#i doubt any winner enjoyed their win | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

victoria-daydreams · 7 months ago

Text

The Winner Takes It All||Challengers

AN: So, I finally I got to see Challengers yesterday and boy do I have thoughts that may or may not be weaved into the story, things still might be ooc or wrong. Also, I'm warning y'all now, I know absolutely nothing about tennis/college and partook in half ass research on how the sport functions.

Based this fic off the most gut wrenching ABBA song because it fits so well with the story. I hope you all enjoy this mini series, don't know if I did it justice from translating this from my head onto Tumblr, but we move. And hopefully there aren't any spelling or grammar errors, but if there are, we die like men.

A playlist for this series is coming soon!

Word Count: 3.5k

Trigger Warnings: mentions of colorism and racism

Taglist: @seriousaliysa @hopless-y @malscorner @miximora @urfavesim @mmmunson @jackierose902109 @youngestxhearts @blkdivinefeminine @kailkailz @lottiematthewsceo @lonnie2390147 @begoniaespresso @everydayimagineer @pnkstalli @softimgyu @amethystwonders11 @hazbinh0e @ysuftmikey

I tried to tag everyone who commented, but tumblr is being weird so I don't know if you'll get the notification.

Part One: Sugar & Spice

With her arms folded across her chest, Gianna's eyes were glued to the TV screen in front of her as two male sports analysts began to discuss their pick for match of the day.

"Oh man, this right here was my favorite today!" one analyst stated excitedly.

"For sure! It was the match to watch as the tennis world bore witness to the next up-and-coming tennis star," the other commentator agreed.

The camera cut away from the men and to the highlights of the mixed doubles championship match.

"Out the gate Gianna Langdon, ranked number five in girls singles, set the the tone for the day with a powerful ace to start the match,"

A clip of the opening minute of the match is put on the screen with Gianna throwing the ball high in the air for the first, and perfectly executed serve, followed by her pumping her fist in triumph with a grin.

"From there, she and her partner, Max Sullivan, kept their opponents, Roy Christians and Marie Riviera on the back foot for what seemed like the entire match,"

Gianna studied the way she nimbly moved around on the grass court, her swift volleys, sharp serves, and effortless backhands left no room for doubt that she was a force to be reckoned with.

"Play of the match goes to none other than Gianna Langdon, with this volley to put the nail in the coffin of this championship," the analyst reported, as the final moments of the match popped up on the screen.

With a powerful strike, the tennis ball was slammed back over the net by Roy onto Gianna's side of the court. Roy's hit lifted the ball high into the air forcing Gianna to reposition herself and backpedal to the spot to return it. Leaping up, Gianna smashed the ball down with force, out of reach from both Marie and Roy, the game winning hit. The clip replayed, but only this time in slow motion, so viewers at home could properly admire the athleticism on display. ESPN then did a jump cut of Gianna and Max both dropping their rackets simultaneously before rushing towards each other to embrace. Max even lifted up her a bit, twirling them around as they celebrated their victory.

The camera panned back to the two commentators who were wrapping up their coverage of the tournament.

"Honestly, Gianna Langdon just dominates the tennis field for her age group whether it's single or doubles," the commentator complimented, gathering his papers up in his hands and tapping it against the desk.

Gianna's lips lifted at the praise, its rare she gets her flowers as a tennis player.

"She's a force to be reckoned with, no doubt about that. If she keeps playing like she is now, she can easily break into the top three, but she's no Tashi Duncan," the other commentator corrected.

At this, her smile instantly fell off her face. Since freshman year of high school, Gianna has forever lived under the inescapable shadow of the phenomenal, powerhouse that is Tashi Duncan. Because Tashi wasn't just some athlete, she was the athlete. The next Serena Williams, as some people taken to calling her. Gianna might as well been chopped liver.

The girls have been thick as thieves since Gianna moved to the same school as Tashi and was paired up by their coach to be doubles partners. The duo were unstoppable on the court, as Gianna was a tennis prodigy in her own right, but often was relegated to just being known as Tashi Duncan's partner. A repeated slight which didn't go unnoticed by her two strongest supporters, her parents. They made it their mission to drill Gianna with an unshakable sense of self confidence in not only her skills with a tennis racket, but also her appearance.

"Don't you ever let the media or naysayers play in your face about your talents, Gianna," her father's words echoing in her head. "You already know, you have to work twice as hard to get half the recognition compared to others," he went on.

Gianna recalled the exact day, he gave her this speech. She was probably fifteen and won a match against some Eastern European girl, it was an upset, and boy did everyone make it a point to tell her so. It ranged from backhanded compliments to outright slurs lobbed at her.

"Oh, so when Tashi pulverizes her opponent on the court who's ranked higher than her it's admirable, but when I do it's a problem!" she complained.

"Competing against Tashi, you need to be prepared that narratives are going to be formed and pushed from factors beyond your control," her father warned. "She's lighter, you're darker. She's thin, you have curves. You're both confident, but only one of you is going to be labeled as arrogant," he listed.

"It's a shame we didn't get to see Duncan and Langdon compete together in girls doubles this year," the analyst said, snapping Gianna out her thoughts.

"Agreed, the best girl duo in juniors we've seen in years,"

Images of Gianna and Tashi materialized on the screen, some were from the last two Junior US Open Championships; both of the, proudly beaming and holding their trophies high above their heads and kissing each other's cheek. But, the one picture that stood out the most to Gianna was their cover on Tennis. Both of them had their arms folded and their game faces on with the headline emblazoned below them.

“Sugar & Spice”

~~~x~~~

Rounding the corner of the hallway, the doors where Tashi's party was being held outside came into Gianna's view. Music and the low murmur of voices floated out of the room, bouncing off the walls as she drew closer. From the corner of Gianna's eyes, she caught her reflection in the hallway mirror promoting her to stop. A pair of eyes, identical to color of rich, molasses stared back at her. Carefully, Gianna studied herself in the mirror from every angle. The healthy glow of her golden, deep brown skin made the light dusting of freckles decorating her upper cheeks and nose more prominent.

"She's no Tashi Duncan,"

It only took those four, little words to dampen Gianna's cheery demeanor and leave her brooding since the afternoon.

Lips pursed, she shook her head slightly, "No, no, no," she whispered to herself. "You're still a champion, Gianna. Fuck that ESPN analyst," she said lowly, smoothing out the pale yellow halter dress she wore.

Letting a lopsided grin grow on her lips, Gianna moved away from the mirror and entered into the ballroom where the party was in full swing. She weaved her way through the crowd to find Tashi, but found herself stopping repeatedly to smile and shake hands as people crowded round her to congratulate her on her match. Gianna couldn't help but feel smug. For once, people were basking in her presence and enjoying the chance to meet a future tennis star in person. It boosted Gianna's ego—a pure, bone-deep satisfaction that something in the air was beginning to shift.

She was starting to be seen as a standout player, not just an extension to Tashi.

Thanking her last well wisher, Gianna's eyes met Tashi's who was a few feet from where she stood. A flicker of recognition flittered across her face and she smiled a tiny smile. Tashi was not alone though, two boys were standing in front her and seemed to be having a very lively conversation.

"What's this I see?" Gianna wondered aloud, brushing past one of the boys. "I'm gone for a minute and you're already making new friends without me," she joked, dropping into the empty chair next to Tashi.

Across from her, both boys were slack jawed and unable to tear their eyes away Gianna. Pride simmered in her chest, Gianna already knew that she was beautiful, but it was nice to be reminded of that fact every now and then. Especially, when there's two boys ogling at her looks and treating her like a divine being.

"You boys gonna stop staring and introduce yourselves, or what?" Gianna questioned, her words flavored with a lulling Louisiana drawl and the boys snapped from their stupor.

"Let me, these two seem to be malfunctioning," Tashi cut in, with a smirk.

"They keep on drooling any longer, they'll catch flies," Gianna quipped, her nude colored lips curling upwards.

Tashi motioned to the dark haired boy with sharp features, "This is Patrick Zweig," she introduced, as Gianna's eyes met Patrick's gray ones, holding her stare and grinning widely. Confidence that bordered on cockiness practically radiated off him. "And this is Art Donaldson," Tashi continued, gesturing to the boy next to Patrick.

Art only allowed himself a small, shy, smile when her eyes shifted over to him. Unabashedly, Gianna let her eyes roam over Art's features. Those blond curls, those blue eyes.

God, they're both gorgeous.

Tashi placed her hand on Gianna's knee, "Patrick and Art, this is my best friend—" she started.

"Gianna Langdon," Patrick and Art interjected simultaneously, causing a Cheshire grin to form on Gianna's lips.

"Well, well, my fan club only continues to grow this tournament," Gianna joked, playing with the curly ends of her pick and drop braids.

"Deservedly so, you were absolutely amazing this tournament," Art complimented, a breathy chuckle leaving him.

"That play when you landed a split after playing a return," Patrick mentioned, beaming at her. "And you still got the point, fucking incredible!" he praised, shaking his head.

She smiled, "Oh, so you two have been avidly watching my matches then?" Gianna questioned, playfulness in her voice while slightly leaning forward in her seat.

"Ashamedly, not initially," Art admitted, and Gianna quirked brow. "But after your storybook comeback in Round 4, we knew there was no way we couldn’t stop watching you," he added quickly.

"Singles or doubles," Patrick chimed in.

"Did you by chance watch any of our matches, Gianna?" Art asked timidly, staring at her with hopeful eyes.

She smirked, "Singles or doubles?" Gianna asked back, smoothly echoing Patrick's words.

"Either," Patrick responded, his eyes drinking her in.

They both seemed mesmerized. Leaning in closer, as if they were going to learn her with their close proximity. Gianna hummed thoughtfully, leaning back in her chair and raising a finger to her chin to mull over the question. She glanced over to Tashi, who was already watching her with an amused expression. Embarrassingly, Gianna kind of forgot her best friend was literally sitting next to her, she had become too engrossed in her conversation with the newcomers.

"No, can't say that I have," Gianna answered finally, with a shrug.

Art deflated, his face falling as the tips of his ears went fiery red, while Patrick's shoulders sagged a little.

"O-Oh," Art breathed.

There was a silence. Gianna looked off to her side again to see a ghost of a grin threatening to appear on Tashi's face. When the two girls' eyes connected with each other, they burst out laughing at the same time. Both boys looked at each other wordlessly, both speechless by this.

"Gia's just fucking with you two," Tashi explained, in between laughter.

Relief couldn't have been written across their faces more clearly.

"Yeah, I actually watched your championship match while I was in the recovery room," Gianna informed, her giggles subsiding. "Your between the legs shot was very inspired, Patrick," she remarked, with a smile.

At this, Patrick puffed out his chest a bit.

"You know, they're playing against each other tomorrow in the boys singles championship match," Tashi mentioned, her eyes bouncing between the boys.

"Are they now?" Gianna responded, an intrigued smirk gracing her face while crossing one leg over the other.

"We are!" Art blurted out, almost too eagerly.

"You both should come and watch," Patrick suggested.

Gianna cocked her head to the side, "Hmm, maybe," she answered, having a little fun toying with them.

Tashi rose from her chair, reaching her hand out for Gianna's.

"Come on, my dad is waving me over to come take pictures," Tashi informed.

"This is a group activity?" Gianna questioned, her brows furrowing.

"No, but the demand for Gianna Langdon is ever growing," she reminded, her eyes filled with mirth.

"It sure is," Gianna agreed, taking her hand as her friend helped her to her feet. Gianna looked over to Patrick and Art. "Well, ciao. It was nice meeting y'all," Gianna said, waving goodbye as Tashi led her away.

"Goodbye?" Patrick jokingly scoffed. "We'll be here all night!" he called out after her.

~~~x~~~

True to their word, Patrick and Art were in the same spot where Gianna and Tashi had left them earlier and they were more than willing to continue hanging out with the girls. Which is how the group of four found themselves on the beach, slowly treading along the sand, the dark blue sky and millions of stars above them. Naturally, Tashi had found herself in the middle of the group with Patrick flanking on her left and Art on her right.

Gianna was next to Art and as they walked, their arms would accidentally brush against each other every now and then. Both of them exchanging shy smiles at the fleeting contact that sent butterflies fluttering in Gianna's stomach. She secretly relished the contact from Art, he radiated warmth similar to that of a dryer-warm blanket; a nice contrast to the cool sand between her toes.

"You know earlier, Tashi asked us who was fire and who was ice," Patrick spoke, looking over to Gianna. "I figured I should return the favor, between the two of you, who's sugar and who's spice?" he asked, his eyes bouncing from Tashi to her.

"Tashi, is definitely 'spice'," Gianna answered, and Tashi rolled her eyes with a smile. "She's more fiery than me and has a more aggressive play style than I do," she explained.

"Making you 'sugar', of course," Art reasoned, the two staring at one another. "You are the perfect mix of deadly grace and effortless balance on the court," he described, going in an almost dreamlike trance.

"Why, thank you Art," Gianna said, bumping her arm into his.

"If Tashi is 'spice' and your 'sugar', why does the media switch it around?" Patrick wondered.

"Preconceived notions, methinks," Gianna replied, simply shrugging her shoulders.

They wandered along until they settled on a spot to hang out at. Art and Patrick both sat in deck chairs while Tashi and Gianna perched themselves on a large rock. Conversation flowed between all them on a myriad of topics ranging from college, life in general, and of course tennis.

"So Gianna," Patrick began, a small curious and mischievous glint in his eyes. "Your doubles partner Bryce—"

"It's Max," Gianna corrected flatly, with a laugh.

He smirked, "I was in the ballpark," Patrick argued, throwing his hands up. "Anyways, you and Max, you two a thing?" he asked curiously, before taking a drag of his cigarette.

"Eww, no!" Tashi exclaimed, her nose twisting in disgust. "You think Gia has such low standards?" she asked back, clearly offended on Gianna's behalf.

"Tashi, come on, Max is not that bad of a person," Gianna stated, lifting her hand up to tell her to calm down.

"Honestly, I don't know how she does it," Tashi went on. "It's a miracle she can still walk after carrying Max through this entire tournament," she sneered.

"Look, Max is not someone who I would consider as an ideal mixed doubles partner," Gianna conceded, her gaze meeting everyone's. "He's mediocre actually," she said bluntly, making Patrick and Art both snicker. "However, Max as an individual and not as an athlete, he's a wonderful guy," she said, with a slight shrug. "Us dating has never once crossed my mind," she finished, waving her hand dismissively.

"So it sounds like you'll be in need of a new partner soon," Patrick hinted, a hunger in his stare.

"Hmm, I guess I will," Gianna agreed, letting a coy smile grow on her lips. "You know anybody?" she asked, tilting her head a little.

"I can think of two people off the top of my head," Art responded, taking a drag of his own cigarette and blowing it out slowly.

"Oh, is that so? And who just—" Gianna started.

Suddenly, Gianna's phone began noisily vibrating in her lap, putting an end to the playful between the boys and Gianna. She picked up her phone and flipped it open before exhaling heavily, it was her dad texting her.

"Shit, fun's over guys," Gianna announced, with another sigh. "My dad wants me back in my room," she explained, unfolding her legs.

"Your won a championship today, and you're father won't let you stay up late to celebrate?" Patrick asked in disbelief, leaning forward in his chair.

"Obviously, you don't know my father if you think a single championship win is going to get him to loosen his reins on his regimented schedule for me," Gianna stated, grabbing her sandals and letting them dangle from her fingers.

"You're about to be off to Stanford, it's insane your dad is giving you a curfew," Art chimed in.

"Well, I'm not at Stanford yet," Gianna pointed out. "And also..." she trailed off, turning to Tashi who had a knowing look on her face. "His roof, his rules," they both said in unison, after hearing those words countlessly over the years.

Finally standing up from the rock, the boys followed suit. Both of their gazes traveled the length of Gianna yet again, as if they needed to commit her to memory.

"I can walk you back to the ferry and to your hotel," Art offered kindly.

"We both could," Patrick volunteered.

"As much as I am flattered that both of you want to walk me back, I can manage just fine," Gianna assured. "Plus, we're all going to be playing an unwanted game of 21 questions if my dad sees two, random white boys walking me to my room," she remarked, with a chuckle.

Tashi pushed herself up onto her feet, "I'll come with you, Gia,"

"No, no stay, Tashi," Gianna encouraged. "Don't end the fun on my account," she insisted. "Another time will come about for all of us to hang out again, right?" she questioned.

A toothy grin broke out on Patrick's face, "There's gonna be another time?" he asked

"I don't see why not," she answered, mirroring his expression. "The three of us are going to be at Stanford together, and I'm sure you come visit from time to time. It all works out so well!" Gianna said excitedly.

Art opened his mouth to speak, but the shrill ringing of Gianna's phone silenced him. Looking down at the phone, she grimaced slightly.

