#first fic in a solid 10 years!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

youkissedareaderinthedark · 1 year ago

Text

Coraline

Synopsis: Y/n’s childhood and history with her parents has always stayed a secret, and she likes it that way. Until a journalist reveals the truth, and everything seems to come crashing down at once.

young female driver reader x 2023 F1 grid

A/N: a few things for this fic: reader will be 20 years old, had driven for alpha tauri since the beginning of 2022, the 2022 is the same as the 2023 grid, and please look at the trigger warning below.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains abusive parents, talks of eating disorders, neglecting a kid, verbally abusing a kid, signs of depression, and a lot of hurtful comments in general. This fic is not meant to idolize or romanticize having abusive parents or depression. If anyone finds anything particularly disturbing with this fic, do not hesitate to let me know and I will fix it.

tagged: @treehouse-mouse

2023 was supposed to be a good season for Alpha Tauri. The cars looked good, your driver pairing was solid, and the hopes were high for your junior Red Bull team. You could only laugh at the naivety of it now.

Most of the season was exceptional; you and Yuki Tsunoda brought in points almost every weekend, your team was seventh in the constructors championship, and overall, you were having a great time traveling around the world.

This was your second year in Formula 1, and now that you weren’t a rookie anymore, you could have more fun now that you knew what you were doing.

Some people just don’t like others being happy, though.

With less than 10 races left, you walked into the paddock for the Monza Grand Prix Thursday afternoon feeling optimistic. This was the second race after the summer break, and Alpha Tauri was expected to do well in Italy.

Your press officer, Ally, greeted you in your garage, and after saying hello to Yuki, you followed her out of the garage and into the media pen for a press conference.

You walk in to see Lewis, Carlos, Lando, and Fernando and talked quietly with them as the press in front of you get settled. “Everybody ready? All right, first question please” One of the directors asks, as a journalists speaks up.

“Lewis, you’ve witnessed the infamous ‘Monza Curse’ multiple times in your career, do you think the theory is true and will it strike again this year?”

“Um, no” Lewis chuckles. “I don’t believe in the curse, but it would be nice to see someone new finish first today, and if a curse is what it’s going to take, then yeah, why not”

The five of you laugh, not noticing the second journalist beginning to speak. “Y/n, what do you have to say about the recent article published regarding your past with your family?”

You instantly stop laughing, hoping you misheard the man.

“Sorry?”

There’s no way

“The article? That was recently published concerning your past with your parents, what do you have to say about it?” The journalist stared at you curiously while your mind blanked for an answer.

You had no idea what article he was talking about, but if it concerned your past with your ‘family’, you knew it wasn’t anything that should be published.

Suddenly there’s movement in the midst of the media pen, and your press officer emerges from the crowd. “Y/n, come with me” She pauses, seeing one of the directors nearing out of the corner of her eye.

“It’s urgent, I need her” You’d take any excuse to get away from the current situation, so after exchanging a look with Lewis, you follow the woman into the paddock towards your garage.

Once you were both in the safety of your drivers room, you turned on her. “What article is he talking about? What’s going on?” You said, voice heavy with concern.

Ally hesitated, looking uncomfortable, before answering. “This morning, an article published a story talking about you and your parents, and the-um, harsh history you have with them” She hands you her phone, said article already open.

“I think it’s better if you read it yourself” The bold letters blink up at you, clear and sullen.

“F1 DRIVERS UNCOVERED: THE REAL REASON WE DON’T SEE Y/N L/N’S PARENTS”

Your heart falls to your stomach and your hands start to shake as your eyes skim over the words of the most invading and overwhelming article you’ve ever read in your life. Whoever wrote this, wrote it in hopes of exposing every secret of your past, and further tangles the truth of an already over-complicated background.

The real reason your parents are never around you is a reason you hate talking about.

You first realized it when you were around ten years old, the way your parents never looked happy around each other, and always tense around other parents. The way they never said ‘I love you’ or kissed each other goodbye. It confused you, as these were the things you always saw your friend’s parents do, but you were too young to understand at the time, so you mainly ignored it.

It wasn’t until one night when you were eleven that you heard an argument erupting from your kitchen, one about money and divorces and you. The shouting continued for ages, until you heard one statement, loud and clear.

“Think about this, she’s getting good in those karting competitions of hers, and according to other parents she could go really far in this thing and get money from sponsorships and mentors. So let’s just give it a little time, make sure she gets better and gets paid, and the money will go to us and eventually she’ll leave to Formula- whatever and we won’t have to worry about her”

You put your pillow over your head, turned around, and went to sleep sobbing that night.

From then on, there was no ‘I love you’s’ or kisses goodbye even to you, and eventually, no happiness in your house. The ‘other parents’ were right, the older you got, the farther you looked to go in racing. Just before you turned 13, the three of you moved to a city in England so you could pursue karting further, and that’s when it all got worse.

You competed in countless competitions, and every race you won, the more criticism you got from your mom and dad. The second you stepped off the 1st place podium, your parents were waiting to comment on your driving and the techniques you should’ve used to win.

They never let you focus on anything but karting, letting you go nowhere but the track and to school, and made sure you were always looking for ways to get better. They ruthlessly compared you to kids in other series that were performing better than you, and countered every compliment someone gave you with a complaint.

All of this seemed like a dream compared to the treatment you got when you lost. Whether it be second, or tenth, every race you didn’t come first in was a loss, and your parents simply didn’t accept this.

When you lost, they’d make you practice on track for twice as long, no matter the weather, and berated you the second you started to complain. They limited your diet after your losses, claiming you needed to be lighter if you wanted the kart to go faster.

Your mother and father gave you this relentless attention with anything regarding racing, but the moment the topic drifted, you were neglected. There were no family dinners or movie nights, if you wanted something, you were going to have to buy it with your own money, and if you wanted to go somewhere, you needed to walk or find a ride because they refused to drive you anywhere if it wasn’t for a race.

There was no other family to go to even when things go impossibly rougher; you had no other relatives in the UK, and you couldn’t exactly ask your friends if you could live with them.

So you endured these conditions, all the way through the F4 British Championship, F3 and F2. You turned 18 while you were in Formula 2, and the second you did, you took the little money you had, and rented an apartment in South England, where you’ve been living ever since.

Your parents constantly contacted you in whatever ways they could, but you very quickly made sure they didn’t know where you lived and were never given paddock passes again. No one knows any of this anyway; when people ask where your parents are or when they’d get to meet them, you just shrug and say, “they couldn’t make it”

You haven’t seen your parents in person since you were 17, and you’ve done everything in your power to keep it like that.

Though with a few thousand words and 4 hours, one nosy journalist has managed to unravel all your work and growth and release it into the world.

You’re broken out of your stunned silence when Ally puts a hand on your shoulder. “I’ve set up a meeting with Alpha Tauri and Red Bull’s PR managers so we could figure out what we should do next to keep the press off your back, okay? The meeting’s in fifteen meetings, so I’ll leave you for a while”

Ally takes her phone back and exits the room to leave you standing still in the middle of it, astonished and speechless.

The meeting goes as well as you expected it to go. You shared as much as the truth as you saw fit, and came up with a statement to post with the rest of the PR managers. You were confirmed to go back to the media pen to finish interviews an hour later, and while no one asked you about the article, you could tell it was the unanswered question they all wanted to raise.

You are able to avoid most of the press of the remaining of the Italian weekend, and stuck to answering race-related questions only, your safest and only option, Ally told you later. You finished the Grand Prix P10, and flew home still sullen.

You spent the two weeks in between Monza and Japan in your apartment, regretfully thinking about all those years you had to spend under your parent’s treatment, and trying to forget them with simulator work.

You arrive in Suzuka, quiet and unsmiling, and try to ignore the shouting of the press that greets you on your way into the paddock. Ally guides you away as two new voices greet you.

“Hey Y/n, how are you?” Lewis asks, pulling you into a side hug and stepping into place beside you.

“Are you okay? You seem off” Charles says concerned, meeting you in a handshake.

“I’m fine, my flight just got in late last night so I’m tired, that’s all” You half smiled in response, hoping it was believable enough.

“Sure?” Lewis presses father. “Yeah, I’m okay” You nod.

“Okay, well, we’re still going into the city after media today?” Lewis asks. “Of course, I’ll meet you guys at my hotel after” You assure as you near the Alpha Tauri garage.

“See you then, and try to sleep a bit, yes?” Charles says before the two men walk off together.

Your friendship with the two drivers started because of the Spanish and British Grand Prix’s, the two races that gave you your two highest race finishes, and ended with two of your closest friends. Spain was a great race for both you and Lewis, yourself in P4, him in P2, and after non-stop talking in the paddock, you flew back to the UK together, effectively starting the friendship existing today.

You’d been friendly with Charles previously, but after his P9 finish in Silverstone and your P5 finish, he realized in a conversation before an interview that you were undeniably good at cheering people up, and you guys have been close since.

You’ve talked with them since Monza, of course, but not about the article. They want to talk to you about it, you can tell, but Charles and Lewis aren’t the type of people to just come right out and ask if you’re feeling okay about your history with your abusive parents being exposed to the world.

They also don’t want to pressure you into talking about something you clearly don’t want to talk about, so if all they can do is help distract you from the media, they’re going to.

Your night out with the Mercedes and Ferrari drivers does distract you; Lewis leads you and Charles to different shops and restaurants all over Suzuka, talking and laughing the entire time. You take a few photos along the way, and you go back to your hotel still smiling.

You kept your good mood until qualifying on Saturday, and are brought back into the reality of racing when you only manage P11. It’s technically not bad of a result for your car, but P9 or P8 would’ve been better right now, because all you can think about is what your parents would’ve said if you finished P11.

They’re paying you millions of dollars to race for them and the best you can do is eleventh?

You think you deserve to be here?

They are hundreds of other drivers that would do so much better than you

You are nothing compared to the other drivers

You’re lucky if you keep you seat next season, I know I wouldn’t let a P11 driver on my team

You go quiet at the thought, and get through post-race media stoic. You leave with your trainer as soon as you can, avoiding Lewis and Charles’s eyes on your way out. You have a week before you have to leave for Qatar, and spend a countless amount of hours on your simulator, hoping this time it’ll make a difference.

You flew into Lusail not knowing what to expect other than hot weather, and unfortunately you were right. You felt the heat as soon as you got in your car for FP1 on Friday and was already dreading the rest of the weekend.

You qualify P11 for both the race and the sprint, and end up in P12 for the two. You felt terrible after Sunday’s race, both physically and mentally, and you’re already berating yourself for your performance by the time you get weighed.

Charles and Lewis are in your post-race press conference group, and you can see them exchange a look after every cold and detached answer you give. You only stop to talk to your friends for a few minutes afterwards before you excuse yourself to go cool down, and leave minutes later with the defense of needing rest.

You fly back to the UK with Lewis, and you’re glad the two of you are asleep for most of the trip so Lewis won’t ask you to talk about why you’ve been so quiet.

The 10 days you have until you fly out to Austin are spent mostly on your phone, looking at all the comments people have been making about you since the article came out, saying how you probably deserved the treatment that you got, and how Alpha Tauri needs a more “stable” driver if they want to advance in the championship.

You don’t do much except exercise and train on the sim in those days, finding neither the desire or energy to do anything else.

Even though everyone is happy to be in Texas that week, you can’t find the energy to truly smile once that weekend. Charles and Lewis are practically stuck to your side, and even though you can tell they’re dying to ask you to talk about it, they only ask a few times if you wanted to tell them something, and when you denied, and simply offered companionship through silence.

It’s another sprint race, and you only pull off P12 and 13 for qualifying and the shootout, and drop a place by the end of both races.

You feel more frustrated with yourself than ever; you don’t understand why you can’t work with the car like you once used to, and you can’t even figure out how to again. You were doing so well until that fucking article came out, and all the sudden you don’t know how to drive.

The worst part about it is that every race, more and more people are realizing how you’ve been under-performing, and how people are starting to question your ability to drive for the junior Red Bull team.

You aren’t stupid, you know how things work at Red Bull, so you know that if you don’t pick your pace up soon, you could end up without a seat for the 2024 season.

This thought alone starts to destroy you, and soon you can’t even deny how burnt out you are. You pick up on the forced habit of not eating much, and making yourself to do nothing but train and look for ways to be better.

You spend the days before Mexico with data analysts and strategists, looking for any and every way to go faster. You dedicate too much time looking at successful F2 drivers, hearing Liam Lawson’s name come up too much for comfort, thinking about how Dennis Hauger had been looking fast in F2.

It’s a terribly unhealthy time killer, one that makes you look sick and go quiet. Charles and Lewis aren’t the only ones exchanging concerned looks now; multiple other drivers on the grid, friends with you or not, notice the change in your behavior and quickly grow worried when they hear Yuki’s description of you.

The drivers aren’t stupid either, they all know about the article that was published in September, and most of them would be lying if they said they hadn’t looked at it in curiosity. They’d also be lying if they saw their eyes didn’t widen in concern or eyebrows didn’t furrow with worry when they read how terrible your parents treated you.

The grid saw how the comments got nastier and nastier under your lessening social media posts every day, and even asked your PR officer multiple times to make sure she was managing your accounts and making sure you didn’t see what people had to say about your background or yourself.

They saw how you got quieter every race, how you stopped hanging out with Yuki and Charles and Lewis, no matter how many times they offered. They saw the rumors of you and your 2024 seat, how apparently Helmut Marko was paying close attention to you and the clauses in your contract.

They asked a lot, if you wanted to talk or if they could help in any way. It was always the same response; a weary smile, a small shake of the head, the words,“No, I’m fine, just tired” and an excuse that you were needed in your garage or media pen.

So they try to help in more discreet ways; when Yuki is asked about your position on Alpha Tauri or your future with Red Bull, he calmly assures that you are working hard with the team, and is doing everything possible to understand the car.

Charles, Lewis, and a few other drivers make a routine of coming to your driver’s room, most of the time just to sit with you as you look at data, or talk with you when you’re feeling up to it.

Mexico goes somehow worse than Texas, and you finish with your lowest result in F1 yet, P15. You try to be as approachable as possible in post-race media, but your sullen face gives you away.

You leave with Ally and your trainer to catch your flight to Brazil mere hours after you passed the checkered flag, and spend most of your time in Sau Paulo alone in your hotel room, replaying every hurtful comment either your mother and father or fans have said about you, and debating whether or not it was true.

You walk into the Brazilian paddock Thursday morning more grateful than you thought possible that this was the third-to-last race of your season.

And according to over twenty media sources, your third-to last race of F1.

After a public statement made by Marko talking about how Red Bull was “considering your future with their junior team” every journalist in the F1 community has decided that it means this was your last season in F1.

And honestly, you couldn’t find it in yourself to care. Whether you raced in 2024 or not, you just wanted to go home and avoid the press for three months.

It was another sprint weekend, and another terrible qualifying and shootout. You placed 15th in both sessions and kept your place in the sprint, and spent a quiet Saturday evening in your hotel.

You could feel almost every journalists eye’s turn to you as soon as you walked into the paddock on Sunday. You arrived early that afternoon to get some extra data-stuff done, only now realizing that it gave the growing group of reporters behind you more time to ask you questions.

“Y/n! Can you tell us about your future in F1?”

“Will you have a seat next year?

“Y/n, what does Helmut Marko think about your decrease in performance?”

“Does your past with your parents have anything to do with your recent race results?”

You try to keep your face emotionless as you make your way into the Alpha Tauri garage and to your drivers room. You prepare for the race with your personal trainer and look over the arranged strategies for Sau Paulo while you wait for the go-ahead to get in your car.

