#is it too bright for this season lol | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

celestie0 · 2 months ago

Text

gojo satoru x reader | college au [18+]

kickoff ch.12 how you get the girl

ᰔ pairing. college au - soccer player! gojo x film major! reader

ᰔ summary. gojo satoru is the most popular guy on your college campus. he's tall, funny, hot, not to mention he's the most talented soccer forward the school has seen in years. but he's also a frat dude, which puts him in a world very different from your own, as he spends most of his nights partying while you spend most of yours working on your annoying film major assignments. but when he reaches out to you for a favor, you realize that helping him out might have something in it for you too.

ᰔ warnings/tags. 18+, fem reader, fluff, angst, smut, college au, fraternities, sororities, partying, drinking/alcohol, romance, jealousy, pining, slow burn, opposites to lovers, friends to lovers, she falls first he falls harder, gojo being an idiot, marijuana use, sexism, sexual harassment (verbal only)

ᰔ chapter. 12/x (probably 18)

ᰔ words. 11.3k

a/n. man the color scheme for this chapter is kinda giving BRAT lolol...i mean gojo IS brat. anywho, i don't have much to say at the beginning of this chapter but i do have a LOT to say at the end of it sooo see y'all at the bottom!! hope u enjoy. also BIG THANK YOU to @whereflowerswenttodie who beta read parts of this chapter for me n convinced me not to scrap it lol

nav. masterlist

☾·̩͙꙳ moodboard no.1 :: ♬.*ﾟplaylist

11:03am you: hi! 11:03am you: good luck today 11:03am you: incase i don’t see you

11:05am Gojo Satoru: Why wouldn’t you? Aren’t you gonna be on the field for your newsletter shots?

11:07am you: i mean yes but idk where i’m gonna be stationed so 11:07am you: it might not be on UTokyo’s side of the field

11:08am Gojo Satoru: Okay then I’ll look for you before the game starts

11:10am you: no pls don’t. coach yaga thinks i distract you. i don’t want to get yelled at again. he scares me :(

11:12am Gojo Satoru: Haha you’re silly 11:13am Gojo Satoru: East side entrance at 2 11:13am Gojo Satoru: Be there

11:14am you: or be square?

11:15am Gojo Satoru: Yea whatever shape you wanna be in is fine cutie

It’s a bright sunny day outside, perfectly blue sky with a scattering of fluffy clouds seen outside the window of your shared room in your apartment, and you realize spring is fully here from the way birds chirp past the glass. You’re stuffing your camera case full of chilled Kodak film rolls, your last stash left, and it’s the last piece of equipment you pack before slinging the strap over your shoulder and heading out the door.

Mina had offered to give you a ride to the stadium since your car’s still at the shop, but you’re happy you opted for the bumpy bus ride and although you come close to low-grade concussions from the bang of your head to the window at every other speed bump, the music in your ears while someone else is operating a public transport vehicle helps you think creatively before shooting shots.

It was surprise enough that Mina of all people was going to this game, and when you questioned her about it in the morning, she looked at you like you were absurd to assume anyone from UTokyo wouldn’t be at this game, and sure enough, it’s all anyone on Instagram has been repping on their stories or talking about in the bustling minutes before lectures. Even Utahime was going to this game, and she hates all intercollegiate sports. You knew the game was a big deal, given the way Coach Yaga was yelled at via email by the Dean of UTokyo to make sure the team wins today because a multimillion dollar Nike sponsorship would be greenlit by the prospect (for some reason you were cc’d in an email chain among divisional higher-ups, but you weren’t opposed to snooping in on conversations that were entirely outside of your tax bracket).

It’s because it’s the second to last home game before the season ends, and apparently this has been statistically the best season the UTokyo D1 Men’s Soccer team has played since the new millenia. No pressure to the players on that fact, but failure wasn’t much of an option for them anymore.

And you can feel the stakes the second you step inside the stadium. Packed would be an understatement, there were people flooding the aisles, overbooked for the sake of the university pocketing an extra buck no doubt, but spectators could care less since they were able to at least get in on the basis of that irresponsibility in the first place, despite the stadium’s capacity having long been reached before the pregame festivities even start. Banners and signs drape over railings with the school’s striking blue and golden colors, every single replay screen is lit up and brightly pixelated at every north, south, east, and west entrance for inclusive viewing. As you pass VIP security and make it into the lower field-level entry, the scattered chants from the crowd amplify in volume and you almost wince a little to yourself from the noise. The stadium felt like a living, breathing entity, pulsing with the collective heartbeat of everyone inside.

You’ve never been more overstimulated in your life, except instead of finding it frightening, it was electrifying. And for once, you think you can understand what an athlete must feel when playing on their own home turf surrounded by those that are wholeheartedly rooting for them.

Hana is quick to spot you, panic clear across her face as she regards you with a couple pages with your assigned vantage points, a rushed briefing session, and then she’s darting down the sidelines to make sure equipment is set up appropriately where needed. She’s understaffed, given you told Utahime about Kai’s little intervention last week and she made a nasty point to the university (and possibly a handful of legal threats) and they relented in firing him. So now the three of you were down a photographer, and the extra work shows in the instructions she gave you as you skim the sheets.

A glance at your phone tells you it’s close to 2pm, and your eyes take in the expanse of green on the field. UTokyo’s players practice kicking shots off to the right goal post, while YCU’s players practice shots off to the left. You can’t spot where Gojo is, but you faithfully head down to the East Side entrance like he asked you to.

When you round the corner, you almost crash right into an Ichiko mascot, but swiftly dodge, and then you stop in your tracks when you see Gojo standing right at the concrete entrance. He’s leaning back against the adjacent wall, arms crossed at his chest, and he’s stretching his neck side to side with a creased brow, an intense look in his eyes, lost in serious thought, scanning the wall across from him like he’s mapping out plays in his head.

When you approach him and catch the corner of his eyesight, he leans off the wall and flashes you one of his so extremely charmed to see you grins on reflex, and suddenly there’s nothing your senses seem to pick up on except him. Like everything else around you just disappears.

“Hey, you,” he says when he comes up to you, and you walk him like a dog back to a corner that’s tucked further away from noises and sights. You lean your back against the wall now, the coolness of concrete seeping through the fabric of your shirt, and he stands a step in front of you. Your hands toy with the strap of your camera.

“Are you ready to win today?” you ask him, and look off to the right into the flourishing seats that are still being filled to the brim, “clearly there’s no pressure.”

He breathes in deep, and releases it slowly, like there really was tension to relieve. “We’ve got no choice but to win.”

“Is that something Coach Yaga says to you guys often?” you ask him, because the man recited the same thing about five times in that email chain. “Also, apparently you take years off of his life.” Another thing he recited about five times in that email chain.

Gojo only addresses what he wants to address, as per usual. “Yeah, it’s something he says to us often.”

“So,” you say, “what did you want to talk about?”

He looks at you puzzled, tilting his head to the side. “Nothing. I just wanted to see you.”

It’s hard to assume that he didn’t have something to talk about with the intention of telling you to meet him here, because this is the same place you confessed to him a few weeks ago, and so is also the place he so painfully rejected you. But maybe he doesn’t think about these kinds of things as much as you do. “I see.”

His tongue pokes to his cheek as he studies your anticipating expression, and then he sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “What are we doing? I mean, I like you, and you like me too, at least I hope you still do. Why don’t we—…why don’t we just give it a go already? I don’t see how we can move forward if you won’t at least let me take you out on a date.”

Your hands stop fidgeting with your camera strap from his words, and you lick your lips, suddenly unable to keep eye contact with him so your gaze drifts down to his chest in front of you. His uniform is clean, no smudges of dirt or grass, just pure white fabric underneath heat-pressed blue and golden accents, and of course, that signature number 10. You’re sure he’s all you’ll ever think of when you see that number now for the rest of your life.

You know when you want something so bad you don’t know what to do once you have it? Because it almost seems too good to be true?

“I just wanted to let stuff between us breathe for a little bit,” you confess, “it’s just, it was a lot to deal with. Being around you when I thought you didn’t want me the way I wanted you. I don’t know if this is odd to say, and maybe I’m overthinking it, but I just feel like somewhere along the way, I kind of…forgot who you were for a little bit.” This kind of vulnerability would have you running away with your tail between your legs with anyone else, but not with him. Not after everything.

His expression softens, melting away that confrontational energy he had earlier, and he nods slowly. He opens his mouth to speak, but he can’t seem to find words. The presence of them is there, though, you can feel them. But what good are his thoughts if not voiced?

“I just wanted to spend a little bit of time getting to know you again, I guess.” You squeeze your arm in reassurance of yourself because he wasn’t giving it to you. You let out an awkward laugh. “I don’t really know what I’m saying right now, to be honest.”

You can tell he’s at a crossroads, and you think back to this week and his efforts to get you to open up to him again. You know how he feels right now, because it’s exactly how you felt when he rejected you. Like when someone is so close, yet so far, you can feel that they’re within arms reach but never truly. And they’re slipping away for some reason that you may never know, but all you can do is assume that it’s a fault of your own. You’re not really sure what he can do to make you feel secure about this whole thing anymore, and you can see the slight panic in his eyes when he realizes that too.

“I don’t mind waiting,” he tells you, rushed with a desperation entirely contrary to his words, “what’s a week or two when I want to spend a lot more of those with you anyways.” But he takes a deep breath, like he’s already mentally preparing himself for an agonizing wait in his head.

There’s a sound over the stadium speakers, something technical and sporty and goes entirely over your head in dismissal, but to Gojo it seems to have a different effect, as he’s suddenly attentive and stands up straighter, that focused expression on his face from earlier resurfacing. You realize he needs to get back to the field.

“Can we continue this conversation after the game?” he asks you hastily, already turning towards the center of the stadium. And he adds an obligatory, “sorry.”

“Yeah, sure,” you quickly agree, suddenly feeling like you’re taking up his time.

He gives you a small smile, unsure in its presentation but pure in its intention. But he can only take one step towards the field before you reach out and pinch the fabric of his jersey to keep him still. He feels the tug of it and fully faces you once again.

“Um. Just a sec,” you say, “I have something to give you before your game.”

“Oh?” he looks at you with interest, “I fucking love things.”

“You have to close your eyes though.”

“…what is the thing…” He squints at you with a what are you up to expression.

“Just close your eyes!” you snap at him.

“Okay, okay, jeez,” he holds his hands up in front of him in surrender, shaking his head to get his hair out of his face and then he closes his eyes. “You’re scary as hell sometimes. Excuse me for being cautious.”

You roll your eyes, useless because he doesn’t see it, and then take a step towards him. You cup his jaw with the palm of your hand, his cheek twitching slightly from the unexpected contact, and then you raise on your tiptoes to press your lips to his cheek. It’s short and sweet with the sound of a peck.

“For good luck,” you whisper, then you quickly lower yourself back onto your heels, take a step back and tuck some strands of hair behind your ear. The ground suddenly interests you.

He opens his eyes, blinking a few times with shock and his hand comes up to brush the tips of his fingers against the spot you kissed him, and then his gaze goes comically dazed when he reaches out to hold you. “Alright, c’mere you,” he says, closing his eyes and puckering his lips as he leans down to kiss you but you laugh and push his face away.

“No no no, only on the cheek for now,” you say with a small laugh.

He does nothing to restrain his frustrated groan. “You can’t do something that cute and then expect me to be chill about it.”

“If you win, then, maybe I’ll let you kiss me for real.”

“Maybe?”

“Yes. Maybe.”

He’s close, towering over you near this bustling east side entrance that he seems to like so much, and his eyes drop to your lips. “Alright. I like those odds.”

You give him a smile and slip away from him to get back towards the field, and you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

The pregame events are a blur, with blaring music accompanied by the sounds of the sports announcers clipping across the speakers, finally quieted down in time for the players to line up on the field for the national anthem which was then followed by UTokyo’s alma mater.

You’re stationed on the same side of the field as Minato, UTokyo’s side, while Hana is covering the sidelines of the opposite end with the opponents goal post. Minato’s filling up a cup of Gatorade for himself at the athlete’s station and then he comes back around to find you.

“Are you ready to take your shots? I see Hana wanted you to shoot on film today,” he says to you as he sloshes around Glacier Freeze in a flimsy plastic cup.

You twist your aperture dial with your thumb. “Yesss, all set. I’ll try to keep up.”

He nods at you in approval.

The atmosphere feels nerve wracking. Something felt different about this game, the stakes feeling high. Well, of course they’re high, because if they lose today then they’re out of the tournament. But the stakes feel high for other reasons too, an energy you can pick up on but can’t quite discern.

Your eyes drift across the field where you can see a referee placing a ball at the center of the field. Off to the right, you can see Gojo standing with a few of his other teammates, including Geto, Nanami, and Choso, and they’re all gesticulating to various corners of the field as they discuss what you can only imagine have to do with their plays for today. And you realize— it’s their last college soccer season. Their second-to-last official home match before the championship, and for those of them that haven’t qualified for the national league, it may be their second-to-last match of this caliber for the rest of their lives. One of the final chances that they have to prove something of themselves. The determination was palpable.

The chief referee’s whistle cuts through the air with three short chirps, and that gathers the attention of all the players on the field. UTokyo wins the coin toss, choosing to kickoff, and YCU’s players choose to attack the left side goal.

Your stomach churns with anticipation, the crowd hushing too as all the players take their places on the field. If you feel nervous, you can only imagine how the athletes feel. There’s a rhythm that you’ve learned over the past couple of months getting to know the sport, where players stretch out their necks and kick out their feet and take subtle deep breaths as they survey the stands. Idle moments before the start of the match where they have no choice but to look forward and only forward, so they take a moment to stay in the present for as long as they can gather. You’ve never been much of a sports spectator, and perhaps you’ve only recently had some personal interest in the team, but you realize you feel pride in your school as you stand behind chalk sideline and see UTokyo’s colors scattered across the field in uniform. And fuck, you wanted them to win. You wanted them to win with fierceness and wrath, and it’s a desire you share with the crowd.

Gojo spends a minute talking to the referee before the black and white striped man pats him high on the back in the good sport and urges him towards the center of the field. He lifts his foot up onto the ball, rolling it back and forth underneath the spikes of his cleat, and you can see it in his eyes, even from all the way over here, that he seems to have different ideas in mind for this game too. High stakes. Pre-determined, set with will, evident in the clench of his jaw and the concentrated furrow of his brow as he surveys the field with his eyes, and you’re lost in the sight for what feels like forever because you can hardly register the chirp of the ref’s whistle.

And then the kickoff starts.

The ball is tapped to Geto to start the play, and the first few minutes were intense as the ball was passed back and forth between UTokyo’s players, placing pressure on YCU’s defense as they inched closer and closer towards the goal. A pass between UTokyo’s #4 was intercepted by YCU and the ball was rushed down towards the left side, the crowd’s horror evident in the uproar as they raise to their feet in fearful anticipation, and with ruthless offense, YCU’s forward takes a clear sink shot towards the goal, and the crowd holds their breath before they watch Choso lunge for it in air, gloved hands firmly grabbing the ball and then pulling it to his chest with a possessiveness you can only expect to see from a skilled goalie, before he crashes down into the ground and the crowd releases relief in the form of rowdy roars.

Ten minutes in, with everyone on their toes, each team tested each other’s defenses. UTokyo were known for stellar offense, especially within the past few years with players like Gojo Satoru and Takuma Ino joining the league as powerful forwards, but UTokyo’s overall offense was still statistically second to none other than YCU. And the pressure YCU was putting on UTokyo’s defense was wearisome to say the least. You glance to see Nanami, who is UTokyo’s best defensive player, huffing and puffing as he stands between two light-footed YCU players in an attempt to guard, and fails an attempt to steal the ball before it gets to the feet of YCU’s striker #6, passed in a split second off to his teammate, with a fake so seamless that it has Choso just a couple inches away from touching the ball before it’s sent flying into the net.

The noises from the crowd are still loud, but dampened in spirit.

With the referees hand signal up in the air, the current score is confirmed. 0-1, YCU.

Coach Yaga calls for a sub, in which he switches Nanami out for who you believe is a 2nd-year defensive player name Yuta you’ve seen around practice with a promising statistical record for interceptions, and you watch as Nanami takes the bench before he swipes the sweat off his face in exhaustion. God. Just fifteen minutes into the match, and YCU already has UTokyo’s defense winded from play.

You bring your camera up to your face, forgetting for a moment that there was still a job to do here, and you position the direction of the lens towards the center of the field, where Gojo takes his place at the ball once more. Yuta briefly passes by him, signaling some play to him by holding up a number three, likely something Coach Yaga asked him to pass on to Gojo, and you see him briefly nod, his mouth slightly agape as he breathes slowly and pulls his jersey up to wipe at the sweat at his forehead.

The referee chirps the whistle, Gojo taps the ball to Yuta, and the play starts.

YCU immediately puts pressure on UTokyo’s offensive play once more, with eager movements to steal the ball, but it’s passed between UTokyo’s players with ease, more practiced and more sure. The kind of play that you and the rest of the school was used to seeing from them. However, Geto loses the ball on a left-back pass, but right when YCU makes attempts to cover field in a long-shot kick towards the left, Yuta intercepts the ball and swiftly passes it to Gojo.

The crowd immediately rises to their feet in anticipation, watching as Gojo shuffles the ball down the field, dangerously close to off-field boundaries, a signature tactic he uses because he knows there’s not a single player in the league that can match him in precision and control to keep the ball in-field on a steal, and he swiftly passes it towards Geto with a side-swept kick, beelining down towards the goal post, in perfect time for Geto pass-back to meet his feet and when Gojo was this close to a net, there was no stopping him.

He draws his right foot back, and explosively kicks the ball forward, chipping the grass under it in the motion, and it’s sent flying towards the goal, and then threaded past the goalie right to the back of the net. The cheers that erupt across the stadium rumble the ground beneath you.

1-1, even match.

UTokyo spends no time celebrating, other than a few pats to Gojo’s back as he nods in acknowledgement, no emotion on his face other than pure concentration and greed. The greed to win, like a righteous sin. He stretches his neck out, panting slightly as he takes his place towards the right side of the field and the referee chirps his whistle to signal YCU to start the kickoff.

They quickly make attempts in moving the ball towards their scoring-end of the field, but face push-back from UTokyo’s defense, unable to make it much further past the midfield line, and you bring your camera up to take a snap of Gojo, who you see is still standing off to the right side of the field. But when you position it and peer through the viewfinder, that space he once stood at was empty. You pull your camera down, and blink at the sight, and then the crowd is picking up in volume once more.

Gojo sprints down the flank, cutting past every defender, and moves towards YCU’s attacking goal, which was a shocking place to be for a center forward, but you could feel his desire and determination to steal this back-and-forth ball, and succeeds when YCU makes an open pass, thinking they were in the clear, only to have Gojo sneak in at the last moment and get the ball at his feet.

The play moves by in a flash, a blur that you or anyone else in the stadium could hardly keep up with it, movements so fast you were shocked a human being was capable of even running that far in such a short amount of time, and in an almost embarrassingly easy play, Gojo makes a fool out of YCU’s defenders as he slips the ball through the legs of his last obstacle before he struck it with sharp precision, sending it soaring to the corner of the goal, past the outstretched arms of the goalie, and into the net.

2-1, UTokyo.

It was electrifying, the feeling that strikes through the stadium, one that reaches you in your own blood. You’re shocked, standing here, after witnessing Gojo score two goals within the matter of minutes, against one of the top three teams in the league. It’s a shock that reaches everyone, including Coach Yaga who’s standing about ten feet down the line from you, his arms crossed, and you see his eyes for the first time as he takes his sunglasses off to get a better look at what he’s seeing.

You trail his sight, dragging your gaze across the field until it lands at Gojo, who is barely acknowledging the encouraging pats and shakes and goodhearted shoves that his teammates were giving him, because he was focused. It might sound crazy to say, but you swear his eyes looked like a fiercer shade of blue, like they were lit up, and you’re insanely glad you’re not one of YCU’s defensive players at the moment because you feel fearful of him even just standing on the sidelines.

Your gaze trails back to Coach Yaga, who slowly puts his sunglasses back on but his brows are narrowed tightly as he crosses his arms over his chest tightly.

The “athletic zone”... You’ve heard of it before. A state of pure focus, of peak performance, where an athlete experiences optimal concentration and a sense of effortless control over their actions. In which they perform at their highest level, where time slows down, any and all distractions fade away, and they’re completely immersed in their sport at hand. At the task at hand.

Coach Yaga seems to pick up on the fact that Gojo was on the edge of tapping into that state.

YCU makes a substitution, and you watch in anticipation as they begin the kickoff.

There’s fire in their veins with desperation to even out the score once more, rushing the ball down the off-field line, one of their center forwards mimicking Gojo’s signature attack pattern, and Yuta struggles to keep up with the expert dribbling of a fourth-year player with more experience on him, so much so to where he completely leaves the ball unguarded and there’s an open shot, but Geto places pressure at the last moment, in a fierce battle for the ball, before YCU’s center forward loses the ball over the goal line.

Choso picks the ball up, tapping on it harshly a few times as he surveys his eyes down the field, and all offensive players begin to shuffle towards their attacking goal in anticipation for the goal kick. He signals his hand down and then holds up two fingers in the air before placing the ball down on the six-yard box. He tightens the strap of one of his gloves, eyes squinting, and you follow his gaze down to a part of the field where you note UTokyo’s best aerial players are located and being guarded by YCU’s defense. And with complete trust in his team, that’s exactly where he kicks the ball.

Geto makes first contact with the ball, his chest colliding with two other YCU players as his head comes out on top and he headbutts the ball closer towards the inner field, and Gojo immediately gains access to it with a bounce of his knee. The crowd holds their breath, fear that they’ll lose the ball to a steal in the split second it spends floating in the air, but Gojo urges it forward with a bounce off of his chest and then rushes it straight down towards the goal post.

You wonder what sight he sees right now. Where you’re dead center, at no angle, lunging towards the sight of an open goal with a sole goalie standing in the center, anticipating to block your shot, and three defenders on your tail. There’s no room for error, no time to think, only instincts that you cultivate in the last leading milliseconds. They say that, in sports, athletes channel one hundred hours of practice in just a brief second on the field. A split second success that was years in the making. You can’t even imagine possessing that level of perfection in your body, or possessing that level of confidence that you can follow through with it in a moment as dire as this.

It was unreal, the way Gojo fades away from all the defenders, and faces no fear when confronted with the sight of the goalie in front of him while drawing his foot back to kick the ball. You lift your camera up at the last second, no time to think about aperture or ISO, just like he had no time to second-doubt a single twitch in his muscles, and his foot makes contact with the ball so harshly that you can hear the explosive sound even among the delirious cheers from the crowd, before he hook, line, and sinks it straight past the goalie’s head, rushing by like a scarcely deflected bullet, and into the net behind him.

3-1, UTokyo.

The whole stadium is momentarily speechless, all players and referees and recruiters and reporters and coaches and employees alike, before the most deafening cheers you’ve ever heard in your life scatter across the stands.

There’s a moment of brief reprieve, where the players can catch their breath while YCU makes yet another substitution, as if they’re just trial-and-erroring it at this point, and the cheers in the stadiums remain idle as you can’t tear your gaze away from Gojo.

It’s one of those moments where you realize that someone who you thought was so familiar to you was actually someone you hardly knew at all. You knew he was a talented soccer player, everyone on campus knows it, potentially one of the best to ever grace the league, and the amount of times you passively watched his plays on a lecture hall projector screen as your professor enthusiastically broke them down during class, even before you met him, was good enough for you to realize that he was insane, a one-in-a-million, a talent you cannot replicate, one you have by divinity. One you were born with.

And yet, somehow, getting to know him these past couple of months, he just felt so human. For someone so seemingly beyond you, he felt so…close? In those moments where it was just the two of you, it was hard to imagine that he was capable of such greatness, and that so many people were rooting for him with wholehearted tears in their eyes and cheers from their hearts, because most of the time, when he was with you, he was just a dorky idiot. You find that your heart is beating fast in your chest, that feeling of being unsure of what to do with what you’ve been wanting resurfacing powerfully.

“This is insane,” you hear Minato say from beside you and you jump a little from your thoughts being interrupted.

You twiddle with your camera straps. “I know…almost done with the first half and we’re up 3-1…I thought YCU are number one in offense for the league?”

“Oh, yeah, I mean, yes, that is insane too. But what’s even more insane is that three of the goals so far have been scored by one player.” He tips his chin towards the right sight of the field and you trail his line of sight. “By Gojo Satoru.”

