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neferaskingdom · 2 months ago

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♡ I'M THE BIGGEST HATER | MV1

Pairing: Max Verstappen x Leclerc!Reader [Face Claim: None]

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Summary: Max Verstappen and Y/N hate each other's guts. or do they? enemies since the day Max defeated Y/N at their very first Karting race when will these two just stop bickering and (in the wise words of Danny Ric) just kiss already?!?!

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A/N: been reading so many of these that I decided to try writing one myself. first time writing a smau so feel free to leave suggestions on how to improve. also comment to join the taglist as this is going to be a multi part series.

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Part 1 of my wheel-to-wheel but still in denial series: Masterlist

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Young Y/N glaring at a smug Max after losing a childhood karting race. Y/N is sulking, and Max is holding the trophy like it’s an Olympic gold medal.

Caption: A perfect example of when I learned the universe is unfair. #tbt to the time maxverstappen1 ruined my life by winning our first kart race. Peak trauma. 👎

Liked by pierregasly, danielricciardo, lando.jpg, and 200,298 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

You’re still mad about one race? Get over it. 🙄

↪ y/n_leclerc:

It’s not just one race. It’s the principle. I was 9, and you were an evil little gremlin.You’re lucky my parents raised me to be nice, or I would’ve shoved you off that podium.

↪ charles_leclerc:

She has a point. You were insufferable, Max.

danielricciardo:

Max still brags about that karting win to this day. 😂

↪ maxverstappen1:

danielricciardo I absolutely do. Winner’s mentality, baby. 🏆

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 “Winner’s mentality”? You mean “cheater’s mentality”? I see you, Verstappen.

user1:

"Peak trauma" 😂😂 Please, Y/N, it’s been like 15 years. MOVE ON.

carmenmmundt:

Y/N was already giving "future champion energy" even back then.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

carmenmmundt AND she's got excellent taste in fashion, unlike Agent George. See you later for coffee, babe? 💋

↪ georgerussell63:

y/n_leclerc EXCUSE ME. Flirting with my girlfriend now, Y/N? 😂

↪ carmenmmundt:

georgerussell63 Sorry, George, Y/N’s just irresistible. 😘

maxverstappen1 posted a photo:

📸: Max on the podium after a win, champagne spraying everywhere.

Caption: Another win, another day Y/N gets to hate me. Can’t say I’m sorry. #winning #dontcry

Liked by landonorris, carlossainz55, alex_albon, and 360,210 others.

Comments:

y/n_leclerc:

Bold of you to assume I’d cry. I save my tears for important things, like Ferrari strategy meetings. 💔

↪ charles_leclerc:

y/n_leclerc Yeah, same.

lando.jpg:

MAX, WHY ARE YOU LIKE THIS? 😂

danielricciardo:

Max trying to make enemies of everyone in the paddock one post at a time. Bold strategy.

pierregasly:

maxverstappen1 If you make her cry, I’m on her side. Just saying. 😎

↪ y/n_leclerc:

pierregasly You’re my favorite Gasly. Let’s get coffee and laugh at Max together.

↪ maxverstappen1:

pierregasly TRAITOR. 😡

y/n_leclerc posted a meme:

📸: A meme of someone dramatically rolling their eyes with the text “Every time Max Verstappen opens his mouth to talk”

Caption: Literally me every time this bitch opens his mouth. Like stfu?? 🙄

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

Just admit it—you think about me all the time.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

I think about you the way I think about stubbing my toe—briefly, painfully, and with regret. 😘

↪ charles_leclerc:

Get a room, you two.

↪ pierregasly:

charles_leclerc They’re already halfway there, bro.

lando.jpg:

Guys, this is giving “enemies to lovers” and I’m so here for it.

danielricciardo:

This is the slowest of slow burns. It’s like watching paint dry but funnier.

danielricciardo posted a meme:

📸: A meme of two dogs barking at each other from across the street, then stopping to awkwardly sniff each other when they meet face-to-face.

Caption: Max and Y/N’s entire relationship summed up in one image.

Liked by y/n_leclerc, landonorris, georgerussell63, and 500,193 others.

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

That’s so not what’s happening here. I don’t sniff anything. 😤

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Max definitely barks more than he bites. 😂

↪ danielricciardo:

maxverstappen1 You bark loud, but Y/N’s the one doing the damage.

georgerussell63:

How long before you two just admit you’re into each other?

↪ y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63 Into? I’m just into destroying him on the track. Anything else is wishful thinking, George. 😏

y/n_leclerc posted a Video:

🎥: Slow-motion video of Y/N overtaking Max in a karting rematch, with her laughing as she passes him.

Caption: I haven’t lost my touch, maxverstappen1 😎

Comments:

user1:

SHE JUST DUSTED MAX IN KARTING. THE RIVALRY CONTINUES. 😂😂

user2:

Max was so cocky, and now Y/N is out here reminding him she’s a Leclerc. 😏

maxverstappen1:

I let her win. Just being a gentleman. 😌

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 I beat you so bad I thought you were parked. 😆

↪ user3:

THE SHADEEE OMG

y/n_leclerc posted a video:

🎥: A video of a car zooming past another car with the caption "Me speeding past Max Verstappen’s ego every time I beat him."

Caption: Nothing feels better. maxverstappen1, cry about it. 😘

Comments:

maxverstappen1:

I’m living rent-free in your head. Just admit it😏.

↪ y/n_leclerc:

Rent-free? Bro, you’re squatting in the garbage disposal of my brain. The plumbing is bad, and no one’s happy. 😤.

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’m going to need therapy just from reading this. Can we not?

lando.jpg:

charles_leclerc Your sister has the energy of someone who stays up late making Max Verstappen hate memes.

danielricciardo:

I’d watch a whole Netflix series of this beef.

danielricciardo tweeted:

Prediction: Y/N and Max will either end up dating or killing each other. Either way, I'm selling tickets.

Comments:

user5:

I’d pay for that front-row seat. 🤣

georgerussell63:

Why not both? Dating and fighting. Iconic and toxic just like these two bitches.

y/n_leclerc:

danielricciardo keep your fanfiction to yourself Daniel 🤢

lando.jpg:

danielricciardo I’ll start selling merch. #maxy/n

↪ maxverstappen1:

I'll sue you to oblivion muppet

y/n_leclerc posted a photo:

📸: Y/N having drinks with Carmen, Lily and Kika

Caption: wining and dining these beauties while their boyfriends lose at Mario Kart. Boys, you could learn a lot from me. 😘 carmenmmundt, lilymhe, francisca.cgomes

Liked by landonorris, alex_albon, pierregasly, and 280,284 others.

Comments:

georgerussell63:

Carmen’s too good for you, Y/N. Stop trying. 😤

pierregasly

stay away from Kika wench 🤺🤺🤺

alex_albon:

lilymhe Don’t get any ideas. 😬

↪ lilymhe:

Sorry, Alex, Y/N just brings out the best in me. 😏

y/n_leclerc:

georgerussell63, alex_albon, pierregasly Relax, boys. I’m not stealing your girls. Yet. 💅

user1:

The fact that George and Alex are actually worried about this is the funniest thing. 😂

maxverstappen1:

georgerussell63, alex_albon, pierregasly I’ve been telling you guys for years—Y/N causes chaos. Don’t let her near the WAGs!

↪ y/n_leclerc:

maxverstappen1 You're just mad because I can charm people and all you have is your fast car. 😘

alexandrasaintmleux posted a picture:

Caption: Had a lovely coffee date with y/n_leclerc today. Sorry, Charles, you’ve been replaced by the better Leclerc. 💋

Comments:

charles_leclerc:

I leave you alone for one hour, and this happens, where's your loyalty babe?🤦‍♂️

↪ y/n_leclerc:

charles_leclerc Charles, it’s not you, it’s me. I’m just irresistible.

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’m being out-flirted by my own sister. Unbelievable.

oscarpiastri:

charles_leclerc Now I’m nervous to leave Lily around Y/N too… 😬

↪ lilyzneimer:

oscarpiastri Honestly? Can’t blame her. 😘

danielricciardo posted a meme:

📸: Meme of two people bickering with the text "Max and Y/N" but underneath it says "Us: Just kiss already."

Comments:

georgerussell63:

Finally someone said it. 😂

user5:

This slow-burn rivals-to-lovers storyline is too good. Can Netflix turn this into a reality show?

y/n_leclerc:

I'd rather stab myself in the foot

↪ maxverstappen1:

I'd rather jump into a pit of lava

↪ charles_leclerc:

I’ve never seen two people who hate each other this much. It’s exhausting.

↪ landonorris:

What if this isn’t hate, though? What if this is like, love in disguise?

↪ danielricciardo:

I’m just waiting for the day Y/N proposes to Max through a meme.

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964 notes · View notes

and-corn · 6 months ago

Note

Opinion on Waluigi?

So one year when I was in college, all my friends went home for a long weekend but I decided to stay on campus, so naturally when everyone was gone, I went to the library and used the school printers to print out a picture of Waluigi onto 15 pieces of paper, which I then taped together to create a near life size portrait. I then waited outside my friend’s dorm for like an hour until someone let me in the building, and I taped the 5 foot tall Waluigi to the door of his suite. I waited until my friends came back after the weekend and when he showed up he was like “someone waluigied my door” and I said, “what does that mean?” And he said “someone put a giant Waluigi on my door. Was it you?” And I said “how would I have even gotten into your building?” And he didn’t question that at all so he thought that some random person was enacting a guerrilla Waluigi graffiti campaign on him specifically. Then one of my other friends took the Waluigi down from the door and put it in the shower of his suite, which we only realized when it was already too late because my friend came into the common room the following day and said “I think Eric [his suite-mate] showered with Waluigi.” Which is objectively the funniest thing someone can say and by that point we were like, “well, we might as well just leave it” so Waluigi stayed on the shower wall for the entire semester. And obviously I had taped the entire surface to functionally laminate it, so Waluigi survived and thrived in pristine condition as a shower companion for 3 months. Finally at the end of the year I decided to reveal the big mystery, so I created an elaborate scavenger hunt with like 10 different clues taking my friend all over campus to find out who put Waluigi on his door. It took him almost two hours to do the whole thing, but it led him straight to me, and he was like “I should’ve been studying for my exam tomorrow” and now he blames me for getting a C on his bio final.

anyway Waluigi is fine. Certainly not my first pick for Mario kart, but the way he’s animated in Mario and Sonic Olympic Games is pretty hilarious

#Waluigi

1K notes · View notes

jeonstudios · 3 months ago

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dextrocardia | 15

Dextrocardia. Originally a medical term, but also a way to describe someone who's got their heart in the right place.

"She's been moved to another operation to help out. This pairing is necessary because you'll be undercover as spouses. I know you two can be professional about this."

"What?!" It's Jeongguk's upset voice that sounds, and for once, you share his displeased opinion.

Spouses.

pairing: cop!jk x f detective!reader

genre: undercover cops, fake marriage, e2l au, angst, fluff, (smut?)

word count: 6k

warnings: self-esteem issues, feelings

rating: NC-17 – Adults Only

masterlist

part 15/?

