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luvyeni · 2 months

Text

SAY CHEESE ,, 나재민

pairings ‎⸝⸝⸝ model!jaemin x fem!reader wc. 2.5k+

genre. smut

𓄷 includes ... fingering, unprotected sex, corruption kink, praise kink

「 authors note 𖹭 」 i needed a soft one , been doing cheating and yandere fics all week.

❪ masterlist! ❫

“i don't know chaewon,” you hear your roommate's footsteps padding behind you as you make your way into your bedroom— she was right on your hip as tried to close the door, pushing it open as you sat on your bed. “this is your assignment, and i don't feel comfortable doing it for you.”

your roommate whines sitting down on your bed as well. “please yn, i can't miss this internship it will be career changing, and you're the only person i know who can take photos as well as i do, maybe even better , and i know you wont try and fuck him cause you havent fucked anyone in your life.” she said, you scoffed. “why can't you text the guy and tell him you have another shoot?” you asked. “because this model is already hard to get and if i don't get this shoot im gonna fail my class.” she explained. “you passed this class last semester so you understand how much of a hard ass this teacher is.” she said.

“please yn,” she begged, “i will buy groceries for next month if you do this for me,” you thought about it, it was a good deal. “fine.” your friend smiled, clapping in excitement. “thank you, thank you so much.” she said hugging you. “okay, okay let me go.” you pulled away. “it's a two day shoot, he has his own hair and makeup team so all you have to do is show up and take pretty pictures of the pretty man.” she said. “who is this mysterious model who is so hard to get?”

“na jaemin.” she said, you knew the name; he was new to the modeling scene, but he was quickly growing, establishing himself in the cut throat industry. “how’d you manage to get him, i thought he was like london for a fashion show?” you asked. “what business does he have with a mediocre college student photoshoot?” your best friend scoffed. “ignoring the mediocre part, you know donghyuck?” you nodded, he had a crush on your roommate and was very open about it. “well he apparently knows jaemin, and he set this up for me , in exchange for a date.” you nodded. “using your assets, good for you.”

“yeah, and i didn't know this would be the only days he'd be free, and i didn't catch it until i checked my schedule.” she said standing up. “i'll text him and let him know, thank you so much.” you nodded. “Whatever, don't complain next month when it's time to shop for food.” she smiled sheepishly. “i won't promise.” she said. “now get out, i have to work on this essay that's due in like 4 hours.”

the next day was the day of the shoot, luckily you didn't have class so it wasn't a big inconvenience— the night before you made sure all your cameras were charged and working properly, thankfully they were and you were ready to go. “here's the address, you might want to get there earlier than he does so you can be ready , he's pretty busy and we don't know how long he has on his schedule.” your friend came back into your room , to which you agreed.

you got to the destination of the shoot a few hours before the shoot, cleaning up the place a bit; setting up the background and decorations. you brought a few snacks and drinks for him and his staff, also setting those out for the taking. you sent your roommate a quick message wishing her good luck with her internship, the door to the place opening. “hello?”

you looked up from your phone; he came in smiling, his team following behind him , he had this aura to him, he definitely was a model, he was attractive— very attractive, it made you kind of speechless. “h-hi.” you said, letting them come in. “you guys can set up over there.”

you finished up your texting, deciding to make yourself known for real. “hi im yn.” you watched him lift his eyebrow in confusion. “yn?” he asked. “what happened to chaewon? hyuck told me this was for her class.” chaewon didn't text him— you were gonna kill her. “it is, she had a internship today and she couldn't miss it, she also couldn't miss this shoot because then she'd fail this class and she didn't want to do that so she sent me.” jaemin watched you nervously fiddle with your finger as you explained yourself, smiling to himself. “is that okay? i can show you some of my work if it makes you comfortable.”

“no baby doll don't worry,” his words made you freeze up. “hyuck said chaewon was nice girl, so im sure she surrounds herself with other nice girls.” his eyes scanned up your body, making your cheeks heat up as he made eye contact with yours. “you seem like a nice girl.” you nodded, still flustered. “o-okay, i'm gonna go finish setting up, you guys can finish getting him ready, i brought snacks in case any of you get hungry they're over there so.” you quickly ran over to your camera. “she's cute.” his stylist said. “so adorable.” his makeup artist said, he smiled, pulling out his phone.

jaemin. your girl didn't show up, her roommate did.

hyuck. ik she text me , and told me, yn is a good girl though, she's also a photographer.

jaemin. single?

hyuck. definitely, she doesn't even come out much. why you like?

jaemin. very much.

hyuck. go for it then 😉

he watched you adjust the camera, muttering something to yourself, his stylist handed him his outfit to get changed into, he took the clothes into his hand, making his way over to you. he stood behind you, waiting for you to take notice of him. “we can get started when—” you turned around to where the boy was already standing there, extremely close, close enough where you could smell his cologne. “I have to change into my clothes.” he said. “chaewon gave me a dress code.” you nodded. “of course she did.” you looked around the studio. “there's no bathrooms in here , and i don't have the key to the one outside.”

“don't stress baby doll,” there was that nickname again, “i’ve had to change in public before, nothing knew.” he walked away leaving you confused, until you seen his arms lifting up and off his shirt went; your hands coming up to cover your eyes. “you-you're gonna get dressed here.” he laughed at you. “it's not like there's anywhere else,” he said, tilting his head to the side. “you act like you've never seen a naked man before.” you hadn't , but he didn't know that. “ju-just quickly get changed.” you fanned your heated face , he smiled.

jaemin knew you probably hadn't, he just wanted to see your reaction and he was thoroughly amused at what he was seeing. “get dressed and leave the poor girl alone.” his stylist said, slapping the back of his head. he finished changing his clothes, just as you were turning around. “great we can finally get started.”

the shoot went good, you took a bunch; a few you knew chaewon would like and a few you liked, you probably took over 100 photos of the boy; not that you were complaining, you got to stare at this gorgeous man and not look like a weirdo. “how do they look?” jaemin asked. “would you like to see?” he nodded, coming behind the camera; you showed him your laptop screen. “see?”

“you're really talented?” he watched you try and hide a smile at his praise. “you can smile baby doll, it was a compliment,” he said. “th-thank you.” you said with your head down. “which ones do you like?” he asked. “huh?” you said confused. “oh-oh well this is chaewons project so i just did what I know she likes.” he hummed, “yeah i know it's chaewons, but if it was your project, what would you choose?” you didn't realize how close he was until you could feel his breathing on your neck.

“um.” you clicked through the photos. “th-these three.” you pointed out. “oh someone likes my upper body i see?” he laughed as you turned around wide eyed, stuttering out an explanation. “don't worry i don't mind it all, i got into this business to be stared at and admired by pretty and sweet girls like you.” he said. “tell chaewon she should use these, her roommate has good taste.”

the rest of the shoot went by in a blur, soon you were cleaning up and jaemin was changing back into his comfortable clothes. “we'll go get the car ready.” he nodded, his small staff leaving the studio, leaving you and him alone; just what he wanted, he watched you talk on the phone. “i should be home soon, don't worry, yeah , no i'm not saying it, fine i love you too, bye.” you hung up. “boyfriend?” he asked, knowing the answer already. “oh no, that was chaewon.” you chuckled.

“so a pretty little thing like you don't have a boyfriend?” you shyly nodded, “like ever?” you were embarrassed. “no it's okay baby doll i'm just a bit shocked.” he said. “it's you're so pretty, I never would have imagined you were single.” he said , coming closer making you nervously turn around , but you could still get hear him getting closer until he was caging you against the table. “ja-jaemin.”

“come on pretty, let me make you feel good.” he pressed up against you. “turn around for me.” he whispered in your ear, smiling when obediently did. “good girl, you listen well.” you eyes were wide. “your staff.” he smirked. “trust, they know, don't worry about that.” his hand came up to your thigh, making its way up your skirt. “i-i’ve never done this before.” you felt his hand close to your clothed cunt. “i know pretty just relax.” you felt his hand on your mound, making you close your legs around his arms. “no.” he smiled. “you gotta keep them open if you want me to make you feel good.”

you slowly opened your legs allowing him to move again. “good girl.” he thumbed on your clit, you let out a whimper, biting your lip to cover it up. “let me hear all those pretty noises.” he pulled your panties to the side. “i'm gonna put a finger inside you, okay?” you nodded, his slowly ran his finger up your slit, before pushing his finger in. “ja-jaemin.” you moaned. “feel good?” he moved his finger in and out. “you're so wet, this pretty pussy never been played with, you're dripping all over my hand.”

you were a mess, your face was so fucked out from one finger it made him hard as a rock. “m’gonna add another one okay?” you nodded, he lifted your leg higher holding it as he added another finger. “good girl , taking two of my fingers.” he praised, you really like that, your cunt tightening around his digits. “you liked that? me praising you?” you nodded. “answer me baby doll , you like when i praise you?”

“y-yes i do.” you felt a sensation bubbling in your stomach. “ja-jaemin i feel.” you couldn't stop it from coming, your legs closing around his hand once again, as your orgasm washed over you.

jaemins eyes lit up light a child's on christmas morning as he watched you orgasm, your juices covering his finger. “there you go, cumming all over my hand.” he cursed, feeling his cock begging to be freed from his sweats. “good girl, let it all for me, fuck im so hard right now” he groaned, pressing his lip to the side of your head. “you want me to fuck you? stretch your little pussy out?”

you moaned, nodding. “pl-please.” you weren't really waiting for “the perfect guy” but right about now, you were really worked up and the way you could feel jaemins grinding his clothed cock against you— he was the perfect guy.

he lifted you on to the counter. “sh-shit.” he pulled his pants down enough to pull his cock out, hissing, the air hitting his leaky tip. “so fucking hard for you doll, ready for me?” you bit your lip as he lined his cock up to your entrance. “fuck.” he groaned as he slowly worked himself inside you. “jaemin.” you moaned, he held your hips down. “fuck don't move baby, let me do it.” he fully seethed himself inside you. “fuck, you're so tight.”

he slowly moved; your cunt barely letting him out, he was in heaven— and so were you, hold his bicep , your head thrown back as he fucked you, you never felt this sensation before, but you loved it. “please, faster.” you moaned , he smirked, speeding up. “you want more?” he groaned, his hips now slapping against yours with much force. “fuck baby doll i'll give you more.”

you could feel the counter below you shaking as he fucked into you vigorously. “that's it, take nana fat cock inside you.” he groaned, slowly losing himself. “fuck you're little pussy is so good.” he cursed. “fuck i'm gonna cum.” he moaned. “you going cum for me?” he toyed with your clit. “be a good girl and cum for me.”

and with his words and him fucking into you deeply, kissing your cervix you soon cumming hard, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your cunt tightened around him, his cursed as he came inside you. “oh fuck yn.” he sighed, his head dropping as he came, you could feel him every inch of him twitching inside you you as he covered your inside in white. “oh fuck.”

he slowly pulled out, smirking as you whimpered. “so sensitive baby.” he said, his cum leaking from your hole. “that felt good baby.” he kissed your neck. “so good if my staff weren't waiting for me, i would stuff my cock back into your pretty pussy.” smiling as you whined. “there's always tomorrow.” he said, pulling away, finally letting you get dressed.

“will you be back tomorrow?” he asked. “yeah, chaewon has another day at her internship.” he helped you pack up all your cameras. “good.” he handed you the bag. “i’ll come without my staff,” you yelped as he pulled you close. “why?”

“because after you take all the pictures you need , i don't need any distractions when i teach you to take my cock in that pretty mouth.”

©LUVYENI

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mariclerc · 4 months

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hey!... can you write a Charles × horner reader.. where the reader has a crush on since they met.... but Charles doesn't like her very much cuz he thinks she's a nepo baby... but the reader still tries to win his heart.... but one day after a bad race he lashed out on her.... breaking her heart.... later he realizes he also has fellings for her...then ask the reader for forgiveness and a second chance (pls make it a happy ending)... thank you ❤️❤️❤️

Thank you for this request! It took me a little while to try to develop it, I hope you like it!! 💗💗

Second chance spark | cl16

Summary: where Charles thinks you're a nepo baby just because of your last name. Warnings: a little angst, horner!reader, christian being an asshole and fluffy fluff.

a/n: let me know if you want a part two!!

Part 2

The paddock of the Spanish Grand Prix is in big move, thousands of people moving from one place to another and there you find yourself, outside of the Red Bull hospitality talking to several of the girls on the team. This is what your life has become, practically, since being the daughter of Christian Horner you can walk around the hospitality and the paddock as many times as you like during the year.

Most people believe that you only walk around the paddock because it is a case of "nepotism", but in reality you are working very hard to be an engineer and earn a place in motorsport and that's why you find yourself doing internships at Red Bull. Also, your relationship with your father is not the best, so it is always a constant argument, but, even if you try not to give it so much importance, it always hurts.

“Oh god girls, look who's coming!” You say excitedly, Charles was walking through the paddock, to you he always looked like an angel, you blush slightly.

Mara, one of the Red Bull pr girls spoke. “Leclerc? Are you trying to charm the competition's sponsors I see.” she jokes and you blush a little.

You rolled your eyes. “Don't be ridiculous, he probably doesn't even know I'm here.” You say and a silence is present between the three of you. “I'm going to say hi.” You say determined.

Lila rise up an eyebrow. “Careful y/n. You don't want to spook the red prince.”

“Oh, please. Like he'd give me the time of the day.” you scoff.

You excuse yourself and stride confidently towards Charles. He notices your approach and his expression becomes guarded.

You've liked Charles since he debuted in the F4 European series, you always thought he was someone quite nice and talented... Besides of being cute, of course, but nothing ever happened between you, you were simply acquaintances. But now since you are always in the paddock you see him every single day and those feelings that you thought were already buried, were reborn with much more strength.

“Hello y/n. Didn't expect to see you here!” he smiles shyly.

“Well, I just came to say hi, a little greeting doesn't go amiss, don't you think?” you say shyly with a soft voice. “Are you nervous about the race?” you asked shyly.

“Yeah, uh, a little bit... But let's see how it goes.” he says trying to avoid your gaze.

“Well, you have a good shot, maybe you can achieve a podium finish.” You say and he looks at you surprised.

“You actually follow the races?” he asks.

You feign offense. “Of course I do, I'm trying to be an engineer! I may not be out there on the track like you and the boys, but I appreciate a good driver when I see one.” you smile brightly.

Charles looks at you for a long moment, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

“Just make sure you're cheering for the right team on race day in the future.” he says teasingly.

“We'll see about that, Leclerc.” you two share a comfortable silence for a moment. You take a deep breath. “Well, I'll leave you alone, I have to go. But good luck in the race, yeah?” You say with a small smile.

“Sure, see you later! And thanks!” he smiles too.

You smiled back and turned to leave, a triumphant glint in your eyes. Charles watches you go, a genuine smile gracing his features. His heart is probably beginning to soften to let you into it.

***

“Is seriously? You talked to him and he didn't think you were a little innocent girl?” Christian said sitting in his chair in the office.

You were at the Red Bull factory in Milton Keynes, you had gone to see some engineers and work with them since you are doing your engineer internship at Red Bull and they have been very generous to you, teaching you everything they know, what you didn't realize was that your father was going to need you to have a talk. Such talks never end well, let's put it that way.

“Well, no... But I think he was being nice.” you say quietly. “I just wanted to wish him good luck, that's all... Just a little greeting... it's not a big deal.”

“You know? It's amazing that you're so stupid and dumb.” He says getting up from his chair. “And also by talking to the enemy, you don't really learn, don't you?” he asked sharply.

He never misses the opportunity to speak badly about you on any occasion, he simply doesn't care about your feelings, he is only interested in the job, winning and that's it. As if that were more important than your well-being as his daughter.

You take a deep breath. “Then let me finish my internship in another team.” you said and he looked at you. “I think it would be better for both you and me. Don't you think?” you said in a whisper.

“What? You really want to finish your silly and stupid internship at Ferrari, right? To be after a man who doesn't give you attention, is it serious?” he says sarcastically, that wasn't your idea but since he puts it on the table it doesn't sound too bad... “How ungrateful you are, to waste the fact that I gave you the opportunity to do the internship here.”

“And it was the only thing you did.” you murmured. “Because, as far as I remember, you haven't done anything else.”

“What did you say, huh? You little bitch.” He said, raising his voice towards you.

“What you fucking heard! Do you think it's not difficult to be under your shadow every day? How tiring it is to have everyone tell you that you are a child of nepotism just because all you did was get me the internship here! And you know that I had to sacrifice many things to get here.” you said in screams, taking everything out of you, all the years of abuse and so on. “And don't come pretending to be a saint because we both know you're not.”

You leave his office and everyone looks at you, but you don't care, you couldn't allow your father to call you names and spoke to you in a not very nice way. Your tears blur your vision as you leave the factory and you run to your car, you feel as if you no longer have a weight on your shoulders, but at the same time you are afraid of what may happen later between the two of you.

***

A couple of weeks later, the Austrian Grand Prix is a blur of disappointment, specially for Charles, since he finished a distant third, strategy blunders costing him a shot at the win against Max. The Red Bull Hospitality is abuzz with post-race celebration, a stark contrast to the muted atmosphere in the Ferrari hospitality across the way.

You stand awkwardly near the doorway, your presence a silent question in the room. Charles sits alone, staring into the bottom of an empty beer glass, his face an iron mask of frustration. A knot of worry tightens in your stomach, that's not the Charles you know, always so cheerful and lively despite everything. It's another version of him, darker and more mysterious.

“Charles?” you asked softly.

He looks up, surprise flickering across his features before hardening back into a grimace.

“What are you doing here?” he said sharply.

“I...I just wanted to see if you were alright.” You say shyly.

His harsh tone stings, cutting through the fragile connection the two of you would built.

“Look y/n, I appreciate the concern, but I need to be alone.” he said sharply.

“But-” hurt creeps into your voice.

He interrupts with his voice rising. “No buts! Don't you get it? This is my job, my life! And today, I failed.”

