#my little rookie producer he WILL get there !!!! | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

hannieehaee · 6 months ago

Text

OUTTA MY MIND

18+ / mdi

summary: getting a brand new job as a senior idol's manager was scary enough on its own, but it became even worse when said idol was jeon jungkook, idol of all idols. what made it even worse? when jungkook began taking a special liking to you, damning any conflict of interest his crush on you may have had.

content: idol!au, staff!reader x idol!jungkook, jungkook is shameless about his crush on reader, but it's fine bc reader likes him back!!, reader acts hard to get bc her job is too important though boo, afab reader, banter, jk is a flirt, reader is a little bit shy, a lot of rlly wrong info about working in the industry, smut, oral (f receiving), penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 7.7k

a/n: my first jungkook solo writing!! i hope u guys enjoy<33 ive been into bts since 2017 idk why i never wrote about them before lol anyways hope this is a good introduction to all my future jungkook works<3

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

Whenever you'd tell someone you worked within the entertainment industry, – the music industry, to be precise – people always showed a little extra interest in your words, probably assuming you to be involved in the flashier aspects of it. The statement on it's own sounded exciting, enigmatic even. This would only then be followed by disappointed upon finding out your specific profession of choice, deeming it less exciting than most.

You were a manager. No, you were not an active member of the entertainment industry itself, but you were one of the many pillars necessary for the talent to create the entertainment people would always seek.

Being as young as you were, it had been hard to get to where you were so quickly. Networking had been your best friend all throughout your career, eventually landing you in your current role – one that would only open even more doors for you.

It had only been a week since you had received a call from your friend – an old friend from an internship who just so happened to be a former Hybe video producer – letting you know of a recent opening as one of the many managers at the company. Having been between gigs at the time, you jumped at the chance without a second thought. Hybe? The biggest entertainment company in Korea? You didn't need any details before agreeing.

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Originally, you had believed you'd end up becoming manager to one of the many brand new rookie groups in the growing company. With so many surging youth in the industry, it made sense to you that you'd be assigned such a role, not having had any prior experience within Hybe itself.

Except that wasn't the case. Having previously worked and interned at a few other South Korean entertainment companies through the years, it seemed like Hybe deemed you experienced enough to assign you the role of becoming a senior artist's manager.

Jeon Jungkook.

Senior artist had been an understatement. Those had been the words written in your contract, explaining your role in excruciating detail, yet failing to mention that your client would be Korea's most popular singer.

You couldn't lie, you were insanely intimidated by your new role. Despite being proudly skilled at your job, becoming the manager of an idol who had been in the game for longer than you'd even been out of college was a bit scary. Jungkook had gone from the absolute bottom to the top, he had most likely lived through it all by now – what kind of expertise could you offer someone who had already seen it all?

Being manager of an idol differed slightly from managing any other person. Idol companies usually handled the schedulings, bookings, and the legalities of their artists. As a manager, you somewhat took the role of a bodyguard. You were meant to show up everywhere Jungkook went and become his spokesperson – vying for him as if your life depended on it.

And now it was too late to back out – not that you actually wanted to. All paperwork had been signed, you had your own personal Hybe badge and all the benefits that came along with working at the company. Any feelings of intimidation or fear for the role would have to be put aside as you walked into the Hybe building to meet with your new client; the boy you'd have to stick by 24/7 from now on.

You weren't sure what you were expecting upon meeting him. It wasn't like there would be any special introduction, or even as if you were his sole manager; no, he actually had a few others who would occasionally aid him in the absence of his main manager, which was now you. Today was a workday for him, meaning that he likely already had a few people in supportive roles as he did whatever it was that Jeon Jungkook did while working.

Walking into the huge building, after getting lost a few times, you made your way to the seventh floor, which, as you'd been informed, had various rooms designated for photoshoots. That's where you'd find Jungkook for the first time, presumably having one of the many shoots scheduled for this week.

Having possession of his schedule made you realize how busy idol life was. Despite having no public schedules all this week, he had a packed itinerary, filled with either shoots or signings or producing sessions. You hadn't even met him yet, but you were already assured that he was overly hardworking – and you had maybe also stalked him online this past week.

It was very unlikely you'd even speak to him, seeing how busy he was. Your duty, after all, was just to be one of the many members of his team, taking care of any logistics as you went around with him, but not taking away from his time by socializing with him.

Upon entering the room, he was the first thing you noticed. Ignoring every other person working the room, your eyes focused specifically on him. It was hard not to, since he was quite literally standing under the spotlight, modeling for a camera. But it was more than that. He had an aura that filled up the room. Putting aside every stylist and photographer in the room, every staff member and intern, he was truly the epitome of main character.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

Admittedly, you had found him attractive all previous times you'd come across the name Jeon Jungkook whilst working in this industry, but that attraction did not go further than seeing it as an objective fact. You had never had any interest in artists outside of for work-related reasons, so you only knew him by name. Yet now, seeing him in person, it was a while other story.

It wasn't until the director gave Jungkook the green light to take a break that you first made eye contact with the boy. It appeared as if he had also noticed you immediately upon your entrance, as his eyes had gone straight from the camera onto yours. Or maybe that was just wishful thinking on your part.

To your absolute surprise, his eyes stayed on you, lighting up when he realized you were staring back at him. Even more surprisingly, that's when he began walking towards you, a bright smile on his face as he approached you.

"Hey! You must be Y/N! It's really nice to meet you," he bowed at you when he reached you, bunny teeth still sticking out in a smile.

"Oh, I- Thank you! It's nice to meet you too, Jungkook," you managed to get out, bowing awkwardly. You were surprised at him even knowing your name. Was he on a first name basis with his staff? That was crazy to imagine considering how many people he must work with on a daily basis.

"Today's your first day, right?"

"Yeah, hah, is it that obvious?", for some reason you were at a loss of words, not having expected to even speak to Jungkook at all today.

His eyes widened as his head shook in negation, almost as if he believed to have genuinely insulted you by assuming it was your first day.

"Not at all! I know it might look kind of hectic, but I swear you get used to it pretty quick," he assured, giving a quick once-over to his surroundings.

Your eyes left him in favor of eyeing the room, noticing how everyone continued to work on separate tasks as Jungkook spoke to you. Too many tasks were being performed all at once, yet there was some sort of synergy to it all. It seemed far too fast paced for you, but Jungkook seemed to get the rhythm of it all by now.

"Has anyone given you a tour yet?" he asked, making your eyes go back to him.

"Oh, no. But it's fine. I only got lost a few times on the way here. I'll get used to it," you reassured. You had been given an overall overview of the premises, but you were yet to explore the entirety of the place. It was likely unnecessary, considering the size of the building.

Jungkook's eyes widened once again. Jesus, his eyes were gigantic. He seemed shocked at no one having taken the time to show you around.

"What? No tour?? I can't have that. I'll have to take you in one after this."

"What- No! It's fine, Jungkook. I'm sure you have more pressing things to get to. I mean, I have your schedule, I know you have a packed day. I'll just-"

"None of that. I have more control over my schedule than it might seem," he chuckled, "so you don't have to worry about that. It'll be a nice way for us to get to know each other."

The following five minutes or so were taken up by your consistent, yet polite, refusal to his offer, not wanting the talent himself to feel like he had to work his schedule around you. These refusals were met by even more insistence. He was overly charismatic and likable (on top of extremely cute), so it was a lost battle from the start. There was no way you could deny him in the end.

His break ended soon after, forcing his conversation with you to be interrupted. With an exaggerated groan and a lighthearted eye roll, the boy went back to posing, sending you a friendly wink when he was finally back in action in front of the camera.

As a true professional, he got back in the zone very quickly, taking on the form of a model as he followed the director's directions to a T. You continued watching him from afar, easily getting entranced by how good he was at his job. Being too distracted by him (as he kept sneaking glances towards you), you almost forgot to make the rounds around the room and introduce yourself to his other staff.

After about twenty minutes or so of conversing with his other staff (who all had nothing but positive things to say about the boy), things began to quiet down. The director announced that he had everything he needed and things began to get packed up as people left one by one. As everyone left, Jungkook made sure to express his gratitude to each team involved, even personally bidding goodbye to some staff he seemed a bit more familiar with. By the end of it, only a few people were left as Jungkook finally approached you.

Once again, the boyish smile was on his face, almost as if he specifically excited to talk to you. But that was just wishful thinking.

"So, about that tour?"

"You really don't have to-"

"Are we really gonna go over this again?", he groaned humorously, "Please let me show you around. It's the least I can do if I'm gonna make you attend all my schedules," he insisted once more.

"Fine, okay. You wore me down, Jungkook."

With a kiddish yet sarcastic fist bump to the sky in victory, Jungkook gestured for you to follow him and began leading the way out of the room, ready to show you the building.

"So, how are you liking Hybe?", he asked after a while of walking around the endless building.

Jungkook was a great guide. He was extremely talkative, so no question was left unanswered. Even before you were able to inquire about certain part of the building, he was already giving you a response, even being able to start a brand new subject of conversation every time.

"Well, it's kinda my first day. But it's nice. Just, uh, maybe a little intimidating," you admitted, walking side by side with the boy.

"Intimidating? Is it cause of me?", he tilted his head to the side with curiosity.

"Maybe," you winced, hoping he didn't take it to heart. You knew it must've been annoying for people to put him in a pedestal, but it was kind of hard not to, especially upon barely meeting him.

"It's okay. I'm not as intimidating as my fame may make me seem. Most people think I'm pretty nice, actually-"

"No, it's not like that! I know you're nice, I, uh, I looked you up before accepting the job. It's just," you paused to gesture at your surroundings, "I've never worked at such a huge company, managing one of the biggest artists in the country. I ... I don't wanna mess it up," you admitted.

He slowed down his walking at this, turning to face you better as both your movements lessened in speed.

"You won't trust me. I, uh, I actually chose you specifically. You know, to be my manager."

That took you by surprise.

Jungkook knew who you were? He picked you? It's not like you had anything to your name, just a few managing gigs here and there, along with endless internships from your school years. Why would he have picked you from what you assumed must've been a pool of tenured professionals at this?

"What do you mean you picked me? Did you-"

He shrugged, the speed of his steps still slow as he focused more on conversing with you, tour of the company fully put aside.

"They asked me for my input, since, you know, we're gonna be spending a lot of time together. I saw you on the list. You were my age and your cover letter made you sound so sincere and excited," he explained, "You were also pretty cute ...", he muttered in a cough before continuing, "I just wanted someone I could be friends with. And I think I made the right choice."

You chuckled, "Yeah? How can you be so sure?"

"I can tell that you like me," he grinned, "We're gonna be besties in no time."

His hand bumped yours as he said this, lightheartedly making contact with you. It was hard to gauge whether he was just overly charismatic or if he had been genuinely hitting on you all this time. All you knew was that if he kept it up, you'd probably end up actually falling for him.

Humoring him, you absentmindedly bumped your hand into his own too, rolling your eyes jokingly as he grinned even bigger at you.

Yeah, you were going to get close in no tome.

It had been two months. Two months since you started your job. Two months since you met Jungkook. Two months since you'd been right – you did fall for Jungkook.

It wasn't as dramatic as it sounded. You were pretty sure this was just an innocent crush. One that most people in Jungkook's vicinity probably had to battle on a day to day basis.

Innocent civilians could not be blamed for the natural effect Jeon Jungkook just had on people. He was handsome, funny, charming, and he was also a flirt. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like he reserved that last trait for you and you only.

Through the weeks, Jungkook was not shy to show his special interest in you. He'd seek you out constantly, always making you stick to his side – which was your job, but still! There was always a sense of something more behind his actions. As he had said, you two became friends quickly, but just as quickly, you had become one of the closest people to him within his staff.

He'd make conversation with you, constantly migrating to your side the moment he got a short break from whichever schedule you were currently at. He'd go as far as interrupting your work just for some of your attention. In short, he was driving you insane.

Walking far too close to you in the hallways, he'd question "Where to next?", with a smile, walking side by side with you while putting his entire attention on you.

And now, you were currently overseas with Jungkook, accompanying him for some solo recordings while the rest of his members worked on their own stuff. It was a small team of people, which was quite unusual for a member of the biggest group in the world. Since it was an unofficial schedule that only Jungkook would be attending to, only the closest members of his team were really necessary. This meant you and a few others.

The situation had started off pretty much okay. One of the requirements for your position had been to become a translator for Jungkook in any situation he ever needed. That had been unnecessary so far, as you had been in Jungkook's home country these past few weeks of work. Now that you were in America, however, Jungkook sought you out even more, claiming you must attend to every outing with him in order to help him in case he needed a better understanding.

You didn't know Jungkook too well yet, but, you were aware that after so many years in the industry, he knew enough English to get by. This was simply yet another excuse of his to keep you close. When you lightheartedly confronted him about this, his response was to stare down at you with his gigantic doe eyes and pretend as if he had no idea what you were talking about.

"English? What's that?" his head had tilted to the side, cutely feigning confusion and giggling when you broke out into an annoyed smile.

On top of joining him any time he went out for leisure (under the false vice of translating), he had also insisted you accompany him to the occasional dance practice he'd attend while in America. Your presence in this instance was completely unnecessary, but you still did not question it. Nor did you question why you were the only person he insisted on bringing along. His other managers? Nowhere to be found. As time passed by in Los Angeles, less and less people would accompany you and Jungkook on his outings – whether they be for leisure or work. It had now fallen down to Jungkook, his bodyguard, and you.

"C'mon, don't you want to see me dance? I'll buy you a meal afterwards, pinky promise," he'd hold his pinky up to you with a boyish smile, knowing you wouldn't deny him.

Anytime Jungkook would discreetly hit on you or fluster you with his attention, you'd simply laugh it off or play into it just the right amount. It wasn't like you didn't enjoy it. His decided infatuation with you gave you butterflies that had you kicking your blanket late at night when you'd think back to how much he must've liked you.

You were entirely aware that he knew you liked him back also. You never said it, nor did you ever return his flirting, but you knew that he knew. Any rebuttals or instances in which you told him to chill (jokingly, of course) were just covers you'd put up. The nerves about actually acknowledging his feelings always stopped you in your tracks, leaving you the lone option of just giggling along to him or rolling your eyes (depending how cheesy he was being).

Jungkook loved your back and forth, you could tell. He enjoyed when you'd jokingly tell him off for his sickly flirtatious demeanor or when you'd simply banter with him. It was likely just a motivator for him to keep going, naturally knocking down your walls one by one as time passed.

The camel's back had broken one week after your arrival in LA, when Jungkook finally decided to take things further, now inviting you over to his hotel room after what were assumed to be work hours. The excuse? He wanted to go over next week's schedule. Both you and him were fully aware he simply wanted to hang out, but the lines were beginning to blur.

"Hey," he welcomed you with a smile when you came knocking on his door, leaning against the frame before gesturing at you to come in.

"Hi, Kook," you walked in, unsure of what to do after making it past his door.

"You can take a seat while I get us some drinks," he gestured to the hotel room couch and walked over to the mini fridge in the living room.

"Drinks? Thought we were debriefing next week's schedule?", you asked with a teasing tone, reclining back into the couch.

"Oh, yeah, the schedule, for sure," he responded in a completely unserious manner.

Approaching you again with drinks in hand, he sat on the same couch as you, leaving a small distance between the two of you to create a more casual environment.

Handing you your drink, he chuckled before even being able to speak.

"Have I been obvious enough or should I try harder?", he asked, sipping his beer.

"Jungkook ..."

"C'mon, it's been a few months. You already know I like you, right? You have to know by now. Are you really not gonna reciprocate at all?", he pouted, "I know you like me back."

"What makes you so confident?"

"You haven't once told me to fuck off," he grinned, leaning back against the couch in complete relaxation.

"I can't do that, I work for you," you rebutted.

"Hah! Please, I know that wouldn't stop you. You might've been a little shy when we first met, but I know by now you would've told me to get fucked if you weren't interested."

He had a point. There had been a few instances in which you did, quite literally, tell him to get fucked. It was always in jest, of course, but you knew that if you ever turned down his flirting, he'd tone it down without question.

Of course you never wanted his flirting to stop. You had found a new source of energy within yourself any time Jungkook would shamelessly shower you with attention. Despite being discrete about it, never being direct with his flirting, he still gave you the same undivided attention any boy with a crush would. It made you feel giddy and wanted. Yet it also made you worry for what may come of acknowledging his interest further than you already had.

You laughed along with him and entertained his banter for a while, following along with his flirting as the two of you drank with one another, eventually arriving to a tipsy state. He drank like a sailor while you only nursed a few drinks, yet somehow reaching a similar level of drunk.

"Are you ever gonna answer my question? I already know the answer, I just want to hear it from you," his original question in regard to your feelings did not circle back until now, catching you off guard yet again.

"Jungkook ..."

He scoot closer to you, "Come on, it's just us. You know what they say – acceptance is the first step."

"If you already know I like you, why do you keep asking?", you groaned, taking yet another swing of your third drink of the night.

"Aha! You do like me," he pointed at you as if he had made the grand discovery.

"Jungkook!"

Raising his hands, he relented, "Sorry, sorry. I'm just excited to hear it. Can you blame me? I've been trying to get you to flirt back for months."

"I don't have the same liberties as you, I'm your subordinate, it'd be inappro-"

"Inappropriate? Not any more inappropriate than me hitting on you every day since we met."

"Inappropriate, exactly," you scoot further away, "which is why you should stop."

He scoot closer again, this time even more so.

"I like you, you like me. Why should either of us stop?"

"I work for you. Yeah, you can flirt with me, but-"

"But what? Come on, don't reject me before I've even asked you out. At least let me have that much," he insisted, knowing he was wearing your false rejection down.

You sighed, twisting your body so you'd now be facing him fully on the couch, "Okay, fine. Go ahead."

He twisted too, now fully facing you. He took a deep breath and put down his drink, "Let me take you on a date? Please?", he pleaded with a shy smile.

