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leclsrc · 1 year ago

Text

decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver.

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are).

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases.

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.”

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max.

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed.

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving.

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?”

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm.

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck.

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up.

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

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dira333 · 5 months ago

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Behind the scenes of a Tumblr Writer - Tag Game

Hey there, I love behind the scenes and since this is something that's rarely talked about, let me start the chain... if you feel uncomfortable with a question, just skip it. You can add some if you want as well.

Started writing: I wrote my first Harry Potter fanfic at age 10. Started posting around 15,16 years old. I'm now 31, so...

Started blogging: I started on a German fanfiction site around 2010/11 I think. Might have been earlier too, but back then I was mostly reading, no posting. I really started when I got into One Direction (very late, tbh)

Followers: Currently at 961, which is wild to me. I don't even know that many people IRL. I convince myself that half of them are bots tbh, so I don't freak out all the time.

Communication: The people I talk to regularly are: a few writers who answered after I constantly reblogged and commented on their works and a few people who commented and reblogged my work. Writing and blogging on here can be pretty lonely, depending on your personality and the time you're active (I'm from Europe and a lot of my followers seem to be living in Northern America, so there's the Timezone thing) ... And I found that the best way to strike a conversation is to reblog, comment, and to not be shy. I do wish I got more asks, though....

Likes: I actually filter them out. I have 793 original posts up at the moment. It doesn't give me anything to know how many likes a fic has other than to tell me which characters are liked more than others or maybe that one fic does especially well. My activity only shows me comments, asks, reblogs with tags, and answers to my own asks. I live for the tags and the comments.

Requests: I love talking to people about ideas. That's how I started the plotbunny game because I have so many ideas and so little time. And sometimes an idea just doesn't want to be written out fully. Requests are fun because YAY, I get some mail... but then I freak out because I don't really know how to write this NOW and then I freak out because it's been a week already, two weeks, wait, two months? I'd rather have suggestions where people tell me vague things like "I'd love to read something about this side character" or "Have you ever considered this character with a soulmate trope"? because then I don't have the feeling of failing the request when I write it a little bit differently.

Writing: I am a fast writer. I know that's one of my talents. I can churn out a oneshot of 1k words in less than an hour. People read slower than I write. That can suck sometimes because you've just posted this and you want to know what people are thinking but they're not as fast as you are. I do have a lot of ideas. I want to write constantly but my brain doesn't always want to. I am trying to respect that.

There are also certain things that I just feel wrong writing. I cannot write anything suggestive (I also don't like reading it) and everything past that gives me panic attacks. I can hardly write mean characters and jealousy feels so wrong to me that I cannot write it. I've also overdone it with the soulmark trope and now I feel like everything I write about it feels lifeless.

I write best in the mornings before going to work, but I don't have much time there. I don't need special music (but it helps), but I need to have at least some energy left and at best, no distractions. But I have been writing for over 20 years, so I will say experience helps a lot.

Tagging: @revasserium @shoulmate @lemurzsquad @screamin-abt-haikyuu @toomanygoldfish @satorisoup @emmyrosee @reverie-starlight @alienaiver and @writingsofanomnivore and everyone else who wants to join

#tag game #writing game #behind the scenes #writing

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saeist · 2 years ago

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it's not living if it's not with you ── s. itoshi

synopsis: if it's meant to be, it will be genre: ex2lovers, arranged/fake dating, celebrity!au, pro!au, fluff, angst with happy ending, sharing a bed, 2nd chances, ... word count: 12.3k warnings: reader and sae aged up 22+, implied sex towards the end, reader has a hint of social anxiety/claustrophobia, i think sae is a little ooc in some scenes, lmk if i missed some notes: THERE YOU HAVE IT SAEISTS.. MY 1K SPECIAL!! THIS IS THE SUPER SECRET SAE FIC I'VE BEEN TEASING EVERYONE ABOUT FOR LIKE A WEEK NOW AND IT'S FINALLY IN FRUITION! <3 here's a lil sae brainrot to show my gratitude to you guys ^_^ fellow saeists who also consume an unhealthy(?) amount of sae content...... this fic is also dedicated to the loml my bae aeri @saerins for taking ur time of day to beta-read and to my angel baby sage @invsu as well <33 ilu guys extras: i made a playlist for this bc i am insane like that and without further a do.. sit back, relax and enjoy! lmk what u guys think either in the tags or comments bc i rlly worked hard on this for like a week and i jus couldn't stop writing! talk abt a sae earworm... ++ if u guys find theres a lot of the 1975 references.. its bc i was listening to their songs as i made this lawl .. tmi!

001.

you didn’t really put into consideration how awkward it actually was to be working on a modeling gig with your ex boyfriend.

the pay was obviously really good that’s why you even agreed to book it in the first place, especially since it was for a famous luxury brand and their fragrance line

so imagine your horror when you walk into set and see your ex posing for the cameras.

you silently hoped that it was just his solo shoot and not with you because your manager did mention that you would be having a partner for this photoshoot

the photographer greets you with a hug and compliments your outfit for the shoot. a white, sultry open neckline dress. the theme of the shoot was it was set on the beach with a sunset background

he instructs you to lay on the makeshift sand and tells you to start posing for your solo shots.

after a couple of clicks, the photographer compliments you on your professionalism on set and then calls your ex boyfriend.

“sae! time for the couple shots i told you about” the photographer calls out to sae who was on his makeup chair. your eyes widened in realization that he was, in fact, your partner for today’s shoot

you tried to look at your manager for some help but it was no use. your manager was busy talking to other people on set. you can feel your heart beating faster by the minute as sae walks closer to you

he was wearing something similar to what you were wearing. dress pants and a white oversized unbuttoned polo. his exposed toned abdomen was probably the main highlight of his outfit with it glistening under the studio lights.

you bit your lip and looked away. sae has always been eye candy, there was no denying that. you were surprised yourself when you managed to bag him during his rookie days, but now that he was almost, if not an A list celebrity with his elite status in the world of football, you can almost say that itoshi sae was totally out of your league

you come back to your senses when the photographer claps his hands and muses how you and sae have insane chemistry that he has ever witnessed. you let out a little huff at the comment.

‘if only he knew’ you think to yourself, avoiding sae’s gaze as much as possible

the shoot starts and the photographer instructs sae to hover over you while holding the perfume bottle. sae nods and does what he’s told, he’s a professional after all. he wouldn’t let his personal feelings interfere with his work. that was the golden rule in the industry

you locked eyes with sae for the first time in years. he still had those fiery teal eyes that gets you weak in the knees each time. your eyes slowly dart from his eyes to his lips.

“keep doing that y/n!” the photographer cheers, clicking away on his camera. did you do something in your past life that you would inevitably end up in an awkward situation like this. a situation wherein you and your ex lover, in a position where you two are posing like an actual couple

your eyes flicker back from sae’s lips to his eyes again. for a second there you thought you felt a spark, a connection, an old flame that has been rekindled at that very moment.

til it all comes back to you in a flash

you forgot you hated him. you hate itoshi sae and you could’ve sworn itoshi sae hated you too.

the bitter taste is still in your mouth after all these years. how could you forget the man who broke your little heart in two?

it was childish really. looking back at it now, where you were merely just starting out as a rookie model and sae being the same, a rookie at his profession. just two kids having a similar situation in two whole different industries. it was hard not to get entangled.

you were always known to be sae's long time lover. you were always supportive of his games. present whenever you can, sitting at the exclusive VIP section of the stadiums, wearing his number on your back; and if you weren’t able to attend due to your own schedules, you would still manage to find the time to support him. may it be posting an instagram story that you were watching him on your phone while you were getting your makeup done or wearing his jersey on the day of the game

sae was the same. he would always be seen wearing the stuff from brands you’ve modeled for. from jewelries to exclusive clothing lines, sae would always be seen wearing them, his silent way of showing support in your own craft.

you were proud of him, and he was proud of you too.

but as all things are, good things come and go. even in the most unexpected times.

there were already rumors circulating that you and sae were ready to tie the knot, some news outlets even stating that maybe you two have gone ahead and tied the knot at some island during your secret little rendezvous. (having been caught going to santorini for more than multiple occasions)

the public has always been supportive of your relationship throughout the years. even earning the title as the nation’s sweethearts with how they’ve seen your relationship blossom from puppy love to what they call as “true love”

with the news that the nation’s sweethearts have parted ways, the public was as heartbroken as you.

sae suddenly called it quits after almost five years of dating. it was after he has been taken under the wing of real madrid’s division A where his career as a midfielder really took off. to make matters even worse, he broke it off at the same place he claimed you as his.

since then, you’ve sworn to hate him. you’ve resented him. you felt like all those years that you two have built was nothing. you couldn’t even believe him at first when he spat out the words “we’re over” like it was nothing.

five years, five years worth of unforgettable firsts. five fucking years to unlearn everything.

you were absolutely crushed back then. you even took a hiatus with everything going on in your life. you were a mess. you actually can’t believe sae had no remorse over this. were the five years you were together nothing for him? all those tears you two have shed, the firsts of everything, all those precious memories, were they all nothing?

it hasn’t even been a year or so but it seemed like sae already moved on, which added more salt to your already open wound. he was flourishing with his career while all of this was going on. sae has been photographed multiple times leaving clubs with lipstick stains all over his neck.

it stung of course. seeing him move on with his life as if he didn’t just ruin yours. that very night, you swore to yourself that you will never forgive itoshi sae for what he did.

never again would you open your heart to someone like itoshi sae.

itoshi sae, the man who broke your heart into two.

“earth to y/n?” the photographer snaps his fingers in front of you, breaking your little trance.

you apologize to the photographer, your cheeks heating up at the realization that you really got lost in your thoughts the moment you’ve met eyes with sae.

“as i was saying,” the photographer eyes you and sae, “the shoot is over. well done” he bows, motioning the people behind the scenes to clap for you and sae

almost immediately you stood up from your awkward position from sae. intentionally avoiding his hand that was held out for you to take. (you hate how he was still a gentleman to you, even after all these years)

you look around for your manager and strut towards him.

“we’re leaving. now” you say with no emotion in your voice, even walking farther ahead from your now confused manager.

he takes a look around on what could’ve made you pissed off but sees no one but itoshi sae in the flesh.

“but y/n, itoshi sae is here-” your manager gets cut off when there was a loud slam of a door nearby. he winces when he realizes it was you. he turns around and bows his head at the people on set.

“i apologize for y/n’s actions”

with that, your manager runs after you.

sae could only stare at your direction with mixed feelings. a part of him was relieved that he got to see you again after all these years, yet he doesn’t understand why he was feeling off to find out that you still resented him. i mean, that was what he expected for his own actions all those years ago.

with a click of a tongue, he goes back to his own manager so they can finally go home after a long day.

you don’t even know why you were crying. tears blurring your vision as you try to find the exit out of this damned building.

you harshly wipe your tears, opening the last door to your left. you were met with the harsh, cold air of japan. you weren’t looking where you were going, barely even noticing that someone was by the door til you bumped into them.

the steel floors were making it hard to walk in your heels. so when you bumped into the said stranger, you lost your balance.

the stranger had quick reflexes. they immediately caught you by your waist and your hands flew to their chest to keep yourself steady. you looked up at the stranger to apologize only to meet eyes again with the same teal eyes that belonged to no one other than sae fucking itoshi

you don’t know how long you two have been in this position until you see a bright flash in your peripheral vision.

you have just been papped by paparazzi with your ex boyfriend and sworn enemy, itoshi sae.

002.

the headlines in both social media, news outlets and the such were exactly how you expected it.

it was crazy.

the general public going wild, thinking that the once famed couple were now back together after how many years.

your phone was blowing up with emails upon emails. calls from friends and relatives to confirm the news themselves that you’ve been seeing sae again. you look at your manager beside you apologetically as he receives another phone call from what you think is another e-news outlet asking if the rumors circulating were true.

you have been summoned by your company for an emergency meeting as the whole situation was getting out of hand.

that was when you realize how big of a name itoshi sae was after all these years of blocking his name on twitter.

your PR team is currently a mess. they are currently working their asses off to put out a good story for your sudden reunion with the famed midfielder.

“how many times do i have to tell you to be careful being papped after a shoot?” the head of your PR team, pinches the bridge of their nose. clearly this wasn’t the first time around

“i was!” you defend yourself, “i didn’t even know it was him til i looked up..” you murmured

your manager facepalms at your response. how did you not know it was sae?

“so what i’m getting here..” the head puts their glasses on the table, “you didn’t “know” that it was the itoshi sae, your partner for this specific photoshoot, the famed midfielder of real madrid, itoshi sae?” they quote, looking at you like you just grew another head

you nod in content, “exactly” you grin, putting your thumbs up. in hopes it raises the mood. (it doesn’t, unfortunately)

“y/n, i hope you know this isn’t just something we can brush under the rug. this is not the same situation with yukimiya kenyu where you two were caught being cozy in his car”

“yuki was literally just driving me home! and we’re close friends!” you defend yourself, yet again.

