#until one day race takes his headphones and is like | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

multifandomgirl08 · 4 months

Text

Time to Move? [Mini Verstappen Series]

Dad!Max Verstappen x Fiancée!Reader (Established Relationship)

Summary: When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year. Maybe it was time to find a new place for all of you.

Warning(s): Implied Sexual Content in the first half

Words: 2.6k

Previous Part → Next Part Mini Verstappen Masterlist

Nico was already in bed for the night after refusing to go to sleep without Max reading him a story. He had protested until you offered to read Nico two stories if he let Papa finish his race. Nico perked up and then dragged his feet to bed. He made it through the first story, and by the time you were getting through the second one, he was falling asleep.

You joined Max in the living room after Nico had fallen asleep, where he was sitting on his racing sim talking to someone before he logged off for the night. Max and the guys from Team Redline had been streaming tonight.

“Yeah, I’ll be back on tomorrow.” He said before clicking something on the steering wheel.

“Sure, bye guys.” Max turned the sim off before pulling off his headphones and stepped out of his seat.

Your laptop was open looking at houses. You and Max had been talking about moving from his apartment to a house. You had been looking at houses online for the last few days and you couldn’t find anything in Monaco that looked like it was a good house for Nico to grow up in. You wanted things like a few bedrooms for you and Max to have your own spaces in the house, a pool, and a yard for Nico.

“How’s looking at houses?” He asked taking the empty can of Red Bull before throwing it in the recycling bin in the kitchen.

“It’s like there is nothing for sale. Maybe we should hire someone to find something for us.” You shut your laptop and put it on the coffee table.

“We don’t have to stay in Monaco, we can move further out.”

“We could, maybe moving out a little further would help.”

“I’m sure we’ll find something, there’s no rush.”

He was right there wasn’t, there was just so much going on for all of you right now. You were sitting down with the wedding planner while working, and you had recently just started to figure out how Nico’s karting schedule would end up working with Max’s schedule for the rest of the season. You didn’t even want to think about what was going on at work right now.

“I know.”

When Max had brought up moving, it was because the lease on his apartment was going to be up at the end of the year, so you suggested looking at buying a house instead of renting. You would be able to have your own office, instead of just having your desk set up in the living room, Max could have his racing sim in one of the guest rooms, and Nico would have more room for his toys since he was slowly growing out of his bedroom. Max’s two-bedroom apartment made sense when you had moved in but now there wasn’t as much room for the three of you to grow into. It just made sense for you to find somewhere with more space.

Max had pulled you from the couch guiding you towards the master bedroom to take your mind off of the events of the day. Max leaned down, your lips meeting, feeling his eyelashes flutter closed against your cheekbones.

Your hands went to his back, letting your fingernails slightly dig into the fabric of his shirt. You slid your hands under the hem feeling his warm soft skin under your fingers. He pulled back only to start to pull at the tight fabric of his shirt, letting it fall to the floor hitting your bare feet.

It had taken another month looking at houses before you and Max even bothered talking to a real estate agent. Eventually, on a Sunday, both you and Max woke up early, dropping Nico off at Daniel’s for the day before going to meet the realtor. The Aussie had taken Nico from your arms, almost shooing both you and Max out of his apartment, wanting to spend every moment that he could with his godson.

“Uncle Daniel has it all handled,” He said, taking the bag out of Max’s hands. Nico was already situated on the couch asking Daniel if he had any fun games that they could play.

After that you and Max walked down to the garage to get into his car. He pulled open your door for you before you slid into the seat.

Max had gotten in and then started the car, you were making a small list of all of the things the house would need, “Pool, gym, 4 or 5 bedrooms.”

“And a big garage, I’m going to need a workspace to keep working on Nico’s kart.” Max’s focus was on the road but it seemed like the list for what you wanted was never ending.

You were meeting the realtor just outside of Monaco in a gated community. At least you wouldn’t have to worry about privacy. Max had pulled the car up to the house, and it could only be described as a big, modern, white box.

“I bet the moment we step into the house, we’ll be able to smell that the paint isn’t all the way dry.” You gave a small nod agreeing with Max. The house was new, too new for your liking.

You met the agent inside, he spoke with a thick French accent and told you the basic information of the house. It was on almost a full acre of land, had a pool, 4 bedrooms, a kitchen, a 2-car garage, and it was under 14 million euros. However, as you looked around the house there was no grass for Nico to run around on, and the closets in the house were small with the master bedroom sharing a single small closet.

This wasn’t the house for you and Max.

The next house you and Max drove to wasn’t on the market yet, it would be going up in about a week, and it didn’t even have an estimated price from the seller. It was close to Monaco, but a little higher up in the hills. You were concerned that since it was just outside of the city, it may not be considered as a part of Monaco, but rather in the next part over.

As Max pulled up to the gate, the guard had let you through. It looked like a cream one-story house, and you could see that there was a small water feature that led to the front door. The agent had walked in front of you with the key that had been in the lockbox before opening the door leading to a long entryway. It looked like going left would lead to the living room, and going right would lead to the dining room and the kitchen. But your eyes went front and center, looking out on the big backyard and pool, you felt like asking if all of the outdoor furniture came with the house.

You could feel Max’s hand on your hip, leading you down the hall to the kitchen. You could tell from the kitchen that it was a little dated but not too bad. It had a free-standing coffee maker instead of one that was built in, and an induction top stove, instead of a gas top like at the apartment. If you and Max got the house it was something that would need to be re-done before you moved in.

You and Max walked around the house for a while longer, the house turned out to be two stories, not one. It had two bedrooms upstairs both with en-suite bathrooms. When you had taken the stairs from the kitchen, it led down a long hallway that was photoless aside from the doorways that led to other rooms.

Max had stopped in front of a set of double doors, before pushing one open to reveal what could only be the master bedroom. There were doors that seemed to lead outside, the bed was up against the wall on the opposite side of the room, and it seemed like two doorways were hugging each side behind the bed. You and Max walked through one each, you ended up in a closet with white built-in shelves and a center island before seeing what was another doorway. You walked through it, and ended up meeting Max in the middle of the bathroom, which was settled between the two large closets; his and hers.

You gave the bathroom a quick look over, a big walk in shower with a bench, freestanding tub, makeup counter, and two sinks. From there you walked the rest of the second floor, there were another three bedrooms, a gym, and a wine cellar tucked away in the corner. The house had more than enough room for you, Max, Nico, and the cats.

From there you made your way back upstairs, finally walking outside to see the pool. The upstairs terrace had stairs leading down to the pool.

Max took your hand and led you down the stairs before you both stopped in front of the pool to see the birdseye view of Monaco and the Mediterranean sea from the backyard, even this far up in the mountains the sea still gave off a bright blue shine almost as if it was mirroring the sky.

You could hear Max’s shoes against the grass as he moved to lie down in one of the lounge chairs, his head already laid back closing his eyes. You pulled your heels off, moving to sit next to him on the lounge before he pulled you flush against his chest to lay down next to him.

“You like it?” He muttered into your hair.

“Yes.” You answered simply.

“I’ll ask him when it’s going to be put on the market.” Max didn’t even move from his spot, he just wrapped his arm around your waist, forcing your legs apart so that you were straddling one of his thighs.

“We don’t even know how much it is,” You started. “And the kitchen needs to be re-done.”

Max ran his hands over your arms, silently telling you to calm down, “We’ll figure it out. Besides, the last house is all the way on the other side of Monaco.”

You laid your head against Max’s chest, nuzzling your nose into his white t-shirt.

“Now you're just being lazy.” Max let out a loud laugh at your words.

“You wore me out with your late night activities.” His hand moved down to grip the inside of your thigh.

“You weren’t complaining then.” You gave him a small pout. Max gave you a crooked smile and then reached for your hand, kissing the band of your engagement ring.

You and Max laid there for a few more moments before making your way back up the stairs and into the living room to see the agent on the phone.

He looked up at the sound of your heels clicking on the white stone outside of the pocket doors.

“So, what do you think?” He asked.

“It’s nice,” Max started.

“That’s good. A little more what you were expecting… And it’s still within the Monaco postal code, so you don’t have to worry about not being considered a resident while you’re living here, even though you're technically in Saint-Jean Cap Ferret.” As the agent talked, you knew that it meant that the price would go down a bit since you weren’t actually in Monaco still.

“What’s the price?” The agent widened his eyes. He wasn’t expecting Max to just outright ask about the price.

“Well… Umm… I think the owner was looking at 17.5 million euros.”

“17.5,” You stated, the agent nodded. “What about 16.5? Given that I want to re-due the kitchen, and I would want to negotiate for the furniture to come with the house.”

“The kitchen is brand new,” The agent stated, but you knew he was lying. “And all of the furniture is from a staging company.”

“No, the kitchen isn’t, it has a free standing coffee maker, and the fronts of the cabinets need to be replaced. I’m sure the seller can pay out the staging company. Let’s also talk about the fact that it also isn’t on the market yet. I bet that the seller will want to list it at 17.5 and it’ll sit because the price is too high.”

You didn’t work in real estate but after all of your years in banking, private asset management was something you were knowledgeable in. Homes like this one were important assets in a portfolio. Since the house wasn’t new construction, and the seller wasn’t the original builder, they couldn’t price it at 17.5 million given the other homes in the area.

“He won’t go for that.”

“Why don’t you ask him?” You weren’t really suggesting it. But the agent was making it hard for you, you had clients at work who were more decisive in their choices then this guy.

It took a few seconds, but it was almost like the agent had scurried off to the other side of the house with his hand tightly gripping his phone.

“So this is what I’m missing while you’re working all day.” Max said softly, as he laid one of his hands on your hip.

“Max,” You said. He had pulled you into his chest and quickly dropped a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“I’m sitting in on one of your meetings next time.” You couldn’t tell if Max was joking or not. You knew that he was only trying to make you relax a bit.

“And what are you going to do while I’m busy?”

“I’ll find something to entertain myself with.” You saw Max’s eyes drop to your neck, before they quicked moved up again to meet your eyes.

“Want to play my assistant for the day?” You asked him. You could see the excitement fill Max’s eyes, and knew that if Max was going to watch you “work” you weren’t going to get anything done that day. He gave you a wordless nod before you heard footsteps again.

“16.5 million, all cash, outdoor furniture included.” The Agent was quick to say with his phone pressed into his white shirt.

Max just looked at you, and you read it as he was letting you take care of this. You gave the agent a half nod, “With a 14 day inspection contingency.”

The agent just stared at you, and you could hear sound coming from his phone. He gave you a curt nod, and placed his phone back up to his ear reiterating your additional stipulation.

It took a few moments before the agent got off the phone. “The seller is willing to take the additional stipulation.”

“Great.” You said.

“I’ll start the paperwork and we should have everything ready in the next few days.” The agent placed his hand out towards you. You shook his hand, and then he shook Max’s. “Congratulations on your new home.”

The agent left both of you in the house, instructing you to place the key back in the lock box. Technically you weren’t allowed to have the keys until the paperwork went through and everything was signed and notarized.

“Welcome home.” Max said with his hand on your hip.

“Tell me that again when we get the keys and the kitchen is re-done.”

Max laughed, “I’ll make sure, mijn leeuwin.”

You leaned into Max and up to kiss him. It would take a little bit but you couldn’t wait to make this house into yours and Max’s home.

Mini Verstappen taglist: @karmabyfernando, @barcagirly, @sachaa-ff, @iamahallucinationnn, @musingsbyshreya, @glow-ish, @nonsensical-nonsence, @fanboyluvr, @champomiel, @gothicwidowsworld, @lighttsoutlewis, @itsalwaysgay, @minkyungseokie, @mynameisangeloflife, @ursforever129, @aundercover, @bborra, @mindless-rock, @cixrosie, @barcelonaloverf1life, @taylorslovesswifties13, @konsti081, @mellowarcadefun, @smnthnclj, @brekkers-whore, @lpab, @thedecalcomania-blog, @xoscar03, @em-gvf01, @haikyuen, @shelbyteller , @geniusalpaca

#mini verstappen series #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #mv33 imagine #mv33 x reader #mv33 x you #mv1 x reader #mv1 x you #mv1 imagine #f1 imagine #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #formula one imagine

469 notes · View notes

hannie-dul-set · 3 months

Text

나비 / NABI — ONE.

SYNOPSIS. in which you’re trying your damned best to willfully ignore your feelings for your friend of over twenty years, but— as always— life seems to have a different plan paved out for you.

PAIRING. choi beomgyu x female! reader. GENRE. childhood friends to not quite friends (derogatory) to not quite friends (endearment) to lovers, romance, humor, hurt/comfort but more on comfort, coming of age, slowburn, college! au, “it’s always been you” trope, pining, tons of denial, beomgyu is the only man ever, featuring a large ensemble of idols from various groups. WARNINGS. swearing, explicit language, alcohol consumption, rumors as a plot device, mentions of sex, a few minor injuries. WORD COUNT. 9k (out of 40k).

NOTE. hehe...it’s here. this first part is a little short and slow, but things are gonna start picking up from here! please let me know what you think so far 😭😭 half my soul was injected into writing the entirety of this i will never be the same again 💔 also, i recommend listening to beomgyu’s covers while reading this and the upcoming chapters HAHA anyhow, please enjoy!

모기 / MOGI — ONE — TWO — THREE

YOU STILL DON’T LIKE CHOI BEOMGYU. Ever since you and he reconciled and publicly became friends again, your life has never known quiet— all thanks to the countless insects constantly buzzing around him, and by consequence around you, every damn day. And it’s not like you can keep avoiding him. Choi Beomgyu has made the executive decision to take advantage of the guilt you’ve been feeling, so for the past month, you’ve been a slave to his whims.

Responding to 3AM ice cream runs even though you’re swamped with assignments. Going to parties hosted by people you don’t know the fucking names of because he keeps calling you a boring loser. And, the cherry on top, having to deal with Lee Heeseung’s even more annoying presence, just like how you’d predicted he’d behave if he ever finds out you and Beomgyu are friends.

Which he did. Much to your despair and agony.

“Beomgyu, your girlfriend’s here to see you.”

Case in point. You spare him nothing but an eye roll when he lets you in the clubroom of the, ahem, coding club. You’re here because Beomgyu texted you to fetch him a matcha latte and since you’re playing as his slave at the moment (and until your patience runs out), you obliged out of the kindness of your heart, only to get a truckload of teasing in return.

“Oh, hey, what’s up,” Yeonjun throws you a peace sign from their worn out sofa by the door the moment you enter. He’s accompanied by a good number of chip bags on the cushions.

“Hey,” Hanbin greets you as well when you pass by their alleged meeting table. Which, by the way, has stacks of leftover takeout containers and some empty, some half-empty plastic jugs of water. “Beomgyu is on the computer.”

“Thanks,” you tell him. This clubroom is a fucking gremlin hole.

“You know what.” Your path towards Choi Beomgyu is interrupted by Hyunjin, suddenly popping out of the half-wall separating the lounge area from the computers at the back. You jump, because what the fuck? “My heart races everytime you come here. I still get flashbacks from the day you threatened to wreck our safe haven. I think you gave me PTSD.”

Ah, yes. That day. That was eventful. It was the first time you’ve seen Choi Beomgyu cry.

“Serves you right, gossip snorter,” you say. “Out of the way, I have business to deal with.”

Hyunjin indeed gets out of your way, and there he reveals a row of four computers lined up against the wall with their assigned nerds mashing on the keyboards and yelling profanities at matching game screens. You zero in on the one on the far left corner. Surprisingly, Beomgyu is relatively calm compared to the others. You tap on his shoulder. He turns his head around.

“Oh,” he says, pulling his office chair back from out of the desk with a swivel while removing the headphones from his ears and letting them rest around his neck. You notice Jeongin seated beside him, who looks up at you only for a moment only to flinch back to the screen. “You’re here?”

No, shit. You jangle the latte in front of his face, head cocked, and he reaches out for it. But then you quickly jerk back your hand before he can snatch it from you. “Nuh-uh. Pay up.”

“Tch,” Beomgyu clicks his tongue and shoots you a bitter look. “Hyung, can you toss me my jacket?”

Someone from behind does indeed toss him his jacket, and at that very moment as well, Heeseung decides that it’s a great time to indulge in his newly founded hobby. “Hey, how about me? Why didn’t you get me a drink?” He joins the already crowded crevice in the back and swings an arm around your shoulder. “You get a boyfriend and forget all your friends. Have you forgotten that you two got together because of me? I’m hurt, I’m so hurt.”

Your face scrunches up. “Literally, how many times do I have to tell you he’s not my boyfriend.” You elbow Heeseung off, eliciting another whine from him. When your eyes snap back at Beomgyu, you see that he’s preoccupied with going through wallet. You kick his chair. “Say something, dipshit.”

Beomgyu hands you a bill and exchanges it with the matcha latte. You wait for him to speak. He takes a long sip, pulls his face away from the straw with a grimace, hands back the drink to you, then says, “What she said.”

You look at him, drink now back in your hands.

“What the fuck?”

“Keep it,” he says, putting his headphones back on. “Don’t you have class?”

Your jaw clenches. Fucker made you run an errand for nothing. He gives you an asshat smile of goodbye then spins his chair back to his computer. You scoff and smack the back of his head, causing his headphones to slip off. “Bye.”

“Hey!”

“Later,” Heeseung bids you off, and it’s followed by a chorus of goodbyes from the inhabitants of the testosterone infested, stinky gamer cave. Seriously, every time you drop by here, you feel an ounce of your soul shriveling up and rotting away. Yeonjun very politely opens the door for you. You hear one of them yell out before you leave.

“Come over tomorrow. Hanbin hyung’s treating us to pizza!”

And with that, you’re finally free, matcha latte in hand and a desire to breathe in some fresh air because you’re pretty sure the air is polluted in there. But still. It’s been a lot easier to breathe recently than when you two weren’t on good terms.

“Saved you a seat.”

You make it to class two minutes before the schedule. Minjeong proudly taps on the seat next to her, and you take the invitation. “As you should,” you hum, taking out your notes from your bag, and not long after Sungchan arrives and lands on the spot next to you.

It’s the week before finals. Prof Shin starts the class and decides to fuck all of your study schedules by giving a last minute assignment due next week as well.

“Does this guy want to give us depression before the summer or some shit?” Minjeong complains the moment your professor leaves the lecture hall.“I swear to god, if another prof gives us an assignment due over the break, I’m killing myself.”

“You two have plans over the break?” asks Sungchan, slinging his backpack over his shoulder and the three of you head out for lunch, funneling out into the hallway along with the rest of your blockmates.

“I’m going home,” says Minjeong.

“I have summer classes,” you answer.

Sungchan stops in his tracks. “You serious?”

“Yup.”

“You bet on it.”

He looks at the both of you like you’re a bunch of withering old ladies and he’s very much unimpressed. “Make some time for the last week. I’m throwing the wildest summer rager and you two can’t miss it.”

You’re pretty sure you replied with something along the lines of an agreement, but you’re not quite sure. The thought completely slips out of your head throughout the next week because, well, finals. And before you know it, your first semester of uni comes to a close, and summer comes crashing in at full swing.

#1: YOU STILL DON’T LIKE HIM FOR WASTING SO MUCH OF YOUR TIME. It’s eight in the morning. Monday. You’re standing in front of Choi Beomgyu’s door.

Knock, knock, knock.

It’s the start of your summer semester so you thought you ought to make something healthy just to kick things off on a good note, but as you were scavenging ingredients for fried rice, you realized you were out of salt so that’s why you’re here. You knock on his door again, three times, and you manage to finish watching five more Instagram reel clips before Beomgyu finally answers the door.

Creak.

“Took you long eno—”

You’re caught off guard by the mop of shaggy hair greeting you, clearly having just woken up. His eyebrows are knitted together while he lets out a yawn. He’s in a tank top. It rides up a little when he stretches his arm to reach for an itch on his back.

“What?” he rasps with a grunt, squinting at you after he’s finally settled himself into reality. “Why the hell are you up so early?”

You clear your throat. “Got any salt?”

Beomgyu blinks at you, processing your words. Then he steps back, points a thumb towards his kitchen, and nudges his head in the same direction. “Go crazy.”

With that, Beomgyu lets you monopolize his kitchen cupboards while he flops onto the sofa. You laugh seeing him practically melt into the cushions. He’s never been a morning person. You’re pretty sure he fell asleep like three hours ago.

“I’m gonna steal some of your chives too,” you inform. Beomgyu makes a muffled noise that you assume is a yes, so you go ahead and take the liberty. When you pop out of his kitchen area, you see him in a not very spine-healthy posture on the same sofa while scrolling through his phone. “I’ll drop off some bokkeumbap later.”

Beomgyu’s eyes flit up from his phone and he wiggles into a more normal position. “Do you have plans today?”

“Class,” you answer on your way back out.

“It’s summer?” he says. “Did your dumb ass get your calendars mixed up?”

You roll your eyes, stopping right before the door with your hand on the knob and turn your head to face him. “I thought I could use the early credits so I won’t have to take too many classes in my fourth year. So I could focus on my internship and all.”

There’s a pause. You can see the three dots slowly appearing in succession above Beomgyu’s bedhead. “Oh,” he says. There’s a drop in his voice. Only for a second. “Well, have fun, nerd.”

You stick your tongue out and leave his apartment with your borrowed goods, returning once more after you’ve finished cooking to give him a portion. Honestly, without the food your moms send over, you’re pretty sure he’d be living exclusively off of takeout.

Anyhow, you head to campus for your first summer lecture, and— for the first time god knows how long— your entire day is spent with a lingering, and almost unusual echo of quiet.

“That’s it for our syllabus. We’ll be starting our full swing of classes next week. See you.”

When you exit the lecture hall, the hallway is near empty. The courtyard too, with only a few students littered about underneath the midday sun. It’s so quiet, it’s weird. Around this time, you’d usually be having lunch with Sungchan and Minjeong, sometimes Beomgyu, sometimes Heeseung, but that brat’s not around right now either because he’s on vacation.

Not having anything to do, you decide to stop by the campus cafe— Horangnabi. You don’t go here often, committed to the shop near your apartment because, well, it’s more convenient for your morning coffees, but you weren’t able to grab one earlier since you cooked breakfast. Might as well get a latte before you leave campus.

“Hi, welcome!”

You’re greeted by the barista, and like most of campus, it’s pretty empty inside as well. "A spanish latte, please. Iced.” While making your order, a sign on the counter catches your eye.

Part-timers, now hiring. You blink, letting it settle for a moment. Maybe for too long of a moment, because the whir of the milk frother snaps back your attention.

“Are you interested?”

The barista slides you your drink over the counter with a smile. You take it and press your lips together in a moment of thought.

You only have classes on Mondays and Wednesdays, and it’s too inconvenient, not to mention expensive to go home, back and forth from Seoul to Daegu and vice versa, on the days in between. Most of your friends are on vacation or went back to their hometowns over the break so you have no one to hang out with over the summer. And you could use the extra money.

“I don’t have any experience, though,” you tell her.

“That’s fine. You’ll get a few days of training,” she answers.

Tempting. You’re almost convinced. “What if I just want to work for the summer? Can I quit when the next semester starts?”

“A lot of students do that,” she hums. You see her take a square of tissue paper from the display, jotting down a series of numbers before sliding it over to you as well. “Julie. Call me if you wanna take the bait.”

You spare one more second to ponder. Then you take the number from under her fingers and carefully stuff it into your pocket. “Thanks.”

The heat has finally settled the moment you exit the cafe, a little bell jingle trailing you from behind, and you take a mental note to bring an umbrella with you from this day forward. Their coffee is good, you have to admit. If you work there for a good month or two, maybe you’d even end up saving cash by making your own drinks instead of having to buy them.

You decide to take the path through the parking lot to make your exit. There’s more trees around, meaning more shade because it’s really freaking hot. It’s very bare in the lot. You pass by a few cars, of which you assume belong to faculty and staff, until one of them honks at you, and you flinch to a halt.

Another honk. Your brows furrow. Looking around, you try to find the culprit, but you end up moving your head in just the right direction for the sun to beam its light directly into your eyes, blinding you temporarily, and you wince. God damn it. You hear another honk again, and you feel yourself start to get irritated. It’s coming from behind you. You spin your heels, vision still muddy from the direct sun attack, but nevertheless you start walking.

“Seriously, who the hell keeps fucking— oh!”

You bump into someone. You feel them balance you by your shoulders.

“You should’ve seen how dumb you looked.” You hear a snicker. Of fucking course, it’s Choi Beomgyu. Who else would it be? “But hey, you make a pretty good pigeon jerking your head around like that.”

“Fuck you,” you jab his arms off. “What are you even doing here?”

Beomgyu notices your coffee and takes a shameless sip from it before answering, “Get in the car. It’s so freaking hot out, jesus.”

You don’t really have a choice because he practically shoves you into the passenger’s seat. So gentle. You nearly spill your drink all over when your ass lands on the leather cushion.

“I was just about to sleep again after you dropped off the food earlier,” he explains while starting the car, and you watch him intently. Whenever your schedules matched, you’d sometimes go to and from uni together. But you can’t seem to get used to the image of your friend acting like a responsible adult. It’s fucking with you a bit. “But then I got a message from Prof Kim, asking if I could come by the office today.”

He pulls out of the parking lot, and the cool air finally settles into your skin. “For what?” Beomgyu lets out a groan. Must’ve been for a not great reason.

“The EMC department is hosting a conference of some sorts this year and he asked if I could be a volunteer facilitator, ask a few others from the department to help and join along too.”

“Oh? You gonna do it?”

“Ugh. I don’t know.” You pass through security out the main gate and start heading back to your apartment. “I wanted to come home over the break but the working days for this thing will apparently last throughout the summer. Prof Kim did say this will be minused from my volunteer hours, but I don’t know.” Beomgyu then gives you a side eye all of a sudden. “Speaking of. You undutiful daughter.”

“What?” you leer.

“Your mom hoped that you’d be home for the summer, too. Why didn’t you ask her first before enrolling for summer classes?”

