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jezabelle9299 · 2 months ago

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Make-up Birthday S.R x FEM! Reader

Overture: Spencer didn't just miss your birthday he forgot it. (Happy Ending)

C-Ws: Missed occasions, pushing down feelings for the benefit of another person, Spencer chose Gideon over you

A/N- Baby's first angst, go easy on me. And I've been in a sour mood so I have 2 other angst fics (also birthday themed), that will probably be posted sometime this week. Our regularly scheduled sap will return next week.

You weren’t a very big birthday person. Of course when you were young you had birthday parties with all of your little friends, but as time went on, things got busy. It was pushed to the side for years, until you preferred to just ignore it. Until a few weeks ago, when Spencer asked what you’d like to do to celebrate. You told him nothing was necessary, but he insisted that the two of you at least spend the day together. You let yourself get excited, you made good plans, just takeout and movie night, but that was enough. If it were anyone else you’d remind him, several times, but you knew he wouldn’t forget. He didn’t forget anything.

This morning you woke up to an empty bed, and you knew Spencer had gone to work. He had a few meetings he mentioned having to go to about their latest cases, but you weren't expecting him until this evening. The day passed you by when you got set up, but time slowed down when there was nothing to do but wait. Each second passed a little slower than the last, until you got worried. You haven't heard from Spencer all day.

You: Hey Spence, everything ok?

Spence: I’m ok, just got caught up at work. I’ll come to your place as soon as I can.

You: Ok, see you then

You were glad he was ok, and you knew he’d rather be with you, than at work. Something important must’ve come up, he wouldn’t miss this over nothing. But time passed with no more texts, until you resigned yourself to him just not coming. You changed from your date outfit into some comfy pajamas, and laid down in bed. You weren’t upset with Spencer, this job was important to him, and you knew he felt like he had something to prove just being there. You could celebrate another day.

It wasn't until well after nine when Gideon asked Spencer what he was still doing here, he’d mentioned weeks ago that he’d need to leave early. That’s when Spencer realized what he was missing. It wasn’t just movie night, by now he’d missed almost your entire birthday, after he’d pressed you to celebrate it at all. He rushed out as quickly as possible, but by the time he got to your place it was too late. He knocked on the door and as soon as you answered, all the apologies came pouring out. He couldn’t make himself stop until you put your hands on either side of his face making him look you in the eyes.

“It’s ok Spence, I know how important your job is, and we can celebrate another day.”

He leaned down to hug you, burying his face in your neck. “I’m so sorry honey, it totally slipped my mind. But I promise to make it up to you.” You pulled away from him at that.

“Wait, what do you mean?” He just looked at you, like he was replaying what he said to figure out what he did wrong.

“You–you forgot?”

“I thought you knew.”

“No, I didn’t. I had this picture in my mind, like when you leave for cases, when you tell me how you wish you could be here.”

“I do wish I was here, baby. You mean the world to me.” You couldn’t keep doing this, his reassurance was breaking you down bit by bit. Sure now he wished he was there, but he didn’t even realize you were missing him.

“I’m gonna go for a drive I think, we don’t have to celebrate another day, it’s fine.”

“No please stay– please let me make this up to you.” His phone rang. A shrill tone cutting through, nearly making you wince.

“It’s Gideon, I have to take this. But please stay with me, I want to talk about this. It’ll only take a minute.”

“It’s fine, I’ll talk to you tomorrow Spence, just remember to lock up when you leave ok?” You picked up your shoes and keys before you walked out, still in your pajamas. You gave him not even half of a smile, and it was breaking his heart. But he couldn’t ignore the call.

Gideon was like a father to him, and even though he winced when the door shut behind you, quietly, as if you weren’t even upset, he still answered. There wasn’t even a case, Gideon just had a question about some evidence. Nothing would’ve happened if he didn’t answer, no one was dying, and the only one hurt was you. He couldn’t have just ignored the call, and now you were gone.

Spencer didn’t forget anything, but somehow he forgot this.

You weren't sure where you’d go. You decided to allow yourself one evening to be upset. To acknowledge that this whole situation sucks and honestly today your usually wonderful boyfriend kind of sucks too. You’ll feel guilty about it tomorrow, but tonight you're going to drive an hour and a half down the highway, just to turn back around so you could avoid the drunk drivers on the road when the bars close. Spencer should be gone by then, you’re sure Gideon was calling to steal your boyfriend away on a case again and you’d call him in the morning to make sure he got there ok and tell him to be safe like you always did.

What Spencer did was important, and you couldn’t be mad at him for missing something as silly as a birthday for a work problem. But he wasn’t out saving lives like you thought. It may be selfish or overly-presumptuous about your standing in his life, but when you missed him it made you feel better to think he was missing you just as much. How he was at work thinking about how he loved you. And today was the day that illusion shattered.

You could only sob at the thought.

By the time you got home, it was almost 1am. The redness in your eyes finally started to subside, you got too dehydrated to continue actually crying almost an hour ago, so that’s when you decided that the time for being upset over this was done. Even the puffiness in your face was going down. But when you unlocked the door, Spencer was waiting for you.

“You’re home.”

“You’re here. I thought you had a case.”

“No, Gideon just had a question about some evidence, I wanted to be here when you got back.”

“That’s sweet of you Spencer, but I just went for a quick drive. I’m kind of tired, so I think I’m just going to head to bed now, ok? But I’ll see you in the morning.” You gave him a resigned kiss on the forehead and his heart broke. He did this. And you called him Spencer, not ‘Spence’, not ‘honey’, not ‘babe’. Spencer. It never sounded so awful.

He did all he could do, he slept on the couch and let you rest. You would be talking about this in the morning. You couldn’t shut him out forever, he loved you too much.

The beeping of the coffee machine woke him up, his legs half hanging off your couch. He immediately got up. If the coffee machine was going off, you were awake, and you could talk about last night.

“Honey?”

“Hi, I didn’t realize you’d stayed here last night, were you too tired to drive?”

“No, but I wanted to be here when you woke up.”

“You could've slept in my bed with me.” You were glad he didn’t. But you wanted to maintain your facade, you wanted to forgive him, and forget about everything.

“You’re upset with me, I wanted to talk to you.”

“I’m not upset.”

“You’re the love of my life and I hurt you. You don’t have to pretend to be ok with it.”

“It was one day, Spencer. It’s fine, you don’t have to sleep on the couch as penance.” You were putting on your coolest presence, but everything you said still came out as more of a mumble than it would’ve.

“I need you to listen to me, you are the most important person in my life. I love you so much it hurts, and I can’t stand the thought of you thinking I forgot about you.” That broke your barely held together exterior of confidence.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Because I need you to know that I love you, I can’t just let this go.”

“Ok fine. You made me celebrate my birthday and when you forgot anyway, it hurt my feelings. But I don’t want a makeup birthday, and I wish I could just forget about it, and I don’t understand why you want me to be mad at you.”

“I don’t want you to be mad, but when you are mad, I need you to tell me. I can’t do anything to help if I don’t know what’s going on.”

“But I don’t want you to know when I’m upset. I want to be the cool girlfriend that doesn’t get upset when her boyfriend does something by accident. You are the best boyfriend I’ve ever had and when you make one mistake about something I wouldn’t have even cared about a month ago, I can’t get over it. But I really want to get over it, so could we please just forget about it?” By this point tears were flowing down your face, but you were still wiping your face every few seconds to stop them in their tracks.

“No we can’t just forget, I think you’re the coolest girl I’ve ever met, and it’s not because you ignore your feelings whenever you think they’d be inconvenient. I want to spend the day with you if you’d be ok with it, but if you want some time alone that’s ok too.”

“I want to spend the day with you. But could we leave out the birthday theme?”

“Sure honey, whatever you want, I’m all yours.”

“You know I love you Spence, right?”

“I know, I love you too.” It was an upsetting morning, but he was still overjoyed that you called him ‘Spence’ again. He’d earned his pet name back.

“Do you really think I’m cool?” It was barely spoken into his chest, moreso whined, muffled by the fabric of his sweater vest. At this moment, you were so uncool. Yet he still kissed your forehead as he laughed.

“The coolest.”

#spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #dr spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst

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livin4woso · 3 months ago

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Scarred for life (mapi x ingrid x leon!Reader)

Summary - When mapis' younger sister decides to come drop off some clothes, she had stolen off her older sister she ends up interrupting something she shouldn't have, and it leaves her slightly scarred.

You hadn't thought anything of it it was a normal day off, no special occasion or any media, just a random Thursday. You had borrowed mapis jacket a couple of days ago for a photo shoot and decided to return it. However, you had your own key to the place, and you had shown up unexpectedly to her and ingirds apartment many of times, and there had been no issues until today.

You were mapis younger sister, and she raised you to be just like her, a footballer. You had grown up idolising her, and you had captured the football world by storm as the lèon sisters a formidable pairing, some even referring to you as the brick wall of Barcelona. It was only a couple of years ago when her and ingrid got together and you wished it had happened sooner because ingrid was the balance to mapi that she needed. You and ingird got along far too well for mapis liking, even ganging up on her the odd few occasions, leaving her to fake pout with her arms crossed.

The drive from yours to mapis apartment was relatively short, but there was still roadworks that added time to your journey. You had finally reached her apartment and because you're her sister you had a spare key not for emergencies or anything just because you and mapi were close siblings and liked spending time with each other outside of football which may be for the reason yous had amazing chemistry on the field with eachother.

The key finally turned in the lock, opening the door with a satisfying click. However, unlike usual, there was no immediate sign they were home, so you thought you would just leave the jacket in her living room with a note to know that it was you. However, you wished you never showed up after what you saw.

As you stepped into the living room, it was if your life flashed before your eyes. "EURGHH OH MY GOD.. IM GONNA BE SICK, " you shouted. The sight before you was ingrid between your sisters legs on the couch, something you didn't want to see. "ON THE COUCH ASWELL UREGH IM NEVER SITTING ON THIS COUCH AGAIN NOT UNTIL YOU GET ANOTHER ONE," you continued to shout with your hands over your eyes as large amounts of scuffling happened.

It was about 5 minutes later, and it was like the scene was repeating in your head. "Im so sorry y/n ermm we weren't expecting you." mapi started this time in clothes. "Yeah no its okay im just never going to be able to come back here ever again... sooo goodbye and have a nice time just next time do it in the bedroom!!" You stated walking out the door.

Once you had left ingrid had started laughing to herself "well atleast your sister knows you're not as tough as you look and the fact you're a massive bottom" she said and mapi retaliated by smacking her arm "its not funny" "oh it really is amor".

That night, it might have seemed dramatic, but it was replaying in your head, causing a lack of sleep, which wasn't helpful for training the next morning. You trundled into the changing room, barely even noticing where you were going. "Whats wrong with you chica" said pina slinging an arm around your shoulder "i don't want to talk about it but if you want to know id ask my sister about it" you said groaning as you tried to shake off your tiredness.

You had came earlier than usual to try to avoid your sister and her girlfriend, which had worked as you were the first one on the field which had never happened before. Meanwhile pina couldn't help herself so she went and aksed mapi "sooo whats wrong with y/n the poor girl looks traumatised" "its nothing she's just being dramatic from yesterday" mapi said trying to blow the conversation over but pina had caught ingrid snickering to herself so she knew it was interesting.

"Pleaseee ingrid you have to tell me i wont say anything" she practically begged the taller girl "okay okay so basically y/n walked in on us in the living room" she said not even embarrassed "oh god no wonder the girl is traumatised" pina said through laughing.

"Well, she did shout at us that she was now scarred for life and is never coming back over until we get a new couch," ingrid said, laughing at the flashback of you shouting in pure disgust.

#woso #woso x reader #wsl #woso imagines #barca femeni #mapi leon #ingrid engen #woso blurbs #mapi and ingrid

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javierpena-inatacvest · 20 days ago

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Chapter 1- Jello at Your Front Door

Summary: 15 years ago, a football and a boy four doors down makes your move to Florida a little more bearable. Now, you're not quite sure how to feel when you find out he's shown up back at home unannounced

Word Count: 5.5K

Pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader (no use of y/n, Frankie has a nickname for reader)

Warnings: Angst, yearning, mentions of death, sick parent, meeting Frankie for the first time, cute, awkward baby Frankie, a football throw Santi will never forgive you for

A/N: ... Hey.... How y'all doin'.... Remember when I said I was gonna start a different Frankie series months ago? I hope you humbly accept this as my official formal apology for not being able to get my shit together, as I present this offering to you instead 🙂 I started writing this 24 hours ago and I legitimately couldn't stop, so here we are??? I know this is a different style that what I normally write, but here's to trying new things (and hopefully finishing them). I hope you guys enjoy 🥺💛

All The Things We Never Said Masterlist

Next Chapter

You, Present

“Frankie’s home.”

You weren’t really sure how to comprehend how the combination of those two words would be one of the worst sucker punches you’d taken to your gut in the better part of the last decade.

As the sentence replayed over and over in your head, you could think of any other combination of two words that would have scared you less.

“Hurricane’s coming.”

“Bomb’s dropping.”

“World‘s ending.”

In a universe where things make sense, the response these would elicit from the average person would be reasonable, rational even. When you’ve been given a warning about the way two words have the potential to alter your reality, you can’t help but panic.

But today, you’ve woken up in a universe where things don’t make sense.

And what’s worse is, you didn’t even get a warning.

The statement shouldn’t have shaken you as much as it did. When you’d seen his truck parked in the driveway four houses down, you knew it had to be him. Anyone else in the world would be caught dead driving the barley mobile piece of metal he’d been traveling in for the better part of 20 years. But Frankie Morales was not anyone else. He’d drive that damn car until the wheels fell out underneath him.

It wouldn’t be the first time you’d gotten in a stubborn stare down with his 1989 maroon Chevrolet Silverado. You had a sneaking suspicion that today wouldn’t be your last.

“Why is Fr- Why is he back?”

You hadn’t intended for your tone to be so bitter, but the taste of Frankie’s name on the tip of your tongue left a taste in your mouth so sour, you wanted to recoil into yourself.

“Why do you think?” It was clear your mother had no interest in playing into your game of cruel intentions, barely paying you any mind as she glanced out the window, unphased by the looming presence in the Morales’s driveway, “You should go say hello.”

“No thanks, I’m not a fan of purposely ruining the rest of my day.” You don’t mean for your eyes to roll as far back into your head as they do, but you can’t help it. At this point it seems like an innate, programmed response. Simply the thought of Frankie Morales was enough to dampen your mood; an intentional confrontation was the last thing you needed.

“You’re going to have to see him at some point, you know. Can’t hide from him the whole time he’s here.”

Your mom hadn’t even given you the chance to rebuttal, disappearing from your bedroom to leave you to stew in your own resentment, because she knew as well as you that it was pointless to fight back.

At some point, you’d have to face Frankie. Today, you’d stick to hiding.

You, Summer of 1999, Age 11

26 total hours trapped in a U-Haul with your family and every item you’d ever owned was not the way you had planned to spend your last week of summer before starting middle school. You’d hoped that the nearly 3 day journey from Michigan to Florida would be long enough to help you cope with your distress. Unfortunately, you weren’t shocked that cramped quarters and unclear driving directions in the midst of uprooting your life wasn't doing much to lighten your mood.

Your parents had promised you the move would be worth it. That starting a new life halfway across the country would be good for your family. You weren’t quite sure what positives Florida posed to you, but even at the ripe age of 11, it didn’t take a genius to realize that “starting over somewhere new” was code for “trying to keep your dad alive.”

The doctors back home were thrilled to tell you about the new, potentially life saving treatment for his rapidly progressing colon cancer. You were thrilled too, until that new, life saving treatment meant moving 1,300 miles from home.

Not once did you protest- keeping your dad a living, breathing part of your life was better than having to say goodbye to your best friends, but it still didn’t mean every mile you drove further and further south down I-75 was another grain of salt in your freshly open wound.

Your parents had tried to incentivise you with all the joys that Florida would have to bring- warm, sunny weather, beaches, being a 3 hour drive away from Disney world, a bigger house, the list went on and on. And while you knew one day you’d find joy in the rewards you’d reap from your sacrifice, you had a feeling that day wouldn’t be coming any time soon.

It took too many movers to count to finally get your new house to resemble what was supposed to be a home. There was something so unsettling about seeing your furniture reassembled into unfamiliar corners of a place you’d never been. Even the things that were supposed to feel familiar and comforting now felt distant and foreign, scrambled in the walls of your new residence like a child who had shaken up a box of their favorite toys and dumped them out on the ground, leaving behind a mess for someone else to clean up.

The only solace you could seem to find in the wave of chaos that had washed over your life was the view outside your bedroom window. A quiet escape, perfectly positioned to watch the warm rays of sunset fade behind the rooftops, the night slowly shifting into shades of black and blue as your eyelids became heavy.

Each night as you drifted to sleep, you dreamt about the ways you could be saved from the lonely island you were trapped on. A sole survivor begging to be found. You tossed and turned in the sea of your twisted bedsheets, crying out that there would be someone, anyone who would risk their life to rescue yours.

On the first two nights, the only response to your pleas was a deafening silence, an insult to injury that you were destined to spend the rest of your life on a godforsaken landmass no one would ever find. On the third night, your cries carried on the winds of the warm summer air, sneaking through the cracks of an open window four doors down.

“You should go out there and play with those boys down the road! They look like they’re probably about your age!”

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t noticed the two gangly figures racing up and down the street for the better part of the last hour, hoping they wouldn’t catch your passing glances through your living room window as you pretended to watch whatever episode of “Rocket Power” aired next on Nickelodeon. Perhaps the pair boys hadn’t noticed you watching them, but your dad had surely noticed the way you could have cared less about whatever was on the TV in front of you.

“They’re playing football, I don’t really think they’d probably want me to play.” You huff under your breath.

“You’re good at football. Probably better than they are.” Your dad laughs like it’s meant to be funny, but you know he’s serious. He’ll never admit to you out loud he wished his only child would have been a boy, but you’ve never minded playing the role of the son he never had.

And he’s not wrong. You definitely are a better throw than either of them.

“They’re gonna think it’s weird that a girl’s asking to go play football with them.” The sigh that follows this is even more annoyed than the last, now too self aware at 11 years old to revert back to the days of approaching kids you’ve never met on the playground and asking to join in without needing to worry about the social repercussions of your actions.

“Well, you can either pout and pretend to watch TV, or you could go try to make some friends. That’s up to you, Bud.” He smirks at the scrunch in your brow and flair in your nostrils, the same face he knows he makes when he’s been hit by the cold, hard truth he doesn’t like.

You know he’s right.

“Fine,” You grumble, reluctantly pushing yourself off the edge of the couch, “But if they’re dumb, I’m coming back home.”

“Atta girl. Go easy on ‘em, Killer.”

As you step outside, it feels like you’ve become some sort of jungle explorer, trying to approach a herd of wild animals in their element without startling them to the point of attack. You’d even brought a peace offering to ease the introductions, hoping that your own football would be an appreciated contribution to their game.

As you make your way down the street, you’re not sure if you’re particularly good at sneaking up on the boys, they haven’t noticed your presence, or worse, they’re actively trying to ignore you in hopes that you’ll go away.

“H-Hi.” You stammer, half attempting to wave at the back of their heads, nowhere near close to catching their attention.

“Hello?” This time it’s a little louder, slowly taking a few steps closer, “Hi?”

God, maybe it’s a fourth option you hadn’t considered and they’re both deaf.

“Hey!”

This one finally catches their attention, causing both boys to turn around cautiously, not sure whether they’re more shocked that someone’s interrupted whatever play they’re about to run, or that the person who’s interrupted them is you.