“exactly! yukimiya is a close friend! while itoshi sae is not. that’s why this is such a big deal!”

you slump back to your seat. okay, maybe they were right. this was a lot harder to get around with especially since the public knows about your past relationship.

“luckily for you, we have talked things out with itoshi sae’s management,” it was your manager’s turn to talk. he stands up from the seat beside you and walks over to your PR team’s head. they exchange glances before nodding.

“we have come up with a way that this whole issue will be over soon” your manager starts.

as if on cue, the doors of the meeting room suddenly open. you take a look on who could be entering this sacred room this late. surely it couldn’t be more of your PR team as they were all already present in the room.

there stood with their hand still on the doorknob is no one other than sae, with his manager right behind him.

your jaw drops as you put two and two together.

you whipped your head towards your manager and the head of your PR team in both horror and disbelief.

no, it can’t be…

“you two will now be in an arranged relationship for the meanwhile. until your situation dies down” sae’s manager finishes, taking a seat next to sae, who took the seat next to you.

you could see your manager squeeze his eyes shut, knowing where this is going. you were about to have a fit right here right now.

“WHAT?!” you let out a loud scream. the whole floor probably heard you.

sae also winces at how ear-piercing your scream was.

you abruptly stood up from your seat, snatching your purse from the table and stomped out of the meeting room. not forgetting to slam the door shut on the way out.

immediately you called up your two closest friends, reo and yukimiya to meet you at your apartment ASAP.

003.

“so you’re telling me– us,” yukimiya pauses, looking between you, who has mascara running down your cheeks and reo, who was busy rubbing circles on your back as he hands you another tissue for you to blow your nose on, “that you are going to be in an arranged relationship with your ex, itoshi sae.. am i getting that right?” yukimiya confirms, waiting for your response

you nod before blowing your nose and throwing the now used tissue on the rising pile of tissues behind you.

“this is the worst day of my fucking life” you cried out, reaching out to reo to cry on his shoulders.

“oh, y/n” reo sighs, pulling you into his embrace as you cry your eyes out.

you pull away from reo’s embrace, “i mean, why him, why now?!” you rambled, words getting choked up.

both reo and yukimiya could only frown. after all, even with their power, money and status, there was nothing they could do to help with your situation.

your doorbell suddenly rings, catching all three of you in surprise. who could be at your door right now?

yukimiya took the initiative of opening the door, only to be met with the eyes of the itoshi sae. barely noticing your manager behind him.

sae raises his eyebrow at the man in front of him. who was he and why was he at your apartment?

“yukimiya-san! i didn’t know you were over..” your manager sheepishly greets yuki, trying to break the growing tension between him and sae.

“who’s out there, yuki?” you croak out, trying to take a peek at the door from reo’s shoulders.

“it’s me, y/n” you hear your manager call out. you look at reo in confusion. what was your manager doing here?

gradually, you slowly stood up from your kitchen island and walked over to your front door.

now, you just expected a scolding from your manager from your little fit back at the company, that’s why he was at your place or so you thought. what you didn’t expect that you’d see itoshi sae again but this time, in your own space.

“have you lost your fucking mind?” you shot a look at your manager, who only winces as a response.

“y/n- i can explain-“

“i made him take me here” sae speaks up for the first time. you felt your breath hitched. it’s been so long since you last talked to him, let alone heard him speak. (you’ve done everything you can and blocked every single thing related to sae. that meant interviews, news articles, you name it, you had his name and everything blocked and muted)

sae invites himself inside your apartment with your manager following suit as you stand there at your front door, stunned.

reo is equally as shocked as you are when he sees itoshi sae casually walk to your living room as if it was his. before reo could open his mouth to say something, you come running in, fuming.

“who the fuck told you you can come inside MY house” you spat. your attitude turning a whole 180.

sae only raises an eyebrow at you. “our team” he casually says. he then looks at your manager and cocks his head towards your direction. like he was trying to get your manager to tell you something.

“what now?!” this time it was your manager’s turn to get yelled at by you. he winces again before checking for something in his ipad.

“since you um.. walked out at our meeting earlier today… both managements has come to terms that you and itoshi sae would be living together for the meantime”

silence fills the room, the entire apartment if we were being honest

your vision goes dark, the next thing you know and you black out.

as you slowly regain your consciousness, you hear some people talking. well, to you it sounded like they were slurring because you couldn’t really comprehend what they were saying. slowly, you open your eyes. the first person you see is a frantic reo who seemed to be fanning your face with yukimiya holding your hand

“where am i?” you grunt, feeling some dull ache on the back of your head and lower back.

“you fainted” sae points out. staring at you who was on the ground. you sat up and stared at sae, wide eyed. “what the hell is he still doing here?!” you ask in distraught. you thought everything prior to this was all just a fever dream, or a nightmare as you’d like to call it

your manager, who was getting you a glass of water comes running to your aid. he crouches and tells you to drink up- to which you do.

“we were discussing your current situation with itoshi sae until you fainted… ” your manager starts, you choke on your water after hearing those words but thankfully didn’t start a coughing fit. you motioned your manager to continue so that you’d finally hear the end of this dreadful moment

your manager's eyes flicker between you and sae, “we’ve come up with an agreement that until the time being, itoshi sae would be living with you and you’d market yourselves as a couple. sae has already consented and agreed with the contract and your PR team as well…” he finishes, clutching his ipad close to his chest

reo, who was listening intently, felt like it was unfair for you to be in this type of situation regardless if it was an order from your company

“isn’t unfair for y/n though? she herself didn’t consent to this contract right? doesn’t this violate her own rights of code of ethics?” reo interferes, giving your manager a look. you look at reo and smiled. maybe you’ll ask him to contact the finest lawyers of japan that he knows after this

your manager was about to speak up but sae beat him to it.

“i was the one who suggested this whole setup, not their company. so technically, this isn’t “violating y/n’s rights of code of ethics” as it’s not even printed on a contract because simply, there is no contract” sae states, mocking reo’s tone of voice, giving him a side eye before turning his attention back to you.

this time it was yukimiya who steps in. he turns to sae with his eyebrows raised. “isn’t there another way to get around this? not just by your means?” yukimiya pauses, pushing his glasses up, “i mean, why does it have to be like this where you’ll live with y/n for an issue that could be squashed with just a single article denying your relationship or involvement with y/n?”

sae sits up straight, staring yukimiya down with an icy stare. “this doesn’t concern you”

yukimiya and reo both stand up, “actually it does. y/n is our friend” reo hisses, glaring at the red head who merely just yawns and rolls his eyes.

was sae even taking this seriously?

sae sighs, a bored expression on his face. “this is matters between me and y/n only”

finally having enough of his bullshit, you got up from the ground and walked in front of sae.

“what exactly are you planning, itoshi sae?” you narrow your eyes at him. this was the first time in years you’ve looked at him. you note how appearance wise, he hasn’t changed one bit.

sae chuckles a bit, catching you by surprise. what’s so funny?

“drop the formalities, y/n. you know me better than everyone else in this room” he scoffs, eyeing you from head to toe.

sae won’t lie. he thinks you were still beautiful the day he left you. to him, you were always the prettiest in the room and from the way his heart raced after seeing you for the first time again in years, he knows himself that thought stayed the same.

he watches your eyes soften for a second before it goes back to your signature glare.

“actually, I don't,” you say dryly, crossing your arms. “so, tell me. what exactly are you gonna get out of this?”

sae sighs. he doesn’t know himself either but he wasn’t just about to say that out loud. he doesn’t know what got into him all of a sudden. was it because he was curious about how you were doing? was he intrigued? did he somehow miss you all of a sudden because he saw you again?

a part of him always longed for you even after you two have gone your own separate ways. it was hard not to, considering you have spent a chunk of your lives together. not to mention, you two grew up with each other and built blossoming careers together hand in hand.

it was only until he finally got recruited for division a of real madrid where he thought it would be best if you guys would stop what you have in order to be the best version of himself— wrong.

he realized he fucked up that maybe that wasn’t the best option when he realized he needed you more than ever. you were his best support system. you were always there with him during the hardest times holding his hand but it was already too late. the damage had been done and it was irreversible.

the day he broke up with you, or the day he fucked up everything was also the last time he ever saw or heard from you ever again.

sae tried. he tried and tried and tried to reach out to you. he tried searching for your socials, your contact information, literally everything he can get his hands on. but even with his power and money in the world, it was still not enough to find you.

the only updates he had of you was the ads that were plastered all around social media and in the busy shopping districts of the cities he’s in. it was almost like a constant reminder of what he lost.

so shocked was an understatement when you were his partner for the commercial shoot his manager had booked him for some random luxury brand.

after all those years, he found you again.

to say the stars were on his side when you two got papped by the paparazzi is a bit selfish on sae’s end. as much as he fucking despises the paparazzi as they tend to ruin things for him, he’s quite glad that for once that they did something right.

they brought you back to him.

so sae couldn’t just let this opportunity of a lifetime slide. even if this so called “scandal” could easily just be cleared out with a simple denying of such rumor. but sae couldn’t just let this end like that.

he wants to fix everything he broke. sae wants another chance.

“this is pointless” you deadpan, after waiting for sae to speak. he was just sitting there, staring right back at you for god knows how long that you begin to become conscious.

sae looked like he just snapped out of his train of thought as he shook his head before clearing his throat.

“it’s a win-win situation for both of us” sae blurts, “you get more publicity out of this–”

yukimiya and reo both looked at him like he was crazy.

“excuse you— with or without you, y/n is already famous. hell, you don’t even know how many brands are waiting for her to reach back at them!”

“do you live under a rock or something? how do you not know y/n is one of the, if not the number one top model of the country?”

you were secretly thankful that you called both yukimiya and reo beforehand. not only you got an ego boost, but it gave sae a taste of your own reality that you are where you are now because he left you

a small smirk tugs on your lips when sae frowns. you watch him chew his bottom lip, a telltale sign that he was thinking of something to save his ass

“well, if you aren’t gonna get something out of this.. i have” you say, catching everyone’s attention, including your own manager.

your manager looks at you with his head tilted to the side. mouthing “what do you mean?”

“i’ll only agree to this if after this whole scandal is over, i don’t ever want to see you again” you propose to sae. it was only fair for it to end like this as one, he was the one who suggested this idea in the first place. two, you can never be too complacent with sae who apparently has no motive regarding this. this was sae we’re talking about, he’s bound to plot something and three, you can finally find the answers you’ve been yearning for after all these years. might as well use this as an opportunity to get your well deserved closure.

there was a glint of hope in sae’s eyes.

“deal”

you hear yukimiya and reo yell a bunch of lines like “seriously y/n?” but all you can focus on is sae who’s also looking right back at you.

your manager claps his hands in joy, immediately dialing your company about your decision. sae takes this time to call his own manager to probably tell him to bring his stuff in.

did you make the right decision? you’re not too sure. only time can tell.

004.

today was the first day of you officially “dating” sae again.

also the first day of living with sae, for the meantime

just a little after you’ve come to an agreement with sae with the set up of your rekindled “relationship”, both managements didn’t waste a single second on confirming the news that the nation’s sweethearts have gone back together

needless to say, both of your names are trending and is the current talk of the town

so your first agenda (from both PR teams) is that you both post strikingly similar instagram stories as if you were together the night prior. (in which, you two were.. force binded by a non-existent contract)

it was a good thing that you chose an apartment that had a spare guest room because god forbid you’d even dare to sleep in the same bed with your ex.

you didn’t give sae a warning that you were already gonna post something. just a quick snap of your window, that holds the view of shibuya, with a little sunlight peeking through. you captioned it with a little “good morning indeed” with a cheeky emoji just to spice things up.

sae, who was in the next room, was casually scrolling through instagram when he sees that you posted a new instagram story. he clicks his tongue in annoyance at the fact you didn’t even give him a heads up. quickly improvising, he took a mirror selfie from the vanity mirror that you have around in your guest bedroom.

you started your day with making your own breakfast. not even bothering to call sae. hell, he can starve for all you care. after all, he was not your responsibility. you only agreed to do this because frankly you had no other choice from your company.

while waiting for your eggs, it didn’t take you a while to also notice that sae already posted his part of the agenda. thinking of it as nothing, you innocently clicked on his profile. his story loads and wow. resonating with your caption, good morning indeed!

sae posted a shirtless mirror selfie. he was still under the covers but made sure his torso was seen on the mirror.