“Why the hell do you two keep talking about me behind my back?” You’re shriveling up. Seriously, why does your mom contact him before you? This is getting ridiculous. “And I’m doing all this so I can graduate early and find a job early, by the way. I don’t even have a full week of classes so I can still come home the first week of July.”

Apparently, you two argued for long enough to finally reach your building.

“Tell me when you plan on going home,” he says, leaning against the wall beside your door watching as you key in your passcode to your unit.

“Obviously,” you roll your eyes, smiling. The door unlocks. You push it open. “You’re my free ride after all.”

Now, your expected response from that is another retort from him, how you’ve been exploiting his kindness and whatnot and you’d have to snark back as well. But for some reason Beomgyu just stays quiet. He says nothing, an unreadable look on his face as he looks at yours. You raise a brow.

“What is it this time?”

Choi Beomgyu says nothing. He lifts up an arm, points his index finger near your face, and jabs his finger straight into your forehead.

“I’ll send you a review of your bokkeumbap later.” He laughs at your appalled expression.

“You’d be shocked to find out it’s better than my mom’s,” you say back, a hand tending to the spot he just attacked unprompted.

“You wish.”

“Eat shit.”

“Oh, I definitely will.”

You send him a kick, which he dodges before fleeing into the safety of his apartment. Slippery bastard. Anyhow, you call it a day and settle into your own place. Few hours later, Beomgyu indeed sends you a review of your cooking with a photo of an empty dish attached. Three out of five, he says. Slippery bastard turned ungrateful bastard.

The next day, you’re at Horangnabi again. The night prior, you called Julie’s number and gave her the news that you’re in, and she told you to come an hour before opening so they can get you settled.

You come in with a greeting, and you see Julie look up from behind the counter to wave you in with a smile. “You’re here! Hanbin, come meet our new part-timer.”

At the mention of Hanbin’s name, you immediately double take, and emerging from the door to what you assume is the storage area is indeed the Hanbin you know from the coding club.

“You!” you immediately shriek, almost feeling a hint of betrayal because this is the first time you’ve seen him in daylight, because their clubroom is always so fucking dark. And in something other than the god damned flannels everyone in their club is always so fond of wearing like it’s an unspoken uniform. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh, so it is you!” Hanbin happily exclaims. “I thought it was just someone with the same name.”

Julie was delighted to find out you two already knew each other. You skip all the necessary introductions and jump in head first into getting acquainted with the equipment instead.

“We’ll go through all of the drinks first. I also have the recipes printed out over here in case you need reference.”

Having a familiar face in an unfamiliar workplace is indeed a pleasant surprise, but there’s also a familiar sense of dread to have one of Beomgyu’s coding club buddies in here. Granted, he doesn’t annoy or tease you as much as the others, but those guys have already given themselves a label in your head, and Sung Hanbin is no exception to your collective bad impression.

“And then you twist the handle— just like that.”

You’re in the middle of your first latte, the espresso machine up and running. After which, Hanbin teaches you how to use the milk steamer without any difficulty, and you pour the milk into the same cup as the espresso you made earlier. “Wow,” Hanbin remarks. “You’re pretty good at this.”

“I think it’s all thanks to the caffeine I’ve ingested,” you say. “Skill buff. Or whatever you guys say.”

Hanbin laughs and compliments your latte once more. Needless to say, it doesn’t take long for your discomfort to completely disappear because at this point in time, Beomgyu’s friends would already start asking you about him— where he is, why isn’t he with you, etcetera etcetera. But his name has not left Hanbin’s mouth even once, and it’s already the end of your first day.

“It’s always slow here, except on rare occasions, so you’ll be able to handle it with no problems,” Julie says before sending you off. “Anyway, Hanbin and I will be around during your shifts, so you can run to us in case a particularly grumpy student comes to order.”

Hanbin gives you a thumbs up and a bright grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

And that’s how you established your new routine for the rest of the summer. It’s just like Julie said. Things are pretty slow. The only notable thing that happened on your second day at work is Beomgyu sending you a very unflattering, low-angle selfie under the blinding lights of the faculty office glaring behind his head with the text message that he said yes to volunteering for the conference. Sad face emoji included.

On Thursday, Julie taught you how to make a damn good waffle. On Monday next week, you got your first shitty customer. Finally on Friday, you decided to open your skeleton closet to Hanbin, because not once since your a little over a week of working here has he asked you about the whereabouts of Choi Beomgyu.

“You and Beomgyu are friends right?”

There aren’t any customers except for the regulars from Bio that are almost always found in the corner of the cafe until closing. Hanbin is wiping the already squeaky clean counter because there is nothing to do. “Yes?” he answers, a smile on his face, but with a tone that’s evidently confused. “So are you?”

Christ. Now you’re the one bringing that bastard up. “Right. It’s just a little odd.” There, you bring up what you’ve observed so far since working here, and the fact that you and him have shared actual conversations not involving your old friend, and how it’s pretty surprising to you. “One time, I thought someone was going to confess to me. Turns out he just wanted me to convince Beomgyu to help him rank up in League.”

“Well, I don’t really need any help in that area.” Hanbin laughs, shaking his head. “Sounds like you and him have been friends for a long time.”

Neither of you have told anyone about your history. No reason in particular. Beomgyu just never found the need to tell his friends that you’ve known each other from birth, and neither have you. But Hanbin’s presence, when separated from the rest of his friends, just feels like a blanket of comfort, and you find yourself spilling your guts to him— including the previous three to four month cold war you caused and the reasons.

Hanbin is patient. He listens the entire time with an attentiveness you can only compare to a saint. “I guess being a social butterfly has its unintentional consequences. I’m just happy to hear you two made up.”

“I probably would never regularly step foot in your dungeon hole otherwise.”

He laughs. “The guys in the club also tease you a lot, don’t they? Doesn’t it bother you?”

You press your lips together. “Yeah, but at this point it’s just white noise to me now.”

Hanbin looks at you. “That doesn’t mean you enjoy it either.”

Well. He’s not wrong.

Your conversation gets cut short with the cafe bell signaling the entrance of customers. You look at the door. It’s a whole stampede of people. It’s Choi Beomgyu and his friends and you can’t even go on a day of talking about them without them showing up.

“Whoa, I’ve never been here before.”

“Dude, you’re in your third year. Where the hell have you been?”

“Doesn’t Hanbin hyung work here—”

“Yeah, let’s ask him to give us free cookies.”

“Hyunjin, buy me a drink.”

“Buy your own drink, nerd.”

“Hi, I’ll have an iced americano, and a— o-oh, my god.”

You’re face to face with Yang Jeongin who nearly pisses himself upon the recognition that it’s you behind the corner. It dominoes to the rest of the group. You don’t know why they’re being so dramatic. You let out a huff and a sigh. “An iced americano and…?”

Jeongin doesn’t get to answer. Beomgyu unwedges himself from the group and squeezes his way to the counter. “You work here now?”

You cock a brow. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Since when?” he immediately follows up. You’re a little taken aback.

“Since last Tuesday,” you answer after recounting. Beomgyu makes a face that burrows a pit in your stomach.

“You didn’t tell me.”

Okay. Now you’re very taken aback. There’s a cough from the crowd. And then a very intuitive, not-so-hushed remark from one of the boys. “Holy shit. They’re having a lovers’ quarrel.”

It hits a nerve. Hanbin quickly dissuades anything before you could open your mouth. “So, what are you guys ordering?”

The amount of drinks to make and pastries to bring out gets you busy for a while, but you still keep an eye on Beomgyu, watching as he settles back to normal joking mode with his friends while you try to find an opening to talk to him. You and Hanbin finish making all their orders, so you ask him if you can be excused for a moment. He tells you to go ahead and you make your way to Beomgyu, who’s sitting on one of the ends of the three conjoined tables in the more spacious corner of the store.

He’s talking to Yeonjun. When Yeonjun notices you approaching, he immediately quiets down, so you take this as permission to interrupt. You tap on Beomgyu’s shoulder. “Hey.” He turns around and looks up. “You good?”

Beomgyu opens his mouth, about to say something— “Ahem,” — but then Yeonjun clears his throat, accidentally catching the attention of the rest of the boys, and they’re suddenly popping out their heads like meerkats in your direction. “Should I give you two some space?”

“What’s going on?”

“They’re having a moment.”

“Oh my god.”

“Do you guys sell popcorn?”

You’re used to their teasing. You’re used to their bullshit, really. You’re fine if they pull on your hair strands inside their clubroom, but for fuck’s sake this is a public space. Heeseung isn’t even around, but it seems like all his clubmates caught his disease. Your bio regulars are sneaking a few glances at the commotion. There are other customers too. You’re visibly annoyed and embarrassed— which doesn’t go over Beomgyu’s head, because he notices. And he also looked like he’s getting irritated.

“Hey, you two should just apologize and make up!”

Beomgyu gets up. You see his jaw clench. Oh no. You quickly grab his arm with a tug before he can do anything— only for Hanbin to show up with a tray, setting it down on their table in a less than gentle manner. They flinch. They shut up. Hanbin sets down a few plates with a chilling smile.

“We don’t have popcorn, but here are your fries,” he says. Wow. “Do you guys want to add anything else?”

There’s a single squeak from the group. “No, we’re good.”

Hanbin hums in acknowledgement and retrieves the tray from the table— not without sending you a thumbs up, to which you mouth a thank you in return. He smiles and nods before going back to the counter, and there you feel Beomgyu removing your hold on his arm from a while ago, and you quickly flit your attention back to him, fearing that you might’ve upset him. Again. Like last time.

“Wait—”

“Are you trying to slack off?” he jeers. You look at him, a little surprised. Beomgyu nudges his head to the counter and you see a few customers filtering in. He did remove your hand from his arm, but he’s still holding it. “I’m not upset because you didn’t tell me you started working here. Well. I was. A bit. But not anymore.”

You feel his thumb run through your knuckles, going over the bumps of each joint, followed by a gentle squeeze.

“It must’ve been heaven for you to get some peace and quiet for once. But then I had to bring these losers around,” he wrinkles his nose. You feel a load get off of your chest. Beomgyu lets go of your hand. “If you told me beforehand, I would’ve steered them away from here.”

“Well it’s fine as long as they don’t cause a scene.” You say the last part a little bit louder than conversational-volume. From the corner of your eye, you see Hyunjin cough on his fry. “Anyway, I gotta get back to work.”

“No shit. Go do what you’re paid for, slacker.”

He lands a smack on your back and you’re pushed off to do your job. Gosh. Hanbin welcomes you back to the station and the both of you are kept busy for the time being, up until late afternoon strikes, and Beomgyu says he can’t drive you home today since they’re still needed back at the faculty office.

“Your girlfriend can get home just fine! Prof Kim’s looking for us, hurry—”

And just like that, he gets lugged out of the cafe. Jeongin laments about returning to “printing hell,” whatever he means by that, and the walls of Horangnabi are once again returned to their original state— peace and quiet.

The bell jingles. You hear nothing but the metronomic melody from the speakers. “Your friends are so draining,” you tell Hanbin.

He just laughs. “They’re quite energetic.”

You should’ve appreciated the serenity and calmness of your first couple of days working here because for the next few weeks, the coding club has decided that the campus cafe is going to be their regular hangout spot from now on. Or until their summer volunteer work finally ends.

“You know, you’re so pretty.”

It’s the end of June now. You’re wiping off some spilled milk from the counter when Julie suddenly decides to dote on you. She’s on the other side of the counter, face between her palms, and your wiping stops, face flushed.

“I—I’m sorry?”

“You’re like the prettiest flower in a garden and I’d fend off all the other bees and butterflies just to have you for myself,” she doubles down. You release a laugh, mildly forced because holy shit, this is a new kind of attention. “No wonder you have all these guys buzzing around you all the time.”

Julie thumb-points at the corner the coding club guys usually occupy. You hear Hyunjin losing his shit over something—

“I think he’s the one they keep buzzing around, seonbae.”

—something Choi Beomgyu very likely said considering the grin he has on his face, and how Yeonjun is also collapsing on his shoulders. You watch as his grin disappears into a cup, taking a sip from the lime soda he ordered. Then he notices you staring. He settles down the drink and gets up.

“Oh no, he’s coming over.”

“What?” he says after reaching the counter, taking the spot next to Julie. “Are you talking shit about me again?”

“Hey, not everything is about you, insect,” answers Julie. Those two have gotten pretty close too. “I was talking about how pretty our new barista is. She’s a breath of fresh air. A rose among the truckload of weeds sullying the pretty interiors of our dear cafe.”

Beomgyu snorts at the comparison. You give him the stink eye.

“I get what she means,” Hanbin slides into conversation. He hums and passes you the milkshake Jeongin ordered. It’s still missing the whipped cream on top. You fetch a container from the fridge and walk back to your station, only to be met by a sudden debate on what kind of flower you are now.

“No, no. She’s not a rose,” you hear Yeonjun interject. “Appearance wise, she’s like a daffodil. Personality wise, she’s a venus flytrap.” A few of them chortle and laugh. You roll your eyes and start shaking the container.

“You’re wrong, she’s a hydrangea!”

“Aren’t they poisonous?”

“Exactly.”

A few more give their pitches. Honestly, you’re pretty impressed by the amount of knowledge these gamer gremlin boys have. You finish Jeongin’s milkshake and give it back to Hanbin for delivery. Beomgyu is quiet throughout the whole debacle, until Hyunjin eggs him on to give his pitch. They need to hear the expert’s verdict, he says. Beomgyu just brushes them off until he notices you looking at him expectantly. He pauses. He’s actually thinking about it. You’re pleasantly surprised at his sudden thoughtfulness— that is, of course, until he actually opens his freaking mouth.

“You’re a milkweed.”

It’s like a ball gets punted into your head. It bounces off and lands on the ground. You hear a wheeze from the boys. You give Beomgyu the middle finger.

“A weed! Not even a flower!”

“Hey, they are flowers! Go look it up!”

Beomgyu can’t redeem himself anymore. You’re already looking at him with bitter disgust and Julie proceeds to call him a piece of shit.

“It really is a flower!”

He still defends, pleading his case to you even after the topic has shifted. Julie has left to clean up some tables. Beomgyu remains in his spot on the other side of the counter until you decide to believe him and his alleged substantial botanical knowledge.

“Sure, whatever,” you deride. Beomgyu is still pouty. “Anyway, your conference thingy is this weekend, right? We’re going home right after?”

“Yeah,” he says, still sounding a little bitter and you bite down a laugh. His eyes flutter down, noticing something on your chin, and offhandedly wipes off what you assume is some stray whipped cream from earlier with his thumb. “Do you wanna leave in the morning or afternoon?”

“Oooooh.”

Lee Heeseung suddenly rears his head near the counter to return their empty plates. He’s back from vacation and now he’s here to reclaim his rightful spot as your number one annoyance. “Get a room,” he says with a shit eating grin that you want to wipe the floor with.

“Why’d you even come back early?” you leer at him. “Weren’t you supposed to be island hopping until the end of July?”

He sticks his tongue out. Beomgyu just laughs. “I can’t miss Sungchan’s party. You’re going, right?”

Right. The alleged wildest, most epic summer rager Jung Sungchan mentioned before parting ways with you and Minjeong over vacation. He texted you about it again last night. You couldn’t leave him on read because he called you immediately after.

“Unfortunately,” you lament. “Sungchan’s gonna throw a tantrum if I don’t show up.”

“You know Sungchan?” Beomgyu suddenly asks.

You give him a pointed look. “Duh, obviously. We’re in the same major.”

It’s like a lightbulb materializes on the top of his head. “Ah,” he says. “I forgot you had other friends.”

You quickly retaliate by attacking him with the nearest thing you can get your hands on: a dish towel. He lets out a very fake, very dramatic yelp of pain and tells on you to Julie noona for abusing your customers and that you should be fired.

“You’re no customer, you termite.”

“Ack! Noona! She’s hitting me again!”

“Is this how the youngins flirt nowadays?”

Both of you freeze in frame— him trying to yank your weapon from your hands and you with an arm up ready to throw a punch— and turn your heads towards Heeseung, who has a very smug smile playing on his face. You shoot Beomgyu a glare before roughly tugging the dish towel from his grasp. “Shut your mouth, Hee. How’s it going with your compsci girlie, anyway. You’ve stopped bragging since last month.”

Heeseung’s smile stiffens. He breathes out a ‘haha,’ before starting to turn away. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

Serves him right. After a while you routinely bid them good riddance since they have to leave for volunteer work again. The weekend comes rolling, they finish the conference, and, with summer vacation coming to a close, you also bid your part-time job here at Horangnabi farewell as well after two-months of service.

“It’s not like she’s never coming back here,” Beomgyu huffs. You two decided to stop by before leaving off to your hometown, Monday after their conference. Julie refuses to stop squeezing you. Beomgyu tugs on your shirt sleeve, but you don’t budge. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Coming from the guy who’s spending the entire week with her,” Julie spits back. “You better bring her back here in one piece, you bug.”

Choi Beomgyu succeeds in retrieving you this time. The container carrying two cups of coffee swings in your hand as an arm hooks around your neck, tipping you back, and the top of your skull hits Beomgyu’s chin.

“Hanbin, we’re heading out.”

“Drive safe!”

You’re only spending a little over a week in Daegu. You two still need to come back to Seoul in time for Jung Sungchan’s, cough, epic summer rager. He hasn’t missed a day in reminding you about it. You’re out for a joint-family dinner with Choi Beomgyu and his family and your phone buzzes only to see Sungchan’s text saying [three days. i better see you there 🫵🫵🫵].

“Your classes don’t even start until September.”

It’s the third week of August. Your mom decides to walk you to Beomgy’s car. “I still need to enroll and register for my classes,” you tell her. “I’ll call you when I arrive.” You pause. “And if you want to know what I’m up to, just ask me directly for god’s sake. Quit asking that guy.”

That guy wrinkles his nose at you. “Auntie, don’t listen to her. She’s just being jealous.”

“Wait until I tell your mom about how you nearly set fire to your kitchen.”

“Say a single word and I’m never letting you in my car anymore.”

Jung Sungchan’s party is at their vacation home in Eunpyeong District because his parents aren’t in the country. There’s a pool (gross). He promised you and Minjeong exclusive room access to escape to in case of emergencies (nice). It’s late afternoon. Beomgyu is already there because, well, he’s Choi Beomgyu and everyone’s obsessed with him. You’re still at Minjeong’s apartment, getting ready and borrowing some of her accessories.

“You sure you don’t want me to drive you guys here?” he asks over the phone. You can barely hear him with the noise in the background. “Taxi fare’s expensive.”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Minjeong makes a face from the foot of the bed while she irons her hair. “I’ve saved up a lot of pocket money thanks to you being my personal chauffeur anyway. And Minjeong doesn’t like you. She thinks you’re a douchebag.”

“I don’t even know her!”

“Bye.” You hang up. Minjeong still has a look on her face. “What?”

“I think he’s stringing you along,” she says bitingly.

You let out a huff. “How can he string me along when I don’t even like him?” Minjeong simply says that Choi Beomgyu gives her bad vibes, whatever the fuck she means because the only vibe Beomgyu exudes is the vibe of extreme annoyance. You hop off Minjeong’s bed and change into the outfit you brought, opting to put on this very big, droopy sunhat you once bought at a flea market as extra protection. It’s stupid hot out. You steal some of Minjeong’s sunscreen as well before finally heading out.

“Did Sungchan invite everyone at uni or something?”

A foot into his gate, it’s already so crowded. Like really fucking crowded. There’s music blasting somewhere. You can’t find Sungchan anywhere in the yard so you and Minjeong squeeze your way into the house, and there you find him with Heeseung. Minjeong yells for his attention, and he spins around with a big smile. “Hey, you made it!” Sungchan hurls himself at you with a bone crushing hug. “It feels like it’s been ten years since I last saw you.”

“Quit being so dramat— ack! Tap out, tap out! I give!”

He finally releases you, and you grunt. “Here you go.” He tosses the keys to the room he promised.

“Have fun partying.” Minjeong snatches it into her hands immediately. You scan the area for a bit. You see Hyunjin and Jeongin in the corner of the living room.

“Boo, you’re so lame,” jeers Sungchan, to which Minjeong just ignores and tugs your arm.

“How about you?” she asks.

You shift your gaze back to her. “I’ll go look for Choi Beomgyu’s round head first then hermit up there with you.” Minjeong makes a gagging noise before going off for the staircase. You’re ready to take out your phone to shoot Beomgyu a text, but you feel a sudden weight on the top of your head, so you look up, brows knitted.

“Your boyfie’s out in the back, sunshine,” Sungchan says while attempting to snatch your hat.

“Not my fucking boyfriend.” You swat his hand away and readjust the hat on your head. “But thanks. Later.”

The thing about your longtime friend is that no matter how crowded the place, no matter how flooded an area is with people and people and people— he’s generally very easy to find. Just look for a crowd, look for bodies circling around each other and whoever is at the epicenter, at the eye of the storm, is more often than not Choi Beomgyu.

Your trick is proven to be effective this time around as well. When you leave the living room through the glass doors to the backyard, you spot him instantaneously sitting on the ledge of the other side of the pool, feet dipping into the water as he laughs along with the large group surrounding him. It’s bright out— the sun’s rays bouncing off from the water’s surface to glitter the underside of his face. Even the sun has his attention. It’s so comically ridiculous that you almost roll your eyes into a scoff. That is until you see him see you, and within a moment’s notice, he’s up on his feet and is departing from the crowd to walk up to you.

“You’re here.”

The first thing he does is swipe the sunhat from your head, adding it to his obnoxiously colored outfit: a bright pink buttoned top with neon orange flowers, the color matching the necklace he’s uncharacteristically wearing. He’s also got a pair of square framed sunglasses perched on his nose. “Is this your highlighter cosplay?” you ask, snickering.

He shoots you a glare. “Fuck off. What took you so long, anyway? Thought you got lost or something.”

“I wish I did,” you grunt. There’s a holler and a splash from somewhere. You feel a few droplets hitting the skin of your feet. Beomgyu tugs you by the arm a little farther away from the pool. “This is way too noisy for my liking. And I thought I’ve been desensitized by you and your friends.”

“Yeah, but—”

“Beomgyu!”

A third voice suddenly barges in from behind you. Beomgyu’s eyes leave your face for a second when you feel someone brush past your shoulders. “Hey!” Beomgyu greets back, giving who you assume is one of his friends a high five before the guy runs off again, then his gaze flits back to you. “Anyway—”

“Hey, kid, haven’t seen you in a while!”

A more familiar face shows up and greets Beomgyu with a slap on the back, once more fishing away his attention. You’ve seen him at Horangnabi before, you think. “Hyung, I’ll get to you in a sec!” he says. When Beomgyu looks at you again, his smile quickly drops into a pursed huff. “Ugh.”

You laugh. “You were saying?”

Beomgyu smacks his tongue in distaste, tugging you even further into a corner in the backyard, right next to a bush-lined fence under the shade. “I was trying to say— it’s good to get out of your comfort zone once in a while, you know. Your mother would cry tears of joy to hear that her hermit of a daughter is at a party.”

“Why do you always bring up my mother when you want to make a point?”

“Extra leverage,” he grins. “There’s drinks in the cooler. Want me to get you one?”

“Nah,” you say. “I’m gonna hole up in Sungchan’s room in about—” you check the time on your phone. “Ten minutes. Minjeong’s already in our sanctuary.”

You receive a pinch on the nose from Beomgyu for that. You try to elbow him off, and just as he’s about to say something again, you two hear his name being yelled out from somewhere in the area. “Choi Beomgyu! Pool volleyball, stat!” Beomgyu pauses, arms dropping to his sides and his shoulders slump in defeat. A single breath of wind, he’s gonna fall over.

“God fucking damn it.”

It’s very funny seeing him like this. “Off you go,” you push his limp body out of the shade, the sun hitting you both once more. Beomgyu makes a grunt of protest. “Go, butterfly, go. Your people are waiting for you.”

Beomgyu gives you a look of awful judgment, but starts unbuttoning his shirt anyway in preparation to take a dive. “You’re not gonna swim?” he asks.

“In that water?” you grimace. “Want me to catch a disease or some shit? You’re on your own, pal.”

“Drama queen,” he huffs, fully removing his shirt now and you’re like whoa there— eyes away, eyes away. A screeching voice calls from his attention. He looks behind to yell back, “Shut the fuck up, I’ll there in a minute!”

“Hand me your phone,” you tell him, holding out your hand. Beomgyu turns around, looking at you with his atrociously bright shirt hanging on his forearm. You clear your throat. “And clothes. Ask Sungchan for directions to his room to find me later.”

“You sure?” he asks, digging into his short pockets.

“Yeah. Go have your fun, loser.”

Beomgyu hums and takes your offer, handing you his phone, tossing his shirt to your face, putting your sun hat back on top of your head and making sure to ruin your hair in the process. He’s so fucking annoying. “I’ll be back after I kick their asses.”

The shirt drops from your face and falls, only to hang on your arm. “Hey. I don’t really care,” you say. Beomgyu doesn’t find that response satisfactory. He makes a face before running off, slow at first before breaking into a sprint once he’s near enough the pool, before jumping straight into the water with a loud splash!

His head emerges from the water, largely grinning with his hair sticking to his skull. It doesn’t take long for him to be swallowed by a group of people. You take this as your cue to leave.

“I know you hate it when people assume you’re dating. But seeing all that, I really can’t blame them.”

“Holy shit— Minjeong,” you jump, meeting face-to-face with your friend the moment you spin your heels. She’s got her arms crossed, looking at you like she’s massively unimpressed. “When did you get here?”

“I thought you died or something,” she shrugs. There’s a splash from the pool, you two getting hit as collateral damages and Minjeong makes a gagging noise. “I can’t believe I left home early for this mess.”

You make a noise of agreement. It’s around four right now, the number of people isn’t getting any smaller, and the music is yet to get louder. Choi Beomgyu’s shirt and phone are still on your person. Said phone buzzing incessantly in your hold. “I’ve been out here for a good ten minutes,” you say. “I think that’s enough.”

“Good call. Let’s go upstairs.”