Tears are pricking at your eyes. “I know it hurts, Charles, but you can't let it consume you.”

He stands abruptly, knocking his chair over with a clatter. “Easy for you to say! You don't have the pressure, the expectations hanging over your head like a damn guillotine! You have everything on a silver platter whenever and however you want!” he say furiously.

His words are a punch to the gut. The simmering tension between you and your father explodes in your mind.

“You think I don't know the pressure? Do you have any idea what it's like living under my father's shadow? To be constantly judged, to have every decision questioned?” you say with a shaking voice.

Charles stares at you, his anger momentarily eclipsed by surprise.

“I may not be a driver, but I understand this world, Charles... I understand the pressure.” You say as tears form in your eyes.

Your vulnerability hangs heavy in the air. Shame washes over Charles, realizing the depth of his lashing out.

“Y/n, I...” he said with a soft voice.

He reaches out, but you flinches back, a wall of hurt suddenly separating the both of you.

You take a shaky breath. “I think I should go.” you sigh tiredly. “Nice talk.”

You turn towards the door, your heart heavy with a mixture of disappointment and a newfound understanding of the burdens that the both of you share. You run out there with tears running down your cheeks, nothing could have been worse after what happened with your father, but now you lost a person you cared about despite everything.

***

The Italian Grand Prix is in full swing after the summer break. Mechanics scurry around the gleaming red Ferrari, the air thick with pre-race tension. Charles, however, finds himself distracted. He steals constant glances towards the Red Bull garage across the pit lane, searching for a familiar face.

He spots you, standing by Christian, your interaction is tense, your father screams at you while you just only nod at his words while holding a few tears in your shy eyes. A pang of fury shoots through Charles, followed by a wave of regret. His outburst in Austria hangs heavy in the air, a barrier he needs to break. He, despite everything, is moderately informed about what happened between you and your father thanks to Max, and it hurts him not to have approached you much sooner.

The pit lane opens to finally start the grand prix, snapping Charles back to reality. He throws on his helmet, a steely resolve replacing his earlier anxiety.

***

Charles finishes a strong second, the podium it's a little bit bittersweet. He emerges from the car, the cheers of the tifosi a distant echo. All he can think about is you.

He finds you in the Red Bull hospitality, a hesitant knock on the door of your office, announcing his arrival. The room falls silent as he enters.

You stand by the window, your back towards him. Your posture is stiff, but Charles can sense the tremor in your shoulders.

“Y/n?” he say quietly.

You turn slowly, your eyes guarded. The hurt in your gaze is a mirror to his own regret.

“Charles...” you say softly.

There's an awkward silence, the air thick with unspoken words. Charles takes a deep breath.

“I can't apologize enough for Austria. I... I was a complete idiot.” he says.

“Words don't erase the hurt, Charles.” you say in a low voice.

He takes a step closer. “I know. But I wanted you to know... these past few weeks, all I could think about was your words. About the pressure, about being judged... You opened my eyes to a side of you I never knew existed.” He reaches out, hesitantly offering his hand. “And in doing so, I realized... how much I care about you.”

You stare at his hand, then back at his face. A flicker of vulnerability crosses your features before you speak.

“You can't just say things like that, Charles. Not after everything.”

“I know, but I have to try. Because the alternative... the alternative is losing you completely.” says sincerely. He sees a flicker of emotion in your eyes, a flicker that speaks of hope.

“This won't be easy, Charles. My father... Things haven't been so smooth lately between him and I.”

“I know. But maybe, just maybe, we can face it together... Like you said, we both understand this world, the pressure. Maybe we can be each other's support system, not just through wins and losses, but through everything else.” he say softly.

A small smile tugs at the corner of your lips. You look at him, a question in your eyes.

“So, what are you saying?” you asked him.

Charles takes a chance, the weight of his feelings pulling him forward. He steps closer, your faces inches apart.

“I'm saying that... give me another chance, please. A chance to prove that I can be the man you deserve.” he whispers. “Please, if you want, I beg you on my knees... I'll do anything, but please give me a chance.”

The air crackles with unspoken emotions. You lean in, closing the distance between the both of you. At first, the kiss is hesitant and at the same time soft and slow, then deepens, a promise unspoken but understood.

Pulling away, Charles searches your soft eyes.

“Is that a yes?” he smiled while blushing.

You smile softly, a genuine smile that reaches your eyes.

“Maybe... How about we can do something casual between us, not business related, just to get to know each other better?” you say shyly.

A grin spreads across Charles' face, relief washing over him like a victory lap. “It's a deal darling.” you giggled.

He leans in for another kiss, the roar of the engines and the crowd outside a distant echo of the race that's just begun – the race for your hearts.

***

The air crackles with a different kind of tension now. You and Charles break apart from your long awaited kiss, foreheads resting against each other. Relief, hope, and a spark of defiance dance in your eyes.

“We should probably get going before someone sees us, don't you think?” you whisper shyly.

Charles nods, a playful smile tugging at his lips. He reaches for the door, ready to usher you out, but it swings open before he can touch it.

Standing in the doorway is Christian, his face a thundercloud. The celebratory atmosphere in the room evaporates, replaced with a chilling silence.

“Y/n! My office. Now.” he says with a strong and demanding voice.

You flinch, your body tensing and shaking at your father's tone, but Charles steps forward, his stance protective.

“Actually, she's not going anywhere Horner.” Charles says calmly.

Christian's gaze snaps to him, fury replacing the icy anger. “And who are you to tell me what to do in my own hospitality suite, Leclerc?” he scoffs.

“Someone who cares about her, a concept you seem to have forgotten.” Charles says with a hard and firm voice.

The room collectively gasps. You reaches out a hand to touch Charles' arm, a silent plea for caution. But Charles shakes you off gently, his green eyes boring into Christian's.

“You judge her, belittle her, just because of your own insecurities. You push her away with every harsh word and raised eyebrow.” Charles says defending you, maybe you and him weren't that close, but probably Max told him about what happened between you and Christian.

Christian lunges forward, his hand raised in a threatening gesture. But Charles doesn't back down, he catches Christian's wrist mid-air, his grip surprisingly strong.

“Don't. Even. Think. About. Touching. Her.” Charles says in a low, dangerous voice. “And if you do, you'll deal with me, is that clear?”

Christian throws Charles a withering look before turning and storming out of the room. The silence that follows is deafening. No one had ever spoken to your father that way, not even Max or Jos, but the fact that Charles was the first to do it was something... Shocking, especially for you.

You let out a shaky breath, your gaze flickering between the slammed door and Charles. “I... Charles.” you say in a shaky whisper.

He whispers back. “Don't apologize, you did nothing wrong sweetie.” he takes your hand in his. “He's such a jerk.” He pulls you towards the door, a newfound determination in his eyes. “We're leaving, now. We can deal with your father later, together, okay?” he says.

You hesitate for a moment, then you nodded in agreement, as you walk out of the Red Bull hospitality, heads turn and whispers follow. But you don't care anymore, you have each other, and that's all that matters.

You two step out into the cool evening air, the roar of the Italian crowd a distant hum. Your hands are intertwined, a silent promise against the warm setting sun.

You two may have a long road ahead, filled with challenges and disapproval, but you'll face it together, a united front against the storm.

“Thank you... For what you did in there.” You say softly, he smiles and brings your hand to his lips to place a kiss on the back of your hand.

“It's nothing ma belle, I know I may not know the whole story since the begging, but I'm willing to help you.” he says the same in a whisper.

“I just want to know... Who told you about it?” you asked softly.

“Max told me.” He says and you laugh.

“I thought so! It doesn't bother me that he did it anyway.” you say and let out a giggle while you shake your head. “I think it's something you deserved to know.”

He smiles at you tenderly. “How about we forget this mess with your father with a good pizza, huh?” he says softly.

“And where would we go?” you shyly asked him.

“We can go to my hotel room... Unless you don't want to, I know it would be awkward but... I don't know, ugh.” He said and started babbling, you smiled seeing him like that, it seemed like the cutest thing of all, seeing him nervous about doing something simple with you.

You smiled and placed a soft kiss on his jaw. “I would love to eat pizza with you in your hotel room Charlie.” you say softly. “So it's a date?”

“It's a date.” He says softly as he kisses the tip of your nose and you giggle. “A date between Ferrari's golden boy and the red bull girl.” he says in a whisper while letting out a giggle.

You smiled tenderly. “You couldn't have said it better.” You whispered back.

To think that a couple of months ago you had not imagined that situation, to see Charles against your father and defending you like a true gentleman, but here you two were. Maybe at the beginning not everything was rosy or he simply didn't tolerate you at all due to false "nepotism" status around you, but you both understand how difficult and complicated this world is, maybe with different perspectives, but you two are there to support each other in the ups and downs.

#f1 x you #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x horner!reader #formula one x reader #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc angst #charles x horner!reader #charles x reader #mariclerc fics #charles x you

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sweetbans29 · 4 months

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Private - PB

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Summary: HC of you and Paige keep to yourselves, or at least try to (based on THIS request)

Warnings: Fluff, minorly suggestive at the end

Word Count: 2.1k

Sweetbans Masterlist

AN: This is my first time trying out HCs but I felt like it would work with this. Let me know what you think!

You and Paige met when you both went to UConn. She was the star of the basketball team and you were just starting in their med program, studying sports medicine. During your freshman year, you got placed with the women's basketball team for your first year internship and it was the best thing that could have happened.

You connected immediately with the team and they treated you like one of their own. It wasn't hard as you saw most of the girls every practice as they came in to get taped. You also traveled with the team as much as you could and would be insanely bummed when you couldn't make it to an away game with them - which wasn't frequent.

There was one time during the season when you couldn't make it to the Huskies game and the team made sure you knew how much you were missed.

"You guys are going to do great," you say as Paige Facetimed you before the game. "You don't need me there every time." "You know that isn't true, we need you here every game - you are the only one who knows exactly what we need," Paige says as if it were fact. You hear someone in the background yell, 'Exactly what Paige needs'. You laugh and look at the girl on the screen move to push someone out of frame. When she comes back into the frame you just smile. "P, I have shown you like 5 times how you like to be taped, just make sure it is secure and you will be fine." You say taking a bite of your bagel. "Plus, you know I am going to watch the game and cheering you all on." "But what if I get a cramp and need someone to roll it out? Or if my tape comes undone and I need it to be taped in like 5 seconds?" Paige is trying to make up any situation to get you to be there - not that it was possible at this point. The team was in Indiana and you were in Connecticut. "Paige, neither of those scenarios has ever happened." You say shaking your head with a smile. "You will be fine without me, I promise." "I just want you here," Paige says in almost a whisper. "I'll see you in no time," you say and hear Geno call for the team. You quickly say your goodbyes as you tell her to go dominate. Paige hangs up smiling. You never wished her good luck and when she finally asked about it you told her it was because she didn't need luck because she was unstoppable.

To everyone's surprise, you were the one to ask Paige out. It sort of caught Paige off-guard since she was typically the one to initiate any sort of relationship (or situationship). It wasn't anything grand or special, at least that's what you thought. It was after practice one day and completely out of the blue.

Paige was sitting in the recovery room when you walked in. "How you feeling P?" You ask as you put down all your stuff and make your way to the girl. "A little tight but I've been worse," she says watching you come up to her. "How are your knees doing?" You ask coming over and putting your hands on her, moving them side to side. "They are doing good," Paige says as she lets you bend her legs any which way you want. You have her lay down as you begin to stretch out the girl in front of you. "Thursday night," you say. "You busy?" You ask knowing that the team has an early practice leaving the team free that evening, from practice at least. "No, I don't think I have anything," Paige says. "Should probably work on this project but don't know." "You can do the project over the weekend, we are going out Thursday night." You say nonchalantly. "Going out? Like the teams going out?" Paige asks. "No. Just you and me babe, I'm taking you on a date." You say which causes Paige to shoot up. She just looks at you with wide eyes and burning cheeks. After the initial shock settles, she nods. "Not what you were expecting huh?" You ask the blonde, the confidence you spoke with was captivating her. She smiles at you and laughs, laying back down. She was speechless.

The two of you started dating and it had been better than either of you expected. Paige was learning that she could have a mutual in a relationship and she honestly really enjoyed it. It wasn't always on her to plan things or carve out time for the two of you, it changed her perspective on what a relationship could be You on the other hand learned how to care for someone who rarely lets others care for her. It had been a learning experience for both of you which is why you both decided it would be best to keep the relationship within the team - not posting about it anywhere.

The two of you really enjoyed keeping the relationship within your circle. Everyone was already so involved in the media that having something that was sacred to just you two and trusted people was rare. It wasn't too hard to do since you were already with the team so much and everyone knew you as the team mom (even though you weren't a fan when they called you that).

The team respected your decision to keep your relationship private would always let you know when they were going live and would continue to make it known if Paige decided to come in. There were too many close calls when the girls were live.

Paige was 100% a physical touch girl. She always wanted some part of her body on yours (which is why the team always has to announce any time they are live and or filming). Everyone knew how physical Paige could be - it never bugged you when you saw her with her team. It was typically when other people were touchy with you, that it bugged her. She knew your job was wrapping people and involved you getting physical with players but when they started putting hands on her girl - that's when she had an issue.

"Hey babe, will you do this TikTok trend with me?" Paige asks. Usually it was one of the other girls on the team asking if you wanted to jump in on TikTok video so you didn't think much of Paige asking. "Of course," you say. "What were you thinking?" "Well, there is this cute one," your girl begins, shifting a little signaling she is nervous. "It is the one where we show our matching outfits throughout the week." It takes a second for you to process what she says. "Isn't that a couples trend?" You ask, a grin sneaking its way to the corner of your lips. "Maybeeee," Paige says. "I mean only if you want to," she says looking at you. You take a second to think about it. You have really enjoyed your time with Paige without the world knowing. It's been like 8 months at this point and you know that it won't stay like this forever. "Okay, I'm down." You say and your girl gets super excited. She comes over and jumps on your back, wrapping her arms and legs around you while kissing your neck. You just laugh at how excited she is.

You love watching Paige's process when filming any sort of video. It was clear that she had thought this one out and it didn't take much as the two of you typically matched anyway. She told you it would start on Monday and over the next few days the two of you took cute little videos of the two of you matching. The second Paige posted the first video, there were immediate comments asking if the two of you were dating. You thought it would be fun to just let it all ride out which Paige didn't contest.

It was the last video where you thought it would be fun to leave an even bigger hint and at the very end of the video, laced your fingers with Paige's and kissed her on the cheek, letting it linger a little longer than usual. When you pull away you can see the pink tint on your girlfriend's cheeks and that little smile that drives you crazy. Seeing her look as adorable as she is you lean into her in a side hug, ending the video.

The two of you go about your day only realizing how much attention her video got when one of her teammates showed you two the 2 million views it had received.

"Well, guess they don't need to announce when they're going live anymore," Paige says. You smile and lean over to kiss her. Paige isn't satisfied with the peck you initialed and pulls you immediately back into her, wrapping her arm around your waist and kissing you with a little more heat. "Okay, okay, okay," Evina says, playfully rolling her eyes. "We get it, the two of you are in love and now the world knows but that doesn't mean you need to ramp up the PDA." "Sorry," you say blushing and pulling away from your girl, who isn't ready to let you go. She spins you around and wraps her arms around your neck, letting you join the conversation with the team but not leaving her arms.

From then on the two of you loosened up when it came to the team lives. It was at least once a live that someone in the chat would call out something you and Paige were doing. The very first one felt a little weird - everyone was in the gym and the girls were just messing around in a pickup game when you walked in. Paige at the next break ran over to you, picking you up and spinning you around causing a roaring laugh to come from you. The chat goes crazy and asks to see you and Paige together which the other girls acknowledge but don't give in to the request. You just smile at your girl as she puts you down.

The little moments don't end there. The next one came when they were filming a TikTok dance that you walked in on mid-dance. You drop your stuff and walk over to Paige hugging her torso from behind, causing her to stop the dance and stand there like a little kid. Her arms come on top of yours and you just sway her back and forth while the other girls finish the dance. You know there are going to be countless comments but you don't care.

Another time is when the girls are all in Paige's apartment filming some sort of cooking video. The way the phone is positioned on the stove gives the best view of the kitchen and also the living room. You are sitting on the ottoman doing some homework and are only seen in the video when one of the girls moves to expose you in the bottom corner. It is halfway through the live that one of the girls sends Paige away for messing something up. She makes her way to you and begins running her hands through your hair, starting to massage your scalp. It is only seen for a second but the chat goes crazy as always.

"Mmmm feels so good," you say as Paige's fingers make their way through your hair. "Never stop." Paige laughs and begins massaging your scalp. "Oh my God, you are an angel." You tell your girlfriend. Your eyes are closed and you can't help but moan at how good it feels. Paige leans over and begins to whisper in your ear, "If you keep moaning like that we are going to have a real issue on our hands." You just sigh, not really listening then letting out another moan. "Babe, they are still on the live." Paige says. "If you keep making those noises, the whole world is going to see way more of you than either of us wants." Paige then kisses your neck. You nod and sigh again. "Fine, but you are giving me a full massage once everyone leaves." You say looking up at your girl. "Of course babe, anything for you," she says leaning down and kissing you on the forehead.

AN: I kind of like the whole HC setup. Let me know what you think! And as always, thank you for all of your love and support 💙

#paige bueckers #paige bueckers concepts #paige bueckers imagine #paige bueckers masterlist #uconn wbb

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sanarsi · 2 months

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Paid internship

professor!Reed Richards x student!f!Reader

Summary: You don't have enough money to pay for your internship. Prof. Richards finds another way for you to pay him back. Warnings: +18, MDNI, rough sex, student!Reader and professor!Reed so AGE GAP (but not specified), unprotected PIV, cheating (yeah he’s married), no orgasm (what a jerk), sex for work situationship, insults Wordcount: 1,7k An: The Fantastic Four: First Steps is already behind us so LET’S GO SLUTS Music I worked with: Toxic - Britney Spears

Masterlist

Getting an internship under Professor Richards himself was a dream come true.

