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theonottsbxtch · 1 month ago

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MY KINDA CRAZY | LN4

an: i was listening to do re mi by blackbear and i was just thinking about the concept of lando dating a driver who is just straight up insane but that's their dynamic.

wc: 3.4k

Lando was lounging in his gaming chair, half-focused on his Quadrant stream, when he heard the sound of glass shattering in the distance. His gaze flickered, eyebrows furrowing as the noise registered. He glanced toward his mates on-screen, catching a few laughs over the headset.

“What was that?” Max asked.

He narrowed his eyes and leaned back, glancing over his shoulder toward the window. “Hang on a sec.” He muted his mic, got up and moved toward the source of the commotion.

He reached the edge of the window and peered outside—and there she was, standing beside his brand new black Ferrari, one of his precious golf clubs in hand, bringing it down on the windscreen with a satisfying crack. She looked wild-eyed, fearless, like she belonged right there, shattering his world with a smirk on her face.

He didn’t even have to look at the monitor to know his friends were watching his expression. After a pause, he unmuted the mic. “Uh, guys,” he said, exhaling a laugh. “I’ll be back in five.”

“Is that…?” Steven started. The rest fell into stunned silence, disbelief etched across their voices as he nodded, trying to suppress a grin.

“Bro, are you serious? You need to cut her off,” he heard Ethan say, as the sound of glass crunched through his headset again. They’re trying to talk him out of it, telling him how crazy this is, how she’s crazy. But he knows the truth—that they’re just as bad as each other, and he can’t imagine it any other way.

“I got it handled,” he assured them, already making his way downstairs.

Lando stepped into the lobby, where the apartment security guards were trying—without much success—to talk her down. One of them looked up at him, relief flashing across his face. “Sir, do you want us to call the police? We’ll get her to leave.”

But he just shook his head, giving them a grin. “Nah. I’ll deal with her.”

Striding out, he reached her, catching her wrist just as she raised the golf club for another swing. She froze, looking up at him, and he could see the fire in her eyes, the way she was daring him to react.

He just grinned, leaning in close enough that she could feel his breath brush her cheek. Without breaking eye contact, he wrapped an arm around her waist and, in one swift motion, lifted her up and slinged her over his shoulder. She let out a yelp, then an indignant laugh, smacking his back with the flat of her hand.

“Put me down, you cunt!” she demanded, but there was a thrill in her voice he knew too well.

“Are you done having your moment, sweetheart?” Lando murmured, a teasing edge in his tone. He could feel her bristle, and could almost hear the smirk in her voice when she muttered, “Maybe.”

As he walked back inside, her breathless laughter filling the air, he slid his hand up the back of her thigh, just to hear her gasp. She wriggled against his shoulder, trying to hide the way her body was reacting, but he felt it—felt her melt under his touch, even as she clung to her defiance.

Once they were back inside, he let her down slowly, pressing her back against the wall. She glared up at him, but it was a look laced with something darker, something that has his pulse thrumming. He caged her in with his arms, leaning close enough to feel the heat radiating off her.

“You really thought that was gonna get a reaction out of me?” he murmured, voice low, teasing. She smirked, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Oh, it got a reaction,” she whispered, her fingers sliding down to his belt, tugging him closer.

For a moment, there was just the sound of their breaths, mingling in the charged air between them. Then he closed the gap, capturing her lips in a kiss that was hard and demanding, like they were daring each other to go further. She kissed him back fiercely, her hands twisting into his shirt, holding him as close as possible.

When they broke apart, breathless, he pulled back just enough to whisper against her lips, “Next time, try not to break the Ferrari.”

She grinned, unrepentant. “Can’t make any promises.”

She stepped through the bathroom door, expecting things to be exactly where she left them. Instead, her eyes widen as she notices the vanity—completely empty, wiped clean. Her makeup, all of it, is gone.

She dropped her phone on the floor, her jaw tightening as she stormed through the apartment, finally finding Lando lounging on the sofa, casually scrolling through his phone as if nothing’s amiss.

“You didn’t,” she hissed, fists clenched at her sides. Lando looked up slowly, meeting her glare with an infuriatingly calm expression, one eyebrow raised.

“Oh, I did,” he said, tossing his phone aside and stretching his arms across the back of the sofa. “Figured you might like a fresh start. Maybe if you didn’t wear all that makeup, you wouldn’t be getting so much attention.”

Her hands balled into fists, but she didn’t look away. He watched the spark ignite in her eyes, that unmistakable fire that was both thrilling and a little dangerous. She took a slow step toward him, a mocking smile spreading across her face.

“You’re insane,” she said, voice low and deadly, but he only grinned, watching her like he was daring her to do something about it.

“Yeah?” Lando replied, leaning back and looking her over with a smirk. “But you go wild for it.”

She stalked closer, moving to stand over him, her hands braced on either side of his shoulders, forcing him to look up at her. Her voice dropped, almost a whisper. “That was my stuff, and you don’t get to decide what I wear.”

He let out a low laugh, his gaze unwavering as he reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, fingers lingering just a bit too long. “Then stop trying to get my attention by looking at every other guy,” he murmured, his voice soft but dangerous, his hand trailing down the side of her face, fingers brushing along her jawline.

“You think I’m looking at anyone else?” she breathed, leaning in close enough that her lips grazed his, teasing. Her hands slid up his chest, clutching his shirt as she lowered herself to straddle him, trapping him in place. “Trust me, sweetheart, when I want someone’s attention, I get it.”

Lando felt her heartbeat against his chest, fast and unsteady, betraying the anger simmering just under the surface. He grinned, his hands moving to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were flush together. His voice dropped down to a whisper, low and possessive. “Then prove it.”

She didn’t hesitate, her mouth crashing into his, all sharp teeth and rough edges, like she was determined to make him regret it. He returned the kiss with equal intensity, his grip tightening as he pulled her in deeper, like he was staking his own claim. They were tangled together, her hands gripping his hair as he pressed her closer, their breaths mingling in a haze of frustration and heat.

When they finally pulled back, gasping for air, Lando smirked, brushing his thumb over her swollen lip. “See? Much better.”

When Lando walked in, the first thing he noticed was a mess of fabric strewn across the floor of the living room. The second? That familiar, smug defiance hanging in the air. His designer shirts—one after another—were lying in a pile, each one sliced clean through.

He let out a low, dark laugh, shaking his head as he picked up a piece of ruined silk. Of course she did this. Of course.

He followed the trail of destruction down the hall, where he found her sprawled on their bed, scrolling through her phone as if nothing was out of the ordinary. In her other hand, she was twirling a pair of scissors, the blade glinting as it caught the light.

He cleared his throat, and she glanced up, that innocent look in her eyes that he knew all too well. It was the look she gave right before she said something that’ll push every one of his buttons.

“Something wrong?” she asked, the corner of her mouth quirked up in a satisfied little smirk.

He stepped closer, holding up the tattered remains of one of his favourite shirts. “Oh, nothing,” he drawled, letting the fabric slip from his fingers. “Just wondering if you’ve got something you want to say.”

She gave a nonchalant shrug, returning her attention to her phone as she flicked through it lazily. “Thought I’d free up some space in your wardrobe. You never seemed to like those shirts anyway.”

He chuckled, watching her with narrowed eyes as he sat beside her on the edge of the bed, close enough that she had to look up at him. “And what if I told you that those were my favourites?” he murmured, reaching out to take the scissors from her hand, his fingers brushing her skin just a moment too long.

She tilted her head, her smirk widening as she let him take the scissors, her eyes flicking to his with that bold, unyielding spark he can never resist. “Then maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said, voice low and sweet, laced with mock innocence.

He let out another laugh, setting the scissors aside, his hand lingering on her thigh as he leaned in, close enough that he could feel her breath hitch. “And what am I supposed to do with you, hmm?” he asked, his fingers brushing slowly up her leg, tracing light circles that sent a shiver through her.

She raised her chin, meeting his gaze with a challenging glint. “Maybe you should take better care of your things,” she said again, her tone daring him to react. Her fingers trail up his chest, her touch feather-light, barely there, but enough to send heat coursing through him.

“Careful,” he whispered, voice dropping as he moved his hand up to cup her face, his thumb tracing along her cheek. “Keep this up, and I might have to show you what happens when you mess around this much, sweetheart.”

She leaned into his touch, her lips curving into a wicked smile. “Maybe that’s exactly what I want.”

She was exhausted, every muscle aching as she finally made it back to their apartment building after a gruelling day of training, it was hard to keep up with Max sometimes. She was only thinking about a hot shower and maybe collapsing into bed, but when she slid her keycard into the lock, nothing happened. She tried again, frowning as she heard the familiar beep and saw the small red light flash, denying her access.

Frustrated, she let out a sigh and looked up, only to see Lando standing by the window on the second floor, leaning casually against the frame with a smirk stretched across his face.

“You trying to come in?” he called down, amusement glinting in his eyes as he watched her wrestle with the lock.

Her jaw tightens. She raises her voice, letting her irritation show. “Open the door, or I swear I’ll—”

He just laughed, leaning out of the window, entirely unbothered. “Sorry, sweetheart, but I had to revoke your access. Apartment is under my name, after all.” He paused, tilting his head as he looked her over, clearly savouring her frustration. “It’s just... you’ve been taking a few too many liberties lately.”

She scoffed, storming toward the front desk, where the concierge looked up, shifting uncomfortably as she approached.

“Can you open the door?” she demanded, her voice sharp with exhaustion and irritation.

The concierge frowned apologetically. “I’m sorry, miss, but Mr. Norris" he hesitated, glancing up toward the smirking man in the window— “he’s requested that your access be restricted. I can’t let you in without his permission.”

Her fists clench at her sides, and she looks back up at him, glaring. He was still leaning against the window, arms folded, watching her with that smug, insufferable grin. She was just about ready to give him a piece of her mind when he called down, his voice lazy and laced with amusement.

“You know,” Lando said, “there’s a way you could get in. Just gotta say the magic word.”

She narrowed her eyes, arms crossing as she stared up at him. “You’re out of your mind.”

“Oh, come on.” He shrugged, feigning innocence. “A little begging never hurt anyone.” He grinned, tilting his head mockingly. “Or are you too proud? Red Bull’s Princess can’t say please?”

She bit back a retort, anger simmering under her skin. But the day had worn her down, and the idea of spending the night locked out was even worse than giving him what he wanted. She let out a sigh, glaring at him with a look that could kill.

“Please,” she said, voice strained, her jaw clenched tightly.