The ride home lasts ten minutes, during which you’re holding back tears the entire time. It’s only when you’re finally inside your own apartment that you let them fall. It doesn’t help to see Fenrir’s collar and leash hanging next to your jackets, or his bowls still on the floor. In a way, it feels like you’re back at square one.

You know you promised Jeongguk you’d call Jihyo, but you don’t, knowing she’d disapprove of you being on your own probably just as much as he does. Still, realizing that sooner or later you’ll need to either get back to work or find another job, you send her a text, asking if there’s any case for you to work on remotely until you’re ready to return fully.

The first night back is emotional, but you’re relieved to finally be home.

“I don’t think it matters how hard you throw it,” a worried Jimin watches Jeongguk hurl a dart at the dartboard. “Actually, I’m pretty sure you’d see better results if you didn’t throw it like an Olympic javelin thrower.”

Jeongguk doesn’t reply, just rolls his eyes and grabs another dart. The music around them is surprisingly quiet, drowned out by the chatter of the bustling bar.

“So, care to tell me what’s up with him?” Jin asks, nodding toward Jeongguk as he sets the three pints of beer on the table and takes a seat.

“His little lady left him,” Jimin explains sadly, sliding one of the pints closer to Jeongguk.

“Oh. Why? You weren’t a couple, were you?” Jin asks.

“No,” is all Jeongguk mutters before he heads over to the dartboard to retrieve the darts. He has three of them, but only one actually hit the board; the other two embarrassingly stuck to the wood-paneled wall. From the marks already there, he’s at least not the first terrible dart-thrower. When he returns to the table with all the darts in hand, he pushes his designated pint back toward Jimin. “Can’t drink.”

Jimin meets his eyes, looking defeated. Jeongguk already explained that when you’re not with him, he can’t risk being drunk in case you need him. If you called, saying Hoseong had found you, Jeongguk would not hesitate to get on his bike or in his car, no matter how much he’s had to drink, and driving under the influence is something he’d rather avoid.

“She’s scared of me,” he repeats what you told him a few nights ago. Hearing the words from his own mouth stings less, but his heart still aches and his blood boils. He throws another dart but misses the board, and it sticks to the wall a few inches left of it.

“Wait. What do you mean?” Jin asks, confusion written all over his face.

“Yeah. Although I’m pretty sure she hasn’t ruled out that I’ll just snap one day and kill her, she’s mostly scared that I’ll want to hurt her emotionally.”

“But why would you? I thought you two were doing alright? I mean, she’s been living with you for, what, the last month?”

“We were. Or at least, I thought so. She kissed me, and we were… getting closer, but I guess it freaked her out.”

“Why?”

“Remember how I told you I was horrible to her before I found out what Hoseong had done? Yeah, the things I said… they were inhumane.”

“What did you say?”

Jeongguk throws another dart, swinging his arm and using way too much force. “What haven’t I said? I’ve told her that she’s too ugly for me to look at, that she needs to stop eating, that she’s incompetent, and that she basically deserved being trafficked if only the traffickers would take her. That’s the short version.”

“Fuck, man,” Jimin breathes in disbelief. Jeongguk told him what happened ages ago but not explicitly what he’d said to you.

“Yeah. I just… I wanted her to hurt, to pay for what I thought she’d done, but she never seemed affected. I’d call her something, and she’d flip me off or glare at me or call me an idiot or whatever, but she never… I thought she didn’t care, so the next time I saw her, I said something worse. But I wouldn’t have, obviously, if I… If I… knew.”

Jin puts his glass down, wiping the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “I mean, I haven’t met her, but isn’t she, like, objectively very pretty? From what I’ve heard?”

“Yeah, she is,” Jeongguk sighs. “Which is also why I didn’t think she’d take it to heart, ‘cause what I said isn’t true in the slightest.”

“But can’t she see how pathetically in love you are? No offense,” Jimin asks. “I mean, I take it you’ve apologized and probably told her what you really think? She doesn’t trust that?”

Jeongguk falls silent as he retrieves the darts again, shamefully avoiding eye contact with his friends on his way back.

“Wait, you haven’t apologized?”

“Of course I have,” he argues before lowering his voice. “I just kinda… fucked it up.”

He feels the confused stares of his friends. “I’ve apologized many, many times for how I treated her, and she seemed to kinda accept that? But I never explicitly apologized for the things I said. Nor have I told her how I actually feel about her.”

He sees how Jimin is about to tell him exactly what he thinks about that, but Jeongguk cuts him off before he's able to.

“After I somehow convinced her to stay with me, I thought carefully about how to act around her. I thought that it would be better to apologize for… everything. I thought ‘I’m sorry for how I treated you’ would cover it. And I didn’t want her to second-guess my intentions, so I didn’t actually tell her what I really think.”

“You mean ‘second-guess your intentions’ as in…” Jin trails off.

“As in think that I chose to help her because I was interested in her. I didn’t want her to think I had an agenda or to feel like she’d owe me in any way. She hasn’t had the best experience with men—men in law enforcement, especially—so I wanted to be as… safe, I guess, as possible for her. I didn’t realize she was still thinking about it, taking what I said as the truth.”

Jimin sighs. “So she thinks you might still consider her the ugliest creature to walk the earth is what you’re saying?”

“Apparently. I tried to convince her before she left, but of course, it didn’t seem genuine. I don’t blame her.”

A bit more optimistic, Jin tilts his head. “You don’t think she’ll believe you if you just tell her exactly what you just told us?”

But Jeongguk lets his shoulders slump. “I don’t think so. She told me I scare her because I have a desire to hurt anyone who wrongs me, and she doesn’t feel like she can read me. And I believe her. I wanted to hurt her, and during the mission, I had to pretend to love her when I really didn’t, so I kept switching up on her.”

The atmosphere shifts from frustrated and sad to just sad as Jeongguk runs his thumb over the dart in his hand.

“I lose either way. If I tell her that what I said back then was true, then I think she’s ugly, and I wanted to hurt her by saying so. But if I say that I lied and that she’s really the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, then I still wanted to hurt her. And after everything she’s been through, she doesn’t want a man with a desire to hurt.”

“But like you said, you didn’t mean to hurt her to that point, more so to be taken down a notch? And it got out of hand?”

“Is there a difference? I’ve hurt her, probably beyond what is salvageable, and she thinks I’m still capable of that; that if we disagree on something, I might turn on her.”

With a deep breath, you pull open the doors to the police station one chilly Monday morning, the sky outside gray and heavy with the threat of snow. It’s been three weeks since you came home, and though Jihyo put up a fight, she eventually agreed to let you stay.

Since months have passed, and you still haven’t caught Hoseong and his crew, you figure you might as well try to get back to normal. So you started planning your return to work, but then Christmas came, which you spent at your mother’s, two hours away.

Jihyo also agreed not to tell Jeongguk about your living arrangements, per your desperate request. You’d rather not deal with his savior complex, and you know he’d park outside your building if he thought you were in danger. You scoff to yourself, but almost immediately, guilt settles in. A savior complex isn’t why he’s worried about you; he’s just a good guy. You know that. Still, you don’t want him to know.

Walking through the station at nine a.m.—on your way to Jihyo’s office to discuss your new assignment—you almost hold your breath. Some officers glance your way, still not used to seeing you back, and maybe even less used to seeing you without Jeongguk. Or maybe they know you had a “falling out?” Would he tell anyone here? Jihyo, maybe, if she didn’t already know, but you’re not sure if he’d tell anyone else; his closest friends besides Jimin don’t work at this station anyway. And Jimin probably wouldn’t gossip about you either.

Jihyo is waiting for you when you reach the door to her office, calling out for you to come in as soon as you knock.

“Hey,” you say, closing the door behind you.

“Hey. Want a donut?” she asks from behind her desk, happily pointing to the open box, a half-eaten donut in hand and what you assume is part of the other half in her mouth.

“Nah, I’m good,” you grin, sitting down in front of her.

“Alright,” she says, swallowing and wiping some crumbs from her lap. “So, I’ve been looking over your request and proposed methods.”

You watch as she pulls her laptop in front of her, setting the donut down on the table, and starts scrolling.

“And I’d say it’s very reasonable if we’re okay with the risks.”

“I don’t think there are any risks at all, actually,” you argue softly. “We parted on good terms.”

“Yeah, I know. And they played a part in your survival. But I’m still gonna need to have a risk analysis performed. Who would you want to go with you? I could assign Sana, I think, if you want her? She’s on an assignment right now, but we’re hoping they’ll be done by Wednesday, give or take.”

“Yeah, that would be great. Thanks.”

“No problem. I’m glad to see you back and wanting to work on what matters to you. I know the chief—ex-chief—did his best to be a pain in the ass for you.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait until the investigation’s finished, honestly. He deserves to rot in jail.”

“Agreed. I haven’t heard anything else from the higher-ups, so they’re probably still elbow-deep in it. Anyway, if you have any details you’d like to show me, I’m all ears.”

Your smile grows, and you reach into your bag for your laptop and notebook.

“Thanks,” you smile, standing up an hour later with your bag in hand. But before you exit her office and close the door behind you, you glance back at Jihyo. “By the way, I’m so glad you got the job. You deserve it more than anyone.”

“Thank you. It’s been… rough, these last couple of months. A lot to do and a lot of stress and pressure, but I think it’s worth it. And I’ve had help, making it easier for me to adjust.”

You know who she’s talking about; you don’t need to hear a name.

“He asks about you, you know.”

Holding onto the door, you look away. You’re well aware of what Jeongguk has done for not only you but also Jihyo, Sana, and the entire police station.

“Let me avoid him for at least another month. Then you can tell him whatever you want, and I can try to be a better colleague. But now? I can’t… I don’t…”

Jihyo looks at you, seeing the pain well up in your eyes when you think about the reason you left his house that night. If you can just have another month to force the warm, yet invalid and hurt feelings you have for him back into the box they broke out of when you first kissed him, you can try to be more civil with him. Hell, you’ll even work with him if he can keep it professional as well.

Jihyo nods, sad but understanding. After all, she had a front-row seat when he used to tear you bloody.

For another hour, you sit at an empty desk, excitedly looking over the preliminary plan that starts on Thursday. You can’t believe it’s about to actually become reality.

Step one:

Preliminary timeframe: Thursday.

Possible obstacles and risks: Low risk of hostility or danger.

Safety measures: Two detectives, civilian clothes, civilian car, concealed firearms.

Step two: Plan A or B, depending on what you find, if anything.

With your notes full of prepared questions, you rise from the chair, deeming it time to leave the station for the day. As you stand there, organizing your papers, movement catches your eye, and you look up just in time to see Jimin enter the big room. And of course, who does he have in tow if not Jeon Jeongguk, dressed, like so often, in the academy's navy crewneck and uniform pants?

Meeting both of their eyes, you’re saved by your phone’s ringtone, a sound that seems to stop even Jeongguk from taking an impulsive step toward you.

Fishing the phone out from the pocket of your black pants, you swipe your finger across the screen to answer. It’s Sana.

“Hello?”

“Hey! So I talked to Jihyo, and she said that your request got pre-approved? I’m a little busy at the moment and for the next few days, but send me anything you’d like me to look over in preparation.”