Due to all the crashed-out cars, you ended the race in P12 in front of Oscar Piastri and Daniel Ricciardo. Statistically speaking, it was one of your better 2023 races, but everyone knows if it wasn’t for all the DNF’s, you’d finish in the bottom five.

You know that everyone knows this because just before you walked into the media pen after your race debrief, you saw Christian Horner and Marko speaking to your team principle, and after Yuki’s P9 finish today, it didn’t take you even a second to understand who they were talking about with disappointed faces and multiple shakes of the head.

Sure, this could mean nothing. This could just be a conversation between the three people that control the top team and it’s junior team. But you also like to think you’re a bit smarter than that.

You walked deeper into the crowded area before the three could see you, and walked to the first open journalist you saw, in hopes of leaving early.

“Y/n, hi! Not too bad of a race for you today, I guess?” The man asked, pointing his microphone towards you

“Yeah, not too bad. The car felt pretty okay and there was a bit of pace, but not enough to overtake or anything, clearly” You reply.

“Can we expect more race pace from you in Las and Vegas and Abu Dhabi?”

“I mean, it’s a bit too early to tell, but we’ll hope and see what comes out out of the practices” The man nods before looking down at his notebook.

“And your seat for Alpha Tauri next year, we know you’re apart of the confirmed driver lineup for 2024 but Helmut Marko states that there are attainable clauses in your contract, what do you think about that?”

You’re caught off guard by the question, but right when you’re about to respond, the man continues.

“Surely, Alpha Tauri isn’t really considering keeping you for next season, are they?”

You’re standing in front of the man speechless now, your brain barely comprehending what’s being spoken.

“Because I know the last thing a team wants is an incapable driver that is too emotionally effected by her “traumatic” childhood to race,” the volume of his voice starts to increase, and other drivers are starting to focus on your one-sided conversation.

“I mean, c’mon, no one even believes that even happened to you, and if it did, your parents were probably right for doing it-”

Your hands are shaking, eyes are wide with shock, body suddenly freezing, and you don’t even think you’re breathing. All you can do is listen as this man goes on and on about how you’re a shitty driver and deserved how your parents treated you.

You’re only broken out of your trance when an arm clad in red wraps around your shoulders and pulls you through the paddock. You’re not even aware of the yelling from a certain Mercedes drivers gets quieter and quieter as you’re brought into your driver’s room.

You’re being sat on a couch, and suddenly Charles Leclerc’s face is right in front of you, hands on your shoulders and eyes filled with concerned. “Y/n? Y/n, look at me, please, Y/n-” Your eyes dart to him and in an instant, everything from the past five minutes comes rushing through your head, and you can’t stop the tears that start to fall down your face.

“Oh, Y/n” The Ferrari driver moves to comfort you, but stops as you begin to cover your face and move away.

“No, Y/n, it’s okay, please, let me help you, Y/n” Charles wraps his arms around you in a hug as your body begins to shake with uncontrollable sobs.

“I can’t- I can’t do this anymore, Charles” You say in between breaths.

“I have to quit or something, I can’t keep doing this Charles, I can’t” You let your head fall on his shoulder, as the man tries to calm you down.

Charles’ heart is breaking as he comforts his friend; he remembers loving his first few years in Formula 1, how everything was so new and exciting to him, he could never not want to race, not then and not now. But to hear one of his closest friends breakdown because of how much she hates being there, makes the man’s heart shatter.

The door abruptly opens, and for a moment, all you can hear is the low angry cursing of Lewis Hamilton, until he sees you and Charles, and his face immediately softens.

“Love, I’m so sorry. That guy is a complete jerk, don’t listen to him” The British man says as he takes a seat beside you and wraps an arm around your shoulders.

“I don’t know what to do anymore, I feel so stuck in this place where everyone is always talking about what happened and I don’t know how much longer I can go through it” You say, your voice breaking off with another sob.

Charles hushes you once more, exchanging a worried look with Lewis as you pull away from him again. “I’m sorry, I know I should be doing better and everything but I just can’t-” You say, voice shaky through the tears.

“Don’t for one second be sorry that you’re not competitive right now. Y/n, thousands of people are talking about the one thing that hurt you the most, and I understand why you feel this way, just please, love, for your own good, let us help you. I promise it will make you feel better” Lewis assures, grabbing your hand.

So for the first time, you do. For over an hour, you tell Charles and Lewis everything that happened when you were younger, and how the article has made you feel since then. They listen quietly, nodding once in a while to let you know they understand, and gave you a hug when you stopped talking.

“Do you feel better now?” Lewis asks.

“Yeah, not entirely, but better”

“Good, that’s all I wanted to hear,”

“Are you ready to go home now? There’s a plane waiting for us, if you want”

“Definitely. I need to go home” You say as Charles helps pack up all your things and Lewis makes sure there’s a car waiting for you two outside. As you’re all walking through the nearly-empty paddock, Charles turns to you.

“I have to go back to my garage, but please Y/n, if you ever need to talk, call me? I want to help you, I don’t want to see you like this again” The Monegasque brings you into a hug.

“I know, Charles, I will” You promise.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas, yes? Feel better!” He calls as he moves backwards and further into the paddock.

“You promise?”

Lewis asks you hours later in the front of the airport in England, just about to get into separate cars.

“Yes, Lewis, I’ll call when I need” You say to the older man in a hug.

“Alright, text me when you’ve made it home and make sure you get some rest. Don’t be too hard on yourself either, you don’t give yourself enough credit for everything you do” You smile at him.

“Okay, I’ll see you before Vegas?”

“See you before Vegas!” He shouts from his already-closed car door.

When you do see the two next, they make sure you’ve made an appointment with a therapist and are setting up a meeting with your PR manager to put together a statement in regards to your well-being the past two months.

Charles and Lewis make sure the media inside the paddock is severely monitored and checked before being allowed near the drivers, and help you fall back into healthier habits.

These changes don’t happen overnight, and they don’t take affect overnight, but you do use the winter off season to make sure these changes are helpful and working.

The three month break is utilized to mentally and physically prepare yorself in time for your 2024 seat at Alpha Tauri that was re-confirmed after your P8 finishes in Las Vegas and Abu Dhabi.

The media still knows everything, and you haven’t completely forgotten your childhood, you never will, but dealing with it still gets easier.

#formula 1 #reader insert #driver reader #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #female driver reader #comfort fic #angst with a happy ending #angst #please look at trigger warning before you read #lewis hamilton #charles lecrelc #platonic lewis hamilton #platonic charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #lewis hamilton x reader

2K notes · View notes

whatdoeseverybodywant · 1 month ago

Text

"It's Always Been You"

This is #1 out of 10 of my Phrase Series, hope you all enjoy! ❤️

Thank you @queeny23 for the phrase!

I do NOT give permission for my work to be translated or reposted on here or any other site, even if you give me credit. DO NOT REPOST MY FICS

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

All OC Characters belong to me

Word Count: 3.1k

“Can I get you anything else?’ Melanie Greg broke out of her daydream at the bartender's voice. She gently shook her head, pulled her wallet out of her bag, and handed the bartender her debit card.

She looked around the restaurant with a small frown on her face. She hated the holidays. Here she was, a 39-year-old, freshly divorced woman, spending the holidays without her kids for the first time since they were born.

She sighed as her eyes fell on a family of four sitting in the corner booth. They were all matching and had genuine smiles on their faces, it reminded her of what her life used to be before it all went to shit.

Melanie barely noticed the man sitting down next to her at first. Her attention was still fixed on the family across the room, their matching sweaters and easy smiles a reminder of everything she no longer had. She sighed again and tried to tear her gaze away from the family.

“Nah Uce, fuck that” His voice was loud, full of frustration, cutting through the hum of holiday chatter around them. “I’m not coming back until she fucking leaves.”

Melanie watched out the corner of her eyes as someone flopped down on the chair next to her at the bar.

“We talked and she fuckin’ promised not to do that fuck shit tonight. It’s Christmas Eve for crying out loud!”

Melanie froze as she was about to sip the rest of her drink. It can’t be she thought, eyes wide as she turned her head to the left of her. Her eyes were wide as she took him in, no longer the scrawny teenager with the pencil mustache that took him months to grow. Joshua Fatu had grown up and the years had been VERY kind to him.

His broad shoulders filled the space at the bar, his athletic frame undeniably more solid than she remembered. The same dark eyes, the same familiar face—but with sharper edges, a defined jawline, and a confidence that hadn’t been there when they were kids. He was a man now, not the awkward teenager who’d been the subject of teasing for his failed attempts at facial hair.

The tattoos that peeked from under the sleeves of his black Nike hoodie only added to the transformation.

Her pulse quickened, and before she could stop herself, she blurted, “Joshua?”

His head snapped toward her, and his expression shifted from frustration to surprise. He blinked, his eyes scanning her for a moment as if he, too, wasn’t sure if he was seeing things clearly. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, and he leaned back in his chair.

“Oh shit.” He laughed, standing up from his chair and opening his arms for a hug, his phone conversation forgotten. She laughed as she stood from her seat and walked into his awaiting arms. “Damn Mel. It’s been a minute.” He mumbled into her hair, rocking them from side to side.

She melted into his arms and it was like the past 14 years didn’t happen. The hug was over way too quick for her liking.

“Man, whatchu doin’ back in Pensacola?” Jey asked, leaning back with a grin.

Melanie’s smile faltered, “Oh, uhh. I’m here visiting my parents for the holidays.”

Jey nodded and brought his hand up to his chin to scratch his beard. He let his eyes travel down her body his eyes locked on her now bare ring finger and he couldn’t help the look of surprise that came over his features. His eyes flickered up to hers. Before he could open his mouth to say anything, his phone started ringing. “Fuck.” He muttered as he remembered he was on the phone.

“Give me one second.” He said answering the phone while looking at her. “Don’t go nowhere.” Melanie let a giggle and nodded, her amusement evident in her expression

“Wassup Uce.” He said as he brought the phone up to his face indicating that it was a Facetime call.

“Whatchu mean wassup?!” The unmistakable voice of Josh’s twin Jon came through the phone. “You just hung up on me.”

She let out a giggle as Josh sucked his teeth. “Cause you was pissing me off, but hold up, hold up, look who I ran into!” He turned the phone around, tilting it just enough for Jon to see Melanie standing next to him. “Mel, say hi to Uce.”

Jon’s eyes were wide as he looked at Melanie. “Ain’t no fuckin’ way! Melanie?!?!”

“Hey Jon.” She replied with a tiny wave. It was like no time had passed between the trio.

“Girl, whatchu’ doin' all the way over here?! Thought you were living it up in Cali with that big-time movie producer.”

Melanie winced slightly and cleared her throat. “ I just decided to come see my folks for the holidays.” She absentmindedly started rubbing her bare ring finger, Josh noticed but didn’t say anything.

“Well, shoot. If you not doing anything later on, My mom would love to see you. You know she still is going on and on about how you were the one that -” Jon was cut off by Josh hurriedly hanging the phone up and stuffing it into the pocket of his hoodie. When she looked up at Josh his cheeks were starting to turn a pinkish shade and he was scratching the back of his neck.

“Ahem,” He cleared his throat. “Don’t listen to him... I mean not about the coming over part, you can come over just uh about the other part..” He trailed off and Melanie couldn’t help the smirk that came over her features.

“It’s cool.” she laughed. “I would love to see your mom again. Is that where you’re going now?”

Josh nodded. “Yeah. Same house from when we were kids.”

“Okay. I’ll Uber over there.”

Josh sucked his teeth, “Girl, stop playin’. You know you can come with me.”

Melanie bit her lip and shrugged. “I don’t know..” she trailed off. “ I don’t want to get you into any trouble with your wife.”

Josh snorted and held up his left hand which was bare of any jewelry. “I ain't worried bout that.”

Melanie’s eyes widened a bit. “Oh shit, my bad Josh. I didn’t-”

“Nah Mel, you cool I promise. Now let's go before Jon’s big ass eat all the food.” She let out a laugh and grabbed her card that the bartender had put down on the bar top and placed it in her bag. She put her bag on her shoulder and let Josh lead her out of the bar, holding her hand.

Melanie didn’t know why she was so nervous. The butterflies in her stomach kept intensifying the closer they got to Josh's mom's house. She was about to tell him that she needed to get back to her parents when the front door opened and Talisua greeted them with a big smile.

“Oh, Mel hunny, It’s so good to see you!” She said, pulling Melanie into a tight hug. “Now, you on the other hand,” Talisua said as she glared at Josh over Mel’s shoulder. “Don’t you ever slam my door like that again, you hear me?”

“Yes Ma’am” Josh replied rolling his eyes as Melanie started to snicker.

She let Talisua lead her into the house. Mel let out an oof as a body collided with her and she was picked off the ground and spun into a circle.

“Damn lil Mel, look at you all grown and shit.”

Melanie rolled her eyes. She broke away from Jon and went to hug their younger brother Joseph who introduced her to his wife Alima and their two boys Jaden and Joseph Jr. She looked around the living room to see if she recognized any more familiar faces but froze when she noticed someone glaring at her. She took a step back and bumped into Jon who was in the middle of talking with Joseph and Alima.

“Don’t worry about her. Same ole mean girl from high school. Ashley just pissed because Josh divorced her ass.” Jon finished rolling his eyes at Josh’s ex-wife. “You hungry?” He added at the end and Mel nodded. “C’mon, you can meet my wife Trinity.”

Melanie felt so out of place sitting at the dinner table between Josh and Jon. Ashley was sitting directly across from her, just glaring.

“So Mel,” Talisua started. “How have you been sweetie? Last I heard you were in California.”

“Yeah. I just came down here to visit my parents.” Melanie replied with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

“Oh, that’s nice,” Talisua said, clearly pleased. “I’m sure your parents are thrilled to have you home.”

Ashley scoffed and everyone turned their attention to her.

“Don’t start your mess, Ashley. Not in front of my kids.” His gaze flicked to his two boys who were sitting at the kids' table with their cousins.

“Our Kids,” Ashley said as she kept her attention on Melanie. She had noticed the absence of her wedding ring and she was going to bring it up. “Speaking of kids…” She trailed off, placing her elbow on the table and resting her chin on her fist. “Don’t you have some? Why are you not with them and what happened to your wedding ring?”

Melanie shifted in her seat as she felt some of Josh’s family look her way.

“I mean, y'all were all over The Shaderoom last month for your husband's movie premiere, looking like the perfect little family.”

Melanie felt Josh stiffen beside her and heard Jon whisper “Aw hell”. She cleared her throat and sat up a little straighter in her chair.

“Some things never change huh?” Melanie chuckled under her breath shaking her head. “Good to see you been keeping up with my life though,” Melaine said as she winked at Ashley.

Ashley narrowed her eyes at Melanie and straightened up in her chair. Not one to back down from a fight, Ashley smiled before saying. “I mean, y’all looked like the perfect family in that photo.”

“Looks can be deceiving.” Melanie shrugged.

“Really?” Ashley scoffed. “You still pretending everything’s fine? I saw the way your ‘perfect family’ crumbled. Pretty fast, too. Must’ve been rough.” She dragged out the last word, trying to stick the knife in.

“Man, will you chill?” Josh said. Shaking his head at Ashley. “You doin’ too much”

Ashley scoffed. “I’m so over this. Do you know how many times I caught him scrolling through her Instagram page while we were married?!” She said glaring at Josh before turning her attention back to Melanie. “When you broke his heart and left, I picked up the pieces. I helped bring him out that funk he was in!”

Melanie snuck a glance at Josh. He was staring a hole through Ashley, his jaw was tight and his fists clenched at his sides. “Leave.” Josh snarled out, lip curling as he tried to hold back from yelling at Ashley in front of their kids.