Your brow furrows as you watch Gojo, his hands on his hips and his mouth slightly open as he indulges in a few shallow breaths to gain energy while YCU prepares for kickoff. Three goals, by just one player. Your eyes widen when you realize that is insane, especially for a D1 semi-final qualifying match.

“You know what the divisional record is for most goals scored by a single player during a championship match, y/n?” Minato asks you as he lifts his camera up to take a picture of the area Gojo was standing in.

You shake your head and wait for his response.

He drops his camera down and glances at the photo on his screen. “Four. During Keio Uni vs. Osaka Uni, near the beginning of the tournament back in 1997 by Osaka’s center forward number 24, Yuji Nakazawa. Meaning no one’s managed to beat that record since the new millenia, for a couple decades. Although a few players came close.”

You blink at him, and Minato is jerking his chin over in the direction of Gojo again.

“I think he’s trying to beat the record.”

You can only widen your eyes at Minato in realization, and then the chirp of the referee’s whistle draws everyone’s attention back to the field.

The sports announcers go wild on the speakers, the crowd raving all the same, standing to their feet like the team just won the championship match.

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!! We are watching HISTORY in the making!! Gojo Satoru, UTokyo’s very own 3-year consecutive MVP, has scored his 34th goal of the season, highest of any player in this year’s season so far, and is now on the road to beat the league’s long-standing record for most goals scored by a single player in a championship match since 1997!!” And the crowd roars even louder as you stare out at the field in awe.

YCU starts the kickoff following the prompt short chirp of the referee’s whistle, and with two minutes remaining on the clock for the first half, make desperate attempts to book it down the field towards their attacking goal, one of their midfielders making a clumsy attempt to strike the ball to the net in the final minutes of the half, and Choso easily catches it in his arms, right before the buzzer of the timer sounds, and the match moves into halftime.

All of UTokyo’s players immediately flock towards Gojo in sportful glee, finally having a chance to surround him and harass him with harsh pats on his back and ruffles of his hair for his play in the first half. Choso even puts him in a headlock because they all don’t know what else to do with their excitement and adrenaline rushing through their bodies. Their win for today was basically confirmed with the way he was playing.

You catch a glimpse of him through the crowd of people, and he has a boyish grin on his face, reveling in the embarrassing amount of attention from his teammates, that focused look from before dissolving into his normal self again. But you can see through him, as well enough as you’ve learned to at least, and you can tell he’s not satisfied. He’s thinking it’s not enough. There’s still more to be done, and it’s not time to celebrate yet.

His eyes scan down the sideline until they find you.

Your heart jumps a second in your chest. He stands up straighter, despite his teammates still clinging to him, and there’s a twinkle in his eyes when your eyes meet.

Cheerleaders take their place out onto the field, performing their numbers with loud music blaring, and the recruiters seated at their white tables get up to roam across the sidelines in discussion with referees and with Coach Yaga and with whatever players they can sink their greedy teeth into, as well as sneak at refreshments while they’re at it. You can see off to the right that Hana has reunited with Minato and she’s showing him some of the shots she took over at the opponent's side.

UTokyo’s players start to make their way to the benches to grab for towels and drinks of water and to sprawl across in rest, and you hear loud familiar laughter approaching as you watch the players sprawl across the benches, so you avert your eyes towards the source of the sound.

You see Gojo approaching the benches, two of his teammates slung with their arms around him in some type of adrenaline-drunken glee as they talk dramatically and theatrically which Gojo entertains with his own drunk-off-of-adrenaline glee. And you raise an eyebrow at his demeanor when he makes eye contact with you.

“There’s my freaky little photographer,” he says, and he’s standing up straight and—wait, is he puffing his chest out as he makes his way towards you? Oh for fucks sake.

Gojo has always been confident around you, for as long as you can remember, but in the fair few moments he’s been cocky, he’s been a menace. And you can only assume the testosterone-induced high of being on the verge of breaking a league record in front of the entire school then subsequently getting homiesexually praised by his teammates for the better part of the past five minutes, not to mention with the crowd and the reporters feeding his ego with a spoon across the speakers, he’s been transformed into the final boss of cocky.

His teammates surround you too, their hands on their hips as they assess you and Gojo when he meanders right up to you, arms held out to hug you, a sleazy sight you’ve seen probably six times this week, and you feel a rush of warmth in your cheeks as you place a hand on his chest to keep him away.

“You’re sweaty and gross, please stay away from me,” you reprimand him, “this is an expensive lens that is not humidity-proof.”

“Hey, you’re the girl that Kentaro socked in the face with a ball the other day at practice, right?” one of his teammates asks, leaning in towards you to take a closer look at your face.

“Oh yeahhh, ��cause Satoru wasn’t paying attention,” another one of his teammates chimes in teasingly, hardly heard over the loud remix playing in the background as the cheerleaders continue to perform on the field.

You shrink a little from where you stand. Gojo’s got an irritated look on his face and he’s shrugging his teammate’s elbow off of his shoulder.

“I really hope you’re getting my good angles,” his teammate to the left comments before winking at you, and you purse your lips together.

The one on the right leans in too, looking at your cheek with an assessing look in his eye. “At least it didn’t leave a scar on your cute face—”

Gojo shoves the both of them back and away from you by elbowing them in the chest, and they make deep eugh noises before stepping away and rubbing at their sternums with pouts on their faces.

“Get the fuck away from her,” he grumbles, “she’s mine.”

Your cheeks flush slightly with warmth at the attention, and you watch as his teammates scurry away to adhere to some social hierarchy Gojo seems to possess over them.

You raise an eyebrow at him. “Yours?”

“Yes. Eventually. Whatever, did you see me out there?” he turns his torso towards the field and points behind himself with his thumb, “when I—”

“Oh god, you know what’s soooooooooo super sexy to me?” you interrupt him. “When guys are humble.”

“Oh c’monnn,” he curls his arm around your waist and pulls you to him, to where you stumble a little on grass and he holds you when you fall into him with more clumsiness than grace. “Tell me you aren’t at least impressed by me.”

You pout, because you are, and you’d really like to give him some reassurance and validation, but for some reason his cocky attitude is setting you off. “Satoru,” you sigh, wiggling a little in his hug, but he holds you tighter, “I’m working right now. Cut it out.”

He lets go of you at that, sober enough from the adrenaline to realize you’re being serious, but he steps into your space so only you can hear him. “What? Are you embarrassed?”

“Of what?” Your face twists with confusion.

“Of me. Are you embarrassed of me?” he asks.

“No. Why would I be embarrassed of you?” you ask with sharpness.

“I don’t know, just, sometimes I feel like you’re always annoyed by me,” he says with a sigh. “It’s like, you’re really sweet sometimes, and then kinda rude out of nowhere, and it’s sort of messing with my head.”

You pout. “You were messing with my head for weeks.”

“And I’m sorry about that,” he quickly interjects, like he already knew you were brewing up that counterargument, “but you don’t have to act like you’re all disinterested and indifferent just to get back at me for it.” He places his hands on his hips and wipes his temple on the round part of his shoulder when he feels a drop of sweat trickle down from his hairline. “You don’t have to act embarrassed around me either.”

“I’m not embarrassed,” you deny, and your cheeks feel hot, and for some reason you feel angry. “In fact, I’m the one that should be asking you that question. Because I still very clearly remember that time you said I was just someone you know in front of your friends.”

He groans and tilts his head back with frustration. “Can you just let that go? Things have changed between us since then. Move on.”

“You kissed me and then pretended I was just a stranger to you in front of your friends,” you grit as you cross your arms. “That’s the level of sincerity that I know from you, Satoru.”

“Oh, okay, so there’s nothing else I’ve done that shows you that I’m serious about you?” he asks rhetorically with incredulity, throwing his hands up in the air in disbelief.

No. That’s not true, not true at all. But he’s pissed you off now and so all logic was to the wind. “Doesn’t matter. If you’re not embarassed of me, and if you’re really serious about me this time, then fucking prove it.” You’re speaking out of spite, and you fear you’ve just set him off too.

“Fine,” he says, and he grabs the microphone straight out from a passing reporter’s hand, replacing it with a gatorade bottle. The reporter stares at the bottle he’s now holding with confusion. “I will.”

“W-Wait—” you squeak out, feeling the hair at the back of your neck bristle in anticipation and a shiver gets sent down your spine. The cheerleaders are making their way off the field at the end of their routine, and you can hear the thumps across the loud boisterous speakers when Gojo whacks his palm to the microphone to make sure the thing was on before he jogs to the center of the field.

The crowd is already cheering, ecstatic to see the afternoon's star player and pride & joy of their school, and Gojo takes a moment to soak in all the glory in comical appreciation with bowing towards all 360 degree angles of the stadium.

“Uhhh,” you hear Choso from beside you, who’s strapping his thick goalie gloves tightly to his wrists, “Why the fuck does Satoru have a microphone while standing in the middle of the field.”

“It can’t be for any publicly decent reason,” Geto muses.

All you can do is watch.

“Hi, uh,” Gojo starts, static blaring slightly across the speakers and the crowd winces with him, “sorry. I’m Satoru, Gojo Satoru, you might know me from—uh, the game you’ve been watching?”

Cheers all around, because as if a single person wouldn’t know who he is. The stands were rowdy and most definitely drunk off of sidestep beers the stadium has been serving all afternoon long.

Gojo is about to continue speaking, when he catches sight of the table of recruiters in the corner of his eye and he turns to face them out of respect. “Oh, yeah, uh, number 10,” he tugs his jersey up at the shoulder to stretch out the fabric, the 1 and the 0 flattened in view, “division player ID 233-997. Coach Yaga keeps my business cards in his purse if you want one.”

“SAAAAATTOOORRUUUU!!!!!” you hear Coach Yaga yell from somewhere in the distance.

“Anywho,” Gojo continues, and the music dims slightly, so he glances at the stop clock on the screen, which shows him he’s got roughly five minutes left to pull off whatever idiocracy he had in mind before the second half of the game starts. “Just here to say that there’s this girl I really like.”

The crowd gets louder, almost deafening, and sonically mostly feminine in (delusional) hope he’s gonna name call one of them.

Gojo’s voice is crisp and clear through the speakers as he clarifies. “She’s standing over there,” he says as he nonchalantly points to your exact latitude and longitudinal direction, “with the big camera slung around her neck that looks like it could pull her down to the center of the earth. Yeah. She’s super cute and I really like talking to her.”

“Uh-oh,” Geto murmurs from beside you, and you glance at him to try to get a read on the situation but you can’t.

Gojo starts to pace across the center of the field now, like he’s working the crowd. “But get this—she thinks I’m not fuckin’ serious about her!!!”

The crowd groans with him in unison. Yep, most certainly drunk. Or high off of glee. Either way, he’s playing them like a violin.

“Huh?” Gojo’s voice sounds distant now, away from the mic, and you can see on the large pixelated screen that he’s being interrupted by someone that looks like one of the videographers, “oh, what’s that? This is being broadcasted? Uh-huh. Oh. I’m not allowed to cuss? Oh fuck, okay. Er— shit, okay. Wait—shoot, okay.”

Choso’s smirk is heard from beside you, and you catch Geto and Nanami shaking their heads in your periphery.

“LIKE I SAID,” Gojo continues into the mic, “the girl I like thinks I’m just messing around, so. Uh. To show her that I’m serious about her, I’m gonna…” He looks up at the sky to ponder, and you can hear people shouting all sorts of suggestions of nonsense from the crowd. And instead of saying proclaim my undying affection for her through a romantic soliloquy straight from my heart in the presence of the entire school, he says—“I’m gonna strip. Yes. Down to my tighty whities, Imma strip.”

H–

Huh?!?!?

You don’t even have time to be horrified or scared, you’re just bewildered beyond belief that that’s what he came up with.

What the fuck kind of reassurance did you ask for. And what the fuck kind of reassurance were you about to get?

The crowd goes wild, it’s no surprise to say everyone and their mothers wants to see him naked, even the straight dudes would dig it for the gym inspo. And he points straight to you, sleazy look on his face and you’re going to ignore the fact that he just winked at you too as he crosses his arms to hold the hem of his jersey and pulls it up over his head in the most raunchy and slutty way a man can take his shirt off.

The music manager is quick with the bit, and is most definitely a fellow Gen Z college student, because Justin Timberlake’s SexyBack (ft. Timbaland) starts playing across the speakers and the crowd goes ballistic.

“Ayo why’s Satoru Magic Mike’ing the field right now?” one of his other teammates calls out through a mouthful of protein bar, “What the fuck did I miss?”

The cameraman does God’s work in a hella zoom-in of Gojo’s sweat glistened abs, then pans up the naked expanse of the perfect taut skin across his chest, and you can’t help but stare even among all your horror. It’s like when a male bird embarrasses the fuck outta himself to attract a female bird sitting on a perch, except instead of within the context of a NatGeo documentary, this was your real life. Everyone wants him, but he’s making a fool out of himself for you.

He pretends to stretch his arms up into the air, a cover-up to flex his biceps, and then he kicks his cleats off, and the socks come off too. Entirely unnecessary, as showing one's ankles is simply too slutty, but alas he’s a whore. And when his thumbs dip into the waistband of his shorts, and there’s anticipating screeching from the crowd, he finally gets chased by security.

Except he’s an intercollegiate D1 athlete, why the fuck wouldn’t he be able to outrun a bunch of dudes in black?

The camerawork on him is phenomenal as he runs across the sidelines of the field, eliciting a wave down the bleachers. So good in fact that you’re pretty sure the camera man could shoot for the Olympic track and field, with the way the stadium’s got a clear sight of Gojo mouthing the lyrics Them other fuckers don’t know how to act from the song still blaring with satirical rage on his face as he makes a fool of the men chasing him around the perimeter of the field.

And then he does it, drops his shorts, discards them with a kick, and he’s down to his tighty whities as promised. Cameraman has got to be displaying some previously undiscovered level of talent as he zeroes in on a shot of said tighty whities, with Gojo’s—forgive me, I need to be crass—huge bulge prominent in Big Dick Energy fashion except his tighty whities have little red hearts in rows across the fabric so do with that duality what you will.

He’s outrun security with a steady grin on his face as he eats up the drunken crowd’s cheers and riots and roars and you feel like you’re the only sane person in this stadium, or maybe you’re just not used to the fanatics of a college sports crowd. You peep the men in black trailed all the way on the left side of the field where they abandoned their pursuit of Gojo.

He taps imaginary pockets at his thighs, very muscular thighs you take indulgence in noticing, as if he expected to find something there, and he looks around when he doesn’t. He shrugs and grabs the microphone of the next passing sports commentator he spots, and then he makes his way back to you.

His breathing is a little shallow, and he inhales deep to catch his breath. “Baby.” The crowd SCREAMS at the way he purrs the word into the mic. “Will you do me the honor,” he’s huffing and puffing, heard across blaring speakers, “of being my lawfully wedded girlfriend?” And then he holds the mic to your lips.

“W-Wha—” you stutter, and there’s chanting across the crowd with words that barely make sense until you finally realize they’ve started to yell say yes! say yes! say yes! “Oh my gosh, okay, yes, fine, now please, for the love of god, put some freaking clothes on!”

The crowd goes wild with cheerful glees, and Gojo shoots fists up in the air in celebration as he runs all the way towards the center of the field with high knees, and you’re gawking at the sight, before he falls backward onto the grass and makes delirious snow angels on the ground. You see Coach Yaga’s vein popping in his neck from pure agitation as he storms off towards the center of the field to knock some sense into Gojo, but you know that Coach Yaga can’t kick him out, because they still have a game to win. The perks of being the most valued player in the league is getting to act like an absolutely insane idiot because you know they still need you in the end to bring it home.

You glance to the right, seeing his teammates nodding slowly then getting back to wrapping athletic tape around ankles and stretching out shoulders, with immediate acceptance of his actions like it wasn’t even out of character for him to do. And you realize again that you don’t know Gojo as well as you think you do.

And then the halftime timer is up.

You see Gojo approach the benches in a quick jog, squeezing some water into his mouth with his green gatorade squirt bottle, and when your eyes flit up to the screens on all four entrances, you see that the cameramen are still all focused on him accompanied by the continued buzz of conversation among the crowd following his public spectacle. But he seems to already be past any semblance of embarrassment as he takes the attention with ease, before he glances up to make eye contact with you and then lightly jogs right up to you.

��Did that prove to you that I’m not embarrassed of you?” he asks you, cocking a brow with a smug look on his face as he gets all up in your personal space.

“I don’t know, but I’m certainly thoroughly and expeditiously embarrassed of you now,” you say, cheeks feeling flush when he leans forward so he can make eye contact with you at eye level. “I’ll have to move to a different country.”

His grin is relaxed. “Yeah well you asked for it.”

“Maybe. But I underestimated what a lunatic you are.”

“You’re my girlfriend now, you’ve gotta get used to it.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. “Satoru–”

“Tomorrow,” he cuts you off, “Hinode pier. I’ll pick you up at six. It’s a date, so wear something cute. And preferably easy to take off.” And then he’s attentive to the chirp of the referee’s whistle in the air before jogging backwards towards the feel and eventually turns on his heel towards the field while you’re left with warm cheeks and a heart that felt like it was moving at a mile a minute.

The timer for the second half refreshes on the screen while you loosely hold your camera in your shaking hands. It occurs to you that you haven’t taken a single photo of him before the start of the kickoff, and so you bring the piece of consolidated metal up to your eyes, peering through the viewfinder and focusing it on the center of the field. And there he was. Your muse.

Gojo lets out a breath, which you can see even from here that it’s shaky and staggered with resistance, and he lifts his jersey up to swipe at the sweat trickling down his face as he eyes the ball underneath YCU’s player’s foot just prior to the start of the second half. There it was—that look again of pure focus.

3-1, forty-five minutes on the clock. And the referee chirps the whistle to start the second half.

It’s immediately evident that YCU has returned to the field following halftime with renewed energy, pressing high down the flank relentlessly past UTokyo’s defense, so fast it was hard for anybody to even keep a steady eye on the ball with the fluidity of their passes. The persistence pays off in the fake double-pass that slips past Geto’s feet, a moment of hesitation in the broken flow of UTokyo’s defense, and one of YCU’s strikers has the perfect line of shot towards the goal before digging his foot under the ball and sending it flying towards the corner of the goal post, scoring themselves a goal within just the first five minutes of play.

3-2.

The pressure mounts at the next kickoff, and with about seven minutes of solid play, with back-and-forth passes, multiple attempts at both goal posts to no avail on either side, it was clear that exhaustion was bustling in the veins of all the players.

One of YCU’s offensive players seems to capitalize on this, jumping on a defensive lapse of a pass Nanami attempted to make towards Yuta, and the ball is swiftly stolen then raced back towards the goal post. Choso prepared himself at the line, light on his feet paired with a solid stance, but in a millisecond of a moment, YCU’s offense unexpectedly passes the ball to a player racing up the midfield, and the player chips the ball neatly into the exposed corner of the goal despite Choso’s attempt to lunge for it in mid air.

Equalized, 3-3 game, momentary shock across the players’ faces, and the crowd bustles with something that sounds less like glee and more life fear. YCU was prepared to live up to and hold onto their title as the league’s number one offense, and as Minato explained to you during your time working in this job, an offensive team isn’t good at scoring goals, but rather exceptional at breaking down the other team’s defense.

Your eyes zero in on Geto, who stands in the center of the field for kickoff, and he’s huffing and puffing. He's the lead of defense for the team, and you can only imagine the level of pressure he feels right now. He glances around to his players, over to Nanami who seemed to share the same level of exhaustion, and then he glances towards Gojo who stood in front of him off to the right. Except you notice that Gojo looks relaxed, albeit still exhausted, but there’s a composed expression on his face even in the moment of heightened stakes. With locked eyes, Geto nods at Gojo and raises two fingers up into the air to signal a play, of which Gojo seems to respond to by closing more distance between him and the goal post prior to the kickoff, positioning himself almost directly in front of it, to which YCU’s defense immediately begin to guard him in a tight radius.

The kickoff begins, with Geto making a few passbacks with Nanami as they close distance towards the field before passing it off to UTokyo’s string of offense and then receding back to their defending goal. UTokyo continues to close distance, raising stakes for YCU as their defense begins to falter under pressure, and the ball gets passed to Gojo, who only keeps it in possession for less than three seconds before he passes it back to Yuuji, a risky decision to make in the second half of a semifinal match, but the first-year swiftly unleashes a powerful shot that rockets past YCU’s goalkeeper, up towards the corner, except–

It bounces off the metal of the goal post, shot off with projectile speed back towards the center of the field, but with razor-sharp reflexes, Gojo headbutts the ball in air, twists his torso and strikes the ball with his foot past a dumbfounded goalie who can’t even move an inch to guard the ball that he already knew was going to sink right into the goal, and that’s exactly what it does.

The stadium erupts with the momentum.

4-3, UTokyo.

It was a sweet moment, one you manage to capture on camera of Gojo running up to Yuuji and ruffling his hair in reassurance, despite the missed goal. Your heart feels warm in your chest, feeling your own sense of melancholy that this was one of the last times they’ll ever get to play together on a team.

Your eyes widen when you glance at the scoreboard, realizing that he’s tied. Gojo is tied for the most goals scored during a championship match. There were less than three minutes left on the clock. UTokyo either preserves their lead, or they risk moving into overtime, which, judging by the exhaustion on the UTokyo players’ faces in the wake of YCU’s relentless offense this entire game, moving into overtime would be a hefty, hefty risk.

YCU’s center forward takes his place in the center of the field, fire evident in his eyes as he glances across the field. YCU are light on their feet, channeling everything in their bodies into these last moments of the game as they prepare to start the kickoff. You glance across UTokyo’s players, and although they look spent, there was a resolute look to all of them. It wasn’t the time to give up or feel at ease even near the end of this grueling battle. Now was the time to play.

The referee chirped his whistle, and the kickoff began.

YCU immediately presses hard, as all their other plays have been all game, in their desperation to score. You can already see UTokyo’s midfielders move sluggishly in comparison to YCU’s offense, a drag to their feet as YCU pushes past the first layer of defense towards their attacking goal. Geto takes an aggressive approach, making moves to steal the ball while Nanami and Yuta guarded both flanks, and there was a relentless pass-off happening that ate up more than a minute of the remaining time.

Nanami succeeds in stealing the ball, but immediately loses it under his feet by a YCU midfielder, who makes a broad pass down the sidelines to YCU’s star forward who then powerfully kicks the ball towards the unguarded area of their goal, a dangerous shot that was clear towards the crossbar and Choso makes a leap for it, high into the air, his glove brushing against the ball, the entire crowd holding their breath in anticipation–

And the ball lands in the net.

4-4, tied game. With one minute and seventeen seconds left on the clock.

There was no time wasted in getting back to center field. No time spent dwelling in the horrific roars of the crowd as they watch with anxiety and fear. No time spent to process or consider or signal any plays. Not even a single second used to catch breath. When there is this much at stake, an athlete thrives on momentum.

To your surprise, Gojo isn’t the one that takes place at the center of the field to start the kickoff. Yuta stands there instead, and you notice his eyes are erratic as he surveys all corners of the field.

The referee chirps his whistle.

Yuta immediately passes it off to the side to UTokyo’s midfielder, who curls it towards their attacking goal with a swift pass to Ino, who closes distance towards the goal, but one of YCU’s defender slips in, undoing any progress they had made in their offense by stealing the ball and sending it back towards mid-field. Forty-three seconds. The crowd’s roars heightened as YCU continued to push forward, thirty yards now from scoring, and UTokyo’s defense was desperate to stop them but their momentum was cracking in the wake of their exhaustion.

It was a moment you don’t think you could ever fully or truly recall, one that you wish you had focused all your energy and attention to so that you could commit it to memory for the rest of your life. The image of Gojo pushing all the way to ten yards before their defending goal, a place where no center forward should really be at in a game like this, but it was exactly what their defense needed. It was exactly what the team needed. It was exactly what the school needed. For the ball to be in his possession.

With twenty-two seconds left on the clock, he steals the ball from right under YCU’s offensive feet, and then charges towards the opposite side of the field. The crowd rises to their feet, thunderous roaring that overtook any and all senses, as Gojo weaves through forwards, center forwards, midfielders, and defenders, covering the entire span of the field in lightning time. Fifty yards, forty yards, thirty yards, twenty hards, ten yards–

In a moment you couldn’t believe, he digs his foot underneath the ball, and sends it flying out towards the goal. There was not even a margin of an inch in which it slipped past the goalie’s hands, past his head, and swiftly flew right into the net.

With three-two-one seconds, the match was over.

5-4, UTokyo’s win.