“take a screenshot, it’d last longer” sae says flatly, moving past you to your fridge. you jolt in surprise, almost dropping your phone in the process. “what the fuck!” you yell out, a hand over your chest.

you hear sae chuckling behind you and the fridge opening

“you got all that money stocked up somewhere and yet you don’t even have groceries?” sae comments, noting your almost empty fridge. there were only some milk boxes and some of those edible collagen jellies that help you with swelling when you have early morning shoots and the such.

sae takes the last chocolate milk box you had that was hidden away at the back of your fridge

“well, my manager does it for me and i usually eat at reo’s or yukimiya’s– is that the last of my milk?!” you pried your eyes off your phone to see sae casually sipping on the last milk box you were saving

“so?”

“that’s mine” you argued, getting up from the kitchen island to snatch it from sae. you stomp over to him and tried to swipe it off his hands. unfortunately for you, sae is an athlete and that meant he had reflexes like no other. he raises his arm high just before you were able to grab the milk box from him.

“sae, give it back” you grit your teeth, standing on your tippy toes, trying or attempting to take the milk box from sae’s hold but the height difference is just something else.

sae leans down and gets all over your face. “come on, you can do it,” he teases, eyes fixated on yours.

this feeling almost felt too familiar. almost like a wave of nostalgia just hit you in the face. the memories you’ve been trying to suppress all coming back

you snapped out of your little trance when you realized the position you two were in.

“my eggs are burning” you lie, leaving sae dumbfounded. you scurry off to your stove to finish what you were cooking while sae goes and sits on your kitchen island.

he watches you plate your breakfast and sit on the other end of the kitchen island. you actually felt him staring but chose to ignore him. the sound of his stomach grumbling breaks the awkward silence.

“where’s my breakfast?” he asks, voice small

you shrug, “i don’t know”

“you didn’t make me one?”

“why will i?” you raise a brow, happily munching on your bacon while sae could only look at you in disbelief.

later that day you two had your own schedules. he had practice and other stuff to do while you had another meeting about different commercial offers and a lunch date with reo and yukimiya just like you promised the two.

you got home later than sae. you were about to grab some water from the fridge when you notice that it was fully stocked with groceries. you can’t help but smile a little at the gesture.

you did your usual night routine before getting comfy in bed. just before you were about to hit the hay, you don’t forget to send sae a quick message, thanking him for the groceries.

[11:43] you: thanks for doing the groceries ig

[11:44] sae: i couldn’t just let myself starve here, can i?

you rolled your eyes at his reply. he’s still so sarcastic even after all these years

[11:45] you: whatever 🙄

[11:46] sae: i also restocked that milk you love so much. call it truce from earlier today

[11:46] you: who told you it was my favorite? 🤨

[11:47] sae: gut feeling, call it old habit

you raised a brow at his text. what did he mean by that? before you could type your reply, your phone notifies you that sae sent another message

[11:49] sae: jk. your manager told me

you didn’t realize you were holding in your breath. you let out a sigh of relief after reading his message. you were not gonna let him get under your skin. not anymore

you ended up not replying to him. instead, you shut your phone off to reflect on today’s events, hoping that this all ends soon. your phone suddenly dings again. it was a notification from sae.

[11:55] sae: i’m going to sleep now. goodnight, y/n

it’s officially been a week of living with sae and pretending to be a couple in front of the cameras and the public. to think you’d even last this long is an understandment on it’s own.

for this day, both managements wanted you two to be seen out and about in public doing whatever you two wished to do.

you were debating on what you two should do that won’t involve much physical contact like going out for shopping because that only meant that you two would be forced to hold hands which is something you don’t want to do for obvious reasons. you’d rather die than to be papped with sae holding hands

“what do you want to do today?” sae asks from the couch. you two were already all dressed up. intentionally matching your outits just for the sake of it. sae was wearing a maroon turtleneck with holes in them with a white long sleeve shirt underneath and some track pants? you don't question his outfit much further because why would you exert the effort to do so?

you were wearing something similar. a maroon crop top with some leggings to match the laid back outfit of your fake boyfriend.

“what can we do without much physical contact?” you pondered, a finger tapping on your chin. sae scoffs at your question, mumbling about what’s wrong with physical contact with him. you almost wanted to tell him “everything” but that would just start another argument today

“how about we get some coffee?” sae offers, unable to think of more activities to do in such short notice. you hum in agreement, coffee does sound good right now. you get up from the couch and grab the keys to your car

“what are you doing?” sae asked. you stop in your tracks and hold out your keys for him to see. “we’re taking my car” sae says, showing off his.

not putting up much of a fight, you agreed. it was getting tiring driving yourself around anyway.

you two arrive at the coffee shop sae graciously let you choose in no time (by graciously, he meant that he’s good with anything you choose) you then decide on sitting by the window where you know the paparazzi will be in front at in no time to capture this date between rekindled lovers

you sit at your chosen table by the window while you wait for sae to order something for the both of you. telling him that you’re okay with whatever since this cafe was your favorite.

it didn’t take sae that long to come back with your orders. he sets the tray down and you find an abundance of sweets and pastries. you look up at him confused but he simply shrugs. he then places your drink down. you take the receipt that was hanging off the tray to read everything he has ordered.

looks like he ordered everything on the menu with the sweets and pastries, which is not surprising really. when you read what he got you however,

“you ordered me a spanish latte?” you ask, taking the drink from the table.

sae nods, taking a sip from his own drink. “something wrong?”

you shake your head no. you just can’t wrap your head at the fact he ordered your usual go-to drink.

“nothing, it’s just i'm surprised that you still remember what i usually order in coffee shops” you shrug, finally sipping on your drink. spanish lattes does always hit the spot for you

“do you think i have forgotten?” sae raises a brow, a slight frown forming on his lips. you rolled your eyes at his comment.

“well, it’s been a while, don’t you think?” you retort, avoiding his hard stare. technically, it’s been almost two years since the breakup. one of you were bound to forget each other’s habits and the such.

there was silence again after that. an awkward one at that

“let’s take our post now so we can leave” you say, taking pictures of the food in front of you while keeping sae in the frame. sae simply nods and does the same. the photo you decided to post was mostly all the food sae ordered with him in the background. you purposely cut off his head just for the thrill of it. you do tag sae in the instagram story though with the caption “coffee run”

sae’s post was a bit different. he simply posted a candid shot of you taking pictures of the food in front of you. for captions, sae isn’t much of a caption person because he thinks they defeat the purpose of photos so instead he just adds a heart emoji with your username next to it.

it didn’t take much for the paparazzi to find your whereabouts. just like planned, they were outside the window you two were seated in taking photos after photos.

“do we go now?” sae asks, eyeing the amount of people that were outside the cafe.

“yeah..” you trail off, not really expecting a whole crowd to form outside. sae must've sensed that you were tensed with the way he stands next to you when you two were leaving the coffee shop

the moment you two step foot outside, it was an absolute frenzy. the press were everywhere on your faces. asking questions from all sorts of directions that it actually made you dizzy.

you were never one for crowded crowds. especially when they topple over each other just to take the perfect photo or get an exclusive. it was just never your cup of tea

you covered your eyes from the bright flashes that were all over your face, trying to maneuver around the paparazzi to get to sae’s car faster but the paparazzi was too much for you to handle. you instinctively leaned on sae for support as your legs start to feel wobbly. sae immediately catches on and wraps an arm around your waist securely, pushing forward against the hoarde of people in front of you guys

“get out of the fucking way!” sae barks, pushing the people in front of your faces. the group of paparazzi do make way for you guys as you finally reach sae’s car.

sae unlocks the car and opens the passenger door for you to enter first. he shields any possible camera that was trying to capture your face with his body. even going as far as pushing them away making some of the paparazzi stumble and fall on their asses.

once you were secured in your seat, he runs over to his side of the car and starts the car before speeding off. not wasting a single second for some short interview.

“you okay?” sae steals a glance at your slumped state, before turning his attention back to the road in front of him.

“... yeah, just dizzy” you say meekly, rubbing your temples. “i’m gonna rest my eyes for a bit, sae” you murmur, leaning against the window before drifting off to sleep.

sae sighs and speeds up faster so you two could get home sooner. ‘damn paparazzi’ he thinks to himself, not noticing how his knuckles have turned white with how hard he was gripping the steering wheel.

the car comes to a halt when the traffic lights beam red. sae couldn’t help but look at your state. he always knew you were bad with crowds but yet you still fulfilled your lifelong dream to be a model. he wonders who took care of you during flash mobs when you were out in the streets.

was it your manager? was it that reo guy? or was it yukimiya aka that person he doesn’t really like. sae hates how close you are with him. sae will also never forget your scandal with him. he can still remember it like it was yesterday when the news dropped that you may or may not be in a relationship with your fellow model yukimiya kenyu after being papped being cozy inside his car.

practice was hell that day for real madrid and sae may or may not have punctured a soccer ball out of pure rage.

the damned light finally turns green and thankfully you were at the last street before the turn to your apartment complex.

sae parks the car and turns to take a good look at your sleeping figure. you look too peaceful to wake up. so he gets out of the car and goes to your side to pick you up bridal style.

he gently puts one of your arms around his neck (for safe measure) and loops his under your knees to carry you. with the help of the security guards around, he presses the elevator up to your penthouse suite.

for once in his life, sae is thankful that he was an athlete as he successfully tapped in your passcode to unlock your front door with you in his arms. when he reaches your bedroom, he gently sets you down on your bed.

sae was about to leave to make some dinner just before you wake up but was stopped by your hand reaching for his.

“stay..” you mumbled, tugging his arm. sae hesitates for a bit, unsure if you were actually conscious or was just sleep talking. sae watches your eyebrows furrow when you notice he still wasn’t beside you. clicking your tongue in annoyance, you tug on sae’s arm harder so he gets the hint

“okay, okay” sae hums, slowly getting in your bed. he’s unsure himself on what he should do. should he stay still, wrap an arm around you, what?

to his surprise, you were snuggling next to him. your head nestling to his chest. sae lets out a small gasp. he definitely didn’t see this coming.

coming to a realization that no harm would be done if he wraps an arm around you, he slowly drapes his arm over your waist. sae suddenly feels like he was on top of the world, like everything suddenly made sense to sae.

sae caresses your cheek, brushing the stray hairs from your face.

“you still look beautiful the day i lost you..” sae whispers. he debates on stealing a kiss. he weighs out the pros and the cons and figures that it was more of a liability if you ever find out he stole a kiss from you, especially when you were asleep. that’s gonna have to be for another time.

sae was beginning to feel sleepy. he carefully drapes the duvet across your bodies. not even a moment later, sae is now fast asleep with you in his arms

you find yourself plush against something hard and warm. you try tossing to the other side but you were being held securely around your waist. your eyes shot up, now fully awake and aware of your surroundings.

“good morning” sae rasps, his morning voice sending shivers down your spine.

“what are you doing in my bed?” you whisper-yelled, actually genuinely surprised to see him next to you. your heart was racing, like it was about to jump out of your chest. did something happened yesterday? you couldn’t quite remember everything after leaving the coffee shop. it almost felt like a hazy dream

sae reluctantly unwraps his arm around you and scoots to the edge of the bed. you almost pout at the warmth that disappears but you internally scold yourself for thinking of such things.

“you passed out in the car and i brought you here” sae explains, now sitting up. “i’ll go make breakfast. stay put” he pats your leg before excusing himself to leave your bedroom. you lay there confused because that wasn’t enough to explain why he was quite literally sleeping next to you.

just the mere fact that you slept next to him sent you into a frenzy. you grab your phone and immediately dialed reo

“hello?” reo answers groggily, you checked your phone for the time and it was literally 8 in the morning.

“reo!” you hushed, trying not to catch the attention of sae “something happened yesterday!”

“what?”

“we slept together…?” your voice going up an octave, chewing on your lip as you await for reo’s reaction

a beat of silence passes by. you thought reo may have accidentally ended the call

“YOU DID WHAT?!” reo basically screams at your ear. you had to remove your phone from your ear from the impact of reo’s shrill scream. “DON’T TELL ME YOU GOT BACK TOGETHER WITH HIM IN JUST A WEEK’S NOTICE—”

“NOT IN THAT WAY, DIPSHIT” you say abruptly, cutting reo off. “i mean like.. we just slept in the same bed after yesterday’s turn of events…” you trail off, trying to remember every significant detail that eventually lead up to you and sae ultimately sleeping with each other.

“my guess is with the paparazzi. i just saw the photos” reo says, typing away on his keyboard. “not gonna lie y/n, you and sae do make a good couple” he adds, giggling

you huff over the phone, earning a hefty laugh from the other end.

“talk to him. clearly you need it” reo advices. it was like he knows where this was going. “ i gotta go for now, y/n. i’ll call you back later. duty calls. ciao!” reo ends the call before you could even say something.

you threw your phone on the other side of the bed, groaning as you put your head in your hands. what was happening to you

there was a faint knock on your door, probably sae was gonna tell you that breakfast was ready but to your surprise, he brought the breakfast to you.. in bed.

sae walks in with a little bed tray that you didn’t even know you owned filled with some breakfast.