Ashley rolled her eyes and finished her wine before standing up from the table and leaving the room. Melanie felt Jon wince as the front door slammed, signaling Ashley’s departure. Talisua took a deep breath before picking up the rolls in the basket on the table. “Rolls anyone?”

After Ashley had left, the rest of the dinner went smoothly, and Melanie was grateful nobody brought up her or Josh’s disaster of a marriage again. She was sitting on the couch in the living room with Trinity as the two got to know each other. She felt someone looking at her. She looked over and immediately locked eyes with Josh, who was standing on the other side of the room talking with his brothers.

Once they locked eyes, Josh hurriedly immediately looked away. Melanie let out a soft chuckle and her stomach flipped as the butterflies started fluttering as she turned her attention back to Trinity.

“What you gonna do about that?” Josh blinked, he looked up from his beer bottle and noticed that all three of his brothers were staring at him.

“What?” He asked, lip curling as he glared at the three of them.

“Aint nobody scared of you Uce. What you gon do about Melanie?” Jon said as he cut his eyes over to Melanie who was now talking with Trinity and Alima. “You know what moms always said” Jon paused as he tried to remember the quote his momma used to say to them. “Some shit about destiny.” Josh rolled his rolled his eyes but remained silent. “Uce, do you remember how tore up you was when she left? How it took months to get you out the house? This is your chance. Both of y’all are single... There’s nothing in the way. Y’all being at the same bar tonight was destiny.”

Josh bit his lip as he let Jon’s words sink in. He finished off the rest of his beer and handed the empty bottle to Jon before slowly walking over to Melanie and his sisters-in-law. He felt his heart start to pound in his chest as the three of them stopped talking when they noticed him walking closer. Alima and Trinity were trying to hide the smiles on their faces.

“Y’all mind if I steal Mel for a minute?”

Alima and Trinity exchanged quick glances before shaking their heads in unison. "Go ahead," Alima said, a teasing glint in her eye. "She’s all yours."

Josh held his hand out for Melanie to take and once she did he helped her to her feet before leading her outside, towards the backyard where the bonfire was lit. The butterflies had returned to her stomach tenfold. They both were silent as they made their way to the bonfire. Josh had no idea what he was going to say to Melanie. He kicked his Nike slides off before sitting down on one of the blankets. He watched as Melanie took off her shoes and sat down right next to him.

“I missed being in Pensacola,” Melanie said after a while. Josh hadn’t taken his eyes off her since they sat down. She was looking up at the stars in the sky with a soft smile on her face. “Missed being around my family.”

“Yeah,” Josh asked, still looking at her. “You could’ve came back.”

“I was…” She trailed off. “Y’know after you called.” Josh’s breath hitched in his throat. He remembered the day he called vividly. It was a moment of weakness about fourteen years ago. He had overhead that his younger sister Stasi had gotten back in contact with Melanie and Josh had begged Stasi for Mel’s number and once he finally got it, he had dialed the number but couldn’t find it in him to actually press the call button. It took him hours to work up the courage to call and when he did he was a bit drunk. An angry and drunk Josh was not a good combination. After he had aired his frustrations out about her leaving, he begged her to come home, to come back to Pensacola so they could pick up where they left off.

“Do you remember what you said?” She asked and he nodded immediately. “You said that If I really loved you, that if you ever meant anything to me, I should come home and you would forgive me for leaving you.”

“I was drunk,” Josh whispered.

“I know,” Melanie smiled. “I had my bags packed and I was waiting for Ryan to come home and by sheer coincidence, my doctor called.” She quickly reached up to wipe the tears that had just escaped her eyes. “I had found out I was pregnant with McKenzie that day, and when I had called you back, Ashley had answered.” Melanie kept her gaze focused on the fire. “She told me that y’all were getting married in a couple of weeks and I needed to move on with my life and then she hung up.”

“Mel…” Josh trailed off, not knowing what to say. That phone call was a moment of weakness. He was weeks away from getting married to Ashley but he couldn’t shake the feeling that he was making a big mistake, once he heard that Stasi was in contact with Melanie he felt like he had a chance to fix it and when he never heard from Melanie again he had tried to move on with his life.

“I never stopped loving you,” Melanie whispered and Josh closed his eyes and let out a deep breath. “You were my first everything I was willing to give up my life with Ryan to be with you.”

“I never stopped loving you either. I tried… I tried so hard to move on but.” Josh stopped talking and stood to his feet. He grabbed Melanie’s hand and pulled her up. He pulled her close so he was looking into her eyes. “It’s always been you.”

The air between them grew thick with everything unsaid, all the years of separation, pain, and yearning. Melanie’s breath caught in her throat. She wanted to speak, to say everything that was flooding her mind, but her words got caught in her throat. He moved a little closer, closing the gap between them, his forehead just barely grazing hers. “I missed you Mel, and I’m not going to pass up another moment with you.”

Melanie let her gaze fall from his eyes to his lips and she nodded. “I don’t wanna pass up another moment with you neither Josh.” He smiled and leaned close to her, their lips were almost touching when she whispered. “I just put a down payment on my house. I’m moving back to Pensacola.” Josh's eyes widened with surprise and joy. Without another word, he closed the final distance between them, capturing Melanie's lips in a passionate kiss. Years of pent-up desire flooded through them as their mouths moved together urgently.

Melanie's fingers tangled in Josh's hair, pulling him closer as his hands roamed down her back. They broke away from each other and jumped slightly when someone banging on the sliding glass backdoor that looked out into the backyard startled them.

“THAT'S WHAT THE FUCK I’M TALKING ABOUT!” Jon was looking out at them with a big ass smile on his face. He gave his brother a thumbs-up before he was pulled away by Trinity.

Melanie rolled her eyes at Jon’s antics before pressing her body back against Josh’s and leaning in for another kiss, this one was slower, deeper, filled with the promise of all the moments they'd missed and all the ones yet to come.

Author's Note: Whew... finally part one of the Phrase Series is out!

❤ Reblogs, comments, likes, and feedback ALWAYS appreciated ❤

🏷️: @paigereeder @harmshake @empressdede @theninthwonder @jaethaone

@mzv11 @shantinextdoor @sheydnni @xmonetsworld @christinabae

@southerngirl41 @reci1996 @alyyaanna @li-da-savage @kill-the-artiste

@trashbin-nie @adoreesun @shayaaaaaaa @bebesobrielo @rianasixx

@kat3457 @queeny23 @cyberdejos2 @justazzi @jstarr86

@sabrina-carpenter-stan-account @vampygomez @msbigredmachine @ashykneee @callmekayd

@yana3sworld @romansthrone @alichesmi @amandairene88 @scarlettnoir01

@bonni-98 @sassginamillls @rebelrel0987 @aikosilo @vibessonvibes

@tbmotw @nayys-world @partypoison00 @bookuce

#wwe #wwe fanfiction #jey uso x reader #jey uso x fem reader #jey uso x black reader #jey uso x black oc #wwe x black oc #wwe x black reader #jey uso fanfiction #jey uso imagine #phrase series

305 notes · View notes

educatedsimps · 9 months ago

Note

Aww I can't get over how amazing this blog is. Your fics are incredible, you're all so talented 🫶🏻 May I please request a Kenma x fem reader fic where we're married and have a little boy together who's like Kenma's double? I'm a sucker for cute domestic fluff and I just think you'd write husband and dad!Kenma perfectly. I hope that request is alright. Thank you so much! I hope you all have a lovely day ❤️

≪ back to fics masterlist

kozume kenma x f!reader

a/n: hi anonn thank you for sending in a request and we're so glad you like our works! i'm a sucker for cute domestic fluff too so i was pretty excited writing this request hehe, HOPE YOU LIKE IT :)

cw: domestic freaking fluff, reader's called mom, a lil surprise at the end

"Kaito! Time's up!" Your voice echoed down the hallway of your penthouse.

Sighing, you padded over to the game room with half a mind to throw the PS5 away for good. Giving the door two solid knocks, you opened the door to reveal your husband and son in the middle of a video game.

Kenma and Kaito were seated next to each other in their gaming chairs with their house slippers on the floor. With sock-clad feet, both of them had one leg tucked under them while the other leg was propped up on the armrest. They even wore matching Kodzuken hoodies and had the same hunch in their backs.

Kaito's cat-like eyes were laser focused on the screens in front of him (he got it from his dad), darting from point to point every second while his thumbs flew across the console in his hands. His concentration was unmatched and his avatar seemed to be holding up pretty well. Kenma, on the other hand, didn't have the same level of focus as his eight year old son - this level of the game was nothing to him.

Noticing your presence, your husband's gaze met yours and a small smile appeared on his face. The clacking of the console in his hands continued as he spoke, "Hey, babe, we're just finishing up the game."

"I'll be right there, Ma," came your son's monotone reply. You raised an eyebrow.

The clacking of the consoles continued and sound effects from the on-screen battle intensified.

"Kaito."

"Just ten more minutes, please? We're in the middle of a game- SHIT, DAD, HELP ME-"

"Kozume Kaito."

Kenma's eyes flitted over to you once again. Seeing your figure by the doorway with your arms crossed and eyes narrowed at the two of them, he chuckled knowingly before discreetly winking at you. You hummed in response.

So cute, Kenma thought.

Within seconds, he had absolutely destroyed their opponents and a congratulatory message popped up onscreen with confetti in the background. Kaito's eyes widened and he looked at his dad in awe. With matching smirks on their faces, Kenma and his little clone exchanged a swift handshake before your son hopped out of his chair and made his way towards you.

Raising your eyebrows, you looked at him expectantly. With a sheepish look on his face, he mumbled, "I know. School night. Sorry, Ma, I got carried away."

"I know you wanna be as amazing as your old man one day, but you still gotta get through school first, got it? After that, you can do whatever you wanna do. Now, listen to your mom, go brush your teeth and then it's straight to bed, okay?" came Kenma's voice. You nodded in agreement.

"Okay. Goodnight, dad," Kaito replied, sighing heavily. Approaching the door, he tiptoed to plant a kiss on your cheek and greeted you goodnight. You ruffled his hair in response.

Bending down, he placed a kiss on your baby bump and whispered, "G'night, lil sis. Once you're born, I'll play games with you till midnight everyday. I promise."

You watched as he shuffled off to the bathroom to do his business and you felt Kenma's warm hands wrap gently around your torso. The digital clock on the wall read 10:32pm. Rubbing your belly, your husband buried his face in the side of your neck.

The penthouse was now quiet except for the running of the faucet and the muffled sounds of Kaito brushing his teeth. Placing a hand over Kenma's, you stood there in silence for a while, soaking in the peacefulness.

The aggressive honk of a car on the streets below jolted you out of your thoughts.

"Babe, what time's your zoom meeting with the Russian investors?"

"Uh... 11pm," Kenma mumbled.

"Then you need to go get ready for it," You urged, lightly nudging his lean body off of you.

Kenma's phone buzzed in his pocket. Checking his notifications, he sighed, "Yeah, you're right. Yaku's already pestering me about it. He's not even the one presenting, he's just helping me translate stuff, but he seems more nervous than me."

Giggling, you gave him a peck on the lips before waddling over to the kitchen. "I'll have some instant ramen ready for you once you're done with it, okay?"

Kenma hummed, "Thanks, sunshine. I'll let you know once I'm done with the meeting. I love you."

"I love you too!" You called from down the hallway.

#educated.simps #lyssa.writes #haikyuu x reader #simps.write #haikyuu!!#haikyuu fluff #yves.edits #kozume kenma #kenma kozume #hq kenma #kenma x reader #kozume kenma x reader #kenma fluff #kenma x reader fluff

433 notes · View notes

lixies-favorite-cookie · 5 months ago

Text

𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥?・l.f.

— You never once thought you would meet Lee Felix, especially not while watching an edit of his abs

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠・lee felix x fem!reader // 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞𝐬・fluff, crack, first meetings // 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬・723 // 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬・an obscene amount of the word fuck, felix is lowkey really flirty, felix is described as being your "teenage crush" and I didn't even know they existed when I was a teenager but shhhh.

𝐚/𝐧・I wrote this on the bus, lmaoo when I was watching an edit of Felix's abs and thought, What if he saw me doing this? Then, poof, a fic was born.

"You know, it's a lot better in person."

See, out of all the silly little fantasies you had conjured up in your delulu teenage years, you had never once imagined you would meet Lee Fucking Felix while staring at an edit of his abs, hence the humiliating screech that flies from your mouth as you jump about 10 feet off the bench.

Your first reaction is, what the fuck, your second is, why are you here, and the third comes out a little like, "What the—why are you—what the actual fuck?"

It takes a solid 20 mortifying seconds for you to realize that your phone is still playing Lah Pat and Flo Milli's Rodeo during the awkward standoff—between you, the park bench, and this architectural phenomenon of a man. Cue your clamor of limbs desperately trying to shut the damn thing off. Felix’s mirth is transparent, bleeding through his splayed fingers as he uselessly tries to stifle his shocked laughter.

Words are unattainable at that moment; any sense of coherent vocabulary flies out of your gaping jaw as your expression performs facial gymnastics, trying to calculate what the hell is happening right now.

"So wait, you're like real?" you blurt, eyes narrowed like a crazy lady genuinely questioning all planes of existence.

In her defense, your honor, she just met Lee Felix. Look at the man—there's no way he exists on the same planet as us!

He blinks, utterly dumbfounded by your sudden inquiry. "Well, yeah?"

"Wow." That's all you say. Wow. What else can you say? You're still convinced this is all a simulation created by some sadistic scientist.

"What, did you just think I didn’t exist or something?" he chuckles, amber eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Well, I don’t know," you shrug. "I didn’t think I’d ever see you in real life, let alone talk to you."

"Well, I never thought I’d catch such a pretty girl watching edits of my abs in real life, but hey, here we are." His lips form an absolutely perfect smirk, and there's a moment, where his irises catch the light just right; that you can almost make out a flirtatious glint in them—

You pinch yourself—really pinch yourself. Hard. In the thigh. So hard you flinch, and it’s such a big flinch that he notices. He notices so much that he laughs—not warm chuckles, not soft giggles, but a rib-splitting, belly-doubling guffaw that makes you want to crawl into the ground and engrave on your own epigraph: "Death by Hot Guy."

"I—I’m sorry, I—I can’t—" he wheezes. "D-Did you actually just pinch yourself?" The question is purely rhetorical, but that doesn't stop your entire face from flushing about as red as Hyunjin's hair during the Maniac tour.

"Yes!! Lee Fucking Felix just called me pretty! What do you want me to do?? You’re lucky I’m even standing on my own two feet right now!!" You’re sputtering so much nonsense that even you don’t know what you’re talking about. He doesn’t seem to mind—quite the contrary, really. He gazes at you through his brow, strands of golden hair falling over his ears. His laughter fizzles out into a grin—flattered, bashful, and undeniably tender.

Is it too early to start thinking about vows?

Felix clears his throat, and you’re caught off guard by his expression: nervous yet contemplative, as if he’s battling with his next statement. With an anxious titter, he asks, "What’s your name?"

It takes a solid couple of pounding heartbeats to dislodge the answer from your throat, but when you do—“Y/N. My name is Y/N”—my, does heaven sing.

He takes a single step forward before averting his eyes in silent consideration. Whatever was stopping him isn’t anymore, because it takes him about two more steps to close the gap between you, placing a gentle hand on the slope of your shoulder. Your entire body bursts into flames.

Is this real? Is this planet Earth? Have you ever noticed that on his left cheek, if you observe long enough, you can almost make out the Little Dipper in his freckles?

