?” her fiancé snarls when the other woman is out of earshot.

“You need to calm down. She’s my teammate, and this is a thoughtful gesture,” Azzi retorts before covering her mouth. Her breathing becomes shallow and her face pales as her fiancé inches his face closer to her ear until his hot, rancid breath drowns out her awareness of everything around her. The hustling environment of the airport disappears and her world is engulfed in silence until four words snap her out of her trance.

“Drop this shit, now.”

***

The ride to the hotel where the two would be temporarily staying was brisk, although Azzi wished it would have lasted longer. The brunettes reminisced on their college days while laughing hysterically.

“Have you talked to Geno after he finally retired?” Cam asks playfully, making eye contact with Azzi through the rear-view mirror. Instead of Azzi’s warm brown eyes, she meets her fiancé’s swampy green eyes. The blonde feels a chill run down her spine, unable to detect any emotion on the fiancé’s face.

“Nope, not at all.” Cam raises her eyebrows, clearly amused.

“Wow, it’s been two years since he retired. He even went to the draft to support you and, um, nevermind.” The blonde shakes her head, cursing to herself. Azzi laughs awkwardly, trying to lift the guilt off her friend’s shoulders, but her fiancé is unamused. “About time though, I thought that he nearly got a heart attack during the March Madness championship in 2025.” The two erupt in laughter, tears falling from their eyes. Her fiancé glares at Cam through the mirror, prompting her to awkwardly change the topic to the Sparks and their team culture. Azzi ignores the glare and continues her conversation with her friend.

Her fiancé isn’t completely out of the loop despite his apathy towards Azzi’s WNBA career. He knows who Paige Bueckers is, the national championship they won in 2025, but he only vaguely knows about the relationship that she and Azzi shared during their collegiate campaigns. If their relationship was an iceberg, her fiancé only sees the tip of the iceberg, the visible part that the media shared, the two in a million SLAM cover, their rise to stardom in USA U16 basketball, and most importantly, their adversities through injury together. What she doesn’t know is the true depth and complexity of their relationship, veiled beneath a thick layer of dark, murky water that neither she nor Paige are ready to uncover. As their lives began to diverge, so did the currents in the water; they pushed and pushed on their relationship until it came crumbling down, splitting the iceberg into two parts that are now just Azzi and just Paige.

Thanking Cam as they slip out of the car, Azzi checks into the hotel room where she and her fiancé sit on opposite sides of the king-sized bed. Her head hangs and she looks at her hands before her fiancé breaks the silence first.

“Hey,” he sighs, walking over to Azzi. When she lifts her head to meet her fiancé’s eyes, branches of tears stream from her eyes and down her cheeks, splitting into multitudes of different directions.

“Am I not good enough for you? One moment you hate me, and the next you’re suddenly in love with me again.” Azzi sobs, pulling her hair in frustration. “I’m trying my hardest, and it hurts when you don’t reciprocate the feelings.” She wipes her eyes while her fiancé stares at her in disbelief, masking his anger. He paces to the door before walking back to Azzi, feigning an empathetic look.

“No, baby, you’re perfect.” Her fiancé mutters , pulling the brunette’s head to his chest as he kisses her forehead softly while wiping her tears. “I love you so much. I appreciate everything you do.” Azzi could feel that his words felt wrong and uncomfortable coming out of his mouth.

“Love you too”

***

Paige walks in circles around her room while Cam summarizes the airport pickup, sprawled out on the blonde’s bed. “You didn’t even get his name. Damn.” Paige’s voice is laced with worry.

“All you need to know is that her fiancé is fucking weird. He was like ‘I’m so sick of this bullshit’ the whole time without speaking a single word. I introduced myself to him like a normal fucking person and he stood there and stared me down, as if I was competition or something.” Cam breathes, putting her face in her hands. Paige feels the same, unable to piece together the puzzling situation. “This whole situation is crazy. I was talking about Geno’s retirement and she hasn’t talked to him in years. Isn’t that weird? I feel like he’s also the jealous type. She wore your Hopkins hoodie and her fiancé kept eyeing it the whole time.”

