#first fic in a solid 10 years!! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

youkissedareaderinthedark · 11 months

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 arsehole, 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

educatedsimps · 4 months

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

376 notes · View notes

stllmnstr · 2 months

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

268 notes · View notes

retrievablememories · 9 months

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

550 notes · View notes

iced-nct · 11 months

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

462 notes · View notes

chronicdisasterwrites · 4 months

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

192 notes · View notes

analbedo · 2 years

Text

📔 that boy’s a liar ft asshole virgin killer jock bf childe

ngl im having Bad Childe Thoughts™️ sorry he’s such nonconner bait like skskfkkdks. also this was not supposed to be this long sadly i just got too silly wit it >_> also it’s been so long since i wrote i had to keep looking words up to make sure i used them right asksjdjsk i was staring at my phone for like 10 minutes bc there’s no way sinisterly is a word 🤨 anyway.

i could easily imagine him being, like, an asshole jock, probably plays some rich boy sport like lacrosse 😭 and every time the school year starts he’s always looking for another cute freshman to fuck. he had a thing for virgins, and no one was more virginal than a fresh out of high school girl, eager to find her first boyfriend, completely oblivious to the nature of men. (well, really, men like him.)

𐐪 warning: this fic contains dark content, please read my dark content disclaimer before continuing. minors dni.

🦢cw: virginity kink, dubcon/sexual coercion, noncon/rape (both implied and explicit, the word rape is also used), misogyny (i’m sorry women🥺), emotional manipulation, unhealthy relationships, unconsensual nude sharing, degradation, unconsensual creampie-ing (is there a better word for this?), hair pulling, mouth spitting, contraception mention⁉️

° 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 nsfw below the cut! 𐐪 ♡ 𐑂 °

and that’s what led ajax to you, the bright eyed, overly naive barely legal cheerleader. most cheerleaders were too slutty for his tastes, but he could tell from the innocent way you swung your hips and nervousness around guys that you’d probably never had a boyfriend, let alone sex.

bagging you was too easy, he almost felt bad for you. he’d barely finished inviting you to one of his games when you’d excitedly accepted. afterward, him convincing you to go to a frat party later that night was child’s play (no pun intended). from there on, you were putty in his hands. ajax had no real intentions of dating you, you were a bit too innocent for his tastes. but, when you offhandedly mentioned you were saving yourself for “the one” (seriously?), he realized he had no other choice.

nothing really changed after you made it official, you still went to his games and parties with him, and sent him nudes that he was definitely sending to his friends’ groupchat. ajax, the notorious virgin killer, and his new victim. the general consensus was that you were the hottest one he found, which was an accomplishment, but his friends teased him for how long it was taking for him to smash— “you’re losing your touch there, casanova” kaeya texted him after he updated the chat on his latest date with you.

ajax rolled his eyes, but it was true. you were really not trying to give it up, even if you were blackout drunk, slurring your words at parties, even when he lit candles and set out rose petals for your one month anniversary, even when he said he’d never tell anyone. nothing was working, and he was starting to get annoyed. nutting on you face, tits, and ass wasn’t cutting it; if anything he was starting to get more and more sexually frustrated. he wouldn’t force you, he wasn’t that type of guy, but damn it if he wasn’t running out of ways to try to convince you to let him actually put his dick inside you; he’d even settle for just head at this point.

ajax reached his breaking point one night after a game. his team won the championship finals for their division, or something, which meant they had a solid chance at playing to win the state title. surely, he deserved something for that. so, when you invited him over to celebrate after, he was expecting more than you just surprising him with a homemade dinner after his shower.

“that’s it?” ajax asked, looking in disbelief at the table, his voice gradually growing louder and meaner as he spoke. “you fucking cook for me all the time, why the fuck would you think this is a surprise?”

you felt your heart sink a little bit; you’d put way more effort into it than your usual dishes, and you thought he’d might like a nice, fulfilling dinner after working so hard. ajax had little outbursts like this all the time, but he assured you that’s just how relationships are, and who would give up a tall, handsome, perfectly sculpted redhead athlete just because he’s a little temperamental.

you remained quiet; usually, this is where he’d apologize and say he had a bad day, or was tired. but, his tirade kept going.

“we’ve been together three fucking months and you’re still acting like the same boring virgin bitch as when we started dating. i thought for once you’d stop fucking neglecting me and finally fucking put out.” ajax reached up to run a hand through his damp auburn hair, his towel slipping down ever so slightly as he did so. you felt your face grow warm in embarrassment and desire. you wanted to wait, but him borderline flashing you sent butterflies down your stomach to between your legs.