The final whistle blew, and for a moment, there was silence. As if the world paused to catch its breath. Then, all at once, the crowd erupted with glee that shook the entire stadium at its core. Flags waving, scarves held high, toasts of beer held up to the sky, it was deafening, and it almost makes you want to cry. Thousands of voices shouting in unison, celebrating the hard-fought victory of their school’s team. A type of pride that was fostered, and well-deserved, and long-lived.

You quickly glance towards the field again, and see Gojo standing right at the same spot where he had kicked the last and final goal, staring towards the net. You can’t see the expression on his face, but it surprises you how still he is. Like a statue, staring at the goal with the ball tucked into its corner. The very epitome of what it means to succeed in this sport was right in front of him, and it seemed like he wanted to soak the visual in for as long as he could.

His trance is abruptly interrupted when his teammates swarm in, rushing over like a wave of pure adrenaline. They slap him on the back, ruffle his hair, shout his name, the sounds of gleeful disbelief mixed with exhausted sighs of relief swarming into the air. And Gojo finally melts away from the tension of the match and into the celebration as he weakly returns the embraces of his teammates while he catches his breath.

“IT’S OFFICIAL!! IT’S OFFICIAL!! UTOKYO’S VERY OWN GOJO SATORU HAS OBLITERATED OSAKA UNIVERSITY’S RECORD FOR MOST GOALS SCORED BY A SINGLE PLAYER IN A CHAMPIONSHIP MATCH!!”

The speakers are blaring the voices of the sports announcers, along with ambient music to match the intensity of the match that everyone had just witnessed.

You should probably be doing your job. You know, take a picture of the huddle of players on the field as they bask in the glory of a close victory, but instead your feet start moving on their own. Like a magnet drawn to him, you make your way towards Gojo, only a slight hesitation in your step as you stop about ten feet away, suddenly unsure. But when he makes eye contact with you, all that fear melts away.

He hastily pats the backs of some of his teammates, acknowledging their praise at the center of the huddle before tightly squeezing past them to make his way over to you. Your heart is beating fast in your chest, feeling an almost overwhelming sense of pride in your school’s team, but more importantly, in him. What was the acceptable thing to do? Run to him, into his arms, and hug him while he twirls you around? Tackle him to the grassy ground? Kiss him like your life depended on it? You have no clue what the acceptable or sane or normal thing to do is. But he’s made his decision for you when he walks right up to you, his hands holding your waist as he pulls you towards him. He smells earthy, of grass and salt and sweat and of all the hard work he poured into today, the wear and tear of the game evident in the wear and tear of his jersey. He only manages to huff out an exhale at the sight of you, like some relief washing over him just by looking into your eyes. Forget the fact that the crowd was all watching and that all of the screens you could see past his head were focused on the two of you, because all you could hear or see or think was him.

“I believe you owe me a kiss,” he says, huffing as he catches his breath but that doesn’t stop the smile that makes its way onto his face.

You nod your head, giving him your own version of a sweet smile as your arms slide up past his shoulders, crossing behind his neck, and he leans down to kiss you.

You hear a swell from the crowd, some teasing comments off in the distance from some of his teammates, you’re pretty sure you hear Coach Yaga yelling at him to get back to the benches, but it all melts away with the feeling of him smiling against your lips as he kisses you at the center of this stadium.

It was a moment so pure, so sweet, so picture perfect, and for once, you’re not the one behind the camera taking the photo. You’re the one that’s in it.

[end of kickoff ch12]

a/n. aaa thanks a lot for reading!! pls the fucking public stripping scene was so stupid i apologize on behalf of kickoff gojo for his behavior 😂😂 i’ll put him in his cage dw this chapter had some of what i consider to be the most challenging aspects of writing for me (internal conflict, grand public gesture, sports jargon) and so writing it felt like an uphill battle the ENTIRE time i wrote it and edited it. i considered scrapping it sooo many times cuz i just wasn't happy w it...but whatever i can't expect to be 100% happy w every chapter i put out there haha. i think kickoff has become a lil sacred for me since i've been working on it for a while now but likeee...sometimes u just gotta say fuck it we ball (tbh kickoff gojo probably says that to himself before a match) anywho, i am veryy thoroughly excited for what i've got planned for the chapters to follow, especially moving into the last angsty arc before the end of the series!! so i look forward to picking up momentum w this series again :0 honestly chapters 10 through 12 were the most difficult things i've written so far for a lot of reasons, but i have a feeling things will go more smoothly for me creatively going forward since what i've got planned falls well within my writing comfort range oh also there seems to be a little confusion about the number of chapters left, as i know i had originally said 12, but i anticipate that there will be about 18 chapters of kickoff total!! so still around six chapters left before the end :)) much lovee thanks for reading!!

OH WAIT ONE LAST NOTE I'M SORRY i didn’t really have a way of organically incorporating this into the story n i’m not sure if i’ll get a chance to in the upcoming chapters, so i just wanted to share this part of ch7 (gojo’s pov chapter) that is relevant to this chapter:

During the thrilling semifinal match between Keio Uni, Gojo’s father’s team, and Yokohama Uni during the end of his senior year, spectators witnessed a game that most college soccer enthusiasts would deem was a once-in-a-lifetime watch. Both teams engaged in relentless offense, and Gojo’s father was on his way to shatter the record of the most goals scored in a single championship match within the history of the league, but when he received a call from his wife during a timeout with the most life-altering news he could have ever heard, he abandoned everything on the field that day to go home and be with her. Grainy footage from the televised broadcast still exists online today—the moment he sprinted across the field, confused players glancing in his direction, amidst the uproar of the crowd. She called to let him know she was pregnant.

the record that gojo broke in this chapter is the same record that his father almost broke before he got the call that he was going to be a dad :0

➸ you're all caught up!

additional notes. please do not pressure me for updates or ask when i will next update (read rules); taglist is currently closed (consider subscribing to the story on my ao3 for email updates if you'd like! :0)

taglist:

@megumisdivinedogs @witchbybirth @avatarl0v3r @mwtsxri @asherheed

@wynney @delulux3 @higurumapet @zombriesworld @xenop0p

@phoenix-eclipses @who-can-touch-my-boob @mo0nforme @reagan707 @lost-resonance

@foulprincesscycle @luniunia @alekssashka7 @beabadobeee @thexmistress

@tsukikourito @pickuptruck01 @gabriiiiiiii @4y3sh4 @tiredflame132

@cliosunshine @btszn @izayas-rings @semra4 @ethereally-lyann

@drthymby @bbyxxm @fvsm4x @sadmonke @zoinks1010

@joemama-2 @horisdope @banenemilk @nanasukii28 @spindyl

@ri-sa20 @thexmistress @mwtsxri @ritsatoru @sashisuslover

@chwesuh-imnida @megumisthirdog @imjustaweirdnerd @angelicscribe

[taglist is closed]

2K notes · View notes

rafecameronssl4t · 5 months ago

Text

All yours || NFL!Rafe Cameron x DCC!reader

Summary: You wearing Rafe’s initials on your necklace during a Cowboy’s game and people speculating 🤭

Warnings: swearing, other than nothing rlly??

Word count: 1,028

A/n: IM SO GLAD YOU GUYS LOVED THUNDERSTRUCK AS MUCH I DID 😆😆😆 If you’ve watched the dcc documentary, who was ur fav??? ALSO send me more nfl!rafe x dcc!reader requests cuz I’m itching to do more even tho I have a few to finish in my drafts lol

MASTERLIST (nfl!rafe x dcc!reader au masterlist)

divider by @h-aewo

“Isn’t this a bit risky?” you manage to say in between heated kisses, feeling his hands grip the flesh of your thigh wrapped around his hip. Rafe’s smirk is palpable against your neck. “That’s kinda the whole point, babe,” he murmurs, his lips grazing your skin, making you shiver as your own lips curl into a smile. Your eyes flicker to the clock on the wall, and reality hits you.

“Fuck, we gotta go. I can’t be late, and neither can you,” you say hurriedly, pushing yourself off from Rafe. You rush to the mirror, frantically fixing your hair and touching up your makeup. Rafe’s presence is suddenly behind you, his hands wrapping around your waist as his face nestles into your shoulder, inhaling the addictive scent of your perfume.

“You’re so pretty, y’know that right?” he says softly, his breath warm against your skin. You feel your cheeks heat up at his words. “Like, so so pretty. No wonder they put you front and center. You catch everyone’s attention,” he continues, his arm draped over your shoulder as he gazes at your reflection in the mirror. Both of you, side by side, in your uniforms. You had to admit, the two of you looked hot together.

“Is that why you gave me this necklace? So people know?” you chuckle, your fingers toying with the necklace adorned with his initials. “Mhm, maybe,” he smirks, and you can’t help but giggle.

“Oh, they’ll see it for sure. We’re not supposed to wear any jewelry, so it’ll stick out like a sore thumb,” you chuckle as Rafe leans down to press a kiss on your lips. “Good. I want all those guys crushing on you to know you’re mine,” he says against your lips, and you can’t help but smile. “All yours,” you reply before smashing your lips back onto his, losing yourself in the moment one last time.

As Thunderstruck reverberated around AT&T Stadium, the energy of the crowd was electric. Rafe, standing on the sidelines, couldn’t help but keep his eyes trained on the big screen, his gaze unwavering. Throughout the entire performance, he caught glimpses of your necklace multiple times, glinting under the bright stadium lights. If he saw it, that meant everyone else could too.

You moved with the grace and precision of a seasoned performer, every step and twirl executed flawlessly. The crowd’s roar grew louder as you and the other cheerleaders took center stage, but Rafe’s focus was solely on you. The way you danced had him utterly captivated; each sway of your hips, each leap, and every spin had his heart pounding harder than any game.

And then, the moment that nearly made him lose it—you threw your head back (pls tell me u guys know what move of the dance I’m talking abt if u saw the documentary😭 like the part where they hit their Pom Poms on the ground and then do the hair flip?), your eyes locking with the camera, giving a sultry, confident gaze. The big screen captured the perfect shot of you, your radiant smile and the necklace with Rafe’s initials prominently displayed on your chest. It was a declaration, a bold statement that you were his.

Rafe’s breath hitched as he felt a rush of pride and desire flood through him. His initials on your necklace weren’t just an accessory; they were a symbol of his claim, a visible marker for everyone to see. The sight of it sent a jolt of possessive excitement through him, making his blood run hot.

As the music reached its crescendo, you finished the routine with a flourish, and the crowd erupted in applause. Rafe’s teammates nudged him, laughing and making comments about his obvious distraction, but he didn’t care. His eyes remained locked on you, taking in every detail, every shimmer of the necklace that told everyone you were his.

When the performance ended, and you made your way off the field, Rafe couldn’t wait for the game to be over. The anticipation of seeing you, holding you, and showing you just how much he appreciated you was almost too much to bear.

“Really, kiddo?” Your dad, the Dallas Cowboys coach, gives you a disapproving nod, his presence commanding even in casual moments as he leans against your car. “What?” you respond innocently, unlocking the car and tossing your bag into the backseat, trying to avoid his penetrating gaze.

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, raising an eyebrow at you. You meet his gaze, trying to keep your expression neutral, but you know exactly where this conversation is heading.

You’ve been on the team long enough to know the uniform policies. Hell, I’m not even on the cheerleading squad, and I know you aren’t supposed to wear any jewelry with your uniform,” your dad continues, his voice a mix of frustration and concern. He crosses his arms over his chest, his stance was something you’d usually see when he’s lecturing his team, not his daughter.

You let out a sigh, mirroring his stance as you cross your arms too. “It’s not that big of a deal, Dad. It’s just a necklace.” “Just a necklace?” he repeats, incredulous. “Kiddo, you know the rules are there for a reason. It’s about professionalism and safety. What if it gets caught on something?”

You shift your weight from one foot to the other, feeling a mix of irritation and guilt. “Shouldn’t Kelli be telling me this? Not you?” Your dad chuckles, a rare moment of humor breaking through his stern demeanor. “You’d be glad it’s me talking to you and not her. You know how strict she can be about the rules.”

You roll your eyes, but you know he’s right. Kelli had a reputation for being strict but fair, and you didn’t want to risk your place on the team. “Okay, fine. I get it,” you concede, your voice softening as the weight of his words sinks in.

Later that night, you sink into the comfort of your bed, the events of the day replaying in your mind. You reach for your phone on the nightstand, deciding to unwind by catching up on messages and social media. A few notifications catch your eye—messages from your close friends on the team.

Curious, you open the first message, which contains a Twitter link. Your fingers tap the screen, and the app loads quickly. Your eyes widen slightly as you see your name and Rafe’s name trending all over social media.

You click on another link, leading to a video clip from the game earlier. The footage shows you performing, the camera zooming in just as you throw your head back and lock eyes with the lens, your necklace with Rafe’s initials gleaming under the stadium lights.

The next day, Kelli was furious, to say the least. Her expression was a mixture of disappointment and frustration as she called you into her office. “Y/n, this is unacceptable,” she said sternly. “You know the rules, and you deliberately broke them.”

“This is your official warning,” she continued, her tone unyielding. “The PR team had to work overtime to manage the situation. They even went as far as photoshopping the necklace out of the official pictures taken of you.”

You spent the rest of the day practicing with renewed determination, vowing to stay focused and follow the rules. During a break, you checked your phone and saw more messages from friends and fans. Despite the reprimand from Kelli, the support from your friends and the fans’ enthusiasm about your relationship with Rafe was heartwarming.

“Hey,” you jump slightly, feeling a pair of hands wrap around your waist. “Jesus, Rafe. Don’t come up behind me like that!” you chuckle, turning around and wrapping your arms around his neck as he presses kisses against your jaw.

“Couldn’t help myself,” Rafe murmurs, his breath warm against your skin. “Seriously, guys?” You pull away quickly as Kelcey walks into the room, eyebrows raised in amusement. “Sorry,” you awkwardly chuckle, your cheeks flushing as Kelcey shakes her head, brushing it off with a smile.

“It’s fine. Just didn’t expect to walk into a lovefest,” Kelcey teases. “Okay, go away now,” you jokingly shoo Rafe out of the room, but before he leaves, he presses a quick kiss on your lips, making you let out a little giggle.

As Rafe exits, Kelcey crosses her arms, a playful smile on her face. “You guys are cute, and apparently the whole internet thinks so too,” she says with a wink. You roll your eyes good-naturedly. “Yeah, I saw. It’s a bit overwhelming, honestly.” Kelcey laughs. “Overwhelming? Try trending. You two are practically the new royal couple of Dallas.” You laugh, shaking your head.

“It’s wild. I never expected this much attention.” Kelcey nods, her expression softening. “Just enjoy it. It’s not every day you get to be part of a fairytale romance that everyone’s rooting for. Plus, it’s clear Rafe’s crazy about you.” You smile, warmth spreading through your chest. “Yeah, he is. And I’m crazy about him too.”

2K notes · View notes

just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

Text

kiss cam surprise - gojo satoru

word count: 2.8k warnings: none! :) summary: when (y/n) kisses shoko during a kiss cam at a baseball game, satoru gets a little ~jealous~ this is half fluff half crack tbh lol a/n: ok i don't take fic requests but someone dropped this in my ask box awhile ago and it resurfaced in my mind so... ur a lucky duck. also! if u like kiss cam fics y'all should check out kiss cam! by @naosaki <3 one of my fav megumi fics <3 ___

For being at an event that they couldn’t care less about, Shoko and (y/n) had been on their best behavior for the entirety of the baseball game. Satoru and Suguru had been so excited to gift the tickets to the girls so they could join them in a fun outing, that they’d tried their best to accept the offer graciously.

Even though neither of them had any interest in going. It was obvious when the tickets were presented to them, from the awkward smiles they’d worn to the way their eyes shifted towards one another as if to make sure the other was thinking the same thing- why wouldn’t they just go on their own?

Shoko and (y/n) would’ve happily spent the day doing their own thing had Satoru and Suguru gone to the game just the two of them. Maybe some light shopping, or maybe they’d hole up in one of their rooms and eat junk and watch romcoms all day. Either way… any activity would have been more entertaining to them than this.

They barely even knew the rules of the game, only cheering when the guys did, and sharing knowing looks when they tried not to laugh at just how uninterested they were.

Still, they did their best to participate. Both glad in the same colors of the cheap merch Satoru and Suguru had treated them to. (y/n) was in a jersey too big for her that hung off her body awkwardly, and Shoko wore a hat with a bill that wouldn’t stop dipping over her eyes, but they didn’t complain. They were very good sports for their friends, only sneaking off for a smoke break one time. They even made a few trips for snacks and drinks so that Suguru and Satoru wouldn’t miss any of the games. Sure, maybe they were trying to stretch their legs and ease the ache in their butts from the uncomfortable plastic seats, but they had the right intentions!

“This is fun, right?”

When (y/n) turned to him, Satoru was beaming from ear to ear. His sunglasses were slipping down his nose due to the way his ball cap bumped into them, and his bright eyes seemed to hold even more light from his obvious joy.

She couldn’t lie to him if she wanted to. It was too cute to see him this excited just from sharing the experience with his friends. He’d had his arm draped over the back of her seat for the majority of the game, and whenever his team got the upper hand, he’d eagerly tap or shake at her shoulder to involve her in the hype. (y/n) was grateful for the que to pay closer attention to what was happening, but she did fluster and blush every time he’d touch her.

This didn’t go unnoticed by Shoko, who would knowingly knock her elbow from her other side, a small smirk on her face when (y/n) would peek at her from the corner of her eye. She tried to ignore the silent teasing, but after a while it got hard with how much it was happening.

With a smile and a nod of her head, Satoru’s expression lit up even more. “Yeah, I’m actually having a really great time,” She said. It didn’t matter that she was more interested in all the attention he’d been giving her than the great seats they had for the game. He didn’t need to know that part. “We should do this more often” She adds before thinking.

Once again, Shoko’s elbow was bumping into hers, and this time a less-than-discreet snort could be heard. (y/n) sent her elbow back into hers in retaliation, silently scolding her for eavesdropping.

“Yeah?” Satoru fixes his cap so that he can push his sunglasses back up the bridge of his nose. “Tickets weren’t that expensive, we could go to more games this season, if you want?” He suggests.

Bullshit, she thinks with a smile telling him that’s exactly what she was thinking. Nothing was expensive to the Gojo Satoru.

“Yeah, maybe” She says without much commitment.

Going to baseball games just the two of them? The idea had her heart soaring. Having to sit through a game that could take more than three hours was less than ideal.

Soon enough a break in the game came, the announcers hyping up the crowd with some silly chants and trivia on the big screen. (y/n) found herself slumping down into her seat, aimlessly tapping around on her phone to pass the time. She hadn’t been paying enough attention to notice the change in game on the big screen, that is until there was a hand smacking at her shoulder again.

Looking up, she’d almost expected to see the game in motion again. Satoru had only been tapping at her like that when an exciting play was in action. However this time, he’s pointing up at the screen.

She gapes when she sees that she’s displayed on the screen. The camera has a wide angle that includes Shoko and Satoru on either side of her, the words Kiss Cam spelled out in pink cursive above them. It’s complete with lipstick stains and sparkles for dramatic touch.

“Oh my god” She mumbles, hoping that her blush is undetectable by the camera, seeing as her face felt scorching hot from embarrassment.

The longer the camera is focused on her, the rowdier the crowd around her becomes. Eagerly chanting ‘Kiss! Kiss! Kiss!’ like a bunch of teenagers at their first house party.

Satoru is grinning so hard his face hurts. This was like a dream come true. The easiest excuse in all of history to get a kiss from the girl he’s had a crush on since he was fifteen was just presented to him on a silver platter- and the crowd’s cheering only spurred him on further.

Even Suguru is giving him a smirk and a nod of approval. He’d heard more earfuls than most about the ins and outs of Satoru’s feelings for (y/n). Although on occasion, Shoko or Nanami were on the receiving end of his lovesick rambling.

His heart is about to burst out of his chest when he turns to (y/n). His smile is starting to hurt and for a second he realizes he’s going to have to relax to actually kiss her.

“Are you okay with-?”

The question barely comes out before he’s cut short.

(y/n) had already turned away from him, swiveled in her seat to face Shoko. It’s like he’s watching it happen in slow motion.

They both giggle at their idea, and (y/n) takes off Shoko’s hat while she’s quickly tucking her hair behind her ears to clear her face. And then time goes back to normal and all too quickly, Satoru watches as they lean towards each other to share a kiss.

It’s just a peck, so swift and chaste it’s over as soon as it happens. The crowd hollers and then are just as quickly getting excited over the next unsuspecting pair on camera.

(y/n) and Shoko laugh a bit more before sitting back in their seats, going back to their phones and striking up conversation about some anime they’d been interested in. Both, or at least (y/n), completely oblivious to the offended gape on Satoru’s face.

That was totally his kiss, after all! It was his perfect moment to finally take things to the next level with his long time friend that he’d harbored a crush on.

To make matters worse, Shoko wasn’t as innocent as she was pretending to be, sending a smirk his way when (y/n) was too focused on her phone. He scowled back at her. She knew about his crush! She knew he was going to go for that kiss!

With a huff, he stood up from his seat and made his way out of the stands. He needed a bottle of water, or a snack, or just some damn space away from his so-called friend that was teasing him for snatching his kiss.

Satoru leaving so suddenly finally perked (y/n’s) attention. He was gone too fast for her to call after him, but she worriedly watched him scale the steps with ease as he headed towards the hall of vendors. She locked eyes with Satoru, raising a brow in silent question.

“He’s just being pouty,” Suguru replied casually, shrugging his shoulders before turning back towards the field. “You wanna go after him? Be my guest”

(y/n) sighed, turning the other direction towards Shoko.

“What’s he so pressed about?” She mutters. “What even happened?”

Shoko rolls her eyes, a lazy grin stretching on her lips.

“I dunno,” She says in a teasingly melodic tone of voice, suggesting she knew exactly what set their friend off. “Maybe pluck up some courage and go ask him?”

With another sigh of defeat, (y/n) slumped back into her seat, her thumbnail wedged between her teeth as she mulled over the idea. A nervous flutter settled in her chest, a persistent buzz of confusion and anxiety distracting her even more so from the game starting up again.

When she suddenly shot out of her seat, muttering some excuse about needing to stretch her legs before she raced up the stairs in the direction she’d seen Satoru head off towards.

Two sets of eyes watched her as she hurried off. Suguru and Shoko locked eyes once she was out of sight, both of them snickering between themselves. It didn’t exactly take an active imagination to know exactly what was coming next.

To her surprise, (y/n) found Satoru as soon as she left the stands. Moping around the upper part of the arena with a half-empty bag of cotton candy. She couldn’t help but laugh at the sight, effectively getting herself caught by him.

“Why’re you up here eating your feelings?” (y/n) speaks first, eyes narrowed inquisitively. Satoru scoffs as she approaches him, snatching a piece of the pink sweet right out of his hands.

“I’m not eating my feelings” He replies unconvincingly, digging the hole deeper as he shoves a rather large piece of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) rolls her eyes, but the smile on her face is impossible to hide.

“Sure,” She remarks. “You’re totally not pouting right now. C’mon just fess up. What’s wrong?”

“I’m not pouting. My friend betrayed me, I think I’m right in being upset about that?” It’s a rhetorical question, followed by another shove of cotton candy into his mouth.

(y/n) frowns.

“Betrayed you?” She repeats. “Did I miss something? Who betrayed you?”

Satoru groaned, tossing the remainder of his cotton candy into the trash dramatically. (y/n) had to resist the urge to laugh, not understanding where this whole little tantrum came from.

“Shoko! Obviously! I mean she knew that that kiss was-!”

He stops mid sentence, realizing where this outburst was going to lead him if he didn’t relax and go back to his usual suave demeanor. (y/n) shook her head in confusion, her brows pinching together.

“Was what?” She asked, a breathless laugh escaping her. “Meaningless? A joke between friends?” She suggested. “You’re mad about a kiss?”

“Of course I’m mad-! Well, I- I guess not mad, I’m not mad at her,” He stammered over his words, not knowing how exactly to explain the complicated feelings.

(y/n) tried to be patient while he stammered and struggled to make himself clear. Mostly because she was partially amused by the whole thing. Satoru prided himself in being what he called a smooth-talker, and while normally she’d laugh at him for that, it was a shock to see him behave the total opposite right in front of her.

“But that wasn’t exactly fair, I mean, she was just trying to rile me up. And- like- yeah, that’s what we usually do, we pick on each other but that just- that just wasn’t fair! That was my kiss and she knew it! And she just-”

“What do you mean ‘your kiss’?”