“So you’re up for it?” you ask, a wide smile forming. Out of the corner of your eye, you watch Jeongguk reluctantly follow Jimin further into the room, where they start talking to two other officers with their backs turned. If you were more of a hopeless romantic instead of a realistic one, you’d describe the glances he sends your way as… yearning. To avoid his gaze, you focus on the notebook lying on the desk.

“Of course! You and me, just like old times.”

“Old times? It’s only been like a year since we worked on a case together.”

“You know what I mean. Anyway, I gotta go. See you.”

“I’ll send the info tonight. See you.”

Discreetly, you end the call and gather your things, quickly but quietly heading for the exit. But in the corridor, you hear a call of your name. You shut your eyes for a second before turning around. It hurts to see him, to walk these halls, avoiding him just like you used to. Only this time, it’s a different kind of pain.

The shame creeps in at the same rate Jeongguk approaches. It’s the same shame for how he sees you, but also for how you’ve reacted. You can barely look at him, yet you’re ashamed for not giving him a chance, even though he’s the one who made the bed he’s now tossing and turning in. He's so handsome, looking so warm and strong as he approaches, his black hair looking soft, shiny and just a little longer than last time. A part of you wishes he’d close his eyes so that you could throw your arms around his neck and breathe him in.

“Can you please leave me alone for a while?” is what you ask instead, clutching your notebook to your chest.

Now standing right before you, he looks down at you with sad, desperate eyes. “I’ll be quick, I promise. Two minutes is all I need.”

You’re not sure why, because you’re not an immature person, but you press your lips together, trying to suppress a smile. Noticing the shift in your expression, Jeongguk thinks back to what he said, smiling as well. “I set that one up pretty well, didn’t I?”

You turn your head, trying to stifle the smile, but you find that it fades easier than expected.

“And you think I’d wanna fuck that?” he snaps, eyeing your body with disgust.

Your gaze locks on the lower part of the wall. You wish someone would lend you the cloak of invisibility so that you could hide yourself from him and the world.

“Look at me,” he instructs, but you don’t. The more you think about his eyes on your body, the more you want to leave.

“Look. At me,” he repeats, firmer this time but still without sounding angry.

So you do.

“I get it if you don’t want anything else to do with me, but I can’t have you walking around, believing what I said is true.”

Although you don’t cry, you reluctantly let him see just how hurt you are.

“You were right. I wanted to hurt you. I said those things because I was angry, and I wanted just… some kind of justice. When you instead seemed so… unfazed, I let it get the best of me, and somewhere along the way, I lost myself. But I was wrong and although I wanted payback, I didn’t mean to hurt you to this degree. I was only looking for a reaction, anything that showed me that you were paying for what I thought you’d done. If I’d known how I really made you feel, regardless of if you were innocent or not, I would’ve stopped.“

“So you’re just a man, after all?” you ask, and maybe it’s uncalled for, maybe it’s not.

Jeongguk takes half a step back, appearing lost for words, and with enough pain in his surprised eyes for you to think he looks hurt.

He blinks and lowers his voice. “Yeah. Just a man. But listen to me—the things I said were. Not. True. Okay? You hear me? I cannot let you go around thinking you’re anything like what I told you.”

“I find that hard to believe. How else would you know exactly where to hit? What to say to cause maximum damage? Talking about my cellulite and my… weight and…”

“I said what I figured any woman would be scared to hear.”

“Yeah, sure,” you dismiss.

It doesn’t matter what he says now—he did know exactly what to say, which means he must have looked at you, inspected your body and found every single one of your flaws. It makes you nauseous, as if some of those flaws didn’t exist to the world simply because no one other than you had noticed or mentioned them. Then Jeongguk and his friends scrutinized every inch of you, uncovering them all and putting them on display.

“I think you’re gorgeous.”

“You would’ve told me.”

You really think he would have. The Jeongguk who wants you to sleep in his bed, holding you from behind, who asks to hold your hand, and who puts frosting on your lips as an excuse to kiss them—he would have told you if he liked you. If he thought you were beautiful.

“I didn’t. I thought–incredibly dumbly–that if I told you what I really think of you, you’d think I was hitting on you. If things were different, if we ran into each other somewhere without all this… baggage, I would’ve hit on you, but all I wanted at the time was for you to trust me as a friend and to trust that I just wanted you to be safe. I didn’t want you to think I was looking to get laid or that I would… that I was anything like Hoseong. I didn’t know that you took my bullshit to heart—because again, it’s just not true—and so I chose not to say anything.”

“But we’ve been past that point for a while, haven’t we?” you ask, finding his explanation a little too weak to believe. “I trusted you enough to tell you about the worst moment of my life, I kissed you, and I told you how pretty I think you are, yet you couldn’t even…”

Frustration boils in your veins, mixing with the raw disappointment and hurt which cools you back down. You feel so… small, so defeated. “I don’t need compliments. Just… something. Something that would’ve shown me you weren’t being sweet only because you felt guilty.”

Jeongguk doesn’t know what to say to that. In retrospect, yeah, he should’ve told you, and thinking back to his joke about pretty being for girls makes him cringe with both shame and regret. Especially since he’d used multiple occasions to taunt you with the fact that you’re not a pretty girl. But it had been hard, finding a balance in showing his affection without scaring you off. When you reacted the way you did that night during the power outage, he... didn’t want to risk making you more uncomfortable or afraid. He’d decided to take a step back, let you lead, and he would follow. Of course, that backfired horribly.

You look at him, hurt still brimming in your eyes.

He searches for words, trying to explain himself better. “I should’ve told you, but I… I didn’t want to risk making you uncomfortable. I wanted to follow your lead and let you decide everything. You wanted me handcuffed and blindfolded—of course I realized you were nervous. But I thought you were more worried I’d do something to you, rather than what I would think of you. I didn’t want to influence you to do anything you would’ve regretted.”

You’re clearly not convinced, and you shake your head slowly.

“You could’ve just given me a ‘you too.’ That’s all I would’ve needed.”

Jeongguk can only watch as you leave, obviously still very much hurt by him. Ten seconds after your footsteps have disappeared, he heads back to the desk area, his head hung low.

Jimin looks at him, JJ and Min gone. The unasked question hangs in the air, and Jeongguk can see Jimin realize that no, it didn’t go very well.

“You gotta remember that she’s had a hectic few months and maybe wasn’t really able to process everything. You being an ass was probably the least of her worries for a while—until it wasn’t anymore. And healing isn’t always linear. I’m sure she’ll come around one day.”

Jeongguk sighs. “I don’t think she will, and I can’t expect that of her. I just… hate myself for what I did to her. I never even realized she was just walking around, bleeding from my words.”

You haven’t fixed your car since the last tampering, but fortunately, Jihyo agreed to lend you one of the station’s unmarked cars. A discreet black thing that you park outside the station at ten a.m. on Thursday to pick up Sana, who needed to retrieve some things and told you to meet her there.

Getting no reply, you lock your phone and step out of the car with a sigh. The ground is powdered white, your shoes leaving tracks as you walk up to the station’s main entrance.

Warm air envelops you as you step inside, the doors falling shut behind you.

“Good morning!” Sana rushes over, a coffee in hand. “Sorry, I’ll be done in a minute, I just gotta ask Mark something.”

She gestures for you to follow, and you do, trailing behind her into the sea of desks. The place is unusually crowded with officers, so you decide to wait near the wall, leaving her to weasel her way into the middle on her own.

There usually aren’t this many people here when you’re around, but in your case, the problem isn’t necessarily people; it’s big, strong, law enforcement men. Though they’re not paying you much attention—they must be preparing for something big—you still can’t will your body to fully relax.

By instinct, you tug at your clothes, wishing you hadn’t left your jacket in the car. Since you decided to wear civilian clothes today, you thought you might as well dress somewhat according to your original mission’s dress code. Except adjusted for winter, of course.

You’re wearing winter boots that reach your upper calves, a pair of those invisibly fleece-lined pantyhose you’ve seen all over social media the last few months, and a cream-colored knitted turtleneck dress. It’s been in your closet forever, but unfortunately, you didn’t try it on before you had to leave.

It feels too tight on your body. Not to wear into a ‘strangely religious neighborhood,’ but too tight to wear here. You pull at the hem where it ends at your mid-thigh, keeping your eyes down when people pass you and hoping no one is looking at you and taking note of how awkwardly shaped your body is.

You stand there for a while, avoiding people’s eyes while you wait for Sana.

However, when you—out of the corner of your eye—notice a uniformed man walking toward you, you look up. Jeongguk’s eyes flicker between you and the people walking past you, as if he’s seen exactly the shameful way you carry yourself around men—these men—nowadays. It’s gotten worse since you left his house; you know that, but when all of your confidence was fueled by anger and then denial, removing those leaves… not much left.

He comes to stand in front of you, looking down at you with frustrated eyes. He’s so broad, so imposing, and it’s very evident when he wears his navy uniform, the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms.

“Listen to me—”

You look away, about to step back, but he grasps your hand—not just to stop you but to guide the two of you a few steps away from the path of officers and behind the tall panels of a cubicle.

“No. Listen to me. I’ll leave you alone after this if that’s what you want, but I need you to know that you are so incredibly beautiful.”

You sigh, looking at him and wordlessly begging him to just give up already. He’s quiet for a few long seconds, his frustration seemingly growing.

When he speaks again, his voice is calm, more earnest. “Do you remember the first time we met?”

“No,” you shake your head. You can’t recall the very first time you met him.

“I do. It was a rainy day—my fourth at the station—and I ran into you at the main entrance. The rain had wet your hair, and I held the door open for you. You thanked me, but you didn’t really smile much, just politely. I think you also bowed your head slightly. I remember thinking that you must’ve been cold from the rain, but I realize you were wary around the men here, even if you and I didn’t know each other.”

Sounds about right.

“And I thought that you were just so beautiful.”

You look down. It’s humiliating, and you feel like shit, hearing him throw compliments your way just to make you feel better. You can’t tell if he’s lying or not, but what else would he say? You can’t exactly say you expected him to approach you today to call you ugly.

Noticing your hesitation, he appears to be searching his mind for something, and you glance at him.

Suddenly, his eyes widen slightly, and he reaches into the pocket of his navy uniform pants. It’s his phone that he pulls out, and he starts to scroll. He scrolls, and he scrolls, until he finally finds what he’s looking for.

“Look,” he says, handing you the phone.

Although you’re not too keen on entertaining whatever this is, you can’t help but be a little curious. What could he have on his phone that would convince you?

Accepting the device, you start reading the words on the screen. They’re text messages from an old group chat, dated years back, and though you can’t remember the exact date Jeongguk first showed up at the station, you assume it was right around then. The chat seems to have consisted mostly of him, Ryung, Hoseong, Seunghwan, and Junseo.

Seunghwan: Yeah, we’re excited to have you, just let us know if you need anything.

The next few texts are from the following day.

Jeongguk: So I just met the most gorgeous woman I think I’ve ever seen??

Jeongguk: Quick question, is there a work dating policy here? I can’t remember.

Jeongguk: And if not, where do I find this woman again? Is she an officer? I’m not even kidding when I say that I’m absolutely head over heels from a three-second interaction, and she didn’t even really say anything.

Jeongguk: I’d love to ask her out.

Ryung: If it’s who I think it is then you better stay away, man.