"Shit, I really have to go, my dad is calling now," Gianna stressed.

"Then get going," Tashi prompted, playfully swatting her bottom.

A surprised whoop escaped Gianna's lips before morphing into a giggle as she began to half-walk, half-jog away from the group. She spun around to face them, continuing to walk backwards.

"This was really fun y'all, we should do this again, yeah?" she yelled.

"I look forward to it!" Art yelled back.

"Me too!" Patrick shouted.

Laughing, Gianna spun around and jogged away, all too aware of the three pair of eyes boring into her back.

~~~x~~~

Propped up against the hotel bed headboard, Gianna was tucked underneath the blankets with a well-worn copy of Baking with Julia in her hands. If tennis was her first love, then baking was her second. There was nothing more relaxing than to Gianna than being able to slow down and just allowing herself to focus on precision, without any of the heightened stakes that came with tennis. Not to mention, beating eggs or whisking a cake were great ways to rid herself of any frustration she may be feeling.

A series of rhythmic knocks on her door pulled Gianna from her musings. She didn't even have to ask who it was, she could tell by the pattern of the familiar knock.

"Just use the card I gave you, Tashi," Gianna called, her voice just loud enough for her to hear.

There's a quiet click of the door unlocking before the door opened a crack and Tashi's head popped into her room, a shit eating grin on her face.

"Hurry up and get in here, before my dad sees!" Gianna ordered, with a laugh.

Closing the door behind her, Tashi pranced over to Gianna and sat beside her on the floor on the edge of her bed.

"Tell me everything! What happened after I left?" Gianna asked, a smile of her own on her face.

"They invited me to come up to their room,"

"And you went?"

"I did," Tashi answered, a smirk on her lips.

Gianna landed a playful hit on Tashi's arm, "No fucking way!" she whispered, her eyes wide. "You hooked up with both of them?"

"I didn't sleep with them," Tashi corrected. "We only made out, and then they made out," she added, smirking proudly.

Gianna raised an eyebrow, "They made out? Patrick and Art?" she questioned.

"Yep," Tashi grinned.

"On their own or did they have some help?" Gianna asked, arching a brow.

Wordlessly, Tashi plucked Gianna's book from her hands and she straddled her, resting each leg on either side of Gianna.

"They did most of the heavy lifting, I just gave them the push they needed," Tashi explained, looping her arms around her friend's neck.

"Now, I'm a little jealous. I missed out on all the fun," Gianna complained, sticking out her lower lip in a mock pout.

"Gia babe, don't worry, I did not forget about you," Tashi reassured, as Gianna hands came to rest on Tashi's thighs. "Remember their match tomorrow?" she reminded.

"Yeah,"

"Winner gets my number…." Tashi trailed off, removing her right arm from around Gianna's neck. "And yours," she finished, lightly tapping the tip of her nose.

A slow smile spread across Gianna's lips as Tashi's words sunk in. She knew exactly what her friend was up to, especially if it meant Tashi could watch some "real fuckin' tennis".

"Tashi Duncan, the girl that you are," Gianna praised, letting out a chuckle.

Leaning forward, Gianna planted a soft kiss on Tashi's lips. It was only meant to be a quick peck, but as Gianna went to pull away, Tashi held her face, keeping their lips connected.

Tashi withdrew herself from Gianna, "Tomorrow is gonna be so fucking good," she grinned, her eyes twinkling at the thought. "And guess what is the best part about all of this, Gia?" she questioned, their forehead resting against each others.

"What?'

"We already have them wrapped our fingers, without even trying," Tashi answered, sending the girls into a fit of giggles.

Part II: Maneaters

#black!reader #art donaldson x reader #patrick zweig x reader #challengers x reader #black fanfiction #tashi duncan x reader #black!oc #challengers #tashi duncan #art donaldson #patrick zweig

395 notes · View notes

moonshynecybin · 7 months ago

Text

i thinkkkkk this one is gonna be part of something larger but here's the first part of a fic (2.8k so far) where the first chapter is literally just rosquez having a conversation in an airport set around jerez 2024… i also wanted to add some good ole marquez brother goof arounds:

“Look, if you’re just gonna make fun of me—”

“No, please! I wanna hear the rest of this,” Alex says, leaning into Marc’s space and raising his eyebrows, goofy. It makes Marc let out a big laugh— full and loud. He stretches against the plastic of the airport gate seating, the movement pulling at overtired muscles. It feels like they’ve been here forever.

It’s been a long journey back to Spain— storm delays and rerouting stranding them in the airport for hours. They’re still here waiting for a connecting flight, puttering away next to their gate and shooting the shit. It’s been a good weekend —a podium for him— but he’s tired, and ready to be home.

“No no no no, I’m done.” He settles into his seat, pushing Alex’s face away from him. Alex cackles, and Marc points at him. “But you should do that professionally!”

Alex pulls one of his mild, exasperated faces, and it makes Marc smile wider. They’re probably being too loud. Marc doesn’t care.

“You know,” Alex points out, dragging out the last syllable of know so it sounds like knowwwww, “You are the world’s absolute worst loser.”

Marc shrugs. “It’s a good thing, too— in our line of work you have to be.” He’s unrepentant. It’s how he’s built.

He ignores the face that Alex is surely making and leans down to rummage through his carry on, looking for headphones. For sure, if he has to lose to anyone, he’d prefer it was Alex. With him, the nagging bite of loss usually manages to morph into something lighter, more fun, just because he knows Alex won’t ever blame him for how he gets, how involved he can be in winning. That doesn’t mean he enjoys losing—he’ll never enjoy that—but it takes it back to being a game. None of the anticipation of a sour aftermath that he’s faced in the past, the wait for the other foot to drop, and the play to slide towards resentment without him noticing.

“I doubt losing at a video game will help you gain a competitive edge on the track,” Alex asserts dryly, turning his attention back to his phone and tapping open the Kindle app. He’s been obsessed with those fantasy novels, lately. “You can’t win at everything.”

“Trust me, I know,” Marc laughs, rubbing at his arm. He needs to call his PT. Whatever. “But! I don’t think that first thing is true.” Banishing the thought from his head, he leans over to poke Alex in the arm. Alex swats at his hand, not looking up from his book, and Marc pokes him again, harder this time. “I have a winner mentality.”

“You have a loser mentality. You just lost.” Alex is staring at what Marc thinks is the table of contents.

“Semantics.” Another poke.

Alex looks up, incredulous. Victory.

“You were cheating! And you still lost!”

“But you don’t have any proof of that.”

And Alex shakes his head like he can’t believe him, laughs again. “You are insufferable.”

Marc grins and Alex sighs, scrubs a hand over his head.

“I’m going to go grab some water. Maybe eventually they’ll let us board this fucking plane. You want anything?”

Marc shakes his head.

“No, I’m good.” He ate earlier. He opens his phone back up, thumbs over his home screen. Nothing looks exciting. He hasn't been on instagram so much lately– avoiding comments.

He sighs and contemplates opening his dating app. He doesn’t.

Nothing’s felt— he’s busy.

It’s always been too much— too complicated with his schedule, with travel, timezones, turning over battles in his head. Braking maneuvers and tire pressure edging out any relationship before it got off the ground properly. Lately, since his arm, and since Alex had told him to go find someone— it’s been nagging more.

But no one gets it. Not like he does. And he’s just never found someone that felt like they were worth all of the effort it would take, keeping a relationship together in a life like his, bending himself around racing. There’s been flashes, some false starts, but nothing has ever–

He hears a distracted chuckle behind his back, a light sound, happy, and it hooks him, hard. A sucker punch. He glances over, his previous train of thought abandoned.

It’s—

He's heard that laugh before.

They haven’t seen each other— properly, actually exchanging words— since last year. The end of the season. They were both in the bathroom at the Lights Out Gala. Marc in a tux, Vale in a flannel. Marc had held the door for Vale as he had left.

Vale, once he’d registered his presence, had thrown him a thin lipped, restrained smile, and thanked him. Asked him vaguely about his surgery. Moved on.

And now he’s on the phone, a few feet away, and he probably hasn’t even seen Marc yet. Instead, he’s chattering lowly, head slightly tilted as he drags a thumb over the handle of his suitcase.

Marc has to wonder if stuff like this happens to other people.

Alex hasn’t left yet, but is about to. He's noticed, of course he noticed, and he tugs on Marc’s sleeve, voice low. “You need me to stay?”

Marc shrugs, shakes his head. He's been around Vale before, after everything, in close quarters even. It's fine.

He's had a lot of practice.

Those last few years, before Vale retired, after Argentina—after Sepang, really, though he maybe hadn’t processed it yet— he worked on it a lot. On taking Vale off of the pedestal, making him more of a person. On realizing he was always going to have a different relationship to Vale than Vale would to him.

He works hard at that distance, enforcing it, maintaining it. Tending to it.

And he had gotten somewhere better, once he had realized that. Had stopped trying to say hi to him every time he saw him. Vale is his hero, and he knows by know that that’s never going to change completely. The precise way his presence lights Marc up, makes him giddy, the disbelieving undercurrent that Valentino Rossi knows his name— but he also has come to terms with the fact that it's never going to be like he imagined when he was twenty, and he thought maybe he could matter as much to Vale as he did to Marc.

He knows that.

But it was an adjustment. It took some time. It’s better now. He's used to it.

Now, he can sit at an airport gate with him and ignore him.

He’s probably been staring at his phone screen a little too hard.

“Allora— so, how have you been?” A voice asks, simply, closer to his ear than it should be. Of course.

He puts the emphasis on you, the full force of him narrowed on the word. Marc stays very, forcibly still. Projects calm.

Vale’s across from him, now, got there without him noticing. His legs are spread out wide in the seat across from Marc, hat pulled low and posture easy. His face is neutral— pleasant. Marc knows that means absolutely nothing.

Vale’s gaze charts over him, carefully, taking him in. Marc swallows, steels his jaw.

Vale has always had a way of observing. Leveraging that beam of attention. He doesn’t miss a thing, never has, and he looks good— tired, but relaxed, thin frame bundled up in a hoodie, hat pulled low over his forehead. Incognito mode, Marc remembers him joking sometime in 2013, after they had snuck out of the paddock to grab a drink at a bar post media day. But you always dress like that, Marc had said, probably too confidently, and Vale had laughed, had leant in and said Well, if I want them to recognize me, I just wear the Yamaha shirt.

Marc blinks. Vale’s eyebrows are raised, expectantly. He’s been quiet too long.

“Why?” He asks pleasantly. No use pretending.

“How have you been?” Vale asks, evenly, continuing as if Marc didn’t talk. “It has been a few months, yes? Since we’ve seen each other? The gala?” He looks away, shrugging. “I wondered about your arm– it seems better.”

“You could have texted.” Marc says, furrowing his brow. He's being overly serious, he knows, but he’s curious. He didn’t expect Vale to text, knew he wouldn’t actually. It still, despite it all, prickled at him. Whenever he was injured, before, Vale would always ask. He hadn't, anytime in the last four years, despite the severity of the injury.

So why is he asking now.

Vale huffs a laugh, swipes a thumb over his phone case, waves it lazily. “My number, it ah, leaked.” He makes a face. “I had to get a new phone a while ago. I don't think your contact made it over.”

It’s better than him deleting it. Better than Marc expected, to be honest.

It could also be a lie.

“Oh. Well.” Marc, says, unsure how to continue. He smiles at Vale anyways, lifts his good shoulder, combing through his brain for what he actually wants Vale to know about his arm. Not lying, just slightly to the left of the truth. He doesn't want anything getting back to Pecco, but Vale can sense insincerity from a mile off.

“I can't complain. The last surgery, it helped.”

Vale’s eyebrows jump, making a little grimace. “I heard, it did not look very pleasant.”

The documentary, Marc thinks, Did he watch the fucking documentary?

“—Now it’s just the bike? Managing the new braking style?” Vale asks. Marc cannot fucking remember the last time Vale asked him two questions in a row.

“Ah, you know. Trade secret.” Vale’s team is also vying for the GP25 — best to keep as much as he can close to his chest.

Vale raises an eyebrow and Marc folds like a cheap stack of cards.

He sighs. nods. Who cares. Vale’s watched him ride for years, he knows Marc still has a little bit to improve on the year old Ducati. He’s seen the data.

“Now it’s just the getting the bike, nailing the setup.” He goes for the PR version of the truth. Nevermind that his arm is still in PT three times a week. The Ducati is good— Marc is having more fun. Fighting at the front. Adjusting easier than he thought he would.

But it’s not a Honda. He needs a bit more time, and he needs– he needs the factory spec. And it looks like Jorge Martin might be the one to get it.

Vale nods, neutral, like the conversation’s ending, like he’s being gracious with Marc’s answer, letting him keep his emotions close— and a sharp, unexplainable feeling digs into Marc’s chest, that same way it did when he was watching him from the seat over in whatever press conference, those first few years. He wants to keep Vale talking. Wants him to keep looking at Marc, wants to— Marc doesn’t quite know, exactly, but it feels a lot like he does on track, when he just can’t quite keep himself from reaching for the win.

He speaks. Vale’s gaze snaps back to him, head following after, a little lazier.

“You? How's endurance racing? Missing anything about MotoGP?”

He says like he doesn’t know. Like he doesn't keep tabs. Like people don’t ask him about Vale’s results.

Anyways, it's hard to be involved in MotoGP and not hear about Vale, even when he’s been retired going into three years now. People talk, always eager for Marc’s opinion on his great rival.

There’s a quirk at the corner of Vale’s mouth. Like he’s won something. Marc curls a fist tight, ignoring the feeling that he’s given information away.

“Some things.” Vale replies, an odd glimmer to him. His brow furrows, then: “I miss how it was around ten years ago, more.”

Marc blinks.

“— Getting old, I mean. It was not so fun, there at the end. I could see everything I wanted to do, every move I would've made on track, ” He sits down across from Marc, leans back in his seat, long torso bending with his lazy posture, the mood shifts and he laughs. “But I was too old! It was harder.”

Of course that’s what he meant. Marc doesn’t— he doesn’t miss Marc. doesn’t think about him much at all, probably. Wasn’t saying he missed how it was between them, ten years ago, when they were friends. Marc knows that.

“I'm getting up there, now.” Marc jokes, “Acosta, he is on the horizon.” He’s not sure it lands, but Vale huffs a laugh anyways, rubs at his eyebrow.

“You?” Vale asks, incredulous. That x-ray quality is back in his vision. He always— He used to always get Marc that way, when he would dial in and make Marc think the words he was saying mattered to him.

Vale shakes his head, shimmies a shoulder, wags a finger. “No no no no, don’t try that– you are still young, you cant talk to me about old.”

Marc grins. He doesn’t feel it so much, now, the years between them, but it’s a nice reminder of how good it felt, being the up and comer on the scene. The next Valentino Rossi. That was fun.

But he’s older now, has been in the paddock longer than almost anyone, just like Vale had– and he can feel it, dragging at his arm. can see it, in the lines under his eyes, the unfamiliarity of the faces around him.

He wonders how Vale did it for so long. That slow decline— new people popping up every day, ones who learned from him, perfected ideas he pioneered, then using them against him.

He remembers how he felt on the podium yesterday, and decides not to ask. He leans back.

“Ehhhh, you are not really that much older than me.”

Vale’s expression doesn’t change, still set at his default neutrally animated, but something charges in the air, and Marc gets the sense he wants to say something, toying with the edge of the cliff.

Marc searches for something that won’t rock the boat. He settles on a compliment.

“Pecco was good this weekend— He beat me. You trained him well.”

Vale’s shoulders slide down, relaxing minutely. The charge slips away. Success.

“Ah, he’s a lot better than he was when you showed up at the ranch ten years ago, yes.”

Marc leans forwards, “Hey!” So much for avoiding fraught topics.

Vale tilts his chin, considering. “What did you say about him? I don’t think it was flattering–”

“—That was ten years ago! I’m wrong ONCE.”

“Once is enough!”

“Apparently.” Marc hits back.

And it’s good— they’re laughing, Marc thinks, he’s laughing— but that last bit, the apparently, hangs there, snagging in Marc’s mind.

Once is enough. Apparently.

Vale’s smile dies slowly, once it’s clear Marc isn’t about to continue, and it’s odd. Not fraught, for once— though Marc hasn't been the best at recognizing when it was in the past, but he’s pretty sure here. The moment dangles for a second, as they sit across from each other in an airport looking at each other. Vale’s face is doing that thing it was earlier, where he seems to be on the verge of some moment, and his mouth opens. For some reason, Marc flushes hot on the back of his neck. His skin feels tight, and their eye contact holds.

“All good?” It’s Alex, coming back with his Smartwater.

Vale sits up straighter, immediately, posture snapping into place. He nods at Alex, who ignores him, and slides back into his seat. He shrugs at Marc, a little in-joke. What did I do? it asks, fully knowing the answer. Alex has never been as shy as Marc is about his feelings concerning Valentino Rossi.

And it's that above anything that makes Marc feel like he’s dunked his head in ice water, reality crashing in. The moment snaps as Vale tucks back into himself, leaving Marc off his balance. He feels dizzy and a little off kilter, like he’s done something wrong, like he’s gotten away with something, something illicit, which is ridiculous — he’s just been sitting here.

Nothing’s even happened. They've been two meters away from each other the entire time.

They haven’t even touched.

Vale’s eyes are boring into him, blue and clear. Alert. And Marc catches a flash of— concern, maybe, his brow is creasing— and it tugs at Marc, makes him want to glance back and make him feel easy, lift the corner of his mouth, shrug his shoulders and dismiss Alex’s chilliness. Makes him hot and nervy, out of his skin with the need to do something he doesn’t have a name for.

He smiles.

Maybe he is doing something wrong.

Vale smiles back, and it’s brilliant.