He cupped a hand to his ear, grinning wider. “Didn’t quite hear that.”

She let out a frustrated growl, swallowing her pride as she raised her voice, forcing herself to repeat it. “I said, please,” she grit out, hating every second.

But Lando only shook his head, laughing softly to himself. “Not quite enough, darling. You’re going to have to try a little harder than that.”

Her eyes narrowed, fury blazing in her gaze as she glanced around, making sure no one else beside the concierge was listening before she took a deep breath. She fixed him with a look, voice dropping lower, softer. “Please… let me in.”

For a moment, he just watched her, savouring every word, every hint of frustration in her eyes. And then, finally, he relented, nodding to the concierge with a satisfied smirk.

The door unlocks, and she strode in, tossing one last glare up toward him as she headed up to their apartment, her exhaustion momentarily forgotten in the wake of her frustration.

When she reached the door, he was waiting there, arms crossed as he leaned against the frame, still looking far too amused for her liking. She stormed past him, but he caught her wrist, stopping her just before she could slip away.

“Glad to see you can be reasonable,” he murmured, his voice low, laced with amusement as he pulled her closer.

She rolled her eyes, tugging her hand free, but he didn't let her go, his grip firm, challenging her as he leaned in close, his breath warm against her skin. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“Don’t push it,” she muttered, but there was a hint of a smirk on her lips, her irritation melting into something warmer as he slid an arm around her waist, pulling her against him.

“Oh, I plan to,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to her temple, savouring the way her resistance softens, just a little, under his touch.

Lando was out at the bar with Max, Charles and Oscar, a half-empty glass in his hand, when his phone buzzed on the table. Glancing down, he noticed it was his bank calling. He frowned, picking it up with a raised eyebrow.

“Hello?”

“Hi, sir, this is a courtesy call from Credit Mutuel. We just wanted to confirm a recent transaction—3,600 Euros from Versace? We wanted to make sure it was authorised.”

He let out a quiet chuckle, immediately picturing her wandering through the store, swiping his card without a second thought. Of course, she would do that.

“Yeah, it’s fine,” he said, trying to hide his amusement. “Go ahead and approve it.”

He ended the call, slipping his phone back into his pocket, just as his friends gave him questioning looks. Charles leaned in, a grin already spreading across his face. “3.6K at Versace? Who’s racking up that kind of charge?”

He shrugged, smirking as he picked up his drink. “My girl. Guess she decided to go shopping.”

They exchanged looks, half-amused, half-incredulous. Max whistled low, shaking his head. “You’ve gotta be kidding. She’s really that bold?”

“Bold?” Oscar chimed in with a laugh. “She’s insane. You really need to put a stop to that.”

He just raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

“Man, she’s gonna drain you dry,” Oscar said, shaking his head. “You need to cut her off.”

He took another sip of his drink, the thought not even crossing his mind. “Nah. She’s my type of crazy.”

They all looked at him like he’d lost his mind, but he didn't care. She kept him on his toes, always a little unpredictable, a little wild—and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

“You’re out of your mind, man,” Max said, chuckling. “No one’s worth that kind of chaos.”

“She’s your teammate, put respect on her name.” Lando quipped, his voice light but a slight bit of truth to it.

“Teammate or not. Kelly spent 3k in Versace? I'm asking her dad to pay me back.”

He just laughed, his gaze drifting toward the door as if he half expected her to show up, Versace bags in hand and that signature defiant look on her face. “Eh this is what keeps it interesting.”

Hope you bought something nice for me to rip off tonight x

The Singapore night lights gleam across the track as the roar of the crowd echoed through the air. Lando managed to bring the car to first place. It was a win that put him further ahead in the World Drivers' Championship—closer to clinching the title that both she and him were battling for. She’d just come in third, and he knew she’d be furious about the gap widening, about him taking both the sprint and the race.

He was basking in his victory, the top step of the podium all his, the adrenaline still coursing through him, as he turned to celebrate with the other two drivers on the podium. But he couldn't ignore the tension in the air. She was standing just a few feet away, third place still sitting uncomfortably on her shoulders, the gap between them widening with each race.

Her jaw tightened as she grabbed a bottle of champagne, shaking it quickly in her hand, she slammed it on the top step of his podium, his signature celebration. And she watched.

She watched as it hit his trophy, knocking it from the podium. The silver gleamed for a split second before it crashed to the ground, the base shattering in a shower of sparkling fragments.

She stood there, blinking for a moment, watching as the trophy’s broken pieces settled at their feet, her champagne bottle still in hand, the remnants of the cork still floating in the air like confetti. Slowly, she turned her eyes to him, that familiar, defiant glint sparking in her gaze.

“Whoops?” she said, a lazy smirk tugging at the corner of her lips as if she couldn’t care less about the broken trophy—or the effect it’s had on him.

He stood there for a moment, shock flashing across his face. But it was quickly replaced with a grin. He chuckled, shaking his head, his eyes never leaving hers.

Without thinking twice, he stepped off his podium, the world blurring around him as he strides over to her. Her eyes widened in surprise as he reached out, his hand slipping under her jaw, tilting her face up to his. For a heartbeat, the noise of the crowd faded, the lights dimmed, and it was just the two of them locked in a silent battle of wills.

Then, before she could react, he pulled her in, pressing his lips to hers in a kiss that was both possessive and challenging, a reminder of the victory that was still fresh on his lips. She was stiff at first, her fists clenching by her sides, every bit of her resistance radiating through her. But then, just as he was about to pull away, her grip relaxed. She let out a shaky breath against his lips, and suddenly she was kissing him back, just as fierce, just as unapologetic.

The world erupted around them in a chaotic mix of cheers and gasps, but they were lost in the heat between them. Charles, grinning like he was witnessing the best drama of the year, stepped forward with his bottle and sprayed them both, champagne splashing across their faces, soaking their race suits.

They broke apart, gasping for air, champagne dripping down their faces, but neither of them stepped back. He was grinning, that familiar arrogant smirk, knowing he had pushed her, made her break her carefully guarded composure right in front of everyone.

“You’re still behind, sweetheart,” he whispered, his voice low enough that only she could hear. “Better step it up.”

She narrowed her eyes, her lips twisting into a smirk of her own. “Keep pushing your luck,” she replied, voice dripping with challenge. “I’ll catch you sooner than you think.”

He let out a quiet laugh, raising his champagne bottle in a mock toast. “Looking forward to it.”

She was standing in front of the press, still in her race suit, a mischievous gleam in her eyes as the interviewer approached her, mic in hand. The buzz in the room was all too familiar—she’d been the talk of the circuit all season, and tonight, after the “accidental” destruction of his trophy, they were all eager to get her take on it.

“So,” the interviewer started, grinning as he raised an eyebrow, “quite the, uh, performance on the podium. How are you feeling about, well… breaking Lando’s trophy?”

She shrugged, her expression as cool and collected as ever. “Not my trophy, not my problem,” she replied, smirking as a few people in the crowd let out quiet chuckles.

The interviewer laughed, but he was clearly fishing for more. “Rumour has it that he wasn’t exactly thrilled about it. Are you worried there might be… consequences?”

Her smirk widens, and there was a dangerous glint in her eyes as she leaned just a bit closer to the mic. “Oh, it’s fine. I’ll just get punished at home,” she said, her voice dropping to a playful whisper as she glanced directly at the camera. “If you get what I mean.”

The reaction was immediate—the interviewer’s eyes widened, the crowd let out a collective gasp, and the director frantically signalled for the camera to cut the feed. But before they manage to turn it off, her laugh echoed through the speakers, rich and unapologetic, leaving the whole room buzzing with her brazen, unfiltered confidence.

As the screen went black, she tossed the mic back to the interviewer with a wink, giving the camera one last look before she strutted off, knowing she’d left them with more questions than answers—and loving every second of it.

the end.

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beenbaanbuun · 9 months ago

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brothers best friend w/ yunho

this isn’t proof read so sorry for any typos… i’m just too tired to do that right now 😓

you’ve been pummelling the door of your brothers apartment with the side of your fist from at least a couple of minutes now

whether he’s deciding to play a practical joke and leave you hanging is a mystery to you

you can only hope he somehow manages to grow up and let you in soon

it’s an emergency, and the strap of your overnight bag is digging into your shoulder rather painfully

“mingi, i know you’re in there,” you call as you slam the palm of your hand loudly against the wood, “let me in or i’ll tell mum you’re being a bitch!”

threats of your mother usually seem to work; it’s mingi’s fear of your younger sibling privilege, you suppose

he knows that no matter what, he’ll always be the one to blame since he’s older

a system you’ve been abusing for years, you have to admit

the door swings open after a few seconds, and you gear yourself up to give your big brother an earful for being a dick

but just as you open your mouth, you notice that the man that opened the door is in fact not mingi but his roommate and best friend instead

yunho

he’s leaning against the door frame, gaming headset around his neck and plaid pyjama pants hanging low over his hips

it would take a much stronger woman than you to avoid looking at his toned chest, so you let your eyes do a swoop over his smooth skin

“hey, kiddo,” you can hear the smirk in yunho’s voice, “what’s got you banging my door down at 10 minutes to midnight? you know my neighbours won’t appreciate this, right?”

you ignore him

“is my brother in?” yunho shakes his head before leaning himself against the door frame

the way he effortlessly towers over you even when he’s relaxed sends shivers right the way through you, all of them congregating at the apex of your thighs

trust you to be harbouring a debilitating crush on your brothers best friend…

“where is he then?” you urge

“with his latest conquest,” yunho just shrugs like it’s obvious

like you should know that your brother was busy sleeping around in your time of need

you’d gag if you didn’t have more important things on your mind; more important things like what the fuck you’re going to do now

“dammit,” you mutter before readjusting the strap of your overnight bag on your shoulder, “i was hoping he’d let me crash for the night…”

he snorts out a laugh, digging his tongue into the side of his cheek as he stares you down

“doesn’t the guy you’re fucking live like… 5 minutes away from here?”

yunho knows as well as anyone that you and taehyun are not fucking, but that doesn’t mean he won’t tease you just to see that angry look on your face

the way your forehead scrunches and your lips purse into a tiny little pout

holy fuck you’re adorable; what he wouldn’t do to just—

“me and tae fell out,” you spit, your voice muffled through your upset frown, “and we’re not fucking…”

yunho laughs, “not anymore, anyway.”

he dodges the kick you aim at his shins with ease, sliding to the side just in time for you to lose your balance and fall through the doorway

you catch yourself before you can faceplant in front of the man who had been single-handedly ruining your life since you first met him

god knows that the devilishly handsome man would never shut up about it if you tripped in front of him

“enjoy your trip?” he teases as he shuts the front door behind you, trapping you inside of his apartment

he makes a show of locking it before slipping the key into his pyjama pocket

it’s a clear show of dominance to let you know exactly who is in charge

you roll your eyes at him, letting him know that his performance is redundant; you’re in his apartment, of course he’s in charge

“mingi locks his door when he’s not here so you’ll have to sleep on the couch,” he points to the ratty leather thing that sits in the centre of the room

you grimace at the sight of it, knowing that this might just be the worst night sleep of your life

the pealing leather is bound to scratch at your skin, and you just know you’re going to have to peel your skin off of it when you wake up in the morning

you can’t help it when you groan in complaint

“or you can sleep in my bed,” yunho offers, that mischievous smile rising to his face again, “it’s warm and comfy; much nicer than that old thing.”