Paige’s heart skips a beat at her words. Her Hopkins hoodie. The one from the night in Belarus: even though it had been over 10 years, Paige remembers it clearly. It was the first time she was in love. “That’s weird. You picked them up from the airport, and he was glaring at you the entire time in the car. Then, you- like, jokingly punched her. How hard was this punch?”

“KK-punching-Ice-after-losing-a-bet-about-your-life hard.”

“Okay, so not that hard.”

“I’m pretty sure I heard her fiancé call her a stuck-up pussy eater while they argued about the reporters before I picked them up.” Paige raises an eyebrow at the statement before coughing awkwardly, mumbling under her breath.

“Just– be careful Paige. She isn’t yours anymore. I know you’re still not over her,” She winces at her friend’s words, “and it’s the harsh truth, but I seriously think that you need to find someone else to distract you.”

“We both know that finding someone else hasn’t worked for me either. I’m worried about her. She’s my best friend, my ride or die.”

“She betrayed you. You need to move on. Best friends don’t betray each other like… that.”

***

Flanked by her fiancé, Azzi walks through the large, wooden doors of the restaurant next to her hotel. It was a short walk, but she took in the salty smell of the city. The breeze was sharp and it nipped her exposed arms. She was shivering and rubbing her hands up and down her arms.

“You must be Ms. Fudd,” the waitress waiting for her arrival smiles at her, “your table is over here, please follow me.” The short walk through the labyrinth of tables set with velvety red cloths that had a golden trim on its edges was interrupted by a crimson-colored curtain. The chatter behind the curtains feels daunting, and she wants to turn around and run back to Arlington. The waitress pulls the curtain to the side to reveal a table full with people, her teammates, laughing and talking boisterously amongst themselves. The first person to stand up is Cam, who embraces her in a loose hug. Seconds later, nearly all of her new teammates have thrown themselves into her arms.

The last person to stand up is the blonde. Her wavy, blonde hair, lighter from the Californian sun, is tucked behind her ears and falls down her back like a loose shawl. Her skin glows gold against the yellow lighting of the dining room. She wears a freshly ironed button-up dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to expose her toned forearms. Only the right side of her shirt was tucked into her brown trousers that hang loosely from her hip, ghosting her ankles. A beige bomber jacket that matches her pants is slung around her shoulders and a watercolor-patterned scarf is draped around her neck. The gold studs and helix ring on her left ear reflect the light of the chandelier that hangs from chains above the dining table. When their eyes meet, Azzi searches her eyes for a sense of comfort in her familiar blue eyes that her dark mascara emphasizes. Instead, she finds nothing in her cold and emotionless eyes. Paige embraces her new teammate in a stiff and loose hug, her muscles tense when Azzi’s hands roam her back. Immediately, she is engulfed in her rosy perfume, the same scent that she finds solace and comfort in. Her stomach churns, yet there is a certain warmth that flickers in her heart. Everything about the blonde screamed Paige, and Paige is beautiful.

“Welcome to LA,” she says while pulling out of the hug. Refusing to look at her, she turns to the man looming in the corner while offering a hand. At the table, Cam sucks a sharp breath in, casting a warning glance at Paige which is ignored. Azzi stiffens and her heart hammers. “It’s nice to meet you. I’m Paige, and you are?”

“I’m Charles,” he murmurs, accepting the handshake and offering a small, sly smile. Azzi’s eyes widen. Her fiancé is rarely friendly, especially not to Paige. They glare at each other for a brief moment before she takes a seat next to Cam.

Her fiancé and her sit side-by-side at the table, across from Paige and Cam. Charles slides his hand into Azzi’s under the table, squeezing it softly. The small gesture makes Azzi smile as she leans into her fiancé, enjoying his comforting presence. It isn’t much, but it’s enough to take her mind off of the blonde sitting directly across from her, laughing with her WNBA teammates. It annoys her.

Azzi is selfish.

***

The entire table has some sort of alcoholic beverage in their hands or in their stomachs. Paige sits awkwardly, sipping a Shirley Temple whose sugary and overly sweet grenadine has become bitter on her tongue. Nausea seeps into the edges of her head and begins to spread like wildfire and she finds herself rubbing circles on her forehead. She can’t stand the sound of Azzi’s bubbly laughter across the table. The sound that threatened to burn a hole through her heart.