As his assistant, you could learn more than in any school. This job gave you opportunities. Future prospects.

So you tried, working your ass off. And Reed was happy about it. So you quickly became his personal assistant. You had access to almost everything. You were someone important.

But luck eventually had to run out on you. In the worst possible way. No money to pay off your internship.

No money to pay off your dreams.

It was like a knife in the back.

You felt like a wreck standing in the professor's office.

"You don't have money to pay for the next six months?" he asked again to make sure he understood your sloppy jumble of words. You clenched your hands tighter behind your back and nodded. It took a lot of energy to maintain eye contact with him. His gaze bored a hole in you as he remained silent, thinking about your words.

"I'm really sorry, Professor..." you began, feeling even worse as he sighed heavily and looked away. He silenced you with a gesture of his hand, so you immediately fell silent. Your stomach was eager to throw up today's breakfast.

“Yeah, well…” he began, looking back at you. You could see the decision in his eyes.

You could barely stop the tears from welling up in your eyes.

“You were one of the best assistants I’ve ever had.” He smiled fondly. You pressed your lips together tightly and nodded, unable to say any words. The lump in your throat barely allowed you to breathe. “Your access card won’t work on Monday morning.”

Those were the last words he said to you.

You spent the rest of the day thinking about it. Everything you did almost ended in an accident because you couldn't focus on anything. Your last day was the worst. You couldn't even swallow water, let alone eat dinner.

You wondered how you could have acquired so much cash so quickly. No weekend job would have given you even half of what you needed.

You could have sold yourself a few times in a brothel, but… no. That was out of the question.

So you had nothing left. You felt like your whole life had collapsed.

That's why you were the last one to stay in the lab. You didn't want to accept reality.

If you went out through that door, you'd never come back.

That thought was enough for you to organize papers until late at night. Out of curiosity, you even looked into some of the files. But when you finally found something interesting, the main door opened with a bang.

You jumped in place, turning in that direction and your gaze immediately crossed with that of Professor Richards. He stopped mid-step, looking at you with an absent gaze.

"I didn't think anyone else would be here at this hour," he spoke first and looked at the documents in your hands. You blinked a few times, trying to gather your thoughts.

"Um, yeah, I stayed to clean up a bit," you explained, pointing to a few boxes lying on the ground. Reed raised an eyebrow, looking at the mess that was bigger than the order that reigned around you.

"I can see you really care about this internship," he said, returning his gaze to your lost eyes. You smiled nervously and an uncontrolled snort escaped your lips.

"Yeah..." you nodded with a crooked smile. You immediately cleared your throat and straightened up more. "I mean, yes, I care. A lot," you repeated professionally.

He was silent for a moment, looking at you carefully. His gaze, as usual, pierced your soul through and through. Sometimes you were afraid that maybe he could read minds. But then he would definitely fire you.

Considering how many naughty thoughts you had about this married man-

"How much?" he interrupted your thoughts. You hesitated, frowning at this strange question.

"What-"

"How much do you care about keeping this internship?" he repeated and began to slowly close the distance between you. You swallowed hard, tightening your grip on the documents.

"A lot," you answered confidently. And you really were able to do almost anything to keep this job.

Reed stopped in front of you, not breaking eye contact with you even as he took the documents from your hand. He glanced at the name of the folder and a smirk appeared on his lips.

"You're lucky I need you," he said to himself before throwing the papers on the counter behind you. His gaze landed on you again and you felt like he was fighting a battle within himself. Your breathing quickened a bit as he stared at you like that in silence.

You opened your mouth to say something but he was first.

"Those documents are top secret, you know that?" A wave of cold shivers ran through your body. You opened your eyes wider, glancing at the boxes on the ground.

"I- I didn't know. Shit- I'm sorry," you began to stutter, trying to explain yourself. You bent down, wanting to start collecting all the folders you had managed to take out, but his sharp command stopped you.

"Leave it."

You immediately straightened up like a string. You had always been so damn obedient to him. Now he understood what a curse it was for him.

"You're lucky today," he announced and you didn't even know how to react.

His argument with his wife gave you a one in a million chance today.

For you, it was a lottery ticket and for him, a guilty conscience for the next while. But now he was too angry to think about what would happen when he got home.

"Professor?" you spoke gently, seeing the thoughts on his face. That was enough for him to wake up and quickly cover the distance between you. You inhaled loudly before his hand tangled in your hair and his lips crushed yours.

You stepped back from the force of his pressure until his body pinned you to the counter. His kisses were strong, not giving you the chance to fight him. Not that you tried to fight him.

His hands slid down your body, gripping your breasts tightly. You moaned into his mouth as he briefly gave them his attention. Your heart was beating so hard in your chest that you could barely hear how hard he was breathing.

His fingers easily unbuttoned your pants and in one movement he pulled them down to your knees. You caught a deep breath when he pulled away from you for a moment to pull your panties down. You moaned at the cold wind hitting your heated skin before his lips attacked yours again. His tongue forced you into submission with each kiss.

Suddenly his fingers were on your pussy, testing how wet you were. You moaned into his mouth as he ran his fingers over your wet slit, spreading the moisture along her entire length.

A quiet growl left his throat as he turned you around with one movement and pushed you onto the counter. You laid down on the cold table, bent over for him like a slut. Another growl filled the room before you heard him lower his pants. You burned between your thighs as you realized what was about to happen. Shit.

"Your wife-"

"Not a fucking word," he growled, silencing you. And after a moment, you felt the tip sliding over, lubricating himself before he entered you in one movement.

You screamed as his hips crashed hard against yours. A long groan escaped his throat at the feeling of your tight wet cunt wrapped around him. You could barely catch your breath feeling the pain and pleasure at the same time. But he didn't give you time to think.

His hands gripped your hips tightly as he began to thrust into you. You moaned loudly with each hard movement he made. His hips slammed loudly against yours and his cock hit deep inside you. He growled and sped up his movements, making your moans sound like squeals.

“Fucking bitch, can’t appreciate what she has,” he began, panting. “And you would jump off a bridge if I asked you to.”

With each word he thrust harder, thrusting into you so deep you didn’t know where the pain ended and the pleasure began. He leaned closer, slowing his movements a bit so you could finally catch your breath.

"You would, right?" he whispered against your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

“Yes,” you cried, feeling your pussy clench around his hard cock. A smirk formed on his lips.

“I can see,” he said with a haughty smirk before he straightened up again and began thrusting into you.

Fast and hard.

Caring only for his own pleasure.

You felt tears in your eyes as his sharp movements began to bring your orgasm closer. You breathed shallowly, feeling your legs begin to tremble.

"Fucking slut," he growled, digging his fingers painfully into your hips. You cried louder, feeling your pulse begin to throb and a moment separates you from a painful orgasm. But then he suddenly pulled out of you.

You moaned pitifully, feeling the desired wave of fulfillment begin to disappear. Reed focused on making a few hand movements on his cock before he came on your ass with a loud growl.

For a moment there was silence, interrupted only by your heavy breaths. You were barely able to move when he already adjusted his pants and ran his fingers through his hair, looking impeccable again. He cleared his throat, adjusting the collar of his shirt and looked at what was left of you.

"See you on Monday," he said professionally as usual and moved towards the exit. After a moment, all you heard was the slam of the door as he left you alone.

Used, dirty and unfulfilled.

#reed richards x reader #reed richards x you #Reed richards x y/n #reed richards fanfiction #reed richards smut #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal x y/n #pedro pascal fanfiction #sanarsi fic

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russellsppttemplates · 7 months

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That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any (Lando Norris)

Lando finally had enough of seeing you hurt like that

Note: english is not my first language. I've been writing this one for a little bit and today felt like the day to finish it ✨️ this also felt close to home, but good to write it out, too!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Tw: reader's self-doubt and low self esteem, loneliness, curse words, mentions a bad date with a rude person

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"Are you sure you want me to come over?", you asked your best friend over the phone, refusing to accept that he had no better plans for his Friday night now that he was not racing.

"Is this your way of telling me you don't want to come over? Because that's fine, I'll stay in - are you going somewhere though? Like a date?", Lando said over the phoneline.

"Bold of you to assume I would have plans, and with a date nonetheless", you muttered, "all I'm saying is if you have something better to do, you should go do it!", you explained, not wanting to get into the topic too deeply.

"There's nothing better than spending time with my bestfriend! Do you need me to pick you up or do you feel comfortable driving at this time of night?", he wondered, "I'll be there in 10 then", you chatted off, ending the call.

Looking around your room, you found clothes that were both comfortable and presentable in case, with your usual luck, you were pulled over by the police and had to come out of your car.

Lando finally had some time off before the season began and he wanted to spend it with you. While you were usually able to fly out to most of the European races and even travel the long distance to other race tracks, this season you had more responsibilities to juggle between your internship, your studies and your family.

He arranged the pillows on the sofa and brought out your favourite snacks, getting his place ready while occupying the time until you rang his doorbell, walking up to the door so he could let you inside, "hey!", he greeted, excited to finally have you with him after weeks where you both had been busy.

"Hey", you said, nudging his hip slightly with yours as you went to the shoe cabinet, leaving your shoes there and putting on your slippers you kept at his house.

Following him silently to the living room, you watched him sit down as you took in the comfort his place made you feel.

"You're not okay", Lando stated, "I noticed when we were on the phone".

"So this is a pity visit?", you wondered, "That's why you called me over?", you grumbled, feeling the blush erupt on your cheeks along with a little annoyance.

"I never said that! I, I called you and then noticed you weren't okay! Scoot, scoot, I got a tray full of goodies for us to eat", Lando urged, pushing the blanket to the side so you could get in the warm cocoon he created with the soft fabric along with pillows in various shapes and sizes you had insisted he needed to make the place feel more home-y.

"Are you going to talk about what's on your mind or do you want to watch this new show in silence?", he wondered, pointing the remote at the TV.

"I don't want to talk about it, not now anyway", you grumbled, finding your perfect position as you laid against your bestfriend, his arm going around your shoulders as you snuggled your legs under the blanket.

The new show ended up involving a romantic couple which only heightened your feelings. Lately, it was all you could see. Everyone around you seemed to have something romantic going on and they were happy with it. One of your friends was even convinced that she would be proposed to within the next few months, and you were single. Soon enough after you entered these thoughts, they pulled you to questions like why won't people love me? why am I single? what is it that doesn't attract people to me? and the one that you had yet to find a proper answer to, the list becoming too long for your own good am I unlovable?

"Can we watch something else, please?", you asked after debating for a few minutes wether or not you should interrupt, "I'm sorry, but I'm not enjoying it that much", you mumbled.

"That's okay, Y/N, I'll just put on one of our reruns", he smiled, changing the streaming platform and looking for the square on the screen, "if you want to just lay here, that's fine, too", he encouraged.

"At least I'm not alone with my thoughts", you mumbled again, looking at the ceiling as Lando moved his neck to join you, "I'm not sure what you mean, but I'm here for you anyway", he squeezed your hand that found its way to his own.

"It's just, - I've been reflecting? I don't even know if that's the word, but I've been feeling lonely", you blurted, still unsure if you were voicing all of it.

Lando hummed, urging you to continue, "like, I'm craving to have somebody there for me, someone who I know is in my corner, who I feel totally comfortable with. My brother was telling me all about the stuffed bunny his girlfriend asked him to take care off! I want that with someone", you pouted.

Lando tensed, rearranging his position on the sofa to look at you softly as you kept looking at his white ceiling.

"Maybe I should be less opinionated, less vocal about what I think and feel", you mused.

You'd lose your essence, Lando thought as he heard you rant on and on about the traits you wanted to change about yourself.

"Changing something physical is harder, but maybe I can change that, right? Be a bit quieter with what I say, measure my opinions, say yes and agree with things more", you shrugged, shaking the whole thing off of your body, wanting to rid yourself of the thought, "I can't, I won't be able to do that, they'd notice it straight away", you sighed.

As the night went on, Lando quickly changing the subject, you spoke about anything that came to mind until you looked at your watch, "Fuck, it's so late, I have to go", you stood up quickly, bending to pick your slippers up from the floor when he stopped you, "stay in the guest bedroom for tonight. Sleep here", he tried.

"Is it because I said I was lonely? I was just venting it out, you don't need to worry about me being a loner", you tried your best to assure it.

"No, you muppet. I'm doing it because I don't like the idea of you having to drive all the way back at this time of night", he reasoned, getting up himself and walking with you to the guest bedroom.

"Is this still made from the last time I was here?", you wondered, looking at the sheets.

"I made it before you came here! And I've washed the sheets, thank you very much. You have a fresh bed to sleep on", he smiled charmingly.

"Thanks", you smiled back, grabbing the clothes you usually wore to sleep when you stayed over from the drawer, "those have been washed, too", he pointed, "if you need anything, I'm in my usual spot", he winked, "Good night, Y/N, sleep tight!".

"Thanks for this", you gestured, "Good night, Lando", you said before he saluted you playfully, closing the door behind him.

Using the ensuite for your night routine, you changed into the shorts and Lando's t-shirt, noticing that all of the washes had made it smell less of his cologne and more of the scented fabric softener he uses.

The t-shirt fit snug against your hips, embracing your curvy body as you got under the sheets, letting the weight of them lull you to sleep and slow down your thoughts.

Lando was driving to a restaurant he knew well enough. He had had a few dates there before, one team dinner and a few family birthdays too whenever they were in town.

But right now, he was picking you up. From a date that apparently wasn't going well since he got a text from you asking him to pick you up.

"Hey, gorgeous girl", he said once he opened the car window as he parked in front of the restaurant, thankful that it wasn't too busy and no one seemed to notice or care that he was there.

"Thanks for picking me up", you mumbled as you sat down, pulling on your seatbelt and nothing your bestfriend's gaze on you, silently questioning you.

"He was an asshole", you explained, "kept asking me if I was sure of what I was doing, if I knew any Formula One drivers - don't worry, didn't out anything - and then he just kept being rude to me, to the waiter, who was wonderful by the way".

"I didn't mean him. I don't care about him, I care about you", Lando said, driving back to his place, assuming you'd want to have someone close by that wouldn't ask too many questions.

"It was just another one where it didn't go well", you mumbled, letting your head rest on the window and looking out at the lights illuminating the city.

"Do you want to go to my place?", Lando asked, knowing you wouldn't want to be pushed about the subject, "yes, please", you said.

As soon as you got inside his place, you took your shoes off, walking up to the spare bedroom to leave your bag in there, "thank you for picking me up, you're the best, Lando", you smiled as you rested against the door frame.

"No worries, okay? Sleep tight, I have good plans for tomorrow so this will be out of your mind", he smiled a small one.

"Night night, Lando", you said back, closing the door behind you and letting the tears finally fall.

It was horrible. The way he treated other people should have been the first clue and red flag, but somehow it still surprised you how he conducted the whole date. You weren't expecting a prince or a gentleman, but you expected human decency and it turns out you were not afforded that. He kept leaving snarky comments about his exes. He was rude, sexist and definitely not your type, and after splitting the bill, you informed him that someone would come to pick you up.

Could someone be unlovable? Not worthy of love to the point where anyone they attracted to their presence just wasn't a match and they had to be content with the bare minimum?

Splashing some water on your face and wiping it with the towel, you took one good look in the mirror. It looks like it's going to be you for a while, so you might as well get used to it, Y/N.

When morning rolled around, Lando was the first to wake up, getting ready and heading to the kitchen to prepare breakfast for the two of you. He wanted to make something special, because even though you had your tough shell on yesterday, he knew you were feeling it deeply and painfully.

This quest of yours was doing you more harm than good. And it wasn't helping him either. For a few years, Lando figured, he has loved you. At first, it wasn't a clear sentiment. You were best friends, obviously there was a deeper connection. But then it felt so much all the time, there was never a break for the butterflies on his stomach or for the jealous green eyed monster whenever you so much as mentioned anyone else. He wouldn't dare say it, but he's so glad your date last night sucked.

As he prepared your coffee, your footsteps approached, "Good morning", you croaked out. You looked like you hadn't slept well, which Lando figured was a given considering the heard you move a lot during the night.

"Good morning, I made this for you. The balcony had nice sunlight right now, I figured you'd enjoy breakfast there", he attempted, bringing a small smile to your lips as you thanked him for the mug, "I'll bring the rest shortly", he called.

As you looked out to the always busy streets, you took in their quickness and rush. How it was all fleeting and momentary.

Lando placed the tray on the table, arranging it so you both could reach everything.

"I heard you crying last night", he began, his fist clenched at the memory as he sat down.

"I'm fine", you shrugged.

"I don't think you are, and I don't want you to suffer, Y/N", he insisted, unusually bold considering he knew which territory he was stepping into.

"It's not easy to come to terms with the fact that I'm single and that it might look like that for a bit, and who even knows how long that 'bit' might actually be", you chuckled, looking at him expecting his understanding gaze but being face with furrowed brows instead along with a scoff. "What? It's not like I'm being unreasonable, I'm just stating the facts", you squinted.

"That's not how it works, and you know that Y/N", he sternly spoke, straightening his back and facing you completely.

It was your time to laugh and scoff a little, "unless something changes within me, I'm sure this is how I'll find myself in the foreseeable", you shock your head.

"All of those things you want to change about yourself? Or that you say you should change to make you more likeable and lovable? That's dimming your light and your spark", Lando bit back, having had enough of it, "if someone loved you after all of those changes, they wouldn't love you for who you are, they would love a fabricated version of you. You're not unlovable", he smiled at the irony of it all. How after all these years, he still hadn't plucked up the courage to tell you how he felt about you.

"How can you say that when you have everyone falling at your feet? Women see you and they're ready to have anything you'll give them! You don't have to change who you are because someone made you feel like you couldn't be loved because of who you are and what you do!", you bit back, sensing a tone in him that was unusual and certainly not comfortable.

“I just need to know who the fuck told you you don’t deserve to be loved, because I’m about to beat their asses up", Lando called, elbows supported on the chair's arms as he looked at you.