You read on, seeing how Ryung goes on to describe a woman’s features, which happen to align with yours. The length, color, and style of your hair, the color of your eyes, and your height. But also a very generous way of describing your face and the shape of your body.

Jeongguk: Yeah! Is she with one of you already? In that case, I apologize!

Ryung: No, but Hoseong did her briefly, and she’s absolutely mental. Pretty, but crazy

The next words are not very nice, the men urging Jeongguk to stay away from the woman who could only ever be you, promising to tell him what happened the day after.

“See,” Jeongguk says, “Even Ryung knew exactly who I meant; I didn’t even have to describe you, just say that you were the most gorgeous woman I’d ever seen.”

You’re not sure. Yeah, the evidence points to that, and you can’t deny that you’re definitely feeling some form of relief, but… you can still hear his voice in your ears, see the anger and hatred in his dark eyes.

You hand the phone back, and Jeongguk looks around, sighing before turning his attention back to you. “You want me to be completely honest? Tell you exactly what I think of you?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “No? That’s the point? I know that I’m not your type. I’m full of flaws. I don’t have a body fat percentage in the negatives like you, I don’t always have the energy to shave every inch of my body, and I’ve never gotten flowers. No matter what you say now, I’m not someone you want.”

“You think I’m someone who would care about any of that?” he asks, his voice tinged with hurt.

“You look like someone who would.”

Jeongguk looks away, taking a second to gather his thoughts.

“I… wanted to ask you out that day, after I first met you. You looked so pretty out there in the rain, and I think my heart stopped for a while. I think that you’re cute—really fucking adorable—and charming, and you’re smart and kind, and you’re absolutely breath-taking and sexy as hell.

"Which was another reason I was so angry at you; I saw this… stunning woman, who appeared to live a very privileged life, yelling ‘sexism’ whenever something didn’t go your way to… I don’t know, avoid consequences and get ahead, not realizing what sexism truly meant for other women. I didn’t think there was that much harm in what I said because I thought you knew very well how goddamn pretty you are, so I gripped at every straw, trying to get a reaction.”

You listen to every word he says, still unable to decide. You want to believe him, but the deep wounds he carved into your skin are still bleeding.

“I was so conflicted during our mission. On one hand, I had to pretend to like the person who had shot one of my best friends, who got away with it and refused to be held accountable for it. On the other hand… I liked seeing you pretend to like me too. First, out of spite, but then I realized that I liked seeing you smile, and how nice you were to the people around you, except for me, of course, but I guess I always started it. Then you fell asleep in my arms at the barbeque, and I knew I was fucked. I felt like I betrayed my friends for… feeling something other than hatred for you.

“But this little thing, that hated me so much, let herself be so vulnerable as to sleep in my arms. And I guess I looked at you differently after that. The more I realized that you might actually be a pretty decent detective; a decent person, the harder it was for me to be mean to you. After everything, and after I’d found out what had happened, I wanted to tell you how much I liked you and how pretty I thought you were, but I was scared you wouldn’t come with me if I did. I was scared they’d look for you at your apartment, so I kept quiet.

“Even after you came to stay with me, and it seemed like you started to trust me, even just a little bit, I had to convince myself to wait. And the more I got to know you, the harder it became. Do you have any idea how much I wanted to bury you in flowers? Hold you and kiss you silly? And you know why I was always up before you—or at least I tried to be—when you slept in my bed with me?”

You shake your head because you don’t know.

There's something else in his eyes when he holds your gaze, “Because I dream about you, and I wake up hard. But I remembered how I freaked you out when we made out back at the house, when you were on my lap and I got hard. I didn’t want to scare you or make you uncomfortable, so I made sure to wake up before you, just in case.

“I wanted to kiss you and hold you and really, it would’ve been my pleasure if you’d wanted to sleep with me. But more than that, I wanted you to be safe and feel safe, never doubting why I was doing what I was.”

He shuts his eyes for a short moment. “I guess that’s all I can say. I don’t need you to forgive me, I just need you to know that all I wanted was revenge; nothing of what I said was true.”

He opens his eyes again, looking into yours with his soft, brown ones and a gentle sincerity. Though it’s overshadowed by something else. “I have many regrets, but you are my biggest. What I did to you.”

Regret.

As if she’s been waiting for the right moment to make her return, you hear Sana call your name. When you turn around, you spot her approaching.

“I gotta go,” you excuse yourself.

Sana looks between you and Jeongguk, but when no one says anything, she shrugs and turns her attention to you. “So, Jihyo said you had a problem with your apartment? The door, was it? Cause I can call my brother, and he’ll fix it for free next week if you want?”

“You’re living in your apartment? On your own?” Jeongguk questions, his voice upset.

You turn back at him, “Yeah. Have been since I left your house. It’s fine.”

Despite the clear worry his eyes display, he makes no effort to follow you and talk you straight, probably realizing that there’s nothing else he can do; that was his last chance.

<previous | next> author's note: so there's that! thanks for waiting for it <3 this was the last puzzle piece of their past, i think, and i'd love to hear your thoughts on everything, but especially him lol <3<3

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danadaria · 4 months ago

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Steddie Olympic AU where Eddie gets on his first Olympics for BMX freestyle, and it's so weird because he has been in competitions for many years but nothing like this, something so big and with so many rules.

His background was being a hyperkinetic kid who didn't really care about his life, and somehow being fearless and doing acrobatics became his career. Still, even then it wasn't so serious.

His thing were the X-games and open exhibitions, with fire, hard rock & metal, tattoos, and having RedBull as a sponsor.

Behind the adrenaline he and his friends are a bunch of clowns who just wanted to fly and have the bones of a child forever.

But now he's here: in the middle of a giant line in an ocean of other athletes, wearing a fucking blazer from Ralph Lauren and with the lamest jeans he had to wear in his entire life.

And everything is kinda awful, because he lost sight of friends (Gareth and Max, both skaters, but they train in the same place), and he just heard there's no McDonald's at the Olympics this year.

He doesn't even like McDonald's so much, but god, he grow up hearing about athletes eating hundreds of burgers and mcnuggets for free, and sue him, but his inner child was super excited about it.

"Are you ok, man?"

Eddie opens his mouth to give a snarky remark when he sees the most beautiful man in existence – GORGEOUS v-shape, honey eyes, pink pouty lips, and kissable moles– looking at him with concern.

"Yeah, yeah. Everything is okey-dokey" He says lamely.

The most beautiful man in existence snorts at him.

"Okey-dokey? What are you? Five?"

"Probably. I was sad because I found out today there's no free McDonald's this year. Now that I know I'm not sure if it is worth being here"

Eddie's future husband looks surprised for a second and laughs at him.

"Are you serious?"

"Of course. I read some people ate so many nuggets they left the Olympics cackling like a chicken: I wanted to be one of them!"

"Oh, yeah. I ate lots of them post-competition"

"See?!"

"Ok, I give you that. But this year there's going to be international cuisine and all that jazz"

"Knowing me, I'm going to get too overwhelmed with the options and I'll end with the saddest oatmeal every day."

"You have lots of food opinions for someone that's on a sports event"

"Well, is either that or thinking that my biggest rivals are a bunch of 15-year-olds from Brazil and Japan."

"Oh? What's your sport?"

"BMX freestyle"

"That's the race in the mountains?"

"That's literally BMX racing."

"Right." He looked ashamed.

Eddie needed to fix that look, now.

"And you? What's your poison?"

"Poison? You mean my sport?" Eddie nods at him encouragingly. "Gymnastics."

"I can see it." Eddie looks at him approvingly, "You have the arms of a gymnast, big boy."

The face of Eddie's future husband turns a beautiful shade of red. And Eddie is just a second away to ask for his name, and his number to change the course of his life, when he feels a hand on the jacket's collar.

"Here you are, loser. We need to go this way!"

And before Eddie can say anything, Max Mayfield (his new arch-nemesis) takes him away from the love of his life.

He says bye with a hand before being cruelly separated, disappearing into a sea of people.

"Do you want to be murdered before or after the opening ceremony, Red?"

"Oh, shut up loser."

____________________________________________________________

Steve is going back with his best friend to their apartment, feeling super frustrated. Somehow, 24 hours ago, he thought it would be a good idea to give his phone to his best friend for the inauguration night to avoid getting too excited and watching videos of the event until 4 am.

And now he was regretting ALL his life choices.

"You don't understand Robin, I met a super cute guy, but I couldn't get his name! I'm only going to search that and nothing else"

"Steve, you made me swear I wouldn't pass your phone on inauguration day, no matter the reason. You need to sleep"

"Easy for you to say. You didn't meet someone when you didn't have your phone!"

"I would understand better than anyone! I met the cutest girl competing at air riffle, aaaand I didn't have my phone either!"

"You gave her your presentation card, didn't you"

"Yes, sorry."

"See? Why didn't you make me buy some for me, too?"

They arrive at their floor. Steve knows they're a little obnoxious, but it was the first night and it's still early.

"Good night, neighbors! Isn't it too early in the event to be fighting?"

Steve looks up so fast, he probably hurt his neck a little bit. At the end of the hallway, sitting on the floor next to a very closed door, was Steve's meet-cute: All smiley, charming, and inviting.

"It's you!"

"Oh! Hi Mr. Gymnastics, and hi unknown lady."

"It's Robin Buckley," She says and goes straight to her apartment, "we probably going to see each other again, so good night".

And she closes the door firmly behind her.

"I didn't have. I mean. I don't have my phone to search for you."

The other boy looks at him, almost evaluating him, before giving Steve a big smile and offering his hand to stretch.

"Eddie Munson."

"Steve Harrington."

"So, would you-"

"There's a McDonald's near where I compete tomorrow. Would you like to go with me?"

Eddie stands up and walks until he's in front of Steve. He smiles.

"Would love it. After all, it was my childhood dream."

Steve smiles too.

#steddie olympics AU #this fic is brought to you by my stomachache that it didn't let me sleep #hahaha #honestly my idea was: Eddie BMX freestyle (a new sport at Olympics) + Steve gymnast (traditional sport)#and period. Nothing else #but THEN I discovered that McDonalds is not a official sponsor anymore and my childhood died a little hahaha #and a some plot happened.#ups #steddie

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yes-i-exist-shutup · 15 days ago

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Aftg taking place in in 2024???

Ofc neil vaping (curtesy to that one post)

Kevins eyes being compared to brat

Edits of kevin shipped with literally so many people. Andrew, riko, jeremy, neil, etc etc

Reader x kevin day fanfiction

Those spicy hockey YA book tiktoks but with exy

Andrew possibly starting an online rivalry with olympic muffin guy

Kevin having to dance to roan/brat/fein for PR promotion

Riko vs. Kevin fan wars (both for morality and facecard)

Neil edits to brat

Those "15 minutes of x straight" videos. PLAYLISTS of those on youtube. Many of them include: andrew shooting exy balls at peoples heads, nicky doing tiktok dances during halftime, kevin yapping abt jeremy, everytime neil has been pinned against the plexiglass.

COUGH. Reader x Riko Moriyama fanfiction. Specifically on wattpad.

viral video of kevin drunkenly dancing to fein at edens (the reason he dont dance anymore)

Wymack going "I won't deal with this another time" about jean refusing to get a smart phone (distracts from exy)

Foxes convincing Wymack to dress as wolverine for Halloween.