All of three of you stand in silence for a moment, mind racing in curiosity as you take in the image of clumsy limbs and messy mats of hair stuck to sweaty foreheads. The one boy is shorter, thick, jet black curls sprouting from the top of his head and arms crossed over his chest with a scowl on his face that’s not quite mean, but most definitely not welcoming.

The other, taller and lankier, a mop of dark brown hairs twisting at the nape of his neck, eyes soft as he glances back and forth between you and his friend. His demeanor is much different, almost nervous compared to the boy standing next to him, fits balled in the pockets of his shorts while the adam’s apple he still needs to grow into bobs in his throat.

For as much as no one wants to draw in the silent standoff you’ve entered, you started this mess, so you might as well be the first one to fold.

“H-hi. Sorry, I um, I didn’t wanna interrupt-”

“I mean, you did.” The shorter boy mumbles, wincing as the nervous one slaps him in the chest with the back of his hand. “Jesus, what was that for, asswad?!”

“Let her talk!” He grunts, sneering at his friend before turning back to you, his face much kinder now than the expression he just gave to his friend. “Sorry. You can um, you can keep talking if you want. Sorry about him.”

You try not to laugh at the exchange, but it’s hard not to smirk at the way the two have managed to put themselves on display in the thirty seconds you’ve spent talking to them.

“It’s okay. I um- I just moved in down the street. That green house over there.” All of your eyes shift as you point behind you, signaling where your journey had begun a few moments ago, “I was uh- I was wondering if you guys wanted another person to play with? I- I brought my own football.”

“Normally you only need one football to play football, duh. Do you even know how football works?”

In an instant, your heart sinks to your gut, eyes dropping to the ground to watch your feet start to drag across the pavement, back to where you came. But before you can lift the sole of your sneaker from the cement, a voice stops you.

“She obviously does or she wouldn’t ask, numbnuts! C’mon, Santi, don’t be a dick.”

Although it’s not directed at you, it’s enough to bring your attention back to the kinder boy, no name yet, but quite positive it’s not also Santi (or asswad). The two of you lock eyes for a moment, a strange sort of calm running through you as his slight half smile reveals his brace covered teeth, looking at you in a way that makes you feel just a little less small.

“Yeah, you can play with us. I’m Frankie, by the way.”

Frankie.

There’s something about his name that fits him so perfectly. You can’t quite put your finger on it, but you know from the way it rolls off your tongue that it just feels right.

“Hi, Frankie. I’m Mackenzie.”

Frankie’s hands are now out of his pockets, a line of defense dismantled after hearing your name.

“Hello? Have we forgotten about me? There are three of us here, remember?”

“This is Santi. Well, Santiago, but we all call him Santi.” The way Frankie rolls his eyes at his friend tells you everything you need to know about their friendship, giggling at the way he dramatically pouts as he introduces him.

“Mackenzie? Isn’t that, like, a last name?” Santi asks, still not yet warmed up to the idea of you, but intrigued enough to ease how tightly his arms are crossed.

“And? Isn’t Santiago the capital of Chile?” You sass, your mater-of-factness and quick wit making Frankie unintentionally snort.

“Alright, touché, Christopher Columbus.” Santi mocks, acting tough to try and hide the pink blooming in his cheeks.

“I like Mackenzie. I think it’s cool.”

There’s something about the way he says it that you know he means it, wondering why the way hearing your name fall from his lips churns your stomach in a sensation you’d never felt before this moment.

“Yeah, well, just so you know, Frankie is short for Francisco.” Santi interrupts, trying to find a way to get a jab back at either you or Frankie, at this point he doesn't really care which.

“Well, last time I checked, there wasn’t a Francisco, Chile.”

That one sends Frankie into full blown hysterics, boyish snickers taunting his friend, whose attempt to save his namesake has left him the butt of the joke.

“Will the two of you clowns just shut up and throw the ball? If you’re gonna let her play, Frank, can we at least make sure she can throw?” Santi whines, using every ounce of prepubescent strength he has left to play into his unbothered facade.

“You can use your ball if you want.” Frankie suggests, shrugging at his indifference to the ball held in your hand compared to the one held in yours.

“No! If she’s playin’, she’s usin’ our ball!” Santi’s voice trails further away with each step back he takes, settling himself in the middle of the street a few feet down from where you and Frankie stood, not willing to take any more risks when it comes to you, even if it’s something as stupid as a football.

“Fine by me.” You shrug, happily obliging to his request, Frankie giving you a silent nod of reassurance as he passes his football off to you.

It’s only now you notice he’s nervous again, one hand back in his pocket as he wriggles his toes in the ends of his worn sneakers while you size up your toss, knowing he’s worried that Santi will never let him live it down if the ball can’t make it more than three feet in front of you.

Neither of you would know it then, but the silent exchange you make with Frankie as you line up your throw would be the first of many unspoken promises you’d keep to him. What seemed like a simple task, to prove worthy of his friendship by throwing a football, would turn out to be the most important promise you'll ever make to Fransisco Morales.

You weren’t ever going to let him down.

“You can go further back.” You shout, almost offended by the distance Santi had chosen to stand away from you.

“If you can make it this far, I’ll be impressed.”

“You promise you’ll go get it after I throw it past you?”

“I promise, Joe Montana, throw the damn ball.”

You shrug at Frankie, like he’s supposed to know what comes next. He’s too scared to question either of you, all he can do is let his eyes dart back and forth between you and Santi, knowing there’s no world where both of you can prove your point. What scares him more is that he trusts you more than his friend.

You line your fingers up on the laces, gripping the leather like your life depends on it. In a way, it does. With a step forward, your arm hurls the ball, two of the three of you standing dumbfounded in the street as you watch it soar further and further past its intended target, spirling through the sky until it bounces off the cement with an acrobatic roll, three times the distances of where Santi had placed himself.

You don’t say anything. You don’t need to. You just smile and shrug- it's the best “I told you so” you could give them.

“Fine. She can stay.”

To this day, it’s the closest you’ll ever get to a compliment from Santi.

“Nice work, Kenz.”

Your stomach flips. You try to blame it on the adrenaline of it all, that there was no way a compliment so simple had you wiping your sweaty palms over the denim of your shorts, trying your best to erase any evidence that he was the reason your heart was racing out of your chest.

Now it’s 15 years later, and as much as you hate him, you still can’t get that goofy, brace faced smile out of your mind.

Frankie, Present

There’s a reason he shows up at 1 A.M. Everyone’s asleep. If the world is asleep around him, he’s safe from having to deal with anyone, at least until morning. There’s a part of him that wishes he would have parked his truck down the street, tricking you into thinking that he wasn’t even there.

It’s hard to justify when you’re the reason he’s back home in the first place.

When he got the call from his mom, he knew he had to come. He didn't want to, but he knew he’d hate himself forever if he didn’t.

“Hey, Mamá.”

“Francisco, how quickly can you make it home?”

“Mom, I told you, I’m not-”

“It’s Doug. He’s in hospice.”

“Fuck. How um- how much longer do they think he has?”

“When I talked to Michelle, she said they were hoping for a few more weeks. But I’m not sure. He doesn’t look good, mi amor. If you want to say your goodbyes, now’s the time.”

“O-okay. I can probably be home by tomorrow. Gonna be late though. Is uh- is she, um-”

“She’s here. For about a week or so already. She keeps looking over at your empty spot in the driveway just like she did all those years you were away. Waiting for you, Francisco.”

It’s the lump in his throat and ache in his chest that gets him home an hour and fifteen minutes faster than what his GPS said it would. He’s not sure what delusional part of his mind thinks that maybe you’ll be waiting for him when he pulls into the driveway. Maybe it’s the same delusional part of his mind that pictured you sitting there, cross legged on the concrete, staring up at the sky to count stars like sheep, waiting for him to come home all those years ago.

He’s also not sure why it hurts so bad when he shows up and you’re not there.

Frankie feels like he’s 16 again, sneaking into his own house in the wee hours of the night, digging the spare key out from under the doormat, attentive to the practiced pattern of how to avoid squeaks in the hinges as he turns the lock behind him, careful not to wake a single sleeping soul. He tiptoes over the 4th stair to the second floor and barely taps the 7th before he finds shelter in his room, successful from his journey.

Every time he comes home, he can’t help but laugh at the fact his mother refuses to change anything about his bedroom. Everything is in the same place it was the day he left for the Air Force, down to the pile of unfinished homework from his Senior year of high school stacked on his desk. Each time he sees it, he’s never sure if the source of his laughter is nostalgia or irony. Maybe it’s a little bit of both.

When he looks at the picture frames scattered across his nightstand, a 17 year old Frankie stares back at him, tall and gangly, arms too big for his own body, an awful haircut he begged his mom to let him get. It was the year he discovered how much he couldn’t live without a hat, simply out of necessity for the 6 months it took for his hair to grow back out. You were the first one to tell him how cute he looked in the one hat he already owned. He bought three more in the weeks to come.

He wonders what the 17 year old in those pictures staring back at him would think of him now. If there’s one thing he knows for certain, it’s that high school him would have beat the shit out of him for the way things turned out, scrawny limbs and all.

It seems like the military has taught him how to sleep anywhere besides his own home, keeping company with the shadows dancing on his ceiling in the moonlight, tossing and turning in the tattered sheets of the twin sized bed his mom promised she’d upgrade when he got big enough. To this day, he and his mom both know he was never begging her for a new bed because he had outgrown it, he just always wanted to make room for one more person.

He clocks 3 and a half hours of sleep as good enough, creeping out of his house the same way he had come in, making the 5.4 mile trip to Benson Park to watch the sun rise. Frankie’s always hated running, it’s just as much of a surprise to him as it is to everyone else that he keeps doing it. It makes his knees hurt like shit and his lungs feel like they’re being strangled by rubber bands, a cruel cycle of self punishment he can’t seem to shake his addiction for.

He’s sat on the same side of the bench underneath the ancient Blooming Dogwood since the first time he came here. He tried one time to sit on the other side. He’s superstitious enough to believe his one time fuck up has had a lasting effect. The bench is so hidden at the back of the park, he likes to think that the two of you are the only ones to have ever found it. No one else has ever burst through the bubble of secrets shared between the two of you there, leaving the wood grain to be stained with memories and moments that have shaped the both of you, good and bad.

It’s the first place you ever told him about your dad. It’s the first place he ever told you about his. His dad was already nothing but memories by then. It makes him sick to his stomach that soon, that’s all you’ll have left, too.

Frankie, Fall of 1999, Age 11

“How much longer do we have, Frankie? I feel like my legs are gonna fall off!”

“Quit being such a baby, you’re fine!”

“Next time we have to ride our bikes this far, I’m pulling an E.T. and riding in the front basket of your bike.”

“Perfect, you look just like him.”

“Frankie!”

“Kidding, kidding!”

Frankie’s never had a friend like you before. Sure, he’s got Santi, but it’s not quite the same.

Santi took some easing into- five years ago, when Frankie moved onto Everett Street, he became a friend by force, not choice. Santi staked his claim on him, seeing Frankie as a gift sent straight from heaven, finally having another boy his age to play with after too many years of being sentenced to dress up and tea parties from his 3 older sisters.

Santi was everything Frankie wasn’t- loud, assertive, the kind of friend who grabs you by the hand and drags you along with them whether you liked it or not. There’s times now, after a half a decade of friendship, that Frankie still questions the way Santi’s brain is wired, but Frankie’s too good of a friend to ever make a fuss about it.

You, on the other hand, needed no easing into. From the moment he met you, watching you toss that football so far past Santi that he was convinced it would disappear on the other end of the street, Frankie had been mesmerized by you.

There’s something about you that makes him feel a weird thump in his chest every time you’re together. Everything about you gives him comfort in a way he can’t describe, a safety he’s felt with very few other people in his life until now.

There’s just something about you. He still hasn’t been able to quite pinpoint what it is.

Whatever it may be, it’s enough to invite you on a bike ride to the back of Benson Park instead of Santi.

“Do you even know where we are? I don’t think there’s any more park left past this point, Frankie.” You huff, slowing the wheels of your bike behind him as you come to the edge of a steep rolling hill, nothing left in front of you but acres of empty land and tall grass.

“Yeah, I do. Maybe we just passed the trail on the way in. We’ll just- We can just find it on the way back.”

He knows you know he’s fibbing, but he wants your trust that he won’t lead you astray more than he wants to tell the truth.

“Okay. There’s a bench underneath that tree. Can we just sit for a little bit before my legs turn to jello?”

You’re already halfway off your bike before he can respond. Even if he had said no, there’s no way he’d leave without you.

“Fine. What flavor jello?”

“Whatever flavor is your least favorite so you don’t eat my legs, Francisco. That’s just weird.”

The two of you laugh, tossing your bikes to the ground as you bottoms find the wood of the bench you’d pointed out, you on the right side, Frankie on the left.

“My mom only ever gets the red kind. I don’t even really like it that much. Don’t worry, you’re safe, Kenz.”

“I don’t really like it either. But we have every flavor at my house ‘cause that’s like, all my dad eats.”

Frankie starts to laugh like you’re playing a joke on him, trying to pretend your dad’s diet exists exclusively of artificially flavored gelatin, but your sudden silence and the way your voice drops to the ground right with your eyes tells him he’d better stop snickering.

“Your dad only eats jello?”

“Well not only, but a lot of it, I guess.”

His face scrunches with a mixture of confusion and concern at your sadness. He’s never heard you this quiet before.

“Um, w-why?”

The silence is almost deafening. He’s not sure why he should be so concerned with asking about jello, but he’s too curious to let it go. He selfishly wants to know what about it makes you so upset, because he just as selfishly hopes there’s something he can do to make you feel better.

“My dad has cancer. He’s really sick. He can’t really eat a lot, but jello’s the one thing he can keep down most of the time without, like, throwing up or whatever.” Your voice is barely above a whisper, like you’re worried someone else will hear and spill the rest of your secrets right along with this one. You say it like he’s the only one in the world you want to hear it.

“I’m- I’m sorry. That sucks.”

Frankie blames it on his instincts, the way his hand finds yours, outstretched on the bench. He touches you like he’s handling a baby bird who’s fallen out of its nest, delicate and careful, calculated, hoping you won’t try to fly away in fear. Instead, your hand welcomes his, scooting closer to the weight of his palm resting on top of it. He feels you give in as you let him carry you back to safety of the tree you’ve descended from.

“It’s okay. That’s why we moved here. The doctors in Michigan said that there were even better doctors here who could maybe help make his cancer go away.”

“And then maybe he won’t have to eat as much jello.” He takes a gamble with the joke, but it pays off with your surprised snort, “Sorry, that was stupid. I shouldn’t be joking about it.”

“I mean, it was, but it was funny. It’s okay, my dad jokes about it, too. He always says, one day, it’ll be funny, so might as well make that day today.”

His heart warms as he watches a small smile return to your face. It heats the pink in his cheeks when he realizes he was the one who helped bring it back.

“Your dad sounds nice.”

“He is. Even though he doesn’t feel good a lot of the time, he still always tries to come to my soccer games and stuff. I know he can’t be like what he was before he was sick, but he tries to be. What about your dad?”

Frankie prays you don’t notice the way his heart sinks like he noticed yours. He chews on the inside of his lip so hard, he thinks it may bleed. He wants to lie, but he knows that you’ll know. You always know.

“Um, I don’t- I don’t really see my dad.”

It’s you now who's grabbing his hand, offering him the same type of safety net he’d made for you. He’s barely known you two months. He’s known Santi for five years and all he knows is that his dad doesn’t live with him. Frankie didn’t want to tell him, he’s not sure he’d understand. There’s a strange sensation that swirls in his gut, because he wants to tell you. You’d laid the first brick in the foundation of trust between the two of you. The least he can do is help you keep building.

“Oh. Why don’t you see him?” He sees you’re prying, but not in a way that hopes to expose him. He knows you’re prying because you want him to let you in, to get a peek at what's behind the curtain. It’s a locked door most people in his life will ever get access to, but he’ll let you have a spare set of keys.

“I never really knew him. My mom said he left when I was a baby. She says she’s always been happy it’s just me and her. That it was easier to live with one less person than to live with someone who was mean.”

“Your mom sounds like a wise lady.”

He appreciates the fact humor was your first response, too, it makes the sting of ripping the stitches off a still-healing wound hurt just a little less.

“Yeah, I guess so. Still kinda wish I had a dad, though, ya know?”

“You can borrow my dad whenever you want. As long as you don’t mind super embarrassing, stupid jokes.”

“Are they as bad as mine?”

“No. They’re worse.”

Neither of you would have minded staying just a little bit longer, but the bright reds and yellows of the setting October sky remind you both that the parents you’ve opened up about are expecting you back before night washes over the quaint suburbia of your town. The bike ride home is much quieter than the one there, but the simple silence seems to speak louder than anything he’d have to say.

The next day, Frankie would raid the cabinets of his kitchen for every last packet of jello he could find and bring them all to your front door.

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

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another-lost-mc · 1 year ago

Text

For Your Ears Only: When MC sends them audio porn

Featuring: The Dateables + Side Characters (+ bonus Michael and Karasu) x gn!Reader

NSFW // Content: Explicit smut. Sex toys, sexting (audio/pictures/video), demon forms mentioned, penetrative sex and fingering (gn!reader receiving), size kink, breeding kink, creampie, light dom/sub undertones, guided masturbation, orgasm delay/denial, corruption kink if you squint, clothing kink, car sex, oral sex (gn!receiving), implied switch!reader & switch!thirteen, pet names, rough sex. 6.8k words.

For Your Ears Only series: Part I (The Demon Brothers)

DIAVOLO // royal treatment

Diavolo has been in his office all morning. He’s bored out of his mind from signing the endless stacks of paperwork that Barbatos puts in front of him. He would gladly welcome any excuse to escape, and your message gives him something to look forward to. He’s curious about your warning to listen to it alone, so he waits until Barbatos excuses himself from the office to prepare more tea.

Desire pools in his belly when Diavolo finally listens to your recording, and by the time it’s over, he’s gripping the armrest of his chair so hard that it cracks. He holds his D.D.D. to his ear while he storms from the room. He replays the message again because there’s something so alluring about listening to your sweet sounds like this. The desperate, breathy whimpers of his name as you fuck yourself with that inferior toy rile him up even more. He strides through the castle towards his private chambers, ascending the stairs two steps at a time in his haste to see you.

(Diavolo doesn’t even notice that he rushes past a very irate-looking Barbatos. No matter how much he wants to protest, the butler knows better than to get in the prince’s way; Diavolo is radiating power and lust and the need to claim, and trying to stop him now would be a dangerous mistake. Besides, there will be time for lectures about propriety later.)

Diavolo’s true form is completely revealed by the time he enters his bedroom. His blood pumps at the mere sight of finding you naked and waiting for him on his dark silk sheets. Your knees are bent and you part your thighs so invitingly when he kneels on the bed and crawls on top of you. His large hand cups the hot, wet mess between your legs. His fingers stroke you teasingly, and your body shivers with sensitivity from your recent orgasm. He crushes his lips against yours and swipes greedily at the seam of your mouth so he can lick inside and taste you. He teases two fingers into your hole while you're distracted by the kiss, and he stretches you just a little more.

(You buy toys smaller than him on purpose so that no matter how much you might tease yourself with them, they'll never match how thick his cock is, or reach as deep as his rough, powerful strokes do.)

You whimper when he pulls away too soon for your liking, but he bares his fangs in a feral smile and finally sinks his cock inside you. Your back arches against the mattress as he stretches you open, and he pants heavily while he resists the urge to fuck into you like a rabid beast. His thrusts are slow and shallow at first, but your warm, soft body enveloping his cock and your nails digging into his back urge him to move faster, harder, and deeper.

He comes with a roar and you whine at the sensation of his hot release painting your walls and marking you as his. He stares between your bodies and grinds his cock inside you so that he can trap his cum inside you a little longer.