"No one's ever told me, I'm probably the one saying it to myself, the rest of the people just make me feel like I'm unlovable, so if you want to hit me, I would prefer you didn't, I bruise quite easily", you tried to joke, not wanting to let your mind wander to the parallel utopian reality where your bestfriend feels the same way about you.

"Then it's all the people that made you feel unloved", Lando said, "none of them deserved a second of your attention, but I can give them a second of mine just for that".

“That’s a lot of people you’re gonna have to beat up, then, and I’m not sure if I want to bail you out of jail for that. We can't all have full bank accounts like yours", you joked again, watching him as he kept on with the subject.

"Stop joking about this! I'm being serious with you, Y/N! You deserve all of the love in the world - and even that wouldn't be enough!", he got up.

“Please, I think we have both realised and reached the conclusion that maybe I’m just not meant to be loved", you added.

“That’s bullshit if I’ve heard of any! No one’s not meant to be loved. There’s someone out there for you, and I think I’ve made it clear that, if it’s really not anyone else, then that someone’s me”, he stopped in front of you. There it was. Out in the open for everyone to hear. His balcony was covered and closed, something he was grateful about as he confessed his love for you.

"You can't joke about this", it was your turn to mention it, getting up as he took your hand in his.

"I'm not, Y/N, I'm really not", he whispered, resting his forehead in yours.

"Kiss me", you pleaded. He was quick to comply to your request, hand cupping your cheek as he tasted the bitter coffee from your lips and felt you unravel to him in a way he didn't think was possible anymore.

"I have loved you for so long, Lando", you whispered once you pulled away for air, "and I couldn't imagine a world where anyone would love me back, let alone you", you admitted, looking into his beautiful orbs.

"You don't have to make any effort to imagine it anymore, baby. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere. You're so loved and I'll be damned if I don't show you how much everyday of our lives", he smiled, kissing your lips again as your hands travelled to his messy curls.

#lando norris imagine #lando norris fluff #lando norris x reader #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

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teabutmakeitazure · 1 year

Text

Dissimulation

>Yan! Mafia! Childe x Fem! Student! Reader (Modern au)

>Word Count: 11.6k words (slow burn)

>a/n: my offering for best boy's birthday

Warnings: coercion, Childe doesn’t know how to flirt, blood is finger licking good, panic attack

An unwelcome customer turned into an unwelcome acquaintance has been terrorising your life starting from your minimum wage job. Perhaps your flight back home is your only way out.

Continuation | reasons why Childe is #1 husband | Continued Again

Patience is a sign of virtue. Or at least that’s what your mother taught you when you were growing up. No, it’s all just some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them.

Regardless, you don’t say anything, tired already as it is and just wait for the month to be over so that you can get your pay and go back home.

Even if he seems to like you, you would rather not push your luck. Despite only being in this city as a student, you’ve picked up that it’s best not to engage with the local mafia members, even if they seem friendly. Just keep your head down and return the greeting if given one. If one of them comes to your shop, treat them as a regular patron, and if a fight breaks out somewhere with one of them, do not take sides. Simply leave as quietly as you can.

Unfortunately, you have no such choice or opportunity to keep contact to a minimum. That is why you opted to bide your time and sneak out as quickly as you can and never opt for minimum wage jobs again. Maybe you could get a paid internship next time. You’ll probably meet the course requirements.

The dreaded convenience store you are currently walking to is situated a ten minute walk away from your campus dorms. Having to stay there and beep items all day was its own form of punishment as it was, but with the crowd that had recently started to come in these last few months, it started to seem more like a form of purgatory.

You still remember the lecture your friend had given you on how to act normal around the mafia community. The fact that they recently got active in this neighbourhood is simply an added bonus. Honestly, you’ve been counting the days when your incarceration will end with your flight. You just want to go home and hug your cats first, family members second.

The bell chimes as you walk inside, and you sigh when you see the mess of ginger hair and a dangling red earring already waiting for you. At least this time his back is turned while he scrolls his phone even if he is sitting near the register.

About that, where’s the manager? He should be at the register right now since your shift just started.

“You’re late,” the dreaded man scrolling his phone points out, eyes not leaving the phone screen.

Keeping your friend’s advice in mind, you decide to reply before twisting the knob to the employee room. “Sorry. I was doing laundry.” A lie but you aren’t going to tell him that you got distracted watching cat videos.

No greetings were exchanged and he didn’t even look up at you. Strange, but it’s best to only reply when talked to. Getting too friendly might backfire.

Still, you decide to say something just for good measure.

“Is the manager in today?” you ask, eyes on him while your hand remains on the knob.

All you receive in response is a shrug.

Thus, you enter the employee room, and there you have it! Mister manager sits on the desk in all his white polo shirt glory.

The door hinges squeak loudly behind you when you close the door. Stepping to the desk, his head slowly rises to look at you when you greet him, but he doesn’t respond. After you’ve slipped on the employee uniform jacket and pinned your nametag, he speaks.

“I may have made a mistake.”

That causes you to frown. “What happened?”

“The guy outside… I… I didn’t realise he’s a high ranking member. I may have asked him to leave because he’s been here for half an hour already and… well…”

“Well, what?”

He shakes his head. “Well, he sort of jokingly said that the building belongs to his division and that the store could close if he wanted it to.”

“...”

“Look. I know you’re a student, so I promise I’ll pay you somehow, but please! He listens to you, right? Try to appease him!”

You groan. “I’m sure he meant it as a joke.”

“Please!”

“Alright alright. I’ll… try.”

Honestly, you don’t know what you’re going to do. He’s a higher ranking member, you know that much, but why he even bothers to be so friendly and chatty with you is out of your scope of understanding. At least now those tough looking ones that drop by in the evening don’t test your patience anymore.

Cautiously, you open the employees room door and head back outside. There’s still no one in the store, but you know that afternoon rush hour is about to start. With you on the register seat, the dreaded man who will stay with you on another shift turns his body to face you, phone immediately slipping into his pocket.

“So,” he drawls, “was the manager inside?”

You put your phone on the little shelf underneath the cash drawer. “Yes. He was inside.”

“Was he mad?”

“Um no.” You look at him questioningly, brow raising when he just smiles. “Should he be?”

“Who knows?”

“Right…”

Silence ensues and you briefly ask yourself why he’s less chatty today. You can’t believe that it’s concerning you. Sure, he’s a very dangerous person if he’s so young and in the mafia of all things, but dangerous people are downright terrifying if pissed. At least you’re not the one at fault. Besides, three more weeks and it will be time for your flight.

You just hope you make it.

“Something on your mind?”

He’s looking at you now, cheek resting in his palm. He’s even gotten closer, next to you to be precise. You don’t think you heard him get closer.

Nervously, you give a little laugh. “It’s nothing.”

“Are you sure?” Dull blue eyes bore into yours, gently forcing you to answer truthfully. The lack of vitality in them unnerves you but that is precisely what compels you to answer.

“Well… the manager said that you might get the store to close…”

“That? I didn’t think he’d tell you. Anyway, I was messing around,” he smiles. “You’re a student, so it would be unfair to you to suffer in consequence to him.”

The statement doesn’t make you feel any better. “Ah, you’re too kind sir Tartaglia.”

Like before, the way you addressed him makes him frown. “Just call me Childe. Tartaglia is only for my men. Though… if you would prefer…” he leans in, hand that was previously holding his face now gripping the edge of the table as he whispers dangerously close to your ear, “I’d gladly tell you my birth name.”

He backed away again, a smile on his face. “And I know you wouldn’t tell anyone haha.”

How do you even reply to that?

Scratch that, should you even reply to that?

He’s looking at you again, that smile that doesn’t reach his eyes gracing his lips and impatience oozing from his face. You sense that he’s waiting for an answer so you try your best to comply.

“Understood... Childe.”

The name feels foreign on your tongue, and you blame the unfamiliarity on the nervousness that comes with being near him. Thankfully your answer seemed to appease him and he happily nodded.

Okay, one problem solved. You’ll get your minimum wage salary. Another problem. You’ll have to endure the awkwardness because you don’t have it in you to call him out.

As if on cue, your employer exits the employee room and heads for the exit without even looking at you. The fast walking didn’t make his exit any graceful, but it did make it seem important with how Childe eyed his movements.

Silence settles again as you blankly stare at the empty store in front of you. Regrettably, you’re a little worried about what might happen when you’ll be back after summer vacation. You never told him that you’re leaving for home and the white polo dunce of a manager has been sworn to secrecy about it after he flat out told Childe which institution you study at right in front of you.

Protecting your personal details is your job, so you’ve taken it into your own hands. It isn’t wise to tell a mafia member who obviously pines to be more than just acquaintances about your personal life and details. Thus, you will slip away to home on a weekend flight.

What happens after you’re back is something you didn’t consider.

Well, almost two months would have passed by then. Surely he wouldn’t care anymore… right?

You hope he doesn’t. Perhaps it would be best to avoid this neighbourhood. Maybe even look into school transfers to be safe.

“Something’s on your mind again.”

His voice cuts through the air like a dart and lodges into your head. Is it so wrong to simply want some peace? No wait. Peace is bad. If he's quiet then that’s bad. You’ll have to humour him.

Thus, you take a deep breath. Act normal, you tell yourself. You aren’t the criminal here. You’re a humble student trying to earn some money. Relax.

“Well,” you drawl, “I’m just spacing out.”

You don’t even look at him, eyes still fixed on the empty store.

“You must be thinking about something.”

Grumbling, you internally curse your luck. Patience is running out and you don’t know how long you can remain civil with him breathing down your neck like this. Maybe he had a bad day and that’s why he’s more inquisitive than chatty.

“Nothing,” you sigh. “I’m not thinking about anything. Just waiting for rush hour to start so that my shift can go by quickly and I can go home and sleep.”

“Hm.” He’s closer now, and you can see him in the corner of your eye. “So you’re tired of this job?”

“Tired of the people that come here actually. Most of them are so shady it’s unreal.” Now that that’s said, you hope he doesn’t realise that the jab is actually at him.

“I realise that. I saw what kind of crooks used to come here. They mostly thought they could intimidate the people working here, but all that’s in the past now.”

Well, you do owe him the credit of straightening them out. If it wasn’t for Childe, you’d still have to endure taunts from those weirdos about how they can take anything from the store and you can’t do anything about it. Regardless, you can’t be certain whether his presence is actually good or bad.

“Anyway,” he’s behind you now, hands suddenly on your shoulders, “you’re not from here, right? Any plans to visit home for the summer?”

Well… shit.

How do you go about this…

You never told him that you’re not from this city, so that can only mean that white shirt dunce did. Great.

“I’m not sure,” you reply. Would it be wise to ask him how much he knows? Childe does seem to be friendly in all the weeks you’ve known him. Ah. You’ll take that chance. Slowly turning around in your chair, his hands remove themselves from your shoulders when you face him. “Did my manager tell you anything?”

Now you’re looking into his eyes, but he doesn’t seem affected at all.

“I asked him about it. He told me that you might go home for the summer if you can afford the ticket.”

Okay so maybe the manager saved you a little there, but you still need to answer him. So, you settle with going with what he said.

Nodding, you look at Childe standing in front of you again. “I'm planning to decide by the end of this month. If I do go home, I'll put in a one week notice. Hopefully it isn't a problem."

He smiles. "Don't worry. It won't be."

You can't tell if he's comforting you or making notes to assist you. Either way, he doesn't know about your flight. Figuring out how to get him off your back when you come back for the next semester will be for when you're home.

"Anyway," Childe says, breaking the silence, "are you doing anything after your shift?"

Where did that come from?

Tilting your head a little, you act innocent in hopes he gets the hint. "Depends on what I'm asked. I do have some pending work. Why? Do you need me for something?"

"No. Just asking. What about tomorrow?"

"I'm not sure about tomorrow yet…"

Childe chuckles. "Then how about you make a reservation for the evening, with me?"

"W-why?"

"I just wanted to take you out for dinner. Is that alright?"

Did… did you just get asked out on a date?

Seeing your confusion, Childe chuckles again. “I promise I’m not going to kidnap you, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ll just take you out, treat you to dinner, and drop you home. No shady stuff.” He raises his hands in mock surrender, tongue teasingly peeking out.

You suppose there’s no way out of this, but still try nonetheless. “What if something important comes up? Would it be okay to… cancel…?”

His hands go back to his hips. “Important? What could be more important?”

“Um, my summer courses? I still get assignments for those…” You hope that doesn’t offend him, but judging from his face he looks more confused than angry.

Childe clicks his tongue, a scolding look on his face. “You can’t get an assignment with a same day submission date, so that’s out of the question. But hearing your response, it’s alright if you’d rather not go.” He sits back down, arms crossed. “I would prefer it if you'd be honest with me. Prevaricating with lies is more than just annoying, you know.”

In the silence of the store, you can feel your heart beating loudly in your ears, the thump a scolding sound for your stupidity. If he’s angry with you, who knows what could happen. “No! Not at all. That’s not what I meant.” Your patience is still being tested but at this very moment you’re more fearful. “I’m just worried because those courses are counted in my cumulative GPA, and I can’t afford to let it drop!”

“So you’re only worried about your grades?”

“Yes!”

“And you’re not opposed to getting dinner with me?”

“Yes! Wait…”

He smiles. “Go on~”

You narrow your eyes at him, fear all gone and annoyance taking its place. “I sense I’ve made a mistake here.”

The teasing smile turns into an encouraging one and with a sigh, you surrender. “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

He gives a little celebratory ‘yes’ but you cut him short. “But I need to be back home by ten max.”

“Wait… your shift ends at seven…”

You cross your arms, finally getting back at him. “And what about it?” Seriously. Was he planning to hog your entire evening?

“That’s way too short!”

“I have a curfew placed on me by my mother back home. If I phone her any later than ten pm local time, she loses it. I would rather not be screamed at.”

“Alright. That’s fair.”

Now that that’s done, you still can’t believe you just agreed to a date with him.

However, Childe looks more than just ecstatic. He’s practically jumping in his seat, leg bouncing up and down and a wide smile on his face. When you raise a brow at that, he just smiles at you, practically oozing happiness.

He stays the same way, quiet and happy and fidgety as customers start to come in. As usual, he doesn’t say anything while you’re ringing them up and just stares. It’s when the rush dies down a little and only one guy is in the store that he speaks.

“Don’t you ever get tired of working so hard?”

You look at him from the corner of your eye. With his face in his palm, he’s staring directly at you. “I’m beeping items with a barcode scanner. I don’t see why it’s hard.”

“It is actually,” Childe says, firm in his statement. “I think you’re just used to the extra work so you don’t find it bothersome.”

“Maybe,” you shrug.

“Hm. You deserve better. Perhaps… someone who would take care of you, no questions asked. Someone… who would treat you as you deserve, cherish you, and make you happy.”

The way he speaks makes you uncomfortable, but you don’t let it show. Patience, you remind yourself. A few more weeks and you’ll be gone.

“There’s no need for others to look at you like this.” He sighs, “I hope that changes soon.”

You have no idea what he’s talking about, so you’re grateful the guy who was browsing the drinks for the last five minutes finally came to the counter. You busy yourself with billing him, but Childe just… stares. He doesn’t take his eyes off of you for a second.

Now, the regret of agreeing to dinner seeps in.

The customer leaves, and as soon as the door closes, you hear a phone buzzing. Before you even look at your phone, Childe has already pulled his out of his pocket and answers. He doesn’t give a response to whatever was said on the other side, brows furrowing as he cuts the call.

The chairlegs drag against the floor when he stands. “Sorry but I have to go.”

You don’t dare question the oddity despite your surprise to him leaving before your shift ends. “Alright.”

“I’ll pick you up outside your dorm. Is that okay?”

“Okay but what time-”

“I have your number. I’ll text you, don’t worry.”

With that, he’s out, leaving you confused inside the store. Considering the lack of smile and the fact that this is the first time he left before seven pm, it must have been something work related.

You just hope nothing advances after the dinner tomorrow.

He really does have your number. You don’t remember ever giving it to him, so you don’t dare question how he got his hands on it. At exactly 8: 06 pm he texted you that he would pick you up at 7: 30 pm outside your dorm tomorrow. That means that you would have around ten minutes to get ready.

Ten minutes are too much. You’re only going to change, maybe put on some lip gloss if you look too dead. No makeup and no accessories that could possibly make you look more attractive. Simple and plain is the goal.

Speaking of dinner, you’re going to have dinner with a mafioso. Perhaps you really should look into school transfers during the summer.

This sort of vicissitude was not welcome in the slightest, but you’ll have to work around it. If nothing else, you’re thankful that Childe is respectful of most basic boundaries and hasn’t attempted anything yet. Maybe if he wasn’t working where he was, you would’ve given him the time of day.

At 8: 19 pm, he texts you again. ‘Make sure to dress well :) I’d like to see you in a dress if you have any.’

Dress? Does he mean a fancy one? You send back a message asking for clarification, but he only replies with, ‘Anything casual and cute would work.’

Casual and cute… is he really bluntly asking you that?

7: 17 pm. You kick off your shoes and head inside, dashing straight to the bathroom to wash your face. You’re less tired than usual because of Childe’s absence at the store today, something that made the manager anxious, but you didn’t dare tell him about the date.

7: 23 pm. You change into the baby blue Gingham maxi dress you bought a week before finals. It flows just fine, and you grace the look only with pearl studs. Wallet and phone are shoved into the pockets of the dress, and to not look soulless, you apply some lip gloss. The gloss is also stuffed into your pocket in case you want to reapply it later, which you would rather not but you never know.

7: 28 pm. You set your hair again and slip on your sandals. One last look in the mirror and you give yourself a thumbs up. The look is something you would wear to a casual hangout with friends. Doesn’t look very try-hard or date-like. Perfect.

7: 30 pm. You open the door and head out. Pushing the elevator button, you check your phone for any messages while the elevator reaches your floor. Sudden nervousness makes you a little nauseous, but you breathe in slowly, telling yourself it’s no big deal.

The elevator door opens and as you step in, you collide with a very firm body. One look to the face of this body, and you’re frozen.

