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itneverendshere · 2 months ago

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lucky strike - r.c

pairing: kelce's!sister x hockey!rafe warnings: none.

The party was supposed to be fun. Emphasis on supposed to be.

Your brother had dragged you along, promising it would be “chill,” throwing out all his usual excuses—“It’ll be fun, you never go out, and besides, you know everyone there”—but you should’ve known better.

Now you were stuck in a house full of drunk college students, loud music, and—worst of all—a guy who wouldn’t leave you alone.

He’d introduced himself as Jake—or maybe it was Jack; you didn’t care—and you’d been polite at first. A quick smile, a couple of sentences before excusing yourself. But he didn’t get the hint.

He was following you around like a lost puppy, trying to impress you with stories about his car and his “networking connections,” whatever the hell that meant.

“Oh, yeah,” Jake was saying now, his voice raised to compete with the music. “They’re starting me at, like, six figures. But, you know, I told them I’d think about it.”

You sipped your drink to keep from rolling your eyes. “Wow, that’s… something.”

“So, anyway,” he was saying as you edged toward the hallway, “if you ever want to, like, grab dinner or something, I know a great spot. And If you ever want to come down to Florida, I could totally show you around. Take you out on my boat.”

You nodded absently, scanning the room for an excuse, but your brother was nowhere in sight, and every doorway seemed blocked by a crowd.

“You and me? A weekend getaway?”

You froze, brainstorming for an excuse. “Oh, uh—”

Then you saw him in all his glory, Rafe Cameron.

He was leaning against the wall near the kitchen, a drink in one hand, his other casually tucked into his pocket. His messy blond hair looked like he’d just stepped off the cover of some ridiculous sports magazine. You hated that he was your only option right now.

(You didn't.)

Rafe Cameron was your brother’s best friend since diapers, your public enemy number one on your worst days. Your stomach did that stupid little thingy it always seemed to do when you saw him, and you hated it.

You cut Jake or Jack off, raising your hand.

“I need to go—uh—find my boyfriend.”

Jake blinked. “Your what?”

“My boyfriend,” you repeated, internally cringing at the word and already walking through the crowd toward Rafe. “He’s waiting for me.”

Ugh. You don’t like Rafe, you don’t even think about Rafe.

“Cameron,” you said when you reached him, grabbing his sleeve. “Need your help.”

Rafe turned, his blue eyes looking down to where your hand gripped his arm. Then he looked back up at you, his lips curving.

“Didn’t think I’d ever hear you say that.”

“I’m serious.”

His smirk widened. “Even better. What’s going on, princess?”

You glared at him. “Some guy won’t leave me alone. He’s been following me around all night, and I need you to—”

“Who?”

You shook your head quickly, knowing that look in his eyes meant trouble and black eyes.

“We’re not doing the ‘caveman throws a punch’ thing. I just need you to pretend to be my…” You paused, the word catching in your throat. “Pretend to be my…”

Rafe tilted his head, watching you squirm. “Your what?”

You shuddered at the thought. “My…boyfriend.”

His smirk was back in full Cameron force. “What was that?”

You crossed your arms in defiance, refusing to let him win this. “You heard me.”

“I heard you,” Rafe nodded, leaning closer, his eyes glinting with amusement. “Just didn’t think I’d live to see the day you called me your boyfriend.”

“Fake boyfriend,” you clarified through gritted teeth. “Don’t make this weird, Cameron.”

But it already was, because just standing this close to him made your heart pound in a way you refused to acknowledge.

“Always knew you had a thing for me, but this? You want me sooooo bad,” he drawled out, tongue kissing his teeth as he pinched your arm.

“Wipe that stupid smirk off your face before I do,” You shoved his touch away, “Help me.”

Rafe’s grin widened, and he opened his mouth to say something dumb—but then Jake appeared at the end of the hallway, his face lighting up when he spotted you.

“There you are!” Jake called, heading straight for you.

“Shit,” you muttered, grabbing Rafe’s beefy arm again. “Just follow my lead.”

Jake stopped in front of you, giving Rafe a once-over.

“Hey,” he said, clearly confused. “Who’s this?”

You swallowed, forcing yourself to say the word again. “This is my… uh, my boyfriend.”

The second it left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole. It sounded so fake, so awkward—and Rafe wasn’t helping, because you could feel him staring at you with that stupid face.

“Hey,” Rafe cut in smoothly, draping an arm over your shoulder like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You lookin’ for my girl?”

Why did it sound weirdly nice.

Jake blinked, “Oh. I, uh—I didn’t realize—”

“Yeah,” Rafe patronized, “You wouldn’t.”

Then Jake's stupid eyes widened, “Wait… you’re Rafe Cameron.”

His smirk grew impossibly smug. “That’s me.”

Jake’s mouth fell open.

“Holy shit. Dude, you’re the Rafe Cameron. Hockey star. I watched your game against Michigan last month—you were insane.”

Rafe shrugged, his hand tightening slightly on your waist. “Appreciate it, man.”

You wanted to die, maybe strangle him.

Jake turned to you, his tone almost accusing. “You didn’t tell me your boyfriend was Rafe Cameron.”

You laughed nervously, trying not to grimace. “Yeah, uh,… it’s not exactly my favorite topic.”

The second the words left your mouth, Rafe’s fingers pinched your waist—just enough to make you jolt—and he leaned down, his lips brushing against your hair.

“Careful, princess,” he murmured, “You’re gonna hurt my feelings.”

You clenched your fists at your sides, not giving him the satisfaction of a reaction.

Jake, oblivious to your little argument, kept gushing.

“Seriously, man, you’re a beast. I don’t know how you pull off those plays—”

Jake was too busy gushing over Rafe, throwing out stats and plays like he’d memorized Rafe’s entire career. And Rafe, of course, was eating it up, nodding along like he wasn’t already aware of how good he was. That’s when you felt it—his fingers, toying with the hem of your top. Your breath hitched, and you glanced up at him, but he was still focused on Jake, his face the picture of calm confidence.

“Yeah,” He was saying, his fingers moving tenderly against your skin. “That Michigan game was wild. You should’ve seen her, though.” He tilted his head toward you. “Biggest fan in the stands. Couldn’t take her eyes off me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Are you—”

“Yeah?” Jake said, interrupting you. “That’s awesome. Must be crazy, dating someone like him.”

You clenched your fists, your irritation bubbling over. “Oh, it’s insane.”

Rafe chuckled under his breath, his fingers teasing your side one last time before Jake finally walked away, muttering something about grabbing another drink.

The second he was out of earshot, you shoved Rafe’s arm off you and glared up at him. “You’re fucking insufferable.”

He grinned, his blue eyes sparkling. “Dial down the foreplay, you’re gonna make me hard.”

This motherfucker, oh my god.

You stared at him, your jaw nearly unhinged from the sheer nerve.

“Are you—did you just—” Y

ou couldn’t finish the sentence, the words vanishing in your throat as your face warmed. Rafe, on the other hand, looked entirely unbothered, leaning against the wall like he hadn’t just said the most inappropriate thing imaginable.

“What?” he drawled, his smirk practically glowing in the dim light. “You started it, calling me your boyfriend, ’m just playing the part.”

You took a step back, glaring at him like you could kill him with sheer willpower, “How does anyone ever put up with you, oh my god.”

“You’re cute when you’re mad,” he quipped, his smile widening as he reached out to tug lightly on the hem of your sleeve.

You smacked his hand away. “If you keep this up, I’ll go back out there and tell Jake—or Jack, or whoever—that I was lying.”

“Please,” Rafe scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You're not gonna subject yourself to that human LinkedIn profile just to spite me.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but before you could retort, a group of partygoers passed by, a couple of them glancing your way and whispering. One of them—a girl in a glittery crop top—stopped to wave at Rafe, her voice eager.

“Oh my god, Rafe! I didn’t know you were here!”

He gave her a polite nod, his hand sliding back to your waist, his fingers pressing just firmly enough to make your stomach go stupid.

“Yeah,” he said, his tone easy. “Just hanging out with my girl.”

Your head snapped up, your eyes wide with disbelief, “Dude.”

What the fuck is wrong with you?! You wanted to scream, but the girl was already nodding, her smile faltering as she glanced at you.

“Right. Cool. Um, see you around, I guess,” she said before walking off with her friends.

The second she was gone, you shoved Rafe’s hand off you again. “You’re having way too much fun with this shit.”

“Can you blame me?” he asked, face softening into something that almost resembled genuine amusement. “This is the most fun I’ve had at one of these parties in weeks.”

“Glad I could provide you with some entertainment."

“Don’t sell yourself short, princess,” His voice dipped slightly as his eyes met yours. “You’re the highlight of my night.”

You forced yourself to scoff pretending his sweet nothing’s didn’t hit home.

“I know you, I’m not falling for your little hockey player charm offensive.”

“Who says it’s an offensive?” he asked, tilting his head. “Just a… friendly check.”

“Friendly?” you repeated, arching an eyebrow. “You don’t do friendly.”

He shrugged, his fingers brushing against your wrist in a way that felt entirely too deliberate. “You bring it out of me.”

“Why the fuck is everyone saying my sister is dating my best friend?! Hello??”

Your entire body went rigid as Kelce bulldozed through the crowd, looking thoroughly scandalized. He stopped dead in front of you, his eyes darting between you and Rafe with full-on soap opera disbelief.

Rafe, the insufferable fucking bastard, didn’t even try to keep it together—he straight-up bent over laughing, one hand braced on his knee, the other holding his drink like it was sacred.

“Oh,��shit,” he wheezed, grinning wide enough to blind someone. “This just keeps getting better.”

You wanted to drop dead right there in the beer-sticky hallway.

Kelce blinked at you, bewildered. “What. The. Actual. Hell?”

“It’s not what it looks like,” you snapped, glaring at Rafe as he tried (and failed) to recover, his chest still shaking with laughter.

“Yeah?” Kelce shot back, jabbing a thumb toward the swarm of gossiping partiers. “Because everyone’s saying it looks like you two are a thing.”

“We are not a thing!,” you hissed, making a couple of people nearby glance over. “He was helping me ditch some guy who wouldn’t take a hint.”

Rafe, still grinning like a jackass, finally straightened up, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Your sister couldn’t resist me.”

You whipped around, shoving his chest hard enough that he stumbled back a step, laughing like this was the most fun he’d had in years.

“Oh, shut the fuck up.”

Kelce’s jaw practically unhinged. “Wait. Are you actually into her?”

Rafe tilted his head, pretending to think it over. “Depends—am I allowed to?”

Your eyes narrowed to murderous slits. “I will put you in the ground, Cameron.”

Rafe’s laugh rumbled low in his chest, sending a traitorous shiver down your spine.

“God, you’re mean,” he drawled, clearly enjoying himself. “Kinda hot, though.”

Kelce gagged dramatically. “Nope. Nope. I’m out. Y’all are sick.”

“Glad we agree,” you muttered as Kelce stormed off, throwing his hands up like you were a lost cause.

The second he was gone, you turned on Rafe, stabbing a finger into his chest. “This is your fault.”