Nothing in this world can fuck you or fill you the way the future demon king can, and he spends the rest of the day proving it to you.

BARBATOS // servant of two, master of one

When you send Barbatos teasing messages, you do so knowing that the likelihood of him being able to come see you anytime soon is slim to none. He's incredibly busy assisting Diavolo and taking care of other important work. Early in your relationship, you both agreed on reasonable expectations that took his many responsibilities into consideration. He doesn’t want to neglect you, but you don’t want to disturb him either.

He cherishes all the photos and videos you send him. They’re sentimental tokens he hoards selfishly for himself; they remind him that you love him and desire him like you've never wanted anyone else. If he’s too busy to call you or visit you, they offer temporary relief for the longing he feels. After he receives the message you sent him today, he has a new treasure to add to his collection.

He listens to your recording when he's completing mundane chores alone in the laundry room. No one else sees the butler’s infallible mask slip: his breath hitches slightly, and the freshly-laundered sheets slip from his fingers when his hands tremble with the sudden need to touch. He grunts and clenches his fists when your breathy crescendo of fuck–fuck–fuck—! ends with a broken cry of his name.

He feels unusually warm when the recording ends and all he hears is his own ragged breathing. His cock stirs in his pants and he takes a few minutes to calm himself and regain his composure. He can't perform his duties with a hard, throbbing cock ruining the crease of his pants. By the time he’s calm and leaves the room, he’s decided how to respond to you.

Barbatos has to prepare the Young Master's lunch next, but he has a bit of time to spare and walks to his bedroom first. He doesn't dare sit on the bed; fond memories of fucking you between his sheets might tempt him to linger. He doesn't call you either, even though he desperately wants to. He records a voice message for you instead, and he carries on with his work once he confirms you’ve received it.

You listen to his message from the comfort of your bed, you can tell right away that he sounds less composed than usual. His voice is a bit rougher, and it makes you giddy knowing you have that impact on him. You smile as you listen to his compliments and praise and he tells you (with explicit details) how lovely your surprise was. He asks for a favour from you, if you’re willing, and he gives you instructions for how he'd like you to use your toy next.

You lay back and let the soothing cadence of his voice guide your actions. You move the toy in and out of your body at the pace he commands. He coaxes you to the edge of pleasure but denies you over and over; despite how close you are, you stop when he tells you to. When he finally asks you to come for him, the breathless, pleading tone of his command shakes you to your core. He anticipates that you need a moment to recover, and the recording is silent until his gritty voice reminds you how good you are for him and how much he loves you.

You feel wonderful knowing that he'll be pleased with your obedience, and you send him the proof he asked for: another recording of yourself, and a picture of the new mess between your legs. Your body trembles slightly as pleasure fades and your body melts into the mattress. You relax in your bed, naked and cum-stained, and when your D.D.D. pings, you read his new message with a smile. He decided to rearrange his schedule after all, and he’s on his way to take care of you himself.

SIMEON // savor the moment

He’s not the most skilled when it comes to technology, but Simeon figures out how to play the recording you sent him. He heeds your warning that he should listen to it in private, and he escapes to the dimly-lit sanctuary of his bedroom and sits on the bed. Sometimes you send him voice messages about your day. Other times, you remind him how much you love him and miss him, and you confess how sinful your thoughts become when you think of him.

He’s shocked when he recognizes the sounds that filter through the speakers of his phone and fill his room. He’s heard them so many times when he makes love to you between his sheets (or yours), or on the sofa in the sitting room, and even once against the front door when he was too impatient to wait—

Whenever Simeon is with you, his carefully made plans to take you apart slowly and lovingly burst at the seams when he finally has his hands on your body. Everything about you is irresistible. He denied temptation for so long that he can’t control the raging passion inside him when he’s with you.

The sounds you make for him on this recording are a bit different though. It’s almost like you’re teasing yourself towards the edge, instead of hurtling towards it with abandon. Your moans and cries become breathier and louder and it’s the most beautiful symphony he’s ever heard.

He senses that you’re basking in the slow, sensual delight of touching yourself, rather than the passionate frenzy that often happens when you’re together. Even as lust stirs inside him and makes his cock swell, he’s stunned by your intimate gift made for him alone.

He loosens his belt and slips his hand inside his pants as he listens to you again. He spreads the pearly-white fluid leaking from the tip of his cock down his shaft. Pleasure blooms within him when the soft, wet glide of his strokes match your rhythm.

He lays back and wonders if you felt tormented by the temptation to move faster like he does now. How did you resist the urge to pump your toy into your greedy hole with desperation as you chased your release? You maintained your slow rhythm until the very end, and he desperately tries to do the same. It feels like you’re leading him to ecstasy; you’re the only person he would ever follow blindly without hesitation or doubt, because he loves you so.

The pleasure that warms his body and makes his limbs tremble feels like a wave cresting upon the shore. Your name falls from his lips in reverent sighs and gentle moans, instead of his usual harsh groans and mumbled curses that he muffles against your skin.

He strokes his cock slowly so he doesn’t come until you do. Despite the gentle pace, his orgasm still causes his back to arch off the bed as a long, whiny moan rips from his throat. He thrusts into his fist and the bed frame creaks slightly underneath him. Ropes of cum cover his belly and part of his chest. He lets go of his cock when he gasps from the sensitivity of wringing the last drops of pleasure from himself.

He catches his breath and sighs tiredly. He feels sticky and needs a shower and clean change of clothes. After he’s tidied up, you send him a message and ask if he wants to come see you. He’s tempted, but he invites you to dinner first; he wants you both to enjoy this slow, sensual seduction a little while longer.

SOLOMON // at your beck and call

Sometimes you forget that there's not much Solomon won't do for you. He's selfish with your time and greedy for your love and affection. He uses his (frighteningly immense) power as he sees fit, and he doesn't mind being irresponsible from time to time if it means giving you what you want.

Your little surprise is a welcome distraction from a boring meeting he was told he couldn’t miss. He excuses himself quietly when his D.D.D. pings, and he holds his phone to his ear and listens to the recording in the hallway outside. His soft smile sharpens into something wicked when he realizes what you sent him.

Anyone that might see him now would notice how his eyes grow darker as his pupils dilate, or that he adjusts himself discretely as his cock hardens in his pants. He doesn’t feel any hesitation or remorse when he abandons the meeting and teleports to his home where he knows you're waiting. (He'll make his apologies and excuses to the Sorcerer's Society later, after he's fucked your brains out.)

He re-appears in his bedroom and he's already unbuttoning his shirt eagerly, but his excitement deflates when he realizes his bed is empty. He knows you must be nearby; the scent of your musky arousal and sweat lingers near the bed. The sheets are still in disarray, and he can even see the small wet spots you made.

The sound of running water catches his attention, and he lets his shirt fall open as he approaches the half-closed door to the en-suite washroom. Your toy is cleaned and dry on the counter, and you splash water on your face with a tired sigh. You jump when you meet his gaze in the mirror, and you smile bashfully at his sudden appearance.

You didn't think he would really come, and he decides to remind you that nothing could possibly keep him away. He steps inside and embraces you properly so he can enjoy the feeling of your warm, bare skin against him. Your legs are still trembling slightly, and your scent is so much stronger now.

There's so much he wants to say–you're so beautiful, darling or you're a naughty thing, teasing me like that during my meeting–but he kisses you instead.

It's sweet at first, and he pours his love and desire for you into the kiss. Sometimes he wishes he were a more patient man, because your first whimper against his lips reminds him of all the delightfully carnal things he wants to do to you. The kiss becomes heated and passionate as your mouths slot together perfectly, and he matches your delighted noises with soft groans of his own.

His mouth coaxes your lips open, and he curls his tongue with yours as he backs you against the counter. The hands that cradle your face so lovingly slide down your body, and he groans as he explores the familiar dips and curves of your chest and waist. His hands smooth over the swell of your ass and he squeezes. He gropes the soft flesh a little more before grasping the back of your thighs and lifting you up.

You're lost in the loving haze of his kiss and make a startled noise in the back of your throat when he sets you on the edge of the counter. He pulls you flush against his chest and you gasp as the outline of his cock rubs against the wet, sticky space between your legs. The hunger in his eyes mirrors that of your own.

You fumble with his belt and pump his hard, leaking cock while his fingers tease your entrance. He moans at the delicious friction of your hand on him. He breathes out a stuttered sigh when your soft, warm walls welcome his fingers so easily.

You prepared yourself so well for him, and he can’t wait anymore. His hand curls around your hip as he removes his fingers and fucks into you with one deep stroke. He cradles your neck as your head falls back with a choked off moan. He nips at your throat and groans as your body clenches around him. His pace is fast and brutal, and even when you come on his cock and your legs tremble around his waist, you whisper his name over and over again and beg him for more.

My silly darling, he thinks when he carries you to his bed and fucks you again with renewed vigor, how could I ever resist you?

MEPHISTOPHELES // tied up

Mephisto is busy today with Newspaper Club business, but you send him his gift knowing he’ll listen to it eventually. After you catch your breath, you walk gingerly to your ensuite washroom to shower. There's a ping on your D.D.D. while you're stripping the sheets off your bed to wash them.

Mephistopheles: I'll pick you up at 7:00 tonight for dinner.

Mephistopheles: And bring the tie with you.

He doesn't even mention the recording, but his request for the tie makes you feel giddy with mischief. His unique fashion accessories are something you think only he can pull off. He comes across as pretentious, but you understand that the things he wears are a personal choice and not necessarily about his status and wealth. You tease him playfully from time to time about those particular ties he likes to wear, but he knows you like them, no matter how much you deny it.

You slipped one of his ties into your pocket when you were at his home a couple nights ago. You fetched the silky cloth from its hiding place in your dresser earlier; you got a whiff of his expensive cologne and the barest hint of his natural scent underneath.

It's what inspired you to make the recording to begin with.

It was clenched in your hand while you fucked yourself with your toy earlier, and the material is creased and a bit dirty with your cum now too. When you were still catching your breath, you snapped a photo and sent it to him. It was a blurry picture of your arm resting across your waist, but there's no way he could miss the dark, silk tie underneath your glistening fingertips.

His car arrives at seven o'clock sharp, and his driver steps out to open the door for you. You slide into the seat beside Mephisto. His expression is unreadable in the poorly-lit backseat, but he takes off his gloves and pats his thighs invitingly. You straddle his lap and his bare fingers grip your waist. He teases the bare skin just underneath the hem of your shirt.

"You're a terrible distraction, pet," he murmurs, and his voice sounds so rough that you squirm. He’s already hard and he grunts quietly when you rub against him. He glares at the smile blooming across your face, but there's no heat to it.

"I missed you," you say after you lean forward and press a chaste kiss against his mouth.

He licks his lips and hums. "Did you bring it with you?"

"You mean this?" You pull his crumpled tie from your back pocket and dangle it in front of his face. His eyes lock onto it immediately, and if you can smell yourself on it, you know he does too.

He tries to be discreet when he leans forward so his nose brushes against the fabric, and his eyes flutter slightly. There's a low purr rumbling in his chest and his pupils dilate noticeably even in the dark corner of the car.

His fingers dig into your hips when you lean against his chest. "You should probably remove the stains first before you wear this again," you whisper against his ear.

He groans when he tilts your head and captures your lips in a filthy kiss. There's nothing decent or composed about the way he starts grinding his hips up against you, or how his other hand slides under your shirt and scrapes his nails against your back.

You scratch lightly against his scalp and tug on his hair, and he breaks the kiss with a growl. He maneuvers you off his lap and pushes you back against the seat. His face hovers above your waist and his hand rubs against you through your pants. He can feel how damp you are already, and he makes quick work of undoing your pants. You lift your hips so he can shimmy them down your thighs.

He's too impatient to undress you properly, but he bends down and licks against the edge of your arousal. He waits until you meet his gaze and then he does it again, and he grins when you whimper his name.

"I thought you wanted to go out for dinner?" you ask breathlessly. This wouldn’t be the first time he's gotten frisky in the car, but you’re worried about being seen like this.

"We’re taking a scenic route," he explains with a groan, “but I want a taste of you first." He leans down with a smirk before he sucks you into his mouth.

RAPHAEL // inevitable defeat

Raphael hesitates only for a moment before he taps Play on the screen and puts his phone to his ear. He closes his eyes at the first soft sigh that escapes you. He swallows around the lump in his throat when you moan, and he bites his lip when he hears the faint sound of the mattress creaking beneath you. His ragged breathing matches the quick pace you use to fuck yourself with your toy. The wet, squelching sounds are obscene, but he's never heard something so sinfully beautiful before.

His body feels overheated, and the first beads of sweat start to roll down the back of his neck. When his name tumbles from your lips as you come, he squeezes the phone so tightly he's worried the case might snap in his fist.

He has responsibilities in the Devildom–tasks assigned to him from Michael, chores he splits with his roommates, the relationships he has to foster with demons as part of his mission. Meeting you was inevitable, and perhaps falling for you was inevitable too. Everything you are and all the things you say and do affect him–and this is no different.

He should be getting ready to leave for a meeting, but he's frozen in place and his body quakes as he tries to smother the lust coursing through his veins. How can he walk to RAD when his cock is hard and aching? How can he think or speak of anything else except how beautiful you are and how badly he wants you? No, it won't do at all–he'll apologize later for shirking his responsibilities.

Better to beg forgiveness than ask permission.

He pushes his door closed and leans his forehead against the cool wood while he taps the screen and replays your message. He holds the phone to his ear with one hand while the other reaches into his pants and palms himself, slickened by the copious fluid leaking from the tip of his cock. He's so fucking aroused by you. You make an utter mess of him and you’re not even here. His hand is soaked with his own pre-cum, and the fast strokes of his cock sound as obscene as your noises do.

Sometimes he grunts in unison with you, and other times he echoes your moans with a bitten-off curse of his own. When he closes his eyes, it's so easy to picture you naked and writhing on his bed. He wishes he could smother his sounds against your bare skin as he fucks you. All he can do now is bite his lip so hard that he can taste copper on his tongue.

He comes with a deep groan moments after you do, and his door is painted with the ropes of cum that he can’t catch. He pumps himself through the aftershocks until he winces and his hand falls limply at his side. He pants heavily against the door as he catches his breath; his skin is hot and clammy with sweat, and he'll need to shower again before he goes out.

He glances at the pearly-white mess that coats his fingers and his clothes and the door. If he were a better angel, he would tell himself that poor self-control is responsible for this mess.

But he's not a better angel, because all he can think is, what a waste I couldn't come inside you instead.

THIRTEEN // the wild card

Thirteen’s reactions to your dirty messages are unpredictable, and today you have no idea what to expect once you send her the recording.

Sometimes when you send her a raunchy text, she sends you back something just as filthy. If you send her photos of your body (with or without clothing), she gushes about how gorgeous you are and how she can’t wait to see you in person.

There are times when she confesses how lucky feels that she met you. Those are the days when she comes to your bed (or sneaks you off to her cave) and keeps you up all night. She murmurs praise into your ear as she fucks you so slowly, and afterwards she rolls you over and begs for you to fuck her too.

You don’t hear from her by the time you change your bedsheets and clean your toy, and you decide to have a shower and plan the rest of your day. Maybe she’s busy doing reaper things? (She’s a bit tight-lipped about the things she does that she says delicate humans like you don’t need to worry about.) Or maybe she’s trying to prank Solomon again?

You leave your en-suite washroom with damp skin and a towel wrapped around you, and you yelp in surprise when you realize someone is sitting on your bed.

She giggles at your expression. “Aww, did I scare you? I just wanted to surprise you.” She pats her phone that’s next to her on the bedspread. “We’re both full of surprises today,” she murmurs, and you notice the way her eyes roam your nearly-naked body appreciatively. She leans back on her hands and spreads her legs wide so you can stand between them.

“I didn’t hear from you. I figured I’d see you at school,” you admit with a shrug.

She tugs playfully at the knot keeping the towel wrapped around you. “You can’t blame me for being a little late, lovely,” she says teasingly. The towel gives way after another stubborn tug of her wrist, but you don’t bother picking it up. Her eyes are scorching as she drinks in your exposed skin, and her strange eyes are the most striking when she stares at you like this.

“What do you mean?” you ask curiously.

Instead of replying, she leans forward and traces your mouth with her fingertips. You flick your tongue out to tease her, but you nearly moan when you recognize the faded taste of her cum. It’s not like anything you’ve ever tasted–it’s syrupy-sweet unlike anyone else’s you’ve tasted–and you eagerly suck her fingers between your lips.

“Sometimes I can’t wait to be with you either,” she confesses quietly as she watches your lips wrap around her fingers. Her other hand settles on your waist and dances along your hip and over the top of your thigh. “And I have to compete with all those fools for your attention,” she grumbles bitterly, but she leans forward and kisses your belly as her hand seeks out your arousal between your legs.

You gasp as she strokes you, and she pulls her hand away from your mouth so she can hold you steady as your legs start to tremble. Desire blooms inside you all over again. You feel so desperate, and it would be embarrassing how quickly you fall apart for her, if it weren’t for the lovestruck look in her own eyes.

“I only want you,” you whimper as your hips rock against her hand and your fingers wind through her hair.

“I know, lovely,” she coos sweetly, and she coaxes you into her lap as she lays back on your bed. She finally kisses you and curls her tongue with yours as she continues teasing you between your legs. One of her fingers slips inside you, and you both break away from the kiss with a gasp.

“You’re ready for me,” she whispers against your ear while her finger stretches your walls and brushes against the spongy spot instead. “But I’m ready for you too,” she confesses with a breathy laugh.

You reach down between her legs and slide your hand up her thigh. You noticed she was wearing a skirt today, but she’s not wearing any underwear. You moan when you feel her hot, wet heat against your fingertips. You gather some of her slick on your fingers and trace her clit with slow circles.

“Is it greedy of me to want all of you?” you whimper, and she adds a second finger inside you.

“This first,” she suggests as she rolls her hips against your hand and moans quietly, “and then I can fuck you after?”

“I wanna fuck you too,” and you hate how whiny you sound, but nothing would be more perfect than seeing her bouncing above you right now. You saw her bag on the floor near your bed; you know she came prepared for anything you wanted to do.

She crooks her fingers inside you and grins when you start to fall apart around her fingers. “Oh, lovely, I promise we’ll both get to have a little fun.”

MICHAEL // tranquil moments

Michael would love nothing more than to ignore all his duties when you visit him in the Celestial Realm, but sometimes his absence can’t be helped. He left you earlier that morning to meet with some other high-ranking angels, and he promised to return shortly.

He saw your message during the meeting but had to ignore it until now. He puts his phone to his ear so he can listen to the recording on his way to find you. He bites his lip to stop himself from groaning at the sounds you’re making in his ear. He rushes to his room while he tries to ignore his half-hard cock that starts tenting his robes.

He enters his room but he’s surprised (and disappointed) that you’re not there anymore. The bed is still unmade and the stain he touches with his finger is damp. He lowers his nose to the mattress and inhales your sweet, musky scent into his lungs. He doesn’t know where you are, but he knows how to find out. He taps your name on the screen and waits while the dial tone rings.

“Hello, Michael. I’m surprised to hear from you so soon. I thought you might still be busy.”

“Oh, I’m going to be very busy soon. Tell me, little lamb, where are you hiding?”

“It’s not much of a surprise if I tell you, is it?”

He listens to your airy laugh, and he strains to hear the noises around you. He can’t pick up anything at first, but then there’s a hushing noise across your end of the call, almost like a heavy breath, or the wind—

He grins when he glances out the window and sees the trees outside sway gently in the breeze.

“I’ll see you soon, little lamb.”

“I hope so.”