“Going somewhere?”

You nervously chuckle. “Childe. What’re you doing here?”

He ushers you both inside the elevator, pushing the ground floor button. “I’m here to pick you up? Did you forget about dinner?”

“Ah, no… it’s just… they don’t allow outsiders without a resident escorting them. I was going to wait in the lobby.”

“Really? The watchman let me in pretty easily.”

You don’t even want to know what that means.

“Anyway,” Childe says, voice louder than the gentle elevator music, “you look lovely.”

You glance at his maroon button down and roman silver dress pants, eyes resting on his earring. “Thanks. You look… fine as well.”

“Fine? I only look fine?” He’s leaning towards you now, and the elevator suddenly feels too small. Before you can be pressured into a reply, the doors open and you hastily step out into the lobby.

A chuckle comes from behind you, and soon you’re following him outside to a black car parked a little farther from the dorm entrance. With every step you take, you pray that no one left in your building for the summer catches you.

The car is unlocked with a beep, and though you’re a borderline broke student with no knowledge of expensive things because you can’t afford them so why bother, you can tell that the car is expensive. Or maybe it’s just polished to perfection, but it looks expensive.

Regardless, this is the hard part. Do you sit in the front seat or the back seat? The back seat would be rude but the front seat would be too straightforward. The front seat is too intimate and close but the back seat is too alienating. Shit. What do you do?

You leave your choice to luck and close your eyes, reaching for a door handle. Whichever you grab will be where you sit. Upon grabbing one, you open the door just to hear another one open as well. You open your eyes and a car speeds by at the same time.

Childe stands next to the open front seat door, a brow raised as he looks at you incredulously. You look at him, then to the door you just opened, then to him again. The door you opened is graced with your gaze once again before it’s Childe’s turn.

It’s silent, awkward, and you can’t shake the feeling that you messed up before the date even started.

“Would you… prefer the back seat?”

You blink at him, courage all gone when you reply. “Ah, no! It’s not that. I-I just wasn’t thinking. Sorry…”

Childe’s brow is still raised. “Okay. I’m not your driver. I’m your date. So, I’d like it if you sat in the front.”

Shit. Everything has gone to shit. You agreed to the dinner just to appease him and leave things on a good note instead of a sour one, yet you’ve already made things bad. Great job, [Name]. Aren’t you just wonderful?

Awkwardly, you close the door you opened and get in, allowing Childe to shut the door next to you before slipping into the driver’s seat. He starts the car, puts on his seatbelt, cracks his fingers, and folds his sleeves to the elbow before exiting the parking and going onto the road.

Your seatbelt feels uncomfortable in the heavy silence. Thoughts of what Childe might do if displeased swirl inside your mind but you frankly don’t know what. He seems to like you. He has never mistreated you besides being creepy a few times. Perhaps he’d forgive you. He always says your airheadedness is cute.

The pounding heart inside your chest gets more aggressive when Childe clears his throat, lips parting to give you another mini heart attack. “Aren’t you going to ask where we’re going?”

“Where are we going?”

“It’s a secret.”

The pounding heart quiets down a little, confusion kicking away some of the anxiety. “Then it’s good I didn’t ask out of my own accord.”

A secret? What does he mean by that? Scratch that, is the location being a secret a good thing or a bad thing? Should you text your live location to someone? But all your friends are gone for the summer. That one girl you’re acquainted with on one of the upper floors might help if you disappear. At the very least, your jokes in the conversations you’ve had might at least let her sympathise enough to report your status to the police.

“Are you scared?”

Childe’s question makes you look at him, your heart going back to pounding crazily upon seeing his smile. “S-should I be?”

“No. You should never be scared when you’re with me.” His eyes are still on the road. “I realise you have a negative impression of me, but there’s no reason for you to be scared. Well, not you but others should be, but that’s besides the point.”

“Ah. I see.” No. You don’t see, but just go along.

“Mhm. That dress looks amazing on you.”

He takes a right turn at the green traffic light, and you briefly glance at his flexing arms as the steering wheel turns. “Thanks,” you reply. “The dress has pockets.”

As a demonstration, you pull out your phone and show it to him. Childe chuckles at that, calling it cute and you find your heartbeat growing tamer. The phone is shoved back inside and pleasant conversation fills the car on the way.

Childe asks about how university is, how your finals went, and how you’ve come to find the city. You answer the last question truthfully, hands fidgeting as you tell him about your reservations with the ‘law and order’ situation and how you’ve been begged to steer clear of the mafia. The statement is followed by a joke of you doing a horrible job at that, and Childe laughs, saying that you don’t have to be afraid of anyone in the city anymore.

The comforting sentence doesn’t comfort you at all.

The car stops in front of a restaurant and Childe opens the door to allow you to step out. Keys are given for valet parking, and Childe takes your hand as he leads you inside. Thankfully, it’s not as fancy as you thought. It’s not even as expensive, the kind of restaurant where you could arrange a fancy friend get-together.

The not so high end restaurant doesn’t make you uncomfortable, but sitting across Childe does. He apparently made a reservation for the rooftop, so here you are, wind gently blowing in your hair as he unbuttons another button of his shirt.

“Do you like it?” He’s looking at you now, eyes briefly going to your phone when you place it on the table.

“It’s… nice.”

“I didn’t choose somewhere any fancier because I figured you might get uncomfortable. Next time though.”

Next time? Good God what is he planning?

Your face may have given it away because he's tilting his head at you, earring dangling in tandem as he acts coy. "Is something wrong? Do you not like the idea?"

"N-no. That's not it…"

"Hm?"

You gulp. "Ah it was just a little sudden. That's all."

"I'm glad." He's back to smiling now, face resting on his palm. "I'll make sure to treat you like how you should be next time."

Again, next time? Not happening.

Childe grabs the menu, requesting that you let him order for you both. He says something about the taste of home and this restaurant being the only one able to recreate that, but you don't bother. You simply brush him off, telling him he can go ahead.

It's when a few minutes have passed since ordering that he speaks again. Luckily, the clanking of plates and chatter helps tone down your nervousness.

"I come here whenever I miss home. This restaurant actually originated from my homeland, so I thought I'd bring you here. It's not high end as well, so that's an added bonus."

You nod. "Interesting."

Elbow on the table, he rests his chin on the back of his hand, blue eyes studying you carefully. The observant gaze makes you feel small, and you end up clearing your throat when his gaze drops to your collarbone.

You look him in the eye as you speak. "It's a little awkward, isn't it?"

He tilts his head like earlier again. "What is?"

"The silence."

"Ah. Sorry. I just couldn't help myself. You look stunning."

Unlike the previous times, the compliment makes your cheeks heat up. It's probably because this time he's looking right at you with the faint hint of red on his cheekbones. Seriously. He's so human. You wonder how he ended up being in the mafia.

Childe doesn't allow silence to settle again, chatting away about his homeland and how he misses the snow. He says it's easier to go outside in this city's climate, but the memories and people back home make living there worth it. During his rambling, you simply nod along, only adding in a comment wherever you deem necessary.

Patience, you tell yourself. This'll pass. At least you're fortunate in the sense that Childe is accommodating and nice.

He continues rambling, telling you about his younger siblings. Fulgent expression and energetic voice, you lean forward to give him your attention, content that he's making good conversation. As you listen to him, your fingers start fidgeting with the cutlery set in front of you.

Your eyes remain on him as he recounts a story where his youngest brother Teucer refused to acknowledge his sister Tonia after she got a haircut. Hearing about the young child's inability to recognise his sister makes you chuckle which in turn makes Childe pause to look at you with widened eyes.

A smile stretches on his lips, and you trace the edges of the knife when he resumes.

"Mama was pretty concerned about that. It took Teucer a few days to accept that his sister looks different now. Ah. I miss them. They're a lively bunch and I miss being with them."

Your thumb runs up and down the edge of the knife while it's clutched in your hand, face resting in the palm of your free hand. "You can visit them if you miss them that much."

Childe gently shakes his head, hair swaying with the movement. "It's not possible at the moment." At your confused expression, he clarifies, "I can't tell you why. It's confidential information."

"That's fair."

"But I am glad I still get to be here. I got to meet you, after all."

"Oh. That's… nice."

"Mhm." He's leaning towards you as well now, both arms resting on the table. "Any development in your plan to visit home? You should go. If you're having any problems with the plane ticket or something then-"

"Ouch!"

The knife drops from your hand, clattering dully on the table. Blood oozes from the pad of your thumb as your hands shake from the startle. It doesn't take Childe even a second to be on his guard.

"You cut your thumb?" He gets up, drags his chair beside you and sits, knees brushing against yours. "You were fidgeting with the knife… well, no matter."

Instead of grabbing a tissue, he takes a hold of your hand and stares at the bleeding cut. More blood oozes out of it the longer he stares and one drop even reaches your palm. However, that isn't what's bothering you. It's the fact that he just licked that blood trail.

He licked it. And now he's sucking on where the cut should be.

The feeling of his tongue is what brings you back to your senses, confusion and panic overtaking your senses and overwhelming you. Pulling your hand away does nothing because his grip is too strong. Goodness, at least the few tables around you are empty and no one else seems to be looking.

"Childe."

He doesn't let go, pressing your thumb down against his tongue instead.

"Childe. Let go-"

A trail of saliva joins your thumb and his mouth. The two of you make eye contact and you notice a slight blush on his face. Childe then manoeuvres your hand, his lips on your palm as he tenderly kisses the skin messily.

The action gives you goosebumps but you remain quiet, still confused about what's going on. It's when he finally lets go and presses a tissue to the cut that he speaks.

"Be careful."

You remain frozen, hand in his while the tissue remains pressed over your thumb. You can no longer hear the faint background chatter or feel the gentle breeze in your hair. In your senses are dull blue eyes, freckles dusted across cheekbones and nose, and warm breath fanning over your ear when he leans in.

Childe's voice is a whisper, the edges of his hair tickling your cheek as the chair quietly croaks. "You shouldn't be playing with dangerous things."

He leans back again. With a smile, Childe gets up, drags his chair back to where it was, and seats himself. The air surrounding you both is casual, light, like something completely out of the blue didn't occur. This gives you the hint that it's best to not talk about it.

Elbows on the table, both his palms hold his face as he looks at you with a smile. The skin under his eyes crinkles slightly, freckled cheeks squished, and long auburn eyelashes framing the deep blues. You sit there puzzled and feeling slightly violated while Childe continues staring.

It's honestly a little funny.

Right when you concluded that Childe was nice, he does something completely uncalled for. You remove the tissue that was pressed to your thumb, pleased to see that your blood cells have done their job and the platelets coagulated. It'll probably turn into a scab by the time you get home.

Dammit, now you're nervous all over again. Curse you mass of neurons floating in cerebral fluid! Be useful! Sure, he just sucked on your thumb, but keep it together.

When you look at him again, he's still staring. With a sigh, you ask him about his job, what kind of work he does, but Childe only shakes his head, refusing to answer.

His excuse smoothly exits via soft, pink lips. You didn't know you were looking at them until you heard him speak.

"I don't think you'd enjoy hearing about my job. Plus, it's all confidential."

You will yourself to look back into his eyes no matter how difficult eye contact may seem. "Shady? Is that what you're implying?"

"Hm." He hums. "Let's just leave it at that."

So he admits it? Great. You can't wait for the evening to be over. The bag of chips sitting at home sounds very comforting and appetising right now.

When he continues talking again, you start fidgeting with the edges of your sleeves under the table. You need a distraction. Using your phone would be rude, so you figure abusing the fabric of your sleeves is a better option. It takes a little while for your food to be here, but when it is, you compliment his order and ask him about his choice.

The question serves to keep the conversation easy and light while allowing you to only answer, not speak. This in turn allows nothing uncomfortable to occur during dinner. It’s thankfully uneventful until it's time to pay.

You had no qualms about paying for yourself, but being Childe, he told you he’d take care of it. You had no problem with that either. What you did have a problem with was what he said.

“Let me treat my girl.”

My girl. That’s what he called you. If that’s not a red flag, you don’t know what is. Despite that, you suck it in and let him take you home. Patience. You’ll leave soon and never show your face in his active districts again. Maybe you’ll even transfer schools if you’re lucky.

You’re really hoping you can transfer. He might come find you himself after you come back from summer break. Even with all those troublesome thoughts in mind, you act as casual as you could while sitting in his car as he drives you home. Conversation was nice, the thumb incident was borderline violating, but the meal was tasty.

The car stops near your dorm’s entrance, but before you could make any move to exit the car - hand hovering over the handle - Childe locks the doors. You turn to look at him but he’s already looking at you.

“I need to ask you something,” he says, voice unsure and eyes not meeting yours.

Tentatively nodding, you signal him to continue.

“Did you… enjoy yourself?”

“Huh?” You scold yourself mentally for the confused expression. Clearing your throat, you compose yourself. “Yeah. As far as enjoying dinner goes.”

His eyes finally meet yours, and the eye contact is intense. “I take it that you’d like to do this again?”

“...”

“I don’t mean immediately but maybe sometime in the future?”

Sighing, you slump in your seat. “I can’t be sure.” It’s better to make things clear and not lead him on, even if it’s harsh. “I’m not… looking for something right now. It would be unfair to say yes to you when I don’t mean it.”

Childe’s grip on the edge of his seat tightens, the leather squeaking as it gets abused. “I understand. But that doesn’t mean that you don’t like me, right?”

“Um, yeah.” You can’t pull your eyes away from his. “You’re… nice.”

He blinks. “I’m nice?”

“Yes.”

Childe’s mouth opens in disbelief before he goes back to his senses with a shake of his head. He leans towards you, hand grabbing the back of your seat and eyes widened. “So that means I have a chance?”

“Well,” you laugh awkwardly, “I never said you didn’t. I just said that-”

“I know I know. You’re not looking for something right now, but that doesn’t mean you won’t change your mind later. I’m not going to do something weird, don’t worry. I just… won’t give up.” He’s smiling as he speaks, happy at the prospect of not being rejected. “I’ll keep trying!”

Honestly, the determination he has is cute but it’s almost 10 pm. “That’s great and all, but could you unlock the door? I really need to go.”

“Oh, of course.” The doors unlock with a soft click and Childe bids you goodbye with another concerning statement. “I’ll make sure you change your mind. It’s a promise.”

The chips in your room lived to see another day.

The events of last night’s dinner keep replaying in your mind. It’s like a curse, the moment when Childe grabbed your wrist and gently shoved your thumb inside his mouth. Even with the bandage over it, you can still feel the ghost of his tongue, wet and warm, licking it.

You stop in your tracks to shiver.

It’s infuriating how even on your way to your shift you can only think of him and how he promised to change your mind. So much for leaving without any trouble. Can’t he take a hint? Maybe he’s too dense. It does seem characteristic of him.

The bell chimes when you open the door and head inside. A few customers are browsing the store, one middle aged woman and two office workers to be precise, while the manager sits by the cash register. His white polo shirt greets you before he does and by the time you come back from the employee room changed into your uniform jacket and nametag, the customers are gone.

Beloved and totally not airheaded manager moves away from the register, handing you a little list of work to do and announces that he’s leaving to meet up with someone.

Not even ten minutes of him being gone and the dreaded blue eyed mafioso walks in.

The bell chimes to signal his arrival, and unfortunately you meet his eyes as he stands at the entrance. He’s dressed too casually today, a white T-shirt with some band name on it, blue jeans and white sneakers. If you weren’t aware of his lifestyle, you would’ve thought that he was just another young adult on the street.

“Hi!”

You return his greeting with a simple nod, and he comes in. The only sound is his footsteps till he stops on the other side of the register. You meet his dead eyes again, regret instantly seeping into your bones. Childe’s gaze is affectionate, soft. Being on the receiving end of such a look is overwhelmingly foreign and uncomfortable.

The freckles dusted across his cheekbones and nose catch your attention, but they fail to be graced with your eyes for long. You immediately look away when you realise you started to stare.

Regardless, Childe acts as though he didn’t notice and rounds the register to sit on the chair next to you like always. He doesn’t speak of the date. Typical conversation plays out, much to your surprise, and you mentally curse yourself for expecting him to bring up yesterday evening.

However, it’s not his casual physiognomy that bothers you. It’s his friendliness and the fact that he has started messaging you like one would a friend. Just yesterday he had texted you for the first time in his life and now he’s spamming you funny videos and memes?

Should… should you be worried?

It might prove to be more difficult to shrug him off. You didn’t want to be harsh and outright reject him for him after how he had seemingly tried to be kind and took you out for dinner, but now it seems like that would have been the correct course of action. It’s not that you’re rejecting him solely on the basis of being a part of the mafia. It’s simply your desire to not be in a relationship right now.

Perhaps he’ll respect your wishes like he did last night, even if he did claim that he will keep trying.

You should not push your luck. Really. You shouldn’t. You shan’t do so.

First, you leave his meme spams on read. Then, you have the gall to address him as ‘sir Tartaglia’ again by mistake. The instant fall of his smile had sent a shiver down your spine and reminded you of why you told yourself to be careful. Just because he likes you doesn’t mean you’re safe.

Maybe you are, but that change of expression has creeped you out to no end. It’s better to be safe than sorry.

It has been two weeks since the dinner and Childe has settled with chatting with you over text during the late night hours. Tonight, however, you’ve put your phone away in favour of watching something on your laptop. The screen illuminates your face in the darkness of your room, and your phone’s buzzing briefly catches your attention.

You ignore it, obviously. You’re leaving in one week. This little ‘friendship’ or whatever one could call it is pointless. You’ve already planned on blocking Childe on all the socials he’s invaded as soon as you reach home, a step towards never seeing him again. The less you let him get attached, the easier it’ll be for him to forget you and move on.

Childe is… a little annoyed. You didn’t reply to any of his texts for a few days, leaving it on read since he sends some random videos after the texts. He let it slide at first, but now he’s bothered. It’s evident in the way he isn’t smiling or even talking to you for that matter.

Not wanting to end up on his bad side permanently, you capitulate your ego. “Childe? Is something wrong?” You’re restocking the potato chips as you speak, head peeking over the short aisle to look at him while he sits at the register. “You seem off.”