“My fault?” he echoed, grinning like he’d just been handed front-row seats to your breakdown. “You’re the one who called me your boyfriend, princess.”

You scowled. “Yeah, clearly that was a mistake.”

Rafe’s eyes gleamed, his voice dropping just enough to make your pulse hitch. “Nah. Best decision you’ve made all night.”

You flipped him off. “I’m fake-dumping your ass immediately.”

Rafe had that look on his face—the one that made you want to throw something at him. A lazy smirk tugged at his lips as he leaned casually against the wall, all cocky confidence and oh-aren’t-I-just-so-fucking-charming energy.

“Y'know,” he started, dragging the words out like he was savoring them, “this kinda reminds me of when you had that crush on me when we were, what, twelve?”

Your head snapped toward him so fast you nearly gave yourself whiplash.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

He grinned wider, eyes gleaming with delight. “You used to follow me around like a lovesick puppy at Kelce’s games. Always sitting in the front row, twirling your hair like you were in some rom-com.”

You made a noise halfway between a scoff and a snarl.

“I did not have a crush on you.”

“Yeah? So you weren’t the one who told Kelce I had ‘pretty eyes’?”

He did, in fact, have pretty eyes, so what....

Your face went up in flames. “That was a joke.”

“Sure it was,” he teased, leaning in just enough to make you want to run for the hills. “You totally didn’t write my name in your notebook, either, right?”

Your jaw dropped. “How do you even know about that?!”

“Kelce found it last month and showed me,” Rafe said, completely unapologetic. “Heart doodles and everything. Thought you were writing love songs for me or something.”

“I hate you,” you growled, your face now hotter than the sun.

“You loved me,” he quipped, biting back a laugh. “Or at least your little self did. Cute.”

“I’m going to strangle Kelce.”

Rafe smirked, brushing a nonexistent speck of dust off his sleeve.

“Too late to deny it now, princess. I’m your first love, and you just fake-dated me tonight. Full circle.”

“You are so full of shit.”

“Yeah,” he drawled, eyes dancing, “but you’re still flustered, hmm.”

“I will kick you in the balls, Cameron.”

“Careful,” he warned, “You’re gonna fall for me all over again.”

#itneverendshere works✨#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron blurb #brother!bsf!rafe #rafe x you #rafe x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron fluff #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron au #rafe cameron imagines #rafe x kelce's!sister #hockey au #hockey!rafe #fluff #yearning

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yourstrulyrani · 19 days ago

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Simon Riley who causes your jaw to lock mid giving him head? ( or maybe an individual reaction list thingy for the tf141?)

my jaw dropped when i read this (enough for it to lock up ;).. get it?) ANYWAY this is my first dirty request ever and first 18+ work ever...i know it's gonna suck (no pun intended i promise), so please cut me some slack :')

taskforce141's reactions to reader's jaw locking mid-head session. cw: mdni. 18+ content ahead. mentions of oral.

simon relishes in the feeling your tongue swirling around the soft skin of his tip, coating it with enough slick to get yourself ready to let himself hit the back of your throat again. "wrap your lips around it, baby. put it in deep for me." you go ahead and try close your lips into an "o" shape until you realize you can't. simon realizes and snickers, removing his tip from your mouth. he pulls you up on the bed to sit with him. he inspects your jaw, massaging it with the tips of his fingers as he says, "you did so well for me that i locked up your jaw, love." he doesn't hesitate heading to urgent care. when you arrive and they ask your reason of visit, he speaks up saying "she just yawned too hard, doctor," rubbing your lower back soothingly... or teasingly. or both. definitely both.

gaz has you lying on your back with your head hanging off the edge of the bed, pumping gently and slowly in and out of your mouth. your mind is hazy with pleasure at the way he feels. all of the desire depletes when you realize he's starting to go too faster and harder and your jaw can't shut. you tap his arm two times, one of many gestures the both of you agreed on way back when as you discussed boundaries during intimacy. gaz instantly becomes aware of the tapping and quickly responds by sitting you upright, sitting by your side. your jaw is locked enough for your words to become slurred. he understands and apologizes, "i'm so sorry, love. i didn't realize." after resolving to a quick google search, he applied a warm compress to your jaw. he gives you a bath as aftercare since both of you know for a fact that was enough for tonight, as your jaw slowly starts to relax.

price has himself laid back on the bed, legs apart and his hands clasped behind his head. you're in between his knees as your head bobs up and down, one hand taking care of the rest of his shaft. a proud smirk on his face, "just like that, pretty girl." his gruff voice praises out to your movements. you usually make noises, whether you're gagging just right or trying to moan with your mouth full, but john notices the noise that comes out of your mouth this time and it's not normal: it's of discomfort. his smirk falters and his eyebrows furrow in concern. his hands unclasp and move to take your mouth off him. he wastes no time going to the kitchen to grab painkillers. with his carefulness, you take the medicine. after, he moves his body so he's laying on the bed again and your back is against his chest. he massages your jaw, enough to ease the pain also thanks to the medicine. "don't worry. i'm here for you. let me know if i can help any more, lovely." he presses a kiss to the curve of your jaw, helping you fall asleep.

johnny let you take control of the pace this time. you decide to go all out, deep and fast because you thought he deserved it after a harsh deployment. "so well, sweetheart." his fingers glide along your hair, careful not to damage his gorgeous girl's hairstyle. he's so close and you both know it, but when you feel the ache in your jaw you couldn't help but to get off him. at first he thinks you're lying to tease him but when he knows you're not bluffing, he justs bursts out laughing. "there's no way. this can actually happen?" like gaz, he uses google to search for a remedy. unlike gaz, his search led him to a youtube video of a bbc show called 'bizarre er' of your same dilemma, which was solved by placing popsicle sticks inside the mouth to tire the muscles, forcing them to shut eventually. johnny giggles as he shows you the video, but knowing your man, you trust him in his popsicle stick plan. (it works out in the end).

(yes that video mentioned in soap's part is legit on youtube, look it up LMAO. this request made me remember i watched it ages ago when i was little and i thought soap would be someone to attempt it idk)

~ yours truly, rani ♥︎

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cameronsbabydoll · 9 days ago

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can you write about when rafe finally signed the divorce papers ??like did he put up a fight or just signed because he knew the reader will always be his idk

how does ex!husband!rafe react to you serving him divorce papers?

gif credits @mjwritings

wc: 407 — a/n: i love these cute color html thingys

you didn’t even think he’d show.

not after the fight you had — the worst one yet.

not after the way you packed your things, took your son, and left the house that was more of a cage than a home.

but here he was. at your door. Looking like hell in that expensive suit — wrinkled, unbuttoned, like he hadn’t slept since you left.

and in typical rafe fashion… he didn’t look regretful.

he looked pissed.

silent as you set the manila envelope on the table between you both. divorce papers. all filled out. all it needed was his signature.

his jaw ticked.

"you’re really doin’ this," he said, low and flat.

like he didn’t believe it until right now.

like he still thought you'd crawl back.

you didn’t answer. you couldn’t. you just nodded once, heart in your throat.

rafe sank into the chair across from you like it personally offended him to sit in something so normal. elbows on his knees, hands steepled in front of his mouth, just staring at you.

"i gave you everything," he muttered after a beat. "house. cars. clothes. what more did you want from me, huh?"

your stomach twisted.

"freedom," you whispered.

that got his attention.

his eyes cut up to you — sharp, electric. a muscle jumped in his jaw.

"you had everything because of me."

you didn’t flinch. not this time.

"i lost myself because of you."

and for once — for once — rafe didn’t have a quick, cocky reply.

he leaned back slowly, staring at the papers like they were a foreign language. like signing them was the same as carving you out of his chest.

but in the end? he signed.

not because he accepted it.

not because he agreed.

he signed because that was rafe cameron — so arrogant, so sure — believing deep in his bones that paper didn’t mean a damn thing.

that you’d always be his.

he pushed the papers back across the table with that infuriating half smirk.

"you think this changes anything?" he rasped.

and when he stood — towering, wrecked, beautiful in that awful way he always was — he paused by your chair. leaning down just enough to murmur it against your cheek, so low it made your heart drop:

"you’ll come home eventually. you always do."

and then he was gone.

leaving behind nothing but his signature on a page.

and the ghost of his grip still wrapped tight around your life.

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undreaming-fanfiction · 6 months ago

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Day 24 for @steddie-spooktober, Pumpkin. I'll just finish this hellish month and then write all the good Halloween-y stuff when people already look forward to Christmas. There.

"Oh my god. That's Eddie Munson!"

Steve's eyebrow did that treacherous twitch. Here we fucking go again.

Robin just snickered. "Oh wow. That's like what, the fifth one today?" She didn't even look sorry for Steve, the traitor! She just kept making the coffee order, creating a lovely heart in the milk foam.

The woman who ordered the coffee didn't even bother to try and whisper to her friend. She was squealing and pointing at the unsuspecting rock star who had earphones over his head. "What do you think he's reading? It must be something dark. He has a reputation, you know."

Another twitch in Steve's eyebrow, but he was a professional. It was fine. He could do his job even when annoyed. Maybe.

Robin flipped the whiteboard with their seasonal specials. The other side revealed a meticulously prepared game of Eddie Munson-themed bingo. "Wanna play, Steve?"

He scowled at the board. All of those were classics, the stupid shit people say when they meet a rock star like Eddie Munson.

He took an erasable marker and scribbled X next to the questions, comments and other atrocities he managed to catch.

I wonder if he'll show me that special tattoo if I ask nicely. Check.

I heard he's unforgettable in bed. Check.

People say he has a...you know. A piercing down there. Check.

I don't believe the rumors. A guy like that can't be taken for long. He was made to sleep around. Check.

I wonder what he's drinking. Probably something dark and bitter. Mmm, how mysterious!

"Bingo!" whispered Robin. "Now, as per the rules of this humble establishment, once we have a bingo, you get to go there and be a bitch. Do your worst, oh platonic soulmate of mine. I'll be watching."

Who was Steve to deny Robin one of her favorite hobbies? He fluffed his hair and re-applied his lip oil, arranged some pastries on a kitten-shaped plate and made his way to Eddie Munson.

Eddie was lost to the world, but there was a familiar pattern in Steve's footsteps, one that reverbated through the wooden floor. In a second, Eddie had dropped his book and gave Steve the widest smile. One that he couldn't even conjure up on stage. This smile was only for Steve, and Steve fucking hoped the women noticed that.

Eddie made grabby hands at him, pulling him down into a quick kiss. "Is your shift over, Stevie? Can we go?"

Steve shook his head. "Nah, two more hours to go. Ish. Are you sure you don't want to wait for me home? You must be tired."

"Tired?! Pffft. I mean, yeah, but I want to spend time ogling my boyfriend when he's at his sexiest - covered in flour and sugar. And speaking of sugar..." He glanced at the plate. "Is that for me?"

Steve laughed and set the plate in front of him. "Honestly? Even if it wasn't, those doe eyes of yours would persuade me in a second. But yeah. It'll be Halloween soon, and I was testing out some spooky cookies. Do you like pumpkins?"