"Can I say no?"

"I mean, you can, but I'll just keep insisting," he giggled, making you groan exaggeratedly.

With a fake sigh of defeat, you accepted, "Fine. You can take me out. But if you're as annoying as you were today, then I don't think it's going to work out."

"Yah! I'll be the perfect gentleman. Just you wait."

After a few more drinks, Jungkook insisted on walking you back to your room, – despite the fact that it was just next door – sheepishly asking if he could kiss your cheek goodnight, to which you responded with a kiss on his cheek of your own and a hug goodbye. Through your peephole you could see a very adorable Jungkook scrunch up his nose and smile to himself in contentment at the night's outcome.

Going to sleep with this insane sense of giddiness had been almost impossible. Your mind kept going back to the pretty boy who had insisted yet and yet again for the chance to simply go out with you. The back and forth this past few months had wore you down immensely, and last night had just thoroughly hammered you in.

You weren't entirely sure of the logistics of the date just yet. How were you to go out with Jungkook when he was so insanely popular? People were already aware of his current stay in Los Angeles, as he had been spotted a few times. They were also aware of your presence, though people already knew of your role and had grown accustomed to seeing you with Jungkook without questioning it.

Going to any usual dating spot with him alone would still prove catastrophic, however. Even if people knew you were nothing more than a manager, a one-on-one outing at a place usually meant for couples would be an instant giveaway, so it was entirely out of the question.

Surely the hopeless romantic that was Jungkook already had something planned, so you likely didn't have to worry your head over it. For now, you could simply wait for Jungkook's next unpredictable act of affection towards you with a racing heart.

The following day, you found yourself waking up earlier than usual, having been awoken by incessant knocking on your door that you had not expected. It was 9AM, so not too early, but today was meant to be a day off for everyone on Jungkook's team, including him. It was obvious to you who could be the culprit behind the knocking, but it didn't make it any less strange, especially considering Jungkook never had a tendency of waking up early unless it was for work.

Marching to your door in annoyance, you swung it open without any need to check who was on the other side, knowing you'd encounter the same doe-eyed boy you had kissed goodnight just a few hours ago.

"Jungkook, what the hell are you doing here so early?", were the first words out of your mouth.

He was already fully dressed, donning his usual black attire and carrying two drinks from what you knew was a local coffee shop – with one of them being your drink of choice, because of course Jungkook would have it memorized.

He grinned at you, placing your drink on your hand and smiling even harder when you sipped it.

"Just wanted to make sure you hadn't changed your mind about the date," he wasn't actually here for that reason, obviously, but it was still cute of him to use it as an excuse.

"And if I have?"

"Don't say that, I'll cry."

You laughed, leaning against your door as you sipped your drink once more, "So, have you decided what we're doing?"

He shook his head, "Nope, can't tell you. That's top secret. All you can know is that you should be ready tonight at 7 sharp and to wear something nice but comfortable," he blushed a little before continuing, "maybe that pretty sundress you wore the other day?", his eyes left you to shyly look at his shoes for a moment.

Fuck, he was far too cute.

You pretended to ponder for a bit before agreeing, "Okay. I think I can manage that."

Letting out a tiny little "yes!", he looked to you again, noticing your pajamas, "I'll let you sleep in since I kinda kept you up all night, but I'll be back, okay? You can keep your expectations as high as you want, I'll meet them all," he said confidently.

"Oh? Okay, let's see if you can swoon me then," you accepted the challenge before receiving a shy yet short hug goodbye and heading back into your room, aware you'd be unable to go back to sleep with all the anticipation you felt for your date.

Things had already changed drastically between you and Jungkook and it had only been a few hours since his official confession about his crush (along with your reciprocation). He was touchier and more open with his affections, even becoming a little sheepish now in contrast to how bold he used to be. Now that the cards were all on the table, it was harder to even look at each other without blushing. It felt like a giddy high school crush, and you were already enjoying it far too much.

"Fuck, you look gorgeous," Jungkook breathed out the second you opened your door, "Sorry, was that too much?," he chuckled sheepishly afterwards.

Ignoring the blush threatening your cheeks, you shook your head and smiled, "Thank you, Kook. You look ... you look really handsome," you went on a whim and placed your hands on his jacket, enjoying his own shy smile at your compliment.

You made small talk as you walked down to take Jungkook's private car, sitting side by side in the back as the driver took off.

"So, where are you taking me?", you asked again.

He tsk'd, "No patience in that head of yours, huh? Relax. It's private and comfortable. You'll have fun, I promise. Just let me surprise you."

"Fine," you sighed in feigned annoyance, leaning back into your seat. Jungkook followed and leaned back also, face turned to stare at you.

"Would it be too forward to say I already want to take you home?", he asked.

"Stop," you groaned, "Don't say that, you already wore me down into going on a date, give me time to breathe."

"Are you saying I could wear you down into letting me take you home?", he smiled.

"Anyways," you rolled your eyes, making him chuckle.

The rest of the ride was filled by your usual banter, making the date entirely too casual thus far. It felt like a regular outing with a friend, plus the added butterflies you felt any time his eyes would scrunch up whenever you made him laugh. How handsome he looked also did not help matters. He had changed out of the casual clothes he had on this morning, opting for a casual yet elegant look that consisted of his usual chunky boots and a black blazer. It was very much a usual look for him but he somehow looked extra good tonight.

Fastforward to the date itself and you found yourself in what was supposed to be a private restaurant A-listers in LA would frequent. It allowed for the utmost privacy and served the most famous of people. The atmosphere of the place was casual enough for you to be able to sit yourselves, but it was still packed with security and high-end waiters making the rounds. Being there as a mere manager felt almost illegal.

Jungkook held your hand as he guided you to a secluded booth in the back, opting to sit next to you rather than across you, something you found really cute of him.

"Do you like it?", he asked after a few moments of sitting.

You nodded, "Do I even wanna know how much this place costs?", you asked as you took in your surroundings.

"Yeah, no," he laughed, "Don't think about that. It's all on me. You being here is more than enough," he reassured, reaching over to take your menu before you could get to it, "I'll cover the prices, okay? I want you to order anything you want."

Cute, handsome, funny, into you, and also such a gentleman? You were not to survive even the first date.

"Order for me?", you suggested, knowing he was a foodie at heart and would likely order the perfect meal for you.

And he did. Unsurprisingly to everyone, he picked the perfect meal and side dishes and drinks and even desserts. The meal was amazing and completely relaxed. The conversation was never-ending, allowing for no awkward lulls or forced small talk. Jungkook had been right all those months ago, you did become very good friends. It made you wonder if he had liked you from all the way back then.

"What are you looking for in a relationship?", asked Jungkook after a few drinks, already cozied up with you in the booth.

"That's very forward for only two bottles of soju," you joked.

"C'mon, you can tell me. I won't tell," he whispered childishly, leaning closer to you with genuine interest in his eyes.

You straightened up before responding, "I guess I want something serious. No hookups or anything like that, just ... just someone nice to spend my time with."

"Hey, that's kind of what I am already, huh? I'm nice and we spend most of our time together."

You chuckled, taking a swing of your drink before returning the question, "What about you? What are you looking for in a relationship?"

"You," he deadpanned, giving you a dopey smile.

You couldn't help giggle at that, scrunching up your face at how much of a flirt he was.

He grabbed onto your chin and made you look at him, completely halting your laugher, "I'm serious," he started, "I've been wanting to ask you out since forever, but I knew I'd be putting you in an awkward position with your job. But I don't care about that anymore. I know you like me, and I like you – so fucking bad. Give it a chance? Please?", he pleaded as he stared down at you, eyes fleeting to your lips for one quick moment.

Your breath caught in your throat, making you freeze and gulp before being able to respond to the confession you'd been expecting, yet were not prepared for.

"Jungkook ... Take me home?"

"F-fuck," he groaned, "do you know how long I waited to have you?", his mouth trailed down your neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake, "thought about this every day ... How pretty you'd look pressed up against me ... So fucking pretty," he panted.

Jungkook had dragged you off the booth the moment you suggested for a change of scenery, directing the driver to get the two of you to the hotel as soon as possible. Once at the hotel, Jungkook rushed you to your floor, having already had to hold back during the entirety of the drive back. Even in the elevator, your usually lighthearted Jungkook was missing and replaced by an agitated version of him.

The first thing he did upon unlocking the door to his room as push you against it, closing it back up in the process and liberally letting his lips trail down your neck.

"Kook ..."

"Have I ever told you how much I love the way you say my name? God, just everything about you," he trailed his way back up, hands still on your waist and fingers digging into your skin.

His lips leaned down into yours, almost kissing you but not yet, "I know it's kinda late to ask, but can I kiss you?", he whispered.

Your nod was nothing short of desperate, lips almost chasing his won before he finally connected them to yours.

His kiss was as soft as his hold on your waist, and the sigh he let out against your lips was only a ghost of the passion he felt for you. His lips guided your own, with his tongue licking your mouth open and invading it in a sensual entanglement between your tongues.

It was hard to think clearly with the pretty moans he let out against your lips, almost as if you were gifting him the utmost pleasure with the mere touch of your lips. Hands became braver and breaths became heavier, leading to a mess of ruffling clothes and gasps filling up the silence of the room. You melded into each other, refusing to let your lips separate nor prevent your hands from exploring one another. His hands made it under the skirt of your dress, liberal in the way he felt up your add and pressed you up against him. In the meantime your hands threw off his blazer and began unbuttoning his shirt, feeling up his strong chest in the process.

"Let me take you to my room? Fuck, I- I can't think. Just wanna have you so fucking bad," he mumbled into your lips, groaning when you refused to stop kissing him as he spoke.

You nodded, not trusting your voice and allowing him to guide you to his room by the hand.

Once in his room, he laid you down softly, letting you sit up as he took off his remaining clothes, eyes encouraging you to do the same. His eyes widened when he realized what you'd been wearing under the dress he'd requested, clearly caught off guard by the pretty set you had chosen for him.

It wasn't all that, simply a matching lacy bra and panties that you'd packed before coming to LA. Clearly Jungkook didn't care about the quality of the set, or at least that's the impression his eyes gave you as they stayed glued to your chest, halting his movements as he took his shoes off.

"Oh ...", he breathed before making his way to you on the bed, "For me?", he asked as his hand went down to lightly run his fingers across the strap.

"Mhm," you nodded, getting up from the bed and putting your hand on his shoulders, eyeing up his toned chest and tracing his tattoos, "Do you like it?", you looked up and made eyes at him.

"Fuck, don't do that. You can't look like that and then look at me like that and think I won't fucking burst," he groaned, wrapping his arms around your waist once again, "Can I touch you, pretty? Hmm?"

Nodding again, you led his hands to your breasts, letting out a breath when his hands began feeling you up, going from your breasts to your hips to your ass while his mouth made its way back to yours. He freely moaned into your mouth at the feeling of your body under his hands, walking you back onto the bed and lying you down once more.

His hands were hesitant in reaching the clasp of your bra, to which you responded by humming a soft 'please' into his lips. The removal of your bra caused him to pull away for you as his eyes got a fill of you, groaning yet again at the sight. His hands went to your breasts again, feeling them up as his lips trailed down to your tits. Jungkook's groans of pleasure at the feeling of your bare skin against his lips were never-ending. You fed into it, arching against his lips and running your hands through his hair. It wasn't like he needed any encouragement; his eyes told you of every bit of lust he felt.

"I want you so fucking bad," he murmured against your tits, "I can't even think ... Just want you so bad. Haven't been able to stop thinking about you for months," his lips suckled at your nipple once more before reaching your ear, breathing heavily against it, "Tell me I can fuck you, please. Just need- need you so fucking bad."

Pulling him to your lips by the his hair, you moaned your desire for him into his mouth, pleading at him to get on with it.

"Fuck me. How do you want me? I'll- Fuck, just-"

"I know, pretty. I'll take care of it, okay? Just ... Want you just like this. Wanna see you while I fuck you, okay? Let me-", his hands reached to your panties, seemingly meaning to finger you before you stopped him.

"No, Jungkook, just fuck me. Please? I'm wet enough, I swear. Just need you. Now," you pleaded at him.

He shook his head, tutting at you, "Baby, at least let me eat you out? Gotta stretch you out a little. Swear I wanna fuck you so fucking bad, but shit ... Need to taste you," he rambled before getting on his knees, pulling your legs apart and towards the edge of the bed.

"Fuck ... Always wanted to kiss up these thighs," he breathed as he ran his nose up and down the sensitive skin, leaving a few airy kisses along the length of them, "So soft and pretty."

Slowly yet sensually, he made his way to your cunt, pressing his nose against your panty-covered pussy and taking a deep breath, shamelessly capturing your essence. Ignoring your scandalous whine, he pushed your panties aside and stuck his tongue inside, groaning at the taste of you.

"Baby ... Fuck, how am I ever gonna function without this pretty pussy ever again?", he murmured into you, tongue digging deep inside you as he took turns sucking and licking at you. His nose made an appearance eventually, rubbing deliciously against your clit while your hands pulled at his hair, pushing your hips up against his face.

"Yes, fuck, keep grinding on my face, baby. Use me," he pleaded, almost crying into your cunt.

Jungkook was already an expert in your pleasure, damning everything else in favor of optimizing your pleasure in every way. He let you pull at his hair and grind on his face, somehow never running out of breath as he ate you out with a desperation that had your nails digging far too harshly into his hair – something that had him moaning against you.

Once finished, he licked up every drop of your essence, humming in pleasure at the taste and even coming up to let you suck on his tongue, sharing your own honey with you.

"Kook ... Fuck me. God, I need- need you so bad. Please," you pleaded into his mouth despite not pulling away from his kiss.

"Fuck, okay, yeah. I- I'll fuck you," he finally pulled away and pulled down his boxers, reaching over to his pants on the floor to get a condom from his wallet.

"Oh? You were ready for this?" you grinned at him mockingly.

"Baby," he whined, letting his head fall to your chest in bashfulness, "Don't do this right now. Just let me make you feel good. You can make fun of me all you want after."

"Okay, Kookie. Now, hurry up!", you reached down to his ass, squeezing it jokingly as he let out a scandalized noise and lightly nibbled at your tit in retaliation.

Finally, he put on the condom as you slipped off your panties all the way and throwing them off. He was soft yet shy in his movements as he teased your slit with his cock, playing with the wetness and groaning at the warmth wrapping around the head of his cock. He checked in on you constantly throughout, kissing at your cheek every so often as he bottomed out.

"Feels so good, pretty. Fuck ... gorgeous girl. Knew you were made for me," he groaned, wrapping his arms around you and bringing you closer as he began to thrust.

His words of encouragement didn't end there, letting out every emotion he felt towards you all while you whined his name and raked your nails down his back.

"Always wanted you ... You have no idea how much I like you,"

"Sweetest girl, and all for me ... Oh, fuck- feel so good wrapped around me,"

"You take it so good ... Feel so fucking good and look so fucking pretty. How could I ever resist you?"

"Need you so bad, fuck. Need you every day,"

His praise was never ending, rendering you a mess both physically and emotionally as your feelings for him burst in the form of cries of his name and mumbled reciprocations of his feelings.

"I need you to cum with me, gorgeous. Okay? Let me just- Yeah, right there, huh? That's the spot?", he murmured almost to himself as he lifted you by the legs and began hammering his hips against that one spot deep inside you that had your eyes rolling back. One of his hands eventually joined the mix, thumbing at your clit slowly yet harshly enough to make you gasp at the intensity of the sensation.

"Gonna cum, Kook. Cum with me? P-please?," you cried out for him.

"I'm right there, baby. Just cum with me. Like you so fucking much," he couldn't help but let out yet another expression of his feelings as his orgasm took over him, taking you right along with him.

"Like you t-too. S-so much!", you cried before practically blacking out.

Hips continued to grind against each other as your highs hit you, creating a symphony of skin slapping desperately and high-pitched whines coming from the two of you.

Jungkook almost fell limp against you when his high finally wore down, breathing heavily into your chest before rolling to your side, holding your trembling form against him.

"Was that a good first date?", he asked after catching his breath.

You laughed at the complete change of subject, "Maybe. I'm still expecting you to outdo it for the second one," you turned your body to his own, nuzzling against his chest.

You could feel the vibration of his chest as he chuckled a response, "Oh? I earned a second one?"

"Shut up before I change my mind."

"Yes, ma'am."

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content: afab reader, smut, semi-public sex, reunion sex, dry humping, penetrative sex, etc.

wc: 597 (teaser); 1877 (full drabble)

sneak peak:

"Kook! Stop being so touchy!," you whined when you finally found yourself alone with him.

He ignored you at first, opting to wrap his arms around you and nuzzle his head into your hair with a satisfied hum.

"But why, baby?", he huffed.

He thought he was so cute when he played dumb.

"No one in the staff can know we're dating. It's like you want me to lose my job," you groaned, reciprocating his gesture against your better judgment.

"Baby, I'm your boss, and I have no plans of firing you, so what's the problem?", he ran his nose up and down your neck, breathing you in softly.

"Still. Sleeping with my boss just gives off a bad image."

"Everyone already knows I have a crush on you anyway, what's the harm?", he whined.

"Kookie ...", you groaned.

"Hmm, love when you call me that, baby," he giggled against you, waddling from one side to the other as he walked you over to the wall, pressing you up against it in a surprisingly innocent manner.

After yet another 'subtle' public display of affection he had decided to engage in whilst recording for a new brand deal, you had dragged Jungkook over to an empty dressing room during a break, deciding to put a stop to his behavior before it went too far.

You had only been dating for a few months by now, becoming exclusive almost immediately after that first date. However, despite the exclusivity and the age of your relationship, you had demanded that Jungkook keep it under wraps when it came to work. The only people aware of your relationship could be counted on one hand (maybe two), including his members, family, a few close friends and your own loved ones. Other than that, not even the company was privy to your new relationship.

