#another reason he and daniel should be friends | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

onlyswan · 3 months

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summary: in which the sweet ache of yearning metamorphoses into the art of intimacy and knowing.

idol!jk x reader, est. relationship / fluffy fluff, a dash of angst, explicit content (minors dni!!) / word count: 10.5k

warnings/content: divided into seven parts. it’s like a timeline hehe <3 ; mainly in jk’s pov!! ; underaged drinking (oc is 18 in that part but the legal age of drinking in sk is 19 so!) ; mention of almost? n*des (neither sent by our mcs) ; making out ; thigh grinding ; brief or*l (f. rec + allusions to m. rec) ; mention and allusion to s*x [yesyes it’s the first time] [oc may or may not cry a little too…] ; they have a ‘what if i die before you?’ discourse lmao

playlist! restless - bibi ; lily of the valley - daniel ; who do you love - the black skirts ; intro (end of the world) - ariana grande ; snow - josh makazo

> in which masterlist!

note: look at my gorjus ethereal bf !!!! anyway… hi, i’m back ^_^ here’s my not so little offering to those who’s been missing the iw couple <3 as always i’d love to hear your thoughts :") come chat!!

—

I. THE FALLING

“just stay the night.” you blurt out, turning to jungkook to express your worry. “i can’t let you leave right now. it’s not safe.”

his wide eyes scan the headline of the news once more.

heavy snowfall, road accident, several injured… versus staying the night at the apartment of not quite his friend, not quite his lover, for the first time.

he can’t deny that he favors the latter over the former with an explicable feeling rendering him breathless. still, he can’t allow his enthusiasm to cloud his better judgement. he knows he’s still somewhat of a stranger to you. he doesn’t want to overstay his welcome or make you feel uncomfortable in your own space.

“are you sure you’re comfortable with it?”

“sure. should i be worried?“

“no! uhm, i just thought not everyone would be comfortable to have a person they’re not very close with to sleep over.”

you chuckle, lightly bumping your shoulder against his. “chill. i have bigger things to be scared of than the guy who just cried with me while watching an anime movie.”

oh… he thought you were too absorbed in wiping your own tears to notice him crying too.

he slumps back on the sofa with a sigh. “i see. i guess we’re left with no choice then.”

“i have an extra toothbrush!”

—

jungkook doesn’t quite understand people’s obsession with his eyes, but getting enamored by the innocence that yours seem to glisten with, he wonders if he is experiencing the same case.

“can you see if this fits you?”

you stand before him with a stack of neatly folded clothes, unraveling a pair of gray sweatpants to hold up infront of him.

“i think… there’s a string? oh, there’s none.”

he chuckles. “you forgot?”

“well, it’s not mine. my ex never came back for his clothes.“ you huff with a roll of your eyes, muttering a silent his loss into the air. “i’ve washed it though! don’t worry! it’s just- you know- sleeping in denim pants is uncomfortable.”

does that mean you still wear the clothes of your exes? this pisses him off for some unknown reason. he would much rather sleep uncomfortably than wear their clothes.

you kindly smile, pushing the black knitted sweater against his chest. “but this is mine. it’s really warm and comfortable!”

but on another note, you’re too sweet and thoughtful. how could he ever say no?

—

the sweatpants is a little loose around his waist. your sweater, however, feels incredibly soft against his skin. as he walks back into the living room, he pulls down his sweater paws and runs his hands across its sleeves. if he had to describe the feeling it evokes, he would say it is very much similar to rolling around on freshly washed and dried bedsheets.

“it’s nice, right?”

he whips his head around upon hearing the sound of your voice. for a quick second, you caress his arm with the back of your hand, and even with the barrier separating your skin from his, the casual touch causes his breath to hitch.

“i finished cleaning the room. i set up a comforter on the floor so you can take the bed.”

“is that so? thank you!”

he zooms past you. you’re left standing alone, blinking in confusion. he is more than happy to welcome himself into your bedroom… so he can slyly steal the bed you prepared for yourself. he slides under the covers, makes himself all cozy with his hands resting on the back of his head as if it’s not a raging winter and he’s lying under the summer sun.

“and what do we have here?”

jungkook cracks one eye open. there you are leaning against the doorframe with your arms crossed. you raise your eyebrows at him, demanding an answer.

“what?” he smiles childishly. “you’re the one doing me a favor. i’m not going to let you sleep on the floor.”

“how polite. suit yourself, sir.” you shake your head in amusement, smiling.

you enter the room, flicking the lightswitch off and locking the door at the speed of light. without thinking, probably; muscle memory formed by your routine. he is the only thing not a part of it. yet.

“goodnight, jungkook.”

“goodnight.”

he still sees you moving around in the dark. you crouch down beside him and he feels the extra pillow he’s partially crushing under his weight be jerked away all of a sudden.

“i need this one. sorry.” you whisper-shout apologetically. “goodnight! sweet dreams!”

—

jungkook sighs, tired of mindlessly scrolling through social media. his eyes flutter shut as he allows his phone to collapse on his chest. he is yet to even figure out if going to work later would be possible because of the blocked roads. he has gotten enough earful about not heading straight to the dorm and he cannot risk any more. because then, he would have to see less of you.

he sneakily opens his eyes, craning his head to the side to steal a glance of you, but he finds that you’ve already fallen asleep on your textbook and he’s unable to look away again. bathed in the warm light of the lampshade on your bedside, he has never seen you more peaceful. he learns with hard evidence that you’re a side sleeper, curled up underneath the blanket and cutely snuggled against the pillow you took from him.

he doesn’t know how long he’s been admiring you, but he knows he doesn’t want you to think of him as a creep. you stir in your sleep and his hand swiftly flies to his phone. pretending to be absorbed in reading the first tweet he comes across, he tries taking another subtle glimpse of you.

it’s as if he’s been caught and punished.

he flinches.

your textbook collides with the floor, landing only inches next to his pillow. he begins sweating. he could’ve easily gotten a concussion at best, death at worst.

he sits up with his elbows anchoring him, poking around to investigate the cause of the fall. admittedly, he’s a little sad to see your back now facing him.

“shit, what am i doing?” he roughly rubs his face to knock some sense back into him.

he needs to get some sleep. yeah, that’s it. nothing more.

he picks up your textbook, taking it upon himself to bring it over to your desk. on his way back, he also decides to to turn off the lampshade.

his finger freezes on the button, however. he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip to silence the giggle that threatens to escape him— so fucking endeared to discover that you’ve kicked off your blanket and rolled over to your other side along with the pillow, your thigh carelessly slumped over it.

he tucks himself back into bed, heart feeling all warm and fuzzy.

“so, so adorable.”

the words escape him without thought; the smile on his face ever-present even as he drifts off to dreamland.

—

II. ALLOW ME TO LINGER BY THE DOOR

“hey, it’s getting late. shouldn’t you be heading home by now?”

you sit beside jungkook on the sofa after a phone call, and his round eyes grow twice their size when you steal the iced tea from his grasp, nonchalant as your lips wrap around the same red straw his have been only seconds ago.

he awkwardly clears his throat, perhaps to mask his loud heartbeat. “is your friend okay?”

“oh, she’ll be fine. it’s her fault so i can’t do much for her this time.” you shrug, picking up your chopsticks as you eye the last dumpling in the bowl. “still hate that guy, though.”

“the one you think is lying about being rich?”

“i don’t know much about real ones, but i’m pretty sure i’ve seen enough fake diamonds!”

that seems to hits the right spot to elevate your mood. you hum happily as you chew, collapsing on the cushions and looking straight ahead at the television screen.

“sorry about that. you must be bored and tired by now.”

“about that…” jungkook swallows his nervousness. he rests his arm on top of the sofa, just to act cool. he’s so close to you yet still so distant. “i’m dead tired from filming today. i’ve been up since four in the morning. would it be too much trouble if i spend the night again?”

“i should be the one asking you that. why do you like this trashy place way more than i do?” you shake your head, wiping your mouth with a paper napkin. “i’ll go fix up so you can rest then. you’re lucky minji didn’t claim the bed first.”

fuck, he was supposed to get kicked out?

“wait! do you need a change of clothes?”

“there’s no need!” he replies a little too quickly. if he has to wear the clothes of another one of your exes, he might end up on the news for setting himself on fire. “i have extras in my backpack i didn’t got to wear today.”

“oh, okay.” you flash him a smile before disappearing into the bedroom.

yeah, how convenient.

he exhales through his mouth.

when did he start lying? his mother would be very disappointed in him. but on the other hand, his father would explode in boisterous laughter and pat him on the back. nevermind… that just makes it worse.

“guess i’m going to hell!” he shrugs, wearing a smile that is rather too jubilant.

he grabs his backpack on the floor and heads to the bathroom; your home is another home away from home.

—

jungkook is exhausted from dance practice. he must’ve exerted himself too hard again without realizing it. for the third time this week, he’s attaching pain relief patches to his neck and shoulders, shirt pulled to the side as to expose the area. normally, he’d just take it off without care, but he’s in a different setting. while he’s pretty confident with the current condition of his body, it would be rude to strip out of nowhere. and you make him nervous. would he fluster you or would you fluster him? he’s not prepared to find out yet.

“are you okay?”

his movements from below capture your attention amidst catching up to the events in your group chats.

“i’m okay, just a little sore. don’t worry!” he waves off your concern with a scrunch of his nose. “i also fell asleep in the car earlier so…”

“i can give you a massage. if you want.”

“no, it’s fine.” even though the offer sounds extremely tempting, especially coming from you. “i know you’re tired too.”

“hm, your loss. i’m kind of an expert at it.”

he squints his eyes at you. “really?”

“you don’t believe me?”

you sit up on the bed with an offended gasp, and he laughs at how you quite literally rose up to the challenge.

“we do have actual experts come in and take care of us too, you know that?”

“excuse you, i’m an actual expert! i have more than a decade of experience!”

he isn’t surprised to witness you climb down immediately afterwards, sitting behind him with your hands already on his shoulders.

“hmm, my dad worked at construction sites. my mom had a desk job. this- this was my job.” your fingers begin pressing down as if you’re assessing him, touching the bare skin of his still exposed shoulder. “got paid with extra allowance. making money was easy back then.”

“you’re so adorab- ah, ah, ah-” his sentence is cut short by his own self when you apply pressure on a big knot, gently massaging it in small circles to loosen the tightly wound muscle fibers. “fuck, it hurts… yeah, that’s good. don’t stop.”

he hears you snort, feels your forehead collapse on his back as vibrant giggles rack your body. a blush of red creeps up to his cheeks and he’s thankful that you can’t see his face.

he laughs along, belly aching. “okay, okay- i heard it! i should keep my mouth shut!”

“no no no, i won’t laugh anymore!”

“you’re still doing it right now!”

“i’ll stop!” you sniffle, laughed to the point of tears. you squeeze his shoulders. “just relax! you’re so tense here, see? no wonder it hurts.”

there’s no denying that his body is pushed to its limits everyday; he has grown accustomed of this kind of lifestyle and he doesn’t complain. you’re making him want to do it all the time, though. if it means getting pampered like this? hell yeah.

“it hurts here too. over- over here-” he reaches a hand to his back, patting the area that has been bothering him all day. “this part. will you make it go away, please?”

“here? your shoulder blade?”

“yes!”

“okay. tell me if i should go gentler or harder. i don’t want to hurt you.”

it’s his turn to snort. he shortly learns that was not a smart move.

“ah, ah, ah-” you pull at his ear and this time he moans in pain. “oh, come on! you gave that one away!”

“shut up! you’re not allowed to laugh too!”

—

he tries not to create more embarrassing sounds. at some point he begun to busy himself with his phone, but to no avail, there are occasional moans and grunts he can’t bite down because you weren’t lying about being a pretty damn good masseur. and then he does it on purpose once, just to hear you laugh again, because his being already feels a million times lighter and you show no signs of exhaustion or boredom.

“you have a mole here,” you casually observe. he feels a light touch on the side of his neck and the butterflies in his stomach become untamed. “it’s sexy.”

he blushes, caught off guard by the compliment. “thank you.”

“you’re welcome.” you hum.

the minutes pass by and he is no longer faking silence, however. all he can think about now is how he wishes that he was lying down for this. how long has it been? you’ve been definitely at it for almost an hour. he yawns, eyelids fighting to stay open but failing miserably.

“hey, wipe your drool.”

he blinks. your beautiful face greets him— for a second, he’s convinced that he has begun dreaming. with a mischievous grin, you lift the collar of his shirt to wipe the corners of his lips, and in a state of near delirium, he cackles.

“seriously, thank you… i-i don’t even know what to say. i really needed that.” he sighs, carelessly rubbing his heavy eyes. “i’ll treat you to dinner tomorrow. how about that?”

“sounds good. now go to sleep.” you pat his back before rising on your feet. “your head kept on dropping and i felt bad.”

“that happens a lot.”

“well, it’s bad for your neck. keep doing it and i’ll get more free dinners.”

the unmistakable sound of a kiss that follows, it suspiciously matches with the warmth that lingers on his cheek.

“goodnight!”

“goodnight…” he only manages to mumble.

his mind has gone off to space. you tuck yourself into your bed after turning off the lampshade while jungkook feels like he just got blasted to the moon. he needs to get out of here. STAT.

“i’ll go drink some water. do you want me to get you a glass?”

“no, i’m fine.”

he makes out your figure shuffling in the dark, snuggled closely to a pillow.

he nods, which you probably didn’t even see. he steps out of the room as quietly as possible, slowly closing the door as to produce the smallest click. he pads to the kitchen still feeling light, almost like he’s walking on a path made out of clouds. he pours himself a glass of cold water from the fridge, chugs it down to the very last drop.

he licks his lips as he sets down the glass on the counter. he sighs deeply. he can still feel the outline of your lips, sticky lip balm printed on his skin. is it normal that he couldn’t be bothered to wipe it off?

“totally worth going to hell for.” he muses, unaware of the smirk that has started playing on his lips.

he briskly washes the glass at the sink, wiping it dry with a towel before deposting it back into the rack.

as expected, you’ve already fallen asleep by the time that he returns. the light from the hallway casts a glow over your face and it’s a sight that is painfully intimate in its own peculiar way.

he can’t put a name to it, but whatever this feeling is, he likes it and he wants it to last.

and so, he lingers by the door for a few seconds more.

—

III. THE YEARNING

jungkook hisses your name with yet another curse, heart so close to jumping out of his chest. when you were on the phone incoherently begging him to take you home from the club, he expected to carry out a passed out person from his car to their apartment floor, which he found no problem with aside from the possibility of having to deal with them throwing up.

instead, he is struck by an unusual combination of amusement and distress. he has been running around trying to capture you as you spend your final bursts of energy ringing strangers’ doorbells. your exhilarated laughter echoes throughout the hallways. he must confess that he was laughing along with you the first time… until it started to get a little bit out of hand.

if someone recognizes him by chance, he would be beyond fucked.

“don’t- don't do it! stop it! please!” he finally manages to seize your wrist before it can reach another, forced to wrap his arms around your torso so you won’t escape from him again. “are you crazy? it’s 3am! people are sleeping!”

“that’s the point.” you mewl, looking back to him with a childish pout underneath the hood of your coat. “why are they sleeping? it’s when the ghosts come out. does no one ever think about ghosts’ feelings? because i do! if i were a ghost, i’d be lonely and crying right now!”

oh my god, what is happening?

“so let’s invite them and everyone for more drinks!” you jump up and down, his secure hold doesn’t hold a candle to your hypernese. “jungkook, i want to drink more! more more more! buy me!”

unfortunately, he doesn’t have the time to dwell on your cuteness. he hears a door click from behind and his instincts instantaneously kick in. oh shit, you actually fucking woke someone up. he sweeps you off your feet, clasping a hand over your mouth to mute your angry protests. he turns at a corner, trapping you against the wall.

a deep and manly voice fills the silence. “hello? who’s there?”

two pairs of eyes widen, staring at each other as if they can read minds through them. he notices the unsteady rise and fall of your chest; your heart must be beating as fast as his. he has to pull down his black mask to be able to breathe.

“you’re going to be the death of me.” he grumbles with a pointed look.

when you smile, he perceives it first through the palm of his hand before it reaches your eyes. only then does he fully register the dangerously close proximity between you.

dangerous because he wants to kiss you.

dangerous because you’d dare him to do it and his self-control has been reduced to a million cracks.

“ah, this prank again! fucking teenagers!”

and the door slams shut. you both flinch.

“that guy has a fridge full of beer!”

you are vexed, voice muffled but still clearly loud. you harshly paw at his forearm to remove his hand, and your pout finally comes into view.

“no, you’ve had enough! seriously, what am i going to do with you? huh? you shouldn’t even be drinking at all.” he blows a loud breath, frustratedly running his fingers through his hair. “how did you even get in the club? fake id? you have it, don’t you?”

you rush to defend yourself. “i’m only younger by a year and i don’t look like it! as if they actually care in those places. they only want money.”

he begins to question if the bloodshot of your eyes is solely because of the alcohol or you’re also on the verge of tears.

“why? are you mad at me?”

“no, i’m not mad. should i be?”

“…i don’t know. why do you even care about things like that? you’re not my boyfriend or my parent so i don’t need to explain myself to you.” you angrily ramble, wriggling out of the tight spot he had you trapped in.

and that felt like a fucking dagger to the heart.

“you know what? i-i can do this. i can take care of myself, so go home.”

“____, don’t be like this, please. you’re drunk.”

“i’m not drunk, just tipsy! you can go home!”

he runs after you, but you shrug him off and continue walking away, perhaps a little too fast. he curses himself when he catches up to you seconds too late, witnessing you fall over to the floor with a thump and a whimper.

“are you okay?! where does it hurt?!”

you shake your head profusely, but your hands gripping your ankle gives away the answers. he doesn’t press you further. without another word, he hooks an arm under your knees and the other under your back, swooping you from the floor. he stands up straight, adjusts your position slightly, and walks the path you attempted to travel alone in your intoxicated state.

perhaps he is mad. he went and abandoned his rest time when you said that you needed him, only for you to rudely send him home. he has the right to be mad, even just a little bit, despite the fact that he isn’t your boyfriend, right?

not that it matters.

you cling to his neck and it all melts away.

he glances down at you. a soft smile has replaced your frown. “oh, so now you’re happy again?”

“yes,” you tilt your head. “feels like i’m floating.”

“where’s your key?”

“huh?”

“your key-”

“oh!”

you dig out the item from the pocket of your coat. you proudly dangle it infront of his face along with the colorful keychains attached to it; the bear was gifted by yours truly from japan. he totally forgot that it existed. the last time he saw it was when he tossed it in the paper bag he gave you.

he’s not even your boyfriend. the two of you know that doesn’t make sense anymore.

—

after he sets you down on the sofa, he kneels on the floor to remove the heels from your aching feet. he gets the hang of it after unfastening the second strap. while he’s preoccupied, you strip off your coat to combat the increased temperature of your body.

“i need to pee.” you urgently kick off the heels as you rise on your feet.

jungkook looks up and forgets how to breathe. you are irresistibly gorgeous; the cherry red mid-thigh dress you’ve been hiding from him hugs your body so perfectly. he’s ensnared and thoroughly convinced that you’re aware of your power to leave men and women alike sweating and tongue-tied.

goddammit, he is mad. you were at the club looking like this among flashing lights and grinding bodies and he is not your boyfriend.

“doesn’t your ankle hurt?”

“doesn’t matter. i need to pee.”

he clicks his tongue as you limp your way towards the bathroom.

“you’re so hardheaded.”

he lifts up your arm to bring it over his shoulders; he holds your waist to assist you.

“and your heart is so soft.” you giggle, and his world stops when you hold his face… peppering his cheek with an amount of kisses he doesn’t have half the mind to count.

you said you’re not drunk, just tipsy. does that mean you genuinely like him this much and you’ll remember it when you wake up?

dear god, he hopes so.

—

jungkook is supposed to wake up in four hours. however, he’s still wide awake sitting by your pillow, mind completely blank on what he’s supposed to do now that you’re safe and sound. he can’t bring himself to leave just yet. you bump against his knee as you shuffle and squirm, eyes closed but yet to land in the confines of slumber. he can hear your rugged and frustrated breathing, can’t help but to hopelessly adore how pretty you are even with knitted eyebrows and tousled hair.

he likes you so much. he knows it hasn’t been that long since you met but the thought of losing the chance of winning you over makes him want to cry and throw a tantrum. you’re running in his mind day and night. you have permeated all his senses. you charm him with your unapologetic existence and you effortlessly captivate his ungiven affections.

when it comes to love, his passion becomes a weakness.

a whine emits from your parted lips as if you sense that something is wrong. your hands pat around the mattress— searching and searching, until they stumble upon him. you push yourself up, head landing on the pillow, and your arms, they hug him close by his waist. only then do you finally come to a still, chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm.

you are at peace and he is experiencing an emotional turmoil— falling in love. this is simply not fair.

the lines are becoming so blurry. he is losing control of his hands, hyperaware of what he is capable with his possession of them. he strokes your head gently, hair brushing across his palm— this is soothing to him as much as it is you.

this feels right, he thinks. he wants time to stretch from this galaxy to another.

he feels a weak tug at his sweater.

“i’m cold now,” your complaint comes out mumbled against the thick fabric.

next thing he knows you’re pulling him down by his collar, leaving him with no choice but to lie down beside you as to not crush you under his weight. where the hell did you gather the strength to do that?!

he hisses in panic. “yah! what are you doing?”

“i’m cold,” you repeat.

“____, we’re lying down on the blanket. if you can just scoot over for a seco- i’ll take it out. move-”

his attempts on communicating to you only fall on deaf ears. he zips his mouth to admit defeat.

you cling to him for warmth, and jungkook finds himself giving more than that. he volunteers his arm to be your pillow, softly cupping the back of your head as you nuzzle your face on his chest; his other arm wraps around your torso to keep you close. it is quite a tight fit on a single bed— he figures out a lame excuse for later.

now he can say for certain that you’re hearing his heartbeat, but he doesn’t seem to care anymore. he also doesn’t mind the scent of alcohol because it’s tragically losing the battle against your sweet perfume. it renders him enchanted. and the dress… that hypnotizing dress. he squeezes his eyes shut, trying to banish the sinful thoughts flooding his imagination.

he didn’t peg you to be the physically affectionate type, but seeing that you can’t sleep without hugging something, someone— he wants to be just the thing that you cherish as your safe haven. he wants this memory to be cute… and romantic. but too much heavy on the romance, you affect his body and heart in ways no one can.

he tries to will his growing erection to ebb away. it’s not an appropriate situation. he likes and respects you too much.

“my makeup…”

you said it so quietly, he almost believed he was making it up in his head.

“what was that?”

“will you- please, will you help me take off my makeup? it’s bothering me.” you make one final request at the depths of drowsiness, speech slurred and stuttered. “the wipes… the drawer behind you.”

he should’ve thought of that. he’s learning. next time, he will.

he settles into his previous position after grabbing the wipes.

“how do i help? is it okay if i d-”

he interrupts his question when he realizes that you’ve finally fallen asleep.

his sigh momentarily fills the defeaning silence of the night. the exhaustion has also begun to take a toll on him. he’s going to have to catch up on sleep during car rides and set breaks. he’s already dreading it as he’s planning around their hectic schedule.

as he wipes off your makeup as carefully as possible, he mutters into the thin air. “you owe me a massage for this.”

—

IV. HAPPINESS OUTSIDE DAYDREAMS

“you’re my boyfriend now and you don’t sleep on the floor anymore. how cute is that?” you happily think out loud, swinging your feet dangling at the edge of the bed. “but if you want to go back to our old ways… my bed is small even for me.”

“no way. are you kidding?!” he jokingly protests in an angry manner. “your bed is perfect.”

jungkook is on cloud nine. it sure does feel good to hear you sound so happy calling him your boyfriend, even more so to reap its special privileges.

“i keep forgetting to ask. which side do you prefer?”

you’re sat facing the door. “i don’t know, but i’m used to sleeping here.”

“alright. i’ll stay here.” he climbs under the covers, spreading his arms once his back hits the mattress. the smirk on his face widens. “come here, baby.”

a grunt slips past his lips when you jump into his arms without warning, eventually falling over to the side when he moves to envelope you in his embrace.

“you’re so warm.” you purr in contentment as you bury your face against his chest. “i love cuddling so much.”

“i’ve noticed,” he replies. he softly squeezes your exposed thigh after you slump your leg over his hip to maximize your comfort. “your pillow must be softer than me though.”

“no, i like you more… cuddling is proven to have health benefits, you know?”

he quirks an eyebrow. “oh really? give me examples.”

“it releases happy chemicals in the brain… it apparently also helps to lower blood pressure and heart rate, and it-” you fail to stifle a sleepy yawn, hands grasping the cloth of his shirt and forming closed fists. “…improves one’s quality of sleep.”

“i can see it’s working well for you.” he chuckles.

“is it for you?”

“mhmm, yes,” he presses his lips to your forehead. “i’m happy. there’s only happy chemicals in my brain right now.”

jungkook means it wholeheartedly and it feels strange. he doesn’t feel happy in this moment alone. this happiness is colossal and there’s not nearly enough hours in a day to take it all in. this happiness will still be here when he wakes up tomorrow, and the day after that. this happiness stays with him even when you’re not physically present. you’ve turned him into an optimistic fool but it’s not always that he experiences an attraction this strong.

he’s smitten and he can’t hide it. the people who are around him everyday sees it on his face; he doesn’t even need to say it out loud. all that corny shenanigans about romance giving you a certain type of glow is apparently true, it turns out.

“kissing is said to have the same effects, actually.”

your coyness captivates him from his thoughts.

he draws back slightly, the glint of mischief in his eyes mirroring yours. “where do you learn these things?”

“through reading and experience.” you shrug innocently. “want to test that out too?”

you’re everywhere. he can taste your lips, your tongue; your body wash floods his sense of smell with a sweet and clean scent, plus something else he can’t quite name. he can only it describe as you. your hair is tangled in his fingers and your hands… so delicate and teasing with every touch, it feels like being electrified. it still feels incredibly chilly outside but heat is radiating off his skin. he needs to peel himself off you before he loses his last shred of self-control.