He makes eye contact with a face devoid of any emotion as if that were the most natural thing to do in the situation. “Why do you ask?”

“I just said so. You seem off.”

“It’s nothing.” Childe looks away, opting to stare at his shoes. He’s wearing casual clothes today as well, something you noted he started doing more often after the date.

Seeing that he won’t budge, you go back to restocking but perk up again when you hear him speak, albeit very softly.

“You’re ignoring me,” he mumbles to himself.

So, you do what comes to mind. Leaving the chip packets on the floor of the empty store, you walk up to him, hands on your hips. “I’m ignoring you?”

He doesn’t look at you, his shoes the most interesting sight in the world. “Yeah.”

“What makes you think that?”

“You don’t talk to me. It’s always me who initiates the conversation.” He looks up, making eye contact. “Is it because I’m in the mafia and you don’t want anything to do with me?”

The subtle accusation makes you defensive immediately, and you stammer. “N-not at all-”

“It is, isn’t it?” The earring hanging from his ear briefly catches your attention when he tilts his head. “That’s why you lied and said that you weren’t looking for a relationship right now.”

“But I’m really not.”

“Relationships aren’t ‘looked for’. They just happen.” Childe leans back in his seat, making you grow more nervous. “And you don’t want one to happen with me just because of where I work.”

Your hands start fidgeting with each other on their own, tongue pushing against your mouth’s hard palate. It takes strength to reply to his imputation. “That’s not true…” Heart beating wildly in your chest, you push the words out. “It’s just… I don’t want a relationship right now.” Think brain, think! “It’s not you, it’s me.” Curse you mass of neurons and amygdala for thinking of this ginger as a serious threat. “So please, don’t think of reasons that aren’t true.”

“But they are true,” he states, like he’s telling you that the moon also exerts gravity on the earth, voice boring and flat. “You just refuse to admit it because you’re scared of me.” Childe’s eyes bore into yours again, seeing through your casual lies and crafted confidence.

“I’m not scared of you.”

“You can’t fool me, [Name]. I’d prefer you to be truthful. Lies just get on my nerves.”

You gulp. There’s no way out of this now. “Sorry…”

“It’s alright. Just keep that in mind for next time.”

“...”

“How can I change your mind?”

“What?” You blink at him, not understanding what he’s asking you. “What do you mean?”

“How can I change your fear of me into attraction? I don’t like knowing that you’re afraid of me.” Childe’s expression turns into a pleading one. Genuine helplessness is written all over his physiognomy which in turn makes you uncomfortable. You feel small under his watchful gaze. It’s as though he’s watching every single movement and breath you take.

“I… don’t know…” Your hands hang by your sides as you stand in front of him, lips pressed into a thin line.

Voice gentle, he tries to persuade you once again. “Please. Tell me how to win your heart.”

“I… I don’t know.” There’s a pitiful helplessness in your voice now, and you don’t know what makes you want to tell him what you are about to. But you do. And you have to watch the realisation appear on his face. “I never wanted your attention.” Admitting that somehow leaves a sour taste in your mouth. ��I never wanted anyone’s attention. All I am is a student trying to make ends meet while cussing out the degree I chose for myself.”

Eyes wide, Childe tries negotiating. “I could make your life better.” Hands slam the desk in front of him as he stands, barcode scanner jumping and falling back with a thunk. “I just need one chance. That’s all I need.”

“I’m sorry, Childe, but-”

“No no. I’m not asking. You don’t have to give me one.”

You look into the lifeless blues of his eyes as he continues. “I’ll take that chance whenever I get the opportunity. You don’t have to worry your pretty head over it.”

Somehow his decision to take matters into his own hands unnerves you more than his blatant signs of attraction. It didn’t help that he wordlessly left the store after that.

Today is your last shift before you leave for home. Oddly enough, Childe didn’t swing by the store ever since he left the other day, and he isn’t here right now as well. It makes you uneasy. Something’s wrong. You can feel it in your gut.

He hadn’t even contacted you or sent any cat videos or memes, and being the coward that you are, you left things as they were. Hope that you won’t see him again keeps you going and stops you from poking at the obvious issue lest it bites you back.

But… you feel a little guilty. Even now as you stare at the floor on the other side of the cash register, you can’t help but recall how Childe tried his best to keep conversation flowing during dinner despite getting a very rude lack of input from your side. He’s been trying, and you’re the one not giving him the time of day.

Nonetheless, relationships aren’t built on pity. You hope he finds someone else, someone more suited for him. That’s the only wish you have for him even if the moral ramifications are eating you up on the inside.

Still, you can’t stop your mind from wandering to the question of what he meant by taking the chance when the opportunity presents itself. Does he somehow know about your flight? Well, if he did, he wouldn’t have disappeared. Best to end things on a good note rather than a bad one and stay in contact. But what if he doesn’t care anymore?

Though that outcome is the welcomed one, it still stings to think that. Someone losing interest in you isn’t exactly something that makes you feel good. Regardless, it’s welcome in this situation. You were never in favour of his attention being on you and you never will be.

At 7: 08 pm, the bell at the door chimes in goodbye as you step out. The evening rush hour greets you, and you go with the flow of the people rushing home after a long day or work. Well, it’s the weekend tomorrow. At least they have something to look forward to.

The building of your current residence comes into view and relief washes all over you. Just a bit more and you can get into bed. There’s still a few more hours till you leave, and all your luggage is packed. All you need to do is take a nap.

You practically skip to the entrance, the cool air of the lobby’s air conditioning hitting your face. No one is inside and you hurriedly make way to the elevator.

The nap you took felt like an entire night of rest. With a stretch, you jump out of bed to gather the rest of your things. It’s when you’re locking the door to your room when you realise just how quiet it is. Your apprehension is understandable, if not relatable. You’ve never exited your room after coming back home for the day, so you have no idea what the building is like after a certain hour.

Dragging your suitcase with one hand, hand carry with the other, you haul them both and yourself - the backpack on your shoulders being an honourable mention - inside the elevator. The air is uncharacteristically cool and dry, something elevator music fails to get your mind off of.

Your phone buzzes in your pocket, but you ignore it in favour of dragging your luggage outside the elevator and into the lobby. Who would be calling this late? Probably your mother. The video call would cut when you step out and the Wifi disconnects, so it doesn’t matter. Key left at the receptionist’s desk, you mentally thank yourself for checking out online in the evening but pray that the key is still here by morning.

Hesitation wins and you end up leaving it next to the pen holder. You were told to drop it off at the desk. It’s not your fault it’s unattended.

The bus stop is a five minute walk away, so with a deep breath, you step out of the lobby and to the outside, allowing the night’s cool breeze to caress your face as your luggage stays grasped in either hand. Your eyes land on the empty road, praying that you don’t get creeped out by the lack of people.

Biting the inside of your cheek, you take a step forward, then another, and another, till you’re a few metres away from the building’s entrance. The breeze is still blowing and the air is cool so you won’t be hot during your wait at the sto-

“[Name]?”

The breeze stops blowing.

“Where are you going at this hour? And… why… is your luggage with you?”

Your breathing is the next to stop, though only momentarily.

Almost on instinct, you let go of everything in your hands and reach for the phone in your pocket. You don’t even bother looking at the source of the voice, eyes glued to ‘Childe’ glowing on your screen as the contact of the missed call. Heart hammering in your chest, you slowly turn to look at him.

Regret and fear seep into your bones at the same time. He’s wearing something similar to what he usually did in the beginning, garnet dress shirt and dark grey dress pants. The gloves on his hands cover his palms but leave the majority of the back of his hands exposed, phone held in the leather grip.

What your eyes focus on first, however, is the earring. It catches the light from the lobby behind him like a beacon, but you’re quick to look away and into the blue irises of his empty gaze.

There’s no time for you to question why you didn’t hear him before he spoke up.

“Are you leaving?” He takes a step forward, phone slipping inside his pocket, and you take a step back. The reaction is all he needs from you to raise his hands in surrender, only coming closer when the wary look on your face softens into something more observant.

“Are you going back home?” Childe stands only one step away when he asks that and tilts his head waiting for an answer. He receives one in the form of a nod, and questions further. “When’s your flight?”

“Half past 3 am,” is your reply.

“So you have a little less than four hours,” he points out. “I actually came here to talk to you. I uh… I missed you and couldn’t help it. If I knew you were leaving, I would have come sooner.”

You’re still watching him attentively, the clothing he’s wearing sufficient to ring alarm bells in your head. “So you wanted to talk?”

“Yes.”

“Well,” you bite your lip, “I guess I’m not running late. The bus will be here in fifteen minutes anyway, so I have time to spare.”

“Perfect!” He grabs both of your luggages and drags them in the opposite direction of your intended destination: the bus stop. It takes a stern question from you for him to stop and look at you with that empty gaze again. “I’m just taking you to my car. I’ll drop you off. There’s no need to bother yourself with the bus.”

Any demurrance from your side is promptly shut down and smoothed over with reassurances that he’d get you to the airport safe and sound. As your packed belongings sit next to the car, Childe eases the backpack off your shoulder and leaves it on top of them.

It’s when he looks at you that the anxiety skyrockets, eating away your consciousness. Alone with Childe, a highly ranked member of the mafia, at near midnight with all your belongings and an assurance to be dropped off the airport safe and sound is an obvious problem.

You should have listened to the uneasy feeling in your gut back in the store.

“So,” he drawls, standing a foot away from you with his hands in his pockets, “I know I was brash and that I shouldn’t have made you uncomfortable and also should have apologised to you later, but I won’t.”

That causes you to perk up, anxiety dying down a little. “You… won’t?”

“Yeah,” he shrugs, “I won’t. It’s because I’m not going back on my words. I know you don’t view me as a potential partner, let alone friend, but that isn’t going to stop me.”

You don’t like where this is going.

Childe continues, eyes still boring into yours. “I don’t understand why you’re afraid of me. I’ve told and showed you countless times that I’m not going to do anything. It’s pointless to waste your energy. All I want is to exclusively be yours and call you mine. Why would I ever do anything to you if that’s what I wish for?”

The sir suddenly feels too suffocating, like not enough oxygen is filling your lungs. There’s a subtle darkness in your vision, one you deal with by walking to and leaning on the parked car, not that it helps. Not with the deeper breaths you’ve started taking. It doesn’t take any more indications for Childe to rush to your side, an unwelcome hand gently stroking your back.

The breeze flows again, caressing your face and blowing through your hair, but you’re still sweating.

You don’t know what happens next, just that you’re inside the car, the AC turned on, a light shining over your head, and a hand still running up and down your back while you take mouthfuls of breaths. They’re quicker now, you note, and a hand - your own hand - rises to cover your mouth as your sight and self-awareness is restored.

The confusion and vulnerability hits you like a truck and the tears simply fall harder.

Each and every time the hand moves over your back, you feel like more of your skin was peeled off, goosebumps still littering over your arms. It takes several minutes for you to somewhat calm down and become cognizant of your emotions and actions. It doesn’t come as a surprise when the first thing you decide to do in that state is cry harder.

What are you crying for? You don’t know. It’s hard enough as it is to just continue breathing. Processing your emotions is for later.

A hand, a foreign one, gently lifts your face, allowing the dashboard to come into view, and turns it to the source. Childe’s blurry image greets you as your chest heaves, warm thumbs swiping away the tears rapidly running down your cheeks. You don’t have time to dwell on where his gloves disappeared to, focusing on the feeling of his warm thumbs feeling cool over your tear stricken face.

Several minutes pass again, and you sit with your face in your hands while Childe puts your luggage inside the car trunk. Reddened, swollen eyes meet his blue ones in the silence of the car, your sniffling being the only sound. Whatever you just experienced was horrible. Had Childe not been… no. He is part of the cause. Him helping you through it is the least he could have done.

The driver’s seat is quickly occupied once again, and Childe breaks the silence, concern present all over his face. “Are you feeling better?”

You nod, too uncertain in your ability to speak. His question of whether or not you want some water is met with a shake of your head, and Childe settles with pressing his lips into a thin line.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t think it would upset you that much.”

Voice slightly raspy, you reply after clearing your throat. “It’s alright. I… I didn’t see it coming as well.”

He slumps into his seat, head turned to look at you. Childe’s eyes glaze over your body, looking for potential signs of fear. It seems to him that you’re dazed, confused. It’s advantageous for him, if not relieving. Seeing you afraid or in pain doesn’t elicit any positive feelings.

After receiving your permission, Childe puts on his seatbelt - all the while making sure you fasten yours as well - and reverses the car, intending to drive you to the airport. You’re a bit late compared to what you originally planned, but you suppose he can get you there on time.

The car is eerily quiet with the lack of music. There’s no gentle humming from Childe, only the sound of either of you breathing. Unfortunately for you, the silence fails to last.

“So when are you coming back?” Childe’s voice is calm, flat. He’s completely casual in his question despite your concern that he wouldn’t take kindly to being lied to about such a thing.

“It’s one way,” you lie. Not being held accountable for your verbal deceit helps you gain some confidence. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, but I’ll be back for class obviously.”

The car is silent again for a while and it fills you with hope for a quiet ride, one where you would get off, thank Childe profusely, and head home never to see him again. Alas hope is crushed, and you freeze in your seat, muscles tensing when Childe speaks again.

“How much more are you going to lie?”

Childe continues driving, acting unaffected with his demeanour and tone, but it wouldn’t take a genius to know that him gripping the steering wheel in a bone crushing grip is anything but him being casual.

No. He’s certainly upset, and you’re afraid you’re too much at his mercy.

“I gave you another chance and you ruined it.” Childe’s fingers tap rhythmically on the steering wheel, voice even as he speaks. “Why don’t we try again? When’re you coming back?”

You bite your tongue when you feel the initial signs of panic bubbling up your throat. It takes a bit of force to make yourself speak, even if it’s in a more fearful way. “Seven weeks. I’ll be home for seven weeks.”

“You’re not going to block me on your socials when you get there, are you?”

With a shake of your head, you continue looking out the window. “No.”

He hums, satisfied at your cooperation. “Good.” The car takes a turn, the empty roads seemingly omnipresent. “I’m not going to do anything. I just wanted to know the truth… er, more like hear it directly from you.”

A few minutes of silence pass, but it doesn’t last because you can’t stay quiet for longer. “You’re going the wrong way.”

“I am?” The smile in his voice is evident.

“Yes, you are.” You turn to look at him, nervously gulping at his grin. “Stop messing around.”

He doesn’t reply.

“Childe!”

Your panic fails to affect him in any way. With the fuzziness growing in your mind, there’s not much you can do except grab onto his sleeve. That causes him to look at you, even if just for a moment, but that’s all you get for a reaction. As a last resort, you reach for your phone in your pocket but freeze when you don’t feel the device.

You don’t need to say anything for Childe to provide the answer to your question. “Your phone isn’t there. It’s with me, I’m afraid.”

“Childe,” you say, voice low and pleading, “please stop screwing around.”

He sounds slightly offended when he replies. “You think I’m screwing around?”

“Yes!” Your exclamation doesn’t seem to affect him, so you opt for a more direct approach. “I don’t understand why you’re doing this. I came with you because I trusted you.” The words are spat out, but Childe only seems amused.

“Trusted me?” He chuckles. “Sweetheart, if you trusted me, you would’ve told me about your flight from the start instead of lying about putting in a one week notice. You’re scared of me, and despite the fact that it stings like salt on an open wound, I suppose there’s some merit to that as well.”

“W-what do you mean?”

“What do you think I mean?”

You bite the inside of your cheek now. There’s no way you can tell what Childe means by what he said. Judging from your previous conversations as well, your fear of him is a sour spot, but maybe you could exploit that to your favour.

“I’m afraid of you, because of your unpredictability and that is exactly what you are demonstrating right now.” You grab onto his sleeve again, albeit more desperately this time. “You gave me more reasons to fear you than you did to like you.”

The car slows, as if synchronised with Childe’s thought process. “Is that… really what you think of me?”

“Yes,” you reply in an even voice. “I was already a little scared from what I heard from people and then you started doing all this stuff-”

“Stuff like what?”

“Stuff like this!”

He sighs, moving the steering wheel to stop the car at the side of the road. “I just told you that I can’t ever hurt you, and you’re still calling me scary?”

Your eyes focus on his expression, specially searching for any signs of him lying - hypocritical on your part - but fail to find anything other than sincerity. The grip on his sleeve loosens, your hand ultimately returning to your lap, when he turns to face you. It’s intimidating to look into his dead eyes but it still makes you wonder how such a beautiful colour can be so lifeless.

Childe’s lips move and despite your feelings you find yourself absolutely memorised by the plush pink as his voice leaves his mouth.

“I’m not changing my mind.”

His declaration forces you to focus on his words, any attraction be damned.

“Lying to me and saying that you haven’t decided on leaving for home did get on my nerves a little,” he says, “but I forgive you. You’re cute, so I can’t stay mad at you for long.”

You let his words sink in. He says that he forgives you for the lie, but what now?

“Alright,” you drawl, voice nervous, “now can we please go to the airport?”

Childe leans in, a smile on his face. “How about instead of the airport, we go home?”

The word ‘home’ catches your attention and dread settles in. If he’s implying what you think he is, then you don’t think you’ll be able to catch your flight, let alone get to the airport.

“Childe,” you croon, “I think we have some misunderstandings. Before either of us does something impulsive and hurtful, let’s just talk it over.”

He just looks amused. “Oh? Talk over what? You’re the one pushing me away.”

You try again to de-escalate. “I only told you that I don’t want a relationship.”

“Liar.” Childe’s hand reaches for the edge of your seat, the skin below his collarbones and a little bit of his chest visible as he leans in closer. “We’ve already had this discussion before. Since you’re cute and obviously not in very good mental shape at the moment, I’ll give you a little bit of advice. Let me do my thing. I’m not going to hurt you, just… change your scenery a little.”