“i’m sorry,” you said meekly, genuinely meaning it. you tried explaining how scared you were to do it for the first time; stds, pregnancy, or having your cherry popped, which you imagined would be more painful than it sounds. ajax always gave you the same responses, that he was clean, he’d pull out, he’d be gentle. you had no reason to deny him, really, you saw a future with him; and, if he’d dated you this long without having sex, you imagined he’d want to be with you forever once you said yes.

but still, something in your body was telling you to stop, leave, run. as many butterflies as he gave you, there were still cold claws of dread and fear dragging in your chest at the thought of sleeping with him. “i’m just not ready yet, baby. i’m sorry.” you replied, unable to meet his eye.

that was probably a good thing, because the look of disgust he casted would’ve been enough to make you break down in tears. “not… ready?” ajax asked in an angry low timbre. “you’re a fucking adult, for christ’s sake, what the fuck do you mean you’re not ready? it’s fucking sex, not a marriage proposal.” he huffed incredulously, running both hands through his hair now while throwing his head back. he turned away from you, finally allowing you to lift your gaze from the floor. staring at his back, you realized just how muscular your boyfriend was— and tall too.

if he really wanted it, he could easily take it. you wouldn’t stand a chance.

the thought alone made your throat swell and eyes prick. you never thought he could be that kind of guy; and if he is, wouldn’t it be better to just let him do what he wants? maybe he’d go easy on you if you said yes now.

“everyone else on the team is probably getting ass at that after party, and i’m fucking stuck here playing house with a childish ass bitch,” ajax groaned. his words felt like punches straight to the gut; you instinctively held your abdomen in response. he turned around to you, his face now free of anger, but full of… something. you didn’t know what, but it was sending shivers down your spine. “you know, this is the longest i’ve ever gone without having sex,” he said in a neutral tone, slowly walking around the table to approach you. you winced as he lifted your chin up, bringing his face uncomfortably close to yours.

“look at me,” ajax said softly, but sinisterly. you forced your tear filled eyes to meet his, but not without trembling in fear. “you’re neglecting me, you know. isn’t it a little unfair to deprive me of intimacy, when i’ve been doing everything i can to make you comfortable? why are you so scared of me, hm? why don’t you trust me?” you merely blinked in response; if you talked you knew you wouldn’t be able to hold back sobbing. “i don’t neglect you, do i? is there anything you want that i don’t for do?” you pondered the question; though he was rarely ever nice or this soft spoken, he had a point— physically, he’d given you all the cuddles and forehead kisses you could want.

still, that wasn’t the same thing as having sex? or, was it? who’s to say he finds cuddling as intimate as lovemaking? maybe sex was to him what cuddling was to you— maybe you were neglecting him. you shook your head softly in reply.

“good girl, you’re right. i’ve done everything i can to prove you can trust me, does that not matter to you? will i never be good enough for you?” ajax’s voice sounded sincere, but the cold, perverse look in his eyes still made you doubt. “i’ve been so patient, baby. i could’ve taken it any time i wanted, but i waited for you. you gonna keep me waiting forever?”

something about his logic wasn’t quite adding up to you— but, it didn’t matter. your brain was too clogged with fear to compute anything. plus, he confirmed what you tried so hard to not acknowledge all along: if he wanted you, he could have you, whether you wanted it or not. your heart thudded in your chest.

you felt guilty for depriving your boyfriend for so long, but that was overshadowed by your fear of what he’d do to you if you kept kept saying no. “ok,” you whispered meekly, so soft you were surprised he even heard it.

or, maybe he didn’t. it probably wouldn’t have made much of a difference.

ajax smiled, though this time his grin of approval filled you with cold terror instead of giddy excitement. “i knew you’d do the right thing.”

***

“shouldn’t we use condoms?” you asked. you were sitting on your bed, wrapping your naked body with your fuzzy pink blanket. maybe you were as childish as he said. the more you thought about it, the less you wanted to do it, but, it was too late mow.

“they’re too small for me, but, don’t worry, i’m clean. can’t let an std fuck up my lacrosse career, you know?” ajax said casually, walking towards the bed.

“no, not for that. i meant for- i mean, like, i’m not on, like, birth control or anything—” you stammered.

“oh that’s fine, i was gonna pull out anyway. can’t let a baby fuck up my career, either,” he replied, chuckling at his own joke before giving you a light peck. “plus, you’re too hot to knock up right now, it’d ruin your body. i’d save that for after you’ve already hit the wall. anyway,” he said sliding back on the bed and leaning against the wall. “come here princess, i’ll show you what to do.”

you turned around and crawled toward him, sitting back on your heels. his comment about your body momentarily snapped you out of your fearful haze; were you really about to give it up to such an asshole?

ajax twirled his finger, motioning you. “face that way, towards the door. and get on your hands and knees”

“like this?”

“perfect. now—” instead of giving instructions, ajax put his hand between your shoulder blades and pushed you down roughly. “you’re gonna stay like that.”

it was kind of humiliating being in such a lewd pose; you’d always imagined your first time would be passionate missionary sex, not getting your back blown out. ajax shuffled behind you on the bed; he was taking his boxers off.

“okay, you ready? i’m gonna be honest, it’s pretty big, and it’s gonna hurt a lot before it starts to feel good, alright?” ajax said as he positioned himself behind you, his hands on your hips as he slowly dragged the tip of his dick against your vulva. “just keep taking it, though,” he said, lowering his voice for the rest of his sentence: “i didn’t wait all this time just to get blue balled.”

ajax lined himself up with your hole, and you sucked in a breath as you felt the slight pressure of his tip on the outer rim. you winced, scrunching your face as you prepared for him to actually go in.

sadly, nothing could’ve prepared you for that type of pain.

“fuck— ajax stop, no, it hurts— it hurts too much—” you cried out, practically screaming.