Unfortunately for you, it seemed like your boyfriend was on a mission to let everyone know about your relationship, always sending you suggestive looks or sticking to you in a manner usually reserved for couples.

Most people in Jungkook's team already knew of his touchy demeanor (and of his very obvious flirtatious tendencies when it came to you), but you knew that you'd be in trouble if you ever reciprocated. Having such a cute boy blatantly show interest in you proved hard, as you had to control yourself in front of everyone else any time he decided to cause trouble for you.

"C'mon, baby. We're alone now. There's no one to see what I wanna do to you," he smirked into your neck, beginning to trail kisses along its length.

His grabby hands stayed on your hips, occasionally sliding up your waist and under your shirt to feel the warmth of your back. Not-so-innocent touches were beginning to arise, making you conflicted since you were technically still in your company's premises at the moment.

Pressing your hands into his chest, you made a lame and effortless attempt at pushing him away, your heart not truly in it as you allowed him to keep his hands on you, "Kook, we're still at work!"

"We're practically done! I did my part, it's just the guys who need to get their shoots done. I could literally disappear right now and no one would notice. It's okay, baby," he reassured, wrapping your hands around his waist and pulling you even closer, lips beginning to ghost your own.

"Kook ..."

"Shhh, just let me kiss you. Been holding back on kissing you all day," and those were his last words before occupying his lips with your own.

...

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disneyprincemuke · 9 months ago

Text

she's the man * vr dts special

what does netflix have to say about the first and only woman to make it on the grid in almost 2 decades?

warnings: danica patrick jumpscares

notes: hi im procrastinating my assignment that's due tomorrow so i'm making this for you guys <3 and this is so...? poorly written is what i'm trying to say bye

[will buxton] there is a new team on the grid: andretti's appeal to be the 11th team on the grid was approved early last year. there was a lot of talk about who they could hire in their driver lineup. nobody expected sebastian vettel, who literally just retired from being an f1 driver, to be stepping into the shoes of a race engineer. and to take a chance on a rookie driver...

what did you want me to say? she looks down at the clapperboard that's been handed over to her, lifting it up and down as she tries to ease her nervousness. [producer] introduce yourself first and we'll take it step by step from here. she nods and presses her lips together with a smile. hi. i'm driving for andretti racing for the 2023 season and i am the first female on the grid in almost 20 years.

[sebastian vettel] i... you know, i realised i have nothing to do if i don't race. so i took up the job with one exception – they allow a rookie into the team.

-> bahrain, 2023

she smiles, tapping her card onto the reader. she just waves at the crew ahead of her, cameras held up and lenses pointed directly at her as she walks alongside logan and oscar.

i'm a little nervous, of course – i didn't think i'd get this far. in all honestly, i thought f2 was the furthest i'd get when it came to racing. but i'm lucky. sebastian is taking a big gamble putting me in an f1 car this year.

[danica patrick] a woman in f1? i don't expect that will go well overall. does she even have the aggressiveness to be driving alongside these men who, for them, things like these come naturally.

-> abu dhabi, 2022

"well, would you look at that? the sole woman on the grid has made it to the podium. and that would," there's a pause from crofty, taking a deep breath as a smile spreads his lips, "award her as a runner-up in the drivers' championship slightly ahead of liam lawson. she's driven amazing all year round and it's just a wonder if she will ever make it further than formula 2 if she can produce these results at this level of racing."

[susie wolff] she's amazing behind the wheel. toto and i have watched a couple of her races over the years. it's an experience to have her around every weekend beside big household names like lewis hamilton and max verstappen. if her team can give her a good enough car to produce massive results, or she outperforms everyone's expectations this year, it could be very telling for the sport. and it sure opens a lot of opportunities for new generations of racers to come.

[sebastian vettel] well, she produces the results you'd want in a race car driver. i'd like to change the course of things around here, so there was no question that i'd vouch for her to get in a car with the best of the best. she's been in an f1 car before – with haas a while ago – so there's really not much worry about how she'll do this year. she just needs a good car to start.

[claire williams] nothing wrong with taking a chance on a rookie. but as a new team in the sport, you'd want to prove to everyone that you fought rightfully so for your spot as a new addition to the pitlane.

-> bahrain, 2023

she stands at the back of the garage. the camera zooms into the girl toying with the neckline of her fireproofs. she presses her lips together as sebastian talks to her. "so you're starting p18 tomorrow."

"oh." she looks down at the ground and purses her lips together. "well i told you: the car still felt a little difficult in the braking zones earlier. that was the best i could do without burying myself into a barrier."

"yeah, of course. that just means you'll have to work a little extra tomorrow during the race," sebastian grins. he places his hand on her shoulder to shake her gently. "you did your best today. don't even worry about it. you'll come back stronger tomorrow."

"of course. i didn't get this far just to fumble the bag at my first race."

[danica patrick] qualifying p18 as a rookie and as the sole woman in the sport... it's not a good look for either herself or the people who decided to take a chance on her.

"and that's the checkered flag. p11," sebastian says into her ears.

she sighs as she slows the car down for a cool-down lap. she lets out an exasperated sigh, shaking her head. "i could have pushed a little more to get better results. i'm sorry."

"ah, you finished ahead of a lot of people and you climbed 7 places on the track. it's a good first race."

[will buxton] right now, it seems that not everyone is fond of having a woman on the grid. that's very prominent in the fan side of things. but a lot of people are forgetting that she raced with some of the big names that people know today and was on par with them in the results growing up.

[oscar piastri] well, we go way back. you know, growing up karting together and constantly being in competition with one another, i think really encouraged her to stay in the sport. when we moved up to f3 from formula renault, she kinda got left behind to stay. so when i was poached by prema to race into f2, i suggested that they give her a chance.

well, i was up there fighting with oscar and logan, and occasionally liam, for good results during karting races and eventually in formula renault. the only disadvantage i had compared to them was that i'm a girl. you know, growing up, i would constantly be told that i wouldn't get very far cause this is a boy's sport. that really does discourage you from wanting and thinking that i'd get into official leagues, but i owe it to my best friends for pushing me to dream bigger and retain the passion i had for racing.

[logan sargeant] i mean... she kinda did hand me my ass every single time we were out on the track. if that doesn't tell people that she's a good racer, i'm unsure what will.

[zak brown] it was, truthfully, down to her and oscar for who should come in and drive for mclaren. but we weren't sure if the risks to bring her in would be worth it. so we went with the safer option.

[james vowles] i know a couple different teams – i'm definitely not namedropping – who were eyeing her for her performance last year. prema did a very good job marketing her as their driver as well so there's an extra factor. she's lovely.

-> australia, 2023

"oh, andretti's rookie passes the flag ahead of the alpha tauri and puts her in the points!" there's cheering in the grandstands, and nobody can believe their eyes at the results of the purple race car. "you see it here first – she is the first woman, in decades, to score points to formula 1"

"that's p9! there's your first points in formula 1!"

"oh? oh my fucking god! i did it!"

scoring your first points as a formula 1 driver... it's a very big feat as a rookie. but it means even more when you're in my position.

she runs to where sebastian stands, helmet in her hands. she screams as her team erupts in cheers at the sight of her sprinting towards them and she pumps her fists into the air.

"i did it!" she screams, immediately surrounded by the personnel clad in the bright andretti purple. "i scored my first points!"

she's seen in the middle of their makeshift circle, thrown around by her team as they bask in their first achievement in the sport and of the year. she's seen with tears running down her cheeks briefly before sebastian pulls her in for a very tight hug.

"i told you everything will be fine. you just had to be patient, kid."

[sebastian vettel] scoring points alone is already a step in the right direction. now we just need to focus on being consistent race after race.

-> azerbaijan, 2023

"there's a yellow flag here in lap 40. we're waiting to hear who it was caused by," the camera pans to the car head first into the barriers at a turn, "and it seems to be an andretti."

when you crash front first out of a turn, it's like the rudest jumpscare a person could have. it's nothing to do with the car – it was straight up a driver error.

[sebastian vettel] no driver wants to crash their car during a race and then admit to the whole world that it was their fault. especially when you're in her position, you know? the statement she released and choosing to be honest about it being a driver error – it was her decision to handle it that way. personally... he giggles with a smile. i wouldn't have done that.

[will buxton] she only seems to be getting better and better every single weekend.

-> monaco, 2023

"that's another finish in the points, kid. good race. that's p5 for you."

"thank you. the car felt great this weekend."

-> singapore, 2023

"here we have the andretti rookie in her engineer and mentor's arms, on a very historical evening. she has just scored her first podium this weekend at the singapore grand prix."

she jumps as she's in sebastian's arms, her face buried in his chest. she is seen pulling away slightly from him and he grabs her face, "amazing– you were amazing, kid! congratulations!"

tears, again, roll down her cheeks as she nods at his statement. her chest heaves as she cries. "thank you. oh, my goodness. thank you."

"there's no words. just that you were amazing this weekend."

a hand lands on her back. she turns around and covers her face as she fights the biggest grin. "you beat me in f1, mate!"

the australian accent fills her ears as he congratulates her. oscar takes her into his arms, resting his chin on her shoulder as they lock themselves in a tight embrace. he rubs circles on her back. "congrats on the podium, mate."

[danica patrick] now they're in a weird spot. oscar, on one hand, has been backed by mark webber for years. his best friend is racing under sebastian vettel. everybody knows those two don't get along – is it possible that it could reflect on their friendship as well?

-> silverstone, 2023

"overtake available." her andretti, slowly inches towards the mclaren of oscar's up ahead. "whenever you see fit."

"what's the gap?" oscar huffs, head snapping over to his side mirror briefly.

"0.2."

at the next turn, she takes a big lunge on the inside of the track to go ahead of oscar.

"there's a bit of fighting at the midfield here between a mclaren and an andretti. oscar piastri, however, does not let her go. he is still fighting to hopefully finish ahead of her in today's race."

"keep the pace. try to shake oscar off, he's still close behind you."

"noted."

racing on the track with oscar? nothing i haven't done before.

[oscar piastri] she's always been great at keeping up and being a challenging competitor on the track.

[logan sargeant] she's very fast on and off the track. i rarely beat her in racing... so...

"oscar piastri takes the checkered flag behind the andretti, failing to fight with the incredible pace the new car has shown this weekend."

in parc ferme, the girl takes her helmet off, turning around sharply to the man in papaya orange as he lifts himself out of the car. "good fight, mate."

"good fight," oscar smiles. they share a quick hug before the younger girl briefly runs away from him to approach logan further down the lane.

[danica patrick] we've seen what the sport does to friends. it does not matter how long you've been friends – it will eventually catch up to you and everybody involved.

-> austin, 2023

"the andretti finished in p5 and logan sargeant has just been promoted to p10 following the disqualification of charles leclerc and lewis hamilton. oscar, however, retires from the race following a crash with esteban ocon."

i don't beat oscar often – so whenever the rarity comes up, i take it with open arms.

"ah, screw you mate," oscar laughs, throwing his arms around the younger girl once again. "good finish."

she flips her hair as she pulls away and bats her eyelashes. "what can i say? i'm made for formula 1."

[sebastian vettel] they're sweet kids. i don't think there is any animosity between them. they lived together while they karted weekend after weekend. they're used to it... i think.

we've fought about things like these growing up. oh, for sure. we're both the oldest siblings – so the competition never ends between us.

[oscar piastri] she is very competitive. she's only fair when it comes to racing on the track though. everything else, she finds a way to come out on top.

-> oxford, 2023 (winter break)

"i won."

logan turns to look at her, eyebrows furrowed. "no, you didn't."

now stood up, the girl looked down at logan with a mirrored bewildered expression on her face. "yes, i did."

"no," logan repeats with his eyebrows raised, "you did not."

she clenches her jaw. "yes, i did."

"dude." logan turns to look at oscar, sitting across the table from them. their gazes all land on the card that she puts in the middle. "that's a yellow card that you coloured over with red marker. you lost – just admit it."

"what do you mean? that's a legit card." she lifts it up and reveals to the camera a card that's been poorly coloured red with some scratches that reveal the authenticity of the yellow that logan had just pointed out.

[logan sargeant] she's such a sore loser.

-> abu dhabi, 2023

"that's the andretti of the rookie driver crossing the finish line in p4, and that puts her in 6th place in the driver's championship. we might just be at the start of history being made, folks."

[sebastian vettel] what can i say? i'm never wrong with who i place my bets on.

[danica patrick] she proved a lot of people wrong this year, including me. she is an exciting up and coming driver.

she shrugs with a smug grin on her face. oh, i'm here to stay, babes.

andretti has secured her with a multi-year contract with the team – she will be racing under them until 2028.

the clapperboard clicks loudly, a man sits there with a cheeky grin as he stares into the camera. i'm liam lawson and i'm now an andretti race car driver. see you on the track in 2024.

– bonus

"aw, mate! they totally twisted that whole scene up!" she scoffs, throwing a small pillow at the tv screen. "dalton was the one that coloured that uno card in. not me!"

oscar turns to her. "yet you still used it despite the fact that we agreed to not use it in games anymore."

"the game would not have been fair if we were missing one card!"

logan scoffs. "we let you win, anyway."

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#logan sargeant x reader #oscar piastri x reader #sebastian vettel x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

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saintslewis · 5 months ago

Text

𝐢𝐟 𝐰𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥 | 𝐋𝐇𝟒𝟒

- drabble.

pairing: sir lewis hamilton x black! fem reader

summary: reader will never let the paddock forget who Lewis Hamilton is.

warnings: cussing.

saint’s team radio 🪩: this is just a lil something. I was pissed tf off yesterday because of some lewis “fans” and i will never miss an opportunity to let ppl know who my goat is 🫦. enjoy

ps, i’m not adding actual reporter’s names for this so i made up random names.

taglist: @mauvecherie-writes @perfecttrashface @non-stop-imagines @emjayewrites @purplelewlew @hopefulromantic1 @motheroffae @exotic-iris13 @httpsserene @queenshikongo3 @greedyjudge2 @cocobutterqwueen

The tag from your denim jacket had been irritating you since the second you put it on but you chose to forget about it, often adjusting it with your nails or a little shimmy of your shoulders.

Holding the mic from Sky Sports F1 wasn’t all too odd for you, the broadcast team only handing it to you when talking about Lewis and his achievements. Your support for the Stevenage driver was strong, often being as labelled as biased but you couldn’t care less. The support was mutual between the two of you, usually lingering on the line of friendship but doubt and time was always against you.

Your sunglasses sat on your braided head with a bored expression on your face, just wanting to get this segment over with so that you could go back to your individual blogging and interviews. Standing patiently in front of the cameras while other reporters ran around unorganised, you played with your beaded ‘44’ bracelet.

“My goodness, Y/n! I have no clue how you are so calm, this is always so hard!” One of them exclaimed, laughing in the process. “Not to mention the outfit! You look like you could go to a party!” Another laughed, her smile faltering when your eyes snapped to her, expression never changing.

After a while, the segment began and off the reporters went on a scripted tangent about other teams before getting to the main topic; Lewis. “Now, onto a different subject, Lewis Hamilton’s performance in that car has been nothing short of a…disaster if I could say.” Jimmy said, deciding to look at you as he spoke. Almost as if he was challenging you.

“For a specific race weekend or overall? His teammate, George is doing significantly better. I don’t know what’s wrong with him, it’s like he doesn’t know how to drive.” Jennifer spoke, poorly making an attempt of a joke.

“I’m not too sure why you’re speaking as if he is a rookie. You lot can see that Mercedes hasn’t been doing well as a collective yet you’re targeting one driver who has brought then 8 constructer titles rather than the other who has one win.” Lifting your mic, you spoke with a clear voice, never stuttering.

Frank shook his head and tried to chuckle. “Look Y/n. We understand he’s your boyfriend or whatever but we need to be factual here. What Ferrari has done is a mistake by signing him. I mean, there needs to be more space for others and he’s taking up space.”

“And Alonso’s dusty ass doesn’t need to leave? Using my support for Lewis to try and justify your dislike for him is unprofessional. I have no clue how you have the gumption to say all this.” You responded, still not moving from your spot.

The other 4 reporters stared at you in shock along with other people stopping in the paddock, surrounding the space just in front of the official f1 hospitality suite.

“There’s no need to use aggressive language, Y/n.” Jennifer lifted her hand to place on your shoulder but you moved away in time. “Aggressive for who?” You challenged, tilting your head.

It had gotten quite. “The viewers. It’s not a lie, Lewis is just not good anymore. He needs to make space.” One of them spoke up but you couldn’t be bothered to listen to anyone else other than Frank, your eyes trained on him.

“What? We need to speak with the producers, having an independent journalist was a mistake.” Frank smirked.

“You can take your opinion and shove it up your ass. Thanks for having me, Sky Sports F1.” You turned to the camera to blow a kiss then you gave the mic you were holding to whoever would catch it.

Walking away from the set, you knew what you did was undeniably unprofessional but those people had always had a vendetta against Lewis and any reporter/journalist who support him. Breathing out, you sashayed your way through the paddock with people staring as your braids glided in the slight breeze.

The buzz of your phone shook you out of your racing mind, a little gasp escaping your mouth as you read the notification from instagram.

lewishamilton no joke, that was the best thing i’ve ever seen. glad we have that interview together in 5 minutes :)

You first looked around the paddock after reading that message but you figured that he watched it live just like everyone else did. Your anger for that segment had clouded your thoughts so much, you forgot about the interview you were supposed to have with the champion.

Rushing to the large luxurious paddock club, you received all types of looks from those who either clearly watched the broadcast live or they’re looking at your outfit, although the latter was made up in your mind.

Luckily, he hadn’t arrived to the designated room you booked to have the interview with him but as soon as you got your phone out to record and your notes, the screams and excitement were heard from outside the door and a smile couldn’t help but sneak on your face.