“was all this necessary?” you say in disbelief. sae simply shrugs and sits by the foot of your bed.

“i contacted your manager about your state and he says he’ll be coming over to check up on you later” he notes, typing away on his phone with one hand. sae turns to you and motions for you to start digging in. “c’mon, eat up”

you feel your face heat up at his extravagant gestures. he was a man of service after all. even during your relationship, sae wasn’t the type to be vocal about his love for you. it was mostly through actions may it be subtle or not. you can feel the love with the way he does everything for you.

with a small smile, you start to eat the breakfast he made.

“sae,” you call. he looks up from his phone, a confused look on his face.

“need something?”

“come here” you motioned for him to scoot closer to you. to which he happily obliges. he is now sitting right in front of you.

he watches you cut a piece of your pancake and stabbed it with your fork before holding it up for him.

“here,” you say sheepishly, not even looking at sae in the eye. sae looked at you like you just lost your mind.

“can’t let you not eat your own cooking..” you mumbled, feeling your face burn in both embarrassment or something you can’t pinpoint. with a chuckle, he takes the fork from you. unintentionally brushing your hands together.

in an instant, you snatch your hand back as he quietly eats the pancake you’ve given him.

things are changing between you and sae and you’re not sure if you like it.

005.

it’s been a few days since the whole ordeal with you and sae in bed together. your management gave you guys a few days off just to keep things at bay with the paparazzi after the whole fiasco of you almost fainting because of the sea of paparazzi outside trying to take photos.

your manager did end up checking up on you that day just like sae has mentioned. you told him off that you were fine and just needed more resting before you can resume with your work. he reluctantly agrees and goes ahead and reports your status with your company.

reo and yukimiya also came over for the past few days. just to check things up with you after your pictures were published for the public. you had a talk with your two closest friends about your current situation with sae.

yukimiya was a bit unsure for you while reo advised that they’ll be there with you for every decision you make. he also opted that you two should have an open forum about each other’s whereabouts since the break up. clearly you still had unanswered questions.

sae was out again for his daily practice. although he did tell you that he’d be back around the afternoon.

you take this opportunity of being alone to actually think about everything for the past week.

this few weeks has been a whole rollercoaster. not only you’ve been reunited with your ex, you had to be in a “fake” relationship with him again for the media, and now it’s like you and sae were back to your old routines all those years ago.

a part of you does miss being able to call sae as yours, not just for the sake of the cameras but just because you really do love him and you want to be with him, but this time for real. yet, another part of you is scared that maybe there’s a catch to this. maybe in the end sae was just using you for his own sake.

you made a promise to yourself that you were not gonna have him play with your heart like that anymore. not again, never again.

but here you are, willing to take the same risk again. the things you are willing to do just to call him yours.

because at the end of the day, it will always be itoshi sae.

no one else has your heart the way sae has it.

you barely notice that sae has arrived back from practice til he was waving a hand in front of your face.

“y/n” he jabs a finger at the side of your head, an amused look on his face. “what are you thinking about?” sae hums, plopping down on the couch next to you.

“nothing much, just about life”you hissed, clutching the spot he just poked you. you leaned back on the couch, stealing a glance at sae but you made eye contact instead. immediately you looked away, feeling your cheeks heat up.

sae snickers next to you, a small smile on his face as he takes a good look at you.

“having a midlife crisis at your young age?” sae pokes your sides making you jump. you let out a little yelp, causing sae to smirk.

“don’t even think about it sae itoshi— AH!” you hold your hands out in defense mode. you know that devilish look on sae’s face. sae’s fingers reach your sides before you could even finish your menacing (not) threat.

your laughter fills the living room.

oh how sae missed this. how he missed coming home from practice and to have you wait for him. how sae missed you.

sae stops tickling you to let you catch your breath. barely even noticing the position you two were in. he was on top of you, hands on each side of your head. your cheeks painted red, chest rising rapidly as you try to control your breathing.

“can i kiss–”

the front door slams open to reveal reo and yukimiya in tow with some food.

“y/n! we brought you some food!” reo happily chirps, setting the food down on your kitchen counter. sae’s eyes immediately widen and rushes to get off of you. he stumbles and falls on the floor, just right in front of reo’s feet.

reo and sae make eye contact. reo awkwardly smiles at the now embarrassed sae.

but sae being sae, he brushed it off like he was in the middle of push ups.

“... and 50. 50 push ups done” sae puffs, pushing himself off the ground, pretending to wipe the non existent sweat on his forehead and ushers away to his room. not missing reo’s comment before he slams the door shut.

“i’m gonna just pretend i didn’t see you fall right in front of me” reo cackles, wiping a tear from his eye. “anyway y/n, we got you some food. i forgot that athlete was living with you sooo.. it’s up to you to give his share” reo shows you the amount of food he just got you.

yukimiya giggles behind him. he pulls reo to the side before giving you his infamous smirk

“reo, we gotta go now” yukimiya smiles slyly at you. he takes a good look at your ruffled shirt, flushed cheeks and messy hair.

“what? we just got here!” reo complains, looking back at yukimiya, who points out your current state. he then whispers something to reo that you obviously can’t hear. you stand there with your arms crossed, eyebrows raised as you wait for your two best friends to fill you in

“i’m literally right here” you rolled your eyes.

“oh!” reo gasps, eyes wide as he seems to put two and two together. he covers his mouth like he just witnessed something scandalous.

you were about to open your mouth to say protest against what allegations yukimiya has of you but both reo and yukimiya bolt out the door. yelling about how they were sorry for disturbing something while cackling.

“those bitches..” you muttered, shaking your head. you walk over to the kitchen to go through what reo just got you. of course it was his favorite steak with some side dishes.

“are they gone?” you hear sae call out from his room, his head poking out the door.

you laugh, “yeah. you can come out now”

you hear the door open and sae comes walking in the kitchen with nothing but sweatpants. you let out a squeak as your hands fly to your eyes, covering them from seeing sae’s half naked body.

sae scoffs at your reaction. “you’re acting like you aren’t used to it”

“was used to it” you correct him. sae’s mood drops a bit. you awkwardly fiddle with the hem of the plastic. taking out the plastic containers to at least lift up the now sour atmosphere.

sae looks at the meals you’ve settled down on the counter. “from reo?” he asks, going ahead and taking out some chopsticks.

he must be starving from coming home after practice.

you slid the plastic container that held reo’s favorite steak to sae. his eye widens and shakes his head. he pushes it back to you. it becomes a silent tug of war. sae ended up losing because you were starting to get upset and he can tell by the way your lips are jutted out and you were pushing harder, causing some of the sauce to spill out.

“okay, damn..” sae mutters, accepting his defeat. you let out a victory cheer by dancing a little in your seat. sae couldn’t help but smile. now here you were, watching him chomp down the food reo initially got for you.

“let’s head out somewhere” sae says, poking you with his chopsticks. you swat his hands away as you scowl at him. going out all of a sudden after he just ate?

“where are we going?”

“places”

you look up at him unsure. you didn’t really want to go anywhere this week knowing that paparazzi might be up on your asses again. you weren’t gonna risk your health again for just some dumb post

“but we’re on break with posting though” you protest. was sae really serious about heading out?

sae pouts and looks at you with pleading eyes. something he only pulls when he really wants to do something or get his way. something you couldn’t resist. you guessed old habits really die hard

“please?”

you avert your gaze elsewhere because those teal eyes are only trouble for you. you hear sae sigh beside you and you realized that was your last straw.

“fine”

you look back at sae who had a small smile on his face. his face screaming “i know you still can’t resist me” and quite frankly you wanted to punch the living daylights out of his smug face.

“i’m not gonna get dressed up or anything though. just a hoodie and a hat to keep our identities hidden” you say, getting up from the barstool to head over to your room to get an oversized hoodie and your hat.

“wasn’t counting on it” sae says, humming to himself that he got you to agree.

it didn’t take long for you guys to get moving. you two were now on your way to wherever sae was taking you. even if you kept asking where you two were going, sae simply shushes you and tells you to just sit back and relax

you were leaning towards the window, watching the city skies fade as you two drive aimlessly around the city. your phone connected to his aux, softly playing some tunes in the background.

your eyes peer over to sae who had one hand on the steering wheel, while the other was used to prop himself up against the window. you find yourself smiling at the memories going back to you.

the old late night drives with sae just to clear your minds.

the route sae was taking you felt awfully familiar. you sit up straight and looked outside to see that you were going up a familiar hill. you snap your head towards sae. sae catches your stare and winks at your direction.

the car eventually comes to a stop. sae silently turns off the car and gets out with you following behind him. there you realize where he took you. sae took you back to your favorite spot to get away from it all. the hilltop where you can get a whole view of the ever so busy city of shibuya.

the same place sae asked you to be his,

the same place sae broke things off with you,

“what are we doing here, sae?” you ask, sitting on top of the hood of his car. sae follows suit. he sits next to you, observing the view in front of him.

“to unwind” he says flatly, putting his hood on. you can’t help but look at him. what did he mean by that?

“you looked pretty occupied today, so i just thought i’d bring you here-”

you furrowed your brows, “then why here?”

sae stays silent. the sound of the city filling your ears. you can’t help but think that it was now or never. it was the perfect time to get things across. for your own peace of mind, and for the sake of it all.

it was silent between you and sae all of a sudden. you almost wanted to laugh at how ironic it is that you’d end up in this place again for the third time in a row with the same person.

‘how nostalgic’ you think to yourself. you get up from the hood of the car and walked towards the wooden fence. just to get a clearer view and to get some air that you so desperately needed before talking to sae.

“you know, this reminds me of the time you took me up here for the first time,” you start, kicking the rocks just by your feet. sae’s ears perk up at the sudden mention of the memory.

“i was so happy that day. to think we’d last for over five years. i was the happiest when i was with you, sae” you continued, smiling to yourself as you recalled everything.

sae can’t help but feel there’s more to what you’re saying. he can’t help but anticipate the bomb that you were about to drop.

“til one day, you brought me out here again. this time, to break up” you turn around to face sae who had an expression you can’t comprehend. his hands were stuffed inside the pockets of his hoodie

“you broke me that day, sae” you breathe out, looking up at the moon. “and to think not even two weeks later i see you with someone else” you let out a laugh. to sae it sounded forced.

“i hate you, sae itoshi” you finally look at him again, sae averts from your hard gaze.

“i hate how you took all my firsts, i hate how you talk to me with that voice, i hate how i know your morning routine better than anyone else, i hate how you always opt to cook because you know i suck at cooking, i hate how you know me like the back of your hand..” you list off, with every list you say, you take a step forward.

“i hate how even after all these years, even after you hurt me, even how you broke me to pieces, i hate how i can’t ever find myself to hate you” you finish. a teardrop running down your cheeks.

“i hate how i still love you..” your voice was shaky. your hands were trembling, here you were, confessing your heart to the guy who initially broke it.

you broke your promise to yourself.

with a deep sigh, you fixed your composure. you harshly wipe the tears that were running down your cheeks before turning your back on sae again to face the city you live in.

“i just have a question for you, sae…” you take a deep breath. finally. you were gonna get the answers to your questions. those times you’ve doubted yourself, those sleepless nights wondering where it all went wrong, nights where you ask yourself if you were ever enough for sae..

you were finally gonna get your well deserved answers.

“why? what did i do wrong? was i not enough for you?”

sae silently moves towards you. he pulls your head to his chest where you freely the tears fall.

you push him off of you, you were not gonna let yourself be fooled much longer.

“was it worth it, sae? was throwing away our years together worth it?” you seethed, tears pricking your eyes.

sae’s eyes widened, “i–”

“you know sae, even if i was in a room with all the people i love the most. i’d still choose you and you all over again. i will always choose you, sae” you cut him off, trembling. words shaking as you are basically spilling your heart to the guy who broke it into a million pieces.

sae’s heart breaks at the scene before him. it was too late for him to realize the damage he has done to you. for you to act like this.

“that’s why i agreed to be in this fake relationship with you. i wanted to find out why you did this to me, to us” you admit, tears now fully flowing. “i just..” you weren’t able to finish what you were trying to sae as you sob in front of sae.

“why sae?.. just, why?”

you barely notice sae approaching. the next thing you knew, he pulls your head to his chest.

“shh… let it out” he says, his free arm rubbing your back as you cry your heart out. finally, after all those years, it felt good to release everything. like a million bricks has been lifted off your shoulders.

sae pulls away, cupping your cheeks as he wipes the tears pouring down your cheeks with his thumb. his eyes flicker from your eyes to your lips.