Eddie gasped and clutched his heart. "Do I?!"

Steve kissed Eddie on the top of his head and put his earphones back on. In a few seconds, Eddie was back in his own world, book, music and cookies.

In a corner of his eye, Steve saw the two young women, speechless. Robin was serving them their coffees, giddy with anticipation. She'd prepared them in to-go cups, just in case.

Steve stood in front of them, flipped his hair and smirked. "Well, ladies. You've had many questions or guesses, and I'm happy I can answer them. You know. To give you some peace of mind" He nodded to Robin. "The list, Rob?"

Robin glanced at their bingo board. "I wonder what he's reading!" she read out.

Steve nodded and returned to the frozen guests. "The book to end all books. That's what Eddie calls the...uh. Tolkien bible thingy. Silmarillion." He pronounced it gery carefully. "He reads it to me sometimes, when I can't sleep. Works like a charm." He might have smirked at the blush creeping up the woman's face. "Next."

Robin saluted him. "Special tattoo?"

"He won't show it, I made him promise he'd no longer get arrested for public indecency. Besides, it's only me that gets to see it. Next."

Robin fake gagged. "Is he unforgettable in bed?"

"Sure is. He talks to my chest hair. I think they're a couple."

Robin gagged again. "Why...ladies, get better questions! That piercing down under?"

Steve snickered. "Very real. Very...effective." He sneaked a glance at Eddie. Sexy and charismatic, yes, but more importantly warm, happy and home.

In a sing song voice, Robin got to the next point. "Is he really taken?"

"Take a guess," Steve winked at them. Or at least tried to, because the customers were already halfway out of the door with their coffee cups, and a very generous tip left on the counter.

"Aw," muttered Robin. "Shame, I thought these two would last longer. It's been ages since someone lasted the full Munson reverse bingo."

Steve laughed and helped her clean the table. "Would a pumpkin cookie console you?"

"Only if I don't have to hear about your bedroom rituals ever again," she said and reached for a cookie. "Or at least until the end of the shift."

#steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie #steddie drabble #steddie au #robin buckley #steddie ficlet #steddie spooktober

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deadghosy · 1 year ago

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Mommy long legs reader or slender man reader x Hazbin hotel 🌚🌝

AHHHH I LOVE YOU MY GHOST ANONNNN! SLENDERMAN?? YOU FINNA BRING OUT MY CREEPYPASTA PHASEE🦆✨💗‼️‼️‼️

HAZBIN HOTEL X SLENDERMAN! READER

prompt: a faceless creature of the height of 10’5 (or 7’9 idk I got two different heights from safari lol) came to hell to serve one final purpose…get a damn job.

Two words, scary tall…

So say your height was 10’5…

SHIT GON GET WICKEEDDDD!!!

Okay so I can see Charlie being scared staring at you as you just sit like a nice gentleman as your body doesn’t fit the whole seat… (y’know what, let’s go with 7’9…) you told Charlie you use to be a leader before you somehow came to this wrenched place

Charlie felt bad and gave you a job here so yon can stay. But she was confused when you said “somehow”’ as if you didn’t die as a Human…WAIT A MINUTE..DID YOU JUST TALK WITHOUT A MOU-

Lucifer looked up at you and was like….“What in the fucking nine circles…” and you two became friends because of how Lucifer put accessories on you like a Christmas tree

Y’know how people make slenderman wear reading glasses sometimes? That’s you. 😭 with your blind ass LMAOO (I also wear glasses dw…) But I can see you wear the glasses and residents be so confused because…you don’t have eyes for Christ out loud-

“Fuck you wearin' glasses for?” Husk said to you once as he caught you even reading a book…now he was more confused. “I’m reading…” “…..okay..” husk was so done with this buffoonery as you had no mouth and eyes. But yet you could still read, see, and fuckin talk? Yeah he must be drunk as hell itself…

You treat niffty just like how fanon slenderman treats Sally. That’s how I headcannon it.

I headcannon you to be the fanon version of slenderman rather the cannon version. Cause you being the fanon version is just sweet considering the chaos that can happen in the hotel and how you treat niffty.

I can see people thinking you are a new overlord as you had a stern aura around yourself as you had a proper straight walk as you held a high chin not showing any weaknesses.

“Woah….did you see that sinner get lit in flames…” “yeah I did.” It got so quiet so quick as angel gave you a confused face as you just stood there. 😭 Angel couldn’t tell if you were being fr or being a smartass

You were just sleeping on the couch, dead ass like a passed out beer dad after watching football. And fat nuggets sat in your lap sleeping. Then angel came and slept by you, then husk, then niffty, AND THEN EVERYONE JOINED 😭 big ass family cuddle💗💗🦆

You deadass could be the bodyguard of the hotel as you could escort a sinner who is trying to be an ass to the staff and you’re just like, “YEET!” And boom they are thrown away

You and Alastor definitely bond the most as you two got black tentacles. It’s just for Alastor it’s based on his powers when he uses his magic. But for you, it’s just your appearance as you use them to pierce your enemies. But mostly you use them when you are too bored to pick up objects with your hands

BIGGG headcannon that when slenderman do that static thingy, for you it clouds their vision and hearing as you make them pass out. Either to death or just to knock them out.

Lol I can imagine the whole creepypasta mansion going crazy while you drink tea like “this is fine” as you are in some other universe- 😭 crossover type shit

Like Drowned Ben is spam texting your phone like, “slender. slender. Help. Slendy. Octopus. Father. Help help.. help JeFF STABBED ME!”

And your tall ass is just sleeping as everything is going soooo peaceful in the hotel.

While we are at that, EJ definitely was using a book to try and to summon you with sally behind him hugging her teddy to see you again. Meanwhile Jeff was chasing Ben as he goes through a tv to hide from Jeff.

I imagine people in the hotel would hug you except for Alastor as he hates touch. But the people would dead ass hug you as one of your tentacles hold them.

You picked up angel, niffty , Charlie and Vaggie with your four tentacles as you read a book. It was a funny but cute sight as Charlie was like “:p” while the others had a cartoony ass expression or a blank one which is definitely Vaggie and husk

Adam and Lute definitely glanced at each other confused at what the fuck you were as you didn’t have a demonic or angelic aura. But you had some type of power in you. It was weird asf as you just stood there like “🧍🏾am I ugly?” They just kept staring at you

I can see you having the same expression as the picture above when you met pentious as you and Alastor was having tea just chilling with the hellish weather.

“Do you know that guy?” “I have no idea who that pest is my dear friend.” Alastor says with his usual smile as he hands you a cookie.

Just straight up tea times with Alastor is so peaceful as Alastor was kinda suspicious when you didn’t say anything if he ate a cannibalism meal. But I mean…slenderman! Reader is use to people being a cannibal.

The vees are definitely intrigued with who the hell you are and how powerful are you as you were the talk of pentagram city when you first came.

I headcannon a sinner tried to cut off your tentacles only to be grabbed by one of them and slammed to the ground. You just stood there and let static ring loudly in their head to the point it exploded.

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luvnanako · 3 months ago

Text

Helping Jinx ✮⋆˙

Jinx x F! Reader (wlw, fluff)

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁---─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─---. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

"Okay, toots, now… gimme that little thingy with the blue stripes on the bottom." Jinx's voice rings out with her usual playful energy as she points vaguely toward a cluttered pile of tools and parts. It’s that time of the week again—helping your girlfriend build her chaotic little gadgets. And by "helping," she mostly means handing her whatever she needs while she dives headfirst into her creative frenzy.

From crafting monkey bombs, guns, and grenades to making ridiculously impractical things like tiny glowing lights, weird belts, and other odd tripnkets, her workshop is always buzzing with activity. Of course, in typical Jinx fashion, she always manages to find time to whip up something just for you, too.

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You carefully pick up the item she asked for and place it on her crafting table with a soft thud. "Yeaah, that one!" she exclaims, tossing off her oversized goggles to give you a wide, mischievous grin. "Keep this up, and you might just earn some more kisses later," she adds, her tone dripping with her usual teasing charm.

You cross your arms, leaning casually against the table as you smirk at her. "What can I say? I'm a crafty one. At this rate, you might as well call me your most loyal servant," you reply, letting out a soft laugh and playfully winking at her.

Jinx picks up a pink marker from the side of her table, glancing at you with a mock serious expression. "Oh my god, what did you eat today? I think you might be sick, toots," she teases, sticking her tongue out as she starts doodling a little face on one of her monkey bombs.

"Yeah, well, I guess you’re just a bad influence on me," you quip back, laughing softly as you bump her shoulder.

Jinx gasps dramatically, placing a hand on her chest. "Who, me? Nuh-uh, I don’t know who you take me for, but I have nothing but an *amazing* influence on you." She finishes her drawing with a flourish, spinning the bomb around to show you. "What do you think? Pretty sweet, right?"

You lean in closer, pretending to examine her work critically. "Looks good, but maybe add a little heart on it," you suggest with a grin.

Without hesitation, Jinx grabs a blue marker and draws a small heart on the bomb, then scribbles both your initials inside it. "Voilà! Perfect now!" she declares, beaming with pride.

You can’t help but smile at her enthusiasm as you step behind her, wrapping your arms around her waist and resting your chin on her shoulder. "I wouldn’t actually mind getting bombed by this one," you say, pressing a soft kiss to her cheek and giggling.

Jinx chuckles, tilting her head back to look at you. "Be careful what you wish for," she says with a smirk, puckering her lips dramatically.

You roll your eyes but lean down to give her a quick peck. "Awhh, come on, toots, you can do better than that," she pouts, her lips curling into a playful little frown as she looks up at you with wide, cat-like eyes.

You let out a laugh, shaking your head. "You’re such a brat, you know that?"

"And you *love* it," she shoots back, grinning as she spins her chair around to face you, grabbing your hand to pull you closer.

Jinx pulls you closer until your knees bump into hers, her wild grin softening into something almost tender. "Admit it," she whispers, her voice dropping to a teasing murmur, "you'd be bored out of your mind without me."

You arch an eyebrow, smirking as you look down at her. "Oh, absolutely. My life would be so dull without the constant threat of explosions and chaos."

Jinx lets out a loud laugh, leaning back in her chair as she spins in a slow circle, arms out dramatically. "Exactly! I'm your spark, toots. Your chaos. Your muse!"

You shake your head, trying not to laugh as she grabs your hand mid-spin to stop herself. The motion pulls you closer until you’re standing between her legs. For a moment, the energy in the room shifts, the buzz of her gadgets and tools fading into the background.

Jinx looks up at you with a crooked smile, her fingers still loosely wrapped around yours. "You know," she says softly, "I don’t let just anyone into my workshop. You're kinda special."

Your chest tightens at her sudden sincerity, but you don’t let her get away with it too easily. "Special enough for you to put our initials on a bomb?" you tease, gesturing to the monkey bomb she decorated.

"Exactly," she replies with a wink. "That’s how you know it’s true love."

You laugh, shaking your head as you lean down to press your forehead against hers. "You’re impossible," you murmur, smiling.

"And you’re stuck with me," she counters, her voice light but filled with meaning.