“tch. stop being so dramatic, i’m not even halfway in,” ajax paused his speech as he pushed into you further, eliciting a yelp. the searing pain was almost enough to render you unconscious, and, god, how you wish it actually did. “it’ll hurt less once you’re used to it. relax, for fucks sake. the more you panic the more it hurts.”

you wished you could heed his advice— but, then again, what does he know? he’d only ever inflicted the pain, never received it. there’s no way he could comprehend how horrific it felt being split open, your body resisting every inch but still being made to take it. the pain came from between your legs and in your head, too, the few fleeting thoughts you had besides how much it hurt questioning how he could put you through this, if he really loved you, he knew you weren’t ready.

you abandoned speech altogether, merely sobbing as ajax continued to push his thick cock inside you.

ajax paused again. “crying’s only hot if i can see it. shut the fuck up, you’re killing the mood.” when you didn’t stop sobbing, he grabbed you by the ponytail, jerking your towards him so he could mutter in your ear; the shock was enough to shut you up, at least momentarily. “i swear i get soft ‘cause you keep whining like a bitch, you’re gonna suck it til it’s hard again, and i’ll make sure it hurts a whole lot fucking worse.” he let go of your hair, your body flopping limply back onto your bed.

you took a deep breath, biting down on your arm to silence yourself, and prepared for the worst.

ajax was angry now, and, being the cause of his agitation, he happily took it out you. you bit down so hard you could’ve sworn you drew blood as he continued to shove his cock inside you; his thrusts were rough, it felt as he was tearing you open. just as your brain grew delirious with pain, you felt one final shove before the warmth of his body was against your ass.

“there, that wasn’t so bad, was it, baby? i don’t even think you’re bleeding,” ajax cooed. you were so beat down you couldn’t even speak, but he didn’t really need a reply; he didn’t care how bad it was for you, because it was perfect for him. “but i know you’re still a virgin, or, were a virgin, ‘cause you’re so fucking tight.” he moaned as he held your hips and pushed into further, somehow managing to get even deeper. this caused a new type of discomfort; less of the searing torture of him going in, but a nonetheless dull, aching pain in your lower abdomen.

“fuck, you feel so good, pussy’s gripping me so tight like it’s made for me. think i just hit your cervix, too.” ajax’s hands traveled from your hips to your ass, massaging the soft flesh on either side. “you’re so fucking hot, i could probably cum just from this.”

panic became the new sensation that took you over. “but you said you’d pull out,” you cried, trying a last ditch attempt to crawl away from him.

ajax easily held you against him again, and sighed in annoyance. “i said i could, not that i would, stupid slut. you’re the last girl alive i’d knock up; who’d wanna spend 18 years with your annoying ass?”

tears returned to your eyes; is this really how he viewed you? was this entire relationship just a ruse to get in your pants?

well, it didn’t matter, at this point. he was already there, and wasn’t leaving until he finished. you had no choice but to take it.

ajax clicked his tongue before gently sliding out of you, barely an inch. he showed no mercy thrusting back into you, though, making that dull ache resonate again. he slowly pulled out again, leaving only the tip inside.

“damn, you’re pretty wet for a bitch that says she doesn’t want it,” he sneered. ajax slammed his dick back inside you; strangely, it didn’t hurt nearly as much as the first time, minus him hitting your cervix. “but virgins are all the same,”ajax continued, picking up the pace at which he rutted into you. “you pretend you don’t want it to ‘cause of your purity bullshit, but the second i’ve got you bent over you start creamin’ on me like a porn star, can’t help yourself.”

the pain of him sliding into you was gone at this point; you could only feel the drag of his cock against your walls, rubbing against a spot that made ecstasy shoot through you. even the ache from him going too deep started to feel pleasurable. you couldn’t help but moan as waves of euphoria washed over you.

“yeah, you like that, baby?” ajax purred, before sending a sharp smack to your ass. he chuckled hearing you moan at that, too. “damn, you’re a masochist, too? didn’t think a pure little princess would be such a whore in bed.” he slapped your ass again, before reaching around to grab your neck and pull you towards him and titling your head back so he could look into your face. “bet you’re sorry for making me wait, huh? fucking tease,” he snapped, before spitting into your mouth. “swallow it.”

you did as you were told, disgusted by the feeling of the warm, foamy liquid landing in your mouth and sliding down your esophagus. he let you go, and you fell again back onto the bed. ajax placed a large hand on your back, pushing you down into the right position.

“keep your back fucking arched,” ajax scolded. with one hand pressing you into the sheets, and one firmly grasping the softness of your hip, he rutted into you, harder, and faster, each thrust sending shots of pleasure and pain throughout your whole body.

“ah- ajax- slow- fuck- slow down, ‘ts too much- too fast-i can’t—” you moaned, drooling onto the sheets. it felt so wrong, letting him do this to you, with all the awful things he’s said and done— but, you couldn’t help how good it felt taking his dick, every movement adding to the euphoric build up that made your body limo and head dizzy.

the intensity of pain and pleasure increased as he leaned over to hiss in your ear: “you’re gonna take what i fucking give you., slut.” ajax pried open your jaw, and shoved two long fingers into your mouth. “i’m tired of listening to you moaning, i wanna hear you gag for me, princess.” you choked around him, his digits pressing the back of your throat. “yeah, just like that, baby.”

the feeling of his fingers being pushed down your throat as he panted in your ear, while still not letting up on his rapid thrusts was all too stimulating; you felt your body tremble as you came, tranquillizing euphoria spreading your body like electricity. you could vaguely feel your pussy flutter around ajax’s dick, involuntarily clenching around him.