The flight attendant comes over the PA. They’re boarding.

#toying with a marc who does not in fact realize he wants to fuck that old man but is obsessed with him nonetheless.#dw still working on prompts this was just. done lol #motogp #callie speaks #rosquez #my fic #airport au

198 notes · View notes

shixcherie · 2 months ago

Text

King, Queen & The Rose | Choi San & Park Seonghwa ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

☆ Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 13 : Caught in the act

↬ [ Synopsis ] : In the adrenaline-fueled realm of Formula 1, you finds herself drawn to the mysterious "The Rose" despite having your boyfriend San. A steamy night sparks brings confessions, undeniable chemistry and chaos. Will you, the Queen choose your King or the Rose ? Or Both ?

☆ Word Count : 2.9k ☆ Genre : Smut, Some plot, Formula 1 Racer Au. ☆ Pairing : F1 Racer Bf! San x F1 Academy student Gf! F.Reader x F1 Racer! Bestfreind Seonghwa

WARNINGS : Pure smut (18+), a bit of plot, you and San are switch!.Soft! Dom Seonghwa praise, dirty talk, making out, neck kisses, pet names (kitten, baby), stalker-ish behaviour “The Rose”, exhibitionism, mild angst, jealousy, power play, slight voyeurism, unresolved tension.

☆☆☆ NOTE : Day 13 dropping right at ya!. A little long cause I definitely got carried away but hope you enjoy this piece ma chéries.

And before you ask, Second part is already in works and be dropping real soon. “The Rose Blooms” is what it will be called.

A small smile crept onto your face as you unboxed yet another gift from "The Rose." For the past two years, this mysterious admirer had been sending you flowers, plushies, gifts, and more. At first, you were skeptical about receiving presents from a stranger, but the notes they sent along with the gifts carried so much warmth that they chased away any doubts you had about this person being some kind of creep.

Being in the F1 academy, training relentlessly to become a Formula 1 racer, and staying away from your family for the past three years had definitely taken a toll on your mind. Only two people could help you forget the stresses of it all. One was San, Ferrari’s number one F1 racer, a total heartthrob and your boyfriend.

The other was this person, The Rose. You had no idea who they were, but the way they knew everything you liked, the way they warmed your heart, was oddly familiar.

San knew about The Rose sending you stuff and somehow….didn’t seem to mind ?

But why did The Rose remind you of him? Him��..your childhood friend Seonghwa, who also happened to be San’s other half on the track. Another F1 racer for Ferrari who compliemented San’s raw passion with his steady and meticulous driving making them a force to be recokoned with on the tracks.

The Rose could not be Seonghwa, right ? Right!

—

The crowd erupted into chaotic cheers as San crossed the finish line, securing victory in one of the most prestigious races on the F1 calendar. A sea of red engulfed the grandstands as tifosi, Ferrari’s passionate fanbase, celebrated their hero’s triumph at Monza.

Monza, the temple of speed, had once again crowned its hero, and this time it was San.

But this wasn’t an easy win to secure for him, as he had faced relentless pressure from his teammate, Seonghwa, who was right on his tail. The two scarlet cars battled fiercely, neck to neck on each corner and straight pushing the limits of perfection.

On the final lap, with Seonghwa close behind, San drove perfectly through the Parabolica, winning the race. As he crossed the line, the Ferrari garage eriupted with cheers , and tifosi lit red smoke flares covering the whole sky with a shade of deep red, celebrating Ferrari’s historic win.

Seonghwa finished just 1.2 seconds later, highlighting their team's strength. When San pulled into the pit lane, he raised his fist in triumph as his eyes locked with you in the crowd, a cute kitten like smile spreading across his face.. Your cheers filled the air, adding to his excitement as you cheered for both him and Seonghwa.

On the podium, San lifted the winner’s trophy with Seonghwa standing proudly next to him, equally ecsatic with the win. Champagne sprayed everywhere amidst the cheers, a special day for Ferrari, a moment everyone will remember forever.

A few more years and you’ll be part of the F1 circuit too.

As San walked down the podium, you jumped on him, engulfing him in a hug.

“Congrats! Congrats! Congrats! I am so happy for you!” you exclaimed, your voice reflecting how proud and excited you were for your boyfriend. “That race was freaking intense, but somehow you managed to pull it off flawlessly, if I may say.” You kissed his cheek as you complimented him.

“Thanks, baby. Wouldn’t have been possible without your support.” he replied, reciprocating your kiss as the crowd erupted in a chorus of “awws.” To them, you and San were THE ideal couple. In fact, tifosi were more excited about your future entry into the F1 circuit than anyone else. No jealousy, no hate, just pure support.

As San went to speak to his team, you made your way to Seonghwa. “Congrats, best friend!” you said, earning a sweet smile from him.

You and Seonghwa grew up in the same neighborhood, with your moms being best friends. You spent countless evenings playing in the park and talking for hours, sharing everything with each other. Although he was a few years older, your shared interests, great vibes, and undying love for F1, along with his occasional teasing and a dash of his tenderness, proved that age doesn't matter—it's all about the connection!

And now, here you both are, fulfilling that childhood dream, representing one of the greatest companies in the world.Ferrari.

“Hwa, 1.2 seconds! Bruh, you guys are too good, always one-upping each other!” you added, referring to the previous race that Seonghwa had won. He just stared at you, admiring you standing in front of him, his gaze fixed on the scarf wrapped around your neck.

As you waved your hand in front of him, he came back to his senses. “Yo! Hello... Earth to Seonghwa. Are you even listening, buddy?” you asked.

“I—Um, yeah. I am... I am,” he stammered, then continued, “When did you buy this scarf? It looks so good on you.”

“Umm…” you paused, signaling him to come down to your level to whisper in his ear. He chuckled, earning a pout from you. It wasn’t your fault, okay? You weren’t short; he was just extra tall. “I have a secret admirer. His name is ‘The Rose.’ He gave it to me,” you whispered, and he slightly nodded before bursting into fits of laughter.

“You! You have a secret admirer? Sure, sure, I believe you,” he mocked, earning a huff from you as you turned to walk away. He stood there for a few seconds before running to catch up with you.

The whole evening flew by as the entire Ferrari family celebrated the historic win at the most expensive Italian restaurant. The party was lit with expensive food, extravagent drinks and booze menu along with live performance. With San being the man of the moment, it was difficult for you to demand a few moments of alone time with him.

As the party dimmed down, you and San decided to sneak out to have a few moments in privacy.

“Where are we going?” you asked San, who literally was a ball of excitement in his driving seat.

“You’ll see, baby. It’s somewhere special, and I know you’ll love it,” he said, winking at you before returning his focus to the road. You tried to figure out the route, but San always took complex paths whenever he has surprises planned for you.

“Sannie, you’re not gonna tell me?” you asked sweetly, your hand gently rubbing his thigh as he chuckled nervously before clearing his throat and focused on the road.

“You’ll just have to wait and see,” he gupled as your hand was getting dangerously close to his crotch, wavering his focused gaze.

Growing impatient, you leaned in, letting your lips brush against his ear. “Come on, San. Just a hint?” Your warm breath made him flush, his ears turning pink, a proof of the effect you had on him.

“Nice try” he smirked, amusement dancing in his eyes. “But no hints tonight.”

With a playful pout, you shifted in your seat trying to sit stable as thick anticipation loomed in the air, your eyes tried to figure out the roads. Hmm…now they seem a bit more familiar. Wait was he taking you to the ferrari garage, the place where his beautiful car would be resting right now. The place who had been dying to visit.

The car came to a screeching halt, and your eyes lit up with a knowing look as a happy smile danced on your lips. Yes! Yes! Yes! He's taking you there. To see his scarlet beast, his gorgeous baby. A little less gorgeous than you, but still!

As you and San walked inside, your eyes sparkled at the sight of the beauty, at the freaking red beast that stood in all its glory, with San’s number 10 printed on the front, matching his birthday. You traced your hands along the car, soaking in the feeling of all the tracks San had dominated in this machine. But while you were feeling up the car, your boyfriend was feeling something else.

Two strong hands snaked around your waist firmly as San’s nose traced the crook of your neck, his warm breaths sending goosebumps all over your body.

“San…” you breathed out, a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding as he gently pulled you against him. “Hmmm… baby,” he replied, his mouth trailing open-mouthed kisses where your neck met your shoulder, making you feel hot all over.

“You loving this baby…?” he asked, his crotch pressed right against your ass, and you could feel his hard length.

“Loving what... the car or you?” you teased, leaning your head back against his shoulder, giving him more of your neck to explore.

“Both, cause the car is mine, and I belong to you. Both at your service, ready to give you everything you desire, baby.” His words sent fireworks exploding in your stomach, while his right hand gently grabbed your chin, tilting it slightly to the side, allowing him to capture your lips. Your soft, juicy lips instantly turned his brain to mush as an insatiable hunger took over him.

His hand slipped from your chin, but without breaking the steamy kiss, his fingers found their place around your throat, gently applying pressure. You moaned into the kiss, leaning further into him, almost grinding against him, making it clear how much you were enjoying this.

San smiled, loving how expressive you were. You had always been responsive to even his subtle gestures, which only pushed him to explore more with you.

Breaking the kiss, he gently guided you toward the car. “I vaguely remember some kitten mentioning she wanted to be taken against my race car,” he whispered, his breath hot against your ear, as your mind ran wild with images of the positions he would take you in, the ways his girthy length would explore your deepest depths, hitting just the right spots as you lay your head against the car while he pounded into you mercilessly.

Slightly tugging your little black dress up, you lay against the shark fin of his F1 car, giving him a mouthwatering view of your ass. His fingers instantly found your clothed cunt, rubbing the wetness through the fabric, and you moaned against his rough touch, the lace providing just the right amount of friction.

“So wet already, all for me, kitten?” he asked, a devilishly handsome smirk crossing his lips as he rubbed his angry, throbbing member through his pants.

“San… w-what if s-someone sees us?” you asked, struggling to form a coherent sentence while his miraculous fingers worked against your aching core.

“I don’t care,” he replied smugly as he yanked your panties off, the cold air hitting your bare skin, causing goosebumps to ripple across your body. Without warning, two thick fingers entered you, stretching you deliciously. You gasped at the sudden intrusion, his fingers preparing you for his hard, girthy member. He freed himself from his pants, his cock hard and leaking pre-cum, eager to be hugged by your tight walls, when a voice interrupted your intimate moment.

“San, Y/n! What are you—?” Seonghwa's voice broke in as he walked into the garage, cheeks tinged red, clearly having seen more than enough. “Wow, San, you shouldn’t be doing this here. What if someone sees you both?”

You were too stunned to speak, too embarrassed to meet his eyes as no words left your mouth. But San, on the other hand, was far from silent. Cocky, you might add.

“I don’t care. She’s my girlfriend, and I can have her whenever and wherever I want,” San replied, shooting Seonghwa a cocky smirk. “You got a problem with that?” he asked, his voice laced with roughness as if daring Seonghwa to challenge him, all while his tip teased your dripping cunt, sending jolts of electricity through you.

“San, stop—” you tried, your head flicking between him and Seonghwa, still embarrassed but knowing they both needed to stop.

“Actually, would the great Park Seonghwa care to join us?” San continued, making a rather surprising request. Your cheeks burned red as you tried to get off the car, but San held you captive, not letting you move.

Seonghwa scoffed. “No, thanks. Actually, you know what? Continue with your thing... I’m gonna go.” He turned on his heels, ready to leave when San stopped him halfway.

“Will ‘The Rose’ join us?” San said teasingly, as you jerked your head towards him, shock filling your expression as Seonghwa froze in his tracks.

Did San just call Seonghwa ‘The Rose’? Is he ‘The Rose’? No way… he can’t be—how—what… aghhh, why is he ‘The Rose’? Did San know about this all along? What the actual FUCK?!

Slowly turning toward both of you, still laying against San’s car, Seonghwa tried to speak. “How do you kn—”

San interrupted him. “I had my doubts. You acting all lovey-dovey with my girlfriend, numerous deliveries of flowers coming in your name, especially on the days when something really exciting had happened with Y/n! Either I’m not a dumbass, or you’re just too bad at hiding your sickening love for her.” He paused, a slight hint of jealousy evident in his voice as he thrust into you at once, earning a loud whimper.

San was enjoying this way too much. And to admit it honestly, so were you.

“But you know what sealed the deal, buddy? The red scarf. The same one I saw you receiving and the same one I saw around her neck the next day. Do you love her? Why don’t you confess then?” San continued, both with his words and his thrusts, fast and deep, hitting just the right spots as you turned into a whimpering mess beneath him, hands gripping the car tightly as you looked at Seonghwa.

“My love for her isn’t sickening, it’s genuine.All I wanted was to see her happy. Yes, I am ‘The fucking Rose’ and I love her. I’ve loved her since the very first day we met, still do even while she’s with you now.” Seonghwa confessed finally, standing his ground. His eyes met yours, turning soft instantly. One more hard thrust from San followed Seonghwa’s confession.

The revelations tonight were overwhelmingly intense for your little brain to handle, and with San pounding hard, you were almost on the edge and you needed Seonghwa too.

“Oh, you think I don’t care for her? I do care. A lot, actually. And I love giving her whatever the fuck she wants. That’s why I’m inviting you to join.” San said, a little angry at being questioned about his love for you. “You don’t want this, kitten? Your ‘The Rose’ joining us?” San quizzed you, his eyes meeting yours, holding a playful yet hungry desire as you clenced around him.

This freaking ass situation, San's words, Seonghwa’s confession, and San’s merciless thrusts, had you right at the edge, an aching release just waiting to happen, needing only one more little push. The Rose's push.

“Will ‘The Rose’ join us, please?” you asked, your voice dripping with sweetness as your eyes met Seonghwa’s soft gaze. “Hwa, I need you.”

That was all Seonghwa needed to hear. He quickly made his way toward you just as San thrust into you deeply, a chuckle escaping his lips. Adjusting himself between you and San’s car, Seonghwa picked you up, securing your legs around his waist while San remained buried inside you.

Is that even humanly possible? Who cares!

“Be gentle with her,” Seonghwa told San, his hand caressing your cheek, which was pressed against the car, before he kissed your forehead.

“Don’t teach me, Hwa! She loves it,” San shot back, a cocky grin on his face as he leaned closer to you, his breath hot against your ear. “You can’t deny how good it feels when I’m pounding into her like this. She’s practically begging for more.”

“She deserves a little tenderness too. Let The Rose show you how it's done.” With that, Seonghwa captured your lips in a hungry kiss. His lips registered in your mind, tender yet needy, a perfect blend of softness and urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

The kiss felt like a promise, a gentle reminder that even in chaos, his embrace offered comfort. As his hands explored your body, you felt the tension building within you, with San's relentless thrusts pushing you closer to the edge. With one final, deep kiss and a mind-boggling bite on your lower lip from Seonghwa, combined with San's passionate rhythm, you came hard, spilling all over San’s cock.

The world around you faded as pleasure washed over you in waves finally satisfying the ache. Your hands gripped Seonghwa firmly while your head rested in the crook of his neck, breathing heavily as you tried to recover from the intense pleasure.

“Just relax and enjoy it, love,” Seonghwa murmured, pressing a kiss against your hair and caressing it gently. “We’ll take care of you.”

“You're in for a long night kitten. Ready for round two?” San chuckled, pressing a kiss against your cheek, still brimming with energy.

As their words registered in your mind, you realized that surrendering to both of them was a temptation you couldn’t resist. With the King behind you and the Rose in front, this Queen was in for a long night and the night had only just begun. Hehe.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

138 notes · View notes

succulentsiren · 2 years ago

Text

Practical Tips to Live A More Seductive Life: SucculentSiren x FemmeFataleVibe

It's my pleasure to provide this collab between FemmeFataleVibe and I. Seduction is a complex practice, so here we discussed new perspectives and ways to utilize it in your daily life. Thank you @femmefatalevibe for your enlightening knowledge. It definitely expanded my view on how to live more seductively.

What does seduction mean to you?

SucculentSiren: Seduction is using enchantment to attract a desired outcome. You can seduce yourself, by applying certain self-beliefs or you can seduce others by developing a captivating influence.

FemmeFataleVibe: Being seductive cannot be reduced to a behavior, way of dressing, or speech. It is a palpable yet intangible shift in how you see yourself and how you show up for yourself alone or out in the world.

✦•······················•

Topics

-Mindset

FFV: Embrace an abundance mindset. Perceive new connections and opportunities as complimentary rather than a source of validation or self-actualization. Living as a seductress is only possible when you know you create a complete life without others' permission. You've already filled up your cup, so you have additional energy to give and receive to those individuals and projects that are deserving

SS: It is crucial to have a ‘Winners Mindset.” Shift your mindset from expecting to fail, to expecting to win. Envision yourself receiving your desires. Having this mindset eliminates anxiety and doubt around your capability in attaining what you want. You must also know that you are deserving of the things you are attracting. Be patient regardless of external circumstances. Keep your eyes in the prize and remain firm in your self beliefs.