"Yeah," you whisper, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "And I wouldn’t have it any other way."

Jinx's smirk grows, and before you can say anything else, she grabs the monkey bomb from the table, holding it up proudly. "Now let’s go see if this baby works!"

You groan, stepping back as she hops to her feet, her excitement practically vibrating off her. "I’m starting to rethink this whole 'helping you' thing," you say, but your smile betrays you.

"Too late, toots!" she calls over her shoulder, already bounding toward the door. "You’re in this with me now!"

And just like that, you find yourself chasing after her, laughing as she drags you into another whirlwind of chaos and invention—because that’s what life with Jinx is all about.

૮₍ ´ ꒳ `₎ა

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A/N heyyyy I'm currently making Caitlyn vampire au 2nd part so I made this one as a little filler! I hope you enjoyed reading this and I'm so so sooo grateful for all the feedback!

#jinx arcane #jinx #lesbian #arcane #wlw #arcane fanfic #fluff #oneshot #jinx x reader #jinx x y/n #arcane fluff #jinx fanfic #gl

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tinycoffeeroom · 6 months ago

Text

birds of a feather | daniel ricciardo

face claim: N/A ♡

request: here !

pairing: daniel ricciardo x british!reader

cw: mentions of chr*stian horner, singapore gp 2024

a/n: sorry for the long hiatus but i just had to come back and make something for danny. i've loved that man since i got into f1 and the idea that i won't see him on track anymore hurts so deeply. thank you for the memories honey badger, you will always have a place here on tinycoffeeroom <3

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Hi baby.

Hi love.

You sound exhausted, did you not sleep well last night?

Not really, I've been trying to go over strategies with the team, but nothing seems to be working. There's no way I'm getting in the points this week.

I'm sorry Danny, I know how much you've been working on this...

Have you asked them about that power unit thingy you were talking about?

Yeah... they don't have the time to test it and add it in before this race or even COTA.

What about the new rear wing?

Well...

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Anyway, enough about this shit show. How are you, darling? I miss you.

I miss you too, pretty boy. It sucks that this conference overlaps the race, I wish I was there so bad. Just wanna hug you.

Me too, y/n. Me too. I'm coming back as soon as the race is over. At least we have 4 weeks before the next one. Did you manage to book time off?

I did! 2 whole weeks to follow you across the globe watching you strut your stuff! Hopefully we can get Horsey back for the memories.

Blake's been emailing the owner, so hopefully Horsey will make a reappearance. (LAUGHS)

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Oh wait, Helmut's calling me, I'll call you back babe.

Ok! Lemme know what he says!

Always do. Love you.

Love you too pretty boy.

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It had been a last minute decision, choosing to fly out to Singapore. You knew Daniel would never put his own needs above yours, and while the conference was important for your career, he was important to you too.

It had been easy getting everything sorted. By the time you were texting Blake about flying over, he had already sent you a message, a simple "you know?".

A quick email to your boss, a semi lie spun about a family emergency, and a whirlwind of packing bags later, you found yourself sitting in Heathrow.

Your fingers twitched nervously as you checked the time differences between England and Singapore, double checking Daniel wouldn't find it strange if you didn't respond to his texts for the next 13 hours.

Your flight left at 8PM Singapore time, that gave you at least 10 hours before he would wake up for the race.

Blake had sneakily upgraded your tickets to first class so you could sleep comfortably on the flight and be ready to go straight into race day, or night, when you landed.

Tapping your phone awake, you smile at the lock screen staring back at you.

You and Daniel had gone away with a few other couples from the grid, a well needed break from the stress of Formula 1. In the midst of a late night beach walk with Charles and Alex, Daniel had grabbed your thighs, hoisting you over his shoulder.

Your shrieks of laughter had drawn some weird looks from those around you, but neither of you cared. You'd clawed your way back, legs settling tightly around Daniel's waist as his arms wrapped tightly around yours.

You didn't even notice the flash of Alex's phone, too enthralled in the wide smile encapsulating the man holding you, all teeth and gums and happiness dripping from him like sweet honey. A quick peck to the bridge of his nose and then the corner of his mouth was enough for him to lower you gently to the ground, arms still encompassing you tightly.

The sound of Charles fake gagging beside you finally pulled the two of you out of the lovesick stupor you'd been caught in, eyes roaming the shadows cast across your lover's face from the fading sunset.

When Alex had texted you the photo once you were back in the hotel room, limbs wrapped around one another in the cool, air conditioned room, you'd chuckled lightly, drawing Daniel's attention.

"What's so funny?" The hand gripping your thigh draped lazily across his lap squeezed once, thumb rubbing back and forth soothingly.

Turning the phone to face him, you watched his eyes light up, that same dazzling smile spreading as he took in the photo.

"Send that to me."

You hummed in response, airdropping the photo to him as he pulled your thigh higher up his lap. As he leaned forward, lips searching for yours under the dim lamp light, you quickly set the photo as your lock screen, no doubt in your mind that Daniel would soon do the same.

A tannoy drags you back to the present.

"All passengers for flight SIA324, please make your way to the gate. Boarding will begin in 15 minutes."

Typing out a quick goodnight message to Daniel, you pocket your phone, sighing as you make your way towards what could be the last time you see Daniel in a Formula 1 car.

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ynstagram uploaded three stories to their close friends

replies:

lilymhe 💔 if i knew you were coming to singapore, i would have come too! ↳ ynstagram was a last minute decision sorry babe xx ↳ lilymhe ... don't tell me ↳ ynstagram 🙃

maxverstappen1 how did you get time off?? i thought you were super busy with work ↳ ynstagram claimed a family emergency, even if danny doesn't want me here, i needed to come ↳ maxverstappen1 he needs you y/n, more than i think even he knows

landonorris does dan know you're coming? ↳ ynstagram nope, blocked him from my close friends for a bit ↳ landonorris sneaky, i like it ↳ landonorris see you soon y/n, glad you'll be here :)

iamrebeccad you're coming to the gp??? come to ferrari hospitality if you can!!!! alex misses you 🥺 ↳ ynstagram don't think i'll be leaving vcarb this weekend, we can meet up for brunch soon though 🩷 ↳ iamrebeccad oh... yeah sure, just let me know 💜

blakefriend hope you got to the hotel alright, me and dan are out for his training session, did you get the keycard ok? ↳ ynstagram i did, and the paddock passes. thanks for this blake, i know with everything going on, last minute admin is the last thing you need ↳ blakefriend if it means dan can have some sense of calm in this mess, i'd do it 10 times over ↳ blakefriend we'll be back at 1pm, see you in a few hours ↳ ynstagram 🫡 see you then

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Getting from the airport to the hotel had been easy enough. Piling the bags you had brought from Monaco to London and now to Singapore onto the only trolley remaining, you make your way down to the Arrivals.

Stepping through the automatic doors, your eyes dart between the people around you. Families reuniting with bright laughter and happy tears, lovers sharing intimate kisses under the harsh airport lights. Businessmen already glued to the phone in their hands as they weave through bodies with ease, their bodies twisting and turning like a well rehearsed waltz.

A man in a black suit jacket and oversized chauffeur hat catches your eye, his eyes following your figure as you try to move around the other passengers. You glance down at the large piece of paper held just above his waist.

“Y/N L/N” is scrawled in large black letters across the paper, chicken scratch that looks very much like Blake’s.

Making your way over, the man tips the edge of his chauffeur hat slightly, reaching a hand out to shake yours.

You want to apologise for the clamminess of your palms as you accept his welcome, but before you can speak, he’s reaching across to take the trolley from you, his head tilting briefly in the opposite direction.

You follow behind him, feet double stepping to keep up as he expertly navigates the sprawling grounds of Singapore Airport.

By the time you reach the car out front, a sheen of sweat covers your upper lip and you cringe, feeling your t-shirt slowly cling to your back.

The man opens the boot, then the back door and ushers you in. The cold air conditioning feels like a welcome home kiss, brushing away the humidity that clings to your skin from the small journey between the airport and the car. By the time the man sits in the driver's seat, your eyes are slipping closed, head lolling against the headrest behind you.

You didn’t mean to sleep for the entire car journey, but you’d barely been able to rest for more than 20 minutes on the flight, opting instead to cycle through nonsense films to play in the background as the thoughts in your mind waged a war on your emotions.

It had been a tense 13 hours, trying to work out what had happened on that phone call between Daniel and Helmut. You knew there were talks of him not extending his contract, but leaving mid season?

Your Danny? The self proclaimed and well known Honey Badger, king of late braking and divebombing his grid mates. You’d been with him since the Red Bull days, and even if he wasn’t winning podiums, or even points sometimes, you thought there would be more of an uproar about this from him.

This wasn’t the same man you’d watch nearly fight a waiter because he refused to bring you a new meal after they’d brought out a completely different dish, the same man who left everything on the tarmac and often dragged you to his trailer post race interviews for a well deserved nap.

His texts had been despondent, almost like he believed this was the goodbye he deserved.

That’s the part you couldn’t move past. The idea that he was going to finish his last race without the flair of Daniel Ricciardo, no doughnuts, no grid walk, no party to celebrate the last 13 years.

After the McLaren debacle, you understood why he chose to fly under the radar. With COVID and the situation with Oscar, he’d been more than willing to slip away peacefully but this was different.

This was Red Bull. Or the subsidiary at least. The team he’d spent the longest time in Formula 1 with. The team who took him in as a junior, that he’d won 7 Grand Prix’s with, scored well over 1000 points racing for.

You would have thought that they would have wanted to give him a goodbye worthy of what he had brought to the team.

By the time the chauffeur shakes you gently awake, your mind is no clearer but one thing is for sure. Daniel will not face this storm alone.

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The time of Daniel getting back from his workout was looming slowly. Since entering the hotel room, you’d hopped in the shower, scrubbing the aeroplane smell from you. The suitcases were lined up against the wall and you were currently lazing on the bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tiktok. Every so often, you’d flick to the notification screen, just in case Blake’s incoming text had somehow slipped past without you catching it.

Your eyes flutter slowly closed, maybe a 10 minute nap wouldn’t hurt. Before you can lock your phone and settle into the plush pillows, a notification pings through. Eyes darting open, you catch the banner notification before it slides up.

They were in the lobby.

“Fuckin’ hell Blake.” Scrambling up from the bed, you round the corner and make sure there is no sign of you in the living room section. Your shoes are tucked away in the bottom of the closet, jacket strewn across the chair in the corner of the bedroom.

The telltale ring of a keycard being swiped rings through the air and you slide to hide behind the wall, heart thumping against your chest. Doubt begins to swirl through your mind. What are you even doing here? What if he didn’t invite any of his family or friends because he didn’t want them to see him go out like this? Would he want you to?

Loud voices echo through the hallway, Aussie slang thrown about but you focus on the one thick with a Perth twang.

Your Danny.

“Mate, I’m just gonna go point Percy at the porcelain.” Blake’s voice grows louder as he walks through to the bedroom. He locks eyes with you, giving you a quick one armed hug as you exchange quiet greetings.