"That’s a pretty name," he smiles, and you swear you see the sun. "Y/N, I was just on my way to the café. Would you like to accompany me on said adventure?"

And that, kids, is how I met your father.

haha this was so silly to write I hope you liked it even though it was a little really caotic

Wanna read something longer? read rewrite the ending in every lifetime a tale of trauma, healing, and felix finding your soul in every lifetime.

192 notes · View notes

stllmnstr · 6 months ago

Text

sacred monsters [teaser!]

pairing: lee heeseung x f reader

genre: academic rivals to lovers, vampire au, slow burn

teaser word count: 1.7k

teaser warnings: swearing

release date: saturday, august 3, 10 PM EST

soundtrack: still monster / moonstruck / lucifer - enhypen / everybody wants to rule the world - tears for fears / immortal - marina / supermassive black hole - muse / saturn - sleeping at last / everybody’s watching me (uh oh) - the neighbourhood

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

A literature student in your third year of university, you’ve been dreaming of having your writing published for as long as you can remember. With a perfect opportunity dangling at your fingertips, the only obstacle that stands in your way comes in the form of a ridiculously tall, stupidly handsome, and unfortunately, very talented writer by the name of Lee Heeseung. Unwilling to let your dream slip out of reach, you commit to being better than the aforementioned pain in your ass at absolutely everything.

But when a string of vampire attacks strikes close to your city for the first time in nearly two hundred years, publishing is suddenly the last thing on your mind. And, as you soon begin to discover, Heeseung may not quite be the person you thought he was.

note: this fic is my BABYYY so I really hope it’s well received and you all have a good time with it. it’s probably no surprise that still monster is one of my absolute favorite enha songs, and this story is essentially (my interpretation of) it in written form. this is going to be a multi-part story, and as of right now, the first part is almost ready to share. for now, enjoy this snippet!

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

Crossing a dark line through the word you just penned, you sigh.

This is the fastest you’ve put a story together in ages. It’s cohesive, and the writing is solid. Your use of metaphor is strong and concise, and the prose feels true to your identity as a writer.

But something in you withers a bit with every new word you commit to paper. It’s not that you hate your topic. If anything, it’s just that you have no stake in it at all. It doesn't feel innovative or exciting or representative of your creativity.

No matter how easily the words flow out of you, something about it just feels… flat. One dimensional.

You need something new. A different angle or an alternative perspective or… Or a fresh set of eyes.

Struck with a sudden idea, you pull out your phone, plan taking form in your mind. The literature club at your university hosts bimonthly peer review sessions, and you haven’t taken advantage of them nearly as much as you should. They’re a chance for any writer, literature major or otherwise, to come together and workshop any piece of writing of their choice.

Tapping your finger impatiently on the table, you wait for the page to load. The fall semester did end almost a week ago, so it may be a long shot. You’re not sure if the club typically holds sessions over winter break. But as you pull up the club’s calendar of events, a small smile tugs at your lips.

Luck seems to be on your side this time. It’s written there in plain, bold font that there will be a session this upcoming Friday evening. That means that if you attend the session and get some solid ideas for revision, you’ll have exactly five days to refine your draft before you present it to Professor Kim.

The idea of having not only a topic, as the schedule outlined, but an actual complete, well-written draft to show him next Wednesday, turns your small smile into one that overtakes your features.

Energized with a new vigor, you reach for your pen again. It doesn’t have to be perfect, you remind yourself, even as a turn of phrase makes you cringe. Even as a piece of punctuation feels out of place. It just needs to be written. You just need to have as much content as you can to share on Friday.

Besides, you’re sure that a second opinion will help you fine tune this story into something you’re proud to share, something you’re excited to attach your name to.

The afternoon is quick to blur into early evening, and you’re still bent over your favorite corner table. Coffee long drained, you’re full of a new confidence. The thought of proving yourself suddenly doesn’t seem like such an unachievable, out of reach task.

And when you do finally gather up all of your belongings and make your way back to your apartment for the night, you’re sure that this is the exact boost you needed.

That same stroke of self-assuredness carries you all the way through a finished first draft. It’s rough and messy and littered with loose ends, but it’s tucked away in the bottom of your tote bag with a smile as you haul it to classroom number 105 in the university liberal arts building Friday evening.

You pause at the door to the classroom, only for a moment. The inhale you breathe in is deep, full. Nodding to yourself once, you push open the door.

You haven’t been to one of these workshop sessions since the second semester of your first year, back when you had just switched to a literature major. You remember being wide-eyed and incredibly protective over your work. It was hard to part with it, to let anyone else read over the sentences you were so unsure of. The writing you had little confidence in.

But your partner had been kind. Another girl in her first year, she had nothing but gentle feedback to give and reassurance that your writing was worth reading. Honestly, it was such an overwhelmingly positive experience that you would have come back for more sessions if you weren’t constantly struggling to find minutes to spare in the day.

You’re hoping that tonight will be just as rewarding as you enter the classroom, tote bag in tow. But as you survey the space around you, your face falls flat, easy going smile dropping from your lips.

You weren’t expecting a big crowd, considering that it is winter break and most students are deliberately avoiding campus right now, but you were hoping there’d be more than one other person in attendance.

Well, you think, deciding to look on the bright side of things. At least you’re not the only person.

The other attendee is sitting in the far corner of the room, occupying a desk near the front of the classroom. At the sound of your entrance, they turn to face you.

With that, your small disappointment is quick to snowball into an intense wave of exasperation. Because why is the universe so hellbent on playing games with you?

Your mouth drops open without your permission. “Heeseung?”

Your sudden outburst fills the room and lingers long into the awkward silence that follows. You hadn’t meant to say anything, but really, what are the god forsaken odds?

If he’s bothered by your reaction to seeing him, Heeseung doesn’t show it. Instead he looks strangely… relieved. It makes absolutely no sense for him to feel any sort of relief at the sight of you, but it’s hard to put a more apt descriptor to the way tension drains from his shoulders, crease between his brows softening as he looks at you, scans you from head to toe.

A moment of stilted silence passes between the two of you. Another. Your heartbeat feels too loud in your chest.

You exhale, a cross between a scoff and a laugh so humorless it could freeze a flame. Weighing your options, the most tempting by far is to just turn on your heel and exit the way you came.

Heesung seems to read your intention before you can commit to it.

Breaking the heaviness in the atmosphere, he acts as if you’ve greeted him like an old friend, not as the source of all your recent headaches.

“Hi,” he nods, so tentatively you almost want to let your jaw drop open in shock. Almost.

Because what the fuck does he mean by ‘Hi?’ This has to be some kind of mind game, some way to get in your head and ruin this for you.

“Right.” Your lips pull into a tight line. You don’t bother to return his greeting. “I’m just gonna go, then.” Hiking up your bag on your shoulder, you turn to do just that. Your first draft will just have to be unpolished. Oh, well. You’re sure Professor Kim will have better feedback for you than Lee Heeseung ever would anyway.

Once again, Heeseung’s voice cuts across the classroom. “Wait.” There’s a command in his voice. Gentle, but firm. Insistent. So pervasive that you find yourself following without really meaning to.

Mind made up and dead set on leaving, now you’re just annoyed. What a waste of a Friday evening.

“What?” You turn back to him. You’re not sure if there’s more venom in your voice or your eyes.

And Heeseung, who commands a classroom with quiet grace, with his steady, unwavering presence, suddenly looks so damn unsure. As if tormenting you is uncharted territory. As if he’s never once left you in the cold with flaming cheeks and a thoroughly shattered ego.

“I…” he trails off, not quite meeting your furious gaze. “Didn’t you come here to get feedback?”

“Right.” You scoff again. “Because I’m sure you’d love nothing more than to tear my writing to shreds. Forgive me, but I’m not interested in being the butt end of your joke tonight.”

“What?” If you didn’t know any better, the ignorance he feigns would be rather convincing. “That’s not why I’m here.” He shakes his head. “I brought something I want reviewed too.”

Your brow arches. He can’t be serious. “Even if I did stay,” you counter, “you’re actually the last person I would want to read my work. Feel free to be offended by that, by the way.”

For a solid minute, Heeseung just looks at you. He wears that same damn deer-in-the-headlights expression he had after you brushed him off when he intercepted you in class the other day. He pauses, weighing words on his tongue. “Look, ____.” The sound of your name on his lips strikes a strange chord in you. Until now, you were certain he didn’t even know it. “Did I do something to offend—”

And no. Absolutely not. No way are you rehashing that day in the quad with him now.

“You know what,” you interrupt. You need to go. Now. You need an out. “I’m actually, like, super tired. I think I’m just gonna head back, and—”

But then it’s his turn to cut off your train of thought. “It’s your piece for Professor Kim, isn’t it?” Heeseung takes your silence as confirmation. “Publishing is a big deal. A second set of eyes will only make your work stronger. And if you hate my feedback, it’s not like you have to use any of it.”

You hate it. You despise the way his reasoning matches your internal monologue nearly word for word. The way your thoughts align exactly.

You pause, a decision weighing heavy on your mind. He is an excellent writer… There would probably be substance to his feedback. Real, actual, good substance that you could use to make your writing bloom into something truly amazing. He could be the exact spark you need to make your story come to life.

You purse your lips. “What’s in it for you?”

Heesung smiles, a nearly imperceptible quirk of his lips. He knows he’s won. “Like I said, I brought something I’ve been working on.” There’s an intention you can’t quite read behind his gaze when he adds, “I want to know what you think of it.”

Hook, line, and sinker.

With a grumble, you take reluctant steps towards where he sits on the opposite side of the classroom. And if you slide down into the seat next to him with a little more force than necessary, well, it’s just because you’ve had a long week. No other reason. None at all.

“Fine,” you relent, reaching to pull your notebook out of your bag. “You get twenty minutes.”

“That’s not nearly long eno—”

“Thirty,” you concede. “And don’t push it.”

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

TO BE CONTINUED...

⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖⋆.˚⟡ ࣪ ˖

note: thanks for checking out this little snippet! I can't wait to share the full first part soon. this one is going to be so much fun I'm buzzing already. I don't have a tag list, but I will most likely update this post and reblog it once I have a confirmed release date. like I said in the note at the beginning, I'm anticipating it will be ready to go by this sunday (august 4 EST) at the latest. woo!

#heeseung fanfic #heeseung x reader #heeseung x you #enhypen fanfic #enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #enhypen x you #heeseung imagines #heeseung fanfiction #enhypen scenarios #heeseung scenarios

264 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 1 year ago

Text

one of these nights | dpr ian

word count: 1.1k warnings: kissing. and some suggestiveness/sexual tension. a/n: finally conjured something up. hooray for me breaking a nearly 10 year dry streak of never completing a single fic of this guy?

i'm finding that i'm in no mood to write anything explicit lately (cherry bomb wore me out ok), so this will probably not be what a lot of folks are looking for, but… this was written more for my own self-indulgence than anything else. 🤓 please don’t jump me about a part 2, i don't know whether there will be one or not

divider from here

"i'm tired," you say, crossing your arms and leaning your weight against the brick wall behind you. you blink slowly, trying to placate some of your exhaustion and rest your eyes. it's not the most comfortable resting spot, but it's all you have for now until you're back in your heated apartment and in your own bed.

"it should only take him a minute to find his wallet," christian reassures you as he settles himself on the wall opposite to you, knowing how eager you are to get back home. he can't blame you, as the long night is beginning to catch up to him, too.

"i can't believe he lost it in the first place; who the hell does that?" your friend had dashed back in the direction of the restaurant once you all had gotten halfway down the block and he realized he didn't have his wallet. now you are just waiting for him to find it and come back, having ducked into this alleyway to try to get some shelter away from the winter breeze. you wouldn't have gone anywhere near this dim, narrow alley if you were with anyone else, but you trust christian to keep you safe if anything happens. it feels unusual but comforting to be able to trust someone in that way.

christian chuckles lightly and shakes his head. "y'know, i think he was a little too preoccupied flirting with the waitress to keep track of it."

despite your tiredness, you break into giggles at the remembrance of your friend's corny attempts at flirting with lines that seemed to come straight from a poorly-rated romcom.

even after your laughter dies down, your insides pleasantly warmed by the amusement, christian's eyes stay on you—intently watching. when you realize this, you meet his gaze again with a question beginning to form on your lips.

your eyes only have seconds to remain interlocked with each other's before christian is stepping forward in one long stride, his body heat filling your space and his lips capturing yours.

it's completely unexpected. what's more unexpected is the flash of scalding heat that it sends through your body, and the quiet, surprised moan it pulls from you. his lips are warm and unaffected by the cold of the outdoors. strands of his hair tickle your face, and his nose presses against your cheek, the solid metal of his nose ring disrupting the soft touch of his skin on yours.

there are the ghosts of his hands—one at your hip and the other somewhere between the nape of your neck and the side of your jaw—but neither one fully makes contact with your body, just brushing by like he's decided he can't touch you or it might overwhelm him. his mouth parts, and there is the tip of his tongue gliding across the seam of your lips. you are just about to invite him inside, but then there is nothing more.

the kiss ends before you can fully get your bearings within it. christian separates from you and a trail of spit is the only thing left connecting you both, which breaks when he backs away.

"maybe i shouldn't have done that," he says, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth. "i'm sorry." you don't know what to say to that.

the unruly breeze is back, changing directions and flooding into the narrow alley, and it makes your lips even colder than they'd otherwise be from the new moisture on them. your entire nervous system feels like it's vibrating within your body—trembling with the desire for more. you want to cross those few feet of space and go to him, meld your bodies together, crush your lips against his, scratch your nails across his back over the smooth leather of his jacket.

you might even like it if he picked you up and pressed your back against that rough brick wall—if you wrapped your legs around him and squeezed his slender waist between your thighs—if you felt his fingertips sink into the flesh of your thighs while his tongue sunk into your mouth.

but your feet stay planted right where they are.

"sorry? you don't have to be sorry. but why did you do it?"

"i just wanted to—for a while now. that's pretty selfish of me, but...fuck." he flips a hand through his hair like he always does; he does it so frequently that sometimes it distracts you from the conversation at hand. in those moments, all you can really think about is the softness of his hair as it slides through your fingers, the few times you’ve touched it before.

now, all you can think about is grasping it more firmly and controlling his movements, bringing his mouth back to yours so you can taste him again.

lost in his thoughts, he bites his lip. the vibrating of your nerves intensifies.

"well, do it again. you could be selfish with me, christian."

there's an expectant pause as you both size each other up, a mutual understanding and desire developing in the silence. christian approaches you again, but slower this time, like he's trying to gauge if you're serious. in seconds, he's right in front of you and breathing your air and staring at you like he is hungry for something only you could give him.

quietly, you reiterate: “take whatever it is that you want. i want you to do that.”

“darling...” his voice sounds deceptively gentle, teasing even though he doesn’t mean for it to be. he whispers to you as if you’re a glass figurine that could disintegrate if he speaks too loudly, even as his tattooed hand presses against the brick beside your head, already enveloping you. leaning in, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and staying there, he says: “do you really want me to—”

"hey! i found it."

you abruptly turn away from christian, looking at your friend who's standing at the entrance of the alleyway and holding his wallet up with triumph. "what are you two doing?" your friend looks at you cluelessly, though realization immediately dawns on him with an embarrassed smile he tries to tamp down.

the moment is shattered; christian's expression breaks into an awkward smile that matches your friend's, and once again the space between you is wider than you'd like for it to be, his arm back at his side. "dude..."

you give a heavy sigh and roll your eyes, suddenly remembering how tired you are. "...nothing. let's go home."