Surrounding self with things that elevate you (people, hobbies, environment, décor)

FFV: Release any shame surrounding your pleasure-seeking fantasies. For a seductive individual, there is no guilt in living in a state of joy, fulfillment, and regular indulgence. Remind yourself that you're entitled to enjoy nice things –from your outfits and beauty routine to your meals, workouts, and our home environment. You should (generally) derive pleasure academic pursuits or professional identity, goals, relationships (of all types), and leisure activities.

FFV: Allow yourself to feel deserving. Show up as the person you strive to be. Hold yourself, dress, speak, act, and move through the world in a way you aspire to be. Stop people-pleasing and allow yourself to minimize yourself or your goals for the comfort of others. Your peace of mind is the most sacred element of your being.

SS: Whether you know it or not, your surroundings have an immense influence on you. Who you spend time with, what you talk about with your company, who you follow on social media, what decorations you have in your home, etc. Everything around you influences you. So choose to be surrounded by people and things that make you better. Know your strengths and weaknesses but appreciate and learn from others as well. Remove the people that see with lack, stress and fear. Befriend people who uplift, motivate and inspire you to see abundance and opportunity in all areas.

✦•······················•

Q&A

Q: Do you believe that being a seductive person has more to do with physical appearance or personality? How do you believe someone can show up as a more seductive person through how they present themselves – physically, emotionally, or socially?

SS: I believe seduction is a combination of inner confidence, mental agility and an appealing appearance. Using seduction towards yourself can help with building self confidence and create a positive outlook on how you view yourself and therefore influence other people to treat you with respect.

FFV: I believe that being a seductive person stems from genuine self acceptance of your most authentic desires, unshakable inner confidence, and non-negotiable level of self respect. To embody these qualities, I believe that a seductive person's energy will radiate naturally through their personality into their physical presence through traits, including good posture eye contact, and mannerisms. Similarly, I believe that unwavering self-respect is a care aspect of being a seductive person. So, naturally, I think that a seductive person will embody their character traits through both personality traits like setting strong (healthy) boundaries and taking care of their appearance (excellent hygiene, prioritizing their health, remaining thoughtful when putting themselves together - clean, well-styled outfits, makeup, hairstyles, nails, perfume, etc.).

Q: How do you think you can be a more seductive person in areas of our life outside of your romantic or intimate endeavors? Do you believe that seduction is more of a libidinal or creative energy?

FFV: I believe cultivating your inner seductress/seducer will make you a better conversationalist, writer, speaker, dancer, athlete, chef, project manager, learner, etc. In my eyes, libidinal and creative energy are one and the same. So, I see creative energy, by definition, as the art of transmuting libidinal energy into areas of your life outside of the bedroom and romantic pursuits (think Napoleon Hill's concept of Sex Transmutation as an exercise of will-power in his book, Think and Grow Rich). I think you can be a more seductive person in any area of life that requires confidence, high energy, stream-of-consciousness-level focus (flow state), and, of course, creativity. Anecdotally, I've found that understanding that good writing is akin to good sex & sexual chemistry has been one of the best ways to up-level my professional skillset.

SS: Seduction is a creative practice of attracting your desires, sometimes through material and emotional lures. It isn’t always sexual, but since seduction stimulates emotions it can create pleasure. I believe a person can use seduction in various ways. When most people think of seduction, they think of manipulation or sneakiness but seduction is just a simple art of attracting what you desire at all costs. Having this mindset can help with becoming open minded and relentless when pursuing goals. Instead of settling and accepting what you don’t want, seduction shows you alternative ways to attain your desires and live a life that you truly enjoy. Using seduction in platonic relationships, can help you better understand the needs of others. Such as, putting yourself in someone else’s shoes. When you do this you make that person feel appreciated and heard. This quality alone enriches relationships, friendships and partnerships. Another example is disagreements. Seducers don’t have to argue, they listen and then strategize solutions that everyone can benefit from because no one wants to compromise if there's not anything that they too can benefit from.

821 notes · View notes

vinvantae · 1 year ago

Text

Unmasked

15/16

<<< previous part

Word count : 5.2k

Warning: poorly translated French (English translation at the end)

A/N : I feel terrible about how long it’s taken me to write this, the inspiration just hasn’t been with me for a little while. I hope you enjoy it regardless ❤️

**********************************************

SC - With the weight of the world seemingly off her shoulders, y/n absolutely flew around the track today. It feels like for the first time in a while, we’re seeing Thirty in her element once again.

Even with two rampaging Bulls chasing her down, it’s the Prancing Horse who takes the chequered flag. Y/N Y/L/N wins the Spanish Grand Prix!

MB - Despite all of the noise this weekend, it’s races like this one that define y/n as one of the best drivers of this generation. From the flawless start, to defending from the tremendous speed of the two Redbulls when it mattered most - that was a wonderful race to watch.

SC - I’m sure Ferrari were hoping for a 1-2 finish today, but after Charles' engine issues forced him to retire, I think they’ll be happy to get the most possible points with y/n’s fastest lap too. Look at that celebration, if there’s one thing about Thirty, every win is just as exciting as the last.

The feeling you got when you won never was any less triumphant, no matter how many you had tucked under your belt. But after how long the weekend had felt, this one felt particularly special. You climbed atop your car and pumped your fists above your head - practically giddy with glee as the crowd cheered for you, the underlying boos barely phasing you. They just didn’t matter - their opinions didn’t matter.

Your eyes zeroed in on a small group of girls who were in the grandstands, dressed head to toe in red - waving a banner for you above their head. Their celebrations seemed louder than anyone else's so you made sure to wave, putting the biggest smile on their faces before you hopped over to the car.

You laughed as the team swept you up in a tight hug when you ran over to the barrier, patting you on the helmet - the noise vibrated through you, making your heart soar. If there was a group of people you knew you could rely on, it was your team; even after your reveal, they were never any less supportive of you, always there for you no matter what the result was and treating you as they always had. It was one of the reasons why none of the contracts you offered tempted you, Ferrari are your family, you belong in red.

After swapping your helmet for your team cap, both Redbull drivers approached - Max giving you an overly enthusiastic bro hug, slapping your back so hard it almost hurt but you couldn’t help but laugh. “Amazing job, y/n. Almost got you.”

“Well, thankfully you and the smooth operator were too busy having a family squabble for that.” You teased, pulling back to let Carlos hug you as well, the Spaniard’s strong arms looped around your middle. “Now, if you boys don’t mind me - I have a winner’s interview to do.”

“Good job, y/n. Really happy for you.” Carlos made sure to get his praises in before you head across parc ferme. “See you soon.”

“Congratulations, y/n, what a result!” Naomi looked almost as excited as you as you approached for your post race interview. “How are you feeling right now?”

Your face was already hurting from how much you were smiling, you placed a hand on top of your cap and laughed. “I’m over the moon, this win felt so good.”

“After all you’ve had to deal with since your reveal, this is definitely wonderful to see.” She praised. “You raced spectacularly, anything you’d like to say to the people out there who still doubt you?”

“Honestly? After everything the guys, Max, Pierre, Esteban and Charles especially, put on the line for me, none of it really matters anymore. I have confidence in my skills and talent in this sport and knowing that my rivals believe in me too means everything… I won’t pretend that reading cruel things online will magically stop hurting, but I know what I’m capable of. I’m a world champion for a reason and there’s nothing anyone can say that will take that away from me.”

“Is this the start of your triumphant return, are we going to see you up on the top step now you’ve got your confidence back?”

“I’m ready for whatever the rest of the season throws at me. The championship is still all to play for right now, so I’m going to put my best foot forward and focus on racing.”

“Thank you so much, y/n. Congratulations. Your race winner, everybody!”

You waved at the crowd as you stepped inside to head to the cool-down room, your heart racing. Max and Carlos both greeted you with large smiles as you stepped into the room, the Spaniard playfully swatting at the brim of your cap to knock it from your head - swapping it for the 1st place Pirelli cap. “Much better, hermosa.”

“Thank you, however…” You knelt down to pick up your Ferrari hat, dusting it off before placing it on the table, a teasing lilt to your voice as you spoke. “Don’t disrespect! You can be proud of me for winning without being rude about my team, Carlos. I won’t ever let you forget you were almost one of us.”

“Idiot.” Max mumbled playfully, a strong arm draping across your shoulder - his eyes crinkled up as he smiled. “Congrats again on the win, y/n. You raced like a proper champ.”

“It felt good. Like of course winning is always good but this one felt different. Perhaps it was the timing of it, but there’s something about winning while feeling confident in myself again that makes me hungry for more.” You smiled softly. “To be honest, it felt more like the two of you were pushing me along than racing me… I’d thank you for taking it easy on me but there’s no way that that’s true.”

“You know I’d never do that. It was all you.” The Dutchman scoffed. “How dare you remember how good you are at racing, how am I supposed to beat you now.”

The way you grinned at him, gave Max flashbacks to your karting days together - your genuine joy when you beat him or all of the other boys in races. He could picture the small girl with her hair all messy from her helmet, sticking her tongue out at him when he whined to his Dad that a girl beat him. It’s not fair, she pushed me! When in reality you were just talented from day one. The way anyone could ever doubt you were Thirty bewildered him because you were you. Driven. Passionate.

It was why he never had any issue sharing the podium with you - your wins felt truly earned. Sure every driver had a win or two that they got under unusual circumstances but when the two of you were on those steps together, he could see how much you enjoyed it, no matter which number win it was and finally being able to see your smile made it all the better.

As you lifted your trophy above your head, you scanned the crowd for Charles - who, despite his DNF, was now standing in the front row, smiling up at you with pride. He threw you a cheesy wink as he clapped, not letting his own race ruin this for you. Despite not being your first win of the season, it was your first time on the top step so you relished every second of it - drowning both Redbull drivers in champagne before chugging some of the sparkling liquid. Max made sure he poured his drink down the back of your race suit, something he insisted he missed out having to share with your body double after the last win when you scolded him for it.

You felt on top of the world, all of your criticisms temporarily forgotten when that evening, all you could hear was the clinking of glasses against your own - the girls’ lips all sparkled with champagne as they toasted your victory. As much as you loved the guys, being celebrated by other women made your win all the more special. Lily looped an arm around your middle and pulled you close as Carmen snapped a photo - their laughter twinkling through the air. They gushed on how amazingly you raced, teasing you as your cheeks flushed.

All of this however, didn’t stop Charles watching you from across the bar - your red race suit traded for a gorgeous dress of the same colour, your eyes sparkling under the lights. The confidence you were radiating was intoxicating; he wanted to blame it on the beer he was drinking but there was nothing more he wanted than to have his hands all over you. He couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, everything about you was magnetic. He wanted to steal you from the girls, but he knew you needed this. Even when Max slapped him on the shoulder, he struggled to tear his eyes away.

“She’s not going to vanish if you stop looking at her, mate.” The dutchman teased, Charles finally turned away from you. “Let her celebrate, she knows where you are when she’s ready.”

“Something about her is just…different. Lighter.”

Max smiled softly, secretly fond of how Charles was with you. “She just won a race!”

“No, no. It’s more than that.” The other driver insisted. “But I just can’t put my finger on it… and if you’ll excuse me, I can’t just watch from a distance. She’s too beautiful.”

“Gross.”

He shoved Max lightly on the arm before crossing the bar to get to you, weaving between the flashes of red of those who were still in their team kit. Charles watched Lily give you a look before you cast your eyes over your shoulder - your face cracking into a grin. Your teammate felt grateful you were as pleased to see him as he was you. “Charles.”

“Mon amour.” He hummed, draping an arm around your waist - pressing a chaste kiss to your temple. “Sorry, I couldn’t stay away from you any longer. Having fun?”

“So much. I’m glad you’re here actually, we were just talking about you.” You lent into his touch.

“Oh yeah?”

Lily’s brow raised playfully. “You’ve got a big battle coming, il Predestinato. Now that our girl’s back, you ready to step it up?”

“I don’t think she ever left.” You looked at him as he spoke, his green eyes already fixed on you. “Just needed a little reminder of who she is.”

You smiled softly at him before leaning in to kiss him - his hand coming up to rest on your jaw. “I’ll never forget again thanks to you, and who knows, there’s still 16 races to go… anything could happen.”

“Joint world champions.” He teased, “That ever happened before?”

“Don’t think so.” Your laughter was soft, Charles had practically forgotten the presence of the girls watching you both with a fondness in their eyes. “But if anyone could do it, it would be us.”

“Cheers to that and cheers to you, y/n. I love you.”

You clinked your glass against his. “I love you too.”

***

Yourusername added to their instagram story

***

After your race win in Imola and poor strategy in Monaco from your team - ruining Charles’ chance at a win at his home grandprix, it didn’t take long for you to catch up to your teammate in the points and by the time the chequered flag was waved in Azerbaijan, you were the championship leader and it felt good. You could tell the strategy calls were starting to affect your boyfriend but whenever you brought it up, he told you it was all fine and that he was nothing but happy for you and selfishly, you believed him. You wanted him to feel as excited as you did, and it was the first time in a long time you were feeling good about your career.

Instead, you focused on racing with the same confidence you always knew you had before your reveal and with the people around you always making sure you had a smile on your face - the last few straggling cynics barely made a noise over the roaring crowds every time you lifted a trophy above your head.

Part of you thought maybe you had just become more attentive now you were free to be yourself, but every race that passed seemed to have more and more female fans eager to greet you at the barricades, ecstatic that you were leading the championship even if there was only 7 points in it.

“You’ve got this in the bag, y/n!” They always told you Canadian’s were nice, and it was shown with the way your new poor assistant’s arms were piled high with gifts as fans chatted away with you. You were never allowed to talk to them before as Thirty, so meeting them really was a delight. “Those boys don’t stand a chance.”

“Hmm, I don’t know. Charles is pretty good.” You smiled softly. “But, I’ll tell you what… I’m gonna do my absolute best for you.”

“You’re already the champion in my eyes, regardless of how the season ends.”

“Oh stop, you’re gonna make me cry.” You laughed softly, giving the girl a one armed hug. “I have to go now, thank you all though - for the support, the gifts. I’ll try and win for you today, promise.”

You helped to take some of the gifts from your assistant before heading towards the motorhome, saying hi to the other drivers as you passed by - after the protest, they had much more an effort to include you in idle chit-chat or debates they were having with another driver. Whether it was Esteban trying to get you to convince Mick and Lance that his long standing feud with Max was definitely over or Kevin showing you photos of his kid, it was nice. It was truly all you had ever wanted from your reveal - not just to be a driver, but to feel like one too.

Charles tucked you under his arm before the driver parade started, bickering with Pierre in French about god knows what but the glint in their eyes and the cheeky smile on Charles’ face assured you it was all in good fun. You simply rested your head against your boyfriend, eyes closed as you enjoyed the surprisingly warm weather as you waited for the flatbed to start moving.

“Mon amour, are you falling asleep standing upright?” He teased, squeezing you into his side.

“Mhmm, you’re so comfy, Charles.” You hummed softly, standing up straighter as the engine began to rumble - wanting to wave to the crowds instead of being caught dozing. “Besides, I’ve got to be well rested before I win the race later.”

“Leading the championship and suddenly your ego is massive.” Pierre teased, kicking you lightly in the shin - making you whine and glare at him. “I’m kidding. You deserve to be cocky, you have been very impressive recently.”

You raised a brow. “I’ve got my eyes on you, Gasly.”

“Uh oh, Pierre, you’ve made an enemy of Thirty. You better there’s no chance of the two of you tangling during the race.”

You practically snorted out a laugh. “Oh Charles, he won’t need to worry… unless, maybe I end up lapping him.”

“Oh it is on.”

It was your turn to bicker with Pierre, your boyfriend slipping away to talk to some of the others as the flatbed pulled back in to drop you all off at the pits. You felt in such high spirits when you got in the car that there was just nothing that could stop you - you were sure of it. You were going to get your 3rd title and Ferrari their first WCC since 2018. it felt like you owed them at least that much after keeping you on.