On the way to the room, you bump into Heeseung, who ropes you in to taking two jello shots before setting you free. You also greet a few people that you know for uni here and there, but you can barely hear them over, well, everything. It’s so chaotic, you’re beginning to wonder how the hell Jung Sungchan is going to clean up the aftermath of this. Or maybe that’s why he was so desperate to have you and Minjeong over. So that you’d help him clean up.

Minjeong seems to agree with your theory. You two key in the door to the room he gave you while cussing him out. “That bastard. Of course, he’d have ulterior motives.” The door opens. Minjeong lets herself in and immediately throws herself face-first onto the bed. “I’m gonna nap.”

“You dressed up all cutely just to sleep at a party,” you say, scanning around the room for a place to put away Beomgyu’s things.

“Hey, my ten minutes of screentime needs to be worth it,” she replies, voice muffled by the mattress. “Night, night.”

With how pretty the interiors look, you’re pretty sure this isn’t a room Sungchan frequents. A guest bed, maybe. There’s a large window on the opposite wall revealing a vivid backyard view, sheer white curtains filtering the sun. It’s very bohemian. Tasseled rugs, rattan decor hung all around. You notice the round, wicker seat next to the bed with a patterned cushion. You toss Beomgyu’s belongings there and walk up to the window.

Peeling back the curtain, you look down to see a flood of people scattered all about the yard, muffled music and noises leaking into the cracks of the room. Choi Beomgyu is still splashing around the pool. You watch as he throws a beach ball overhead, eyes following it fly across the water, until it ultimately bounces off the pool ledge and hits someone from behind. He looks pretty happy with the stunt. You let out a huff, a tug on the corners of your mouth, and let yourself sink into the soft rug in between the bed and the windowsill, laying down.

You hear Minjeong squirming from above. Damn, she’s actually sleeping. You’d get up there and join her too, but the floor is already comfortable, and you’re already yawning, so you feel yourself starting to doze off, lulled by the distant sounds of people from the outside.

When you open your eyes again, it’s orange.

You open your phone. Almost six in the evening. The sunset leaks into the room through the sheer curtain, painting shadows on the floor as you blink and regain your consciousness.

Then you hear three sharp knocks from the other side of the door.

Knock, knock, knock.

“Coming.” It takes a while for you to reconnect the wires in your brain. You let out a yawn as you make your groggy steps towards the door, seeing Minjeong wedged into the upper corner of the bed in a way that’s definitely going to wrinkle her outfit. There’s a few more knocks on the door. You twist the knob open and lo and behold—

It’s Choi Beomgyu.

“Oh, thank god, I found the right room this time.”

Half-clothed. With a very evident, painful red mark on his left cheekbone.

“Holy shit. What the hell happened to you?”

You’re wide awake now. Beomgyu answers with a sheepish grin. “Well. You see. A little accident occurred.”

He flinches back and looks away guiltily with tightly pressed lips the moment you nudge your face closer. It’s swollen. You take a step back with a sigh. “Explain,” you say, grabbing him into the room. You tip the door close with your foot and bring him to the foot of the bed, careful not to wake Minjeong up in the process.

“Some of the guys got a little too tipsy,” he starts as you sit him down onto the mattress. You kneel onto the bed stool, sinking into the loose blanket draped on the cushion just next to his outstretched legs while he continues yapping. “There was a surfboard involved. Don’t ask. But with alcohol-induced lack of coordination, and then there’s me who was by the pool ledge at the wrong place at the wrong time— I think you can get an idea of what happened.

He leans back, sinking his hands into the cushion. You dip forward. “That’s nothing to brag about.” Yeah, he’s gonna need some ice.

“I think I bumped my head a little too.”

You feel a breath escape. He’s smiling. How many beer cans has he downed already? “Beomgyu. Seriously. What the fuck?” His face is irritating you, so you grab it and yank it down to get a good look of his big, round head. “Where?”

“Ack! Gently! Do it gently!” he complains, and you feel his right hand coil around your left wrist. “It’s father in the back, I think—”

“Quit grabbing—”

“Ow!”

You do manage to find the bump, but you accidentally press on it a little too hard, causing Choi Beomgyu to yank your wrist in surprise, jerking you forward out of balance. Now, that’s fine and all, but at the same moment, you hear two unfamiliar voices speaking in hushes approaching the door. Your eyes widen.

“Are you sure this room is empty?”

“Yeah, it’s empty, just—”

Swing!

You try to get up. But your knees slip on the blanket on the stool and you stumble forward upon hearing the door slam open.

It’s a domino effect. Your palms are pressing against the soft mattress. Choi Beomgyu’s bruised face is looking straight at you in alarm. From underneath. You’re on top of him. On the bed. You snap your head towards the door and it’s wide, wide open with two people, half inside, and a few more heads poking in and zeroing in on you as the realization that you forgot to fucking lock it dawns upon you and soaks into your bones.

This. This isn’t a favorable position.

God damn it all.

“Sorry!”

And the door is slammed shut once more. That doesn’t matter. The damage has been done. You feel your face starting to burn and your strength attempting to escape from your body.

“Uh.”

The voice from below you reels your attention back in. You blink. Shit. You’re practically pinning Choi Beomgyu against the bed right now and his face is just a few inches away from yours. The heat is rising to your head. You want to move, but your arms won’t budge— seemingly temporarily locked into place by the shock of the sight underneath you.

His eyes are wide open, reflecting the orange tinted light from the ceiling, flushing his skin with a light shade of auburn, the tint deeper on his cheeks and nose. You see his throat bob, muscles contracting.

The thing is, you’ve known him for a good twenty years or so, give or take. But you’ve never seen his face this close before, and you have to admit—

“C—can you move?”

Choi Beomgyu is kind of pretty.

Even with an ugly bruise forming underneath his eye.

“Hey. I don’t think this is gonna help kill any of the rumors.”

You look up to see Minjeong further up on the bed, very, very awake. You forgot she’s here. You toss yourself to the side with a squeak, practically hurling yourself off from the bed. “It—it was an accident!” you start. Minjeong simply shakes her head with sigh.

“I know. I saw everything. I was already awake the moment you sat this fucker’s ass on the bed.”

Hot. Your face is very hot. But Minjeong is also very right because god— you’re not sure how far things are gonna escalate. How many people saw that? Five? Maybe Six? Gosh, you don’t fucking know. The only thing you’re sure about is the fact that Lee Heeseung is gonna have a field day once he hears about this. You are royally screwed.

나비 / NABI. © hannie-dul-set, 2024.

#beomgyu x reader #txt beomgyu x reader #choi beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #tomorrow x together x reader #beomgyu x you #choi beomgyu x you #txt imagines #txt x you #choi beomgyu scenarios #choi beomgyu fanfic #beomgyu fluff #txt scenarios #txt fanfic

309 notes · View notes

ajortga · 6 months

Text

for i can't help falling in love with you

pairing: vada cavell x fem reader

summary: not only are you new and in almost all of vada's classes, but the more you get to know each other, the more you hang out. she starts to think maybe your friendship is more than what she thought it was, she's feeling something she knows that you shouldn't feel for a friend.

word count: 10.1k+

a/n: this is the longest fic i've ever written, this is fluffy and sweet, spent way too long on it but nonetheless, not regretful!

based off a request! this is for my vada <3ers

R transfers, V sees her almost all the time and eventually starts falling for R, V then embarrassingly asks R out for dinner! Just plainly puppy love, literally not much but I find these types of tropes sooo comforting, u can change some up a bit!!

It’s loud, bustling, chaotic every single day in the cafeteria.

As soon as the bell rings around the hallways and into the classrooms for lunch break, everyone slams into each other and sprints to the front of the lunch line. Vada even remembers while she walked with Nick some boy tripped in thin air and fell to the floor. She couldn’t help but laugh a little. That was until Nick and her found out he had to get stitches to repair his nose.

She laughed even harder, she couldn’t help it.

Vada slurped her slushy as she kicked her feet, talking with Nick who was drinking an iced latte.

“In a sense, slurpees are better than coffee. You don’t have to immediately shit diarrhea as soon as you plop on the toilet.”

He agrees, rolling his eyes, “Yeah but who would want slushies every day? They stain your mouth.”

“Well would you rather have a temporary colorful tongue that can be seen as cool, or stay in the bathroom while crying for help?”

It seems like as soon as she said it, Nick gagged as he held his stomach.

“You have 30 seconds before you're going to shit your pants,” she states, looking at him up and down. He wasn’t moving.

“Nick, go!” Vada yelled as she choked on a small giggle, watching Nick run to the bathroom holding his pants up to his sides.

As the baggy clothed brunette watched her best friend race to the bathroom, she clicked her tongue and shook her head. Vada slurped on her red slushy.

She was waiting for Nick until she noticed someone with a jacket wrapped around a tank top with her headphones on and book in one hand. You. She’s never seen you before and it was almost certain she’s seen everyone at least once before to know their name. She was bored, so she just watched.

You were folding a gum wrapper into a heart while you followed Mia into the girls restroom. Mia was always the one to give student tours when she could. You must’ve been new. But then you came back out without your jacket, holding it in the other hand as she saw Mia’s slushie spilled all over your jacket. She could almost hear how she was apologizing over and over again and you smiled it off, showing her how it was okay and you could clean up when you got home.

Then she took you back to her friend group, seeing the way your hair went side to side as you walked. Before she could watch you even more, Nick called out her name.

“I just took the biggest shit of my li- what are you looking at?”

She hears him but doesn’t turn his way,still looking a little, “Just someone who I think is new. Mia is giving her a tour.”

Nick said a small “ohhh..” in response, “Well what’s so exciting about that?”

“Mia accidentally spilled the slushie we bought this morning on her jacket by accident.”

“That’s so not cool, she must be cold having to take that off, was she mad?”

“No, she just brushed it off, smiled in a somewhat assuring way, and gave Mia the gum wrapper she folded before Mia took her back to her friend group.”

“Ooh. She’s patient then.”

“Yeah.”

After lunch passed, Vada realized you were in almost all her periods, well only the ones she attended. Sometimes she was late from Amelia hogging the bus. You kept to yourself, gave shy smiles as the teachers introduced you.

But as the next day rose she was back at school again.

Her favorite class was her film class, it was like a free period and she got to touch cameras and watch movies at least twice a week.

She sits in the corner of the room, she likes the way she can look out the window and see the sight of the sky while also seeing her own reflection.

FIlm class is oddly comforting, music always plays before the period begins. She places her phone on top of her desk.

So for the third time that day, she sees you walk through, with your backpack hung over one shoulder and the other with a book. She wants to feel surprised, almost strange how you end up in her class, but instead she almost feels a sense of gratefulness.

She doesn’t want to stare. But her eyes betray her, because in one second her eyes are on you. New students weren’t regular, well in her core classes, sure. But film? Almost never. She watches the way you wait by the teacher’s desk, waiting, unsure, not knowing if you should tap her shoulder or just wait until she notices you. Usually, Vada and Mia would sit together, but sometimes on bad days, they would have to move from talking and laughing too much. So they stuck to sitting diagonally and passing notes in the back of the classroom. Finally, the teacher notices you and the smile she gives you is almost too happy as she rubs your shoulder and stands up.

“Alright everyone,” she quiets down her music, “..usually during film I’d let the music keep rolling, but just for today I’d like you to greet our new student who just transferred here. Her name is Y/N.”

People around the class say awkward hi’s, random waves, some of the girls stare at you and awe, and even some of the well-known guys look at you, eyebrows raised and Vada can almost feel their want for you.

It makes her roll her eyes in disgust.

You do an awkward wave, wanting to shrink into the floor, a smile tugged at your lips.

“Okay sweetheart, there aren’t many options for seating since this class is more compacted than my others. But you can sit next to Vada.” Ms. Valentina points at Vada, “She’s the one in the very back, the open seat behind Mia.”

Your eyes almost light up when you notice Mia’s in your class, giving a small nod and trying to squish into the back.

Mia waves at you, shaking your shoulders to show her excitement as you sit down. Vada can almost smell the sweetness of your shampoo when you sit. It smells like ripe strawberries with the fulfilling scent of roasted marshmallows. She wants to sniff your hair, but you’re already pulling out your notebook from your backpack.

“Hey girl!” Mia whispers, turning around to face you as you smile.

“Hey slurpee stainer,” you joke, your voice is soft, airy, melodic. Not like anything Vada’s ever heard. Sure she’s heard many voices, but yours sounded like a lullaby to shush a baby to sleep if you wanted to.

Mia giggles, slapping your arm, “I said I’m sorryyyy. I’d say I’d take you shopping on the weekends! Don’t use that against me,” she scolds, and that makes you laugh, you cup your mouth to contain the giggles and Vada can hear an adorable squeak come out from it.

“I know, don’t be sorry, I was just joking, I’ll just wash it when I get home,” you whisper.

Before you two could talk again the teacher spoke, “Okay guys, it was a long day yesterday and I was planning on printing out some papers for assignments two days prior, but our school printer broke and the ink on mine is hanging on for dear life.” She pauses, everyone didn’t know where she was going with this, “So I’m just going to roll a movie, you guys can choose but I really don’t have much. You can talk, keep it low and hey, if you’re sitting around Y/N, lighten up the mood and get to know her.”

There were random okays and suggestions. As Ms. Valentina kept reading aloud the names, it was almost certain that Shrek was going to be chosen. For the third time this month. Until she spoke out a new suggestion, and everyone chose La La Land instead.

As she played the movie off the projector, Mia scooted to you.

“Okay, so no pressure, buttt my dad's gone today and I know you said you didn’t have homework. If you don’t want to, it's completely understandable, but me and Vada,” she gestures to the brunette sitting next to you, with her hands clasped together and looking at you with interest, “We sometimes go on pool runs or just drive to the nearest seven eleven. Honestly, it’s whatever. But if you wanna hang, I can give you a ride back home, let you drop off your stuff, and we can get to know each other more at mine. What are you thinking?”

Your lips tug into a thoughtful grin, telling Mia she doesn’t have to because she accidentally spilled her drink on you. But Vada kept staring at you. The blonde glanced at her, she saw her basically staring at your side profile, then back at you before giving her a light leg nudge that you didn’t notice.

“No no! Don’t feel pressured, just know that” Mia breathes and pats your forearm reassuringly, “..that I think we should hang out more, kay? You don’t know how many people don’t get mad when someone spills something on them. At least you’re someone who's patient as hell.” She makes you laugh as you think again.

“Okay, I’d love that,” you respond, simply.

“Then it’s set! Just meet us at that broccoli lookin’ tree, kay?”

As soon as the bell roars and everyone starts opening the gates like it’s the ones they’ll see in heaven, you squish into the crowd of people and look for this broccoli looking tree Mia was referring to. It didn’t take you long.

The only broccoli looking tree was the only tree that was stranded from all the poofy and leafy looking trees, and you could see her with the other brunette that you sat next to in class. You think her name was Vada. You didn’t want to ask, if you did and Vada wasn’t her name, you might as well crawl into a hole.

Mia immediately greets you.

Vada kicks at dirt beneath her, smiling a little foolishly, she realizes when she thinks how silly she might look to you. Her silly smile slightly fades to a more soft one to try and not seem weird. Instead you feel like she might feel uncomfortable with you, maybe she’s closed to people she meets at first. You hope that it doesn’t stay that way

“Get in!” The blonde smiles, and you swerve into the backseat as you drive off to the nearest seven eleven.

Mia’s car smells like flowers, you almost feel a little carsick from the leather and floral scent mixed together. You smell something else though, sweet plum and fluffy musk. You think it’s Vada, you can almost smell her shampoo from here.

It’s a little quiet, Mia talks to Vada, you try not to disrupt so you pretend you're looking at the window staring at literally nothing. It’s like the blue-eyed girl can see the way you try to keep to yourself and don’t want to be involved when you don’t think you should. So she bumps the music up.

Vada wants to talk to you. She can feel this urge for her heart to make her mouth open and speak. But for some reason she feels nervous. It’s weird, she’s usually open and starts off with teasing. Why can’t she speak now? Maybe it’s because.. Vada doesn’t even have a reason to know, she just doesn’t know.

“Dude, how is there traffic already to go to a fucking seven-eleven? We literally just left school.” Mia murmurs, tapping her shoes to the music.

Vada turns around, to look at the cars behind her, maybe to check how many are behind her.

That’s what Mia thought, but Vada wondered what you were doing. She's never met someone that tries to be considerate, to be polite and not wanting to interrupt anyone at any time

She notices the way you take the opportunity of the slightly opened window to take a breath of fresh air and let that small crack to let the small breeze blow through your hair. She sees the way you twirl your necklace up and down, side to side, then spin it around your fingers. She notices how you don’t notice her, so you don’t look at her, you look at the sky, the small baby cows, the cars.

It’s like a pencil is engraving into her mind to write all the details she sees. But she doesn’t know why.

Your figure slightly leans into the window, closing your eyes to rest. Maybe you’re thinking about Mia and what a good friend she is. Maybe you’re thinking about wanting to get to know her, Vada. Maybe you’re thinking of how long it’ll take for you to blend in into this place. Maybe you’re thinking how your place didn’t have many cows everywhere. Maybe you lived in the snowy mountains, or the coastal shorelines where you could take a dip in cool water every summer morning.

She sees your eyes flutter as the car slowly stops. Her body tenses and turns back to the front, you’re already at seven-eleven.

“It’s honestly kind of warm outside, I can turn on the AC on this thing if you don’t wanna go,” Mia says, finally turning around to look at you rubbing your eyes.

“No, no, it’s ‘kay, I’ll come, gotta exercise these legs anyway.” You say, opening her door and following suite with Mia and Vada. The small concreted rocks crunching beneath your shoes.

Mia obviously wants to check out the candy section, but Vada wants another slushy.

“Hold up, I think they have the candy they didn’t have when I checked the other time. Vadaaa you can just roam with Y/N. I’m not sure if you guys had seven-eleven where you lived.” She peeks into the candy section and with a spin of a corner she’s gone.

Vada stands there, awkwardly. She feels like if anything, you should be the one standing there like that. You stand there, looking at the slushies. Cola, blue raspberry, cherry, mountain dew, honestly you didn’t know if you should get one.

“Do you want to get one?” Vada asks, the first time you really heard her speak.

Your ears perk, turning to face her, “I’m not really a slushy person,” you speak softly, “I’m a little thirsty though.”

Vada smiles at that, “I like the cherry flavor and blue raspberry, but you gotta swirl it a certain way for it to taste the way I really like it, y’know?” She speaks, you nod, noticing her baggy basketball shorts and oversized shirt.

She walks closer, she can smell the same sweetness of your scent. Strawberries and roasted marshmallows. Your scent is oddly comforting, a scent where anyone would hug you longer and never let you go to smell it forever.

She stops before you can process anything, slightly backing away and focusing on the slushy dispenser.

“Okay. So like, I know you’re probably not supposed to do this but I just put my index and middle finger under the dispenser and,” she stops, looking at you, “make sure you wash your hands though,” she laughs. “But if you don’t know what flavor, just lick it off your fingers.”

Vada can almost sense you suppressing your laughter, “Seriously! I don’t give two shits about those security cameras. Honestly we go here so often we could get a free slushy and not pay.” She places her fingers under the dispenser of the cherry blast and presses the button, stopping it and licking it off her fingers.

It’s like she’s teaching you. She likes the way you’re interested and really looks like you want to learn.

“Do you want to try?” The slightly shorter brunette asks, her voice trying not to seem pressuring at all.

You think, looking at her fingers as she wipes it with a random brown napkin and throwing it away in the trash, “Okay,” your smooth voice responds before approaching beside her.

You use your index finger and place it under the blue raspberry one.

“This one?” Vada questions, when you nod she presses softly on the dispense button.

Your giggle from the icy cold makes her feel like the happiness she feels when she makes a small child laugh.

Vada turns to look at you and smiles, taking off her hand off the dispense button and watching you lick your fingers. (they were clean I promise)

“I like this one,” you say, making a small eye contact glance with her.

“Do you want it? I can pay.”

“It’s okay, I’ll see what’s at Mia’s home, I seriously don’t think I can finish the small one alone!”

Vada gets to know you more the more Mia invites you. She notices the way you open up, instead of trying to politely look out the window so you don’t disrupt conversations that you aren’t sure what their about, the car is lively,

Loud.

The music is always turned down now, giggles are filled, sometimes there are jokes about classes, teachers, people, the past.

Sometimes there are questions, family, hobbies.

Vada learns you have two siblings, a much younger and much older one, older brother, younger sister.

You like to read and write, play the guitar, bake, you love going on sunsetty and late night drives, it makes her interested in that part.

When you told her, a part of her wanted to tell you, ‘I like late night drives too.’ Maybe she’ll drive you around the freeway on a summer weekend in the future.

She likes the way you include her, how you always include people to make sure they never feel lonely.

She begins to notice the way your smiles aren’t shy anymore, they’re genuine. She can feel the way you’re opening up to her, from the way you look at her in a way she doesn’t remember. You look at her like she feels like she’s the only girl you’re looking at. She sees how your eyes soften in your irises the more you listen to her speak.

Vada never thought she’d experience jealousy for the first time in her life.

Sure she’s felt it before, when her fists clench when she had gotten second place when she was younger. It was like an ember. But this time, it was much stronger.

It was during some school event her high school came up with, couples day or what not.

You sat next to Vada and Nick during lunch, Mia with her friend group usually at this time. You were huddled up to Vada, munching on some chips with your hair up.

“Omph, I think jazz is better than rock honestly,” you say, muffled with chips in your mouth.

“Mmm, reasonable.”

After taking a long refreshing sip of water, you and Vada stand up.

“Nick, me and Y/N are gonna meet up Mia in the hallway, ‘kay? See you weirdo,” Vada walks along with you as you two laugh with each other over random gossip.

As you see Mia in the distance, wanting to wave her over, your friend Liam grabs you by the waist, his hands gentle, flowers in his hand.

You almost jump. You met Liam around the first week of school, he was sweet, gentle-man like. He offered to study with you in the library after school.

“Y/N, hey,” he says, his voice like syrup. Too sweet for your liking, “Sorry for pulling you away. I just wanted to tell you something.”

You saw how Vada stood on the side, awkwardly, not to mention how she was glaring at Liam.

You turn back to the curled hair blonde in front of you, “That’s ‘kay, what is it?”

Liam hands you the flowers he was holding, leaving you, almost confused, your face heating up.

“Look, I know I didn’t know you for long, but you’re sweet, you know? No one ever has to talk bad about you and to be in this school as a person like that is rare. I kind of, you know, like you. You’re pretty, really smart, and have a personality of gold. I know you don’t really like me, but I’d like to know what you think.”

You stare at the flowers held in your hands, your hands feel clammy.

“Liam.. This is really sweet. I appreciate.. You know, you thinking of me in that silver lighting. It honestly, in a sense, makes me feel proud. Thanks. I, I think I need some time, I never thought of you as the kind of person I’d be in a relationship with. But maybe with time if we get to know each other.. You know.. Gosh I’m sorry.” Your voice trails off, a tight smile on your lips, seeing the way Liam nodded immediately in understanding. You felt bad. Rejecting the sweetest boy you ever knew in this school, you just never saw him as something more than a brother.

“Don’t be sorry Y/N, that’s okay, I know what you mean, I just wanted to tell you before it got out of hand, but hey, now that I told you, as long as we stay friends that’s okay. That won’t change any friendship right?”

“I promise,” you assure, smiling a little.

Liam nods again, flowers in your hand as he gives your shoulder a gentle squeeze and leans in to kiss your forehead.

He then walks away and you look down at the flowers in hand.

“Okay, that was cheesy as hell,” Vada says, her voice almost annoyed, maybe from waiting to see Liam’s monologue.

“I didn’t even know he felt that way about me.”

Vada rolls her eyes, “Of course you don’t,” you can’t help but feel almost hurt from her words. It’s like she was calling you oblivious, ignorant.

“Why would he even give you flowers? Gosh, he’s going wild for you, you barely even know him. He’s doing too much for someone like you right now,” she scoffed, slightly, not knowing why someone that you haven’t known for a while would give you flowers so early when you didn’t know him that well. But she worded it so wrongly.

Offended, almost wounded, insulted. Did Vada really think you were the kind of person no one would like? Did one of your closest friends find you in a sense, unlovable?

Vada saw the way your figure tensed, your eyes narrowing, before looking like they were about to cry.

Shit.

God she’s never seen you cry before. Vada felt her heart almost shatter, seeing the way your eyes were beginning to fill with tears. She didn’t mean it in a rude way, god now that she thinks about it, that’s one of the rudest things she could say.

She didn’t mean it, Vada doesn’t even know why she said it, maybe she just didn’t think Liam was right for you.

She felt jealousy, and she could feel it herself. Maybe she wanted a sweet guy too.

Or maybe she just wanted you.

“God Y/N, I didn’t mean-” Vada reaches her hand to your shoulder and immediately you shrug it off.

“You don’t think that I’m lovable enough to truly be loved, is that what it is Vada?” You say, your eyes sharp, “You don’t think I’m capable of deserve someone like Liam? How do you even see me?” You murmur, looking obviously, something Vada never wanted in the first place, in disbelief to even feel a tear slip down to your cheek.

“No, I swear I just-”

The bell had rang, and before she could try to apologize, and run after you, you squeezed into the crowd of people, heading for the class Vada knew was the only one you didn’t have with her.

Mia watched from a distance, seeing how tears poured from your eyes as you pushed through the crowds of people.

It’s tense, sort of, when Mia drives to her house.

You’re not talking to Vada, headphones are in, basically screaming that you’re closed off right now. Vada wants to talk to you, but she doesn’t know how to apologize for something she didn’t mean.

You look at the window outside and she feels like this might’ve gone back to stage one, it might take weeks for you to open up again.

But yet again, you’re Y/N, she knows you too well to know that you would never try to ignore her for that long.

Mia has to turn up the music again, something that hasn’t really happened for almost a few months, making small talk with Vada.

When you get to her house, Vada holds the door for you, you don’t look at her, just mumble a small, “thanks.”