Michael finds you lying underneath the willow tree in his private garden. Your teasing smile widens when he shrugs off his robes and lets them fall onto the grass. The sight of his broad, naked body is enough to leave you breathless.

He kneels between your legs and braces himself above you. He holds himself steady on one arm while the other dips into your pants and he groans when he feels how messy you are. Two fingers slip inside you easily when he presses them against your entrance.

“You brought the Archangel to his knees in less than two minutes,” he mutters under his breath. His eyes glance down between your bodies as your hips rock against his hand.

“I want you so badly,” you whine quietly, and his throat feels thick with emotion when he swallows.

“Let me take care of you, little lamb,” he whispers before he kisses you. He peels your clothes off until you’re bare and trembling underneath him. Your thighs rest against his hips, and he distracts you with another deep kiss as he replaces his fingers with his cock.

He fucks you until your voice grows hoarse. He moans his pleasure into the crook of your neck when he comes shortly after, and he doesn’t think anything can feel more perfect than this: the sun shining on his back, a gentle breeze cooling the glistening sweat on his skin, and your body clenching around his cock while you moan his name like a prayer.

KARASU // new experiences

Karasu is too busy to notice the notification of your incoming message on his D.D.D., but his computer terminal alerts him so that he never misses something you send him. He can play the recording through his computer, but he raises his eyebrows at your warning to listen to the audio file in private. He slips on his headset and continues debugging some new code after he hits Play.

His fingers hover frozen over the keys when he hears the first soft sigh in his ears. By the time he’s listened to the entire thing—barely two minutes later—he’s breathing heavily and his fingers are digging into his thighs. His cock is hard against his zipper and he’s leaking in his underwear.

He plays the recording again and turns up the volume so he can hear you over the sound of his heavy, ragged breathing. Your moans and cries fill his body with hot, raw desire; the wet, rhythmic sounds of the toy you're fucking yourself with make him feel desperate.

He knows he can satisfy you better than that toy can. He can fuck you as hard as you want, as much as you want. Is that really what you want from him? He’s all you need. He tosses the headset aside and pushes away from his desk so he can prove it to you.

He shrugs on his coat to hide his erection and strides out of his office towards the elevator. He sends his assistant a message that he’s going to be off-site for a private matter and he shouldn’t be disturbed. As soon as he’s outside the building he works in, he unfurls his wings and takes off in a running jump.

You put on a bathrobe and start tidying up the bedroom after your morning activities. You haven’t heard from Karasu yet, but you hope he liked your little surprise. It’s the first time you’ve sent him something like that, but hopefully it gives him something to look forward to when he gets home.

You’re pulling the sheets off the bed to wash them when you hear a thud on the roof. You glance at the ceiling and shrug when silence follows. It's less than a minute later when you jump as the front door opens and slams closed. You hear loud, heavy footfalls of someone striding down the hall.

You recognize Karasu when he suddenly appears in the doorway, but the demon standing in front of you is different from the one you said goodbye to earlier that morning.

The air thrums with the power of his aura, and you realize you’ve never seen his true form before, not entirely. His wingspan is too wide for the doorway and he looks large in the cramped space. His suit is gone, and he’s wearing a sleeveless black muscle shirt and leather pants. He’s breathing so heavily that you think he might be hurt, but his eyes are blazing with something more intense than pain. You glance down and notice the outline of his cock straining against his pants.

It suddenly dawns on you why he’s here looking this way, and you feel bashful and flattered and a little confused that he left work in the middle of the day to see you. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a quiet rattling noise emanating from his chest.

“I take it you got my message?” you ask awkwardly. He’s still staring at you with those glowing red eyes, and the rattling noise in his chest is louder now. “Did you…did you like it?”

He crosses the room faster than you can blink and he reaches for you. When he pulls you into his arms, he crushes his lips against yours with a deep groan. You wrap your arms around his neck and press even closer to him.

His hands fumble with your robe until he loosens the belt and slides it off you. His hands roam eagerly across your bare skin, and he walks you back towards the bed. He kisses you with a desperation you’ve never seen before, and you break the kiss with a huff of amusement. “The sheets are in the laundry,” you tell him with a glance towards the bare mattress.

“Don’t need ‘em,” he mutters in a rough voice, and suddenly his hands are on your hips and spinning you around. He pushes you forward and you balance your hands against the mattress.

His fingers are cool against your skin, and you shudder when he pushes your back into a deeper arch. He teases your entrance and moans when he feels how wet you still are and how easily his fingers slip inside you. He pumps his fingers a few times before he removes them just as quickly, and you gasp as the sudden emptiness. There’s a clink of metal sliding against metal behind you, and you groan when his cock slides between your ass cheeks and brushes against your hole.

“Tell me what you want,” he snarls against your ear when he leans over you and presses his chest against your back.

“You, I want you—“ your voice breaks into a cry when he sheathes himself to the hilt in one deep stroke.

His pace is fast and punishing, and the harsh sounds of his skin slapping against yours fill the room. He’s panting loudly against your shoulder and his grunts are punctuated by curses and the odd, animalistic noises he makes when words seem to fail him.

Karasu usually prefers to be face-to-face when he’s inside you, and he’s usually soft and almost hesitant when he explores your body. He never fucks you like this, but you’ve never felt so utterly consumed by someone before and you love it.

You can see glimpses of his fluttering wings from the corner of your eyes. One of his hands is curled around your hip, and the other is laced on top of yours on the mattress. Your breath hitches when you realize sharp talons have replaced his long, nimble fingers. He’s careful not to hurt you, but with every sharp snap of his hips, his talons dig long scratches into the plush mattress covering. You should be terrified that those same talons are wrapped around your hip to keep you still beneath him, but it only arouses you more.

Everything he’s doing to you sends you spiraling towards oblivion. You're so close to coming already; his cock grinds inside you so perfectly and his relentless pace makes you dizzy with pleasure. His rhythm is starting to falter, and you realize he won’t last long either. “Wanna come with you,” you whimper, and you feel his head nodding against yours.

“Fucking hell,” he groans. His thrusts seem almost desperate, and you can tell he’s trying to delay his own pleasure until you find yours first. “Touch yourself,” he grits out between clenched teeth. “I can’t—please—!”

It only takes a few strokes between your legs before you fall apart with his name spilling from his lips in a loud, shuddering cry. He gasps when your body tightens around his cock and he comes too. The noise that rips from his throat is like nothing you’ve ever heard before. He moans as he pumps his cock inside you until he’s completely spent, and there’s so much—you can feel his cum trickle down your thigh.

His cock softens and slips out of you, and his demon form fades away. He guides you down onto the mattress with him so you can both catch your breath. He holds you against his chest and peppers the top of your head with kisses. “Dear one?”

You glance at his face when you hear his hesitant tone. “Are you okay?”

He sniffs and your heart clenches when you notice how embarrassed he looks. “I should be asking you that. I was overcome, I don’t—I’ve never been like this before.” He looks away nervously. “With anyone.”

You cup his cheek softly and turn his face so he looks at you again. “It was unexpected, but I liked it.”

He wraps his arms around you and sighs. “I’m sorry if I startled you, but I’m glad you found it enjoyable.” He clears his throat. “And I would be agreeable to doing this again in the future, if you want.”

You laugh. “What, me sending you dirty messages at work, or you coming home from work so you can fuck me like this?”

Karasu’s nervous smile curls into a teasing smirk. “Both.”

Read more: Obey Me! Masterlist

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astars-things · 8 months ago

Note

"You promised..." with lando. He finally has a day off and promised to spend the day with you but as always he apparently made plans with Max Fewtrell first.

Lando Norris x reader

warning this is very angst so grab the tissues plus swearing

"You promised," I whispered, feeling the weight of those two words sink deep into my chest. Lando had promised me a day a single day where we could just be together, away from the chaos of Formula 1, away from the demands of the world. But just like that he broke the promise and decided to go out and spend the day with Max karting

I sat alone in our shared apartment, staring blankly at the clock ticking away the minutes. The sunlight streamed in through the window, casting warm, golden rays across the room. It was supposed to be a perfect day, a day filled with laughter, love, and stolen moments. Instead, it was turning into a day filled with disappointment and heartache.

I tried to push down the rising tide of hurt and frustration, but it was impossible to ignore. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes as I replayed Lando's words in my mind. "I promise, babe. Tomorrow's all about us. I'll make it up to you, I swear."

but once a promise is broken once it's hard to trust that those promises stay promises, How many times had I heard those same words, only to be left waiting in the wings while Lando chased after the adrenaline rush of the racetrack?

I wiped away a stray tear, angry at myself for letting him hurt me like this again and again. But despite my anger, there was still a part of me that longed for his presence, for his touch, for the warmth of his smile.

The sound of the front door opening snapped me out of my spiralling mind, and I tensed as Lando's familiar footsteps echoed through the apartment. He entered the room, a sheepish smile playing on his lips as he took in my tear-stained face.

"Hey, babe," he said softly, crossing the room to where I sat. "I know I messed up. I'm sorry."

His apology hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken words and unresolved tension. I wanted to scream at him, to demand why he always put everything else before me. But the words caught in my throat, suffocated by the weight of my emotions.

Instead, I simply looked away, unable to meet his gaze. I felt him reach out, his fingers gently lifting my chin until our eyes met. I quickly hit his hands away from my face,

"I mean it, Y/N," he whispered, his voice raw with emotion. "I messed up, and I'll do whatever it takes to make it right. Just give me a chance to fix this."

I wanted to believe him, I truly did. But trust was a fragile thing, easily broken and hard to repair. And as much as I wanted to let him in, to believe that this time would be different, a part of me couldn't shake the feeling that history would only repeat itself.

"no Lando I'm done with this, you've done this so many fucking times, promised you were going to do something and then just never do it." I yelled "You pick your friends over me so many times and I'm done" and with that, I walked out of the room we were both in and went to the study where I could process if this relationship is even worth saving.

#send in requests #imagines #thanks anon!#lando norris x y/n #lando norris #lando norris x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1

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willowser-but-nsfw · 2 years ago

Text

sometimes i imagine bakugou getting so turned on by like. the most inane things and being so mad about it LOL

at four in the morning, coming home from patrol, and he's so fucking tired and sweaty and greasy and the first thing he does is head straight for a shower. and he passes through your room and you're sprawled out all wild in the bed, a leg hanging half off the mattress, and you're in a too-big shirt of his that's ridden up at your ribs, giving him a clear view of your soft stomach and how easily you're breathing.

and i think he gets severe, primitive cute aggression !! because you're so sweet and soft and dead to the world and safe in his home !! and he just gets to stand there and watch you for a little bit and he kind of wants to talk to you, misses you and wants your attention, gets a funny feeling in his stomach that he brushes off as goddamn butterflies, because he's so in love with you that it's sickening, but he goes off to take his shower. half asleep himself under the stream, letting the hot water loosen some of his tension, uncoiling the muscles in his back and his shoulders and scrubbing his skin until it's warm and tender. and when he gets out, he grabs a towel to run over his face and through his hair and his mouth is open and he just. inhales the scent of you. because he's picked up your towel by accident and it's still a little damp and reeks of your body wash.

and then he's just like a dog akdbehshak eyes pop open so wide when he realizes it's not talking that he wants to do with you. can't stop replaying the blissed out look on your face from the other day when he had you underneath him. blood rushes from his head so fast that it could make him sick, and he peeks out the bathroom door to see you still stretched out, the material of his shirt caught underneath you and pulled taut over the soft swell of your breast and he didn't realize before, but you're sleeping in those athletic shorts that are too tight and too short and if you lifted your leg a little higher, he could see your ass-cheek and —

so he's just left standing there LOL stark naked, dick hard, still dripping from the shower, your towel shoved up to his face like a fucking animal, thinking oh no. oh fuck. what now. because he's not gonna wake you up for this, and his body is exhausted. can feel the depth of the circles under his eyes, he probably looks like shit. gotta work early afternoon, so katsuki thinks maybe if he gets a solid three hours of sleep, he'll be ready to go before you have to get up for work.

just lays down beside you and stares at the ceiling. face red, because he's so pissed that he's suddenly 21 again and doesn't know how to get himself together around you. and it doesn't help when you wiggle around to cuddle up to him, placing a hand on his chest as you hum out a sleepy, "welcome home."

(of course, you like to talk to him after work, too, especially when your schedules clash and there's not much time to spend together. your body wakes up on instinct when you feel the bed sink with his weight, and he's very short with you and you don't understand until he rolls on his side and pulls you back against him, and then you're finally opening your eyes and peeking over your shoulder at him because, "are you hard right now?" but katsuki just buries his face in your hair and grumbles to himself. you don't think there's anything remotely sexy about you right now, but he nips you when you laugh and you really don't mind that much when he peels your shorts off, anyway.)

#i think there's something about domesticity that drives him fucking nuts #welcome HOME ??? you mean HIS HOME ??? YOUR HOME ??? one that you SHARE ???#oh my god #immediately reverts back to a caveman #this is his home and his partner that he takes care of #it pleases the most human aspect of his desires #you're cuddled up SAFE and CLEAN and FED ??? in HIS CLOTHES ??? in the HOUSE YOU SHARE ???#oh he's done for #and he kind of HATES IT because it's so primitive and he really thought he was better than that LOL #[ bakugou ]#bakugou drabble

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lovelookspretty · 3 months ago

Text

not so bad

college!rafe cameron x reader au

— in which rafe and y/n absolutely despise each other in public but crush in secret. rafe is failing his humanities class & is assigned y/n as his tutor . . . maybe all it took for this relationship to form was just a bit of forced proximity and some time.

warning(s): ward cameron, slightly sexual joke between y/n and rafe

authors note: sorry for the late update again !! was rearranging my entire room for hrs n then passed tf out ( literally moved my entire pc set up + my dresser + cleaned out a bunch of stuff to make room for my vanity that im ordering im so excited )

okay oops its been like 4 days since my last update but its okay !! this was basically a filler but y/n still got to meet with rafes family + spend time with him

you’re tracing the outline of your textbook as you’re replaying the memories in your head. the café, the walk, the bench, the kiss. you blush at the thought over and over again every time you bring yourself back to it.

he smelled so good; he always does. but he tastes even better. you can still remember how his hands explored your body during the kiss, gently and carefully groping you. and his lips felt so rough against yours, with the same amount of desire that you had when you brought him back in for more.

he’s all that’s been on your mind since it happened last night. it’s embarrassing really, you just feel like a little kid who’s just had their first kiss all over again. but it wasn’t your first—first in a while maybe. but this one was also different.

if you had to be honest, if you saw him again since everything, you would go for another one. anything to feel him on you again. it’s like he’s a drug that you’re addicted to. that you can’t escape. that you don’t want to escape.

the only thing you don’t realize in the frenzy of all your thoughts is . . .

“y/n,” your professor calls out to you, knocking you out of your train of thought. you sit up in your seat and lock eyes with the man who sends you a polite smile, before he’s going back to his lesson.

. . . the world keeps spinning.

just days later, you’re snacking on cereal as you watch some youtube video. you don’t know the channel but they’re just funny as fuck. you need something to entertain you with all the free time you have that day.

aria is reading and working out at the same time behind you. ideally that sounds great, but she’s working out in the way that has her constantly moving around and changing position, making it impossible to read at all.

you don’t know why she’s still doing this. you told her it was a bad idea an hour ago but she’s persistent.

“—two, three, four—” you hear her count behind you. taking a break to just witness all that is aria, you turn around in your chair to watch her.

her hair is frizzy, sweat coating her forehead and if you look closer, her everywhere too. she’s trying her best to hold a book in front of her face to read it, but it’s obvious that she’s struggling. she’s watching a video on the workout, working out, and reading.

“baby i think you need to just focus on one,” you say as you face forward in your chair, clicking out of the youtube video to find a new one.

aria doesn’t miss a beat. she’s still moving through her toe touches. “actually,” she huffs, “studies show that multitasking—like combining physical activity with cognitive tasks—can enhance neural plasticity. it’s all about training the brain to adapt and process more efficiently under stress.”

you turn back around to look at her, and you see that she finally stops to breathe for a second. “besides, if i can master this, just think about how productive i’ll be.”

“oh yeah, i feel your productivity all over me already,” you joke as you pretend to wipe your back and flick it off your hand, like you’re cleaning off all her ‘sweat’ that got on you.

aria smacks her tongue and rolls her eyes, continuing her workout as she flips through to the next page. you’re giggling as you face forward again, only to hear some screams down the hall.

your head snaps toward your door and you glance behind you to see if aria heard it too or if you’re actually just insane. she’s just as concerned as you are.

you get up from your chair and head straight for the door in a hurry. once opened, you peek your head out carefully before spotting a few people crowding a dorm just a few doors down.

rafe and lorenzo’s dorm.

you look closer, immediately recognizing the bunch as rafe’s dad and two sisters. huh. guess rose couldn’t make it.

rafe is just in the middle of a proper handshake and hug with his dad, a grin on his face as he laughs. you can see the backside of sarah who’s standing right next to them, waiting for her turn. wheezie is curious like usual.

she’s looking around the hall but she spots you within seconds. oh fuck.

wheezie hits sarah’s arm quietly to grab her older sister’s attention. you watch as sarah looks down at her before wheezie’s whispering something. she must be trying to not make a scene about seeing you.

sarah looks across the way and sees you, her jaw dropping. “are you kidding me?” she laughs, heading right for you and completely ditching her brother.

you glance back at aria awkwardly when sarah goes in for a hug that you can’t turn down. it’s brief, thankfully, but sarah still grabbed everyone’s attention when she saw you.

you peer over sarah’s shoulder and see ward and rafe staring directly at the two of you. there’s still a small smile on his lips as he makes eye contact, you return it politely.

“no one told me you go to school here,” sarah says, her hands on her hips as ward comes over.

“sarah honey, let’s leave y/n to her business, you don’t know if she’s busy,” he’s telling her with a light guide on her arm toward rafe’s dorm again. sarah lets out a quiet ‘oh’ as ward looks to you. “it’s really great to see you y/n.”

“it’s great to see you all too, but it’s okay, leave her,” you say about sarah, your choice of words causing sarah to smile as ward raises his hands in surrender. “i’m not busy at all, but it is really nice to see you guys.”

ward joins his son again before he’s stepping inside his room. wheezie, feeling more comfortable to hangout with her sister and you, silently decides to follow sarah.

sarah’s mouth is a little open as she’s taking the sight of you in. “it’s so crazy to see you here. i mean, what are the chances?” she says, and you know that she’s referring to the fact that both you and rafe were accepted in and committed to the same university. “and your rooms are so close . . . rafe isn’t giving you a hard time though, is he?”

oh right, they have absolutely no idea that you two don’t hate each other.

“not at all, here and there maybe, but me and rafe are actually friends now,” you tell her, and you’re not surprised when sarah is.

she takes a moment to process it. “that’s actually crazy,” she says. “given how everything was back in obx, everyone kind of assumed you guys went off to college still hating each other. what? you guys are friends now? that’s amazing!”

the two of you are laughing as she brings you in for another hug, like you’re a sister to her.

you rub her back. “it didn’t happen overnight, for sure,” you say with a chuckle, and she pulls away to let wheezie say hi to you. “but it’s actually really nice to not hate someone. hi wheezie.”

she side hugs you, and you get the immediate feeling that she’s a little uncomfortable with how much she doesn’t even really know you. you let go of her and let her stand next to sarah so she feels more comfortable again.

rafe peeks past the wall, his hand grabbing the doorframe by his chest. “sarah, wheez,” he calls out to his sisters. you can hear what sounds like ward and lorenzo talking inside, very loudly you may add. sounds like they’re getting along. “dad wants me to take you guys on a tour. come on.”

sarah looks back to you. “it was really nice seeing you y/n,” she says, then holds wheezie’s hand to walk back to rafe’s dorm.

they slip past rafe to reach their dad and meet lorenzo most likely. rafe takes a moment and leaves his dorm to head over to you.