Uhhhhh might come back later. Feel free to add more urself ahsgsjdbd

#aftg #all for the game #neil josten #andrew minyard #kevin day #riko moriyama #jean moreau

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yamumsyadadd · 6 days ago

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Las Blancas v Barca

teresa abelleira x barca!leon reader

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

It wasn’t supposed to be a secret, or to come crashing down in the way it did.

Tere wasn’t that much older than you, just four years. It was less than AMC and Mapi’s age gap but to your big sister, Tere was ancient.

You officially met Tere when you were called up to the Spanish squad after the Las 15, at barely 18 years old it felt like a huge responsibility, and it was. Mapi had resigned from the team, as had fourteen other players. It look a lot of difficult conversations with Mapi, your parents, and Irene before you accepted. Even though Mapi had she she didn’t want to hold you back or hinder your career in anyway, you could tell there was a part of her that was disappointed. Not in you, but in the RFEF.

It was the beginning of the rift between the two of you and that’s why your relationship with the Las Blancas player was kept a secret. From everyone.

“Hi! I’m Tere, you’re Mapi’s little sister right?”

“Yeah, y/n. Nice to officially meet you.” We shook hands in the lobby of the RFEF accommodation quarters.

“Vilda asked me to show you around.” You walked around for a while, Tere showing you the lounge area, the cafeteria and the kitchen room. “It’ll be good to get to know you when we aren’t battling against each other on the field!” She laughed and you knew then you were in trouble.

Ever since that first day at camp, you were in deep. The curly haired, freckled face girl forced her way into your heart. No matter how hard you tried, she was always in your head, even when you were back in Barcelona and she was in Madrid.

It was in Australia after the World Cup final when all the feelings came out.

“Tere! We are world champions! World fucking champions!” The alcohol was coursing through your veins at the point, slightly aware of what you were thinking but the ability to stop yourself wasn’t there.

“We are! And there’s no one else I’d rather do it with.” The skin under her hands made you tingle.

“You’re so beautiful.” It was meant to be a whisper but it was the complete opposite.

Her lips came crashing down onto yours. It took a few seconds for your mind to register that this was a real thing and not just one of your many frequent dreams. Those few seconds was all it took for Tere to pull back, looking slightly horrified.

“Oh my god. I’m so sor-“ it was your lips that shut her up. The only way you could describe the feeling of kissing her was like coming home. You both got carried away before she gently stopped.

“Go on a date with me?” You agreed embarrassing fast.

The dates were hard to navigate once you were back in Spain but you made it work and now, almost a year later, you were happy in your relationship even if it was a secret.

It was the first camp back after the disappointing loss that followed the Olympics. Spains first, and potentially last. Finishing fourth and losing the bronze medal game was heartbreaking, for all those involved. There were photos that showed you and Tere looking a little more than teammates but not enough for anyone to truly say anything. But that didn’t apply to Jenni.

As much as you loved her, she irritated you more than anyone else. Her reasoning was that she was just as much your sister as Mapi was and since Mapi wasn’t there to give you shit, she did it on her behalf.

It was meant to be just gentle teasing, all in good nature. But after a while it got to you. Instead of being mature and actually discussing it with your girlfriend, you just completely ignored her.

“Y/n!” Her footsteps were getting closer so you started walking faster, “amor!” She caught up to you easily, grabbing your wrist to spin you around, “why are you ignoring me? What’s wrong?”

“I can’t deal with it anymore!”

“With what?”

“The-the teasing, the jokes, everything! At first it was whatever but now? Now they kept saying how much Mapi would hate it, ‘Barça v Real on the field but lovers in the bedroom’, not everything is about fucking sex.”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay. I can ask Jenni to stop?”

“No, god no. Then she’ll know it’s true.” Tere dropped your hand, a look of hurt flashing across her face.

“Is that really so bad? People knowing that you’re my girlfriend?”

“Tere we both agreed, we wouldn’t tell anyone.”

“Are you ashamed of me? Is that it? I know that Barça and Real have a huge rivalry but I didn’t realise you would be so ashamed to be seen with me.”

“Tere wait!” It was no use, she was already gone, “that wasn’t even what I meant.”

Begrudgingly, you decided to join the dinosaurs in the rec room. Jenni and Misa were playing pool and Alexia and Irene were on the couch. You forced yourself between your two captains, head following onto Alexia’s shoulder.

“You okay nena?” Irene poked your cheek.

“No I messed things up.” Both girls gave you a curious look, encouraging you to carry on, “I may have said something that I shouldn’t have to someone and it hurt their feelings but my feelings were hurt first and now they are mad at me.”

“Is this person someone who is important to you?”

“Very. I love her, so much and I want everyone to know how much but it’s hard.”

“There’s a difference between private and a secret. Which one does this girl fall under?”

“A secret.” You mumbled out, knowing that chastising you were going to receive.

“I’m going to take a wild stab in the dark here and say that you and this mystery girl agreed to keep your relationship a secret during the World Cup but now she wants to tell people?” Irene gave you a knowing smile, all you could do is nod your head.

“I think you’re overdue for a proper conversation with Tere.” Your head shot up at Alexia’s words, eyes wide as if you’d been caught with your hand in the cookie jar, “she’s a good person. I would say great but she plays for Real. Go talk to her.”

You shot up on your feet, quickly hugging and kissing both their cheeks and then you were off. It took a lot of grovelling and the promise to slowly start telling people.

There was a plan in place, it had been throughly discussed and agreed upon but that all turned to shit as soon as you entered the locker room after the first El Classico game of the season.

Everyone was extremely happy, as usual. Standing there, at the door way, you just blurted it out.

“I’m in love with Teresa Abelleria and we have been dating for a year.” The entire room fell silent, everyone slowly turning to look at you, but all you could do was stand there like a deer in headlights. That was definitely not the plan.

“What?” It was your sister’s voice that cut through the silence.

“I, um-“

“A year? An entire fucking year and you kept this from me?” Mapi had started to make her way towards you, fury filled her face.

“I was planning on telling you. I was. But I needed time to figure it out myself and not have anyone butt in with their unwanted opinions.”

“My opinion doesn’t matter to you? That’s a bit rough. Your opinion matters to me, y/n.”

“Mapi that’s not what I meant and you know that!”

“Then what did you mean! Use your fucking words!” She yelled. Everyone in the locker room was just watching it unfold.

“Ever since I got called up to the senior team you’ve been disappointed in me! After every single game you always tell me what I need to do better, never once have you said ‘you played well today’ it’s always critical! So I’m sorry that I didn’t want to give you something else to criticise me for.” You turned and slammed the door open.

After mindless walking, you found the Real Madrid locker room, you knocked before you entered, not wanting to walk in on anyone naked or worse, a useless pep talk. Tere noticed the dry tears straight away, pulling you into her chest and whispering reassurances in your ear. It took a while before you calmed down.

“Talk to her amor. Listen to her and talk to her. I’ll see you tomorrow yeah?” She kissed your cheek and squeezed your hand before leaving.

The bus ride was tense. Mapi and Ingrid were talking in hushed voices, occasionally glancing over towards you but you never noticed, too far in your own head.

“Y/n can we please talk?” Mapi asked nervously after you’d all gotten off the bus.

“I guess.” You shrugged your shoulders, following her line of sight to see Alexia and Ingrid looking over.

“I was mad at you for keeping a secret but that wasn’t fair of me. You have every right to keep your relationships private and not tell me.”

“Okay, good night.”

“No! Wait! You said, you said I have been disappointed in you since you were called up but that’s not true. Absolutely not true, I am so proud. I’m just scared, scared that they will treat you like they treated me and the others.” She took a deep breath before continuing, “you have always been the biggest light. You are so pure, so full of sunshine and I didn’t want them to take it away from you but in being scared, I didn’t realise I would be the reason that you lost your light. So I’m sorry, so incredibly sorry and I’ll spend everyday making it up to you.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Tomorrow Tere and I are going out for breakfast. Do you and Ingrid want to come?”

“YES!” Mapi shouted, jumping onto you and wrapping her limbs around.

Breakfast the following morning was tense. Mapi looked angry, Ingrid just ignored her and continued to ask Tere questions to get to know her, actually caring about her answers.

“Mapi, I need to apologise to you.” Tere said nervously.

“What?” Mapi looked taken aback.

“Throughout the whole Las 15 issues I didn’t stand by you. I did things and said things that I regret. I am so sorry for that, if I could I would go back and change everything. Stand by all of you from day one. The club- they wouldn’t let us. It was them or you and I didn’t want to lose my position on the team.” You gave her hand a squeeze for reassurance. It was a conversation that you had both many times.

“Thanks for apologising. It hurt to know that my own national teammates didn’t have my back. Truly, I wish you all the best but I will never return. I hope you’re looking after my little sister when she’s there.”

“Of course!”

“Good because if you hurt her, I will ruin you.” She said it with a big smile on her face and Tere audibly gulped.

“Maria!”

It definitely took some time for Mapi to see you as a grown up in a relationship and there were some arguments about the age difference but all in all everything went smoothly. On camp, Mapi made the dinosaurs watch over the both of you. Never allowed to have time alone with Tere. The dinosaurs took her under their wing, just like they had with you.

146 notes · View notes

thedivineden · 3 months ago

Text

Thin Ice

Summer Olympics Collab w/ @tetzoro

pairing: gojo satoru x reader

genre: smut

words: 5k+

notes: dubcon, enemies, breeding, jujitsu kaisen au!figure skaters, slight mentions of sexual harassment from Gojo, obsession, controlling behaviors, jealousy, drugging, peer pressure, slight manipulation,

AN: I had so much fun writing this, you should see the notes I scribbled at work because we’re not allowed to have our phones! Thank you so much @tetzoro for allowing me to be apart of this lovely event. ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა˖⁺‧₊

You and Gojo Satoru have been competing against each other since the day you were placed in the same class at nine years old. He was favored due to his family standing within the figure skating community but you had raw, unfiltered talent which shook him and his family to their core. Despite all your talent, he’s managed to win almost every single competition. You’d bet big money that it had to do with his family status but you don’t upset the balance until you’re both picked for the Olympics.

And boy were you fuming. “I ALONE have went through hell and back to be where I am whereas he gets placed just because of his family name! It’s preposterous Shoko!” you’ve been ranting to your coach for an hour about the competition; how you didn’t believe that he deserved to be here and wish you didn’t have to compete along side him. “That spoiled brat doesn’t have a INCH of talent in his bones even if it was injected with a needle!”

“Aw do you really hate me that much? I thought we were friends?” You turn to the door to see the lanky white haired man standing against its frame smiling down at you. “Friends? Satoru please, you know I never enjoyed your company now leave. I’m having a discussion with MY coach or are you wanting to take her away from me too?” Shoko stifled a small laugh and stood up. “Gojo, don’t stress my prodigy out. What do you want?”

Gojo never took his eyes off of you; he saw your annoyance as just another game. You roll your eyes and say, "Well, I was just coming to check on my favorite figure skater but I don't think she was to see me." Despite your request to go, Gojo slips into your room and envelops you in his arms. "I'll break all ten of your toes in five seconds if you don't get off of me."