“Shoot, sorry guys, if you guys are okay with staying here for half an hour or so, that’d be great. I completely forgot I had to stay after school and drop off one of my friends,” Mia immediately slaps her face, grabbing her bag for dance as she looks back, “Fridge is open if you guys want snacks, remote is in the cabinet under the couch, and all those joints ‘n stuff are in the back. K, love you, see ya,” Mia says, blowing a funny air kiss before shutting the door.

Now it’s awkward, out of all days of course Mia has a practice.

It’s quiet, your headphones are hung around your neck, kicking your feet against the carpet uncomfortably, you don’t know if you want to speak.

“Please, can you talk to me?” Vada pleads, making you almost flinch.

“I’m sorry for what I said today, I swear I didn’t mean it in a mean way towards you. I hope you know me well enough to know I would never mean it, okay? I was just getting a little upset over the fact guys would try asking girls out when they don’t know them that much, you know?.. Um.. Yeah. I guess I got a little overprotective. So I’m sorry. I hate when we don’t talk, it makes me feel like you hate me and stuff.”

You look at her, tugging your bottom lip between your lips, then you breathe, “I don’t hate you Vads. I promise. I just got a little taken aback and I honestly felt a little hurt from your words, especially since I knew you weren’t the kind of person to say those things in a mean manner. I forgive you. I really care about you, it was just weird today. I already felt bad rejecting a sweet boy I met and I wasn’t expecting to have my feelings hurt about it, I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I swear I didn’t, I just didn’t think Liam should’ve asked you so early, I didn’t even think you gave any signs.”

You giggle, making Vada’s shoulders relax from your icy facade beginning to melt, “You sound jealous.”

“Oh, nuh-uh.”

“Mm..” You mutter, not believing her, and making her groan.

Vada quickly changes the topic, realizing how red her face was.

“Do you wanna.. Um, go outside? Take a breather for a bit.”

“Okay.”

As you two close the sliding door, Vada sits down next to you, the silence is now comfortable. Her eyes begin to linger on the pack of cigars in front of her.

“I know you’re not the kind to smoke, but do you wanna share a blunt with me?” Vada asks, softly, it’s a question that you know if you say no, she’ll completely get it.

You hesitate, you never smoked before, let alone want to. But you look at Vada’s eyes and your head nods yes.

“Okay.”

You can see the excitement on her face, she makes a small squeal as she begins to roll the blunt, lighting it up with a lighter, you see her brush off some of the dust.

She places her lips on the cigarette, inhaling softly, before exhaling the smoke and a plethora of smoky fog wafts around you.

Her soft eyebrows raise, her eyes flicking to the blunt and your eyes, offering it to you.

Vada hears you breathe, she can almost feel your breath on her face as you look at the cigarette.

“A little help here?” You ask, voice tiny, shy.

“Okay baby,” Vada jokes, seeing the way your lips try not to smile, but fail miserably.

Vada scoots closer to you, so you two are huddled up and she takes your hand, “Okay, you always spin your led pencil in class, just hold the blunt similarly.” She feels the warmth of your hand and it makes her breath hitch. She puts the blunt between your index and middle finger, in which you make sure to hold with grip. Vada taps on your thumb, “Up,” her voice instructs, in which you support your thumb to hold it.

“Hey, now you got it!” she pats your shoulder, like a ‘yay’

She leans closer to you, your face is mere inches apart as she gently places the end of the cigarette in your mouth. Immediately the smoke fills your senses and you look at Vada, she coaxes you, “Inhale, not too much.” You inhale, wait for a moment, then exhale.

“There you go, you’re making me feel like a teacher Y/N,” she clicks her tongue.

She sees the way you exhale through your mouth, and the smoke fades in front of her face, you take another hit, this time you’re full on staring at Vada, with your doe eyes deep into hers.

The smoke wafts around her again, and when you pass it to her, you lean into her. Hearing how her breath hitches, your body pressed against her.

It goes like that for a while, puff, puff, pass. Where Vada offers the blunt to you, but instead of taking it with your finger, your lips part and your teeth nibble on the cigarette for a moment.

It’s like a game. She doesn’t know if it’s the humor you’ve grown, or the teasing. The teasing. But the way you make eye contact with her while your lips capture the blunt you two have shared makes her stomach stir.

While you smoke and you feel the ease of tranquility wash over your senses, Vada grabs some munchies, cookies, some donuts Mia bought the other day, and some potato chips.

She can’t see you. But she knows you’re staring at her, she can feel the way she senses she’s being watched.

You’re there, staring at her, looking down at her baggy clothing, then looking back up while she puts down the snacks. Your cheeks are flushed, you hear the way the music on your phone is beginning to fade, because you’re here, staring at her.

You think you may have taken too many hits, it’s a different kind of high. You just want to take the potato chips and grow wings. Fly away from this place and go to Italy.

Vada notices, you look spaced out, but you’re staring at her. Not as captivated as you were once before, so she nudges you and you immediately look back up at her. She’s high, she sees a glint in your mesmerizing eyes. A glint that makes her want to pull you closer.

“I feel high,” you state, you don’t notice how you sound till your speech is slurred.

“I think we’ve caught on to that,” Vada laughs, with a roll of her eyes as you snack on potato chips.

“I feel like you're prettyyy Vadss.. Pretty dope and badass,” you say, your fingers showing a peace sign and Vada busts out laughing.

“You have some nasty high that makes you use my kind of slang huh Y/N?”

You’re staring again, except the only difference now is she can tell what kind of stare it is. And this time it makes her feel weird, she can’t put her finger on it.

“Oh yeah, uh huh, yeppers,” you murmur, munching on potato chips and throwing it across the outside couch you sat on, “Can we have a cheese pizza instead with tickling my pickling pickle?..”

Flying. You feel like you’re flying, breathing out and in that smoke. Vada feels like she should be laughing but by the time she feels that she already is.

The cigarette in your hand gets twisted and her footsteps on it, cracking it.

“Think that’s enough for today Y/N, you’re not speaking from the heart.”

“Pickles?”

“No.”

“Dill.”

“No pickles!”

“Yes pickl-No!!!-okay..”

Finally, Vada drags you inside Mia’s house, carrying you to the couch and tossing you on it.

“WeeeEeeEEeEEE,” you’re acting silly. Vada has never seen this care-free, childish side in you.

“I think you’re gonna need to sleep this high off sleeping beauty.”

“I can’t sleeeeeep.”

“Well you need to sleep,” Vada forces, authority lacing her voice. You make a grumble.

“Okay fine,” the small cushion on the couch shifts from you moving around so much. Vada watches you in the corner of your eye, finding it a little cute the way you are right now.

She was going to buy some dill pickles while you closed your eyes, but you seemed like you couldn’t, making Vada sigh and approach you.

“Scooch,” her voice rings in your ears, rubbing your hair softly as you make a tired, grumpy sound and scoot a little, your body wrapped into a marshmallowy blanket.

She doesn’t think she would do this, but if she can make you shut up a little bit, and feel your warmth, maybe it’ll be okay. The shorter brunette feels the way you curl into her body and melt like putty. She doesn’t think much of it, what you two are sharing right now.

Vada feels fond, to let you feel safe in her arms, is something she will always cherish.

Her voice hushes you, pressing her lips to your forehead, while you murmur about pickles. The whispers begin to die down, like the ending of a symphony. She cuddles you, you nudge your nose into her chest, “Don’t go Vads..” your voice is barely heard, but she can hear it, “Stay.”

“It’s okay Y/N, I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“Promise?”

“Pinky,” her pinky raises up and interlocks with yours.

“Okay.”

“Now sleep angel,” her voice is teasing, but part of it she feels like you’ve grown on her, this childish side that she finds sweet.

You don’t respond, of course you don’t, because as soon as she looks down at you asleep on her chest. And by the time she can even process, Vada is asleep with you.

Mia comes home seeing you two sleep together, taking 5 photos and even having the time to take 2 polaroid pictures of you two wrapped into each other.

“Those two are going to be together soon.”

It’s the fourth time you’ve watched Shrek in film class. 4 damn times for 2 months.

Vada is starting to tick, you giggle at it. But she finds Shrek so iconic, she can’t bring herself to hate it. Well for now.

“I fucking feel like I can actually memorize each line by now,” she mutters, it makes you and Mia laugh even harder.

“Why doesn’t Ms. Valentina choose the movies after that? It’s always just Shrek 1.”

Vada doesn’t even know by now.

The lights turn off, the only sunshine you can see is from the warmth of the sun that creeps into the blinds. The best part of having film in this period is that she always has it first on Fridays. Which means when the light switches turn off, it’s the queue where everyone pushes the desks and gets comfy, the desks stay on the side for the rest of the day.

After grunts and small clatter of water bottles falling down from people pushing the desks, everyone crawls to their spot in their own little friend group they have.

Vada already has the couch in the back of the classroom reserved, she doesn’t give no shits, if she’ll fight for it she will.

You find it a little funny, since you remember how people stopped trying to fight, she’s persistent.

She pats the seat next to her and you sit next to her. Mia sits next to you.

And for the rest of the period you three gossip, curl into each other, and chatter.

Once again, at the end of the school day, you, Vada, and Mia are laying together on the couch with several blankets and stuffed animals stacked on top of each other.

“Pass the popcorn please,” you nudge Mia, who’s holding the large popcorn box filled with buttery popcorn (that she kept when she ordered a jumbo sized popcorn box from the movies, that cost 10 damn dollars.) Mia passes it to Vada, which munches on a handful, then hands it to you. Of course with you ending up with some popcorn thrown into your hair.

You happy snack on the popcorn, munching and crunching. Vada and your hands dig into the bottom with the richer buttered popcorn. The brunette’s cheeks feel warm from feeling your hand. Maybe from the blanket. Maybe from the heat of the popcorn. Or maybe something else.

Mia regrets asking Vada for a movie recommendation. As soon as she sees Vada search up ‘Sh’ on the search bar, she groans, seeing how Vada clicked Shrek.

For the second, fucking, time, today.

As the movie begins to roll, the blonde whispers, “If I have children, I’m never gonna let them watch this. It’s been playing way more than enough and I am not risking having to play it every morning when I’m older.”

Vada snorts, “I’m going to tell your children that it’s a great movie, so great that they’ll play it morning and night.”

It goes like that for the next 30 minutes, you two are snug, with a fluffy weighted blanket draped over the three of you as the movie continues.

As the forty five minute mark surpasses, Vada is distracted in the movie. She’s seen it 4 times, yet she’s still watching it. She feels a faint pressure press against her shoulder, she brushes it off, she knows that it’s her brain signaling her to stop watching the movie.

She doesn’t.

But as the minutes pass, the pressure stays, if not stronger.

She feels curious, turning her head away from the projector to find you asleep peacefully on her shoulder. Vada’s eyes soften at the sight of your lips parted, gentle breaths blowing on her neck from your lips and the white of the blanket covering your chin. You’re asleep, and it brings her back to you two asleep on each other the other day. But this time it feels different. You two aren’t high.

You were curled up to her, with your legs tucked and faced to the edge of the couch. She’s seen you asleep before, when you were so tired one hung out that Mia lent you your room. Vada only peeked inside to see you asleep and still like a rock. You aren’t the kind to fall asleep easily, let alone snore. But Vada could hear a soft snore fall from your lips.

Vada can’t help it, but she feels a grin trying to form on her face, as you curl up to her, she tucks a hand around your waist to pull you closer. Now your hair is draped all over her shoulders, she sniffs it, nudging her nose to your hair. Your shampoo smells again like strawberries.

Except this time it smells more intoxicating.

It smells so lightly sweet. But it makes her feel dizzy, her nose to the top of your head, relying on your scent to comfort her.

You shift lightly, a soft murmur being made as your eyes slightly twitch, but fall asleep just as fast when she takes a strand of hair in her fingertips and curls it.

As you're asleep and Vada is focused on you, Mia mumbles against her, quiet enough to not wake you. The TV was already loud enough, plus you were all the way in the corner.

“You like Y/N,” she says, and it wasn’t an opinion, it was a rhetorical statement.

Vada slows down with her fingers curling in your hair, turning to face Mia.

She feels a stutter get caught into her throat, “Uh, w-wait what?”

“You like Y/N,” she says again, her blue eyes looking at Vada, searching for an answer. An answer she already knew, she just needed to hear it from her.

“N-no, what? Mia, what makes you think that?”

It sounds stupid to the blonde, a small laugh coming from her, she speaks quieter so you can’t hear her, although you’re knocked off asleep.

“Well, to start off, since she stepped into our film class for the first day, you couldn’t stop staring at her Vads. And when I invited her so we could get to know her better, I’ve never seen you so quiet with someone until you met her. You’re always so open to meeting new people. At first, I thought you were nervous,” Mia laughs, finding it almost unbelievable when she says it out loud, “and never thought the Vada Cavell would be nervous to meet new people. But you look at her like the missing puzzle piece you’ve taken years to find. You look at her like she’s given you the light to your universe.”

Vada wants to roll her eyes, tell Mia how insane she is, she wants to throw her hands in the air. But she doesn’t want to, she doesn’t want to wake you up, she just wants to press her lips to your forehead and tell you that everything is okay when you wake up.

But it all comes down at her at once. She can’t believe it herself. Well she knew she felt something. The the way she sees things now. Where she’d walk into a library filled with books and think, “Y/N would love it here.” Or when she’d smell the aroma in the air when Amelia and her mother would bake cookies together, and can’t help, but think about you.

Mia herself has a guitar, and when there are days when you can’t make it, Vada spends two hours as her best friend talks to her to practice. So maybe one day, when she sees you pull out her guitar, she’ll say, “I can play it too.”

And when your pretty eyes already reveal the yearn you feel to hear her play, she’ll play all the songs that she’s practiced while she eagers you to cuddle up to her. Then you’ll realize they are all your favorite songs. Because Vada spent every two hours when you’re not there to practice for you.

She hears Mia keep speaking, “You bring her up every time you can, okay? You’re reminded of her everywhere you go, and I’ve never seen you or her look at someone the way you do with each other. Remember that day you two first met? The whole car rode to seven eleven, you were staring at her staring at the window.”

“You’re falling for her day by day Vada,” Mia says, and the brunette can see the way Mia begins to smile, “You just don’t notice it until you realize how much she means to you. You used to refuse to take the extra guitar I had, but when you saw the way she played riffs, you took it and played songs that you knew one day you would want to play for her.”

Mia pauses, then speaks again, “You should’ve seen how shattered she was when you grew over protective of her and said some things that came out wrong. You didn’t see the way as soon as she left for 5th period she was going to cry. Come on, and you two fucking fell asleep with each other. It’s like I’m reading the slowest burn wattpad book in reality.”

The shorter girl is still stroking through your hair, as you’re asleep with soft snores coming out of your mouth every once in a while, still trying to process something she knew was true for a long time.

Vada doesn’t want to admit it, but she exhales a breath she didn’t know she was holding, “I don’t know. I just feel really fond of her I guess. She’s grown really special to me and I think she’s someone I never knew I needed in my life. She’s there to you know, listen. Or be open to whatever..” Vada plays with the string of her oversized shorts while letting you nuzzle to her neck. “I guess she’s more important to me than I thought.”

Mia silently squeals, nudging Vada’s shoulder, “You can’t not convince me she likes you too, okay? Now you better fucking confess or I’m going to do a backflip and crack your neck open.”

Vada hasn’t felt nervous since she met you, but today she was nervous nervous. She bought sky blue, pink, ivory, and sweet apple tulips.

It feels so cheesy, but she’s fucking here for it.

She prepares a basket with everything she knows about you, lego flowers, a cow stuffy with some random coquette bow attached to it, (that she may have not asked your older brother what animal you liked.) As soon as she shopped, the cute little cow with the laced bow wrapped around it was calling for her.

She fills the basket with kisses, tears off the most beautiful, raw pieces of poetry, she read and thought of you. She tears the extra copies of the songs she played on the guitar because of you, and adds it as scraps.

And of course, she adds small fairy lights, then attaches all the photos she has with you. She has never been more thankful for Mia always taking 2 polaroids whenever you take one together, so she can keep one and add it to her memory book.

She’s anxious, picking at her fingers, it’s like when she first experienced the shooting. Except this is a hundred times worse.

Mia drops her off Saturday morning, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze, “The worst she can say is no,” and by the way Vada clenches the basket she has for you, Mia quickly adds, “Which is a .00001% chance. Trust me, I’m sure she’ll say yes.”

Vada rolls her eyes, clearly not helping easing her anxiety as she closes the door and approaches your door, knocking softly.

When it’s open, she’s greeted with the sight of a newly awoken you, looking sleepy, but she thinks it makes you even cuter.

You’re wearing the plaid pants she lent you, she remembers you couldn’t stop wearing it because it was so comfy. She let you have her extra fourth pair. She found it funny whenever she saw you waddling around in her oversized clothes.

“Mhh..” You keep rubbing your eyes, a yawn escaping out of you, “Vads it’s 8AM on a Saturday morning, what’s going o-” you finally open your eyes to have a nervous fidgety Vada with tulips, some Valentine's day throwup basket and a heart shaped balloon.

Vada takes a deep breath before pushing the tulips towards your way, “Okay, Y/N, I don’t know what to say. But I wanted to tell you for a while now. I notice the way I bring you up everyday, or how long my gaze lingers when you’re in the same room as me. Or how I find a way to bring our friendship up every second I can. I’ve grown the motivation to do the hobbies I’ve seen you once do. And.. I’m not the person to.. Get nervous when I meet people for the first time. But, you’ve been someone who I feel protective over, and you’re special to me in a way where you’re someone I didn’t ever think I needed in my life. But meeting you has really made you be the highlight of my day. I didn’t think it was possible to feel butterflies, let alone these fluttering sparks when you’re near. Or to realize the feelings I felt when Liam gave you flowers and wanted to ask you out was jealousy. It just feels right to have you with me, here. You’ve really distracted me from all the things I’ve found stressful, and no one has ever been able to do that. I didn’t even think it was possible. I-I don’t even know how, but it was like some invisible string tied us when I met you, but I’m so thankful you’re in my life. And it’s so weird to say this now..”

Vada pauses, catching her breath and trying not to make eye contact with you, but she can see your cheeks getting rosy. Your hands are full with her flowers. You certainly don’t look awkward like you once did with Liam. More like, overly shy now. You’re blushing. And this time your hands don’t feel clammy. This time, you’re so desperate to feel her hands on your waist and have your hands tucked around her to hug her.

Vada gulps and blurts out almost too quickly to comprehend, “But I like you. Will you go out for dinner with me this Friday night? I get if you don’t feel the same, and I just want you to know I don’t want our friendship to be ruined at all but-”

“Vada, I’d love to go out with you.” You interrupt, wanting her to shut up and kiss you. To do all the sweet things you thought of when you smoked with her, to fly with her and carry her home.

“R-really? You’re not just saying that?”

“No. I think.. I don’t know, I think we’ve grown really really close, in a way where I never had someone that I could rely on so much. I really didn’t think meeting you could, you know, make my day a hundred times better, and I always felt confused with my feelings, you know? In a way where I feel like friends shouldn’t feel the sweet way I think about you?”

“Yeah..” Vada murmurs, “Yeah,” she says, more understanding.

She turns to you, you look like spring. The season, with your hands filled with flowers, your hair perfectly ruffled and your hair curling in your ends. Vada speaks again, “Do you want to give us a try? You know, I just don’t ever want us to not be friends one day because we didn’t work out.”

“Please,” you whisper, and when you say that she immediately pulls you in for a hug.

This hug is just as comforting as all the other ones she’s given you in the past. But now, the thought of this hug being something more isn’t there anymore. Because it is something more. It makes you bury your nose into her chest.

Mia smiles in the distance, snapping a photo of you two hugging, “Those two love birds, I called it.”

Friday night

Here you are, in a black dress you remember you fell in love with when you went shopping. It was a simple dress where your shoulders were exposed, a laced neck and you put on some hoops.

The dress was not too short, but it stopped a little before your knees.

And of course, a string tying the prettiest bow on the back of your waist, you didn’t want to admit it, but you felt pretty when you looked at the mirror.

Your mother dropped you off outside of the restaurant Vada reserved.

She kisses your cheek goodbye, winking for good luck as you wave and watch her go. Now you kind of regret not bringing a jacket. You should’ve brought the leather one you were thinking about at the last minute, and decided not to.

Your headphones are plugged in, you’re 15 minutes early, and as the minutes tick, you feel colder from the sun beginning to set.

Cologne by beabadoobee is playing, you ruffle your curled hair, till you feel the music abruptly stop and your headphones being wrapped around your neck.

You can hear Vada’s voice, ruffling your hair, “Hi,” she says, not more awkward than you feel right now. You feel her gaze linger on your figure, and suddenly you feel hot, the cold you felt 5 minutes ago was completely gone.

She rubs your shoulders, and you can tell what you’re wearing just made her fall much more for you.

What she’s wearing is not Vada. Not her basketball shorts and oversized tees. This is Vada, in all black with the lightest makeup, you can still see the freckles you love. Her hair is half up half down, and you brush her bangs to the side.

“Vads,” you breathe, and the way you call her that makes her heart pound ferociously, “You look pretty.”

“I tried my best, how do I look, silly pretty girl?” Vada twirls her dress, making you laugh.

“Like something Vada would never wear, but I love it.”

“You’re the one to talk, all soft and shy girl wearing something that I would definitely not stop staring at this whole evening. It’s perfect. You’re perfect, come on Y/N,” she tugs your wrist slightly, noticing how your wrists are decorated with the bracelets you two made together in the past. It makes her smile while she points at it, “Good decoration choice.”

“Only for the best.”

As you two enter the restaurant, you reach for Vada’s hand, she can see the way you’re searching for her. Like a puppy whining for its mother. She drifts her hand towards you and interlaces it with yours.

The place is dimly lit. The only light is from the sunsetty view and the fairy lights that are hung.

It’s romantic.

And you feel all blushy, like some teenage girl in a friends to lovers book.

Vada feels the way you grasp onto her hands, your fingertips squeezing, she can already tell you’re nervous, she calms you down with a circle with her thumb on the back of your palm.

You two sit next to each other, looking at the menu.

It’s getting a little cold, and you shift, “Okay, not to ruin the mood, but I have no clue what in the hell I should get,” Vada laughs, the Y/N humor she knew was clearly showing.

“What about we share some alfredo and their bread? Their bread is so filling and to die for.”

You nod, to go with the flow, “Okay Vads, whatever you think is good must be yummy.”

You two order and spend the time talking, by the next 15 minutes of waiting, you’re cuddled into her, playing with her hair.

“Hey, you’re messing my hair up silly.”

“I like playing with it. It’s very smooth!”

Vada presses her lips to your temple, rubbing your cheeks to make your blush more apparent.

“Stop that.”

“Well I think it’s cute when your face is all pink.”

You make a quiet whine, Vada still smells your toasted marshmallow and strawberry scent. The scent she could never get tired of. The intoxicating sweetness.

A few moments later with cuddles and talks, your food arrives and you share the noodles, digging in. Vada drapes your hair back so it won't fall into the sauce. As you eat and munch, Vada twirls the noodles on her fork and brings it to your lips, looking into your eyes. You look back up at her, feeling tiny as you open your mouth and she feeds you. You feed her back, letting her rub the small speck of sauce on your cheek with her thumb.

“Stop being so shy,” Vada whispers, nudging your nose to hers.

“I’m just nervous, I’ve never done this before,” you whisper back.

“Well, it’s just me, nothings gonna change, I swear, maybe I’ll throw more pillows during pillow fights though,” she jokes, and that makes you nuzzle your nose more to hers.

You press your lips to her cheek and continue snacking on bread rolls and dessert.

“The stars are really bright today,” you say, your hand in Vadas as you two are staring at the scene above you, the sunset long gone and replaced with the light from the moon.

“Wellll, I think that just means that we’re amazing for each other, huh?”

“Maybe.”

“Nope, it’s a yes.”

“Yep.”

The heat you felt when you first saw Vada when your date began was gone, you were cold. No doubt did the girl not notice, seeing your slightly trembling figure. She drapes her leather jacket over you as you make a small noise of appreciation, sniffling your nose. The jacket immediately warms you up, you pull it to your shoulders more.

Her soft eyes look down at you, and she sees the way the stars reflect off your eyes, those eyes. She feels lucky to be able to be greeted by them every single day you’re around.

“Thank you for today,” you finally breathe, and Vada boops your nose.

“Well thank you for always being sweet and silly. I wouldn’t trade this moment for anyone else.”

You boop her nose back, sharing a slurpee that of course you got from seven eleven. It brings her deja vu. To remember how you first politely refused on buying a slurpee when you first met Vada. Then beginning to use the trick she taught you to poke your finger under the dispenser and lick your finger. Then buying your own small slurpee. Then to share it with one straw.

As you two reach her house, she twirls you on the porch and lifts you up, making you squeal and giggle. It’s quiet, comfortable silence as she looks down at your lips. And she knows you want her too. Your legs wrap around her, and you lean and press your lips to hers.

She feels sparks and a flock of butterflies stirring in your stomach when you’re around, but as she feels your soft, warmth of your lips on hers, she feels fireworks. Electricity shocking her whole body. She hears you make a soft moan of longing, something you wanted for so long. She wanted you for so long too. Her lips press against yours more, feeling your desperateness as she leans more pressure onto you. You taste like sweet strawberries, indulging on the way you make a noise of wanting more more more of her lips as her tongue runs over your bottom lip.

You both pull away, panting, cheeks flushed, your body feels like it’s flaming into oblivion, she grabs your waist tightly, then a small smile forms on both of your faces.

“I’m pretty sure you kiss during like.. Your fourth date.”

“Oh,” Vada says, faking to look sad before cracking up a grin, “Oh well, we’re too in love with each other and we broke that! Too bad, so sad.”

You giggle as she twirls you around and brings you into her room, kissing your neck along the way, she tosses you into the bed and you squeal, kicking your legs as she crawls next to you.