You have only interviewed him three times in your entire career but every time you did so, he never wanted it to end, always trying to make it longer by asking his own questions to you or just sharing a laugh.

With security opening the door for him, he entered the room and spotted you with a smile on his face. He entered alone in the mercedes shirt already on. No words needed to spoken by either of you, Lewis opening his arms for a hug to greet you. Once in his embrace, you thought it’d be quick but to your surprise, it lasted a few moments longer.

“Hi Y/n.” Lewis spoke, a hand still on your shoulder. You took a quick breath and immediately relaxed on the spot. “Hey Lewis.”

“Your response to Sky was insane but I liked it.” He chuckled, sitting across from you with his legs open and a ring clad hand sat comfortably on his lap.

You didn’t want to show him how the sight affected you especially when your emotions are sky high so you remained calm on the outside. “It’s just…I’m pretty sure I lost my job just now because of how I reacted.” You sighed out, flicking a few braids back.

“Some of them had said worse things so you’re okay.” Lewis responded, his tone wasn’t all too sure but he just wanted to lift your mood. “Yeah but I’m black. They used micro aggressions too.” You couldn’t help but chuckle at everything once recalling back to that moment.

“I heard. I’ll have a word with Sky.” He reassured you. “Oooh okay, Sir.” You joked, masking how the reassurance made your stomach flutter. You’d like to think he was openly flirting with you but you quickly put that thought at the back of your mind.

“I just don’t want those people to forget who you are, you know? I’m sure you hear this all the time. You know what you’re doing and you’re the best at it. I wanna remind the people who the goat is.” You rambled a bit, noticing his smile growing as he listened to you.

“You’re too kind, really. I know what I am, it’s just a little tough right now.” He shrugged as he fully leaned back into his seat. “If you need me to fight anybody in your team, let me know.” You winked, flashing a comical smile that made Lewis laugh.

Giving you a once over, Lewis leaned forward and rested his tatted arms on his knees. “You look good today. You always do but today…phenomenal.” He spoke, his voice noticeably relaxed. “Don’t make me blush, Sir.” You smiled, failing terribly at hiding your feeling.

“That nickname, Y/n,” He chuckled. “Is that door locked?” He asked. All you had to do was nod at the man and Lewis smirked, licking his lips in the process.

“C’mere.”

saint’s notes 🪩: slightly rushed, george pissed me off, hope you enjoyed. bye. <3

#saint writes #lewis hamilton x black reader #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fic #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #f1 fic #Spotify

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write-tama · 7 months ago

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"hank.. what am i feeling right now?"

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ connor anderson (4k800) x officer!reader

sypnosis ; connor is very interested in an officer who just joined the police force. after being told the news that they would be joining the team, connor just had to make an acquaintance with them. anything to hear their voice.

containing ; use of you/yours and they/them pronouns! connor struggling to process emotions. hank being a proud father.

author’s note ; hihi! havent written for connor in SO long so i thought this was a cute little way of them meeting each other. connor is a

04.12.24 | 1.9k words

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

Everyone knew about the infamous RK800.

The last most developed and intelligent android produced by Cyberlife.

A machine built to hunt its prey and to always accomplish his mission.

But now?

A confused man sitting at his desk, elbows on the surface as he ran the fourth diagnostic this morning.

Connor was never really taught how to feel his emotions, considering that he was forced to compress them from the moment he was made. If he were to feel any sort of emotion, it was either to the scrap factory for him or a hard lecture from Amanda.

But Amanda was gone, and androids were free to express any emotion they pleased.

It’s been weeks since Markus hit the headlines for his famous android revolution. He worked with the government extensively to pass bills in order to settle android rights for the country. Connor, on the other hand, continued to work with the DPD as a full-on detective under the supervision of Liutenant Hank Anderson. Hank was more than just a coworker, but a father figure to Connor. And that brought Connor joy, an emotion Connor was well aquainted of.

But not the feeling he was experiencing now.

Connor couldn’t get his mind off a certain someone who had joined the team a bit before the revolution. You had joined a week prior, and honestly, you were kind of regretting it. As android and human tensions rose, you were on duty 24/7. Originally, you were supposed to start easy with basic patrol around a part of a city, but because you were so impatient in doing the “big kid stuff” you found yourself frequently in the middle of the android and human discourse. Your shifts nearly lasted twelve hours, and you would be absolutely exhausted.

Things are different now. Sure, there were still some situations between the two sides, but it was definitely peace compared to literal boycotts. You sat at your desk idly scrolling through your past cases, making sure that all the information was correct and accurate. On the other side of your desk was a tablet full of notes you had taken after some cases you had to deal with. What you didn’t notice was the android detective constantly glancing at you, watching your every move to see if maybe, at some point, you would notice him.

A loud groan echoing from the desk in front of Connor made him jump, immediately turning his attention to his lieutenant taking a seat in his chair. “Fucking hell..” Hank sighed. “Fowler does nothing but my bust my balls these days, huh?” Connor stared at his partner with his hands folded in his lap and eyebrows furrowed.

“Is everything okay, Lieutenant?” Connor asked, tilting his head.

“It’s nothing too serious. Fowler just wants me to take the rookie on our next homicide case. He insisted that they would be a perfect addition to the team or whatever.” Hank groaned. “Now I’m responsible for two of you fucks.”

Connor, admittedly, felt his thirium pump racing. You? As part of the team? It was almost like he could overheat and shutdown momentarily right now. “I think they would be a great addition to the team.” Connor stated, biting back from smiling. “They have an excellent track record of solving cases in an orderly and timely manner, has caught every perpretrator with their undercover skills, and had a reputation back in their training classes as one of the top students.” He explained. Hank looked over as he was slouched in his seat with arms folded across his chest.

“Jesus, Connor, you sound like some creep searching up their name on Google.” Hank scoffed, half smiling. Though this caught Connor a little off— was he being creepy? He didn’t want to leave a bad impression on you, especially now that you're about to meet for the first time. His face scrunched up in anxiety, feeling as if he made a mistake. Hank immediately took notice and sat up. “Ah— I was just joking, Connor. I’m sure you have uh.. Good intentions.” Hank reassured, though he never said he was exactly good at it.

Hank looked over to you, seeing that you were preoccupied with work despite the fact you haven’t been on a case in a few days now. Hank looked at Connor. “Well.. Why don’t you introduce yourself to them.” Hank suggested, nodding his head over to you.

Connor immediately jolted his head up, a little wide-eyed to even suggest such. “O-Of course.” Connor stuttered out. Connor never stuttered, and though Hank was in a mood after his exchange with Fowler, he certainly didn’t leave that unnoticed.

“Did you just stutter?” Hank asked, a little amused. “Are you.. Nervous?”

“Of course not, Lieutenant,” Connor replied as steadily as possible. “I am an android.”

“Connor.”

“Yes?” Connor replied, mindlessly.

“You’re a deviant, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.”

Connor, to avoid anymore embarassment from the man he deemed his father figure, swiftly got up and started to approach you. Hank watched in pure amusement, not even wanting to stop the boy from probably embarassing himself even further, but at least Hank had some faith in him. He is Detroit’s best god damn detective.

“Hello, Officer (l/n). My name is Connor. It is nice to meet you.” Connor said, putting his hand out for a shake. You looked up from your computer screen only to be met with the most chocolate eyes you’ve ever had the privilege of being in the prescence of. He smiled politely, but behind that smile he thanked Elijah that androids could not sweat, otherwise you would’ve felt the claminess of his palm.

You took his hand and shook it firmly. “A pleasure to make your aquaintance. My name is (y/n).” You smiled generously, and wow, did Connor felt like his pump couldn’t get any faster.. He cleared his throat before darting his eyes to the unoccupied chair that sat next to your desk.

“May I?” Connor asked, gesturing towards the seat.

“Of course, I’m not doing much anyway.” You nodded. Connor took a seat, and for some reason, he struggled to even maintain his balance as he sat himself down. He nearly had to think about how to fold his hands before placing them firmly on his laps and looking at you. Thankfully, you barely realized any sort of struggle as you looked away to take a swig of your morning coffee.

“So..” you said, clasping your hands. “Am I in trouble or anything?” you joked. Connor immediately shot his head up, worried he had made the wrong impression.

“Oh, no— I—” Before Connor could sputter out an explanation, you tilted your head a little and started laughing.

“Relax! I was just kidding!” You playfully waved off. Connor’s shoulders immediately relaxed as a breath he didn’t even know he was holding back escaped his lips. You looked at him curiously, a smile still resting on your face.

“I’m sorry. Usually, I am not like this.” He said, shaking his head a little in embarassment. He was always on his A game and constantly prepared. Why were you the reason for this disruption. “I.. Uh..” He couldn’t think of anymore to say. Suddenly, he got a message through his LED.

NEW MESSAGE:

HANK: tell them u think theyre pretty.

Connor blinked a bit, registering the text message. Hank was at a perfect view watching this unfold. The back of your head was visible but he could see all of Connor’s reactions, who desperately tried to maintain a polite smile.

“I think you’re very pretty, (y/n).” Connor complimented.

“Oh— ah—” A subtle blush began to form on your cheeks as your eyes widen a little, not expecting a compliment from a handsome android such as Connor. “Why thank you, Connor. I wasn’t expecting that as our first conversation.” You chuckled a little. “You’re not too bad yourself.”

Thirium was rushing through his circuits and to his cheeks. The faintest color of blue appeared dusted on his face. “Thank you.” He maintained a calm, neutral voice. They stared at each other for a minute, sort of registering the sort of corny first conversation the two of you had.

“Ah.. I almost forgot to mention.” Connor snapped back to reality. “I came here to introduce myself sfter I heard that you were joining our team on our next investigation. It’s good to make an aquaintance with our future team member.” Connor smiled politely.

“Why thank you. I am very excited to work with you and Lieutenant Anderson.” You nodded. “Though I will miss working with Gavin and Chris’ team.”

Ah, that’s right. You used to work with Gavin. It almost left a bad taste in Connor’s mouth knowing that Gavin probably spat some awful opinions about him to you. Though from the looks of it, you were enjoying your conversation with him which eased him.

“I promise we will a provide a welcoming and safe space in our team, and of course, to make sure you don’t come into harms way.” Connor assured. Though he was mainly promising this to you personally. God forbids Connor seeing you get hurt.

“Why thank you, Connor.” You said, tilting your head. Connor was rather intriguing to you— an android acting this way around you. His LED constantly switched between yellow and blue as if he was making sure to process every word you uttered. Yet he was so human— he would scratch the back of his neck, fidget with his fingers, and shuffle a bit in his seat. You would think someone as advanced as him would at least be able to have a composure, but he was different. It was something you admired about him.

“(l/n), in my office!” Captain Fowler called from the balcony of his room. You looked over to Connor before sighing.

“Well, boss is calling me. I’ll talk to you afterwards?” You suggested as you stood from your seat.

“Of course.” Connor replied, shielding his excitement. He stood up from his chair as well. “I’d be happy to talk again, (y/n).”

“Likewise.” You winked. With that, you left your desk and headed straight to Fowler’s office. Connor stood shellshocked. Did you just.. Wink at him?! Connor’s eyes slowly drifted to Hank, who was chuckling heartily. He gave Connor an assuring thumbs up as Connor made his way back to their desks.

“You’d be a shit detective if this is how you acted all the time.” Hank snickered. Connor grinned a little before taking a seat back at his desk.

“I know.” Connor sighed, leaning a little back in his chair. He at you through the glass walls, noticing your upright posture and the way you listened intently to Captain Fowler’s words. He looked over to Hank before thinning his lips.

“Lieutenant?” Connor asked.

“What is it, son?”

“What am I.. Feeling right now?” Connor asked, a little lost on how to explain it. “I can only think about them— only envision them when I close my eyes. I get nervous and its like my programming has reduced to 0s and 1s.” He sighed, hell, even a little frustrated that you had this affect on him.

Hank with a wide smile, shook his head and looked at Connor with a knowing stare. Connor looked up, both lost while desperate for an answer and maybe even a cure. Hank sat up and made sure to look at Connor right in the yes.

“Connor,” Hank sighed, grinning. “Son, that feeling your experiencing is called love. And your plastic ass better get used to it.”

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈

thank you so much for reading towards the end ! im sorry if its a little messy-- i quickly had to post this before hanging out w some friends but i just wanted to get this out of the way rq! reblogs, replies, and even likes are so so appreciated <3

#detroit become human #connor detroit become human #connor x reader #connor x you #connor rk800 #connor dbh x reader #dbh connor #dbh rk800 #rk800 x reader #dbh #detroit become human fanfics #hank anderson #connor anderson #4k800 #connor 4k800 x reader #dbh 4k800 #4k800 x reader

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asliceofzosan · 1 year ago

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i've seen figure skater sanji and hockey player zoro before. idk if its been explored but i'd love to put it out there:

hockey player sanji (specifically goalie bc he desperately wants to avoid being checked) and then pairs skater zoro.

pairs skater zoro's long time partner has been nami. though many people ship them together a Lot, they just know each other super well. Well enough to try dating and both of them realized they don't swing that way. in fact, it makes them a really good team. they fought long and hard to claim top spots in competitions because they portray a chemistry that's separate from the rest. plus zoro can carry nami like she weighs fucking nothing. so their lifts are so much more dynamic. they even have a whole next to impossible combination that they're trying to get the ISU to name after them officially.

sanji plays for the East Blue Straw Hats in the Grand Line Hockey League – a formidable rookie group that took down lots of big names in the preseason. they want to make it all the way to the postseason playoff finals but always seem to fall short. but theyre so determined. they reignited a lot of old sparks that were no longer there for old fans and brought in new and curious fans. sanji is the starter goalie and a damn good one at that. it makes sense bc goalies are often doing splits on the ice just to make a save. he's perfected the technique that utilizes just his legs to make saves that make the crowd go fuckin insane.

we have the usual "i booked the rink to practice before you did" trope but a little more spice. in actuality, sanji loves watching pairs skating competitions. his favorite pair rn is franky and robin (mostly for robin). and he adamantly does not want to admit to anyone that he watches zoro and nami's routines much more frequently. (and if anyone asks, he always says its bc of nami. its never just bc of nami.) and zoro's besties with luffy so he always watches their matches even if he barely understands the rules. and he definitely does not stare at a certain blond starter goalie most of the match thats fucking ridiculous

one day zoro and sanji are invited to do one of those comparison videos between hockey players and figure skaters. both get to laugh at the other even Attempting to do their sport. zoro frankly looks ridiculous in all of sanji's usual goalie get-up. and sanji couldn't land an euler to save his life. the video producer suggests they try a simple pairs skating routine. sanji is like "oh i couldn't do that–hEY WHAT THE FUCK MOSSHEAD PUT ME DOWN" because zoro lifted sanji and had him sat on his shoulder like it was normal.

zoro smirks, "you might be lighter than nami, actually. wanna be my new partner?"

sanji knees him in the stomach before skating away while blushing so hard he could melt the ice beneath him.

#listen #both figure skating (most especially pairs skating and ice dancing) AND hockey were my hyperfixations at one point #and zoro? built like a pairs skating man #sanji? has the ass of a hockey player #iT MAKES SENSE TO ME !#but also the dichotomy of zoro doing a graceful sport and sanji in a fast paced brutal game #idk man im too tired to psychoanalyze why i think pairs skating actually works well with zoro's philosophy on strength and balance #and sanji's phobia of being checked tied to many little league games that led him to become a formidable goalie #i COULD GO ON #But i will sleep instead #one piece #sanji #roronoa zoro #zosan #niki's log: op #niki's fics: checks and balances #dO YOU GET THE PUN IN THE TITLE GOD IM SO ANNOYING !!!!!#lowkey my contribution to zosan week even if it might not fit any promprs #i just wanna feel included

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guywrestlingaddiction · 3 months ago

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Everything Great About a Match: Mr.Joshua Goodman v Christian Taylor (bgeast.com)

Everything Great About a Match: +5

Mr.Joshua Goodman v Christian Taylor (bgeast.com)

SPOILER ALERT: I highly recommend viewing this match in its entirety before reading this post.

So let's begin: +1: For Christian's debut match! Every great wrestler needs an origin story and Christian's story begins with big bad Joshua. So can he win? Well of course not, this is Mr.Joshua we are talking about here but still enjoy these images of Christian before he was famous and suffered his first pro beatdown.

From Cocky ... To Crippled.

Mr.Joshua: You, you don't know the rules. Looks like I'm going to have to explain them to you.

+1: Mr.Joshua brings the heat and does not hold back on our rookie. If you were expecting some mercy being the new guy then you picked the wrong opponent because Mr.Joshua does no such thing. The guy brutally dismantles our newbie and gives him the freshmen match to remember.

+1: The humiliation. Not only is our jobber destroyed but Mr.Joshua makes our jobber look as humbled as possible. He thrashes him and even toys with the guy's head by slapping him to show him he's the man. Christian is not only dominated but he's made to be humiliated, repeatedly, and with just a little something extra to claim the poor guy. What a welcome to bgeast! I'm surprised Christian came back from this.

+1: For this move. I'm not sure what we're calling this - headlock with leg split variation but our wrestlers know each other's bodies enough to make this work. How else do you combine Mr.Joshua's chisled muscular frame with Christian's long lanky body to produce a new wrestling outcome?

+1: For the "Adjustment". This will always get a point as Mr.Joshua's sexy signature move in my book. The man knows it's what the fans want and knows how to work it into every match to not let us down!

------- Everything Great About this Match: +5

So there you have it. This may very well be the toughest, vicious, most primal newbie match I have ever seen and I've seen a ton of matches. Mr.Joshua goes balls to the walls all over Christian's poor lithe body ensuring that the rookie will never forget his place on the food chain. In the end, Mr.Joshua takes this match to that extra special place beyond domination and poor Christian may never fully recover from the humiliation.