Finally Satoru had been rendered speechless, his mouth still hanging open mid rant, jaw slacking a bit as he realized he’d gotten carried away. (y/n’s) expression almost mirrors his, her eyes wide and lips parted, even as she holds her breath and waits for him to clarify.

But he’s completely frozen in front of her.

“Satoru,” She waves her hand in front of his face, trying to bring him back to reality. “What did you mean ‘your kiss’?” She repeats, shaking her head at him.

“I- I just… I meant that-”

Words are spilling out of his mouth without direction, without knowing what the hell the right thing to say was. He’d known (y/n) for two years now, and in all of that time he’d been pretty proud of the persona he’d built up to be sure that he was always the cool one, the guy she could rely on to be smooth and popular. He felt pathetic now, letting his own secrets slip and stuttering over himself like an idiot.

The corners of (y/n’s) lips twitched into a smile the longer he flustered over who-knows-what. It catches his attention when she unintentionally lets out a little laugh.

“Sorry,” She apologizes right away. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just… are you trying to say that you wanted me to kiss you? For the cam game?”

She tries not to sound so hopeful that it comes across desperate, but the mere idea that Satoru had wanted a kiss from her had her chest thrumming with butterflies.

Satoru’s throat feels dry, and suddenly her gaze feels like a spotlight. The intensity has the hair on the back of his neck standing up. He pulls the hat off his head to run a hand through his hair to relieve the heat.

“Well… yeah,” He admits, sounding more bashful than she ever would have thought he was capable of. Her small smile turned a little brighter, and he tried to get his voice back. “Not that I need a silly game to kiss you, obviously-”

“Obviously” She repeats the word fondly, giving him a small nod.

“But- s-still, the kiss cam, would’ve been… fun” He admits sheepishly. She giggles, nodding her head again.

“Well, it was fun, for the record,” She teases, earning a roll of his eyes from behind his shades. She steps closer to him then, a tilt in her head as she takes in the obvious nerves written on his face. “But if you wanted to kiss me, you could’ve just asked”

“I was going to,” He argued, his hands moving about erratically. “It's not my fault Shoko beat me to it!”

She giggled at his drama, reaching out and grabbing his hands as they flew around, still laughing as he froze up again from the sudden touch.

“You know, it didn’t exactly mean anything when Shoko did it,” She suggested. “I know there’s not any cameras… but…”

Satoru raised a brow.

“(y/l/n) (y/n),” He gasped dramatically, “Are you asking me to kiss you?”

Her cheeks tint pink as she bites back her smile, giving him a small nod of her head. He smiles back at her, pulling his hands out of hers and dropping his hat so he could lay them across her jaw, tilting her head upwards so he didn’t have to lean down as far to reach her.

She doesn’t wait a second longer for him, closing her eyes and leaning up on the tips of her toes so she could press her lips against his. Satoru’s quick to reciprocate, his fingers flexing against her skin, holding on as tight as he can without hurting her as he deepens the kiss right away. She has to grab him by the shoulders to keep herself balanced.

His lips are soft, and taste sugary like the cotton candy he’d been eating. She’d always thought he’d taste a little bit like sugar, what with how much of it he consumes. It makes her smile to know first hand.

When they break the kiss, he steals one more quick peck from her, grinning with excitement before he pulls away so he can pick up his forgotten hat from the ground.

“Feel better now?” She teases as he slings his arm around her shoulder to head back towards their seats.

“Mhm,” He hums, pulling his cap over her head and smiling as it slips down her forehead. He pokes it upwards with his index finger, then pokes the tip of her nose. “But next game I bring you to, I get the kiss cam kiss, alright?”

There’s a gleam in her eye and a blush on her face as she leans into him, matching his steps as they head down the stairs to their seats. As shameless as ever, she can’t help but tease him.

“Then sit on my left next time” ___

xoxo ~ jordie

#gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru brainrpt #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo imagine #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru x reader fluff #gojo satoru friends to lovers

3K notes · View notes

iamred-iamyellow · 6 months ago

Text

⋆ ˚｡⋆౨ৎ˚ Aussie Athletes

♥ masterlist

♥ pairing: oscar piastri x fem!sargeant!ballerina!reader

♥ smau - fluff

♥ a/n: I said I'd write some ballet fics so here's one lol. I'm going to write some ship fic ballet au's (drivers as ballet dancers) after I finish my folklore and Romeo and Juliet series'. Also! I'm performing a don quixote variation this weekend so wish me luck lol :) (none of the pictures are mine)

liked by logansargeant and 32,406 more

yourusername First Day @/ausballet

view comments

logansargeant congrats sis

yourusername <3

user14 she's in Australia now 🫢

user3 PLEASE let that mean she'll be at more races now

yourusername 👀

user5 💗💗💗

oscarpiastri welcome to Australia

landonorris trying to get a date on main?

logansargeant don't even think about it piastri

oscarpiastri ???

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

2023 British GP

You walked into the paddock bright and early to find your brother before he was busy with qualifying. You ended up running into a different, yet familiar face instead.

“Oh, hey Oscar,” you smiled

“Didn’t expect you to be here with your new Australian ballet career,” he smirked and took a sip of the water he had in his hand. “You don’t have a busy schedule?

“I do, but the season wrapped last month. I figured I’d come down here and support Logan, you know? I’ve got a lot of training to do when I get back, though.” you laughed softly.

Oscar hummed in an understanding response.

“How’s it been there?”

“Good,” you paused. “Tough, too.”

“I’m sure it is. It’s an art and a sport.”

“People don't really consider what I do “a sport”.”

“They say the same about racing.”

“I guess we have something to bond over.” you smiled.

You both heard Lando call Oscar's name, gesturing for him to go to their garage. Oscar gave an awkward, blush-filled goodbye and ran towards the Brit on the other side of the pit lane.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by oscarpiastri, landonorris, and 340,967 more

yourusername he says I'm so american

view comments

lilymhe top golf double date

yourusername we are so there

user7 WHO IS HE

user9 y/n x oscar crumbs

user2 crying and writing fics

logansargeant 😐

yourusername ...

user6 @/landonorris please tell us she's with oscar

user8 why would lando know?

landonorris 🤐

user8 @/user6 I'm sorry I wasn't familiar with your game, clearly Lando does know

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, and 305,678 more

yourusername opening night 🧡

logansargeant you did amazing 💐

user2 the orange heart...

user5 NOT a coincidence

user8 AND it's f1's winter break meaning Oscar is back home in Australia where it just so happens y/n dances at

user4 the pieces of the puzzle are finally coming together

ausballet our sugar plum fairy

yourusername <3

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Time Skip - 2024

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

liked by charles_leclerc, oscarpiastri, and 670,895 more

yourusername MONACO <3

view comments

charles_leclerc welcome to the piastri-leclerc family

yourusername I'm honored, thank you charles

oscarpiastri so when should she meet my brother leo?

user6 Y/N'S APART OF THE JOKE NOW 😭

user10 someone go get Nicole

user4 y/n l/n-piastri-leclerc

logansargeant don't break her heart

oscarpiastri I won't I swear

1K notes · View notes

saltylemontears · 1 month ago

Text

on air || cl16

summary: charles wins in texas, you're a tv presenter, chaos ensues.

warnings: none? mild danica slander lol

a/n: in honor of charles winning in cota! also i might be a lil less active this week, sorry!

be professional, you say to yourself, watching charles drive flawlessly with five laps remaining, carlos right behind.

"norris goes through, overtaking verstappen, but he goes off the track! that's gonna be a penalty for sure," you say into the mic, but your eyes stay fixated on charles's name, silently praying.

your co-presenter puts a comforting hand on your shoulder, sensing your nervousness.

"and we're getting into the last lap of the race, still led by the two ferraris!" he says. "verstappen right behind them, and it's probably gonna stay that way,"

your hands start shaking and you bite your lip, trying not to scream in excitement. no one knows.

"going into the last turn of the race," he states, but it gets ignored by you, because you loudly yell at all the screens.

"charles leclerc wins the us grand prix! what a weekend for him! that drive was incredible!" you scream, excitement going through the roof, and your colleague laughs. "here, you can see some excitment," he says, perfectly calm.

"and, carlos sainz p2, verstappen p3, norris p4 after the penalty, piastri p5," he goes on, but your mic is still turned off, just in case. god, you can't wait to see him.

and you do see him, right after the race, just like you wanted, but to your disappointment, there's a camera in your face.

you finish interviewing george, who had some nasty words to say towards the fia after getting a penalty, but you two exchanged some light-hearted banter.

you spot danica in front of you, who's clearly waiting for you to finish, but you don't really want to talk to her just yet, so turn around and - there he is. your race winner.

you walk up to him coyly. "hello, charles," you greet him with a smile. "third win of the season, how are you feeling?" you ask, grin splitting your face in two.

he smiles back, cheeks lightly tinted pink. "well, i am very happy, of course, i think the team did a great job today, and carlos did very well too, so it's been great." he replies, and you can see how much he's trying to keep it professional.

"yeah, that first lap action was amazing, do you think you could win the title this year?"

he laughs. "i think i have a chance, ba- um, y/n, the team is very supportive and we're trying our best to overtake redbull in the constructor's."

you tense at the nickname almost slipping out, glancing nervously at the cameraman. "we're one race into a triple header, what do you do to stay focused?"

he smirks and your cheeks go bright red. "i train a lot, but i relax as well to not overwork myself, and of course, i spend some time with you,"

oh shit.

your eyes go wide and so do his, realizing his mistake. your heart beats like crazy and you try to laugh it off, but he grabs your waist and kisses you, saying everything he wanted to say.

you're sure the mangers are going insane trying to figure out how to explain it, but you kinda don't care.

a kiss is pressed to his cheek before you cheerfully say goodbye, running to danica to finish your job.

"well, as you can see, we have a lot of love on air..."

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #f1 fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula 1 x reader #formula one #charles leclerc #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine

755 notes · View notes

pastryfication · 26 days ago

Note

I love ur fics ❤️ can you do an Oscar x reader fic where she can’t find Oscar in the paddock and is panicking and goes to lando for help x

i'm here but i'm lost in crowd

pairing: oscar piastri x reader note: you guys seem to really love platonic lando lol so here's another one <3 also i’m sorry i somehow misread your request to reader getting lost and not losing oscar…

the united states grands prix were by far the most chaotic races of the season. normally, you didn’t prioritise them—the time-zones messed with your sleep schedule, the amount of spectators became overwhelming, and oscar had so many media duties that he barely had time for you, so why spend precious days off when you could use them on less crowded grands prix?—but you had time off either way, so on a 20 hour flight to the other side of the world you were.

you tried to stay close to kim as you arrived at the paddock. he was the person on oscar’s team who you knew and trusted the most, and he was more than happy to let you tag along to his duties, but eventually, he had to go to a meeting, and then you had to find somewhere else to go.

at first, you decided to stay in the hospitality area, too afraid of getting lost to wander about, but it quickly started to bore you. there were no familiar faces, and you grew tired of sitting alone in a corner.

walking outside the mclaren building, you were immediately met with the rush of people walking around you. the air was full of excitement and anticipation—the usual on a race weekend—and you couldn’t help but smile. this was why you wanted to come to as many races as possible; you absolutely loved the atmosphere.

smiling, you walked through the paddock, waving to fans when they noticed you, stopping briefly to say hi to engineers and other mclaren personnel as you passed them, and before you knew it, you found yourself in a completely unfamiliar place.

you looked around, realising just how disoriented you were. the hum of the paddock, which had initially filled you with excitement, now felt like an overwhelming blur. faces passed by too quickly to register, people walking around everywhere and your heart started to race as the nagging feeling grew—where were you?

the crowds seemed to move faster now, making you feel even more isolated. the rush of people, the sounds of chatter and excitement, the bright texas sun bearing down—it all added to the growing panic in your chest. you tried to retrace your steps in your mind, thinking back to how you'd ended up here, but the more you thought about it, the more it seemed like you’d wandered too far. you could feel your throat tightening as you scanned the sea of unfamiliar faces. why hadn’t you just stayed in the mclaren hospitality?

you reached for your phone, intending to send an SOS to someone from the team, but your pockets were empty. had you really been stupid enough to forget your phone?

as the realisation that you really were alone settled in your body, you took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself down. you could do this. you’d been to enough races by now to find your way back, right?

but no matter how much you told yourself that, the panic only grew. what if you walked the wrong way and ended up even further from where you were supposed to be? what if you bumped into the wrong crowd and caused a scene? the paddock suddenly felt more intimidating than exciting, the noise drowning out your thoughts, leaving you frozen in place.

just as you felt yourself spiraling, a voice broke through the chaos.

“hey!” a voice called out your name. “what are you doing out here alone?"

you spun around so fast that you nearly stumbled, heart pounding in your chest as your eyes landed on the familiar face of lando norris. relief flooded through you so intensely that for a second, you couldn’t even form words. lando was standing just a few feet away, his helmet under one arm, a slightly confused but amused look on his face. he took a step closer, raising an eyebrow as he glanced around.

“pretty far from mclaren territory, aren’t you?” he teased, though his tone was light, and there was a softness in his eyes when he looked back at you.

you sighed, running a hand through your hair. “i don’t even know how it happened. i was fine, just walking around, and then all of a sudden, nothing looked familiar anymore. and now i just—” you trailed off, feeling a little ridiculous for admitting how overwhelmed you were.

lando’s expression softened when he noticed the genuine worry in your eyes. “hey, it’s alright,” he said, his voice gentle now. “it happens to the best of us. this place can be a maze if you’re not paying attention. if i had a dollar for every time someone got lost in this paddock, i’d have… well, probably enough to buy a few extra helmets.” he smiled when you laughed at his words, glancing around, as if to get his bearings, before his eyes landed back on you. “come on, i’ll walk you back before oscar starts a search party.”

you let out a breath of relief, feeling the tension in your chest loosen just a little. “thanks, lando.”

“don’t mention it,” he replied with a wink. “besides, it’s not every day i get to play the hero.”

you rolled your eyes shaking your head slightly, and as you continued walking through the paddock, the surroundings began to look more familiar. with lando’s easy-going presence beside you, the fear that had gripped you earlier seemed almost ridiculous now.

“you know,” he said after a few moments of walking in companionable silence, “i think oscar might owe me for this one. saving his girlfriend from the wild paddock? that’s gotta be worth at least a couple free dinners, right?”

you couldn’t help but laugh, the sound of it surprising even yourself. “i’ll make sure he knows just how heroic you’ve been today.”

lando smirked, glancing sideways at you. “good. i expect a full report.” there was a moment of silence before he continued. “honestly, though,” lando continued, glancing at you, “if you miss someone to hang out with, you should just stick with me more often. i’ll make sure you never get lost again.

“thank you, lan.” you smiled earnestly up at him.

as you neared the mclaren building, the bustling crowd became more familiar, and the sight of papaya clad engineers and personnel milling around instantly brought a sense of comfort. you exhaled, feeling the last remnants of anxiety melt away.

“here we are,” lando announced grandly, gesturing toward the motorhome. “safe and sound, thanks to your friendly neighborhood norris.”

you shook your head, a laugh escaping you. “i really appreciate it, lando. seriously.”

“anytime,” he replied, grinning widely. “i’ll always be happy to help.”

693 notes · View notes

mikeystrawberry · 10 months ago

Text

Today is Dungeons & Daddies’s 5th Anniversary!

I haven’t been listening for nearly that long but the podcast and all its characters means a lot to me. Happy Anniversary!!!

Throwing the cropped sections under the cut because there’s a lot of stuff going on and I know Tumblr likes to throw half the pixel quality out the window. And also so I can ramble a bit about this piece!!!

This piece has been months in the making, possibly an entire year. And by that I mean I’ve had a sketch of the comp scribbled on my whiteboard for ages because I wanted to save this specifically for 5th anni art. Now onto design stuff!

(First off a random thought: I really love how the garlic knot came out, I kind of want it as an enamel pin.)

I knew I wanted to make this a stained glass piece since the beginning, but I was also going to add flowers at one point but quickly dropped the idea. It felt like too much and I also didn’t want to fuss over flower language assignments for everyone. I was also going to add Doodler tentacles, but also dropped that idea pretty early. Kind of on accident, right at the end, I figured out how to make it even more stained glass-like but taking a duplicated lineart underneath the regular layer and turning the brightness all the way down, then setting it to overlay and adding a guassian blur. It’s very subtle but it adds that tiny bit of depth that makes it look more real. As for shading on the lineart/gold, I tried adding more highlight on the characters who died but once I evened everything out it wasn’t as noticeable anymore so I’m throwing that thought here so the attempt at least known lol.

The order of characters only changed a little bit from my original comp, I flipped the Wilsons and the Oaks so the rainbow could work. As for the anchors, specifically in season 2, I lined them up to the teens since the season 1 anchors lined up with each dad:

Tony —> Scary: his death was the beginning of Scary’s betrayal arc and also Willy killed him.

Guitar Pick —> Taylor: it’s not really aligned with Taylor at all, but the anchor was with Glenn so I put it next to his blunt.

Scroll —> Normal: was only because it was the last left to give him, but there’s the whole scene of him and Hermie in the Green Room so it still works!

Garlic Knot —> Link: one of two that he broke, but the more significant of the two with him telling Grant he never wants to see him again.

Small notes on the season 1 anchors: I put the layer of mold in the overnight oats but you can’t really tell with the overlay. And to make the supper bowl more interesting I added the fantasy sodas mix they dumped into it. The lure of actually drawn before so I just traced my own art lol.

As for the other smaller triangles, it took me a bit to figure out what I wanted to put there. I didn’t even think of adding the vehicles until two days ago but I’m so glad I did. I don’t really have my own take on the mascot version of the Doodler (yet?) so I borrowed the design from one of the stickers in their merch shop. Teeny was terrifying as just a front facing head so I made him cute again.

In the outer circles, I put what I felt was the most significant quotes for each family. I really wanted to use “It’s okay to be angry, it’s not okay to be cruel” but it was just a little too long.

That’s all I can think of! If you read all the way through, thank you for indulging me in my excitement to gush over this piece.

2K notes · View notes

dollfacefantasy · 10 months ago

Note

would you write a threesome w leon and chris… because… like maybe leon is your (older,,, like death island) boyfriend and he introduces you to his friend chris!! and idk you three end up having a threesome (consensual)… and you’re embarrassed because. you’ve never done this before n you’re all clingy with leon (maybe daddy kink??) n he’s like comforting you as he and chris fuck you at the same time ?!?!?

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader x chris redfield

summary: your boyfriend leon wants you to get a little more comfortable with his friend chris.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, double penetration, oral (f receiving), fingering, daddy kink, size kink, age gap, dacryphilia

word count: 6.6k

a/n: thank you anon for sending this idea, it's right up my alley fr. also thank you for sending it again after i fumbled the bag the first time🤭🫶. the next threesome fic will be coming soon, i just ended up having more inspo for this one lol. hope you guys like it. reblogs and comments are super appreciated <3

tags: @sleepyluxe @kaitkatme @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @bizzarethirst @death-paint @petitecolibri @iron-toxinz @wildest-dreams-at-midnight @nexysworld @explorevenus @luniaxi

“I’m just saying I think you both would really like it if you gave it a try,” you say, a bright smile on your face as you walk up the path to your and Leon’s shared place. Him and his friend trail behind you with equally pleased looks, the friend in question being Chris Redfield.

“No way. I did try it, and it was boring. Slow and drawn out. Also, it’s so unrealistic,” Chris says.

“Booooo. It’s not even slow. Stuff happens in like every single episode, at least in the early seasons,” you argue in an attempt to convince the pair to watch one of your favorite shows, “I just think there’s a lot you guys would like about it if you weren’t so impatient.”

“Babe, it’s got like, what? Over five seasons? I don’t have that kind of time,” your boyfriend replies.

You playfully roll your eyes and unlock the front door, stepping inside followed by the two men you were with. “Whatever. I’ll be right back. I’m gonna go change cause this skirt is like super itchy,” you tell them.

Before you can walk away, you feel a familiar palm swat your ass. “It’s like super cute though, shows off those pretty legs,” Leon teases, his tone affectionately mocking.

You whip around to shoot him a glare, face hot with a mixture of emotions, mainly embarrassment with a pinch of arousal.

“Leon,” you whisper, giving him a look that says not in front of Chris.

He simply chuckles at your quiet protest and shakes his head with amusement, ruffling your hair and planting a kiss on your forehead before sending you off. You catch Chris’s gaze as you turn to leave. To your surprise, he isn’t rolling his eyes or visibly wishing for the two of you to get a room. He’s smiling. His expression is different from the one you were used to seeing on Leon, but it still held the same patronizing adoration that soaked your panties in seconds.

Brushing it off as your imagination, you scamper down the hall to the bedroom. You hum to yourself as you drop your skirt and kick it into the laundry. Rifling through your drawers to find something more comfortable to wear, your hands search through some different clothes before settling on a pair of loose pink shorts. After pulling the soft garment over your legs, you look in the mirror and then decide to slip your bra off too.

Sure, some people would frown on that move, but you were in your place and it’s not like Chris is a total stranger. He was one of your boyfriends closest friends. You’d hung out with him and Leon together multiple times, and from what you gathered, he was pretty cool. It’s not like the two of you were best friends yourself. Like your boyfriend, he was quite a bit older than you. But just as you bridged that gap with Leon, so far it seemed like you managed to bridge it with him too. To say the least, he didn’t strike you as the type to have an episode over your nipples peeking through your shirt.

Unbeknownst to you however, while your thoughts lingered on the men down the hall, their conversation centered around you as well. They had taken to the couch, sitting close to each side and leaving a space for you in the middle.

“She’s a cute little thing,” Chris chuckles, watching the hallway you had gone down.

“Mhm,” Leon confirms simply. He was scrolling through the tv, trying to find that show you’d been talking about.

His friend looks over at him. “You sure she’ll wanna do this?” he asks with some uncertainty in his voice, “She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’s had a whole lot of experience with this type of thing.”

“Trust me, she’ll be into it. I can’t even tell you how wet she gets just from talking about shit like this,” he reassures, “You just gotta let me ease her into it.”

Chris opens his mouth to respond, but he cuts himself short once he hears your footsteps approaching. You bound back into the room. Your eyes catch on the way they’re sitting, closer than you would expect. They still left room for you though, so what does it matter, right?

You hop onto the couch and tuck yourself against your boyfriend’s side, gently kissing his jaw as you get comfortable and curl up on the cushion. He smiles down at you and returns the affection. He pulls you closer, but your feet are still brushing Chris’s thigh with how close he is.

“We were thinking we could watch an episode of that show you were talking about, see if we really would like it,” Leon tells you.

“Really?” you ask, a little surprised, “We don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“No, it’s fine, baby. Chris doesn’t feel like driving home just yet, and you know if you’re happy, I’m happy,” he says.

You look over at Chris who nods. With that, Leon puts on the show. The familiar intro music plays and you watch the screen as a scene that you’d seen a million times plays out. You sink into his side, settling against his warm body. The episode plays, and you point out little things you like or remember something specific about. Both men nod and chuckle at your excited remarks.

Even though the couch and cuddling are comfy, your legs start getting a bit cramped from being curled up for an extended amount of time. You squirm around a bit, wanting to just stretch out. Chris prevented you from doing that as his bulky frame occupied the space your legs could be.

Leon smirks as he notices your restlessness. He shifts around a bit himself and leans back further into the couch. His feet rise up and land on the coffee table a few feet away, his legs stretching out in front of him. He doesn’t even have to see your face to know your eyes catch on his limbs. Their state of being outstretched only makes your need to do the same more intense. He gives Chris a quick glance.

“You uncomfortable, honey?” the larger man asks you.

Your eyes dart up to meet his. Hearing that pet name coming from anyone else but Leon left you flustered. You tried to reason that it didn’t mean anything. This was clearly another instance of you overthinking. Maybe Chris was just the type of guy who said that sort of thing? The kind that called cashiers sweetheart or darling. The kind who’d put your hand on your waist when saying excuse me. You didn’t remember him acting like this any of the other times you’d met him though. He was always polite with you, but that was about it. Maybe you just didn’t notice before?

“Um… I’m fine. Just a little cramp,” you explain.

He smiles at you, that same kind from earlier. “Well, I don't bite. You can stretch your legs out if you want to, princess,” he teases.

Princess. Ok that was definitely something. That name was reserved solely for the man whose arm was around you, and it usually came out only when he was prepping you to take his cock. You typically heard it as a coo when you were already crying out your own special name for him. Daddy. Daddy. Daddy. The two just went hand in hand. Honestly, you couldn’t really hear one without the other following close behind.