“hey,” his voice is soft as he approaches you, and you lean against your doorframe. “you doing okay?”

you hum in response, and rafe gazes down at you with a small smile.

“we have the mall later today with enzo and lara but i have something planned for us this saturday. you think you could clear your schedule?” he asks.

you tilt your head. “i think i could make some room for you i guess.”

he grins at you before leaning down to press a kiss to your lips quickly. there’s an immediate vomit noise from behind you. both you and rafe turn back to find aria done with her workouts, and she’s closing her book and tossing it aside.

“sorry aria,” he says aloud. when you turn to face him again, rafe nods at you. “i’ll text you when.”

“okay,” you murmur, and you watch as he leaves to his room again. you swear you see wheezie’s head peeking out the first second he leaves you.

you close your door and head back to your desk.

“so what, are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend now?” aria asks. you look up at her and feel like laughing to ease any thoughts. you certainly aren’t boyfriend and girls—no labels as far as you know.

but dating?

“no,” you answer, shutting your laptop and placing it on another spot on your desk. “just some really cool . . . buddies. i don’t know. we’re not exclusive or anything. i think we wanna just take it slow.”

“you think? you guys didn’t have any talk with each other?” she asks. you silently shake your head at her. she raises her eyebrows and purses her lips. “you two would make a cute couple.”

her words give you relief that it doesn’t lead to anything bad. if anything you’re happy, but it’s not something you’ve thought about before.

you can’t hide your smile that aria teases you for, so you grab your pillow at throw it at her.

‘ come outside, waiting for you ’

you set down your phone after reading rafe’s text, and you check yourself in the mirror one more time before grabbing your purse.

you walk to the door, double checking you’re bringing the right belongings with you. “i’ll see you later,” you say as you unlock the door.

aria is grinning as she kicks her foot back and forth off the edge of her bed. “have fun,” she sings.

when you leave your dorm, rafe is slowly making his way over to yours. as soon as he heard your door open, his head snaps up and his gaze falls upon you. he sends a warm look your way.

“you ready?” he asks you.

“where’s your family?” you puzzle as you and him begin walking down the hallway.

he shrugs. “they knew i had plans today so they said they wanted to go around vista heights and explore. when we get back, they wanna meet up again for dinner though so i’m gonna be a bit busy tonight.”

you nod. “that’s cute; no problem at all.”

you get into rafe’s car with the others since lorenzo claims he’s too tired from lacrosse practice all morning. it’s fun to hangout with this specific group, you’re starting to feel like, because now that you’re in rafe’s car then you and rafe are the ones in the front with lorenzo and elara in the back.

once you’ve arrived to the mall, you join hands with elara who just seems excited to be shopping with her friends.

“where are you guys going?” you ask as elara begins tugging your sleeve so you can come with her to a chic boutique nearby.

lorenzo scratches the back of his neck and shrugs, “i don’t know but i don’t wanna go in there.”

elara groans, “who’s gonna help me and tell me what looks good on me or not?”

“y/n,” the two boys say at the same time.

elara glares before letting go of you so she can walk over to them. she grabs a handful of both of their shirts and turn around. “come on, let’s go!” she says cheerfully, and she drags the guys to follow you and elara to the the shop she’s had her eye on.

“that goes so well with your skin tone,” you say as you and elara stare at yourselves in the mirror with some new clothes on. elara is posing in her corset and skirt, then she takes a look at yours. “it feels a bit tight on me.”

“we can go for something a bit more air-y!” she tells you, and she holds a finger up to tell you to wait while she hurries to her dressing room. she disappears behind the door and grabs something off the hooks on the wall, then comes back out. “good thing that i grabbed just the thing for you when we were looking earlier.”

gee, elara comes prepared, but you aren’t surprised. she makes you take the pieces and she rushes you back into your dressing room, urging that you dress quickly so you can go to the next store.

you listen to her. after locking the door, you try on the outfit she picked out for you. it’s very . . . elara energy. it’s so cute.

“i like it, i think,” you tell her as you unlock the door and step outside. elara is beaming when she sees you. “definitely more comfortable. the material might be annoying though.”

“obviously,” elara says as she guided you to the mirror in the hallway. “beauty is . . . annoyance! but i like it! plus i think somebody likes it on you too.”

you know who she’s talking about. it’s the only obvious person.

when you look at elara, you can see that she’s looking somewhere in the mirror between you. you follow her gaze and stare into the mirror. rafe is sitting with lorenzo just feet away on a seat in the middle of the dressing room hall.

you lock eyes with the boy who’s been staring at you. lorenzo is talking his ear off—again—but it’s clear that rafe isn’t listening. his focus is on you.

“he’s been staring at you since we got out of the car, eyeing you like you’re sex itself,” elara whispers in your ear, an amused look on her face as she waltzes over to her dressing room.

when you look back at rafe, your eyes soften. a blush spreads across your cheeks as you look back at yourself.

“rafe?” you call, walking over to your dressing room. lorenzo stops talking as he and rafe listen to what you have to say. “you wanna come in and help me put on my next one?”

you’re joking, and he knows it too, but you spot the way rafe lights up yet becomes dumbfounded at the same time as he watches you disappear in the room, and you can’t help but giggle once you’re alone.

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catlvrmax · 4 months ago

Text

RACE DAY & NIGHTCLUBS.

MV1 X FEM!READER

summary it's race day! you and amara decide to spend your sunday night out in the city. you make new friends in the process.

cw ONE use of [Y/N] - it was inevitable. idk the deets of how f1 works exactly, but i tried. this is a work of fiction: i don't know these people irl, i don't know how they act. NON-DESCRIPTIVE READER.

face claims girls on pinterest, but you can obviously disregard them, and imagine whoever you want. (the pictures are for aesthetic purposes.)

a/n i feel like the alonso scene is kinda useless but idk i put it in ite.

masterlist | taglist

—

"I'm so excited!" Amara squealed as you grabbed her wrist to keep her close.

Today is race day. You woke up early, buzzing with anticipation. Amara tried to (poorly) contain her excitement and constant giggles until you had at least one cup of coffee in your system but failed ten minutes into breakfast. You don't blame her—she loves the sport.

She also loves the drivers. Loves the gossip and the drama on and off track. A new thing she has picked up, one you really want to put a stop to, is teasing you about a certain Dutchman. It was already bad enough that your conversation kept replaying in your head, and her playful teasing increased the thoughts of the two-time world champion.

You tolerated it on the walk to the circuit, rolling your eyes at her dreamy sighs and romantic scenarios, which she mostly made up to annoy you but changed the subject as you approached your destination. You refused to look or sound like a crazy fangirl in case... well, in case of actually running into him.

Arriving at the circuit and checking in the paddock had been a nightmare. You and Amara were not huge fans of crowded places you more than her, and the heat of the sun beating down on you made it ten times worse. Alas, you finally found yourselves away from the masses and around the corner of the Aston Martin hospitality building.

Amara was not paying attention to where she was going, and you were listening intently to the plans for the day. At the last minute, you saw a green shirt from the corner of your eye. You pulled on her wrist, and she stumbled towards you, but not before softly colliding with the side of the tall man in the green shirt.

"Oh, shit. ¡Lo siento, señor!" The apology comes in Spanish. (I am sorry, sir!)

"Esta bien, señorita? I was not looking in my path." You try to catch your jaw from falling to the ground when you eye the Green Shirt Guy. (Are you okay, miss?)

That's Fernando fucking Alonso. Fernando Alonso, the man you may or may not have a tiny crush on, is helping Amara stand up after she bent over to grab her discarded water bottle.

"Ah, si. Lo siento, señor Alonso. Estaba mostrando a mi amiga alrededor—"

"It's you from yesterday, no?! The girl with the great, uh, Spanish skills!" He talks to her as if they've known each other for years.

You stand there stunned, trying to compose yourself as your F1 crush stands before you, casually conversing with your best friend. Amara must be ready to explode right about now. You would laugh if you weren't fighting the urge to scream and run around from the joy.

You hear your name fall from Amara's lips, and your gaze focuses back on them. "That's my best friend. I gave her the hat!"

Fernando nods, his gaze on you as a polite smile causes his dimples to appear. You show him the signed Aston Martin cap by tilting your head.

"Amara said you are a big fan. I appreciate it. Do you want to take a photograph?"

"Uh-Yeah! Yeah, I'd love to!" You take your phone out. Oh-em-gee. Oh-em-gee. Is this really happening? "It's nice to meet you, sir!" You can feel the heat radiating off your cheeks.

Fernando, being taller than you, asks for your phone. He raises it above your head and takes a couple of selfies. You muster the brightest smile, copying his funny faces and poses. When he hands it back, thank yous stumble from your lips faster than any car on the grid.

"Mucha suerte para ti hoy!" (Best of luck to you today!)

Fernando laughs but bows his head in appreciation. "Muchas gracias, querida." He turns to Amara, who's watching you both with a smile. "Enjoy the race, girls!"

And with that, he's walking away. You and Amara stand still for a few seconds, watching him disappear around the corner. You lock eyes, jaws on the floor. Squeals escape the both of you as you grab each other for support.

"Oh, my fucking God! We just—I—You—"

"I talked to Fernando fucking Alonso, and you took a photo with him. Shit!" Her tone betrays her disbelief.

"Oh, pinch me, 'mara, because this can't possibly be fucking real!" You cup your red cheek with one palm. "He remembered you. That's crazy!"

Amara giggles. "We talked in Spanish yesterday, and he told me he was impressed by my fluency!"

You smack her arm, suppressing a smile. "What? Why didn't you tell me all of that!? From past experiences, your Spanish has been shit."

She gasps dramatically, feigning offence. "How dare you, missy?! My Spanish is almost perfect. I just happened to get nervous around native speakers!"

You laugh and raise your hands in surrender, muttering my bad. Amara links her elbow with yours. "Are you ready to watch twenty cars go in weird-shaped circles?"

"Yup," you answer, popping the p before pulling her towards the building you will be watching from. "He is hotter in person." You cannot help but add.

Amara rolls her eyes but hums in agreement.

—

"Max Verstappen wins the Spanish Grand Prix! Another flawless performance by the current World Champion!"

You can't help but smile as the camera cuts to his team celebrating. Amara claps in delight, gathering her scattered things from the table to put inside her bag. The VIP room you watched the race from is slowly emptying as everyone walks down to where the celebration will take place. Amara wants to go and get as close as she can to the front, so she can take pictures of the podium. Lewis Hamilton came second, followed by George Russell, and your best friend was beaming and eager to see the podium from up close.

"You don't have to come with me. It's pretty tight there, with the crew, and fans, and stuff." You nod, thankful to her for not forcing you to tag along. "You can wait by the Red Bull hospitality. I think it's closer to the exit." She pauses as you stand from your seat. "And who knows. Maybe a Dutchman will pass by, and you deliver on your plan."

You huff at her wiggling eyebrows. "Seems kind of impossible since Max is celebrating on the podium, 'mara. You have a better chance at meeting him." You snort at her deflated expression.

"Oh, yeah, you're right." She shrugs. "Well, who knows? You might bump into each other again."

"I highly doubt that. Now, give me everything you don't need. I'll put it in my bag. I don't want you losing anything in that crowd."

Amara hands you her handbag and kisses you on the cheek before walking away. You're the only guest in the room now, accompanied by the bartender on the other side of the room. You contemplate staying here or leaving for the Red Bull hospitality. The track fills with fans, as is the ground below the podium. Lewis and George are already there, which means that—

"Here's Max Verstappen, the winner of this year's Spanish Grand Prix." Crofty, the commentator, announces the champion's arrival at the podium's top step.

He looks handsome, with a smile decorating his face and high cheekbones glistening with sweat. He waves at the crowd and takes his Pirelli hat off. His hair is messy, but it just makes him look hotter. Wow. You need to stop, or you'll salivate all over the bloody floor. You turn away from the TV as the Dutch national anthem starts playing.

One thought keeps repeating as you walk out of the building and to the sunny paddock. Max Verstappen is undoubtedly handsome.

—

You're aimlessly pacing in front of the Red Bull building, skipping through the pictures you'd taken. Most of them were of Amara posing in front of different buildings, eating or walking. You don't notice a chest heading your way until it's too late, and you collide. Ouch, you mumble as you rub your forehead.

"We should stop meeting like this." You recognise the voice immediately. How could you not? The man has been plaguing your thoughts.

Your heart is racing. You don't meet Max's eyes at first, hoping that a simple apology will make him walk away. "Oh, sorry. Wasn't paying attention."

"Are you lost again? Do you need help?" Max is quick to offer, but you shake your head negatively.

A hand comes forward, a featherlight touch on your elbow. You finally meet his gaze, rubbing on the spot that stings. What the fuck is he made of? Rock? His eyes hold concern as they rake over your face.

"What are you made of? Rock or something? That stung!" You offer a shy smile and a joke, for his worried expression makes your palms sweat.

He returns the smile. "Hey! You were the one not paying attention."

You shrug. "I was looking through the photos I've taken." You raise the old camera for him to see.

"Oh, yeah? Any cool ones?" He asks, stepping closer to you to see.

You notice a man behind the driver, wearing a Red Bull polo and an impatient expression. Anxiety sparks at your chest. He's got somewhere to be. Leave him alone. "Don't you have media duties to attend? You did just win a race." His smile turns guilty at your words.

"Yeah. I've got to change from this," he points at his racing suit," and attend interviews." He doesn't look too excited to do so.

"Well, then, I shouldn't be keeping you." You move a step back, nervously glancing at the other man.

Max does as well, the flush on his cheeks bolder than before. He opens his mouth, and you watch him have an internal war with himself before he decides to voice whatever thought he has. He motions to the man to go ahead without him. I'll be there in a minute, he mutters.

"I'd love to see those photographs."

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you know you look like a fish as your mouth opens and closes. Your face heats up. "Uh—They're really nothing special. This is an old camera."

Max shrugs. "Why don't you give me your number? I can be the judge of that." Oh, shit. You nod.

He does an immaculate job of looking confident as if this isn't affecting him. A pretty girl agreed to give him his number. It's dangerous for a person with the number of young fans he has to give his phone number to a stranger, but he feels he can trust you. You haven't given him a reason to think you might be a crazy fangirl.

"D'you have a pen? I don't have my phone with me." You nod, rummaging through your handbag to find the emergency glittery pink pen.

Once you pull it out, Max can't help but comment on it. "Nice colour." You send him a playful glare.

He stretches his palm, and you softly pull his fingers closer. You scribble down your number, writing your first and last name underneath it. Max feels remorseful for not even having asked you your name. He knows that you no doubt know who he is now. He repeats it, and your breath hitches. He says it so perfectly, you might melt in a puddle. Caaaaaalm down. You sound insane. He's just stating your name.

"Pretty name," he thinks out loud. You don't believe you were meant to hear that, yet your face grows a shade darker.

Before you can say anything, the man shouts his name from the building's door. "Come on, mate! You're going to be late!" You can see the disappointment Max feels from his deflated smile.

"I have to go. Media duties." You chuckle when he rolls his eyes and nod. "I'll, uh, text you. For the pictures." He takes a step back, eyes locked with yours.

"For the pictures, yeah."

His face is flushed. You blame the race he just won. It's a poor excuse to give someone your number, no matter how famous they might be, yet you did. Amara will have a field day with this information. You half expect her to revive her old Tumblr account for the sake of acting on her scenarios.

"Bye." You wave, and he waves back, exchanging bashful smiles.

You watch his figure approach the man by the door when it hits you. "Oh, Max!" He turns quickly, eyes searching for yours. "Congratulations on your win!"

His eyes crinkle from the smile that he gives you. "Thank you!" He adds your name, and you don't deny it this time; Max Verstappen is extremely handsome, especially when he smiles.

—

MESSAGES: two. From > unknown number.

unknown number

hey, it's Max!

Verstappen. The guy in

the RB shirt.

you

hm... i don't know anyone

with this name. sorry!

max verstappen

Two-time world champion?

you

nope.

never met any world champions

in my life, sorry.

max verstappen

I helped you yesterday

and saw you today outside of

the RB hospitality.

This is [Y/N], right?

you

🤣 yes!

i'm just messing with you max!

max verstappen

*phew* had me thinking you

gave me the wrong number

you

*dramatic gasp*

i am NOT that cruel, mr verstappen!

btw, i havent transferred the photos yet!

camera's charging.

max verstappen

That's totally okay!

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

you

contemplating whether i should share my

whereabouts with a random man....

max verstappen

HEY! you've met me!

two times already!!!

you

and how do i know this is the REAL

Max Verstappen????????

max verstappen

....you gave me your phone number.

you

oh, yeah. that makes sense.

i'm very sleep deprived haha

max verstappen

😂😂

you

Soooo, what are you doing tonight?

↪ to answer your previous question,

me and my bff are going clubbing

in Barcelona!

max verstappen

Oh, that sounds fun!

you

i'm secretly terrified of getting lost

in the city, but hey! i'm only here for another

night. might as well have fun

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

max verstappen

plus, i've heard Spaniards party hard!!!!!

↪ THAT'S TRUE. Carlos is an

expert in all things nightclub when we're

here for the GP

you

you have any places to recommend?

amara is still looking on trip advisor

max verstappen

😨 TRIP ADVISOR?

you

WELL WE HAD TO START SOMEWHERE

max verstappen

the Vault is a really great place. Great

drinks and the DJ plays nice songs.

You should try that one!

you

i'm guessing it's expensive

as fuck

max verstappen

not as expensive as it is packed

BUT there's always the Disco Diva

and other clubs down that street

you

max verstappen, you know your

clubs, i see.

(the disco diva? really?)

max verstappen

you caught me ahahahahah

(the disco diva? really?)

↪ it plays really cool stuff

you

it plays really cool stuff

↪ i trust ur judgement.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

max verstappen

how do I know I'm not giving away

my location to a super crazy

fangirl?

you

you dont! YOU wanted MY number.

soooo.... 🤷🏻‍♀️

max verstappen

LOL. you're funny.

so what are YOU, race winner, doing

tonight?

↪ I was thinking of gaming, but the

boys want to party.

you

WELL, YAH! you totally deserve to let loose!

max verstappen

Hm, I might think about it.

Ha! Maybe we'll find each other in the club!

you

hahahahah it would be pretty embarrassing

if i ran into you again.

for the third time.

have fun with whatever you choose

to do, Maximus Verstappen.

max verstappen

that is definitely NOT my first name.

but i thank you, schat 😁

seen, now.

—

"Who are you talking to?" Amara asks, her eyes glued on TripAdvisor.

"H-Huh?" You barely register her words, fingers tapping on your screen incredibly fast.

"You've been giggling for, like, ten minutes now. I'm assuming it's not your mom. She's probably having lunch."

"Oh, you know. Just this guy I bumped into today. You might know him. His name's Max. Ma—"

"Fucking Verstappen?!" Amara all but yells, sitting up swiftly.

Your eyes meet her shocked expression, and you can't help the chuckle that escapes at her priceless reaction. You shrug in response, feigning nonchalance. Truth is, your best friend has hyped this guy up a lot, and your poor heart beats somewhat faster now that you're talking to him.

"You told me to get his number, didn't you?"

"W-Well—Yeah. But I didn't actually think you'd do it!"

You gasp as if offended. "You dare think so little of me? Think that I wouldn't honour my promise to feed your delusions?"

Amara laughs, lightly smacking your arm. "Okay, weirdo. Tell me what the fuck happened."

After pushing yourself to a sitting position, you tell her every detail of your second meeting with the world champion, including the texts. Amara's reactions are comical. At the end of your story-telling process, she's sitting there, with her jaw mere inches from touching the ground.