“baby…” he whispers, lips only a couple inches from yours. he takes your hand in a tender hold, placing it over his racing heartbeat. “i’m not sure about this one being good for my health.”

“but it is. you just burnt some calories.” you smile, wiping the sweat that has started to form on his forehead. “should we stop?”

he feels his cheeks become more flushed, but his craving for you has overtaken his shyness. he might as well be drunk; intoxicated by you.

“no.” he refuses, conflicted and almost pained. “i can’t…”

he gets rid of the distance between your lips once more, swallowing the first obscene moan he brings out of you.

—

V. THE SPRING FLOWER IN THE EYE OF THE STORM

although you know they held affection for you, the boys you’ve attracted in your life have made one thing clear: they see you as an object of desire, and you unintentionally play the part well. if you were going to make their wet dreams come true, then you ought to derive pleasure from it as well without shame.

but with jungkook, the tables have turned. you wore the same lipstick from last time to rile him up on purpose, but instead you’re the one stuck trying to recall a time you were this putty in somebody’s hands. you’re not in control— you expect this thought would make you spiral, but it doesn’t.

you stumble inside your apartment making out with your boyfriend and you have an orange azalea tucked behind your ear. his hand is in your mess of a hair and it protects your head from the impact of the wall as your back collides with it. you don’t know if it was on purpose or not but your heart flutters nonetheless. this is sickeningly romantic and you want to drown yourself in it.

“oh, feels good.” his mouth on your neck is addictive, you imagine it would be heavenly on more vulnerable parts of you. your nails harshly dig into his shoulder as he takes his time with every lick, every nip of his teeth— eager to learn more about your body and what makes it weak at the knees.

you tug at his hair with a whisper. “jungkook…”

“mhm? yes, baby?”

you thought you’ve seen and felt enough. you know about lust, but never felt a chemistry this electrifying. there’s an emotion screaming beneath the daze in jungkook’s eyes; it’s always been there, but not this loud. you think if you trust your gut and open yourself up… you might just come to gain an understanding of it.

you bite your bottom lip, behind it a shadow of a smile. “bedroom.”

his restless hands slide down to hook around your thighs, and not long after, your legs are wrapped around his waist as he navigates your apartment blinded by the mutual refusal of your lips to disconnect. you giggle every time he bumps into something and groans. with his fear of accidentally letting you fall felt through his tight grip, you’re the one who kicks the bedroom shut. the sound couldn’t have been louder than the pounding of your heart reaching your own ears.

jungkook is gentle as he lays you down on the bed, but your lack of inhibitions reign over you. you begin unbuttoning his shirt, unconsciously grinding your heat against his thigh as you do so. it catches him by surprise, but then his strong hands find purchase on your waist, and you know he wants this as much as you do.

the kiss is broken up by a moan when his grip falls to your hips, guiding your wild movements in chasing pleasure with a tenderness and sensuality that transforms you into a feverish mess. another gush of arousal ruins your underwear worse. you kiss him again and eventually you lose count of the buttons— patience runs thin and with adrenaline rushing through your veins, you tear his shirt apart.

he hisses. “baby, shit- what did y-”

“shhh,” you place an index finger over his lips.

he chuckles raspily, shaking his head in disbelief. your giggles join him, equally amused with yourself.

it’s still for a few seconds, but you can hear each other breathe in the dark. you’ve seen him naked but his silhouette alone stirs the fuel spreading throughout your body. he’s perfect. your lips reclaim the place of your finger. your hands caress every inch of his skin, every curve of his flesh they can reach. he doesn’t make an effort to hold his noises and it turns you on more, if that is even possible at this point. his muscles continue to tense under your touches, even worse when you find his nipples to tease and play with. he’s perfect.

“it’s my turn.” he tries to say in the middle of the kiss, but you don’t hear a thing until he’s pulling away breathless and you’re whining in disappointment. “let me return the flavor please? i’ve been going crazy thinking about it. fuck, please.”

you sit up on the bed, pushing his naked chest challengingly. “what? you want to eat me out?“

he swallows, wide scandalized eyes failing to escape your keen observation. “i do.”

you watch him watch you strip off your sweater, “really…?” and then unclasp your bra, allowing its straps to provocatively slide down your shoulders.

“ye-yes, really.”

“then what’s stopping you?”

he whines out your name, interrupting himself with his craving for another kiss as he slips off your bra completely. it gets lost on the floor along with your sweater and you smirk deviously against his lips. “you’re testing me like this, huh? you’re so mean.”

you lie on your bed but you feel like you’re on top of the world. jungkook scatters kisses from your neck down to your chest, occasionally licking and biting as if he can’t help but to taste you. he uncovers another ticklish spot along your ribcage, but you bite your lip to control your giggles. instead, you touch his face to subtly guide him away from it.

he nuzzles his cheek against your palm, eyelids fluttering close as he presses a soft kiss to your wrist.

“may i?”

the shape of his lips lingers there. no one has ever kissed your wrist, nor have you ever imagined the first time to take place in bed.

your thumb strokes his cheek tenderly. the silence that follows there after concerns jungkook. he calls out your name, snapping you out of deep thought.

“may i?” he repeats himself.

he is patiently suspended over the waistband of your skirt. ever the gentleman, you half-smile.

“will you fuck me good after?”

the hand on his face sneaks down to pull up the skirt over your stomach; an even tinier piece of fabric covers the most intimate part of your body.

“whatever you want, baby, i will do it.” he promises.

you can hear the smirk in his voice, but you’re unable to form another response as his tongue laves over the lace, the warmth and wetness saturating through and stimulating your clit— once, slowly, and then over and over again.

you gasp, jolting and squirming in pleasure. he only makes it worse when he hums and you feel the vibration against you. you whine and he squeezes the soft flesh of your inner thighs in an attempt soothe you, keep you still, nuzzling his cheek as he meets your heated gaze.

“relax… is my baby always this sensitive?” he places a chaste kiss over your clit, causing your breath to hitch. “‘cause i’ve barely started.”

“jungkook,” you impatiently whine. “why’d you stop? just do it, please- need you.”

you’d wipe off that stupid smirk on his face if only you weren’t so pent up and you didn’t need his tongue.

“wow… didn’t think you’re the type to beg.” he muses, more so talking to himself. “i like it.”

hell no, you’re not.

but finally, he dives in, greedily pulling aside the flimsy material for a real taste of you. instead of a sharp remark, erotic sounds between a moan and a sob emit from your lips. your toes curl at the surge of mind-numbing ecstasy overwhelming your body. your hands fisting the sheets fly to his hair, frantically tugging like you can’t take it, but you beg and beg and beg him for more.

—

the last time you had sex was more than four months ago. you realized that you liked jungkook, and you simply didn’t want to do it with anybody else. sexual frustration combined with the romantic pining for a man that could potentially ruin your life; your youth has been nothing short of eventful.

has sex always been this good? you can’t remember. you’re drunk on pleasure even in the aftermath; you’re not sure if you’re really here or floating someplace else. as you catch your breath, jungkook soothes your body with gentle kisses and strokes of your skin, whispering sweet nothings. mostly babbling about how beautiful you are. and you feel it— feel beautiful, you mean.

you gradually open your eyes, vision adjusting to the divine view infront of you. jungkook is golden, skin still glistening with sweat under the warm glow of the lampshade. your heart skips a beat when he smiles at you.

“are you good? do you need anything? water?”

“again.”

his eyes widens. “again?“

“round two.” you giggle.

you push yourself up to reach his lips, but the kiss ends too soon for your liking.

“jungkook-” you complain.

“wait!”

you stare in bewilderment as he bends down from the edge of bed, appearing to be reaching for one of the objects discarded on the floor.

“what is it?”

“i found it!”

it’s the flower.

beaming with a hue of pure excitement, he tucks the azalea behind your ear for the second time tonight. pretty, he says it so quietly that you only understand through the movement of his lips.

he looks bewitched by you. in a different setting you’d be smug about it, but at this moment, you don’t understand. you can’t read what’s on his mind. if only you could see yourself through his eyes, even for just a moment, then maybe you’d understand why he’s dancing with fire and folding with his tower of cards.

it would be too silly and embarrassing to start crying now, right?

you swallow the lump in your throat, glassy eyes overshadowed by your boyfriend leaning in to plant a kiss on your forehead. as if that isn’t enough to entirely melt your heart, he intertwines his fingers with yours. your walls come crumbling down. in a haste to forbid your emotions from breaking free, you reach for him and slip your tongue in his mouth for a fervent kiss.

the burning tears that drip down to your temples are lost evidence you will bring to the grave.

—

“you’re not supposed to be awake.” jungkook complains as soon as he opens the door.

you only spare him a glance before returning to your task. instead of being under the sheets, you’re sat on the floor with his button-up shirt from last night laid across your lap. only several steps closer and he realizes that you’re sewing.

he exhales through his mouth in surprise, setting aside the tray of food on the bed before joining you on the floor.

“baby, what are you doing?! it’s fine. you don’t need to fix it.”

“i know, but i want to.” you reply, smiling, eyes still swollen from sleep focused on the needle and thread. “i stepped on one of the buttons so i looked for the two other.”

he’s dumbfounded watching you sew with so much care and precision. oh my god, he is in love with you. he thinks it so loud he gets terrified that he might’ve ended up speaking it out loud too.

“at least eat first!”

“wow, where did you buy ingredients so early?”

“early?” he scratches his head. “it’s lunch time.”

“what?!” your eyes grow twice their size. “jungkook, i’m late for work! what didn’t you wake me up?!”

“you- you we- you were tired!” he stutters defending himself.

he awkwardly catches his shirt when you throw it aside in a rush to get to the bathroom.

“baby, what about your food?!” he yells.

“wait, i forgot my towel-” you pop out from the doorframe, beaming at him breathlessly. “oh, please pack the food in my lunchbox!”

—

VI. SPEAKING TRUTHFULLY, YOU’RE THE ONE FOR ME

“i missed you.”

you giggle. “you look drunk.”

you hold jungkook’s cheeks in the palm of your hands, and he revels in the comforting warmth radiating from them.

he closes his eyes with a toothy grin. “i’m exhausted.”

“then go to sleep!”

“i don’t want to!”

he opens one eye, peeking at you.

“i came here so you won’t have to tire yourself out more going to my place.” you pout. “why do you hate resting?”

“this is me resting,” he says as a matter of fact, leaning down to give your lips a peck. “you are my rest.”

while it may be true that his body is begging for sleep, his mind is willing him to stay awake for as long as he can. he likes that he has nothing to prove here; he can simply be. you’re softly tracing his skin, forming constellations from the moles on his face, and he knows they’re created out of pure wonder and love.

“this one’s so cute!” you gush. “nobody talks about it enough.”

you place an affectionate kiss on the mole at the bridge of his nose.

“maybe because nobody has noticed it but you.”

you roll your eyes. “as if i’m the only one who spends their free time looking at your face.”

“but you’re the one who can view me in the highest quality.” he brings his face a little closer to tease you; noses almost brushing. “no one else can have me this close.”

“that’s right. or else you will never have me this close again.”

you squint your eyes at him as a threat; a frown making a permanent residence on your lips. fuck, when is he not thinking about kissing you?

“aigoo, look at you sulking!” he exclaims with a laugh.

“i’m not!”

“okay, whatever you say.” he replies in a sing-song voice.

it’s silent for a few beats as he engulfs you in his embrace. he feels like he’s being recharged, and with that comes along the overdue acknowledgement of his exhaustion. he meant it when he said that you are his rest.

“you know, i can’t help but to wonder sometimes.”

there is an undertone of hesitance in the way you spoke which is not typical of you. this prompts him to draw back a little, just enough to get a good look of your face.

“wonder about?”

“i’m not trying to put myself down or anything like that, by the way. i’m not expecting you to say the right thing or whatever either. i’m just-”

you pause, teeth nervously biting your lip. his heart aches in an instant when you avoid his eyes.

“i’m just genuinely curious? and saying what’s on my mind.”

“what is it?” he juts out his bottom lip. “you’re scaring me.”

“it’s not a big deal!”

“go on then. i’m listening.”

“i mean, i know i’m a catch, and- and i have a lot to offer, and i’m special in my own way. but you have a lot of…” you blink, trying to find the right term. “options.”

the word alone causes distaste to morph in his facial expression.

“okay, okay, i know! ugh, i don’t know how else to say it. but you have these beautiful and amazing people throwing themselves at you and sometimes i’m flabbergasted that you actively reject them for me.”

“baby, what are you even saying-”

“i’m serious. there are girls i would’ve totally gone for!”

“but they’re not you!”

he tilts your chin, smiling when at last, he recaptures your wide-eyed gaze.

“it’s really as simple as that.”

“but when we weren’t official yet-”

“i liked you from the start, if i didn’t make that obvious enough.”

you scrunch your cute nose; a smile of pure giddiness starting to form on your face. “you did… i knew.”

“i can’t believe you’re thinking about things like that. i only have eyes for you, baby. do you remember the first fight we had, huh? remember how i got drunk and cried?”

he doesn’t particularly like to relive the trauma and consequences of receiving unsolicited… almost naked… photos of an acquaintance while he’s watching a silly youtube video on his phone with his significant other. anything can be fixed in a relationship if both parties exert the effort, but trust, it is almost impossible to rebuild.

she didn’t know he was, is, in a relationship. in general, no one outside his inner circle really expects him to be in a relationship, or at least be in one that is serious or long-term. because, well, where would he find the time and energy for that kind of stuff?

but keeping you as a secret was his way of protecting you, and if you were hurting because of that, you didn’t show it.

oh, but that doesn’t mean you weren’t mad.

you needed some time to clear your head, you said. ignored his texts and phone calls; shooed him away when he begged at your front door. that issue may already been resolved, but he’s still not done proving that he’s solely committed to you.

you’re one of the most important people in his life. he loves you and he tends to get worried that you will never know much.

you gasp, hitting his chest. “when did that happen?!”

“why are you shocked…?” he narrows his eyes. “you didn’t know?”

“how would i know?”

he scratches his head in confusion. he should probably stop talking at this point and not dig his own grave, but his honesty leads him on. “…didn’t taehyungie-hyung send you a video? or did i make that up in my head?”

he immediately regrets it when the sparkle of mischief appears in your eyes.

“he’s still awake, right?”

“actually, he sleeps early nowadays!”

you wiggle out of his embrace, playfully sticking out your tongue at him. “i’ll go get the copy from him right now.”

“it was so long ago. it’s probably deleted by now!”

“wouldn’t hurt to check.”

“baby, no! it’s embarrassing!” he attempts to pull you back, but his hands barely reach you. “let’s just go to sleep, hm? didn’t you come here to put me to sleep?”

“aw, my love…”

he melts when you gingerly stroke his hair too. he will never live it down if his friends witnessed you babying him and him loving it.

“just close your eyes.”

and with your hand obstructing his vision, he sees pitch black and floating spots and flecks.

“i’ll be back in a minute! mwah!”

but despite his sense of sight being taken away, he still feels you spring off the mattress. the weight of your feet against the floor resonates along with the shout of your name as he follows you out of his bedroom.

you squeal in panic when you realize that you’re being chased. “go back to bed!”

“i won’t unless you go back with me!”

this is one of the instances in which jungkook is grateful for his gifts of athletic prowess and long limbs.

with little to no effort, he overtakes you in the race towards taehyung’s bedroom. doe eyes akin to a deer caught in the headlights, he swings the door open.

taehyung’s eyes flicker up from his phone. he’s frankly not surprised about the intrusion, not after hearing the commotion outside.

“need anything?”

“all the videos you have of him drunk!”

“hyung, no! you can’t give it!”

—

VII. THE CHOICE TO STAY

“give it to me.”

the blanket that jungkook carried from the bedroom is snatched away from his hands. it becomes unfurled and thrown over to shield your shivering vessel from the cold. without a word, he crawls on the couch and under the blanket, hugging you from behind as you catch up on your ongoing tv shows.

relief… he’s been looking forward to this all day.

the tension in his muscles, from head to toe, begin to fade away, especially as you take his hand in yours so you can give it a chaste kiss. it’s quick, but long enough for him to feel the softness of your lips. his hug tightens. he remains silent as he inhales, and exhales, slow and calm. he’s not trying to fall asleep as much as trying to shut down his brain. they say the world has stopped but from his point of view, it has erupted into chaos and he has no other choice but to watch it fall apart and to attempt to rebuild it at the same time. god knows he is doing the best he can but it feels like his best will never not be lacking.

jungkook is scared, and he is more scared knowing that everyone else is too. but for the past two years, whether you’re whole or broken, whether he’s climbing or falling— it never made a difference. you’ve always stayed.

he finds comfort in knowing that he has this constant among the ominous unknown.

his little firefly; your light won’t go out even as the world lets out its final sigh.

“my love, why are you sad?”

you flipped to your other side when another commercial break rolled in; now you’re hovering over him, curious eyes studying every inch of his face.

“is my love hurt anywhere?” you coo. “where should i kiss?”

his body shakes with quiet laughter as you pepper his face with kisses, trailing down to his jaw until you reach the juncture between his neck and shoulder.

“or do you want a massage? here? know you had a looong day.”

“really? how’d you know?”

“yeah, ‘cause you haven’t showered. you’re all stinky.”

“oh, am i?” he playfully pinches your waist, which you react to with a drawn out whine. “and yet you’re still cuddling with me.”

“so? do you need my massage therapy services or not?!”

“no. i only need my lover, please.” he pleads with droopy eyelids, emphasizing his request by tangling his limbs with yours.

he can’t hide from you like he hides from himself. you’re much more gentler with his heart than he is; unconciously, he trusts you more with it.

“you have me. what’s wrong?”

your hands anchored on the sofa are swept away as he pulls you closer, your weight crashing down on him entirely. he nuzzles his face in the crook of your neck, breathing in your natural scent and the lavender in your body wash.

“eh, it’s just work… everything that could go wrong is going wrong. we’re trying to figure things out, but what can we do really…? there’s nothing. i- this-this whole thing is just so fucking frustrating, baby. i’m sorry.”

“it’s not just work! it’s your reason for living. of course this is frustrating and painful for you. it’s understandable to feel that way.”

he can practically hear you pouting. he is proven right when you lift your head, leaning in to give him a kiss. he smiles against your lips. he loves you so much.

“so please don’t burn yourself out trying to be okay. you have me by your side who can help you carry your burdens.”

it was scary at the beginning, but now it only feels right. it is impossible not to love you with all of his heart and soul; you deserve nothing less and more than what he can give. when you hug him, he hugs you back tighter.

“you’re my reason to live too.”

“i shouldn’t be. what if i die before you?”

“yah, don’t says things like that!” he scolds you faster than he can think, eyebrows knitted together and frown a tad deeper. “you won’t. it won’t happen.”

“i will die eventually.” you grimace.

“please don’t say such things as ‘i want you to move on and meet someone else and fall in love again and remarry.’ i don’t want to hear it!” he rambles so fast that he doesn’t even understand himself, stumbling and lisping. “i will seriously cry!”

“oh, i don’t care for things like that.”

you make yourself more comfortable; your boyfriend as your own personal bed. sleeping on top of him has been a natural occurence these days, not that he minds. you’re so soft and warm. it’s like hugging a stuffed toy to sleep. still, he’s mindful of you falling off the couch again.

“do whatever you like.” your eyes meet as you bestow him with a smile. “i’ll be dead; i won’t even know what happens next.”

“you don’t care? huh…” he huffs over the hypothetical.

the mere consideration of it feels like cheating. he knows that it technically isn’t, but he can’t imagine spending the rest of his life with someone who isn’t you. nevertheless, if he was being honest and it was the other way around, he’d probably do tell you to leave your heart open. but the topic is not the other way around and jungkook’s heart is stubbornly bound to you.

“why am i getting upset?”

“i don’t care because i’m confident.” you say candidly. “you can fall in love with someone else, but no one will ever love you the way that i do.”

ah, and here comes a side of you that he knows and loves. he swears that cupid is in the room and his heart was just hit by another one of his arrows. it feels so good to be loved so fearlessly.

“i know, so why even bother?” he arrives at a conclusion to his defense, but there’s a much better solution. “please never ever leave me so i won’t have to deal with this dilemma.”

he catches you roll your eyes before he comes face-to-face with the back of your head. your cheek rests on top of his chest; he feels it above his beating heart.

“what then? are we supposed to die together?”

he hums in thought. “it’s not a totally bad idea. we live together, so wouldn’t that make sense too?”

“wow, very shakespearean of you.”

“oh, that’s right! see? isn’t this your type of thing? let’s do it!”

“oh my god, you’re so stupid.” you hide your face behind your hand, giggling in disbelief of the sharp turn this conversation took.

jungkook loves making you laugh. for a little while, he forgets everything else. the world outside may be terrifying but you have your own in your shared apartment. you’re his reason to live too. you ignite the life in his veins. you kiss him with an appetite for passion and love and he enters heaven on earth.

“thank you.” you mumble against his lips.

“thank you?”

“for loving me, for living with me…” your voice wavers and his heart drops to his stomach. he can hold back his tears, but never when he sees yours flowing. “even when you’re tired and having a hard time.”

“you make it sound like a chore, but the truth is loving you gives me the strength to work hard everyday. you do know that, right? baby?” he strokes your hair tenderly, hoping that you receive his sincerity. “i should be the one thanking you… i should say it more often. you didn’t give up on loving me even when it was hurting you.”

“it’s all in the past… you were hurting too.” you reply in a faint whisper. “i love you.”

cupid must owe him a tremendous favor to have granted him the purest form of love a human being could have.

he plants a kiss on your forehead, noticing the rise of your shoulders. an endearing thing they occasionally do when you’re happy, shy, or flattered. it’s one of the many things he learned about you since you started living under the same roof.

he’s been learning about himself too. he tried saving you from himself but this fact is now well-established— you are the sun; it only hurts him to push you away because you’re in everything. it’s the little things that will haunt him if lost. when pieced together, they declare that you love him and he loves you.

the words i’m going home have gained more meaning and he’s excited to say them at the end of each day. he talks about his day and you talk about yours. you find out he’s the reason your lotion ran out too fast again and you chase him around the apartment until he promises to buy you the biggest bottle. you play rock-paper-scissors to figure out who will wash the dishes or receive the food from the delivery guy. you watch too many cooking videos on his phone until one of you falls asleep. most of the time it’s you. tonight, it’s still you.

he must confess that up to this day, he admires you when you sleep. you are safe and sound, and he is mended in places he did not know existed.

it’s time to sleep, he also decides.

he cocoons you in the blanket, then provides another layer of warmth which is his body. once settled, he closes his eyes, sighing in contentment. “what’s the use of our giant bed if we keep on sleeping on the couch?”

—

(?). AN ETERNAL RECORD: MY TREASURE, MY LOVE (ARCHIVED)

[DEC 25 ‘17 02:12AM]

“is it rolling?”

“yes, it’s rolling.”

you excitedly look at the film camera from the thick pile of snow on the ground, moving your arms up and down and your legs from side to side. an attempt to create a snow angel.

your giggles and the crackles of the snow are heard through the speaker.

the lens zoom in on your face.

childlike joy in the form of an everlasting smile and snowflakes on your hair.

“am i doing it?!”

“you are!”

“really?”

“really!”

“is it pretty?”

your face comes out of the frame. for a second only the white snow is seen, and then the dark brown of your coat as you skip towards the camera.

“let me watch!”

the camera shakes before it pans to the ground.

rustling of clothes and a shy, panicked voice.

“hold on- i-i’ll just fix the…”

“why?”

“huh, what do i do?” a forced laugh to mask nervousness. “i think it didn’t save-”

#jungkook #jungkook fluff #jungkook angst #jungkook smut #jungkook drabble #jungkook one shot #jungkook scenario #jungkook imagine #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook au #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #bts fluff #bts reaction

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roosterforme · 7 months

Text

Don't Waste Another Minute | Rooster x Reader

Summary: When you finally recognize that you have been hanging onto your relationship for all the wrong reasons, you end things. You knew there would be someone better for you, and it was a welcome realization to see that he had been right there in front of you the whole time.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, asshole Jake, drunk Jake, reader dumps Jake, crude language, alcohol, swears

Length: 4100 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @mak-32

As soon as you told Jake that you thought he'd had enough to drink for one night, he called you a bitch for the fifth time. It was mortifying. Because this time your boyfriend said it in front of his friends instead of just quietly whispering, "I'm gonna need you to stop acting like a bitch."

The area around the pool table went quiet, and it took everything inside you to keep your head held high. His friends weren't the ones who had to deal with the aftermath of angry, drunk Jake. You were. They weren't constantly getting yelled at for hiding his keys when he couldn't walk straight. And they weren't driving around in a car that still smelled horrendous weeks after he threw up a bottle of Jack Daniels next to the center console. You were.

Your lips were shaking as you met his glassy, green eyes. And then Bradley Bradshaw stepped forward and put a hand on Jake's shoulder. "That's not cool, Hangman," he said, his voice deep and angry. He set down the bottle of beer he had been nursing and met your eyes with chocolate brown ones that somehow made you feel a little more grounded. Then he added, "I think you should apologize to your girl."

Just as Jake scoffed, you returned your attention fully to him. You pressed your lips together until you were sure you could speak without making a fool out of yourself. "No. I'm not his girl. It's been a long time since that was something I wanted to be. I can't do this anymore, Jake."

As you dug his car keys out of your pocket, he slurred, "I should have dumped you months ago. You don't even know how to have fun. You're just a stuck up bitch."

You tried your best to ignore him as you handed his keys to Javy and softly asked, "Can you make sure he gets back to his place safely?"

"I will," he promised, nodding at you. Then you glanced around the group of aviators you had become fond of over the past several months since Jake first brought you here. You were going to miss them, especially Bradley and the soft smiles he always gave you. And the way he just stood up for you.