“So, how did you guys meet?” Dijonai Carrington cocks an eyebrow at the couple while swirling her cocktail in her cup.

A brief panicked look flashes across Azzi’s face before Charles cuts in. “We met in college.” His answer is curt and dry, yet polite. Several of her teammates cooed at his response, gushing over the couple. The two women jump into a conversation about their college lovers.

That should’ve been me.

“What a fucking people pleaser.” Paige snickers to Cam while blinking back the unwelcome moisture that began to form under her eyes. She throws back the rest of her drink before dropping her head into her arms.

“Are you sure you don’t want any alcohol? Like, a thousand percent positive?” Dearica Hamby, the star forward of the Valkyries asks Paige while rubbing the taller woman’s back. Through the seemingly innocent image of the question, she notices genuine concern painted in the woman’s softened eyes.

“She’s alright without it,” Cam answers before she could open her mouth. “We made an agreement that she would have no alcohol tonight because I had to clean up after her last time.” The entire table howls in laughter, and Paige joins them with a half-hearted smile while heart fractures.

If her smile didn’t split into a frown at the corners of her mouth or her chin didn’t wrinkle, Azzi’s heart wouldn’t have stopped and she would’ve been laughing with her teammates.

“Yeah, I had to show up to her apartment with shoes and a shit load of candy because I felt so guilty.” She sneaks a glance at the brunette sitting across from her. Instead of laughing with the team, she was engaged in a conversation with her fiancé, prompting her to avert her gaze. It takes every piece of her dignity not to stare at the brunette. Her dark, curly hair is braided and hangs just above her shoulders; the same hairstyle that she jokingly called a bob back in their college days. She wears a baby blue knitted tank that reveals her muscular arms and white, flowy linen pants that hug her hips.

However, when Paige’s eyes pass by the soon-to-be married couple, searching for something, they follow the pattern of their intertwined arms and hands hidden under the table. Looking at Cam, she whispers, “I need to get out of here.” the taller woman waves a hand at her, signaling for her to go ahead. She files through her wallet and grabs a few hundred-dollar bills and hands them to Cam, which she graciously accepts. Dearica flashes her a sympathetic look before returning to her drinking game.

“I got a call from my mom and I gotta take it. I’ll be right back.” Announcing to the table, she grabs her phone and stands up, stepping over her drunk and overly rowdy teammates. When she finally slips behind the thick velvet curtain, she finally feels as if she can breathe. The curtain has become a barrier between her and a certain pair of brown eyes that burns holes through the back of her head. She knows that man. The blur of dark curls and olive and brown skin became too vivid. She needs to get out. It hurts her.

Paige is protective.

***

The neat blonde bun disappears behind the curtain with a soft, almost inaudible swoosh. She tries to talk with her teammates, laughing at their jokes, but everything feels forced. The image of Paige's stiff posture and the death grip she had on her phone haunts her. All of a sudden, her fiancé’s once soft hand feels heavy and scratchy against her skin.

“I need some air. I’ll be right back,” She announces as she gets up, dropping her fiancé’s hand. Cam and Dearica pause their argument over their stupid drinking game and stare at her with their mouths agape. There is undeniable panic swirling in both pairs of wide-open eyes, but Cam gives a hesitant nod.

“Is everything alright babe?” Charles’s voice is soft but urgent. “I can come with you.” Azzi looks at him with a warm smile before giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.

As she exits the restaurant, she is met with an intricate spectacle of orange, pink, and blue. The light of the day quickly disappears, but she discerns a hunched silhouette on the beach that glows under the golden light. Her attention shifts to the orange circle that barely peeks out through the edge of the horizon as it slowly sinks underneath the water, leaving a trail of orange and pink light rippling across the surface of the water. Waves crash loudly against the shore before they are drawn back to the ocean while laughter and joyful screams from children join the peaceful ambience.