“don’t look at me like that, sae..” you say in a low voice, almost like a whisper. peering away from sae’s eyes.

sae slowly leans in and before he knows it his lips are just ghosting over yours. without a second, sae smashes your lips together.

your eyes widened. you wanted to push him away. you put your hands on his chest ready to push him away, but something in you is stopping you from doing so.

how you missed this. how you missed sae

how sae missed this. how sae missed you

you pull apart, catching your breath. you look up at sae to see him crying too. he cups your cheeks, caressing them with his thumb.

“i’m sorry” was all he could say. he puts his forehead against yours, teal eyes fixated on yours. you can tell with his eyes that he was sincere. sae was also shaking as he holds you, his whole body language screaming guilt.

“i was young and stupid. i thought i’d be better off without you but i realized that i wasn’t. it was too late by then.” he explains, looking down at your feet instead of meeting your eyes.

you put your hand over his, squeezing them. relishing in the moment of two ex lovers putting the past behind them.

“i tried reaching out for you, you know?” sae brings up, laughing to himself at how stupid he sounded. “but knowing you, i knew you’d probably act like you never existed. i had to find out the hard way” he scoffs at the end.

“eventually, the stars brought me to you again” sae finally looks at you in the eye. “i took that as a chance to try and redeem myself. i think it failed though,” sae admits sheepishly, “i was persistent. i wanted you back and i did everything i can just to keep you with me”

you listen to sae stumble with his words. he’s trying. he’s actually proving that he was genuinely sorry for everything.

“i never stopped loving you, y/n” sae admits with a sad smile, “i never did”

you tear up again at his confession. because frankly, you were the same.

sae opens his mouth to say something but instead, you crash your lips against his. sae doesn’t move for a second but relaxes as soon as he realizes what was going on. he instantly wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you close as he can.

“i love you,”

“i love you too,”

you two find yourselves basking under the moonlight once again. fixing and treating each other’s wounds as you two try again. this time you two are sure that whatever you two have planned for each other, you two will make it right.

006.

the sound of an alarm blaring through the room wakes you up from your sleep. you feel some shuffling behind you and suddenly the room turns quiet again.

“did i wake you?” you hear sae’s morning voice ring through your ears, sending a shiver down your spine. you let out a small whine, nodding your head yes.

sae chuckles, and tightens his hold around your body under the covers. “good morning to you too, baby” he kisses your cheek.

you open one eye before twisting your body around to face him.

“morning..” you yawn, leaving a trail of kisses from his jaw to his adam’s apple.

“still didn’t get enough from last night, hm?” sae teases, rubbing circles on your hips. you feel your cheeks heat up. you slapped his chest before turning your back on him again.

“our managers will kill us if we’re late” you remind him of your schedules for the day. you sit up, slipping on his shirt that was lying on the floor, recalling last night’s events. you looked at yourself from the mirror to see some love bites all over your neck up to your chest. a gentle reminder that you were now his again.

“they can wait,” sae murmurs, slipping his hands under your (his) shirt. you let out a giggle before pushing his hands off of you.

“sae come on!” you tug on his arm as you two head out to your bathroom.

after what seems like an hour or so due to sae’s rowdy hands. you two finally arrive at the red carpet of the luxury brand you two have modeled for.

the screams of fans fills your ears as you wait in of the car and onto the red carpet where a line of reporters were waiting.

sae, being the gentleman he is and a marketing genius, he obviously makes a scene for your entrances. he gets out of the car first and holds out his hand for you to take. the audience goes crazy as you two make your entrance.

“sae, y/n! over here!” you hear a bunch of reporters yell out. lights, and flashes all around.

you and sae stop at the first reporter on the line. he greets you guys with a smile before starting his short interview. it was the usual questions about the brand and you guys feel about being the new faces of it.

“well, clearly they have a good eye for casting both y/n and i as the new faces for their brand” sae answers for the both of you, his arm wrapped securely around your waist.

the interviewer gushes at how cool his answer was and proceeds to ask you another question.

“my, my, my, miss y/n. you look lovely as usual but i can’t help but wonder, what does it feel like to be back together with sae itoshi?” he asks, intrigued, his microphone on your face.

you look at sae for approval and he simply smiles and motions for you to say whatever you want to say.

“well, it still shocks me til this day that i got back together with sae” you joked, making the interviewer laugh at your response and sae who fakes being offended. you laugh at his reaction before answering seriously,

“but seriously. i guess it’s true that if it’s meant to be, it will be” you smile, showing off sae in front of the camera to which the interviewer loves.

“what an answer from, y/n! well you heard it here first folks!” the interviewer beams in front of the camera, “i wish you two never ending happiness. thank you for letting me interview you guys!” he waves off, finding another celebrity to interview.

you and sae both smile and wave him goodbye as you two continue along the red carpet.

“do you really mean that?” you hear sae ask beside you. he was busy waving for the cameras. you let out a little giggle before waving around for the paparazzi and cameras around.

“mean what?”

“what you said about if it’s meant to be, it will be” he quotes you, tucking a stray hair behind your ear sending the audience and the paparazzi in a frenzy again.

“it happened to us, didn’t it?” you smile, motioning to your current situation.

sae was yours again, and you are his.

just how it should be.

bonus!

you didn't consider how awkward it actually was to be working on another modeling gig with your boyfriend.

especially when the poses instructed by the photographer and way too intimate to be imitated in a semi-public setting for your liking.

“what are you being stiff for?” sae holds in his laugh, seeing how motionless your poses are with him. “it’s awkward when theres people around..” you say through gritted teeth, praying to the gods that this shoot will finally be over

“it’s not this awkward when we do this alone though..” sae seductively whispers, lowering his head just right at the shell of your ear.

the photographer squeals in joy at the amount of shots he got from that pose alone.

you feel your face burn up in embarrassment.

“sae!”

#blue lock imagines #blue lock x reader #bllk imagines #bllk x reader #sae imagines #sae x reader #sae itoshi imagines #sae itoshi x reader #saeved

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hainethehero · 10 months ago

Text

Steve Rogers Trauma: A TED TALK

Why is it that any kind of commentary/analysis on Steve Roger's trauma has to be met with comparisons to Bucky or Tony's trauma? Or most of the fanfics I read completely gloss over Steve's trauma?

Some of y'all legit do not care or are blind to Steve Roger's trauma throughout the Captain America & Avengers films and it shows. And this isn't hate to any fanfic writers but rather an observation of most stucky and stony fanfics which seem to minimize Steve's character & trauma in favour of highlighting their fave's. And of course it's fine that people want to write about Bucky or Tony or even Nat's trauma, but MOST TIMES* I've read these fics and they all have an intentional disregard for Steve's traumas.

And this speaks to the wider discourse around Tony, Bucky & Steve- the three characters most written about in mcu fanfics.

Because why is it that anytime I bring up Steve's PTSD or his illnesses or the hell he would've gone through pre-serum, people always HAVE to add in their 2cents about, "well yeah & Bucky went through worse." Like.???? No, I'm not talking about him.

I absolutely love Bucky and he's one of my favourite characters in both the comics and the MCU but, respectfully, this ain't about him.

I'm talking about Steve and his life. The crap he would've had to deal with both in public and at home. Especially the horrors both he and Sarah would've gone through because of Joseph Rogers who was a terrible person and an alcoholic who beat up on his wife and sickly kid.

And even post-serum when he's completely healthy and living in the future now, I'm still seeing popular narratives about "Yeah he's alive now & hasn't gone through half of what Bucky's endured over the past 70yrs." OR "He's had it easy compared to Bucky who was being tortured by HYDRA."

Um, no one's saying Bucky's treatment under HYDRA was a good thing??? But we're talking about Steve here, not Bucky?

And how he was literally frozen in a state of purgatory & how traumatic it would feel to be ripped out of it and then basically thrown to the new world on your ass without any kind of therapy or help. Most people make it seem like Steve was in a Sleeping Beauty kind of sleep and then woke up completely fine. And I will admit the MCU has been the main culprit of that narrative because they deleted so many scenes that humanized Steve Rogers, that now the gen pop thinks:

he's perfectly fine

has zero trauma

should complain about nothing

hasn't had it hard like Bucky or Tony

is a lesser hero because of all of the above

I recently had a convo with a friend & we were talking abt the scene in Avengers 1 when they were all at each other's throats. And they said that Tony was right about Steve being a laboratory experiment & everything special about him came out of a bottle. And I'm like... yeah nah, that's the lazy ass writing that Whedon perpetuated that now makes Steve one of the most misunderstood heroes & people in the MCU. Because he was special before the serum because of his consideration of others. He was special because not only did he hate bullies, but he also went out of his way to protect those that couldn't protect themselves KNOWING what that confrontation might cost him as a chronically sick person. Tony needed a whole ass arc about literally witnessing & living first hand what his weapons were doing to innocents like Yinsen & his people, to change his ways. Steve didn't have, nor did he need any of that to make him special. (AND BEFORE THE TONY STANS COME FOR ME, I LOVE TONY, HE'S LITERALLY ONE OF MY FAVES IN THE MARVEL COMICS & MCU) But this hatred for Steve is ridiculous.

And once again, it's the MCUs fault because they made Tony the ultimate hero of the Avengers at the expense of Steve Rogers' character. Him being able to prove he was "worthy" all along by lifting Thor's hammer was a cheap payoff in the end, much like the entirety of Endgame was. Thanks for coming to my Ted talk.

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musicalmoritz · 2 months ago

Note

What are your thoughts on the chapter 118? MitsuKou fans are eating GOOD I can say that much

My thoughts on the best chapter thus far of the current arc? I’m glad you asked

I must say this chapter launched me into a full blown Mitsukou/Soukou brainrot. I have like a million fic ideas for both of them now and there’s no way I can possibly write all of them AND complete my requests so I just have to be sad. But omg, what a chapter!! I’m still stuck on the “smothered him with attention” line, that sounds like some shit I’d write. And ofc Kou being “captivated by that loser.” Ugh they’re so in love. I am now fully convinced that Sousuke had a crush on Kou in the former timeline when he was alive, you literally cannot convince me otherwise

The fact that if Kou’s mother hadn’t died and his father wasn’t neglectful, he would’ve used his free time to befriend Sousuke…and him being the one to save Sousuke’s life in the new timeline…oh I’m ill. The finger scene. Kou’s little blush. MITSUBA TEACHING KOU HOW TO USE A CAMERA BY STANDING BEHIND HIM AND GUIDING HIS HANDS. This was their cheesy romcom moment. The dead wife montage in an action movie

I love how their former selves are trying to reach out to them. No.3 was so unhappy with his existence to the point of wanting to die, and he wanted Sousuke’s life so badly but now that he’s lost it all he wants it back. Kou learned during the Red House arc that it’s okay if life is complicated, it’s okay if he’s stressed and doesn’t have everything he wants, and now he has to see a version of himself live in blissful ignorance. I don’t understand how people can say this timeline is better unless they’re fluff addicts, them staying in this timeline would do nothing for their character arcs and the overall narrative themes of growing up and facing reality. This life may be easier, but it robs each of them of their natural growth. I understand people are gonna have different preferences but the conflict of the old timeline MADE the story, do ppl rly want all of that to be thrown away for some “and then it never happened” ending?? Do you genuinely think it would be better writing if we never saw No.3 Mitsuba again and his arc ended with another shock value death???

Sorry for the rant lol, I couldn’t help myself. Absolutely no offense to anyone who prefers this timeline, it’s not like the fans are writing the story anyways so these opinions are harmless

I love how every version of Mitsuba wants to be someone else, they each perceive themselves as the “fake one” (excluding OG Sousuke) and feel disconnected from their existence. When I get around to writing my character analyses for TBHK I WILL talk abt all the queer allegories that go along with Mitsuba’s character but for now I’ll hold my tongue. All ik is this chapter made me love Sousuke sm more

Oh, and adult Amane…jump scare of the century. I can’t wait to see what his role is in this new timeline, I have a feeling it may be similar to Baby Tsukasa in the previous one. I love whenever the Yugi twins interact with Mitsuba (yes even the angst with Tsukasa) so that scene made me cheer. Also Kou saved his boyfriend!! Yippee!!

Sousuke and Kou wanting to run away together gave me major Picture Perfect Amanene vibes. Also HKOTO vibes, pls bring back the yaoi kidnapping🙏🏻

I think that’s all I have to say, Mitsukou fans were well fed this chapter. I’m eager to see the next one, still manifesting that Kou villain arc

#tw sui implied #mitsukou #ask #ask me anything #soukou #kousuke #kou minamoto #sousuke mitsuba #tbhk chapter 118 #tbhk #toilet bound hanako kun #jshk #jibaku shounen hanako kun

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lees-chaotic-brain · 8 months ago

Note

this is for your event 🗣️🗣️

here me out.. gojo fic abt the song tell your girlfriend by lay banks. something like having a crush on gojo and he likes reader too but reader and gojo are with other people. idc who readers boyfriend is🫣

WC: 1.7k

CW: alcohol consumption (all characters of age), swearing, cheating (see above ask for details), female pronouns (reader referred to as girlfriend), not beta read AT ALL, reader is a bit of a crybaby lol

Note: thanks for sending an ask in emi!!! also, this song is fire i was literally jamming the entire time i was writing. also, sorry if you wanted this to be more true to the vibe of the song. i kind of interpreted it my own way and rolled with it lmao

listen to this while reading

Event Guide | Event Masterlist | JJK Masterlist | Blog Navigation

You loved your boyfriend, right? You had only been dating four months, but you wouldn’t have dated someone if you didn’t have feelings for him. Sure, he could be a little aloof, and a little rude, but he had his moments when he was sweet and caring. So why did you find yourself thinking of someone else?