You narrow your eyes at him upon saying the word ‘scenery’. Though consternation eats you up on the inside, you trust that Childe wouldn’t do anything to you, at least not physically. What he is currently planning to do is a different matter.

Patience, you remind yourself. That might just be the only thing you have left.

“Now that that’s settled,” he says, going back to the steering wheel, “why don’t I take you home? I’m sure you’ll like it. It’s more comfortable and spacious than where you were living.”

In the most calm and even voice you could muster, you try pleading with him again. “Childe, please. Don’t do something that would make me hate you.”

He doesn’t even look at you when he answers. The lack of smile and his eyes fixed on the road as he continues driving does not help ease your increasing dread. “It might be a small bump, but the end destination is what matters in this case, not the journey.”

You glance to the door handle in an act of desperation but bite your lip when all hope is lost at the sight of the lock. Month old words hit you like a truck, patience being some elaborate scheme for the notorious members of society to make others more docile and submissive to them. After all this time, would it be wise to believe you’ll be alright?

#childe x reader #yandere childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #yandere tartaglia x reader #yandere childe #yandere tartaglia #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere genshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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let-me-sleep-or-die · 8 months

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The Ratgrinders complaining about The Bad Kids getting ~special treatment~ has the same energy as those kids who would do the bare minimum all semester and then be pissed that the teacher didn’t write them a letter of recommendation or give them an internship or something and say the teacher “chose favorites”

Oh I’m sorry me and my party (my lab partners) are out here solving mysteries (studying till we drop) and saving the world (Doing extra credit). But no you are right, your party have been Exp farming ( straight up only doing the assignments you can find on quizlet) for two years and It’s unfair that’s the system (fucking grading and common sense) favors us over you.

You should win Student Body President (get that unpaid internship) I’m sure killing rats (only doing half the homework) has prepared you for practical combat (if you were let in that lab you would blow something up). Best of luck! (I am actively Praying on your downfall)

#dimension twenty #dimension20 #dimension 20 #d20 #fantasy high #d20 fantasy high #fantasy high junior year #brennan lee mulligan #dimension 20 fhjy #fhjy #fhjy spoilers #d20 fhjy #the bad kids #ratgrinders #kipperlilly copperkettle

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moonpascaltoo · 7 months

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Fic Recs (steve harrington)

just some of my favorite one-shots or series i’ve read on ao3 and few from tumblr. all works ranging from 1.5k to 30k+ i believe. 18+ readers!

some have a tumblr that i tagged, but others i couldn’t find . i am doing this on mobile which is a bit difficult haha! i read these all (except 2) on ao3 so the links will be ao3. i know some are here on tumblr but i didn’t realize till after reading and making this! <3

steve harrington

come home by @stevie-petey <3💕

-"come home to me, okay?"

"always," steve promises

in between saving will, then hawkins, then somehow the world, you fall in love with steve harrington.

(a stranger things rewrite).

dancing with our hands tied by @andvys

-You and Steve have never seen eye to eye, and it never changed, not even when you were pulled into a world of monsters and risked your life to save him. But tension had always been between you both, something that neither of you ever wanted to admit -- but how much longer can you take it when the pull between you gets stronger and stronger each second you spend by each others side?

paint me red by eddiemunsons ao3

-You're one of Vickie's best friends. Her girlfriend, Robin, is in need of a distraction for her best friend, Steve Harrington, who you vaguely remember from school. Which is where you come in.

i’m your idiot by thebestandworstdayofjune ao3 @thebestandworstdayofjune

-Steve Harrington has a way of worming himself into your heart, and social situations you had done your best to exclude him from.

small hands, big heart by finalgirlharrington ao3 @sexybabystevie

-Steve Harrington has a massive crush on you, but his recent lack of luck in the romantic sense has him stuck on how to make a move. Plus, something about you makes him nervous in a way he's never been – in a way he likes. His simplest solution? Flirting via the old 'comparing hand sizes' method.

promise by Harley_Honey_Quinn ao3

-Reader learns about Steve's feelings thanks to some Russian truth serum.

kiss me by @corrodedseraphine

-Your friend is desperately trying to find a person who will give him something more. Wanting to feel what it's like to be loved again and after many failed dates he gets the idea that it's time to go back to King Steve's famous tactics. Telling him that it's not the best idea gets you involved in a deal where you have to help him get another girl. Will helping the boy you're in love with turn out to be a good idea? Probably not.

every rose has its thorn by @corrodedseraphine

-Christmas is coming to Hawkins. It is a time of joy and forgiveness. It turns out that your sister's best friend is looking for a new place to live, and you happen to have a spare room in the apartment. It wouldn't be a problem if that friend wasn't Steve Harrington. A man whom the more you try to avoid even more often comes back like a boomerang.

hearts on the telephone line by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-You thought Steve was okay dealing with a long-distance relationship after you moved for an exciting internship in New York. But you were proven so wrong when your boyfriend finally poured his feelings over the phone. Because distance wasn't making his heart grow fonder, it was breaking it.

competitively stupid by t_lostinworlds ao3 @t-lostinworlds

-It was stupid, jumping off a cliff just to prove that you were better than Steve fucking Harrington. But you were competitive. You were not losing to him. But you know what was stupider? For it to take a near-death situation for you both to confess what you truly feel for each other.

perfect blend by Your_Writer ao3

-No one likes their summer job. Working at a coffee shop was sticky, exhausting, and overall boring. In fact, the highlight of your day was the charming, gentle eyed sailor scooping USS Butterscotch just across the way.

the things we don’t say by rdrickheffley ao3

-Steve Harrington once was the bane of Y/n's existence. He had always been an arrogant asshole and a terrible kisser. She never understood how others fell for the boy's eye-roll worthy charm. Now it seems like he will do anything to prove her wrong about anything.

next time? by rdrickheffley ao3

-Three instances where Steve and reader find themselves in intimate situations.

candyfloss and confessions by ACourtofSnakesandStars ao3

-You’ve been in love with Steve Harrington for years, like every cliche come to life. You’ve battled monsters, found friends within kids with superpowers, and you even managed to graduate. Yet the one thing you’ve never been able to do, is tell Steve how you feel. But maybe you don’t need to wait any longer.

a night to remember by RaeWrites94 ao3

-Steve has to attend his 10 year high school reunion and somehow manages to convince you to go as his date and his fake girlfriend. You've had feelings for him for a long time, but figure, why not? You could probably survive an evening of pretending he liked you back and come out unscathed. Right?

with bated breath by brianmay ao3

-Rumors fly after you attend Steve Harrington’s party one weekend in September. Thinking they were his doing, you do everything in your power to avoid him, which proves easier said than done.

cross my heart (and hope to die) by @talesofesther

-Every time Steve gets hurt, you're there to help pick up the pieces; you just weren't expecting him to fall for you in the process.

tales of a love between the lines by @talesofesther

-Sometimes the thing we want most is right in front of us, and Steve might be just that for you; all you have to do is see what he’s been showing you for a long time.

love is easy by seidenbros ao3

-The day you wrote I love you on a post-it note before you'd said the words out loud, and it's the best note Steve ever got.

everything means nothing if i can’t have you by iridescentpetrichor ao3

-Steve and Y/N go on a double date to impress the other one, but it's only so long until the tension between the two breaks.

you’re not by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-The year is 1985, you're on a school field trip to cheer on Hawkins High at the championship game before spring break. When the game doesn't pan out as expected, you're even more surprised to discover the one and only Steve Harrington in only his underwear at your hotel room after being locked out by his teammates. What happens when the two of you have a little heart to heart?

last christmas by frostandflames ao3 @frostandflamesfanfic

-You and Steve had always been childhood friends-and remained that way. As Steve ping-pongs around in his relationship status, you have a hard time keeping your feelings to himself as Nancy surrounds his entire world. What Steve doesn't know is his relationship to Nancy may end your own with Steve.

the scoundrel and the princess by @mrshipsmcgee

-after an awkward run in with Tommy Hagan, Steve Harrington is invited to an awful party where he meets a beautiful stranger.

cling by aloevera

-For as long as you could remember, you and Steve have been close. What others see as clingy, Steve sees as comforting, right? Or, you fell in love with your best friend and suddenly, everything is too much.

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justwinginglife · 1 month

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Can I req a hoshina x reader, but school au and they're academic rivals? Leikk, they're in the same class and debates every now and then who's correct. Fights aren't uncommon between them especially when they both ran for council

But what's surprising is that they actually study together outside school?

(I'm sorry if this is to much 😔, I love your fanfics. Theyre my oxygen, ty for keeping us hoshina fans well fed 🫶)

You absolutely do not need to apologize! I am totally happy to do this for you. Thank you so much for your support, and of course, I'm always happy to encourage the Hoshina hyperfixation.

The Best Plans

You had so many ideas about how you thought your college life would go; you'd be top of every class, give a rousing speech at graduation, rock your first internship, and score a killer first job. You didn't anticipate anyone having the smarts to fuck up your masterplan. But Soshiro Hoshina was a whole different beast, something you couldn't have anticipated.

Your whole life, you'd been smarter than everyone around you even without trying. It was just a given that you were better. So you never could've predicted that you'd have to break a sweat just to keep up with him. For the first time in your life, you were pulling all nighters, just raw dogging tests with no sleep, no sanity. You were frequenting the library so much, studying at all hours of the day and the night, that you had become good friends with the librarian. Her name was Himiko. She had two cats and loved Italian food. She was a sweetheart.

But even through all this struggling, you persevered. You got 100% on almost everything (with the occasional 99% that Hoshina would tease you about relentlessly until your next 100%). You were not about to let some scrawny, short-ass, bowl-cut wearing, squinty-eyed, nerd disrupt your whole plan.

You hated the way he laughed at you. It was loud and unhinged. And it was uninterrupted, nothing could stop him once he'd started. And the way that he smirked was so smug and unapologetic, you thought you might just hit him with your encyclopedia.

Your favorite class was debate, because then you could argue with him to no end and even win participation points for it. Of course, you'd argue with him for free, but it was significantly more fun to destroy him for a good grade. It was like a nice little treat to yourself, compensation for having to endure his cocky personality.

And you endured a lot. You had the unfortunate luck of knowing him better than you had ever wanted to, better than anyone else ever could know him or ever would know him. You knew what arguments he was going to use before he used them, you knew what energy drink he felt was more effective for his late night study sessions (you'd run into him so frequently at the library), you knew his poker face, his stressed face (you were surprised to discover that he actually got stressed, and you teased him incessantly about not being so superhuman after all), you knew which subjects were his favorite, which subjects were his least favorite, which classmates he liked and disliked. And you had always thought you were on the "dislike" list until one day you both ended up on the student council together.

It was the first time in this school's entire history that they'd ever had two student body presidents. Your grades were so even that it was hard to assign the role to just one person. Though, Hoshina would constantly introduce you as his vice president anyway. You'd get him back by telling people he hadn't even qualified for vice president, so he was stuck with the position of treasurer. No one knew who to believe, but everyone knew the two of you had an intense rivalry.

It was so intense, you almost thought you wouldn't be able to handle being in even closer proximity to him than you already were, but you refused to step down from the council and let him be the president, and of course, he wasn't stepping down anytime soon either. So the two of you spent even later nights together, poring over the school budget, planning out events, discussing new policies.

And eventually, to your shock, he admitted that he actually enjoyed spending so much time with you. He enjoyed the banter, he enjoyed your perspective, he enjoyed hearing your opinions even if he teased you that they were wrong, and he especially enjoyed the way you'd walk by a vending machine and think of him, then buy him a snack but -not wanting to let on that you cared- you'd chuck the bag of chips in his face, saying if the hunger didn't kill him first, you would.

And when he admitted these things to you, you were shocked to realize you felt the same. You liked the way he absentmindedly ran his hands through his hair when he was deep in thought. You liked the way his eyes settled on you when he was listening intently to your plans. You liked the way he always made your plans into a reality, shrugging and saying that it was no big deal and it was half his plan anyway.

You spent so much time together in school, that eventually it spilled over into your personal life, and suddenly he was visiting you at home. He'd bow to your mom, shake your dad's hand, wave to your little sister, and then run upstairs and collapse on your bed beside you. You'd stare up at the ceiling and talk for hours, until he'd decided to tickle you, to which you responded by shoving him off the bed.

And then you'd eat dinner together, study together, and just keep living life together.

It was hard to believe that just a couple months ago, you were butting heads, clawing at each other's throats. But it was even harder to think about living without him anymore.

And suddenly, all those plans you had for your college life, all those goals and lofty ideas, none of them mattered as much anymore. Your only plan at this moment was to enjoy your time with him, and pray it never stopped.

#kaiju no. 8 #soshiro hoshina #hoshina #soshiro hoshina x reader #anime #oneshot #hoshina x reader #hoshina soshiro x reader #anime fanfic #fluff

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leeknow-thoughts · 3 months

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୨୧ SKZ X GREEK GODS MAKNAE LINE M.LIST

୨୧ a collection of my skz x (children of) Greek gods!AU series!! All works have smut so please mdni!!

୨୧ QUARTER NOTES

𝝑𝝔 son of Apollo!Han Jisung x Mortal!Fem!Bandmate!Reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : you'd known Jisung since college, now you were in his studio writing music with him. You lived together since junior year of college. So what happens when Jisung's father pays a visit and tells Jisung what the Fates have said about his destiny? What if his destiny is being with you? You didn't need the Fates to tell you what his destiny was, you had always known you were going to be apart of it.

𝝑𝝔 cw : angst if you squint, fluff, smut, Sub!Han Jisung, Dom!Reader, more smut warnings on actual story!

𝝑𝝔 Coming out : June 28-29!

୨୧ THE THING ABOUT TULIPS

𝝑𝝔 son of Demeter!flower shop owner!Felix x mortal!new hire!Reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : you loved flowers, ever since you were young. You were in college, studying botany, and your internship program was just about to start. No shop had asked you to intern yet, but to your luck, Felix asked you. How can you avoid developing feelings for your hot boss who can also control plants? (You can't.)

𝝑𝝔 cw : Persephone cameo + Demeter cameo, fluff, fluffy smut, he fell first reader fell harder trope, tons of pet names, Switch!Felix, Switch!Reader, more smut warnings on actual story!

𝝑𝝔 Coming out : June 29-30!

୨୧ FULL MOON

𝝑𝝔 son of Nyx!Seungmin x mortal!fem!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : you were everything to Seungmin, even if you didn't know it, and even if he didn't tell you. He'd watch over you every night until one day (well technically night) you woke up early, seeing him in your room rightfully leads to you questioning the man. What happens when each night you talk to him instead of sleep? And what happens when Seungmin confesses as to why he only watches over you and nobody else?

𝝑𝝔 cw : tsundre!Seungmin, kind of breaking and entering???, fluff, smut, Sub!Seungmin, Dom!Reader, more smut warnings on actual story!

𝝑𝝔 Coming out : July 1-2!

୨୧ THE TORTURED WRITERS DEPARTMENT

𝝑𝝔 son of Erato!Professor!Jeongin x literature major!college student! fem!reader

𝝑𝝔 synopsis : Every girl in school would try to take Professor Yang's literature and poetry classes just so they could stare at the hot professor while he taught, except for you. You actually loved literature, it was your whole soul, your whole being. Jeongin knows it is wrong, falling for his cute student who was 10 years younger than him. Jeongin just can't help but ask you to be his teaching assistant after reading your phenomenal literary works. You humbly accept his offer, and do your best to not fall for him. One day you find out his godly secret, and instead of it driving you away, it intrigues you beyond comparison.

𝝑𝝔 cw : reader has a negative self image, age gap (Jeongin is in his early 30s, reader is 21), smut with feelings, Mean!Condescending!Dom!Jeongin, Sub!Reader, more smut warnings on actual story!

𝝑𝝔 Coming out : July 2-3!

#bun.writes #bunwritesskz #bun.mlists #please read these I'm beggingakdjaf

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the-offside-rule · 8 months

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Fernando Alonso (McLaren) - Envious

Requested: yes, tumblr via dm

Prompt: Can I please make a request where Fernando is in McLaren. He just won the championship twice and he is seen to be incredibly cocky. Y/n, a TV interviewer does not like this but she does seem fond of Leiws and he gets maddddd. He decides to change for her and please make the ending cute <3 (ITS GONNA BE A TWO PART)

Warnings: cocky Fernando, jealous Fernando

Envious: part 2

Y/n tightened her grip on the microphone, trying to maintain her composure during the interview with the Fernando Alonso. His cocky demeanor had been evident from the beginning, but it seemed to intensify as the questions progressed. They had met back during Fernando's first season in F1 as she was lucky enough to grab an internship. While he at first seemed lovely and polite, his true colours had come when Y/n returned to the paddock the season after Fenrnado won his first championship. He had completely changed. "Do you think you could win the championship a third time, or do you think you've moved past your prime?" Y/n asked, before moving the microphone towards Fernando for him to answer her question.

Fernando flashed a smirk at his interviewer. "Well, you see, I'm just that good, I don't think my prime has even come yet." Y/n clenched her jaw at the first part of his answer. "Of course I think I can win it this year." Y/n rolled her eyes, masking her irritation as best as she could. "Well you have won it twice in an immensely talented grid, I believe you could." Fernando smirked. "Well it's so lovely you agree with me. It seems fairly rare nowadays." He winked. "Thank you for the interview, Fernando. Good luck." She quickly said, her relief palpable. Fernabdo blew her kiss, annoying her as ever. "That's all the media for you today, Fernando. You can-" Fernando stopped listening to his media manager once he heard the unfamiliar sound of Y/n laughing. His head snapped around quickly, only to see his new teammate smiling and laughing with Y/n. She never smiled when she was interviewing him, what made Lewis so special? Their animated conversation and laughter stoked a pang of jealousy in Fernando.

Later on in the evening, Fernando sat in the McLaren hospitality, eating his dinner when he looked out the window to see Lewis and Y/n walking together once again laughing. Lewis stood at the door whilst Y/n simply spoke to him. Fernando looked around to see if there was a camera just on the off-chance that this was for a TV bit, but not a camera was jn sight. Fernando nudged his personal trainer, gaining his attention. "What's the deal with Y/n and Hamilton?" He asked, an edge to his voice. His trainer looked out before responding. "Ive heard they've been going on dates for a few months now. Seems like she's quite taken with him."