And oh, did you love this track. With its tight barriers hugging the track and long straights, the high speed was risky but made the race all the more exciting. That paired with the two Redbull’s sniffing at your car’s rear end and your teammate starting at the back of the grid, it was bound to be an exciting race.

Max put up a hell of a fight, chasing you down and barely giving you even a second to breathe - he nearly caught you on more than one occasion, but not pitting during the late safety car was his fatal mistake - his pebbled tires were no match for your shiny new softs. And before long you were lifting your second consecutive first place trophy above your head, Max and Lewis alongside you.

You felt untouchable, blowing a kiss in the direction of a small crowd of Redbull fans who had booed you louder than the rest as you’d been handed your trophy before giving their golden boy a good hosing down with your champagne, the two men who you shared the podium with upended the bottles over your head in a bubbling waterfall- a giddy smile on both of your faces as you celebrated.

“Hey congrats.” Lewis grinned, patting you on the shoulder as the three of you stood on the podium for the photo together. “Winning looks better on you every time.”

“Thanks Lewis, means a lot. Especially from you.”

The three of you stepped off the podium for your post race interviews, and you just couldn’t shake the electricity running through you. Not a single interview passed without them commenting on just how different you seemed - how over the course of the past few races, the personality they had loved beneath the helmet seemed to have finally come to the surface. “It’s so nice to see how much you’re enjoying racing again, y/n.”

“Yeah, it’s been really really good.” You smiled, your hands resting against the cool metal barricade in front of you. “Sure, I still see and hear some nasty stuff but it… it just doesn’t feel the same, it doesn’t hurt as bad knowing that I have nothing to prove to them. They’ll never like me, and that’s okay. I have plenty of supporters and friends who love me and back me up no matter what.”

“Well, it’s good to have you back. Hope you enjoy your weekend off, see you at Silverstone.”

You thanked the press before heading back to the Ferrari motorhome, letting out a yelp as you were practically tackled by your boyfriend as he swept you up in his arms. “There’s my race winner.”

“Oh who cares about my race win when you made it up from 19th to 5th!” You laughed, wrapping your arms around him - the warmth from his body made you feel at ease. “That’s far more impressive. You very much deserved the driver of the day, I’m glad your hard work was recognised.”

“Well...” He carefully placed you on the floor, placing his hands on your hips. “How about we take our weekend off to celebrate your phenomenal race and my win, hmm?”

You wrapped your arms around his neck, running your fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck before leaning in to kiss him. He smiled against your lips and pulled you closer, deepening the kiss like you weren’t surrounded by the hustle and bustle of your team packing up now the weekend was over. Neither of you cared, you simply couldn’t get enough of each other.

When you pulled back, you couldn’t help but notice the cheeky glint in his eyes. You let your hand move to rest on his jaw, brushing your thumb across the stubble. “That sounds like an offer I simply can’t refuse.”

***

The skies were blue when you touched down in Silverstone, another favourite - a classic; the Tifosi showing wasn’t as big as it used to be but there were enough flashes of red amongst the crowds for you to feel their support. But, much to the disappointment of the Mercedes and Mclaren fans filling the grandstands, you and your team were currently on track to win the whole thing. You’d spent more time than you cared to admit trying to figure out what the earliest race you could win the championship at despite your slow start to the season.

But with Charles, Max and Carlos all having an equally impressive score sheet, you honestly had no idea which way it was going to go - you could only hope it would be in your favour. You’d worked so hard to fight for not only the championship, but the respect you deserved that you knew that you couldn’t stop now. Everything was to play for and you couldn’t back down now.

SC - Welcome one, welcome all to the Formula 1 Lenovo British Grand Prix here at Silverstone, the sun is shining down on all of us Martin and it looks set to be a good race. With the Ferraris and Redbulls occupying the two front rows, it will be a challenge for anyone else to claim victory. Our Championship leader shares the front row with Max Verstappen, who is gaining with each race on her and her teammate Charles Leclerc.

MB - It definitely is one to watch, the battle between the Prancing Horses and Bulls has been thrilling so far this season. I can’t wait to see how this all plays out and with Y/N having claimed podiums in her last six races, I wouldn’t be surprised to see her back on that top step.

SC - I’d put money on it if I was a betting man. Her performance leading up to this point has been something special. But with Max picking up the pace, I think he’s definitely her biggest competitor right now.

MB - Now Crofty, I wouldn’t write young Leclerc off so quickly, he is second place right now.

SC - Well, I’ll guess we’ll just have to wait and see as the grid lines up for the start of the race. The British Grand Prix is about to start, engines are revving… and its lights out, and away we go!

You felt breathless as you pulled into parc ferme, what a race. Despite your win, you couldn’t help but think about Gyanyu, George and Alex - the crash at the start was scary and you were lucky to have not been a part of it with a third of the grid getting tangled up. As much as you loved to win, it was always a bittersweet feeling when others were potentially hurt.

As you climbed out of the car, you made an effort to try and catch as many of the other drivers you knew had been part of the incident as you could as they made their way through parc ferme. You immediately wrapped your arms around Seb as he climbed out of the car, your former teammate giving you a gentle chuckle in response - promising that he was okay. So you glanced around the crowd for your childhood friend, Pierre smirking as he saw you approach. “Aw, coming to check on me?”

“Don’t make me regret it, Gasly.” You chuckled, pulling him into a hug. “But if you’ll excuse me, I did just win. Catch you later.”

You tried to catch Charles before he ducked away but you were ushered towards Lewis and Carlos for the podium interviews. With your fresher tires brought on by Esteban’s safety car, he wasn’t able to hold you off… or Lewis… or Carlos. So he was understandably frustrated. But you were still happy and wanted to celebrate with the team and you were sure once he’d had his moment of annoyance, he’d be happy for you too.

It was hard to have that same attitude when the roles were reversed the following week in Austria, and it was you who barely missed out on the podium and it all came to a head in your driver’s room. “I think we need to talk.”

“Oh?” Charles gently took off his first place cap and placed it on the coffee table. “Everything okay?”

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why we haven’t had this conversation before but I feel like we need to talk about what happened this week and last week… when one of us wins and the other doesn’t. I think we need to find the balance of being able to understand how the other one feels versus celebrating the winner.”

“Yeah, yeah I get that. Well…” He approached you slowly, placing his hands on your hips - giving a gentle squeeze. “The winner can be sympathetic and the other can be supportive, but if one of us has a particularly bad race when the other wins then we just check in on how they feel first before jumping for joy at the win.”

“We’re both in with a chance of winning this whole thing, we have to promise not to let that get in the way of what we have.” You looped your arms around his neck, scratching lightly at the nape of his neck. “I'm really happy with you and I don’t want me beating you to ruin that.”

“Oh, you’re gonna beat me are you?” Charles chuckled. “Well, best of luck, mon amour. You’re gonna need it.”

***

Leading up the summer break, things stayed on the up for you but not so much for Charles the agreement between the two of you more in force than ever. Hungary was the last race before you could enjoy a relaxing few weeks away from the paddock but with Charles’ DNF in France the weekend before he’d lost 2nd in the WDC to Max, the Dutchman now 5 points ahead thanks to his victory and it was clearly bothering him. You were soaring ahead and he was starting to be left behind - you 33 points ahead.

Charles spent as much time as he could with fans, making sure not one was missed - chatting away, taking photos and bringing as many smiles to their faces as he could. He would always be the tifosi’s golden boy; despite you leading, he would always have a special place in their hearts and you couldn’t blame them. There was something charming and gentle about him, he was impossible to dislike. The way he avidly listened to every word fans said to him, the look on his face full of genuine interest. He was so kind and you knew someday he was going to live up to the massive expectations they had all put on his shoulders - you wanted to win the championship, but someday it was going to be his turn and you knew that he would have their support every step of the way.

As you finally stepped away from the crowds, you linked your fingers with his and gave his hand a gentle squeeze - noticing his deflated stature as you walked towards the motorhome. Neither have you qualified on pole and his hopes of winning were being diminished by the minute. “You looked like you were having a good time with the fans, what’s the matter? Talk to me…”

“I hate to say it, amour, but now that you’re off ahead in the distance - I’m gonna have to play the role of second driver.” He grumbled softly. “I really want you to do well, y/n, I do, but I want it to be fair.”

A soft sigh left your lips and you turned him to face you, his green eyes locked on yours. “I won’t let it be unfair. I’m gonna talk to my engineers and let them know how I feel about it.. When I beat you, it’s all gonna be on my own merit.”

The corner of his mouth tugged into a smile, shaking his head a little. Your heart skipped a beat at his laughter, his strong arms looping around your middle. “And when I beat you, it’ll be because I deserve it too.”

“Exactly. We’re equals.” You lent up to press a kiss to his lips, your arms wrapping around his neck. “Last race until the summer break, we just have to get through this and then you and I can escape to your yacht and make the most of the privacy.”

“You are beyond tempting.” He purred, pulling you in closer. “If we weren’t surrounded by all these prying eyes, I’d have you exactly where I want you.”

A giggle escaped you, you raised a playful brow at him. “Well, then what are we waiting for? Your driver’s room has a lock on the door, doesn’t it?”

Your teammate groaned, his nose nudging against yours before he kissed you with even more intensity than before - not caring about the cameras or poor staff members walking past you both to get into the building. The butterflies erupted in your stomach as he smiled against your lips, not wasting a second more before he tugged you into the building towards his driver room. He pressed your back against the door as he closed it, his pupils blown with lust as they scanned your figure. “As pretty as you look in red…”

“I’d look better in nothing?” You teased, slipping your hands under his polo - he shivered as your cold hands ran across his skin. “C’mon, Charles. You can do better than that.”

“You’re impossible.” He shook his head, dropping his voice to a whisper as his lips brushed across your skin. “Tu es délicieux(1)…je t’aime de tout mon coeur(2).”

You couldn’t help the moan that escaped you. “God, you speaking French really does something to me.. Don’t stop.”

He tugged you away from the door as he pulled your polo over your head, lips only breaking from your skin to mutter filth in french. You were weak at the knees as he pulled back to look at you - his lips shiny with your gloss. You reached up to brush your thumb across his bottom lip before tugging on his chin gently to bring him back into a kiss as he began to work on the button of your jeans.

“Did you lock the door?” You managed to get out, feeling breathless but your boyfriend seemed relentless, grunting in response as he dropped to his knees to pull your jeans over your hips, tugging you lightly so you thumped down on the couch with a soft oof. “Charles, the door.”

“You’re killing me.” He whined, running his hands up the insides of your thighs - pushing them apart. “Je ne peux pas supporter d'être loin de toi ne serait-ce qu’un instant(3), amour.”

You draped a leg over his shoulder. “If anyone walks in, I’ll run you off the track later.”

His lips curved into a devilish smirk. “Deal.”

****

charles_leclerc posted to his instagram stories

***

Next part >>>

(1) you’re delicious

(2) I love you with all my heart

(3) I can't stand being away from you for even a moment

I hope you enjoyed ❤️ thank you for all your continued support regardless of my terrible posting schedule

Want to be notified when I post? Join our discord, head over to #reaction-roles and click the sunflower 🌻

#unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #x reader #charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x you #leclerc x reader

346 notes · View notes

heartmix · 22 days ago

Text

Everything Is A Competition - Matthew Tkachuk

Pairing: Matthew Tkachuk x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 600+

Warning: normal tkachuk family activities

Twelve Fic of Christmas - Gingerbread Houses

Masterlist \ Hockey Masterlist

Knowing how competitive the Tkachuk household was, you should have seen this coming. Every little thing they did they made it a competition. Of course, they would fight over who could build the better gingerbread house. How foolish of you to think they wouldn't.

"Me and dad are totally going to win!" Taryn's voice outpowered her brother's bickering making the two roll their eyes.

"Yeah. You two could not work together to save your life." Keith piped in wearing a proud smile at the thought of him and Taryn sweeping the boys.

"Who said we're teaming up?" Brady smirked making the father-daughter duo frown.

"It's Brady and Emma then me and my girl." Matthew wore the cockiest smile you've seen outside of hockey. One would mistake him for betting on a game.

"We are?" You asked turning to Emma who wore the same confused look as you.

"Yes, you are," Matthew answered for you.

That's how you found yourself sitting next to Matthew with pieces of gingerbread, candy, and icing all around you. The last time you tried to assemble a gingerbread house was in high school so there wasn't any hope. But one thing about being paired with a Tkachuk they are going to make you feel like the star player and everything was in your hands.

"We are so going to win this," Matthew mumbled mainly to himself concentrating on what pieces were the wall and what was the roof.

"Just to let you know I haven't built one of these since high school so not sure how helpful I'll be." You confessed prepping the icing bag and waiting for whatever he told you to do.

"Well lucky for the both of us, you're good at everything." He winked over as heat rushed to your cheeks. Of course, he would charm his way with this.

That's how you found yourself determined to make the gingerbread house look somewhat good. If anything you were a fabulous decorator and took the placement of every candy seriously. Matthew was quite good at making sure the structure held up. Sure there was some cursing and groaning the first few attempts at making sure it wouldn't fall, but after finding the trick with the frosting, he was unstoppable.

It took the better half of half an hour for everyone to be done. Each Tkachuk smiled proudly at their creation while you and Emma were just happy it was over. Looking over each gingerbread house everyone did pretty well, but there were clear signs of what parts the females did compared to the men.

"Okay now to decide who wins!" Taryn clapped her hands together excited to be taking home the win.

"Well, mom?" Brady turned to his mother who chuckled at her family's antics. She was used to them doing so many competitions at this point she would just pick a random kid despite if they actually did good or not.

"It's Christmas, all of you win." At that everyone let out a form of a groan or complaint.

"C'mon, mom!" Matthew begged from beside you, clearly wanting a be crowned the winner.

"Fine fine, the girls win."

"How?! There's a girl on every team!" Brady's voice boomed through the living room, clearly disappointed his mother was beating around the bush.

"Exactly. Now can we please go enjoy dinner."

"Of course, come on kids." Keith surrendered to the arguing, following his wife into the kitchen.

"Well, that's fair, I win out of the both of you," Taryn said turning to her brothers and sticking out a teasing tongue before following her parents into the kitchen.

"I don't care what anyone says we won, thanks to you." Matthew turned to you with a big smile, opposite to the frown he was wearing just a moment ago.

"Doubt that, but it was fun."

"Anything with you is fun." He winked leaning in for a kiss.

"You guys are so disgusting," Brady said as he had an arm around Emma who was laughing at her husband's comment.

"Says the married guy!"

#nhl masterlist #nhl x reader #nhl #matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk x reader #matthew tkachuk

29 notes · View notes

fillinforlater · 2 years ago

Text

New Lyrics

Male Reader x Chu Sojung (Exy)

Length: 2170 words

Tags: angry sex, body writing, mutual pinning to walls and chairs, hard sex, riding, cursing, fishnets, fishnet stockings kink, standing sex, creampie, lyrics on your body, lyrics might hit a bit hard to home, idol!Exy /producer!you

Inspiration: the ideas and pictures/gifs send by @friskyriskywhisky

Credit: @friskyriskywhisky for giving the winning requests!

(A/N: I chose this fic as the winner. Reason? Uhm, I liked it a tad bit more, the flow of words was very easy and fuck, I might have a thing for fishnets/stockings in general. Enjoy Exy!)

“Fuck, we’re out of paper.”

Exy crumbles up the final sheet filled with hollow, unfulfilling words and throws it in the corner of the recording booth. She spits out the cap of the marker, which turns out to be a dumb little mistake. As she goes to pick it up from the dark blue carpet, she doesn’t notice the awkward position of her marker. A dark line forms in one of the openings in her fishnet stockings.

“Watch out,” you laugh at her when she notices. “It won’t come off easily. Or did you want to play tic-tac-toe with me?”

Exy rolls her eyes and licks the tip of her thumb. She rubs the marked spot while groaning in frustration. This recording session has gone nowhere, hell, it hasn’t even started because her text is still bullshit words in a bullshit structure with bullshit rhymes. That’s how she said it, not you, but you tend to agree, it is not a good text.

“You can just type on your phone, you know?” you say into the silence, the booth drowning out any echo.

“I fucking know, but it’s just,” Exy groans again. The marker is still resisting her attempts at cleaning. “It just feels wrong. The lyrics feel like ass on a phone screen. They look dishonest, powerless, and smell like the rotting body of the CEO.”