“Come here,” she whispers, you scoot closer to embrace and she wraps her arms around you, switching the fireplace on and playing some music in the background.

She spoons you, but you turn your front to be pressed to her chest, feeling her kisses on your neck and her fingers ghosting along your jawline.

“Pretty girl,” she coos, seeing the way you were a little tired, “Sleepy?”

“Yes.”

You bury your nose into her, her sweet, musky, coconut scent comforts you. The way your scent mixes and it just smells so… Your eyes are fluttering before you can come up with a thought. You stir in Vada’s arms, feeling her arms wrapped around your waist and your limbs tangled together.

“Don’t let go, stay,” you whisper, like you once did before in the past.

“I won’t, pinky promise, I’ll be here baby. Go to sleep, okay?”

You both begin to fall asleep, with polaroids hanging off you wrapped around vines around Vada’s bed. There was one with you two holding slushies and showing off your purple tongues, another one with you two in a group photo, one that Vada loved the most, where you two were cuddling.

miaa: you owee meee omg u guys r adorable, update me tmmrw vads

Your pinkies interlock and your cuddle up to her. She can see the way your eyes twitch from closing. She knows you’re asleep when she hears your breathing begin to even out. And she definitely knows she’s your comfort, because a soft snore slips out of you no longer than 5 minutes later.

#jenna ortega x reader #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x fem!reader #tara carpenter x reader #vada cavell x reader #jenna ortega imagine #tara carpenter x you #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega x y/n #vada cavell x y/n

436 notes · View notes

folkloresthings · 2 months

Text

❛ HEAVEN KNOWS ❜ ❨ lando norris x singer!reader ❩

📻 track three: you’re just a boy (and i’m kinda the man)

in which the they were the perfect couple, until they weren’t. or in which we take a look back into what made heaven itself fall apart.

… OCTOBER 2023

INSTAGRAM. october second.

liked by irisapatow, rachelzegler and 810,673 more

yourusername time for another track! 🤡 i first started writing you're just a boy (and i'm kinda the man) after listening non-stop to taylor swift and shania twain and i decided what i really needed was to take those feelings and make a female power song of my own. so i wrote one! it helped me to remember that losing the love of a man does not make you any less of a person, and i hope it can do the same for others. oh, and it's also a bop.

view all 499,020 comments

user QUEEN

taylorswift you're kinda making me feel like... i'm the man 💪👸

user i fear this will tear lando's ego to shreds

⤷ user it doesn't feel fair on him, like he doesn't get to tell his side of the story

⤷ user girl there's definitely a reason he's kept quiet 😭

lissiemackintosh soooo excited for this one!!!! my new karaoke song?

⤷ yourusername come at do it at the concerts

⤷ lissiemackintosh i like your fans too much to do that to them

user CLOWN LANDO ERA

REWIND... OCTOBER 2022

"guess what, guess what!"

lando was mid-game when you rushed into the living room, glancing up from the television when you bound into view. he slips back one side of his headphones, eyes following suit a few moments later once the screen is paused.

“what?”

“guess!”

lando sighs, but a smirk pulls at the corner of his mouth. “lewis finally retired?”

“no, silly.” scoffing, you slap at his arm and plonk down next to him on the couch. “management just called — i’ve been asked if i want to do a world stadium tour. the bowl, wembley, madison square garden!”

lando’s mouth fell open in slight shock, your excitement obviously contagious as his eyes light up. in a split second he wraps his arms around you and hugs you tightly.

“holy shit, babe,” he murmurs, squeezing your waist.

“i know,” you squeal quietly, muffled against his shoulder. “they just need to set up the next album release and then announce the dates.”

behind your embrace, the cogs of lando’s head start to turn and calculate the information. sitting back, he looks at you with confusion set in his brow.

“when would that be?” he asks, head tilted.

you shrug, not noticing his growing resentment of the news. “depends. they want the album done for late summer, so that means an autumn release. so probably in the new year.”

“the second half of the season?”

lando’s cold tone makes you smile, almost uncomfortably, waiting for his former excitement to return. uneasily, you nod.

“well, yeah, but—”

“i thought you said you were going to come to all the races, since you’ve only been to monaco and silverstone this season?” he cuts you off. you catch the frustration in his eyes like a hawk, shifting off of his lap before it bubbles over. “you’re not going to be able to do that if you’re on tour.”

“that’s not true,” you try and reason, hopeful that your calm tone might balance his. “there’s texas and vegas. besides, i don’t even know what dates i’ll have shows yet, i could fly in for race days.”

lando shakes his head, pushing himself from the couch cushions and onto his feet. “that’s not the point. you promised you’d be there for me this season. i actually have a chance for once, and you don’t even care.”

the dismissive tone that spits off his tongue makes you flinch, a heavy frown falling around your cheeks. “what am i supposed to do? turn down my biggest tour yet to come watch you race every single week?”

“yes!” lando exclaims, turning sharply. “that’s what good girlfriends do — look at kika and lily!”

anger pricks at your eyes and throat, swallowing hard to keep it at bay. “you haven’t been to one of my shows in months. you don’t even have time to listen to demos when i ask you to. there are two of us in this relationship, lando. it isn’t always about you.”

you see his defence ready behind his lips but you’re quicker, ready before he can speak.

“i went to every single race last season,” you tell him. your tone is calm, steady — making the words even more intense. “every one. i have been your biggest fan since day one. so don’t ever, ever, say i’m being selfish.”

lost for words, lando stares at you. only because he knows it’s true does he halt his argument there, turning and storming into the bedroom to preserve some dignity. you stare at the slamming door and wonder how he can watch on so easily as you slip through his fingers, and not want to do anything at all?

INSTAGRAM. november twenty—fourth.

liked by danielricciardo, maxfewtrell and 928,244 others

yourusername always your #1 fan (even when you dnf) 🫶

view all 630,737 comments

carlossainz55 did he get a lollipop for being a good patient?

⤷ yourusername and a sticker 😄😄

user poor lando

landonorris my favourite nurse ❤️

user they’re sooooo cute

user that crash looked bad

yourusername dw guys i’m giving him lots of kisses and rubs better !!!!!

⤷ landonorris not as many as i’d like 😏

⤷ yourusername you’ve got a hello kitty plaster on your head you cannot be seductive right now

"oh, shit."

the fight that dreaded evening had hung over both you and lando for weeks, both of you much too stubborn to admit to any wrongdoing or, god forbid, apologise. but you carried on. if anything it was worse than not speaking. it was like nothing had happened, as if the conversation never even happened, as long as neither one of you mentioned it. still, there was a tension holding you at arms length from each other.

so to not bring up the same argument again, you followed lando to the next few races. come vegas, you had given yourself so much time to think about things and the way lando had handled it all that your mind was screaming at you to leave. to book a flight home, pack up your stuff and go. because how much more of this could you take? you weren't the trophy girlfriend, the wag whose only job was to look pretty beside her accomplished boyfriend.

you would do it after vegas, you decided. there was a few days off; time for you to talk to lando and explain your feelings, before walking out with your head held high just in time for the next race. then, the worst happened.

chatting idly to lily, the race only just beginning, you almost missed it. for a moment, you thought it was oscar spinning out. the bright orange sparks masked which number was painted onto the car, spinning drastically until the nose of the vehicle slammed into the barriers. lily grasped your arm, her sympathetic eyes making you look twice. number four, lando.

in a daze, you followed the one of the marshalls through the busy paddock until you reached the ambulance area. he had already been loaded in, paramedics and mclaren employees surrounding him. there wasn't enough room, they needed to go now.

"hop in, i'll drive you," charlotte's gentle voice appeared beside you, guiding you into the car as the ambulance hurried off. "they said he's probably fine, they just want to do the usual checks."

you nod, trusting her. you could always trust charlotte, right?

after what felt like hours, you arrived to the hospital and didn't think twice about elbowing every single person out of your way until you reached lando's room. he was laid still on the bed, eyes watching the small television in the corner. his leg was strapped up, an iv stuck into his arm, various bruises littering his skin and face. he looked up when he heard you, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

"it looks worse than it is," he assured you, noticing the panic in your eyes straight away. you breathe out some of the relief, the rest coming in a sudden pool of tears. "hey - hey, c'mere."

lando outstretches the arm that doesn't hurt like a bitch, ushering you to his side. you don't hesitate, lip wobbling as you hurry over and perch yourself on the side of the bed. tucked into his shoulder, you nuzzle as closely as you can without hurting him.

"i'm sorry, i'm so sorry," you mumble, and you both know just what you're apologising for. what was a stupid fight worth when chalked up to all of this?

"me too," lando replies quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to the crown of your head.

sitting back, you look over his face. a small scratch from the helmet, just above his cheekbone. his eyes are drooping, tired from the impact and the drugs. you sniffle and smile sadly, thumb brushing over the wound.

"i'm going to move the tour," you tell him, and note that he doesn't protest. "if i'm on the other side of the world and something happens, i—”

lando shakes his head, cutting you off with a kiss. "nothing's going to happen. i'm still in one piece, aren't i?"

you hesitate, then nod, letting him shift over so you can lay next to him. resting your head on his chest, both of you quietly watching the rest of the race, you feel your head spin. maybe he had been losing you, but could you survive losing him?

writers note: we're back baby. lando count yr days my man

taglist: @openthenyoor01 @racingheartsworld @celestialend @cha-hot @gr1mes-cc @bingussthirdtoe @destinyg237 @theonottsbxtch @allywthsr @imsorare @youdontknowmeshh @bellewintersroe @orangetreekid

#💋 HEAVEN KNOWS.#lando norris fic #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris smau #lando norris drabble #lando norris blurb #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris #formula 1 #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

319 notes · View notes

stayconnecteed · 5 days

Text

🪐˓⠀˚⠀i guess i'm in love⠀@⠀kim seungmin.

this is just a cute birthday fic based on the love of my life @skzms and her seungmin's drabble 'seungmin in love', which i totally recommend before you read this. i hope you like it, may, and that i made justice to your words!! i listened to i guess i'm in love by clinton kane while writing this. the beginning of the plot is based on a personal experience! i wish it had ended that way tho askjdhkasjd

SEE MORE.⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀4k words. ⠀⠀general mlist.⠀⠀join taglist.

You had never mustered the courage to talk to a boy until university made you come out of your shell. The morning you had stepped into the lecture hall for the first time, ready to listen to the dean of your faculty give the introductory talk, you had sat alone in one of the front rows, hanging on every word, your heart racing. You didn't know anyone, and you preferred to focus on the speech, waiting for some extrovert to adopt you, rather than take the first step.

You had always been shy, and you felt a sense of panic at the thought that you might end up alone for the whole degree, but you were incapable of approaching a stranger and starting a conversation. Your fear was a prison and the guardian of an anxiety that swirled in your chest, the number one reason why you had hidden in the same table in the library during all your free hours, and also the consequence of too many bad experiences in the past.

But then you had met Seungmin.

You hadn't spoken, at least not at first. You hadn't even realised he existed. He was just another classmate in the core subjects shared by all those who studied the same course as you. He smiled softly at the jokes of the teachers he liked, became more serious in the most difficult lectures, and tried not to show his anger when the typical annoying repeat student made their trademark rancid comment. You hadn’t even known his name.

Eventually, you found yourself waiting for those little reactions. Like you, he also showed up ten minutes before the first class started, he also sat alone, and he also came to school with his headphones on, drowning out all the noise in the corridors with the playlist he had made for himself at the beginning of the course. He would arrive with his dark blue backpack slung over one of his broad shoulders, and a book in his hand ーthe same one he would read for a while before the professor arrived. You found yourself smiling as you watched him, writing down the titles of his readings, looking forward to the classes you shared with him.

And then you saw him appear for the first time in the library. You were at one of the more secluded tables, your back to the wall, your laptop a shield protecting you from the other people in the room. And he had slipped quietly in, his ears covered by the black headphones, leaving his backpack on the table in front of yours. For a moment you had stood still, your fingers hovering over the keyboard, the word on your document half-typed, your breath caught in your throat. And then you looked away, and went on with your work. It was stupid to react like that for someone you didn't know.

But the next day your little dance was repeated, sitting opposite each other, in complete silence, a calm and concentrated reflection. As if there was a mirror between the two tables. And the next day, and the next... Until it became a habit. You would leave class a little late because you knew it would take him longer to collect his belongings, and you'd follow each other's shadows with your gazes through the corridors until you reached the library. He would hold the door, and you would smile at him. And when you left him the book you'd used to find out information about a homework topic, he'd return the soft curve in his lips, showing his braces without an ounce of insecurity.

Despite all your little interactions, you hadn't really made any move. The day you realised that there was another girl waiting for him at the end of your class, a more outgoing and prettier one, the kind who always gave the right answers to the teacher. She was asking him if he could explain to her the latest topic discussed in class over a latte in the building's cafeteria. You felt like you intruded, so you left. But that had been the same day you went to the library alone, and you had to open the door for yourself. You missed his smile. And you realised that he was worth every tremor in your hands, only if it meant taking the first step with him.

The next day, you mustered the courage to talk to a boy. To that boy. You approached him before class, sitting one line forward of him, taking a deep breath of air and exhaled it as you tried to keep your nerves under control, your eyes closed. With your pulse racing you had turned, resting your fingertips on his desk, and caught his attention by waving softly. He had looked up from the intertwined sentences of his book, closing it as soon as he saw it was you addressing him, and you enjoyed a few more seconds of your bubble, his brownish gaze all over you, before bursting it.

Your words were quick and breathy, stammering over coffees and shared hours, your gaze anywhere in the class but on his face. Yet he responded calmly, a mask of stillness in contrast to the chaos of emotions spiralling inside him, and you only interrupted the conversation when the teacher began the lesson, Seungmin's gaze returning to your figure every few seconds. That was the first free hour you disrupted your way to the library and accompanied, shoulder to shoulder, your quiet classmate to the cafeteria.

You heard him order an iced americano with syrup, greeting the lady behind the counter with rehearsed confidence, and waiting, tracing his gaze across the profile of your face, for you to say what you wanted. Then he guided you to one of the tables at the back, and let you sit on the bench with its back against the wall. Almost as if, somehow, he knew that it was what you preferred. For a moment you wanted to get your hopes up, to think that he thought of you as much as you thought of him, but it didn't actually make any sense. So you sighed, and set your bag down beside you, intertwining your fingers in a nervous gesture.

You had been the one to propose the plan, and suddenly you realised that you had been so sure he would say no that you hadn't planned any further.

You wandered your gaze in silence, steadily, slowly, trying not to meet his at any point, your shyness forcing stitches of thread on your lips, unable to utter a word, until the waitress appeared with her tray and your drinks, and Seungmin's raspy ‘thank you’ broke through your bubble. You uttered your own, no sound coming out of your throat, and flashed the start of a smile when he managed to continue a conversation that hadn't existed until then, asking how you had adjusted to the lectures, to college.

And then you let loose like a torrent. The stuttering edges of your lips tightened, answering in short words how your university experience was going, daring even to lock your eyes with his when you returned the question, wanting to hear him speak. And as he told a story similar to yours, albeit with many more friends than you had, you reached your trembling hands towards your cup, taking it and sipping a small amount of coffee.

You tried not to let it show, but the bitterness was enveloping your taste buds in a flavour you were not used to. Your eyebrows furrowed as you winced, swallowing the thick liquid in one gulp, avoiding triggering your gag reflex, and you looked back at Seungmin, who was watching you with a hard stare. He tilted his head, almost like a dog would, and picked up the cup you had just set down on its plate, wetting his lips to taste it. He opened his eyes slightly, muttering a soft, “This is not what you ordered,” and got up to go reclaim it.

You felt the heat rise up your neck and settle on your cheeks, unable to believe what had just happened, and watched from your warm seat as the boy spoke to the woman he had greeted earlier, how she was surprised and certainly apologetic due to the confusion, and the whole process of making from scratch what you had ordered in the first place. It was Seungmin's gentle smile when she returned, treating the porcelain with extreme care so as not to spill the contents, that made you suppress the apology you had thought of saying. Perhaps he had decided that it was his responsibility, that the barista had mistaken the order, but he had done it because he had wanted to. You could read it on his face.

“Thank you so much,” you said, brushing his skin with your fingers as you took the new mug, closing your eyes to smell the sweet, thick hot chocolate you loved so much. “You didn't have to.”

Winter was beginning, and with it the need to drown yourself in cosy blankets, at-home plans and movie classics that had become your favourites over time. So you told Seungmin when you opened your eyes and realised that he was watching you, trying not to retreat into the shyness that had been with you for so long. You were ready to get out of your comfort bubble once and for all, and having a conversation with someone who in your thoughts was no longer a stranger seemed like the natural option.

After that, it was relatively easy. The words flowed between you, asking each other about your lives and replying with more questions, exchanging anecdotes, dropping little jokes that elicited laughter, lost in each other's gaze. As easy as breathing, the minutes passing by on the clock without even being aware of it, learning to read a new language, through what you told each other. Opinions and experiences, comments and compliments, engaged in a dance that only you knew, until the alarm on your phone started ringing, and you realised you were late.

You apologised with hurried syllables, quickly packing up, waving goodbye, heading hastily towards the counter to pay for your drink. You were surprised when the woman indicated that Seungmin had already taken care of it, and you looked back for a few seconds to give him a beaming smile. He mirrored it, leaning against the table you had been sitting at, and waved his fingers in response. It was when you got into the bus, on the way to the restaurant where you had agreed to meet your sister, that you realised you hadn't asked him for his phone number.

Apparently, you weren't the only one to think so.

The morning after your disaster of a first conversation, you arrived early. You sat in the third row, the fourth seat, just like you always did. And you doodled in your notebook, deep in thought, until you heard someone clearing their throat next to you. You looked up, smiling when Seungmin made an exaggerated gesture of wanting to sit next to you, and managed not to burst out laughing at his antics when the teacher came through the door to start the class.

And it was when you were barely able to keep your eyes open, the teacher's voice lulling you into a light sleep, that you noticed the tip of Seungmin's finger brushing your arm. You turned, ignoring the shiver that ran down your spine, and instead of questioning what he wanted, you found a sheet of paper folded over the pen that had slipped from your hand. You opened it discreetly, glancing at Seungmin out of the corner of your eye, curious, and didn't bother to suppress the smile that curved your lips as you read a tight “What's your phone number?”.

You wrote it down quickly, going over each digit twice to make sure there could be no confusion, and slid it across the table for Seungmin to tuck it away. You nodded goodbye to him as the bell rang, and you had to part ways, him going to the opposite side of the corridor, to another class. You grabbed your bag, and sighed, not so keen to attend your remaining lecture. At least until at least twenty minutes into it your phone screen lit up, receiving a new notification.

Unknown number: Hey, is it true that Mr Choi’s classes are soo boring?

Unknown number: Or my contact in his classes has shamelessly lied to me?

The contact in Professor Choi's class was you, because you had complained the day before about him, and the unknown number had to be Seungmin. You put the phone under the table, hoping the teacher wouldn't notice and begin to dislike you, and typed in the answer:

You: Mmm, you shouldn’t trust your contact.

You: They wouldn’t be boring if you were here.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Naah, I bet my classes wouldn’t be boring if my contact could attend them.

You: You can't use my sentence with me.

You: That's like cheating.

Seungmin 🫶🏼: Would it be cheating if I bribe you with a cup of hot chocolate?

You: Whatever you say, lover boy.

You tried to imagine Seungmin's reaction, your subconscious tricking you with images of him blushing in the middle of class, and left the phone in your bag. That interaction had made your day.

From then on, you could only continue to develop your friendship, intertwing yourselves like a tangled vine, unable to separate from each other. The Christmas holidays had distanced you a bit, each enjoying a few weeks of relaxation with your family, but the study period leading up to the exam season brought you back together at that table in the library, exchanging complicit glances and helping each other take breaks when the stress got too much. He was the perfect study partner, and it was reflected in your grades, none of which dropped below a C.

At the end of finals, in those days before the second semester started, Seungmin had invited you to one of the pubs his friends had shown him. He had told you that they hadn't gone because he didn't want them to say anything stupid in front of you, but you hadn't missed them. With a glass in his hand, he had followed you to the dance floor every time you had asked, neck flushed and shy eyes when he saw the alcohol had disinhibited you enough to move your hips freely. It had been a memorable night. And when it struck three in the morning, he was the one who escorted you to your flat, just to make sure you got there safely, and you were the one who begged him to stay with you.

The second semester began with many hours of late arrivals to class 一something you hated, but which was certainly more bearable in his company.

You would gather as soon as you arrived to the faculty on one of the benches by the entrance, he sitting comfortably with his ankle on his thigh, you with your knees against your chest, jumping from conversation to conversation until the bell started ringing, startling you, and you would run up the stairs together, to get to class before the teacher. You learned to cope with it because somehow the stress of being late was compensated by the way Seungmin would touch you so he wouldn't lose you in the corridors. Always behind you, like a guard dog, guiding you to your class with his hand resting on the small of your back, making sure you got in before he wandered off into the crowd in search of his own, in case you didn't share it.

And in the free hours you got to know his friends, or at least some of them. The first time was in a class that was cancelled at the last minute, on your way to the library, when you saw Seungmin's silhouette in the cafeteria, his broad shoulders framing the back of the chair. You greeted the short boy and the one with the narrow eyes with a shy smile, before asking them if they would let you sit next to Seungmin.

You had seen the knowingly smirks, and also their suspicious gazes, but they had made you feel like a long time friend of theirs, so you shaked the creepy feeling out of your body. You stayed silent most of the conversation, listening to their jokes and anecdotes, smiling upon the fact that they treated Seungmin like a brother 一teasing him to death. And from then on you always found a free seat by his side in your gatherings.

Your confidence with them, with Changbin and Jeongin, solidified at about the same time as you accepted that Seungmin just saw you as one of the group, and you tried to stop getting your hopes up. Throughout the semester, you began to participate in conversations with his friends, gaining confidence, and even participating more in class, socialising with classmates and getting to know some girls with whom you thought a friendship could develop. You noticed Seungmin was becoming a bit distant, but with your Friday movie nights and your weekly coffee (hot chocolate for you, he made sure they didn't mess it up again), you assumed he had simply decided that he had other priorities.

At least until the beginning of sophomore year, the night of Minho's birthday celebration. That october night, you had arrived late to the restaurant where the group had decided to hang out in, and the place where you normally sat, to Seungmin's right, was occupied by a freckle-faced blond you had seen around the dorm on some occasion. You greeted Seungmin with a quick kiss on the cheek, a high five with Jeongin, and went straight to the birthday boy, to congratulate him with a hug.

You had spent the whole week crocheting cute fruit-shaped hats for his cats, just because a joke you two had, and Minho's genuine reaction had been to take you in his arms and turn you around, both of you giggling. You remembered that he had told you he couldn't wait to get home to try them on his babies, and you had commented that it was a crime for him to be all lonely on the table on such a special day. With the excuse, you had sat next to each other, leaning like two old oaks so that you could hear each other over the music, your knees touching and his arm over your chair.

At one point, after all the group had gathered, when you had followed Minho's unfocused gaze at Seungmin, his eyes gave off such a hard acrimony that you thought you had done something awfully wrong.

You tried to talk to him about it the next day, when you woke up in your bed, but he wasn't by your side. Seungmin, who normally would be curled up against one of your pillows, had actually slept on the sofa instead, and when you asked him why over breakfast, you got no answer. You could see him building up anger and complex emotions inside, unable to utter a word, trying to decide what to do, before desist and wish you a good morning, leaving you on the kitchen. The absence of that trust you thought you shared broke your heart.

And yet, that very same night he showed up at the university party night that Jeongin had proposed 一Thursdays were his favourite days to go out. He appeared at the pub without even looking at you, as if it pained him to see you, deliberately sitting at the other end of the table. The second time since the two of you had met that you weren't next to each other.

At that moment you ordered the first drink. And they just kept on coming.

You tried not to care. For a few hours, you managed to make it happen. But when that boy approached you, with the soft look Seungmin always gave you, with the same wide smile he reserved for you, you decided that willing to lie to yourself, at least you should get something out of it. So when he pressed his hips to yours, you let him, and when he put his arms around your waist, you allowed it. You rested your head on his shoulder, knowing that his body didn't feel next to yours the way Seungmin's did, and as you felt him slide his hand down the back of your neck, you smiled, kissing him back just as eagerly.

But the spell melted on your fingers as you parted, and you found all the details in his face that made him so different from Seungmin. So you apologised to him, again and again as you escaped his embrace, wandering around the dance floor until you collided with Changbin. He gave you a bright smile, asking you how you were doing with Wonwoo, but the pout that formed on your lips made him react, taking you by your shoulders and interrogating you about the guy, Wonwoo, if he had crossed a line with you. All you managed to do was deny, before asking him to take you home.

It was a terrible night. For you, and for him, who nursed you back to sleep.

And it was also terrible to wake up, when you realised you were alone in your flat. Alone, tangled in your sheets, and the alarm clock ringing, reminding you that you had a schedule to follow, and you had to go to class.

Seungmin was not on your self proclaimed bench when you arrived, though you sat down to wait for him anyway. And when the bell rang you walked up the stairs, slowly, like a soul wandering the corridors of the faculty, ignoring the professor's disapproving face when you interrupted his speech by opening the door. You paid no attention to his words, sittimg down and doodling on your notebook, enduring as best you could the hour that lasted, leaving as soon as you could.

But then you saw him. With his blue backpack slung over his shoulder, and the brown sweatshirt you had stolen from him some chilly afternoons. And you made eye contact with him, but continued on your way. You couldn't face him. All you could think about was the way he had ignored you, as you heard his footsteps, and how you had kissed another boy just because it looked like him. You went down the stairs, the necessity to get out of there bubbling in your chest, wlaking through the doors of the building. You knew he was behind you, but you wanted to be able to ignore him too.

Until you heard him.

“I love you,” he whispered, and you stopped in your tracks, paralysed. He then repeated it, this time louder. “I love you, I’m so sorry but I love you.”