#the title is a reference to the eagles song i suppose #dpr ian x reader #khh scenarios #khh imagines #dpr scenarios #christian yu imagines #christian yu scenarios #i'm irrationally paranoid about him accidentally running across any of this shit so IDK how to tag this

656 notes · View notes

iced-nct · 1 year ago

Text

Greedy NJM

Pairing: CFO Na Jaemin x F Reader Word Count: 4.5k Warnings: Suggestive, occasional swear, jealous Jaemin Synopsis: Jaemin knew the second you walked into his office to interview for a sales role that he needed to hire you. Incredibly well spoken and driven, you reminded him a lot of himself in some ways. Except he didn’t want you for a sales position. Oh no. He wanted you as his personal assistant. Promptly after meeting with you, he let go of his current assistant to hire you for it instead. If Jaemin is going to be stuck at his desk for ten hours a day, he’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a pretty thing to stare at just outside his door. Maybe you’ll be able to tame the infamous office playboy.

a/n: just casually dipping in to drop a 4.5k Jaemin Apply Within fic that I have been working on for like years lmfao. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy! I promise I'm going to be more active with my fics again!!!

Jaemin’s secretary blinked slowly at him, as if to process what she had just heard. “You are… firing me? Did I do something?”

“No, I just needed a change of scenery! And I’m not firing you, I am just relocating you to a different department” He chirped in response, his voice cheerful though his eyes were dark and expression firm.

Jaemin turned his back to her to head into his corner office, “oh. One more thing.” He turned, one palm pressed firmly against the door frame as he leaned back. “I need all your things moved by tonight. My new secretary starts tomorrow morning” He winked before slamming his door closed.

Today could not have been off to a worse start. First there was the hole in your favorite pair of stockings, then your coffee machine decided to have a meltdown, and finally you had missed the bus that would allow you extra time to grab coffee on the way to the office. As far as first day’s go, this was not your best. Having to settle for a pair of plain sheer black tights to wear under your skirt and ordering a taxi, knowing full well the extra money was well worth having time to grab a cup of coffee. You hurried out the door, laptop bag and purse in hand, just hoping as you hustled into the back of the cab that the day wouldn’t get any worse.

The line at the coffee shop was surprisingly not horrendous, it only took about 10 minutes before you were holding your iced coffee and making your way through the entrance to Neo Dream. Jaemin’s office was on the 20th floor, you remembered this from your interview. As you moved to get off on your floor a solid chest made contact with your cup, spilling coffee all down the front of yourself and the stark white dress shirt in front of you.

“I am so sorry! I was in such a rush, I should have paid better attention” You rambled, hoping that this stranger wouldn’t chew you out for such an accident.

“Miss Y/n?” You looked up to see Jaemin smiling down at you. “First day jitters?” He asked, a playful tone in his voice.

Your cheeks flushed with heat, “I am very sorry Mr. Na. I will clean this up right away”

“Don’t bother, I will call the janitorial staff to clean up. We should get started with your tour, after we get changed” He tilted his head, indicating for you to follow.

The view from Jaemin’s office was stunning to say the least, the sun was almost up now but you could imagine the sunrises and sunsets that could be viewed from these windows.

“Yes, the view is lovely isn’t it?” You turned to find Jaemin, a sliver of his chest just barely exposed to you as he buttoned up a black dress shirt. “I apologize, I seem to have run out of women’s blouses, but I do have a knit sweater that may work” he jested while handing you a gray wool sweater.

It was clearly men’s, but this would have to make do for today. Just as you were about to slip the sweater on over your stained blouse a hand stopped you.

“If we don’t send these off to the drycleaners, the stain will set and ruin your shirt. I can’t have that, and I don’t want you to either. Just wear the sweater and I’ll send your shirt off with mine” His smile was charming, almost knee weakening.

“Oh okay… but is there somewhere else for me to change?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin’s eyes widened with realization “Yes, oh gosh I’m sorry, I will turn around. You let me know when you’re decent”

You turned your back to him and began unbuttoning the shirt. Unbeknownst to you, Jaemin could make out the reflection of your chest in the window beside him. Not much could be seen, but the way the black lace of your bra held you had him wishing you allowed him to watch. Just as Jaemin’s dress pants started to get a little too tight for his liking, you cleared your throat, snapping him back from his thoughts.

“Thank you for the sweater! What should I get started with today?” You asked, whilst handing over your stained shirt.

“You can get started on unpacking your desk and setting yourself up. I have some afternoon meetings that I will be in today, so I doubt we will see eachother very much. Just answer the phone if it rings and book in meetings for this week” You nodded at the instructions and headed out, closing the door behind you.

You paused to lean on it, breathing slowly as the picture of that small sliver of Jaemin’s defined chest floated around in your head. In the office behind you, your boss sat down at his desk, taking all the effort in the world to not call you back in to help him deal with the situation beneath his desk right now.

Days had turned into weeks, and though nothing of note had happened after that first eventful morning. You had settled in wonderfully, making friends with people on the finance floor, accompanying Jaemin to the occasional meeting to take notes for him when he didn’t feel like it, and canceling meetings he had with Mark just because it was funny to watch them squabble. There was lots of extra chatter throughout the office as everyone buzzed with excitement for the first annual company gala. A newer finance colleague had asked you to the gala a few days ago, and you had gladly accepted, assuming that it was a friendly gesture from one newbie to another. Excitement filled your chest as you thought about how much fun it would be to attend this company gala. The excitement was cut short however, when the door to Jaemin’s office swung open. Your boss stood there staring daggers at you, dread rushed in as you mentally went through every file you placed on his desk today, every meeting you had booked. What could you have possibly done wrong?

“Y/n. Come in here please.” Jaemin’s voice was deadly cold as he strode back towards his desk.

You slinked in, he gestured for you to close the door. “Did I do something wrong?” You asked, hesitating to turn around to face him.

“Have a seat, we’ll talk about it” He nodded to the chair in front of his desk for you to sit.

Despite sitting, the load on your shoulders felt ten times heavier under Jaemin’s stare. He slid a small pink envelope across the desk to you, your name scrawled in ink on the front.

“What is this?” He tapped the envelope with his middle finger.

“I’m not sure, I haven’t seen that before” You answered, and truthfully you hadn’t seen it before.

“It was in the files you brought me this morning, just tucked between some reports. Imagine my surprise when I opened it and found out my trusted secretary is having an office romance with one of my junior finance employees” the smile that hung on Jaemin’s lips did not reach his eyes.

Your eyes widened “office romance? No no you’ve misunderstood. He just asked me to the gala last week, that's all. I have no idea what the letter is and I- wait. You opened it?”

The smile faded as he processed your words. Oh Jaemin would not have his secretary on the arm of anyone other than him, and he would make sure of that. Despite the other women around the office, who Jaemin had been making his way through, you managed to get under his skin in all the right ways.

“Sorry, I thought you knew” He started, propping his head up on his hands “secretaries are required to escort their managers to the gala. Mark’s rules” Jaemin grinned lazily.

“Oh! So I’ll still be working, right?” you thought about all the extra things you would need to prepare in this case, starting with a much bigger clutch to keep all Jaemin’s business cards in.

Jaemin smirked, “That’s correct Y/n. You have to be by my side all night. Make sure you let me know the color of your dress so I can plan my tie accordingly”

You nodded, your boss’ phone began to ring echoing throughout his large office. “I’ll bring you a swatch tomorrow morning” You spoke softly as you stood to leave the room.

Jaemin only nodded in response before picking up the phone “Mark!! How goes it over in-” His sentence cut off as the door shut behind you.

“What an odd day” you pondered while sifting through the hundreds of emails in your inbox. Mark had taken the liberty to have Haechan set up all Jaemin’s emails to duplicate so you had copies of important things as well. Unfortunately this also meant you got to see all the emails that lovestruck employees sent him without knowing you could see the confessions as well. After deleting what must have been the 20th email love note, you came across a thread that caught your eye. The email was from another female employee, detailing things she and Jaemin had done the previous night. From the sounds of it, you weren’t the only one engaging in an alleged “office romance”. There were quite a few more like that email, all talking about how they loved it when Jaemin did that “thing”. You weren’t sure what the “thing” was, but from the way he had these ladies begging for him via email correspondence you couldn’t help but be curious. It didn’t help that some had described certain acts in such detail, it was only natural that your head drifted away from work causing you to think about Jaemin’s head between your-

The thought was cut short by a loud thud from the elevator. Upon inspection you could see the finance junior who asked you to the gala had dropped a box of their belongings on the floor. The security guard who was with them helped gather their belongings back into the supply box before giving them a reassuring pat on the shoulder. You thought about going over to ask what happened, but a ping from your inbox beat you to it. ‘I WAS WRONGLY FIRED BY NA JAEMIN” was the subject line, there was no body to the email. Just that one subject line that left chills down your spine. You glanced to your boss’ door then back to your computer screen, the email was sent to everyone on the finance floor. It wasn’t long before chatter began amongst your colleagues on the floor. Everyone was curious to know about their former colleague scorned, making incredibly obvious passes by the now barren desk that once housed the junior finance employee. Jaemin seemed unbothered by the office bustle, opting to send you a teams chat asking for you to accompany him out of the office for his suit fitting for the gala.

The interior of the store was full of mannequins decked out in name brand clothing that had your bank account near tears. Though you were only here to keep an eye on Jaemin’s emails and schedule for the day, he kept asking for your input on the suits he chose. The swatch you had at home would have to wait for another day, though he assured you it would be no hassle to have a tie ordered into the office in the correct color.

“Well? Does this make me seem intimidating enough?” He turned his head over his shoulder to ask you.

There was simply no denying the fact that Jaemin WORE the clothes, they did not wear him. He looked stunning in everything, so much so that you kept catching your mind slipping off to imagine the things he could do in the dressing room. Your eyes must’ve lingered for too long without speaking, as Jaemin chuffed a laugh.

“I’m so sorry, yes it looks great!” you smile warmly at him, just as another ping comes through on his work phone. An email from Mark asking about the firing of the finance colleague and why he is now receiving multiple emails from the distressed former employee.

Jaemin cocks his head, one brow raised in question “Something the matter?”

You lock the phone quickly and look up at where he stands on the pedestal for his fitting. “Just Mark asking about an employee who was fired earlier, apparently he is now receiving emails stating that he was wrongfully terminated.” You stare, waiting for a reaction from him that never comes.

“Ah yes, he was fraternizing with other employees. Can’t have my department become a cesspool now, can I?” His answer is cold as ice, his face revealing no indication of what he is thinking.

You can’t help but laugh at his reference, as if he hadn’t been sleeping with multiple employees from different departments. “What seems to be so funny, Y/n?”

“Oh, nothing. Just your cesspool reference was funny” You roll your eyes, not expecting him to continue prodding. But he does just that.

“And why, pray tell, is it funny? Is my finance department a joke to you?” His eyes narrow, the shop steward who was pinning the suit even stops momentarily to give you a glance.

You need a moment to collect your thoughts. To try and decide just where you should begin with this. “You know Haechan set up my email so that I get duplicates of all the emails sent to you, right?”

Jaemin nods thoughtfully, before his eyes widen in realization. “You get all my emails?”

You bob your head “every single one of them. Mark insisted it was set up that way so you can never say you just missed a meeting invite in your swaths of emails.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose, eyes closed in frustration. “Y/n, what have you been seeing?” his foot tapping against the stained wood of the pedestal.

“Just the usual. Multiple emails from Mark about meetings, Renjun sending gala updates, Haechan providing timelines for software updates, Jeno sending memes that he has made instead of marketing campaigns, Jisung sending you meeting schedules with investors for the week, Chenle sending selfies mostly.” You shrug, pleased with your answer.

“That’s it? Nothing else?” His tone is tense and his eyes are fixed on you, gluing you to the spot on the bench.

“Finance employees sending you updated reports too. Oh! And just the casual love confession, or excruciatingly detailed emails from your lovers” You smirk at him.

“I see.” Jaemin steps down, shooing the shop steward away as he strides towards you, “and tell me, Y/n. Do you read all of those excruciatingly detailed emails?” He leans down slightly, your faces mere inches apart.

You wet your lips, noticing Jaemin’s eyes flick down to your mouth before coming back up to meet your gaze. “Yes.”

He straightens back to his full height, now towering over where you sat. “Interesting indeed” he mutters before turning back to the shop employee to continue with his fitting.

The next morning you had a large iced americano sitting on the edge of your desk for your boss, along with the fabric swatch. It was odd, seldom did you beat Jaemin to the office. But today you felt extra jittery, especially after how hot his eyes had felt on you yesterday during his fitting. In fact, it was a shock that you managed to get a few hours of sleep. You had tossed and turned all night, thoughts of Jaemin taking you in the dressing room after your conversation had taken your mind hostage. A few times throughout the night you had awoken in a cold sweat, finally deciding to just get up at 5am instead of trying to get a few more hours of rest. That was how you ended up at your desk at 6:30, a large cup of tea clutched in your hands as you sifted through more meeting invites and emails.

“Good morning Y/n. You’re awfully early.” Jaemin smiled warmly, a glint of something else shone in his eyes.

You gestured lazily to the cup of coffee on the edge of your desk “That’s for you, the swatch too”

His smile dropped as he stared at the coffee and the swatch “your dress is red?”

“Yes” you nodded before adding “I hope that’s alright”

“That will be just fine, I just so happen to have a tie that I think is the same color.” Jaemin fixed a tight smile before heading into his office and closing the door.

A few hours later a gorgeous intern from accounting came by, stopping at your desk “I have an appointment with Mr. Na” She smiled.

“Sure, just a moment” you returned her smile while getting up to knock on your boss’ door.

“Send her in.” Jaemin said through the thick oak door before you could even let him know his one o’clock was here.

She left an hour later, hair messier than it was when she arrived and her stockings had noticeable runs down both legs. All you could do was cock a brow as she breezed past with her blush stained cheeks. ‘I’m sure I’ll get an email about that later’ you thought, mentally rolling your eyes. Moments later your boss appeared at his door, fixing his tie nonchalantly.

“Y/n, take the rest of the day off before the gala tonight. I’ll pick you up at 7 tonight, alright?” His voice was cold and detached, much like it had been at the store.

“Sure, thank you. I will see you then” It was no use putting up a fight. And it was certainly no use to ask him what had been on the tip of your tongue since yesterday. All you wanted was to know why that employee had been fired, and if their claim had any merit.

True to his word, Jaemin arrived at 7 on the dot. A swanky black car pulled up outside, the driver meeting you by the door for you to get in. After the door was shut you noticed Jaemin’s eyes fixated on you, suddenly the tight red dress you opted for felt all too revealing.

He licked his lips slowly before speaking “I get the feeling there’s something you want to ask me, Y/n?”

“Why did you fire that employee that asked me out and gave me that letter?” You asked, Jaemin just stared at you in shock, clearly not expecting that to be the question.

“I- well. He had falsified a few reports so I was going to let him go anyway, but…” He trailed off, turning to look out the window instead of at you. “I thought you were going to ask about the escort from earlier”

You nearly choked on your own breath “Escort? I thought she was from accounting!”

Jaemin hung his head in defeat “I know, I know. I’m sorry. I was never good at processing things. Instead of thinking though the issue I jumped straight to numbness, and I apologize”

You simply could not believe your ears, you had figured that’s what was going on. But somehow it still took you by surprise. “Wait, why are you telling me all this?” you couldn’t help but ask.