But right now his handsome face looked stony as he shook his head at Jake. You ran your hand along Bradley's arm and tried your best to smile at him as you left the group and started to dig your phone out of your pocket. "Bye," you whispered to nobody in particular. You'd get an Uber and go back to your place and snuggle up in bed, and you'd be fine. You knew you would.

As you headed for the door, you heard Bradley angrily say, "I wish you would have had the balls to dump her months ago. She's too good for you."

That made you smile as you pushed the door open and let the cool night air and the sound of the ocean wipe your senses clean. If you were being honest with yourself, you probably only stayed with Jake for as long as you had because you were afraid he was going to hurt himself or someone else one of these Saturday nights. The sting of embarrassment was worse right now than the pain of breaking things off with him, and that fact let you know you did the right thing.

You shivered as you looked up at the moon and the smattering of stars that were visible this close to the city. And then a massive body slammed into you, which you realized was probably your fault for standing so close to the exit.

"Shit!" grunted a deep voice.

"I'm sorry-" you started as a big arm wrapped around you, steadying you.

"It's you," Bradley said when you looked up at him over your shoulder. "You're still here."

"Yeah... it's just me." You sounded a little breathless. You noticed you felt safer after ten seconds with his arm wrapped around you than you ever had when you were with Jake.

Bradley cleared his throat and slowly released you. "I just wanted to see if you needed a ride home. You know, since you left Jake's keys with Javy."

You turned to face him fully and took one big hand in yours before anyone else could exit the bar and slam into both of you. With wide eyes, he followed you willingly as you walked backwards toward the railing. "I'm fine," you assure him, letting go of his warm hand with an embarrassed shrug. "I'll get an Uber and have someone who didn't just witness my ex boyfriend call me a bitch before I dumped him take me home."

"He should have never said that," Bradley rasped, eyes fixed on your face. "He overdoes it on the weekends, and I'm sure he doesn't actually think you're a... well, you know. You're sweet. Everyone knows that."

You smiled softly up at him. "Thanks," you whispered. You let yourself indulge in committing to memory the way Bradley Bradshaw just said you're sweet. Because it made you feel warm inside. Then you entered your passcode and opened your Uber app, but before you could do anything else, he took your phone out of your hand.

"Let me take you home," he said as you reached for your phone. But he tucked it behind his back. "That way I'll know you get there safely."

You reached your arms around him but he took both of your hands in his as your chest brushed the front of his shirt. "Did you put it in your back pocket?" you asked as you cocked your head to the side, only pretending to be annoyed.

"Maybe," he replied with a grin as he squeezed your hands. "But you won't need it until I drop you at your place anyway."

You studied his face. The orange flicker of light from the lamppost in the parking lot bathed him in softness as he waited for you to respond. The only time you ever saw Bradley get drunk was on his birthday when Natasha drove him home. But he'd been funny, never crass. He'd even carried you from the jukebox over to the piano when he insisted he could do a better rendition of Changes than David Bowie. You smiled at the memory, and then he was smiling back at you.

"You just had that one beer tonight?" you asked softly, already knowing the answer. You supposed he drew your gaze more frequently than you were ready to admit. Especially in the past month or so.

"Yeah," he replied immediately. "That's all I usually have."

"I know."

There was a beat of silence between the two of you. Your words felt like an admission, and you wanted to know how he'd respond. He laced his fingers with yours and said, "I'd never do anything to put you in danger. Been drinking just one beer on Saturday nights in case you were too far gone to get Jake and yourself home safely."

Now you weren't sure what to say. He'd been silently paying attention to you this whole time, too. No wonder you felt safe around him. "Okay," you whispered, and Bradley very hesitantly released your right hand. But you stayed close to his side, your left hand still held tight in his, and he started to head toward his Bronco.

Silently he unlocked the passenger side door and helped you climb in. "Thanks," you muttered, but then he removed his hand from yours, and you suddenly shivered as he closed the door. You thought of your apartment briefly, wondering if Jake's hoodie was hanging in your closet and thinking you'd just throw away the framed photo of the two of you in Venice Beach. It didn't really hurt to think about it, but you didn't feel the need to mourn over it either.

Then you realized Bradley had already turned right out of the parking lot and then made the first left. "You don't need directions?" you asked him as he went straight through the green light.

He laughed softly but kept his eyes on the road. "I remember where you live. I picked the two of you up there once."

You remembered it, too. He had opened the door for you and helped you into the Bronco that night as well. He had been wearing the same shirt he had on now. And he smiled at you the same way.

But you were still surprised he knew which street to turn down and which building was yours. "You can park in one of the visitor spots," you told him as your heart swelled with nervous excitement when he shifted into park.

Bradley paused with his hand on the key in the ignition and turned to look at you. "Will you let me walk you up?" When you nodded without hesitation, he killed the engine and smiled at you. And a few seconds later, your fingers were laced with his again. And you were climbing the stairs up to your apartment door.

"Thanks, Bradley," you murmured, glancing up at him, unsure how to ask when you might possibly see him again after this. You didn't have his phone number, and you had no real reason to keep going back to the Hard Deck, but you wanted to see him again.

And then you felt a little embarrassed by it all. Sure, he remembered where you lived and he had been looking out for you. But you just broke up with Jake earlier tonight, even though things felt like they had been over for a lot longer. And you didn't want to rebound with his coworker of all people, especially since Bradley had you feeling like you wanted him to wrap you in his arms and make you feel safe all the time.

And now you'd been standing in front of your door for long enough that it was about to become awkward unless one of you said something. But you were afraid the words on the tip of your tongue would be enough to shatter the moment if you said them.

Your eyes caught on the scars on Bradley's neck as he swallowed hard. "Anytime you need a ride or... anything, I'll be around," he said with one of those soft smiles. But when he went to remove his hand from yours, you wouldn't let him. And then that smile slipped as he took a step closer to you.

You decided to say the words and shatter the moment, because you had nothing to lose. "Do you want to come in for a little while?" you asked, and Bradley was nodding immediately.

You didn't expect him to keep his hand in yours as you closed and locked the door and showed him around the small space. You'd spent time with Jake in all of these rooms, but as you listened to the deep rumble of Bradley's voice and his soft laughter, you knew you'd sooner recall these memories once he was gone. But you didn't want him to leave at all, even though it was almost midnight.

"Do you want a glass of water?" you asked him.

"Sure," he replied so quickly, both of you laughed. And then he commented on the books you'd left out on your table while he drank his water very slowly.

"I have more of the books from that series in my room."

"Oh yeah?" he asked, still hovering close by. "I only read the first two."

You simply took him by the hand again, and he went along with you, leaving the glass of water behind. When you paused in your bedroom doorway and reached in to turn on the light, you laughed and said, "You still have my phone in your pocket."

"I know," he replied, his gaze dipping down toward the floor as he blushed. "I've been holding it captive, trying to figure out a way to ask you for your number."

"Really?" you asked, stepping closer and coaxing his gaze up to yours.

He nodded as he squeezed your hand again. "Feels like some sort of violation of guy code if I ask for it the same night you broke up with Jake. But I really don't want to leave here until I shoot my shot."

You gasped. Bradley Bradshaw. Wanted to shoot his shot. With you. "Shoot it," you said so softly, you weren't sure if he even heard you. But then his eyes went a little wide, and that smile you liked so much was back.

"Alright." He cleared his throat and chuckled, cheeks still pink as he said, "Hey, so, here's the thing. I've actually had a massive crush on you for months. And I'd love to get your phone number. And I realize that you just got out of a relationship, so I don't mind waiting a few weeks to use it."

You were still holding hands as you pressed your lips to his cheek, and then his free arm wrapped around your waist. You kissed the edge of his mustache, and his fingers flexed against your back. "You can have my number, Bradley."

He sucked in a deep breath as you kissed his cheek again. "Okay. Cool. That's good. And uh... how long do you think I should wait before I call you?" he asked, and you couldn't tell if he sounded more nervous or more excited.

"You could call me tomorrow," you whispered, still amazed at how safe you felt around him. "Or you could stay a little longer. Maybe we can start the third book in the series? If you want to."

"I want to," he said softly and immediately. "I want to do both. Call you tomorrow and stay a little longer."

When you tugged him toward the bookshelf next to your bed, he followed, his eyes on you as you reached for the third book. You toed your shoes off and kicked them aside as you asked, "You coming?" Then you crawled across your bed, leaving room for Bradley.

He only hesitated for a second before he yanked both shoes off and placed them near yours. Then the sight of him easing himself onto your bed and slowly settling back against the headboard next to you left you aching to put your lips on his face again. He was giving you that same warm smile he always did, and now you realized you'd been craving these glances in your direction for a long time. You'd been seeking out his smile at the bar and at barbeques and on beach days.

He cleared his throat a little nervously, probably because you were staring at him now. "Do you want me to read it out loud?" he asked, his voice so raspy, it set off goosebumps along your arms. You replied by setting the book on his lap and scooting a little closer, because you wanted to shoot your shot, too.

"In a minute." You brought your hand up to his face and brushed his stubbled, rosy cheek with your fingers before you kissed his lips. And it was just that simple. A soft press of your lips against his, and you were in the midst of the best kiss of your life. Not necessarily the needy kind where you wanted to tear his clothes off, but the kind where you were aware of every nerve ending in your body. But you already knew, if you let them, your feelings for Bradley would escalate into more.

With your forehead resting on his and your lips hovering over his mustache, you smiled and said, "Okay, now you can read the book."

He laughed softly and kissed you one more time before you eased yourself away from him. Then you curled up against his side, and he brought his arm around you as you helped him hold the book open. Nothing could have prepared you for listening to the words of your favorite story read in his voice. You barely moved, your lips pressed together as his steady, deep voice and his warm scent had you slowly melting.

Bradley read and turned the pages one handed, your cheek on his shoulder and your arm creeping around his midsection. You had no idea how much time had passed when he whispered, "Do you want me to stop?"

You didn't. It had been forever since you felt like this. Comfortable and safe. Maybe you'd never felt this way before. Like you were absolutely certain this man wouldn't hurt you. Like you were sure he'd never call you a bitch in front of his friends or in private. But you didn't know if it was okay to keep holding onto him.

"You can take the book home with you," you told him as you sat up slightly. But he made no move to get out of your bed, and you didn't ask him to. So you just settled right back where you were, and you felt Bradley's lips brush along your hair as you fell asleep.

-------------------------

Loud, angry pounding noises did not belong here right now. No, Bradley was enjoying sleeping on a soft cloud with his dream girl snuggled up next to him. Everything was warm and perfect and smelled nice. Why was there still pounding? He cracked his eyes open to find you starting to stir next to him. You stretched and made a cute little noise as your chest bumped his ribs, and then your eyes opened wide.

"Oh," you gasped, quickly pulling your arm away from where it had been thrown over his midsection. "Bradley." Your voice was a combination of surprise, disbelief and pleasure, and he wanted to make sure you were okay with the impromptu sleepover, but there was still someone pounding on your front door.

He cleared his throat, but his voice was still raspy from sleep as he said, "You want me to go yell at whoever that is?"

"No," you replied as you climbed on top of him and kissed his lips. Bradley wanted to put his hands everywhere on you, but he kept them at his sides, still unsure about what he was allowed to do right now. "I'll be right back. You stay here."

Then you were out of bed and across the room, glancing back with a smile before you vanished through the door. Bradley's heart was pounding as he let his head sink back against your pillow. Okay, he needed to play this cool. He couldn't fuck this up. He'd been waiting months for you to realize Jake wasn't good enough for you, and he'd been spending months trying to make sure he would be, given the opportunity.

Your phone was still in his back pocket along with his, and he pulled them out to check the time. But when he looked at your lock screen, he saw that you had seventeen missed texts from Jake. And now he thought he heard Jake's voice in your living room.

Bradley was out of bed instantly when he heard you ask, "What are you doing here?"

"Well, I came to apologize, but it looks like you should be the one apologizing to me." That was definitely Jake's voice, and he was definitely pissed off.

"I don't know what you mean, Jake," you said as Bradley walked slowly down your hallway. He shoved both phones in his pocket and kept himself out of sight. "If you want to apologize for constantly calling me a bitch, then go ahead. Otherwise, just leave."

Jake laughed in a way that made Bradley's hands clench into fists. "You got a lot of nerve talking to me like you think I'm stupid. I saw his Bronco outside. I know he's here." Bradley squeezed his eyes closed and took a deep breath, and then Jake loudly said, "I knew you were a bitch. How long you been fucking Bradshaw?"

"I'm not," you insisted, your voice shaking. And as much as Bradley had loved reading your book to you and snuggling in your bed all night, now he wished he hadn't stayed. Because you didn't deserve this.

"You really expect me to believe that?" Jake asked you maliciously. "Where is he, you fucking slut?"

"Don't you dare call her that," Bradley practically growled as he stormed into the living room. Jake was standing too close to you, and he didn't like that. But you were standing your ground as you turned to look at Bradley with some tears shimmering in your eyes. "I never touched her, and she never touched me. So just apologize or leave."

"Fuck you, Bradshaw," Jake spat. "I don't have to listen to a single fucking think you say."

"Get out of my apartment," you demanded. "I dumped you last night for a reason: you drink too much, and you're mean to me. And it was a long time coming. Just go."

Bradley could sense Jake's hesitation, so he took a few steps closer until he was standing right behind you. He made eye contact with him, just daring him to try something. Because Bradley wasn't in the mood to listen to him saying nasty shit about you, especially not when Jake interrupted the start of something so perfect.

"Go," you repeated. Jake looked you up and down from head to toe and shook his head before he finally turned and slammed your front door behind him.

"Are you okay?" Bradley asked softly, wishing he knew if it was okay to touch you.

"Yeah," you whispered before turning and throwing your arms around his neck.

Bradley let his hands settle on your waist as you looked up at him with bright eyes. He didn't feel bad about stepping on Jake's toes any longer. "I'm sorry if I made things worse for you by being here. But I can't really bring myself to apologize for falling asleep with you, because I liked it so much."

You laughed. It was the prettiest sound. And then you kissed him again with more heat this time, and Bradley had to convince himself to do this the right way. "Hey," he whispered as he broke the kiss. "I still need your phone number."

"Okay," you replied, and you whispered it to him as he entered it into his phone contacts.

"Okay," he echoed as he handed your phone over for the first time since he took it from you outside the Hard Deck. You didn't even flinch as you swiped away the texts from Jake. "Now, here's what's going to happen. You ready?"

"I'm ready," you told him with a hesitant smile.

He kissed you one more time before he started to back away toward your front door. "I'm gonna go, but I'll call you."

"You better," you replied, and your smile was a little more sure now.

"I will," he promised. "Just wait." Then he opened the door and closed it behind him as he tapped your name on his phone screen.

You answered immediately, a giggle in your voice. "Hi, Bradley."

"Hey, so you know how you said I could call you today?"

"Yes," you replied, clearly smiling. "I do recall saying that."

"Great. So I was thinking I'd head home quick to get changed, and then I could come pick you up? Maybe we could get breakfast burritos and coffee from Lucy's Takeout? Go sit on the beach with the book?"

There was a beat of silence before you said, "That sounds nice."

"Then it's a date."

Bradley was all smiles as he ended the call and knocked on your door. When you opened it a second later, he leaned in and kissed you. "I actually need my shoes," he murmured against your lips, and you started laughing.

"Wait here," you told him before you dashed toward your room and then returned holding his shoes and the book. Bradley slipped his shoes on and took the book in one hand as he pulled you close with the other.

"I'll be right back. Like seriously, it'll be embarrassing how quickly I get back here."

You buried your face against his chest and whispered, "It'll be embarrassing how much that makes me smile."

He had to force himself to leave after that, because the sooner he got back to you, the sooner he could start making you his.

------------------------

Just imagine Bradley reading a book to you on the beach while also feeding you breakfast. Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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1K notes · View notes

florwons · 10 months

Text

‧₊˚ ⋅ hurt — nishimura riki ‧ ˚₊‧

synopsis you hated niki. he hated you. despite your ongoing rivalry, your recent arm injury seems to have had an unexpected effect on your so-called enemy. rather than making fun of your injury, he's shown a surprising twist of kindness by wanting to draw on your cast instead.

pairing rival!niki x fem!reader genre fluff, e2ls, hs au !

warnings profanity, injury, just niki and reader being a bickering mess !! typical rival things

featuring danielle newjeans jungwon enhypen wc 2303 !

note first enha work !! first time on blr and i think i’m getting a hang of it.. took too much time figuring out everything though 😵‍💫. i guess this happens when you’re bored (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝) anyhow, i just think niki fits e2ls !! also i think he fits this cute idea i was thinking about so why not combine the two ?? might also create a part 2 to this !!

— wanna read part 2 ? coming soon!

"Wow, two whole months for it to heal? I’m sure it hurt, didn’t it?" Danielle exclaimed, her expression filled with shock as she glanced from your cast to your face. The two of you were seated next to each other during your first period, giving her a chance to closely examine your injury.

"Yeah," you replied with a touch of sarcasm, a sigh escaping your lips as you gazed at the plain, white cast encasing your arm. "Just the sort of thing that can happen when you take up a part-time job at a convenience store. But, my doctor assured me it's not too serious, so this arm should be back to its usual self soon!" You lightly tapped your arm with your free hand, showing her that you’re completely fine.

"Well, it's still frustrating to have to let it heal for that long," she pouted, receiving a light chuckle from you. Extending your uninjured arm, you gently held her hand, offering her a soft smile. "Don't worry, Danielle. Two months will fly by."

You were truly grateful for a friend like Danielle, who consistently showed concern for your well-being. It made you wonder why your life couldn't be filled with people like her instead of people like him. But no, the universe had different plans and had given you Niki, your classmate, or rather your enemy.

This rivalry with Niki had its roots all the way back to elementary school, and due to both of your stubbornness, it had been brought into your high school years. Poor Danielle found herself caught in this mess, being friends with both of you. You did feel bad for involving her, but the blame fell largely on Niki, who seemed to exist solely to get under your skin.

"Does... you-know-who... know about your injury? You guys walk to and from here together," Danielle hesitated, bringing up him in the conversation cautiously. You shook your head and replied, "No, not as far as I know. I actually left a bit early today—oh no."

Your hand instinctively moved to your forehead, the beginnings of a headache forming from the thought. Danielle let out a small gasp, concern evident in her expression. "What's wrong, YN? Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine—wait, no, I'm not!"

"Why? What's the matter?"

"It's Niki! I just remembered that he's probably going to make fun of my injury for the entire two months." You slumped in your chair, already envisioning the scenarios in your mind. "That asshole."

“You actually got me worried!”

"Sorry, but this is something you should be worried about! Niki's constant teasing might be the end of me!"

"YN, you'll handle it. You both argue every day, anyway," Danielle said with a dismissive tone, not fully grasping how serious the issue felt to you. After all, Niki having another reason to mock you during class was far from trivial.

You sighed, realizing that you really wished for your arm to heal as quickly as possible.

In what seemed like no time at all, the second period arrived—a bit faster than usual. You hurried into the classroom, aiming to get into your seat promptly. But there was no use of that if he’s your seatmate! Just why couldn’t it be Danielle? You silently cursed your teacher for arranging the seating this way. More people started filling the classroom, and Niki’s unmistakable blonde hair caught your attention — he was walking your way.

His gaze fixed strangely on your arm as you withdrew it from the desk, letting it hang at your side. You deliberately avoided meeting his eyes, unwilling to deal with his presence at the moment. The scrape of his chair against the floor caught your ear, prompting you to take a deep breath. "Already pissed?" His voice carried a teasing tone, and you could practically feel the smirk in his words, causing you to roll your eyes.

“Aw, you got my routine down already?” You scoffed, placing your notebook on your desk. You were determined to shut out his annoying voice, but of course, life had other plans. "Seems like it. Just call it the Niki effect, I guess."

"Yeah, a real heartwarming effect," you replied monotonously, your attention shifting to the front of the classroom. In the corner of your eye, you could see him take out a notebook as well. You silently hoped he'd simply focus on his work and not pay attention to you, though it seemed he had different intentions.

“What’s up with your arm?” he points at your injured arm with his pencil. Now that made you wish you could snap that pencil in half. Nonetheless, you managed to maintain your composure, or at least tried to, as you responded calmly. "Oh, you know, just your typical arm-breaking experience. Nothing major—just a cozy two-month wait for it to return to normal."

"I didn't need a breakdown of your recovery process, but I suppose thank you for letting me know,” Niki remarked, adjusting his seat position. "Wouldn't expect any less from someone like you."

Holding onto your pencil, the pressure of it snapped its lead, and you clenched your teeth in frustration. "Do you ever know when to just keep your mouth shut?" you retorted, your tone edged with irritation.

"It's one of my finer qualities—maybe you should catch up," he shot back, a hint of amusement evident in his voice.

"Sure thing. Just do me a favor and stay quiet for two months, will you?"

He raised an eyebrow. "And what's in it for me?"

"Me sparing you from my rude remarks—just not like what you're doing right now."

“Can’t make any promises,” He dragged the last word, making you sigh. He smiled slightly, knowing he knew exactly how to piss you off.

The bell rang, and relief washed over you like a wave. Hastily gathering your belongings, you were so focused on getting out of the classroom that you failed to notice Niki's gaze on you. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you headed toward Danielle. Unknown to you, Niki's attention lingered, a subconscious concern for your well-being flickering in his mind.

"Niki? Niki!" Jungwon tapped him on the shoulder, causing Niki to start slightly. Wait, what was he doing just now? Before he could analyze his actions, Jungwon pulled him from his thoughts. "You seemed out of it for a bit. Are you okay?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, I spaced out for a second. Let's not miss our third period, alright?" Niki hurriedly packed his things, walking alongside Jungwon, his earlier behavior still puzzling him.

Niki's earlier slip-up had him lost in thought, and it continued especially during P.E. class. His eyes were drawn to you, sitting on the bleachers with a bored expression, casually observing the movement of the others. Then, unexpectedly, you excused yourself and headed toward the nurse's office. Niki found himself continuing to watch you, his focus on you more than anything else around.

"Hey, Niki!" A familiar voice brought his attention away from you, just in time to see a ball hurtling his way. He attempted to react, but the ball had already hit his arm. Wincing, he gripped his arm, a small crowd forming around him. Mr. Kim scolded him, and Niki nodded in acknowledgment—it was his fault for not paying attention.

“Take this pass and go get an ice pack,” Mr. Kim said, already finishing up the pass for him. At first, he contemplated declining, but then he remembered that you were in the nurse's office.

This was the fastest he ever grabbed a pass. His movements were swift as he exited the gym and quickly navigated the route to the nurse's office, hoping he could arrive before you left.

He knocked on the door, and a soft voice invited him in. Stepping inside, he found you seated in one of the chairs. Your surprise was evident as you looked at him, his hand resting on his left arm—the same one you had injured. He observed as he grabbed an ice pack before making his way over to where you were sitting.

In the row of chairs, he left a space between you, taking a seat. Your voice broke the silence, teasingly suggesting, "Starting to think you're obsessed with me." Niki couldn't help but scoff lightly as he settled in.

While you weren't exactly off the mark with your comment, admitting such a thing to you was out of the question. He waved off your words with a dismissive tone, "Me? Obsessed with you? Sure, as if."

A quiet pause settled between you both, and subtle glances were exchanged. Breaking the silence, you remarked, "Seems like you're about to join me, huh?"

He looked at you with confusion etched on his face, only to glance down at his arm and yours—both injured in the same spot. Niki couldn't help but chuckle softly, acknowledging that you were right. "Well, not quite as bad as your situation."

"Shut up." Niki's laughter filled the air, and for the first time, you found his laugh endearing—a thought you quickly brushed off. You simply smiled at his boxy grin. Has his smile always been this charming?

Niki realized he had let his guard down, his throat clearing as he subtly corrected himself. He needed to maintain the distance he had always kept between you two—at least for now.

"What are you doing here?" you started to answer, but he interrupted himself, realizing his mistake. "I shouldn't have asked, I mean, look at your arm."

There was the Niki you still had so much hate for. "If I had both arms, I'd strangle you right here."

"But you can't."

"Yeah, thanks for the reminder, idiot—as if I wasn't already aware," you retorted, rising from your seat. He wouldn't be entirely honest if he didn't admit part of him wanted you to leave. It was strange, but he always felt a certain oddness when you weren't nearby. "Can't wait for you to make jokes about my injured arm at every given opportunity."

Your words sparked an idea in him, and as you turned to leave, he was already formulating a plan — his way of getting closer to you than before.

That's exactly what he did. Every chance he got to be near you, he seized it. His motives remained a mystery – was his plan to push you further away? If so, it was definitely working, as he managed to piss you off with every passing moment. Niki couldn't forget the way you clenched your teeth and let out exasperated sighs whenever he was around. He acknowledged he was being a nuisance, but was there really any other choice?

Could he just flip a switch and suddenly be friendly? That would be too suspicious, wouldn't it? Still, there was an inner push for him to say something decent for once.

And now, here he was, sitting beside you, gazing at your plain cast. Two weeks had already gone by – why hadn't anyone doodled on it yet? He hesitated before gently tapping your arm, causing you to look at him, your expression vacant. You were ready for him to bring up your arm again, almost as if you expected him to repeat his hurtful comments again.

“What? I swear if you make fun of my arm–”

"Can I draw on your cast?" He uttered the words, seemingly without a second thought, catching you completely off guard. Why this sudden change? Could he possibly be planning to write something embarrassing? Then again, your cast did look rather dull, almost too depressing to glance at. But, you still had your doubts.

“What? What if you draw something weird–”

“Come on, I’m not that terrible of a person.”

“Literally who do you think you are–”

“I’m your classmate, loser. Think I can’t be nice for once?” His words left you stunned, and you watched him retrieve a sharpie from his bag. He uncapped it, motioning for your arm to move closer to him. However, you found yourself hesitating, which prompted him to raise an eyebrow ever so slightly. "May I?" he asked.

You didn’t know what went through his head, and yours too! Before you knew it, you were extending your arm to him, watching as he concentrated on writing and drawing on your cast. He held it gently, clearly being cautious not to cause you any discomfort. You were undeniably intrigued by his actions, even though his presence was obstructing your view – not that you cared anyways.