“fuck, you just got so much tighter— ah, wetter, too,” ajax moaned in your ear, burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder. “fuck, baby, i’m so close, feels so fucking good—” he cut himself off with his own panting, desperately chasing his own release.

it took you a moment to register his words in your post orgasm haze, but you quickly snapped to attention once you did. you jerked your head to the side so his fingers were no longer massaging the back of your tongue.

“wait- ajax, you said you’d pull out—”

“god, i know, i will, now shut the fuck up before you ruin it,” he groaned. his hands moved to yours, pinning your wrists down while as rhythm grew sloppy.

“ajax, please- you said you wouldn’t, cum inside me— please— please don’t don’t—“ you plead desperately.

“shut up, bitch,” ajax spat. “i know what im fucking doing,”. “i’m not gonna nut inside you— fuck— just need a little more—ah”

“please don’t,” you whispered softly; you were almost certain ajax wouldn’t risk cumming inside you— his reasoning was sound, but there again was that feeling of chilling dread as he kept messily rutting into you.

“fuck, ‘ts so good, so fucking wet— ah” ajax panted, indifferent to your reminders. his speed slowed, now more pronounced pounding. “fuck, fuck, i’m sorry baby, it just feels too fucking good, i can’t— ahh”

you screamed for him to stop, but it was too late; you could feel after his final thrust a warmth inside you, spreading deeper into your core as he wrapped his arms around you. “ajax, stop it— get off— let me go!” you screeched, desperately trying to break free from his grasp.

“sorry, princess, ‘ts too late now. shit, there’s so fucking much, too,” ajax sighed, pushing into you even harder. “fuck.”

nothing could describe the disgust you felt, trapped under your boyfriend’s sweaty, toned body as he forced you to take every last drop of his cum, shamelessly draining his balls inside your limp body. you knew you had to worry about pregnancy or an sti, but those were far from your mind.

the only thing you could think about is how bad you wanted to die.

ajax finally released you, getting off the bed and searching for his clothes. once free, you immediately crawled into a fetal position, tears pooling from your eyes as his cum drooled down your thighs.

epilogue

“sorry about that, by the way,” ajax said nonchalantly, as if he didn’t basically ruin your life. “it’s been so long since i last had sex, i guess i forgot how to pull out in time, so it’s kind of on you for making me wait.”

you said nothing; as humiliated as you were, you couldn’t risk more embarrassment by actually responding to him.

“hey, so, there’s still an after party going on, so i think i’m gonna check that out. you don’t have to worry about coming though— shit, sorry— attending, i know you probably have some shit you wanna work through right now. soooo,” you heard his footsteps head toward your bedroom door. he paused, as if he was waiting for a response, but eventually you heard him leave your room, head out the front door, and drive off. you laid on your bed, curled up in shame, for what felt like an eternity, until the loud text alert from your phone jolted you out of your catatonic state. it was a text— from ajax, surprisingly.

hey. left you a apology gift on your table. hope it helps.

you threw on a bathrobe and shuffled miserably back to your dining room. the elaborate feast you made was embarrassing to look at; all that effort just to get borderline raped by your boyfriend for his special night. you saw the gift he must have been referring to: a wad of bills, that, when you counted them it amounted to $65. you read the messy scrawl on the accompanying note:

enough for a plan b ♡

#tw noncon #tw dubcon #childe #childe smut #childe x reader #genshin smut #tartaglia smut #ajax x reader #<- damn how many names this mf got like ⁈

1K notes · View notes

sansundertale14x1 · 7 months

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.

321 notes · View notes

kai-ninjago · 1 month

Text

Tornado Wranglers headcanons!

Every member of the Tornado Wranglers has gotten a tattoo done by Lily before, most of them drunkenly

Tyler and Boone have known each other since they were in highschool :) they weren’t extremely close until a few years later, but they would sit together at lunch

Boone has a pet snake! Its name is Jaeger

Dexter doesn’t go chasing quite as often as the rest of them because of his age— he has a bad back, and also likes to spend time at home with his wife

Dexter has four children, all of which are grown up and live out of state. They’ve all met the rest of the Wranglers at least once, though

Lily and Dani are dating and live together

Boone dropped out of highschool his senior year, but he doesn’t like to talk about it so no one (except Tyler) really knows why

Dexter used to do work as a volunteer firefighter when he was younger. His longtime career ended up being as a university professor later on

Dexter’s wife loves to cook for the Wranglers and have them over at their house— they’re around the same age as her and Dexter’s children, so it’s nice to have them around now that the kids are all moved out

Dani loves animals! When they’re not on a chase, she likes to volunteer at the local shelter, or foster cats and dogs

Lily and Dani share clothes a lot, especially when they’re on the road

I’ve seen this mentioned in plenty of fics, so it’s hardly my idea— but I wholeheartedly agree that Tyler’s accent comes out more when he’s drunk

Boone is the type to keep clothes until they’re literally falling apart— the majority of his wardrobe is 10+ years old, and very well worn

The group drinks together a lot, but Dexter rarely joins in— he likes to keep a clear head in case something bad happens, so he can take care of everyone

Coming back to Boone’s snake, Dexter absolutely refuses to go to Boone’s house because he’s terrified of snakes

Lily loves to draw! She’s the one who designed the “not my first tornadeo” shirts— it was meant as a joke, but Tyler loved them

Boone sleeps very little, and even less when they’re on the road. He gets nightmares often, so he likes to stay up as late as possible, only going to sleep when absolutely necessary.