That’s why you get all timid and shy so easily. You were pretty sure Leon had psychologically conditioned you or something. Just a few touches in the right place, some words whispered in your ear in the perfect hushed tone, and you were a goner. Suddenly, your brain would feel soft and malleable. Urges appear within you to sit in his lap and cuddle. You’d just wanna look up at your daddy with dazed eyes and have him stick something in your mouth.

And sure, it wasn’t like you were brainwashed or something. You still possessed self control. It wasn’t like he’d pet your head and call you his baby, and you’d instantly lose yourself over it. It was just a slow slip into this side of your personality, and being around Chris didn’t exactly deter those feelings from coming out either because just look at him. He looked like he was meant to be called daddy. Whenever Leon would tease you in front of him, it felt like you soaked your panties even quicker than normal.

You're snapped out of your analysis of this moment when you feel a large, warm hand wrap around your ankle. He pulls your leg out, and in-turn, drags you closer. A soft squeak escapes you as your body slides down Leon’s. Your back is still resting against his side, just lower. More of you is spread across the sofa, and your calves were fully in Chris’s lap.

You look up at your boyfriend to see his response to his friend’s action, but he didn’t even seem interested. He barely spared you a second glance in your new position, simply adjusting his arm to accommodate the new location of your head. He wraps it below your jaw and has you rest your chin on the bend of his elbow. His fingers start rubbing soothing, little circles on your shoulder. Meanwhile, Chris’s large palms merely rest on your legs. He gives you a smile before turning his eyes back to the tv screen. You quickly follow suit. If he wasn’t thinking this was weird, you weren’t going to make it weird by dwelling on it.

For a while, it’s fine. The three of you continue watching the show, albeit a little more quiet than before. Leon’s hand remains on your shoulder and keeps up his light touches. Your body relaxes again though as you let go of any nervousness you had. But then, Chris starts moving his hand too.

His palm smooths out over your lower leg. His other hand rubs your ankle, his fingertips coasting over the joint. One is moving in long strokes while the other stays in tight circles, but both go at a sensual pace, slow and teasing.

Your head turns to look at him again, but you find his stare is still on the characters of the tv show. You watch his hands move. They’re now essentially massaging your legs. His hand that had been lower has risen and works on the muscles, digging his warm digits into the flesh.

You squirm a little, trying to alert your boyfriend that his friend was touching you in a way that seemed more than friendly. It doesn’t work though. If he does see, he doesn’t mind because he simply leans down and plants a gentle kiss on the top of your head before reverting to his same position. You almost felt crazy for a second. This wasn’t normal, was it? Had you just lived your life not knowing that it was a regular thing for a boyfriend’s friend to give you a massage like this? Was Leon ok with it cause he was there so it couldn’t go too far? You really had no clue.

If you were being honest though, Chris’s hands didn’t feel bad. Not at all. They felt really good. They were big and warm and moved with strategy. They hit all your sweet spots. Kinda made you wanna crawl into his lap so he could rub more of your body, but that was the problem. This wasn’t right. You felt that saccharine heat creeping up your spine and seeping into your head, but you shouldn’t be feeling that for anyone else besides the man behind you.

Now guilt casts a shadow over you too, and the pair of emotions was a volatile mix. You didn’t even realize it, but your nipples had started to stiffen. Your thighs shift against each other, and had you really been paying attention, you would have seen the way Chris’s lips slightly quirked up into a smirk. Your body gets a little tense as you run through the possibilities of what you should do in this situation.

As if Leon could sense your thoughts racing, his hand lowers and starts rubbing your arm. Deciding to remain where you are for now, you press your cheek against his bicep for comfort. Not that you could see, but just like Chris, his expression grows smug. His hand readjusts again so it’s closer to your chest. Your eyes widen as he basically starts feeling you up. His hand squeezes your breast before his fingers circle your nipple, gently tweaking the hardened bud.

At the same time, the hands on your legs start moving higher. The broad strokes begin meeting your thighs too. Little bumps of anticipation erupt across your skin. You already knew your center would soon be slick.

Your head feels hot now. It made you feel a weird kind of dizzy. Even though it was only a few hands and simple touches, it was so much. Combined with the fact that it was so unusual, you started feeling overwhelmed. Your pulse pounds in your ears and your hands feel tingly. You feel a whimper rising in your throat. When he finally glides his hands up to the hem of your shorts, your legs jerk and you scoot back.

By the time Chris looks over, you’re already in Leon’s lap, arms around him, face buried against his neck. He’s worried for a second that something was seriously wrong. Profuse apologies rush to the tip of his tongue, but Leon signals him to just wait.

“Oh, baby, what’s wrong?” he coos, a hand sliding beneath your shirt to rub your back. Of course, he knew the answer already. He knew exactly how you got with this kind of stuff which is why he knew exactly how to handle it.

You end up simply shaking your head, unable to articulate the exact reason for your distress. Because really, nothing was wrong. Everything felt right. But it shouldn’t feel right? Maybe that’s what was wrong. That’s too much for your mouth to get out while you feel like this though.

“Aw, is my pretty girl feeling shy?” he whispers and strokes your hair.

You nod, pulling back a little to reveal your face and look up at the familiar set of eyes you found so much comfort in. He gives you a small kiss of reassurance before continuing to coax you with his low and soothing tone.

“Oh sweetheart, why are you shy? You don’t have anything to be embarrassed about,” he says.

“Because…” you start softly, nervously glancing at Chris only to see him watching the entire exchange. You force your attention back to your boyfriend. “Because Chris is here.”

His chest rumbles with a low laugh. “Oh, princess. That’s not a reason. Didn’t you like how Chris was touching you? Wasn’t he making you feel good?”

“I guess…” you admit.

“See? You don’t have to be embarrassed around daddy’s friend. He only wants to play with you because you’re so cute,” he teases and lands a barrage of kisses on your cheek.

You were going to freak out about him using the d word in front of someone else, but looking over at Chris, he didn’t look at all shocked. His eyes were soft and comforting as they watched you, but you were still a little uncertain. You turn your face back into Leon. He keeps rubbing your back and holds you a little closer on his lap.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, baby. I just think you’d have a lot of fun,” Leon says softly, “You know how wet that pretty pussy gets thinking about someone else watching you with daddy, joining in because he just can’t resist a good girl like you.”

He was right. He knew your fantasies like the exact situation playing out in your living room right now. But it was scarier when it was real. You didn’t have the control anymore. That's what made it exciting too though.

“It’s just Chris, honey,” he continues reassuring you, “He’d never hurt you. He thinks you're as precious as I do. But even still, daddy’s gonna be here the whole time. You know I’d never let anything hurt my girl.”

You soften up more, relaxing under Leon’s touch and tender words. As you’re thinking it over, leaning towards going through with this, Chris scoots closer to the two of you on the couch. He tentatively places his hand on your leg and caresses your skin.

“It’s up to you, babydoll,” he says, “I only wanna help your daddy make you feel good.”

Oh god. He was a natural at this, talked down to you just the way you liked.

“See, princess? There’s nothing to be afraid of,” Leon says. He strokes some of your hair back and watches as you look at the other man, deciding whether to let him in or not. He chuckles in your ear. “He’s acting cool, but you don’t know how bad he’s been wanting a turn with you. I’m sure you’ve seen him staring. Sometimes I think he’s practically drooling watching you. You know he goes home and strokes his dick raw, wishing it was your pretty little hands instead.”

It’s obvious there’s some truth to Leon’s statement from the way Chris remains silent. Your teeth sink into your bottom lip as you mull it over. Why was it so bad? You wanted it and they both wanted it. Why should you stop yourself?

You look up at your boyfriend and nod, silently communicating that you wanted this. He smiles and shifts you in his lap so that you’re in a more accessible position. One hand rubs your inner thighs while his other arm stays wrapped around your body to hold you close.

Upon seeing your confirmation, Chris comes even closer. As he gets situated, Leon leans in and connects his lips with yours in a few soft kisses. Your noses brush and breathing deepens. He strokes your cheek before pulling away and looking in your eyes.

“Why don’t you try that with Chris, baby? Give him some of those kisses he’s been dreaming about,” he breathes.

Your focus shifts to the man sitting to your boyfriend’s right. Eyes casting down, you bring your head forward, and Chris closes the gap. Your breath hitches when you feel the unfamiliar lips meet your own. They’re noticeably different from the pair you were used to, but it wasn’t a bad different.

You move your lips with his, shuddering a little when you feel him grunt. He struggles not to take more than what you give. Leon watches on with a grin, stroking your hair and making sure it was out of your face. Your hand maintains an iron grip on him the entire time.

“Such a good girl,” he purrs in your ear.

All three of you had long stopped paying attention to the tv, so Leon shuts it off. He then leans in to suck little love bites onto your throat. You whine into your kisses with his friend. The sound causes you to open your mouth, allowing Chris to slip his tongue in to meet yours. You moan and reciprocate the advance. His smiles against your lips as his hand glides up and gropes at one of your breasts, drawing another whimper from you.

Several hickeys later, Leon removes his mouth from your neck to admire his work. His fingers drag over the wet, darkened skin. He licks one more stripe over the area before leaning back and pulling you with him. You’re slightly out of breath, eyes dilated, and lips a bit puffy.

“Aw, look at that face,” Leon teases, talking more to Chris than you, “She loves her kisses. Sometimes I think she likes it more than the actual fucking.”

“I could tell. All those sweet sounds she was making,” Chris chuckles. His chest rises and falls in a pattern similar to yours.

“Oh yeah, so sensitive, my baby,” Leon coos, “You wanna go sit in Chris’s lap and give him some more kisses?”

You shake your head and tighten your grip on his hand. They both smile at your timid display.

“My mistake. You just gotta give her some time to adjust. She’s not used to anyone but daddy. Isn’t that right?” Leon jokes.

You nod and snake your arms around him, hiding your face against his chest again. He couldn’t get enough of how clingy you became when you felt like this.

“No, no. No more being shy. C’mon, his lips still have your spit on ‘em. There’s no reason for you to hide,” he teases you and guides your head back up to see your eyes, “You still wanna do this, don’t you?”

You nod again, looking up at him with those loving eyes.

“That’s what I thought, so how about this?” he starts. He gets your arms to unlock from their position around him and tucks his fingers beneath the hem of your shirt. “How about we show daddy’s friend more of this precious body, yeah?”

You lift your arms and allow him to tug the fabric up and over your head. Your breasts spring free, but his hands are immediately there to cup them, knead the flesh, and tease your nipples. From his place next to the two of you, Chris’s eyes drop to the swell of your chest.

“You’re even prettier than Leon told me, baby,” he coos before leaning in, giving you one more kiss and then trailing his lips down the side of your throat. They glide over the warm skin and across the expanse of your chest.

Your boyfriend’s hands drop from your breasts, letting Chris’s take their place. You shift and lean back so your back is pressed to Leon’s chest, giving the other man more access. He fondles them before latching his mouth onto a nipple, his tongue swirling around the little peak. A little sigh escapes your lips to the pleasure of both men.

“I think she likes that, Chris,” Leon croons, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Chris sucks on the pebbled nub a bit more before alternating to the other one. He spends less time over there before just kissing all over your chest.

“Got such pretty tits,” he grunts, laving a tongue across your skin.

Your face heats up at the compliment, and of course, Leon knew without even having to look. He could tell by the slight way you squirmed your hips on his lap.

“Aw, princess. You like when daddy’s friend calls you pretty?” he coos. Once he sees your little nod, he continues. “How about you let him pull down your shorts and see how cute your cunt is next.”

You agree to this with no hesitation, trying to elevate your hips so he could remove your clothing. Chris smirks at your overt desire. In a quick move, he scoots back and pulls by your hips so that you’re laying across the couch again. Your head is on Leon’s thigh so you can look up at him while your fingers remain tightly interlaced with his.

The larger man peels your shorts off and then your panties. He gazes upon your dripping cunt. His thumb drags up and down through your slick in an exploratory touch.

“Oh, honey,” he breathes, circling your clit. His hand moves down again before he slides two fingers into your hole. “You’re gonna take our cocks so well. Pussy this pretty is made for that.”

You suck in a gasp that turns into a long whine as his digits fill you up. His fingers were nice and thick, filling you up just right. Your eyes flutter, and your head presses against Leon’s thigh. Chris starts pumping them in and out, stroking your inner walls.

“That’s right, baby,” Leon reassures you, “He’s gonna open you up, and you’re gonna feel so good.”

A breathy whimper falls from your lips. Your hips rock a little, but Chris allows it, enjoying your enthusiasm as you become more comfortable. You feel his fingers curling within you in motions that drive you wild and have your hands grabbing at the edges of the couch cushion beneath you.

“There you go, sweet baby. Am I doing it right?” Chris asks teasingly. With your frantic nod, he works a third finger into you. Your eyes roll back and you choke out a moan.

Leon smiles down at you and strokes your hair. His bulge grows harder, watching you get so wound up for his friend.

“Make sure you rub her pretty little clit, Chris. She loves that,” he says, “Might be a little sore since she likes to play with it so much.”

Chris grins at that, taking his turn to tease you now. “Is that right? You like playing dirty, princess? I bet you can’t help it. Cute girls like you get needy so easy. Can’t think without making yourself cum every few hours, yeah?”

“Mhm,” you whimper and nod.

“I’ll be gentle then. Think your sweet spot just needs some special kisses,” he coos.

He bends down so his mouth can be level with your cunt, a bit of a challenge with his size, but he manages. His lips meet your clit and give you some soft kisses. A little flick of the tongue and the light movement of his flesh against your sensitive bundle of nerves has your walls fluttering around him, little mewls escaping your lips.

Then, with a harsh suck to your clit, he works a fourth finger inside you. Your legs kick a little, but he simply slides them to rest on his shoulders. Every little twitch next to his head has more of his blood rushing south. Your hips buck too as you adjust to the minor stretch.

“You’re daddy’s perfect girl, you know that right? Girl of my fuckin’ dreams. Doing so good for me right now,” your boyfriend says from above you. His eyes watch on fondly as Chris slides basically his entire hand in and out of you. “Think you can cum for Chris, baby? Gush all over his fingers so it’s nice and easy for him and daddy to fill you up?”

You nod quickly.

Chris sucks harder on your clit and flicks his tongue against you with more fervor. His hand finds a rhythm that you seemed to like, had you twitching more than before. He could hear your voice rising to a higher pitch.

“C’mon, pretty girl. Make your daddy proud,” he murmurs against your folds.

You really don’t know what it was, but that phrase does you in. You turn your face against Leon’s hip, dig your fingers into his palm, and erupt into a frenzy of whining and bucking your hips.

Chris continues his efforts, relishing the sensation of your slick coating his fingers and palm. His lips gradually loosen on your swollen bud. He gives it a few more licks before sitting up and gazing down at your blissed out body.

They both give you a second to rest before Leon sits you up on the couch. He gives you a quick kiss and looks into your eyes, hazy from release.

“Think you’re ready for daddy and Chris to fuck you?” he coos and rubs your cheek.

“Mhm,” you hum, returning his loving stare.

“Of course you are. My sweet girl,” he says.

The two men don’t waste time undressing themselves. Clothing piles up on the ground as they match your nudity. Both of them stand as they undo their belts and drop their pants. You’d seen Leon’s dick a hundred times by now. You watch him pull it out and give it a few strokes. The tip flushes bright red like always, a couple familiar veins span up the side. You turn your attention to Chris, looking upon a sight you hadn’t seen before.

You’re snapped out of your post-orgasm stupor when you catch a glimpse of the appendage hanging between Chris’s legs. Just like every other part of him, it’s noticeably thick. The length was good too, sure, but it wasn’t the main attraction. His cock didn’t get as red as Leon’s, but it still had the veins. He even had a few beads of white, sticky precum leaking from the head.

“Oh, you like what you see, baby?” Leon teases when he notices your wonder, “I’m sure Chris would be happy to let you suck on it next time.”

“Daddy, it’s not gonna fit,” you say, looking up at him and ignoring the tempting idea of giving Chris a blowjob.

He smiles down at you, simultaneously condescending and affectionate. “Of course it will. C’mere, princess,” he says.

In no time at all, Leon’s back on the couch, guiding you on top of him. You crawl to meet the place he’s directing you. Lowering yourself against him, your front rests against his and your head lies near the crook of his neck. The warmth of his body comforts you but not enough to push out your concerns completely.

“You don’t have to worry, sweetheart. I’m gonna get you nice and comfy on daddy’s cock, and then Chris will just slide right in,” he reassures you, “You’re gonna feel so good. You just let me take care of everything.”

His arm had already slithered beneath your hip to line up his shaft with your entrance. He runs the tip through your soaked folds then pushes in. A whiny moan escapes you, and your arms wrap tighter around him. The feeling wasn’t a new one, but it still felt so good. He works himself in and out slowly, hips rocking off the couch in small thrusts.

“That’s my girl, taking it just like you’re meant to. I’ve got you trained so well,” he murmurs against your hair.

The entire time, you feel Chris’s eyes on you. His pupils fixated on the sight of Leon pumping in and out of your gushing cunt. You hear him spit down onto his hand and know he’s started to stroke himself in anticipation. Other than that, he stays quiet, locked onto you sucking up every inch of your boyfriend's cock.

Leon continues gliding in and out. You feel the muscles in his chest and neck straining with the pleasure your pulsing walls give him.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Chris did a good job with you,” he groans. His breaths become ragged as he staves off true euphoria. This couldn’t end too quickly. “You know, babydoll, I don’t think you said thank you to Chris for making you feel so good. That’s not very nice.”

You whimper as your brain registers the implication of his words. At the moment, you were more focused on rolling your hips with Leon’s, but you force some words out of your mouth cause you’re a good girl after all.

“Sorry daddy,” you say, cut off by a whine as he pokes a sensitive spot, “T-thank you, Chris.”

“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he responds. You can hear the satisfaction in his voice, but you don’t have the chance to linger on it since you feel his broad palm land on the small of your back. His fingers rub the skin gently, as if to keep you calm while he positions himself on his knees behind you. You whine again and cling harder to Leon.

“You can say thank you better than that, baby,” he teases, trying to keep any fear away from you. He presses a kiss to your temple as well and rubs your back, “What are you thanking him for?”

“Thank you for making me cum, Chris. Your fingers and kisses felt so good,” you whimper, adding on the last bit before Leon could correct you further.

“Oh, you’re welcome,” he repeats with excessive adoration, “You deserve it for being such a good girl. Besides, that pussy was so fucking sweet, makes me want another taste.”

You squeeze around Leon and bite your lip as your lower belly erupts with butterflies. And then you feel it. You feel the hot tip of Chris’s heavy cock nudging at your entrance above Leon’s. You tense and dig your fingers into the flesh of his back.

“Just relax, baby. You’re gonna be just fine. Daddy’s right here,” he coos and holds you tighter against his chest.

“You ready?” Chris asks softly.

You squeeze your eyes shut but nod, waiting to feel the stretch.

And it comes right away. You gasp as another cock enters you. Whining, your hands scramble to grab at something. Leon takes one and squeezes it lovingly, pausing his thrusts. You bury your face against his skin, your chest erratically puffing as you try to accommodate the sizes. Both men are groaning, eyes fluttering or rolled back, muscles flexing as they take in the tight, wet heat engulfing them.

“Doing so good, pretty girl, so good,” Leon mutters.

You can’t fathom any kind of response. The burning sensation of both of them was still so intense and from what you could tell, Chris wasn’t even all the way in yet. He was still pushing forward as far as he could. At a certain point, you can’t fight off the tears pricking at your waterline. Your free hand clamps over your mouth as a choked cry tumbles out.

“So fucking tight, I could cum right now,” Chris grunts.

Leon’s hand covers your right hip, tracing tiny soothing circles over your skin. Chris occupies your left, digging his fingers into the flesh. The subtle difference between the two sides drives you further into the throes of ecstasy.

When Chris manages to bully his cock nearly all the way inside you, as deep as it could go at least, Leon feels your hot tears sliding off your cheeks and pooling on his chest.

“Oh, poor baby,” he croons. He lets go of your hand for a second to swipe a few drops away, but then he takes it back. “You ok, honey? Too much for you?”

You weakly shake your head that it wasn’t too much, sniffling between whimpers. They’ve both stopped now to let you get used to the entirety of them. The site of your connection pulses with need on all three accounts. You feel Chris gripping you a little harder in an effort to keep his composure.

“My tough girl, so brave for daddy. Makin’ me so proud,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

“So fuckin’ pretty too. You look gorgeous all filled up like this,” Chris moans from behind you.

His gaze remains on his and Leon’s cocks splitting you open. He starts rocking his hips a bit, groaning at the combined feeling of your slick walls with Leon’s length rubbing against his. Leon starts moving again too.

You let out a sound that’s between a yelp and a moan. Both of Leon’s arms snake around you to keep you engulfed in his embrace. He’s more vocal than usual, the mix of stimulation getting to him as well.

“That’s right. You keep crying for your daddy. Let me hear how much you need me. Just cry it out like the good little girl you are,” he mumbles against you.

Once you’ve become comfortable with the stretch, it starts feeling better than you’d imagined. In tandem, they’re stroking every part of you. They slide in and out, back and forth, pulling soft whines from you. The only noise apart from the three of you grunting and moaning, is the obscene noises that come from them pumping into your wet pussy. You feel your ability for coherent thoughts slipping away. You just wanted to be full of your daddy and his friend.

Chris smacks your ass while picking up his pace a bit. “Now she’s getting into it,” he says.

You get a little louder to both their enjoyment. Grabbing at Leon a little more, you shudder while hearing moans bubble up from his chest and out of his mouth.

“That’s cause you’re such a good girl. Right baby?” he asks, his voice breathier, “So good at whining for your daddy’s cock.”

You nod without a second thought. You’re panting a bit as the thrusts start hitting just right. Your expressions and the tightening of your cunt give you away. You hear both of them groaning and getting a little more primal with their movements.

“You feel that, Chris? She’s getting closer. Can always tell by the way her pussy starts trying to keep me in. So desperate for some cum,” Leon says.

“Yeah. I can feel her cute little cunt begging for it,” Chris growls.

They’re both going harder, making your mind get all fuzzy and causing more tears to fall, although by this time they’re purely tears of pleasure. Your cries are whiny and needy.

“My baby, my baby,” Leon grunts while lacing his fingers in your hair, “I want you to cum for me, ok? Wanna feel you cumming all over our cocks. Show Chris how good you make me feel every single night when you start clamping down on me.”

You don’t finish right then. It takes a handful more thrusts from each of them to hit the right buttons and work you over that edge, dropping you into a pool of euphoria. The bliss washes over you, and as Leon described, your pussy squeezes around them in waves. They’re both moaning now, grabbing you harder, sighing and gasping. You twitch on top of Leon, and he holds you close and helps you through it.

“Look at that sweet face. Always so pretty when you let go,” he mumbles just for you to hear, “Keep cumming, dolly. Want you feeling like you’re in heaven.”

Leon’s the first to blow his load, shooting it deep inside you. He pumps it in while you’re still releasing. His own hips twitch and buck while that hot, sticky liquid flows from him.

Chris takes a bit longer, savoring every last moment he has inside your precious cunt. He keeps thrusting after you’ve finished, making you squirm with the slight overstimulation. Leon hisses too, feeling the friction from his movements against his dick.

When he finally does cum, your body is overtaken with a shiver. He fucks it deep into you. His thrusts don’t weaken while he spills it inside of you. He keeps moving in powerful strokes until he’s satisfied.

After he’s truly done, Chris leans down and kisses the space between your shoulder blades. “So good, pretty baby,” he praises softly before pulling out.

It feels weird just having Leon’s dick in you. It’s your normal but so strange now too. He slides himself out next though, so there isn’t too much time to fester on that. Sitting up, he pulls you with him while covering your face in kisses.

Everyone is laid back right now, letting the post-high wear off as you all come down. You stay curled up to Leon like you always did after finishing. He rubs your back like normal, knowing your head was most likely still up in the clouds. Eventually, all of your breathing steadies and returns to a regular pace.

Your hazy eyes open and gaze over at Chris. “Thank you Chris,” you say, tone a bit dreamier than it usually is.

“You’re welcome, honey,” he says, smiling at you.

“Look at you, so polite,” Leon teases, “By the looks of it, you’re gonna be sitting on Chris’s lap soon enough and leaving me on the sidelines.”

You shake your head and nuzzle him. All of you take a brief moment to finish the descent back to normalcy. Chris stands to pull on his pants again.

“We’ll get there one of these days,” he jokes.