“Are you just gonna stand there or do you wanna sit?” A tired voice rips her out of her thoughts as she tears her gaze from the astonishing scene in front of her. She glances at the woman sitting next to her who has her knees up to her chest and her head resting on her forearms. Azzi decides to sit a few feet away from her. For a split second, it feels like their fragmented friendship could be salvaged again.

She slips her sandals off and lets her feet absorb the texture of the flaky sand while shivering when a gust of wind hits her skin. Instead of ignoring the mechanical sound of teeth chattering, Paige shakes the jacket off her shoulders and hands it to her which Azzi graciously accepts. When she wraps it around her shoulders, she is engulfed in the aroma of roses again.

“I thought you had a call to take,” Azzi remarks, her voice soft. Veins snake down the woman’s arms and hands until they disappear behind her knuckles. Her pale skin had become golden and her biceps protrude from the rest of her arm. The neat braids in her hair are now ruffled and frizzy, and small wisps of hair dance with the breeze. On her wrist is a beaded bracelet that reads “RESILIENCE.” The bracelet from her camp before their explosive argument. The sight of it makes her heart flutter, but when she reaches her face, a cold wave of dread washes over her as she notices the smeared mascara and faint patches of salty skin on her cheeks.

“Yeah, I did.” Paige answers bluntly, her voice cracking slightly. An uncomfortable silence falls upon them; the air heavy from their unspoken words. Azzi’s heart throbs at her cold tone. “What brings you out here?” she asks after a few moments.

“I felt nauseous.” Paige scoffs at her response, shaking her head.

“Bullshit.”

“Paige, why are you so fucking blunt?” Azzi exasperates, throwing her hands up in the air in surrender. “You hugged me earlier and that whole time, you were stiff as a rock. It’s been 3 fucking years, it’s time to grow the fuck up.” When Paige says nothing in response, Azzi continues. “I’m trying to be the bigger person here and you’re being unfair. I told you that we can stay friends and then you fucking gho-”

“Your fiancé,” the blonde sneers, tearing Azzi out of her rant. Her voice is shaky and dangerously close to breaking. Through the golden light, she can see the tears brimming behind her smudged eyelashes. “He’s the one that you met at Ted’s, right?” Azzi stays silent, giving Paige the confirmation she needed. “You’re not being the bigger person, not at all. You’re only talking to me because you want something out of me. Azzi, you’re being selfish.” The last word hits Azzi like a cold bucket of water.

“You’re being unfair,” Azzi says shakily, refusing to meet the blonde’s eyes.

Paige lets out a strangled sputter before opening her mouth. “I’m being unfair? Me being mad over you getting cozy with another man after our natty suddenly means that I’m being unfair?”

“No, that’s not what I meant. You’re being unfair because you’re hurting him with your comments. Do you think I can’t hear the derogatory names you’ve called him tonight?” Azzi scrunches her face and turns to the blonde, whose attention is on the sand that snakes between her toes.

“Are you happy?” the older woman finally asks after a period of silence.

“I don’t know.”

“What?” Her blue eyes dart towards hers.

“P.” Paige freezes at the use of her nickname, “I miss you. My offer still stands. We can go back to our friendship.” The last words are quiet, almost as if they aren’t supposed to be spoken. Memories of what they were rush through both of their minds. The women have something unreadable in both of their eyes as they stare at each other.

“No, we.. we can’t.” Paige finally speaks, tearing her gaze away from her, letting out a shaky breath and gets up to leave, but before she can take a step forward, she feels a forceful hand clasp around her wrist that prompts a wave of panic to flood through her. “Azzi, let me go. You can’t do this. You’re getting married soon for god’s sake.”

“Our last night in Belarus, I know you remember it. You wear the same perfume, you even gave me your hoodie. Shit, Paige, that was the time I knew that I fell in love with you. Every little thing you did for me felt like you were giving me your entire world. You fell in love with me too. Every argument we had, we made up, and we can make up from this too. I’m asking you to believe in us again. I won’t leave you.” For a split second, Paige’s eyes soften and she lets her walls down. She desperately wants to let go of her "tough guy" facade and let herself taste Azzi's lips again.