The others are aware of this, and do their best to help him out wherever necessary

Tyler loves his truck so much, as soon as it gets damaged he finds a way to repair it

(Canon) Boone loves sweet things, especially chocolate! Tyler doesn’t like him eating in the truck though, because he’s messy

Lily often forgets to eat and drink when they’re traveling, leading to her getting exhausted and dehydrated. To combat this, Tyler makes a point of stopping and sitting down as a group to have three solid meals a day, even if they’re picnicking in the middle of nowhere

Boone likes to give everyone nicknames— T, Dex, Dans, and Lee

Tyler and Ben keep in contact after Ben goes home! They become close online friends, with Ben frequently tuning in to the streams. Later on, he makes a habit of visiting Arkansas to see the Wranglers at least once a year!

Boone is very affectionate with all of the wranglers, giving them hugs and even kisses all the time

Dani plays the guitar really well. She doesn’t bring one with her when they travel, but if she can get her hands on one, she likes to play and sing for her friends around the fire

Lily and Dani are short for Lillian and Daniela ^_^

If they’re ever traveling for a long time, like over a month, Tyler will have Dani cut his hair for him

Lily has a big family, and keeps in touch with all of her siblings. She calls them often to make sure they’re alright during storms, and most of the Wranglers know them well by now

Boone has a hard time reading, but he loves to listen to audiobooks while they’re on long drives! His favorite are sci-fi stories books like The Martian and Dune

Tyler loves to dance. He can sometimes convince the crew to go out line dancing with him, but most of them usually have to be at least a little bit tipsy to even consider it

Lily and Boone are best friends; they have very similar personalities and can easily match each others energy

The tattoo that Boone was referring to in that deleted scene where he’s talking to Ben is a tramp stamp that says “giddy-up cowboy”

Tyler loves to cook! At home he has a grill where he makes brisket and ribs to share with everyone ^_^

That’s all :P

#twisters #twisters 2024 #tornado wranglers #boone twisters #dexter twisters #lily twisters #dani twisters #tyler owens #twisters headcanons #long post #Lily x Dani #twisters Lily x Dani

93 notes · View notes

wheredidhiseyebrowsgo · 1 year

Note

Hii! I'd really appreciate if you could recommend me fics where Stiles leaves Beacon Hills and makes new friends. (He may or may not return to BH later) thank you!

I do!

The Truth of It by alisvolatpropiis

(1/1 I 2,158 I Mature I Sterek)

Derek took the picture late one night the summer between Stiles’ junior and senior years of college, the last of their four summers together.

Or not-together. The last of their four summers of whatever it was they were to each other in those years, fucking nonstop and spending nearly every waking moment together for three months at a time, both of them aggressively maintaining the it’s-just-sex-it-doesn’t-mean-anything rule they set their very first time together, the night of the pack’s high school graduation party when, slightly drunk, Stiles kissed him for the first time, determined and eager, heart pounding in Derek’s ears.

Not Your Emissary by sapphireginger

(1/1 I 2,428 I Teen I Steter)

Stiles squeezed his mate’s hand to soothe the angered alpha and watched Scott puff out his chest in a pitiful attempt to be intimidating. “No.”

“NO?!” Scott growled. “What do you mean no? This isn’t negotiable. You're my pack!”

“Am I?” Stiles asked calmly.

Scott hesitated and nodded firmly. “Yes.”

Stiles shrugged one shoulder. “I love Peter and he loves me. I’m not leaving with you, and you can’t make me.”

“Wanna bet?!” Scott snarled.

Peter’s control was rock solid, airtight, never faltering. His presence alone was enough to drive fear into the hearts of most. It was always a turn on to see the alpha put people in their places.

We'll be Better Around the Second Time by Cantabo

(12/12 I 26,589 I Mature I Sterek)

It's been months. Months of fading contact with the pack. Months of the silent treatment from his father. Months of nothing but himself and the occasional lesson with Deaton to entertain him.

It's too much, and eventually, Stiles leaves.

For years, everything goes great, until of course his dad gets injured, and he is suddenly forced to deal with people he thought he left behind in his past for good.

OR: Stiles gets pushed out of the pack, hits the road, makes new friends, learns how to grow up, and falls in love.

Abraca-Fuck-You! by isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)

(1/1 I 28,906 I Mature I Sterek)

“Who needed you?” Stiles asked, uncapping his water.

“Hm?” Cole had been looking out at something in the field, and he focussed back on Stiles then. “What?”

“You said it comes about when someone needs us. Who needed you?”

He probably shouldn’t have asked, because Cole looked sad all of a sudden. Like he hadn’t thought about becoming a Sorcerer in a long time. Stiles could see that being what he was had cost him greatly, and he couldn’t help but wonder if he was going to run into the same problem.