“are you just trying to get me into your bed?”

he scoffs, “i would dream of it, kid?”

he knows you hate that nickname… he says it with an arrogant look written all over his features

you want to punch that annoying hot smile right off of his annoyingly hot face, despite the fact that mingi would kill you

you want to sleep on the couch just to spite him, despite the fact that you know you’ll wake up feeling half dead

you want to leave and sleep on the cold, wet tarmac outside, despite the fact that that would be an even worse night

a deep breath of air fills your lungs and you let it out with a sigh

“i’ll sleep in your bed, but be warned; i carry pepper spray!”

again, yunho finds it a struggle to hold his laughter in

how can he when you’re so cute? so adorably naive with your little pout and your fucking pepper spray

you’re dumb to think that he can’t see the way you look at him; like he holds your entire world in the palms of his hands

if it weren’t for your brother, he might’ve done something by now

it’s hard to hit when the girl you so desperately want is your friends little sister

“i’m sure you do, sweetheart,” he hums out through his smile, “go get changed, alright? ill be in my room when you’re finished.”

you nod and drop your bag to the floor, your little hands immediately going to unzip it

he wonders what they might look like wrapped around his cock, your prettily manicured nails glittering as your fingers dance up and down his shaft

he looks away for the sake of his own sanity and slips his hands into his pockets in the hopes of hiding the tent that’s forming

god, he needs to get a grip

“bathrooms over there,” he clears his throat before continuing, “take your time; it’s not like i’m rushing to get to sleep or anything.”

and then he leaves you in the sheer hopes that turning his back on you and heading back to his PC will clear his head of all the disgusting thoughts he’s having

the gaming chair creeks under his weight as he flops down into it, slipping his headphones over his ears straight away

his finger moves over to his keyboard to unmute his discord and—

“i did not make us lose,” he hears the shrill screech of wooyoung, “if anything it’s san’s fault for not res-ing me! i was in need!”

“yeah and i had other priorities!” san scoffs, “jongho is a better player; obviously i’d res him first!”

“i can’t belie—”

“hey, yun,” jongho calls out over the argument, “i’m assuming the knocking wasn’t a mass murderer since you’re still alive.”

the other two shut up pretty quickly, both uttering their own cheerful greetings to yunho as if they weren’t at each others throats two seconds prior

yunho chuckles

“it was mingi’s sister,” he hums, “she’s in the area and needs a place to stay for the night.”

he’s met with a symphony of appreciative hums from the three of his friends; yunho had learnt a while back that he wasn’t alone in his feelings for her

“it’s so unfair that she’s off limits,” san sighs dreamily, “if i got my hands on her, even just for one night… i’d put those pretty lips to work, that’s for sure.”

san’s right, your lips are pretty; like two flower petals begging to be touched and appreciated

“sure, dude,” jongho interrupts, “her lips are pretty and all but have you seen her thighs? i’m pretty sure she could crush my skull with those things…”

“and you’d be into that?” san questions, a shocked laugh evident in his tone

“hey, don’t shame him,” wooyoung cuts in, “i’d love for a little brat like her to sit on my face; i could tease her for hours down there…”

there’s a swift knock on yunho’s bedroom door and he immediately presses deafen on his headset before sliding it off once more

his cheeks are covered in a deep red flush, his friends words echoing around his skull as he turns in his chair to watch you slip into the room

oh fuck

he can’t help the way his jaw drops, but then again, even the strongest man on the planet would have a difficult time

especially with you in those tiny little shorts

for someone who claims not to be fucking the guy you were supposed to be staying with, your outfit choice sure is… something

they’re thin and cover next to none of your thighs; jongho was right about them, yunho muses to himself

thick and plush and your flesh jiggles with every step you take towards his bed

he’d be happy to lie between them, he thinks, face in your pussy as you squeeze his head with those gorgeous limbs

he swallows the lump in his throat as you sit politely on his mattress

“i’m sorry about my shorts,” you mutter, a little self conscious with how intently yunho was staring at them, “i know they’re not really… appropriate.”

yunho shakes his head, dazed, confused and horny

“they’re perfect,” he mutters before he can realise what he’s saying, “i mean they’re fine… just fine…”

“they’re fine?” you confirm

he nods

“i mean they look comfy; that’s all that matters, right?” he shrugs nonchalantly as if he’s not thinking about how it would feel to rip the flimsy material off of you

he’s starting to regret asking you to share a bed with him

how the fuck he’s going to sleep with you laying next to him, he isn’t too sure

yunho takes a deep breath before clearing his throat

“if you want to head to sleep, i’ll be right there. i just want to play another round with the boys.”

you nod before crawling into his bed… crawling

he can’t even focus on how sweet you are when you’re obeying his every command

not when your ass is facing him and those tiny shorts are doing nothing to hide the fact that you’re clearly not wearing underwear beneath them

they cling to your sticky—holy fuck you’re wet?—core, the white material going translucent as your slick soaks into it

he can’t tear his eyes away from your hole, which he can fucking see clenching around nothing through those teeny-tiny shorts

it’s a good job he doesn’t have to; before he can lose his mind and rip those shorts from your body, you’re covering yourself with his thick quilt

the way you wrap yourself up and tuck the material between your knees would be cute if he hadn’t just had his soul destroyed by the sight of your pretty pussy

a few deep breaths, and he finds the courage to turn back around to his pc and press un-deafen once more

but even with the sounds of his friends chattering in the background, and his fingers eagerly dancing across his keyboard, he can’t help but let him mind wander to you

what you’d look like underneath him, your face all screwed up in pleasure as you beg him for more

how you’d sound when you beg him for more

how your fingers feel as they dig into the plane of his back

fuck, he’s in so deep

and the worst of it is, it’s not just fucking you that he’s daydreaming about

he wants to know what you’ll look like in the post sex glow, when he has you tucked into his chest so soft and gentle

he knows you’ll be beautiful; so soft and pliant in his arms

he’ll whisper sweet nothings to you just to see you smile and blush

he’ll press soft kisses to your lips just to make you squirm and giggle

god, he needs to be fucking sedated

a quick glance behind him lets him know that you’re asleep; good, he doesn’t want you to hear what he has to say next

“guys,” he helplessly calls out, “what the fuck am i supposed to do?”

“what do you mean?” jongho asks, “is this about mini mingi?”

mini mingi… you couldn’t be further from your brother in yunho’s eyes

he doesn’t want to fuck mingi into the sheets before helplessly confessing his love to him

“yes, this is about her,” yunho relents, “what the fuck am i supposed to do when she’s explicitly off limits?”

“fuck her,” wooyoung says as if it’s the simplest thing in the world, “what mingi doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”

“he’s my best friend,” yunho groans, sounding pathetic even to his own admission

“okay and?” wooyoung scoffs

yunho slams his head down on the desk in exasperation

it’s soft enough to not make too loud of a noise; he doesn’t want to wake you up, after all

but it’s also hard enough to let the headset slip loose from his ears

and he hears it

something that makes him perk up and rip his headset off for what seems like the hundredth time that night

no… it can’t be

“yunho…”

your voice is small from the other side of the room, but he hears it as if it’s clear as day

you moaned his name

“yunho, need it,” you whine again, every so slightly louder this time

yunho gulps as he spins his chair around to see you, jaw slack, face screwed up and hips bucking into his quilt that you’d secured between your legs

he freezes

“yuyu,” you mewl

yunho can’t help the involuntary groan that comes from his lips

it’s now or never, he decides

he shuts off his pc, not even bothering to say goodbye to his friends—they’d understand—and takes a second to compose himself

sweaty palms rub against the material of his plaid pants as he rises from his seat and takes a few tentative steps towards the bed

the floorboards creek, but it doesn’t wake you

“yu,” your voice is so sweet, he thinks to himself as he comes to a stop by the bed

a hand on your shoulder shakes your body awake, and before yunho knows it, you’re staring up at him with your big wide eyes

fuck, he’s going to destroy you

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez oneshot #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez smut #ateez fic #yunho x reader #yunho fluff #yunho smut #yunho scenarios #yunho oneshot

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chlorinecake · 1 year ago

Text

𝐉𝐎𝐘𝐒𝐓𝐈𝐂𝐊 - a yjw oneshot 🕹️

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: a fun gaming session with your bsf leads to a night full of steamy shenanigans

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: gamer!roommate!jungwon x reader

𝐜𝐰: swearing, kissing, teasing, hickeys, y/n gets her boobies fondled, oral (f. & m. receiving), mentions of other enhypen members

𝐰𝐜: 3k | not proofread, written quickly

You sighed, “I wish more people in the world cared about Roblox… it saved my life, bro.”

“That was easily one of the dumbest things I’ve ever heard you say.”

“What?”

“I said-”

“EVER! Wanna play COD Mobile instead?”

“Bruh, that game is so mid.”

You scoffed at his remark, bringing a flared hand to your chest. “I’m goated at COD mobile, averaging like 100 kills per match. People praise me for that.”

“Because it doesn’t take skill?” He made it sound like a question, when he was really making a statement.

“Mkay. I bet I’d still whoop your ass on console, but we don’t have to go there.”

A hint of ambition sparkled in his eyes at the challenge. “Oh yeah? And what are we betting here?”

“Hmm,” you thought for a moment, “If you win, I’ll fix you a victory snack.”

He nodded at the enticing offer, “And if you win? Which you won’t, but-”

“The bragging rights will be enough for me, but you could always fix the broken shower head in my bathroom so I can stop using yours,” you interrupted confidently.

Jungwon forgot all about how you broke your shower head last week. You told him it was an innocent mistake, but his mind obviously wandered to other places once you told him. By now though, he had already gotten used to sharing a bathroom with you, so he didn’t feel any urgency to repair it. Still and all, he understood how you might want your private space back. “Ok. Fair enough,” Jungwon agreed.