Once enough time has passed, he gestures with a finger to his lips to be quiet, head popping around the corner to Daniel.

“Did you bring Y/N’s jacket with you by mistake?”

A confused “No” comes from the living room before Blake leans across you, grabbing the clothing from the chair. He holds it aloft, in Daniel’s line of sight.

“No idea what that’s doing here, mate. You know I always bring a t-shirt of Y/N’s which should be under the pillow.”

Your heart swells at the statement, you had no idea he’d sneak something of yours with him whenever you couldn’t attend races. The earlier doubts dissipate, you knew right here, with Daniel, was where you were supposed to be.

“Strange… oh! I know what’s happened.” Blake shoots you a grin before wrapping a hand around your arm, pulling you into the doorway.

Smiling softly at Daniel, you huff lightly at the way his eyes widen almost comically as he takes you in. Silence spreads through the room, the two of you locked in intense eye contact as Blake slowly moves aside to let you reunite.

“Hello, my love.”

Daniel’s bottom lip wobbles slightly and before you can process it, he’s launched across the room, almost body slamming you with the force he runs at you with. Arms latch tightly around your waist, his head tucked tightly into your neck, trembling lips resting against your pulse point.

“What, I, how?” The words are muffled against your skin, the edges of them tear soaked as the collar of your t-shirt dampens to match.

Carding your hand through his still sweaty curls, you scratch lightly against his scalp. “As soon as you told me, Blake texted me. He booked me on the next flight.”

Daniel’s head pops out from his hiding place, all three of you ignoring the tears smattering his cheeks. He looks across to Blake, who simply shrugs his shoulders, reaching down to grab his gym bag.

“You needed them, and they needed you. It was a no brainer. Also, don’t get sappy with me, I charged the flight to your business card.” A chuckle follows and he claps Daniel on the back once, nodding in your direction before heading out the front door, the sound of it closing echoing slightly.

Daniel’s eyes track from the closing door back to you, wide in wonderment. “But your conference?”

Shrugging, you lean forward to press a soft kiss to the apple of his cheek. “Called in a family emergency. There’s no way I was letting you go through this alone.” You lift your hand up to his face, tracing a path across the same cheek you’d just kissed. “I know your parents or your friends can't be here, but I couldn’t bear the thought of you having to deal with everything going on with no kind of support. I know Blake’s here but-”

You’re cut off by his lips covering yours, desperation seeping through as the words die on your tongue. The taste of salt blooms, the tears still dripping slowly from his eyes. Yours join in quick succession. A rushed “I love you” slips from your mouth the moment you part, his own coming straight after.

The slide of his lips against your own turns molasses slow, the cooled sweat on both of you soon making way for its heated counterpart as you gravitate closer to one another. Warm hands sneak under your t-shirt, the palms cupping the swell of your hips as Daniel whispers words of gratitude through stolen breaths. Your own hands rest against his neck, nails creating slight grooves under the pressure.

Knowing what will come tomorrow, you take in this moment, second by second. The feel of his sweat slick skin under your palms, the slight stubble on his jaw scratching at your chin, the way his heart beats erratically in his chest pressed close to yours.

Every part of this Daniel you memorise, capturing each memory in a gold plated frame. You store them away in the evergrowing gallery of your brain dedicated to the man before you, seal them under lock and key for your eyes only.

You always knew that one day, you’d share them with him. When all the racing was over and the two of you had the house with the white picket fence, or more aptly, the farm with the white picket fence. You’d dissect every moment of him you stored away, stacked one by one for safekeeping. From the moment the two of you met in that busy London street, every grand prix win, every high followed by every low. Just in case he began to forget the man he was, the man he would still be.

You just didn’t realise that day would be coming so soon.

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ynstagram danielricciardo

[caption 2: gorgeous boy xx]

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After the race, you’d left Daniel to his own devices. You knew he would want to spend his time wandering around the track, soaking in every moment of what could be his last ever race.

Grabbing a ride back with Blake, the two of you stick to small talk, neither able to formulate the words you truly wanted to say.

He’d given you a brief goodbye in the lobby, arms wrapped around you in a tight squeeze before the two of you separated, him taking the stairs and you choosing to ride in the elevator.

Shuffling through the front door, you kick your shoes off, nudging them next to the other pairs in the entryway. On the way up, you’d sent Daniel a quick text to let you know when he was on his way back.

Expecting him to respond around midnight, you slowly work through your nighttime routine, opting to wear one of his shirts to bed instead of the pyjamas you’d neatly packed.

Slipping into bed, you unlock your phone, squinting at the brightness. Still no messages from Daniel, the 1:27am at the top of your phone making you sigh deeply. Reaching over, you plug your phone onto charge before starting up a well loved podcast, choosing an episode you could probably quote from memory with how often you relistened to it.

As the dulcet voices fall away to background noise, you settle in for the night, head half shoved into the pillow beside you, Daniel’s scent still lingering from this morning.

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Blearily opening your eyes as the other side of the bed dips lightly, you quickly tap your phone to see the time. A bold 3:57am blinks back at you briefly before the screen goes dark once more.

“Didn’t mean to wake you, sorry babe.” Daniel’s voice whispers in the darkness, hand winding its way around your waist to pull you back to his chest.

Resting your hand over his, fingers interlocking in the open spaces, you squeeze twice. “s’ok, wanted to see you when you got back anyway.”

Silence follows and before you can roll over to look at Daniel, his face presses into the centre of your shoulder blades, the skin warm through the fabric of the shirt.

“Danny?”

He stays quiet, the hand on your waist gripping tighter. You can hear the way his breath starts to shake on the inhale, the tears from his eyes slowly dampening the back of his shirt currently wrapped around you.

“Danny, lemme see you.” A shake of his head rustles the shirt. “Baby, please.”

His grip on your waist loosens and you shuffle around carefully, trying to avoid shoving an elbow in his ribs and adding further insult to injury.

You can hardly make out his face, the small amount of moonlight shining through the haphazardly closed curtains barely illuminating the curve of his cheek. It does catch the glint of his honey brown eyes, tears shimmering along his lash line.

“Oh, my love.” Your heart breaks at the sight of the man in front of you, a shell of who you’ve come to know and love. The pressure behind your eyes builds, tears threatening to mirror Daniel’s. “C’mere.”

One hand wrapping around the back of his neck, you pull him to lay against you. He burrows in, head pressed tight into the junction between your neck and shoulder, a sombre juxtaposition to this morning.

“This is the end. Everything I’ve worked for, over. And there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” His arm wraps tight around your waist once more, his leg coming to rest between yours. “I’m officially a has-been.” A wet chuckle escapes him, the noise too loud in the surrounding silence.

You can’t stop yourself from tapping the back of his neck lightly. He knows you hate when he talks like that. “No one’s allowed to talk about the man I love like that.”

His head lifts from your neck to throw you a quick glance. “Even if it’s the man himself?”

Pulling him back to rest against your neck, you run your hands through his hair gently, twirling the longer strands around one of your fingers. “Especially if it’s the man himself. You’re not a has-been, never will be. You’re so talented in so many different ways, there will never be a time you can say you’re past your prime or whatever stupid shit is running around that gorgeous head of yours.” Your fingers tap against his scalp to drive the point home. “Even if you never step foot in one of those cars again, you’ve got your dirt biking, the wine company, Enchante, the 17 other high intensity sports you do that raise my blood pressure every time I watch. You’re smart enough to know how to adapt, and that is what you’ll do. I know it.”

“You seem very sure.” His voice comes out muffled from its spot against your neck, his breath tickling your skin.

“That’s because I am. I was by your side during the papaya setback, I saw how you came back stronger. That’s what this situation is too, a setback. You’ll find a way through, even if I have to stand by the solution with a flashlight to guide you that way.”

He chuckles, the edges of his voice no longer tainted with sorrow. “Can you still not say their name?”

You join his laughter, remembering the last time you’d spoken about McLaren. “Last time I mentioned that company, I got a cease and desist. Don’t think Zac was too happy with the way I was deservedly slagging them off.” Your nose wrinkles as you think back to the snottily worded email and attached letter that dropped into your inbox a few days after your last public comment about their shitty management. “So I promised to never let that name slip from my lips again.”

The room falls silent again, just for a moment. The two of you still tangled in an embrace, even as the first prickles of sweat bead against your hairline from the heat of your bodies in the warm Singapore evening.

Daniel sighs, shuffling minutely to run a hand up and down the length of your side. “I just… I remember when I was 20. Being so excited to get into an actual F1 car, even as a tester. I remember jumping out, seeing that I was the fastest and thinking ‘this is it. This is my chance.’ I wanted to be a Red Bull driver so bad, with every part of me. To win a race, maybe even win a world championship, leave a legacy behind. And now I’ve wasted over a decade of my life with only 8 race wins to show for it. Not even a championship. What kind of legacy does that leave me?”

The sorrow creeps back into his voice, and you have to clear your throat before responding, willing the tears back once more. “A legacy doesn’t have to mean winning a world championship. Or even a race. Think about Jacky Ickx, Stirling Moss, Juan Pablo Montoya. All legends in their own right, but none of them had a world championship. If this was your last race in Formula 1, you leave behind a legacy in your own right. People will know your name for years, even decades to come. King of the late brakers, the guy who always had a smile and a kind word to say about everyone he ever met; even if they didn’t deserve it, the aptly named Honey Badger. Just because you don’t leave behind a legacy in being number 1, doesn’t mean you won’t be up there with the greats.”

Daniel hums, taking in your words, dissecting them one by one. “I’m scared. Where do I go now? Do I even try to come back? Move to a different company entirely? Retire officially and retreat to the farm? I don’t know who I am without Formula 1.”

You take a moment to think about the situation for yourself. A world where Daniel Ricciardo is no longer a Formula 1 driver. It always seemed so impossible to you, the company so deeply ingrained into his being that the very idea of him would cease to exist without it in his life.

“Truthfully, I don’t know.” Your hand continues to card through his hair, a soothing gesture. Whether it was meant to soothe him or you, you weren’t too sure. “I wouldn’t even know where to start with advice, I’ve never had to walk in your shoes. But that doesn’t need to be something to think about right now. Enjoy some downtime, go home and spend time with your family, race dirt bikes around different parts of the world, go see Scotty and Chloe. The future is still so bright for you, Danny. And I’m just happy that I get to be beside you through it all.”

Slowly, he raises his head from its perch, bright eyes finding yours. Despite the situation, you swear he’s never looked more beautiful than in this moment. Teeth bitten lips find yours in the dim light, clumsy and fierce, but perfect in its own right.

“I love you. So fucking much. From the first day we met and you shouted at me for splashing you with a puddle, I knew you were the one. Thank you for never leaving.”

You laugh aloud, remembering how you’d been late for university, umbrella thrashing in the England wind, when a bike had come up dangerously close beside you, running straight through a puddle and covering your jeans in muddy water.

After a long rant at the rider, you’d looked up into apologetic golden eyes and high cheekbones, and immediately the anger had dissipated. “And I love you. Maybe not from the puddle moment, but you won me over nearly immediately after. There’s nowhere I’d rather be than right here, with you.”