Soon, he finished, closing the lid to his marker. The bell rang, almost as if on cue, causing him to hurry out of the classroom. It was as if the roles swapped, he was now the one rushing out quickly. His abrupt exit left you wondering – why was he so nervous? He didn’t know either, maybe he was suddenly being nice with his rival.

As you finally glanced at your cast, your eyes fell on the words he had written: "Hope you heal quickly, loser." Right beside the message was a small drawing of Shin-chan sticking his tongue out. This time you found yourself breaking into a smile, rather than being irritated.

"So you're telling me I could have been writing about your cast this whole time?" Danielle exclaims, her eyes fixed on the doodles now on your cast. She stops, examining the drawings more closely. "Hold on, isn't that Niki's handwriting?" Without giving you a chance to explain, Danielle is already teasing you mercilessly.

You knew you couldn’t argue back with her. After all, how could you explain the decision to let your rival draw on your cast? You gazed at the doodles once more, finding yourself involuntarily breaking into a small smile. Maybe, just maybe, you'd allow him to draw on your cast again.

Yeah, you were totally out of it.

1K notes · View notes

f1goat · 8 months

Text

regret + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando breaks up with you, but starts to regret it even more when he sees you back on the racetrack. Can he still fix things?

lando norris x fem!y/n tw: small mentions of a panic attack & not proof read requested: yes

masterlist - playlist

“Y/N?”

This is exactly something you hoped that wouldn’t happen this weekend. Since your breakup with Lando, you haven’t seen him anymore. You also didn’t went to any races anymore. Until today. During your relationship with Lando you spent a lot of time on the different race tracks. You were with him almost every race. That resulted into getting to know a lot of the drivers personally, you quickly became great friends with Alex and his girlfriend Lily, but also with others like Daniel, Oscar, Max, Charles and Carlos. It took them a while before they could convince you, but they are exactly why you’re here right now.

And that makes them also the reason behind your unwanted meet up with Lando himself.

“Hey,” you say with a soft tone. What if Lando will get mad that you’re here? Fuck. The first free practice didn’t even start yet and you already ran into Lando. Where are your friends when you need them? Now that you think about it, weren’t you walking here with Daniel? Where has he gone off to?

“What are you doing here?” Lando asks you confused. He doesn’t mind you being here, at least he thinks so now, but he wonders how you have gotten here. Normally he was the one who took you with him to a Grand Prix. He’s quick to wonder if someone else on the grid is dating you and took you here with him.

“Uh, a few friends invited me,” you explain, “I hope you don’t mind.”

“No!” Lando is quick to reply, “uh no of course not, you’re free to come here,” he adds awkwardly.

“Great,” you say even more awkward then Lando’s earlier words.

“Who uh invited you?” Lando continues to ask.

“Uh you know that one group text right? With the boys we always did the most things with?” You ask Lando. He nods. “It comes from them. So uh Alex, Max, Charles, Carlos, Daniel and Oscar,” you tell him.

“Oh uh nice,” Lando replies.

Before Lando or you can make another awkward statement, Daniel is already reappearing next to you. You’re thankful that he has showed up again. Hopefully he will save you from this awkward conversation. Of course you knew you would see Lando somewhere this weekend, but you didn’t expect it to happen on the first hour you were around.

There isn’t any bad blood between Lando and you. At least you think so. Lando broke things off a couple weeks ago after the two of you almost dated for a year. He didn’t gave a great reason, he just told you he needed to regain his focus on racing and that he couldn’t manage that with you around. At first you didn’t understand, but later you heard from mutual friends that things were a bit different. It seems like Zak had a bit more influence in Lando his decision then you thought at first. But still, Lando chose this himself.

You can safely say that you miss Lando and everything you two had together. Even now when you see him again, it pains you that you can’t hug or kiss him. While Daniel makes conversation with Lando, you focus yourself on him as well. You take a good look at him. Lando doesn’t look good. His face seems white and his eyes are puffy. He seems tired. You almost ask him how he’s feeling, but Daniel is quick to walk away with you from Lando.

“Let him feel bad,” Daniel tells you, “remember this is his own fault. He chose to broke up.”

You sigh. “I know Dan,” you reply, “but you can’t blame me for caring about him. He looks bad.”

“He should.”

Lando can’t shake off his negative thoughts when he sees Daniel walking away with you. He keeps wondering about what Daniel is doing here with you. Is it possible that you already forgot about him and moved on with someone else? Someone like Daniel maybe? Lando didn’t want to break things off with you, but he felt like he had no choice.

Now he knew that he should have talked about it with you, but it’s already too late. His friends have told him about his mistake and how he should have handled things. But it’s still too late. He can’t change what he did anymore. He can only life with the consequences.

It wasn’t his own idea to break up with you. Zak came to him after the race in Qatar. The weekend was already shitty, but after talking with Zak it became even worse. You weren’t there that weekend. You had a birthday that you couldn’t miss and Lando had lied to you that he would be fine without you for a weekend when you told him you could fly in later. His whole weekend was about you. He couldn’t stop thinking about you and how much he missed you that weekend. He almost bought plane tickets so you could still come.

Then there was the qualifications in which he lost his fastest lap to track limits.

Then there was the sprint race, where his rookie teammate was better then him.

Then there was the actual race, where he wasn’t allowed to overtake his rookie teammate.

He doesn’t blame Oscar, but he does blame himself. The weekend was bad. You weren’t there to talk to about everything. Of course you texted and called him, but every time you asked how he was he lied and told you that he was fine.

Then Zak came to him after the race. He didn’t say much, only that Lando should think about his priorities if he ever wanted to win a race. That was the last drop for him. Instead of getting mad at Zak for even suggesting something that ridiculous, he became mad at himself. Zak was right. He wasn’t focused lately. He only thought about you. This weekend was the perfect example. Without even giving it a second thought he called you on FaceTime. He broke up with you without giving you an explanation.

He’s a dick.

And now you’re here with his friends. He told a few of them what really happened. They told him they would try to help him to fix things. But now he only thinks that they were lying. It seems like they have chosen your side. Something he can’t blame them for.

Fuuuuuck. He hates himself.

And he misses you.

In the mean time Daniel brought you back to Lily. It’s time for the boy to get into their cars and start the first practice. Together with Lily you spend some time at the Williams motorhome. You can’t help yourself and start to inform Lily about your encounter with Lando.

“Is it bad that I still want him back?” You ask Lily softly. You almost feel ashamed for your question. What’s wrong with you to want someone back who broke up with you over FaceTime?

“No,” Lily is quick to reply with a firm answer, “and to be honest with you, I get it.”

“You get it?”

“Girl, you were so happy with him,” Lily sighs, “of course I get it. I don’t know if it’s right, but I really get it. If you can keep a secret, I can tell you exactly why I get it.”

“Of course,” you quickly react. You’re already glad that Lily gets the way your feeling. Earlier today you tried to tell Daniel, but he didn’t get it.

“Alex and I had a similar experience,” Lily confesses, “When he was still with RedBull a similar thing happened to us. Alex had a massive fall out that he wasn’t focused enough and that is was because of me, that he was going to lose his seat if he didn’t fix it. We took a break then.”

“How did you fix that?”

“His focus became worse,” Lily laughs, “after five weeks he came crawling back. It pained me, don’t get me wrong, but I have had similar conversations with some coaches. So I knew what he was hearing and how bad the timing was, so I forgave him. We’re stronger since that break then ever before.”

“Do you think there’s hope for Lando and me?” You ask Lily hopefully.

“If you can forgive him then there is,” Lily answers directly.

“What if he doesn’t come back?”

“Believe me girl, he is already a mess,” Lily laughs, “Maybe he just needs a final push, but he won’t last long anymore. Look at his results from the last week, he’s even more unfocused since the break up.”

“Final push?” You ask a bit confused.

“Lando is a bit more unsure then Alex, you know? I think he needs a final push to make him snap and confess. Otherwise he won’t stop sulking. But don’t worry about that, I’ll take care of that push.”

“Thanks Lily.”

+++

You don’t know if Lily has already thought of something, but you notice that Lando is surprisingly close to you during the weekend. It seems like he’s always around. He isn’t speaking to you, but you feel his eyes on you everywhere you go.

It’s already Saturday, the weekend is going by fast. It’s almost time for qualifications. You’re walking with Daniel. You have spend a lot of time with him the last days. He can easily distract you from your thoughts about Lando. He’s fun to be around, mainly because he’s always joking. But still, he’s not Lando. Fuck.

It doesn’t surprise you when you notice Lando again. This time he’s walking towards Daniel and you. You wonder if he’s going to say something. It seems like he’s getting ready to say something to Daniel, you or the both of you.

“Can I talk to you Daniel?” Lando asks when he’s standing in front of you. Daniel nods and walks away from you with Lando. He quickly says that Lily is already waiting for you at the Williams garage to watch the session together. You wish him good luck and turn around as well.

Lando doesn’t know where to start when Daniel is standing in front of him. He wants to say many things and ask even more things.

“What is it Lando?” Daniel asks him a bit annoyed. It’s clear that he took your side, it’s written all over his face. Lando gets it. Of course he does.

“Are you seeing Y/N?” He asks at first.

“Seeing Y/N?” Daniel asks confused.

“Yeah, are you dating her on something?” Lando asks further.

Daniel laughs loudly. “You’re joking right?”

“No? You’re spending a lot of time with her,” Lando continues.

“And so what Lando? You broke up with her,” Daniel says mad, “On fucking FaceTime. You don’t have the right to ask every boy around her about his intentions with her. She isn’t yours anymore!”

“Fuck, sorry,” Lando mutters before he quickly walks away from Daniel.

He’s glad when he’s sitting in his car a couple minutes later. This should help him to focus on something else then you. Right? But even when he’s driving as fast as he can manage, he can’t stop thinking about you. He only thinks about you. He can’t focus on where to brake or when to increase or decrease his speed.

It doesn’t even surprise him when his board radio tells him he wasn’t fast enough for the next session. He’s out.

Fuck.

“I told you, he isn’t more focused,” Lily states while watching the session on the big screen. Together you watch and hear Lando his disappointed reaction to hearing he’s out. You feel bad for him.

“Should I go to him?” You ask Lily.

“I don’t know,” Lily answers honestly, “I get it that you want to, but maybe he needs to get a bit more frustrated with his choice.”

“But he’s probably really mad at himself now,” you say, “and he must be so disappointed. What if Zak tells him more bad things?”

“I understand you, I just don’t know if it’s smart. If I were you, I would wait until tomorrow. Let him be mad at himself for a bit, it won’t hurt him.”

+++

“You need to help me,” Lando states, “All of you.”

In front of him are Daniel, Max and Oscar. He found them and brought them all together. After his qualification session he realized that he really needs you back. He already knew that after the horrible words left his mouth during that awful FaceTime call, but now he needs to take action. This can’t last longer. He can’t last any longer without you.

“I want Y/N back,” Lando confesses, “It was a fucking mistake and I hate myself for it. How can I deserve another shot with her?”

Daniel laughs. Max and Oscar don’t know what to say.

“That’s rich,” Daniel laughs, “You think you still deserve her after this?”

“Daniel,” Max warns his friend, “Don’t be too hard on him.”

“What? It’s true, he did it himself,” Daniel continues, “If he thought about it, he would have known directly that it was stupid.”

Lando sighs. “I know,” he says, “and I really regret everything I did. But I need to know if I have a chance to win her back.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it,” Daniel replies, “but I’ll try to help. But only because she’s pretty miserable as well.”

Max and Oscar both nod as well showing their agreement with Daniel. Lando lets out a relieved sigh. He knows they mean it well and he’s even glad with the honesty of his friends. He deserves this.

“To be fair mate, I think you just need to talk to her and explain everything,” Max suggests.

“Yeah and apologize a lot of course,” Oscar adds.

“I’ll ask her if she wants to talk to you,” Daniel says eventually, “I’ll text you her answer, then you can do the rest.”

“Thanks guys,” Lando says, “Thank you so much.”

+++

Daniel: She is up for it. Ask her to talk with you after the race.

Daniel: And don’t let the outcome of the rest influence you!

Lando: thank you so much

Lando is nervous when he sits in his car. It’s not the race he’s nervous about, he knows it’s already a lost cause. He won’t score any points from his starting position, he’s starting eighteenth for fucks sake. And even if his strategy is good, he’s way too unfocused for the race. He won’t manage anything successful before talking to you. He can only think about all the things he needs to say to you.

How can he find the right words to excuse to you? He has to make so many apologies, he doesn’t even know where to start. He sees the start sign and tries to focus on the race again. He drives away from his spot as fast as he can manage. In the mean time he focusses on the cars around him.

He overtakes the first car in front of him. Even if he says it himself, it was a nice move. He starts to feel a bit more confident.

“Good move,” his board radio tells him, “Let’s try to get some points.”

Lando focusses on the next car in front of him. He tries to remember which Williams qualified as worst from the two. He guesses it’s Sergeant. As fast as his car can manage he drives towards the Williams car. He positions himself and makes himself ready to overtake him as well. At first he tries to overtake him on the outside. He misses a bit of speed. The next DRS zone he tries again, this time he’s on the inside.

Right when he’s sure that he’s past the Williams, he feels himself losing the control of his car. Before he knows it he’s spinning off the track. Fucking hell.

Only minutes later he’s walking back towards his motorhome. That was a shitty race. He sighs. When he’s back at his motorhome he’s surprised to notice that you’re standing in front of it. He must be hallucinating, right? Maybe he hit his head harder then he thought.

“Lan,” you quickly say when he’s standing in front of you, “Are you okay?”

“What are you doing here?” Lando asks confused.

“I’m worried about you!” You exclaim, “It looked scary when you went off the track like that.”

“You’re worried about me?” Lando asks even more confused, “Why?”

“You can break up with me, but you can’t expect me to lose all my feelings for you,” you say bitterly.

“You still have feelings for me?” Lando asks you.

“It hasn’t been that long since the breakup,” you tell Lando, “Of course I still have feelings for you Lan. Or did you already lose all your feelings for me?” You feel yourself getting nervous after your last question. Fuck. What if he already feels nothing for you anymore?

“No of course not,” Lando quickly says, “I haven’t lost even a tiny bit of them.”

“You wanted to talk to me said Daniel,” you continue, “Maybe we can talk now?”

“Yes, yes,” Lando replies, “Let’s go to my drivers room.”

Together you walk into the motorhome. A couple mechanics say they’re sorry for Lando and his lost race when you’re walking past them. They greet you as well. One of them even says he’s glad to see you again. You smile at him. You’ve missed this place. Normally you would watch every race here.

“Wait Lando, it’s time for debrief,” you hear someone say, when you look around you notice Zak. You start to feel nervous. You always thought Zak was alright with you. It wasn’t like you were best friends, but you were friendly with each other. Now you think he really dislikes you. If you understand it right, he’s the one who told Lando to break up with you.

“I don’t have time,” Lando simply states.

“It’s fine Lan, we can talk later,” you quickly interrupt, “You can do your debrief first. I’ll wait.”

“You heard the lady Lando, let’s go,” Zak says.

“No!” Lando almost screams the simple word, “Debrief without me. I don’t have time today. If you didn’t notice it already Zak, I have something more important to do.”

“Real race winner mentality you have here Lando,” Zak mutters annoyed.

“Fuck off,” Lando sneers. He takes your hand into his own and drags you with him towards his drivers room. You’re thankful when you’re standing inside it. Lando drops your hand and starts to walk around in the tiny space. He seems nervous.

“What did you want to talk about?” You ask Lando after a while of silence.

“Us,” Lando replies, “but I don’t know where to start.”

You notice the short breaths Lando takes. It reminds you of something. You remember what happened after the first race of this season. Lando had a massive panic attack. The bad team result made him stressed out for the rest of the season. The short breaths were one of the first signs back then. What if this means he will have another panic attack?

With small steps you walk closer to Lando. “Calm down,” you tell him, “let’s sit down together. We can figure it out where to start with this conversation. I’m stressed as well about it.”

Lando nods. He follows you towards the couch. Together you sit down. You move your hand onto his back, slowly you try to comfort him. Lando is still taking short breaths.

“What.. what if,” Lando stutters, “What if uh, I uh.”

“Talk slowly baby,” you softly interrupt him.

“What if I can’t fix this?” Lando speaks in one breath. “Fuck, what if I can’t show you that I’m really sorry?” He starts to speak even faster, “What if I lose you for good? Or what if you hate me?”

“Relax baby,” you say, “I don’t hate you.”

“You should.”

“Lando, please relax before you will stress yourself into a panic attack,” you tell him.

“I can’t lose you,” Lando says.

“You’re not going to lose me,” you harshly state, “If you were I wouldn’t be here right now. I want to fix things as well Lando.”

That makes him silent for a bit. You notice the tears rolling down onto his face. Softly you sigh. You pull Lando onto yourself. He quickly changes his position and lets his head lay down on your lap. You caress his hair. Lando lets out a soft sob. It pains you to see him like this. How can you fix this?

“I still love you,” you tell Lando.

Lando sobs even louder.

“And I heard from the guys what happened with Zak,” you continue to speak, “We can fix this Lando, it wasn’t only your fault. Lily told me that something similar happened to her and Alex as well and it only made their relationship stronger. We can learn from this as well.”

“You ssst. You still want me?” Lando asks you while sobbing.

“Yes,” you reply firmly, “I always want you Lando.”

You feel how Lando his tense body starts to relax a bit more. You continue to tell him about how everything will be alright between the two of you. That you will forgive him for this and that you still love him. You even tell him things about the future you’re imagining with him.

“You won’t get rid of me this easily,” you eventually say.

“I love you,” Lando says a lot more relaxed then before. He sits up straight again and looks at you. “I love you too,” you tell him. Lando presses his lips against yours. You taste the saltiness of his tears on his lips, but you don’t focus on that thought. You can only think about how much you missed this.

Of course, there are still plenty things to talk about but Lando and you will manage. The two of you will fix this. Things will be alright again.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines #angst #light angst

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thepersonnamedsam · 1 year

Text

learning how to drive - sv5

pairing: sebastian vettel x genz!driver (platonic), 22 grid x genz!driver (platonic)

summary: you may have your super license to drive your f1 car, but driving outside the paddock? not really your thing

word count: 1k

warnings: nothing really

note: the genz!driver is maybe 17/18 and does not have a drivers license. i have no idea about driving a car, so just ignore that part

masterlist / taglist

The second the grid had found out that you had not yet made your driver’s license, they were joking about it. You’re driving at 300 km/h every second Sunday, but you are not driving at a normal speed on the roads? What was wrong with you? Actually, you had a fair reason not to drive on the streets, you were scared. You feared hitting another car, or someone hitting you. You were scared of ignoring road signs or missing a stop sign.

“Our youngster is scared to drive, are you not racing this weekend?” Lando had made fun of you the most, finding it funny that the younger driver was not driving a normal car. Daniel had a laugh or two with it as well, but always hoping you’d know he was only joking. Even Max cracked a joke, never really participating in bullying the driver, as he respected you very much and saw himself in you at some times. But when Danny starts to joke, Max was fast behind him laughing silently along.

George, Alex, and Charles were trying to be encouraging but they were still making jokes about it. “Should I get you tomorrow? We can share a ride, as you can’t drive”, George laughed, and you just stared at him annoyed. You still agreed, every single time he asked you.

You were grateful for your friends, but they were still annoying like nothing in your life was. So, when Seb noticed your fear, he felt bad for you. He wanted to help you; that’s why he offered to teach you how to properly drive. Not in an F1 car, but in a worn-down Subaru Outback H6-3.0. The car belonging to his father and was the perfect car to learn to drive in. It was a manual car, it’s important to know how to drive stick. The car was old, so if you kissed a wall, it wouldn’t be that big of a deal.

“Seb I’m scared, what if I hit someone?”, your concern laced your voice. Seb sighed, already explained to you that you were first going to practice on an empty parking lot and not actually going on the road. You had done your theoretical driving test and passed, with flying colors, but starting your practical driving lessons? You just couldn’t do that.

You sat in the car, both hands on the steering wheel, arms so outstretched Seb’s arms were hurting. “Just relax, y/n, everything is going to be fine. You are fine and you got this, it’s not your first time driving, remember? It’s your job to drive”, Seb tried to calm you down. His left hand touching your right arm and guiding it to a comfortable level.

“Okay, now first press the coupling and shift the stick to neutral. That’s it, good job”, he told you, telling you what to do. “Now you step slowly on the gas, slowly, yeah?” You were doing it; you were driving the car! And the more time you spent in the car with Seb, the easier the driving got. You were just so happy.

The next time someone mad a comment about your normal driving, you bit back. When Carlos approached you, already smirking you knew what was going to happen. “Hey y/n, do you think you could drive me to the paddock tomorrow?” His eyebrows wiggling like crazy. You had to hold back your smile. “Uh, yeah sure, I mean I can try, right?”, you answered him. Carlos looked at you with surprise in his eyes. He nodded; nut sure what to expect the next morning.

When you texted him, that you were outside, he didn’t think you would be waiting for him in a Ford Mustang 1966, your first self-owned car by the way. He looked pretty stunned as he opened the door to the passenger seat. He whistled at your car and made a comment such as ‘Nice one’. So, you started the car and drove him and you to the paddock. The hotel wasn’t far away, but there still enough time to show him your new learned driving skills. You still weren’t technically allowed to drive on your own, not having attended the driver’s test yet. But no one had to know that you drove five minutes without supervision. Carlos was now there to supervise you.

You passed him your phone; it was connected to a Bluetooth speaker. “Choose what to listen to, but don’t play Smooth Operator, or I’ll be singing to you the whole time”, you laughed at him. He was just aimlessly picking a playlist and pressing play. Kilby Girl by The backseat Lovers started to play. Nodding your head to the beat of the song, Carlos was actually a bit scared of you losing focus. But you didn’t, you arrived safely at the paddock where Seb was waiting. He had a huge grin on his face, proud of you to actually drive with someone else other than him. He hugged you, whispering how proud he was of you in your ear. You smiled; Seb was definitely your comfort person.

Later that day, when an interviewer asked about your driving skills off the track, it had become a meme, thanks to some of the drivers, you answered honestly: “Sebastian has helped me learn to overcome my fear of driving outside the paddock. He sat with me in a car, for hours and explained everything to me. It’s hard to believe I got my super license before my actual driver’s license, but it’s fine. It’s something more to add to my resume.”

Seb was standing behind the camera, smiling and feeling proud. He held up his two thumps and outstretched them to you. You smiled as well and bid your goodbyes to the nice interviewer. You were glad to have Seb as your mentor and you made sure to tell him that enough.

#f1 x reader #f1 #sebastian vettel #formula 1 #sebastian vettel x reader #formula one x y/n #driver reader #gen z #Sebastian Vettel x gen z #f1 au

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percervall · 10 months

Text

you make it rain (but I make it shower)

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader Words: 834 Request: Lando Norris + Little Mix - Power + fluff/angst Warnings: Christian Horner, sexism

In which you've had enough

---

“They’re only here for the hot drivers,” the RedBull team principal comments as he walks behind you and Lando. The two of you are watching a group of girls exchange friendship bracelets with some of his fellow drivers, their joy audible as the girls make them remember silly moments that have become inside jokes. Something about Horner’s dismissive tone has you seeing red. You feel Lando’s hand on your shoulder, trying to hold you back from doing something stupid –like getting yourself banned from the paddock.

“No, he needs to hear it. I won’t stand for this,” you brush off your best friend, “You’re such an ass, you know?” you call out to Christian Horner. The man stops and turns around.

“Excuse me?”

“Oh, you heard me. You should be thanking these girls, they’re the reason F1 has gotten as popular as it has. There’s a reason Daniel’s merch is pulling the numbers it does, why Lando’s own merch sells better than the McLaren stuff, or why Ferrari post literal thirst traps on Instagram every race weekend, and it’s not the 40-something-year-old men with beer bellies clad head to toe in RedBull, setting off flares –illegal flares– in the grandstands. The only reason for your success is because of Max and his army of loyal fans. Every single driver in that number 2 seat has failed to live up to your standards, but then again you also don’t offer them a particularly nurturing work environment. I’m not done,” you say as you see him open his mouth to respond, “Your team has the highest driver turnover rate on the grid. It also has some of the worst transparency when it comes to diversity. I know you hate him, but you could learn a thing or two about how Toto runs Mercedes, about Lewis’ dedication to making the sport more welcoming, and also about profit margins. Their car may be shit, but they’re actually making money. They were also one of the first teams to promote F1 Academy, something your own social media team was quite late with. Gee, I wonder why that is. So please forgive me, Christian, when I say that your opinion of girls and female fans of motor sports means absolutely nothing to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me,” you finish your rant as calmly as you can with your heart hammering in your chest, and walk away from him. Behind you, you hear Horner splutter something about Lando needing to keep his friends in check. You can only imagine what Lando’s reply might be to that. The adrenaline of calling out a team principal on his behaviour is beginning to wear off and you can feel your entire body tremble. You almost jump out of your skin when someone wraps an arm around you.

“Sorry, it’s just me nena,” Carlos says as he stears you into the Ferrari garage, “Horner is on a warpath, you’ll be safe here.” Both him and Charles walk with you to Carlos’ driver room. As soon as the door closes behind you, the tears begin to fall.

“I’m fine,” you splutter at their concerned looks, “I’m- f-fine.” Carlos pulls you into a hug while Charles mumbles something about finding Lando.

“How did you find me so quickly?” you ask, face still half buried in his shirt. Carlos chuckles.

“We were right there, signing some things for fans when it all went down.” Taking a deep breath, you pull back and wipe away the tears. “Pretty sure I’m about to get my paddock access revoked,” you joke through your tears.

“They have another thing coming if the FIA decides to do so,” you hear Lando say as he walks into the room.

“I won’t apologise,” you say adamantly, allowing your best friend to pull you into a hug.

“Good. Besides, what should you apologise for? You didn’t call him names and all of it is true,” Lando replies.