Your breath got caught in your throat as you turned around slowly, utterly convinced that it was your imagination. But his kicked out expression was a reflection of how you felt, brows furrowed upwards, the waterline of his pretty eyes covered by a bubble of unreleased tears, tortured by his absence. And his cheeks were coloured red, flushed with the shame that let you know it was true. Still, he was looking at you with a devotion you were able to clearly see now, like you hung the stars in the sky. All you had once imagined was true, and he was there, waiting for your response.

So you approached him, a shy smile curving your lips, and rested your hands on his shoulders, nodding.

“I love you too,” you murmured, lips moving against his, his breathe hitching. And kissed him. Eyes closed, feeling a sigh slipping in between your mouths, caressing his cheeks with your thumbs while he took you by your waist. And you kept smiling, your chest exploding in relief, savouring him like it would be the last time you would see him.

“I love you too, you jerk,” your repeated, resting your forehead on his.

#﹙ ★ ﹚⠀mars⠀—⠀writes.#neverendingdreams #stray kids scenarios #stray kids fluff #stray kids x reader #skz x reader #skz fluff #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin scenarios #kim seungmin fluff

222 notes · View notes

saintescuderia · 6 months

Text

pancakes (pt. 1)

welcome a new multi-chapter fic. enjoy.

AKA - the story of how the naive australian rookie befriended the gym junkie F1 hospitality worker with the shoe collection - and inadvertently broke the grid's most treasured and unspoken rule: you don't go for y/n.

series masterlist here :) // the pancakes recipe here :)

P1 - bulgarian split squats

Really, the only way to survive Formula 1 was by going to the gym.

The gym addiction was something that had existed long before joining the circus of a motorsports paddock filled with politics and rumours, as well as the slim fitting uniforms that always seemed to be accompanied by, in your opinion, ugly ass shoes.

Sure, Puma was the offical sponsor but couldn’t they get anything other than the Speedcat? And what even was that name? Speedcat? It was on brand, sure, but at what cost? Really? If Formula 1 was trying to grow its popularity they could honestly start with their dress code. Seeing Christian Horner in Skechers really took the intimidation out of him when you served him his double espresso during the Spanish Grand Prix that one time last season.

One of the perks of working in Hospitality - and there were very few far and in between - was that uniform was not so strict. F1 Hospitality only required an all black service with ‘comfortable shoes.’ This you took for interpretation. Dunks. Jordan 4s. Maybe 1s. Never 13s. Forces were good for a night race - that usually meant more stairs - and Vans were what you reached for in the morning when you knew you’d be working the barista shift. Converse were for ‘throw away’ races.

These were the races where you knew the shoe-care was not important. For example, Silverstone with its torrential UK drinkers who were likely to throw up on your beloved sneakers. Alas, you had learned the hard way when you almost lost your job by rushing to the kitchen to start scrubbing the vomit off your blue and red Cortez during peak lunch.

Never again.

Admittedly, you did try to keep at least one pair of Converse in good care since they were the renowned shoe come leg day.

Another perk of working in F1 Hospitality was that every circuit’s map layout had been drilled into your head. Meaning you always knew exactly where the communal driver’s gym was located at and could therefore get your daily dose of dopamine before dealing with… well, everything.

You silenced the shrill horror that came from the iPhone alarm. 4:00 read the lockscreen, the light shining brightly into your face. It didn’t help that your wallpaper had a photo with a clear blue sky, making the light even harsher in the darkness. You could’ve very well changed it and avoid the pain you routinely go through every morning. But it was this very photo that reminded you why you were getting up in four in the morning in the first place.

You had snapped it during a free practice in Italy that had miraculously lined up with a break in your shift. The sky was clear and the red car was small, but clear on the circuit. Ferrari, of course. You still remember the buzz that circled around the paddock staff that day. No matter who you routed for or whatever bias you had, there was a unanimously acknowledgement that Ferrari winning at Monza was special. He was special.

Then again, you’ve known that long before he stood on that podium in Italy and was given his infamous nickname.

It didn’t even take you ten minutes until you were out the door. Your gym clothes (pump cover included!) were on the one limpy chair that decorated your poor little hotel room, your shaker sat on top of your gym bag with you black high top Converse right beside it. By the time you had made it to the gym, it was a little past 4:15 and you had already scooped in pre-workout into your mouth ready to get through the oncoming pain.

Your hips were a little tight, as per normal. The left side even more so. The hood of your hoodie was up, headphones on and blasting the hardstyle house music that would see you through the next two hours. You went through your usual stretches but with today’s added focus on the lower body.

And then you went about destroying your legs.

It was about an hour or so that Oscar finally sleepily arrived. You weren’t actually sure what time it was but you were up to doing bulgarian split squats - and hating life - and that was usually at the hour mark. You gave him a curious once over, noting the odd choice of clothing. It was a little odd to see a driver in the paddock wearing athleisure that wasn’t their team uniform.

“Bro, it’s five in the morning.” Oscar groaned, shuffling over to come and sit on the bench next to you. You gave another three more reps - Oscar silently watching you groan in pain through the last two - and then finally dropped the dumbbells. You reached over to take a sip of water and checked the phone for the time.

“It’s five thirteen in the morning.” You corrected. It had been just about the hour mark. “Are we training today or?” It wasn’t the first time Oscar had joined you. The reason his neck was getting stronger was because of you. In your opinion, the trainer Alpine had assigned Oscar was a fucking idiot.

“You’re doing legs.” Oscar pointed out, as if that was enough of an answer. He leaned to lay back down on the bench and stared up as he continued to speak. “Drivers don’t need bulky legs. We’ve been over this.”

You had. Many times. You knew he was right. It still would be nice to have someone to go through legs with you, though.

“So train with light weights.” You offered, trying. Oscar just gave you a look that made it clear he was not picking up any type of weights. You shrugged, not deterred. “I’ll do calisthenics with you. Or we can work on plyometrics.” Oscar’s response was to close his eyes and let out a deep sigh. “Fuck it man, do some cardio.” You came to the last resort, coming to kick his legs as you walked past to load up the smith machine with some different plates.

“Piss off Tezza.” The Australian-ness continuing to shine through with the nickname that Oscar had specifically designed for you in respect of your shared citizenship to the ‘land down under.’

Except unlike the blond caucasian boy who loved AFL, grew up in Brighton East and attended Haileybury, your Australian-ness was less obvious. Your accent, for one, wasn’t as prominent since your parents were African immigrants. This, of course, didn’t just influence your speech patterns and accent.

Dark skin, dark eyes and dark hair, you weren't exactly the picture of a 'true blue Aussie.' The rite of public school bullying from those who did look 'Australian' (whatever that meant) had you scoffing at vegemite and preferring to follow EPL and La Liga than whatever the fuck was Aussie Rules Football.

Why is it called football if the players pick up the ball?

Still, when a homesick Oscar Piastri overheard one of the Hospitality staff yell out that that they were going for a 'Macca’s run' between the practice sessions on his very first F1 race weekend, he instantly picked up on the Australian-ism. And he didn’t let it go. And cue the beginning of a friendship that had Oscar Piastri calling you ‘bro’ and shortening your last name as per Australian rite.

Even if you had sworn off that sort of thing.

“Oscar, man, if you ain’t here to train then why are you?” You said, locking the plates in place on the smith machine. You lifted up your hood up and ducked under the bar to rest the metal against you shoulders, the hood acting as a cushion. The starting weight was light enough that you wouldn't have to worry about music for your first set. Besides, if Oscar was here, he could be the entertainment for this set. “You forget that this is a driver’s only gym. You could get in trouble." The sarcasm was all too clear in your voice.

No one used the ‘drivers-only’ gym. It was something that every Grand Prix had set up. Mobile, communal and high-end, it had enough equipment to rival the local 24/7 studio franchise gym that seemed to exist in every neighbourhood. Despite the fact that every driver preferred to train at their own motorhome gym - or that every team had their own mobile gym set up in conjunction to the motorhome - F1 still went about packing up and moving their own studio gym to every single location come race weekend.

If anything, it was a nice stop during the presentation walk during the sponsorship lunches where good old Stefano Domenicali would show off all the amazing resources that the Grand Prix space has to offer.

So, no. F1’s Driver Gym was not used.

The only reason it wasn’t gathering dust was because every weekend it was packed up and moved. That and you woke up at 4am every weekend to destroy your muscles in the familiar red and black equipment.

"You're here." Oscar reminded you. "And not a driver."

You ignored him and just kept up with your repetitions, focusing on engaging your glutes and keeping your core tight. Oscar was silent as you finished your first set. When you finished your last rep, he stood up and came round as you locked the machine. He knew you well enough to pick up the 10kg and help add it to the sides.

"Thanks." You said. Oscar nodded and added the weight to the other side. There was a quiet air for a moment and you went to pick up your headphones to put them back on. Things were getting heavier and you would need music to get through the next few sets.

“I might be leaving Alpine.”

You looked up at Oscar who dropped the bomb and then looked back at your headphones. You sighed and then dropped the headphones back to land in your gym bag. Headphoneless, you went back to the machine and Oscar took your invitation.

“Zak Brown approached me yesterday and suggested something about picking me up for next year.” Oscar said.

You just kept squatting. Oscar was far too removed to yet be aware of - well, everything.

“And with talk of Fernando quitting, I know that Alpine will be calling me up but do I trust that? Honestly Lando has been doing so well and Ocon has always pissed me off.” Oscar watched as you started to struggle.

He stood up and came around to help you but you just shook you head. You pushed through one more rep and then called it.

“He does have a punchable face.” You said, now out of breath. Esteban had always annoyed you and before meeting Oscar, you used to dread the weekends where you were put on Alpine.

Your friend handed you the water bottle sat beside your gym bag before you could even ask. You gave a two finger salute in thanks as he continued on.

“And Lily and I got into this massive fight again! Apparently I don’t communicate enough!” He huffed. “But I sent her flowers and chocolates because she’s going through finals and she likes daisies and Cadbury."

“Yeah, but is that her love language though?” You asked, dropping your bottle and going to stack up the final set of weights on the smith machine. Oscar stood up again to help you.

“Her what?” He asked, handing you the plate.

“Love language.” You answered, still panting, and explained, “You’ve got physical touch, gift giving, quality time, words of affirmation and acts of service.”

“Are you saying people love in specific ways?" Oscar asked, quick to process new information as always.

“Exactly. You did something nice for her, an act of service. Maybe all she wants is a nice, long phone call or maybe some texts complimenting her or something.” You shrugged and then brought up your headphones.

Oscar accepted this, knowing the last set would require music.

He watched you as you settled back under the smith machine bar and went on squatting more than his body weight. He shook his head and ran a hand over his face. He really shouldn't have been surprised at your lack of surprise. Little shocked you. That or your might’ve already known and just kept it to yourself. F1 Hospitality were a part of the Formula One Group and, therefore, were not associated to any one team. They had rotations across all teams and, therefore, every member of staff were required to sign an NDA. Not that ever did anything in this damn place.

Still, Oscar knew that you were one of the few genuine people left in this place.

He knew that there would’ve been so many opportunities where you could’ve easily done something for yourself by recounting something you had overheard while pouring Toto Wolff his coffee or serving Mattia Binotto his lunch. It was the reason why so many teams hired their own internal hospo staff.

It was also the reason why Oscar felt comfortable coming to tell you about Alpine and McLaren before he had even told his own parents, or Lily. The argument with his girlfriend had prevented him from getting any sleep, mulling it over in his mind for hours. Oscar knew you would be able to help him through it all.

And that you would be the only one awake at this godforsaken hour.

By the time you had finished your first set, he was Googling love languages and having a quick read through.

By the time you had finished your second set, he was halfway through doing the love languages quiz.

By the time you had finished your third and final set, he was seeing what the problem was between him and Lily.

“I think Lily is words of affirmation and I'm acts of service." He said, coming up to the machine as you stepped back and pulled down your headphones. You blinked and nodded, still put of breath. "I think I forgot to check in with her and send her some compliments. Tell her I'm proud of her for getting through exams. Especially because she never is one for gifts, really."

You held out your hand to him. "There you go. Growth."

"I don't know what to do about Alpine."

"Call a lawyer."

Oscar pursed his lips and then considered this. That wouldn't be his first move but thinking about it, it was probably for the best. "That's actually a good idea."

"Isn't that why you're here?" You retorted. "Since you're not here to train. Speaking of which, the fuck is that?"

“What?” He asked and realised you were looking at his feet.

“Zak Brown isn’t going to hire you if he finds out that you’re wearing fucking thongs with socks.” You said, finally recognising the flip-flops he wore with some white socks that really needed to be washed.

“You’ve been a great help, thanks.” Oscar smiled. You rolled your eyes and went to your gym bag. Pulling out a pair of white Adidas Sambas, you tossed them to Oscar.

“Put these on.”

“Is my footwear really that offensive to you?”

“We’ll go run the track.” You said then gestured to all of him. “It’ll help you burn all of this off.”

Oscar sighed and did as he was told. He laced up the shoes you'd given him that surprisingly fit his large feet and followed you out to the track. He used his pass to get through since a driver running the track at 5:30 in the morning would just be seen as the dedication to the grind. A Hospitality staff member would just be accused of breaking in.

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re going through a crisis. I’ve always wanted to do a morning run on the track.” You said with a grin as the pair of you came to the starting line that, in a matter of hours, would be full of mechanics, engineers, reporters, camera crew members and, of course, drivers.

“If I get a seat at McLaren, you can be my trainer.” Oscar said as you both started warming up into a light jog.

"Ha." You snorted. "As if you could afford me, bro."

next ch [2] >

394 notes · View notes

fangirl-dot-com · 7 months

Text

Chapter 23 - The Dutch Anthem on Repeat

Guys, I think I can finally upload on a regular basis if I can do every Friday and Wednesday? If that's ok? I'm hoping that it will work well for everyone!

This chapter made me laugh, and I remember someone asking for more Grandpa Nando so he makes a good appearance in this one!

Like always, comments, questions, concerns, reblogs and likes are always appreciated! Please enjoy!

Max, along with everyone, was used to hearing the Dutch National Anthem. Sure, everyone joked that it was the Formula 1 outro, but that was life. It wasn’t Max’s fault that he kept winning. Everyone just needed a new and better car to keep up. As he walked into the garage, he knew he was expecting to possibly hear it at the very end of Sunday.

What he didn’t expect was when his foot hit the concrete, the song started blasting through the speaker. The mechanics were trying to hid giggles behind their hands as they watched the confused driver try to find where the sound was coming from. When it suddenly stopped, he got even more confused.

He looked at the mechanics.

“Have you seen the kid anywhere?”

Henry, one of the men that worked on your car, responded, “She’s been in her room since she got here this morning.”

Max let out a tight “thanks” before heading that way. He expected you to be hiding something, but you were peacefully taking a nap with your headphones on. The gag gift that he got you, a blanket with his face all over it, was curled up in your hands. His eyes softened as he walked over to gently wake you up. You did promise him lunch for that day.

He rocked you a bit until you woke up.

You rubbed your eyes as you sat up. “Hey Max.”

A yawn escaped your lips.

“Kid, you don’t have anything to do with the fact that the Dutch anthem played when I walked in?”

“Huh?” you questioned, still really sleepy.

Max just let it go. You seemed like you didn’t know what was going on. You quickly got ready, placing your race suit at your hips.

When Max’s foot hit the concrete again, the anthem started to play. A groan left his lips as you looked around.

The Dutchman looked down at you. “You had nothing to do with this?”

You looked up at the older driver. “Nico took my boombox privileges away when I scared him last week.”

You seemed pretty dejected at the thought of losing your boombox.

Max just quickly kept walking out of the garage with you on his tail. The two of you conversed as you made your way to hospitality. You knew that Max had the priority for this race. It was his second home and you knew he wanted a win after what happened in Belgium.

“So I’m thinking of holding a party after Monza at the house. What do you thing?”

Max thought for a moment.

“That’s a good idea. You going to take a car to the circuit.”

You beamed at him. “Thinking of bringing the spaceship. What do you think?”

Max opened the door to the hospitality, and before he could answer, the Dutch anthem started to play once again. He stopped dead in his tracks, causing you to thud into his back.

You snorted as you heard the song play, causing Max to whip around.

His eyebrow arched. “Sure you don’t have anything to do with this?”

You only shook your head before pushing past him, wanting to get lunch as quickly as possible. Max followed, suspiciously glaring at anyone who looked guilty.

Lando was sitting in the corner, animatedly telling a story to Oscar, who looked dead inside (but was politely listening).

In the middle, Lewis, Charles, and Carlos were all playing on their phones, empty plates sitting in front of him.

Max’s eyes looked back up to see you talking to Fernando. Your eyes were wide as you talked to the Spaniard. He made his way over to the line and grabbed a tray. With each step he took, he was nervous about setting off something that would start the song. When he walked to the table, he just looked at the chair.

“Everything all right Max?” Lando asked from the corner, making everyone look at the Dutchman. His cheeks reddened under everyone’s gaze.

You bit into your sandwich. “Each time he’s walked into or out of a building, the Dutch national anthem plays.”

“Sure it does,” Charles said, finally looking up from his phone.

Now annoyed, Max sat down. Surprisingly nothing happened. He let out a content hum before biting into his food.

However, the moment he took a bite, it stated to play again. Rounds of laughter fell from everyone’s lips as he sat there, looking sad with a bite of food in his mouth.

Not wanting to sit anymore, he stood up abruptly and walked out with the tray. Yet, the song started over once he opened the door. A loud huff left his lips, which made everyone start laughing again.

What he failed to notice was a camera set up in the corner of the room. You turned and looked at it, giving it a thumbs up.

You wiped a tear from your eye. “Aw man, now he’s going to be mad.” You looked at one of the media personelle who was standing in the corner. He took the camera and just gave you a smile.

“He’ll be mad at us, not at you.”

You crossed your arms, not convinced in the slightest. Fernando gave you an upside down smile.

“Come on niña, I’ll take you to Max.”

He stood from the table, waiting for you to follow. Yet, you shook your head.

“Nando, he’s going to be mad and all grumpy and I’m going to be at the receiving end of it in the car. He’s taken Charles out too many times.”

“Hey!”

Your eyebrows pinched as you looked up at the green-clad driver. Your eyes then looked back down at your food.

Fernando sighed, knowing you weren’t going to budge. He turned around and walked out, without the Dutch national anthem playing. He stalked toward the Red Bull garage and was able to walk in.

Every loved Fernando and had great respect for him.

“Anyone know where I can find Max?”

Christian spoke up from the corner. “He’s in his room. Is everything ok?”

Fernando sighed as he rubbed his head. “For a prank, they got someone to play the Dutch National anthem every time Max did something. He got tired of it, so he stormed out. Now the kid thinks that he’s going to be mad at her all weekend. I’m just here to explain because she’s a bit nervous.”

Christian had a sympathetic look on his face. He was sad that you thought that Max would ever be mad at you for something so trivial.

The Briton nodded his head in the direction of Max’s driver room. “Second door on the left.”

Fernando thanked him, before heading that way. He knocked once before the door swung open, sadly causing the anthem to play once again.

Max deadpanned as he waited for the song to stop.

“Is everything ok Fernando?” the Dutchman asked, trying to look around to see if you were there as well. His heart sank a bit when you weren’t seen.

The elder sighed. “So your team thought it’d be a good video to play the anthem every time you did something.”

Max winced. “Oh I know.”

Fernando looked at him weirdly.

“You don’t think I saw the dude with the camera in the corner of the garage or hospitality?”

The Spaniard nodded. He knew a thing or two for spotting cameras on him. You get used to it after being in the field for so long.

“Well, the kid thinks you were going to be mad if you knew that she was in on it.”

Max’s eyebrows rose and his eyes widened. “Oh no no no. Doesn’t she know when I can tell that she’s not sleeping? She’s taken so many naps around me, that I know when she’s actually asleep.”

Max had known from the beginning, since you never woke up so quickly. It always took a few nudges, not just one. And your headphones were off and you barely flinched when he approached you. He was actually amused that you had gone through all the trouble to seem innocent.

Fernando let out a long sigh. “I told her that you wouldn’t be angry or frustrated.”

Max had a determined look. “Let’s go find her. She’s probably either in the Ferrari garage or McLaren.”

“She’s in the Williams garage.”

Max turned around. “How do you know this?”

“It was supposed to be a joke, but she put me on her Life360. Said I was getting old and was at a higher risk of crashing outside of work.”

Max let out a deep laugh at the imagination of you downloading Life360 onto Fernando’s phone.

The two walked out of the garage (this time the anthem did not play) and toward Williams. The two got to catch up on something before they arrived.

They saw the Thai driver first.

“Alex have you see Y/n anywhere?” Max questioned, catching him off guard.

He said nothing, but subtly tilted his head toward the back where Logan was awkwardly standing behind a box. Max’s eyes lit up at he looked at the American, who had a nervous look on his face.

Max put a finger to his lips and saw Logan barely nod. He gingerly crossed the room and looked down. Behind said box, you were clinging to Logan’s leg, playing a game.

He heard you snicker to yourself. “Max will never find me here.”

“Sure kid.”

He could have sworn he saw your soul leave your body as you jumped off of Logan’s leg. The American rolled his eyes before lifting you off the ground and placing you in front of the Dutch driver.

“I think this belongs to you.”

All in the back, Fernando and Alex stood laughing behind their hands.

You looked back at Logan. “Traitor.”

“Come on kid.”

Max gently led you back to the Red Bull garage, but not without thanking Fernando for his help. The Spaniard only patted his back before returning to his own garage. Max watched as you begrudgingly walking in front of him. He quickened his steps to be right beside you.

“I can hear your grumpiness from over here,” he tried to joke, yet stopped when he saw barely there tears in your lash line.

He cooed as he tried to not let you cry.

“Kid I thought it was funny.”

“Are you sure? You looked super unhappy after lunch.” You looked down and kicked a stone.

“Y/n.”

Oh, he said the name (and not the nickname).

You sheepishly looked up at him.

“I’m not mad. And if I was, I’d take it out on the media team and not you.”

You smiled just a bit. “Promise?”

“Promise. Now, let’s go kick some ass so we can listen to the Dutch National Anthem on the podium.”

Race Results:

Max Verstappen – 25 points

Y/n L/n – 18 points

Charles Leclerc – 16 points (fastest lap)

Lewis Hamilton – 12 points

Oscar Piastri – 11 points

Alex Albon – 8 points

George Russell – 6 points

Logan Sargeant – 4 points

Lance Stroll – 2 points

Lando Norris – 1 point

Fernando Alonso

Niko Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Daniel Ricciardo

Pierre Gasly

Yuki Tsunoda

Esteban Ocon

Valtteri Bottas

Zhou Guanyu

Carlos Sainz – DNF (engine failure)

Champions Standings

Max Verstappen – 309 points

Charles Leclerc – 268 points

Lando Norris – 190 points

Y/n L/n – 181 points

Carlos Sainz – 130 points

Oscar Piastri – 118 points

Lewis Hamilton – 105 points

Alex Albon – 56 point

George Russell – 54 points

Fernando Alonso – 45 points

Logan Sargeant – 36 points

Daniel Ricciardo – 23 points

Lance Stroll – 17 points

Pierre Gasly - 12 points

Valtteri Bottas – 13 points

Yuki Tsunoda – 8 points

Zhou Guanyu – 1 point

Nico Hulkenberg

Kevin Magnussen

Esteban Ocon

Constructors Championship

Red Bull – 490 points

Ferrari – 398 points

McLaren – 308 points

Mercedes – 159 points

Williams – 92 points

Aston Martin – 62 points

Alpha Tauri – 31 points

Alpha Romeo – 14 points

Alpine – 12 points

Haas – 0 points

The cool wind of the Netherlands brushed up against your face as you stood on the second step. If your math was correct, you were still behind Lando in the championship by only 9 points. You’d make it up as long as you didn’t DNF for the rest of the season.

You smiled as you heard the Dutch National Anthem for the umpteenth time that day. Your shoulders started to shake as it continued playing, which made Charles look at you and start laughing as well. Max watched with a grin on his face as you couldn’t contain yourself.

To the people down below, it looked like you were crying since you were wiping tears away (which you were, but the tears were from laughing too hard). Their hearts ached as you were on the second step once again, and not the top one.

But, you were having the time of your life, spraying Max and Charles with loads of champagne. You were on a high right now, and nothing would stop it. You knew that later that night, you’d stay awake going over data and sim times.

Because that second step was sweet, but the top step would be even sweeter.

And you needed the win.

You were starving.

redbullracing has posted

redbullracing no broken trophies this year - orange army you were good to us

liked by y/n.nation, dutch4max, orangearmynation, and 390,204 others

maxmaxmax_super DUTCH ANTHEM YASSSSS

maxie&kid best 1-2 honestly

lastlap_lando NOT THE BROKEN TROPHIES COMMENT

landonorris how many times do I have to apologize?

y/n.89 give it a few years, he still hasn't forgiven me for accidentally eating his stroopwaffle maxverstappen1 BECAUSE IT WAS THE LAST ONE y/n.89 YOUR NAME WASN'T ON IT

y/n&co when are RB going to give her a win?? for real???

best_rookie ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN ROOKIE WIN

y/n.nation WE NEED A WIN?? ADMIN? AUTHOR?? author CALL DOWN - LET ME COOK

autodromonazionale_monza a presto! Viaggi sicuri!

TAG LIST: @fionaschicken @glitterquadricorn @laura-naruto-fan1998 @treehouse-mouse @sam-is-lost @kagatinkita @fangirl125reader @megatrilss1885 @myxticmoon @angsthology @cmleitora @agent-curt-mega @graciewrote @ashy-kit @slutofmultifandom @aexitizen-ln4 @sugarvibez @vellicora @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @cashtons-wife @hoetel-manager @xcharlottemikaelsonx @jayda12 @ilove-tswizzle @justme2042 @itsjustkhaos @nikfigueiredo @stopeatread @cha-hot @sadg3 @iloveyou3000morgan @s4turnsl0ver @alessioayla @torchbearerkyle @leptitlu @awekbachira @shreks-sugar-daddy @v1naco @stan-josie @mellowarcadefun @badassturtle13 @beskardroids @callisposts @poppyalice2001 @juniper-july19 @lizzypiastri

747 notes · View notes

be4chywritez · 4 months

Note

Nico Hishier dating Mercedes F1 driver. The reader just won her first championship title and Nico is supportive towards reader.

omg i literally love f1 x nhl sm🙃

Winner takes it all | nico hischier

nico hischier x driver!reader

You win your first world championship and Nico is there to support you.

my masterlist!

requests are open!