This is the moment. The moment to open the gallery in your mind to the man in front of you. To recall each and every moment you’d captured in glossy oils and remind him of who he is, who he always has been.

And then Daniel lays his head back down to your chest, lips pressing an appreciative kiss to the shirt underneath, warmth blossoming through the fabric to your skin below. And the moment passes.

Pressing your head back into the pillow below, you listen to how Daniel’s breathing slows, settling down as he drifts off to sleep. The perfect moment will come back. There’s still time.

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liked by fan, fan and 982,167 others

formula1 BREAKING: Daniel Ricciardo to leave RB, the team have announced

see 238,816 others

fan what the fuck

fan not danny ric 💔💔

fan we just got him back😭😭😭

fan helmut marko watch your back.

user lol not surprised, we all knew he was washed ↳ fan 123.456.789.012 ↳ user did i just get doxxed?

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

👤 danielricciardo liked by landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 890,274 others

ynstagram the man of many names. danny ric, ricky bobby, honey badger and most importantly, the love of my life. i've loved you for 6 summers and i'll love you for 600 more.

in the words of our favourite musical, wherever you go i won't be far to follow. whether it's in the navy of the bulls, papaya of [REDACTED], the bee striped renault or the dazzling white of vcarb, you bring so much light and happiness everywhere you go, and i've been privileged to bask in the warmth of you.

and until the next adventure, i will always be here to remind you of the power and strength you inhabit, the souls you've breathed life into and the happiness you've brought to the sport you love (sometimes more than me) for over a decade.

always and forever, your y/n x

see 10,286 other comments

fan anyone else absolutely sobbing right now?? ↳ fan as if his post wasn't enough to make me bawl, ofc y/n drops this

fan to have a love like y/n and danny...

fan not y/n censoring mclaren, they hate that damn team so much ♥️ ynstagram

danielricciardo my darling, i love you, always and forever ❤️ ↳ ynstagram so excited for our future, whatever it holds ❤️

landonorris thanks y/n max is crying now 👍 ↳ ynstagram 🤣 which one? ↳ maxfewtrell both ↳ maxverstappen1 both

alexandrasaintmleux 🩷 we need another double date when you're back in monaco x ↳ ynstagram do we have to bring them? ↳ danielricciardo on my own dedication post... wow ↳ ynstagram 🤷 gotta show my girl love whenever i can

fan helmut better hide, y/n doesn't play when it comes to their man ↳ fan fr don't let the sappy post fool you, ik they have a hitlist in their notes

fan him leaving before COTA is so messed up, he loves that track 😭😭😭 ↳ ynstagram wish you guys could have seen the special helmet :( ↳ fan OH HELMUT MARKO WHEN I CATCH U!!!!!!! ↳ fan special helmet... pls we need to see i BEG

lewishamilton with you by his side, the future is bright for the honey badger 🤍 ↳ ynstagram thanks lew 🩷 ↳ danielricciardo thanks man :)

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

a/n: this is not proof read, so ignore any mistakes. i can't wait to see what danny does in the future, whatever it is, i'll be supporting him all the way <3

#daniel ricciardo x you #daniel ricciardo x reader #daniel ricciardo imagine #daniel ricciardo fanfic #daniel ricciardo fic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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ktownshizzle · 1 month ago

Text

Terms & Conditions | Chapter Seven

✎ ˎˊ˗ Pairing: Min Yoongi x female Reader

✎ ˎˊ˗ Summary: Managing Min Yoongi as one of your encoders during his alternative military service should’ve been simple. He is quiet, punctual—and can apparently type as fast as he can rap! Not to mention the fact that he is easy on the eyes and keeps wanting to help you. You’ve signed an iron-clad NDA, detailing the full terms and conditions of his temporary employment, so you’re supposed to keep things professional, but what happens if neither of you wants to?

✎ ˎˊ˗ Genre: Fluff, smut, co-workers to lovers, office romance, idol!au

✎ ˎˊ˗ Warnings: Purely speculative regarding Yoongi’s alternative military service and how this is really done in SK, some cursing, boss/employee relationship sorta but there's no power play involved, reader and Yoongi are within the same age range

✎ ˎˊ˗ Chapter Warnings: YOONGI IN THIS SUIT. Angst - themes of jealousy, insecurity, Mildly angry car sex, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), The L Word <3

✎ ˎˊ˗ Word count: 4.5k ✎ ˎˊ˗ Posting date: March 12, 2025

✎ ˎˊ˗ Notes: We’re back after a longish break! Thank you to @glossdebut for beta reading! Enjoy this chapter, my lovelies~ 💕

Series Masterlist | Masterlist

“Hi, baby! I’m back…?” Your voice trails off as you enter Yoongi’s apartment that afternoon and suddenly the living room has been transformed into what can only be described as the scene for the makeover montage in movies (or fanfics?).

Clothing racks line one wall, laden with everything from elegant cocktail dresses to sleek jumpsuits. A makeup station with a massive lighted mirror has been set up near the window.

It’s chaos, but it’s also… kind of amazing.

“What the—” you mutter to yourself, stepping further into the room.

Yoongi appears from the kitchen, a cup of iced coffee in hand, looking unfazed by the commotion. He’s dressed casually in black joggers and a white t-shirt, collarbones peaking deliciously from the loose neckline. Around his neck, a brown necklace draws your eyes to the smooth column of his throat. What gave him the right?

Anyway, he spots you immediately, face softening.

“Hi,” he says, strolling over to you, stuffing one hand inside his pocket casually. Not him acting all awkward again in front of other people.

You try not to roll your eyes before dragging him towards the nearest room and closing the door behind you.

His face is blank, causing you to whisper-shout, “What is all that?” gesturing wildly at the door that’s shielding the activity outside.

He sips his coffee, completely unbothered. “Told you I’d take care of everything.”

“Yah! You didn’t have to go this far!” you exclaim, but there’s a giddy smile tugging at your lips as you slap his chest.

Yoongi captures your wrist and pulls you closer. “Let me spoil you when I want to, mm?” Soft lips meet your forehead.

You roll your eyes, though your cheeks flush at his words. “Fine.”

“Fine,” he smiles sweetly, pressing a quick kiss on your lips this time.

You pull him back in with a loop of your finger around his necklace.

“Hmm, jagi,” he hums against your mouth, a soft reprimand. “Later, okay? They’re here for you.”

Despite your initial skepticism, it’s hard not to get swept up in the excitement. The team from Bit & Boot is professional but warm, making small talk about your personal color analysis. You’re apparently a soft spring, or was it deep winter?

Someone lays out a few dresses, and your eyes immediately gravitate toward a beige cocktail dress with sleek lines and subtle embellishments along the neckline.

“You have a good eye,” one of the stylists says, removing the hanger. Maybe you did understand the color thingy they were talking about, because they looked pleased. Thank God, because you didn’t want to look like a chump.

Yoongi lingers nearby, keeping an eye on everything. When your makeup artist offers him a chair as if he doesn’t own the place, he smirks and says, “Nah, I’m just here to admire.”

You’re seated in front of the mirror as they work on you, foundation buffed onto your skin, hair teased and styled until it cascades in soft waves over your shoulders. Yoongi stays close, occasionally glancing at his phone but mostly watching you, a small, private smile playing on his lips.

When you finally step out in the dress, Yoongi’s reaction is everything you could have hoped for.

“Wow,” he breathes, his voice low.

“Too much?” you ask, smoothing the dress nervously.

“Too much? No.” He steps closer, his hand finding your waist, pulling you just slightly toward him. “You’re perfect.”

His words send warmth blooming in your chest.

The glam team packs up quickly, with small smiles that they try to hide. You bow as they go, leaving the two of you alone in the now-pristine living room.

As the door clicks shut behind them, Yoongi turns to you, his hands sliding down your hips as his lips brush your ear.

“Jagi, we don’t have to go,” he murmurs, voice deep and dangerous. “You’re so sexy. Let’s just stay here. I’ll just take care of you.”

You laugh softly, placing your hands on his chest. “Yoongi, we can’t skip your hyung’s party.”

“Hmm.” His lips curve into a smirk, and his fingers trace lazy patterns on your sides, giving it a light squeeze.

“Yoongi…”

“Just let me kiss your lips for a bit…”

“Uh-uh,” you shake your head. “Lip gloss.”

“Not those lips…”

“Yoongi!” You shout, scandalized at the suggestion. But you’d be lying if you didn’t feel the flutter of something low in your belly as he dips his head to your shoulder, chuckling to himself. He’s such a shithead.

“Fine. But know that all I’ll be thinking about tonight is how soon I can get you back here.” He bites your shoulder for good measure.

“Well, you’d better behave then. Don’t make me regret saying yes to this party.”

He steals the faintest kiss on your lips. “I’ll be on my best behavior.”

He lied.

You’re just in the car and already he is not on his best behavior.

Not when he almost tears your panties in half as he hooks it to the side and inserts his cock in your warmth without so much as a prep.

Backtracking—this was not supposed to happen. And yet somehow you also knew it would, if you’d be really honest.. See, you were just making light conversation as you entered his Palisade.

“So who’s coming to the party again?”

He unbuttons his blazer, leaning back on his seat. “Bunch of label people, my members. They know I’m bringing you.”

“What did you say?”

“Told them to not act like idiots. And that they better behave.”

You hum, amused at the hint of green in his irises. Maybe it can be greener…

“And, uh, Yijeong will be there, too?”

Silence. Except for the soft whirr of the partition rolling up.

“Get over here.”

“Mm?”

“You heard me,” he says, voice a touch darker.

You shuffle to sit on his lap, the fabric of your dress gathering on your waist. His large warm hand strokes up your thigh towards the plush of your ass, roughly squeezing.

“Grind,” he instructs. “Make me hard before I fuck you right here right now.”

Before you can protest your body is already acting on instincts, rolling your hips as per his instructions. Your panties are getting more damp as you continue to rub yourself against the growing stiffness under his trousers.

You hear the sound of a metal buckle and a zip. He frees his cock (he is not wearing underwear–this fucker!) and before you can do anything else, he hooks your panties to the side.

A wave of bliss courses through you as he nestles his tip against your sticky folds, prodding your clit ever so slightly.

“Can you take it?”

“Yeah...”

He smirks. “Okay then, take it.”

A moan rips from your throat when he slips inside and pistons up into you. Hard, fast, and furious. There’s no build-up, not enough forewarning. But you love the stretch—the painful, delicious sting as he forces himself to fit inside you like he has many times before.

“Say my name,” he grits.

“Baby…”

“Whose dick are you riding right now, huh?”

“Yours, Yoongi—mmph fuck.”

His grip tightens on your hips, the guitar-calloused pads of his fingers pressing into your skin as he fucks up into you deep. The wet, obscene sounds of your slick walls sucking him in fill the Palisade, drowned out only by your soft whimpers and the way Yoongi grunts against your shoulder.

“Fuck,” he breathes, lips dragging along the shell of your ear, against your piercing. “You always take me so well.”