"So, do you think we'll meet him in that nightclub?"

You shrug. "I don't know. He said he'd think about it." You show her your phone, scrolling to the text he had sent you mere minutes ago. "Doesn't sound that eager to me."

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to go by the Vault, or whatever its name was." Amara wiggles her eyebrows.

"Are you trying to get me laid with a celebrity?"

She grimaces. "Pfft. He's hot. You're pretty. If you take out the millions on Instagram—" "—and his bank account." Amara shoots you a pointed look. "He looks like a pretty normal guy." She exhales before continuing. "You should have fun. We didn't come here just for me. And he seems like a lot of fun."

Amara wasn't wrong. Yes, you had come here for the Grand Prix, which was her thing, but there was plenty of time for you to have fun. And if fun meant drinking and meeting with an extremely handsome guy, who were you to refuse? You'd probably never see him again, either.

—

views 96 / views 242

—

"Finally!" You shout excitedly.

After waiting for a solid thirty minutes in a very long line outside of Club Vault and paying an entry fee that you're sure is way too expensive, you have finally made it inside. The place is flooded with people drinking, dancing, and talking. The lights are dim, and the music loud; a promising, fun night.

You barely dodge swaying on the dancefloor as Amara drags you to the bar. She orders for you while you look around. The DJ and his setup is on a balcony, above which there is a VIP sign. You squint your eyes as another face comes into view. Is that...Lando Norris?

You blindly reach for Amara, turning her around by the wrist. "Hey, isn't that Norris?"

Despite the ear-deafening music, you're able to hear your best friend's gasp. "Oh, my fucking God! Yes, that's him!" She looks at you, a knowing smile on her lips. "Does that mean that he's here—"

"I don't know!" The bartender nods at you, showing you your drinks. "Let's drink!"

And that's exactly what you do. Your drinks are cold enough to help with the heat of dancing, and you can't lie, Lando—with the help of the actual DJ—plays decent music. Max was right about the place being fun. Amara is doing her weird dance moves, and you're copying her, trying to best her.

You're two drinks in, back turned to the DJ booth, when your best friend's eyes widen, dance moves faltering, and you hear everybody cheer. She elbows you to turn around, and your breath hitches: it's Max. He's actually here with Lando and the DJ. And your heart is racing with excitement. He waves at the crowd below, and everyone cheers louder.

Your lip twitches as an idea forms in your mind. Taking your phone out of your boot (an extremely smart and safe place to hide it—if it fits—btw), you snap a picture of the champion, sending it to your chat.

—

MESSAGES: two. To > max verstappen.

you

one file attached.

just found your lookalike!

max verstappen

THATS ME! WhEere are yoU?!?!8@

you

how much have you had to drink? lol

max verstappen

not drunk .

just shvoing past poepel to get to you

where re uoy?????

you

by the bar

max verstappen

real helpful

you

im wearing black?

seen, now

—

You wait a couple of seconds for the grey bubble to appear. When you don't receive a response, you shrug, putting your phone back in its hiding spot. Your gaze focuses on Amara; she's biting her lip while holding two shots in each hand.

"I stole them!" is all she says.

Your jaw drops, and you giggle, accepting the tiny glasses. You yell cheers before chugging down both of them. Tequila. Nice.

You take a step back, eyes blinking away tears caused by the burn in your throat. You don't realise you've stepped into someone's toes until a shout almost bursts your eardrums.

"Jesus Christ!" You yell, covering the side of your head.

Turning around, you're faced with the one and only; Max Verstappen, holding on to the bar railing with a pained expression. Your eyes almost bulge out of your skull.

"Oh, shit! Are you okay?" You can barely hear yourself.

He nods, throwing a smile your way. "Yeah, I'm good! It's nice to see you!" You're barely able to read his lips.

A pinch on your lower back startles you, and you turn around with a gasp. Amara's standing there, expectant, wide eyes moving from you to Verstappen.

"Oh, Max! This is my best friend, Amara!"

She smiles politely, shaking his offered hand. "Nice to meet you!" You wonder if she's close to passing out from internal fangirling.

His eyes return to you. "Hey, you wanna join my table?"

Shaking your head with a confused grimace, you shout. "I can't hear anything you're saying!"

"What?!"

"I can't hear any—"

It's futile to communicate this way, he decides. Max's slightly cold hands are suddenly pulling on your wrists, gently guiding you closer to him. Goosebumps take over your entire body, forearm burning as he moves his fingers to your elbow, keeping you steady, and he leans toward your ear.

"Wanna join me and my friends?" He feels your breath hitch and pulls back to meet your hesitant gaze.

"We don't want to bother you," you say once you pull him down.

Max shakes his head. "Nonsense! I won the race, and I want to celebrate with my friends."

He hears your breathy chuckle. "We're friends, now?"

"Unless you're some super crazy fangirl I should be worried about." The smile in his voice gives away his amusement. He's quoting his texts.

You pause for a second. Knowing Amara, she would agree immediately. You should have fun, you recall her words from earlier. And he seems like a lot of fun. Yeah. She's right.

"Let me ask 'mara." You point to your best friend, awkwardly standing by the bar.

He watches you talk in her ear, a smile forming on your best friend's lips before she eagerly nods. "You're coming?" He asks once you approach him as if he hadn't been staring at you already.

"Okay." As soon as you nod, Max's smile widens, eyes shining.

You nod, and he feels his cheeks hurt from smiling so hard. "C'mon," goosebumps raise on your exposed arms as Max grabs your hand. His hand is so soft. "I don't want you getting lost." The wink he throws your way only fuels the flush on your neck and cheeks.

It's definitely going to be a fun night.

The walk to the VIP section is extremely difficult, with Max getting recognised and patted on the back every few seconds. When you finally make it, you sigh in relief before Max pulls you both by the wrist to meet his friends. Be cool, you mouth to Amara who only nods, wide-eyed.

"Pierre and Kika, Charles and Alex, this is [Y/N] and Amara!" You're sure they can barely hear him over the loud music but wave at them anyway. Charles shares a look with Pierre, the latter unable to contain his smile.

Max leans down, his nose brushing your temple. "Wait just a moment. Lando's around here somewhere." Before you can say a word, he flashes you a smile and disappears into the crowd, leaving you gaping like a fish.

You have no time to recover when the pretty girls approach you. Alex introduces herself as Alexandra, but she doesn't mind going by Alex. Kika's name is Francisca, but she goes by Kika. It's nice to meet them, and you don't hesitate to tell them so.

"Shots?" Amara reappears with four shot glasses passing them to each of you. "Cheers!" You clink your glasses before downing them.

"Oh, are you doing shots without me?!" A new voice pops up from behind you. Amara's eyes widen momentarily, meeting yours in poorly contained excitement.

You turn, gaze landing on Lando Norris and then gluing on Max Verstappen. This lighting makes him look even hotter. Is it normal to be thinking that? Probably not.

He introduces you to the tipsy-looking Brit, who shakes your hands in return. Amara's pulled to the side by Kika, something about doing more shots, and Charles motions for Max to go over to him. Once you're alone with Lando, a smile breaks onto his face.

"He's said a lot about you!" Your brows furrow, confused.

"What? That I tend to get lost easily in big places?" You nervously laugh, but Lando just shakes his head.

"Somethin' like tha'!"

—

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—

You haven't had this much fun in a while. You and Amara usually go to two clubs as a duo, but you admit having more people to dance and do shots with is way more fun. You're usually the sober one, having a higher tolerance for alcohol than your best friend, and this time you're extra careful since you're in a foreign place.

At some point during your dance battle with Kika and Amara, you grow tired. As much as you liked exaggerating your moves, your boots were made for walking, not jumping. Max had been out of your vision for a while, and you decided to look for him. He wasn't hard to find, considering he was nursing a drink on a couch further away from the action.

"Hey!" You plop down, bumping your elbow with his.

Max grinned. "Hey, stranger. Are you having fun?"

You nod excitedly. "Your friends are really nice." He snorts at that. "No, really! Drive to Survive does justice to none of you!"

Max's eyes widen, mouth hanging in shock. "Your source of information is a Netflix show?"

"Hey! I had to start from somewhere. I knew next to nothing about racing."

Conversing with Max comes naturally. He's funny, and he listens to what you have to say. He asks about your job: a photographer for brands. He laughs when you tell him you prefer the make-up brands because they're easier to manage than people.

He explains racing to you in simple terms. You nod along, trying your best to take in the information. It's harder with all the music and dancing bodies, but you make it work. You've shuffled even closer to him as Max leans down to talk directly in your ear while his hands move animatedly in front of you.

At some point, the conversation shifts to cats. You're delighted to learn that he has not one, but two big babies. Jimmy and Sassy. Max is a very proud cat dad, you conclude, from the excitement that exudes from every pore of his body as he slides from picture to picture.

"Oh my goodness! They're so cute!" You try not to literally squeal as Max stumbles upon a picture of them napping on his chest.

"They sleep all day and ask for treats all night." You laugh as he rolls his eyes, probably recalling every time this has happened.

"Oh, I'd love to meet them one day. They look lovely!"

"Yeah, I could introduce you someday," he says, and you turn to look at him with a huge smile.

"I should bring my Cheddar when it happens."

"Cheddar?"

"My cat. He's a big fluffball." You reach for your phone, unlocking it to search for pictures of your orange cat.

"And you named him Cheddar? After the cheese?" He looks at you incredulously.

You giggle at his expression. "He's as orange as the cheese. It was my mom's idea to name him that."

You turn your phone his way, showing him a selfie of the fluffiest cat Max has ever seen on top of your shoulders. You're clearly giggling in it, a hand over your mouth. Cute, he thinks.

"He's adorable."

"And fat," you add.

Tapping a most recent picture, you show it to Max. Cheddar is on his back, his fat ass making him look like a pear. Your mom had sent you this just a day before.

"He's staying with my mom right now. And she's feeding him more than needed."

"We should arrange a playdate." You chuckle at Max's suggestion.

"Sure, if you fly out to England."

Before Max can respond, a very loud and drunk Brit makes his way to you. Lando grins when he spots you two sitting close, indiscreetly winking at Max. Your face feels warm.

"Do you guys wan' t' leave?" You barely make out his words.

Charles notices the three of you and pulls a dancing Alex with him, who pulls Amara with her. The three make their way to where you're seated.

"What are you guys talking about?"

Lando turns to him. "Are you hungry, mate?"

Charles shakes his head, leaning close to Alex to ask her the same. She also shakes her head with an apologetic smile.

"I am!" Amara nudges Lando, and his eyes light up.

He turns to Max and you. "Me and my new friend," he pulls Amara by the shoulders, and she drunkenly stumbles, "are hungry. Will you take us somewhere to eat?"

You look at Max, who mirrors your smiling expression. Lando says something about Max promising to be his chauffeur if he got too drunk.

"I could eat," you shrug. Max nods, agreeing.

He stands up, looking at the drunk pair. "Okay, let's go."

—

views 68 / views 95

[ taglist @alexmarie29 , @angelfreckless, @algae-tm, @chonkybonky, @lovely-blackinnon, @namgification, @taygrls, @ssprayberrythings, @ilove-tswizzle, @leclercdream, @halleest, @yaesflorist, @liafterhours, @mrsbrxkkxr ]

#max verstappen #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen social media au #max verstappen smau #formula one #formula one x reader #f1 #f1 x reader #lando norris #charles leclerc #pierre gasly #i need him in a way that is concerning to feminism #friends to lovers #max verstappen fluff #fluff #frank writes

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nyashykyunnie · 4 months ago

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˗ˏˋ Loveless Marriage Au: Jinwoo x Reader ◛⑅·˚ ༘ ♡ ˎˊ˗

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚𝕊𝕦𝕟𝕘 𝕁𝕚𝕟𝕨𝕠𝕠˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

・┆✦ Entry : 027 ✦ ┆・

‼️[ No angst, just pure fluff, okay maybe some angst but mostly fluff i swear... ]‼️

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅ Cai Bot Link ♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Route 1 || Route 2 ₊˚ʚ ᗢ₊˚

╰┈➤ ❝ [ My Safespace] ¡! ❞

There was an awkward air around the two of you due to the fact that it was an arranged marriage. It was a loveless union with the two of you.You had been there, you know how Jinwoo rose from being a placeholder to the world's most hailed hunter.And he had a secret, a secret that was you— His wife that he kept hidden from everyone else "I'm back" Jinwoo said as he went inside your shared apartment, his gaze as languid and empty like always. He felt cold, cold like he always had been.

Jinwoo took off his shoes and neatly placed them on the shoe rack, he paused for a few minutes before quirking an eyebrow up.

His wife normally greets him home, of course— It's not like you're required to do so every so often. He's fine even without the sweet greetings. But he was just so used to it that he cant help but wonder.

After loosening his tie and hanging his coat, Jinwoo started to look around the shared apartment. He could still smell your sweet scent up close, so he wasnt too worried.

He entered a bedroom.

Despite the two being a married couple, Jinwoo and you slept in different rooms just to respect eachother's spaces and all.

And there, he sees you tightly curled up under the thick blankets. Jinwoo gently approaches you, patting your arm softly to try and wake you.

"Hey, are you alright?" He asks gently, his voice low and gentle as to not frighten you.

He watches you grunt, tousling over a few times before your eyes slowly open to meet his grey eyes. Your gaze was half-lidded as you did so, your husband's image a little blurred but you could tell it's him.

"I'm sorry, I couldn't greet you" You say in a hoarse voice, alarming Jinwoo. "I don't feel so good so I couldn't cook you dinner"

"A fever?" He asks, scrunching his forehead as he reached to press the back of his hand on your forehead. "It's high."

"Ngh..." You roll over, hugging the blankets closer as your head throbbed. "I'm really sorry..."

"It's alright," Jinwoo said. "You must have been so sick you didn't realize you went to my room."

"..."

You pause, before shooting up immediately in panic. You're completely embarassed at your own mistake. Sure, your bedrooms are literally right in front of eachother but how stupid must you be that you slip into Jinwoo's bedroom instead of your own?

You scramble to try and get out of bed, but Jinwoo gently pushed you down— Pulling his blanket over you.

"It's alright'' He said, patting down the ruffled sheets around you. "You're extremely sick, I don't mind. Just stay here while I make you some food so that you can drink medicine. Don't worry about anything."

You cant read the expression on your husband's face as he got up and turned on a lamp before leaving.

Jinwoo didn't voice it, but he secretly felt pleased that you slipped into is sheets. He wants to believe that you felt the need to go to your safespace and it was in his bedroom that had his scent lingering.

He would roll up his sleeves and went to fetch some ingredients in the fridge and getting a pot to cook congee soup in.

Making food for his wife felt a little... Strange but relaxing at the same time. Jinwoo can technically cure you with the system's potions.

But he wanted to make this as an excuse to spend time with you and hopefully... Grow a little closer to you.

He had always wanted to be close to you, ever since the first day of your marriage. Ever since the first time he laid eyes on your wearing that beautiful wedding dress.

The image of you on that day always replayed in his mind over and over. He was secretly grateful that you were his wife.

You're not an entitled spoiled brat, you were understanding and patient. Despite his situation a years ago, you stayed with him. He gave you the option to divorce him, and yet you never did. You quietly looked after his sister when he is busy with his job, and even took care of his mother when she was in the hospital due to her coma.

As Jinwoo slices the garlic into thinner pieces, his mind cant help but drift to a tragic dream. He had a nightmare before, wherein you were caught in trouble with Go Gunhee. Jinwoo could clearly remember what happened on that day, monarchs attacked Gunhee and costed him his life, and you were there too because you were passing by. The debris from Gunhee's fight fell onto you, crushing you underneath the rocks.

And just like that, you were gone.

Slice.

That nightmare still shakes him up to this day.

In that dream, Jinwoo fought wars with monarchs, he battled in a long tiring war driven mad by the lost of his beloved wife who he couldn't love because he had been too scared to reach out.

That Jinwoo feared rejection so much that he couldn't even say a proper goodbye.

He was lonely and bitter in that dream, even as the gods congratulated him— Even as the those angelic gods gave him the power to reset time, he cant help but hate them.

That was the tragic dream he had on the night before your wedding day, he was blessed by the system when he woke up.

And thus, that was the day he started going on a frenzy grinding up the levels and most importantly looking for the monarchs before they wake up. He managed to even bring home his father who went missing in the gates because he was trapped.

He can't help but think that maybe that dream really did happen in the future, and maybe it was a reality once but not anymore because he prevented it from happening.

Jinwoo can never really know.

All that matters is that you are safe and sound, right here in the safety of his home secretly guarded by an army of shadows who are strictly tasked to not hesitate in killing should an event rise of anyone daring to harm you and to protect you no matter what at all costs.

It was overkill of him to shove ten thousand soldiers and 19 elite commanders on you. But it didnt matter.

As Jinwoo filled up a bowl of congee, he went to get fever medicine from the cabinet before going back to his room where you were resting.

He first set down the bowl and medicine on the sidetable and gently cooed at you to wake up.

The soft taps managed to wake you in an instant.

"I made some congee," He said, helping you sit up with one hand while the other propped up the pillows against the headboard to let you lean against.

Jinwoo didnt need to ask, he knew with the way your hands are moving that you're too weak to pick up the spoon. So instead, he sat at the edge of the bed and started feeding you the congee. Of course, he made sure to blow at it first before feeding you. After all, he doesn't want to burn your tongue.

"It's not salty, isn't it?" He inquires.

"..." You shake your head, continuing to eat the food he was feeding you.

It took a while, but you managed to finish the bowl with Jinwoo's coaxing.

"Next time, if you feel unwell," Jinwoo said, placing the empty dish down as he started helpign you drink the medicine. "Call me."

"I didn't want to bother you..."

"You would never bother me" He replies, wiping his thumb on the corner of your lip to remove excess water. "Why do you think you would?"

"...I thought you don't like me." You say in a small voice, making Jinwoo pause.

"Was my actions towards you made you think so?" He frowned, realizing the mistake he has been making. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you think I do."

Jinwoo continues, stroking your messy hair, "I never disliked you, nor have I hated you. I was just... Well... Worried that if I act friendly it would scare you off or that you in fact don't like me as a husband."

"I don't," You shake your head, instinctively leaning in on Jinwoo's touch. "...I never did either. I was just shy."

He chuckles, continuing to stroke your head.

"You need to rest," He said, helping you lie down comfortably. "I'll just sleep in your room—...."

Jinwoo pauses when you weakly grasped his sleeve, shaking your head.

You don't want to be alone, not right now when you feel so terrible. In fact, you felt afraid to be alone at the moment. You just feel so sick that you want someone to be with you.

And that person you want to be with is Jinwoo, your husband.

He said he didn't dislike you. So surely it's alright to want him to be here with you, right?

You anxiously look up at Jinwoo's grey eyes that grew tender at your own.

Handsome.

Your husband is just so handsome it makes you feel a bit breathless.

"N-nevermind... You might get sick" You whimper softly, slowly letting go of him

"It's alright," Jinwoo hums, lifting the blanket up a bit slipped in with you. "I can't get sick."

You look up, confused and he just smiles.

"...There's this thing I have that prevents me from getting sick. I cant even get drunk no matter how many bottles I down" Jinwoo explains, gently pulling you close to him and rubbing your back. "So don't worry about me."

"...Is there more?" You inquire, a little curious despite feeling sick at the moment.

"Hmm... Well, I guess I can locate anyone too" He said, shrugging. "Are you curious? About what else I can do?"

"...Yes."

"Then I'll tell you all about it once you feel better, and show you a few tricks I learned" He smiles gently. "In exchange, I want you to know that you can ask anything of me and I will protect you always. Even when i'm not around you, I'm always watching"

Though Jinwoo didn't directly said it, you knew he was saying that he wants to start again with you. As a proper couple this time.