During the day when the sun was out and you were thinking rationally you could convince yourself that you truly cared for him, but at night under the low lighting of the bar all bets were off. When you were a few shots past tipsy and your thinking was slowed, why did another face keep coming to mind.?

Initially, I wouldn't do this

Hennessy pourin' and shit gettin' fluid

And you never intended to cheat. And you definitely never intended to fall for your best friend who was also dating someone else. But when you spent time with him, or when he shot a flirtatious wink from across the room he ignited a swarm of butterflies in your stomach. A swarm of butterflies that went into hibernation when you were around your boyfriend.

You knew it was wrong, that you shouldn’t feel the way you did, but with the heavy beat of the bass coursing through you and cognac warming your insides your traitorous heart finally decided what it was Gojo Satoru made you feel. Desire. And…love. Oh shit, that wasn’t good.

Suddenly feeling a bit ill, you waved your concerned friend off and staggered outside to get some fresh air. Taking deep gulps of fresh air, you stepped into an alley to get some privacy so you could collect your thoughts. You wrap your arms around yourself in an attempt to ward off the chill of the night seeping through the thin fabric of your clothes.

As you stand there shivering, your thoughts are interrupted by a warm jacket being wrapped around your shoulders. Spinning around, you find yourself face to face with the one person you absolutely did not want to see at the moment. Confronted by the appearance of your best friend, you can’t help but start crying. It’s stupid, you know, but as soon as you lay eyes on him the shock of your realization wears off and your emotions kick in.

“Oh my god, hey, are you okay?” He panics, grabbing your shoulders and peering into your face concerned. “Why are you crying? What’s wrong??”

His care only serves to make you cry harder. Why? Why did he have to be like this? Couldn’t he just be a bad friend and ignore you? It would be so much easier that way. Unsure what to do, he pulls you into a hug, patting you on the back.

“Hey. It’s okay. I got you. Can you tell me what’s wrong?” You can't take it anymore. You both are dating other people, and you are definitely finding too much comfort in his arms. Pushing him away, you avert your gaze.

“You, okay? You’re my problem. Can you just leave me alone please?”

His brow furrows. “What do you mean ‘me?’ Did I do something? Also, I’m not leaving you outside by yourself at this time of night. Please, can’t you just talk to me? Whatever I did I-”

“I just realized I’m in love with you, okay?!” Your voice rings out in the stillness of the alley, and you clap your hands over your mouth, horrified. “Wait, I-”

You’re cut off by him gently taking your face in his hands and slotting his lips against yours. The kiss is soft and sweet; filled with years of longing and suppressed feelings pouring from each of you. It feels like home. It feels like love. It feels right, but you know it isn’t. Pushing him back, you stare at him wide-eyed, your chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“What…what was that?”

We was just friends, but then came in Cupid

The tension was buildin', we had to pursue it

“I like you too.” He blurts in lieu of answering your question. Then he pauses and corrects himself. “Actually I’m in love with you. I have been for a while. I just didn’t think you felt the same.”

Unsure of what to do or say, you just start laughing, because the two of you were idiots. You were best friends who supposedly knew everything about each other. Except for the fact that you were each in love with the other, apparently. Oh my god you were in love with your best friend and he was in love with you. Your laughter became tinged with hysteria as you remembered that you had a boyfriend and he had a girlfriend.

Tears filled your waterline. “Oh my god Toru what are we doing? I have a boyfriend!! And you have a girlfriend! We can’t be doing this…”

“Why not?” He gently cups your face in his palms and brushes your tears away with his thumbs. “Break up with your boyfriend. Be with me. My girlfriend isn’t a problem. She’s known about my feelings for you from the start. She’s in love with someone else too and we’ve just been using each other as a distraction. There’s nothing in our way.”

Standing in that alley with his vivid blue eyes on yours, you couldn’t help but believe him. What if he was right. What if the two of you really were meant to be?”

What it's been with us this whole time

Taking a deep breath, you step back, and out of his reach. If you were going to think about this rationally, you couldn’t be so close to him. You push your hair back out of your eyes and tilt your head back. He watches you from where he is, knowing that you need space to sort out your emotions and thoughts. After a few minutes you turn back to him.

“Alright. The first thing I’m going to do is break up with my boyfriend and apologize. After that, I’m not sure. I don’t want to make you any promises, because I’m not really sure of anything. The only thing I know is that I won’t be able to live with myself if I don't break up with him, because he doesn’t deserve to be hurt or deceived. Okay?”

“That’s fine.” Satoru says simply, looking at you with so much affection it hurts. “I’ve waited for you so long, a little while longer isn’t going to do me any harm.”

Your eyes soften. “Thanks. Now, I’m going to head back in, okay?” He steps aside, allowing you to pass. Heading back into the party, you feel nauseous, but you head up to your boyfriend.

Because if you ever want to be with Satoru, your relationship can’t start with deception.

'Cause I don't wanna live a lie, lie, lie

An hour and one extremely difficult conversation later found you sitting on a park bench with your head in your hands crying. Surprisingly, your now ex-boyfriend had been very understanding and kind about it. While he was clearly hurt and holding back tears, he had told you that he just wanted you to be happy, and that he was okay with it.

After reassuring you that he wasn’t angry, he hugged you one last time, wished you well, and walked away. Unable to stop crying, you were overwhelmed by a sense of relief, but at the same time guilt. So you had told your boyfriend. What now?

Should tell my boyfriend what I been doin'

The weeks after your breakup were tough. You told Satoru you needed time to yourself, because even though you logically knew that you shouldn’t feel bad, you couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. You felt like if you started dating him now, it would be unfair to your ex, and that you should at least wait a little while.

You also discussed the matter of his girlfriend, and decided that it was okay for him to remain with her until you were ready, as the two of them were friends and he was helping her make her crush jealous. You didn’t mind him helping her, especially since you were making him wait and overcomplicating things.

You told Gojo as much, and decided that for the time being the two of you would remain friends until you were ready. You just needed a little time to figure yourself out. But you knew that you wanted to be with him. Just not right that second.

Took a break, had to focus on some me time

We can keep it low-key for the meantime

A couple months passed, and you went on with your life. Everything was normal, and you tried to push your thought of Satoru away, preferring to procrastinate on talking to him as long as possible.

Until one night, when you were cleaning your room and found a box of photos from your high school days with him. Going through them, you felt a sense of nostalgia, and affection. And suddenly you missed him. You missed him so bad it hurt. You needed him by your side, and you needed him as more than a friend.

Hit by this revelation, you sat there for a moment, stunned, before leaping up and grabbing your car keys. Driving well above the speed limit, you rushed to his house and banged on his door. Was it sometime after midnight? Yes. Did you really care? No.

You heard his groggy voice say something about waiting one moment, then the door swung open. And there he stood, right in front of you in all his sleepy glory. But as soon as his eyes landed on you they widened and all traces of sleep disappeared from them.

“[Y/N]! What are you doing here? It’s-” You interrupt him, tears already pouring down your face as you beam up at him.

“I love you. I’m ready to be your girlfriend now.”

Go tell your girlfriend that I'm your girlfriend (oh, oh)

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frootiest-loopdee-doo · 3 months ago

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Fop Peri fic concept incoming

I’m just gonna start posting the fic ideas I get bc 80% of the time I don’t write them, and I don’t mind letting other people have and use them. Hell, you don’t even have to credit me. I’m stalking all the FOP tags so if you write it I’ll see it. I won’t ask for credit, I’ll fucking SAVOR reading it.

Fic idea #1 Dale/Peri

“Peri’s Master Plan” or “I Can Fix Him” is what I’d call this.

First, Peri becomes dev’s babysitter. This can be set before the finale, or it can be au where dev never lost peri, or it can actually be after dev left peri. It just changes the setup a bit. If Peri is still Dev’s godparent he’ll have to be extra careful when hiding all of this from him. If he’s no longer dev’s godparent, this is his way of staying in dev’s life bc he cares abt the little shit!

His reason for becoming dev’s official babysitter even if he’s still dev’s godparent probably would so that he doesn’t have to hide whenever he’s with dev and also because Dale doesn’t screen the sitters ever so Dev probably has had some pretty awful ones.

Basically, dale starts hitting on the “babysitter”. Peri is initially disgusted, as you’d probably expect. He puts up with it though, for Dev.

Peri remembers a romance book about a beautiful female protagonist falling in love with and “fixing” an evil older man, and gets an idea about how he can help dev! If it’s in a human book it has to be something that could actually work with humans right? Why would it say it’s written by a bestselling author otherwise? This is a great idea!

Peri starts to go along with it, flirting with Dale, doing whatever it takes to make the guy fall in love. Peri overtime uses this as leverage to try and teach Dale why child neglect is bad (crazy idea). Dale does fall in love. Does peri? It can go either way. I’d say yes, I think that’s the most interesting way this can go.

Different routes this story could ultimately take, options A. B. and C.:

A. Dale changes for the better, though slowly. Maybe Dev Dale and peri do sort of family bonding. The huge conflict here though is that Peri definitely isn’t allowed to be in a relationship with a human, much less his (former or current) godchild’s dad. Will love prevail? Find out next time on dragon ball z ass fic here.

B. Dale’s treatment of dev seems to improve, and Peri is feeling pretty awesome about that. However, when talking to Dev, Peri realizes that Dale is only being a better dad when Peri is around- basically faking it to keep seeing Peri. Big angst. Peri confronts Dale- and honestly you can go as light or dark on the angst in this confrontation scene. Me personally, I’m depraved so if I ever write this it will probably be as dark as possible (I’m mentally unstable friends!).

C. Peri succeeds for the most part, but he doesn’t love Dale truly. This is eating away at him. He stays for Dev. He’d planned to leave when Dale got better, but as he understands the human condition more he realizes that the odds of Dale continuing to be a better dad are very low if he leaves. Angst, angst, angst.

Obviously Peri would try to hide the relationship from Dev at least at first in pretty much all of these. Dev would probably find out by accident. This could be done differently though, maybe dev knows early on. Maybe peri doesn’t hide it well.

Also, obviously you can take a different route than A. B. or C.

Feel free to be inspired by this rant. Feel free to steal the ideas here. Again, if you do, I’ll probably find it. I’ll probably read it. I’ll probably be very happy. Don’t worry about credit. Actually, don’t credit me even if you want to 😭😭😭

#peri cosma #fop a new wish #dale dimmadome #fairly oddparents #dev dimmadome #fairly odd parents a new wish

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loversj0y · 1 year ago

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saving face

pairing: siren x gn!reader (villain wilbur soot from tommyinnits clinic for supervillains)

tws: okay so, im going to be REALLY thorough because there is some dark content throughout so kidnapping, chloroform use, drug use (power enhancers), reader gets called sweetheart at one point, violence, injuries, torture, major head injuries, alcohol, alcohol is poured on reader, mental manipulation (attempts at it), blood, broken nose, siren tells someone to claw their eye out, mentions of a fractured skull and concussion

notes: big major thank u to @medlarwrites for this idea!!!! ive been obsessing over siren since i read clinic and had to write something abt him. im not in love with the start of the fic bc i had a very different direction at first but!!! dont care i like how it ended up!! so :3

medlars original prompt: “anyways lemme leave you a siren!wilbur who finds our his bestfriend from college got kidnapped because they suspect she's associated with siren and so want to get information about his identity from them :)”

word count: 5.5k!

taglist: @l0veb0mb1ng / @core-queen / @zooone

When you were in college, you had a rather… peculiar best friend. Maybe you should’ve cared a bit more about the moral consequences of what he did, but honestly, it was college. Your best friend was one of the most well-known supervillains, Siren.

That wasn’t how you met him, though. You met him as Wilbur Soot, the guy who sat next to you in your Literature class, who often forgot his pens. You had a small crush on him, so you made a habit of always bringing an extra pen for him. You became quick friends after, bonding over mutual hatred for the professor’s teaching style, as well as sharing an onslaught of opinions.