“I don’t know about that. This one’s a daddy’s girl before anything else,” Leon says, before smooching your forehead.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy smut #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #resident evil smut #smut #chris redfield x y/n #chris redfield x reader #chris redfield x you #chris redfield smut #chris redfield imagine

2K notes · View notes

candlewaxandp0lar0ids · 1 year ago

Text

hoodie season || Chan x Reader

Summary: You're not stealing Chan's hoodies. He's not happy about it.

Word count: 1.4k

Warnings & Tags: Tooth-rutting fluff, established relationship, that should be it.

A/N: Wrote a silly lil one-shot for an idea I got tonight! This was literally written in under two hours, so, uh, I hope you enjoy it as much as I did lol and I apologize for any typos.

Reblogs, feedback and comments are welcome and encouraged!

It starts, without you being aware of it, on a July evening. You and Chan have only been dating for a couple weeks then, and you feel like you’re on cloud nine. For the better half of the night, which you’re spending with his friend group, you’re in his arms, your back against his chest, his chin comfortably resting on your shoulder. Changbin and Jisung tease him about it, but he shrugs it off like it means nothing. He’s got you now, and he likes showing you off, so why wouldn’t he?

It does take you aback when he lets go of you and the cold hits you. It was hot outside all day, and you hadn’t realized that the temperature had dropped by this much. A shiver shakes you to your core, which Chan doesn’t miss, even if he’s being called away to play the guitar.

“You want my hoodie?” he asks, eyes filled with concern.

“No, I’m okay, babe,” you say with a smile. “I’ve brought a jacket.”

He nods, and that’s all there is to it.

It comes back on a night the two of you are spending out. Chan takes you out to this fancy restaurant, and you dress accordingly, always pleased when you get a chance to impress him — and impress him you do. He does that thing that you think is adorable, where he keeps giggling throughout the meal. Under the table, your knees keep touching, and every time, without fail, his ears turn bright red. You love that you still have that effect on your boyfriend of three months.

After that, because you’re near a park, you decide to go for a walk in the night air. It doesn’t take long before you’re shivering in your small, tight dress.

“I’ve got a hoodie in my car,” Chan says, ever the gentleman. “Want me to go get it for you?”

You’re not keen on being left alone in the dark, and your high heels mean that if you go with him, it’ll take much longer than it should. Plus, it would ruin your outfit.

“It’s fine,” you say, arranging your scarf so it wraps around your shoulders. “We’ll be heading home soon anyway, right?”

“Sure,” he nods quickly, and it’s your turn to giggle, because it’s so cute, how Chan always indulges you.

He ends up picking you up when you’re walking back too slowly for his taste, and you protest, but you’re no longer cold when you get to his car.

The subject — which, by the way, you still haven’t realized is a subject — comes back yet again on a night you’re spending in his apartment. You’re coming out of the shower, a towel wrapped around you, and you’re going through your bag to find the clothes you’d planned on wearing for the night when something lands on the bed in front of you. You glance up to find Chan looking at you, leaning against the door frame.

“Just in case you get cold.”

You have, slowly but surely, made your way into November, but Chan’s place is warm, and you know you’ll have a human radiator, so you grin at him.

“I have a feeling I won’t be needing it tonight.”

Chan grins — but his ears turn red, even now.

You do a Secret Santa, a few days before Christmas, with Chan and his friend group, at Changbin’s place. It’s an incredibly nice house, but it’s big and it’s old, and you soon find yourself huddling against Chan for warm. It makes him laugh at first, and he presses a kiss into your hair, arm solidly wrapped around you as he rubs your arm. When you don’t appear to warm up as the night keeps going, he disappears for a few minutes, ignoring your protests.

He comes back from his car and hands you one of his signature black hoodies.

“You’re my savior, babe,” you sigh as you pull it over your head.

Chan beams.

His victory is short-lived, though, because you pull away from him after that — with the hoodie, cuddling makes you too hot.

You leave the hoodie neatly folded in his car when you both go back to your place for the night.

It’s just a few days later that you meet Chan’s family for the first time. You’re all dressed-up, determined to do your best so that they’ll like you, even if Chan’s promised you that they would, no matter what, because he loves you, and that’s all they care about.

He dropped the word so easily, and you were left speechless. You haven’t stopped thinking about it since.

Even now, when you’re sitting next to him, making small talk with his mom and listening to his sister tease him playfully, you have butterflies in your stomach. The hand he’s placed over yours on the table, again making it look so natural, so easy for him, isn’t helping.

“Wanna go for a midnight walk?” he offers, later that night. “It’s kind of a family tradition.”

“Sure,” you say, voice squeakier than usual, and he tilts his head as he studies you, but he doesn’t comment on it.

“You’re not dressed warm enough,” he warns you, and before you can say that you’ve brought appropriate clothing, he’s taking off his hoodie and pulling it down over your head. “There. All good.”

It’s late when you come back, so you both wish his parents a goodnight before Chan drives you back to your apartment. You wait until you’ve made it up the stairs and you’ve opened the door to put your arms around him and pull him down for a kiss. It’s soft, slow, and filled with all of your emotions.

“What’s that for?” Chan whispers against your lips. He’s warm against you, his hands on your hips, and you feel so grounded by him. You always do.

“I love you too,” you whisper back.

The hoodie ends up forgotten on the floor.

You celebrate New Year’s Day with Chan’s friends, again, but really, they’re your friends by now. You get at Changbin’s house early so you can help with the cooking and decorating the place, and end up teaming up with Felix and Minho in the cooking department, while Hyunjin takes over the decorations and forbids everyone from approaching him while he works.

It’s not because he’s shy. It’s because he thinks you’re all terrible.

Chan arrives kind of late minute, busy working on songs, as always, while you’re putting out the drinks you’d brought with you. You greet him with a quick kiss. You still have a million things to do.

“I’ve got your hoodie in my bag, you should put it back in your car,” you just tell him as you rush back into the kitchen.

You miss the way he pouts at you.

It’s later that night, but still with a couple hours to go until midnight, that he approaches you while you’re outside, staring up at the night sky and enjoying the fresh air after hours cooped up inside. He wraps his arms around your waist, buries his head in your neck. You lean back into the familiar touch with a satisfied sigh — until he mumbles something unintelligible.

“What was that?” you ask with a frown.

Even with the only light coming through the windows of Changbin’s house, you can tell he’s blushing when he pulls away from you.

“Why aren’t you keeping my hoodies?”

You blink at him.

“…because they’re your hoodies?”

He opens his mouth, closes it.

“Yeah, but they’re kinda… your hoodies too, y’know?”

You tilt your head slowly, and soon, you’re unable to fight the grin that’s spreading on your lips as you watch him get increasingly pouty.

“Do you want me to steal your hoodies?”

The blush spreads.

“Do you like it when I wear them?”

You’re just having fun now.

“Yeah,” he answers, before cocking an eyebrow at you. “Think it’s hot, by the way.”

You burst out laughing, and he tightens his hold around you when that takes you away from him. God, do you love that man. Once you’ve collected yourself, you reach a hand up to gently cup his cheek.

“Okay, I’ll steal your hoodies. Anything for you, love.”

He smiles, satisfied, and kisses you softly. He brings a hand to cover yours, entangles his fingers with yours.

You don’t tell him, but the truth is, you feel warm and fuzzy all over inside whenever he’s around.

So you don’t see the point in having a hoodie when you can have him instead.

taglist: @lethallyprotected @jisuperboard

Masterlist

#stray kids #bang chan #chan #skz #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #bang chan fluff #chan fluff #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #chan imagine #bang chan imagine #candywrites

3K notes · View notes

yelenasbraid · 2 months ago

Text

always a winner — joe burrow

summary — you’re at an away show and can’t make it to the game against the ravens. with the frustration of the loss, joe can’t help but be upset.

warnings — fem!equestrian!reader, major angst, arguments, fluff, sad joe, self-degradation talk

note — look 😭 i’m sorry for the horse lore, i got a bit crazy with it (kind of self indulgent since i used to ride horses lol) but i hope it’s not too crazy for you! if it is sorry in advance!!!

YOU HAD TO BE CAREFUL to not let the silence scare you. the anticipation that sat in the air, eyes moving with the horses in front of them.

horse shows were both quiet and loud at the same time. the rounds themselves were quiet, all attention on the team below them. it was also because anything could spook a horse and derail the entire thing.

you liked the silence. it allowed you to think, to process the steps ahead of you. as you cleared another jump, you were 15 seconds away from snatching first place. as you rounded a corner, pushing your horse towards the final jump, you felt every move you made. your hips flexing, your thighs wrapping around your horse, your hands making room for your horse’s movements as you soared over the last jump.

“with a time of 1.15, y/n l/n snatches the first place slot,” the announcer speaks over the loudspeaker, cheers erupting from the crowd. you pumped your fist in the air, bringing it down to pat your horse. as you galloped around, wearing a bright smile, your thoughts wondered to your boyfriend, who played barely an hour away from where you were.

flashback

“oh, come on, i think you’re being a little dramatic,” you laughed on the phone, packing your riding gear up. joe was in his hotel room, prepping for the game that evening.

“i am not! i feel like a part of me is missing when you’re not here,” joe pouted, and you could hear the pout on the other side of the screen. you didn’t understand why players had to be in hotel rooms even when games were at home, but it was routine. you and joe were used to it.

“i wish i could be there,” you hummed, falling on your back onto your bed. you would leave for your show in about an hour, and by that time, joe would be getting on the field.

“me too, but you’re gonna do great. i want to hear all about it,” he smiled. he needed you there, though. he felt the loss in his chest, the ache of it all spreading across his body.

“oh you are,” you assured him. silence bred between you, unspoken words and topics fizzling into vision.

“on a serious note, joey, no matter what happens out there, i’m proud of you, ok? you’ve come so far, have done so well, and i am so so proud of you,” you reminded him. you knew that this season hasn’t been what joe wanted. the losses, the one win, he needed a win against the ravens.

“thank you, love. that means a lot,” he hummed. you were always in his corner, supporting him in the small and big ways. he just wished you were there.

end of flashback

you walked out, cheeks flushed and a proud smile on your face. a bright, blue ribbon was pinned on your horse’s bridle as you walked out. your coach came up and patted your horse’s neck.

“see what happens when i tell you to trust your gut?” she playfully smacked your thigh, causing you to let out a puff of air.

“yeah yeah,” you joked. your eyes met your friend’s, who came up to you with your phone in hand. you told her to keep tabs on the game for you, even though you’d watch highlights on the way home.

“it’s not good,” she started, which was a terrible start. your smile dropped, your heart rate increased, and the worst case scenarios started bombarding you. was it joe? is he ok? is he hurt? please tell me he’s not hurt.

“what is it?” you asked, dismounting. you held your reins in your hands as you looked at the score. 38-41. you were in disbelief. when you checked before your ride, they were in the lead. a good lead too, what happened?

your friend seemed to read your mind.

“evan missed the kick because the holder slipped his grip on the ball in overtime,” she answered. overtime? they went into overtime? you closed your eyes, pursing your lips. sorrow seeped into the cracks in your chest, bleeding down into your soul. you opened your eyes, fighting the tears that stung you. not here. people are going to ask.

you handed your horse to your coach, taking your phone from your friend. you knew joe was beating himself up. you knew he was going over every play, every single thing that went wrong. you knew that he was angry. he had every right to be. you couldn’t even begin to imagine what he was thinking, the defeat, the pain, all of it. he worked so hard to get where he was, and to lose 4 games didn’t prove to the world joe burrow was back. you saw beyond that stat, though. you saw other numbers, like his passing yards exceeded that of mahomes and lamar. you saw his dedication, his work ethic, and his commitment to the sport and his health. you were so beyond proud of him, but you knew that he wasn’t feeling any of that right now.

—

the show packed up from there. horses were loaded, saddles were put away, and you changed into something more comfortable. you sit in the passenger seat of the truck, your coach driving you home. she picked you up, explaining that she didn’t want you to have to drive home.

it was sweet, and it also meant you got to see joe faster.

the truck comes to a stop in your driveway, and you can see lights on in the house. joe was home. of course he was, the game ended around 4 pm, and it was now 6. you gathered your things before stepping out, thanking your coach for the ride. you huffed, walking up to your door, trying to be as quiet as possible.

game day joe was unpredictable. if he won, he was in a great mood, and you usually celebrate in more ways than one. when he lost, he hid himself away, lost himself in film and away from you.

you’ve mentioned it, and he’s worked on it, but it was hard for him to be close to someone else when he didn’t even want to be around himself. you just wanted to be there for him, to hold him and reassure him that he was still good, that you were still proud of him.

you walked in the door, the silence of the house deafening. you softly shut the door, locking it behind you as you walked into your home. it was cozy. blankets were neatly folded across the couch and folded in the basket, pictures hung on the wall, and small items of decor that had joe and y/n etched all over it. it was home, but you couldn’t ignore the forgotten water bottle on the island or the strewn shoes by the door. you flicked your eyes upwards when you heard shifting, signs of life from your boyfriend.

“babe?” you called, slipping off your shoes and neatly placing them by the door. you walked into the kitchen, dropped your bag in order to fill up your water bottle. you heard footsteps, and then descending steps. you turned to see your boyfriend walk into view. he looked exhausted. his face was sullen, eyes void of any light, and his hands hung loosely at his sides. his hair was wet; signs of a shower.

“how was it?” he asked. his voice was hoarse, and if he was honest, he didn’t want to talk. he wanted to be left alone, but at the same time he needed to see you. you weren’t at the game, you didn’t see him after he walked into the tunnel, or after the presser. no matter how often it happened, he was never used to it. why weren’t you there?

“it was good, stayed on and was safe,” you answered. telling him you won first place didn’t seem appropriate, but you knew he’d ask.

“did you place?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning against the wall. he knew you did, you always did. unlike him, you managed to win at your sport.

“i did,” you started, your eyes flicking over his form. he looked small, and not in the physical sense, in the emotional sense. he barely held eye contact with you, but he was standing there, with you. he looked like a little boy, dressed in a loose fitting black shirt and sweats. his expression was hard, his nose red and cheeks raw.

he nodded and turned away from you, starting back up the stairs.

“joe,” you called after him. his heart jumped in his chest; he didn’t want to talk about it.

“i don’t want to talk, y/n,” he told you, a little harsher than he intended.

“don’t distance yourself from me, please,” you stepped towards him, and he went rigid. you stopped, watching as he turned to face you, his eyes now full of emotions. anger, guilt, sadness.

“you’re telling me that?” he snapped. he didn’t want to do this, he didn’t want to go there. you didn’t deserve it. you were right, and he begged himself to stop.

“what?” your voice is small, confused.

“you’re the one who told me a week ago she was going to be at the game, you’re the one who spent all of her time at the barn this week, you’re the one who’s avoided me,” everything is crashing down on him, the loss, his failure, his undeniable need for you.

“i don’t go to the barn to avoid you, joey. you know that,” you reminded him, trying to keep some semblance of peace. his emotions were running rampant, and he was trying to control them.

“you’re there for hours, you’re not home when i get home, and i’ve ate dinner by myself for a few days this week,” he feels the familiar sting of tears in his eyes, the clench in his chest. joe knows you’re there for hours, and he’s never voiced having an issue with it. joe knew that he sounded like he didn’t make much sense, but nothing was making sense for him.

“joe, what-”

“you weren’t there! you weren’t there and i needed you there,” his voice raised, standing a few feet in front of you.

“joe, with my schedule and yours i can’t be at every game! i thought we were in agreement with this,” you defended. you watched as his face shattered, the wall coming down, the realization settling in. he thought he’d be winning by now, at least 2-3, but he wasn’t.

“but i needed you,” he whispered, but his anger was still present. he wasn’t angry at you, he didn’t blame you, but his anger at himself manifested into it being towards you. a single tear slipped down his cheek, his eyes red with the threat of more.

the silence between you was poison, seeping into your pores and creating the sour cocktail of anxiety. your eyes never left joe’s body, watching the rise and fall of his chest, the unshed tears, and the shattered look in his eyes.

you should’ve been there.

“i’m sorry i wasn’t there,” you started, fiddling with your fingers. joe shook his head, wiping his eyes and his nose.

“it doesn’t change anything,” he snapped.

“i know it doesn’t, but i can’t control my schedule, just like you can’t,” you told him. he knew you were right. he knew how it worked, yet his emotions betrayed him. that’s not really how it works. she just wants to have an excuse to not see you embarrass yourself.

he looked at you, his eyes puffy and red. his arms ached, desperate to be around you. his heart raced, chest heaving with every inhale and exhale. the more he met eyes with you, the more his body relaxed. he swam in your expression, the softness of it but also the sternness of it. you’d defend yourself even if he was being unreasonable. his hands hung at his sides, his chest still tight.

he needed you, and you were here. now.

you gingerly approached him, watching as his head dipped to avoid eye contact with you. his chest heaved, his breaths clawing at his eyes; don’t cry don’t cry don’t cry. your hand gently rested on his cheek, guiding him to look at you. his eyes met yours, and his heart lurched. he didn’t want to sob, but he couldn’t help it. a sob escaped his throat, and you pulled him for a hug. you cradled the back of his neck, fingers caressing his skin as he buried his face into your shoulder, tears cascading down his raw cheeks.

joe hated arguing with you. he hated it even more when he was the one to start it. joe knew you worked hard, he knew that your commitment to your sport matched his own, but with how vulnerable he felt, he just needed his safety blanket. he needed you to help put his pieces back together, to remind him of who he was. as his arms held onto you, keeping you close to his body, he felt his breathing settle and his heart rate slow.

after a few moments, joe pulled away, wiping the remaining tears from his eyes. when you first started dating, joe didn’t cry in front of you. he didn’t want you to think he was weak, or that he wasn’t able to handle the load. as time went on, you became the only person besides his parents he’d cry to. he felt safe with you, he felt like he could give you his emotions and you’d take care of them.

your hands cupped his cheeks, one of his hands resting on yours.

“i’m sorry,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. your shoulders sagged, a small smile gracing your lips.

“i forgive you,” you hummed, brushing an escaped tear from his eye.

“i know we’ve talked about it,” he sniffled, “and i have gotten better at letting you in, but it’s not always easy,” he confessed. you knew that, it wasn’t human nature to confess your deepest feelings, even to those closest to you. it was a protective measure.

“it’s not going to be easy, but the important thing is that you try,” you spoke softly, your hands falling from his cheeks.

“i want to win,” he whispered, his eyes glazing over with fresh tears, “i want to win so badly, for the team, for cincinnati, for you,” he continued, his voice breaking.

“and you will, trust me. you will win, even if you’re already a winner in my eyes,” you tagged a lighter tone to your words, which caused joe to break out a small smile. silence fell between you, unspoken words oozing out of joe’s skin.

“i am proud of you, i always will be, but i do want to bring home wins too,” he added. you chuckled, grabbing his hands and rubbing your thumbs over his knuckles.

“who has the trophy in the basement?” you joked, earning a chuckle from joe, “in all seriousness, you are going to bring home wins. we win together, not separately. when you win, i win. we do this together,” you gave his hands a squeeze, earning a bright smile from him. you leaned up and pecked his lips, then his forehead.

“i am proud of you, joe. every step you’ve taken, every yard you’ve thrown, i am beyond proud of you,” your words sunk into his skin, reminding him of who he was. he was joe burrow, joe sheisty, the quarterback that brought the bengals back to life.

“i love you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours.

“i love you,” you hummed. the warm moment was interrupted by the growling of joe’s stomach. you laughed, jokingly patting his stomach.

“is someone hungry?” you chuckle, pulling your head away from his. he laughed, nodding his head.

“i’ve not eaten dinner yet,” he confessed, earning a smack on the arm.

“joseph lee!” you scolded with a smile, “as much as you speak on eating healthy, you need to practice what you preach,” you teased as you walked into the kitchen. joe followed, watching as you opened the fridge. you had leftovers from the previous night, so you pulled those out.

“i do! most of the time,” he rebutted as he watched you place food on plates. as you stuck one in the oven, he wrapped his arms around you again. he melted into you, all 6’4 of him. you ran your hand down his back, then back up to his hair to run your fingers through his frosted tips. the microwave beeped, separating you two.

“we should watch a movie,” joe suggested as you put the second plate in.

“like old times?” you smiled, remembering the movie nights in college.

“yeah, except i won’t commentate,” he assured you. both of you were bad at it, especially marvel movies, which made it amazing when you two watched movies together. with friends? oh it was terrible.

“i’ll believe that when i see it,” you replied. with your plates of food, you walked over and sat on the couch, turning on a movie. joe sat next to you, leaning his shoulder on you. you didn’t mind how clingy he was, you embraced it. you sat, ate dinner, and watched a movie. a comforting and familiar experience.

with dinner done, plates on the coffee table, the movie still going on, joe nestled himself against your chest. his cheek against your chest, listening to your stead heartbeat, it was putting him to sleep. your hands combing through his hair didn’t help either. joe eventually fell asleep, his face tucked away in your shirt and his arms around you. you kissed the top of his head, a smile on your face.

“sweet dreams, my love,”

rushed ending so sorry about that! i will say though, as work picks up for me i might not be writing as much. there’s also some other stuff going on too so that’s fun 🤪 so i will post when i can! hope you guys enjoy the writing before i get burnt out lol.

tags — @wickedfun9

#joe burrow #joe burrow x reader #joe burrow imagines #joe burrow imagine #nfl imagine

334 notes · View notes

saintslewis · 9 months ago

Text

❝ 𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐒 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒 ❞

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x fem!journalist reader

summary: a lil joke thing i wanted to write because homeboy is bringing home the big bucks 🤭

warnings: just read 🫵🏽 this is a crack fic lol

saint’s team radio 🎀: don’t take this all too seriously 😭 hope y’all enjoy plus who know i’ll actually make it into a thing 🧍🏽‍♀️

tags: @alika-4466 @purplelewlew @exotic-iris13 @arshiyuh @mauvecherie-writes @yeea-nah @youre-sooooo-funny @louvrepool @queenshikongo3 @cherry2stems @httpsserene @motheroffae

Being an independent journalist in this sport wasn’t easy at all but only within the parameters of any paddock around the world as most journalists rarely agreed with you, being neutral about anything in f1 wasn’t your thing.

Speaking your mind as the race went on was what set you apart from the rest, along with your humour and your honesty towards drivers and team principals. Not to mention you were extremely biased, keeping your liking to three to five drivers but only one occupied your mind every time you think about him.

I think you know who I’m talking about.

Your support for Lewis goes back to 2015, discovering the sport and immediately wanting to put your journalism skills to the test, aiming for the f1 paddock to at least catch a glimpse of the most talked about driver. Quickly building up a blog and several other social media accounts, you got to telling the world your thoughts and feelings for every race and your supporters rooted for you to achieve your goal.

Having the opportunity to attend thee race in 2020 as a guest of F1, you arrived at the Turkish Grand Prix with your head held high and a dress so gorgeous that it sparked rumours between you and the driver you were writing about. Not to mention the hug he gave you when you first met in the Mercedes garage, praising and thanking you for the support over the years. He’s been watching you and your work. That made your heart so warm.

Then he won his 7th world championship, breaking all records and that day, he deemed you his lucky charm.

And since then, it’s been a work wife-work husband friendship between you two. Fans constantly shipping you too, the clips of your shared interviews at the media pen of the intense eye contact and even off-track sightings once in a while such as a quick lunch.

yourusername • 13 mins ago

The atmosphere in Australia was unlike anything you’ve ever seen in your career, the paddock was practically painted red, Ferrari red to be specific. Everyone eager for Lewis to arrive as his first season as a driver for the legendary team.

Deciding to subtly support him and his new team, you rocked maroon everything, not yet ready to fully embrace the extreme bright red. It just might be your new favourite colour, from your hair right down to the tips of your high heeled boots.

Whilst setting your camera equipment up (gracefully given to you by Ferrari themselves), you couldn’t help but reminisce back to the year before of when he told you he was leaving Mercedes, a single facetime call in the nighttime.

“You made me pause the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, this better be good.” You said, placing the popcorn bowl down on your coffee table. Giving him squinted eyes, he just smiled at you.

“Are you alone right now?” He asked and that set aback for a bit. “You tryna do something funny, Lewis? Because you’re in Monaco right now and I’m at my house.” You raised your eyebrow at him, hiding how nervous you were to even suggest that to him but thankfully, he took it as a joke.

“No no, I’ve got some big news and I wanted to tell you before it gets out.” He replied, seeing how you stood up and placed your phone on your kitchen counter to prepare for this. “Okay, I’m ready. What’s up?” You clasped your hands together, not prepared to hear what came out of his mouth next.

“I’m moving to Ferrari next year.”