꒰ 🪼A/N: Another route to the loveless marriage Jinwoo bot because I can and I said so hahah. ꒱

ʚ(੭´͈ ᐜ `͈)੭ .｡��･ﾟ: ~♡ —! stories written by kyunnie; translations, reposts, plagiarism are strictly forbidden.

#sung jinwoo #solo leveling #sung jin woo #only i level up #solo leveling headcanons #sung jinwoo x reader #sung jinwoo fanfics #sung jinwoo fanfictions #sung jineoo x reader fluff #solo leveling x reader #sung jinwoo headcanons #solo leveling fics #‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡🪐༘⋆— kyunnie's writings

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inkspiredwriting · 2 months ago

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Clueless

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

Y/n sat on the couch, nervously biting her lip as she watched Five Hargreeves meticulously go over his latest plans on the coffee table. She had been in love with Five for a while now, but he seemed completely unaware of her feelings. She decided to be brave and make her interest a bit more obvious.

“Hey, Five,” Y/n said, trying to sound casual. “Need a break? I was thinking of making some coffee. I know how much you love it.”

Five looked up from his maps, his expression serious. “Coffee? Sure, that sounds good. Thanks, Y/n.”

Y/n smiled, though she couldn’t help but feel a little deflated. Is he really this dense, or is he just pretending? She sighed, getting up to head to the kitchen.

As Y/n brewed the coffee, she mentally prepared herself for another attempt. This time, she’d be more direct. She carefully arranged two cups on a tray and brought them back to the living room, where Five was still engrossed in his work.

She set the tray down and sat beside him, leaning in a bit closer than usual. “So, Five,” she said, her voice soft and hopefully enticing, “what’s your favorite way to relax after a long day of saving the world?”

Five glanced at her, his brow furrowed in thought. “I guess I like to read a book or have a drink. Why do you ask?”

Y/n blinked, feeling her cheeks flush. “Oh, just curious. Maybe we could... read together sometime?”

Five nodded absently, already turning back to his papers. “Sounds good, Y/n.”

Across the room, Klaus watched the exchange with growing amusement. He had a sixth sense for these things, and it was clear as day that Y/n was head over heels for Five. What was also clear was that Five, brilliant as he was, had the emotional awareness of a brick.

Klaus decided it was time to intervene. He sauntered over, plopping down next to Five and flashing Y/n a conspiratorial grin.

“Hey, Five,” Klaus began, his tone light and teasing, “have you noticed how Y/n is looking at you? You know, like she’s... interested?”

Five looked up, puzzled. “Interested? In what?”

Y/n’s eyes widened in horror as she tried to signal Klaus to shut up, but he ignored her.

“In you, you dummy!” Klaus said, giving Five a light shove. “She’s been flirting with you for the past week, and you haven’t noticed?”

Five stared at Klaus, then at Y/n, then back at Klaus. “Flirting? With me?”

Y/n wanted to crawl under the couch and disappear. “Klaus!” she hissed. “Maybe you could be a little less obvious?”

Klaus shrugged, unrepentant. “Hey, someone had to spell it out for him. He’s not exactly Mr. Romantic.”

Five, now looking at Y/n with a mixture of confusion and dawning realization, finally put the pieces together. “Wait, you’re saying Y/n... you like me? Like, likes me likes me?”

Y/n’s face was crimson. She stared down at her hands, feeling like she might burst from embarrassment. “Well, yeah,” she mumbled. “I’ve been trying to show you, but you’re kind of... oblivious.”

Five blinked, his mind racing. He replayed all their recent interactions in his head and finally saw what had been right in front of him. Y/n’s subtle touches, her lingering looks, the way she tried to be close to him. It all made sense now.

A slow smile spread across his face. “I’m an idiot, aren’t I?”

Klaus snorted. “You think?”

Y/n finally dared to look up, her heart pounding. “So... now that you know, what do you think?”

Five leaned in closer, his eyes warm and a little mischievous. “I think,” he said softly, “that I’ve been incredibly blind. And that I’d like to spend a lot more time with you, if you’ll let me.”

Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. “Really?”

“Really,” Five said, reaching out to take her hand. “I might need some help, though. Klaus is right; I’m not exactly a romantic.”

Klaus beamed, clearly pleased with himself. “Don’t worry, I’ve got plenty of tips. Step one: stop being so dense.”

Y/n laughed, squeezing Five’s hand. “I think I can manage that.”

Five smiled, his gaze locked on Y/n’s. “I’m sure we’ll figure it out together.”

Over the next few days, Five made a concerted effort to be more aware of his feelings and how to express them. He and Y/n went on a few dates—awkward at first but sweet and full of potential. Klaus, true to his word, offered unsolicited advice, most of which involved more flair than either Five or Y/n could handle.

One evening, as they sat on the couch in the living room, Y/n snuggled up against Five, feeling content and happy. Five wrapped an arm around her, looking more relaxed than she’d ever seen him.

“You know,” Five said, his voice thoughtful, “I’m really glad Klaus decided to butt in.”

Y/n chuckled, nuzzling closer. “Yeah, me too. Who would have thought?”

Five leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “Here’s to figuring out this whole romance thing. Together.”

Y/n smiled, closing her eyes as she savored the moment. “Together,” she echoed, feeling a warmth in her heart that she knew would be there for a long, long time.

#five hargreeves imagines #five hargreeves x reader #five hargreeves x you #number five imagine #number five x reader #the umbrella academy #number five #number five one shot #five hargreeves

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swarvey · 5 months ago

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when you've moved on | elliott x gn!reader | part two

summary -> he slowly lost interest in you after you got married. now he watches you fall back in love with someone else. warnings -> very slight mention of nsfw, implied age gap, mainly just angst! wc -> 1106

a/n: i swear i keep trying to write for the bachelorettes but then get inspired with an idea for the bachelors :') anyways have this, decided to do elliott since he's "so much older and wiser" iykyk.

this was inspired by the dialogue you get when your hearts with your sdv spouse gets low, except i flipped the tables :) lmk if you guys want to see this as a series!!

part one -> the way i loved you (sebastian)

tolerate it -> "what would you do if i break free and leave us in ruins?"

elliott's pen hovers over the page in front of him, unmoving for the past ten minutes now. his grip tightens, knuckles white in frustration as he finally releases it, falling back in his chair with his eyes closed as it clatters onto his table.

his writer's block has never been worse, and it's because all he can think of is you.

more so, his loss of you.

no matter how many times he replays the scenario in his head, he can't make sense of how he lost you. he still remembers his wedding day, how he couldn't help but tear up at the sight of you approaching him down the aisle.

"you said you wouldn't cry," you'd teased him.

"i said i would try, my dear," he responded, touching your cheek gently, "but how can i not? your beauty is otherworldly today."

he remembers his vows, his promise to always be by your side. he remembers kissing you like his life depended on it. he remembers going home with you that night, in disbelief that he could finally call you his as he pulled his hair into a bun, mermaid's pendant hitting his bare chest as he dragged you to the bedroom.

"i love you, y/n," he'd said after, both of you panting in exhaustion and satisfaction beside each other. "more than anything else in this universe. i wouldn't trade you for a hundred iridium bars."

you'd laughed, turning your head to look at him with shining eyes and pink cheeks. "really? how about a thousand?"

"nor a thousand."

"ten thousand?"

"not even ten thousand bars, no."

". . . how about a hundred thousand?"

"no, not even a hundred thousand bars!" he'd turned to you then, wide-eyed and holding back a grin at the sight of your scheming gaze. "my love, let's be reasonable—"

"what about a million bars?"

"wha . . . a million bars of pure iridium . . . ? dear, don't make me do this . . ."

"a-ha!" you'd said, sitting up in bed suddenly. "so you would!"

"i never said such a thing!"

at the sight of his pout, you had sprawled yourself on top of him, planting a kiss on his nose as he looked down at you with a smile.

"i love you, too, el."

elliott sighs, his head falling forward into his hand. one part of him wishes to hear you utter those words again; the other prays he'll one day forget you ever said them.

the first few seasons after the wedding had been dreamlike — elliott had never felt so full of life before. it was like being with you had opened his eyes to how colorful and bright the world could be. sometimes he would wake up before you and admire your sleeping figure, a soft smile appearing on his lips every time he caught a glimpse of your necklace.

he doesn't remember when the spark began to fade, though.

no, he only recalls the days he began to leave the farm early in the morning to spend time alone in his old cabin on the beach, coming back only for dinner. the two of you would eat quietly, sitting at opposite ends of the table. he would ask and answer questions shortly, mainly focusing on the dull, uninspiring feeling he seemed to get every time he was in your shared house.

he never noticed the sad look filling your eyes, begging him to pay attention to you, to show you the love he once had for you. he paid no mind to how your face lit up every time he came home, only to deflate as he walked past you. he never even thought about how your conversations with him had turned one-sided, as he would spill his troubles to you without even giving you a chance to share yours.

not until it was too late, that is.

". . . do you still love me?"

it was a question he never thought he would hear from you, and yet he'd unknowingly driven you to that point. elliott had never heard silence so loud until then, realizing that, for some reason, he couldn't answer your question.

"answer me, elliott," you'd said, voice wavering as he uneasily met your eyes. "i need to know this. i feel like you've been treating me like a kid lately — when i talk to you, i can barely get a word out without you lecturing me. you're barely home to even do that anymore."

he scoffed. "please, y/n, be reasonable," he had replied, the same words he had said that night after professing his love to you. "i've simply been a bit caught up lately, that's all. i need my own time to write."

"seriously? that's what you're going to say?" you shook your head, crossing your arms as you looked at him pleadingly. "why are you acting like this? do you seriously think being a bit older than me justifies how you've been treating me?"

"that has nothing to do with our situation," he snapped sharply, then sighed. "please, can we go to bed? i'm tired of this." he started towards the bedroom door, leaving you behind him.

"you never answered my question."

he stopped.

"it's okay, el," you'd whispered. "i had a feeling i already knew. i was just hoping you would at least be able to tell me."

so now, here he is. unable to finish the sequel to his novel because he'd dedicated the first one to you, and what's the point of writing a second one if you're no longer by his side?

what's the point if you have sebastian now, who spends every second with you? who is much younger than him and rides a motorcycle? who gives you a mermaid's pendant — a year after the two of you separated, by the way — and makes sure the entire town can make it to your wedding?

he doesn't know what you see in him. sure, his passion for music is a bit admirable, but can he really treat you properly? there's no way seb can make you smile, make you laugh, make you cry out of pure joy or pleasure like he did.

elliott had attended the wedding, of course, so he could make sure you were happy.

he most certainly wasn't hoping to see a twinge of hesitation, maybe even regret in your eyes as you walked down the aisle again.

as elliott abandons his writing and heads out the doorway of his cabin, the image of you happier than he'd ever seen you while passionately kissing sebastian is burned into his mind.

you are no longer his, and it's entirely his fault.

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littlefireball · 3 months ago

Note

I hope you rest well!

I'd like to request a story: wooyoung in a non idol au setting. Strangers to lovers (with with him and her being inexperienced (getting intimate) but her having many ideas what she wants. Also I'd love if the met many times and made out many times before they did the deed!

Thank you!!But im not sure what 'I'd love if the met many times' 😥 is it mean they meet many times? but it doesn't matter i made it laaaa but sorry the make out scenes are not that much TT

ᴡʏ|ᴡᴀɴɴᴀ ʙᴇᴛ? (ᴍ)

ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ ᴡᴏᴏʏᴏᴜɴɢ x ɢᴀᴍᴇʀ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 3.2ᴋ

Masterlist

Gaming at an Internet café is the perfect escape from daily pressures. With headphones on, the outside world fades, and the game's sounds ignite your passion. You revel in the arcade atmosphere, feeling joy wash away your tension.

"Yes! I'm back on top!" A rush of triumph hits as you see your name at the top of the leaderboard, a testament to weeks of skill-building. If only you could channel this drive into your job, but that thought barely registers.

"Alright! Time to head home." A glance at your phone reveals it's already one in the morning. You snap a picture of your score, post it with a cheeky caption, and drift off to sleep.

The next day, after a tough workday, you return to the café, eager to check your score. To your shock, a player named Black Cat has shattered your record in just twenty-four hours. "What?" you gasp, disbelief washing over you.

No, first place is yours.

Time slips away as you replay the game, but despite your efforts, you can't surpass Black Cat. Exhaustion sets in, but quitting isn't an option.

You analyze Black Cat's gameplay, piecing together clues like a complex puzzle, inching closer to the answer.

"I did it!" You slumped in your seat with a sigh of relief. Finally! You were at the top again. It took more time than you imagine and now it was already 2:00 a.m.. "Fuck!" Having no time to take a rest, you quickly gathered your belongings and rushed back home. You might not have realized it, but the instant you walked away, your ranking dropped again.

This occurs nearly every day, and it's worth mentioning that this pattern has persisted for a week now. Your triumphs seem to fade away all too quickly.

For you, it was a battle; but for Wooyoung, it was a funny game.

The days of campus life have come to an end, and graduation looms just a few months ahead. Wooyoung's friends were either busy with part-time jobs or off on romantic outings. He found himself feeling quite dull. Although he kept active with daily sports and bike rides, a spark of excitement eluded him.

That was, until he stumbled upon your post. Initially, he figured that a visit to an Internet café, after such a long hiatus, would be a fun way to pass the time. Little did he know that the thrill of vying for first place against you would ignite a newfound passion.

Wooyoung liked watching you struggle with the ranking. It sounded like a pervert though.

Wooyoung arrived at the internet cafe early, excited to spend the day with you. Spotting you in your favorite corner, he decided to sit beside you instead of across. As you both logged into the game, the atmosphere buzzed with excitement. Each time he won, you playfully cursed, while he seemed to predict your every move.

In a moment of distraction, you noticed him trying to suppress laughter at your setbacks, his eyes gleaming with mischief. Curious, you wondered if he was that black cat. When you pretended to head to the restroom, he immediately stopped his antics, engrossed in his phone.

Returning to your chair, you feigned disappointment and said you needed another try. Realizing you were back, Wooyoung set his phone aside and dove back into the game. Yet, you remained still, simply observing him as he played. When he glanced over at your screen, he noticed you hadn't even begun.

He feigned a cough, a clumsy attempt to divert attention while concentrating on his game. Intentionally scoring low, he aimed to project an image of a novice, yet his username betrayed him─Black Cat.

"Um… May I help you?" he stuttered, realizing you were peering at his screen.

"Oh, nothing much. I'm just curious about why you keep staring at my screen."

"Uh… um…" He fumbled for words.

"So, you're watching me play to spot my mistakes?" Your words made him glance away, clearly flustered.

"I don't mind at all." You chuckled lightly. "I just think it's impressive how you rack up such high scores."

"Really? Thanks!" A smile broke across Wooyoung's face, thrilled to finally be chatting with you. "Want to play a round together?"

"Sure! But let's mix it up a bit; playing just one game gets dull."

"Of course! How about Mario Kart?" Wooyoung suggested eagerly.

"Don't regret it. I'm good at this game." You said provocatively.

"That should be what I say."

Both of you found unprecedented happiness in this game. Not fighting for high scores anymore, but the joy of playing together. You talked about everything and nothing, from your favorite books to the latest movies, laughter filling the air between you. It felt natural, comfortable, and more importantly, genuine. As the night wore on, you realized that you could spend hours like this, just talking and getting to know each other better.

"Will you come tomorrow?" Wooyoung asked.

"Maybe not." You gathered your belongings and said. "I gotta take a rest. I'm tired."

"Then how can I find you?" Wooyoung burst out, he wanted to meet you every day. It has become his habit.

"Find me?" You smirked. "Why would you find me?"

"Um…ahh…I want to play a game with you." Wooyoung confessed.

Smiled, you nodded. "Then~what if we have a bet?" You asked, leaning back at the chair. "If I lose, I will give you my number. If you lose─""Deal."

"What? Don't you need to consider it?"

"No. What game do you want to play?" Wooyoung was already logged in the game, searching for one he would definitely win.

"Okay. Okay. You choose." You smile helplessly.

Naturally, you end up losing. Who advised him to pick a game you've never tried? But it's all good. You initially intended to share your number with him; you were just looking for some fun, so you threw out a bet instead.

"Hey, Y/N. Wanna bet?" He asked suddenly on the way to take you home. "Whoever reaches that tree first wins. The losing one must fulfill the other's wish." Before you could react to his words, he suddenly ran away with his full speed, leaving you far behind.

"You asshole!!" Of course, you lose again. You were not good at sports, especially running. "How could you run first?It's not fair!" You smacked his chest playfully, and he laughed, grabbing your hands tightly.

"So you want to run again?"

"No way!"

"And you lose~"

"Maybe you should change your name to fox." You pouted and he pulled you into his embrace, making you blush.

"You have to fulfill my wish, Y/N."

"Wh…What wish?"

"Can you go on a date with me?"

"But I won't go on a date with a jobless man."

"Fine. I will find a job." He compromised. "So will you go on a date with me?"

"To see if you work hard."

"That's not fair. I've already fulfilled one of your wishes!" Wooyoung pouted like a child.

"Is it?" You couldn't help but grin at his adorable charm, leaning in impulsively to press a kiss on his cheek. Perhaps it was a bit wild; after all, how could you kiss someone you had just met on your very first day? Yet, in that instant, all you wanted was to embrace that fleeting urge.

"Go get a job and I'll go on a date with you. That's it." You left him frozen in his place, going back to your house.

"You promise?" Wooyoung shouted.

"Promise."

—---

Initially, your plan was simple: enjoy dinner and each other's company. However, things took an unexpected turn as your relationship evolved into a whirlwind of gambling challenges. It felt like you had unwittingly walked into his trap, with every bet he suggested tilted in his favor, forcing you to comply with his whims.

But you never mind.

"Kiss me." Wooyoung leaned in close, his voice barely above a whisper, and you instinctively moved to meet him with a kiss. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders as he drew you into his warm embrace, and in that moment, the world around you faded away. The kiss was carefree, filled with sweetness and tenderness, a balm for his soul. Almost every day during lunch, he would find you and propose a playful 'bet.'

"Ten seconds have passed," you teased, breaking the kiss with a soft pop. "That's our deal."

"What if I want it to last longer?" He pressed his chest against yours, his breath warm against your lips.

"Shall we make another bet?" You tilted your head.

"Can we save that for later? I always win, so it doesn't really matter when I claim my prize, right?"

"You…"

He silenced you with a fervent kiss, a soft moan escaping as he deepened the connection, his tongue dancing with yours in a passionate rhythm.

"How can you be so intense?" you gasped, playfully patting his chest.

"I can be even more intense if that's what you want."

"No." You halted his advance by placing your hand over his mouth. "Time's up."

"You'll want more, I promise." With a quick peck on your forehead, he dashed away, leaving you breathless. "I gotta work. Bye bye~"

It's a fact. You crave something deeper than just a kiss. Yet, each time you two get lost in the moment, he pulls back. Why is that? Is it because of the nature of your relationship? You and he may not officially be a couple, but you've shared nearly all the experiences that couples do, except for that final step.

Once again, you found yourselves lost in each other on the sofa, but this time, there were no conditions or wagers. You had invited him over, yearning for his company. His left arm encircled your waist, drawing you closer, while his right hand gently cupped your face, tilting it for a kiss. As he pressed his lips against yours, his tongue slipped in, playfully teasing yours and producing a soft, intimate sound. The suddenness of his actions caught you off guard, but you quickly became entranced by the fervent embrace.

His hands roamed over your back, glided down to your thighs, and ventured to explore your most sensitive spots. And you could feel something hard sinking between your thighs;he was turned on. But, he suddenly stopped the kisses, just as usual.