You didn’t mean to find out about his identity, it was a complete accident. You and him had this mutual agreement that if something was going on (life troubles, finals stress, etc.), you have free permission to come over for some company. If the other person wasn’t there, you would just wait until they got home. It was a good system that kept both of you from getting too lonely, especially you. He lived at home, but you lived in a dodgy apartment by yourself. He would always make an effort to show up any time he had anything he wanted to talk about, mostly to keep you from feeling too alone. One night, the loneliness had gotten pretty rough, so you decided to go to Wilbur’s house. You two had given each other spare keys a long while back, and it wasn’t the first time you’d done this, so you were quick to unlock the door and head into his room to wait for him to come home. When the door did finally open, it wasn’t Wilbur who walked through.

You immediately jumped, backing up a bit as you saw Siren walk in. Once he’d processed that you were there, he cursed under his breath, trying to console you while quickly pulling off his blindfold. You watched as he went from Siren to Wilbur in a matter of seconds, your head swirling with confusion. You two had a very long conversation that night, while you helped him clean up a scratch along his arm.

After college, you didn’t see Wilbur as much anymore. You worked a lot, and he worked quite a bit too. You two still saw each other, just not as often.

You saw Siren much more often, though. Since Wilbur knew where your walk home from work was, he would always make an effort to be there and walk you home at night once a week if he could. Sometimes he would only watch you from the rooftops, other times when it was a bit darker and there were fewer people out, he would walk with you, chatting about anything he could think of. Over time, what once had been a small crush blossomed into genuine love for your best friend.

It was nice, a really good system. Kept you and him talking, even when your busy schedules tended to keep you from each other. However, for as good of a system as it is, it also had some apparent downsides.

Like your current situation.

You didn’t know exactly where you were.

The last thing you remembered was leaving work. You locked up the small bookstore you worked at and began your walk home when you felt a hand wrap around you, pressing a cloth against your mouth. Whoever it was ended up being too strong for you to fight against, and it was only a few minutes before the chloroform reached your brain, knocking you out quickly. In terms of kidnappings, it was fairly tame, at the very least.

It took a while to wake up, your consciousness floating in and out a few times, allowing you to get small glimpses of conversations.

“Try and get ‘em to talk. Just being friends with Siren doesn’t mean they’re strong. We can break them, even if it takes some… stepping in.”

A bit of a horrifying thing to hear post-kidnapping, but even if it wasn’t on purpose, it at least got your guard up a bit.

When you woke up, you spent a few minutes looking around and familiarising yourself with your surroundings. You were in some shitty warehouse. Which, honestly, cliche, and how many abandoned warehouses did this city have? Large, brown-stained windows lined the top of the walls, allowing for a bit of light to pour in. There were garage-type doors every few feet, but most of them had large padlocks, except for one the furthest away from you.

Your hands and feet were tied onto the chair, one hand behind handcuffed while the other hand and your legs were attached with zip ties.

Escape was not going to be easy, but you knew a bit of fighting, Wilbur having taught you how to protect yourself. You finally looked over to the middle of the room.

It took you a while to recognize the guy who’d kidnapped you. You did know him, though, only because of the things that Siren had told you. Schlatt, previously known as Gunmetal, an ex-hero. His power was the ability to strengthen his body to a metal-like level, making him incredibly hard to take down. The Syndicate considered approaching him for membership, but he was… unstable. He got discharged by the Hero Committee after his increased strength led to the destruction of an apartment building. There weren’t any villains around to pin it on, either, and there were too many witnesses. It had also been discovered that he’d been utilizing power enhancers, which were supposed to be outlawed, in order to extend his abilities and allow him to strengthen multiple parts of his body at once.

If what Wilbur had told you in his frustrated rants was true, Schlatt wanted to take over the Syndicate. He’d attacked them numerous times, always aiming to kill, and he’d taken a particular interest in finding out Siren’s identity.

You sat up a bit, preparing yourself for whatever bullshit he was about to spew at you.

Wilbur caught onto something being wrong a few hours after you’d been taken. He had gone on a minor heist with Techno, and things ran… suspiciously well. No hero intervention for the majority of the heist, until Flame showed up towards the end. Blade handled most of the fighting for him, while Siren took care of their escape. It was when they finally escaped that he noticed something odd. He and Techno passed by your apartment, and he knew your habits well enough to know that you would not be asleep this early. Despite that, the lights in your apartment were off. A bit of searching later, and he was quick to notice your disappearance. When he arrived back home, he was quick to enlist Tubbo to see if they could get a ping on your last known location. Your phone wasn’t anywhere to be found, so he hoped he could at least figure out where you had been. Normally, he would pace to try and distract himself, but when it came to you, there was no use. He immediately headed out, trying to find any sign of you and waiting for a response from Tubbo.

“Good mornin’ sweetheart,” Schlatt chuckled, standing in front of a table in front of your chair. He had two briefcases set out in front of him, “Don’t worry. I ain’t gonna hurt you.” There was an implied ‘yet’ at the end of that sentence. You got a good look at him. He wore a pressed suit, and an airsoft mask – equipped specially with two ram horns on the sides, his signature look. His knuckles were wrapped with red athletic tape, at least you’d hoped it was originally red.

“Then what the fuck do you want with me? It’s hard to believe you aren’t going to hurt me when you kidnapped me off the street.”

“I just need a bit of information, that’s all.”

You scoffed, “Really? So you just fucking kidnap me?”

“It’s effective, is it not?” He chuckled, leaning forward, “Do you have any powers?”

You rolled your eyes, “Cut the shitty small talk. Why am I here?”

“To answer my fucking questions.”

You looked down at your arm, noting a small cuff wrapped around it, “If I tell you, will you take the stupid power dampener off?”

He snorted, “Don’t act dumb.”

“Oh, good, then I’m not telling you.” You did have a power. It was part of why Wilbur felt comfortable being around you. You were also a mind manipulator, but you couldn’t get people to actually do things for you. You could just easily see through their words and arguments. Which meant that you could get them to believe you were telling the truth as well, which would be a bloody good thing to be able to utilize right about now.

“Fine, be like that.” He held up a photo, “So, if you won’t tell me your power, maybe you’ll tell me why Siren has had such a close eye on you?” You looked at the photo closer, being able to clearly make out Siren walking you home.

“He’s just a nice dude. Wants to walk me home sometimes,” you shrugged, trying to act nonchalantly, “I don’t know much about him if that’s what you’re wondering.”

He snorted, “Yeah, like I’d believe that.” He pulled out a folder, spreading out numerous photos of you and Siren, hanging out and eating together in your apartment.

“Have you been fucking stalking me, you absolute creep?”

“Not you, but Siren. You just happened to be there. And I wanna know why.”

“What? You’re mad that a citizen can show compassion to a villain?” You scoffed, “Boo-hoo, poor Schlatt, must be such a sad life you have.”

He growled, and you grinned at how easy it was to get under his skin, even without your power. “I couldn’t give less of a shit about that. I want to know why he’s trying to recruit new Syndicate members.”

You laughed, “God, you could not have worse of a grasp on the situation. He’s just a nice guy. Came to my bookstore once, offered to walk me home, and we became friends. Is it impossible for villains to have friends?”

“Supervillains don’t have friends. Not without an agenda.”

“What about their healer? He’s a friend, isn’t he?”

“He works for them. He doesn’t count.”

“Well, I clearly don’t work for them. So just leave me alone, why don’t you?”

“Okay, I will let you go. If you tell me one thing.”

Oh, here came the stupid request. “Oh? Let me guess? You want me to tell you Siren’s real name.”

“Obviously.”

“Do you really think he’s that stupid? To let a random civilian he met know his name?”

“No. But I know you’re not just a random civilian he met. Because these photos date back years.”

You tensed a bit, trying to hide any clear facial reaction, “And?”

“And, no one who doesn’t work with him would stick around that long, unless there was something keeping them there. So, you obviously know who he is.”

“Oh, obviously?” You tried to will down the blush on your cheeks. “Is it really that obvious? You don’t know anything about me, and you clearly don’t know anything about Siren.”

“So tell me what I don’t know.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not falling for that, dipshit. If you want information on Siren, you’ve got the wrong person.”

“Yeah, except that can’t be true. I know you have a power you’ve been hiding, and we know that Siren has spent a highly significant amount of time with you, longer than he ever did their healer. And, we have photos of you with him and other Syndicate members at your apartment. So we know you know his identity. But we can figure out other ways to make you talk.”

“Wow, so you’re adding misuse of power against a civilian to your list of crimes? That combined with the kidnapping, not to mention the murder and the numerous times you’ve hurt civilians and destroyed their homes, oh and getting discharged as a Hero?”

That got under his skin, “I have no problem adding torture onto that list.”

“So much for being a hero then.”

His fists curled up, and he slammed it down on the table, “ex-hero, for a reason.” He walked closer, crouching down to be eye-level with you. “So then, you’re really trying to tell me that the numerous dates you’ve gone on with Siren just don’t mean anything?”

“We- They weren’t dates!” Your face flushed dark red, “We’re just friends!” You blatantly tried to ignore the fact that you’d been in love with him for years.

“Your face is telling a different story,” he smirked, “Is he hot under the mask? Or maybe you just like a man with power?”

You moved back from his hand, jaw tensing, as he tried to cup your jaw, “Hm, well, if you aren’t saying anything willingly, I can make you talk.”

He stood again, walking over to the second briefcase, opening it to where you couldn’t see the contents. You didn’t know if you wanted to. “Plus, this is all just a distraction.” He lifted your phone, turning it on, “They’ll be here soon enough. I won’t need you then, I can take down the Syndicate myself.”

A shiver went down your spine, and you prayed that Wilbur hadn’t noticed your absence.

Tubbo was able to find you pretty quickly. Just when he’d thought your phone was too far for a proper ping, he got one with an exact location that he quickly relayed to Siren. Siren was on it almost immediately, but he wasn’t going in alone. He didn’t know who took you, so he was going to be prepared. By enlisting most of the Syndicate to join him. He made it to the location first, but he knew better than to jump in early, especially since he was one of the least physical fighters. He did some surveying, though, spotting a few guards in suits. Suits were the tell of Schlatt, and he mentally cursed the team members for not getting there as fast as he’d wished. He knew Schlatt could be violent, unpredictable, and hot-headed.

The rest of the Syndicate arrived, and Nemesis and Thanatos made quick work of taking down the guards. Which meant it was time to take down Schlatt.

You’d lost track of time. Schlatt had some interesting methods for getting you to talk. Most of them involve hitting you, his ability making it easy to hurt you, if the broken nose and cut lip were anything to go by. But a lot of it was mental. Using taunting words to try and get under your skin.

“It’s going to be so funny when you’re little boyfriend comes here,” he snickered, grabbing your jaw to make you look up at him, “It’ll be even better to make you watch him die.”

He almost seemed drunk the more and more he continued, “Or, maybe, I could hurt him more. Make him watch me kill you slowly. Or,” he chuckled, but the laughter quickly turned maniacal, “I’ll let him kill you. I’ll make him use that shitty fucking voice of his to kill you.”

You snorted, and he raised an eyebrow, “Something about that funny to you?”

You looked up at him, spitting blood out of your mouth, “His voice is real nice, actually. Much better than yours.” You were playing with fire, but you needed to buy time to get him hopefully exhausted enough to give you a chance to escape.

He smacked you, a loud crack reverberating and echoing throughout the warehouse.

“You piece of shit,” he rolled his eyes, moving away from you. He grabbed a water bottle, downing half of it easily. You watched cautiously, becoming all too aware of how thirsty you were.

“What? You want some or something?” He chuckled, walking back over to you, “Be my fucking guest,” he poured the water over your head. You tilted your head back and drank some of it down. Once you’d gotten some of it in your mouth, though, you quickly realized that it was not, in fact, water but instead vodka. You coughed once you realized, spitting out as much as you could.

He laughed as you hissed in pain, the alcohol stinging the wounds he’d left. He went to throw another retort at you, but before he could, the door slammed open.

Just as Schlatt predicted, the entire Syndicate was there. You sat up, watching as Schlatt moved back to his briefcase and pull out a syringe.

“Siren, run!” You yelled, thrashing and trying to draw attention to yourself, “All of you! Run! It’s a trap-”

You weren’t able to finish your sentence as Schlatt stormed over, grabbing you by the hair. “Oh, Jesus, just shut up with your whining,” he rolled his eyes, hitting your temple harshly, sending the chair to the ground and you with it. The ground rushed up to meet you, and the darkness of unconsciousness was quick to follow.

Siren was pissed. Blade quickly began to advance on Schlatt, but Wilbur was faster. It was stupid, he knew he was being stupid to rush in like this, but he was angry. He watched as Schlatt quickly injected himself with something, some odd shimmering yellow liquid, and in seconds, his body started glowing the same yellow. Power enhancers, Wilbur’s mind supplied. He cursed, hanging back to allow Blade to hit first. Zephyrus flew overhead, getting behind Schlatt to prevent him from running. As much as Wilbur wanted to fight, he needed to make sure you were okay.