“I didn’t even tell him that even the grid struggled to name drivers during that grill the grid video,” you mumble into his hoodie, much to the amusement of Lando.

“I don’t think the FIA would dare revoke your pass, nena,” Carlos comments from where he’s looking over Charles’ shoulder at his phone. “Looks like someone’s filmed it. The video is going viral on social media already. From what I can see all the women in the comments are backing you 100%. If they ban you, there will be a riot.” You can’t help but smile at that. Wiping your nose on the sleeve of your sweater, you straighten up and, after saying goodbyes to Carlos and Charles, you walk back out of the Ferrari garage and head towards the McLaren one. Knowing that all the girls in the paddock will have your back, fills you with warmth. Whatever shit was about to come your way, you’d face it with your head held high, back straight and your friends on the grid supporting you no matter what.

I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't sure where to go with this song at first until @curiousthyme allowed me to just word vomit to her to get ideas and this is the result of that. Had so much fun writing the rant (even my heart was racing by the end of it 🙈)

Please let me know what you think! Your comments, tags, and likes mean the world to me

#f1 fanfic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fluff #mar's playlist

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phantom-0-writer · 9 months

Text

*standing menacingly at the door* i made u something

anyways lol. i had a lot of school work and was really busy freaking out and stress studying for a singular test that was 4 questions and would be over in like an hour and then i proceeded to cry about it in my car for various reasons.

but yk what that means!

time for our irregular and unscheduled update of

Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program

this episode featuring a fan favorite: Duke Thomas (aka The Signal - but thats kind of irrelevant for this)

you were supposed to read that like it was from a '90s sitcom and the off screen crowd cheers rly loudly.

some house keeping updates: this scene happens in the beginning of the school year (going by the american system should be september) danny meets damian (and upsurges tim on the same day) around midterm which is around october and then the stuff with jason and damian's drawing happens around december. i kinda accidentally burned the irl timeline for anything dc first scene so now im just gonna do whatever i want.

anyways with out further ado:

table of contents

scene 04: after school activities for normal kids

Duke stood around the corner of the classroom awkwardly, wondering if he had made the right call. Sure the bats and the birds had a plethora of hands on deck any time, but most of them specialized as night time heros. Not to say that they were incompetent or anything, they were some of the most skilled and innovative people Duke had ever had the pleasure of meeting. Sure if anything happened, they could handle it, at least until Duke could slip away and show up as the Signal- Alfred and Bruce had assured him so much. But Duke couldn’t slip the guilt of busying away more of his time to after school activities when he could be patrolling or studying instead,

But Duke had wanted to do something outside of those things, which was specifically why he had made the difficult decision to join a few clubs and after school activities. He could use a break from being surrounded by people who worked the vigilante life-style just to remember how to be a normal civilian. Let himself take a break from constantly be consumed by one case or another, one disaster or another, not being able to do enough no matter how much he tried or how much time he spent patrolling.

Duke needed to feel grounded, like his feet were on the ground and he could press the brakes and smell the fragrance of life. Even if the fragrance was a forgotten pile of dog s-

“Alright,” The instructor for their culinary club started with a weird German accent that sounded really fake. “I am Herman. You can call me Chef or Chef Herman or just Chef. I will not bore you all with the boring introductions, and let's head right into the cooking, yes. On this paper here I made the partners for all of you to cook with for the rest of the year. If you have problem with it then quit.”

This Herman guy seemed like quite the character, and was definitely not helping any of Duke’s previous anxieties. Many of Duke’s clubmates seem to think so too, sending their friends various looks. But no one spoke out, and instead shuffled to the front to look at the singular sheet of paper that would assign them their partners. Duke finally made it to the front and saw that he was paired with a Daniel Fenton at Station 7.

Crossing his fingers that Daniel had at least only a half-rotten personality, Duke made his way over to station 7. The station was already prepped with an assortment of ingredients and cooking equipment. Duke had already set his stuff down claiming the seat closer to the exit (in case) when a lanky kid comes over, “Uh, your Duke Thomas?” He asks hesitantly looking back at the front counter the partner assignment sheet was.

It took Duke an awkward second longer to realize that this kid was probably his partner. “Oh yeah I am.” He laughed apologetically, “You must be Daniel.”

“Danny’s fine.” The boy smiled, absentmindedly brushing his messy black hair out of his face, his glacier blue looking at the equipment. Duke couldn’t help but feel like there was something off about Danny. Not in Gotham’s usual psycho-maniac-out-to-terrorizer-the-city-and-kill-innocent-people kind of off, more in a he’s not in sync with the rest of the world off. While Chef Herman explained the general structure of various types of kitchen and kitchen hierarchy that Duke was already familiar with, Duke tried to get a read on him.

Weird did not mean threat, after all many of the Justice League- heck even the local Wayne/Batclan were pretty weird- and they (usually) didn’t mean any harm. It wouldn’t be fair of Duke to jump the horse like that.

Deciding he should try to be friendly with him, Duke leaned over, “Is it just me or is Chef Herman’s accent totally fake?” he whispered.

“Oh, Ancients,” Anciets? “I thought I was just going insane.” Danny sighed in relief with a small chuckle. There was a moment of silence between the two of them where no one said anything for longer than socially acceptable and Duke debated using his powers to see if he could find a clue or something. That seemed kinda invasive, though.

When the Chef had started instructions on making today's recipe, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Danny helped Duke measure out the ingredients. “So,” Danny tried again, “What are you in for?”

“What am I…” Duke repeated confused,

Danny chuckled awkwardly, “Like why you joined the club.”

Duke seriously needed to get his head in the present; this was getting embarrassing. “Oh.” He nodded in understanding, “I’ve always liked cooking,” Duke shrugged, “When I was little my parents and I would always cook together, and it was always one of my favorite things to do. And I’ve kinda always liked it, but I fell off of it for a while with school and stuff,” emphasis on the stuff “I thought joining a club could help me get back into it and get away from… everything.” That was a little more candid than Duke had planned on being with someone he had met quite literally a few minutes ago, but it felt good to have that out of his chest. The pleasant memories of his parents swimming in his mind. Mixing the dry ingredients, “Sorry that was kind of a lot.” Duke laughed genuinely this time.

“Dude, no it’s actually so cool that you like to cook.” Danny said admiration was easy on his face, and Duke couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed.

“What about you, then?”

“Ugh,” He groaned jokingly, “You can’t seriously be asking for my lame ass reason after you pulled out the flashbacks.” Danny whined, letting the oven preheat like Chef told them to.

“C’mon, it’s only fair.” Duke played along, already ahead of the other groups.

Danny sighed, “Promise you won’t laugh.”

“Okay, it can’t be that bad.” Duke could already feel the smile cracking on his face.

“It is.” Danny drawlled, “So I live in the dorms right, and I got to pull some strings and room with one of my friends from back home this year. And well, let’s just say my family has a bit of a reputation for causing problems, and the kitchen definitely wasn’t an exception. One time my dad tried to make some soup for my mom because she got sick.” Duke nodded approvingly, that was a sweet gesture, “It was all fun and games until the bomb squad had to show up and long story short we had to move.”

“You’re joking.” Duke gaped at the bizarre story, but at Danny’s solemn expression, Duke couldn’t help but be appalled, “A bomb squad over soup.”

“My parents were never really heavy on lab safety,” Danny added, as if that explained everything, “But I burn one pot of water and maybe make a few extra-crispy eggs, and suddenly its all ‘Danny you’re not allowed in the kitchen unless you start taking actual classes’ and ‘Danny that's a biohazard’.”

“You burned a pot of water.” Duke echoed, Danny nodded innocently, “Water doesn’t burn.”

“Well, maybe you’re just not trying hard enough.” Danny sneered, trying to crack an egg on the corner of the bowl only for all the shell to fall in the bowl and the yolk on the counter.

“Somehow, I don’t think that’s true.” Duke said, taking the bowl from him and expertly cracking an egg single handedly. Danny looked on in awe. “You said you live in the dorms?” Duke asked easily.

“Oh yeah, all of the non-local scholarship kids have to.”

Before Duke could respond, a girl from the station in front of them whips her head around, “You said you’re here on a scholarship?” She asked almost oppressively.

Danny just as taken aback as Duke felt, “Uh, yeah.”

“Me, too. Have you heard anything about the Mentorship Program here? Apparently we all have to join.” The girl’s partner was looking between Duke and Danny confused, but returned to their cooking uninterested.

“Oh, yeah. They make us all join.” Danny nodded.

“I heard from some of the older kids, that no one actually gets picked for that. It’s just like a weird formality thing.” The girl spoke animatedly, “What department are you in?”

“Applied physics and engineering design.” The oven beeps that it was ready but no one moved.

The girl seemed to deflate that answer, “Oh, I’m doing culinary science.” And with that solid conclusionary statement, she turned around and got back to her work station.

Danny blinked, processing what just happened and slowly turning to look at Duke for proof that just happened. But the second the both of them met each other’s eyes, they burst into a fit of silent laughter.

Bent vunuralably over the table, trying to catch their breath, they were accosted by Chef Hermon. “The two of you are having a comedy club, not a cooking club.” Chef crossed his arms at the edge of the table. Duke was pretty sure he was trying to sold them, but the fake accent was making it hard to tell.

Danny cleared his throat and striated up, “Sorry, Sir.” He apologized quickly.

“Chef.” Hermon peered at them, his hat looking comically large and lopsided on his head now that Duke was getting a closer look.

“Sorry, Chef.” Duke amended, trying to keep his cool.

“Yes, finish cooking your cookies.” He nodded satisfied, leaving their station.

“Okay so,” Duke tried to recount what the last thing they did was, but one look at Danny trying desperately to hold in his laugh had ruined all of Duke’s efforts as well. Barely managing to get their cookies in the oven, over Chef’s fake german accent and floppy oversized chef’s hat.

“So scholarship for applied physics and engineering design, huh.” Duke recounted from earlier, impressed.

“Yeah…” Danny trailed off embarrassed, “It sounds kinda snotty.”

“Dude. That’s literally one of the hardest departments to get into, and the scholarship is no sneeze either. There’s no doubt you worked your butt off to get that.” Duke assured Danny as they sat in their stools waiting for the cookies to finish.

“Thanks,” Danny smiled sheepishly. They sat in a much more comfortable silence now before Danny spoke again, “What grade are you in by the way?”

“I’m in 10th. General studies for now, but I was thinking of doing medicine. You?”

“I could totally see you as a hot-shot doctor.” Danny nodded approvingly, “11th. Technically, I’m your upperclassman then.”

“Technically?” Duke asked.

“I mean, how old are you?”

“15.” Duke supplied confused.

“Me too. I skipped a grade in elementary school, so we’re actually the same age.” Danny explained, sheepishly.

“Dude, you're actually way smart.” Duke gaped in awe.

“Hey medicine isn’t a day walk either.” Danny nudged his arm playfully, “I’m glad the mentorship thing is just for show, though. Now that we’re upperclassmen, y’know. I would not want my hands full with some random rich kid.”

Duke laughed, “Yeah, that definitely sounds like a lot of work.”

Easily unfolding the conversation into various topics and interests Duke found that he didn’t mind that the cookies were burnt. Or that Danny was definitely weird. But in a good way. Duke was glad they met and would get to hang out and cook with their weird not-German Chef every week. And if Danny and Duke exchanged numbers and planned to hangout outside of club activities, then well who was going to stop them.

#a little fluff to make our day better #duke and danny #the world definitely needs more of them #they start off a little shaky but their bffs at the end #danny heard the chef's weird accent and thought it was bc of time travel shenanigans and decided it was just best not to comment on that #duke will def be rubbing his friendship with danny in the other bat's faces once he gets indoctrinated #jack blew up his house over chicken noodle soup and no one lets him live it down #Gotham Academy's Mentorship Program #dpxdc #dp x dc au #batpham #danny phantom #duke thomas #signal #phantom

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shesalewa · 3 months

Text

IM CRINGING. IM CRINGING. I'M CRINGING.

MORGAN FREEMAN SAVE ME.

I HATE THE JIYOUNG X JIWOO SHIP SO BAD.

282 CHAPTER OF ELECEED.

She says "what does your heart say Jiwoo???" Ksbdjrvsj FB eirhbrbfj ugUGHHHHHHHHH SPARE ME THE EMBARRASSMENT.

BRO. SHE SHOULD PICK SOMEONE HER AGE.

LIKE DAWG. The only reason why jiwoo is drawn to Jiyoung is because he's thankful that she was there to help him and protect him. And because she's strong.

OTHER THAN THAT THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN THEM IS JUST FORCED. IT'S FORCED. FORCED I TELL YOU. IT'S SO DISGUSTING.

Jiyoung actually has no reason to like Jiwoo. "slow burn?" NO. IN THE EARLY EPISODES. Jiyoung blushed at Jiwoo because she was growing fond of him. JUST LIKE HOW INHYUK BLUSHED AT JIWOO'S CUTENESS BECAUSE INHYUK SEE'S JIWOO AS SOMEONE HE WANTS TO PROTECT.

I do not approve of this relationship. It's ugly. It's disgusting. It's forced. I hate it.

BUT FKN DAMNIT THE ART MAKES IT WORSE. "But wdym makes it worse???" THE ART MAKES IT LOOK LIKE IT'LL BE A GOOD SHIP WHEN GOSH DAMN IT DOES NOT. (no hate to the artist. I just hate how it's drawn as if they're drawn to each other when they clearly have absolutely no chemistry.)

Okay let me explain.

In action. Romance is a thing that shouldn't be written in. (Unless you're the dude that wrote down White blood/unholy blood then yes. Because you're a professional.)

TAKE IN FOR EXAMPLE.

LOOKISM. GOSH. Daniel and Jay have chemistry. However there's actually a good ship between Daniel and another girl (NO IT'S NOT CRYSTAL. FOR F-CK SAKE SHE'S A FORCED HEROINE TOO. DAMN.) that girl is ZOE. SHE HAS SO MUCH CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT. I LOVE HOW JUST FOR DANIEL SHE WILLING PUT HERSELF IN A BAD RELATIONSHIP BECAUSE SHE WANTED TO PROTECT HIM.

NEXT.

Designated bully.

B/TCH IM SORRY. HE'S A GROWN A// MAN WHO HAS NO INTEREST IN YOU. YOU'RE A FKN 14-15 IDK YRO GIRL.

LIKE DAMN 😭

WHAT ELSE. OH.

VIRAL HIT. (How to fight)

OH MY GOSH. UGHHHH

HOOBIN HAS MORE CHEMISTRY WITH TAEHUN THAN HE DOES WITH THE GIRL I DON'T EVEN KNOW HER DAMN NAME.

NOT ONLY THAT SHE HAS MORE CHANCES WITH HER CHILDHOOD FRIEND THE RED HAIRED DUDE. MORE THAN WITH HOOBIN.

Damn 😭

DO I HAVE TO ADD IN MORE???

DO I???

The gays are the most active. When it's Action, Sports, Action-fantasy(ORV, trash of the count family etc.), idc. Idk. There's probably more. BUT. AS LONG AS IT INVOLVES FIGHTING. GAYS ARE MOST ACTIVE.(Yes this involves debating. Like ace attorney. Cause gosh damn. Miles and phoenix have so much chemistry)

Take True education/ Get schooled.

It has absolutely 0 romance. And the romance that did exist. Is gone bc our Mc Warren, lost his fiancee. And this was the best action story that spoke of romance without getting it involved.

If writers wanna write down Romance-action they should learn from White blood . ESPECIALLY IF THEY WANT IT TO BE STRAIGHT.

CAUSE DAMN THE SUCK A// AT WRITING STRAIGHT COUPLES.

#eleceed manhwa #eleceed webtoon #eleceed #lookism #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #designated bully #viral hit #how to fight #white blood #unholy blood #pure blood #true education #get schooled #thank you for coming to my ted talk #ace attorney

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daydreaming-in-letters · 11 months

Text

Apricity

07/12/2023

Pairing: Andrew (Hozier) x fem!reader

Word Count: 3,733

Warnings: rpf, language, alcohol, heartbreak, pining, fluff

Summary: After a painful breakup, Andrew needs the comfort of his best friend.

A/N: I'm going to church tonight, and I brought an offering for the god(s). Hope you like it.

Picture by Daniel Goodman via Business Insider

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. No permission is given to copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

“Last orders.”

The booming voice rolled through the thick, hot air like thunder. It was a wonder they could hear it at all above the music and buzz of voices, she thought, but the bearded man behind the counter looked like the type who knew exactly how to make himself heard. Andrew on the other hand was not a man who raised his voice in conversation regularly, still she shivered when instead she suddenly felt his hot breath waft through her hair.

“Shall we take another?”

But he was gone before she could even turn to face him, let alone process his words and form a coherent answer.

“Oh, so no to that,” he misconstrued the confusion on her face as their eyes finally met. “You could have just said so, you know. No need to pull a face like that.”

“What face?”

“You know, the one where your eyebrows knit together just a tiny bit and the corners of your mouth fall a little.”

He tried to mimic her expression and whether he had intended to or not, he made her laugh. And as if that wasn’t enough already, he smiled along, that crooked half-smile of his, almost as if he was surprised anything he did could genuinely amuse her.

“Andrew, that’s just my usual face. It doesn’t mean anything. Although…”

“Ah, see. Not just your usual face after all then. You can’t fool me, you should have realised that by now. I don’t know why you still keep trying though.”

The slight curl of his lips reappeared for a moment, making him look so very proud of himself. And, for the first time this evening, almost a little happy. Now who was she to take that away from him by telling the truth: that she had been fooling him about her true feelings for months, maybe even years, and very successfully so, it seemed.

“You’re a grown-up, Andrew. Have a drink if you want another. But—”

The last word had earned her a very dramatic roll of his eyes.

“I knew there was a ‘but’.”

“Yes, Freud, we know, you can look through me like glass, anticipating my every move.”

He chuckled. “Finally you see reason, woman.”

“But seriously,” she could see another remark form behind his mischievous eyes, so she was quick to make her point, “is that wise? Another drink will only make you sadder than you already are.”

“Sad? I’m not sad. I’m angry. Fucking furious to be precise.”

Mostly with himself, she assumed. In all this time she had known him, he had never held a grudge against anyone for long, if at all. But it wasn’t as easy for him to forgive himself at times. Still, anger was progress.

“Good.” Softly she squeezed his hand and waited until the tension of his sudden outburst slowly subsided. “That’s good. You’re moving into the next phase then.”

He mumbled something under his breath, the sentence impossible to understand against the bustle of the pub. The only word she could identify was “Freud”, enough to help her understand that it had just been another of his sassy retorts. His next words came clearer though.

“If that really is a good thing, why can I hear concern in your voice?”

“I’m just surprised, that’s all. I didn’t think you would recover from her so soon.”

Andrew had not told her what exactly had passed between them and she didn’t want to pry. She only knew that they had argued, and that his girlfr—ex-girlfriend—had given him an ultimatum of some sort. Whatever it had been about, he obviously hadn’t decided in the woman’s favour.

“Why shouldn’t I?”

Before she was able to stop herself, she could feel her brow rise, reminding him that they both knew he wasn’t the type that skipped through relationships. The final decision had been made a mere five days ago, a rather short time in her opinion to move into the phase of anger. But Andrew wasn’t her and for all she knew whatever it was that had led to the sudden end of this relationship might have given him reason in abundance to be infuriated.

“Come on, I only knew her for what? About half a year? It’s not as if she was…” For a brief moment he paused, his eyes resting on her while he tried to swallow the words that had already been forming on his tongue. But it was too late and when he finally continued, his voice was softer than it had been all evening, almost fragile. “…the love of my life.”

Eagerly he gulped down the remains of his drink as if to clean his mouth from its last statement before the glass hit the counter with an audible clink.

“You’re right though. I probably shouldn’t have another one of these. Better call it a night.”

He didn’t even wait for her response, long fingers already busy stuffing his lush bun underneath a grey beanie. She had just slipped into her jacket when he already turned to lead the way. It would be easy to get to the entrance with him in the lead, his tall form parting the crowd effortlessly for them. But he didn’t seem quite as confident in the impact of his height as he hesitated for a moment. She had no idea why, not until she could suddenly feel the warmth of his hand closing around her own. His action startled her, only for a brief second, while her brain was trying to recall a thousand memories at once just to make sure she wasn’t mistaken in thinking that he had never done this before. He hadn’t. Still it felt normal. Easy. Everything was always easy with him. Conversations, silence, laughing, crying — it was all easy. Effortless and comfortable. Natural.

It wasn’t long though before they were met with the cold night air. It hit her hard, almost making her take a step back as, with the first inhale of fresh air, it invaded her lungs. Still it was nothing, an irrelevant fact, drowned out against the much harsher sensation of his hand gliding out of hers.

He didn’t even need to fully raise the hand that had been hers for a blink of time to make the taxi hold in front of them. But it was enough for the icy air to crawl underneath her clothes and wrap around her in a tight grip. Not even his sweet gesture of holding the door for her combined with the warmth that streamed towards her from inside the cabin could keep her from shaking violently.

And it didn’t stop. Not when the door closed, not when his body pressed against hers in the limited space of the back seat. She was almost convinced that nothing would ever stop this chill, when suddenly his voice filled the silence to state the obvious.

“You’re shivering. Come here.”

And then his arm was there, invading the unclaimed territory of her neck and shoulders to pull her close. It may have been the spirits inside her system, making her needy and weak to his touch. Whatever it was, she didn’t care as she sank deeper and deeper into the unmatched heat that seeped freely from him, directly underneath her skin. She could feel his chest rising and falling so evenly, as if her closeness meant nothing, as if this was the normal way to be. It was infectious, hypnotising her into a state of untainted drowsiness, one last thought remaining on her mind. This was it, not just the normal way to be, the only way to be. Even more so as his lips pressed to her hair, a gesture so tender it made her heart flutter, and she knew that she would never recover from this moment, however insignificant it was to him.

“I don’t think I told you, but I’m so glad you’re here.”

His words were mumbled against the crown of her head, almost inaudible above the noise of the car and the blaring music from the radio, but she had heard them and would cherish them forever, sealed inside her heart until her last breath.

For most, they would be the bare minimum after crossing an ocean in a hurry simply because she had known something was off. She always knew, from the fatigued tone of his voice to the slight change of colour in his eyes, from the way he had to force his smile, never quite reaching the full infectious gleam it usually held, his mind anywhere but with her while his fingers kneaded the palm of his hand in discomfort.

She also knew that it had probably been an overreaction, but she would do a lot more for him than spend her last savings on a transatlantic flight and an overpriced Airbnb, for him, she would walk all the way through the eternal fires of hell and back if that was what it took to make him whole again. He probably wouldn’t do the same for her, but that didn’t matter. She didn’t expect him to, that was not the way love worked.

“Well, first and foremost I came here to whup that woman’s ass for treating you like...well, the way she did. Comforting you was just second on my list.”

Stirred by a deep chuckle, his hot breath wafted through her hair for the second time this night. It was addictive, and dangerous, because it made her want to cuddle in deeper until it was too late to let go. And right now, just for a second, she allowed herself to hope that he might actually let her. Later this night, she promised herself, she would forget all about it. Forget about the soothing warmth he gave her and the light his presence brought to her life, always. It would be hard to erase the memory of a love that had never been and never would, even more so in the cold of an unfamiliar bed, reminding her mercilessly that she was just another foreigner in a city of millions of strangers. In a world where no one truly knew her but one. And even he didn’t know the one thing she so desperately wanted him to know, yet feared to tell him the most.

“We both know that’s not true.” For a second she held her breath, stupidly fearing he had been listening in on her thoughts. “You couldn’t even hurt a fly.”

Technically, he was right, she silently agreed with him while she relaxed in his arms again. But this was about him. And seeing him like this, this gentle, loving, warm soul, defeated by the betrayal of someone he had given his whole heart to—even if he denied that now… To her, that was reason enough for far more than just a firm ass-whupping.

Maybe she should finally listen to the nagging voice inside her head and tell him just that. It seemed simple enough, a few words spoken from the heart and it would at last be out of her system. After month and month of silence it would be out in the open, released from her heart and yet vague enough for him to take it one way or the other. Like a spectator from the outside she felt herself move to leave his embrace, but before she even had the chance to open her mouth, he beat her to it. A strained groan fell from his lips, eyes rolling heavily in their sockets and she thought she might have missed the moment in which she had already made her confession without even noticing, when she realised his agitation had nothing to do with her at all.

“Oh, come on. Of all the songs…”

Instant relief washed over her, causing a rush to the head that made her feel a little lightheaded. Enough for a cheeky grin to curl her lips.

“No, don’t you dare. Don’t even think about—” he warned, but too late.

“Go on now, go, walk out the door, just turn around now ‘cause you’re not welcome anymore…”

Her voice sounded all croaky and flat and she gave it her all to make it sound even worse. Knowing her absolute lack of talent, she usually avoided singing in public, and it had only ever happened on a handful of occasions, when the alcohol had made her indifferent to the physical pain she caused her poor audience. Andrew had always teased her relentlessly afterwards, but she knew all too well that he found it endearing and very amusing. He couldn’t deny that now, although his furrowed brows might give a different impression, but it didn’t take long until he accepted his defeat and the sweetest of smiles spread on his lips. And after leaving her hanging for another few lines, he joined in.

“I used to cry, but now I hold my head up high and you see me, somebody new, I'm not that chained-up little person still in love with you. And so you felt like dropping in and just expect me to be free. Well, now I'm saving all my lovin' for someone who's loving me…”

They were both belting at the top of their lungs, all the way through the song, and when it finally ended, they fell back into their seats, giggling and panting violently as if they had just finished running a marathon. She was still holding her belly, completely wrapped up in their little cocoon of pure joy when she realised that something was off. She hadn’t noticed at first, but the taxi had come to a stop. It was hard to tell how long it had been standing in front of the red brick row house already, but if the driver’s face was anything to go by, it might have been quite a moment since their arrival.

He cleared his throat while he held her gaze in the mirror and Andrew’s laughter died away as well. She hated the cabby a little for taking this moment away from her friend and threw him a dirty look. Andy deserved being happy, so much, if only for the length of one single song. Careful to soften her gaze, she turned to look at him.