He handed you a controller, waiting for you to join him at the loading screen. Setting up your gear and choosing what weapon you wanted, the match eventually started. Needless to say, you didn’t stand a chance against Jungwon and his team of CPU’s, feeling sore from defeat.

A prideful smile waved over his features, showcasing his prominent dimples. “Sooo,” he began, “I would like your leftover Twix bar from the fridge cut up over two scoops of vanilla ice cream. Don’t forget the sprinkles.”

You pouted, handing him the overheating controller. “I’m not fixing you a damn thing. You probably cheated!”

His eyebrows raised, “First of all, cheating is for weenies. Second of all, a deals a deal!”

“Ugh, fine. I’m charging tips, by the way.”

“Not a chance, crook. Unless,” he caught your attention as you got up from the living room couch, “you wanna go for another round?”

“No, that’s alright. I think I'm gonna just watch you play the game for now. You could invite Heeseung, too, if you want.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. I’ll be back, okay? I gotta use the bathroom real quick.”

Walking into the bathroom, you closed the door behind you, taking off the bra that had been killing your back for the past 12 hours. You didn’t know where else to put it, so you hid it under Jungwon’s bathroom cabinet before leaving.

“When do you ever wanna play games with me? Are you with Riki or something?” Heeseung asked from the headset.

“No, I’m with ____. She needs some testosterone in her life and wants to watch us play I guess.”

“I can think of a few ways to help her with that,” Jungwon could hear the smirk in Heeseung’s voice.

“Shut the fuck up and join me already.”

“What? It’s not like you’ll ever have the balls to make a move on her, anyway,” Heeseung chuckled. “How long have you know her for again?”

“Since the first day of college.”

“Damn, and you’ve barely even grazed first base.”

“She’s still sacrificing her free time to hang out with me, so I don’t see the loss here?”

“Look, buddy. Your rizz needs an upgrade. These cute little gaming nights you have every weekend needs an upgrade. Your wardrobe needs an upgra-”

“I get it, asshole.”

You came back with the snack he requested, eliciting a dramatic applause from your goofy ahh friend.

“Your majesty,” you bowed playfully, placing the bowl of ice cream on the desk in front of him.

You filled in the space next to him, resting an elbow on the arm of the sofa, your nipples now on full display through your thin shirt.

“Are you cold,” Jungwon asked, eyes not quite meeting yours. You meant to reply, but he was already reaching his hand out to grope your chest, using a thumb to smooth out your hardened buds with his warm touch. You eyes widened in shock.

“Woah- mmm, n-no, I’m okay” you stuttered, Jungwon smirking at how flustered you appeared.

What the actual fuck was that!?, you thought to yourself.

He went back to casually talking with Heeseung again as if he didn’t just rub your nipples…

You usually enjoyed watching Jungwon play the game, but now, you couldn’t take your eyes off of Jungwon’s pretty hands. The way his delicate thumbs maneuvered the joystick of the controller sent your mind into a daze.

“Hold up, Hee, I’m gonna put you on mute for a sec,” Jungwon said, handing you his controller before mouthing the words “play for me” with a catty smirk. He adjusted his headset over your head, bringing a finger up to your seal your lips. “Shhh,” he warned.

You knew Heeseung wasn’t actually on mute because there was an open mic symbol on the corner of the screen.

What’s he up to now?, you wondered.

Kneeling between your legs with greed, Jungwon’s fingers tiptoed to the waistband of your shorts. He paused before asking, “is this okay?," and you simply nodded in response. He smiled, tugging your shorts and underwear past your hips, knees, and ankles, stuffing them under the sofa.

He gawked at your wetness, your lips swollen with need. Heeseung started the match, and that’s when Jungwon started taking kitten nips at the sensitive flesh between your thighs, leaving a few marks. He blew at your heat before finally using his fingers to explore your folds.

“Cute,” he must’ve noticed the way your pussy pulsed in anticipation. Attaching his lips to your throbbing clit, he sucked it into his mouth, alternating with his fingers when breaking for air. He hummed at your taste, adding to the pleasurable sensations.

You tried focusing on the game for Jungwon’s sake, but you couldn’t resist the urge to reach for a handful of his hair and gently grind against his face.

“You’re doing so good for me, baby, just stay focused,” he said in between slurping at your wetness that never sounded so foul til now.

Did he just call me baby?

He inserted a finger into your tight hole and started pumping in and out of you, curling up to stimulate your g-spot. You were struggling to keep your moans in, rolling your eyes to the back of your head as he finger-fucked you. He looked up, noticing that you had fully abandoned the controller. “Keep playing or I won’t let you finish,” he purred.

“Fuck,” you panted quietly, how do you expect me to do that?”

“Don’t make me repeat myself, ____.”

You picked up the controller and started playing again. Heeseung was now swearing over the mic like a madman. “Bro, you’re really not helping out our stats here by letting the enemy clap your cheeks,” he scolded, but you weren’t really paying attention to his voice anyway. Jungwon dove back into your heat, licking rough stripes against your clit as he inserted a second finger. “Mngh,“ you mumbled dizzily, clenching around him.

“What?” Heeseung asked confused, having heard your noise.

You reached to mute the headset, but Jungwon gave you a look that told you not to test him. You gave in, and succeeded in holding back your whimpers, but your heavy breathing continued.

“Dude, I’m literally never playing the game with you agai- HOW THE FUCK DID I JUST GET DIED?”

One last thrust of Jungwon’s fingers, and you were finally coming undone, shaking from the intense wave of pleasure that washed over you. Slender fingers glided in and out of your needy hole, his knuckles adding to the delightful stretch. The match ended shortly after you came down from your high.

Jungwon licked his fingers clean of you and swapped the controller back. “Sorry about that, hyung. I was eating and didn’t wanna disturb you,” he lied, readjusted the headset on himself.

“Well, I hope it was worth it. Our team forfeited on some elite rewards.”

“You’re welcome,” he teased, which you didn’t know if it was meant for you or Heeseung, because he leaned in to kiss your lips softly, before going in for another match.

Still feeling your orgasm fresh in your viens, you reached under the couch to grab your shorts and underwear, putting them on and getting up from the sofa.

“Hey, what’s up,” Jungwon asked while taking a spoonful of the half-melted sundae into his mouth.

“I-I’m just gonna shower... and maybe go to bed after.”

“Alright. Me and Hee are gonna play one more match and I’ll be in after you. Don’t take long!”

"Dude, you’re abandoning me already? I thoughtyou were gonna help me take these punks to skill-ville," Heeseung whined over the mic.

"You need to immediately repent for saying that," Jungwon cringed.

You made your way to his bathroom with a change of clothes, closing the door behind you.

You entered the shower, trying to wash off the growing heat between your legs and any dirty thoughts associated with your roommate. A few minutes in, you also decided to wash your hair as it had been a week since that last time you did.

That’s when you heard the door open and close, followed by the sounds of clothes being removed and tossed on the bathroom floor. You peeked from the shower curtain, only to find a naked Jungwon standing right there. He didn’t notice you looking, so you pushed the shower curtain back.

“The shower is occupied at the moment, Wonie!”

“I know,” he smirked, entering the shower from the opposite end as if this was yet another casual ordeal.

“May I,” he asked, pointing to the spot you were standing at in the shower. “Oh, sure” you replied, trying not to make things awkward. He reached for the bottle of shampoo and started lathering the honey scented product in his hair and skin. You tried to avoid taking anymore peeks at his toned body so you busied yourself with a loofa and cleansed your skin for what felt a hundred times. By now, you sat idly in the corner of the shower, with bubbles waiting to be rinsed from your body. “Here,” Jungwon motioned for you to return to your original spot. “Thanks,” you said. “Would’ve been nice if you said that earlier,” he poked.

Oh shit.

“Here, let me help you,” he offered, rinsing off the soapy suds that painting your shoulders and back. Somehow, this gesture relaxed you. “Now turn around for me.” You faced him with a chest covered in bubbles. He quickly rinsed your breasts before lowering the shower head to your private, adjusting the water pressure from low to medium.

You could hardly stand up straight from the pressure building up at your center. The throbbing sensation between your legs travelled up to your quivering lips. You moved a hand to cover your mouth, hiding your lewd sounds. Jungwon didn’t mind though, because your squirming is what excited him the most. “Hold still, ____,” he teased, putting the water pressure on high.

Bracing your balance with his free arm, his soft lips met your damp neck, nibbling at the skin. The sensation was so sweet that you finally let your moans out. Developing a mind of its own, your hand reached down to stroke Jungwon’s hardness, a lustful look staining his features.

He groaned into your ear, making you feel more than half crazy. You felt your climax creeping up on you as it became harder to stand up or keep still. Starting to pump him faster, both of you were now on the verge of bussing.

A little voice in your head slapped you back into reality.

This has to stop! He’s my roommate!

You turned the water off from the faucet on the wall, retreating your hand from his member as if it tased you. Grabbing a towel from the curtain rod and covering yourself, you left Jungwon alone in the bathroom.

You went to your room and started to dry yourself off. You couldn’t quite wrap your head around what was happening but a part of you liked it and another part knew it was inappropriate.

You just touched Jungwon’s dick, and yes, it felt really fucking nice, but the thought will likely haunt you til the day you die. He was a good friend of yours, and you didn’t wanna let fleeting feelings ruin it.

You put on the scented lotion from your nightstand followed by your clothes before plopping in your bed. You didn’t bother locking your door because you never had you to worry about Jungwon intruding your privacy. Or at least, that was before today.

You buried yourself under the covers before a trail of footsteps made their way from the bathroom to your bedroom door.

Creak.

The door opened and closed.

Click.

He locked it.

Walking over to your bed, Jungwon sat behind you.

“I know you’re awake, so stop pretending,” he whispered in your ear.

Annoyed, you threw the covers off your head, giving him an exhausted look.

“What do you want, Jungwon? Huh?”

“I could always just show you,” he said, flashing you the sluttiest eyes you’ve ever seen on a man.

“You could’ve waited for me to finish up in the shower before barging in like that.”

“No, I really couldn’t.”

“We’re roommates, Won! Hell, we’re friends!”

“And? What does that have to do with anything?”

“You can’t just fondle my tits whenever you want to, or eat me out on the couch when you’re bored, or join me in the shower because you’re impatient.”

You let that sink in for a moment.