He rushed over, grabbing a knife from the table that he prayed hadn’t been used on you. The first thing he did when he approached you was check your pulse, thanking anything that would listen that your pulse was still coming through. He cut the ties easily, then he moved onto the power dampener, trying to pry the thing off. He had no clue where the key for it was, but he didn’t have time to waste looking for it. He started breaking it off when he was tugged back, Schlatt having grabbed the back of his collar. He slammed Siren against the wall, grinning at him.

“For a world-class supervillain, you’d think you’d be smarter,” he chuckled, leaning his knee against Siren’s back and pinning him there. He pushed all of his power into his knee, strengthening and solidifying the metal against Wilbur’s back. “You know how easy it was for me to track them down? You made them an easy target, Siren. You’re the reason they’re here,” he pushed his knee further into his back.

“Let me go,” Siren ordered but to no avail.

Schlatt started laughing louder, “What, you think I’m an idiot? You thought I wouldn’t prepare my mask for you?”

Fuck.

Siren didn’t have to fret much longer, though. Blade came up behind Schlatt, driving a sword through his shoulder. He’d put too much power into his knee, leaving the rest of him vulnerable.

The rest of the takedown was easy. They were planning on taking Schlatt in, hopefully, to use as a bargaining chip against the Hero Committee since he was wanted by them. Once Zephyrus had him subdued, Nemesis and Thanatos grabbed his things and started heading back. Siren lingered with Zephyrus, Jester, Blade, and Ender (who’d only shown up to help take anyone who needed healing to Apollo). Siren walked over, ripping Schlatt’s mask off.

Schlatt was still spilling curses and threats against them, but he’d quieted for a moment as Wilbur pulled his mask off, eyes adjusting to the light. Wilbur threw the mask behind him, and a sinister grin spread over his face.

“We need him alive, Siren,” Blade reminded him.

He groaned, huffing softly, “Fine.” He hummed, tilting his head.

“Claw your left eye out, then knock yourself out.”

Wilbur didn’t stay to watch the aftermath, but he heard the groans and screams of pain from Schlatt as he walked back over to you. Ender was waiting next to you, double-checking for any serious wounds.

Wilbur got the rest of the power dampener off, throwing it to the side. He carefully lifted you, making sure to be mindful of your head.

Ender gave him a concerned look, "It looks bad, but they should be okay."

“No, not should be.” Siren snapped his head towards Ender, shaking his head, “I need them to be okay. Bring us to Apollo.”

Ender nodded, placing a hand on Siren’s shoulder. In seconds, they disappeared in a flurry of purple particles, appearing now in Apollo’s clinic in the Syndicate building.

Tommy was sitting by the desk, playing on his DS. He perked up quickly when he heard Ender teleport in, looking up and seeing Siren cradling you. Siren moved forward, placing you down on the doctor’s mat in the center of the room.

Tommy quickly walked over, “Jesus, man, what the fuck happened?” He placed his hands near your head, warmth emitting over them as he began healing you.

“Schlatt happened. But he won’t be a problem anymore,” Wilbur huffed, tearing off his blindfold and coat, draping them over a chair. He paced around the room as Tommy worked on healing.

“You’re going to burn a hole in the floor,” Tommy huffed.

“I couldn’t care less, Toms. They weren’t supposed to be involved with any of this, I’ve fucked it up again, I-I put them in danger,” Wilbur ran a hand through his hair.

Tommy straightened, pulling his hands away as he finished healing, “Don’t start with your self-deprecating shit, man. They know you’re Siren. They’ve stuck around, and they always knew this could happen. You’re not to blame.”

“But I-”

“You weren’t the one who kidnapped them. It’s not your fault,” Tommy sighed, grabbing a glass of water.

Wilbur nodded, walking up to you, still unconscious, “They- they’ll be fine, right? They’ll be okay?”

Tommy took a sip of his water, nodding, “Yeah. Head injury was the worst of it, but it should be all healed up now. They might be a bit foggy when they wake up, though.”

“When will they wake up?”

Tommy shrugged, “Should be soon. Probably an hour or two. Can’t give you an exact time. You should get them somewhere more comfortable before they’re up, though.”

Wilbur nodded, carefully picking you back up, “Thanks, Tommy.”

“You don’t have to thank me, man, it’s my job.”

Wilbur rolled his eyes, “I want to thank you, dickhead. Now, go to sleep, child.”

“I am n-” Wilbur cut off Tommy’s response by closing the door to Tommy’s clinic behind him. He called Techno, and within a few minutes, Wilbur was being driven home with you still resting in his arms.

“They’re going to be fine, you know that.”

“I know they will be, but they never should’ve been there in the first place. They never asked for this.” Wilbur sighed.

“Oh, please.” Techno snorted, “You tried to scare them away way back when. You even used your ability to try and convince them to not want to be around you.”

“Yeah, but that’s not the same. They turned down the offer to join the Syndicate, which meant they never should’ve been involved with this stuff.”

“Maybe you should ask again,” Techno shrugged. “Even if they don’t want to fight, we could use someone to help out with questioning people. Their ability would work pretty well for that.”

“Techno, I just said they shouldn’t have been involved with this stuff.” Wilbur sighed.

“All I’m saying is if they do become a member, it would be a lot easier to keep them safe. Less loose ends that we can’t keep our eyes on.”

Wilbur bit his lip, nodding with realization, “True. I- yeah. I’ll ask them.”

“Plus, with how in love with them you are, it won’t be long before something like this happens again.”

“I- What?” Wilbur spluttered, eyes widening, “How-?”

“How do I know that? Wilbur, it’s insanely obvious,” Techno laughed, “I have no clue how they don’t know.”

“They won’t know. And you won’t tell them.” Wilbur hissed out.

“Mmhm, okay, sure. Pretty big wimp move for a supervillain.”

Wilbur groaned but didn’t respond past that.

The rest of the car ride was quiet, Wilbur gently playing with your hair gently. He routinely moved a hand to check your pulse, just as a reminder that you were fine and alive and here with him.

He carried you out of the car once Techno pulled up, heading straight to his room. He laid you down gently, placing your head on his lap.

The world seemed fuzzy when you came to. You were too comfortable to open your eyes at first, shifting slightly and letting out a soft groan. Your joints felt sore and stiff, but your face felt even weirder. Your face felt warm but like all of your muscles were new and had never been used before. You scrunched your nose, slowly opening your eyes and letting them get used to the environment around you.

You recognized the room instantly and relaxed as the memories started flooding back to you. The kidnapping, Schlatt, getting knocked out. You heard humming, looking up to see Wilbur leaning against the wall, humming with his eyes closed. He was fidgeting with his fingers and biting at his lip.

You slowly shifted to look up at him fully, “Hey.” Your voice was groggier than you’d expected.

He looked down quickly, “You’re up,” he smiled, “Hi.”

“Did everything go well? With Schlatt?”

He laughed, shaking his head, “God, you just woke up from getting knocked out and tortured, and the first thing you ask is if the fight went well?” He moved a hand to your hair gently, “Are you okay?”

“Well, yeah,” you shrugged, “I feel fine, just a bit tired, I guess. I feel like I’m supposed to feel worse.”

“Tommy healed you,” he supplied.

You sat up slowly, and he carefully placed a hand on your back, keeping it there until you’d gotten in a better position. “He didn’t have to do that. I would’ve been fine.”

“You would’ve had a concussion and a fracture in your skull.”

“That’s not the worst thing in the world.” You joked and gave him a lopsided grin, and he shook his head, chuckling.

He pulled you into a tight hug, “I’m so fucking glad you’re okay.”

You hugged him back, burying your face against him gently, “I would’ve been fine.”

You were lying. You were not fine, actually. As strong as you acted, you couldn’t deny the slight shake that lay in your hands as you thought about that warehouse and the overwhelming fear the image of that mask in your head put in you.

You could’ve used your ability to make Wilbur believe you. You didn’t honestly have the energy to do so.

“You don’t have to be fine,” he whispered, rubbing your back gently, “I know how terrifying it must’ve been. But it’s okay, you’re safe now.”

Your fists balled up the fabric of his sweater, and the tears started falling soon after. He rubbed your back as you cried, the waves of fear and stress finally coming out. You could only hold it together for so long, and Wilbur would always be there when you finally broke.

By the time you calmed down, you were left with soft gasps of breath and holding Wilbur like a lifeboat. He leaned over to his nightstand, handing you a glass of water. After a moment’s hesitation, he placed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

You drank slowly, not wanting to overwhelm yourself. Wilbur’s kiss didn’t exactly help, but physical affection wasn’t something new to either of you.

As if he knew exactly what you were thinking, he wrapped his arms around you gently, leaning his face against your shoulder. You leaned into his touch, letting your eyes close for a moment.

“He was stalking me. Well, he was stalking you, but he had photos from years ago of us. Of Siren walking me home. Of Blade at my apartment. Of Zephyrus in my living room.”

Wilbur tensed, keeping you a bit closer. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered, “I-I never should’ve let you get involved with the Syndicate stuff, I was so stupid to think something like this wouldn’t happen.”

“Wilbur, you never let me get involved. In fact, you were the one pushing me from getting involved. I chose this. I knew something like this could happen, and I chose to stick by you.”

“You’re not a member of the Syndicate, though. I know you can protect yourself, but I don’t want to be the reas-”

“Wilbur.” You hissed out. “If you even for a moment insist again that this is your fault, I will use my ability to make you believe that the best way to sleep is by falling out the window.” He bit his tongue from responding, nodding. “I didn’t turn down the Syndicate offer because I thought it would keep me safe.” You reached for his hand, taking it and squeezing it tightly. You didn’t know if it was your foggy mental state that made the idea of confessing your feelings so appealing or if it was just the residual fear in your system, but you didn’t care regardless.

“Why did you turn it down, then?” Wilbur asked softly.

“I turned down the Syndicate offer because I was worried about working with you.” You sighed, “It’s hard to focus around you, Wilbur.”

“Me? I don’t understand, we’ve been best friends for years, why would..?”

“That’s the problem. It’s hard to focus around you because I am constantly wishing that you would love me back.”

You held your breath once the words left your mouth. Wilbur pulled away from you, and you felt your heart drop.

“Do you mean that?” He asked softly, moving to sit in front of you.

You nodded, unable to respond further in fear of the tears resurfacing.

Wilbur reached a hand out, pausing and hesitating for a moment. He continued though, gently cupping your cheek.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes widened. “Only if you mean it.”

He smiled softly, leaning forward and kissing you hard. You wrapped your arms around his neck, holding him close as you kissed him back, putting all the passion behind it that you’d wanted to for years.

When he pulled away, you rested your forehead against his, catching your breath slowly. He smiled, fingers lightly tracing your arms.

“So… about joining the Syndicate then,” you started.

He laughed, pulling away to grin at you, “You don’t have to decide anything tonight. But it would be really nice. You probably wouldn’t be on the front lines, but we’d love to have you. Plus, we’d be able to see each other a lot more.” He grinned.

You smiled, “Well, I’ll give you a formal answer in the morning. But as for an informal one, I’d fucking love it.”

He grinned, holding you close once more. You ran your hands up and down his back gently, and he hissed in pain when you reached the midpoint of his back. You pulled away.

“Will? You alright?”

He gave a thumbs up, and you smirked, “Say it out loud.”

He groaned, “I am alright. I am perfectly fine.” You could feel the pressure of his words in your head, and they almost sounded distorted. A clear lie.

“Let me see your back.” You smiled, and he groaned.

“You know how much I hate that I can’t lie to you?” He huffed, turning and pulling his sweater up.

“I know, I know,” you took a good look at his back, frowning at the dark bruise on his back, “Wilbur, you have a huge bruise. Are your ribs okay? It looks like some might be cracked.”

“They feel fine,” he shrugged. The pressure returned to your head, and this time you could feel a sensation of burning below your hands. A big lie, then.

“...I’m texting Tommy.”

“No, do not!”

You already had your phone out, texting Tommy to ask for him to come as soon as possible, both for Wilbur and so you could thank him for healing you.

“Too late,” you smiled, and Wilbur huffed, pulling his sweater back down.

He wrapped an arm around you again, kissing the top of your head, “You’re lucky I love you, Aletheia.”

“I am,” you smiled softly. There was no pressure or warm sensation. He did love you. He meant it. “Alethia? God of… truth, right?”

He nodded, “It’s Techno’s codename for you. He chose it out months ago.”

You smiled fondly, “Cool. Has a nice ring to it.”

He nodded, “I agree. And for what it’s worth, I’m lucky too.” He smiled, and you gave him a gentle kiss.

“We’re both lucky. Maybe our duo name could be Tyche.”

“Oh, god, I’m going to have to deal with so many more Greek mythology references with you in the Syndicate, aren’t I?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

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