“Exy,” you sigh and rub the bridge of your nose. “Get your act together. You’re not a child. If you need more paper to figure this out then go get some. I’m literally just here for the recording.”

“Only the recording? I thought we were gonna do something afterwards?”

Exy raises an eyebrow. She swipes away the free-swinging microphone in a dismissive gesture and glares at you. Tension rises, but you are uncertain if Exy feels the sexual part of it as strong as you do. Judging from the way she crosses her fishnet-covered legs over one another and adjusts her short pencil skirt, she is either very casual about it or tries to seduce you.

But the way Exy then grabs your wrist, you suddenly doubt that you will get lucky tonight. Maybe this is bothering her more than you thought. Maybe the poor lyrics dictated by her company have finally gotten to her. Maybe she is sick and tired of having to save her parts all the time. After all, it’s still business.

You expect her to pull you up and throw you out into the hallway, however she is pulling something else up: the sleeve of your hoodie. Your bare, entirely clean arm comes to light, just to be met and stained by the black tip of Exy’s marker. Letters quickly taint your skin, from elbow to wrist.

“Nah, fuck that,” you shout and free yourself from her grip. “I’m not your paper. Wait, what the hell is this? You can’t even use this! It’s like only curse words.”

“Yes.”

“Are you crazy? This won’t come off in—fuck, Exy, stop!”

Exy pins you to the back of your chair and continues to scribble. This time, she uses your forehead and cheeks to spread angry syllables. She is surprisingly strong and continues to keep you down long enough for you to be marked by her marker. She forces your head side to side to read the new lyrics, until you’re finally able to break free.

Grab her hips and hammer into the wall. The entire room shakes at the impact and Exy winces. She drops the maker and you quickly pick it up. It might be a childish thing to do, but you are eager to return the favor and paint her face with black curses as well.

“Fuck, asshole!” Exy shouts and stamps on your foot. “Stop it, now!”

“I don’t even think about it,” you growl and firmly hold her beautiful face steady. “Go on, spout your nonsense lyrics so you can read them in the mirror later.”

“Fuck, I hate you!” Exy punches your sides. “I want this to end / our love is nothing but a mess / We have fun at night, but during the day we fight / With all of my might I try to find you ag—

“Why did you stop?”

“I—I,” you stutter, looking at Exy’s fierce eyes that pierce through your mind. “I was just puzzled—ouch, what the—”

Exy gives you a painful punch right above your hips. The jabs she gave before were nothing compared to this, hell, it might even leave you bruised. Exy gets a hold of the marker and continues her artistic outburst on your other arm.

“Those are the lyrics, you moron. Gosh, you should just shut up and be a piece of paper. I try to find you again / but you’re not the same / you’re lame and all my thoughts are in vain.”

The two of you engage in another struggle. This time the fight is more playful, no rough punches, no throwing into the wall. It’s certainly no coincidence that Exy’s blue jacket slides down her slender shoulders to reveal her white crop top with nice, firm melons beneath it. More importantly, she also shows more of her paper-like skin now.

You easily take the marker from her fingers and place it on her exposed biceps. Exy grabs the hem of your hoodie and pulls you right to her face. Her lips are right there, ready to be parted with your tongue, but she denies you the kiss. Instead she moans the lyrics right into your face.

“I just want you back and all the fun we had / Get me out of the dark, the black in my head and throw me—fuck, just write!”

“There is no more space on your arm!”

“Then go further down!” Exy groans and presses herself onto you. You feel her abs flex the same way they do when you fuck her in your bed. Push her back a little and put the tip of the marker on them to write Exy’s euphoric moans.

“Throw me on the bed / Use your tongue, use your hands / don’t give me a chance, make me cum.

“Fuck me right her, right now, fuck!”

Exy’s shaking hands pull up the hem of her pencil skirt. Between her panties and your face are mere inches—and of course her fucking fishnet stockings. The way this tight-knit net wraps around her full thighs always makes your head spin. Exy knows, hence why she is wearing them quite often around you.

Today, you won’t wait until she pulls them down at home. Your fingers entwine with the fabric and you tear a large irregular hole right at Exy’s crotch. The young woman is eager to pull aside her panties to show you how dripping wet she is. You are eager to get rid of your pants to show her how rigid she makes you.

“What are you waiting for?” she says, sultry, spit dripping from her lips.

From one confinement to the other. The inside of cotton boxers is traded for the slick insides of Exy’s pussy. The two of you groan in unison as you inch deeper and deeper. Exy stabilizes herself with arms firmly wrapped around your nape, while you reach for her thighs to find a better position to thrust. She is clearly not amused, her patience thinner than a sheet of paper.

“Can you fucking start alr—oh my God!”

Exy’s mouth is agape, the remainder of her sentence stuck in the back of her throat as you begin to thrust hard. You stare at her face, the black letters and words spread all over it. The lyrics tell the story of a woman desperate for her lover. She wants to be pleased, she begs for it, although the guy is an egocentric asshole.

Maybe you are the asshole for her. At least you will now.

“Shut up, Exy!” you shout right at her, fingers firmly digging into flesh and fishnets. “You better save your voice for that fucking rap. I don’t want my skin to be wasted for nothing.”

“Ts,” Exy manages to hiss as you move your thrust upwards to make your cockhead reach the hottest depths of her tight cavern. “S-stop complaining, you got your revenge. Just, fuck, look at me!”

Exy flaunts her scrawled arms and shoulder to make her point, but you reject it by latching onto her collarbone with your lips. A strong waft of her cherry scent, mixed with the strong alcoholic smell of the marker makes for a weird sensation as you leave a hickey on her.

“Fuck, people might see it,” Exy whines in between her moans.

“Good, I hope everyone sees it.”

You reach for her butt and give it a firm smack before picking her up. Spin around and pin her against the next wall to continue your hard fucking—at least that was your plan. However, Exy takes a moment of your brief inattention and pushes you back onto your chair.

Her pussy lips still wrapped around you, she doesn’t wait another second to pounce on you. You know her riding is always intense, but today she is absolutely merciless. Her fingers dig into your shoulder, her teeth bite your lip, her hips fuck you numb.

You feel your legs begin to tremble, rubbing against the continuously tearing fishnets. Wet sounds and loud moans come from both sets of Exy’s lips as she is fucking herself senseless as well. She has become a beast, unable to control her lust. She will take you down, but she is bound to fall as well.

“Fuck, fuck, Exy, I can’t—”

“Cum, cum already! You fucking ass—ah!”

Thank God the room is soundproof or else the entire building would know of Exy’s violent orgasm. Wails at first, then waves of girl juice that run down your twitching cock. Warm, wet, tight—Exy’s pussy is as perfect as ever. Thank God again that you can blast your cum into it. Your entire body twitches and accidentally pumps all the white batter up into her.

“We’re not finished!” Exy groans. She tries to adjust herself in a more comfortable position, maybe with you on the ground, but this time you catch her sleeping. With one arm hooked under her knee, you make her stand upright, far enough away from every wall, one leg high in the air. Exy’s flexibility is taken to her limits, but even though she groans in pain, you won’t relent. The only thing that keeps her stable on her one, swaying leg is you.

“You’re fucking right.”

You groan through the initial pain of using your spent cock to pierce Exy open again. With her, a second round is always worth it, no matter the cost or heart-stopping overstimulation. She deserves the hard thrusts deep into her wet core, while you deserve to feel the entirety of her fishnet covered leg.

“Shit, fuck, fuck,” Exy whimpers into your face before you press a peck on her cheek, right at one of the many obscene words on her skin. Her hands move to zip open her skirt to give her more leg room for the artistic position. You on the other hand opt for more drastic measures: ripping more holes into the dark web.

Wet skin continues to hit wet skin, even as you decrease the pace a little to make each thrust harder and more precise. Exy giggles when you miss her g-spot and screams in ecstasy when you hit it perfectly. It’s like a game for her, where she can only win, either by seeing the disappointment in your dirty face or by feeling sparks of pleasure fill her breeding hole.

You hate this kind of game. You just want her to crumble, to succumb to another orgasm on your dick and milk you completely dry. Each minute you spend inside her and not on recording the rap part could lead to awkward questions by the higher ups. Reality is often disappointing, but you won’t go without a bang.

Drop Exy’s leg and instead get a hold of her long hair.

“Exy, you will fucking cum now!”

“What—oh, fuc—ah!”

All your remaining energy is bundled into a final assault on Exy’s cunt. Your cock is a piston on fire, rapidly leaving and penetrating the soft flesh at the right spot. You know Exy too well, she can’t play this stupid game forever. She grits her teeth, but her eyes already roll to the back of her head.

“Cum.

“Cum, Exy, you horny bitch!”

Once again, wet juices all over your base and thighs. The warmth from inside her is spread all over you, so it’s time to give her a good filling. To your massive first load, you add another impressive surge of cum. You pull yourself out, but before all of the white stuff can stain the carpet floor of the booth, you catch it with your hand.

“Ah, fuck. You got a paper towel or something?” you laugh and Exy’s playfully smacks your cheek.

“Get lost, asshole.”

(A/N2: omo, these have really set me ablaze fr)

#kpop smut #female idol smut #male reader smut #male reader #girl group smut #exy smut #wjsn smut

615 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 1 year ago

Text

Just a bet- Philip Graves

Based on a request: Can I make a request, please of a heartbreaker Graves x Naive/Innocent Fem!reader? (Am in need some feelings hurt to feel something) Prompts; - reader is a general’s daughter, whilst grave is an ambitious soldier who aimed to be a captain (or somewhere along the lines) - There were bets of who can f-ck the general’s daughter happening behind the scene among the soldiers, and Grave decided to join in - Unfortunately reader, fell in love with grave. Found out it just a bet, felt betrayed and heartbroken. I hope this is okay with you, also it's okay if you don’t want to do it 🫶🏻🫶🏻 tqsm!

F!reader, angst, implied sexual relations

A/N: This will be short but I hope you enjoy :)

R/L/N, R/N, a 24-year-old soldier, daughter of General R/L/N. You are beautiful, no doubt about that, but that thought would soon leave when you'd eventually find the truth out.

Your dad was one of the most respected generals in the army, always having soldiers ask what it's like to grow up with such a man as your father. You, of course, have always been proud of him, for all his accomplishments and his success. Your dad always raised you to be kind and nice, always kept you far from the military life, in private schools and at times you'd be homeschooled. Once you joined the army, your dad was proud to have you under his command, mainly because he knows damn well he can take you out of any risky assignment. This of course brought many arguments between you two, but so far all is good.

There was one very ambitious soldier at base, a 27-year-old lieutenant that went by the name of Philip Graves. You never talked to him much before the whole 'thing' happened. Your dad had brought him to dinners and said he felt Graves had what was needed from a future commander.

A few of the soldiers at the base were at a bar once, your name was brought up after a few drinks in.

"heard she is single." a younger soldier said.

"I'd honestly ask her out if she wasn't the general's daughter." another spoke.

"I think I could." the men laugh at the last man's comment.

"yeah, like she would let you hit." the other men laugh.

"but the bet is still on, yeah?" a sergeant asks.

"like we would forget." one answers. You see, the men have seen you workout, how your body looks in your workout clothes. The way your breasts look so big in that hoodie and how your thighs are so thick they move so perfectly when you run. So, after they had collectively agreed you were attractive, they all placed bets. 'Whoever can sleep with you first and get proof, would be the winner of the money collected.'

"I think I definitely could." Graves spoke up, and the men turn to him, "oh yeah? How about a bet?" one of the other sergeants asks. "What kind of bet?"

"If you can get into her pants by, let's say, next month...you win the money we have placed on this bet." the sergeant confidently said.

"How much money?"

"so far, 300, so you in?"

"Better start handing me that money." Graves chuckles and the other men laugh, some pat his shoulder others are intrigued to see if he would be the one you sleep with. And after that night, he had two things to do, use you to win that bet and use you to get your dad to maybe promote him to a higher rank. Easy on paper, but he knew you and heard from your dad how you were, so he knew it would be a little hard to get them both done.

13 hours after he placed himself in the bet, he spotted you, talking to your dad, maybe about some stupid father-daughter thing. "Hello, sir," he said as he approached you both, Graves was already beyond the point of being too formal with your dad. "Son," your dad always greeted almost every young soldier like that, "how can I help you?" your dad finally asked. "Was maybe thinking of inviting your daughter here on a date, but because you are my general, I need to make sure it is okay with you." Son of a bitch never even spoke to you, besides the usual awkward 'hey's' around the base. "I can say yes, but this is up to her." your dad answers to him. Meanwhile, you stand there, confused and shocked.

You knew your parents thought you'd end up alone, so just to satisfy them, you agreed on the date with him. By Wednesday of that week, you and Graves went on that date. It was surprisingly nice and he was so kind and such a gentleman towards you. You lived off base, per the request of your dad to live with them, 'much safer and you won't have to share your room or shower.' your dad had argued. So, when the night came to an end, Graves drove you back to your home. The entire way there, he was telling jokes and asking if you were comfortable enough during the whole thing.

Once at the front door of your home, he leans in and kisses your cheek, "I had so much fun r/n, I do hope you think I am worthy of another date like tonight." He had a certain charm to him, no doubt of that. You, being so happy that for once a man hasn't asked you for any explicit stuff agreed on the next date. "Oh thank you so much, it truly is a privilege to get another date with you." His underlying motives are hidden so well under his 'nice and gentle' mask. He made sure you walked into your home before he even drove away, another reason to give you he was a trustworthy guy. Truth be told, that was how he was, bet or not, he always did treat his dates with respect and care and this time around he'd treat you extra special.

After a few more dates and only 18 hours left of his deadline, you two found yourselves in a bar. It was the one on the east side of the town, far from the base, making it the perfect place to get you in the mood. His hands at times would rest on your thighs, waist or the small of your back. And once he got you hooked, he led you to his car. Lips on yours as he laid you on the backseat of his truck. Without much effort, you two eventually were undressed, hands wandering on the other. Lips kissing and meeting skin, all was going to plan. For a while on dates, he'd drop little things about himself, who he wanted to be in the army. What his aspirations were and as he soon had you falling for his charms, rumours of a set of promotions were circling base.

The last thing he had was the bet. As he claimed your body for the night and whispered sweet nothings, the deeper you fell into this false hope he had given you. And all you wanted at the time was someone to love and to hold, not someone who'd use you for who you're related to and not money. He took, as proof, a picture of him kissing your shoulder, your tattooed wrist in frame. If only you knew at the time what the picture would be used for. The shame and sorrow his games would bring you.

The next day at the base, the picture was shown to the group of men that had placed bets. You looked for him around the base and told him he'd be at the mess hall. "Can't fucking believe you lucky bastard on the bet." the sergeant spoke with a chuckle. You heard this and wanted to know what bet he entered. "Yeah, I tell you, she thinks I did like her."

"how desperate of her to think someone likes her for her and not that body." some of the other men laugh at the sergeant's comment. Your eyes immediately watered, the humiliation he had put you through. If you weren't so blind, he would've never had his way with you, if you saw his real motives for smooth-talking you at that bar maybe you'd still have pride in yourself. This whole time, you thought these soldiers and especially him, just wanted to talk and be friends.

For a moment, you did believe someone showed interest in you not in what you looked like. They say beauty is pain, but the shame and sorrow such beauty brings when you are used for some bet is more than just the pain to be beautiful.

My heart, my hips, my body, my love Trying to find a part of me that you didn't touch

262 notes · View notes

mimisempai · 10 months ago

Text

Nothing to hide

Summary

Nina, Maggie and Aziraphale await Crowley's arrival at the Pub.

When the demon shows up, he and the angel have no idea that a simple shared gesture will have amusing consequences for Nina and Maggie.

Notes

50 Types of Kisses - Writing Prompts

Kiss #10: A hello/good-bye kiss that is given without thinking - where neither person thinks twice about it

On Ao3

Rating G - 551 words

"You know, no matter how many times you look at your watch, it doesn't make time go faster."

Aziraphale put his pocket watch back in his jacket and replied to Nina in a tone he intended to be casual, "I don't know what you mean."

The coffee-shop owner chuckled and replied, "Just that you've just looked at your watch for the tenth time in less than a minute. It's not going to make him come any faster."

Maggie whispered, "Nina, leave him alone."

Nina nudged her shoulder as she replied, "You're no fun..."

The Backroom owner said softly, "I know what it's like to wait impatiently for your loved one to come to you."

Nina's face softened as she took Maggie's hand in hers and replied, "Okay, I'll stop."

Then, looking at a spot behind Aziraphale, she added, "Oh, Aziraphale, I think you can stop looking at your watch."

The angel turned his head immediately, then waved at Crowley to show him where they were.