#gay wrestling #bgeast.com #joshua goodman #Christian Taylor

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dmercer91 · 1 year ago

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ik you just put out be alright with luca- and this idea is kinda similar

but a hughes sister who’s going to be a freshman this year, and she’s feeling lost because all her brothers are scattered. like luke had her at home, but she doesn’t have anybody

my brother wouldn’t admit it until the grave but if i left he’d be sad

i feel like jack, luke and quinn probably kept how much they missed each other pent up and figured reader would do the same and were not expecting how hard it hit her

cause she’s even more alone than they were, and it’s not like it’s her job like it was for j,

home, 4386

“hey, y/n/n! how was your first week? know it’s been busy for me but i miss-“

“lukey,” you sobbed into the phone, hyperventilating and hardly being able to see anything

luke’s eyebrows furrowed on the other side of the phone, stomach dropping with worry.

“y/n? where’s mark, or dyl. anyone home?” you’d grown particularly attached to mark during his and luke’s freshman year, so during the summer it was decided that you’d get mackies old room in the house so that he could watch over you

quinn had lectured him, jack followed his behaviour all summer, corrected things he didn’t like, and luke dug into him for two straight years about how he’d entrusted him with you whenever one of he or one of his brothers weren’t around

“i don’t understand how you all did it,” you blurted, ignoring his question and taking a deep breath, jaw hurting from how hard you’d been clenching it

“are you at home, are you safe?” it was jack, sounding alarmed

“yeah, rowdy,” you whispered, being able to have both of them bringing you a little comfort. you tried to take a few more deep breaths, but it was like your throat was closing

“where are the guys?” luke cut in, restating his earlier question

“i took- i took a bus, to the lake house. i’m sorry, i-. m’ sorry, i needed home, but it’s not.. not home, you’re home,” jack and luke shared a look, concerned for their youngest sister

“miss you so much. how did you- how?? i feel like i’m a chore to the guys, i don’t have anyone, i need you,” they could hardly understand you, your low tone and cries muffling your words nearly beyond comprehension

the boys couldn’t truly answer the question. jack had never been at school. his rookie year was tough, but he wasn’t balancing class, and you and luke were always visiting

on top of that, he’d been anticipating it since he was young

luke had you. you were in michigan with him for the majority of the time, at a nearby high school.

you had hockey, on top of class, and none of them were nearby. visits would probably be limited, cause the all star break was hardly a break for them.

it wasn’t like last season, when you could fly up with luke every once in a while to spend the night and soak up time with jack.

quinn had been calling you every day, notably your most protective brother. you didn’t want to make him feel like his efforts were for nothing, so you didn’t tell him how you were feeling.

“i can barely skate, i’m not producing, i got a d on an assignment from history of mich sports. i’m falling apart without you,” you rushed out, sniffling harshly to try and clear your airways

“i’m so lost,” you finished, your head thudding against the wall you’d been leaning on.

“it’s gonna be okay, y/n/n. i’m gonna call mark, yeah? he’s like a fourth older brother, he’s got you. he’ll come pick you up and j and i are gonna call you every night. quinny can join too, we’ll facetime. he’ll see you next week when he’s in detroit, and the devs will be over there in no time, i promise,” luke soothed, jack silently agreeing

“ok?” you wiped your face, breathing still uneven

“ok,” you whispered,

“i love you, y/n/n.”

“i love you too, moose. n’ i love you, j,”

“love you, mini, get some rest on the way home for me, and call mamma, alright?” you smiled at the nickname, one he’d given you when you guys grew into your playing styles and he deemed you a copycat

you mumbled a promise into the phone and let them hang up, hugging your knees to your chest.

#e’s 500 celly!#e’s blurbs!#luke hughes #jack hughes #quinn hughes #luke hughes x reader #jack hughes x reader #quinn hughes x reader #hockey imagine #nhl imagine #new jersey devils #vancouver canucks #umich hockey

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leclsrc · 1 year ago

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a charles drabble with love language/s pls.... its all i want its all i have ever wanted

real love baby – cl16

You express love differently, but it’s love all the same.

genre: fluff

auds here... i hope you enjoy it! this is a scheduled post – my brain is so wonky and i absolutely needed to get back into writing before my hands atrophied and i wasted away into dust …. so i worked on a months-old req that i previously scrapped. am i happy w this? well i’ll answer that honestly and say

It happens first when you’re still friends.

Charles gets off a late meeting that’s wormed its way into the late hours of night, costing him hours of rest or training, and the paddock is empty save for staff members setting up for Sunday. He’s still got Sauber merch slung over his arm when he clicks on his car keys—when the lights flash, he notices a shadow by an adjacent car. “Hello?” He calls out, apprehensive. They let anyone into the area these days.

“It’s me,” says your voice, amused at the clear nerves his voice exhibits. “Why’re you leaving so late?”

“I couldn’t leave without making sure everything was set for tomorrow.” There are circles under your eyes, obscured by the lens of your glasses, the ones you wear when you’ve been staring at text or a screen for hours too long. You work a lot in the crux of a season, coordinating investors for Mercedes and making sure money is where it’s supposed to be every single day. “We’re getting budget breach accusations.”

“I planted them,” he jokes half-heartedly, leaning his side against the trunk of your car. You laugh, rolling your eyes. It’s not the funniest joke in the world—it wouldn’t pass at all if he did that at an open mic—but something makes it easy to do so, to throw your head back and affirm his attempt at comedy.

Charles is so tired—from driving in the morning and results in the afternoon to a meeting that lasted hours and discussed basically his entire fucking future—but he enjoys having you laugh at something he’s said. He doesn’t really know why, just savors the way your necklace glints in the dim light of the parking lot and the leftover lighting from the paddock several metres away.

“Funniest joke I’ve heard in a while,” you say mutely, sarcastic. Your car is on but you’re not getting in.

“Does Henry not entertain you with jokes of his own?” He asks lightly, smiling. “Henry? Harry? Or is he busy with… what was it, an online rap career?”

“Harvey.” You’re not laughing, and in fact displaying some expression that’s half amusement/disappointment, but he can spot the beginnings of a smile on your lips. “You knew that. And he’s not an online rapper.” Anymore, you leave out.

“Oh, that’s good. Was worried he was out to get Drake’s career.” You raise a hand to threaten him playfully, a genuine laugh escaping your lips. Your teeth flash and your eyes crinkle and his head doesn’t hurt so much anymore. “Appreciate the jokes while you still can,” he says anyway. “My migraines lately have made me very sluggish.”

You blink, reaching into your patterned handbag and producing a tiny bottle of Advil. “Take it,” you tell him, lips pursed. “Can’t have this year’s best rookie having chronic headaches.” You push it into his hand and smile tightly.

“Thanks,” he stutters, his throat dry. “I’ll see you around. With Harvey, maybe. You could introduce us.”

“Hah. Not sure that’s something I’d… I’d really want,” you dismiss quietly, watching him round the space to open his car. Louder, you add, “Let me know when you’re okay.”

He looks at you then downward. Then at you again, smile on his face. “I will.” He raises the Advil and gives it a shake. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” you say, grinning.

—

The next time it happens (the next time you can both remember well, at least) you’re in the sweet little in-between of being friends and something else. He calls it his courting stage; you, your begrudgingly allowing it stage. At that point things had gone awry with Harvey, since he’d decided to jump back into his pursuit of Soundcloud fame.

“Hey.” You duck into the gym room, your head just in between the door and the frame. Seb sees you, bumps his teammate to catch his attention further; Charles jogs to you and leans against the wall, crossing his arms to hear you continue. “I’m leaving early today. No money issues.” You nod squarely. “Parce que I stole the funds.”

“I warned you. If you keep talking about embezzlement I’m going to have to kiss you,” he whisper-jokes, smiling.

He watches you hide a laugh, visibly flustered and stuttery, and he swears his chest hurts from how much it affects him, how strong his attraction is to you. He’s almost terrified of it, comforted only when you open your mouth to respond: “Are you gonna be in early tonight?”

“I, uh—” He turns to Seb. “We’ll be done in an hour, but I’m driving so I’ll wait around ’til later. Just… I’ve been too sore to properly get these moving for long so I need to rest for a bit.” He wiggles his arms and fingers. “It’s, well. The price you pay for being very muscular.”

“Jokes write themselves with you,” you scoff, cocking your head. “Okay, then. Um—I’ll see you.”

An hour later he leaves to take a piss and dick around while waiting for the dull ache at the nape of his neck to relax, and instead finds you in the Ferrari motorhome, close to sleeping. Your eyes snap open when they hear the pad of his sneakers against the floor. “Oh.”

“Oh?” He smiles, his heartstrings tugging. “What’s… what are you doing here?”

“Waiting.” You mirror his expression with quiet grace. “I can drive you back, Charles. It’s—you shouldn’t be driving yourself in this condition. I got Andrea to drive your car to your hotel.”

Despite his protests, he does end up becoming the passenger, and by extension the navigator and deejay, queuing up songs for you both to sing along to. In the unfamiliarity of the city and the dull exhaustion seeping into his bones, though, he’s asleep to a Police song before long. His hand rests softly on the centre console.

At the red light right before the hotel, you interlock your pinkies to wake him up. “Mmmff?”

“We’re near,” you notify, smiling at his sleepy expression.

“Thank you,” he yawns. Then for good measure, “Didn’t know I was in such good hands.”

“You ever gonna stop with the jokes?” You ask amusedly, turning right.

“Not if they make you laugh.”

“They do,” you murmur, fond. “Thank you.”

“Anything for you,” he says quietly, holding your hand fully.

—

Life became a blur of little moments like those after that night.

Sure touches, words of assurance from Charles; little deeds from you. Whispered in French or Italian or English while he wrapped you in an embrace on bad days. A spout of cheers on the better ones. A water bottle with a Post-it: Finish before noon!!! when he’d gone to bed mouthing off about being thirsty. A cup of coffee on the counter the way he liked it on days you both had the time.

Sometimes it would switch: that time you were sick and he showed up to the Mercedes motorhome, Evian and meds in hand every six hours to make sure you were up to sched with your cold medication. That time you wrote him a letter for your third anniversary and watched him wipe tears off his face before he even made it halfway. Another time he organised your flat’s entire bookshelf according to all your standards (only to ask you to move in a week later and redoing the organisation at his place). And another time you gave a speech on Charles at a gala and he accepted the award, again, tearily.

But every action, every word, every joke, every hug, has always been motivated by love. The kind of tender love, that was unfamiliar in the same way it felt so much like home. The kind of love you read about or your parents would send you off to sleep talking about. Love so foolish, but so sure—neither of you have ever needed to doubt for a second. The kind of love so big it should be confusing, but you’ve both come to find it’s anything but, that you always seem to be on the same page, or at least capable of getting there. Closeness, intimacy, friendship—that’s all it’s ever been.

And everything, punctuated with the same sentiment, the same words, ever since the first time:

“Thank you,” he says in one breath, his voice heavy with love, with overwhelm. “Thank you, thank you.” He finds your ring finger and slides the diamond atop it.

“Anything,” you say, smiling in-between kisses, “anything for you.”

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc drabble #f1 x reader

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silviakundera · 3 months ago

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with the conclusion of Snowfall...

why do i enjoy Republican Era chinese dramas so much?

aesthetics! there is this blend of 1920-30s western fashion influences and traditional chinese garb & architecture that just pleases my eyes.

everyone looks very depressed & dangerous & sexy

chaotic period of transition - no matter if you're in the 1910's, 20's, 30's some absolutely wild historical shit was going down

cars and guns and gloves and swords. rotary phones!

dancing & drinking in night clubs, in glamorous pockets amid the violence & instability outside; a lil touch of mask of the red death vibes

end of empire themes, as a country tries to find its way after the end of the last imperial dynasty

there's those gangster, mob boss vibes from american and british dramas set in the 1920s, except everything is cranked up x100 because of general lawlessness; central government and law & order was a paper thin veneer over warlords

the start of WW2 from an entirely different perspective than the common narratives that I was exposed to growing up in the US (which is 99% stories about the european stage)

sino-japanese war / war of resistance material like Hidden Blade is fucking badass ok 🤷

in a time of resistance to occupation, colonizers encroaching, warlords fighting over cities, brewing civil war.... there are many different options of protagonists and unlikely "heroes" who are picking their battles and discovering what they are willing to fight for

Beautiful 👏 women 👏 in heels 👏and 👏 slinky 👏dresses 👏

Lots of revenge narratives. I love an over-the-top, bloodthirsty & destructive revenge narrative

Depending on the genre, there might be little or heavy politcal /patriotic discourse. But tbh none of the rah rah patriotism stuff distracts me much, because all the american and british produced stuff set around WW2 has rah rah patriotism & propaganda in it, so I just consider that part of the essential genre vibes. It's just another country's version. (Of course, others will have less patience when it becomes heavy-handed. YMMV.)

Dark & Gritty

Hidden Blade (film) - a masterpiece, if you enjoy dark WW2 spy films that play with narrative style and challenge the viewer to follow the story as it's woven. Had to review detailed historical context for the years in question, to be ready to consume. But worth it. I've watched it 3 times. 💀

Heroes (2024) - the very beginning era of this genre/the transition into repulican period. rocks fall, everyone dies. Primarily a tragic wuxia & pre-republican fusion. Excellent enough that I didn't mind the bleak storyline. 💀

Detective-ing

Miss S - adaption of 1920s Australian mystery procedural Miss Fisher's Murder Mysteries, staring Vengo! ML actor of Snowfall

Checkmate - Agatha Christie stories adapted to the setting & time period, plus bromance. I watched half the episodes w my brother, as we are both huge agatha christie fans. It was fun if you can be chill about adaption changes.

My Roommate is A Detective - for mystery & bromance lovers. Same actor duo as Checkmate.

Detective L - don't know much about this one tbh

Romance arc, with a somewhat happy ending for the 2 leads

Provoke - Gorgeous, glamorous, vibes vibes vibes all day long. Revenge and romance. ❤

Fall in Love - sons & daughters of warlords and their supporters get sexy and dangerous and decide even joining the civil war is better than the prior generation's bullshit. This is an objectively bad drama that I really enjoyed anyway (it helps that I skipped every scene for the 2nd and 3rd couples). This one turns v propaganda heavy at the end, if that bothers you. ❤

Arsenal Military Academy - military training hijinks w a side of cross dressing romance. Xu Kai and Bai Lu! It's soliders and japanese invasion et al, so be prepared for the standard patriotism. Comedy & drama. HE for the FL/ML but expect character death in this subject matter. ❤

Rookie Agent Rogue - Late 1930s spy drama with small romance side-plot. Expect the standard wartime patriotism, like with Arsenal Military Academy. The draw is the lead actress, the FL from Princess Agents, Minglan, Legend of Shen Li. HE for the FL/ML but expect character death in this subject matter. ❤

City of Streamer - Older woman seduces younger man who is the son of her revenge target. Melodrama with people serving looks. ❤

War of Faith* - Young man just wants to join the banking industry and have a subtextually gay relationship with his mentor in peace, but there's a civil war going on. Protagonist would like to be excluded from this political narrative, but ultimately is forced to pick a side. ❤🌈 *(Is it censored gay romance? No, not based on a gay novel. So not officially! But some viewers felt there was a subtextual romance storyline #shenlai ; YMMV. The happy ending is Untamed-esque; implied only)

many, many pulpy mini-dramas about revenge! warlords! ladies with pistols! (Miss Mystery, First Marriage, Maid's Revenge, etc)

Also... (happy ending not guaranteed)

Siege in Fog

Love in Flames of War

Couple of Mirrors - censored F/F 🌈

Stand by Me - censored m/m 🌈

Killer and Healer - censored m/m 🌈

Winter Begonia - censored m/m 🌈

#cdrama #cdrama recs #drama recommendation #silvia recs #there are even more sad ending ones out there #i just usually avoid BE dramas #so i am not who to approach for a full list

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springsylph · 6 months ago

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bodyguard.

[bodyguard!john price x rookie actress!reader]

extension of this blurb. || minors, do not interact.

read on ao3

this was supposed to be a one-off thing but uh. my hand slipped? had to cut down the "price wouldn't do that" monster with my "i can do what i want" sword, and we got 3k of an unedited brain dump that i typed on my phone at six in the morning. also my first time writing something for price! woo!

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?"

Yelling secures you your first big project.

You can’t pay those bills until I land a job. A real job.

You’re almost certain your agent thinks you’re throwing a tantrum, and it leaves a coarse grit in your molars. You don’t like to pick fights. Hate it, really. But pushes are usually succeeded by shoves, and you can’t afford to get knocked out of the ring this time around.

The worst they can do is say no, right?

Thankfully, one yes is all you need to beg for. Your chariot arrives in the shape of a surprisingly low-budget rom-com, in simple terms. You and your C-list costar (flanked by a squeaky clean track record, thank god) are swept up in a soundless spiral of table reads and filming and wrapping before you can really, truly process.

But a warden stands guard at the eye of your perfect storm. John Price, assigned to you through your agency without so much as a proper word.

(“Squeaky clean,” apparently, didn’t take a history of overzealous stalkers into account.)

The peephole to your dilapidated apartment can barely contain him. blocks him—or attempts to do so—like a child might shield their sandcastle from the pulsing tide. Only, you think the tide might be more forgiving. He’s rooted in place, made harsher under the cracked fluorescent bulbs out in the hallway. They hum along with him. Faint, unless your breathing stills.

You’d feel a little more at ease if he were actually ex-military; the scraps of information you’ve been fed tell you that he’s been discharged, but you don’t believe it. Not for a second. You hadn’t been given much else apart from that and a face, but you could put together that he was disgustingly overqualified—not that you were complaining, though. Not yet.

You watch as John Price—Price?—gazes with a deceiving sort of apathy toward the end of the hall, then to the other, and back to the other end in three smooth seconds.

You think he’s seeing things till the apartment two doors down produces a tenant from its depths and price is turning, warding the disturbance off with an easy mornin’ and a wave of a large hand. He says nothing when they shuffle off awkwardly without a response, and the slow crawl of his opposite hand away from a flash of metal at his hip draws your pupil like a magnet.