You grasp the leather headrest, desperate for something to anchor you. But there’s no finding your balance when he’s feral—when his cock is hitting so goddamn deep it knocks the air from your lungs. Your head falls back, mouth parting with a moan as the pleasure crests higher. Every inch of skin on fire.

Yoongi doesn’t slow. If anything, the sight of you, the feel of you—fucked-out and soooo fuckin’ wet—only makes him wilder. His hands shift lower, gripping the meat of your ass, helping you bounce on his cock.

“You want me jealous, huh?” he growls. “Wan’ test me?”

“No, I—fuck—”

His teeth graze your jaw, a warning. “Liar.”

A particularly sharp thrust has you crying out, your nails clawing at his back. His chuckle is dark, pleased. “Don’t worry, jagi. I’ll fuck the thought of anyone else outta you.”

You’re close. You can feel it—the unbearable heat pooling in your belly, every nerve in your body coiling tight. Yoongi knows it too, the way your pussy starts fluttering around him.

“Shit, ‘m close…”

“Yeah, that’s it. I like it when you lose control…”

“Ahh. Please, Yoongi.”

“Lemme feel it, baby,” he coaxes, voice rough, strained. “Let me feel you cum for me.”

That’s all it takes. Your release crashes over you, sharp and white-hot, your body trembling as your orgasm rips through you. Yoongi groans, feeling you squeeze him tight tight tight, milking him for all he’s worth.

“Fuck, fuck—” His grip bruises as he slams into you one last time, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside, filling you up with every last drop.

For a moment, all you can hear is the ragged sound of your breaths, the faint hum of the engine beneath you, which you just now realize is already parked.

Yoongi’s hands smooth over your thighs, as you both come down. Then, with a tired but no less shit-eating grin, he pulls out and pings your panties back into place, pressing his thumb at the seam, before he says:

“Keep it in for me, jagi.”

You should be scandalized. You can feel his viscous load already dripping from you, but you clench. You hold it in as best as you can. Because you’ll agree to anything when he’s like this.

You shudder, pulse still racing as he presses a slow, open-mouthed kiss to your lips. It’s gentle—so at odds with what just happened.

“Yoongi,” you breathe, still floating.

He smirks, lazy and satisfied. “My pretty jagi.”

As you rest your forehead against his, still dazed, still blissed-out, he tucks a stray strand of hair behind your ear and murmurs, “Now, let’s go to this fucking party before I change my mind.”

The party is already buzzing when you arrive, and Yoongi’s hand finds the small of your back, grounding you as he guides you through the crowd. His friends are scattered across the room, a mix of banter and laughter filling the air.

You’re honestly a little self-conscious after your little car tryst. Is your dress too wrinkled? Is your make-up a wreck? Do you smell like cum?

“Come on,” Yoongi murmurs, leaning in close enough for his breath to tickle your ear. “Let’s go say hi.”

Jimin is the first to turn to you with a playful grin, “So, you’re the one Yoongi-hyung’s been hiding from us, huh?” He raises an eyebrow, his expression equal parts curious and amused.

Jungkook grins, leaning in for a casual hug. “Hello, Y/N.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but a small, almost shy smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as he introduces you to the rest of the members. Everybody seems friendly, acknowledging you for being Yoongi’s plus one. For the most part, it’s Jungkook who keeps close, chatting with you about Chae and how he’s bummed she couldn’t make it tonight. Cute.

At some point in the night, Yoongi gets whisked away into a circle of conversation on the far side of the room. You hang back, still close but giving him enough space to enjoy his time outside of—let’s be real—babysitting you.

You slip toward the bar, ordering a drink, needing something to do with your hands while you surreptitiously take everything in.

Is that Hwasa? Oh my God, that’s Irene of Red Velvet.

The weight of where you are settles all at once. You knew you’d be surrounded by idols tonight, but knowing and experiencing are two very different things. These are people who command stages, who are revered and respected and admired by millions. And then… there’s you. A glorified office worker who stumbled into this world by accident.

You inhale, shake it off, sip your drink.

But just as you think you’re in the clear, your full government name rings out over the music, a curious voice cutting through the din.

“I heard you were gonna be here.”

You turn, and there he is.

“Jang Yijeong. Long time no see.”

He leans against the bar, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. “Indeed.”

The weight of history sits between you. It’s not bad blood, not really, but there’s something about seeing someone from your past in a space that so obviously belongs to your present that feels a little jarring.

Especially because you suddenly meet said present’s eyes from across the room and the motherfucker mouths, keep it in… and you squirm in your seat as a flush of fluid threatens to trickle down your thighs.

“So, Yoongi-yah, huh?” Yijeong tilts his head, studying you and maybe your odd facial expression right now. “Small world.”

“Yeah.” You shift, inhaling sharply. “So how have you been?”

“Really good. Worked on Yoongi’s last album and tour before his service. Now I’m going back and forth between here and the US, trying to do my own thing.”

“Wow.” You blink, forcing a smile. “I’m happy for you.”

His success doesn’t surprise you. He’s always been talented, always had that drive. But hearing it out loud, seeing how effortlessly he fits into this world—it stirs something unpleasant in your chest.

“How about you?” he asks.

You take another sip of your drink, stalling. “Just boring stuff. I work in the Yongsan municipal office.”

“Oh, you’re still there?” His brows lift, his voice light, but something about the phrasing makes your stomach twist.

Still.

Like you should have moved on by now. Like you’ve been standing in place while the rest of the world surged forward.

You force a small laugh, trying not to let it show. “Yeah, still there.”

Yijeong hums, nodding slowly. “Good thing you didn’t leave.” He gestures toward the other side of the room where Yoongi is now laughing at something someone said, looking so effortlessly cool. “Or else you wouldn’t have met Yoongi.”

And honestly, what do you say to that?

Because he’s right. If you had taken any of the other job offers, if you had made even the smallest change to your path, you wouldn’t be here.

But the way he says it makes it sound like Yoongi is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. Like meeting him was some stroke of dumb luck, the one extraordinary thing in an otherwise unimpressive life.

Like Yoongi is a prize you won rather than a person who chose you.

You swallow, looking down at your drink. The ice clinks against the glass, but it doesn’t drown out the thoughts forming in your head. Is that what people see when they look at you? A nobody who somehow landed Min Yoongi?

Your fingers tighten around the glass. And suddenly, the room doesn’t feel so warm anymore.

As you make your way back toward Yoongi, a voice stops you.

“You must be the famous Y/N.”

You turn, surprised to see a woman smiling at you, her glossy lips curled into something amused but warm. She’s effortlessly chic, her black dress draped elegantly over her frame.

“Oh,” you say, blinking as recognition sets in. His Mina-noona. You’ve heard Yoongi mention her before—a longtime friend, someone he respects.

“I’m Mina,” she says, offering her hand. You shake it, feeling slightly scrutinized under her gaze—but not in a malicious way. More like she’s curious, trying to piece together the puzzle that is you.

“Yoongi talks about you,” she adds, eyes twinkling.

Your brows lift slightly. “He does?”

Mina hums, taking a sip of her drink. “Not much, but enough. He’s… different these days.”

“Different how?”

“I don’t know,” she muses. “Softer, maybe. More invested.”

Your stomach does a little flip, but before you can fully process it, Mina gives you a knowing look. “You do know what you’re getting into, right?”

The flip turns into a twist. “What do you mean?”

Mina chuckles, shaking her head. “Nothing bad,” she reassures you, waving a hand. “Just… Yoongi’s always been a certain way. Keeps people at arm’s length. Not the type to—” She pauses, then shrugs. “Well. Not the type to bring someone to a party like this.”

You try to keep your expression neutral, but the words settle uncomfortably in your chest. Is she trying to insinuate that Yoongi tends to go for just casual, a typical fuckboi even?

“You must be special,” she adds, smiling. It’s meant to be kind, but it only stirs something uneasy inside you.

You force a small laugh. “I’d like to think so.”

Mina gives your arm a gentle squeeze before stepping back. “It was nice to finally meet you,” she says genuinely. “Enjoy tonight.”

She disappears into the crowd before you can respond, leaving you standing there, your mind spinning.

When you glance back, Yoongi is already making his way toward you, casually grabbing a quiche from a passing waiter and popping it into his mouth.

“You alright, jagi?” Yoongi’s voice is gentle, cutting through the noise of the party like a thread pulling you back to him.

You nod, pasting on a smile. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

But you’re not. Not really.

Because the moment Yijeong walked away, the thoughts started spiraling. And after that conversation with Mina, it’s like a dull ache has settled into your chest, impossible to shake.

You think back to the office girls months ago, how they teased you when Yoongi first started working in your department. The Blessed One, they had called you. The lucky girl who got to work closely with Min Yoongi. It was all in good fun, lighthearted banter at the time, but now, the words twist in your head.

Do you not deserve someone like him?

Do you not deserve him?

You shouldn’t care what anyone else thinks. You know that. Yoongi is here, with you, choosing you. That should be enough.

And yet, the doubt lingers, wrapping around your confidence like vines, tightening.

A squeeze on your waist brings you back. You blink, meeting Yoongi’s eyes. He’s studying you carefully, his gaze flickering over your face like he can see every thought running through your head.

“You sure?” he murmurs.

You force yourself to nod, offering another small smile as you swipe the crumbs on the corner of his mouth with your knuckle. “Yeah… just a little overwhelmed.”

“Let’s get out of here soon, okay?”

You nod again, pressing into his side just slightly, grateful for the comfort he gives so effortlessly. But the thoughts don’t go away.

And you’re starting to wonder if they ever will.

The drive home is quiet, but Yoongi’s hand wraps around yours, thumb brushing lightly across your knuckles. The silence feels heavy, as if he’s waiting for you to say something, but you’re still sifting through the evening’s interactions, trying to make sense of your emotions.

Finally, Yoongi speaks, his voice low. “Jagi-ya. I don’t know what happened, but you can talk to me,” he says, his tone soft but firm. His hand tightens around yours. “Was it something Yijeong or Mina said?”

You swallow, staring out the window as the streetlights blur past. “It’s not just them, Yoongi,” you murmur, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “It’s… I don’t know. Tonight, it just hit me how different our worlds are. I mean, maybe I don’t belong here, in all of this. You deserve someone who just… fits better.”

Yoongi stares, confusion etched in his features.

“It’s just, people look at you, and it’s like they’re trying to see if I measure up. I can feel it, you know?”

He lets out a slow breath, his gaze steady and intent. “That’s… don’t even worry about that, jagi. I’m here, because I want to be with you.”

A rush of gratitude warms you, but doubt still clings, threading through your insecurities.

“Thanks, Yoongi,” you murmur, squeezing his hand. “Maybe I just need some time to rest.”

As the driver pulls up outside your apartment, he studies you, his brow knitting in concern. “Want me to come up?” His question is soft, unassuming, yet full of care. “I can make you the sriracha grilled cheese sandwich you really liked last time.”

You reach over, cupping his cheek. “Not tonight,” you say, brushing your thumb gently over that little freckle below his eye. “I think I just need a little time. Alone.”