Gojo chuckles at what you've said because he adores your fierce personality and is confident that you will follow through. You lost a tournament at 15 after he "jokingly" slapped your behind for taking first place and your only recourse was to throw your ice skate at him. His parents complained to the judges and got you disqualified.

You were more concerned about scuffing your brand-new Eden Piano ice skates than you were about the blade nearly striking him. You could feel his breath on your ear as he said, "Aw, must you struggle so much, you know you love it, and I know you love me, why don't we meet up later? My room?” You're furious now and shove him away from you. You're about to charge at him when Shoko, sporting her signature side grin, stands in between the two of you.

“Shall we maintain the calm? Alright, sweetie?” The man behind her laughs audibly, saying, "Yeah, sweetie! Let's maintain harmony.” Even though you were angry, you wouldn't allow him or anybody else to sour your mood. "Shoko, you're right; I won't have to deal with him for very long. After the Olympics, I'm heading to Brazil, and I have no intention of returning to Tokyo.” That touched a nerve; your coach's gasp indicates to Gojo that she was equally clueless. You had no idea that your remark had the man fuming.

You? Leaving? The young man finds just such idea absurd. Ever since he first saw you in class, you have been everything to him. You were not impressed with Gojo's antics, even if he is accustomed to getting his way. No matter how many pranks and tricks he performed or how many gifts he put in your locker, his efforts were consistently disregarded.

The man continued to essentially harass you every day despite your denial. He would make harsh remarks about your body, clearly taking care to point out that you are curvier than all the other figure skaters in the class or that your ass is "so massive that you might tip over," which would ultimately be the undoing of you. You could not care less, and all he wanted was the thrill of having your undivided attention.

Gojo needed and desired you more than anything else, and this only made his fixation worse. Without saying anything more, the young man left the room, leaving Shoko to ask all the relevant questions and provide the information later. He's going to make sure that you remember him forever.

It took hours for the two of you to be back together again. You were seated close to each other for the opening ceremony. The opening ceremony typically features the entrances of the head of state or other official of the host nation as well as the president of the International Olympic Committee. The national anthem and flag are then raised and played. Then the tournament started.

You have a strong passion for figure skating, and when you're on the ice, it feels remote. Nothing could distract you from your quest for excellence in each trick, flip, and turn. Everyone in the stadium is quiet, appreciating your stunning appearance and captivating performance. Your candid feelings convey a tale of bereavement.

You jump off the backward outside edge on one foot, using your toe pick to help you get airborne, then use your other leg to reach across your body and back to pick into the ice. Gojo is an enormous admirer of your performances and would do anything to spend time on the ice with you.

You were actually quite flexible, as required by the biellmann spin. You spin on one foot, stretching the other leg behind you and above your head to make the shape of a teardrop, and Gojo is staring at you in astonishment. You release your leg and step off the ice again. You can turn the odds in your favor with just your pure resolve.

You release everything forward, shift your entire weight on your takeoff left leg, raise your arms, and release your right leg back at the same moment of takeoff. At first, it looks like a typical axel leap, but in order to complete the trick, you have to make four and a half rotations in the air. When you land perfect, everyone in the stadium goes crazy. Gojo was aware of the announcers' adoration for your flawless quadruple axel.

Interviewers are waiting in line to chat with Japan's figure skating prodigy as soon as you step off the ice. Gojo heard all of the inquiries: "Wow, it was incredible! "How long have you been practicing your quadruple axel?" "How long have you been training?" and "Do you ever see yourself performing routines in pairs with?" You were brisk even off the rink, graciously and enthusiastically responding to every inquiry.

Gojo is the next to go, but not before he interacts with you. "Looks like you're going for the gold, but we all know who's really taking it home." Your smile quickly disappears and is replaced by a frown. "If you already know you're the winner why are you trying so hard to convince yourself that I'm not?" You grin again and walk past the gaunt man before he can respond, heading toward Shoko.

God, you made him so hard.

Despite what you previously stated, Gojo is without a doubt the greatest for Japan, and his mesmerizing methods are hard to ignore. Every now and then, Gojo stretches out his palm and takes a tiny step forward, sliding across the icy rink with effortless ease. Not long after he picks up speed, he throws his right leg over his head and balances on his left foot. He spread his arms, almost making a T or possibly a K. Gojo never fails to demonstrate to his own nation and the rest of the world that he was a showman in addition to a prodigy.

He swung his body in fluid motions, bending his knees. He was able to move down the rink more quickly and farther as soon as both of his skates were facing in the same direction and parallel to one another. Watch as the man launches himself and lands on the back outside edge of the opposing foot. You see him use his free leg to assist with the takeoff. Gojo starts off across the rink once more; he has the appearance of a swan on a quest. Despite his solemn expression, he manages to pique the audience's interest by molding his face to suit his intended message.

Your thoughts are interrupted by a tap from another skater. "Hi!"You're — correct? The most beautiful man you have ever seen is revealed when you turn around. "Yes I am and you are?" Your smile was enough to break any man's heart, and it certainly broke Gojo's. His eyes caught you talking to the low-level figure skater during his back bend. To get your attention, Gojo slowly lifts his body upward while making sure to circle close to you.

You paid no attention to anything, not even when the crowd chanted his name. He saw you gazing passionately at the man, touching him, and grinning during his performance. He'll make sure that everyone is aware of your connection. Interviewers swarm Gojo as he emerges from the ice, asking him questions about the tournament, his emotions, whether he predicted Japan would win, and what he loves best about the Olympics.

He took great pleasure in watching you, even though you were hostile toward you. He enjoys watching you on the ice and knows that all of these eyes will be able to see and appreciate your beauty and brilliance, even if that's not a suitable answer to the question. “I had fun watching my girlfriend accomplish a quadruple axel on the ice, going above and beyond the norm!” The interviewers are going crazy over the exclusive insider information that Japan's Olympic candidates are a couple! “I'm very proud of her!”

“How long have you two been together?”

“Could you two come on my show to give more information about your relationship and experience in the competitive skating world?”

“Do you plan on marrying her?”

Gojo has a broad smile, but it widens when he notices you approaching from the corner of his eye. He ensured that there would be enough disturbance to draw in people from a 50-mile radius. He quickly puts his arm around your waist to hold you close once you are arms length apart.

He undoubtedly knows that you are extremely conscious of your appearance and would never intentionally make a fool of yourself in front of thousands of people. "Hello my darling, don't you want to tell them about how our love blossomed?" Even though you're terrified, you swiftly avert the interviewers' attention to the man by saying that he always tells story better than you. He makes fun of you and tells a made-up tale of jealousy, hate, and love. Gojo lets the interviewer know that you two are deeply in love, plan to be married, and want to start a family.

He knows when you get uncomfortable in his arms and knows it's time to finish the interview and express gratitude for the interviewers' time. Curses fly from your mouths towards Gojo the moment you two are out of earshot. You attempt to escape his hold, but it's firm and powerful, and he won't let go until he proves that you are his.

Because he would be pressed for time, he had everything set up before the competition day. After his performance, he asked to have a car ready for him so he could take you to the Olympic village, to his room, and finally to his bed. You sound even more enraged now that you're practically yelling at him.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? Why in the hell would you tell them that?”

"I just want you to realize how much I adore you, now hush and enjoy." Gojo hurries you into the back of the tinted Range Rover, entering on the left side. He signals the driver to shorten the route and closes the partition — his hand finds contact too high on your thigh and his look is exceedingly strained. "I'm not your enemy but you treat me like one, why?"

You chuckle and roll your eyes at his assertion, "You've been tormenting me since we were seven, and you think I have no reason to want you away from me?" When you look at him, his expression is one of perplexity. Torment? I used to put gifts in your locker, and from what I remember, you threw them out." Your face flushed from the accusation. "Well, I'd have kept them if you hadn't said anything about my physique. "Everyday, you said something demeaning which encouraged other people to say hurtful things. Now you all are in my shadow, I’m winning the gold ."

You turned to face Gojo and said this with the biggest smile on your face, but as soon as you saw the tear streaming down his hot cheeks, your smile fades. "What's wrong, you?" Even with a hint of worry in your voice, your countenance suggests dissatisfaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't realize, but I'd like another chance." In all honesty, Gojo doesn't give a damn about earning your favor. All he wants is what any man would want.

To win.

Gojo makes sure to be the ultimate gentleman as he ushers you out promptly as the car arrives at the village. When he offers his hand to help you out of the car and opens the compound door for you, he can see you're nervous and cautious because you pause. To be honest, you felt anxious at every turn, and when Gojo came up behind you, his arm clasped tightly around your waist. You didn't know why you two were at the compound without your coaches, or what he wanted, but you weren't enjoying it.

When he arrives at his room, he stops at the entrance and looks at you intently. "I set everything up for you because I want you to know how special you've been to me," he says as he opens the door. The smell of cinnamon and vanilla greets you, along with the sight of candles and petals scattered on the corridor floor. Gojo releases his hold on you as his hand travels to your lower back and softly presses you inside his room.

Although your instincts are going haywire, the environment appears in the opposite way. When you step fully into his room the corridor floor is only the tip of the iceberg. Gojo, rather, the person he hired to arrange the space, created a lavish pallet on the floor and surrounded it with a heart made of flowers. accompanied by a bouquet of flowers and a selection of finger appetizers. There are images of you from previous competitions, including ones where you lost, hanging on the walls with the term winner printed on them.

"Do you Iike it?" The pleasure on his face is palpable. In a normal situation, you would do anything to erase Gojo Satoru’s smile, but right now, it would be bittersweet. The amount of work he put in is both sweet and a little alarming, given that several of the images on display were taken when he was alone himself in the booth. You feel the silence begin to take on an unsettling note, so you turn to nod your head at the man, a small grin on your lips.

“Sit down, try the foods. I’ll be back with drinks!” Gojo disappears down the corridor and out the room door leaving you and your rapid heart alone. Thoughts were swirling in your head.

You could just leave.

What does all of this mean? I mean he did give you gifts when you were kids but you just chalked it up to him trying to buy you and throw you off your game.

Does he actually like you? Could it have been your announcement about you leaving?

You sit down on the pallet allowing your weak legs to rest and distract yourself with the white chocolate covered strawberries. Halfway through the patch and uncontrollable anxiety, Gojo comes in with a drink tray with two bottles of martell cognac l'or de jean and two glasses. “I see you enjoyed the strawberries, I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch” he places the tray on the pallet and sits extremely close to you.

You take a seat on the pallet, allowing your ailing legs to relax, and use the strawberries coated in white chocolate as a distraction. Gojo enters with a drink tray with two glasses and two bottles of Martell Cognac L'Or de Jean halfway through the patch and uncontrollably anxiousness. He lays the tray on the pallet and sits quite close to you, saying, "I see you enjoyed the strawberries. I made the beef yakitori but you have to try it with the miso ranch." He picks up a piece of beef and dips half of it in the homemade ranch.

“Open” you look at the man as if he grew three head and laugh. You try to take the meat, saying, "I'm perfectly capable of feeding myself," but Gojo pulls his hand back and gives you a stern look. Without a second thought you open your mouth to allow the man to feed you. Not only did you let him feed you once but the whole plate of beef along with the miso ranch.