Nico paced around the Mercedes garage, his heart pounding in rhythm with the revving engines. His eyes were fixed on the screen, where the sleek black Mercedes navigated the twists and turns of the circuit with caution. Through the headphones, he heard your voice, loud and stressed.

"How's the gap?" Your frustration was palpable, and Nico's nerves only made it worse as he waited for a reply from your engineer.

"Keep pushing, going full throttle this lap, Verstappen is closing in," came the calm response.

Nico's breath caught in his throat as he watched the screen, his mind racing with worry. He hadn't felt this nervous since the day he met you.

It was a charity event hosted by a major sports foundation, bringing together athletes from various disciplines to raise funds for children's hospitals. Nico, representing the NHL, and you, a rising star in Formula 1, were both invited to participate in a panel discussion about the importance of sports in youth development.

Nico had heard about you before—your rapid ascent in the male-dominated world of F1 was making waves. He was intrigued to meet you in person.

As you smoothed out your dress, a mic tech handed you a mic. You thanked him and looked up, catching Nico's gaze. You offered him a smile, and his heart skipped a beat as you walked towards him.

"Hi, very nice to meet you. I'm Y/n," you said, your voice soft and inviting.

"Hello, I'm Nico. Nice to meet you too," he replied, trying to keep his composure despite the flutter in his chest.

Before you could say anything else, you were both ushered onto the panel.

The panel went amazingly well. You and Nico complemented each other perfectly.

"That was nice," you said as you walked to your cars. "We should hang out without, y'know, the panel."

Nico nodded, his heart racing for reasons that had nothing to do with the Monster he had just drank. "I'd like that. Maybe you should come to a hockey game?"

"I'd love that," you replied with a smile. "And maybe you can come to a Grand Prix?"

"Deal," he said, grinning. "It's a date."

The rest was history; you and Nico started dating a few months later. You came out to his games, and he attended your races, always finding time for each other.

Now, Nico stood there, watching your car drive its last lap, his lip between his teeth.

The camera panned to Nico. "There's Nico Hischier, Y/n's partner, looking quite stressed." Nico cupped his mouth with his hands, rubbing his face. "C'mon, baby, bring it home, c'mon," he whispered.

Sweat clouded your vision. One lap to go, and it was decided. You and Max had been fighting for this, and the points were extremely close. All you heard was your heart beating in your ears. You looked at your mirrors, Verstappen close behind you. You kept pushing. You reached the last turn; this was it. Verstappen tried to overtake, and for a second, you thought he did. You let out a strangled grunt, pushing harder. You got ahead by an inch, and then, all of a sudden, it went quiet.

You felt your car soar through the finish line, and you blinked, tears immediately fogging your vision. You could feel the rumble of the stands from cheering.

As the deafening roar of the engines faded into silence, Nico's heart seemed to stop along with it. The tension in the air was palpable, every eye in the garage fixated on the screens, waiting for the final verdict.

The seconds stretched on endlessly, each one feeling like an eternity, until finally, the results flashed across the screen. Y/n had done it. She had crossed the finish line first, securing the championship title by the narrowest of margins.

A collective cheer erupted in the garage, the sound of excitement filling the air as the team members embraced each other in celebration. Nico's heart swelled with pride and relief, his eyes glistening with unshed tears.

"Congratulations, mate!" a mechanic exclaimed, clapping Nico on the back.

Nico turned to see Toto Wolff, the team principal, approaching with a wide grin on his face. "You must be over the moon, Nico. Y/n drove brilliantly out there."

He nods, and Toto brings him into a hug, patting his back. "She did it."

Your engineer's voice breaks your haze, "Congrats, kid, you are the world champion," his voice breaks, "I'm so proud of you," he says.

Toto's voice is now in your ear, "Y/n, amazing drive, you did it, darling. I'm so proud of you. This is only the beginning; you have so much potential." Tears flow harder if possible.

"Toto, team, thank you so much. We did it, guys. Love you guys. Nico, if you can hear me, we did." your voice breaks.

Toto calls over Nico to the wall, he places his headset over Nico, "We did it, my love," you can hear Nico say into the mic, you let out a cry and laugh, "Thank you, Neeks."

Your team rushes over to the barricade, all of them waiting for you.

You park the car in the number one spot, Max in second, and Checo in third.

You flip your visor and get out of your car. Max approaches you, giving you a supportive pat on your back. Checo pulls you into an embrace, and you pat his back, giving him a nice nod. Then, you run towards the barricade and throw yourself into your team, who all cheer for you.

Your mechanics and engineers all pat your helmet, showing you love.

You do your post-win interview and cool down in the room, but those moments felt like a blur. You were called for the podium ceremony, you stand on the top looking down, and you spot him immediately, his eyes are rimmed red probably from crying, he spots you giving you a wide smile, and you wink at him.

your anthem plays, tears flow freely, then afterward the champagne pops, and you, Checo, and Max spray each other, happily running around the podium.

After the festivities you make your way back to the garage, Lewis gets to you first giving you a hug, "congrats kid, you did it,” you smile giving him a pat, then mechanics and engineers, Toto brings you in for another hug, “great race out there,” he pats your arm.

Then Nico charges at you, hugging you tightly, you feel him breathe deeply, “we did my love, we did it,” you mumble into his shoulder

Nico laughed, hugging you tightly. “You did it, Y/N. You were amazing out there. I’m so proud of you.”

You pulled back, your eyes sparkling with joy. “I couldn’t have done it without your support. You’ve been my rock through all of this.”

Nico brushed a strand of hair from your face, his smile softening. “You deserve all of this and more. You’ve worked so hard, and now the whole world knows just how incredible you are.”

You leaned into his touch, your eyes closing for a moment. “I couldn’t ask for a better partner.”

He kissed your forehead gently. “And I couldn’t ask for a better champion to support. Now, let’s go celebrate. This is your moment, and I want to make sure it’s one you’ll never forget.”

#nico hischier fic #f1 x you #nico hischier x you #nico hischier x y/n #nico hischier #nico hischier one shot #nico hischier imagine #nhl x reader #nhl hockey #f1 x reader #be4chywrites

213 notes · View notes

stubz · 8 months

Text

late shift

Shuttle for Mars is departing now. Please keep hands, feet, tails, and other appendages clear of the yellow line.

‘Nice, finally get off work on time for once! Man is it empty, way less busy than the 5:45 one…

Are they sleeping? Please tell me they’re sleeping…’

“Snnrk…”

‘Oh good they are, oooh lots of empty seats next to them! Nice.’

The young human sits across the large figure and looks around.

‘Wonder why everyone else is sitting so far away from this guy? He’s not that much scarier than a Alteauh…OH! He’s an Orc! An actual Orc, oh this is so cool! Wait. Calm down, control yourself. Orc’s are people too, not some exotic animal in a zoo….he’s sooo cool looking tho!’

The human smiles and takes out their headphones and listens to some music and take in the view they see through the shuttle’s windows. From time to time they peek at the orc, can’t helping themselves from people-watching him.

Like what most humans imagined, he was huge. Easily more than 7 feet tall, with large calloused hands bigger than their head. He had large tusks but unlike the stereotypes he was well trimmed with well relatively kept hair. It would have neater had there not been dust in it. The orc wore dirty cloths and work boots. Beside them what looked like a tool box and bag.

‘Must be a construction worker or works in a trade’ they mused

‘Poor guy, he’s gotta be exhausted to sleep here. At least he gets to go home now.’

The shuttle shakes and with it so does the sleeping giant. Rocking side to side.

'That's not good.' They nervously slide off their headphones.

The turbulence increases until the sleeping orc leans too far and starts fall face first off his seat.

“OH SHIT!” Diving to their knees they manage to catch his head and shoulders.

“Mm?”

“You okay?” Damn he's heavy!

“Mmm…sorry.” Rubbing the sleep from his eyes he slowly got back into his seat, the turbulence now gone.

“No worries, I just didn’t want you to hit your head.”

“Heh, wouldn't be the first time I’ve done it.”

after rubbing his eyes a bit more and a crack of the neck he looks at them, brain finally working to some degree.

“…wait. You caught me?”

“Uh-huh”

“But you’re so small! Are you hurt?”

“You're not the first sleeping giant I’ve caught. I’m alright.”

“I am so sorry for that. I just finished working a 12 hour shift fixing the 1st and 3rd engine rooms and couldn’t help myself from dozing off.”

They whistle. “12 hours? No wonder you’re tired! If I were you I’d be in a coma.”

“Ah but surely you have a difficult job yourself. How else would you be able to catch me?”

“No, nothing like yours! I just work at a youngling centre.”

“The one on the ship?”

“That’s the one.”

“...YOUR ONE OF THE BRAVE WARRIORS WHO RISKED THEIR LIVES TO PROTECT THE CHILDREN??!”

“…you’ve heard of us?”

“Every orc and warrior worth their blade knows of your valiant deeds!! Tell me, what is your name??”

“Kim, uh and you are?”

“Fenrir. It is truly an honor to meet someone of your bravery and intelligence."

"Likewise! I've heard that the orc species are a true warrior race."

For the rest of the trip the two talked. Kim sharing how her and Max built such a safe room in the centre, which lead to the two realizing how similar each other's planets are.

"You have wind whirlpools as well? I thought they only existed on Bantor!"

"Well we call them hurricanes and tornadoes but yeah. Do you guys have hail?"

"Not where I grew up but nearby farther up they get a week or two of light hail showers during the fall. What about animals? Do you have reptiles bigger than an adult with large teeth and live in rivers? We call them darthrang."

"Oh we call them crocodiles!"

"Amazing! To think that your species live in a world much like mine!"

When the shuttle finally reached it's destination the two went their separate ways. A few days later they meet again, this time on the later shuttle. They sit and talk and create a routine of sorts where they became each others travelling companion for the trip to Mars.

One day however, Fenrir stopped coming. The human was saddened as she enjoyed his company but was soon surprised when seeing him at the centre.

"Kim! I've been transferred to stay on the ship so I won't be taking the shuttle to Mars anymore."

"Oh...well, as you know I only go home at the end of the week so maybe we can hang out now. Like eat lunch together or have a drink after work...or something like that!"

"Actually we'll be seeing each other everyday now. But if you don't get sick of me then yes, lets each lunch together."

"Great! But why will I be seeing you everyday?"

"Because after telling my family about you and the centre they've enrolled my nieces and nephews and younger siblings here...and I offered to drop them off and pick them up."

It was then that Kim noticed the dozen of orc children hiding behind Fenrir. The tallest and what looked the eldest of them stepped forward.

"Hello, I am Athea, uncle Fenrir said your one of the ones who saved the centre."

"Yes, my name is Kim. It's great to meet you AtheaaAA!" The orc girl pulled the human into a tight hug, lifting the adult woman off of her feet.

"Thank you for saving Nova." she mumbled into her chest.

'Ah, the Captain's daughter' Kim thought. "I was just doing what any teacher would do."

After a moment the human was put down and lead the children into the centre. The day went well. Fenrir's young family members were quickly won over by the humans, first with the saving of the centre, then with how they understood how wonderful their planet was rather than terrifying or deadly.

They were also greatly intrigued by how such a small species could survive in a planet that was thought to only be habitable to orcs.

"How can you carry us?" asked Thor, one of Fenrir's youngest brothers. "We're much bigger than a human child."

"Yeah but your not bigger than my cousins who are teenagers. Also just last month I had like 10 kids climbing on me. Two were tighalaxes."

"Your joking!"

...

"It that tumpon?!"

"Hm? We call it maafe, but it's also known as peanut stew, do you want some? It doesn't have any meat in it though."

"Guys Max has tumpon!! Can you tell Fenrir where we can buy the ingredients?"

"Of course. Finally I'll finish what gran gave me without having to gain 10 pounds."

And thus the first day ended on a high note! Now if only Kim could figure out why the children looked at her and nodded while talking to Fenrir...

So this based off of a post by @llamagoddessofficial about humans meeting actual space orcs. Sadly I can't find the actual post. but yeah, here u go, space orc and human meet cute

#the adventures of kim and max running a space child centre #space orcs #humans are space orcs #humans in space #the beginning is something that actually happened to me #caught a sleeping construction worker who I sat across from on the bus when heading home from work #thankfully he was just a little taller than me and not a giant like fenrir #also my brother went through a phase of randomly doing trust falls in front of me so I am experienced in randomly having to catch people

380 notes · View notes

youkissedareaderinthedark · 10 months

Text

Mockingbird

Synopsis: Charles Leclerc as always been a family man, so it makes perfect sense to everyone when he chooses to adopt a child. Specifically, you.

adopted monegasque daughter reader x charles leclerc

A/N: for this one; charles will adopt y/n when he’s 28, for the most part, the grid will be the same as the 2023, everyone’s just older, and because charles’ relationships are unpredictable, he chooses to adopt and raise y/n mostly on his own.

. okay so

. again, charles has always wanted a family

. small, big, when he’s young, when he’s old

. doesn’t care, just wants a family

. specifically, a child

. but after many not-so serious and semi-serious relationships

. he realizes that he’ll have to wait a few years until he can have one of his own

. unless

. “what if I just adopt a child?”

. “I won’t have to wait any longer, I can just have one and raise them on my own terms”

. charles decides he likes this idea very much

. so he thinks it over and talks about it with his own family

. then after many conversations with his mother

. he visits a few adoption centers

. talks to a lot of social workers and child protective service workers

. finds one wide-eyed, adorable, 3 year old girl

. and falls absolutely in love

. the directors of the adoption center tell him all about you

. your birth parents, your story, your situation

. his heart was set

. the adoption process takes a few months

. so charles take that time to get ready for you

. but nothing could prepare him for the day the adoption agency called and told him you were his

. he swears it was the best day of his life

. he was beaming the entire drive to the adoption center with pascale

. had tears in his eyes when he finally got to hold you in his arms

. so then

. charles leclerc is a father

. the first two years of living with charles was definitely an experience

. you don’t remember much but he tells you how chaotic ages 3-5 were

. about how he basically lived with his mother in his childhood home for those years so she could help him take care of her granddaughter

. how much he loved getting to know you

. finding your favorite foods, toys, shows, ect

. how he loved teaching you his languages

. (he raises you in french, italian, and english, particularly in that order)

. how he cried when he dropped you off for day care and kindergarten the first time

. how he loved helping you know him

. like playing songs on his piano for you

. teaching you how to play different sports

. or watching old formula 1 races together

. speaking of formula 1

. you were raised racing

. charles bought you your first kart when you were six

. brought you to your first f1 race when you were five

. actually, charles had a love-hate relationship with bringing you to races with him during the early years of having you

. because on one hand

. there’s thousands of cameras around during a race weekend, and charles doesn’t want you televised 24/7

. and there’s also hundreds of people around him while he’s in the paddock, and he wants none of them near you

. it’s also hard to give you his full attention during race weekends

. which is something he always wants to do

. so he’s against the idea at first

. but on the other hand

. he can’t bear being apart from you for a few hours, nonetheless a few days or sometimes weeks

. and he knows you don’t really understand what’s going on, only that your dad puts on a red suit and drives a very fast car for a hour and half

. but he loves coming back to the garage to see you sitting with andrea, clad in ferrari merch and big headphones with a happy grin on your face

. it cheers him up no matter what happened on track

. and he knows he has lots of people willing to look out for you while he’s busy

. because you instantly became beloved by the grid the moment charles walked in with you in his arms

. who’s carlos sainz and pierre gasly?

. you only know uncle carlo and uncle pear

. uncle lew, uncle max, the list goes on

. although charles never lets you out of the ferrari garage

. his closest friends come in and visit you often

. sometimes because your dad asked, sometimes just because they want to

. also, speaking of max

. you met penelope during the winter break when you were five

. and even though she’s three years older than you

. she instantly became like your older sister

. and suddenly charles and max hang out a lot more often for the sake of their daughters

. anyway, the early years of living with charles were still chaotic, but he says that those years contain some of his favorite memories

. he loved watching you grow up

. sending you to primary school

. watching you kart on the same track he drove on when he was your age

. spending many afternoons at his mother’s house with his brothers

. (arthur and lorenzo are the best uncles by the way)

. watching you discover your own passions, whether that be racing or not

. traveling around the world with you, both to race and to explore

. watching you become independent, speaking up for yourself and what you believe in

. it all goes by very fast for charles

. and suddenly you’re a teenager

. by now charles is close to/about to retire

. so you don’t spend that much time in the paddock as a teenager

. but the times that you do are very fun

. instead of staying in charles’s team garage, you explore the paddock with penelope, who’s still an older sister to you

. you befriend all the newer drivers

. and hang out with whichever drivers are left from the grid when you first got adopted

. however, the drivers that charles has been friends with and have retired by now

. lewis, daniel, carlos, pierre, max, george, alex, lando

. you’ve formed your own big family with them and their kids

. because almost all of you live in monaco, you see each other often

. you guys go on vacations together when you don’t have school

. holidays on private beaches and expensive yachts

. or at booked-out ski resorts and mountain lodges

. you and penelope are the oldest, and are mostly in charge of looking after the youngest kids

. but you don’t mind, you love them

. it’s your own little f1 community

. but this is barely the beginning of having charles as a father

. he loves embarrassing you, for one

. at first glance, it might seem cool to have your dad come pick you up from school in a ferrari

. until he gets out in strangely pattered pants and a shirt that will never match

. “papa, do you not have anything else in your closet?”

. “what do you mean? you don’t like?”

. he says it keeps you humble

. you say he should just stay in the car next time

. charles does make sure you’re humble and grateful for everything you have

. but he doesn’t help by spoiling you to death

. you like something from the new gucci collection? it’s yours

. new dior bracelet you said is pretty? your birthday gift

. you think aruba looks nice? where do you think you two spend your next summer vacation

. “papa, when I said I wanted a break from school, I didn’t mean in italy”

. “but mon petit soleil, you are relaxed now, non? you’ll be back by monday, don’t worry”

. whether it be italy or not, wherever you go, charles tries to keep you as safe as possible

. he’s always been cautious of fans and paparazzi around you, no matter how old you are

. making sure you’re holding on to him when a crowd comes out from no where and gets too close for comfort

. keeping you by his side when there’s paparazzi around

. and doing whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe and happy at home/school/in the paddock

. anyway

. I could go on and on about being charles’ daughter

. but the point is that he loves you

. you’re y/n jules leclerc

. his petit soleil

. he couldn’t imagine his life without you

#reader insert #formula 1 #f1 grid x reader #formula 1 driver imagines #platonic f1 grid #f1 2023 grid x y/n #f1 imagine #charles leclerc x reader #dad!charles leclerc #daughter reader #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x daughter reader #charles leclerc x adopted daughter reader #leclerc!reader

815 notes · View notes

apollodeath · 11 months

Text

Playing Prey Again?

A/N: I FINALLY GOT IT DONE. Please forgive me if it’s not as good as the first one 🧎‍♀️ I never intended to write another predator/pray kink related fic BUT I’m happy to do it again and again cause they’re so fun and soooo hoottt. Also thank you to everyone who supported my last one I was so worried it wasn’t good. Also sorry for any typos or grammatical errors.

Reader referred to as you, she/her and pet names

König x AFAB!reader

Contains: predator/pray kink, 18+ things 👀crying kink, oral, it gives off dubcon/noncon but everything is consensual.

Summary: official part 2 of Playing Prey so if you haven’t read the first one long story short, reader and König have made up a game called ‘Prey’ they both consent to playing and have set rules for themselves, everything is consensual. Believe it or not reader and König have a safe word in place just in case but it’s never been said.

—

König left for his morning run and left you home to do well, whatever. You started by cleaning up the house then sat down watching a show, but really it lead to you scrolling on your phone.

Time had past and you felt you had seen all social media had to offer which lead you to looking through your photos, deleting unusual ones. You swiped through a few until landing on a photo you took just a week ago: König smirking, laying on his back, nude with you on top, you two had just cum and you wanted to take the photo for when he was away, so you had your own special porn. You sighed with a smile feeling yourself heat with the memory of the feeling of him propped up inside you. König always felt so fucking good.

As you reminisced on the photo, right on time, you heard the front door and König’s foot steps in. You smiled and brushed your dirty thoughts aside getting up, walking around the couch.

“König~” you call out walking to the front door and there he stood in his running clothes; a zip up hoodie, now hung open, unzipped even in the cold weather outside.

His under shirt slightly wet with sweat, you couldn’t help but love seeing him sweaty.

“Good run?” You ask innocently but your mind sparked at his mannerisms. Heavy panting, sweat forming and the way his shirt clung to his chest. His smell.

“No. Not nearly what I needed to get my stress out.” He answered while pulling his headphones out of his ears and into the tray next to the door. You knew König had a stressful week with work and training new recruits, so you shook your head in understanding, knowing he exercised to think. Clear his mind of worries or stress.

“Is there anything I could do to help? Maybe run a bath? A massage?” You ask tilting your head to look into his eyes and show your genuine sympathy. König locks eyes with you and steps closer towering over you, so easily for he is taller then anyone else you know.

“Ja. You can help me.” König grabs your jacket off the coat rack, never breaking eye contact, you suddenly feel small and in danger as he pushes the jacket into your chest.

“Run.” He says sternly yet almost a whisper, like if what he’s said is a sin meant for only you to hear.

“S-sorry, what?” Your heart skips a beat registering the word right after your response.

“I said, Run. I won’t be repeating myself.” He said sternly, his voice growl-like. A true monster.

You feel like you couldn’t move fast enough, taking the jacket from his grasp, turning around and running to the back sliding doors. Your heart races faster than time it feels, pounding already from the sudden game play. Prey so suddenly and so early in the day makes it so exciting, so devilishly hot.

You swear you hear König start running at the same time as you, god can’t help you if he has. His strides are massive compared to yours, not to mention his stamina. König was built to be a predator for sure and he knew that.

The fear of him being right behind you causes you to panic more and jump off the-two step-porch that lead into the backyard, you rush across the lawn to the forest. You already feeling your lungs burn from the cold air, it’s so crisp out with a slight fog. It’s freezing, but you could careless. Your temp runs hot from being turned on about the chase, cheek rose tinted and nose slightly too.

König actually did chase you to the back door, only he paused watching you jump from the porch and off into the woods, he smirked and felt the burn in his chest run down his spine to his cock just watching you sprint. Like a fresh doe who’s finally found her legs while running from a beast. He slipped on his sniper hood, breathing in the predator he is, his eyes heavy with desire. The desire to chase and devour, the feeling of taking you and ruining you, the thought made him radiate heat. His teeth clenched together. He wants you to spill your insides all over his cock, while you whimper and plead for his mercy. Which will not come easily.

You rush yourself not stoping you have to push yourself, your breath is heavy but you mustn’t give him you so easily.

‘He didn’t say a time’ you thought.

‘Is he behind me?’ You thought more ‘I can’t hear him’ you took a quick second to look over your shoulder and nothing only trees and a distant house. This kind of calms you, but still keeping up your run. You break from the straight path going right leading to a heavily wooded area and down a small hill. The paths were sometimes big enough for a car to drive on and others were just enough for one person to walk, those are the ones you chose most of the time or you’d make your own path. The paths were out of view or so you hoped. There was a couple big rocks; you knew were there, but so did he.

‘only a short pause here.’ You thought.

You crouch down finally putting your jacket on, you honestly forgot you were holding it. You chose the wrong day to wear a tank top, inside the house you had the heat on but out in the forest seemed to be freezing even mid day like this, the sun still wasn’t hot enough to warm it.

You got up slowly looking around and moved out of the rocks, deeper into the forest, a path you had taken before but, deciding to switch up and go farther left, you slowed on running and just kept a steady pace, your breathing was catching up even though your heart still pounding.

König always seemed to know where you were even when you had lost yourself in the forest he knew. He knows.

You hear leafs rustling making you squat behind a tree quickly and looking in the direction of the sounds.

‘There’s no way already?’ You think, but it’s simply the wind moving fallen leafs then a bigger gust shaking the leafs that have yet to fall. You swallow hard being a bit scared, embarrassed that the wind made you think you’d been caught but König was good like that and quiet, you’d never know unless he wanted you to.

You get up and start walking but it turns to a jog then run as your mind races. He could be close, he could’ve already spotted you, now playing with your own mind, you feel the fear of the game prey, but also the excitement, your pussy heats and starts softly coating itself.

You find a couple trees and bushes you haven’t seen before squatting behind them, you put one knee on the ground, ready to sprint if needed.

You began slowing your breathing once more, closing your eyes to ease your mind, resting your legs as they have began to slightly sting from your running up and down hills and carving your own paths in this forest.

You had gotten good with covering your tracks, not stepping on twigs and if you noticed mud or soft ground you tried avoiding it or covering your foot prints.

You open your eyes looking around and where you sat wasn’t very open and actually great coverage from all angles.

You wait a while; thinking of how scared and unprepared yet, of how hot and bothered you felt. The feeling filled your gut with mixed emotions but your heart fluttered with desire and your mind buzzed with survival instinct.

You stayed in place listening, hoping you wouldn’t be found.

You slowly moved out of your spot after some time had past in silence.

You took light steps away watching the leafs under you crush quietly you hope they don’t tell König where you are. You keep up a nice stride through the forest keeping your head on a swivel. You see a place up ahead that seems out of sight and a good area to just sit for awhile. The closer you get to the area with two overgrown bushes and a couple trees you realize it’s kind of a small place to sit behind the bush against the tree and when you do your head pokes out right above the bush.

Sigh.

You start getting up using the tree to steady yourself as you step out of the spot. Sounds of moving make you turn around quickly.