“No. You don’t get to say that now. Not when you have a fiancé waiting for you in the restaurant.” The vulnerability that Paige showed is once again blocked by the ramparts of her castle. The remembrance of Charles’s presence hits Azzi like an 18-wheeler. “It’s evident that you can’t own up to any of the mistakes that you made.”

“You’re not taking any accountability for it either! Do you think I haven’t tried?” Paige flinches, backing away from Azzi who is now screaming. “You had to address it at the fucking draft. For fuck’s sake, let me explain my side of the story.”

“I tried to give you space because clearly, you wanted to fuck around with him. You don’t get to explain your side of the story. It was the night of the March Madness championship and you ch-”

“Oh, shit.” A new voice joins their argument. Paige whips her head around and sees Dearica and Cameron looking at them with wide eyes. “Azzi, I don’t think you should-”

“No it’s okay,” Paige feigns a smile before pulling out of Azzi’s grip. “Welcome to the City of Dreams, Azzi. I’m sorry for having to leave so abruptly.”

And she’s gone. Packed away in the backseat of an Uber. It hurts Azzi more than it should. The doors to Paige’s heart that used to be held open for Azzi are now barricaded off, isolating her.

“What the fuck happened?” The blonde turns to Azzi with an edge of hostility in her tone. Dearica glares at her, and Azzi’s heart free-falls into her stomach.

“Azzi?!” Charles’s deep voice calls out, and Azzi is grateful to be saved from the awkward confrontation. When his eyes land on her, they soften and he wraps her into a tight embrace. Every piece of contact between them feels scratchy and uncomfortable, especially in Paige’s jacket. “Don’t fucking leave me again.” He snarls into her ear before glaring at her jacket.

The other women turn to leave before exchanging an uncomfortable look with each other.

***

An empty bottle of tequila is the only company Paige has on her bar table. Right as she lets the effects of the alcohol take her consciousness, her front door flies open. Every muscle in her body tenses and she buries her head into her arms in hopes that she will disappear.

“P?” It’s Cam. Her body relaxes.

A second pair of heavy footsteps make their way to the table. She stiffens again.

“It’s me, don’t worry. You’re alright” The other voice belongs to Dearica. She exhales and looks up. Cam’s eyes are fixed on the empty bottle of tequila and a heavy breath falls out of her mouth.

“Again? Seriously, Paige?” When Paige puts her head back down into her arms, Cam’s hands rub her back.

“Yeah. Again.” Sobs begin to wreck the blonde’s body and she shakes violently. Dearica and Cam exchange a panicked look before embracing their teammate.

“I’m sorry, Paige. What she did is fucked up” Dearica’s voice is soft and reassuring. “We tried to talk to her but, her, um, we were interrupted.” She and Cam are walking on thin ice; one bad step and their teammate will plunge in the freezing cold water.

“Let’s get you to bed. You have a big day tomorrow, so let’s make the most out of it.” Cam and Dearica carry their teammate, whose body is shaking violently while sobbing to bed.

For the 5th night in a row, she cries herself to sleep.

I need you.

***

“Charles, why do you want to marry me?”

“Because I love you baby, and I want to spend every second of my life with you. With us.”

“...Okay.”

“I promise I’ll never hurt you. I’ll be the one to protect you forever.”

“Azzi Fudd. What the fuck was that?” Charles sneers. His emerald eyes are alive, burning with acrimony. She doesn’t look up from her phone screen where her fingers shakily hover over the call button under Paige’s name.

“I’m sorry? I told you I was getting some air and I ran into Paige.” Her tone is surprisingly even and steady despite her trembling body. When a dark look falls across his face, she shudders. Suddenly, her phone is ripped from her hands and shattered against the wall with a loud smash that rings in her ears.

“Don’t fucking talk back to me. You saw what happened to your phone, and I know that you don’t want to be next.” He slams the door of their hotel room and stomps down the hall. When she doesn't hear the obnoxiously loud footsteps anymore, she allows her body to collapse and cries into her pillow while she thinks about the promises that they made on their engagement night.

I need you.

#pazzi #azzi fudd #paige bueckers #angst #pazzi fics #Spotify

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