“Did you not like it when I did those things to you? Did you not like the way I made you feel,” he inquired, inching closer towards you on the bed. “Because the way I remember it, you never told me to stop.”

The room fell so quiet that your heartbeat sounded loud.

He reached over to grip your thigh, leaning in for a kiss before shoving his tongue past your lips, but you pulled away.

“Jungwon stop!” You reprimanded, turning your head from him.

He grabbed your chin and proceeded to kiss you.

“Jungwon, I said stop...”

“I can tell you didn’t mean it.”

He continued kissing you, shoving his hand into you panties and going straight to your pussy, sliding his digits up and down your moist folds, sending an ache through your stomach.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so wet for me.”

He called you baby. Again!

He didn’t waste any time to rub circles around your sensitive bud, causing your hips to jerk toward him.

“Stop it!” You raised your voice, pushing him away by his throat. Your hand never looked so small til now.

“Then make me.”

“What?”

“You know I don’t like repeating myself, ____.”

Darkness waved over both your features as you pressed his back flush against the bed, reaching for his drawstring and pulling his sweat pants down. He wasn’t wearing any boxers, so his pink tip sprung up, clear fluid leaking from the tip.

You grabbed his dick, giving it a firm stroke before grazing your teeth down his shaft, eliciting the prettiest whimper you’d ever heard from his mouth. The texture of his veins ran against your tongue as you took half of him into your mouth, using your hand to stimulate the base.

Your head bounced up and down as Jungwon grew dangerously desperate. Tapping your cheek, he guided you off of him to take a breath. Cradling your head in his grasp, he slid you back down until your lips reached his pelvis. “Hollow your cheeks for me, and breath through your nose,” he guided before using your head to please him. Your eyes began to water as his tip hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag a few times, but he ignored it.

“I’m so close, baby, just keep taking me,” he nearly begged, chest heaving as he screwed his eyes shut, “Be a good girl for me, mmm,” he grunted, picking up the pace.

You were getting used to being called “baby” by now.

“F-fuck,” he whimpered, bursting his load into your mouth. He lifted your head from his throbbing heat, using a thumb to wipe the cum that dribbled from the corner of your mouth. You went back down to taste his release, only for him to guide your head away.

“Don’t eat that, ____,” he giggled, but you swiped a finger to collect some of his cum anyway.

“It’s only fair, Wonie. Now we’ve both tasted each other.”

You went to the bathroom to wash your hands, coming back with a few tissues to help clean him up. Something about this dirty moment seemed so pure. So right.

“Okay, I’m going to bed for real this time, see you tomorrow,” you smiled, getting under your covers.

“You don’t expect me to go back to my room, do you,” he asked, giving you a look.

“Well, tonight, I’ll let it slide, but if you end up breaking your bed, don’t expect visitation privileges.”

“Thank you,” he let out a breath, smiling as he snuggled under the covers beside you.

“Jungwon?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you think Heeseung has any idea about what we did?”

Ding.

Jungwon’s phone vibrated in his pocket:

Text Message from “Heenis” — Jake ditched me for a hoe 👍🥲 wanna call?

A mischievous smirk poked at the corners of Jungwon’s lips, “He can find out.”

“WONIE, IF YOU COME ANY CLOSER, I SWEAR YOU’RE SLEEPING IN YOUR OWN BED TONIGHT!”

❁ if y’all can’t tell already, i am dangerously jungwon biased…

❁ anyways, thanks for reading “Joystick” by @chlorinecake! be sure to check out more works by me on my enhypen bookshelf!

2K notes · View notes

erehkinnie30 · 10 months ago

Text

enhypen

yjw

where the heart leads, the eye follows @chenfleur

you've got to be kitten me! @star-sim

a pin straight to my heart @snwpcktz

scream for me @alvojake

perv!won @gardenwons

pool breeding @gureumz

I’M A FEMINIST, OBVIOUSLY, BUT I WOULDN’T REALLY MIND HIM SAVING ME. @leaderwonim

smart, sexy, lacy, i’m losing it lately. @leaderwonim

START NOW ! (PT.1) ALWAYS BE HERE ! (PT.2) @loveywon

push my buttons @yeonzzzn

谷　it wasn’t us @kissofenha

KISSES FROM YOU 〻ᯇ @yizmiu

— THERE'S SOMETHING THERE @flwrstqr

lhs

pretty girl @boyfhee

i need you @wvnkoi

rude @4wkjun

knock, knock @jjunae

surprise @karinasbaby

the misfortunes and misconceptions of lee heeseung @jayflrt

wont let you go (this time) @zreamy

little love (with sjy) @hrdenha

pervert!heeseung @jaylaxies

cherry blossom kiss @nenabi

ꖛ 100% ; 완전히 @jun9w0n

baby fever @rinbowaman

dating down bad! lee heeseung @sleepyhoon

push my buttons @ja3yun

SECRET ˒ 엔하이픈 @flwrstqr

plushies and headsets? @heetos

𖧷 HEARTSHAKER @bywons

INTO IT @cjayius

ヾ(´∇｀) literature class @okwonyo

nevertheless… @palajae

comfort of a bed ✴︎ @okwonyo

pjs

the gig @bee-the-loser

dom!jay headcannon @jaeyunology

INCOMPATIBLE HARMONY @colectingstrz

STARS AND RAINDROPS @haknom

late night calls with jay @moon7jay

GLASSES @jjunae

sjy

champagne problems @stllmnstr

off limits @yeonzzzn

little love (with lhs) @hrdenha

rule number 1: dont fall in love @jaylaxies

smut @dearjaeyuns

— look away! @flwrstqr

❛NO NUT NOVEMBER❜ @luvyeni

chill and kill @yeonzzzn

౨ৎ — hair dye @jlheon

brighter days inc. @karinasbaby

To, Future You @ja3yun

psh

dont let them hear you @moon7jay

secret never kept @boyfhee

hoon liking mean girls @lilmashae

for lovers @euncsace

the 24-hour dating challenge @jaeyunverse

car sex @neo-percs

big boy bf!sunghoon headcannons @heelcvr

everything @pshcomforts

pre-midlife crisis @solarswonderland

the sunshine of my life @www-jungwon

melting point @ja3yun

BUT WHY? WHY NOT. @leaderwonim

GHOST FACE YANDERE imagine @chlorinecake

guilty as charged @vivvangel

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆ FORBIDDEN ATTRACTION @jungqkook

mark me yours @alvojake

𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐆.. @hottestvirgin

f1 racer @slutofpsh

DoorDash @enluv

ksn

19+ audio @ourestcape

somnophlila (ft. jw) @wonbinistic

nrk

lipgloss and kisses @maeumi-jng

rainy mornings @wvnkoi

SHUT UP AND KISS ME @sunghoonnsupremacy

facetiming riki @letters2won

all nighter @deckiss

i'm just a teenage dirtbag baby (like you) @leaderwonim

wrong person, wrong time. @rikiws

plushies and pouts @star-sim

HEART DEFENDER────── @seosracha

⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯⎯ that feeling when @forlovvers

rev it up @dearmura

𝐁𝐔𝐁𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐆𝐔𝐌! ₊‧.°.⋆🫧•˚₊‧⋆. @heembie

──౨ৎ ˙🚬 ̟ cigarettes out the window@strawberrynull

soccer!captain boyfriend @dilrmma

#enhypen texts #enhypen scenarios #enhypen x reader #enhypen #jungwon #hees-mine kinktober #heeseung #enhypen oneshots #sunghoon #wtf jungwon #enhypen jay x reader #enhypen jake #enhypen jaeyun #enhypen jay smut #enhypen jay imagines #enhypen niki #enhypen soft hours #enhypen sunoo #enhypen fluff

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Note

hi love!! i’m not sure if you’re talking requests so completely ignore this if you’re not but, i’m in love with your grid kids series and i was wondering if you could do something with the grid kids that goes more into readers line of work?🫶🏼

Grid Kids: She Means Business

Sebastian Vettel x wife!Reader x platonic!drivers

Summary: your career as a renowned sports psychologist means you often work with your husband and grid kids

Series Masterlist

Sebastian Vettel: Meet Cute

Red Bull Racing’s pit wall is a hive of activity during the practice session for the Monaco Grand Prix. Engineers, strategists, and everyone in between are glued to their screens, analyzing data and communicating with the drivers.

You’re there in an official capacity, hired by Red Bull Racing to conduct a series of workshops to help the team, particularly the drivers, cope with the mental pressures of racing. With a headset on, you’re mostly observing, making notes on communication dynamics, when suddenly a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?”

You look up, slightly startled, to see none other than Sebastian Vettel, the team’s star driver, smiling down at you. His mop of hair sweaty and slightly tousled from the helmet he just took off after finishing up with FP2, the impish twinkle in his eyes making you feel … something.

“Oh, no. Not at all. I was just ...” you stammer, suddenly feeling a bit out of your element.

Sebastian sits down next to you, leaning in conspiratorially. “Between you and me, I think I’m here to see what the mysterious new hire is up to.”

You chuckle, “Well, if you must know, I’m observing team dynamics, communication patterns ... very thrilling stuff.”

He feigns a gasp, “So you’re spying on us?”

“In the most professional way possible,” you reply with a smirk.

Sebastian laughs, the sound genuine and contagious. “Well, I hope we’re giving you some good material.”

You lean in this time, matching his playful tone, “You? Always.”

There’s a brief pause, a moment of charged silence, before Sebastian grins, “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

You smile back, “You should.”

The two of you chat easily, talking about the intricacies of the sport and the importance of mental preparedness.

As the session winds down and Mark Webber also makes his way back into the garage, Sebastian looks over at you, “You know, for someone who’s here to observe, you’re quite the distraction.”

Your cheeks warm, “Is that so?”

He nods, mock serious, “Absolutely. It’s a problem. I think we might need a one-on-one session to discuss it further.”

You laugh, “I’ll have to check my schedule but I’m sure we can arrange something.”

Sebastian winks, “Looking forward to it,” and with that he’s off to debrief with his engineers.

As you remove your headset, you can’t help but smile to yourself. This job assignment just got a lot more interesting.

Max Verstappen: Unloading the Past

Ten years later, the Red Bull Racing hospitality suite is buzzing with activity: the clink of glasses, murmurs of conversation, and the distant roar of engines echoing from the track. But in a quiet corner, there’s a space that feels a world apart.

Soft, ambient lighting casts a serene glow, a few comfortable chairs are arranged in a circle, and on the coffee table lies an assortment of fidget tools, from stress balls to sensory mats. This is your corner, specially designed for individual sessions.