“When I interviewed you for that sales role, I had such bad thoughts. I decided to tell you I needed an assistant instead. But I had one already. I fired her to give you the role. I just wanted that pretty little ass outside my office. I wanted to rub it in everyone’s faces that I had the hottest secretary. But then you got that letter, and I noticed you starting to get a little too much attention than I liked. And I didn’t expect to like you this much and-” He rambled on before stopping abruptly to look at you.

Tears welled in your eyes, threatening to fall “two people lost their jobs because of me?” Your voice felt raw.

“Technically only one, the other guy was getting fired for fraud anyway. It was just a coincidence. And I didn’t fire my former secretary, I relocated her to another department. That was poor phrasing on my end” Jaemin reached for your hands, you foolishly let him hold on.

This was an enormous pill to swallow. “So let me get this straight.” You squeezed Jaemin’s hands. “You removed your secretary, hired me because you think I’m hot, got jealous when I was getting attention, forced me to be your date for this gala, and then hired an escort to take out your frustrations instead of just coming clean and talking to me?”

“That’s about it, yeah” Jaemin nodded enthusiastically.

“I quit.” You pulled your hands back to your lap.

Jaemin’s smile fell, his eyes showing the panic he was feeling. “No, no you can’t quit. Who’s going to read my emails to me and copy down all the meeting notes that I don’t feel like doing?”

You shrugged “I’m not sure, Jaemin. I just know it won’t be me.”

The timing was lovely as the car had pulled up to the venue, the driver was already opening the door to help you out. Jaemin clutched your hand desperately. “Please, Y/n. Please just give me the night to make things right.”

You brushed him off “I will accompany you tonight, but tomorrow morning I will be packing my things. I’m sorry”

Jaemin led the way into the gala, his shoulders slumped in defeat. To anyone else, you were sure he looked angry, but you knew the truth. The first hour of the gala was spent greeting fellow colleagues and investors. You stopped to chat with Renjun, praising him for how incredible the party turned out, to which he agreed with a small smile and flushed cheeks.

“He’s into the party planner he hired” Jaemin leaned down to whisper in your ear.

The sudden closeness took you by surprise, but you couldn’t help but slightly lean back into his chest. The countless champagne flutes did not help the situation, no matter how much you wanted to not be around Jaemin right now, your other desires had taken over. Jaemin’s hand was placed firmly on your hip, holding you in place.

“I think it’s time we get you home sweetheart” He spoke softly, looking around to find the nearest exit.

You could only nod, agreeing that it was in fact time to head home. Jaemin kept his grip on your hip as he escorted you through the crowds of people, stopping only once to whisper something to Mark before continuing to the exit. Just as it had been when you arrived, Jaemin’s car and driver were stationed out front. The car door was already open for you two to get in, he helped you into the car and you slumped against him.

Sun had streamed in through the large windows of your bedroom bright and early. You cursed yourself for not remembering to shut the curtains before getting into bed last night. Wait, you didn’t have curtains, or the luxurious silk bedding, or a king sized bed. Realization hit you, Jaemin must’ve taken you home. But when you looked over to the other side of the bed you found it still untouched. You were thankfully still in your dress from last night.

After gathering up some courage and taking the Advil that was conveniently left on the nightstand you took off down the hallway of the apartment. On the couch you found your boss, drinking a cup of coffee while leisurely flipping through reports.

“Good morning sleepy girl” He cooed at you.

You squinted back at him “lest you not forget, I quit last night. And you upset me.”

“I recall. I also recall you chirping at me in the car that you wanted me to bring you here and ‘do the things from the emails’ to you” He chuckled, blush crept across your cheeks.

“I am very sorry. I will head out now.” You started towards the door.

“Y/n. Wait.” Jaemin rose from his place on the sofa, his long strides reaching you quickly. “Now that it’s not a conflict of interest, I was wondering if you would allow me to take you on a date?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “A date? Jaemin, you only hired me because you thought I was hot! I’m so pissed off at you! I thought I had merit, I thought I was good at my job!” You were stopped short by Jaemin’s lips on yours.

The kiss seemed to have surprised you both. Both of you stood in shock, just staring at each other.

“You are” His voice was soft.

“I am what?” Your brows furrowed.

“Good at your job. Mark requested we send you off to another department that needs a manager. I said no, because I need you to keep me organized. I have never made it to so many meetings!” He grinned at you, placing his hands on your shoulders.

“Could I move to a different department to be a manager?” Your head tilted in question.

Jaemin breathed a sigh of relief “Yes, you absolutely can. I can always bring back my old secretary in your place”

“Then I will.” You beamed happily.

“You will what? Move departments?” Jaemin’s hands squeezed your shoulders in anticipation.

“Well yes obviously.” you rolled your eyes. “But also, I’ll let you take me out.”

Jaemin pulled you into another kiss, this one much less abrupt than the last. His lips were soft against yours, and his hands worked their way down your body. Your fingers combed through his hair, stopping occasionally to tug slightly.

“Oh we have to stop. I still think about your first day when you had to change in my office.” He confessed.

You smirked at him, “That’s alright. I think about it too.”

“I’ll have the driver take you home and I’ll pick you up tonight. Wear something red again. It looks stunning on you.” He kissed you one last time before sending you off.

The next week was a do over of your first day, but this time as a manager for partner relations. But instead of taking an Uber, you arrived with the CFO in his personal car.

“I’ll see you after work sweetheart. Let me know if I need to fire anyone for you” Jaemin winked before placing a kiss on your lips before exiting the elevator onto the finance floor.

“Ugh, you are so lucky” another employee in the office wined before exiting at the next stop.

The doors closed, leaving you alone in the elevator. The biggest grin plastered across your face as you thought aloud “Yeah, I am pretty lucky, aren’t I?”

#nct dream #nct #nct dream imagines #nct imagines #nct drabbles #nct dream smut #nct fanfic #nct jaemin #jaemin #jaemin angst

469 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 9 months ago

Text

alcohol isn’t for the weak gojo satoru

pairing: gojo satoru x f!reader, geto suguru, shoko ieiri

genre + warnings: -underage alcohol consumption, a lot of swearing, reader slaps gojo around, pining, overall FLUFF!

word count: 3,380 (i was gonna write more but i’m lazy)

authors note: So this is the sequel of my fic “gotta keep these kids on leashes”. The dynamic quartet is back and up to no good yet again :3 There will for sure be a continuation and it just might end up being a series going through their lives. Also, this takes place before Riko and Toji, so basically their teenage days when everything was good and dandy :’)

enjoy this chaos <3

“You absolute, fucking lightweight.”

With tired bones, eyes, soul and mind, Geto’s glare remains steadily fixed on the drunken mess sprawled on the ground before him. Gojo Satoru was a complex human being. The strongest jujutsu sorcerer in the world; the first person in 400 years to possess both Limitless and the Six Eyes, his strength knew no bounds - except when it came to alcohol.

“Suuuguruuu~” Gojo slurred along with several incoherent words mushed in between giggles.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place, Geto leaned his head against his ajar door and shut his eyes, thinking of all the incredibly painful ways by which he could murder and then dispose of his best friend’s wasted body. His anger wasn’t uncalled for, of course. It was a long day for Geto and all he wanted to do after spending an entire day killing one particularly difficult curse followed by a couple extra (albeit easier to defeat) surprise curses was take a nice long shower, go into his dorm and sleep like a corpse. He had a feeling it was too good to be true when he didn’t get 30 calls from Gojo by the time the sun had set and he had stepped into campus. He was even more surprised when he got out of the shower and came back to 0 notifications from the “pain in everyone’s ass” sorcerer. Gojo always knew when Geto had missions, and more so he would always know when Geto would be gone for the entire day. On days such as this one, he would usually go and bother literally anyone else he could find around him; when desperate, Yaga, but that would never end well for him, so that would only be reserved for very special occasions.

“Satoru, just why…” Geto sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose and wondering what he did to deserve this torture.

“I had soooo much fun t’dayyy,” Gojo slurs and laughs much too loudly considering the time.

“Les go out, the night is youuung like you and me and Mochi and Shoko- but…” He pauses, sits up then looks directly at Geto, suddenly serious. Geto squints, expecting something stupid as per usual.

“...Not like…” Cracks appear on his half-assed poker face and the corners of his eyes crinkle slightly as his lips twitch. “Not like…Yaga AHHAAHA-”

Laughter explodes from his chest as he falls back on the ground, rolling around clutching his stomach as if he just cracked the world’s funniest joke. Geto on the other hand, was not phased. In fact, he was preparing to be violent. Inhaling and then exhaling deeply, Geto stood straighter, thinking of ways he could make this night go his way. A few weeks prior to this moment in the present, Gojo along with his posse played an almost funny practical joke on Geto, which ended up costing him a date with a girl and 10 of his brain cells. Since then, Geto had been pondering day and night on exactly what he could do to get Gojo back. There were a few weaknesses the strongest sorcerer had which Geto knew of. One being, his obvious lack of alcohol tolerance, and two being his stupidly obvious crush on you. (not Shoko, although he definitely finds her hot).

Geto knows all about Gojo’s embarrassing feelings for you but he still has no solid evidence on whether the feelings are reciprocated or not.

Suddenly, his train of thought comes to a stop as his eyes glint with mischief. He grabs Gojo’s arm and starts to drag him along the hallway. Gojo doesn't even bother standing up to walk. Instead he lets his best friend drag him like a sack of potatoes, with no care in the world as to where he might be taking him.

“What the heck?! Suguru?! Where are we goin-”

They stop and Geto aggressively knocks on a door. Freshly painted, different from the rest. Immediately, he drops Gojo’s arm and sprints back to his dorm before Gojo’s little brain could even begin to process what had happened.

“Satoru…what the fuck?”

You rub your eyes and glare at the drunken mess sprawled before your dorm door and rub your eyes again, hoping he’d disappear the next time you look. He doesn’t. And you actually hear a mechanical click in your brain when the idiot starts grinning as if it wasn’t 3am and he didn’t just ruin your perfect slumber. Yet again.

“Mochi!!! You’re here! I missed yo- HEY! OUCH! WHY- STOP HITTIN ME-”

“I SHOULD KILL YOU-” slap

“IDIOT,” slap

“WHY CAN’T YOU EVER LET ME SLEEP IN PEACE?!” slap

You wanted to throttle him. But you figured 3 slaps were enough for now. You honestly felt kind of bad seeing him curled up in a ball on the floor and you worried whether you went too far or not.

“I’m sorry… I just missed you s’all,” His voice was soft, gentle even, and that made you feel even worse. Your shoulders slump and your head drops as an exasperated sigh escapes your mouth.

Why is he like this?

You crouch next to his curled up form and stare at his disheveled silver hair. He doesn’t look at you, in fact his eyes remain closed. His hands cover his ears and he literally looks like a kicked puppy and you feel so awful. You roll your eyes and sigh.

Ugh, damn him.

“Okay. Satoru, I’m sorry for hitting you.”

He doesn’t move.

You pinch your nose bridge and decide to take the high road. He is drunk after all, you think. Reaching out, you run your fingers through his soft hair. His shoulders relax at that and the corner of his mouth quirks up ever so slightly. You stifle a laugh at his childishness and grab his chin, tilting his head to face you. Finally, he opens his eyes and stares at you as a gradual, natural smile slowly takes over his face. You smile back and at the back of your mind, you think how stupid you two must look right now. In the middle of the night, your dorm door wide open, Satoru sprawled on the floor of the hallway, you crouched near his head while the two of you stared at each other like something straight out of Spiderman. Except, you won’t kiss him. That’s never going to happen.

You let go of his chin and flick his nose. He huffs a short laugh, rubbing the spot and attempting to return the favor. You grab his wrist before he could deliver the blow and say, “You still drunk?”

Satoru hums, eyes shiny, “A little?”

He grabs your face and squeezes your cheeks, snorting as you glare at him.

“Y’know… you don’t look as scary with your face like this,” He emphasizes his point with ‘awww’s’ and ‘you’re so cuteee’s’ and you can’t help but laugh at this blatant humiliation. You move his hand away and stand up, holding out your hand and expecting him to take it.

“Alright, c’mon. Get up.”

Satoru groans much too loudly and proceeds to throw his arms down and stretch his legs like a starfish.

“Noooo, just stay w’ meee,” He whines like a petulant child and you smile.

Damn him.

You consider bringing him into your dorm and spending the entire night with him doing nothing. Maybe talking, laughing. But you quickly discard that horrifying thought. He’s Gojo Satoru. Your best friend. Nothing romantic could ever happen between you two because he is Gojo Satoru and you are nobody. He is the one person who could even come close to changing the world. He holds the balance of the universe in the palm of his hands. He is everything, and you hate that. You hate how much he means to you, and you hate how much he has on his shoulders. You hate the fact that you can’t even help him ease those worries. You might be strong, but you’re not nearly as strong as him. He knows it, everyone knows it. So, you ignore these feelings. You bury any semblance of hope, of potential ‘maybe’s’ and ‘what if’s’ and you keep your guard up. After all, he is your best friend and you’re his. That’s it.

But then, why does he keep looking at me like this?

“Mochi?” He mutters, eyes suddenly clear and gaze fixed at you. You hum. He waits a while without saying anything and then sits up cross-legged and holds his hand out. You ponder for a moment and eventually you hold his hand and he attempts to pull himself up with your help. You steady your feet and help him up and… wow, he’s ridiculously tall.

You clear your throat and let go of his hand, to which he makes a little noise of protest. You roll your eyes and put his arm around your shoulder, ushering him towards his dorm, “Alright Satoru, let’s put you to bed.”

He nods his head one too many times and starts to walk with you, slowly but surely. You held onto him as he held onto you, and you walked at his pace. He smelled nothing like he usually did. The pungent odor of sake wafted off him in waves and it almost made you want to throw up. He was dozing off, eyes almost shutting. Those cerulean blues were almost a shiny navy color now. You wonder what made him want to drink so much tonight. So you asked.

“Satoru?”

“Hm?” He looks down at you and musters a tiny smile. You hold his waist a little tighter.

You rephrase the sentence a few times in your head before asking.

“Why’d you drink so much tonight? Is everything okay?”

He stares at you for a while, then purses his lips and tips his head down, exhaling loudly. You know something happened, but you don’t know what it could be. Satoru was always an enigma. He was always an open book, and yet so mysterious at the same time. He always kept a smile on his face and always did the stupidest shit. Yet sometimes, he would change completely. His eyes would look sad and distant, he wouldn’t talk as much, he’d look out the window like some kind of tortured main character in an indie movie. Satoru was never easy to understand. He has his vices.

Finally, he looks at you with hazy eyes and a soft smile. Using the arm slung over your shoulder, he holds you in a headlock and kisses your forehead. You can’t see your face but you can feel just how red it must have become. You struggle to try to get out of the headlock but to no avail. Even when drunk, Satoru was still stronger than you and you hated that with a passion. He laughs and releases you, returning his arm back over your shoulder as he leans against you, basically using you as a crutch to walk.

“Satoru?! What the fuck was that all about?!” You sputter. Angry? Not really, it was nice. You’re more confused and freaked out, and why do you feel drunk when you’re the one who’s completely sober?

“No reason, you’re just cute s’all,” He giggles and ruffles your hair. You glare at his stupid face and he laughs again.

“Plus, I had nothing to do all day. Suguru was gone, you were busy and Shoko was-” He pauses. “Well, wherever she was.”

You sigh and pick up your pace which makes Satoru look like Bambi trying to walk on ice for the first time. He giggles all the way there.

—

Fucking finally…

You open the door to his dorm while dragging Satoru’s half limp body inside.

“Alrighty, now lie down,” You say as you gracefully lay him down (more like unceremoniously drop him) on his bed and take his shoes off. Satoru groans and proceeds to almost slip off the side of the bed. Thankfully, you noticed and pushed him further away and more towards the center of the bed. You leave his clothes alone and stand up straight, turning to leave.