Surprisingly, the beef is really soft, and when mixed with the miso ranch, it is exquisite. Gojo fed you the trend of white meal options, asking you what you thought of whatever he served you next and ensuring you finished at least half. You attribute it to his big ego, and he is still making whatever this is about himself, albeit in a minor way.

You begin to feel lighter, and your discussion with him has become comfortable, flirtatious even. Only when he places his hand on your thigh does your body react.

Your face is now hot, your mind is muddled, and his hand rubbing your thighs makes you want him to move his hand up higher under your skirt. You clear your throat and remind yourself who you’re with. "So, why did you actually do this? I didn't expect Gojo Satoru to be romantic” he hasn't taken his gaze away from you, but appears to be getting closer.

“Because you’re leaving and I know I won’t be able to stop you but I want to give you something to think about while you’re 17 thousands miles away.” It's the first time you've truly appreciated his appearance; he has subtle muscular physique. His lips appear smooth and plump, while his jawline is sharp. And his eyes? Women who testified about losing themselves in his gaze weren’t lying.

As your stare deepens, Gojo notices and seizes the opportunity to slide his hand up your leg and under your skirt. You pretend not to notice the precarious situation you've placed yourself in. Truthfully, all you want is for him to be beneath your skirt, to slide your panties to the side, and finger fuck you. Despite your increased heart rate and anxiety you don't stop him.

"Strip for me, princess," and your body becomes frigid instantly, making you appear almost ashamed. His eyes narrow as he leans in to whisper to you how much he wants you, how amazing you are, how he put this whole thing up for you, and how he begs you not to waste this lovely night. “You’re the one who let me put your hand up your skirt, don’t you want it?” You started to stammer and your pussy's heartbeat is becoming unbearable, but are you going to let this man defile you after he has attempted to humiliate you and make you feel inferior?

Gojo rolls his eyes and scoffs at your apprehension He starts to stand up, but your hand catches his arm and stops him instantly. "No, I think I want—" Before you can even finish speaking, Gojo covers you with his lips and hands. His thin fingers are hurrying through your clothing, admiring every inch of your body and snapping a mental image of your exposed breasts and pussy. His touch is light but frenzied and every kiss feels like it’s scorching your skin leaving an imprint on you.

Your body reacts beautifully to him which makes him hungry for you. Gojo is above you, staring down at you as you lie flat beneath him. Your gaze is locked on him, as though you're trying to assert your power and take charge of the circumstance in an effort to look less desperate and eager. He smiles and ask how much do you want it— with a cunning look on your face, you glare at him and repeat his question. The young man chuckles at you and pushes your legs apart by swiping his palm behind them.

Once your legs are spread, Gojo places his face close to your pussy, basking in its magnificence. "Is all of this for me?" He says before swiping his tongue through your slit. Your legs snap without warning, but his grip keeps you immobile. He revels in your flavor, the way your body heats up, and the way you try to hide your pleasure in your . This time, he didn't want to come up for air; he wanted to be buried in your wetness and hypnotized by your moans.

Your skin feels as like it is being scorched by every kiss and lick to your clit and hole. Gojo commands you to hold your legs up so he can stick two fingers into your dripping hole and curls them to give you the most ecstasy possible. He may be selfish, but he's definitely not when it comes to pleasure. You abandon your position to position your legs on his shoulders and tangle your fingers in his snow-white hair.

"Gojo~ I need- my head..I can't," you say as your legs start to tremble and your eyesight becomes white from the pleasure that has been building up. “You can take it princess, just hold on a little longer for me” he knows that he won’t stop until you've created a mess; you begin to urge the young man to stop so you can regain your breath, but he doesn't hear you at all. He looks up at you with his bright blue eyes and hums at the sight.

You have a face of pure bliss, your eyes are closed and your hair is starting to stick to your sweat covered body. Gojo has an unrelenting pace — you could do nothing but focus on releasing yourself on his blessed fingers. All he can hear after coming up is your ragged breathing which forms a smile on his face. “I would ask you how everything was but I can see you thoroughly enjoyed yourself”

“You fuck like a virgin who just got some for the first time.” Gojo smile is immediately wiped off his face. You sit up on your elbows but he pushes you back down and pulls out his angry throbbing member. “A virgin huh? Let me lose my virginity with you then” without warning he slides himself through your gummy walls. Now hovering over you, Gojo uses his hands to push one leg up and bend the other to your side. His face is beet red and you can tell he’s enjoying himself more than you are right now.

You want to fuck him, you can’t deny how he has you begging for him to move, yet everything feels forced in your mind. As your face starts to well up with tears, he notices and bends in to get near to your ear. "Aw, don't cry, I'll make it all better, okay?" you nod your head, and he replies "good girl.”

As much as he loves to tease you, he can no longer control himself. Although he intentionally uses deep, languid strokes, the louder your moans the quicker he thrusts into you. He's been saying in your ear all along how gorgeous, wet, and tight you are. How ever since he met you, he's been dreaming of this and wants to be the one man who can win your approval.

You become this lustful shell of yourself that just wants him to consume you, and everything begins to feel like an out-of-body experience. You cry out in desperation for him to go deeper and use you till he is unable to. When he lets go of your legs, you encircle them around his torso while wrapping your arms around his neck forcing his face into your neck.

Your mind is foggy and all you can think about is using your legs to drive him inside of you and lock him in place as Gojo takes advantage of this opportunity to leave as many markings on your neck as possible, intensifying the pleasure you're experiencing.

The young man is breathless at your actions and he makes a mocking tone saying you’re a desperate slut aren’t you? how about I give you something to remember me by”. He lifts his body up untangling your legs from his torso placing both of his palms behind your knees to extend them to the sides of your head, you whine at the lack of contact but he calms your hunger by pounding into you. Even if the action took you by surprise you start to moan and praise the man for fucking you so well.

The young man is breathless at your actions and remarks in a mocking manner, "You're a desperate slut, aren't you?" What if I gave you something to carry me with you forever? You whine at the absence of contact as he lifts his body up and separates your legs from his torso, extending both of his palms behind your knees and push them to the sides of your head. Gojo slams into you stifling your hunger. Even if the action took you by surprise, you start to moan and praise him for fucking you so well.

His climax happens quickly when you mutter, "I-I may just stay for you," in a breathless manner. He closes his eyes in an effort to continue for as long as possible considering he feels his balls getting tight. He desires to relish each instant spent within you, the way your walls enclose him, the firmness with which your hands clasp his arms, and the volume with which you utter his name. Gojo leans back toward you abruptly, giving you a passionate kiss and cums inside of you. Though you're mentally panicking out about the lack of protection, you quickly forget about it as he releases your hold on your limbs and turns you onto your tummy, telling you to lift your ass.

"That fat ass has to get love too, princess, don't be shy." Your embarrassment is the only reason for the heat that is starting to appear on your face. He scoops you up by your hips and slams into you, rolling his eyes at your hesitancy. He is aware of your sensitivity, but you wouldn't be aware of Gojo's struggle to endure the pain in order to prolong this time. Your ass jiggling with each thrust has him spellbound, and as he slides out of you to slam into you again, his dick is drenched.

At this moment, your pussy is hurting and you're crying, but the heatbeat is becoming worse. Then it dawns on you that he is the only one who can stop the excruciating feeling underneath. Your mind is immediately repulsed by the idea. Gojo Saturo, of all people, fucking you senselessly is shameful, but the young man wipes that notion away as soon as it occurs by grabbing your hair with one hand and playing with your clit with the other around your waist.

You were too high and fucked out to realize that Gojo had taken the remote and turned on the television before seizing you. You were so overstimulated that your legs were trembling, and your tears were blurring your vision. "Gojo, please, I just can't handle it any longer." The teleprompters are now announcing the male single winners, “Just let them announce the winners pretty, if you win I’ll give you a present okay?”

Your body became heavy and you can feel your thighs become wet from your climax and hear his win being announced. All he could hear from you now is sobs begging him to give you a second, this is what he wants, for you to break down on his dick. It goes without saying that Gojo takes home the gold, he saw the camera move to his coach; who was very upset over his absence and had a stone-cold expression on his face.

He didn’t want his movements to be soured by the display and leans his head back in bliss. He’s beyond sensitive and doesn’t want you to see the tears coming out of his eyes to. Not only did he win literally but he’s achieving his life long goal of ruining you. His next words are winded, “make sure you come back in nine months for your next present princess.”

Leaning his head back in delight, he didn't want the event to ruin his moves. His sensitivity is immense, and he would prefer that you not see the tears welling up in his eyes. Not only has he literally won, his lifelong ambition to ruin you has been achieved. He continues, "Make sure you come back in nine months for your next present, princess," in a taunting manner.

You continue to sob as Gojo bullies your overworked cunt, cumming again coating your tantalizing walls in white. He lets you go and once you hit the pallet your world goes black. Waking up you notice the space around you is pitch black, you attempt to get up and survey the surroundings but your body is incredibly sore.

You sob on and on as Gojo abuses your overworked cunt and once more covers your alluring walls in white. After he lets you go, you strike the pallet, and everything goes dark. When you wake up, you discover that the space is pitch black. You want to stand up and take in your surroundings, but your body hurts so much. From your head to in between your legs, you look and feel around for a light or at least your phone.

You jump back and scream as soon as you feel warmth and skin when you reach to your left. Your head is throbbing and you try to recollect the last few hours, but when you discover you can't, it just makes you feel more anxious. You stand up despite the fact that your legs are weak and sprint to the closest corner to make yourself appear smaller. Your final recollection is leaving the ice and talking with the interviewers. Besides that, you don’t know where you are, why you’re naked and who that is laying next to you.

“Why are you yelling princess, it’s late.”

Princess? When you hear the voice, your blood starts to boil, and you start to remember what transpired. "FUCK, FUCK, FUCK! GOJO SATORU YOU WAKE THE FUCK UP AND TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED," the man gets out of the duvet and moves across the room to turn on the light. He can't stop laughing when he sees you in the corner. "Princess, get up. I got you something."

The man walks to the nearest dresser, throws you in the shorts and shirt, and walks to the bathroom, seemingly unaffected by your outcry. It's amazing how calm someone can be when he's clearly done you some harm. But you get dressed immediately, grab your stuff from his room, and run out of there. "You sick bastard, I hope you know that I'm going to the authorities." A flurry of flashes from microphones and cameras jammed against your face greets you as soon as you open the door.

Questions about why you were in Gojo's room, whether you were actually unwell or if you skipped the rest of the competition to spend time with him, and why you were leaving in his clothing suddenly burst out of the seemingly small gathering. The sensation of his arms enveloping you, his naked chest resting on your back, and his murmur in your ear, "Gold winning Olympian misses her win to share intimate time with her new boyfriend," further intensifies your feelings of overwhelm. “I believe that is a catchy headline.”

Gojo got what he wanted, attaching you to him forever, hopefully in more ways than one.

197 notes · View notes

sunshine-theseus · 3 months ago

Text

Breaking Records or Breaking the Internet? | Vivianne Miedema x Reader

Words: 2.5k

Summary: COVID doesn’t exist, Viv didn’t have to undergo another knee surgery, I’m basing the main character off Arnie Titmus (I love her sm) but I am also just making shit up

Warnings: not proofread

Your first Olympics had been 2012 in London. Barely 15, you emerged from the water an Olympic record holder with your first piece of Olympic gold weighing on your neck. As a young girl from a rural town in Tasmania, you hadn’t expected to make a career out of swimming, but with every competition, every new medal, every regional, national and world record that you claim, it begins to feel real.