“You’re lying.” And all he did was smile as he saw your face drop at this news. He shook his head and that woke you to run around your apartment screaming. Running back to your phone, he was still there but just laughing his lungs out.

“Give me the details right now or else I’ll fly there. I’m not playing, Lew.”

A small smile was plastered on your face as you racked through the memories of that night and till that day, you still couldn’t believe it even though it was right in front of you. The media pen became louder and louder as you continued to mic yourself up along with connecting the mic to the camera and you immediately knew who caused the stir.

He already had such an aura surrounding him so much so that you could feel him whenever he entered the room. You were aware he arrived earlier and most likely changed but seeing the official team shirt on him was odd but fitting.

Lewis had a simple routine whenever he got to the media pen: everyone else then you because his time with you could be lengthened and he was so damn grateful that it was a Thursday because it meant even more time just walking around the paddock pretending it’s an interview when really, you guys were just spending time together.

After all the drivers had their interviews with you, laughing as they walked away because of some joke you told or happy that you asked different questions than everyone else. The man of the hour strolled over to your section with a look in his eye that gave you a shiver down your spine.

“Do not give me that look, Lewis. It’s weird seeing you in that shirt.” You said as he leaned against the barricade, maintaining eye contact with you. “I’m just taking in the red on you, it’s your colour.” He smirked at the reaction from you, the slight shock from the tone of his voice.

There was always a tad bit of tension between the two of you, feeling that twinge of a spark whenever he merely touched you. As you worked with over the years, you wanted your crush on him to diminish because that would just be unprofessional but he did not seem to care. At all. Often being spotted at various places together that he claimed were just two friends hanging out but just one look from him could have you in the clouds of days.

“Uh..huh. Wanna get these questions done or you wanna keep staring?” You asked with sass, watching him tilt his head a little and maintaining eye contact. “We can go right ahead, Y/n.” Lewis replied and you knew this was going to be a long interview.

Several questions later with a bunch of tension that you were sure the viewers would catch, you discreetly turned the camera to ask one of your infamous unserious questions that you did with every driver and you were sure this one were to get a laugh out of Lewis.

Holding the little card in front of you, you grinned with your left eye closing slightly more than the other. “It’s one of my favourite parts of any interview, unserious question time.” You said. “How unserious are we speaking here?” He asked with the slightest grin on his face just admiring you do your job.

“Only if you promise to answer it.” You said, holding out your manicured pinkie finger and Lewis hooked his with yours, solidifying the promise. “Okay okay, the whole world was shocked on how much Ferrari wanted you so much so that they literally doubled your salary.” You started.

“It’s now sitting at a hundred million a year. My question to you is who you gonna share it with and will it be me?”

“If you’re being serious, then it can be you.” He smiled and in that moment, your stomach dropped.

“Carl Davidson, I’m not playing around. Are you being for real?” You asked, lowering your voice so that no one could hear a thing.

He leaned in a bit more to whisper his next answer. “As real as you meeting me later on for dinner.” Lewis faced you then winked, walking away with your face still in shock. After standing there for what felt like forever, you felt your phone vibrate with a text from the man himself.

lew <3

you look gorgeous in red btw

yourusername

liked by theestallion, f1wags and 43,747 others

yourusername “anything you want, princess” — lewis hamilton.

view comments

user give me your game card

user you’re eating the red wig DOWN

spinzbeatsinc oh for him to buy me a g wagon

yourusername you already have one???

user you gold digging bitch

user no ways 😭

user not you using him for his money

user think about it, what is he gonna do with so much??

fan she got the chance and she took it, i gotta respect it

user i hope this is a hard launch because i’ve been shipping these two for YEARS

user me too!!

lewishamilton just say the word 🫡

yourusername 🤭🤭🤭🤭

saint’s team radio (again) 🎀: hope you all enjoyed! again, this is like a crack fic lol. there’s so many stories that’ll be released soon i’m excited 🥹 okay bye!

#saint writes #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfics #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton fic #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #SoundCloud

1K notes · View notes

kiss-me-muchoo · 1 year ago

Text

𝐒𝐭𝐨𝐩, 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐦𝐞 || 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐠!𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐒𝐧𝐨𝐰 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

part one: stop, you’re losing me || part two: in the trees, in the breeze

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲_ Coriolanus Snow had once a sweet girlfriend that helped him in his darkest days. Until he betrayed her and on the post-Hunger Games celebration, he gave her all the reasons to leave him. Not without causing her a breakdown that makes him regret everything.

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬_ capitol ballerina!reader, soft!Coryo at the beginning, slight canon divergence, manipulation, sex implied, violence, reader has a mental breakdown that ends in tragedy, if you don’t want to read about mental health, beware!!!!!!

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞_ I had to split this into two parts. Next part will be slowburn, early politician!Coryo realising he married a half rebel woman and many many dramaaaa. Songs for this: Stop, you’re losing me and tírate lol.

♪ ♫ awful Coriolanus Snow playlist ✰ Index (+ fics here)

__________________________________________________________________________

It wasn’t possible. But Coriolanus could swear that even days after, the smell of fresh paint was still lingering on the air of his penthouse. Maybe because the smell was actually gone since a week ago, but he refused to let go the memory of you and your face with splotches of paint.

On a bright winter morning, you appeared early with buckets of paint. Tigris insisted that none of the Snows could accept the offer, saying it was too much. The walls were full of humidity, paint falling by itself. You could see the sadness on Grandma’am, Coriolanus and his grandmother were very patriotic, the old woman would frequently miss the days before the war, where the penthouse was bright and full of life.

Through a peaceful argument, as Tigris insisted on not taking the buckets of paint, you had already opened one and with a big brush, you splashed a wall from the entrance. The new color was shiny on top of the old layer, and it brought a giant smile to the elder woman.

Coriolanus had so much fun, thinking his girlfriend was the best and spent the day together, listening to the old radio as both of you painted the whole place.

Now, the apartment was still a mess, but the bright olive-green walls made it better.

It had been a thing of destiny that you appeared on the second year of the Academy. You were a loner, always choosing to work on your own for projects. During lunch, you only had two girlfriends, and Coriolanus was able to see that you laughed so hard every time you were with them. He also learned you had a dark humor, making fun of everyone. Like the school staff, Arachne Crane, other classmates, even the president. He grew curious of you. And one random day, after only you and Coriolanus where the only people missing a partner for a science project, a teacher matched you two.

Some months later, you discovered about his financial situation. And Coriolanus had been so scared, thinking you would share the secret and ruin his life. But the next morning, you handed him half of your lunch, knowing he was starving, because at the time, the Academy didn’t offered lunch yet.

The act made Coriolanus Snow realize he could trust you. You met his cousin and grandmother, bringing a giant box full of pastries as a present for them.

Tigris was at the verge of tears and immediately thought you were the one for her little cousin.

Soon it became real. After you turned seventeen, he asked if you wanted to be his girlfriend. Now, time had slowly passed, moving you two into a different season.

“CORYO! IT’S ABOUT TO START! HURRY UP!” Tigris shouted from the kitchen. He sighed, only to end up coughing.

“ALMOST DONE!” He shouted back. His wet hair making him shiver, rapidly wandering across his room to find his body lotion. Eucalyptus. Coriolanus used to hate the smell of eucalyptus. But he started liking the odor since you had a candle made of it in your room. A little after, you gifted him a lotion and perfume of eucalyptus.

Only that Coriolanus couldn’t smell since his nose was congested. He caught a flu, and while he was feeling better, he was still struggling to inhale and breathe properly.

“IF YOU ARE NOT HERE IN THE FOLLOWING FIVE MINUTES, I’M COMING TO GET YOU!” Coriolanus giggled at his cousin threatening him. After putting on a warm sweater and some dressing pants, he came out of his room.

His family was already gathered in the living room, with the tv on. He turned to the dining table, looking at the bouquet of white and red roses, he smiled, hoping you would be happy to see them. Spring was around the corner, the firsts flowers from his grandmother’s top garden had bloomed. At the same time, your first-year anniversary with the young Snow was coming.

The annual gala of arts had existed since the first days of Panem. With music, sculpture, paint, drama and dance performances. It used to be private, then the war happened, and it was suspended. And now, it had been five years since it started to be a show anyone with a tv could see.

Your father was the owner of production establishments of Panem, who happened to have married a famous dancer, also owner of the biggest dance company in the Capitol. No clue how you turned out to be a wonderful sight on stage.

And that’s why Coriolanus was expected to come and see the tv. You were about to perform in the gala.

“Who’s out now?” He asked, sitting beside Tigris.

Grandma’am was crocheting something pink and the whole place was cold as the North Pole.

“A girl from District 1.” Before meeting you, Coriolanus had less than the slight knowledge on dance styles. He just knew it was mostly for women, with exorbitant gowns and shoes that seemed pretty. However, the girl on the screen was dancing with bare feet, along a man.

Some weeks after Coriolanus accepted he had feelings for you, he questioned if it was a good idea to join your mother’s dance company so that you would fall easily for him. It wasn’t necessary because you liked him as soon as he made you smile and laugh.

“Oh Coryo! She’s next!” Tigris said, taking his hand while looking nervously at the tv. Coriolanus always thought Tigris was a worrier most of the time, she always got so into her job, always thinking of what if. Seconds later, you appeared, immediately Grandma’am started to cheer and say out loud how beautiful you looked. Red and black dress with a ruffled tutu, your pink thighs and pointe shoes in a perfectly hidden ribbon. And a red flower with feathers and sequins in your head that had Tigris worried about. She made the headpiece for you. And she feared it would fall from your head. Coriolanus soothed her before coming back to smile like an idiot on the tv.

That was his girlfriend. He had literally pulled one of the most beautiful, if not the most perfect girl of Panem.

The music started and it was a delight for him. He always enjoyed classical music. And the one you danced along was a little faster and vivid than usual, making it impossible to keep any eye in any other place but you and your cocky smile.

Coriolanus knew you had an ego. And he loved to fuel it by saying how gorgeous you were all the time. So, he couldn’t wait for you to arrive on his door. Even when he pleaded you not to come, since he didn’t want to be a contagious asset for you. You hadn’t care, bringing some medicines, chicken broth soup and a lot of mint to help with his congestion the day before.

That’s why he felt even more empowered to keep going and win that prize. It was announced before the winter break and the holidays. He promised himself to win so he could become someone. Enough greater to make him worthy from having you. Because now at eighteen, he aspired to be in your life forever.

So, as you shined on that stage, spinning and standing on pointe, Coriolanus mentally repeated that he loved you. He said it occasionally to you, but most of the time he preferred saying it by holding your hand, kissing you and helping with your homework. Sometimes he wondered what true love was. If he was a capable of giving that to you. He wasn’t able to give you presents, only a tiny bouquet of flowers from his grandma’am. He couldn’t take you out on dates to fancy restaurants, not even offering you to stay for dinner in his place. Your dates where on his old rooftop, your bedroom or patio. Unlike you, who came every Friday after school with food for the family. You constantly gifted little things, like perfumes, a new shirt, anything to make his life easier.

His smile only grows bigger as your performance is about to be over. He admires the way your body is able to be so flexible and consistent. He had also seen the pain behind looking like an elegant feather. Some afternoons when he visited your room, you were tired, soaking your feet in warm water to soothe the ache.

But for now, he treasures the image of your smile as you make some reverence, ending your presentation.

“Oh dear… She was perfect!” Grandma’am said happily, with the round of applause on the tv in the background.

“And the headpiece survived the whole time!” Coriolanus rolled his eyes, smiling at his cousin.

As his family talked about your dress and the investments of your parents, the blonde boy returned to see the flower bouquet.

He really hoped you would love them, that you hadn’t turned bored of only receiving flowers from him.

One day, he would buy you expensive jewelry. He would give you the finest dinners and he would find the most beautiful house around the area for you. Only that way he would feel worthy of having you. Only that way he would find appropriate to call you his in all matters.

For now, he was just hanging there. Doing everything to win that prize. Giving you the least he had and shyly accepting all the things you provided him. That’s how he knew you truly loved him. You cared for his family and him. And Coriolanus swore nobody on earth would care that much for him like you.

Making it the main reason why he knew he had to rush it. He had to give you everything.

Not that you minded.

As you encouraged the family driver; Trevor, to take the route he considered most convenient to make it faster to your boyfriend’s place. You smile.

Oh, how you loved your boy.

You loved greeting him with a kiss on the lips followed by little pecks around. He giggled, probably believing you were so silly, but he would lean to kiss you so deeply again.

“We’re almost there, miss” you nod, looking through the window.

“Thank you, Trevor.”

“Should I wait or send Roger to pick you up late?” Roger was your father’s bodyguard. He was tasked to take care of you for his night shift sometimes. You liked Trevor better; he was a kind man of family. You had met his wife and beautiful daughters, sending them presents for their birthdays.

“Not sure yet. But you can go home and rest. It’s Friday and you need to be with your family, Trevor” he smiled, thinking how sweet you were. He cared a lot for you, almost like another daughter.

“Your mother won’t be happy. She was already irritated that you left the gala so early…”

“Don’t worry. I’ll figure it out” with that being said, he parked outside of the building. Trevor handed you some bags, full of food, wood and other things. Then your ballet bag. Ready to leave. The whole day, after leaving the Academy, you were only lounging to finish with the gala to went straight to your man’s arms.

“If anything, you call me. Alright?” You smile nodding at the man.

“Alright.” After a exchange of smiles, you wave him goodbye, and he disappears through the empty street.

It was a cloudy day, Lucky Flickerman said it was going to be a thunderstorm night at the Capitol. Gripping your coat tightly, you enter the building.

…

The door suddenly is open, and Coriolanus hears your voice calling from the entrance.

“Where’s everyone?” Tigris volts out from the living room, hurrying to greet you.

“But of course, we were watching you on the tv. Where else?” You laugh, hugging the young woman.

Then Grandma’am also joins to greet, saying you are gorgeous on stage.

“And where’s my boy?” You asked, wandering around. Coriolanus finally appears from the hallway with a smile. You could tell he had showered. His curls looked softer than ever.

He wants to laugh; you are still on thighs. With some black heels, and he can see a tutu under your coat.

Tigris and the elder woman decide to take the food to serve dinner, leaving you and your boyfriend alone. Both of you hear them saying how thankful they were to have food another week.

You open your arms, and he goes straight to hug you. Your hands cradle his face before standing on your tip toes to kiss him.

“How are you feeling?” He seemed to look and feel better. Apparently, the medicines worked.

“A lot better…”

“I missed you.” He also did. If his health hadn’t been compromised, he would’ve attended the gala with you.

“Me too. But you should have stayed home.” It had been a rough week at the Academy, the rehearsals for the gala, acting as a nurse for your sick boyfriend.

“We always spend Fridays together, silly.” He doesn’t deserve you.

“You were beautiful today. Although… you’re always perfect.” You blush, kissing his cheek before following him inside his penthouse.

The smell of mashed potatoes, the piece of ham you brought, and bread fill the place. It had been a little while since Coriolanus could only smell the boiled cabbage and hear his stomach painfully churning.

When you enter the room, you see the big bouquet of roses. You turn to see Coriolanus in disbelief, smiling.

“I hope you like them” the jar is old, but it looks amazing with the perfectly accommodated flowers. Your fingers gently grasp the soft petals. You are so in love with him.

“I will never get tired of this. I love them!” You turn around and Coriolanus sees your face full of adoration. You literally jump to kiss him. Always being received by the passionate yet slow and delicate of his kisses. One hand gently on your neck while the other rested on your cheek. Some strands of his blonde curls brushing against your forehead as your heels make it slightly even when it comes to height.

“Look at them. My future president of Panem and his First Lady.” Tigris giggles at her grandmother, but smiles deeply, happy to see her little cousin in love. And extremely thankful that he found a warm and generous woman like you to have in his life. Because in her head, Coriolanus deserved better.

“Let’s just pray that they graduate for now, Grandma’am.” She adds grabbing the old porcelain plates they have to serve the food.

And it’s a thunder what startles you, squirming away from your boyfriend. He laughs, holding you closer again after seeing you got scared.

“It’s raining!” Tigris announces from the kitchen.

“Guess you’ll have to stay the night.” His cheeky smile makes you gently push him. Your mother was going to be mad. But Tigris would intervene and say it was okay.

It wasn’t the first time you stayed though.

…

There are at least six candles around the room. The temperature decreased significantly after dinner. The water you used to clean the dishes was almost freezing. And Coriolanus wanted to die out of embarrassment when you started heating water on the fireplace to take a shower.

You had said it was nothing and that you don’t mind. But still, he felt so wrong.

Now, he was seating against the head of his bed. Watching how you curated your swollen feet. You pinched some blisters with a needle that had carefully been burned with a match. And now, it was time to put some cream and finally wrap the area with bandages.

“Does it hurt a lot?” He asked.

“Not much. I’m used to it now” you replied without looking at him. Still concentrated on your feet.

“I’m sorry about the water.” You frown, finally turning to see him.

“Why do you keep apologizing?” He shrugs, slightly irritated.

“Because I wish I could give you more and I can’t.” he didn’t mean to sound so harsh, but he does. Your lips form a line, before crawling until you mere kneeling bedside him on the bed.

“I hate to see you doing things you don’t have the necessity to do so. I hate not being able to treat you like my girlfriend and more like friend. I want to give you the world and I can’t.”

“Coriolanus… Look at me.” You take his hand, and with the other, you are tracing invisible line on his chin with your thumb. He looks at you, eyes slightly watered, making your heart swell for him.

“Life could’ve been so different, I could’ve been in your position, and you in mine.” He closes his eyes, thinking about his terrible luck.

“You charmed me before I knew everything about you. You know it, right?” He nods, tilting his head just to feel more of your touch. In response, you are again grabbing his cheeks.

“You have to let me help you now. That’s what couples do. They help each other. One day you’ll be able to give me anything you want. But for now, I will give you anything just to not see you struggling. Nor your family” your forehead is brushing his, and he can only attempt to nod as you speak.

“And remember, my love. You already make me happy. I’m already proud of you.” He doesn’t cry, but he’s at the verge of. He just hides his face on your neck. And there’s a wet spot on your skin, but you don’t say anything, you just tighten your embrace of him, smiling as you kiss his hair.

“I love you.” He says and it surprises you. While you know he loves you, you are aware that he’s not used to say it very often.

“I love you too, Coryo.”

He promises himself that he will do everything in his will to chase power. To change his faith and give you what you deserve.

The thunderstorm was powerful enough to scare you once in a while. As you were playing cards with Coriolanus, he took your hand every time you got startled. Tigris said goodnight and suggested to keep the door unlocked. Making you blush and Coriolanus too.

“I’m bored.” You said, laying on your side, facing your boyfriend. He dropped his joint of card too, hand landing on your hip, caressing the skin.

“What do you want to do?” You notice the way he’s touching you. It’s slightly inappropriate and it makes you grin.

“You are already suggesting something” his eyes widened, embarrassment flooding him.

“I’m sorry” you chuckle, noticing how shy and insecure he could be.

“Don’t you want to?” It’s your next move what almost makes him choke. You move forward, taking a sit on his lap.

“Of course I want to. Just not here.” You roll your eyes, hands massaging his shoulders, making him groan in delight. Your cream nightgown had lifted, showing him your bare legs. The long sleeve felt so soft against his hands.

“As long as you’re with me, I don’t mind where we’re doing it.” He’s unsure, but he can feel himself getting hard. Finally, after months of having only the company of his hand, he could claim you. He doesn’t love that it’s going to happen in his old bed, in his messed-up room. But you look so gorgeous with bare light from the candles. Now half naked showing him for the first time your naked body.

“Are you sure?” He asks one last time, feeling a string of saliva connected between your lips and his. It’s dirty, messy and extremely erotic to be the first time.

“Believe me, nothing wakes up Tigris and Grandma’am. We’re safe…”

“Alright. I trust you, Coryo.”

“Good. Now get on your back and spread those legs for me.” His possessive side would always surprise you. But you enjoyed it. And now, as the thunderstorm keeps going you let his possessive side dominate you.

“God, I love you.” You say as he makes you believe the rain falling outside were actually stars.

…

“Look at the tragic lovers, already in pose for a war memorial portrait”. You roll your eyes at Arachne. You hear Felix, Festus and even Clemmie laughing along other classmates. Coriolanus ignores her, taking your hand, reassuring you. The building was getting crowded. The Reaping was around the corner, but you were only praying for your boyfriend. Hoping to leave the place with the prize on his hands.

“Careful, Arachne. One day they might have a portrait in the parliament building” Clemensia says giggling.

“How? Because Coriolanus would be Panem’s president and y/n as First Lady? Allow me to laugh…” you can listen to her annoying voice. Something you always wished was a good friendship with your classmates. But it was difficult. Arachne was very competitive and judgmental; Festus was tedious along Felix. Persephone was extremely quiet; Livia was too naïve. Only Clemensia and Sejanus seemed to be genuine with you.

“Who knows?” Sejanus spoke from the other side of rows, walking to seat beside Arachne and your boyfriend. You smiled at him, and he reciprocated it. Coriolanus was too lost on his thoughts to pay attention to the little argument. Until Sejanus tilted his head to whisper something to him.

“There is no prize anymore.” The blonde turns to look at him in confusion. But the ceremony has officially started. He feels you taking his hand in disguise. And it’s the only reason why he feels less nervous.

Until Dean Highbottom reveals the sudden changes, which makes your heart pound faster. And without a warning, the listing of tributes begins. You look away when you see the little girl named Wovey being focused on camera, the sadness and uneasy churn in your stomach hitting you by the end of District 11 tributes.

And finally, the songbird is paired with Coriolanus.

He sees the way you frown, cringed by her singing. Even when she had a wonderful voice, it was unexpected and certainly odd for some. Then, he sees you cover your mouth in disbelief when she curses on the microphone. Coriolanus can’t tell, but he assumes it’s gonna be a little difficult to deal with that girl. Seeing zero chances to win.

Then he realised the tributes were mentioned. The Reaping had finished.

It’s over. Everyone has a tribute except for you. Dean Highbottom resumes the listing walking away, making you turn to see him, raising your hand immediately. Ready to ask questions.

“Put your hand down, Miss y/l/n. It’s not a mistake the order of the listing” you hear Dr. Gaul saying firmly. When you turn around, she’s there, offering a cold yet deep look with her unmatched eye irises.

Slowly, your hand goes down, laying on your lap, slightly shaking.

“Your parents have been generous enough to become official sponsors of the games.” Voices echo across the room, gossiping about the news. Even for you, this was a surprise.

Coriolanus looks at you but doesn’t say anything. He just wondered how much this would make your family richer.

“The mentors have to make their tributes a spectacle. But your task is to make all of the 10th Hunger Games a massive spectacle. Propaganda, production and strategy…” your face goes pale. But you dare to question it.

“Is this some type of punishment?” Gaul laughs, offering a genuine smile later, her hands together, like she was comfortable on her spot.

“Consider this your admission test. You won’t be fighting for the prize, but this would give you enough honors to automatically join the best branches of the Capitol’s University.” Quietly, you nod under the curious look of your classmates. The look of Arachne full of envy, Clemensia confused, Sejanus doubting. And your dear Coriolanus, he was happy to be honest. You could easily make his tribute look presentable so he could win. He would get the prize, get into university, become a political figure if not president and finally give you anything he couldn’t before.

But for now, the ceremony is over. You say goodbye to your friends, and you walk with Coriolanus, he takes your hand and together leave the place.

…

Your vision looks lost, but seemingly focused on the cracked floor. Coriolanus had been looking at you, he crossed his arms, but still nothing. Your heels were scattered, but you looked very comfortable at the edge of his bed.

“What’s on your mind, sweets?” You feel the cushions sinking beside you, his palm goes to rub your back, taking you back to reality.

“I don’t want the weight of all those upcoming deaths on me. On making it an entertainment…” rarely you spoke about the games or politics with your boyfriend. Mostly it was about university, future plans, music, and random pieces of your lives.

“It won’t be your fault, y/n. This will prove to everyone in the Capitol how worthy you are” he tries to soothe you.

“Still. While I do believe we deserve peace and to gain the respect the First Rebellion took from us, I do believe that putting some children to kill each other in the arena each year isn’t going to make a change” he sighed.

“That little girl…” he had seen the kid. But he grew indifferent to that, he was only focused on winning, and he was going to try to psyche you into the same.

“What terrifies you so much?” He asks, finally making you look at him in the eye.

“I have a bad feeling, Coryo. Like everything is gonna go down bad” you admit. You couldn’t tell if it was the change, your new task or Lucy Gray Baird. You were avoiding being judgmental, but as soon as you saw what she did with that snake, your initial thought was that she was a problem.