He was pleased to see the demon smile as soon as their eyes met, and watched as he approached, making his way through the crowded pub.

Arriving in front of him, Crowley greeted everyone before leaning over and softly pressing his lips to the angel's before sitting down in the empty chair beside him. Then he immediately took Aziraphale's hand in his and placed their intertwined hands on his lap.

The demon and angel smiled at each other, then Aziraphale asked, "How was your aft-"

"Damn."

Aziraphale and Crowley looked at Nina, who looked at them with an annoyed expression.

Maggie said with a smile, "Be a good sport, honey, you bet and you lost."

Seeing the confused looks on the faces of the angel and the demon, Maggie explained, "Nina was sure you wouldn't kiss to greet each other and I wasn't. We made a bet, and thanks to you, I won."

Aziraphale laughed softly and Crowley asked with interest, "And what did you win?"

Maggie smiled broadly as she replied, "The loser rubs the winner's feet and buys the next round."

Crowley chuckled and said cheekily, "Oh, then I'll order one of the more expensive Taliskers."

Nina threatened him with her finger, "You!"

When the mood calmed down a bit, Aziraphale asked, "Why did you think we wouldn't kiss?"

Nina shrugged and replied, "You don't seem like the type to have visible displays of affection in public."

Aziraphale nodded before replying, "You're not just any public, you're our friends, we have nothing to hide from you."

He raised their entwined hands to his lips and planted a kiss there to illustrate his point.

Crowley muttered under his breath, "Angel..."

Nina sneered and pointed at the demon, "Ooooh, you're blushing, you're embarrassed, aren't you? Admit it!"

"Me? I'll show you who's embarrassed."

He turned to Aziraphale and, after wrapping his arm around his neck, pressed his lips to the angel's in a kiss that lasted much longer than the hello kiss they'd shared and left no doubt, even to a stranger, about the nature of their relationship.

As they broke apart, they heard Nina say to Maggie, "Okay, okay, I'll buy the next two rounds."

The angel and demon looked at each other and began to laugh out loud, soon joined by Nina and Maggie.

Still not beta'd

Still not my native language

Still hoping you'll enjoy this story 🥰

Still thanking you for bearing with me 😝

Ineffable kisses series : here

Ineffable Husbands masterlist : here

#good omens #aziracrow #ineffable husbands #ineffable boyfriends #aziraphale #crowley #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale x crowley #crowley x aziraphale #50 kisses

78 notes · View notes

near-er · 1 year ago

Text

The Stellaron Hunters as your lover

Hc of the stellaron hunters if they were your lover

... FEATURING; Blade, Kafka, Silver Wolf CW/TW; romantic talk, over-protectiveness, manipulation, hints yandere, toxicity

Notes: GOSH, I haven't posted in forever. ngl i completely forgot that I had tmblr BUT I've been writing a lot more recently and wanted to post some drafts before my new works! pls enjoy this! <3

･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･･ ⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･ ⠄⠂⋆ ･

Blade

➤ Practically the whole fandom assumes that Blade would be extremely possessive and jealous,,, I 100% agree. You can’t go anywhere without his “mark” with you, even then he has Silver Wolf send one of her holograms to follow you (much to her dismay). Yk, just to keep you safe of course! If Blade goes anywhere with you everyone knows you two are together, whether it's because of his deathly glare towards anyone looking at you or the way he constantly has a hold on you. Whether it’s your waist, hand or bag (he’s slightly touch-starved). Blade is the type of s/o who would threaten to dismember someone just for asking if you want a large or small drink, god forbid you ever get hit on. The person would go “missing” within the next few hours. Confronting him about it would end up with him saying something along the lines of, “I’m not jealous doll. What’s mine is mine.”

Kafka

➤ Anyone who doesn’t agree that Kafka is the most romantic among the stellaron hunters, can take their leave. Many think that her manipulative nature on the battlefield slips into your relationship but it’s far from that. She does her best to show that her emotions and intentions are pure. Kafka is the type of lover who will wake up before you just to admire the way that the sun shines on you while you’re sleeping, you’d wake up to her gently moving your hair out of your face while already teasing you “Like what you see darling?” If that doesn’t get her feelings across then maybe all of her acts of service will; You want a hot bath? Kafka is already in the tub waiting for you. Had a hard day? She’s sitting on the bed ready to listen. (and possibly remove the problem) Kafka is downright smitten for you and isn’t afraid to let people know about your spell on her.

Silver Wolf

➤ Although all the stellaron hunters are protective of their lovers, the most over-protective lover in the galaxy is without a doubt; Silver Wolf. You can NOT do anything without her, if she isn’t with you in person, she’ll still be watching over you through holograms. Her job requires her to stay in headquarters most hours of the day, and constantly online. This is why her love language mainly consists of playing video games with you and physical touch. A lot of your dates are just the both of you playing games and the winner gets any ‘reward’ they want. (silver wolf will demand a kiss for each win) While she may not be the most expressive lover, she gives subtle hints, and her small smiles and softening eyes, become a lot more noticeable.

174 notes · View notes

joebrrrow · 2 years ago

Text

Refunds || Joe x F!Reader (NSFW)

You were no stranger to Joe’s hijinks.

word count: 3,237

warnings/contents: blowjob, daddy name-calling (i'm sorry joe i'm just saying what we're all thinking), dom!joe/sub!reader dynamics, rough sex (i'm sorry joe), choking, full mind-break, degradation (but also, like, praise), bimbo behavior-fication, dirty talk

author’s note: crawling out of my hole to give you this filthy filth in celebration of the bengals going to the AFC championship! now excuse me i must go take a cold shower and get to my scheduled exorcism because i need church after writing this.

don’t be shy to like and reblog if you enjoyed. as creators say, likes are amazing but reblogs go a long way in sharing my work. thank y’all!!!!!

For more of my smut, read Sturdy. For fluff, check out Capturing You, because your girl can do both. <3

enjoy under the cut!

No matter what, Joe was a winner to you.

And you never really let it get to your head too much, especially when you were watching him from the stands, whatever the team’s score was. You were endlessly proud of him, win or lose, because you’d been there from the very beginning. Even when he was still at Ohio State and barely even saw the field, you gleamed with pride. But honestly, it had been pissing you off a little bit—and you’re typically mild-mannered, some might even go as far as saying meek—to hear everyone doubt Joe, and the whole team for that matter.

“It’s just trash talk, baby,” Joe would soothe you the moment you heard about all this bullshit about neutral sites, ticket sales. He pressed a kiss to the top of your head and reached over to close your laptop, cutting out the noise in a way. “If that gets to ya, you should hear what some guys say on the field.” He cracked a grin and that made things better.

You tried out logic for a while. It wasn’t like pre-selling tickets to a matchup was unheard of; it was basically customary in any sport. Even protocol. And that satiated you for now. You didn’t notice, but Joe actually liked seeing a little bit of that fire in you—this newfound willingness to prove someone wrong. You were always someone who didn’t care too much about what others thought, which was why he wanted even more to win against the Bills on Sunday, just for you; because as much as you were proud of him no matter what, he also liked your praise just as much. He wanted to make you proud.

So come Sunday, when it was the fourth quarter and the Bills were too behind to catch up to the Bengals’ score and that timer was running out, you couldn’t hide how happy you were for him. You watched him from the stands with a big stupid smile on your face because this was who Joe Burrow was—your Joe. He was a winner, a champion, and the sooner people started to realize that, the better. And what a helluva way to prove them wrong with just four words:

“Better send those refunds.”

—

You sat there, mouth slightly falling open. The bright light of your phone’s screen illuminated your face in the otherwise dark parking lot, at a gas station somewhere in the outskirts of Cincinnati, about five minutes away from yours and Joe’s place. You were catching up on all the social media, retweeting things, reposting stories, acknowledging everything you could that was singing Joe’s praises because goddamn if he didn’t deserve it. And that was when you caught this clip of Joe’s postgame interview.

Better send those refunds.

You were no stranger to his hijinks. You loved how fired up he got after a great game and an even better win. You loved how he was slowly opening up to the media, showing a little more of the goofy person you know him to be (though you secretly wished he’d kept it all for you). But this… Something was different about this.

You were suddenly startled by Joe opening the door to his car, entering the driver’s seat and handing a plastic bag over to you. Without much thought, you grabbed it. “What’s this?” you asked.

He snickered at this. “Your snacks, sweetheart.” Oh, that’s right—you had run out of your celebratory post-game Oreos at the house and wanted him to grab a quick pack.

With a chuckle, you played it off. “Thanks.”

He started the car and began pulling out of the parking lot, but not without question. “You good, baby?”

“Yep,” you croaked out. You turned beet red and thanked God it was dark outside so he couldn’t see. You both laughed about how your voice broke just then.

A few seconds passed before you spoke again. You willed up some confidence. “It’s just… You know, I can’t let it go. About how they were selling those tickets before they even knew who was going to play in the Championship.”

“Ah, I know, babe.” He reached over and patted your knee. “But that doesn’t matter, ‘cause we’re gonna be there next week.”

“I know, I know, but… What was it you said at that interview after the game? ‘Give the tickets back,’ or something like that?” You purposely watered down his words, wanting him to correct you.

“Nah, nah, you’re butchering it,” he said, laughing. “I don’t remember what I said, really.”

“Oh, c’mon. You remember,” you insisted teasingly. “I bet you had it bubbling up. You thought of it last week, probably, and kept rehearsing it over and over again so you got it right by the time you had to say it.”

Joe scoffed, reaching over and ruffling your hair. “Where’s this comin’ from, bug?” His sweet little nickname for you. He always treated you like you were small, and you liked that. But you didn’t want to sink into it, not yet—you wanted this first.

“Just say it. You remember what you said.”

“Hmm.” At a red light, he stopped the car and looked over at you. His perplexed expression was smoldering even when dimly lit crimson.

Biting your lip, you waited.

“I know what I said,” he finally confessed.

“Yeah?” you squirmed a bit in your seat. The light was still red.

“I said, ‘Better send those refunds.’”

“Mmm.” You couldn’t hold back your whimper. It was involuntary. Sometimes it shocked you, still, the effect that Joe Burrow had on you. Even after all these years. But you caught yourself and added, “Mmmhmm. That’s what you said.”

He didn’t let you get away with it, though. He never did.

As the light turned green, Joe slowly accelerated forward; you were the only car on these quiet streets. He said nothing. You bit back your smile as you looked out of the window, pretending like nothing happened.

Then, you felt it. He brought his right hand down from the wheel to pat your knee again, but it wasn’t a silly pat this time. He started rubbing his huge hand on your knee, slowly lowering it to your inner thigh. You thought his touch was going to burn a hole in your leggings. But you weren’t done.

“Better send those refunds,” you repeated, somewhat more enunciated, voice a bit breathy. But you didn’t want to make it obvious that his touch had already gotten to you; that you’d already been soaked from the moment he got back in the car. You let out a soft chuckle. “I mean, it’s true. They knew better than to doubt you.”

“Hmph.” Joe seemed to be satisfied by your words.

“I mean, right? God, this should show them that they’re stupid for even thinking about selling those tickets in the first place, whether it’s protocol or not,” you continued. His hand on your thigh just kept moving higher and higher. Your next words came out with a slight gasp: “You’re the fucking best, Joe. And if they don’t know that by now…”

When his hand finally snuck between your thighs, thumb rubbing against your warm pussy over your leggings, you let out a slutty moan. “Daddy.” It was, like that whimper earlier, involuntary. Conditioned.

“Shh. Tell me.” It was the first time you’d heard his voice in a minute, and it was suddenly colored so deep, lustful.

You knew what to say. “I just think you’re—you’re the best, daddy.” Your confidence had waned off a bit, replaced by this slightly bimbofied persona only he knew how to dig out of you. “And you’re so right… they better send those refunds.” You nodded, biting down hard on your lip as he rubbed your clit in circles. You looked at him even if he wasn’t looking at you back; his focused expression as he drove was all you needed to keep getting wetter and wetter.

But you were suddenly disappointed as you felt the car slow down and pull into your house. Those were the fastest five minutes of your life. You wanted it to be like the last time you got frisky in the car, Joe so desperate that you pulled off to the side of the road and fucked you right there. You supposed this was better, though; you could both get out of your clothes easier and didn’t have to wrestle with a pile of winter coats. (It was summer the last time you had car sex; your tiny shorts were easy to pull off.)

“Let’s go,” Joe spoke, stepping out of the car. He was calm as you both headed inside the house.

You dropped off your coat and bag on the wall hook by the door and pathetically set the plastic bag on the kitchen island, feeling his presence somewhere behind you. You looked up at him, biting your lip, seeing him standing in the doorway. He’d taken his shoes and coat off already, just in his warm-ups. When you caught his gaze, his ocean blue eyes looked expectant of you.

“Yes, daddy?”

That was enough to set him off. He walked over to you, towering over you and backing you up against the kitchen island. You gulped, looking up at him. You loved when he made you feel small.

“Better send those refunds.”

You feigned confusion. “Huh?”

Abruptly, he grabbed you by your waist and turned you around, bending you over the counter. He had a fistful of your hair and his cock pressed hard against you, and you felt him breathing in your ear. “I said, you’d better send those refunds.”

“Y-yeah,” you nodded, looking at him through your peripherals, brows curled up. Your mouth hung agape, moaning as he reached his free hand down and grabbed your ass. Just from this, your head was already swirling with dumb pleasure. “Right away, daddy.”

He turned you around and pulled you onto your knees by your hair. You braced yourself by grabbing his thighs and didn’t dare break eye contact from him. Even if his bulge was right in your face. This was the first time in a long time, since the beginning of today, that he’d gotten a look at you. He smirked; you knew he thought you were gorgeous, he didn’t have to say it. This was about him.

“Suck my cock.”

You did as you were told, pulling down his sweatpants and not even allowing yourself a second to admire his length. You took the shaft in your hand and directed the tip of his cock into your mouth, closing your eyes as you expertly began sucking him off. There was no slow burn here; that already happened in the car.

Joe still had your hair in his hand, and it gripped tighter as you blew him. “Mmm. Fuck, baby. Just like that,” he growled. He broke eye contact from you for a moment to lean his head back and close his eyes, focusing on the sound of you gagging over his cock. You took him as far as you could then fucked the back of your throat with the tip of his cock, which was slick in your drool. Your hands held onto his thighs as you whimpered with your mouth full. Even though he wasn’t looking at you, you didn’t break eye contact from him; it made you so wet to watch him go all primal.

Then he grabbed two fistfuls of your hair to make pigtails. You knew that he wanted to control your mouth, so you held your hands behind your back like a good girl and you let him throw your head back and forth against his cock. Your eyes welled up with tears.

He looked down to watch you as he fucked your throat, and he looked so proud to own you. It made you want to be even better at being throatfucked, like you would go to college and get a degree in being a good throat to fuck if you could. You wanted to serve him in that way. You made filthy, wet gagging noises, and babbled when you could; your face was coated in your own drool.

“Alright, get up,” he said, pulling his cock out of your mouth and hoisting you to your feet by your pigtails. He let go of your hair and you sighed in slight relief from the new lack of tension.

“Y-yes daddy,” you gurgled out. Your makeup was ruined, but you still looked pretty to him. He kissed you messily, grabbing both of your cheeks with one hand of his squeezing your face together. Then he gave your face a nice, solid slap.

“You gonna be a good girl for daddy, huh? You gonna take this dick?” he asked, breathless.

You whimpered and nodded. “Yes,” you whimpered. “I want it. I want it so bad. Please.”

Satisfied with your pleading, he forced you on your stomach, bent over against the kitchen island. He pulled down your leggings and lifted your jersey up, and as you watched him over your shoulder, you caught his smirk. Of course you were wearing his number. You knew he liked seeing you wear it and loved fucking you in it even more.

With one hand on your back and the other on the base of his shaft, he slowly directed the tip of his cock inside of you, not shy to groan as he felt how wet you were. “Fuck. Look how wet you are,” he said, tone as if to humiliate you, but you loved it when it came along with praise. “You’re fucking soaked. Are you that much of a slut that seeing me win gets you this fucking soaked and slutty, sweetheart?”

You whimpered, finding yourself almost begging for him to slide in all the way. “Y-yes, daddy. I’m a slut,” you barely got out. Your words were somewhat nasally and high-pitched; you were almost full bimbo at this point. “Please. Please.”

He chuckled at this, pulling back out. He rubbed his tip along the wet, slick slit of your cunt. “Please what?”

“Daddy. Daddy, please fuck me. I can’t take it,” you begged. “I’ll—I’ll get on those refunds right away, daddy. I should’ve known better.”

Joe growled. Satisfied, he shoved deep into you, and held his cock there; you felt his balls graze up against your clit.

“Ah!” you moaned. You braced yourself against the kitchen island, staring at the Oreos.