It’s then that you note the suspiciously white shirt—rolled up to his elbows, tucked neatly into dark denim. hands tucked into pockets. Beard trimmed. Everything not protected by the skin on his body squared away just so, with just enough of his bulk on display to prompt that second spike of wariness.

A meticulous problem, then.

You peel yourself away from the door after an inhale and swing it open regardless.

The smell of tobacco and cologne hits your nose like a hammer the moment the door hits the bolt behind you, but you recover the feeling in your knees quickly. The fisheye lens doesn’t quite do him justice—you have to look up a bit to take another quick scan, cheeks cramping with the sudden momentum of your smile.

“I don’t see a bible or a pamphlet, so I’m assuming you’re not here to preach?”

The joke doesn’t fall flat, but it does sail into one of the weaker bulbs before it shuts off with a buzz.

“…Captain Price, right?”

His eyes crinkle with a hint of what might be a grin. Under different circumstances, maybe. “Right on the mark. A pleasure to finally meet you, Ma’am.” But that thrum of irritation is there, as is the narrowing of his eyes when you extend your hand in greeting. “Just Price’ll do though.”

Hm.

He reaches up to fix his beanie just above his brow before giving your hand a firm shake. Definitely military. And hot as a furnace. You’re more than a little dizzy when he pulls back to check his watch, the inside of your wrist now raw from the grazing of a fingernail.

You can feel the skin he’s taken with him when he looks you in the eyes. Assessing. You don’t know why, but think you’ve won until he’s looking back down at his wrist.

He pulls out the crown on his watch, begins to twist and twist so that the dials can begin their inevitable rotation. “You know what time it is?”

Nine in the morning.

Or, at least it was thirty minutes ago.

“I—yeah. Lost track of time, sorry.” You scratch just under the collar of your shirt, straighten it out when the itch turns into a tingle you’re willing to overlook. You realize after an embarrassing beat that he’s probably asking for the actual time. “I sleep like a rock,” you add anyway. Your agency had actually given you three things, not two: a poorly put together profile, a face, and a meeting time.

It dawns on you now that a thirty minute “test of patience” with your back pressed to the door may not have been the way to go.

Price looks up, finally. Rolls his shoulders back as if to shed the pileup of gravity that’s compressed his spine in the half hour you’ve kept him waiting—and somehow, someway, seems to double the amount of space he takes up.

“That so,” he questions. Low in his throat, and a tad exasperated, because you’ve studied exasperation. Went into debt to have that understanding feel like a second skin. Which is why you observe, perplexed, as he gestures to the entryway. You think you feel your head nod, and he brushes past you to push through the door. “‘Nother habit we’ll have to kick.”

Any objections you might’ve had are killed in your throat the moment his prowl begins, and your socks catch on the scuffed linoleum as you flounder in after him.

The door slams back against the bolt while Price’s boots press the air out of your hardwood floors, squeals escaping with each heavy step. You squeak out a feeble excuse me alongside them once or twice, but to no avail. He can’t hear you, too intent on following some internal rhythm that takes him to the open window, the dusty cabinets, slipping fingers into the creases of a space you’re barely acquainted with yourself.

Something like nausea begins to bubble. You planned this. You’d planned out your introduction. Picked out your clothes, your shoes, where you’d grab coffee so you could build up your integrity and explain to him that you’re not looking to be coddled, he’d just get in the way. And now you’re wringing your hands, abject unease burning in a dense knot between your eyes while you figure out how to melt into the poorly hidden pile of dirty laundry.

There’s a delay in your processing, and you don’t start to catch up until Price finally slows down enough for you to realize he’s been talking.

He’s stooping over your dining room table, swiping a finger over his tongue before using it to card through old mail. “Real sorry ‘bout this, Ma’am. Not the most ideal introduction, I know, but we’re on a bit of a time crunch. Standard protocol—’m sure you know how it is, yeah?”

Price moves to turn over a stack of magazines on your dining table, and you wonder: were you supposed to know? You’re sure his question is rhetorical, and you’re certainly not inclined to answer. But something about the way it hits the water stains on your ceiling justifies the way he turns to look at you over his shoulder.

Concern. An uncut gem, plucked from some cavernous fissure that might be closer in proximity to hell than your own flesh and blood.

The crease between his brows deepens. “You have had security before, haven’t you?”

“Don’t get out much. I do my work, come right home.” You shrug, but your shoulders can’t seem to come back down. Perhaps this was why they’d put him on leave—he couldn’t do math.

You shuffle a bit in place, kick aside a ratty tennis ball left behind from one of your pet sitting stints. It hits your refrigerator and he’s still looking down at your feet, so you look with him.

—at the last two toes sticking out of your sock.

You rush to cover it with your other foot while Price sucks his teeth. He doesn’t move, hands still planted on the table, but each time he blinks his eyes are trained on something different.

Price lets out a sigh before he finally stands upright, perching his hands on his hips. “I'm surprised your people waited this long to call someone in. Right idiots they are, I’ll tell you that.”

Your people. You wrap your arms around your middle, pinch the fabric of your shirt between your fingers.

“I can't really blame them,” you say after a moment. Tip your chin up, a last ditch attempt at salvaging what little of your farce is left to cover yourself with.

Price tuts, strangely unconvinced for someone you’d only known for around ten minutes. “You’d be smart to blame them.”

“Don’t think I can do that when I'm working for them, Price.”

“Can’t you? S’clear they’ve done fuck all to look out for you.”

And you could. Should. Want to. So, so desperately need to. But you’re already saddled with enough things to hate. Hope of catharsis is an outbound ship, a blip on the horizon that you don’t have the funds to board.

“…I don't follow.”

Price doesn’t flinch when the table rocks without the weight of the magazines to keep it steady, and neither do you.

“You don’t follow,” he repeats. Like a crucial detail has been lost in translation.

You shake your head.

“Well, that’s no good.”

Cigar smoke snakes its way into your headspace again when he strides past you to put his hand up against the door, muscles in his forearms flexing when he pulls at the doorknob. He beckons you closer, and you’re pulled out of orbit when you skirt close enough for him to reach, guiding your hand to the cool metal while he stands just behind you.

“Here,” he mutters. Your chest is a cushion, and the rumble in his chest is a bright red pin.

(Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if the crackle of a walkie-talkie might bury how frighteningly human he sounds.)

“What am I looking for?”

“You’ll figure it out.”

He takes his hand off once you’ve stopped throwing glances at him, and your knuckles sizzle in his absence. What was he looking for? Nothing…looks different.

You can’t focus. His eyes are on your neck, and you can’t focus.

And suddenly, you don’t like how close he is. You’re reminded of how he’d shoved his way into your apartment. Barely spoken to you before driving a stake through the bubble put together with your blood sweat and tears. Made you feel ashamed in your own home.

Righteous indignation flares up, and you’re spewing words you’re certain you believe in until they tumble out.

“If you’re just here to poke fun, I’m not—”

Pop.

You look down. The keyhole pokes just out of the doorknob and you look to Price, his face remarkably passive.

“Lock’s been tampered with.” He runs a thumb over the offending protrusion, watches as it slots back into place. “You should see some scratches on the other side of it. Thought I noticed something when the door first slammed, but I didn't want to startle you in case my eyes were playing tricks. Can’t quite see like I used to.”

Why not get glasses?

“I would’ve put up less of a fuss if you’d told me up front.”

He looks at you, eyes a perfect congruence of something just beyond what your fingertips can touch. But he smiles, and you think you can understand. Maybe mash the pieces together. A distending warmth. Nepenthe sinking into every orifice until you’re expelling your woes through your nostrils.

Your axis tilts when Price puts a solid hand on your shoulder.

“It’s not good to lie, mm? Not to me.”

Not good to lie.

When you slide out from under his palm, his callouses snag on the exposed seam of your shirt. You toss him a grin, a bone. “Noted.”

Insecure seconds pass, but not without movement.

It begins like this: Price walks away from the door, and you’re almost grateful for the squealing underneath his feet to fill the silence. He takes your stack of mail and magazines, sets them exactly as they had been before he’d entered. The table is righted, and he works in reverse from that point on.

Closing cabinet doors. Angling that picture frame you’ve been meaning to adjust for weeks. He’s putting things into their proper place, like setting bones before they’re enclosed in a stiff cast.

You, though, are still standing awkwardly by the door.

“You really don’t need to—”

He holds out a hand. “Relax. ‘M just having a second go around.”

You bristle, but your decision to pad over to the couch is of your own volition. It caves in when you sit, and you wiggle to get the cushions to realign with your hips. Your hands feel around blindly for the remote to your TV before remembering you’d dropped it out of the window in a fit of anger some weeks ago, so you sit back, spine hitting the hard frame of the couch. Price’s noises pair well, somehow, with the wind sliding over the glass and the neighbors downstairs.

Until you feel his presence at the back of the couch, and a thought smacks you right across your forehead.

You shoot up, heart rate suddenly inflamed by panic. “Price?”

The movement stops, and you turn around, peer over to find Price prepped to duck his head under the couch. “Hm?”

“Uh.” You hesitate. Shit, think—

“H-how much are they paying you, anyways?” Good save. Maybe a little less than good.

You feel a little bad that you’d stopped Price mid-crouch; you can’t quite remember how old he is, but you know he’s old enough for knee pain to be a concern. He looks up as if crunching the numbers in his head. Hums. “Enough.”

“What’re you looking for?”

“Saw the picked lock, didn’t you?”

“Were you really discharged?”

“Depends. There something under this couch you don’t want me seeing?”

Looks like you can knock “interrogation skills” off of your list of special skills on your resume.

Your jaw snapping shut is enough to send his arm sliding under, and you can only watch in horror as his clutched hand emerges holding a scrap of thin blue fabric. He pushes himself up off of his knees. Takes his sweet time wringing out his back while your eyes track his hand like he’s got a thumb over the button of a detonator.

If he had any shred of decency—

“Another thing I caught on my way in,” he huffs. He holds out his hand and allows the blue fabric to uncurl. A flag, hung full mast right between your eyes. Another one of his tests.

“Price.”

“C’mon, now. Take it from me.”

He doesn’t have to ask twice; your arm shoots out and you win it back in one go. Stuff your lacy underwear into the pocket of your pants and wait for your ceiling to collapse in on you.

“Can’t leave pretty things like that layin’ around.” And Price stops, watches as you curl in on yourself. Voice like the push of velvet shifting underneath your palms. “Likely to rip if you’re not careful.”

You pull your head into your shirt and curl your knees into your chest. It’s a shock when you find yourself face to face with your heartbeat, the skin over your left breast jumping underneath your nose. “I think we’re done here.”

Price makes that sucking noise again with his teeth—agitation, you think it’s agitation—and you trace the hazy shadow of him through your shirt as he steps around the couch to walk to the window. He snaps twice, and you’re beginning to entertain the thought of what might happen if you had enough strength to push him out.

“What now,” you croak.

“Eyes up.”

Slowly, you muster up enough spite to bring your head just above the collar of your shirt. Military men and their incessant need for…whatever the hell this was.

“You’ve gotten better at this. Quick study,” Price remarks.

“Better at what.”

“Listening. That’s good, real good. That’ll make this a whole lot easier,” he says, a note of appreciation that you haven’t heard yet stirring that tiny pool of filth just underneath your navel. You hum.

Price crosses his arms. Flicks his stupid eyes toward the fluttering curtains. “How often d’you leave this open?”

Your face pinches. “I mean—pretty often? It’s hot, Price. And in case you haven’t noticed,” you wave your hand to the general state of disrepair, “I don’t exactly have good circulation in here.”

This gives him pause. Whatever plan he’s recalibrating, you want no part of it. You do notice that he hasn’t put his hands in his pockets since he showed up on your doorstep, instead favoring the use of his left hand to rub his chin.

“Come over here and close the window.”

You nearly jump out of your skin. “...Close the window? Price, you can’t be serious.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Can’t…can’t you close it?”

“It’s not my window. Can’t do everythin’ for you.”

He stares at you expectantly. Your tailbone is beginning to throb, and for some damning reason, that note still ringing bright in the back of your skull. That’s good. Good, good, good.

Price catches that eager glint the moment it surfaces.

“Go on then, love.” He tips his head. “Close it.”

The rest of you surfaces slowly. You look back for a moment at the indent left on the couch, think about how long that imprint will be there until you feel inclined to fluff out those cushions again.

(Later. You’ll get to it later.)

Shutting the window doesn’t take much effort, but the swampy temperature is noticeable. You turn around a little too quickly, so you hold an arm out to the now sealed vault in an exaggerated show of bravado. I did it, see?

Price slides past you to look outside. He purses his lips when he finds what he’s looking for, and you can almost see the note being stashed into some faraway file.

He turns to you. “Keep this window closed till further notice,” and a hand reaches out to tug the curtains shut, and yellow from the lamp you’d left on last night washes over the room instantly.

“Price.”

“I take my work seriously. You take yours seriously, you’ll need me.”

It feels like a slap in the face. “I do, but that doesn’t mean—”

“My job,” and he points to himself, then to you, “is to keep you out of harm's way. Can’t do this if you don’t trust me.”

“You’re asking a lot for someone who hasn’t—”

You go silent as he reaches a hand into a back pocket, pulls out his hand and you count one, two, three square devices around the size of a nail.

“Busted lock, three faulty cameras, all outside. You’re lucky these people are idiots.” He shoves them back into his pocket before returning his focus to you. “You need me.”

You blink.

Price smiles, raises his eyebrows as if the conversation is already over. “Hungry?”

You stumble back. “But what about—what about the apartment?”

“S’fine,” he says. He checks his watch. “I know a couple guys, you’re in good hands.”

#i literally didn't plan for any of this to happen #THERE WAS SUPPOSED TO BE A SCENE IN A CAR AND NOW I HAVE TO WAIT #but who am i to deny price #captain john price #john price #john price x reader #call of duty #cod #bodyguard!price

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esamastation · 1 year ago

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Part fifty-two of Shizuroth, aka, the SOLDIER General's Self Saving Shizun.

Ao3 link.

Previous parts: forty, forty-one, forty-two, forty-three, forty-four, forty-five, forty-six, forty-seven forty-eight, forty-nine, fifty, fifty-one

"I don't doubt that it's important, but… are you sure this is the right time to leave Midgar? With what is going on in the Science Department… we need all the hands we have here."

"That's why I'm recalling Reno and Rude," Tseng answers, as he finishes tidying up his desk. "I'll take over for them and they'll take over for me. You'll take the lead for now, fill them in."

Cissnei sighs, clasping her elbows loosely, glancing around the office. It already seems a little emptier. "You're the best informed on the situation here, Acting Director Tseng."

Tseng gives her a look and picks up his suitcase. "I know it's a lot to ask this suddenly, but you'll be fine. You have good instincts, Cissnei. And you won't be by yourself for long - Reno and Rude will be here in a day. They'll help you."

"I know I will be fine," Cissnei says with a smile. "The Science Department is usefully sexist, they won't even notice my existence. I just don't like the implication that whatever is going on with Sephiroth trumps what's going on here. That recording must've been bad news."

She hadn't understood more than a few words, her Wutai was still rudimentary - but just hearing Sephiroth, of all people, speaking the language fluently was a bit startling. And judging by Tseng's reaction…

Tseng hesitates and then turns away from his desk. "There's a very real chance that Sephiroth might be thinking of deflection. He's certainly showing sympathy towards the Wutai cause - I don't have to tell you what kind of disaster that would be for the company."

"... No, I get it," Cissnei says and sighs. "It would be a disaster."

"Reno and Rude aren't equipped to handle it. I am not either, no one is, but at least I can offer an alternative view on the situation."

"Alright," Cissnei hums with understanding. "... I'm not put in charge of the office, right?" she then asks and offers him a smile. "Be a bit weird, to put the rookie in charge."

"Rude will be in charge of the office once he gets back - Reno will manage operations. Anything more important than the usual fare, you refer it back to me," Tseng instructs. "But this ongoing situation with the SOLDIER program, I want you to stay on top of it, alright?"

"Of course," Cissnei agrees. "I'll keep watch. I'll message you about any new developments."

"Mn," Tseng nods, and together they head for the elevators.

Cissnei is quiet until they make it inside and begin the slow ride to the top.

"So, what is really going on with Sephiroth?" she asks curiously, giving her boss a sideways look. "I've heard so many rumours. He's developing new magical abilities, right? Ones he doesn't need Materia for."

"Mn. There are many theories," Tseng says. "It's impossible to say which one is closest to the truth. The most common is that he's learned to… read the Mako in his veins."

Cissnei arches her brows and leans against the side of the elevator. "Read it, like… read the memories in the Lifestream?"

Tseng gives her a look. "Don't let anyone from the Science Department hear you say that."

Cissnei grins cheekily. "I won't! But that's it, isn't it? The same Ancient knowledge that makes Materia produce magic is in Mako, right? And Sephiroth has more Mako in him than anyone. So he has the most potential knowledge. Right?"

Tseng shakes his head. "That's the theory."

"Oh, so you don't think that's it?"

"Hmm. I don't know what to think yet. I haven't had the chance to fully observe him. But based on Reno and Rude's reports… no, I don't think that's it. Or at least, it's not all of it."

"Oh?" Cissnei asks interestedly, clasping her elbows again and looking at him closely. "What then? Is it the Ancient blood in his veins?"

Tseng casts her a sideways look. "Where did you hear that?"

"Oh, it's going around! Rumour has it he's a descendant of the Ancients - that's why he looks the way he does, all mystic and ethereal."

Tseng hums noncommittally and looks up at the floor counter. "Is that right?"

Cissnei grins at him. It absolutely is. "So, is that what's going on? Sephiroth coming into his own as an Ancient?"