Max Verstappen hesitates at the entrance. His eyes dart around, taking in the unfamiliar setting. It’s clear that beneath that façade of unshakable confidence lies vulnerability.

You rise, offering a comforting smile. “Hey, Max. Ready?”

He gives a tentative nod, following you in. “I’m not ... I’m not sure how to do this,” he admits, voice barely audible.

“That’s okay,” you assure him, guiding him to a chair. “There’s no right or wrong way. Just start wherever you feel comfortable.”

Taking a deep breath, Max begins, his words tumbling out, “It’s just ... sometimes, when I’m out there on the track, I feel like that kid again.” His voice cracks and he pauses, searching for the right words. “The kid who always felt he wasn’t good enough no matter how hard I tried.”

You nod, encouraging him to continue, “Tell me about that kid.”

As Max delves into memories of his childhood, stories of relentless training sessions, the weight of expectations, and the struggle to fit in, you listen. Every word, every pause, every shift in his tone paints a picture of a boy who was thrust into the world of racing at a young age, grappling with the colossal pressure to prove himself.

You gently prod, asking him to revisit specific incidents, encouraging him to express his feelings, and offering insights when necessary.

As the session progresses, Max’s demeanor changes. His initial hesitation gives way to openness, vulnerability transforms into strength, and slowly, the pieces start falling into place.

“You know,” you say softly, “It’s natural to carry the scars of our past with us but it’s important to remember they don’t define us.”

Max looks up, his eyes glistening with unshed tears, “But how do I move past it?”

You want so badly to reach out and hug him — this young man who you consider a son in all but blood — but hold yourself back. You’re both here for work and, right now, Max needs you as a professional and not a mom.

“By acknowledging it, understanding it, and then channeling it. Every time you get in the car, it’s an opportunity to rewrite that narrative. Not for anyone else but for yourself.”

Max takes a moment, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a weight visibly lifted off his shoulders.

You give him a reassuring smile. “Anytime, Max. Remember, you’re not alone in this journey. Oh, and remember, we’re all meeting at that little Italian place Charles recommended for dinner.”

There’s a lightness in Max’s voice that wasn’t there before, “I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Charles Leclerc: Bittersweet Memories

The setting sun casts a somber glow across the paddock at Suzuka Circuit. It’s a track rich with history, triumphs, and heartbreaks. For Charles Leclerc, it’s where he lost Jules Bianchi, his godfather, mentor, and friend.

You find Charles seated alone in a quiet part of the Ferrari motorhome, gazing out the window. The overflowing sadness in his eyes nearly makes you stop in your tracks.

“Hey,” you greet gently, not wanting to startle him. “Mind if I join you?”

He offers a small nod, his gaze still distant.

Sitting down next to him, you allow a comfortable silence to settle, giving him the space to open up when he’s ready. Moments pass before Charles finally speaks, his voice tinged with melancholy.

“Every time I come here,” he starts, “it feels like I’m reliving that day. The memories, the pain, it all just floods back.”

You nod, understandingly, “Grief has a way of doing that, especially when tied to such a tangible reminder.”

Charles looks down, fiddling with his bracelet. “It’s hard, you know? Racing on the same track where I lost him. Every corner, every turn, it’s like he’s there with me.”

Taking a deep breath, you offer, “Maybe that’s a way for you to connect with Jules. To honor his memory, to carry his spirit with you every lap you drive.”

Charles’ eyes shimmer with tears. “I want to make him proud, to show that everything he taught me wasn’t in vain. But sometimes, the weight of it all just becomes too much.”

You reach out, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “It’s okay to feel overwhelmed. Grief isn’t linear. There will be days when it hits harder, especially in places like this. You just have to remember it’s not about racing against the pain but learning that it’s okay to race with it.”

He meets your gaze, searching for strength, “How do I do that?”

“By allowing yourself to feel, by acknowledging the pain, and by channeling it into your drive. Jules might not be here physically but he’s with you in spirit. And every time you get behind that wheel is another opportunity to show that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, absorbing your words. “Thank you,” he murmurs, a glimmer of determination returning to his eyes.

You give him a comforting smile. “I’m glad I could help, even if it’s just a little. We’re all here for you every step of the way.”

Lance Stroll: Nepo Babies Have Feelings Too

Inside the Aston Martin team lounge, screens show replays of the latest race, commentators discussing various drivers’ performance. One topic that often comes up is Lance Stroll. The chatter revolves around his father’s ownership of the team and whether Lance truly earned his seat or if he’s just a product of nepotism.

You notice Lance sitting a bit apart from the rest, headphones on but his face is a giveaway. The furrowed brows, the downward curve of his lips —he’s clearly overheard the unsubtle whispers.

You make your way over, gesturing to ask if he’d like some company. He nods, removing his headphones.

“Those comments,” you begin gently, “they don’t define you.”

Lance sighs, his frustration palpable. “It’s just ... no matter what I do, how hard I work, how much I improve, it always comes back to the same thing. That I’m only here because of my father.”

You nod, understanding the weight of such judgments. “It’s tough, Lance. But remember, others’ opinions of you are just that — opinions. They aren’t the truth and they most definitely are not your truth.”

He looks up, eyes searching. “But how do I prove them wrong? How do I show that I deserve to be here?”

“It starts with belief,” you say, leaning forward for emphasis, “belief in yourself. You’ve trained, you’ve raced, you’ve faced challenges head-on, and you’ve earned your spot. Your journey in F1 isn’t just about your last name. It’s about every late-night on the simulator, every risk taken on the track, every lap you’ve driven.”

Lance nods slowly, taking in your words. “But the chatter, it’s just so deafening sometimes.”

You offer a comforting smile. “You can’t control what others say but you can control how you react. Every time you’re on that track, you have the power to redefine the narrative, to let your skills speak louder than any spiteful words.”

Motivation straightens his hunched shoulders, the weight of doubt lifting slightly. “So focus on the drive, not the noise?”

“Exactly,” you affirm. “Your talent, your dedication, that’s what matters. Let the world see Lance Stroll, the driver, not just Lance Stroll, the son.”

He chuckles, “Easier said than done.”

You wink, “That’s why you have a stellar support system. Lean on us whenever the noise gets too loud.”

George Russell: Comparing Comparisons

It’s a cool afternoon at the Silverstone Circuit and the entire paddock is buzzing with excitement. There’s an added layer of intrigue to the British Grand Prix this season. Lewis Hamilton, the seven-time world champion, will be racing alongside his much younger compatriot, George Russell, as teammates for the first time.

In the Mercedes team garage, George is meticulously going over his race data, replaying certain turns and maneuvers in his head. But an undertone of tension cuts through his concentration.

You walk over, picking up on his restlessness. “Nervous about tomorrow?”

He glances up, forcing a smile. “That obvious, huh? It’s just racing alongside Lewis … it’s a dream come true but also incredibly daunting.”

You nod, understanding the pressure of standing next to a giant in the sport. “It’s natural to feel that way. Lewis has carved a legacy in F1 and now you’re right beside him, sharing the same tracks in the same car.”

George sighs, “That’s the thing. Everywhere I turn, there’s a comparison. It’s not just about my performance anymore, it’s about how I measure up to him.”

You lean against the worktable, choosing your words carefully. “Here’s the thing, George. You can’t control comparisons or expectations but you can control your race. Every driver brings something unique to the track. Lewis has his legacy, yes, but you have your own journey and story still to build.”

George nods slowly, pondering over your words. “I want to be able to block all of that out. I’ve tried every single weekend so far. But it’s hard. How do I focus on my race and not the looming shadow beside me?”

“There’s no one right answer,” you sympathize. “Look, Lewis is an icon and racing alongside him is an opportunity to learn, to grow. But remember, you’ve earned your spot here. This is as much your race as it is his.”

He chuckles, “You always know exactly what to say.”

You smile, “Just a little wisdom from the sidelines. Trust your training, trust your instincts, and let George Russell shine.”

Lando Norris: Never Grow Up

It’s a warm and bright morning but the mood inside the McLaren motorhome doesn’t quite reflect the sunny atmosphere outside. Lando Norris sits in a corner, earbuds in, lost deep in thought. The usual playful energy that surrounds him is missing today.

You approach, sensing the shift in his demeanor. “Room for one more?”

He looks up, offering a half-hearted smile. “Sure.”

You settle beside him, waiting for him to speak. After a brief pause, Lando finally breaks the silence. “Do you think I’m too childish?”

You’re slightly taken aback. “What makes you say that?”

Lando sighs, “I overheard some comments from a few crew members from another team. They said that no one takes me seriously because I’m always joking around, always laughing. They think that I’m not mature enough for this sport.”

You consider his words, understanding where he’s coming from. "Formula 1 is intense. It’s demanding and requires immense focus and dedication. But it’s also about personality, about bringing your unique touch to the grid.”

He nods but still seems unsure. “But what if they’re right? What if I’m not taken seriously because of how I act?”

You lean in, ensuring he listens to every word. “Lando, your driving speaks volumes. Every time you get behind the wheel, you showcase your skill and your tenacity. The playful side of you, the side that loves to laugh and bring joy, that’s a part of who you are. It doesn’t diminish your talent or your dedication.”

Lando seems to ponder your words, “But it’s hard, you know? Feeling like I have to constantly prove myself. Like there’s something wrong with being myself.”

You take his hand into both of yours, “Every driver feels that way at some point. But remember, the beauty of this sport is that it’s as much about character as it is about speed. Your playful nature, your genuine laughter, it brings a freshness to the paddock. Embrace it.”

He chuckles, the familiar sparkle returning to his eyes. “So be me and let my racing do the talking?”

“Without a doubt,” you confirm. “Stay true to yourself. The world needs more genuine smiles and more authentic laughter. Then, on the track, just keep doing what you do best.”

Lando grins, “Thanks. I really needed to hear that.”

Mick Schumacher: What’s In a Name?

The aftermath of a race is evident inside the Haas garage. Engineers are engaged in post-race analysis, the car undergoing routine checks. A desolate Mick Schumacher sits among the organized chaos, his helmet still on, concealing his face.

Walking over, you notice the subtle tremors in his frame, the weight of something heavy weighing on his young shoulders. Gently, you tap on his helmet, signaling for him to lift it. When he does, the anguish in his eyes is palpable.

“You okay, Mick?” you ask softly.

He tries to answer but his voice breaks. Swallowing hard, he confesses, “I just ... I can’t do it. I can’t ever live up to the name.”

You know the gravity of his sentiment. Being Michael Schumacher’s son in Formula 1 is no easy feat. The legacy, the expectations, the constant comparisons that follow Mick everywhere — it’s overwhelming.