Then, Joe started to fuck you.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head and everything went black. You bathed in the pleasure that was his cock pummeling your tight little pussy. You loved how rough he was being. You were losing yourself. You were being owned by Joe Burrow. You were his piece of pussy, and only that.

“Yes. Yes. Yes,” you moaned in conjunction with each thrust of his as he took you from behind.

His hands gripped tightly on your waist, letting out primal groans as he fucked you hard. He wasn’t holding back, and you loved it. “Oh, c’mon, baby. You better get to it,” he spoke, breathily, and yet confidently. “You were gonna do something for me, weren’t you? Before you went all brain-stupid and cock-slutty for your daddy?”

You hated how easily his words came out when all you could think about was his dick obliterating your pussy. The words were jumbled in your head: “Refunds, better send.” And they came out repeatedly in whines. “Refunds. Daddy. Send. Yes. Fuck. Me.”

One of his hands left your waist and you almost began sobbing at that lack of contact only if he didn’t reach up and grab your throat, pulling you up from the cold marble of the kitchen island so you could stand up a bit and watch him fuck you. He held your throat tightly, and you looked over your shoulder as best as you could to catch a blurry image of the most handsome fucking man you’ve ever seen hammer into you. He shoved his thumb in your mouth and you sucked happily. You repositioned your hands on the counter to hold yourself up and continue to be a good slut. His other hand spanked your ass.

“That’s right, baby. Better send those refunds like the stupid fuckin’ bimbo you are,” he growled out, words accented with that smirk you knew he wore while he fucked you. “Take this big fuckin’ daddy cock in your wet, tight little pussy, baby.” His hand left your throat only to dig under your shirt and grab your tits, tugging that bralette down and off your tits. He roughly pinched your nipple and you whined out. Your tits bounced freely in rhythm with his incessant, merciless fucking.

“D-daddy,” you whined, desperately.

“Aw, what’s that? You can’t say anything?” There he was again, pulling out coherent sentences while you babbled.

You’d gone full bimbo by this point. You were far gone, and your only compass was his dick inside of you. You knew nothing else about fuck-all until his cock was drained inside of you, and you would be a good slut-servant until he was done.

But goddamn, you were about to cum. “I—” you whimpered out. “If you keep fucking me like that, daddy, I’m gonna cum.”

He laughed at this. “Oh, yeah?”

“Mhm. Put your—daddy, please—”

You didn’t have to finish your sentence. Joe knew what you needed. His hand left your tit if only to grab your throat again, and his other hand held onto your waist, keeping you still. Otherwise, you’d squirm away from him. He knew you were uncontrollable when you came.

“What’s that, baby? Use your words for daddy, c’mon.” He smirked.

“I’m gonna—” you cried out.

He timed his thrusts with these next few words, feeling close to climaxing himself: “You’d. Better. Send. Those. Fucking. Refunds. You. Fucking. Slut.”

And with that, you came hard all over his cock, clenching your tight, wet walls around him. “God, daddy! I’m cumming! Yes! Don’t stop!” You closed your eyes and indeed, squirmed around a ton, and he had to hold your waist to keep you still.

“Fuck. I’m gonna cum, too, baby.” He grunted, wrangling and fucking you at the same time, and at the feeling of your walls clenching around him, shot his white hot load deep inside you. You felt him filling you up, the warmth of his load sinking deep into your stomach. You both slowed down, breathing hard.

With him still inside of you, you slumped forward, laying your top half down on the counter. You looked over your shoulder up at him, then cracked a grin.

And he broke into a smile, too, gleaming with pride. He’d never admit it, but you turned him into such an animal. It was even sweeter when the clouds had all cleared and all you both felt was bliss.

You lifted a heavy, lifeless arm to reach across the counter. You pulled the plastic bag closer and took out the package of Oreos. Barely functioning and breathing hard, you put all your effort into ripping that stupid, plastic seal off the package, revealing three rows of double-stuffed sandwich cookies. You pulled one out and offered it over your shoulder to him. “Want a celebratory Oreo, champ?” you asked.

He took it with a snicker. “Yeah, sweetheart. I sure do.”

#joe burrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow smut #joe burrow fanfic #joe burrow x reader #myfics*

934 notes · View notes

salemshotspot · 7 months ago

Note

I saw that post about how no one would want to read austin/shawn/trips but /I/ would op. /I would/.

STONE FACED STEVE AUSTIN

Steve Austin x Shawn Michaels x Triple H

WORD COUNT: 2.6k

DESC: Steve Austin has some doubts about his partners' feelings.

WARNINGS: Jealously//Angst With A Happy Ending//Not Proof Read//Characters Not Fully Acting In Character//Brief Swearing//Brief Use Pet Names [Baby]

A/N >> I'm not sure if this is any good but I enjoyed writing it

TAGS: anon

Enjoy!

——————————————————————————

Although Steve was not scheduled to be on air this particular evening, to everybody’s surprise he decided to turn up to the arena and watch the show on the backstage TV. Wrestlers coming in on their days off to watch the show wasn’t anything new, everybody did it from the undertaker to the rock; but not Steve, he never normally came in on his days off which is why everyone raised an eyebrow when they saw him sat backstage with an unreadable face.

Steve was pulled from his thoughts briefly as he heard the voice of Mick Foley, or as the world knew him at this point ‘mankind’; although in ring they weren’t on the best of terms to put it lightly, outside of the ring the two were good friends. ‘Steve is that you?’ He joked before continuing ‘it’s good to see you buddy! What brings you here today? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you here on one of your days off.’

Not at all in the mood for conversation Steve abruptly muttered ‘felt like it’ as he takes a generous sip of a beer he previously took from the fridge which was accessible backstage for stars and crew alike. Mick knew Steve well enough to know he didn’t want to be bothered right now so he simply hummed in agreement and left Steve to his own devices. Almost perfectly timed with Mick’s exiting of the room Steve’s attention was drawn back to the TV as he heard ‘are you ready?’; it was dgeneration x’s entrance song.

Steve was a private man, to him his business was his and only his which is why nobody knows for the past few months he had been dating both Shawn and Hunter, he was honestly surprised the two men hadn’t accidentally told anyone about the relationship yet and for this Steve was thankful; he wasn’t hiding his relationship out of shame but more so because of his desire for privacy, he didn’t want people talking about his business, about his partners when it didn’t concern them in the slightest and he was so grateful to his partners for understanding this.

The real reason Steve had come in on his day off was one which filled him with shame; he was jealous, he knew it was stupid as he knew just as well as everybody in his line of work all of the storylines which they partake in are works of fiction. His partners currently had a running bit where they were both fighting over Chyna, desperate to one up the other in order to ‘win her affection’ and with each stunt Steve couldn’t help but grow more jealous, more irritated with his partners. As he always struggled vocalising his feelings when things bothered him Steve decided to do the one thing he knew how to do to feel like he had an ounce of control over his situation; he was there to keep an eye on them, he almost felt as if he was physically present he could stop anything from happening. He knew it was a stupid fear to have, he knew his partners would never actually betray him but he couldn’t help the way his mind would wander.

The sound of dgeneration x’s entrance song died down as the group entered the ring, Hunter’s voice pulling Steve’s attention back to the TV; ‘get over yourself Shawn, Chyna clearly wants me and I mean can you blame her’ he says flexing his muscles as he crowd cheers. The sound of the crowd siding with Hunter led to Shawn challenging Hunter to a no DQ match, winner gets to take Chyna on a date; before Hunter could accept or decline the offer Shawn practically ran over to him and subjected him to some sweet chin music, the sound of the impact echoed through the arena as Shawn’s foot connected with Hunter’s chin and Hunter fell to the floor.

Steve rolled his eyes as his partners fight grew progressively more violent; Hunter reaching under the ring for a chair as Shawn snuck up behind him with a set of the steel steps which lead up to the ring. After about half an hour of fighting Shawn finally managed to pin Hunter long enough for the referee to count to three. Upon winning the fight Shawn jumped up and ran over to Chyna and gently cupped her face in his hands, looking into her eyes with pure adoration as he gently placed a kiss on her lips as the crowd cheered and Hunter dramatically rolled his eyes at Shawn's showboating. Once Shawn pulled back from Chyna he turned to Hunter who was playing up his heartbreak for crowd sympathy to which he opened his arms offering a hug to Hunter causing Hunter dropped his heartbroken act and wrapped both Shawn and Chyna in his arms.

Watching the screen Steve crushed the can he was holding with his hand causing small traces of beer to trickle from the can onto his hand which instantly grew sticky as the beer settled on his hand. Steve couldn't believe what he was seeing; in all of the months they had been together Shawn hadn't once looked at him with such adoration in his eyes, he had never once held his face in his hands before kissing him and Hunter had definitely never wrapped him up in his arms the way he had just seen him do to Shawn and Chyna. Steve began to kick himself, he knew he should've listened to himself when he tried to ignore his feelings for Shawn and Hunter; Steve was far too caught up in his thoughts to notice that his partners were no longer on the screen, they were entering the room which Steve had been sitting in all evening.

'Steve?' Shawn questioned, voice laced with confusion and excitement; hearing Shawn say Steve's name caused Hunter's head to turn towards the room while Steve stayed turned away from the men in the doorway. Shawn frowned as Steve ignored him, Hunter assumed he simply didn't hear Shawn so, while walking into the room with Shawn following behind, Hunter said louder than Shawn did previously; 'Steve this is a nice surprise.'

Upon noticing that Steve was actively ignoring the two Hunter sat on the two seat couch next to Steve who, upon feeling the couch dip slightly, shifted his body further towards the edge of the couch facing away from the man who had just sat next to him. Before Hunter could speak Shawn swiftly walked over to the couch and sat on the arm which Steve was facing, trapping him between his partners who were desperate to uncover what was bothering him.

'Steve is everything ok?' Hunter questioned as he placed a hand on Steve's shoulder supportively, however, to Hunter's surprise as his hand rested upon Steve's shoulder his entire body tensed up. Hurt and confused Hunter pulled his hand away from Steve; he's never been anything less than recuperative to his touch and he couldn't for the life of him figure out why he was acting this way.

'I'm fine' Steve snapped back as he stood up and pulled another beer from the fridge before turning back to his partners, his eyes glossed over with anger; 'believe me I'm completely fuckin' fine, not that either of you care about that though' he continued coldly.

Both Shawn and Hunter felt their hearts drop at Steve accusation; 'what is that supposed to mean' Shawn asked, voice wavering as Steve let out a mocking chuckle 'you know exactly what I mean' Steve instantly replied. Before either of the men could say another word Steve said in a whisper, almost as if he was telling himself rather than the two men 'I ain't putting myself through this' before he stormed out of the room, leaving the two men sat in a shared state of shock and confusion.

Shawn looked over to Hunter, realising the usually stoic man had his head in his hands, hair falling over his face; Shawn dramatically fell back onto the couch, his head landing in Hunter's lap. As he looked up into Hunter, a small smile forming on his face due to Shawn's actions, Shawn questioned his partner; 'are you ok?'

Hunter sighed and began playing with Shawn's hair; 'I'm ok Shawn, I'm just worried about Steve, he's never acted like this with us before.' Shawn hummed in agreement, also worried about his currently missing partner. As the two men sat in silence with their shared anxiety filling the room both of their eyes glanced upwards towards the TV which was now playing highlights from that night's episode of RAW and after a few minutes their segment was being highlighted, that's when it hit the two men.

As they watched themselves on the screen practically throwing themselves at Chyna Shawn spoke up; 'do you think that he-', with guilt lacing his voice Hunter interjected, 'I think so.'

Although the two men were certain they had gotten to the bottom of Steve's outburst they couldn't help but feel they were wrong; Steve isn't the type to get jealous, especially when he knew there was nothing to be jealous of, or at least that's what they thought.

The two men got up off the couch and began searching for Steve but he was nowhere to be found, Shawn spotted Mick and asked if had seen Steve anywhere to which Mick replied by explaining he saw Steve about ten minutes earlier declaring he was heading home.

Now the men knew where Steve had gone they began formulating a plan to reconcile with their boyfriend. After about forty minutes the two men had a plan they got into Hunter’s car and drove to Steve’s house. The men walked up to Steve’s house and Hunter, after hesitating for a moment, knocked on the door to which Steve opened after a matter of minutes.

‘Steve’ Shawn began 'please let us in, we just want to talk to you’ he practically begged. Although Steve was angry at the men he hated to see them look so sad and although his better judgement was telling him to slam the door on the two men he instead begrudgingly he let the two men into his house.

Hunter was the first to break the silence; he was always good at getting a dialogue going, it was like his secret talent, ‘Steve we know why you’re mad’ he began, causing Steve’s eyes to briefly widen, was he really that predictable? Once Hunter finished speaking Shawn picked up where his partner had left off; ‘we’re sorry about our storyline with Chyna, we’ve been thinking and we’re going to speak to Vince first thing tomorrow to get our story chang-‘ Steve immediately cut the man off, he felt a small pang of guilt and adoration strike his heart, he couldn’t bring himself to believe they cared about him enough to drop a storyline just to put his mind at ease.

‘Let me stop you right there' Steve’s voice filled the room with ease ‘now I personally couldn’t give two shits about what you two do with yourselves, you’re grown men for crying out loud’ he continued, the volume of his voice increasing with each word. Both Shawn and Hunter were at a loss for words as they were sure they had figured out why Steve was upset; as Steve continued speaking he noticed Hunter wince, he had always been sensitive to sound and Steve always forgot; after lowering his voice he continued to speak, Hunter silently thanking him. 'I really don’t care about you loving on Chyna’ he stopped speaking and lowered his gaze to the ground, suddenly overcome with embarrassment, he couldn’t believe he was actually talking about this. Noticing him grow increasingly embarrassed, Shawn placed his hand on Steve’s shoulder, his thumb gently rubbing soothing circles, signalling to Steve he was safe and could share anything with the two men. With a deep sigh Steve practically blurted out ‘it’s not the fact you’re loving on other people that I mind, it’s the fact you never love on me like that.’

Simultaneously the three men froze, Steve out of embarrassment and Shawn and Hunter as they were at a loss for words, did Steve really think they didn’t love him? Almost offended by this accusation Shawn pushed him to elaborate which is when Steve spoke about the way Shawn looked at Chyna as he kissed her, the way he ever so gently cupped her face in his hands, the way Hunter wrapped both her and Shawn in his arms in a way he had never done with Steve.

After what felt like hours of silence, which was in fact a couple of seconds of house ambience filled silence, Hunter and Shawn smirked at each other in unison; they didn’t know their boyfriend was so jealous but they weren’t complaining. Noticing the men smirking at each other Steve immediately attempted to act like this whole thing hadn’t happened, claiming the men must think he’s stupid. Before he could continue to spiral Shawn reached up to his face, cupping it ever so gently just like he had with Chyna so many times before; ‘baby nothing you could ever say to us could be close to stupid, you’re feeling like me and Hunter aren’t loving on you enough and that’s our fault, let us make it up to you’ Shawn cooed.

With his attention completely captured by Shawn, Steve didn't notice when Hunter began to speak, in order to pull his attention back to the room Hunter softly pushed Steve backwards on the couch, encouraging him to sit back and relax. As Hunter lay Steve back he began peppering kisses over the man's face, gently speaking between kisses; 'Shawn is right, we're so sorry we've not been paying enough attention to our precious baby', he moved to whisper into Steve's ear; 'let us show you how sorry we are.'

Hunter wrapped his arms around Steve, rendering him unable to move, not that he was complaining being wrapped in the arms of his boyfriend. Steve would've been more than happy to stay wrapped in Hunter's arms with Shawn cuddled up closely to the two, all three sharing a comfortable silence. The silence was abruptly broken when Shawn gently lifted the fabric of Steve's shirt, the cold air hitting his abdomen causing him wince for a brief second as his body grew accustomed to the temperature change he was experiencing. Feeling his partner wince under his touch Hunter tightened his hold on Steve attempting to provide extra security for the man in his arms; once Steve had adjusted to the temperature Shawn began planting soft kisses down his abdomen, muttering praises between each kiss.

As Hunter rubbed circles into Steve's shoulder with his thumb the man he held so firmly yet gently in his arms began to grow tired. Hunter could see him physically attempting to force himself awake to which Hunter softly chuckled; 'you don't have to stay awake for us baby, we'll still be here when you wake up, we're not going anywhere' to which Shawn hummed in agreement.

Hearing the words and the silent encouragement of his partners caused him to finally allow himself to sleep, nuzzling his head into the crook of Hunter's neck he sleepily muttered 'I love you, I love both of you so much.' Steve almost immediately fell asleep in the arms of his partners, Shawn and Hunter quickly falling asleep, the three of them feeling safe and content with their relationship.

Shawn, Hunter and Steve have never felt happier than when they were together, even if sometimes they needed reminding of how much their partners really loved them.

#wwe #90s wwf #shawn michaels #hbk #heart break kid #triple h #stone cold #steve austin #wwf #heartbreakkid #heartbreak kid

21 notes · View notes