“None of that. You are making this Hunger Games unforgettable; I’m winning the prize. And that’s it, we will go to university together and make all those things we’ve talked about. That’s all that matters, y/n. Right?” It’s inevitable, you know it’s some sort of manipulation.

He does it with good intentions, but you don’t like it.

“I will give my best to make this whole thing memorable. I will try to make your songbird win. But none of this will wash away the guilt.”

Before the moment can get uncomfortable, Tigris enters the room. She smiles before standing against the little desk Coriolanus had.

“How was it? Tell me everything” she’s anxious to know everything, but for sure knows Coriolanus didn’t get the prize.

“We’ll give you the details in the table. But for now, I’m mentoring the tribute from District 12. y/n is in charge of the game's propaganda” her blonde brows furrow.

“The girl who singed?” Both of you nod. She sighs, crossing her arms.

“This isn’t what was supposed to happen…” Tigris adds. Again, you let yourself fall against the mattress, covering your face.

“Making the games’ an spectacle. What were they thinking?” Coriolanus exchanged looks with Tigris. She understood his look. Mentally telling him to give you some female soothing advice. She decided then to take seat too. You end up sandwiched between them.

It’s her hand brushing some hairs away your neck and face. Tigris had always treated you like family. And that’s why you felt more guilty. Because you wanted Coriolanus to win so badly, to help his family but you also thought about the tributes. About making their deaths some type of entertainment for everyone to watch.

“Sounds unfair. A lot of things from the Capitol are wrong.” You nod. When you see them, you are received by the cousins giving you soothing looks.

“I just want this to be over…”

“It’ll pass. Everything will go great. You’re smart and very talented. And we’ll help you in everything we can” you have to give her a little hug.

“And I’ll help my boy too. That girl is going to be a problem” Coriolanus rolls his eyes, thinking the same as you.

“See? Let’s just be optimistic.” Tigris stands up excitedly, later looking for something on her dress pocket.

“Tigris. I’m making dinner. Do not boil any more cabbage” you giggle, and Coriolanus has to smile, admitting to himself that just by seeing you happy he felt better.

“No. You don’t have to.”

“Please. Just let me go for some groceries.” She nods shyly. Then she pulls out some little bag from the pocket.

“Fine. But you are taking these from now on…” she throws the bag and dissapears. When you look inside the bag, you take out a box of pills. Immediately your cheeks turn red.

“Oh my god” you hand the box to the boy.

“Oh…” they’re birth control pills.

Soon both of you start laughing before you have to give him a kiss. Probably it was for the best because Coriolanus Snow never pulled out. And luckily you weren’t pregnant yet.

“I’ll get the groceries from Trevor” he nods, watching you walk away.

You briefly stop after seeing the picture on a frame. Of Coriolanus as a baby and his mother carrying him. Beside that picture, there’s one you hadn’t seen before. It’s you, from the gala of last year. You wore a red dress with pink ribbons and long gloves that matched the gown. You are smiling, not at the camera.

You were smiling at Coriolanus, who had insisted the photographer to take a picture of only you.

The feeling of happiness, bliss and peace hit you, making it impossible to leave your boyfriend’s room without a giant smile.

…

Speaking out loud had never been your thing. You sucked for speeches, debates. Well, only to prepare for them. Your hands would shake, and your face would turn red. But at the moment to step into the highlight, you were wonderful.

And it was noticeable.

“Here I am with the lovely y/n y/l/n, who’s in charge of directing the course of this games this year. Tell me y/n, was your idea to bring the tributes to the zoo?”

“No. To be honest, my directing journey officially starts as soon as the tributes are here. For now, I’m not doing anything… Yet.” Lucky Flickerman laughs.

“Well… I believe this is going to be a heated road. Don’t you think so? OH-, forget about her opinion, no one cares. THE TRIBUTES ARE HERE!” You turn behind to look. The vehicle opened its doors and the tributes fell. But you have to move away from the cameras after seeing a red uniform of the Academy. What the hell was Coriolanus doing there?

He doesn’t notice you yet. But you are able to see him talking with the girl. You see Lucy Gray Baird in person for the first time. She’s very pretty, short as you and her dress is very pretty. That’s not the problem though. You don’t like the way Coriolanus leans to whisper to her something, then he pulls the rose on his uniform and pins it behind her ear. Hearing Lucky Flickerman calling them, the couple holds hands, and they start answering questions.

It’s just for the views. It’s just to win that damn prize. Relax… You can trust him.

When Lucy Gray starts talking with a girl, Coriolanus spots you. You can’t decipher his look, but he knows for sure you aren’t pleased. Your hands making fists against the fabric on your wide dressing pants.

As soon as the cameras are gone, you go on a straight line towards him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” He drops the songbird’s hand, looking seriously taken aback.

“I told you I was meeting my tribute” Lucy Gray looks intrigued by your sudden appearance. Your moles, orange makeup, heavy golden earrings and perfectly painted lips. You’re perfect.

“This is embarrassing. What are my parents going to think? This could get you into trouble, Coriolanus” he sighs. Takes your hand through the giant cage but you whisk away, looking very angry.

“I’m sorry. This is just… too much.” He will talk to you later, he knows you’re head is spinning. Probably the rose and taking the songbird’s hand wasn’t a good idea.

“This is Lucy Gray…” he introduces the girl. And you finally acknowledge her. You give her a fake smile, just trying to look calm and be polite. She only stares.

“Nice to meet you. I’m sorry this is the way were meeting” she looks proud, like the fact that you look gorgeous, and she had just been thrown into an animal cage wasn’t humbling for her.

“Aren’t you in charge of making this a good show? Like putting us here like we were some kind of animals?” She must hate the Capitol. And it pisses you off the way she’s talking to you. A hostile tone in disguise.

“I’m only working for this to get more views and get into Univeristy. Where etiquette and manners are taught with much emphasis. But I’m not the one doing the rules” you respond colder, giving a little hint that Lucy Gray needed to be refined. After that, you proceed to ignore her again.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to get your back with Highbottom if anything happens” you whisper to the blonde, and before he can say anything you leave. You exchange some words with Flickerman and the camera production before leaving with them.

“Is that your girlfriend?” Lucy Gray asks. Coriolanus turns to see her.

“That’s my girlfriend.” His confirmation slightly surprised the girl. You seemed very… Capitol. Like the perfect match for him.

“She’s very pretty.” He wants to chuckle, but he only nods. In his mind, he wasn’t sure if Lucy gray meant it or if she was just trying to be sarcastic. Either way he doesn’t care much.

You’re perfect.

…

In your room, only the gentle morning breeze can be heard. You look at the balcony, looking at the mountains that surrounded the Capitol. It was summer, soon after fall began, the white would cover the city.

There’s a knock on your door and when you turn to see who it is, there is your mother.

“How did Coriolanus end up with the tributes?” You look away, already feeling ashamed.

“I don’t know, mother. He was supposed to meet the tribute at the train station. I don’t know how he ended up there…”

“It was a… messy entrance. But he seemed to have charmed the cameras on his favor. Don’t you think so?” Your mother liked your boyfriend, but sometimes she thought he had some secrets hidden, and that made you set some alarms. Probably because only, you knew about his financial problems.

“As it was expected. How do you think I felt when everyone knew he is my boyfriend? It was embarrassing.” She giggles, stepping inside of your room. Grabbing your perfectly ironed Academy uniform and accommodating the sleeves.

“I didn’t like the way he… forced that interaction with the girl.” You admit in a quiet tone.

“They were holding hands. He tucked his rose on her ear.” Your blood boils at the memory, making you groan in discontent.

“Yes.” You confirm to her.

“You’re jealous. And you shouldn’t be… Coriolanus loves you. Why would he even turn to look down at a dirty and disheveled girl from District 12? When he has you, a gorgeous and already successful young woman. Who’s capitol to his luck.” You smile. But the uncomfortable omen would have you spinning until the games were over.

“You can’t let any feelings get in the way of your task, my dear.” Says your father appearing at the door. You just stare at him.

“Let the boy play along the untidy girl for now. It will help to raise the views and create dubiety. You will complete your duty and that will make you memorable. As a daughter of mine and your mother we want you to exceed our accomplishments, this would be the first step. As soon as you make it, all the doors will be open for you. And the boy will be eating from the palm of your hand.” You know that’s not how it works, but he is right. As much as you wanted your boyfriend to win the games. You had to think on your own for the first time.

“You’re right.” Your dad smiles, only entering the room to leave a kiss on your head. Silently telling you how proud he is of you.

“Good. Now put some makeup and the uniform.” You nod at your mom, replying at her smile but feeling slightly empty on the inside.

…

Once again you have zoned out.

Coriolanus sees the way you are lost in your thoughts. As Dean Highbottom and Dr. Gaul are slightly debating after he was almost penalized for the zoo events, the gossip between the students doesn’t flush away easily.

You were quiet since that day. Same kisses, same smile, and same giggles. But the sudden lack of communication and sex was worrying Coriolanus.

Then Arachne died. Clemensia hadn’t been on class for some days. You weren’t around to see, but the news made you feel weird. Coriolanus was getting obsessed with the songbird, but that didn’t mean he was leaving aside… yet.

He had heard and seen how most of the student's made fun of you and your task for the Hunger Games. Saying that you had been put on that position for your parents. Very much like what everyone thought of Sejanus Plinth on daily basis. It made you feel anxious, that guilt only increasing. And unfortunately, Coriolanus hadn’t been around to soothe those fears.

“Are you sure you’re okay, y/n?” He asks once for all. You seem to hear him, but before you can answer him. Gaul had made everyone go quiet.

“Has a decision been made, Miss. y/l/n?” You raise your head, looking at the woman and slowly you nod, standing up.

“A decision has been made with the council of the games and the production team. The mentors and their tributes have to make a strategy, it’s obligatory. The mentors have to make detailed research on the district of their tribute. In two days, the research must be submitted so the tributes can be guaranteed an interview before the games. Only that way, the sponsors will come and by the end of the games, the mentors will be honored in the post-games' celebration.” The more you talked, the more the students seemed to hate you. Coriolanus can only think that you’re doing it because of rage, and he isn’t unsure if he likes it or not.

Dr. Gaul wants to laugh, believing you had shut everyone’s mouth. She can see a female enraged lover can react when cards are played against her. And she is savoring the way her Hunger Games are making everyone fight for their own good, not only the tributes.

When class is over, you don’t wait for Coriolanus. You just start grabbing your stuff and decide to leave.

He has to hurry so he can follow your pace. He calls your name once, but until his hand gently grabs your forearm, you stop.

“What is going on?” He asks, ignoring that both of you are in the middle of a hallway.

“About what?” There’s a lot to say, but you just can’t seem to be able to respond.

He sighs, and looking around, he drags you to an empty room. Open to public, but perfect for some minutes of privacy.

“You can talk to me…”

“I know… It’s just…” he inspects your face, looking at any details to try to understand you.

“Just what, sweets?”

“There’s too much going on at the same time. I’m just stressed out. I’m sorry for being distant, Coryo” you refuse to admit you’re jealous, that you are following your father’s advice, that you are sick of everything.

“It’ll be over in three more days or so. Then you know what departs for us…” you nod as he leans to close the distance, your foreheads touching. It was Coriolanus silent way of saying I love you and I’m here. So you take the moment to treasure it.

“Just one thing, Coryo…”

“Yes, dear?” He asks on your lips.

“If things get tricky… Are you going to fight for me if needed?” He smiles, your lips trembling against his chin.

“I would walk the whole territory of Panem just to get you, y/n” and with that, he kisses you so hard that it makes you remember why you choose him.

And why you would always choose him.

…

It’s late in the night and you opted to stay for late rehearsals. Your nails are a mess as you had anxiously been biting them. You see a burgundy spot on the right side of your pointe shoe. Your feet are bleeding. But that doesn’t compare to the waves of chills you had every day.

“AGAIN!” Your instructor yells. You are the opening act for the celebration. Every district would have a dance and some mentors would have an honorific mention. However, yours was a delicate piece of ballet. The music was beautiful, but it made you feel little, very vulnerable.

You try every single time, but your instructor kept saying that you needed to look sadder by the end.

“Miss y/n?…” your mother’s assistant came to the door of the studio, making you stop and your instructor to pause the music.

“Your mother has informed to me that there was a rebel bombing on the games’ arena earlier. The tributes were there with their mentors.” Your heart stops, remembering Coriolanus and his own task of taking the songbird there.

“Your partner, Mr. Snow… he was injured…”

Half an hour later, you’re entering the hospital. The wide room is empty. At the end of the bed’s row, you see Tigris and Sejanus. The young woman being the first to notice you.

“Y/N!” She hurries to hug you and offer her jacket since it was slightly cold. And you were once again in your ballet attire, pointe shoes still on.

“It’s okay. But… How is him?”

“Stable. Just his back was compromised” Sejanus reveals, making you smile sadly. Coriolanus is sleeping. His forehead looks sweaty, and you can only attempt to brush some of his curls.

“They said it was a rebel attack. The president’s son was heavily injured” you sigh.

“Felix?” Sejanus nods at you.

“This is where I side with the Capitol.”

“Exactly. This isn’t the solution” neither of you say out loud. But Sejanus was a rebel sympathizer, Tigris was only against the capitol but not with the rebels. And you were a neutral.

“I just hope this doesn’t come with long term injuries…” you finally add. Under the curious look of Tigris, she feels bad for you. Although she offered her help, there wasn’t much she could do. Only to design the attires for the upcoming celebration. But other than that, she could feel the stress on you.

Only worsening when Coriolanus woke up.

“Is Lucy Gray fine?” You act like it didn’t hurt you. And both Tigris and Sejanus pretend they didn’t see your sad face.

“She’s fine.”

“How do you feel?” You ask, and Coriolanus finally sees you.

“My shoulder and back hurt” the tv ends up disconcerting everyone. When you turn there is a video of you being played with the logo of the Capitol behind you. Coriolanus wants to smile, but he’s too unsure of what’s happening to say you looked adorable in a tulle skirt.

[Citizens of Panem, welcome back. We are less than 24 hours away from the start of the 10th Hunger Games. To make the wait less painful, we are about to explore about this year’s tributes. We’ll get to know them in this section. For the first time, we are about to see an exclusive series of interviews with our lovely host; Lucky Flickerman. Now, it’s turn of of the final district, which is District 12. Do not forget that anyone can be a sponsor. Enjoy the show!]

You ignore the looks. You weren’t proud of yourself for filming that type of promos. But that is quickly forgotten after Lucy Gray was introduced and she started singing again. You have to roll your eyes. You have to bite your tongue after seeing the way Coriolanus literally jumped out of the bed to see the songbird closely.

He seemed hypnotized by her. And without even processing there are tears forming on your eyes.

The end is coming. The end is coming. Get ready…

You try to ignore your head. But it’s like a prolonged free fall. Since the moment of the Reaping Ceremony, you knew it.

That bad omen was something you should’ve payed more attention to.

Now you let some tears fall as you see it. Tigris is also crying, and you have to admit how wonderful Lucy Gray Baird is. But it leads you to question.

How could Coriolanus just be… losing you?

When you look down at your feet, your brain can pay attention to the damage, immediately releasing a lot of pain.

Your pointe shoes are almost soaked in blood. You quickly seat in one of the bed, hurrying to untie it. Your heart beats faster. With the sudden increase of negativity, you feel panicked.

And it scares you, because you feel like you don’t have enough control.

Sejanus is the first one to look away.

“Oh my god, y/n” he knees in front of you. Looking at the mess. Now that the pointe shoes are gone, the damage is more than visible.

Tigris follows and finally Coriolanus remembers you. He seats beside you, frowning in disgust as he sees the pointe shoes covered in dry blood. Then your feet, you try to stop the bleeding, cleaning it, sobbing in silent.

You feel his hand on your shoulder. But you ignore him. You feel hurt by everyone. Your parents, the Capitol, and Coriolanus especially.

You squirm away from him.

“I’m just trying to soothe you.” Coriolanus admits in shock after seeing your reaction.

“I can handle it on my own” you spit out crying quietly, cleaning the tears with a hand, while the other holds some gazes against the wounded skin.

“We’ll bring a nurse” Tigris says, grabbing Sejanus and walking out of the room.

For the first time, Coriolanus knows something is going wrong. He officially sees how things are getting tricky.

Only you would know that your tears were for your boyfriend rather than the blood soaking your feet.

He was losing you. And later that night, he sealed the faith of your love for him after visiting Lucy Gray in the zoo one last time.

…

When the 10th Hunger Games started, you were making sudden apparitions at the camera. Coriolanus was focused on Lucy Gray moving through the arena. And you were too invested on following all the procedures. After some hours, a lot of people had left. Coriolanus was growing tired. He started eyeing you out, he saw your lilac makeup that matched your sweater. He saw the way your hips and waist looked in a pencil skirt.

After some failed attempts to make you look at him, he made eye contact. And minutes later, both of you ended up having a quick fuck in the restroom. Somehow it had worked as a makeup, he made you smile before you had to leave again. He kissed you and he promised to himself that no more mistakes were allowed. He would win the games with Lucy Gray and then… only eyes for you.

Things took a turn after Sejanus meant to give a proper goodbye to his tribute and old friend.

Coriolanus had killed a tribute. You are still unable to comprehend how you feel about it. He had come to your house during the night, red eyes and disheveled uniform. You wrapped your arms around him, shushing him to not disturb your parents.

He told you everything as you prepared the tub for him. He cried on your shoulder and stayed there for hours.

“You are good, Coriolanus. You are a good man. This doesn’t make you a monster…” you had said.

“What about the power I felt?…” you knew that was a warning sign.

“In the Hunger Games’ arena anything feels like power, my love” it was supposed to be enough to make him avoid thinking on power and death at the same time.

And now, adding the fact that he seemed to have built a connection with the songbird, you were everything but calm.

Nonetheless, that night you hold him protectively. You assure him everything would be fine.

“I would be lost without you” Coriolanus says, his nose pressed against your chest.

“I help the people I love, Coryo. That’s how will always be…” he reminds himself, no more errors. He holds tighter at you, knowing he had already messed up his promise one night ago.

…

You run, ignoring the pain of your wounded feet. The nurse said to take it easy if you wanted to dance after the games.

But you can’t help it. Coriolanus had won. While you ignored Lucy Gray Baird as the victor, you acknowledged your boyfriend as it. You run faster than Tigris, so you get to hug him before kissing him. He replies immediately. Holding your waist and smiling like an idiot. Everyone was looking and cheering around but neither of you cared. He deepened the kiss, feeling peace, he knew he had won. He had a good future secured. Along you.

“You did it, my love” you say in his lips, giggling. He also smiles, taking your hand before going to find Tigris who stayed back.

“You also did it.” He speaks. Making you realize it’s over.

And for the rest of the day, you are happy. You leave early because of the celebration.

You really want to stay with Coriolanus. But he was called away. Tigris stays with you the whole day. She calls Grandma’am as soon as you both enter the theater where the celebration was being held.

Both of you give the elder woman all details. She really cries and says she can’t wait to see his boy coming home that night. She wishes you good luck and the call is over.

“Okay. Let’s get over with this so we can celebrate with some posca tonight.” You laugh, taking a seat on the vanity.

“Coryo hates posca, Tigris.” She also laughs.

“If he can pretend to like it for formal events, he can pretend at home for his win and yours.” Between laughs and jokes, she starts to help you with makeup and hair.

An hour later, you start receiving good luck flowers and notice of being on the stage in fifteen minutes.

“You look perfect, y/n” she says smiling, making you turn around to see the pastel tutu and flower corset of the attire.

“I can’t breathe but this will make my shoulders look so aligned…” you thank her and after good luck wishes and a hug, she excuses herself to go to her seat.

Now alone, you make sure the makeup is perfect. Until you see Coriolanus in the door frame. He enters and closes the door. He looks so lost and sad, which worries you.

“I cheated on the games” you frown, hurrying to get to him. He sits on the couch, head between his legs, notifying to you how serious the issue is.

“What did you do?” He explains how he cheated. He kept it secret. He didn’t tell you.

“Is there a punishment or penalty?” He nods, looking at you now.

“Exile. Serve as a peacekeeper for twenty years” you look shocked. Your heart stops and you lean to grab his shoulders.

“I’ll go with you. University can wait. I’ll find a job where you’re sent to. And work with my mother at the same time. We’ll send money to Tigris and Grandma’am and-“

“No, y/n. I can’t let you do this.” You start to feel panicked again. You need to hear a solution.

“So what? You’re just leaving like that?” He remains quiet.

“You said you would fight for me.” He thinks about possibilities. He could marry you as soon as training was over. You two could find a little house, live there and send money to his family like you said. You already said you were willing to leave the Capitol for him.

“Oh, Coryo. Why did you had to do this?” He sighs frustrated.

“To win. For my family. For you… to give you all I promised.” You are at the verge of crying. And he has to be honest. If you were going to leave everything for him. He would be honest.

“I kissed her.”

You can only hear your heartbeat after that.

You don’t say anything for some seconds. His hands are sweating.

Something stronger than silence fills the room. You slap him.

Your hand burns afterwards. But the damage is done.

“Get. Out.” You spit out, quietly, yet extremely filled with poison.

He’s too shocked to say something back.

You are mentally collapsing. Finally feeling betrayed and mocked by him.

“You won’t get out? I will…” it’s bad when you start hearing a pitch in your ears. You know it’s not a good sign. But you’re so traumatized, that you lean closer to him.

“You’re a mistake… Such a big lie.” The last memory he sees before you have disappeared is the layers of tulle of your tutu, your perfume of jasmine and the sound of your distant sobs.

If he had lost you. His last memory of you would be dancing.

He stares from the backstage. And he wonders if destiny wanted you to dance such a melancholic song. Because he can literally see your sadness. You look so fragile that he curses himself. Maybe if he had mentored another district. Or maybe if he just had decided to shut up and avoid mentioning the kiss to you.

Did he ever love you? Why wasn’t enough?

However, that’s not enough suffering. While your head was spinning with many thoughts, the rest of your body was pleading you to stop. But you keep dancing. You feel the music and you let yourself to give the most emotional presentation of the history of Panem.

You don’t realize you have captured the same effect as Lucy Gray Baird singing. There are people crying. Throwing flowers at you. You don’t see it; you’re starting to see everything blurred.

As you leave the stage, people congratulate you. Coriolanus sees you look pale, darkened lips. You stop hearing, only the annoying pitch. Every step feels heavier than the last one. The sudden nausea makes you give up.

Coriolanus sees how you faint. Your body collapsing to the floor.

“Get a doctor… GET A DOCTOR, PLEASE!” He yells at a girl who was also in a tutu. She nods in shock, running. Some people gather, but only Coriolanus is there holding your unconscious body.

…

“I’m so sorry. This isn’t what I wanted. I wished so many things for us.” Coriolanus is crying. Holding your hand as you are asleep on a hospital bed. Your diagnosis said you suffered a collapse due to stress and traumatic experience. He knew it was caused by him. But he lies to your mother, saying it must’ve been for the pressure of the games and the death of Arachne Crane.

“I’m not a good man. And you deserve someone better than me…” he can now see the purple under your lashes, eye bags and cracked lips.

“But I’m coming back for you.”

After memorizing your image sleeping and kissing your forehead, he quietly leaves.

Your mother enters his line of vision.

“Coriolanus. Are you coming tomorrow? She’ll likely be awake” he swallows the rest of his tears and shakes his head.

“Unfortunately. I have peacekeeper duty away from the Capitol, required for me to get into university.”

“Oh no. Y/n knows, right?” He nods.

“But don’t worry, I’ll send her letters every week” it’s a promise. One he would make no matter what.

His hopes increase by the time he’s able to serve in District 12. Knowing he could give some closure to his situation with Lucy Gray but sickening because he’s also going there to soothe his urges to see his songbird again.

As for you, when you wake up, you feel beyond broken. You just hope and pray your sole image to haunt Coriolanus Snow for the rest of his life. Because the moment you walked out of that hospital, you would do everything to get rid of him and his memory. Promising to make his mere existence the most insignificant matter. Even when you knew your heart would never beat again the same way it did for him.

______________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @edb954 @poppyflower-22 @dear-bunnyboo @bryandechartisasmolbean @taylordaughter @coryoskywalker @maryvibess @reader-bookling123 @astarborntowrite @ewwwitsel @spring-goddess1 @real-lana-del-rey @electraphyng @athanasia-day @folklorelogy

#coriolanus snow x reader #young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x lucy gray #coriolanus smut #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tbosas

3K notes · View notes