You sit down beside him, “I won’t pretend to understand the pressure you feel but remember this: You are not just your last name. You are Mick Schumacher, your own person with your own journey, your own challenges, and your own victories.”

“But everywhere I go, it’s always about him,” Mick interjects, frustration evident. “The great Michael Schumacher’s son. Can he do it? Will he be even a fraction as good? It’s suffocating.”

You nod, acknowledging his feelings. “Your father is a legend and it’s natural for people to draw parallels. But racing isn’t just about legacy, it's about passion, determination, and personal growth. The shape your path takes in this sport is yours alone.”

Mick wipes away a tear, his gaze distant. “But what if I never truly make it? What if I never even score a point much less a podium or a win? What if I’m always just the son of the legend, never a making a name for myself in my own right?”

You squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Then you make peace with that and find joy in what you managed to achieve regardless. You are among twenty of the best drivers on the planet right now. Getting here is no easy feat. Not every path has to lead to the same destination. Maybe you’ll carve a different legacy, one that is uniquely yours.”

Mick seems to ponder over your words, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I just ... I want to make him proud.”

You smile gently, “By being yourself, by giving every race your best shot, you already are. It’s not the titles or the championships that define us. It’s our heart and the impact we make on those around us. And trust me, your heart is in the right place. Your father would only ever want you to be happy, whatever that entails.”

With a deep breath, Mick nods, a content smile crossing his lips. “Thank you. I needed that.”

You give him an encouraging pat, “I’m always in your corner. Remember that it’s not the shadow that defines us but how we emerge from it.”

Mick stands up, ready to face another day, another race. The legacy of his last name will always be there but he’s slowly learning that his own identity holds value and strength too.

Toto Wolff & Christian Horner: Couples Therapy

The sun filters through the sheer curtains of the sophisticated office, casting dancing patterns on the wooden floor. A blend of vanilla and sandalwood wafts through the air, lending to an ambiance of calm. But this illusion is quickly shattered by two animated voices engaged in heated debate, echoing from the hallway. The door flings open to reveal Toto Wolff and Christian Horner, each determined to prove their point even before the session officially starts, and the cameras and sound equipment stationed around the room quickly zero in on them.

You sit in your chair, a hint of amusement in your eyes, as you address them. “Gentlemen, welcome! How about we start by taking our seats?”

Toto and Christian hesitantly sit on the couch, keeping as much distance from each other as possible.

“So,” you begin, trying to contain your laughter, “Drive to Survive mentioned you two might need some ... couples therapy?” You add air quotes for emphasis.

Christian immediately rolls his eyes. “It’s ridiculous! We’re competitors, not some bickering married couple.”

Toto chimes in, “Although he does nag like my grandmother.”

Christian retorts, “Oh please, Toto! The way you carry on, anyone would think you’re auditioning for a soap opera.”

You hold up a hand, “Alright, let’s take a deep breath. We’re here to find common ground.”

The two team principals continue their banter, airing their grievances, from stolen engineers to wind tunnels to secret agreements. You listen, scribbling notes, occasionally nodding or offering a “hmm” of understanding.

After what seems like an eternity, you interrupt their tirade. “Okay, I’ve come to a conclusion. You both are quite the pair. But instead of directing this ... energy at each other, how about a united front? Surely there’s something, or someone, you both dislike equally?”

Christian and Toto exchange glances, a mischievous glint appearing simultaneously. “The producers,” they chorus.

You swear that you can hear the men standing out of camera range behind you — the producers in question — audibly swallow.

You lean in, intrigued. “Go on.”

Toto grins, “They’ve been poking and prodding, trying to get a reaction out of us. It’s why they set this whole thing up in the first place. And while we do love the drama,” he eyes Christian, “maybe it’s time they get a taste of their own medicine.”

Christian nods in agreement, “A united front to give the producers a season they won’t forget.”

You clap your hands together, “Perfect! So what’s the plan?”

As the session concludes, Toto and Christian leave, arms around each other’s shoulders, laughter echoing down the hall.

You lean back in your chair, chuckling. “Well, that was certainly one for the books.”

You turn around to face the Drive to Survive crew already packing their equipment and producers looking shell shocked . You’ve never seen grown men look quite so pale. But they only have themselves to blame — the session was their idea in the first place.

Sometimes you really love your job.

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deerlino · 6 months ago

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Could u please do streamer felix x girlfriend reader where like reader comes and sits felixs' lap while he's streaming while gaming and she ends up sleeping?

౨ৎ — dreaming in pixels ( lf. )

lee felix x fem!reader — felix, the streamer, and you, his girlfriend, have a cute moment during one of his gaming streams. you sneak into his streaming room and plop down on his lap. surprisingly cozy, you end up dozing off, surrounded by all the fluffiness and warmth.

additional tags — streamer!felix. content creator au. (domestic) fluff. affectionate. cute girlfriend. soft moments. twitch stream. 824 word count.

content warnings — no need for content warnings here. it's all about being affectionate, tender, and comforting.

author notes @ anon — a heartwarming streamer lixie fic! 🥹 i'm obsessed with streamer felix, so getting this request made me super happy. 💘 hope you enjoy it and have a blast reading! xo. < 3

You tiptoed through the hallway, a mischievous smile curling on your lips as you heard the faint sounds of Felix’s voice, enthusiastic and animated, drifting from his streaming room. You peeked around the corner, catching sight of him engrossed in his game, headset firmly in place, fingers flying over his keyboard.

He didn’t notice you at first, too focused on his screen, but you couldn’t help yourself. You quietly crept up behind him, placing your hands over his eyes. “Guess who?” you whispered, giggling softly.

Felix’s fingers paused mid-keystroke, a chuckle escaping his lips. “Hmm, let me think… Is it my incredibly cute girlfriend who’s supposed to be studying right now?”

You laughed, moving your hands away and leaning over his shoulder to give him a quick peck on the cheek. “Guilty as charged,” you admitted. “But I needed a break, and I missed you.”

He tilted his head back to look up at you, his eyes softening. “I missed you too, babe. Come here,” he said, patting his lap invitingly.

You didn’t need any more encouragement. Climbing onto his lap, you settled in, wrapping your arms around his neck as he shifted to accommodate you. His arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Comfortable?” he asked, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“Very,” you replied, snuggling against him. You rested your head on his shoulder, watching the screen as he resumed his game. His fingers moved deftly, effortlessly, and you were mesmerized by the way he played, so focused and skilled.

“What are you playing?” you asked, your voice a soft murmur against his ear.

“Just a bit of Valorant,” he replied, his eyes never leaving the screen. “The chat’s loving it.”

You glanced at the chat, seeing a flurry of messages reacting to Felix’s gameplay—and to your sudden appearance. “Your girlfriend is so cute! 💛” one message read, while another said, “Awww, our favorite streamer and his girl, goals! 😍”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Your fans seem to like me,” you teased.

Felix grinned, glancing at the chat briefly. “Of course they do. They have good taste,” he said, giving you a quick squeeze. “But I like you more.”

You felt your cheeks warm, and you buried your face in his neck to hide your blush. “You’re so cheesy,” you mumbled, but you couldn’t hide the smile in your voice.

“And you love it,” he shot back, pressing another kiss to your temple. His attention returned to the game, but his free hand remained on your waist, fingers tracing lazy patterns against your skin. The rhythmic motion, combined with the steady hum of his voice and the soft glow of the screen, started to lull you into a peaceful daze.

You fought to keep your eyes open, not wanting to miss a moment of this rare, quiet time with Felix. But the warmth of his embrace, the comfort of his presence, and the gentle rise and fall of his chest as he breathed began to pull you under. You yawned, nestling closer to him.

Felix glanced down at you, his expression softening even more. “Sleepy?” he asked, his voice a low murmur.

“A little,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can I stay here?”

“Of course, love,” he said, his voice as soft as his touch. “I’ve got you.”

You sighed contentedly, your eyes drifting shut as you let yourself relax completely. Felix’s heartbeat was a soothing rhythm under your ear, and the sounds of his game faded into the background. You felt his cheek rest against your head, and the gentle pressure of his hold reassured you, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

Time seemed to blur as you hovered on the edge of sleep. You were dimly aware of Felix’s voice, still chatting with his viewers, but it was distant, like a lullaby. His fingers never stopped their gentle tracing on your waist, each touch sending waves of comfort through you.

Finally, you let go, slipping into a peaceful slumber, your breathing evening out as you nestled closer to Felix. You were vaguely aware of his soft chuckle, the tender way he adjusted his hold on you, making sure you were as comfortable as possible.

“Looks like she’s out,” you heard him say softly, probably to the chat. “Guess I’m stuck here for a while. Not that I’m complaining.”

The chat erupted with comments again, but you were too far gone to care. All that mattered was the warmth of Felix’s embrace, the steady beat of his heart, and the overwhelming feeling of love that surrounded you.

As you drifted deeper into sleep, you felt Felix’s lips press a final, feather-light kiss to your forehead. “Sweet dreams, baby,” he whispered. “I love you.”

And with that, you surrendered completely to the comforting darkness, secure in the knowledge that you were exactly where you belonged—safe and sound in Felix’s arms.

© deerlino (est. 120624) ༯ heyo, did you enjoy this piece? if you did, maybe you could reblog, drop a comment, or shoot me an ask to let me know your thoughts. also, feel free to check out my other stuff! thanks a bunch for the support! <3

#lee felix x reader #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #stray kids fluff #skz fluff #lee felix fluff #felix x reader #felix fluff #stray kids imagines #skz imagines #stray kids fanfic #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #lee felix x you #stray kids x you #lee felix imagines #lee felix scenarios #lee felix fanfic #*writing

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frostbitebakery · 9 months ago

Note

“LOUD. (So. Much. Starting to tinker with a [!!!!!!!!!]Corrie Guard armor[!!!!!!])”

….Could I request anything to do with the last part of that sentence? Or just more about Loud, if you prefer!

The Coruscant Guard’s armor had been the same as the deployed troops’ in the very beginning. Soon, certain politicians and some loud parts of the public got uncomfortable with war tanks “strolling along our streets and even the Senate”. The armor had to change. Quick. The war was already on every news outlet and ever present, the clones stationed on Coruscant did not need to remind the peaceful citizens of it.

So a more streamlined version was designed (design 12 was approved, finally) with a headset visor instead of a helmet.

This, too, was not right.

“I cannot be expected to concentrate on my duties when I see the same face everywhere!” Senators complained.