"I wouldn't know," he says flatly. "And I won't make any conclusions until I see him. As it is, wherever is going on in his head isn't as important as what he will do going forward. He can sprout horns and tail, for all I care, so long as he stays on the right side when he does it."

"How cold," Cissnei says teasingly. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you didn't like him."

"I don't like him. I don't dislike him," Tseng says, not looking down from the counter. "But he's a valued part of the company."

"Mmhmm. Very valued," Cissnei agrees, smiling mirthlessly and then shakes her head. "You know, I kinda pity him."

"... For his upbringing?" Tseng asks.

"For his everything," Cissnei says and sighs. "I read his file too, you know - the unclassified bits, anyway. Sephiroth is like this refined concentrate of everything Shinra stands for. It's a lot for any one person to handle."

"... I guess that's one way to view it," Tseng muses, looking away.

Cissnei chuckles. Not even a bit of sympathy on his face. "So cold," she says and looks up as the doors open. Together they step out of the elevator and Cissnei walks Tseng towards the helicopter waiting on the pad. She hangs around while he goes about pre-flight checks and the startup sequence.

"What about the girl in the slums?" Cissnei asks. "Should we check up on her for you while you're away?"

Tseng hesitates between flicking switches. "If you have the time. Just make sure she and her mother are alright. Keep your distance," he says.

"Of course, she won't even know I'm there," Cissnei agrees. "I don't suppose there's a file on her we should make notes on?"

"Make a new one."

Cissnei smiles and steps back away from the helicopter "Alright, alright, keep your secrets," she says. "Hope you have a safe trip, Tseng. Have fun in Wutai!"

"I won't," Tseng answers, pulling headphones on. "I never do."

#Fanfiction #ffvii #ff7 #Svsss #tseng of the turks #cissnei of the turks

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hannieehaee · 6 months ago

Text

OUTTA MY MIND (teaser)

18+ / mdi

(^ no actual content warnings in the teaser)

wc: 924 (teaser); 7.7k (full fic)

release date: may 31st

or you can check it out on my ko-fi or patreon today by subscribing to either one!

a/n: ive had this in the drafts for a while but kept forgetting to finish it lol anyways i hope u guys enjoy it once it comes out<3 (also not 100% proofread oops..)

masterlist | kofi/patreon

support me through a one time tip<3

It was a few days later in which you found out the details. The opportunity had been even more life-altering than you'd thought.

Jeon Jungkook.

Fuck. Was this going to cause trouble?

....

you can check it out today on my ko-fi or patreon by subscribing to either one!

#bts smut #bts imagine #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook scenario #jungkook fanfic #jungkook smut #bookmarks

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konigsblog · 1 year ago

Note

if ur ok with it ofc, could u write smth with dumbification? i just think the way u write is perfect for it !!

i love dumbification, probably one of my favourite kinks, so this will be long. ill write for price in this!!;

being gagged and bound with his aching, meaty size inside your sore pussy was enough to send you over the edge multiple times. the texture of each vein, recognising each and every singe one of them, as if your walls remember them. your eyes rolled to the back of your head, drool falling from your lips due to having your mouth open the entire time - left a panting, wet and sticky mess beneath his larger figure.

whines and mewls muffled from the ballgag, his cock drilling inside your pussy, your mind empty, the only thoughts remaining being him - especially his cock. he was big, large and hairy; that musk he radiated always became familiar, knowing that others would be disappointed to see their captain fucking the new rookie, using her like a fleshlight, not even sharing with them or explaining himself :( infact, he lets people walks in. maybe it's the thrill of being caught, others knocking how stupid and dumb you get just off his length, how you're reduced to a sobbing and weeping rookie beneath him.

slamming into your repetitively, thrusts deep, starting slow yet increasing in pace. pounding his aching and throbbing size into your wetness, slick flowing and coating his thick dick and your own thighs, legs trembling as you whine and beg. you don't even know if you're begging him to stop because you're so overwhelmed and dizzy, unable to produce anymore thoughts, or if you're begging him to let you cum over again on him, cheeks stained with tears, your expression showing off how desperate you truly were, wearing your stupidity on your face. “ain't you just a stupid, little thing? pretty doll, what makes you think a job like this is good f'you? you're too naive, fuckin' stupid as well.. tell me what you're thinkin' about, dumb babblin' mess? pretty fuckin' thing.. tight and squeezin' around me just like the slut ya' are..”

his words rush right to your core, pulsing around him, barely giving him any room to move. he spanks the inside of your thighs, pulling out for a second to slap at your pussy, his cock resting on your stomach, seeing how far in he really was - causing him to grin. “barely able to take all of me, can you? don't know if you deserve it. go on, fuck yourself back on my cock, sweetheart..” he pushes back inside, just enough for you to bounce back on his weeping girth, stretching out your pussy with his thickness. “there you go.. you look like your struggling, baby.” it feels as if he's degrading you, making you seen like you're not good enough for him, increasing your pace, gasping and panting again and again, that familiar knot in your stomach forming. “pr..i..-” you can barely get his name out, your hips and legs weakened. he grasps you by the hips, pulling you back on his dick and rutting into you.

you squirt all over his length, feeling as if you were going to faint. he continues to use your hole as if you were a useless sextoy for him to use, atleast that's how he views you. filling you up with his bitter semen, sperm spilling from your cunny, seeping out your walls, continuing to spill as he pulls out :(( you can't even think, just immediately passing out on his desk, wiping your cunt with a tissue, his tongue curling inside you and eating his own cum out your hole. “stupid fuckin' whore, so desperate and needy all the time f'me.. what would the others think, rookie..”

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batsplat · 6 months ago

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more thoughts? PLEASE

okay I'm gonna assume this is about my tags on the sete post and well when I was editing I cut out a lot from a bunch of different sections so there's not necessarily... uh. this isn't going to be a coherent addition. but I have a few more thoughts I might as well rattle through

1. reinvention

idk I just enjoy what he's doing with his style changes during that time... like in 2002, 2003 and 2004 you've got a different vibe going on each year. the whole point of that brno hair colour thing was that it was almost a step back into the past, of re-embracing the fun and the whimsy and escaping the constraints and pressures of the present. very much embracing a more youthful vibe when you compare it to 2002, getting back in touch with his inner teenager, all while he's plotting his crazy move to yamaha. and then 2004 obviously he inevitably changes up his colour scheme, but he also lets his hair grow out and it ends up nicely emphasising that this is a New Era for him. not really an original point but there's just something fun and playful to how he uses his cute lil visual storytelling elements, from the hairstyles to the celebrations... he makes it fun to analyse him, y'know? always thinking about The Narrative

2. the symbolism of it all

this bit was too vibes-based to make it into the post but it's basically linked to these bits in the conclusion:

and following on from the reinvention thing, I do think there's something narratively rich to how valentino had to change his approach as a result of the switch to yamaha. you have this... I wouldn't call it a regression necessarily but maybe a recapturing of this playfulness in the middle of 2003 with the whole brno thing, but then there's something a little tougher and hardened about him in his yamaha days that kind of comes from necessity because he just didn't have that margin for error anymore. from the mat oxley reference book:

Some racers think motorcycle racing is a high-speed ballet, others think it's a petrolhead's wrestling match. Valentino always had the killer instinct, but it's significant that he only became known as a warrior rider after he left Honda. Without the technical advantage of the RC211V, he needed to find another way to beat rivals. He found that way at the 2005 Spanish GP, where he battered into Sete Gibernau at the final corner to win the race. He used similarly aggressive tactics to beat Casey Stoner at Laguna Seca in 2008 and Jorge Lorenzo at Motegi in 2010, and to deal with Marc Marquez during 2015. It has been said that Vale invented this kind of racing, although a deeper look into the sport's history reveals that this isn't true. And yet there's no doubt that he loved the thrill of the chase and the thrill of the kill.

and yeah, crucially, he did always have it in him. he was a proper menace in his rookie 125cc season, to the surprise of absolutely no one. but it's a very valentino thing, isn't it... you've got this clown prince persona, you have this exuberance and joie de vivre and all of it, and it's not like any of that is a lie. it's also not like his friendliness to other people is a lie either: the anecdotes about this are pretty consistent in telling you about how he does take genuine interest in his fellow human beings, which is hardly something you can take for granted with the kind of socially isolated egomaniacs competitive sports tends to produce. (though he does also benefit in that regard from coming up through an era in which the sport was still a little less professionalised and he was afforded somewhat more time to develop into a generally more well-rounded character, not a bad thing lbr.) but then, back against the wall, the fangs come out. and in a way that's what the entire 2004 season was about for him - this period where he was actually facing real challenges, a period of transition and transformation where the winning was a little less easy and he changed as a competitor as a result of that

and there's just something... idk, fitting, about how it was sete specifically who ended up being the victim of this, the guy who had always been seen as a little too carefree and nice and soft to cut it at the sharp end of the sport. who valentino had befriended: he'd been happy to blur that line between competitor and friend back then, though obviously that friendship started before sete became a serious threat. if you really want to go off the deep end with this, you could say valentino ended up exorcising the softness within himself by crushing sete. he wasn't going to allow any weakness in his own competitive make up, not when it could actually cost him. and in a way he really did have to understand sete really well, to know how to get to him in the way he did, to know how to play all those little moments in front of the cameras... those moments where he's cold to sete and knows it will unsettle sete, where he extends his hand and knows sete will accept, all of it. targeted cruelty, based on a thorough understanding of sete's character. again, this is a bit of a reach but you could say the two feuds where he went the furthest with his cruelty were against the two blokes who were the most similar to valentino. and, well, sometimes you do have to understand someone to truly know how best to hurt them

the whole episode also ended up signalling something to his competitors, almost like a warning. it's not like his relationship with everyone else in the paddock changed from one day to the next and he still had good friendships with other guys after that - even those he was actually competing against, like nicky hayden or loris capirossi. but inevitably, it will have also shifted perceptions of valentino. after the feud with biaggi you could say he was really young and also a lot of people had problems with biaggi. but gibernau? if you need concrete evidence people took notice of valentino's behaviour, take casey in 2007 saying to valentino that he didn't want their relationship deteriorate the same way it had with biaggi/gibernau. one feud can happen to everyone, two starts looking a little suspicious - three was where it became a pattern

3. rivalries

y'know, I've seen that casey quote about valentino and gibernau and biaggi thrown around a fair few places over the years, but the thing I've always been kind of curious about is what valentino thought about casey telling him that. if this is a pattern of behaviour, then what's happening there is valentino being confronted with that pattern, right? I think an underlying question you have to address at some point with valentino and his rivalries is how aware he is of what he's doing. like, is he consciously engineering feuds or is he doing it subconsciously? and I think it can be a bit misleading if the first valentino feud you come across is the marc one, because it'll prime you to read all the other ones in certain ways that might not be entirely accurate. I've not quite figured out how to express this yet so bear with me here - but marc is the one who valentino felt the most hurt by and continues to feel the most hurt by and as a result it's the most emotionally charged feud from his perspective. but what that also means is it's the feud where he's the least consciously aware of how he himself has contributed to this whole nightmare situation they've got going on. because from his perspective he did treat marc differently from... well, basically from any post-sete major or even minor rival. he offered marc all that kindness and generosity and good will and graciousness in defeat as well as victory and had it thrown in his face

which makes it easy to assume this is all just... well, not just twenty years of feuding but also twenty years of self-delusion. and it's not quite like that - he has more self-awareness than that I think. when you read how he talks about biaggi in his autobiography (who he is kind enough not to completely erase from his narrative), even in 2005 he seems to have a pretty good handle on what that feud really was. okay, maybe he does somewhat shirk responsibility and somewhat overemphasises the role of the media as opposed to his own malice, but there's an awareness of how stupid and silly and mean-spirited the whole thing was. it was just a kind of nasty rivalry with a guy valentino didn't like much - but who, for what it's worth, wasn't exactly going out of his way to be nice to valentino either. sure, it ended up being torture for biaggi, and sure valentino did maybe relish inflicting said torture a little more than is morally appropriate. but y'know, in some ways, it's quite straightforward, this honest mutual dislike. uncomplicated, even

and this I did not include in the actual sete post because it's just complete and utter speculation, but I wonder to what extent the sete experience did end up changing valentino's approach to his competitors. whether he deliberately embraced that side of himself a little more and was a little more considered and calculating in how he treated his rivals, more in touch with his inner bastard, if you will. even if he just had in the back of his mind that something like with sete could happen again, even if he was just a bit more careful about keeping certain blokes at arm's length. because, remember, from his perspective this was also the first time a relationship with a rival deteriorated this drastically - now you can say 'yeah but it was his fault', but that doesn't change how it was a new experience for valentino too! he was also learning stuff about himself in the process, going through an important journey of self-exploration, etc etc. love crushing my enemies on the path to self-actualisation

and valentino did learn a lot from that whole experience on-track, he did learn useful skills in terms of managing rivalries - so maybe he also looked at what worked on sete in the psychological warfare department and, y'know, consciously made a note of it. when casey delivered that little spiel to valentino about not wanting their relationship to deteriorate, I assume valentino responded perfectly pleasantly in the moment... but I do also think he was extremely ready to deliberately sour their dynamic if he had to. zero self-delusion required

he's quite calculating with casey and jorge I feel... especially with casey, he really didn't waste his time feeling emotionally slighted or coming up with reasons why casey was the devil and needed to be destroyed. he wanted to destroy casey because he wanted to win, and was comfortable enough in his own skin to use the full bag of tools and tricks to do so, no complex internal narratives to justify the whole thing needed. for him, that was all just part of the game. it wasn't for casey, which is a topic for an entirely different post, but... well, casey and jorge in particular are the ones who have spoken about this valentino desire to create enemies, to give himself someone to hate etc. and in a way, ironically I would say they're the two for who that was the least true. yeah, they gave him a helpful target and he was perfectly happy to whip up drama where needed. but I don't really think he was going to any particular lengths to invent reasons to hate them (even his 2010 dramatics were really just faffing about). he found them both kinda annoying and he wanted to beat them. that's it

4. these photos of valentino and sete at sepang 2004

idk I just like photos that have nebulously bad vibes if you know the context. it would have been quite funny if they'd consistently used the same shade of yellow in sepang press conferences over the years

5. marc

all of the stuff above does to me really emphasise how... god. this is the thing about valentino and marc, right, as a tragic narrative - it feels inevitable in many ways that this had to somehow go wrong, but then at the same time the exact way in which it did end up going wrong was reliant on so many things playing out the exact way in which they did, that it feels like if you could have just slightly changed things... like, let's say for a moment my baseless speculation about valentino is correct and he did become a little more careful and deliberate in how he approached his relationships with his competitors after the sete experience. there's so much that had to come together for him to lower his guard around marc to the extent that he did. again, injuries, ducati, how he wasn't really competitive in 2013, how dominant marc was especially in the first half of 2014... all these things that came together to lull them both into this false sense of security, spurred on by genuine interpersonal chemistry - all of which allowed them to even become friends in the first place

think about what the early marc and valentino relationship looks like if you're casey (who, bless him, certainly wasn't paying close enough attention to motogp to be aware of 'press conference vibes') or jorge (who, bless him, was unfortunately unable to avoid said press conference vibes). isn't there a little part of you that goes 'what the fuck is all this then' when you see valentino act like marc is god's gift to motorcycle racing after spending years enacting elaborate hazing rituals any time particularly promising talent had come through? casey's little 'yeah he was fucking with me in practise in 2006' line, jorge... okay in valentino's defence, it's worth pointing out that their 2008 relationship was more cordial than literally anyone had expected, and things only really soured in 2010. but still, their camps did already start up a healthy habit of sniping at each other in the press in 2009 and they did have the whole cold war cosplay situation going on, so. jorge certainly wasn't being given the kid gloves treatment

and sure, 2014 was a pretty drama free year for everyone because the general consensus was 'what would be the point', and I suppose if you're jorge you might also just assume the old man's washed and has gone soft in his advanced age. but still! I think I'd be a tad peeved myself, especially given valentino immediately fell into a lovely little habit of taking marc's side in controversies from the very start of marc's rookie season. but that's kind of the point - valentino's entire approach to marc required that past history of feuding for him to fall back on, for him to imitate/echo when the moment arrived (as I talked about here)... but it also required valentino to have gotten enough distance from all of his past misadventures for him to not have that sort of mindset from the outset when it came to marc

which, another thing I feel like maybe can get obscured a little if you're looking back on past rivalries with the marc-lens - this concept of valentino 'switching up' towards his opponents. because I do actually think there is something categorically different between the sete + marc rivalries when compared to any of his other ones - and it's how deliberate that switch-up is from valentino's perspective, vs to what extent it's driven by 'genuine' emotion. I just think there were rivalries (for a given value of the word if we're including melandri here) between sete's era and marc's era where valentino decided he was going to create a little distance there - but it was all part of the game. he didn't hate those guys. he just wanted to win, and understood as much about himself

but he does hate marc, because that rivalry was never supposed to be like the other ones. which, in the end, is what made it far far worse

6. che spettacolo

'he was so happy after sealing his first yamaha title :)' I go, knowing he had just pulled off a pretty fucking nasty spite win against a bloke he'd recently put a curse on. he really did risk quite a lot in the penultimate round of the season, just because he could not bear to see sete win that race. revealing, isn't it? obviously he'd always try to win the race, but... at times he just couldn't help himself in how far he went

anyway, it's my favourite of his title-winning shirts. a deliberate departure from tradition - he told his team he didn't want logos or any other decoration or even any mention that he was world champion again. the reasoning he gave was that nobody would expect it from him, which... well, yeah, it's what that whole year was about, wasn't it? about doing the unexpected, about proving everyone wrong - and, in the end, about putting on a show. like all the best valentino celebrations, it gets the message across and explains to you quite clearly what he thinks the story of his victory was. memorable in its simplicity but tells you everything you need to know

one of his career highlights <3 it's in character that the whole thing was just a little bit evil