“No, wait,” His hand grabs your wrist, without any force whatsoever and you think you’re going to straight up melt when you turn back around to see him looking up at you with ridiculously childlike eyes it’s not even fair.

“Stay, please.”

Your breath hitches and you know you have to leave. You have to wake up early in the morning and also you are not going to spend a night with Gojo Satoru while he’s drunk. It's not a matter of safety; you know he would die before ever hurting you. It was more a matter of heart.

“Satoru…” You try to wrench your hand free from his grasp.

He lowers his hand and wraps it around your fingers. His voice is quiet as he says, “A lil’ bit. ‘M sorry…”

You quirk an eyebrow in confusion, “For what?”

Your question is met with only snores. You shove him and call his name to which he opens his eyes with a “huh?”.

“What are you sorry for?”

He looks bewildered, “Oh um…”

You wait.

He continues sleepily, “For ruining your sleep.”

You chuckle as his hand slowly falls to the bed and snores fill the emptiness.

“Idiot.”

You pat his head and leave.

—-

Satoru wakes up very cold. And wet. Not in a good way.

“Woah- what the fu-”

“Rise and shine, princess,” Suguru announces with a shit-eating grin on his pretty face. He keeps the empty glass on Satoru’s side table and crosses his arms.

Satoru rubs his drenched face and stares incredulously at his so-called best friend, confusion etching his hungover face, “What the hell was that for?”

Suguru snickers, “It was for ruining my sleep last night.” He sits on Satoru’s bed and crosses his legs, resting his head on his hand, enjoying Satoru’s discomfort.

Satoru groans and puts his pillow on his face. His muffled voice says something Suguru makes out to be, “My head is killing me.”

“Not surprised, you were completely wasted.”

Satoru moves the pillow and glares at Suguru, to which he only receives a grin.

Suguru asks liltingly, “So? What happened last night?”

Satoru gets up and makes his way to his bathroom, the sound of water and teeth brushing resonating around the room. Suguru waits for a reply that doesn't come.

Impatient, he asks again, “Did you get your ass kicked?” Satoru gets out while putting on a new uniform jacket. He glares at Suguru until realization hits.

His eyes widen and he points a finger and exclaims, “You took me to her room?!”

Suguru processed that light bulb moment with wide eyes and burst into a hearty laughter to which Satoru only gaped mouth open and eyes unbelieving.

“You- you didn't remember how you got there but you remembered being there?” More laughter, louder this time.

Satoru scoffs and picks up his sunglasses, “I can't believe you…”

Suguru’s laughter dies down and he receives a slap on the back of his head for his incompetence. He laughs and rubs the site of injury.

As Satoru makes his way out of the dorm, Suguru follows close behind. He asks with genuine curiosity, “Did you confess?”

Nothing.

“Did she confess?”

Silence, except for the birds chirping cheerfully and the metronomic footfalls of the two boys.

Suguru sighs, “Did anything happen?”

Satoru puts on his sunglasses and shoves his hands in his pockets, “Nothing happened, as far as I remember.”

Suguru raises an eyebrow. Satoru rolls his eyes and says in a low voice, “Anyways, I'd remember if anything happened.”

Suguru smiles and ruffles Satoru’s already disheveled hair. He scoffs but laughs when Suguru laughs at his lovesick state of being.

“Forget it, Suguru. It’s never gonna happen,” Satoru mutters dejectedly, kicking a stone. Suguru stays silent.

“Like, she’s so… just- y’know?” His sparkling sapphire eyes glittering with admiration and so much love, Suguru can’t help but smile at his friend’s hopefulness. He continues rambling incoherently, hands waving around like it actually does anything to explain his feelings for her. In reality, nothing Satoru is saying makes any sense. Or more so, it wouldn’t make sense to anyone else. Suguru, on the other hand, understands Satoru. So no words are required.

—-

“He’s such an idiot.”

You sigh and twirl your pen, “Tell me about it…”

Shoko knows all and sees all. She knows all about Gojo’s stupid crush on you and she knows all about your crush on him. She doesn’t approve of it, because she firmly believes you deserve better and Gojo is an immature idiot. But after countless sleepless nights of talking about life and love, she saw just how much you liked him, despite your lackluster denials to her allegations. You were adamant on hiding your feelings, even with Shoko. You don’t know why exactly you lied to her about this. Probably because it seems too out of reach, or maybe because you know she’d disapprove. But you know Shoko loves you with all her heart. She would support any decision you make, no matter how much she hates it. Your happiness is paramount and she will never make you feel less than or stupid for anything you tell her. You just can’t tell her about your crush yet, because it’s just too embarrassing and you can’t deal with Shoko’s side-eye.

Shoko closes the book she was reading staring at, kicks up her feet on the desk and crosses her arms across her chest. You look at her, then look at her neglected textbook and sigh, shifting your attention to your own textbook.

“Y’know you’ll never even pass at the rate at which you’re going…”

She says with a giggle, “Relax, will you? It’s just class tests.”

You muster your best side eye, to which she just snorts. She kicks back her chair and stands up, holding out her hand for you to take. You raise your eyebrows, silently questioning whether she’s serious or not.

“C’mon let’s take a break, we’ve been studying for hours.”

You put down your pen and cross your arms, properly facing her now, “You mean, I’ve been studying for hours.”

She shrugs, “That’s what I said.”

“Ha-ha,” you deadpan.

She actually laughs and tugs your sleeve, “Come onnnn.”

You sigh and hang your head. Shoko takes that as a sign to collect your items and pack them into your backpack and you know you’ve lost. You always lose to her arguments. She’s too quick and too laid back to ever lose an argument. Even when something really serious goes down, Shoko will be the last person to freak out. You can’t even argue with her because she’ll just come up with some random logic that you don’t even know how to counteract. You watch as she packs your stuff and you smile. She looks at you and smiles back, albeit in a confused manner.

“What?”

You shrug still smiling, “Nothin’.”

Shoko mutters a small “okay” and grabs your shoulders, hunching down to your eye-level and staring into your eyes with a kind of scary expression. Shoko has never been serious in her entire life, except for a few times when you made bad decisions.

“Listen to me, and listen well. I love you. I will always be here for you. Even if you and Gojo date and that doesn’t work out, you don’t have to worry about us, ever,” Shoko’s grip on your shoulders was ironclad.

Your eyes widen and face heats up furiously, “W-what? Where is this coming from?!”

“Because I am your best friend, you absolute braindead idiot! I know you. I don’t know why you’re not just coming clean with me but I’m here always, so come to me whenever,” she ends her monologue with a sweeter than sweet smile and stands up to her full height while you were down there stunned, touched and offended all at once.

You get up, put your bag over your shoulder and stare at Shoko concerningly, while she just grins.

What the actual fuck was that?

“Hey, let’s go get some food, I’m starving.”

You glare at her as she loops her arms through yours, “You’re paying.”

Shoko laughs, “No way. Gojo’s paying.”

taglist: @thepup356, @porridgesblog, @stray-npc, @daisy-the-quake, @reignsaway, @ainetx, @icarusignite, @mariapierce789

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru fluff #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu geto #jujutsu gojo #gojo fluff #gojo x you #jjk oneshot #jjk x reader #gojo geto shoko #shoko ieiri #geto suguru #sashisu

196 notes · View notes

drunknillawafer · 6 months ago

Text

right down the line: zuko x firebender!reader

You grew up close to the Royal Family due to your father's position as a General, but you ran away from home after the agni kai against your best friend. Now, you're just trying to do your part in ending the 100-year war.

hellooo so this is my first official published fic that i will keep up! hopefully you guys like it, let me know! this is set in book 1 ep 10 in the Jet episode! i do not own Avatar or these characters! okayy enjoyyy >.<

Part 2

⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙

All I can see for miles is shades of crimson and orange. We’re so close to home, it almost feels like I’ve returned.

I’m standing in the trees near Jet and The Duke, peering down at twenty Fire Nation soldiers and their camp, waiting for the right moment to attack. The plan was to keep an eye out and alert Jet if anything could be of use to us. I hold onto my swords in anticipation.

“We’ve been here all morning, what if we don’t get a shot?” The Duke asked.

“Relax, we will.” Jet replied in his infamous cool manner. He was so sure we would score big this time and have one of the greatest victories thus far. I didn’t see the point, it seemed like your average solider platoon. But maybe he was right. He hasn’t let me down yet.

I met Jet when I was 13 and freshly ran away from home. I had left everything that could resemble Fire Nation in my room and took only my closest valuables. With one bag over my shoulder and a week of struggling to find food, the cool leader crossed my path in a forest not too far from where we’re standing now.

“Are you lost?” Jet questioned me.

“No, I’m hungry.” It was true. I hadn’t eaten for so long because I didn’t know how to find food. My family’s position in society meant I usually had servants dressing me, brushing my hair, and finding my food for me. It’s not something that crossed my mind when I left in a rageful fury.

“What’s your name?” He replied.

“Y/N.”

“You’re a kid. Don’t you have parents to feed you?”

“Don’t you?”

And that was that. I had passed Jet’s mysterious test and he invited me into his little world of lost children who were strong, brave, and alone. I was lucky to have found them when I did.

Three years later, the same cool leader has me standing in the trees like a predator waiting to catch its prey. That’s when I hear it. The voice of a teenage boy.

I crouch down to focus on the noise and see the rustling in the bushes near the Fire Nation camp we’re getting ready to bust. A boy in blue appears, looking backwards to his friends in an annoyed tone. Just as I spot him, he spots the soldiers in black and red.

“This is it.” I tell Jet. He nods and whistles his command to the Freedom Fighters, sending us off to our mission.

I come down from the trees and land on my feet, quickly inspecting my environment. Taking out two of my swords, I spot the boy in blue preparing an attack for a Fire Nation soldier who will surely beat him. His stance is all wrong, I can’t believe he’s actually attempting this.

I use both of my swords and dig them into the ground, launching my feet forward and off the dirt floor, kicking the soldier in the abdomen and out of balance. He falls over with the wind knocked out of him.

“Hey! He was mine!” The boy in blue exasperated.

“No, he wasn’t.” I snarked at him. This is the fun part of being with the Freedom Fighters, winning.

After a few minutes, the soldiers scurry off like rats when the lights turn on. They go in every direction, disappearing into the autumn-colored forest.

“We did it!” I celebrate. For a moment, I catch my breath and put my swords back into their sheaths.

The trio of strangers gather together and start walking toward us.

“Who are you guys?” The youngest with a blue arrow on his head spoke first.

“I’m Jet, and these are my Freedom Fighters.” The leader introduces the members one by one, leaving me for last. “And this is Y/N. She’s my right-hand.” He graces.

I wave at the trio, taking them in as they process the new information they’ve just been handed. It’s a Water Tribe pair with another boy in orange. His clothes were strange, when was the last time someone wore Air Nomad clothes like his? I wondered. I had briefly seen the girl bend water, but it was impossible for the boy to be an air bender. The Fire Nation made sure of that.

“Let’s loot!” Jet interrupts my thoughts, and the rebels cheer in agreement. Looting time.

I focus on a tent to begin raiding the soldiers' bags and belongings. If we’re lucky, the group can score something to help us in our efforts—a map, a plan, a supply shipment—anything to take the empire down.

As I go through my first bag, the boy in blue enters the tent. I look up at his glare and stare him right in the eye.

He crosses his arms and gloats, “Just so you know, I could have handled that. But thanks for your help.”

“Didn’t look like that from where I was standing.” I shrugged and shifted my focus back onto the bag. I flip it upside down so the contents come spilling out.

“And where were you standing by the way? You guys came out of nowhere!” Clearly, he wasn’t going to let my swoop-in go.

“We were in the trees, been staking out all morning.” Nothing of importance in the first bag so I move onto the next one, opening the top and letting the soldier’s belongings fall on the floor for me to inspect. “Until you,” I point at his chest, “came along and made the perfect distraction. It should be me thanking you.”

A balled-up messenger hawk message comes out of the bag. I can tell from its design that it comes from the Admiral, lucky me. Ignoring the boy in front of me, I open the letter and read the writing.

The Avatar has returned. From now on, any information must be reported to Admiral Zhao. The Banished Prince is to be ignored.

The Banished Prince. My finger grazes the ink.

“One day she’s going to try and overthrow me, I swear.” Zuko confesses as he lunges forward with his sword. I dodge his attempt at an offense and strike back.

“Even if she does, you and I can take her.” I reply. My mind is focused on the sparring round, but Zuko seems to be somewhere else. He’s not taking any of my bait to back him into a corner.

“You’d help me fight?” His demeaner softens and I know this is the moment I can use to win. I use the gymnastics I was forced to learn to my advantage and gain the higher ground on a bench near the turtle duck pond. His sword falls out of his hand as I send my blade toward him, making sure to not seriously hurt him. Zuko holds his hands up in defeat. I win this round.

“Duh, it’s kind of my throne now too. I’ve grown fond of it.” I hold one hand to my heart, feigning admiration for the title.

The Prince and I grew up together. Learning fire-bending at the same academy, attending snobby important society gatherings, and now practicing sword-fighting at the Royal Palace’s turtle duck pond. We became halves of one whole. If the cosmic forces upon us gave me the mind, it gave Zuko the heart. And together, we felt complete.

“One day I’ll have to be Fire Lord.” He solemnly said.

“One day. But for now, just focus on beating me! Round 4?”

I take a deep breath in and push the memory away. Time makes it easy. The boy in blue waiting for my response to the messenger hawk letter makes it even easier.

“It’s nothing, just old information.” I crumble the paper into a ball once again and throw it with the rest of the useless items I’ve gone through so far. “Do you want to come to the hideout?” I change the subject.

“You guys have a hideout?” His eyes widen in amusement.

“Yes, but maybe I should know your name before I let you go up there.”

“It’s Sokka.” He answers. “And you?”

“Y/N.” I hold my hand out so he can shake it, and he does. When his hand touches mine, a pit forms in my gut. I got the feeling I’d be knowing him for a long time. “Well, Sokka, follow me.”

#atla #avatar #aang #atla zuko #avatar the last airbender #prince zuko #fire lord zuko #atla fanart #zuko #prince zuko x reader #prince zuko x y/n #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x oc #sokka #sokka avatar the last airbender #atla sokka #atla fanfic #atla fic

90 notes · View notes

sansundertale14x1 · 11 months ago

Text

why NauseAxe_404 loves your writing so much…

based on this silly tweet, I’m gonna use ‘Nick’ for this- for ease of writing (and for my poor poor hands.)

no pronouns but ‘you’- little post cuz I haven’t written in a while.- use of the in-game website: "Dumblr", no it's not a typo;-; Proshippers DNI

word count: 878

content warning: brief explanations of canon violence, creepy stalker-ish behavior (NOTHING SEXUAL ATTACHED), Nick being a weirdo honestly.

vvv that isn't my art, and this entire writing is a fanfic for a game " Monster x Mediator" made by HeadLocker! I really recommend playing the game or watching the gameplay, cuz it's really fantastic!

Story under cut :3

Nick’s in love with your writing…(if you already couldn’t tell), but it’s difficult for you to understand why.

Usually, when you'd open up your laptop, it was after a tough shift at your crap job and you just wanted to do something to fill in the time after dinner and before bed. It was always on the shorter side, 100 words each, and was normally just a quick and crappy self-insert fic to satisfy your creative urges from doing a boring-ass job all day. You never really thought your tiny one-shots would attract any attention, but the man you've been staying with proves otherwise.