The designers gently hit their heads on their desks. And another helmet was designed.

“I am going to murder them all in cold blood,” Commander Fox was not quoted on the matter when the new design was revealed with barely any visor present. “How am I supposed to take a dump on the flimsiwork when I can’t see it.”

“If I may,” Senator Organa spoke up, and the designers for the Alderaanian guards’ armor was put in charge.

“Senator,” one of the designers said in a confidential meeting, “the specs contain restrictions and regulations that…” They looked at the holo helplessly, turning it this way and that. “Why does it need to be connected to their neural system in this manner?”

Bail is nonplussed unsurprisingly often in his life, especially when faced with the utter nonsense other Senators spew. “In what manner exactly?”

Now usually the suit provides the connector but somehow, with all the designs the previous designers went through, it was forgotten for the Coruscant Guard, hence the need for the helmet to click into the port in the clones’ neck.

“Can you, perhaps, make a dummy connector?” Bail asked after making sure his office was disconnected from any and all surveillance system.

More information was needed and Bail was a man of many, hard earned, trustworthy connections.

“Obi-Wan,” he greeted with a smile, his heart pleased to see his friend without the mask for once. It must’ve been a good day. “I need a favor.”

Bail needed someone of equal trust to look into the Guard and their inner system to see how they could circumvent the neural connection’s dubious workings. All the while making sure the clones could still be in contact with other clones and no one being the wiser they wouldn’t be able to receive orders via the very hidden, very concerning channels built into the clones’ heads. A Jedi Shadow would be excellent, given their confidential nature.

“I am ignoring how you know about them,” Obi-Wan signed with an amused twist to his scarred mouth. “I have someone in mind.”

“Hello there,” someone, who definitely should not be in Fox’s office at all, greeted.

“Who the kriff are you.”

The tall person shuffled around Fox’s cramped office - seriously, how did they get in here - and plopped down on the visitor’s chair. “I always wanted to say that. I’m Quinlan.”

“And,” Bail continued, “I need you to look into something for me.”

Obi-Wan perked up at that. “You want me to sneak around the GAR?”

“Unofficially. If you’re caught, I cannot help you.”

“Of course.”

#also Alderaan provides guard creatures #that actually are support creatures for the Guard #a mix of capybaras and lizards #loud au #the armor is still taking shape in my head so no sketch so far #also yes #this is a spy thriller at its heart

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lily-alphonse · 8 months ago

Text

Sam and Seb as roommates #3

Sam: Seb! (pops head into bedroom)

Sebastian: Yes?

Sam: Did you know that cables and shit have like... (whispers) genders?

Sebastian: Yes.

Sam: What like it's normal??

Sebastian: ... Yes. Depends on whether you plug it into something or something plugs into it.

Sam: Haha gross.

Sebastian: ???

Sam: What's my charger? (Holds up basic phone charger)

Sebastian: (types in chat: brb roomie needs me to sex his charger lmao. Takes off headset and turns to him) Congratulations Sam, it's a boy.

Sam: Yuss! (fists the air and runs away)

Sam: (runs back) To be clear, I would've had that reaction regardless, I would love my daughter just the same.

Sebastian: You're talking about a charging cable.

Sam: I'm not the one who gave them genders!

Sebastian: ...touché.

Sam definitely runs off without closing Sebastian's door lol

#ao3 writer #stardew valley #sdv sebastian #sdv #sdv sam #sambastian #sam x sebastian #sam and seb as roommates #sdv incorrect quotes #sdv headcanons #sam & sebastian #funny #lily speaks

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cod-thoughts · 6 days ago

Note

OO I've got a little prompt to hear your thoughts about. If the 141 squad (plus nik, laswell and the others ofc) were involved with a musical, what would their roles be?

HEXXXXX!!!!!! Thank you omg I'm so excited about this. Thought about it A LOT and here's what I came up with hehe

Price - The Reluctant Director

Price absolutely did not sign up for this. Somehow, though, he’s been roped into directing the entire production. He’s the one pacing backstage with a clipboard and a very large mug of tea, yelling “Places, people!” when everyone’s goofing off. He’s stressed, perpetually tired, and definitely muttering about how this whole thing is in “shambles” but secretly gets way too proud when things go smoothly. He also ends up filling in as the voice of God (narrator) because no one else can deliver monologues with the same gravitas. Am I projecting a little bit? Yes, but we pretend like I'm not shhhh

Soap - Lead Actor / Chaos Incarnate

Soap throws himself wholeheartedly into the lead role, no matter what it is. He learns every line, sings every note like his life depends on it, and insists on doing his own choreography—even when he can’t dance to save his life. He’s everyone’s hype man backstage, and trying to teach Ghost tap-dancing routines during intermissions. Soap’s the one who trips over a prop during a live performance but somehow makes it work like it was planned. Soap is a little annoying about getting the lead but he's genuinely good and helpful to the rest of the cast that you can't really be mad at him. Or his ego.

Ghost - Tech Crew / “Absolutely Not Getting On Stage”

Ghost wants nothing to do with the spotlight. He’s the one in black, lurking in the rafters and managing the lights, sounds and special effects. Everyone else is amazed at how Ghost can get pyrotechnics to go off perfectly on cue. There’s one moment where a prop gets stuck on a side-stage light, and Ghost has to step in—wearing a hastily thrown-on costume—and the audience goes wild. Soap spends the next six months teasing him about his “hidden stage presence.”

Gaz - The Multi-Talented Backup

Gaz is the definition of a team player in this production. He sings, dances, acts—whatever you need him to do, he’ll do it and do it really well. He’s got a surprising talent for harmonising during big ensemble numbers and always nails his cues. If something goes wrong during a live performance, Gaz is the guy who smoothly improvises and saves the day without breaking a sweat. He’s also the best dancer out of the lot but keeps it under wraps until the big numbers.

Nikolai - Musical Conductor / Scene-Stealer

Nik is in charge of the orchestra pit, grinning the entire time as he directs with a little too much flair. He loves the drama of it all. Nik also insists on having a small but hilarious cameo role, like a mysterious merchant or a random townsman with one line that somehow brings the house down. He gets more applause than anyone else during curtain call, and no one can figure out how he did it. I miss my orchestra to no end and Nik as my conductor would be incredible. I imagine him as a double-bass, trombone and french horn player because I think he'd take one look at his orchestra as a kid and see those players missing and take it upon himself to drop his violin lessons in favour of those. He'd be such a good conductor too, smile beaming when the clarinets get their cue right or the orchestra plays a chord particularly well. He'd cry at the end of the performance too there's no doubt about it.

Laswell - Stage Manager

Laswell is the glue holding the entire production together. She’s got the schedule, the call sheets, and every emergency fix anyone could possibly need. Someone forgets their costume? Laswell has a backup. Lights malfunction? She’s got a plan. She’s calm, unflappable, and has perfected The Look that keeps everyone in line. If anyone so much as thinks about missing a cue, Laswell’s already on the headset calling it out. She's also the only one Price trusts with a second opinion when he's unsure about something.

Farah - Choreographer / Supporting Lead

Farah’s choreography is both precise and stunning—she takes no nonsense during rehearsals. She’s the one drilling the ensemble into shape and yelling “One more time!” while everyone groans. But when she steps into a supporting lead role, her performances are incredible. Her presence on stage is magnetic, and her duet with Soap brings the audience to tears.

Alex - Vocal Coach

Alex is the team’s unexpectedly brilliant vocal coach, somehow roped into the role after casually revealing he has actual singing training from his past after Price and Laswell were stressed because none of the other people they interviewed were any good. He’s calm, patient, and has an almost unnerving ability to get anyone comfortable to sing solo lines. He’s the kind of coach who works miracles without raising his voice. Soap cracks a high note for the fifth time? Alex is right there, guiding him through breathing exercises until it’s perfect. Gaz struggles with timing? Alex hums out the rhythm like it’s second nature, and suddenly everything clicks.

Of course, being Alex, he’s more than willing to demonstrate when someone doesn’t get it. He’ll casually hit a note so smooth and perfect that the entire room stops. Soap stares, slack-jawed, and mutters, “You’ve been holding out on us.” Nik swears Alex missed his calling as a professional singer. He gets a special mention in Price’s thank-you speech during curtain call—just a simple “We’d all still be tone-deaf without him,” but it’s enough to make Alex grin and duck his head, embarrassed but proud.

Alejandro - The Charismatic Villain

Alejandro owns the villain role. He’s charming, dramatic, and delivers every line with just the right amount of menace. Half the audience is rooting for him by the end of the show. His costume is impeccable (he definitely helped design it), and his big solo number ends with him flipping a cape and walking off-stage to deafening applause. He’s secretly loving every second of it.

Rudy - Ensemble / Understudy Extraordinaire

Rudy’s the guy quietly holding everything together in the background. He’s part of the ensemble, blending in seamlessly, but he also knows everyone’s lines in case he has to jump in at the last second. When Alejandro loses his voice during a matinee, Rudy steps in, delivers the villain’s performance flawlessly, and becomes a legend overnight. Everyone underestimates him until that moment, and Soap won’t stop bringing it up.

Graves - The Sponsor Who Won’t Shut Up

Graves is technically funding the production, which means he thinks he gets a say in everything. He’s in the front row at every performance, talking too loudly about how “none of this would’ve happened without me.” He insists on getting a “Special Thanks” mention in the programme, and Price barely tolerates him. Graves also definitely tried to cast himself as the lead at one point and had to be gently removed from rehearsals. It's all in good fun in the end as Graves congratulates them and admits he never could do what they did.

Roach - The Unsung Hero

Roach is everywhere at once—helping with props, rigging lights, fixing costumes, and occasionally stepping in as part of the ensemble when someone’s sick. He doesn’t say much, but everyone knows the production would fall apart without him. Price gives him a rare nod of approval during curtain call, and Roach just shrugs like it’s no big deal. I also imagine Roach is the one that helps Ghost rig all the lights just crawling everywhere getting it done. Helps mic everyone up when Ghost is really stressed because one of the lights is malfunctioning, or the monitors have a weird buzz no one can figure out how to fix. Roach is literally a jack of all trades and a master of all you can't change my mind. He's done it all in theatre from lead role to just a stage hand to directing but this is his favourite thing to do, just help in any way he can, an extra pair of hands there to stop his friends from losing their minds too early.

As you can see I've thought about this a lot pffft. I just love this idea I now feel like I have to make a theatre AU omg like I've done all of the things listed here it'd be so good hmmm much to think about hehe. Thank you Hexx omg this brought me immense joy <333

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