"I gotta go to the toilet." Not waiting for your response, he rushed to the washroom. He twisted the faucet handle, letting the icy water cascade over his face, a desperate attempt to shake off the grip of longing. Yet, despite his efforts, his body betrayed him.

Unable to resist any longer, he freed himself from his trousers, starting to jerk off. His thoughts swirl with tantalizing fantasies, igniting a fire within him. He gasps for air as sweat beads on his brow, cascading down like tiny jewels. The vision of being enveloped by your warmth consumes him, driving him to madness. Eventually, the intensity of his cravings subsides, if only for a moment.

He gazes at the crumpled tissues in the trash, sighs heavily, and splashes water on his face before leaving the restroom. But the sight of you leaning against the wall outside shatters his composure. Your form-fitting dress highlights your curves, and your slender legs captivate him.

"Have you finished yet? I thought you…" you tease as you draw closer. Your eyes playfully wander down to his anxious gaze. With one hand resting on his chest and the other propped against the wall, your faces inch closer, breaths mingling in the air. You whisper softly, "Are you scared to have me, completely?" Your playful, innocent eyes sparkle with mischief, as your bodies pressed together, feeling the warmth of each other's breath.

"Just don't regret what you have said." "Never." He suddenly carried you in his arms, making his way to your bedroom.

With his right hand cradling your head, he kissed every inch of your body, igniting a fire within you despite the fabric between you. His hands explored your curves, lingering on your chest, leaving a tender mark. Your soft sighs fueled his desire as he pressed your bodies together, his lower half brushing against you. You surrendered as he unzipped your dress, showering your exposed breasts with kisses.

"I've wanted you for so long." He murmured while dropping kisses on your collarbone.

"Then why don't you claim me as yours?"

"I'm afraid that you will reject me." He locked his eyes with yours, full of affection. "After all, I'm younger than you."

"What's the point? I would never mind our age." You wrapped your arms around his neck. "If I mind, I won't let you kiss me, let alone fuck me."

Smiling, he claimed you into a hungry kiss. After removing your garments and putting on a condom, he settled between your thighs. The passionate make-out session was interrupted by your breathy moans as he eased into you. A hint of discomfort made you frown. "It's okay, just relax," Wooyoung murmured, cupping your face and kissing you while caressing your clit, sending waves of pleasure through you.

Tapping his shoulder as a signal to let him move, he first thrusted in and out at a slow pace but your wall kept pulling and sucking him in, driving him insane. Your moan grew louder as you arched your back against his chest, he quickly moved in and out while slapping your ass with his ball.

"Young…Youngie…Can you fuck me in doggy style? I want you deep inside me." You begged, your voice soft. He made a pause and pecked at your forehead before flipping you over suddenly, causing your head to land on the pillow.

He forcefully lifted your pelvis, pressing your buttocks against his lower body. Without waiting for your response, he thrust hard into you once again. Unlike the rapid thrusting before, it was now like a raging flood. Each insertion went as deep as possible, fiercely colliding with your soft flesh.

"Fuck!!" Wooyoung seized your hair, bumped into you and hitted your sweet spot dead on. The combination of pain and pleasure left you gasping for air, your excitement manifesting in frantic cries. He showed no signs of slowing down, thrusting with relentless speed and power, as if he were exerting every ounce of his strength.

Your moans had transformed into an intoxicating melody, more enchanting than ever before, fueling his urge to take complete control over you. The delicate dance of pain and pleasure brought tears cascading down your face. Each moan now carried a hint of sobbing, a poignant blend of ecstasy and despair. In this moment, coherent thoughts eluded you, leaving you with only broken whispers and fragmented sounds.

"Ah… young… please…slow…"

"What did you say? I can't hear you." He smirked mischievously, spanking you several times to leave red marks on your ass.

"Call me daddy and I'll let you go." Suddenly, he collided with your deepest spot, hitting it over and over again. Your limbs went weak as the numbness took over, energy was going out of your body.

"woo… young… please." "Huh? I don't want to hear that." "Hmm… daddy… Stop…" Delighted by the response, he eased his grip, gradually descending. His damp chest pressed against your back as he planted soft kisses, trailing them up to your neck, leaving a warm path of affection in his wake.

He gently brushed your tears away, his fingers weaving through your hair with care. The rhythm continued unabated as he lifted you, allowing you to settle with your back against him. His damp chest pressed against your spine, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. Turning your head, you captured his lips in a kiss, one hand tenderly cradling the back of his neck.

He met your kiss with enthusiasm, his fingers gliding gently along the inner curve of your thighs, while his other hand traveled upward, exploring every inch of your body before pausing to knead your chest.

"Can you be rough with me again?" You asked, earning a smile from him.

"Are you okay with that?" He kissed you one more time before parting from your lips.

"Yes, please."

He gently lowered you onto the bed once more, his body still pressed against your back. Supporting himself with his arms, he swiftly reentered you, his movements quick and fervent. Your body quivered with each powerful thrust, the sensation both soft and overwhelming.

He let out deep, passionate moans, reveling in the pleasure coursing through him. In turn, you responded with your own sounds of delight, completely enveloped in the blissful moment. Time seemed to slip away as you both surrendered to the intoxicating feelings, lost in a world of comfort and ecstasy.

Exhaustion began to set in as he slowed down his pace, wrapping his right arm around your waist before settling onto the bed beside you. Now he was spooning you, nudged your right leg forward, allowing his cock to delve even deeper. With a slow, gentle thrust, he peppered your neck with soft kisses, leaving you blissfully unaware of how it had become adorned with love bites.

"Youngie, I want to try something…" You trailed off, feeling shy.

"Hm?What's that?" Wooyoung sneaked his hand to your breast, teasing your nipple while leaving a trail of kisses on your neck.

"Do you know what missionary is?"

"You really have so many ideas." He let out a chuckle and flipped you over once more before you could say anything. He folded you up and supported himself with both of his hands settled on your thighs, moving in and out at a steady pace.

"A little harder… Go deeper…" you said coyly.

"Aren't you afraid of pain?" He asked.

"No…Please daddy"

Gripping your arms, he pressed his lips against yours, fiery and red, before plunging into you with the ferocity of a wild beast. This time, the intensity was unlike anything you had experienced before. The blend of pain and ecstasy escaped your lips in loud moans, mingling with the breathless utterance of his name. The bed groaned under the force of your movements, but neither of you noticed, lost in the throes of your fervent connection.

"Fuck!Fuck!Fuck!!"

Finally, you both reached climax and Wooyoung came. After the moment passed, he tenderly pressed his lips to your forehead and gave your lips a light kiss. He pulled away and settled down next to you. You nestled against his shoulder, a content smile gracing your face.

"You really gave it your all…" You weakly chuckled. Wooyoung draped his arm around you, resting his head against yours as he murmured, "Well, who was it that tempted me?" You let out a soft laugh.

"Who could possibly say no?" You exchanged warm smiles before closing your eyes, the weight of exhaustion enveloping you both.

"Can you be my girlfriend?" Wooyoung whispered in your ears. "Is it a bet or a promise?" "A promise." Smiling, he drew you into a deep kiss with all of his love.

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fic #ateez x female reader #ateez oneshot #ateez smut #ateez x reader #ateez x y/n #ateez imagines #ateez wooyoung #wooyoung #wooyoung smut #ateez scenarios #ateez reaction #ateez requests

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htpssgavi · 3 months ago

Text

JUST A PRANK-PART TWO

The weeks stretched into months, each day without Y/N heavier than the last. At first, I thought I could fix things quickly, that with time, her anger would fade, and she’d realize how much we belonged together. But as the days passed with no word from her, reality began to sink in: I might have lost her for good.

I threw myself into football, hoping the sport I loved would distract me from the emptiness inside. But even on the pitch, I couldn’t escape the thoughts of her. Every goal, every victory felt hollow without Y/N to share it with. The perfume prank haunted me, the memory of her tears cutting deeper than any physical injury ever could. I replayed that night over and over, hating myself for the stupid mistake that had cost me everything.

I wanted to reach out, but every time I picked up my phone, fear held me back. What if she didn’t want to hear from me? What if she had already moved on? The thought was unbearable, so I did nothing, hoping that maybe, somehow, she would reach out first. But she never did.

Months passed. The silence between us grew louder, and the distance felt insurmountable. I heard from mutual friends that she was doing well, that she seemed happy, but no one mentioned if she was seeing someone new. I didn’t ask—I couldn’t bear to hear the answer if it was yes.

Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore. I had to know where we stood, even if the truth was painful. So one evening, when the loneliness became too much, I finally worked up the courage to text her.

*Pablo: Hey. It’s been a while. Can we talk?*

I waited, my heart pounding in my chest as I stared at my phone, willing it to buzz with a reply. Minutes felt like hours, and I was on the verge of giving up when my phone finally lit up.

*Y/N: Pablo, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.*

Her response was polite, but distant, and it stung more than I expected. I swallowed the lump in my throat and typed back.

*Pablo: I just need to talk. Please, Y/N. One last time.*

There was a longer pause this time, and I could imagine her debating whether or not to reply. When her next message came, it was a small relief.

*Y/N: Okay. Tomorrow, 4 PM at the café?*

*Pablo: I’ll be there.*

The next day, I arrived early, my nerves on edge. The café felt smaller than I remembered, the walls closing in on me as I waited for her. I kept glancing at the door, my heart leaping every time someone walked in, only to fall again when it wasn’t her.

Finally, she arrived. My breath caught in my throat as I saw her—she looked as beautiful as ever, but there was something different about her, something I couldn’t quite place. Her eyes no longer held that same warmth when she looked at me, and it tore me apart.

“Hi,” she said, sitting down across from me.

“Hi,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. “Thanks for meeting me.”

She nodded, but didn’t smile. “What did you want to talk about, Pablo?”

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts. “I… I’ve missed you, Y/N. Every day without you has been hell. I know I messed up, and I’m not asking you to forgive me easily, but I need to know if there’s any chance for us.”

She looked down at her hands, her expression unreadable. “Pablo, I’ve had a lot of time to think since we broke up. And… I’ve realized that maybe we’re better off apart.”

Her words hit me like a punch to the gut. “You don’t mean that.”

She met my gaze, her eyes filled with a sad resolve. “I do. I loved you, Pablo. But you hurt me in a way I never expected, and I don’t think I can ever fully trust you again. And without trust… we can’t have a relationship.”

I felt like the ground was falling out from under me. “Please, Y/N. I’ll do anything to fix this. I’ll spend the rest of my life proving to you that you can trust me.”

She shook her head, a single tear slipping down her cheek. “It’s not that simple. I’m sorry, Pablo, but I can’t go through that pain again. I’ve moved on… I’ve started seeing someone else.”

The world seemed to stop. The words echoed in my mind, a harsh reality that I wasn’t prepared for. She had moved on. Someone else was making her smile, was holding her close, was filling the space that I had left empty.

I wanted to be angry, to blame her for giving up on us, but I couldn’t. I was the one who had driven her away. I was the one who had broken her trust.

“I see,” I managed to say, my voice hollow. “I’m happy for you… if you’re happy.”

She nodded, wiping away her tears. “I am. And I want you to be happy too, Pablo. I want you to find someone who makes you feel whole again.”

The pain in my chest was unbearable, but I forced myself to smile for her sake. “You deserve the best, Y/N. I just wish it could have been me.”

She reached across the table, squeezing my hand gently. “You’re a good person, Pablo. You’ll find someone who loves you just as much as I did. But it’s time for both of us to move on.”

I nodded, unable to trust my voice. We sat in silence for a few moments, both of us knowing that this was truly the end.

“I wish you all the best,” she said quietly, pulling her hand back.

“You too,” I replied, my heart breaking as I watched her stand up.

She gave me one last, sad smile before turning and walking out of the café, leaving me alone with nothing but the echo of what we once had.

As I sat there, staring at the empty chair across from me, I realized that I had to let her go. She had moved on, and I had to do the same. But the pain of losing her, the regret of how things ended, would stay with me for a long time.

Maybe forever.

@gavisfanta @spidybaby @pablitogavii

@lucy90712 @monzabee

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lees-chaotic-brain · 1 year ago

Note

For your recent event can I request

Blue Ocean and #2

Thank you

Three Little Words (Gojo x Reader)

CW: rejection, blood, slight spoilers for the jjk movie, implied past satosugu i guess, mutual pining, reader is female, implied death, brief mentions of blood, mentions of injury

Event Masterlist | Event Guide | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

"Sorry, not interested."

Three little words. Three little words was all it took to shatter your heart.

You had spent the last three years of your life trying to track down the person attached to the other end of your soulmate thread.

All that time spent hoping. All that time spent daydreaming about what he would be like, only for this.

For you to meet him because he was your new coworker, and fellow teacher at Jujutsu Tech. For him to reject you upon first sight.

You hadn't even spoken a word yet. All it took was him glancing at the red ribbon connecting the two of you for him to shut you down.

Your mind went blank. There was no way you heard him correctly, right...?

"What?"

"I'm not interested."

He stated casually, as if he was just commenting on the weather.

"You-You don't even know my name yet!"

With all logic having flown out the window, this was the best you could come up with.

"Oh, you're right. What's your name?"

Stupefied, you told him.

"That's pretty. Anyways, it's not you, it's me."

Taking your blank gaze as understanding, he perked up.

"My name's Gojo Satoru. I hope we can be friends!"

With an enthusiastic handshake, he was off, leaving you standing in shock, unsure of what just happened.

Reaching up and touching your cheek, you were surprised to find that it was wet.

Huh, that was strange. When did you start crying?

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Days turned to weeks turned to months.

At first, things were a little awkward between you and your soulmate.

You were hurt, angry and confused. But the more time you spent with him, the more those feelings ebbed away, his presence a balm that soothed all your hurts and insecurities.

Why. Why did he have to reject you? Why did he have to be so insufferable? Why did he have to be so goddamn attractive? Why did he have to be aware that he was so goddamn attractive?

Why couldn't he send you any clear signals?

One day he was playfully calling you his 'best bud' while the two of you played pranks on Nanami or got into mischief.

And the next he was tenderly cupping your cheek and running his thumb over the dark bags under your eyes; concern evident on his face as he quietly asked if you were doing okay, and telling you to take a break.

And if he really wasn't interested, why didn't he officially break the soulmate bond? Why did he change the subject every time you tried to bring it up?

It was driving you insane. You were falling for him. And hard. But the echo of his words replayed in your head every time you considered broaching the subject.

You didn't know what to do.

So you did the only thing you could; you kept it professional. After all, the two of you were coworkers, nothing more, nothing less.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Gojo was tired of just being your coworker.

He wanted more. Had wanted more from the moment he laid eyes on your breathtaking face.

Sure, it had broken a visceral part of him to reject you, but if it was to keep you safe, he would do it a million times over.

However, no matter how much he told himself he couldn't be with you, that he had to officially sever the soulmate bond, he couldn't bring himself to officially break the tie that made the two of you soulmates.

The more time he spent with you, the more time he got to spend with you, the harder he fell.

He had never felt like this towards anyone. The only person that had ever come close before this had been Suguru, but his relationship with him had been soured by the fact that they both knew Gojo's soulmate was out there.

But when you were in his life, his entire world lit up. Everything was brighter and more vibrant. He felt like you saw him for Satoru, the man he was, instead of the burdens fate and Jujutsu society had placed upon his shoulders.

So selfishly he had kept the soulmate bond intact.

And now, staring at your mangled form laying before him, the precious blood that belonged in your veins leaking out onto the floor as you struggled to breathe, he remembered.

He remembered why he wasn't allowed to love. Why he had pushed you away.

God, he was so stupid to think that Suguru wouldn't go after you. He was so stupid for believing that his friend wasn't irredeemable.

And his stupidity and selfishness could very well cost you your life.

"You never change, do you."

Only then did Gojo realize that he had been speaking aloud, voicing his inner turmoil as the two people he cared for most lay dying before him.

Suguru coughed, wincing as the motion aggravated his injuries.

"You say that she's injured because you selfishly clung to your soulmate bond, right?"

"What are you implying Suguru?"

Gojo asked, weariness and heartbreak in his voice as he applied pressure to your injuries. He couldn't take you to get help until he took care of Suguru, but he wanted to give his former best friend a chance to say his last words.

"What I'm saying is that she got hurt because you were selfish, yes, but not in the way you think you were. You aren't selfish because you refuse to break the bond. You were selfish because you kept your distance. You could've come to her rescue much earlier, but you didn't because doing so would admit that she meant something to you. And you were more comfortable keeping her at a distance, because you didn't want to have to fear losing her."

Suguru sighed, shifting to a more comfortable position.

"You know, I never hated the people at Jujutsu Tech. If she survives, tell her how you really feel. She deserves at least that. And after that, tell her I'm sorry, okay."

Gojo barked a laugh, tears burning the backs of his eyes as a looming sense of grief and apprehension filled him. He knew what he had to do next.

"Okay, I will."

He smiled.

"Wingmanning me till the end. My best friend."

His face softened as he reminisced on better times.

"My one and only."

Suguru returned the smile, and Gojo finished him, gently closing his eyes afterwards.

Standing and wiping the tears from his eyes, he turned and picked you up, before stepping into a new chapter of his life.

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

When you woke up, you were greeted by the bright white of the hospital ceiling.

Groaning, you attempted to sit up, only to be stopped by the massive man-child sprawled across your lap.

With a snort, he shot up, disoriented as he rejoined the land of the waking.

Noticing you were awake, he froze, before reaching out and grabbing your hands.

"Can I say something?"

"Right now?"

You asked, a little confused as to what could be so important that he was waiting at your bedside for you to wake up.

"Yes."

His unusually somber tome threw you off.

"Of course. What's the matter?"

"I'm so sorry."

"Um, I'm confused. For what?"

"For rejecting you. This is by no means any excuse, but the last person I was close to abandoned me. I was afraid to let anyone get close to me, but instead of facing my fear, I excused it by telling myself that if I let myself care for you then curses would target you to get to me. So I told myself that it was to protect you instead of acknowledging that I'm selfish coward who was just trying to protect myself-"

"Hold up."

You cut off his rambling, needing a moment to process.

"Are you trying to tell me that you rejected me because you were afraid that in the end I was going to betray you, but you were too emotionally constipated to acknowledge that, so instead you convinced yourself that you were pushing me away for my own protection?"

Downcast he nodded.

"And you're apologizing for that."

"Yes. If I had just protected you by staying by your side, you never would have gotten hurt! The only reason you're in here is because I was too scared to admit that I love you!"

You froze.

"Say it again."

"What."

"What you just said."

Realization dawned on Gojo's face, and his cheeks turned a pretty shade of pink.

"I love you."

He murmured shyly, looking at the comforter.

You leaned forwards and hugged him, burying your head in his chest.

"Again."

You whispered, lips brushing against the fabric of his uniform.

"I love you."

A content smile spread across your face.

"I'm still sorta pissed at you, but you have no idea how happy you just made me."

You said, nuzzling into his shirt.

"I love you too."

He froze in disbelief. There was no way you returned his feelings. He didn't deserve that.

"Do you really forgive me?"

"Mmmm, say it one more time for me."

"I love you."

"Okay I forgive you."

Finally at peace, you basked in the warmth from being in the arms of your soulmate.

Who knew that those three little words were all it took.

Three little words to heal your heart.

Cuddling with soulmate, you knew that you would be okay, as long as he continued to tell you those three little words.

You deep personal reflection was interrupted by Gojo's voice.

"Oh, by the way, Suguru says sorry."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

#lee's brain asks #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #soulmate au #angst to fluff #mutual pining #lee's 1 year anniversary event #crack ending #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x female reader

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