“Well, I guess this is me then.”

His answer was nothing but a tight lipped smile that left her with a thousand different options of interpretation. She was still trying to work out its meaning when for the second time this night, he took her completely by surprise.

It wasn’t the fact that he reached out for her to pull her in for a hug that startled her, he always did that before they said goodbye, but the way his embrace felt just a little tighter, his familiar scent more intoxicating than usual and the wool of his coat that suited him so exceptionally well unbelievably soft underneath her fingertips. In a mere moment he invaded her whole being, flowing through her freely until she could hear her soul hum in the silence that surrounded them.

It felt unholy to pull away, the sacrilege petrifying her in her seat, leaving her with no option but to stare at him. She had almost forgotten how beautiful his eyes were. That lush, mossy green, flecked with warm, earthy shades, she wanted to dive into them, and never return.

And there it was again, that one feeling she only ever had when she was with him. It was hard to pin down, it was not as if she was not complete without him. She was. But she had spent her whole life trying to fit in and with him, she didn’t have to. It just came naturally.

For a tiny moment, it seemed as if he was moving closer again. She noticed his eyes fall to her lips, or maybe she had imagined it. Either way, she couldn’t help herself from doing the same, watching the pink pillows open the slightest bit, a sigh waiting to fall, or a word, but it never came. Instead, a dog barked somewhere nearby and the moment was gone.

When she looked up, it was unmistakeable that the sadness had returned to his eyes as well. She hated it, hated every second they didn’t shine as brightly as they usually did. She missed the excitement they used to hold, the warmth and kindness they radiated from beneath his long lashes. And her heart broke for him all over again.

A soothing smile on her lips, the palm of her hand cupped his bearded cheek. She wanted to tell him that even if everyone were to abandon him, she would always be there. The words were forming in her mind so clearly, all she had to do was open her mouth and deliver them, but instead she heard herself say, “There is someone out there for you, Andrew. I’m sure of it.”

He returned her smile, faintly, but it was definitely there and it didn’t leave even as he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand.

“Good night.”

“Night, love. I’ll call you in the morning.”

She nodded, and then she was gone. Andrew moved over to the spot where she had been sitting to watch her walking up the stairs. One hand pressed against the leather of the seat, he felt her warmth that still remained, felt his skin soaking it up to let it warm him from the inside.

She had always possessed this power, to warm him up and thaw his heart, even though he had thought that this time it had frozen for good. But the second he had taken her hand in that pub—whatever had driven him to do so—he had known that all would be well eventually. It had been so right, so natural, to feel her like that, if only he would be brave enough to tell her. But he could never, not as long as there was even the slightest possibility she didn’t feel the same. Because more than loving her in secret, it would hurt to lose her forever. He would rather have her as a friend than not at all because for him, there was no life without her.

There was no way he would ever tell her, but it was this exact truth that had ended his last relationship. Faced with the choice between her and anyone else in this world, it would always be her. No matter what. There had never been the tiniest chance he could have decided otherwise.

And now he was surer than ever that he had made the right choice. Maybe this night had made him delirious, he still couldn’t tell. She had been so close, filling first his senses and then his mind with nothing but her until he had let himself believe that this could really be it. His life as it was supposed to be. For a second he had even imagined that she was leaning in, that she wanted to kiss him just as badly as he wanted to seal her lips with his.

But even if she had, it was probably only pity speaking. Or worse, she might have thought that he needed a cheap substitute to drown his pain. And nothing could be further from the truth. He had almost been thankful for the bark that had interrupted them, without it he would never have found the strength to pull away and return her abrupt goodbye. Still, it was better this way. By morning he would have forced himself to forget about everything that could have been tonight, he would call her as he had promised and pretend that she didn’t hold his heart. It had always been like that. And it always would be.

She had almost made it to the door by now. Her steps already slowing while she was fumbling for the keys in her bag. He didn’t know how hard it was for her to hurdle the remaining distance between herself and the door. Especially with all the tears clouding her gaze. She had felt them coming even before the taxi door had closed behind her. And so she hadn’t looked back, afraid he might see. And now that she had almost made it, she couldn’t even find those bloody keys in her stupid bag.

It seemed like a miracle when she finally closed her hand around the cold metal to bring it to the dim light of the streetlamps. But her triumph had been too hasty, the keys gliding out of her slippery fingers and shattering onto the ground with an ugly clattering noise.

The frustration set loose more tears, forcing her to fish around blindly for them and when she had finally managed to find them, she fumbled around equally clumsily to find the keyhole. Her only solace was that she had heard the taxi pull away while she had been hunching on the ground, so at least nobody had seen. He hadn’t seen.

“You know, I was wondering,” she jolted upon the unexpected voice, her keys hitting the ground once more as she turned around in a hurry to find him right in front of herself. “When you said someone— Are you crying?”

“No,” she promptly replied, but it was useless to deny the obvious, she realised, as her croaky voice sounded through the silence, fresh tears still burning hot on her cheeks. And Andrew being Andrew, he didn’t hesitate. In the blink of an eye he was there, gentle hands cupping her face and wiping away the salty streams.

“Why are you crying, love?”

She didn’t answer, her throat sealed by a lump of fear. If she answered truthfully now, she would lose him. And she couldn’t, she mustn’t.

But he knew anyway. It was obvious from the way his forehead wrinkled and his eyes softened upon the realisation. She hadn’t expected the crooked smile though that slowly began to grace his lips.

“I see.”

His lips were even softer than she could have ever imagined, moving so tenderly with hers. And even though this was happening so fast that she didn’t know if she was awake or dreaming, she felt herself relax in his arms. Letting go of all her worries was suddenly so easy. Everything was easy with him.

#hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier #hozier imagine #hozier rpf #hozier fanfic #hozier fanfiction #apricity

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nerdpoe · 11 months

Text

In the Shadow of Speculation Part 1

Part 2, Ao3

Daniel Nightingale, ex Fenton, moves to Gotham for a fresh start. It's next to his friends, it's so very different from Amity Park, and Lady Gotham has promised her Knights will protect him. The world as he knew it has changed, and no longer has a place as a combat hero. Not when he's more likely to flinch than to dodge, not when the sight of a knife is enough to force him back to a time and a place he never wanted to see again. In an attempt to adapt, Danny turns to being a specialized hero-medic; his sole focus is helping and evacuating, not fighting. Except that no one told him Death Energy had the same reading to Geiger counters as gamma radiation. It isn't, but apparently Geiger counters can't tell the difference.

Danny Nightingale plopped down on his new couch, taking a moment to breathe in that new apartment smell. It was a pleasant, three bedroom apartment in a relatively nice area of Gotham.

Well, nice for ghosts. Specifically, the sheer amount of emotions around the place, both past and present, made it an ideal spot for a healing ghost to situate himself.

Danny felt that the more important point was that he finally had a place to himself.

He was tired of everyone coddling him, acting like he was going to break if he was even touched wrong. But luckily, Gotham was so far away from any kind of city his family would want to visit that he was free to dodge their nannying.

When he had woken up from the…Accident, it was to a political shitstorm; the Infinite Realms had been gearing up for war, and surprisingly Dan had been the only thing stopping them. The negotiations between dimensions had been a nightmare, especially with the sheer amount of effort it took to keep the Justice League’s nose out of his business, but it had been worth it.

Ghosts were considered sapient entities, were acknowledged to be from essentially a different country/dimension, and the ghosts that lived on Earth and had been negatively affected by the laws that were in place were entitled to compensation for the violation to their persons.

Added bonus, Danny could stay.

The first place he had chosen had been Gotham; it was close to Sam and Tucker, and had just the right dosage of occult to meet Frostbite’s strict ecto-therapy regimen.

That, and Lady Gotham had extended an invitation.

The move had been insane, for multiple reasons.

Vlad had insisted on coming along, something about verifying that Danny wasn’t about to live in a hovel.

Vlad actually caring-in his own way-was still so weird to Danny.

But at least it had been entertaining; every single time Vlad had stepped out of the car to get something from the gas stations, he kept getting mugged.

Another headache was the fact that, on moving day alone, there were three separate rogue attacks, and traffic had backed up so badly Danny was almost convinced to blow his cover and just fucking fly to his new place.

Which would be the last thing Dan needed-someone with his powers cropping up in a city on the other side of the country. Dan had enough on his plate with his whole…thing he’d decided on doing; the world as a whole declaring that his natural born nemesis was opposite sides of the country would throw a wrench in his rehabilitation.

The man had enough problems.

Like Danny had enough problems, but strangely only when Vlad was around.

The car Vlad had been driving had hit every single pothole and broken both axles, and overall Danny had the sense that Vlad should probably have never set foot in the city.

Honestly, the absolute second Vlad had left the move had gone much smoother.

Like, Danny had still had to pay the movers extra for the rogue attacks, vicinity to crimes (thanks Vlad for getting mugged so often that the muggers just started taking clothing items), and traffic; but after his Godfather had left it had been done in about two hours flat.

Did he still have to unbox his belongings? Yes. Was he going to do that at that particular moment?

Danny flopped sideways and brought his cell phone up to his face.

No. No, he was not.

He was going to take a breather, fall asleep on his new couch, read the news and watch some random memes, and enjoy his Restitution Money.

Danny had only been scrolling on his phone for two minutes when he fell asleep.

~~~~~~

Danny woke up to the sounds of muffled screams.

“Well that’s never good,” He muttered as he tried to roll over. He landed on the floor instead.

Right.

He hadn’t put the bed together yet.

Groaning, Danny pushed himself up for the purpose of hunting down where he’d put his poptarts. Only once he’d opened a box and started digging through it did he realize that the muffled screams were not coming from his definitely dead phone.

They were coming from outside.

Danny tripped over his feet as he bolted for the window, pressing his face against the glass as he stared down at the streets in disbelief.

The streets were filled with a green, noxious gas. People collapsed onto the ground only to scream and claw at their own faces. Some were attacking others, and anyone who left to assist had gas masks on.

Not that the masks did much good, considering the citizens who had been dosed would freak out and rip it off of them.

Batman and Red Hood were on scene, but they were so focused on cornering and catching the freak in the scarecrow costume that the only one able to assist the civilians was Robin. Unfortunately, as well trained as Robin was, there were too many.

Robin was doing the best he could, Danny could see that, but he was clearly over-burdened and needed assistance.

Danny…was appalled. This was the most ineffective rogue fight he’d ever witnessed.

When he’d been in charge of Amity, his citizens had only rarely been caught in the crossfire, and he never had a casualty. But here was one of the Big Leaguers and his cohorts, and they couldn’t arrange for the civilians to be treated or get to safety.

Danny, with no means to protect himself and unsure of how the gas would effect him, a halfa, could only watch from the window of his sixth story apartment.

Twenty minutes.

It had taken Batman and Red Hood twenty minutes to take down Scarecrow.

Danny had watched the whole thing.

Twenty minutes, thirty-two injured, nine dead, twelve critically injured.

And Danny, tied by the red tape of bureaucracy and his own trauma, hadn’t been able to do anything.

~~~~~~

A day later, full of unpacking and getting his apartment set up while he ignored the sounds of the emergency workers outside his window, Danny couldn’t stop seeing the attack.

There was so much room for improvement, but Batman apparently didn’t have anyone specifically trained in only defense and evacuation.

Danny had been so, so lucky for Sam and Tucker and Jazz. They had tag-teamed it; one of them would help him fight, the other two would evacuate civilians.

Batman was good at what he did, Danny could not deny that.

But there was room for improvement that was just…there. It was right there.

Danny couldn’t offer his services as Phantom. He couldn’t. He just…every time he thought about donning his old hero moniker, he’d start remembering.

If he started remembering, he became useless until he was able to remember that he was still alive.

And being a combatant, in and of itself, was highly…dissatisfying.

No sleep, constant injuries, threat of exposure hanging over his head; Danny’d had enough in high school. He had a whole life separate from that, in a city so big and problematic that just donating used clothes was enough to save someone’s life.

He was doing better. He could finally sleep without nightmares, people reaching out to touch him didn’t make him flinch, and he was away from a town of people who had made his childhood a living hell even before he’d had the Accident.

He refused to ask Dan to step in; the man was needed where he was, and Danny couldn’t drag away a teacher from his students.

Ellie was in college, and Danny wasn’t about to interrupt her education to drag her into the vigilante lifestyle she never even showed real interest in.

On top of his many, many other reasons for just not wanting to get into fights anymore.

Instead he took his frustrations out on kneading the dough on his counter.

His phone buzzed.

Ellie Omggggggggggg I don’t know what’s so hard??? Just bully Dan into doing it!

Danny snorted and allowed his hands to go intangible, the dough stuck to his fingers sliding back onto the counter, before he touched his phone to reply.

Danny Omggggggggg I literally can’t do that P sure ur the only one who can bully him He’s a pushover but only 4 u

He set his phone down and continued stress-baking. Ellie would take a bit to respond, since she wasn’t even supposed to have her phone on her at work.

But apparently Ellie had decided that she did not care.

Ellie Lies and slander He’s scared of me I just know it Also imma kill my customers

Danny Don’t commit murder Diplomatic immunity only goes so far I don’t need an inter-dimensional incident

Danny Ellie? Ellie no Don’t actually kill a human

Ellie This dude won’t get off my call He’s so annoying danny I gotta I I’m gonna do a ring

Danny Ellie NO

Ellie Ellie yes brb

Ellie stopped responding after that, and Danny groaned.

She was absolutely going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

~~~~~~

Ellie was going to cause an inter-dimensional incident.

But it wasn’t her fault!

The stupid caller-Kent or whatever-was being a total ass!

“Sir,” she tried, one last time, “I cannot assist you with this matter. Either you let me transfer you to someone who can, or I’m going to crawl through this phone and kick your ass.”

“Tt. Even if you were a meta capable of such a feat, I highly doubt you could best me in combat.”

“I warned you.”

Ellie let her form fall away, distantly hearing the screams of her coworkers, and traveled through the phone connection.

Her arm burst from the cell phones ear piece and clocked someone across the face. Then she let the rest of herself crawl through, as eldritch as she could make it without actually driving anyone insane.

There was a scream of terror on her right, but she only had eyes for the tanned asshole in front of her with the bloody nose.

Then she let loose on him.

Surprisingly, he managed to block most of her attacks once he came to his senses.

Most of them.

She just started cheating after that and phasing through his hands to connect to his body.

There was a brief moment where the terrified one to her right tried to intervene, but both she and the Kevin kicked him in the face with a joint “Stay out of this!”.

He stayed out of it.

After fifteen minutes of rough-housing, which was what it had definitely turned into, Ellie wiped the blood away from her nose and held out her hand to the man she was sitting on.

“That was a nice fight; the names Ellie.”

The man paused, hesitated…and shook her hand.

“It was admirable. I am Damian.”

“Um…” Ellie and Damian both turned to look at the other man in the room, a blue eyed black haired carbon copy of her brother almost. But like, younger.

“I’m Jon. You kick pretty hard!”

“Thanks! Well I am definitely fired. What was the real reason for calling, anyways?”

Damian sat up and forced Ellie to fall off of him, his face slowly turning red.

“I didn’t realize that my dad’s card would get charged when I made an app store purchase,” Jon admitted quietly, “Damian was trying to annoy customer service into canceling the transaction so dad wouldn’t find out.”

Ellie wheezed from her spot on the ground, laughing harder when Damian turned and left the room in a huff.

“So…is that something you could go back and-?”

“You’re so fucked my dude.”

~~~~~~

Danny checked his care package while he waited for the Arkham guards to finish verifying his visitation rights.

Muffins? Check. Pretzels? Check. Cookies? Check. Donuts? Check. Fudge? No.

Danny still hadn’t been able to make himself use his father’s recipe.

He wasn’t sure when he would be able to.

It looked like when the guards had checked everything for escape tools they hadn’t eaten anything.

Danny felt strangely offended by that.

“Alright, you’re clear. Good luck.”

“Thanks,” Danny sighed, walking away from the last semblance of normalcy and into what could only be described as hell for the mentally stable.

Arkham was a place that radiated the pull to help, the pull to heal, but was overrun by lifetimes of grudges nothing short of burning the place down would ever be able to fix.

It was, unfortunately, the only place capable of holding his parents.

Who he could hear as they were led to the visitation rooms.

“Danny!” Maddie Fenton cried, attempting to throw herself at him. The chain that was held by her accompanying guards, however, yanked her back.

“Dann-o!” Jack cried as he was hauled through the other door, power-dampening cuffs active. He had far too many guards to attempt to launch forward; after he’d broken four walls, Arkham had stopped taking chances.

“Hey mom, hey dad,” Danny said weakly, placing the care package on the table, “Everything is even, so you should both get the same amount.”

“Aw, our baby boy is so considerate!” Maddie cooed, reaching forward and pinching Danny’s cheek before the guards could tug her back out of range.

“So, I just wanted to know how you guys were settling in-“

“Have you seen any ghosts in Gotham, Dann-o?”

Danny took a deep breath through his nose.

“It doesn’t matter if I did or did not, dad; they’re a protected species with rights now.”

“Oh, pish-posh,” Maddie laughed, already digging into the package and pulling out a pretzel, “So what if the government fell for their acting? You know, when we caught Phantom-“

“-When you caught Phantom, you nearly started an inter-dimensional war,” Danny cut in, hiding his shaking fists under the table.

Maddie leveled him with her most disappointed look, while Jack laughed merrily.

“Come on, Dann-o, you fell for it’s rambling too? Ah, well. We found out so much when it turned into that weird jewel-“

“-When you mortally wounded the King of an entire Dimension, almost forever scarring relations between this one and that one-“

“-Young man, we really are happy to see you, but if you’re just going to quote ghost propaganda at us-“

“-It isn’t propaganda, you guys just don’t listen-“

“-Dann-o, if you’re possessed by ectoplasmic scum, just blink twice-“

Danny stood up, chair clattering to the ground, and turned for the exit.

“…I’ll come again in two weeks. Please actually talk to your doctors and at least try to get better.”

He couldn’t do it. He thought he could, but he just. He couldn’t.

Every time they spoke about ghosts, he was back in the lab, strapped to a metal table, begging them to stop, refusing to turn human regardless of how hard his body fought to.

He wouldn’t allow it.

Not because he thought it would get worse, but because if he had turned human during their…experiments, he would have died.

Humans could not survive what had been done to him.

He ignored their yelling and made his way out of Arkham, dodging the pitying looks from the workers and guards.

He didn’t remember getting on the subway. He didn’t recall anything about his walk through Park Row.