"NauseAxe_404" is what he called himself, but you've just been calling him 'Nick' for now. He had been reading your old Dumblr blog for who knows how long, and he's taken a major interest in your little shitposts...So much, so that he had taken the time to print out every single one of your posts and personal information pinned to his room's walls. It's extremely creepy...but also sort of charming?

For the last few days or so, you've been held in Nick's hotel room, practically glued to a desk with a typewriter...slowly making your way through a 100-paged fic that he specifically requested of you. Though you technically could stand up and leave...you'd really prefer for your skull to stay in one piece...and not have a bullet put through your temple.

Nick has been staring at you almost the entire time...which only certified in your mind that he is not human. Every time you turn to see if he's still there...like an unmoving fortress, he always is. It's been a solid 8+ hours of you sitting there and writing...and your stomach starts to emit loud sounds of hunger. You pray he didn't hear that, and continue to type away at the dated machine. However, to your dismay, his deep voice chimes in.

"...What page are you on...?"

Nick asks, seemingly trying to speak quietly for you, but his naturally booming voice isn't giving you any favors.

"...uhm..."

You take a moment to review what you have done...it doesn't look like much but it feels like it took AGES to write out...

"About...10? It's not a-"

"That's wonderful, Superstar!"

He cuts you off just as you begin to speak.

Of course, he's going to be ecstatic. You can't fathom why he seems to be so hopelessly in love with whatever you slap on the paper. You're curious..so you begin to speak.

"...uhm...Nick...why do you..take interest in my writing?"

You softly speak, trying to be careful with your words...you can't afford to overstimulate this man.

For a chatty guy...Nick was oddly silent at the ask of this question…or at least for a few seconds.

“I was trying to find a way to ease the boredom and loneliness of this fucking hotel, so…huff…I joined Dumblr and started to search for writing…that was…huff….purposeful…and that could fix me..”

No way in hell your crackfics could change this man...He must've come out of the womb like that. (or...however the hell he was made..)

"...I came across your first post years ago..huff...and fell in love with the way you wrote your love interest....huff...I knew you were talking about me when I wrote all those comments~"

You never looked at comments due to embarrassment...and you honestly didn't think anyone would even care to comment in the first place.

"....you weren't responding to me...huff...so I might've found everything about you in the meantime...huff...just so I could notice you in a crowd...I always will~"

Okay, now it's getting creepy. You hope that by just turning back around and continuing to write maybe he'd shut up...You guess it's sorta your fault for striking up a conversation with the creep.

"All the other writers don't know shit about writing...huff...1k word counts...huff...long and complicated stories that don't make any fucking sense..."

There goes the rambles. You stop typing for a moment to process what the hell he just said. He either is really balls-deep into this fantasy of you being a perfect human...or he's just trying to fluff you up so you'll continue writing for him. He's really delusional, that's it. It's seriously hard to believe your crap was life-changing for Nick.

“Simplicity is the most important part…huff…not describing some stupid walk sequence for 3 sentences…huff…it’s a waste of space..”

"....maybe you just like simpler writing...?"

You softly reply, yet again praying that you didn't accidentally strike a chord with this guy. He stares you down, and even if you aren't looking back at him, you can still feel the burning of his eyes on the back of your head.

"That's possible."

Oh, it's highly probable. He gets so emotional over the tiniest bit of anything, so...He just doesn't need too many words to evoke a reaction...It checks out because you also like to write a straight-to-the-point sorta piece.

"but don't let your mind wander for...huff...too long...my superstar...you've got at least 90+ pages to go~"

Shit, he was right...time to get back to work.

348 notes · View notes

lifeafterartsch00l · 6 months ago

Text

🍥Sns fic recs🍅

*If you know these authors on Tumblr, please tag them! ❤️😊*

Oxigen's overrated by TheMidnightSong

I love love love “Sasuke returns to Konoha” fics. Ive probably read like 200 of them and i would love to read 200 more. I 🍽️ it up!

Shout out to the latest chapter in this sweet & spicy fic! So well paced. They are so into each other. Hot enough to fry an egg on. Nominating for a smut award 👑 (Im making it a thing).

*Still thinking about chapter*

…what were we talking about again?

“Chapters: 9/?

Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto

Characters: Uzumaki Naruto, Tsunade (Naruto), Gaara (Naruto), Dai-nana-han | Team 7 Ensemble (Naruto), Uchiha Sasuke, Kyuubi | Nine-tails | Kurama, Haruno Sakura, Ninjas of Konohagakure, Konoha 11 Ensemble (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Post-War, Post-Canon, Post-Canon Fix-It, Fix-It, Ending Fix, Uchiha Sasuke-centric, POV Uchiha Sasuke, Uchiha Sasuke Returns to Konoha, Uzumaki Naruto is in Love with Uchiha Sasuke, Boys In Love, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Idiots in Love, Falling In Love, sasuke actually wants to become better, One-Sided Haruno Sakura/Uchiha Sasuke, Haruno Sakura Needs a Hug, Eventual Smut, Post-Chapter 699 (Naruto), Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Blank Period (Naruto), Drugs Made Them Do It, Drug Use, Drunk Sex, Getting Together, After Party, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, sasuke never went to jail, Uzumaki Naruto is Bad at Feelings, naruto is actually super in love, But he doesn't know how to handle it

Summary: After the war, Kakashi, the now Sixth Hokage, sees necessary for Sasuke to continue his recovery with Naruto, and puts him in charge of this task. At first, Sasuke has no problem with the idea, but he begins to notice strange behaviors in his friend, things that make him doubt about the relationship”

Detox (20 years together series) by wedonotsow

Dark, kinky modern au. A wonderful writer, authentic-feeling experiences ❤️ Bittersweet with happy ending. 🖤🌶️ also Naruto owns a restaurant in this one and I like to imagine him like Carmie from the Bear 😂 yes chef 😉

“Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Uchiha Sasuke & Uzumaki Naruto, Naruto - Relationship

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Hatake Kakashi, Karin (Naruto)

Additional Tags: Drug Use, Hurt/Comfort, Rehabilitation, True Love, Rough Sex, Pain, Drug Addiction, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Recovery, Love, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Face Slapping, references to bloodplay, Anal Sex, Healthy Relationships, Angst with a Happy Ending, Shibari, Domestic Fluff

Series: Part 2 of 20 years together AU

Summary: Naruto thought that he'd experienced it all. After 20 years of enmeshed history and 10 years in a committed relationship, they had endured death, betrayal, violence, and even jail; but always inexplicably tied in solid foundation of unconditional love.

Nothing could break them. Naruto had been sure of it. That is: until Sasuke was forced into rehab for a drug addition he had been hiding. To overcome these latest demons they must confront the deepest, darkest parts of themselves. Even the stuff that really, really hurts.

Good thing they are so used to enduring pain”

Let the world burn by newtaste

I like to think this fic is like Bridgerton with teeth. Very sexy and smart with class struggle & character development. The romance is so well done 🔥💙

“Rating: Mature

Relationships: Uchiha Sasuke/Uzumaki Naruto, Nara Shikamaru/Temari

Characters: Uchiha Sasuke, Uzumaki Naruto, Nara Shikamaru, Uchiha Itachi, Haruno Sakura, Hyuuga Hinata, Hyuuga Neji, Sai (Naruto), Gaara (Naruto), Yamanaka Ino, Temari (Naruto), Hatake Kakashi, Deidara (Naruto), Sarutobi Konohamaru

Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Historical, Slow Burn, Yaoi, Enemies to Lovers, Inspired by Bridgerton (TV), Uchiha Sasuke-centric, Period-Typical Homophobia, Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending

Summary: Uchiha Sasuke is one of the most eligible bachelors in Konoha, looking for a successful marriage. He is an elitist, a conservative duke who hates people who do not abide by the rules of society.

Uzumaki Naruto is a rebel, a mere commoner, who plans to revolutionize the system that favours only the rich.

When they accidentally meet at the spring ball, none of them suspects their beliefs would be shaken to their core.

The story takes place sometime in the middle of the nineteenth century, in a European setting, during the industrial revolution. Slow burn”

#Naruto #naruto fanfic #sasunaru #narusasu #sns #a03 author #a03 writer #a03 fanfic #a03 link #a03 fic #read on a03 #Sasuke #sasuke uchiha #fanfic #lifeafterartsch00l fic recs #naruto fic rec #my fic recs

68 notes · View notes

shadowgast-recs-weekly · 20 days ago

Text

Alternate Timelines and Echoes : A Shadowgast Rec List

This week, we have alternate timelines and echos! Check under the cut for 19 fics that explore echoes and the fun that dunamantic magic can cause, and don't forget to comment and kudos if you like them!

Ties that Bind - series by wytch-lyghts (72,058, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Caleb and Essek summon an echo from another time line that turns out to be Bren that was never broken

Reccer says: I liked it!

reflections and other illusions of control by atlasarcana (121,557 total. the first in the series is 15022, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

caleb's alternate universe echo, whos still a scourger, is summoned by caleb and essek. they make a deal with him to satisfy some of essek's darker desires.

Reccer says: On the darker, more sexual, and darker sexual side of shadowgast. very spicy but also emotional. respectful exploration of consent even if it doesn't always seem that way.

multitudinous echoes awoke and died in the distance by mousecookie (10003, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Caleb takes a step forward and stumbles. As he catches himself he realizes something very odd. His hands are shadowy and translucent. His whole body is a shadow, in fact. If he holds his palm up to the sky, he can see the stars twinkling faintly through it. Sharp talons of panic dig into his chest. He feels solid - if he grabs his own wrist, he has mass, but it is wrong. Everything is wrong. What is happening? Prepare Fireball, commands a voice in his head. The voice is familiar. It takes him a moment to realize it’s familiar because it’s his.

Reccer says: A wonderfully interesting concept and beautifully explored!

darkness, walk with me by magisterpavus (18,856, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

When Essek's plan to double-cross the Cerberus Assembly fails, he finds himself a prisoner of the Scourgers. He also finds Bren. They make a deal - Essek's mind for Bren's body - and Essek realizes that maybe he has always been a little selfish, a little disloyal. Maybe he can teach Bren to be the same.

Reccer says: I liked it!

Warp and Weft by DamnthatGeko (67437, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

“To Essek Thelyss,” it read, in his own looping handwriting. Five years after he was supposed to steal the beacons, Essek wakes with the memories of a different timeline in his head.

Reccer says: I actually just got done reading this a few days ago and I really liked it! It's an interesting take on what would happen if Essek decided to change the past. Also I loved watching him meet the mighty nein again and learning different things about them. I liked the action and adventure in this one. Great read

the better version of our past by kmackatie (5840, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Using the mini-beacon to fuel the time spell in Cognuza resulted in Essek seeing thousands upon thousands of alternate timelines, this covers some of them

Reccer says: A fascinating look into some snapshots of what could have been if things went a little different

The Altar of Verisimilitude by marsastronomica (9,877, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

What if Bren didn't break and Astrid and Eadwulf met Nott the Brave instead?

Reccer says: I liked it!

In All Worlds, Nothing Is Immutable by CherryMilkshake (22265, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek, who only briefly encountered the Nein, performs a spell that should have taken him 10 years into the past. Instead, he finds himself in a universe where that odd group of mercenaries seem to know him very well.

Reccer says: It's always interesting to see very lonely Esseks being speedrun into friendship (and yearning~) by Caleb and the Nein!

Mirror, Mirror by grassandcitrus (72276, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

The destruction of the T-Dock makes reality unstable enough for Caleb and Essek to be summoned as Resonant Echoes of their evil alternate universe selves! To get home, they'll need the help of a very different Nein.

Reccer says: This is such a fun exploration of what could have been for each of the Nein, and the Shadowgast is adorable.

In 100 years and Time You'll Know Me. by Fish_O_Cola (17924, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

An accidental time swap in Aeor sends Essek to his past, and a childhood version of himself from the past to the future.

Reccer says: It's particularly delightful because smol!Essek, but also adult Essek coming to understand more about his past and upbringing and what he's learned to value, as well as Caleb treating younger Essek with respect and understanding and asking for his help in returning adult Essek, and younger Essek, back to their proper timelines.

reflections and other illusions of control by atlasarcana (15022, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes, Choose Not to Warn, No warning for this fic. Choose not to warn applies to later fics in the series.

First in a wonderful series. Caleb and Essek summon an echo for the bedroom, turns out in that timeline Bren is still a volstrucker.

Reccer says: Tasty, tasty complex morality and well crafted prose.

jealousy by mllekurtz (1,724, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Essek sleeps with someone else to further his goals. Bren is into it.

Reccer says: I liked it!

you're in my veins, i'm chained, to your pain radio by allmadeofstardust (18,117, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

In an alternate universe where Bren never broke, he becomes a full Volstrucker. But he never stops being ambitious. Never stops wanting to take what he wants. When he stumbles into an audience with Shadowhand Essek Thelyss, however, he might finally have a way to achieve his goals.

Reccer says: I liked it!

The Land Is Inhospitable by gauzemer (12035, Teen) Reccer's Content Notes: Ikithon-typical historical abuse

(incomplete) Essek helps assess materials for Trent Ikithon's trial and accidentally summons an echo/ghost of a younger Bren Ermendrud, and cannot dispel him.

Reccer says: Its such a fun concept im so excited to read the rest of!! present!essek and past!bren is so so intriguing of a dynamic

The Voyeur of Utter Destruction (As Beauty) by Foxtrott66 (8824, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Dubcon/Consensual Non Consent

Essek and Caleb are enjoying a romantic evening under the stars together. Left by himself for a moment, Essek contemplates matters of perspective and promptly receives a whole new one as he is summoned as an Echo to partake in a very different sort of evening.

Reccer says: Pure filth of Essek as an echo double-teaming Caleb with an alternate Essek with a little fluff either side. Echo Essek isn't in control but he's enthusiastic and everyone has fun. And there's artwork!

obsessively, incessantly, to a point of suffocation by breitweisergallery (4468, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

alternate history where the empire makes a push into xhorhas. volstrucker bren spends his time in the encampment that essek and verin lead.

Reccer says: fascinating concept!

blue waltz by atlasarcana (37337, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Graphic Depictions of Violence

At a lavish hotel in Ank'Harel, two pairs of wizards--Caleb and Essek in one universe, Bren and the Shadowhand in another, are embroiled in assassination plots, espionage, and the beacon that may or may not be hidden under their noses.

Reccer says: This is my favorite in this series! Action-y and sassy and unexpectedly sweet.

Pray Before You Twist the Knife by harp_turtle (6,283, Explicit) Reccer's Content Notes: Choose Not to Warn

Inspired by that tumblr post about two spies trying to get it on but they keep pulling an absurd amount of knives out of their clothes…and it should kill the mood but it’s definitely not.

Reccer says: I liked it!

The following fic received two recs!

More Things in Heaven and Earth by kaeda (76998, Mature) Reccer's Content Notes: No Content Notes

Essek and Caleb are transported into another dimension where Tusk Love is very real.

Reccer 1 says: It's a fun and thoughtful fic with a lot of interesting threads into what different dimensions and timelines might exist. Reccer 2 says: This fic is such a delight! The novelization of Tusk Love is going to have to compete with this world in my head.

This is one of our weekly communally-generated shadowgast rec lists. Every week we announce a new theme and allow anyone to submit a fic recommendation.

And hey, anyone includes you!

Next week, we'll be featuring older favourites! This is for fics that were uploaded or last updated longer than two years ago

Any fics coming to mind? Well, then use this form to submit!

#shadowgast #essek thelyss #cr fic recs #caleb widogast #fan fiction rec list #critical role fan fiction #cr fic #cr fics

34 notes · View notes