“A friend,” Cole said quietly. “Someone who was very dear to me. But I didn’t get there fast enough.”

Stiles paused in recapping his water, pressing his lips together. “What happened?”

“I waited too long to help them.”

At Our Ex-Spence by sapphireginger

(26/31 I 41,923 I Explicit I Steter)

Stiles is ready to leave Beacon Hell Hole-Beacon Hills-behind. An offer to join the FBI is his ticket out of there. A blue eyed wolf follows along, and Stiles doesn't mind a bit.

On the other side of the US an amber eyed man puts on his glasses and gets out of bed. His first day at the FBI is almost here. "Stu?" the man's girlfriend calls out. "Coming!" he replies and rejoins her in their bedroom.

Stiles is about to start his FBI training. He meets two people of major significance on his first day. Life gets even more complicated, and he has so many questions. However, he's not sure who he trusts to give him the correct answers-to give him the truth.

I've Been Everywhere With You by Leslie_Knope

(10/10 I 61,551 I Explicit I Sterek)

“Dude, you should totally come with me.”

“What? Like on the road trip?"

“No, come with me. To Austin. Get out of Beacon Hills.”

Derek paused. “What?” he asked again.

When It Comes To Being Lucky by sterekcrush

(46/? I 157,701 I General I Sterek)

Derek Hale doesn't do love. He's tried twice; the first time it made him a killer, and the second time cost him his whole world.

So he doesn't do love, and he definitely doesn't love Stiles. He doesn't care about Stiles' new powers or the fact that Stiles has been talking to Derek's dead mother, or even the fact that for some reason supernatural creatures from all over the country are sending Stiles offers of courtship.

But when Stiles claims he's not part of Derek's pack and takes off for parts unknown...well, maybe Derek cares a little after all.

Guardian by Lerya

(100/100 I 202,041 I Mature I Steter)

After Stiles finally realises how little he means to Scott, and how little his opinions and even his research mean to the 'true Alpha', he's had enough. With most of the original Hale pack getting away from the Hellhole that is Beacon Hills, he prepares to do the same. The extra addition wasn't planned, but most welcomed, as was an invite by the counsel.

He could do this, going around the world, helping other Supernaturals, getting to know the world, and learning about himself and the community.

Manipulated by DearDaisy (Scribblesnpaws)

(30/30 I 221,251 I Mature I Sterek)

Nine years ago, Scott kicked Stiles out of the pack. Stiles left and never returned. But now his dad has been hurt, so Stiles returns to take care of him. No one knows the truth of what happened back then, not even Scott or Stiles. But that's about to change.

#teen wolf #sterek #stiles stilinski #derek hale #road trip #steter #peter hale #magic!stiles

243 notes · View notes

demigods-posts · 8 months

Note

Do you have any fic recs?

A New Love - DancingInTheSilverGlow: This is a slow-burn love story between Sally and Medusa. It might seem like a strange idea at first glance, but I swear it is so good. Seriously, I have so much faith in it.

Character is Destiny - NBenson4: This is a story about characters from the rrverse reading the books. This story stretches from TLT, Chapter 1 to TBOTL, Chapter 12. Unfortunately, this fic has been discontinued, but that author has posted an update about it here, hinting at a rewrite!

My Personal Edgar Allen Poe - gwenstacynecromancer: This is a Percabeth fluff fanfic that takes place between TLO and TLH. It's adorable!

Percy Jackson, Annabeth Chase, and the WIRED Autocomplete Interview - holythemis: Percy and Annabeth are famous demigods and do the sticker-peel-answer-questions thingy from WIRED. Solid concept, and interesting read!

the annabeth project - pjoseries (divineauthor): This is a fic about Percy going back in time to save Annabeth, and is accompanied by the twelve-year-old version of himself and Annabeth. It's based off of a movie called The Adam Project (10/10 reccomend), and it is such a good read!

twenty-four hours - barbariansbsides (barbarianprincess): This a fic about Percy and Annabeth spending quality time together post-TBOTL. It's so cute, I could cry!

#five fic recs and one fic update #much love #fics recs #pjo fics #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #pjo text post

128 notes · View notes

skellymom · 7 months

Text

"Sunset Over Pabu"

Hunter X OC/Reader One Shot

Word Count: 910

Background: An "Old Love" relationship. Nostalgia. Saying Goodbye. Using planet and star interchangeably. The celestial body in this fic is a Moon, similar to our planet Mars it reflects light so the appearance is a shining star.

The inspiration for this story came from @lightspringrain artwork. Including the link to her Etsy shop and image of "Hunter's Moon"

https://www.etsy.com/listing/1556715876/star-wars-the-bad-batch-omega-or-hunter?ref=yr_purchases

There are parallels to the first time Mad met Hunter in this fic. To read how they met, here is the link:

https://www.tumblr.com/skellymom/738467105361494016/vagabonds?source=share

Warning: Sadness.

(Credit: Cool moving star dividers by @4ngelic-wh1spers )

They snuggled close on that settee just as they did the first night meeting on Ord Mantell. In between trips off world, children, weddings, funerals, holidays, and all manner of life Hunter and Mad carved out while on Pabu to watch the sunset together. Approximately 10 standard cycles of building a bonfire on the beach and cuddling up together to watch the sky turn deep shades of crimson, purple, and eventually black. Gazing at the stars as they cycled by with the seasons in the night sky.