As a young girl from rural Tasmania who grew up extremely religious, you hadn’t expected to reach all these milestones with the girl of your dreams.

It was unclear how and why Vivianne Miedema showed up to your 200m Freestyle final swim at the 2020 Olympics in Tokyo. The rest of her team was surely back at the hotel or walking the streets of Tokyo, but here she was. Your eyes were drawn to her in the bright orange jacket all Dutch athletes had to wear, talking enthusiastically with Dawn Fraser, both of them pointing at you as you wait for your name to be called at the podium.

“With a new Olympic Record, 1st place is Y/N L/N!!” The voice echoes throughout the hall before cheers erupt from every corner. With a smile you bend to accept the medal that placed around your neck, then your eyes return to the unanticipated duo.

After congratulating your competitors and talking to family and friends, you make your way over to them. Dawn is pulling you into a hug and praising you before a word can escape your mouth, before turning to the tall dutchie next to her who has a tight lipped but kind smile.

“This is Vivianne Miedema. She’s a big fan of yours.” Of course you knew who she was. You were a big fan of her’s.

“It’s so lovely to meet you. You’re probably my favourite non-Australian player. I can’t wait to watch your game against Zambia.”

“You’re coming to the game?”

“Of course.”

Many, many people had caught that interaction, followed by your long talks on the pitch after her games or beside the pool at other record-breaking swims. The natural development from the internet was speculation about whether you were a couple. At the time you certainly weren’t. Strictly new friends.

But then you showed up to more Netherlands and even an occasional Arsenal game, and she showed up to more swim meets. The conversations last longer, the touches lingered, the glances toward each other’s lips increased. Everything was just more… intense.

So one fateful day in 2022 during your (short) off-season, you decided to visit her in London. It wasn’t a surprise technically, you just decided to arrive a few days earlier than planned and surprise her at the game. There was something telling you, you needed to come early. So Caitlin had sorted out your ticket and happily gave you a lift from the airport to the stadium.

Viv easily spotted you during warm up, with your hair in the same messy bun it had been for the past day and a bright orange ‘Miedema’ jersey adoring your torso, one that she had personally given to you after her first 2020 Olympics match. She happily made her way over to you, swinging her leg back and forth to mimic the exercise she was supposed to be doing as she grinned the same grin you’d found yourself stuck admiring time and time again. But it didn’t quite meet her eyes the same way it always did. Something was brewing.

“I can’t believe you’re here. You weren’t meant to arrive until Monday.”

“Couldn’t miss a big game, could I? Is- is everything okay? Something seems off.”

“Yeah, yeah of course why wouldn’t it be?”

“Your smile doesn’t reach your eyes today.” your hand rests on the side of her head, thumb stroking the spot beside her eye which is usually occupied by crows feet that show much love and joy she has.

“I don’t know. I’ve just felt off all week. I was going to ask Jonas to take me off the roster this morning but I don’t want to through everyone off. I’m sure it’ll be okay.”

“If you’re sure liefje.” You press a kiss to the palm of her hand and send her back down the tunnel, anticipation and worry burning in your gut.

Lyon was up 1 by the end of the first 45 minutes of normal time, but there looked like hope for the English side during the extra 3 minutes. Viv was playing well in midfield. She wasn’t as strong as usual, but it just looked like she was taking it easy; making open passes and wasting no time in passing the ball to the next player.

But then she makes a run to meet Lia, trying to grab the ball from her feet.

She kicks.

She misses.

She falls.

She doesn’t get back up.

Blood pounds in your ears and you wait in bated breath as the medics assess her knee.

Her knee.

She’s shifted onto the stretcher, but you don’t see any more as you rush out of the family and friend’s section and demand a security guard take you to see her, flashing your badge. This was the bad feeling. You both knew something would happen and ignored it. It almost felt like you fault.

The doors crash against the brick walls, and you speed walk down the hall to the medical room where Viv is laying quietly while the medics do further assessment. They ask questions and she answers in short, quiet breaths.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“It’s unstable.”

“I can’t walk on it.”

“It popped when I fell.” No no no no. You whisper the three letters before anyone in the room can even think them.

Suddenly all eyes are on you. The medic’s eyes are apologetic and shocked at the arrival of a new voice, but Viv’s are tired and welled with tears. She looks so broken. So you sit in the seat next to her head and take one hand in your own while your other lifts to stroke through her hair.

“It’s going to be okay.” you whisper in her ear.

“I can’t do this. I can’t do this.”

“I’m right here it’s going to be okay. I’ve got you”

~~~~~

About 2 months after the initial injury on a particularly difficult night for the Dutch, you found yourselves huddled up together in her bed watching Friends for the second time. Neither of you were talking but you found yourself staring at Viv while Chandler continues to ramble on about how much he loves Monica. Soulmates destined to be. And then you found yourself staring into Viv’s cloudy grey eyes, slowly leaning in. You waited for Viv to stop you but she says and does nothing, so you let your lips meet. It’s a delicate kiss, just two people who have been in love with each other for years, finally professing their feelings.

There was no conversation about what that kiss meant for you two, but it seemed to be an unspoken decision that you were now together. You slept beside each other, kissed at every opportunity, and supported one another through everything. You were in your own private world.

The recovery process proved to be difficult but you hadn’t left Viv’s side for a moment, officially announcing you were taking a break from this swimming season for unforeseeable amount of time. But the injury had taken a big toll had been her mental health. Most days she didn’t want to get out of bed, let alone leave the house, and every day you were to expect multiple apologies for being difficult to take care of.

Every bad comment was met with a kiss and a promise to stay by her side until you were absolutely no longer needed.

Viv made her return almost a year after the injury, coming on late into the second half, only to score two goals against Tottenham. You cheered as loud as you could, and smiled widely when she sent a hand heart your way in celebration. You’d agreed to keep your relationship private in terms of it’s development. Most journalists who had asked about it had been told you were taking care of a dear friend and had been looking for a chance to take a year off anyway, so the timing lined up. But she couldn’t help but silently give thanks to the person who had gotten her through it all. Who brought her back

~~~~~

You managed to make it back to training in time to decently prepare for Paris qualifiers. You’d kept up doing almost daily training during your time in England, but nowhere near the extent you were used to as the multiple time World and Olympic Champion under Boxall. Seven straight months of hard work, day in and day out, and you’d be in shape for qualifiers, and in perfect shape to take on the best of the best.

Everyday consisted of 4-6 hours in the pool and in the gym, a session in the early morning and another after lunch, a nap, and then a long call with Viv while you ate dinner and she had lunch. It was hard being away from her after spending a whole year beside her. The bed was cold, the house felt empty, things just weren’t the same. But you both knew it needed to be done.

By the time early July came around, you genuinely felt like you were a new person. Before the year long break things had begun to feel tedious and swimming was losing it’s meaning. You were still performing as the best in the world, but it was automatic. But now everything felt… right.

And the qualifiers showed it.

You broke your own world records multiple times with ease, and every round made you feel alive again. There was no Viv in bright orange to cheer you along this time but you knew she’d be proud. And she made sure you knew she was with every nightly call, proclaiming her love and support for you.

Viv accompanying you to Paris was a well kept secret between the two of you. In the days leading up to your first races, you wondered around the village texting her, desperate to know what she was doing out in the city. More often than not, the answer was that she refused to see any big sites without you, waiting until you are completely done to explore the city of love.

She was in the crowd of every race without fail, the same bright orange jacket she wore the first time you met. Your ear was trained to hear her and your eyes knew where to look, she would be sitting in the exact same seat every time. The proud smile on her face made your heart flutter and it takes everything within you not to run up to her and kiss her after clambering out of the water.

Halfway through the swimming events you’ve managed to rack up five golds and once again break your own world records, barely skimming off 0.2 seconds each time.

Then it came to the big finale. You were known for your short distance swims. 100m and 200m freestyle and butterfly were your dominant fields, but you were adamant to at least try and land on the podium for the 1500m freestyle beside Katie Ledecky.

It was a shock to you, your coach and most of the nation when you had passed through the qualifiers, and then you qualified for the semis. Now you were on to the final. You’d never been this nervous in your career and all you wanted in that moment was a hug from your girlfriend, but you needed to lock in.

You’re lined up in the tunnel.

Your name is called.

You’re standing behind the podium for lane 7.

You’re on the podium in position.

The whistle blows.

You’re submerged in the water.

The rest of the race is a blur. One lap becomes 10 and 10 becomes 20 and then suddenly you’re onto the last 50 metres. Just 50 more metres. You have no idea if you’re in front or if you’ve fallen behind, but you push until your hand slides against the ceramic tile of the pool wall.

Gasping for air, you pull off your goggles and look around the pool. Most other people are finished, but you have no clue for how long, and the final swimmer slots in beside your no more than 20 seconds after. You don’t expect a big victory as you all turn to the board, waiting for the results.

“In second… lane 4, United States of America, Katie Ledecky!” the room echoes with cheers and shouts of confusion. Second? This is her race. This is what she’s known for. Who could possibly have beaten the Katie Ledecky?

“And with a new world and Olympic record of 15:20.34, lane 7, Australia, Y/N L/N!” the screams are deafening as the crowd and your competitors alike cheer for you.

You hug and thank each of them, before making your way to the podium where you receive your gold. Tears stream down your face as photos are taken from all angles, and you pull Katie and Anastaysia up beside you, recognising their efforts. But all you can think about is Viv, waiting impatiently against the barrier for a moment of your time.

The happiness and excitement keeps building up within you as you’re finally freed from media, and you run to your girlfriend, grabbing her face and kissing her. In the back of your head you know this will be making news headlines everywhere in all of an hours time, but you don’t care. How could you? It’s the perfect way to celebrate all your hard earned success. Kissing the love of your life.

“I love you so much. I’m so so proud of you liefje.” She pecks your lips again.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, lieveling.”

~~~~~

You get to leave the village the next day, and you’re thankful to leave the Styrofoam mattresses and cardboard bedframes behind. Your hotel’s king sized bed with a memory foam mattress, completed with the warmth of your girlfriend’s arms is the only upgrade you could ask for. She presses kisses to your shoulder as you scroll through twitter, many fans of both yourself and Viv sharing words of adoration and happiness for your now public relationship as pictures of your kiss spread across the internet.

When Viv picked you up from the village to take you to breakfast at a small Parisian café down the road from the hotel, you both decided to officially, officially, announce the fact you were together. You took photos together throughout the day, her kissing you on the cheek, your hands being held between you, the way you looked at her. Anything of the two of you. You turned it into a collage and posted it to Instagram.

Y/N_L/N

@ y/n_l/n “breaking records and breaking the internet in the same week. there is no on else I’d rather do it with than the love of my life. Ik zal je in elk leven vinden.” (I will find you in every life).

This was the life you wanted to live. Forever. With Viv.

#woso x reader #woso #woso fanfics #arsenal fcw #vivianne miedema #vivianne miedema x reader

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