He only came back to himself far after the sun had set, curled up in the bathtub, eyes dry and tired from watching the door.

~~~~~~

Jazz gently tapped Dan’s boots as she walked towards the kitchen, reminding him that shoes were not allowed on the coffee table.

The large man grumbled but acquiesced.

“So how are the kids?” Jazz asked over her shoulder, flipping the oven light on to check on the roast hidden inside.

“There’s a new upstart in Iowa, calls himself Jupiter. Can’t be older than nine, one of the biggest crybabies I’ve ever had to train.”

Jazz snorted.

“Are we basing this off of their first look at you, or just how they behave in general?”

Dan didn’t answer.

Jazz read between the lines and stifled a laugh.

Little Jupiter had definitely cried upon seeing Dan.

“Did you go see Lian, then?”

“Fuck yeah I saw Lian! She’s so big, no wonder I couldn’t find her in the Realms!”

Jazz listened to Dan wax poetic about Roy’s daughter, letting him get it off his chest. After Lian had died, Dan had been as inconsolable as was possible for the emotionally stunted man. He’d spent countless hours in the Infinite Realms, searching for her, only to return heartbroken that he couldn’t find her.

He was convinced she was so doused with ecto-contamination due to her exposure to him that she would absolutely become a ghost.

But when she’d passed, there hadn’t been a trace of one. No matter how hard he’d searched, he’d never found her.

Because apparently, she’d been alive.

“-Anyways, how’s the twerp doing?”

Jazz tuned back in.

“Sorry?”

“Little me. How’s he doin?”

“Danny’s as tall as you are, Dan.”

Dan appeared at her side and phased his hand through the oven to swipe some roast.

“Doesn’t matter, I’m older. He okay?”

Jazz shrugged.

“He’s…awake. Well enough to be on his own.”

“Fucked up he stays in the same town as Maddie and Jack.”

Jazz shrugged again, a little more helplessly.

“How he chooses to heal is up to him, Dan.”

“He shouldn’t be near them,” Dan growled, causing some of the silverware to vibrate.

Jazz tensed and mentally prepared herself for the exact same argument that had brought Dan to her doorstep.

“Dan-“

“A four year coma, Jazz.”

“-It’s his choice, Dan.”

“They made him retreat into his core.”

“I know.”

“He shouldn’t be anywhere near them!”

“I know!” Jazz shouted, whirling on him, shoulders heaving as she felt her eyes glare a bright luminescent green.

They stared at each other, until ultimately Jazz won again, and Dan looked away.

“I know,” Jazz said, quieter, pulling out her phone to check it one more time, “I know, but the world has changed so much since he went down, and if this is how he wants to explore it then I won’t stop him.”

An uncomfortable silence settled over them, until the oven let out an obnoxious tune. No one moved.

“…Roast is done,” Dan said helpfully.

Jazz ignored him, eyes on the screen of her phone.

“Hey.”

She reread what Danny had sent her.

“Hey, Jazz-”

“I need to talk to Danny,” she muttered, picking up the oven mitts and tossing them at Dan as she walked towards her bedroom.

After she shut the door quietly behind her, she called her little brother.

The phone didn’t even complete the first ring before he picked up.

“Danny, are you alright?” She knew that he knew going to see their parents had been a terrible idea, and pointing that out would do no one any good.

So instead she focused on him.

“I don’t think so,” Danny said, his voice much smaller than it had any right to be.

Jazz tamped down on her instinctive need to ask a million questions and sat down on her bed instead.

“That’s fine, Danny; it’s perfectly okay to not be okay. Do you need to me to talk?”

“Yes.”

So Jazz did.

@simplestoryteller @gildedphoenix

Prompts that inspired this entire piece one, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine. Ages are as follows; Dan (31), Jazz (23), Danny (21), Tucker (21), Sam(21), Ellie (19) Bruce (48), Dick (33), Barbara (32), Jason (26), Cass (26), Tim (24), Steph (24), Duke (21), Damian (17) Clark (47), Lois (45), Conner (26), Jon (20) Alfred (Deceased/immortal)

I'm trying a different method of writing, so this will be a bit different. Mostly because for this particular story I'm world-building alongside it.

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #in the shadow of speculation #past abuse #past torture #phanfic #healing through helping others #long post

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thearchercore · 5 months

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As a Lando fan, but first and foremost a Max and Charles fan, I’m quite disappointed in Lando. It’s true what they say, not everyone is happy when you are on top and your real friends show their true colours.

You are right, Max says what he thinks and never filters it. While Charles is a PR King (let’s be honest he’s more of a princess but that’s besides the point) but never once has he thrown shade at Max since they became friends (at least not that I know of)

Now, Daniel is not, has never been and will never be someone about him. Nothing against him, just vibes. But the fact that Max has held him so dear and close to his heart and he goes ahead and throws major shade at Max when Max was being nothing but honest at Vegas then makes sure to hang out with Lando during Winter break the other driver who is Max’s publicly known bestie on the grid (I mean the man even attends P’s birthday parties) anyway I digress. It’s just outright shady and childish.

Max is on another level and not everyone will understand that. True friendship should withstand such challenges. Of course anyone would be jealous and intimidated by such dominance and success but to deny the man like Peter denying Jesus infront of the crowd is just sad. I mean c’mon, did he mean it as a joke? Also was Daniel attempting humour? It’s possible but I can’t see someone like Charles making such weird comments. Even when they were beefing, Charles made it known that him and Max are okay and even though they are not best friends their relationship or hang out outside the paddock (back then things are different now) he still loved racing against Max because they understood each other and how they raced.

It’s actually petty for grown men to belittle their friend because of his success. But what do I know, the sport destroyed a childhood friendship (Nico + Lewis) Maybe only the realest and toughest friendships survive. Viva Charles and Max (whether you ship them or as friends) it’s real and they are always rooting for each other.

Sorry this got long.

yeah, i feel like the difference between daniel's current place in f1 and max's is playing a significant factor. again, max joined RBR when he was essentially still a teenager that was battling with puberty. daniel was there as the mature driver that max looked up to.

now, fast forward to 2024, daniel is fighting for his last chance at f1 after many unsuccessful team moves, and max is much more mature and has 3 WDC titles under his belt. that certainly changes things.

so i'm sure that if for whatever reason rbr kicks out checo and daniel jumps in, their dynamic would be different.

lando, on the other hand, is a different story. @tsarinablogs had a great post where someone suggested "I think Lando couldnt handle his car actually being competitive. Thats what weakened their friendship. It’s easy to be friends when you are driving a slow car, but then the car actually got competitive and he still couldnt beat Max."

again, the truth is -- f1 is a highly competitive environment and everyone will fight for themselves first without a doubt. that's what's happening with daniel and lando. daniel wants that red bull seat, lando wants to beat max. and that is going to be their priority over whatever friendly relationship they may have with max.

on the other hand, there are only 20 drivers in f1 so you have 20 other co-workers who share the same experiences as you. so you will always be closer to them than anyone else because no one would get you that well.

i think what works well currently between max and charles is that no matter how much media tried to put them against each other, they alway showed mutual respect to each other. charles never talked shit about max in press, and the overall vibe they have going on recently is that charles is happy for max's success, and is working hard to gain his own. also their actions speak a lot -- like charles' putting aside ferrari's questionable qatar strategy and rushing to congratulate max on his WDC. or max running to charles to apologise for his mistake in vegas.

their relationship doesn't seem to be definined by their racing results, and their joint racing history also makes them more equal in their own eyes than other drivers.

#charles leclerc #lestappen gate 2023 #lestappen #formula 1 #f1 #lestappen gate 2024

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sunny44 · 5 months

Text

Marriage (Part 8)

Pairing: Max Verstappen x ex fiancée!reader Mason Mount x Fiancée!reader

Warnings: fights and that’s it

Summary: Max leaves his fiancée y/n at the altar on their wedding day but after years of regretting what he did, by a miracle of fate (or Lando) she appears in his life again.

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

I didn't have the courage to take the test.

It had been two days since the event, and I sat on the bed, staring at a pregnancy test kit, trying to gather the courage to use it.

Mason was at training, and despite being invited by Red Bull and wanting to avoid Max, Mason's media team insisted that attending the Monaco GP would be good for his image.

That was the reason for our trip.

I used the opportunity when I needed to pee and took the test. Once done, I put it back in the box and tossed it into my bedside table.

I spent the day working to distract myself. I only realized it was evening when I felt a kiss on my forehead.

"Been here all day?" he asked.

"Yeah, had a lot of work," I replied.

"Have you eaten?"

"I only noticed the time because you arrived," I said. He chuckled and kissed my forehead again.

"Well, then I'll get something for us to eat, and you stay right there."

I continued working until he left, only stopping when he returned and we had dinner.

After we finished, we went to the bedroom. I took a shower while he got ready to sleep.

"Love, can I borrow your charger? Can't find mine." he asked.

"Sure, it's in my bedside table, first drawer." I shouted back.

After drying my hair, doing my skincare and getting dressed, I went to the room. Mason was sitting on the bed with a paper in hand and a displeased expression.

"What's wrong?" I asked.

"Mind explaining what this is?" He stood up and practically threw the paper at me.

It was the letter.

I took a deep breath, realizing Mason had found the letter. The atmosphere in the room shifted, filled with unspoken tension.

"Mason, I..." I began, but he interrupted.

"Just explain what the hell this is." he insisted, eyes fixed on the letter.

I walked over, took the paper, and glanced at the content. I hadn't read it since he handed it to me. It probably contained words and apologies Max wanted me to know, and my heart raced.

"It's a letter." I stated the obvious, trying to buy time to gather my thoughts.

"I can see that." he replied with a touch of frustration. "But it's a letter apologizing and also a letter saying he still loves you."

Taking another deep breath, I decided to be honest.

"Max wrote this letter to me some time ago."

"How long ago?"

"Do you remember when I told you I became friends with Lando?" He nodded. "We hung out that time because he insisted on introducing me to his best friends that ended up being Max and Daniel."

"What does that have to do with the letter?" He asked, frustrated.

"After the party that he introduced us he talked to Lando about what happened. He made him help him meet me to apologize. So, he said he wrote this letter and handed it to me, but I didn't have the courage to open it."

"And why did you keep it?"

"I don't know. I thought maybe one day I'd have the courage to read it and that’s why I kept it. Perhaps I felt I needed a reminder of how things were before."

His expression changed from frustration to anger.

"You kept a letter from your ex in our house? Are you serious?"

"I was unsure what to do with it and couldn't bring myself to throw it away, so I kept it. It's a piece of the past I kept hidden."

"Why hide it, then? Why keep secrets from me?" Mason's frustration grew. "You lied again about this. Not long ago, you argued with me for defending you and then you do this, keeping his things."

"I thought I could handle it on my own. I didn't want to burden you with my past." I explained.

He sighed, clearly upset.

"Y/n, we promised transparency. Keeping something like this from me... hurts."

"I'm sorry, Mason. I should have told you about this and I know this now." I admitted, feeling a pang of guilt.

"But it's always going to be like this, isn't it? You lie to me about him, and it makes me think you still love him even after he left you at the altar like an idiot," he said angrily. "You were supposed to tell me about him years ago and then when I found out on the internet I’ve try to be cool with it because I saw how much it hurts you, even if I was angry that you e lied to me. And now this, im your fiancé and u was supposed to be the one you trust to tell me this things but apparently lying to me it’s easier for you.

“I’m sorry.”

“I honestly don't know if I can still do this."

"What does that mean?"

"I don't know if I can marry you." I felt tears fill my eyes. "I don't know if I can marry someone who lies to me."

"Mason, I..."

"I need some time." He left the room, leaving me there alone.

Bonus scene!

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“So much work that I’m starting to get crazy”

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queenshelby · 8 months

Text

Our Little Secret (Part 12)

Pairing: Dark! Cillian Murphy x Virgin! Reader

Warning: Infidelity, Brief Mention of Stillbirth

Notes: This will not be a love story. It will be dark, twisted and kinky. Cillian is portrayed as totally off cannon.

You didn't have time to think or react as she lunged towards you, grabbing your hair roughly and yanking you close to her face. Her venomous glare sent chills down your spine, piercing straight through your soul.

"You little slut!" she shouted furiously, enraged beyond reason while Cillian crumbled to retrieve his briefs from the floor.

"You are going to regret this," she warned before grabbing your hair once more, twisting it cruelly in her grasp as you winced in pain. The harsh pull dragged you closer to her snarling features, causing you to whimper in fear.

"Why do you keep messing with us?" she screeched viciously, raining kicks upon you while you desperately tried to defend yourself.

"Stop, you are hurting me," you cried weakly, recoiling from another blow aimed at your ribcage as Cillian tried to shield you, only partially succeeding until, eventually, he managed to put himself between you and his infuriated wife.

"Danielle, please calm down." he begged earnestly, hoping to defuse the situation peacefully.

However, Danielle remained unfazed, livid and fueled by jealousy. Her eyes blazed with hatred as they bore into yours, leaving no doubt as to how angry she truly was.

You took a breath as Cillian had stepped in, allowing you to gather your clothes while he restrained Danielle by holding on to her wrists tightly.

"I want this whore out of my house," she yelled and you could see Cillian's conflicted look. The pressure intensified, and soon, you felt suffocated underneath the weight of these events.

Taking advantage of the momentary silence, you turned to address them, seeking resolution amidst chaos.

"Look, maybe we should talk about this later when everyone has calmed down," you proposed, attempting to find common ground where possible. However, your proposal fell flat, as Danielle continued to rail against you bitterly before she finally managed to push past Cillian and throw you down the stairs.

"Danielle! What the hell is wrong with you?" Cillian exclaimed, horrified and bewildered by his wife's violent behavior as he raced towards you, seeing that it was clear that you had sustained a concussion from falling down the stairs.

Danielle seemed unrepentant, continuing to verbally assault you as you lay there bruised and battered, struggling to comprehend the situation.

"Call a fucking ambulance, Danielle!" Cillian panicked, watching helplessly as blood trickled down your forehead. His earlier protective instincts returned full-force now that danger threatened the object of his obsession as he cradled you up in his arms.

"Can you hear me?" Cillian asked frantically, placing a hand on your trembling shoulder. You nodded feebly, still struggling to catch your breath and maintain consciousness due to the impact. Seeing your condition worsening, he quickly decided to call for emergency services instead of waiting for Danielle to act.

As he dialed the number and, soon enough, the sound of sirens grew increasingly audible outside. Panicking, Danielle walked off, leaving the house in a haste and Cillian did not attempt to stop her, staying by your side.

Soon, paramedics arrived and carefully carried you to the ambulance which then drove away rapidly. Once inside, the medical professionals began examining your injuries and monitoring your vital signs closely. They administered some painkillers to ease your discomfort before asking Cillian some questions regarding the incident. Trying hard to recall the sequence of events leading up to the accident, he explained the situation and they then queried as to whether he was her next of kin.

"No, I am just a friend," he responded truthfully, feeling an unexpected sense of guilt for contributing to her present predicament.

As us arrived at the hospital, the medics advised Cillian to wait outside as the tests would require privacy.

Feeling anxious, Cillian paced back and forth nervously outside the emergency room, occasionally peering through the glass window. He couldn’t believe what happened – he knew he shouldn’t have allowed things to escalate to such dangerous levels. But somehow, the sexual tension between them proved too strong, consuming their rational minds entirely. How could something so passionate turn so brutal in the blink of an eye?

While awaiting updates on Y/N's condition, flashbacks flooded his memory, reminding him of those tender moments spent between the sheets but, just as he thought about the good times you had, your mother Sarah and Cillian's brother Frank arrived at the hospital.

He greeted them hesitantly, unsure if they knew about what had transpired and it wasn't a big surprise when Sarah started yelling at him.

"You disgusting piece of shit, I don't want you anywhere near my daughter ever again!" she screamed, her anger evident as her hands shook violently in front of her. Meanwhile, Frank, though also upset, maintained a comparatively calmer demeanor.

"Leave, Cillian. Please. Danielle called and told us everything," Frank said coolly, trying not to let his temper get the better of him.

Cillian grimaced at the mention of Danielle's name, sensing yet another potential source of conflict. Turning to Sarah, he apologized profusely, promising that he wouldn't allow anything like this to happen ever again.

"Your apologies mean nothing right now, Cillian," Sarah retorted sternly, pointing accusingly at him. "You forced yourself on my daughter when she clearly stated multiple times that she wanted none of it." As tears welled up in her eyes, she added quietly, "It sickens me to know that someone whom I trusted could be capable of such malice and you will hear from the police..." before being interrupted.

"I did what now?" Cillian interjected in confusion, caught off guard by Sarah's accusatory tone. "Is that what Danielle has told you?" Cillian questioned, surprised by the gravity of the allegations leveled against him.

"She witnessed every bit of it firsthand," Sarah replied vehemently, her tone leaving no doubt that she believed every word Danielle had said.

"I did not force myself on Y/N, Sarah. We were intimate but all of it was consensual," Cillian argued stubbornly, clenching his jaw.

"She is only nineteen, Cillian," Sarah countered sharply, drawing attention to the age difference between them and the power dynamics involved.

"Yes, she is, and I am not saying that I didn't fuck up, but please consider the context here," Cillian pleaded desperately, trying to explain his perspective, his heart racing anxiously. "She wanted this as much as I did, Sarah. Don't mistake our mutual desire for coercion!" He continued, aware that his argument might fall on deaf ears but unwilling to give up without making his case.

Frank listened impassively, trying to remain neutral during this confrontation despite his wife's obvious distress. Yet, even he found it difficult to ignore the glaring inconsistencies in Cillian's account compared to what Danielle reported.

After all, how else could Sarah possibly justify Cillian's indiscretions, especially considering his high profile status within the acting community. She held onto this skepticism firmly, determined to seek justice for you but just as she was about to yell at Cillian again, the doctor emerged from your room, allowing only one person to enter.

"She is conscious and only slightly dizzy. She had a mild concussion and needed a few stiches above her left eyebrow due to the impact," announced the doctor as he approached them. "We did not find any internal bleeding and, well, the rest is confidential information," he concluded noncommittally, unable to avoid the topic but reluctant to divulge more specifics before leading Sarah into the room, at which point Frank urged Cillian to leave.

With great difficulty, Cillian obliged, turning around to exit the ER, already beginning to contemplate the future - one that held uncertainty, shame, and regret for having indulged in their forbidden love affair.

Meanwhile, behind closed doors, Sarah sat beside you and patiently waited for you to regain composure.

"Danielle told me what happened, sweetheart," she whispered gently, reaching over to stroke your hair comfortingly. Her presence alone instilled calmness throughout your body.

"What, she told you that she pushed me down the stairs and punched me in the guts?" you said as you tried to sit up, groggy from the drugs.

"She said it was an accident," Sarah reassured, stroking your head tenderly.

"She is full of shit. She threw me down the stairs on purpose because..." you began but stopped, too afraid to reveal the truth to you.

"Because you slept with her husband?" Sarah guessed correctly, furious upon learning the true nature of your relationship with Cillian.

"She said that he forced himself on you and she tried to intervene...but failed," she explained haltingly, her voice filled with anger and disappointment.

"What?" you gasped, astonished and confused by her revelation.

"No, Cillian didn't...oh my god..." you began to say, raising your concern. "Mum, he didn't force me to do anything. In fact, I was the one today who initiated our encounter," you confessed, feeling weary and defeated, finally admitting the truth aloud.

"So, you are saying that this has been going on for a while and that it was consensual?" Sarah questioned incredulously, attempting to reconcile the information provided by Danielle with yours.

"Yes, it has been going on for about a month now and absolutely all of it was consensual," you confirmed softly, cringing internally at the idea of hurting your parents further. However, knowing that the truth must come out sooner rather than later, you pressed on.

Sarah's face turned paler as she processed the disturbing reality. The very notion of her beloved daughter engaging in illicit affairs with men old enough to be her father infuriated her beyond measure and she was furious not only with Cillian but also with you.

"I can't believe your audacity, to think that you would betray your own family like this. Cillian is not only a man with a family, but he is also Frank's brother!" she exclaimed bitterly, her voice trembling with emotion. "Didn't I raise you to respect and honor others above selfish desires?" She demanded, struggling to maintain her composure amidst her raging frustration.

Stung by her harsh condemnation, you cowered under her wrath, feeling guilty for bringing shame upon your family.

"I am sorry, mum. I made a mistake," you admitted painfully, looking deeply into her eyes. "This entire situation sucks, and my decisions weren't exactly smart," you conceded but your honesty no longer mattered.

"Once you recover, I expect you to move out. I cannot have you living with Frank under these circumstances, nor do I wish to see Cillian again either," declared Sarah resolutely, her words carrying weight. You nodded silently, understanding the severity of the situation and acknowledging the need for some distance both physically and mentally. Your relationship with Cillian had become absolute, and your bond with your mother seemed strained too.

"But where am I going to go? I am about to have exams," you asked, suddenly struck by the sudden change in your life's course.

"You are old enough to sleep with a married man, so you are old enough to look after yourself. You will figure it out," Sarah stated bluntly, her tone lacking compassion. Unable to argue back, you agreed submissively, accepting responsibility for your mistakes. But deep inside, fear consumed you – the kind of fear that leaves a pit in your stomach and makes you feel hollow.

With this fear consuming you, soon after your mother left, you called your best friend Emma for support. She always knew when something was wrong since childhood and when she found out that you were in hospital, she raced over immediatly.

Emma arrived at the hospital breathless, her frizzy red hair disarrayed around her flushed cheeks. Clutching a bouquet of flowers, she burst through the doorway and ran straight to your bedside, unmindful of everyone watching her.

"How bad is it?" She asked anxiously, her blue eyes brimming with worry. Without waiting for an answer, she squeezed your hand tightly, sending a silent message of solidarity and friendship. You gave her a weak smile, grateful for her loyalty.

"Not too serious, thankfully. Just a bump on my head and some bruises. Plus they put five stitches near my eyebrow," you explained briefly, not wanting to dwell on your injuries too long. Emma nodded sympathetically, placing a gentle hand on top of your cast.

"At least it wasn't worse, right?" she offered tentatively, attempting to lighten the mood. You smiled faintly, trying to forget the incident but Emma wanted to know what exactly had happened to you.

With a heavy heart, you recounted the events surrounding your relationship with Cillian and how it came crashing down. When you finished, she looked at you in horror, taking in the magnitude of the betrayals committed against you. "Oh, Y/N! Fuck!," she exclaimed, visibly upset on your behalf

Your tears threatened to spill over once more, but you managed to hold them back, knowing that expressing sadness openly would make you seem even more vulnerable than you already felt. You remained stoic, hoping to demonstrate resilience instead.

"So Cillian and you, it's over?" Emma asked thoughtfully, carefully studying your facial expressions. You paused momentarily, contemplating whether to admit another facet of your involvement with Cillian. Ultimately, you decided to disclose everything, trusting Emma's ability to handle sensitive matters responsibly.

"Yes, we're done," you answered honestly, meeting her gaze with sincerity. Emma frowned, clearly troubled by the gravity of the situation.

"You fell in love with him, didn't you?" she ventured, sensing there might be more to the story. Feeling exposed, you hesitated briefly before confirming her suspicion.

"Yes, I fell in love with him, Em." Your voice quivered, a mixture of sorrow and defiance coloring your tone. "It wasn't supposed to happen this way, but it did."

Her expression grew grim, mirroring your own feelings. She reached over and placed a gentle hand on yours, offering a token of sisterly support. "Look, maybe it won't turn out so badly after all. We could work through this together, help you get past it."

"I wish it would be that easy. My mother just kicked me out of the house, all this shit is probably going to end up in the tabloids and, well, there is something else..." you let out a long, exhausted sigh, running your fingers through your hair.

"I am pregnant," you blurted out, unable to hide the fear etched across your features any longer.

Emma's eyes widened in shock, her lips parting slightly in surprise. For several moments, neither of you spoke, absorbing the enormity of the revelation.

"How the fuck did this happen?" Emma asked in disbelief, still processing the news. "When did you find out?" She queried, concerned about your well-being both physically and emotionally.

"Just earlier, when they were running some blood tests," you replied quietly, glancing away momentarily. A single teardrop escaped your eye, trailing slowly down your cheek.

"Does Cillian know?" Emma questioned gravely, her brow furrowed with concern.

"He doesn't and he won't need to. I am not going to have a baby right now," you responded solemnly, feeling immense guilt about concealing such crucial information from the person responsible for creating this predicament.

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octuscle · 1 month

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Every Friday Night

What do you give someone who actually has everything? My friend Daniel is celebrating his 40th birthday next Saturday. We've been inseparable since high school. By his own admission, he's had a good life: he's a fairly successful doctor, most people appreciate his pleasant if somewhat reserved nature, and time has only given him the occasional gray hair, a slight tummy and shallow laugh lines on his gentle face.

Although he has had to make some sacrifices over the years to achieve his professional and social status, he admits that it has all been worth it. Until now, I always believed that too. What reason did I have not to? Until we had perhaps one or two too many glasses of wine yesterday. The wine loosened his tongue. And Daniel said wistfully that he regretted not having a more rebellious youth.

Shit, I've had a bit too much wine myself… I'm afraid I've been up to some shenanigans. At least I have a Chronivac app on my phone and I get text messages that my subscription is activated. And there's a countdown. Shit, I have a bad headache. And no idea what's going on.

Daniel calls me and asks me what the calendar entry is for Friday evening. It says "Gym" in the calendar. Yeah, right. Gym. Friday night. Isn't that what we always do? I'm a bit confused. Daniel too. "Yes, of course!" he says. Gym on Friday. As always. Will I pick him up? For some reason, I tell him to meet me at the bus stop. Sure, says Daniel. We haven't taken the bus since school days.

Friday evening. It feels normal to meet Daniel at the bus stop. We're both still wearing our casual business outfits from the office. And a sports bag with us. When was the last time I went to the gym? Shit, last Friday of course. We go every Friday. At least. Daniel greets me with a fist bump and offers me a cigarette. Neither of us smoke.

When the bus arrives, Daniel goes straight through to the back. He sits down in the last row with his legs apart and starts rolling a fag. I sit down next to him. Damn, he smells of sweat and tobacco. i start playing with my cell phone. since when do i have a tiktok account? A guy gives me tips on taking Trenbolone. Daniel looks at my screen, grabs my cock and says that the stuff makes me a muscle whore and shrinks my balls. i ask him why that's a problem. We laugh. The people around us roll their eyes. The bus arrives at our station. As we walk to the exit, Dan lights his cigarette. Before we're even off the bus, I take it out of his mouth and take a deep drag. Fuck the smoking ban!

I think the gym sucks, but Dan really wanted to train here. The other guys are pumping iron in our neighborhood. It's closer and you can go straight to the pub with the lads afterwards. But Dan is obsessed with the big boys. He really wants to become a freak. And shit, we're bros. I have to go with him. And to be honest, I totally dig his gym acne. I bet he's going to be a freak.

Training was like, totally lit, dude! The big boys have our backs all the way, major props. That's so dope. But Dan, he's such a poser, always flexing with pics and posts. And TikTok, non-stop! But man, he's already got a squad of followers. Now we're heading to the pub to meet up with the boys, but we're stuck on this darn bus for another freakin' half hour. The shower situation is a total bummer anyways. A quick spray of Axe under the pits, a dab of wax in the hair – good to go! Hey, Dan nailed it with the fresh cut, maybe I should chop mine off too.

Saturday morning. I feel a bit like I've been run over by a bus. In general… Buses. Shit, what have I been dreaming about buses? Tonight is Daniel's birthday party. He's celebrating at the Savoy. Cocktails at the bar, dinner at the grill… I still have to get my tuxedo from the cleaners. And I still need a present… Stop, wait… Didn't I already give him a present?

The birthday party was nice. A bit stiff. At around 02:00, we sit at the bar for one last drink. And Daniel asks me if I can remember last night. Funny, I have no idea what I did. Neither does he.

Thursday evening I receive a message via WhatsApp. Unknown number. We are supposed to pick up our stuff tomorrow at 16:00. Same place as usual. I have no idea what it's about. Daniel calls me to say that someone has told him that we still owe him 100 pounds for some stuff and that we should fucking bring it tomorrow. We both have no idea what it's about…

I get another message at midday on Friday. I ask if we can bring the appointment forward to 5pm. It's not my new iPhone. It's an old scratched device with a cracked display. I reply: "I'm sorry, but we're still at the gym until 18:00. Unfortunately, I can't make it any earlier." My fingers are moving as if remote-controlled. And now I have to go. The disco-poser biceps don't pump up by themselves.

Yo, so check it out, Dan's out here thinking he's this mega athlete, but homeboy be puffin' on them cancer sticks like there's no tomorrow, I'm talkin' 'bout 10 to 15 smokes a day? Psshh, child's play! Dan be double dosin' that, like he's tryna set the world record for most Marlboros inhaled in 24 hours or somethin'. And then, to top it off, dude's pullin' shady moves like stealin' cash from his pops just to fund his steroid stash! Man, I'm grindin' my butt off every night at the slaughterhouse just to keep up with them gym beasts, and this dude be relyin' on his daddy's wallet? Nah man, he gotta get a real job! Then, as if things couldn't get any wilder, my boy Liam starts talkin' 'bout Tren, that hardcore juice that supposedly turns you into a freakin' beast. I've heard stories, man, dudes growin' extra body parts and all! But me and Dan, we playin' it safe, stickin' to our old school supps for now. Ain't nobody tryna grow a third nipple just yet, you feel me?