The broken settee was resurrected by Hunter’s own hands when they first settled. He built it strong enough for two. A solid foundation so it would never break again. Mad helped weatherproof it to withstand the ocean salt. Together, they performed maintenance when needed, so it would last for many years. A continuing project and labor of love.

In addition, a firepit was constructed to hold the burning heat kept within. Hunter and Mad collected stones on their travels around the galaxy. Bringing back chunks of memories to line into a continuing never-ending circle. Occasionally family and friends would add their own additions when returning to Pabu. Wrecker kept his eye out for oddly shaped or colored rocks while fishing and would surprise them with a new addition already stacked against the ring.

Tonight, Hunter had a bit of difficulty making his way down the stone steps to the beach. Mad took his hand, providing support. His long hair and beard had gotten greyer the last few months. She joked that he was almost as silver as her. The wrinkles and laugh-lines accumulated since being together, a happy long life for a clone prominent on his face. He smiled as she fussed about him being careful not to slip.

“Taking good care of me.”

“Of course, what else would I do.”

She winked, and he chuckled.

He told Mad tonight he’d forego their usual “Spotchka under the stars” and just do “The Stars” for tonight. The alcohol was wearing heavily on his system, making for extremely tiring mornings after...even with him cutting back considerably.

In the last few months, Hunter and Mad watched a vibrant moon make its transit across the heavens. It stood out amongst the other stars. Burning a brilliant red flicker that could be easily seen even though it was millions of light years away. The bright red star reached the zenith of its orbit and total brilliance tonight per Tech’s calculations.

“There’s YOUR moon, Hunky!” Mad pointed up above.

There was a number for this moon at one point. With millions of celestial bodies orbiting the galaxy, only numbers were given to keep track of them all. That wasn't good enough for Omega though. She named it “Hunter’s Moon” rotations ago before leaving on her own journey with Echo and Crosshair.

“Shame it’s the last night we’ll see it on Pabu.” Hunter mused.

Mad sighed. “Didn’t Tech say something about it being visible somewhere else?”

“Think he mentioned another planet not far from this one...” Hunter trailed off.

“Whattsamatter Hunky?”

He looked a little guilty “Not sure I’m up to traveling much any time soon.” He also sounded tired.

“Not in any hurry. We have a sky full of stars.”

“Mhmm, that’s my Mad... always thinking ahead.”

“It’s the wanderlust. Brain never shuts off.”

“I LOVE you, Maadienne.”

Mad smiled and squeezed his hand. “I LOVE you too, Hunky.”

They both gazed up at Hunter’s Moon.

“Make a wish, Mad!” Hunter said quietly.

They were both silent for a while. Then Hunter gently rested his head against hers.

She knew he wouldn’t come out and tell her his wish, that to tell it wouldn’t come true. Mad still liked to chide Hunter and try to playfully tease it out of him. It would end in tickling, laughter, hugs, kisses...and on less tiresome nights love making. On tiresome nights they fell asleep in each other's arms on the beach.

“Okay Hunky, spill the beans.” Mad hugged Hunter tighter. He didn’t reply.

“Hunky..?”

Mad brushed Hunter’s long locks away from his face. She gazed down at him, marveling at how the bonfire illuminated his hair, tattoo, dark skin. The face of a sleeping angel. A rhyme in time back on Ord Mantell all those years ago. The younger man who decided to buy her a drink in Cyd’s Parlor. A partner that travelled with her across the galaxy, helped care for her family, whose brothers adopted them all, and a partner that never left her side.

She caressed his face lovingly, immersing herself in the scent of his skin, hair, and...

...breath...?

Hunter’s chest had stilled. An expected, but heavy weight resting against her body, a bit heavier than his usual bodily presence.

“Oh...Hunter...Hun...” Mad suddenly hitched and exhaled, tears running down her face.

She knew this day would eventually come. And as the full rotations went on, she kept wishing on a certain red star that she could have another standard day with him. Every standard day she wished to have another.

But wishes only carry you so far...and there are only so many wishes granted.

And you must accept that the universe has other plans.

To believe in having just a moment of happiness instead of none.

Mad kissed Hunter’s forehead. “Aw, Hunky...we were REAL good... Weren’t we?

The red star above Pabu twinkled in reply to Mad’s words as she hugged Hunter for the last time.

PLEASE like, comment, and/or REBLOG!

IF YOU WISH TO BE ADDED OR DROPPED FROM MY TAG LIST, PLEASE MESSAGE ME! Don't just comment as I might miss it. Thanks!!! <3

97 notes · View notes

billybob598 · 1 year

Text

Lucky Charms & If Only's (Frida Maanum x Reader)

Guys, I'm literally so good at banging out fics. Another F1 reader, except this time with Frida! Also, I know Alfa Romeo suck this season but for the purpose of this fic, they're a solid midfield team. This one again requested by anon. Remember any feedback good or bad is welcomed! Hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 1.2K (Shortest one so far, but whatever)

Frida was always amazed at how well you handled adversity. Such as, reporters being absolute assholes to you. She doesn’t understand how you can be so calm with some of the questions they were asking you.