‘Please no I’m doing so good’ you think.

looking in the open, you spot the thing making noise.

‘König?!’ You think but you realize.

A real Deer, eating something off the ground and you slowly start to back up as it lifts his head up to look at you. It’s antlers taller the König perhaps, you couldn’t really tell while slowly walking back from it, its fur was dark brown and seeing it was kind of magical.

‘I hope it’s friendly enough to just leave’ you think not really knowing if they were violent seeing you in their home.

Your back bumps against something hard making you gasp loudly which makes the Deer turn and run away. You turn quickly, heart pounding and its rock… a start of a cave that seemed rather deep.

‘I think that might be too far… tooo scary.” You thought to yourself.

You hear the sound of something approaching and your heart still quick with all the jump scares so you decide to start running, heavy breath and your mind wonders if it was dumb to not hide in the cave. You try and clear your mind and keep your eyes on lookout and your pace conserved.

You hear something… maybe the leafs under your feet? The sound of foot steps? Another deer? You look back keeping your jog up, just over your shoulder, you see him.

König is maybe 10 feet away running towards you, seeing this you start spiriting harder then before you push yourself to your full speed even though it feels like he’s running only at half his full speed and he’s closing the gap.

You feel your chest heat in excitement and a slight fear but just seeing him desire took over. You see a clearing up ahead and decide to pass it but you think:

‘Maybe I can trick him’ you look back and he’s so close. His foot steps are so loud behind you, you feel like it’s a whole heard following you, you’re panting heavy now and your horny thoughts make you wanna lay down and get your pussy mauled already. You know with how long he’s been running and searching for you he was hungry for you; after the week he’s had he’s ready to tear you apart, become the animal he is out there but inside you.

You reach the clearing and turn as if you were taking it left speeding up and then cutting down a path on the right you knew there was a heavily wooded path you could get lost in; you hear a slide followed by a crash and his hand nearly grabbed your back missing you. Looking over your shoulder once more, König had tried keeping up with you and turned on the lose dirt at full speed and slipped slightly his knee and hands catching his fall it didn’t stop him much from getting up and running again. You took the couple seconds to get lost in the trees and you finally found another path switching up and you turn around no sight of him.

‘I have to keep going. König must be pissed at falling’ you think.

You run some more and turn around once again looking around, he’s not there.

‘He’s slowed down?” You think and once more you look over your shoulder and with a thud you knock into him. König’s so strong he barely budged. His hands wrap around your upper arms squeezing you tightly to lock you in place.

You thrash around screaming out of fear and shock. You try ripping away but he’s got you tight.

“Let me go!” You holler.

Your eyes wide and staring at the masked man.

‘how did he get in front, how didn’t I hear him.’

he truly struck fear in you at this moment your heart felt like it could’ve exploded from its rate. You tried once again pushing off him or trying to; he just pulled you closer, so close his eyes felt like knifes and his hands are so tight he’ll make your arms bruise. His chest heaving up and down you can hear his breath deep in his chest. You feel your legs shake and your pussy begs for him.

“You almost had me” his voice raspy his accent thickly dripped. “Too bad Meine Maus, Meine Doe is so slow…” he teased slowly with a hidden smirk. You thrash and squirm hoping to get lose but he chuckles at your attempt. König starts to push you to walk backward.

“You’re so small out in these big woods I almost lost track of you…” he pricks you up bringing you eye level, your feet dangle and he makes holding you look so easy. “but when you stood at the cave entrance I knew there was a percentage you’d run away.” König chuckles to himself “I still waited in the corner. In the shadows of the cave hoping you’d step in… so innocently” you could practically hear him lick his lips and you knew under that hood he had a devilish grin.

“Please~” you beg not to be let go but for him to take you, for him to ravish your body.

“Please? You beg for mercy but I will not show you any.” He then takes you closer to his body making you wrap your legs around his waist as he drops to the floor which makes you lay on the ground.

König unzipping your jacket, ripping your tank off exposing your bare chest and his mouth immediately takes mouthfuls of your soft skin in his mouth making your back arch off the ground, rolling his tongue over your sensitive nipples, your mouth goes slack and you gasp in pleasure. His mouth works little red and purple bruises on your chest.

König’s hands are working on pulling off your pants and once they’re thrown to the side he can’t help himself from sitting back on his knees and watch himself peel your wet panties off, the way that there is a tiny wet spot on them really makes his cock twitch he thinks to himself ‘she smells of heat.’ You look down at him your breathing labored you catch König in a desired daze as he throws your panties to the side.

You take this opportunity to roll to all fours and make a run for it, you feel your adrenaline rush getting two feet on the ground, nude with only shoes on and everything slows when you feel a heavy hand on your ankle yanking you back tripping you to fall and König climbs on you pinning you down.

“Stop!” You scream out but you really mean don’t stop keep going, all the way. Please.

He pulls his hard cock out his breath is heavy and he pushes in you all the way; making himself whimper/grunt.

“Shut up!” He says raspy through tightened teeth.

“Fuck~” he whispers, thrusting hard; his thrusts make slap sounds between you two, your gasp and soft whimpers drive him to keep going hard and fast, his cock kinda stings from stretching you so fast which makes you whimper and stifle a moan. König reaches up from your hip grabbing a handful of your tit squeezing tight. After a couple blissful minutes or so the sting inside you slowly replaces with one of the best feelings, you tilt your head back, your eyes rolling back, he’s done it. He’s fucked your orgasm out of you in minutes, your walls start pulsing and milking his huge cock.

König’s never been so rough, his hands are holding you so tightly his cock is relentless in your soft warm cunt. He bites his lip and can’t help but moan out whimpering at every pulse, your pussy clenches in rhythm as he chases his own orgasm, you come down and slowly feel yourself becoming so over sensitive you whimper and whine “please!” Tears softly leak but your cunt leaks more as chills spread over your body and König continues just fucking his heart out he curls his back in towards you and he feels that familiar feeling crawling in his core; his balls slapping your ass at a steady pace.

König leans his chest on thrusting as much as he can fit in you, over and over. His mask slightly covers your face as he leans in and he licks your jaw then biting your neck a bit hard still panting hot air on you. He holds your skin in his mouth like it’s his last meal.

Hello feels his core burning and his knees slightly sting while digging into the ground. He pushes up to get a full picture in sight of your body jolting with every thrust.

“You’re crying so pretty for me… my sweet doe” he grunts out in between thrusts. You feel your body building another orgasm and your heart pounds and your chest burns and sweat sticks to both you and König. He suddenly loses rhythm in his thrust making you realize he’s almost done. His body is flexing tight his legs locking in place, his ass tight.

“Wait Im gonna cum again” you beg for just a few more thrusts but with the sound of your cries it has König spilling his loads inside you, hot streams of cum puddle in you and out of you as he still tries to thrust, his mouth hung open slack from the feeling of his orgasm his eyes rolled back and his body shook with tingles.

He tries to continue, but ends up pausing, catching his breath; he slides his cock out slowly. He’s panting so hard. You bite your lip looking at him feeling your orgasm at the edge slowly fade back slightly and all you want is to get that last orgasm and König wants nothing more than to give it to you.

König pushes your legs up to lay on your lower tummy then picks up his hood to expose his mouth and latches his mouth on your cunt rolling his tongue and sucking at your clit making you moan out so loud you’re sure you heard birds fly from their nests.

He laps at your clit as his fingers find their way into your pussy fucking you just as fast as his cock. König moans/whimpers at your sweet taste it makes him slightly suck harder. You feel your body shake and flex causing you to shut your eyes tight. Your cunt starts squirting and contracting pushing König’s fingers out and your orgasm hits so hard you see stars; it’s brain numbing.

König rides out your orgasm by licking a few stripes up and down then a few just to clean you up. And to taste you more. He sit back on his knees and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand then pulling his hood down over his mouth once more. You stay there catching your breath and also coming back down to earth. König’s never felt so much stress leave him at once: seeing you withered away on the forest flood.

“Is my Doe spent?” He smirks feeling himself slightly tired.

You softly nod your head slightly and laugh softly. He chuckles and gets up dusting himself off then tucking his cock back in his bottoms. König grabs your clothes in one hand then picking you up carrying you home like a toddler who’s fallen asleep in the car.

Thank you so very much for reading! I hope this is a good part 2! Please leave a comment I love reading them and if you reblog I love the captions! 🙏

#konig #konig mw2 #konig call of duty #konig cod #konig modern warfare #konig mwii #könig call of duty #könig cod #konig smut #könig smut #konig x you #konig x reader smut #konig x reader #cod könig #könig fanfiction #könig #könig x reader #predator/prey

989 notes · View notes

warping-realities · 6 days

Text

Beautiful Things

Hey, everyone! This story is part of the Viral Transformation funfarre proposed by the one and only @occamstfs, in celebration of hitting 2K followers! Congrats, bro, you totally deserve it. He’s one of our top authors and never fails to bring the best stories.

Before I dive in, I gotta give you a heads-up that this is a story about corruption, where good people turn into the worst kind of folks. If that’s a sensitive topic for you, I’d recommend not moving forward. Trust me, in the original project, things were way worse, but after chatting with the MAN himself, who helped me with some edits, I softened the tone of the story a bit. If you’re interested in the original version, I can post it later, but this is the final cut.

That said, I hope you all enjoy it and join me in celebrating this awesome author!"

Alois was strolling mindlessly in the morning towards the student exchange center in Seattle, where a bunch of fresh-off-the-boat students from all over the world were gathering for the adaptation phase of their exchange semester. The eighteen-year-old Austrian was loving the experience of taking a gap year before diving back into his studies in Vienna, where he planned to become a doctor. As he walked down the busy street, on what should be the only sunny day of the year, he spotted one of those types he had seen around the city. They were all buff and tall, with wavy, well-groomed hair, and the big ol' mustache that defined them, giving off the vibe of some douchebag brotherhood or whatever. This one in particular was jamming out to music on headphones that looked straight outta the nineties, just like his outfit, which consisted of Levi’s jeans, a white tee, a dark jacket, and combat boots. The whole look cranked the douche factor up to eleven, making Alois's heart race a bit as a shiver of attraction ran through him. When the guy passed by Alois, he shot a look at the smaller red-headed man, dripped with arrogance while a smirk played at the corners of his lips, like he knew some secret that Alois was clueless about. To make things worse, the music blaring from his headphones was so loud that Alois couldn’t help but catch a snippet.

“Please, staaaayyyy…”

That stupid song again. At first, Alois thought it was kinda interesting, despite all the religious preaching in it, which rubbed the young atheist the wrong way. What he didn’t realize was that the singer was all about filming a lot of TikTok videos to promote his work, videos that inevitably flooded the social media feeds of a gay dude with an unfounded attraction to that type of guy. A type that seemed to be multiplying on the streets of Seattle every damn day. Sure, Benson Boone was from Monroe, just a few miles away, but still… Maybe he was looking at things from the wrong angle, maybe it was the singer who was cashing in on the style of the group he and his fellow exchange students had dubbed the Mustache Gang.

The fact is, after several months, the hype around the song should’ve died but apparently that was still far from happening. Trying to leave the discomfort aside Alois headed to the coffee shop that had quickly become his favorite spot during his short stay in the city. As he walked along, head down like most introverts do, he got lost in thought about what kind of work the exchange agency would hook him up with, until his daydreaming was interrupted when those familiar chords hit his ears again.

“I want you, I need you, oh God…”

But this time, someone had slapped a cheerful electronic beat onto the song, which not only butchered it but also made it even more annoying. Looking for the source of that cacophony, he lifted his head and glanced to the side. He could’ve sworn he saw a chubby dude coming his way, but now there was no sign of him, just another one of those big-mustached douchebags strutting around with the swag all of them seemed to have, along with the usual cocky grin. Dressed in a white tank that showed off his defined arms and hairy chest. There was no one else close to Alois on the street at that moment, which was a blessing, since his dick was starting to stir at that sight. But that also freaked him out. Where the hell did that damn music come from? Was he seriously imagining things now?

Distracted and worried about his sanity, he stepped into the coffee shop. At that moment, the place was almost empty; there was just an old dude, well past his prime, fiddling with his phone, looking like he was in a bad mood while he seemed to be listening to something that deeply disgusted him through the giant headphones he was wearing. Apparently, the use of those things was a trend around there.

Passing by the old guy, Alois headed to the counter and ordered his usual coffee with cream and sugar. As he made his way back to the exit, still freaking out about his mental state, disaster struck. Clumsy as ever, he tripped and faceplanted on the floor, coffee spilling everywhere and staining a good chunk of his clothes.

“Alois, du bist dumm…”

He said stunned in embarrassment, as he turned to the side, starting to get up. His view landed on black combat boots that ended in large calves covered in denim, leading up to thighs as thick as they come. But the old man was wearing a suit, no? Clearly not, since the Levi’s pants had been replaced by a black hoodie that concealed a massive chest, which the sleeves were stretched to the limit by powerful biceps. The grand torso gave way to a handsome face framed by wavy brown hair, and right in the center, the ever-present slick mustache that even the guy’s prescription glasses couldn’t diminish the douchebag effect. With his eyes closed and a focused expression, he didn’t even seem to notice what just happened right next to him.

But Alois couldn’t help but wonder, where the hell did that old guy go? While trying to figure out when the old dude left the shop and the Mustache Gang member took his spot at the table, the man seemed to wake up. Smiling and fixing his hair, he finally noticed that a kid was trying to get up from a puddle of coffee right next to him.

“Need a hand, little bro?” he asked, though not with a genuinely empathetic expression; on the contrary, the grin he shot at Alois did little to hide how much he found the situation hilarious.

“No, I’m good, thanks!” Alois replied, finishing getting up and bolting out of the shop as the guy burst into loud laughter behind him. Apparently, this dude wasn’t just rocking the look of a douchebag. Rushing to wipe the coffee off his hoodie, Alois continued his march to his destination. Luckily, no other mortifying events unfolded along the way. Upon entering the classroom, he passed by Charles, a French dude with long blonde hair and delicate features, who was checking something on his iPad while also rocking a pair of those old-school headphones. Not wanting to disturb his classmate, he didn’t say hi and headed further back in the room, where bis friends Arjun and Qian, hailing from India and Taiwan respectively, were hanging out. As he passed Charles, he heard that stylized version of Benson Boone’s song again.

“I found my mind, I'm feelin' sane

It's been a while, but I'm finding my faith…”

Apparently, he wasn’t going crazy after all. He quickly turned towards the source of the music only to find one of those big-mustached douchebags and no music font at all. But he could’ve sworn that… wasn’t there another person there? A kid with long, well-kept blonde hair? Well, his hair was definitely blonde and well-kept, just like the his mustache. Wearing a tank top that showed off his arms and staring at everyone in the room with an air of immense superiority that made Alois feel torn between attraction and disgust.

Resuming his path back to his friends, he discreetly adjusted his boner in his sweatpants while sitting down and trying to forget about that damn song.

“So, who’s the jerk sitting at the front of the class like he owns the place?”

“We’ve been wondering that too, man,” Arjun, the skinny Indian boy with long limbs replied.

“I guess we’ll find out soon enough,” continued Qian, who was more compact, as their teacher, Mr. Sizemore, spoke to the class.

“Guys, today I brought the manager of one of the establishments where you might work. Chuck works at a pub called Shooters; it’s an opportunity we typically offer to our students over twenty one. However, the place has expanded and now also has a Hookah Lounge, the Puff Palace. Although I must say the best option would be for no one here to inhale anything, this is still a decent job opportunity. Without further ado, here’s Mr. Chuck Morris.”

The guy smiled arrogantly before stretching and scratching his neck, causing the lightweight, almost see-through fabric of his tank top to expose his nipples, which didn’t seem to bother him at all. He took his sweet time getting up, like he was in some kind of private show.

But in Alois’s opinion, it would’ve been better if he had stayed seated and shut up, because the first words that came out of his mouth to the class raised a wave of utter dissatisfaction.

“Hey there, guys! Happy to finally leave your miserable countries behind and be in the greatest nation in the world?” The conversation didn’t get any better after that, and Alois was sure that whatever happened, he’d never set foot in that bar called Shooters.

After class, he was chatting animatedly with Arjun as they headed back to their dorm.

“I’d love to know what that illiterate would do if he knew he was talking to future doctors, engineers, journalists… while he’s gonna spend the rest of his life working in a bar serving people like him,” Alois commented.

“Probably nothing would change. People like him always think they’re superior just because of how they look and because they were born here in the States. Doesn’t matter if they live in a trailer and rely on government assistance.”

“True, ahhh, I want a coffee; I spilled mine all over this morning. Do you want one too?” Alois asked as they passed by his favorite coffee shop again.

“No, I’m good. I’ll go ahead; we’ll catch up later,” Arjun replied, continuing on while Alois entered the coffee shop. After carefully getting his to-go coffee to avoid a repeat of that morning’s fiasco, he turned and headed to the exit when he heard the synthetic chords again, accompanied by that familiar lyric.

“Don't take these beautiful things that I've got…”

This time, he saw where the sound was coming from—a Latino guy a bit older than him was listening through those giant headphones. Feeling sure he wasn’t losing it, Alois allowed himself to breathe a sigh of relief, only to get a major scare. In the blink of an eye, where the guy had been, now sat one of those big-mustached dudes, this one bigger and more muscular than the others, but with the same wavy hair and infamous mustache.

Alois was stunned, staring at the man, who in turn pointed a finger at him as if to assert something and gave him a smile that freaked the young guy out to his core.

Not knowing how to handle that situation, Alois bolted from the shop, trying to make sense of what he had seen. Still in shock, he entered the room he shared with Qian in the dorm, where his friend was sitting on his bed, fiddling with his phone, still dressed in the button-up shirt and khakis he wore to class.

“Dude, you won’t believe what just happened. You’re gonna think I’m crazy, but… I... I forgot... How bizarre, I'm sure it was important Qian! Qian? Is everything okay? Qian…? You good?” he asked, realizing his friend hadn’t heard a word he said, just to see his face contort and his eyes roll back as if he were convulsing, and then… puff. Right in front of him stood another member of the Mustache Gang, wavy hair, slick mustache, a chiseled face and a muscular body on display.

“You good??? Qian? Who the hell is Qian? I’m Ken, you foreigner dumbass.” Said the young man of Chinese descent, the irony of using that kind of comment not even crossing his arrogant and brutish mind. “You’re here only because I couldn’t score with an American ass. But a hole’s a hole…”

“I… what…?”

“You just accept a quick hookup on Grindr man, It's not that difficult. Gonna act all shy now? Here in America, that kind of behavior doesn’t fly. Either you do what you came to do or bounce, but then you'll miss out on all this,” the guy replied, flexing his powerful muscles while giving him an arrogant grin. Alois was thinking about where exactly he was and what he was doing there.

“So ginger, what's it gonna be?”

.....

When he got to the dorm for international students after getting his ass wrecked by the massive schlong of his Grindr hookup, who he discovered was co-manager of Shooters and Puff Palace alongside Chuck —those two even shared an apartment above the pub—he hated himself for getting into that mess just for a quick lay. Yet, at the same time, it was the best fuck he’d ever had. As he stripped down and got ready to shower and wash off the sweat and sex smell from his body, the distinct ping of a Grindr message caught his attention. Opening the app, he found a new message from Ken Lee.

“Hey ginger I think you’re gonna like this.” Ignoring all common sense, thinking it might be a nude, he clicked the link the other guy sent along with the message. Strangely enough, it was a clip from a podcast where a young woman interviewed a flamboyant man, who was wearing a bright and flashy suit, both chatting animatedly. Everything about them screamed obnoxious starting with their shrill voices that didn’t stop talking for a second. Losing interest and wondering why a guy like Ken would send that to him, Alois let the video play as he headed to the bathroom in the room he occupied alone in the dorm.

“… so, Benson Boone? He’s such a total hottie, girl!”

“Don’t even get me started, Yasmin! I melt for a guy like that! I’d do him in a heartbeat.”

“Me too, Nico! But with that whole Christian boy vibe, I’m not sure he’s got the moves.”

“Girl, it’s just marketing. A guy like that, with that body? And anyone rocking a mustache like that knows exactly what to do with a girl… or a man.”

“Nico you slut, I heard some rumors…”

“I know, girl! I wouldn’t doubt he’s hooked up with more than a few, after all, a man has his needs, and to a guy like him a hole’s a hole like my brother used to say”

“Oh, my brother always said the same thing. What’s going on that there aren’t any more men like him in America?”

“I’ll tell you, I don’t get it either. Everywhere I look, I only see snowflakes and wimps. They say they are our allies, but this talk about toxic masculinity has turned all of them into whiners. Of course I prefer not to be attacked in the street by a bunch of homophobes, but sometimes all we want is someone to fuck us senseless And no one does it like a good douchebag, and don't come to me with that talk that this is a white, cis man's thing, yada yada yada... all due respect to the cause, but we need more men like this hottie, not less. Real American men, who know what they want and make it happen, I don't care what they do with their lives as long as they fuck me right. So I vote for more douchebags, of all races, creeds and sexual orientations, sis!

“True, Nico! I wish I could make that happen…”

“Me too, girl, but how about we listen to his updated song while we wait for the real American men to come back?”

“Sure, girl, this version is way better and more danceable, perfect for a man to sweep me off my feet. Play it!”

Then, the chords that had been haunting Alois all day started playing, and he quickly turned on his way to the bathroom to stop the video—there’s no way he’d want to listen to that on his own.

“Mm. Please stay. I want you, I need you, oh God…”

As he turned towards the source of the sound, he froze, hearing it as a feeling of numbness invaded his head and took over his body, barely letting him take a step back before being flooded with memories and sensations that weren’t his. His childhood in Austria was being replaced by one in Virginia, time spent studying swapped for sports practice, the memory of a skinny physique giving way to a powerful, muscular body, atheism giving way to worship at church every Sunday, even if he spent most of the time distracted, checking out the girls present. And speaking of girls, nights of sex, just banging them in the ass to keep his virginity intact, and when a girl refused, there was always a twink willing to step in. After all hole’s a hole. Then there was the end of school five years ago and the move to Seattle, working as a personal trainer during the day and a bartender at Shooters at night, the apartment shared with Chuck and Ken, and all the possible and imaginable orgies they had . He knew that, as a good Christian, he’d eventually have to give it all up, settle down, and start a family, but until then, the single life was too good to pass up, and he was gonna enjoy it. And even after he gets married if the desire arises, well a man has his needs and one thing he has learned is that no one is a better bottom than a slut boy desperate for a fuck.

“No… no… what the hell…. This can’t be real…” Alois grumbled as he tried to move towards the phone that he now knew had to be the source of this whole bizarre situation. However, with every step he took, his muscles expanded. His skinny chest exploded into slabs of meat that are now pecs, below his abs form into six brick-like blocks, and his arms and legs thicken to a considerable size. His hair grew longer in well-kept waves, and that infamous mustache sprouted and grew on a more masculine and angular face. At the same time, the room he was in transformed, and he found himself on the other side of the city, in the place he had just left a little over 40 minutes ago.

When he got to the phone, Allen adjusted it, fixing the camera angle. That video was gonna be perfect for his TikTok, especially with that new version of Benson Boone’s song, one he’d used in a bunch of other videos, but this remix version was fire.

Fixing his hair and flexing his powerful muscles, he smiled at the camera.

“Yo, what’s up, fam? Today’s heavy lifting day and a wild night at Shooters. If anyone’s interested in what I’m packing here, just swing by or hit up the link to my OnlyFans in the bio. Only for the grown folks, are you really gonna miss out on this?” he wrapped up, crossing his arms in front of his body and flashing one of those grins at the camera.

“Damn, that looks so good!” he said, posting the video on TikTok and heading towards the living room of the apartment he shared with Chuck and Ken, not even bothering to shower. He had a new client coming to the gym in the next hour, so why waste time on more than one shower? “Tonight’s gonna be lit for sure, guys,” he said, talking to his roommates.

“Are you talking about the Indian skinny boy who’s training with you?”

“Ugh, definitely not. Dudes like him are for when there are no other options. But it wouldn’t be a Friday night if Big Al didn’t get some real action.!” He said grabbing his cock and balls over his shorts, laughing. "I can't wait to get some ass." He concludes while shaking his huge cock out of his shorts and making everyone burst out laughing.

“We’re all gonna get some, man. Chuck’s been spreading the word in an exchange class; soon, it’ll be packed with foreign slutty chicks and twinks looking for an American dick, and we can bang them all we want, Red.” Said Ken with a mischievous grin.

"And God bless that! "Chuck added beside him with an identical smile, which was also mirrored on Allen's face.

...

Allen was sitting on a bench in front of the gym, waiting for his new student, a scrawny Indian dude from the exchange program named Arjun.

“You coming, bro?”

“Sorry, I’m on my way. Got held up.”

“So, meet me in the gym locker room so we don’t waste time. In the meantime, check this out,” Allen said, sending the link to Yas and Nico podcast, she was a hot babe even if she seems as dumb as a rock. Not that he cared much about that at all; she was hot, and that was good enough for him, and that Nico had a very fuckable butt. He didn’t even stop to think about why he was sending that video; it just felt like something he should do.

.....

While he was chilling on a bench in the gym locker room, mindlessly scrolling on his phone, he didn’t notice the transformation happening to his student right behind him. The skinny Arjun was rapidly inflating with muscles and attitude without Allen even realizing it. It was only when he looked up and saw a dude of Indian descent with silky hair and the infamous mustache, wearing nothing but gym shorts, casually scratching his powerful pecs.

“Art, you still haven’t finished getting dressed, you asshole? We gotta workout, take some pics of our pump for OnlyFans and hit the bar shift afterwards.”

“Chill, Al, I’m getting ready. It’s not like your muscles are gonna disappear because of a five minute delay in your workout.”

“Five minutes is already too much,” he replied, flexing his arms and smiling arrogantly. “Tonight, I want the max pump in these Beautiful Things I’ve got.”

#occam2000 #male tf #mind change #reality change #jockification #mental transformation #corruption #musclegrowth #gay to bi #douchebag tf

120 notes · View notes