He sighs, long and labored as he presses your hand against his face a little longer before letting it drop. “I don't love this.” He says, his face falling slightly, but he nods in understanding. “But alright,” he presses a gentle kiss to your forehead, his lips staying just long enough to make your heart ache.

“Yoongi…”

“Not that. You don’t call me that anymore…”

Realization hits you. “Baby…”

He nods, eyes moist, and the little wobble of his lips almost makes you want to fold. “Good night, jagi.”

With a final, lingering look, you step out of the car, giving him a small wave as you close the door behind you. The weight of your decision is immediate, filling the quiet of your apartment with the complex feelings from the night.

As you exhale, you realize you’re left to sort through this alone, the silence amplifying the doubts Yoongi’s reassurance can’t quite erase.

It's 4:12 a.m.

You can’t sleep. How can you?

You haven’t slept in this bed for days. The scent of jasmine is unfamiliar, when you’ve grown accustomed to sandalwood.

Your memory pillow already forgot the slope of your head.

You flip to your other side, staring at the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through your curtains. Just as you’re about to force your eyes shut, your phone vibrates against your nightstand, the screen lighting up the darkened room.

You check the notification and it's him. Of course it is.

Yoongi: you up?

Any other night, you’d laugh at how much it sounds like a booty call. And maybe it would’ve been. But tonight, it’s different.

You: Cant sleep Yoongi: me too

You stare at your screen, thumbs hovering as you figure out what to say next. But another message is already coming through.

Yoongi: im outside Yoongi: your apt

Socked feet shuffle to the front door. Every step feels heavy, like your body is torn between running to him and running away.

You swing it open to find Yoongi, looking like a kicked puppy. Your heart cracks.

The sight of him like this—eyes tired, lips pressed into a tight line, hair tousled like he’d been running his fingers through it all night—has you clutching the edge of the doorframe just to keep yourself upright.

You let him inside.

“What are you doing here?” you finally ask, voice quieter than you intended.

Yoongi exhales sharply, his hands pushing through his hair before settling at his sides.

“I’m here, because…” he starts, then stops, shaking his head like he doesn’t know how to finish the thought. His jaw clenches. His fingers twitch.

You can’t breathe.

And then he says, “I love you.”

The words land like a freefall. No hesitation. No takebacks. Just truth.

“Yoongi…” your voice is barely above a whisper.

“I need you to hear it. Really hear it.” He takes a step closer, trembling hands cupping your cheeks. “I love you,” he repeats, softer this time, like he’s willing you to believe it. “I don’t care how complicated this gets. I don’t care what anyone else thinks. I told you before, I’m all-in.”

Your heart is pounding, a chaotic rhythm against your ribs.

Because deep down, you already knew.

You knew in the way he looked at you across the office when he thought no one else was watching. You knew in the way he pulled you closer in his sleep, in the way he whispered your name like a prayer.

But hearing him admit it to it like this—like he was physically incapable of handling a possibility where you didn’t feel the same way, where you would’ve given this up, it’s perhaps the most honest thing you’ve ever heard.

And now, the question isn’t whether he loves you.

It’s whether you’re ready to believe that you deserve to be loved like this. If you deserve to be loved by Min Yoongi…

Yoongi barely has time to register it before your hands are in his hair, yanking him down, your lips crashing against his in a kiss that’s messy, desperate, everything.

He groans into your mouth, his hands flying to your waist, fingers digging into the thin fabric of your sleep shirt.

You press into him, chest to chest, feeling the heat radiating off his skin. His mouth moves against yours with urgency, his tongue sweeping past your lips, stealing whatever breath you had left.

You don’t stop kissing him. You can’t. Not even as he walks you backwards toward your bedroom. He kicks the door shut behind him, his body pressing you against it, trapping you between the cool wood and the solid heat of him.

His hands roam, slipping under your sleep shirt, fingers skimming over your tits, tracing the curve of your spine. Your head tilts back as he trails kisses down your jaw, your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver.

“Jagiya,” he mumbles, voice thick, rasping against your skin.

You don’t have any other words right now—not when he’s sucking a wet bruise into your collarbone, not when his fingers slide lower, dancing along the lace of your panties.

So you just say the only thing that matters. “I love you, too.”

A low curse falls from his lips, and then he’s moving you to the bed, dropping you onto the mattress before crawling over you, eyes dark, hungry.

“Say it again.”

His hands slip beneath your shirt, dragging it up. His lips follow, open-mouthed kisses searing a path up your stomach, taking a nipple between his teeth.

“I love you,” you whisper, voice shaky, hands tangling in his hair, pulling him back up to you.

“I love you, jagi,” Yoongi crashes his mouth to yours again, swallowing your whimpers as his hands slide down—hooking into your panties—slowly, teasingly, pulling them down. “Let me show you what I mean...”

A/N: Whew! ARe wE GoOD??? The L bomb has been dropped and I am soooo happy because these two deserve the world.

Let me know what you think in the comments. Or do reblog if you are so inclined. <3

Thank you for reading, you lovely, beautiful human! xo

Permanent Taglist Part 1: (The rest to follow in a reblog)

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@whydoeyecare @pastelmin @tarahardcore @minjenna @chimmchimmm

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@withmuchluv-tannie @abadiimm @angellekookie

do not copy, repost, modify, or translate my writing without my express permission to do so.

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fictionalmenxyn · 5 months ago

Text

𝐁𝐢𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐁𝐨𝐲𝐬

Pairing: Rafe x Reader

Warnings: swearing, boys being boys (suggestive talking) and Rafe casually (to him) hitting someone.

◎◎◎

Rafe and the boys felt bored, they knew just the thing to cure that, you. So that’s exactly what the did. They spammed you with messages in their ‘the idiots and Y/n’ group chat. Then all parked their bikes on your driveway.

Rafe walked over and knocked your door. You swung it open, you shouted playfully “No!” You playfully shut the door in his face. You could hear them all laughing. You smiled and opened the door “yes yes, I’m coming I’m coming.” Kelce shouted “that’s what she said”. Earning a smack to the back of the head by Topper and a playful glare from Rafe.

Rafe looked back to you and smiled “hey, pretty girl, you got everything?” He leaned down and pecked your lips.

You smiled and nodded “yeah, got everything.” You head over to the garage and open it up. Revealing your Yamaha MT10. You pull your helmet on and get into the bike. You grew up with motorbikes, your father being a mechanic. Also a bike enthusiast. So you knew your stuff and saved your money well. Even if you’re a kook, you’re humble, not a spoilt brat. Like some….

You girl my head forward toward Rafe “put the radio thingy on, babe, please.” He chuckled as he walked over and put on your radio that connects to everyone else’s helmets. So you can all communicate.

You all started to leave the street you lived on, heading out for the day.

You all stop at a stop light. Putting your feet either side of the bike and onto the ground. You spoke “so why did you all drag me out of my comfy bed?” They all almost say in sync “bored.” You playfully roll your eyes “so I had to come?! Couldn’t have done anythinnggg else??” They all answer “yup.” You joke “hate you guys…”

They all laugh the Topper spoke “no you don’t, you love us really.” You shrug playfully “mmm don’t know, might change my mind…” Rafe playfully shoves you a little. Then the light turning green you all sped off. You asked “where are we even going?” Rafe replied “don’t know, didn’t really think that far ahead…”

You laugh “what?! What do you meeeaaann ‘didn’t think that far ahead’… sometimes I think I’m actually friends with a bunch of idiots…” Rafe playfully gasped “hey! I’m your boyfriend, correct that shit, right now!” You roll your eyes and correct yourself “I think that my boyfriend is an idiot, that better?” He nodded and laughed “yeah, babe, better…”

Topper suggested “we could head for some food? That new grill house is finally open…” you practically squeal into the radio. Causing the guys to groan, Kelce complained “could you not?!”

You laugh “sorry… I like food… can you blame me?” Topper replied “touché.”

Rafe said “yeah, let’s head there for some food, then we can think of something to do while we eat.”

You all rode through figure eight and headed towards the coast line where the food and other stores were.

You all parked your bikes up and headed down the street. Taking your helmets off as you enter the grill house. Rafe walked first. Already acting like he knew the place. A thing he always did especially at stake houses. A random thing he did but never really knew why.

Rafe asked to the waitress “could we get a table for four, please?” You smiled a little at his manners. Usually you’d have to smack him under the table or give him the ‘evils’ as he says when you shoot a quick glare at him.

The woman nodded and spoke “come right this way…” she guided you four over to a booth. You all sat in. You and Rafe on one side, Topper and Kelce in the other.

Rafe purposely leaned over to grab a menu. Making sure you got squished as he did. You knew he was playing around, since he’s done this since you two were kids. He also knew that a jab to uis ribs was coming. Which you did. Sticking your index finger out and jabbing him in the ribs. He laughed softly “what? I wasn’t doing anything…” you remarked “oh really?? So everyone you do that, you don’t do anything??” He smirked and nodded. You shake your head with a smile, unbelievable he was.

After you’ve all ate your food and paid, you once again head out towards your bikes.

Your eyes widen a little as you see some guy leaning against Rafe’s bike. And a girl taking photos of the guy. Topper muttered “oh shit…” you and Topper shear a glance before you hear Rafe “what the fuck??”

You all walk over, the guy looks over and spoke “hey dude, this your bike? It’s sick! I’ve always wanted a bike like this…” you could see Rafe’s eye twitch ever so slightly as he sees the guy adjust a few things in the bike. That’s two things that pissed Rafe off. One, a stranger getting all up in his personal belongings. And two, someone touching and adjusting things on his bike.

Rafe replied “yeah, man, that’s mine. You taking pics or sum?” He scratched his nose with his thumb. You place a hand on his shoulder blade. Rafe stepped away from your touch. Not actually kissed at you for touching him but he knew he had to take a step from you so whatever he did, you wouldn’t get caught up in it.

He walked over to the guy, “Topper, my friend here-” Rafe slung his arm around Topper “-he’ll take some photos for ya. He’s good at that shit, ain’t ya Top?” Topper nodded. Knowing where this was going. Having seen Sons of Anarchy, with Rafe.

Topper took the guys phone out of the chick’s hand. Taking a photo of the guy against Rafe’s bike. Topper spoke “that’s the before…” the guy’s eyebrow raised “before?”

That’s when Rafe’s fist connected with the guys nose. Hearing a small crunch coming from the guy’s face. You and Kelce wince at the noise. Rafe stepped back with a smirk “don’t ever fucking touch my bike… you’ll have worse next time, buddy…”

The guy held his now broken nose. Topper snapped another photo “there’s the after…” Topper then tossed the guys phone to him.

You walked over to Rafe and muttered “you really wanted to do that after watching that fucking show, hm?” Rafe smirked. Looking down to you, he mumbled “what? Can’t help it…” you joked “sometimes i actually think you wanna be Jax…”

He playfully rolled his eyes. Looking at the guy and his chick. Rafe shot him a warning glare once more.

You all got on your bikes and sped off. Your little biker gang being the knockoff ‘Sons of Anarchy’.

‘The Sons of Outer Banks.’

And turns out you guys did think of ideas on what to do for the rest of the day.

◎◎◎

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