“The first half of the season has not been what you or the team expected, do you think this is because of the car or yourself?”

“Is it tougher for you to drive the car, because you’re a woman?”

“Do you think Alfa Romeo should keep you on for next season?”

“If it was a man inside the car do you think he’d be able to perform better?”

You were very well media trained. It also helped that these questions were not new to you, they were a recurring theme throughout your career. It was just that now you were in Formula 1 and all the pressure and media had multiplied by 100.

It was your rookie season and every move you made had been put under the microscope, analyzed by the so-called “experts.” If anything, it was exhausting. Even more so when the first ten races had been subpar, at best. There were only 3 points to your name in the Drivers’ Championship right now. Your teammate, Zhou Guanyu, had 10 points and was driving brilliantly. You knew that you needed a good result here in Austria to show everyone what you could do.

Your girlfriend, Frida, had seen firsthand how much pressure you were under and the toll it had taken on you. In between race weekends, you tried your best to go see her. She was your rock, she would always listen to you rant, she would watch from the couch as you did hundreds of laps on the F1 game, she would do anything if you asked. Until you asked her to come to one of your races. Of course, she wanted to, but it was difficult with her club season and now preparing for the World Cup. That’s why she hadn’t attended a single race so far this season. Frida hated watching how you instantly deflated each time you asked if she was going to come and she said no. Fortunately, Arsenal’s season was done and she wasn’t to report to the national team for a little bit so, unbeknownst to you, she was flying in Saturday night to be there for race day.

So far, the weekend had been going decent, practice was a little shaky when they found a problem with your engine, but qualifying had been good, narrowly missing out on Q3 finishing P11. As you head back to the hotel, trying to get away from some straggler reporters, you think you’re hallucinating when you see Frida get out of a taxi and head into the hotel. Jogging to catch up to her you shout,

“Frida! Is that you?” She spins around and grins at you.

“Hey babe! Surprise! I finally made it to a race,” she says excitedly. You lean in and give a soft kiss for the first time in what feels like forever (more like 5 days). Pulling away, you grab her hand and drag her to your room.

The next day, you felt completely relaxed, which was odd because usually before races you get a little nervous, but not today. You put it down to the fact that Frida’s here, her presence always seeming to calm you down. It’s how you used to feel with your parents before they passed away a couple of years ago. Throughout the pre-race traditions, Frida tries her best to stay close to you. She admittedly was feeling a little out of place in the paddock. So, when you finished with a press conference, you immediately find Frida waiting for you and slip your hand into hers. As the pair of you walk through the paddock, Frida can’t help but admire how good you looked. Your race suit was undone, tied around your waist, so your top was just covered by the white fireproofs. They left very little to the imagination, and Frida couldn’t believe you were hers. You give her a funny look before checking if she’s feeling okay. Frida blushes at getting caught checking you out but says she is just fine.

After you slip your helmet on you look over at Frida and give her a little wave. Frida giggles and waves back. You get comfortable inside the car while everyone gets off the grid and prepares for the formation lap. Frida holds her breath as all five lights shine red, before turning off and all twenty cars get going. You get a good start diving down the inside of an Alpine to move up to P10. Over the next couple of laps, you defend from behind you while also trying to make some moves forward. Soon enough you find yourself in a bit of a DRS train, no one getting close enough to overtake. You try your best to stick to the car ahead of you through the first two straights. Heading into turn 4 you stick it around the outside, the entire Alfa Romeo garage cheering. As the race progresses you move even further up until you’re sitting pretty in P5. With only 8 laps left in the race, Sergio Perez, who was ahead of you in P2, has to retire due to a mechanical failure. This promotes you to P4 as the Safety Car is called upon. You swerve back and forth, trying to keep your tires warm as you settle behind Charles Leclerc’s Ferrari. When the Safety Car pulls into the pits and the green flag is given, you immediately smother the back of the Ferrari. You stay behind him for a bit before using DRS and getting by him on a straight. Frida can’t believe what she’s seeing, you were in a position to get your first-ever podium in F1. Those last 5 laps are the longest of your life. Leclerc tried everything to get by you, but you did everything in your power to not let him by. By the time you reach the final lap, your tyres are gone, but as he once again dives down the inside, you brake early and switch back him. You get a much better exit and retake the position. Going through the final sector, your girlfriend is in a state of shock as all the mechanics yell and rush to watch you cross the finish line.

“That’s a podium mate!” Your engineer exclaims over the radio.

“Oh my God, guys! Thank you so, so much! We’ve done it, what a frickin race mate!” You shout back.

Parking your car in the pit lane, you get out as quickly as possible to go celebrate with your team. Everyone shouts and hugs you. After taking your helmet off and drinking some water, you find your girlfriend in the crowd and hug her.

“I swear you’re my lucky charm babe,” you mumble into her neck.

“Does that mean I get to come to more races?” She replies cheekily.

“Oh hell yeah.”

On the podium, you are finally handed your trophy you kiss it before pointing to the sky. If only your parents could see you now, you couldn’t imagine how excited they’d be. If only.

On the flight back to London with Frida, you can’t help but think about how lucky you were to have her in your life. She really was your lucky charm.

#frida maanum x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #requested #boom #f1 reader x woso

301 notes · View notes