Fernando's jaw tightened. "I think so too." Fernando mumbled. His trainer arched a brow at the spaniard. "What?" Fernando shrugged. "Don't tell me you're jealous." Fernando scoffed. "Of course not. It's just-" He paused and nodded towards Lewis. "Him? I'd say she could do better." He laughed, eating a fork full of food. "Whatever puts your mind at ease, Nando." Fernando looked back over to the pair at the door and watched as they hugged. He slapped his fork down on the table and stood up. "Im going to the garage." Fernando announced, marching towards the door. The doors slid open and the cameras began flashing with the sudden departure of Fernando. Y/n didn't even look at him and that only irked him more. He walked straight into his side of the garage and lay against the back wall, looking out onto the pit-lane.

How was he this jealous of Lewis? He was a rookie. And besides, it wasn't like he actually had feelings for Y/n. She was just a journalist. He thought to himself for a moment and closed his eyes in defeat, cursing under his breath. He did like her. Now what?

#f1 blurb #f1 imagine #fernando alonso #f1 oneshot #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x oc #fernando alonso x y/n #fernando alonso imagine #fernando alonso imagines #fernando alonso blurb #fernando alonso oneshot

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sugarlywhispers · 9 months

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the fall | b.katsuki - prohero!reader goes undercover

☆– warnings; heart breaking ANGST, a bit of comfort, not a happy ending or well, it is, just not the one you expect, vulnerable!Bakugou Katsuki.

☆– a.n; i don’t know how many times i have deleted, rewritten, deleted again and rewritten again this piece lmao i consider it a win the fact that i just finished it xD also, i don't know if this will have a continuation… thou there’s a high chance that it does because i loved the way it ended lol enjoy <3

If Bakugou Katsuki could be properly honest he would openly admit that being a Pro Hero sucked , approximately eight times out of ten. Mostly it wasn't for the times injuries went worse than expected or felt worse as time progressed and the getting old finally settled in the bones. If he could be entirely open about it, the worst part was when a hero had to take undercover work.

Bakugou hates it. He hates it so much, he could quit. And that was a realization that unsettled him, because this was what he had dreamt about since he was a shitty brat kid: kick shitty villains asses from left to right.

But he got to actually accept and admit this particular annoying, and again, shitty fact, his resentment about that specific part of the job, when it was your turn. When you had to go undercover, and so deep into it, that it had been two years… two fucking years, since he got any news about you.

How fucking dared you. He was–is your best friend, right? Then why not send him even a simple 'I'm okay, still alive' message. Not even a quick phone call where he could at least hear your breathing; he would know it's you, because he knew everything about you. Well–not everything as he would like to. But he was your friend, you had confided in him plenty of times, you had been his partner since you were a little brat from UA doing your internship and he was the newbie Hero in charge of you. You have been through good and shit together. Was it too difficult to just let him know you were fine, fucking alive? Were your new surroundings too dangerous for you to not give any signs of life to any of your friends? If it was dangerous, why the fuck haven't him, or Red Riot or even shitty Deku, been sent to help you?!

Bakugou took another deep breath, face laying over the stinky bar table, hand holding a glass of something he couldn't fucking remember Ejirou said it was. Probably a shot of tequila with lemonade, given the strong flavor in his mouth. Fuck, he wished it was something way more stronger, like firewisky or some shit like that.

"Mina was right. You do look like trash," shitty hair smiled, knowingly and even mockingly at him, which infuriated Katsuki more.

"Shut up, ass." He wasn't drunk, but he wished he was. Katsuki couldn't get drunk because he had patrols to run that same night, he was not an irresponsible asshole, no matter what and no matter who.

But he did wish he could drink himself to sleep. He hadn't been sleeping quite well lately– or more like over two fucking years. Katsuki sighs. He knows he is exaggerating. He knows you. You don't need him to worry about you, you can definitely take care of yourself and he has witnessed how capable you are of it plenty of times already. Damn, you once even kicked his ass for being a jerk– he won't admit it, but that was the day he actually started seeing you more than just a friend. Coincidentally, it was three days before you had to go undercover. What a bitch of luck.

"Todoroki said they were going to scout some of us to go look after her," that brought Bakugou's attention back, sitting up straight and looking directly at his best friend's serious expression on his face.

"I'm in."

Kirishima sighs, "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Fuck you. I'm going..." Katsuki begins his protest but Ejirou doesn't let him continue.

"Katsuki!" Both friends look at each other's eyes for a moment without saying anything. Until Kirishima confirms out loud, "You love her."

The blond stays silent, not admitting or denying it, looking at his best friend's eyes that turned completely professional and determining.

"I will go." He presses firmly and with no room open for discussion, which makes Kirishima sigh.

The red head looks down at the glass he is holding with his drink, a cocktail that had a bit of ron and orange juice, as he plays for a moment with his fingers around it. He takes a sip of it, and after he puts the glass back on the table, he looks back at Katsuki's eyes and says, "I'm not here to invite you to go. I'm just being your fucking best friend in letting you know about this."

Bakugou growls looking elsewhere but his best friend, annoyed that he lost the discussion. He knows by Kirishima's stance and words he is not fucking going, and it innervates him.

He really doesn't want to think about it now. He doesn't want to think about you . He doesn't want to worry yet all he does is worry . For you. For your wellbeing. For the situations you probably have gone through, alone. Not with him around to take every blast he could for you. Not with him to kick some sense in that stubborn head of yours, and vice-versa.

Fuck. He worries so fucking much it is already affecting his head, his performance in battles, his everything. Katsuki had even taken more work than he should trying to keep his mind busy to not think about you.

Kirishima knows. He had known all the bullshit Katsuki was building up inside him for a while now. He always knew when something was off with his best friend. So he invited him to have some light drinks so they could talk a bit, even though that is the least thing Bakugou would ever do. Especially about his feelings. However, Kirishima knows. He has always known.

And he was not letting his friend alone to drown in his feelings.

Bakugou looks at his friend when he feels his hand grab his shoulder. The intensity in Ejirou's eyes makes Katsuki's throat tighten.

"I will bring her back."

"I'm-..."

The explosion makes the ground tremble, and it was enough to sober Bakugou and Kirishima up.

They don't hesitate to run out of the bar and towards the place where it came, where also everyone seemed to run away from. It took them less than three minutes to arrive and both of them sigh in relief when they see they aren't the only heroes at the scene, as even Deku was already there in his costume, holding at least four villains under him. Uravity was close, she had at least ten floating in the air with her Quirk, and was setting one by one on the ground again as another hero would catch and restrain them, before guiding them towards the police cars. The scene is pretty much under control, so that makes Katsuki relax a bit.

Ejirou moves to action, offering help wherever he could. Him and Katsuki walk towards Deku, helping him with the four under him that are struggling forcefully.

Deku smiles thankfully to his friends.

"There's the bitch," says the one Ejirou is holding from the back of his shirt.

"She's fucking dead," threatens the one Katsuki is holding, which makes him angrily manhandle the scum.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"Fuck you, hero!"

Katsuki doesn't have time nor the patience for this, so he doesn't care when he pushes the villain inside the car way more forcefully than he should.

Deku comes running to them as the cars take their way, and he says hopefully, "Have you seen Y/N?"

Katsuki's entire being ignites at the mention of your name. The thought of just seeing you again makes something move inside his gut that is annoyingly satisfying.

"She's back?" Katsuki hates how hopeful his own voice sounded.

"Y-yes?" Izuku frowns, "Wait, you didn't know?" He looks at both friends perplexed.

"Know what?" Ejirou asks this time.

Izuku sighs. "This villain group was a big one that settled in America, where Y/N went undercover. They were planning to attack this base intending to rob the machine that scientists were creating that apparently could send someone to the past. This group wanted to go back in time to erase the source of Quirks, so they could control everything."

An unpleasant chill went down Katsuki's back.

"Y/N has been undercover all this time, working and proving herself so she could get in… She even got in the higher ranks so they would trust her and she could fakely guide them here, where there's nothing but a handful of heroes hiding in this abandoned building ready to catch them."

Deku sounds proud, which Katsuki could comprehend. Not that he would admit that out loud. But wait, that means…

"How do you know this?"

"She hasn't been in contact directly with me, Kacchan, but my agency has been in this case since the beginning and there were loops where she could send information. She couldn't be close to anything or anyone from here or she could have been in a huge danger. But one of my sidekicks has also been undercover with her. He was the loop. From what he told us, she climbed very high; with a Quirk like hers, I'm not surprised she was the only strongest in there. I wonder if-..." Deku went on and on with his mumbling in fascination with Quirks.

Katsuki rolls his eyes. He really doesn't have time to listen to him. He wants to find you, so he simply walks away in search of you.

Two years. It had been two years.

He ends up running towards the entrance of the building, looking around, eyes searching desperately for a sight of you. Heroes and villains around made it a bit difficult, coming and going, running and catching.

Until he finally sees you at a distance.

You are standing there, on the side of the scene, watching as every villain gets taken by some hero and put into custody of the police. The wind around is making your hair float to the side. You have dyed its color, which makes Katsuki think that no matter the color, you still look beautiful. You are beautiful, end of sentence.

But the expression on your face isn't the one of a Hero enjoying victory.

The villains were shouting stuff, and it isn't until he actually pays attention to what they are saying that makes him groan in anger. Why? Because they were shouting swears and threats at you.

And you simply stand there, not responding and receiving everything they throw at you. That makes Katsuki frown. You have never been that cold, that quiet against villains. Where was your fire? Your hatred towards those scumbags-good-for-nothing?

But then your head faced forward, in the direction towards where he was standing. Bakugou's entire being is shaking in anticipation, hoping, thriving for this reunion. Then he sees your eyes. Eyes that were colder than ice. Eyes that showed only a glance of how broken your soul was. And it hurts Katsuki's own heart to see you like that.

Your eyes didn't seem to recognize him at first. Like you were seeing a very distant and almost forgotten thought, a memory that had been pushed to the deepest part of your mind and now just watching him made your brain hurt while trying to figure out the memory.

You then realize it's him , your eyebrows shooting up in surprise and you smile slightly. A smile that doesn't reach your eyes. It is the kind of smile that means "cool to see you, but not very happy about it".

Your eyes go back to the scene, smile wiped from your face and the stoic, cold expression back on your whole being.

"It's The Fall," Deku suddenly appeared next to Katsuki, making the blond jump a little, which he faked it like he was just changing the weight of his body from one foot to the other.

"The fucking what?" Katsuki asks, a bit pissed that he got caught off guard.

"The Fall. When heroes go undercover, they have to pretend to be somebody else," Katsuki rolls his eyes exasperated.

"I fucking know what undercover means, Deku."

"You're not listening, Kacchan!" Deku turns to him, looking quite serious. "The Fall happens when the hero has to return, has to stop pretending to be someone else. And then, they find themselves with the question of whether whomever they were pretending to be was their real self or not."

Katsuki gulps. "I didn't-..."

"Of course you didn't, Kacchan. You have always been you. Fight or die. Hell, I even didn't, because I have always only wanted to be a Hero. But not everyone-..."

"Oh fuck," the blond swears, finally realizing.

You are in a limbo. In trying to remember who you were, who you are and not; what you should do and not. The Fall was winning over you, as you suddenly moved to help a woman that apparently was on your villain team.

Katsuki doesn't waste time. He runs towards you, picking you up by the waist and walking away from the scene, towards the small alley next to the building, as Deku recaptures the other woman.

"Y/N!" He tries to reason with you as you start to kick him, arms and legs swinging in the air to try and catch him, hit him with all your might. "It's me! It's Bakugou! Katsuki!" You are screaming, not stopping to struggle, as he drags you away from everyone that could see.

"LET GO OF ME, YOU FUCKING HERO –..."

You stop every movement and scream as you realize what you just said. He finally gets to circle his arms around your chest, yours trapped under his big ones. Katsuki is breathing heavily. Fuck, he had forgotten how strong you could get.

"Hero," he repeats in your ear as you settle and relax a bit in his arms. Your back pressed to his chest, his arms holding you strongly. "I'm a Hero, Dynamight, Ground Zero," he said, "Great Explosion Murder God," he tries to joke, his throat tight and almost closed with emotions he was trying to hold back –this is not the moment for them–, saying whatever he could to help your memory remember him, "It's me, Y/N, Katsuki … Your 'Tsuki."

Sillence. Only your rapid intakes of breaths are heard between you two. Still, he doesn't dare to let you go. He feels like if he does, you will slip from in between his fingers like liquid, droplets of water impossible to tame or hold back. If he let you go, you are going to fucking disappear, like smoke impossible to catch, and fly very far away from him to never return.

Bakugou Katsuki is not willing to lose you again.

Your body starts to tremble as you sob, as you cry with all your might in Katsuki's arms. And his heart breaks for you.

"Shh , it's okay. I've got you, love. I'm here…" He soothes you, hands and arms holding you tight against his chest as you cry loudly. His hands start to caress the skin of your arms as he kept whispering into your ear.

Your cries are so intense and painful to hear for him, breaking every piece of his heart for you. He can feel your legs giving up, so he kneels with you on the dirty ground, not letting you go from his arms for even a second.

You suddenly turn in his arms, facing him. Yours surround Katsuki's neck and you hug him strongly, " Katsuki," you cry in his neck, and he wishes he was able to physically take the pain you're feeling right now and throw it very far away. Or even if he had the choice to trade it with you, he would. He would carry your pain, your sorrows, your everything, for you.

"I'm here. I'm here," he repeats as you cry, softly caressing your back with his hands.

Katsuki doesn't know how much time you waited there –now sitting on the ground, his back against a wall while you sat all curled up against his chest and in between his legs– but he notices everything is done and over when Deku peeks from a corner, holding his thumb up in sign that probably everyone had gone from the place. The blond nods, and Deku takes that as a sign that he could get close. His movements slow, careful to not startle you, put you still tense in Bakugou's arms when you hear footsteps.

"It's Izuku, love." Katsuki doesn't know where he learnt to be this careful and cozy with people, he thinks it's your fault. You have been the one who taught him so many things, that it actually doesn't surprise him when his big ass hands caress carefully and softly your head, reassuring you on that touch that it's okay to let go of him a bit. "Midoriya Izuku?" He tries his friend's real name, the one name he is sure you would be glad to hear–apart from his. But you simply respond by grabbing Katsuki harder, not letting go. "Hero Deku? Or… shitty Deku," he feels his chest puff in satisfaction when you try to hide your smile against his chest.

"Ha. Ha. Funny Kacchan…" Deku says, sitting on the ground right in front of you. Very different from you, Katsuki can not hide his own smile –not that he would even try to, which makes Deku roll his eyes and also smile. "How are you feeling, Y/N-chan?"

You exhale deeply; the long, tired sigh being answer enough, but you still say, "Like… all of this is a dream. Everything feels… surreal .” You gulp, finally pulling away a bit from Katsuki. He simply let you, hand still caressing your back in confort. “Like I’ll wake up any moment and be laying on the mattress on the floor in that one room apartment I live–used to… live.”

They both notice your slip as you frown and slide a hand through your lock in a clear frustrated sign.

“I don’t know… what’s fact and what’s fake anymore… I…” The tears fill your eyes once again, your hand now grabbing the beginning of your hair. Katsuki immediately grabs your wrist trying to make you let go. “I feel angry and sad… I feel devastated by what happened… But I also feel relief, and– I don’t know what’s the correct way to feel. I don’t fucking know who I am anymore!”

Katsuki hugs you again, rocking from side to side and hushing, whispering that everything is going to be okay.

He feels Izuku’s eyes on him, on both of you. And even if the fucker hasn’t said anything yet, Bakugou knows. FUCK. He fucking knows what his best friend is going to do. So he closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath. Fighting his own tears back.

But he can’t hold them longer after he opens them and sees Aizawa standing at a distance. Waiting patiently. Katsuki hugs you tighter.

“Y/N-chan…” Izuku says, his gloved hand pressing on your shoulder to get your attention. “You need help. Until everything settles back into you, you need someone that can help you with this. Do we agree?”

You nod, crying and sniffing as you pull away again, and this time is Katsuki’s turn to not want to let you go. His arms grab you stronger for a moment as he hides his face on your neck.

He doesn’t want to let you go. He just got you back. He has so much to say and do and prove. He doesn’t fucking want to let you go again.

Katsuki is in denial, he knows. And he also knows he is the most selfish bastard alive for not wanting to let you go so you can properly heal. But everything he has gone, without you, and now having a little taste of getting you back, whether that be even half of you… FUCK! He definitely sounds like the most egotistic, selfish motherfucker of all.

When he’s about to finally let you go, he feels your hand tangle in the back of his head in his hair. And when his eyes find yours, he sees it. He sees the need you have of him, the sadness, the joy, the kindness, everything… He sees the want, the care, the despair . So many emotions it’s even difficult for him to maintain eye contact.

And he sees it. The love…

“If there's something I haven’t forgotten is how I feel about you. But you don't deserve the me of right now…” He shakes his head in denial, his hands holding your face and cleaning your tears with his thumbs. “I will get better… I will come back for you.”

You smile at him, and a simple action hasn't hurt so much as this. Like someone stabbed him with a knife on his chest, right where his heart is. And he’s left there, bleeding towards his death as you caress his cheek delicately one more time and stand up and walk crying towards your old teacher.

Katsuki knows it is for your health and wellbeing, but who’s going to convince his heart that this isn’t again the last time he sees you? That you will come back, that you will look for him in your return.

He brings his knees towards his chest, arms hugging them and hiding his face there. And Katsuki cries. Like a child.

He feels Izuku’s movement to sit next to him as one of his arms surround his shoulder, and he has never been grateful enough to the nerd for being the fucking best friend he has ever had.

Bakugou Katsuki doesn’t look at you parting, walking away from him. He can’t.

But he wishes he had.

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