I swear, Dan is like a walking perfume factory of pure musk. If he just lifts his arm, he's got every dude and babe in the gym drooling over him. Meanwhile, I'm just here, living my best life at all times. And now, the tattoo sesh with the artist is a no-go. Total bummer. I was so stoked to get my full-on sleeve inked up tomorrow evening. It's just way cooler to flex those guns in a tank at the club, you know? I love flaunting my hard-earned biceps. Gotta keep grinding, you feel me?

I slept naked tonight. And as rumpled as my bed is, I had wild dreams. I've got a movie tear again. My last memory was of strange messages I received on someone else's cell phone. When I walk into the bathroom, my heart almost stops. I have a bloody tattoo on my forearm! I raise my arm to see if there are any more. Dude! Eileen usually epilates my armpits every two weeks. Where did the bush under my arms come from? And why does it smell like I haven't showered for three weeks? I really need to take a shower. Although I have an urgent urge to go to the gym again straight away. That rarely happens. My inner bastard usually wins out at the weekend. And if I'm motivated, I should take advantage of it. I could ask Daniel if he fancies a game of squash at the club, I think to myself as I soap up. When I get out of the shower, I get a message from Daniel. He asks me if I have any idea where his tattoo came from. And whether I fancy a game of squash at the club.

I have no idea what's happening to us. On the one hand, I feel much fitter than I did a few weeks ago. On the other hand, Daniel and I have both started smoking. And we got tattoos. Obviously in a drunken stupor. At the age of 40! Who does that? I mean, Daniel seems so much more relaxed. At work, in his private life. And that pays off. He's never received so much positive feedback… And it's hardly any different for me. I feel so much more agile. And shit, I think about sex all the time. And mostly sex with Daniel.

On Thursdays I somehow always start to get restless. I used to primarily look forward to the week being over. But now I'm looking forward to the weekend starting. Kind of like it used to be. At school or university. And Saturdays and Sundays aren't much different than they were a month or two ago. And I can't remember the last few Fridays for the life of me. And the funny thing is that Daniel obviously feels the same way. It's almost Friday morning when I get a new message from the same number as last week. "Ive got a hell of a lot of m1y on u. Dont let meh down. And if u W, ill owe u 1". I really have no idea what that means. For some reason I save the number under "Liam".

Normally "casual friday" for me means wearing chinos with a blazer. Sometimes with just a white t-shirt underneath. But usually with a button-down shirt. Today I'm wearing a sweat suit with a hoodie top under a down vest. The neckline of the tank top underneath is so low that you can see the gap between my pecs. I actually didn't think about it. It just felt right. And no one in the office questioned it. On the contrary, I get a lot of compliments. My boss personally praises my tight ass. At 3:00 pm I get a message from Daniel: "Dude, were r u? fite starts @ 20:00. Didnt we want 2 trin beforehand? n da photo shoot is b4 tht 2!" I call him and ask him what that shit means. He can't remember any message he's supposed to have sent me. But the fact is that I have to go now, even if I still have no idea where I'm going or why.

Oh my god, this night is straight up LIT AF! Had a sick sesh at training with my ride-or-die homie. Then my first presser, ya boy's the ultimate underdog for this brawl. Cameras flashing like crazy. And then the showdown. Damn, your boy's killin' it. But KO in round two? No one saw that coming. Except Liam, he had faith. Dan's hating, thinking it's all fake. He's just salty. Bros gonna hate, but we're tight. Now we're popping bottles for the win. Liam's shouting that tonight's on him. We ain't gotta be told twice, let's partyyyy!

I could swear my nose looks like it's been broken in more than one fight. Somehow I remember boxing matches from the past. But when? At university? I was more of a debating and astronomy club kind of guy. Shit, Daniel and I need a new sports club. This stuffy country club is for wimps. Yes, we're 40 years old. But fit as fuck. There may be customers and colleagues who turn up their noses at us because of our tattoos. But hey, we weren't born with a silver spoon in our mouths. We've fought for everything we've achieved. And Dan and I agree that we've been really successful.

Yes, we like our jobs. And we're both good at it. But real life starts on Friday afternoon. Damn, you can bet your life on it!

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #chronivac #tank top #inked man #age reduction #ai image #chav tf

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bellewintersroe · 9 months

Text

Fernando Alonso x ex! OC smut.

Fernando and Lila have been separated for a year. After a breakup neither of the pair wanted, emotions boil over during a brief meeting in her new home country of Australia. Unlucky for the pair, famous actress and model, Lila only has one night to spend with Alonso, the two make the most of the time they have together. Set in 2019, may not be accurate but it’s just my depiction.

warnings: smut, descriptions of sex, oral, if you’re uncomfortable don’t read. Both characters are heartbroken- some mentions of previous child loss, really want to write a series based off this, comment if it’s something you guys would like to read? This is LONG btw just a warning.

Alonso’s eyes were fixated, his breath didn’t move for a solid 10 seconds when he saw a familiar figure walking in the room. It wasn’t a coincidence that his tie suddenly felt too tight like it was choking him, and she was here. Lila Lillian, the name and face of an angel, his ex-fiancée. The woman who still had his heart a year later. Fernando felt his jaw then fall slack, eyebrows pulling together slightly as his heart began thumping furiously against his chest. There came that funny feeling that he only felt when thinking about her. A longing, a desperation, sadness, shortly followed by a contrasting excitement and happiness to see her here.

Fernando didn’t know why he was shocked. He purposefully came to watch this Grand Prix in Australia knowing she’d possibly be around. The reason their almost-three-year relationship had ended was because of this scheduled move to Australia. They’d experienced so much together before the move, the loss of their unborn baby, an engagement, a bond neither of them shared with any other individual. Fernando swallowed, finally taking a deep breath. Lila had not seen him yet, but Daniel Ricciardo, her close friend who introduced Fernando to her.

His eyes were still focused on her, breathing a little laboured as he moved his head forwards to follow her when she got lost behind a few, taller figures. The petite woman had a radiance like no other, smile bright and wide, encapsulated by her glossy, plump lips. Fernando felt he was in a trance, a dream. He’d been picturing their reunion for days, weeks, even months. When the two figures continuing contact was too difficult, they hadn’t spoke in over three months.

Lila’s gaze was focused on Daniel, laughing at the joke he’d just made, she was aware her ex fiancé may or may not have been at that particular table, but part of her was too afraid to check.

“Fernando is here.” Daniel muttered quietly when they shared a quick hug. “Okay.” Her breath felt sharp, chest pinching. Unknown to either of them, they were experiencing the exact same level of nerves and anticipation as the other.

Fernando only snapped his eyes away when Sebastian slapped him on the back. A supportive kind of action. “You should go say hi before we all get in there.” There wasn’t many of the drivers at the bar, a couple who’d come along with their partners. Fernando wasn’t racing that season, desperate for a change from his not so successful McLaren days. The men there had labelled Lila as his distraction, the reason why he wasn’t performing to the best of his ability, forgetting all about the weakness of their own car. That was something that still made Fernando angry, even a year later.

“Ok.” The Spaniard seemed to move in slow motion. He stared at the table for a moment, earning a few strange looks, swigging his expensive liquor dramatically. It wasn’t how Fernando had pictured, he thought it would be more private, just the two of them. But all the excitement and bustle of the club somehow made their reunion less awkward, less scary. As he approached around the back of the chairs, he was cut short when Lewis’ chair scraped back, accidentally cutting him off to say hello first.

Suddenly Fernando felt transported back to their competitive days, when their respect for one another was yet to greatly form. Fernando thought Lila hadn’t looked at him once, and he felt borderline like he was dying to just speak to her before everybody else got in the way.

“Lewis, hi!” The English girl giggled, arms wrapping around an old friend as the two shared a friendly hug. “Hello you. It’s been ages, how are you? How’s Australia?!”

Fernando borderline felt like he was going into a sulk, tormented by what felt like the longest conversation in the whole of Australia. Finally Lewis sat back down and all of a sudden she was just there. Lila had more of a shock, she hadn’t turned her head to see where Fernando was sat, so now he was stood in front of her, she felt like she was staring at a ghost.

“Fernando.” Her voice was light and airy, heart jumped heavily causing her fingers to touch at the bare skin of her chest. A smile broke on his face and he moved closer, engaging in what both of them wanted to be a tighter hug. Lila inhaled the oh-so familiar scent that sent a wave of nostalgia through her, a comfort like no other. Fernando didn’t fail to recognise the gentle swipe of her thumb over his clothed back, her touch grazing over his waist when they broke apart, something that Fernando shuddered at.

“Hello.” He gently spoke, her brows furrowing a little, the bitter sweet recognition of his voice being borderline overwhelming. His hand still rested on the small of her clothed back, the tiny gesture being enough to make her stomach knot.

I miss you. Fernando thought, “hi.” She giggled nervously, scanning over his face. “How are you?” She spoke after a second or so. Fernando released the tightness of his jaw swiftly. Lila unconsciously held the finger of one hand in her other, her ring finger, now bare without the ring she once wore.

“I’m ok. How are you? You look beautiful.” Fernando’s genuine compliment touched her heart more so than anybody else’s. He saw the way her lips stretched out, the way her eyes still carried a saddened glaze. Angelic, Fernando couldn’t believe how beautiful she looked, the bounce of her hair, the softness of her features. The freckles that dotted over her face- every single detail he once traced he was viewing all over again.

“Thank you…” Lila was so nervous her voice had cracked and faded, so much so Fernando wouldn’t have heard her previous words unless he was watching her so attentively. “So do-”

“Hello, mrs Lillian, I missed you!!!” A little too drunken Sebastian had stumbled over, causing both their heads to turn. Fernando felt a little startled, hand pressing a little firmer against her back. “-you.” She barely finished, clawing at Fernando’s heart as she began grinning again, moving from his hands to Sebastian’s bare hug.

“Take my seat.” Sebastian mouthed to Fernando, winking with a smirk. It was probably Hannahs plan, Sebastian’s wife, to allow the estranged couple to sit next to one another. A drunken ploy to bring the two of them together. Fernando cleared his throat, shuffling back to Sebastian’s seat.

Lila had made her way around the table, being ushered into a seat, not too subtly, next to Fernando. His blazer still rested on the back of the seat, warm against her back which he’d worn previously. The fancy award show which took place prior wasn’t necessarily something Fernando liked, Lila too, but she always did like seeing him a suit…

“Are you staying for a few?” Daniel questioned from across the table, she leaned forwards, smile stretching. “I shouldn’t, all my friends have left, I only really came to say hi. My flights at like 9 tomorrow.”

She was met with a range of objections, pleads and exclamations. From everybody apart from Fernando who felt like he’d been punched in the gut. She was flying out? Away from where he would be for the next week? How was this fair, it couldn’t have been.

“Okay, I’ll stay. Only for a couple though, Daniel I know you’re gonna try get me drunk!” She warned, speaking confidently, laughing at her own comment as Fernando’s lips twitched. She always was funny, a little quirky but her sense of humour was something he found so attractive. “Gonna make me miss my flight.” She commented, laughing gently as Fernando’s eyebrows perked realising she was speaking to him. She’d stolen a glance, desperate to not make their interaction awkward.

“Where are you flying to?” His accent was thicker than she remembered, he leant back in his chair, looking as cool as ever. She smiled gently, fingers still playing with one another.

“New York. I’ve got a shoot there.” Lila laughed a little at how prestigious the words sounded. “Ah.” Fernando nodded, feeling a little loss for words. His disappointment was maybe a little too evident, so he was quick to down the rest of his drink. “Would you like a drink?”

“Oh, yeah..” so much for ‘I wasn’t drinking’ Lila felt the nerves rattling through her bones, something that could only be softened by the flow of alcohol. “I’ll come.”

“No, no, it’s fine. I have it.” He nodded, standing up before she could. Her head tilted up, “oh, Fernando you don’t have to.”

“It’s okay.” He firmed. “Rose?”

“Yeah.” Lila inhaled. “Please…” The more conversation flowed, the more alcohol was consumed. Lila felt consumed by the back Fernando was right there, and as the clock was striking 12, she knew she should’ve been leaving, but the urgency to just do something, do more, with him was overwhelming.

She was two-and-a-half glasses in and being a lightweight, the buzz of the alcohol was already clouding her mind. When she’d taken a break from the conversation Lila felt herself lean back into her chair, instinctively tilting her head towards her left to where Fernando was. His veiny hands were spread over his thighs, finger cladded by the ring she bought him.

When he’d noticed where she was looking, Fernando tensed up a little, lifting his hand to look at the ring himself. “It’s a nice ring.” He shrugged, smirking to himself.

“I know.” She shrugged, border line teasing him. “I picked it out.” Lila chuckled down to her wine, sipping more of the drink she was enjoying a little too much.

“Oh, I didn’t know that.” He fired back playfully. Lila fully looked to him now, smiling properly. “You didn’t remind me once a week.” Fernando felt his heart flutter when she giggled at his words.

“I was proud!” She defended. “And I have good taste.” Lila shrugged, sipping on her drink. Fernando smirked towards her, eyes falling to the slit in her long, black dress. “I know.” He responded, quickly turning up to where she was already looking back to him. Throughout their conversation with one another and the others, the two were moving closer and closer together.

“There’s so many spiders here though, I knew there would be- but I was shocked they’re literal tarantulas.” She dramatically exclaimed. “I was right the whole time. Moving to Australia was a bad idea.” He was joking, of course, but there was an element of truth that lingered. When the two would occasionally dispute when being together, it was about her move to Australia.

“Yeah, yeah, course you were.” She playfully knocked his arm which he rested on the back of his chair. Their chairs were almost touching, every now and then their feet would touch under the table, her heel grazing against his shin. Fernando had no idea if it was intentional or not, but there was something ignited deep inside him at the fact they were reunited again.

“I mean, I should’ve listened to you about the snakes.” She turned her body to face his, knees touching his thigh. Fernando instinctively spread his legs a little further so they pressed firmer against her legs.

“Oh yeah?” He laughed, eyeing her up quickly, arm resting over the back of the chair she sat on subtly. “Yeah, they’re terrifying.” She admitted.

“Are they big?”

“Huge, Nando, you’d be terrified.”

“I don’t like the sound of that.” “Yeah? Good job you didn’t come to Australia with me then.” Although he could hear the sarcasm and joking oozing off her tone, his smile faltered, scanning over Lila’s expression. Her smile fell harder than when it had started. It was something she never could understand- well she could, but she always hoped Fernando would come to Australia with her at some point.

“Im only kidding.” She pointed out, aware the joke didn’t fall as it had intended to. His arm had fallen off the back of his chair. He offered her a gentle smile, a reassuring one. “You know-” as she finished her third glass of wine, she felt her filter becoming non existent.

“It is nice to see you, I wondered if… if you’d be here, you know cos you’re not racing and all this season?” Fernando’s heart melted as he automatically reached out, placing a hand on her thigh, not too far up. He could see the blush that grew on her face, the physical hitch in her throat.

“I missed you-” she dropped casually, touching his warm hand lightly, before removing it seconds later. “Sorry…” Lila frowned, wondering if she’d gone a little too far. The words simply stabbed at Fernando’s heart further. His fingers squeezed over her bare flesh. “I miss you.” He was quick to reply, voice low and head dipped slightly. The two of them looked at one another through their eyelashes.

“How are you doing? You know, taking some time off?” Terrible, heartbroken. Fernando wanted to be open with her.

“Keeping busy.”

“Not burning yourself out, I hope?” A kind hand laid on his arm supportively. “No.” He responded. “Just… I just needed some time off after last season.” And after the break up.

“McLaren.” She awkward smiled, exhaling the word out. She knew the things they thought of her, a distraction, a pretty girl that at 22 knew nothing when she was dating a man 12 years her senior. They probably rejoiced and laughed when they split. For Fernando that wasn’t home, he couldn’t accept anybody in his life who didn’t accept her, still, to this day. She was his home, and now she’d gone he felt clueless.

“Yeah…” he knowingly spoke. A moment of silence took over the pair. She glanced down to the time, 12:45. “Oh god. I need to go to bed.” Lila felt Fernando’s hand slip a little further up her leg when he looked to also check the time. “Do you have to leave, already?” His words tugged at her heart, a contrast to the way her core was burning at his hand flattened over her bare thigh.

“I’m flying out tomorrow, I have at be at the airport by 6:30.” She sighed, chest heavy with sadness. She’d been so caught up with catching up with Fernando she had somewhat forgotten that the night would have to come to an end.

“One more drink won’t kill you.” He attempted to lighten the mood by nudging her shoulder. In return Lila could only offer him a saddened smile. “Sorry, Nando…” the nickname made his chest ache painfully. “Then I will walk you back.” He offered as she reached over to catch his fingers against her own. Fernando hated that he didn’t feel the cold of her ring on against his hand. It should’ve been there… “Okay.” Her voice was reduced to a whisper as he helped her up, “we are heading off.” Fernando cleared his throat to the few people still gathered around the table. People eyed up the pair, some smirking, some shocked.

“It’s been nice to see you all, hopefully I’ll see you guys soon… bye Danny.. see you Seb.” After a few moments of goodbye’s the two left side-by-side. For Lila it felt just like old times, except there was a sadness that lingered.

“I’m getting a ride back.” Lila had already texted her driver, who was waiting outside. She halted, looking up to Fernando whom she had paused so they were face to face. Her words made his heart drop, feelings reminiscent of that early morning in the airport when they said goodbye for good.

“I just wanted to say bye to you away from the table.” Lila slowly explained, seeing Fernando scanning over her face with sadenned, puppy eyes. “Don’t look at me like that, Nando.” She felt as though she could cry, reaching out and taking his hand.

Fernando swallowed, stealing a glimpse out to the car readily parked outside. When he turned back to her he felt like he’d been punched in the gut to see her eyes becoming glassy.

“No, no, no.” He hushed, pulling her closer. Her arms wrapped over his shoulders, feeling his hand on her waist, the other on the back of her head. “Come with me, Nando…” she’d pulled back only slightly, gazing up to the taller man. Tears had yet to spill, she was just awaiting his response.

“Pl-” “Yes.” Fernando simply spoke, placing her hand back into his. “Let’s go, bebé.”

The car ride home was comfortable, neither of them spoke too much, but Fernando had purposefully sat next to her in the middle seat, their hands still intertwined. Both of them felt the need for one another, the deep desire that burnt in each of their hearts. It went beyond lust, it was a need. Lila would brush her hand against Fernando’s inner thigh every now and then and he would struggle with the urge to control his mind leading elsewhere.

“Where are you staying?” Lila gently asked when they were stood outside her hotel room. Living in Sydney, she was pretty far from home. “Not too far from here. I will walk.” Fernando nodded. “W- no. You can- you can get a taxi.” She stammered, purposefully delaying the goodbye. What she really wanted to say was ‘you can stay’ but somehow, despite the Dutch courage, she was nervous.

Fernando smiled tightly, running a hand down her arm before glancing back down the hall, where the lifts were. Lila’s heart jumped in a desperation that screamed at her to not let him leave.

“Fernando-”

“Lila-” he began, taking hold of her hand. “Yeah?” She felt lost for breath, as did Fernando. He picked up her hand, pulling it up to his lips intimately. She let out a closed mouth sigh, one that was audible to his ears, hurting his heart.

“Come here.” He whispered, pulling her right into his front where they shared a tight embrace. “I miss you, Nando. I meant to say it earlier, not that I missed you. I still do.” The clarification was something Fernando honestly had not picked up on, but it was still enough to make him feel like he wanted to cry.

“I know.” He whispered feeling her pull back to gaze over his face. The two shared no more words, just a look that they both recognised. With a gentle caress of her cheek, Fernando moved forwards, pressing his lips to hers gently. That kiss sealed their fate. It gave them both butterflies just like it was the first time, and when the kiss deepened she found herself pulling him into her room, key card clumsily waving against the door to unlock it.

When they were inside she grappled hold of his blazer desperately, beginning to push it off as he simultaneously began pulling off his tie. Their tongues danced against one another’s, lipstick smearing over his lips as they frantically made out with one another.

When they fell back into the bathroom door the two of them shared a giggle, meeting eyes for the first time. Lila’s smile remained as her fingers fell to the buckle on his belt. Fernando glanced down with a slack jaw before moving in for another kiss, breathing becoming heavier as she began unbuckling his belt, unzipping his trousers and leaving them open. Her hand was going to reach down into his underwear but she had to steady herself, holding onto his shoulders. Fernando closed the gap between them, hard cock pressing against her inner hip as she moaned against his lips.

His hands travelled down, pulling her dress down with it, tits exposing as he began leaving open mouthed kisses over her skin, her sensitive nipples. He was holding her up by the waist, crotch pressed into his by a hand on her ass. If he wasn’t holding onto her, Lila swore she’d fall over from the dizzy feeling. Fernando knew her body better than anybody, she had never been with anybody better, now she was desperate to have him again, all of him.

“Nando.” When she moaned, he swore he was being visited by the angels. He’d fully pushed her dress down and off, leaving her in a black pair of thongs and her heels. “Fernando, please, I can’t wait.” She choked out at the swipe of his hand over her aching pussy. She was throbbing for him, Fernando was positive he could feel it. He felt his cock painfully hard in his boxers, so much so it hurt.

When he felt the grab of her hand on him he thought he’d cum there and then. Something snapped and he was leading her towards the bed, nudging her down and pulling his cock free. He licked his hand, pushing her thongs to the side and swiping the wetness across her already dripping pussy. He groaned in pleasure at the sensation. The familiarity drove Fernando crazy, her chest was heaving and falling as they made eye contact, it was all so full of anticipation.

Usually Nando would go down on her for what felt like hours before, he’d made her finish endless amounts of times and he found nothing more erotic than seeing her in that position, writhing, pulling his hair, grinding her hips against his mouth. Lola’s lower stomach was burning, her hands holding around Fernando’s muscular arms, the tip of his unprotected cock nudging against her pussy.

More preparation was ideal, but neither of them could wait, he was gentle with his movement, watching her attentively for any sign of pain. Fernando reached out, stroking her cheek before falling on top of her, hands at either side of her as he eased his length into her.

Lola’s breath hitched, feeling him pull a pillow under her neck for comfort, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he took a deep breath, cock buried deep inside of her. “Nando.” She breathed, hand stroking down the back of his scalp and neck.

“Is that ok?” He quickly spoke as soon as he heard the delicate whisper of his name. “Yeah, you feel so good.” Lila swallowed, he sunk down, lips pressing to her forehead as he began moving slowly.

Fernando always enjoyed missionary with Lila, especially now, he could see every inch of her pleasure, kiss her, squeeze here, anything she wanted. Her heels still remained on her feet, spread wide. Fernando couldn’t resist running a hand up the inside of her soft flesh. He exhaled, his temple pressed to hers as he began moving slowly, sensually. His hips rolled slowly, her own bouncing up slightly to meet his as they engaged in a deep, messy kiss.

“I missed you… so much.” Fernando shakily sighed, “I missed you.” With every touch, every stroke, Fernando felt himself becoming unravelled in her hold, everything felt so intimate, their eye contact, their kisses, they were making love like it was the last time. Maybe it was, Fernando shook the thought from his mind. The slide of his cock in and out of her perfect pussy drove him into a trance, pulling her up onto his lap.

His movements were strong, she found it so erotic that as soon as she sat in his lap she began rocking her hips back and fourth against his. Their pants and gasps filled the room, foreheads pressed to one another as Fernando began to sweat in his shirt. His pants had been discarded but he couldn’t find the chance to possibly stop what was going on to undress fully.

When her movements became a little faster, her head dropped back, a louder moan escaping her lips, one that drove Alonso crazy. He was staring at her, watching her intensely as she rode him, fingers digging deeper into the flesh of his shoulders. He wanted her to leave marks for days to come so even if they weren’t near, he’d still have something technically of hers.

“Fernando, fuck… fuck.” Her moans developed into whines, his hips beginning to snap into hers. With more confidence, he felt his gasps slowly turn into grunts that escaped through his teeth. He pulled her back into his body, hugging her through the love making as she bounced up and down on his aching member.

“Please…” she babbled, a little unknown as to what she was pleading for. More of him, all of him, him to come back. “Shit.” Fernando cursed, eyes squeezing shut when she rolled herself deep against his cock. He wasn’t sure how long he’d last, she was already working towards an orgasm. Only Fernando could make her feel so good.

“Tan bueno. Eres tan buena.” He muttered out, an open mouthed groan escaping his lips. She responded to his words with an open mouthed cry, back arching and falling back again. “Please, Nando, please, fuck me.” She was being wicked, so very cruel, tits bouncing as she threw her head back, hair also bouncing with each movement.

Fernando was breathing out loud now, taking a handful of her breast, squeezing at the nipple as he watched her like he was seeing stars. Lila felt herself going into overdrive, there was something so erotic and intimate about being back with the man she still loved so much. When his hand travelled down to her clit, rubbing in the perfect way she liked, she knew she was a sucker.

“Fuck, I’m- Fernando, I’m gonna cum.” She slurred, choking out moans between each word. Her stomach was building as her movements turned frantic, he sped up to hit her g-spot, the bed squeaking under his movements. Lila felt bad for the people downstairs…

Her orgasm crept up painfully fast, she was gasping out loud, eyebrows scrunched as she stared back to his glistening eyes. “Cum for me, fuck. You can do it.” He encouraged, his fingers digging deeper into her hip bone. Lila’s voice cracked as she hit her peak, momentarily losing the ability to think as she experienced the most overwhelming orgasm ever.

The best part of it? She fell back into Fernando’s arms after, chest heaving and falling as she panted, coming down from her pure bliss. “Tan buena.” He told her, fingers stroking up her back.

“Mmmmh.” She hummed, brows still furrowed, lips pouted as they shared another kiss. Nando was gentle and careful to start his movements again, knowing she’d be sensitive from her prior orgasm.

“You feel so tight, oh my-” Fernando’s eyes rolled back as he bit down on her shoulder, hips slowly fucking into her. It wasn’t enough, he needed her faster, harder, all of her. He wanted to fill her with his seed, make her his again. “-God.” He finished his sentence, shuddering as he lifted her slightly, nudging her to go on all fours.

Lila loved when Fernando wanted to go in doggy. He was always so passionate, so good, most of all he fucked her like no other man could, so with a kiss to her pussy, and another to her bum cheek, he slid back in, groaning and grunting at the sensation.

“Lila.” He moaned, head dropping back in reaction to her back arching. She whined against the mattress, clawing at the sheets as she fell back onto his cock. His hands steadied her, overwhelmed with how beautiful this angle was. His thumbs pressed into the dimples at the bottom of her back, massaging slightly.

“Please, Fernando… fuck me how you used to.” Her words somehow got him almost choked up, but riled up to say the least. With the snatch of a hip each, he fucked into her, using all his stamina to continue the sex until they were both experiencing an immeasurable amount of pleasure. “Mierda. Ángel mío, te sientes tan jodidamente bien.” Fernando’s dirty words weren't something she could properly translate, but she loved it, with each fuck of his cock inside of her he was growing hungrier, more desperate. “Please!” She wept, feeling her stomach constantly tighten from the pleasure.

“Please, Nando.” Lila let out a pornographic moan, one that Fernando followed with, the sound of her moans and begs becoming filthy driving him too close to the edge. His hips moved harshly, body curling over hers as his groans began long before his orgasm even began.

With one last whimper, of her asking him to finish inside her, Fernando felt he was driven crazy. His head was spinning as he felt the shoot of his seed filling her up, pussy clenched around him as he let out the hottest sound she’d ever heard. His body slumped, quickly resting a hand on the bed to support him through his orgasm, cheek rested on her back.

Fernando was in love, so deeply in love, still. “I love you.” He shuddered out as Lila felt the jump of her heart, her eyes pricking at the words. “I love you.” Her voice caught in her throat, but she didn’t hesitate to say it back. Fernando let out one final moan, milking the last of his orgasm before pulling out and smoothing down her back when she laid on her front.

He shifted to the right of her, laying on his side to meet her half way for gentle kisses. “Stay tonight.” Her hand rested against his forearm which still trembled from the pleasure he’d just experienced.

“Okay.” Fernando kissed her deeply once again. Apart from excusing herself to the bathroom for a few moments, the two were inseparable, naked bodies intertwine throughout the night. Neither of them wanted to sleep, they both had so much to say, yet so little time. Fernando worried if he’d closed his eyes then morning would arouse him and they’re separation would follow.

Of course, morning did come. The bustle of her attempting to prepare for the airport was only something Nando could soothe her with. Except this time, she thought she’d burst into tears at any moment knowing they’d have to say goodbye. He rode with her to the airport, carried her bags. Their connection from the night before had drew then irreversibly close once again.

As soon as the airport came into Lila’s vision, her stomach dropped. “We’re here.” She whispered, fingers sliding over Fernando’s thigh. He was still in the same clothes from last night, not that he really cared, he just wanted to be there with her. Something washed over Fernando, he borderline snatched her hand, preventing her from pulling it back.

“Come home with me.” “Fernando-” she sighed, hearing this conversation many times over. “Please. We can start another life together, put your ring back on.” She could feel the sickly feeling arise in her chest when their car pulled up.

“Nando.” Her heart became heavy and the tears in her eyes only grew further at his words. He kissed her, deeply, quickly. “I miss you.” That broke the flood gates. Her eyes began streaming as he held her tightly. The only person that could reduce him to tears was her.

“I miss you so much.” She repeated. “But I can’t, not after we lost- I just… for now. I can’t.” She almost spiralled, but a deep inhale and reminder that the driver was waiting outside the car with her bags pulled her back together. Fernando’s jaw was clenched to prevent him becoming choked up. “I’m sorry.” He stared blankly at the space between them, he’d become overwhelmed with a desperation for him back in her life. One that killed him. He began to worry they’d never be together again.

“Te esperaré...” “I will wait for you too, Nando…”

#Fernando Alonso #Fernando Alonso x OC #f1 x reader #f1 x OC #Fernando Alonso smut #F1 smut #Fernando Alonso x reader #fernando alonso x reader smut

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