7. film

I cannot for the life of me remember when this was except it was post-2015, but one time in a presser valentino was asked which rivalry of his he'd make into a movie and his answer was biaggi. obviously it's hard to argue with the dramatic appeal of that particular story and it's certainly got a lot of very memorable moments, but my hot take is that the sete rivalry has got it beat by virtue of having a far clearer narrative arc. it's a slightly unusual, slightly odd story for a sports rivalry... like I said in the sete post, people aren't typically all that compelled by sports rivalries where you know from the outset which one of them is better. what's the point then, right? very much the indie flavour rivalry, a little more niche and philosophical and inscrutable and, y'know, darker. this is a feud that centres around a curse, after all. this one's for the girls who get it etc etc

valentino's erasure of sete is interesting for a lot of reasons, but it's a shame because it really is such a good narrative arc that adds so much to the transition to yamaha. the transformation valentino himself went through as a competitor, how he responded to real threats emerging, revealing your true nature in extremis and all of that... I'm not entirely convinced by how sete says valentino didn't need to do what he did against sete - he said it specifically about jerez, which I suppose is debatable, but I imagine he meant it more broadly too. there was a moment valentino could have lost that 2004 championship. and he'd already decided he would do anything to stop that from happening, which things like that assen last lap nicely symbolised. the thing about judging valentino for the foibles and the spite and the dishonesty and the competitive paranoia and all of it - well, at the end of the day they are key aspects of his make up as a competitor for a reason. you can judge him as a person... but as an athlete, more often than not they worked out in his favour. that's what's so interesting about sepang 2015 in a way - it's the only time the whole thing well and truly backfired

(I know casey has drawn the comparison between himself and marc before and argued valentino's biggest mistake was in making enemies but... well. was it? it wasn't against casey - valentino did not lose anything by making an enemy out of casey and he very well may have gained a lot, depending on what your read of the 2008 season is. very much a topic for another post... but this is the thing right, I think it's perfectly reasonable to object to valentino's behaviour on moral grounds, less reasonable to ignore why it was such a big part of who he was as a competitor and how it helped him succeed. I completely understand why casey wants to draw that comparison, but - perhaps unfortunately - it's a little too nice to be true that valentino's malice cost him as much as casey suggests it did)

valentino learns a lot from the sete rivalry in terms of his storytelling and self-mythologisation, not least in how he plays up the theatre of the sepang presser. one aspect that really stands out to me is the pointed cruelty of his celebrations after sepang. from the sete post:

revisiting his whole 'character arc' from the 2003-05 period here, you've got this reversion in 2003, right, this throwback to the antics of his teenage years, and then you've got him getting meaner in 2004... and these things are married here. the whimsy and fun inherent to his celebrations is being wielded in the name of humiliating his competitors, of making a joke out of them. there's this thin line between joy and malice, where throughout his career he seems so endlessly capable of both - even at the same time, clearly. he's obviously already shown himself capable of mocking his opponents in the biaggi days, but, I don't know, it really does feel like there's something to how deliberately the humiliation is incorporated into the theatre of victory here. what a spectacle indeed

8. rage and panic

but then again, I really don't want to pretend like valentino is perfectly rational or calculating in what he's doing here. remember where all this started - in qatar, a race where he well and truly lost his cool and he knows as much. I included the relevant autobiography section in this post, but just to put the bit here that's bit about qatar itself:

he knows his brain fucked him over! I also think it's interesting that this reads slightly differently from his immediate post-race quotes, which I included in the sete post:

was he angry or was he relaxed or, somehow, both? was that unfortunate moment of relaxation caused by the inevitable letdown from the anger - was it unsustainable to ride like that? either way, the key bit to me is the heightened emotions involved and how usually he has it under control, usually he can use all of this in his own interest to spur himself on... except when he can't. as I pointed out in the tags of the qatar post, there are elements of that race that do remind you of another 25 year old rider who had received a penalty he felt was unfair and was working his way through the field while running hot on emotion. it's all fun and games and smiling assassins etc etc, but if you get them really angry...

and, y'know, in a way there's an element of panic to his post-qatar media rampage. okay, sure, he was clearly furious and the whole thing did end up working out in his favour, but in the moment he must have also been scared he was going to end up losing a championship he'd thought he basically had wrapped up. it's funny because if motogp were a sane and normal sport, valentino (allegedly) vowing his title rival would never win a race again on live tv should have been a moment of foolishness and hubris and should have been remembered as such. it should have been him losing it for a moment there and saying a bunch of stuff he'd need to gloss over and hope everyone moves on quickly from. it is absolutely bonkers that it all played out the way it did post-qatar and it just like... all went in his favour. it could not have gone better for him. there's a world in which 2004 is remembered as the title valentino squandered. but sometimes hubris gets rewarded, I suppose

9. margin

sane and normal sport, huh? the thing about sports is that none of it is sane and normal. if you actually go through the races one by one and look at all the instances sete could have won a race post-qatar, it does feel just incredibly improbable that sete never won a single one of those damn things. I mean, there are five races where he's literally going into the last lap(!!) with a chance of winning. (in the name of journalistic integrity I do have to point out sete's fuel ran out in the last lap of brno so he didn't really have a chance of winning, but that just brings us back to the 'does motogp exist in a parallel universe where black magic is real' question.) in three of them, sete is ahead of valentino at some point of that final lap

one of the worst things about sports is that sometimes it can trick you into thinking the final outcome is in doubt when it actually kind of isn't. the fact that these two blokes are arriving at the last lap together fools you into thinking that both of them have a decent shot of winning. but obviously it doesn't actually work like that. call it skill and the extra margin of error a decisive performance edge will provide you, call it a clutch factor, call it how 'broken' sete was - it really was just the illusion of proximity, the illusion of tight margins. maybe it really was a test of wills. in two of those races, valentino risked quite a lot to win. phillip island for obvious title arithmetic reasons, jerez because he's literally throwing his bike against sete's in his desperation to prevent sete from beating him. in some ways, it feels unfair to judge sete's mentality too harshly - firstly because this is an insane person sport and I do think he has a point when he says it's maybe not a great idea to laud crash-happy riders for their 'bravery', and secondly because he was just fundamentally the worse rider, which obviously means it was always going to be harder for him to beat valentino than vice versa. but, and this is without any judgement, sete's problem was that valentino always would have been willing to go further than him in his desire to win. to be good at the insane person sport... you do unfortunately have to be insane

10. momentum

I'm not going to be able to do this justice here so I'll only address it very briefly. but I've referred quite a few times to what valentino 'learned' from those years and the sete rivalry and how it helped him acquire tricks he'd be able to use for his other rivals in the future, and there's one aspect of this that kind of stands out to me. you know this bit, right:

this is the thing to me, he becomes so much more proficient at managing momentum. take his 2001 season, he was just kinda doing stuff... panicked a little bit when he had a bad race at the sachsenring until jb talked him off the ledge and reminded him that neither him nor the bike were all that great there. poor thing. and then 2002 and 2003 didn't really have title fights, though I guess 2003 did have a mid-season turning point of sorts when valentino just decided he'd had enough of losing races. which is a nice thing to be able to do, I suppose

but yeah, obviously I already addressed at length how valentino did his whole show at sepang to stop sete's momentum cold, and then how he fatally undermined sete's self-belief and hope and conviction in jerez a few races later - basically stopping that title bid before it even got started. which is all well and good, but... okay, how do you actually manage to make your three most famous overtakes so meaningful? obviously the cause and effect relationship is a bit muddled here - just because they're his most famous overtakes, they're not necessarily his best, and we remember them particularly strongly because they had such a strong impact on his fortunes. but still, when you think about it... sepang was only a turning point that season because of the theatre and not because of the race itself, his overtake in jerez was 100% last minute desperation... but laguna and catalunya? he literally could not have scripted those races more perfectly

both happen at a time when he really, really needs a big win. in 2008, he might have had the points on his side but he sure didn't have the momentum, with casey's three consecutive wins on a ducati that finally seemed well-settled enough to fight for the title and with a lot of strong casey tracks to come. like, he basically wasn't the title favourite any more going into that race - even at the end of laguna one of the commentators still referred to casey as "the man to beat" for the rest of the season. in 2009, the situation was similarly dire. from here (I say like I'm citing something more substantial than my own tumblr posts):

they were both races that valentino went into at a time when he was in serious trouble - but on the flip side they also presented a serious opportunity. both laguna (a race casey must have felt completely certain he would win) and catalunya (jorge's home race) were ones where he could really hurt his rivals. at some point that weekend, whether before the race for casey or before the final corner for jorge, both of them would have been 100% confident they'd win... and valentino stole those victories from right under their noses. and the thing is, right, he couldn't have planned exactly how those races went. first of all because, contrary to whatever the italian public may believe, he is not literally a god. and second of all, the specific overtakes everyone remembers are also ones that inherently had a lot of risk attached to them you'd obviously prefer to avoid. at laguna you have the excursion into the dirt where he needed skill and also quite frankly luck to not crash. catalunya was a last corner overtake - and as we've established, valentino by this point had learned his lesson about leaving it that late if he had any choice in the matter

still, it's not like it was just fate or coincidence or any of that. obviously, he did get lucky that these races unfolded in such a perfect manner for him... but athletes do have a hand in creating their own luck. for laguna, and this is so very much a topic for another post, valentino deliberately deployed tactics to fuck with casey in a way that ended up generating that overtake - without getting into it too much, he basically knew he couldn't allow casey to be ahead going into turn 10 (the corkscrew's turn 8). so if you've decided in advance that come what may, you'll stick your bike in front of your rival's bike in a certain corner... well, if you get lucky, then maybe you can create a little magic. with catalunya, he said afterwards that he'd been imagining that overtake for the whole week before the race. incidentally, according to the commentators jorge had told them that if you're ahead going into the last two corners, you've won the race (which is obviously the kind of thing you should never say, are you insane??) - and that's the key, isn't it. here too, there's a meeting of skill and luck and jorge maybe not being as diligent in protecting the inside line as he should have been (a fact that casey, always polite, full of tact, ever helpful, was willing to repeatedly point out to jorge) and it could have very much ended up with two bikes in the dirt and some awkward conversations within yamaha that evening... but still, at the end of the day, you've got to "invent something" as the commentators put it, you've got to come up with that move and decide it's possible and visualise it again and again before eventually turning it into reality. both of those wins and both of the overtakes everyone remembers were at least to some extent built on tactics and prior planning and valentino deliberately producing something special when he really needed to

the other key bit is, okay, obviously it's not that remarkable that valentino immediately clocked they were important wins, given he'd intended them to be important wins going into the respective races and he knew full well how dramatic the duels had been... but he was still very adept at leaning into the theatre of it all. the idea that valentino came up with the idea of kissing the corkscrew during the race is very funny to me, but it is pretty plausible given he will have had time to do so while coasting at the front after casey's fall. and it's just very memorable, isn't it? sure, that corkscrew overtake helped him win the race, but so did the first lap move into turn 8 or that nifty move on the outside of turn 3 on the lap casey went down. the battle still continued for another twenty odd laps after that corkscrew overtake, but valentino had the shrewd showman's acumen to immediately pinpoint that as the moment of the race, the thing everyone would remember, the defining image, and paid tribute to it in his celebrations to ensure the association would stick in everyone's minds

obviously, he also goes for all kinds of over the top celebrations in catalunya, including wildly ecstatic fist pumping on the bike and breaking out of parc fermé to soak up the adulation of jorge's home fans and all that stuff. and he's a huge fan of the fact he got his 99th career win beating the number 99, because of course he is

also obviously he does that annoying thing where he goes up to both of them while they're doing their interviews so their reactions will be recorded for posterity. so yeah, that's the thing, right... it's about knowing immediately the wins are special and meaningful and signalling with your overblown celebrations how meaningful they are to everyone else so that everyone else is extra sure to remember them and talk about them forever and ever... obviously he got lucky here, obviously it's a little crazy that both those races worked out that well from his perspective. but, y'know. got to hand it to him, I guess. something pretty neat about how both times he went 'yes I am going to change the momentum of the season today'... and he did. plus you've got to give him credit for the fact that he actually capitalised on his momentum, which isn't always easy, and basically took control of both seasons from that point onward (if in different ways and to different extents). he knew he had to take advantage of how his rivals were on the back foot after his daring victories, and he did. you could almost say, right, he knew he had to bite harder when his opponent was already bleedi- *gunshot rings out*

bonus: valencia

so the thing about this whole 'back to back wins with different manufacturers' business is that, understandably, everyone focuses on the welkom side of the equation. very spectacular, very unlikely win, really shouldn't have been possible and somehow valentino did it anyway. but, y'know, that other side of the equation is noteworthy in its own right! he really was crap at valencia. eighth place in his 1999 250cc campaign, his worst result all year when he finished the race (1 dnf that season)... his 2000 title campaign died there when he crashed... eleventh place in 2001, his worst result all year when he finished the race (1 dnf)... in 2002, he got second place there, one of only five races that season he didn't win

but he really, really wanted to win that race in valencia. now, personally, my assumption has always been it was kind of supposed to be a 'fuck you' to honda, which I still completely believe btw. but this is how he himself frames it:

I was the one who worried. Saturday night I took pictures of myself hugging and embracing the RC211V. I wanted to say goodbye to my bike because I knew that tomorrow we would race our last race together. Leaving the RC211V was what hurt most. In fact, I now believe the reason it took me so long to say yes to Yamaha was because I was so attached to that bike. As I looked at the RC211V and thought that we would soon be separated, I genuinely feared that it would take a very long time before I once again tasted victory. That's why I decided I had to win that last race of the 2003 season. It would be a great way of saying goodbye of course, but also I wanted to stock up on victories, I wanted to have the taste of triumph fresh in mind because who knew when I would win again with Yamaha?

which, okay, setting aside for a minute what a freak he is about these bloody bikes, there's two underlying reasons he expresses here for why he's so desperate to win this race. first of all, yes, he really loves that bike and wants to give it the farewell their partnership deserves. and second of all, more poignantly (for the non-bike fuckers anyway), he really did not know when he'd win again. I don't know, it's something that stuck with me... I think we can talk all we like about how big a risk it was and what a step into the unknown it was and nobody believed he could do what he did etc etc, but to me this is just the most straightforward way of capturing that uncertainty. valentino wanting to remember the taste of victory, because he knew he might be giving it up for a long time. he loves winning so, so much, he's done so much over the years to win, he's never been able to stop chasing the high... and yet he walked away from that bike

"I decided I had to win that last race" is in itself funny because obviously a lot of people can't just 'decide' to win races. which, yes, it's just a thing people say, but it does capture the essence of that type of valentino win where it feels like he's won it through sheer force of will. a lot of the times, these are his spite wins - the phillip island 2004's and jerez 2005's of this world - hey, speaking of sete duels, we should include le mans and sachsenring and brno and qatar 2005 as well. various biaggi wins, perhaps most memorably the middle finger race in suzuka 2001 and his last lap overtake in phillip island 2001, where he won his first premier class title. when he beats spaniards in dramatic battles at catalunya like 2004, 2005, 2009, 2016. his fury at his penalty at phillip island 2003 that results in that spectacular fifteen second margin over the field. his desire to fuck with jorge in motegi/sepang 2010. let's throw in his dominant win in jerez 2016 in enemy territory, the first race win he'd had of that nature since... oof, let me have a think, maybe assen 2009? (incidentally, the race that directly followed catalunya.) like, man, this is not how he was winning races post-prime, it was always one hell of a struggle - with one glaring exception

which makes it worth pointing out that the second and indeed last time he won in valencia was in 2004, when he was in the process of dismantling sete. now, given sete ended up finishing fourth, it wasn't strictly necessary to get the win to ensure the curse continued doing its thing. but, y'know, there was a point where sete was in front of valentino on-track. then sete tries to overtake biaggi, pretty firmly it has to be said, and pushes them both wide allowing valentino to sweep right on through, which I found pretty funny icl. anyway, the best way to ensure your rival doesn't win a race is to win it yourself, right? after the frustration of qatar, he reacted by winning the last three races of the season spurred on by sheer spite. no wonder he took notes and learned a little something about how to best motivate himself

bonus 2: things that aged badly

october 2003, mind you. he really got those guys good

bonus 3: dovi

I mean, come on. it is a little bit funny that both valentino and marc acquire a new rival at age 24 seemingly out of nowhere who was their main rival for three years. (I don't care what the championship standings say, marco melandri was not valentino's main rival in 2005 - sete might have been extremely cursed but those were still The Battles that year.) said rival was 6-7 years older than them, known for being a particularly smart rider and a wet weather specialist, and announced themselves as a major threat in large part through winning two dramatic last lap duels against the all time great in the first year of that rivalry. both rivalries were (well, initially in valentino's case) notable for being significantly warmer on an interpersonal level than the ATG's previous major rivalry

both had previously been hrc riders but had been fired by the team. gibernau had one premier class win before 2003, dovi had two before 2017, and all three of those wins came in the wet. ofc dovi did have a bit more pedigree - the 125cc title, stronger results in the premier class, considerably more podiums. but both dovi and gibernau weren't really supposed to be the main rival to the ATG, not even within their own team - though, obviously, the reasons why they ended up assuming that mantle couldn't have been more different. with both of them, people said they'd changed their approach to riding, mainly in terms of their mentality - and that it had helped them grow into their new role as the primary challenger

there's not really a point here... I just think it's neat. obviously it is a little funny how differently those respective relationships unfolded, but I also wouldn't say it's fair to entirely pin that on the personalities involved, as opposed to circumstantial factors. that being said

#brr brr #//#sg15 #this post is very much just throwing stuff at the wall. lightly edited brainstorming from my notes #heartwarming: tumblr user proves they are capable of editing their essay-length posts by showing way worse was possible #no wonder I answer asks at a snail's pace... sorry if you've sent me something. may take a while #batsplat responds #heretic tag #curse tag #wall tag

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