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viennakarma · 1 month

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My dearest friend and enemy

Part 1 | Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: You and Fernando always dreamed of the day you'd get into Formula 1. Unfortunately, the competition, the pride and the stubborness, get in the way of a beautiful friendship.

Word count: 7.8k

Tags: female!reader, driver reader, coming of age, ups and downs of a friendship, brocedes coded, very very angsty, cursing, anger, fights, overuse of flavio briatore as a plot device, lots of low blows, sprinkles of romance, kissing, making out, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Someone requested this, with this very detailed request, and it has consumed my every thought for the past week or two. I had to tweak some things from the request here and there, hope it's ok. It's heavily inspired by brocedes. Obviously we don't have all the facts with whatever happened to Lewis and Nico, but I have my own theories, that I tossed around this story here and there. (There is a lot of info that is wrong or inaccurate, I did this on purpose to fit my narrative, if you catch them, please ignore)

I'm sorry if it feels rushed, this was getting way too long and I just wanted to follow my heart. Feedback and opinions are appreciated xx

[If you have never listened to Tamino, or never heard this song, please do a favor to your brain and heart, and listen!]

Find me on Twitter!

PART 2 (END)

You wouldn’t cry. You wouldn’t cry.

You repeated those words to yourself as you stared at your fucked up kart, it wasn’t even starting. You didn’t have any more money to repair it, and if you didn’t, then you wouldn’t be able to keep going in the competition.

“Hey, are you alright kid?” Someone stopped you, and your tears fell down. You used the sleeve of your overalls to wipe your face.

“I won’t make it to the final round of the competition,” you pointed to your kart.

The boy knelt down beside you, taking a look at your kart. It was the first time you really looked at him. He was a bit older than you, probably two or three years, since you had seen him in the next category, and you knew he was one of the best from what you could see.

He walked away suddenly, but came back a minute later with a tool box. He knelt down and started tinkering with your kart.

“What- what are you doing?” You asked crouching beside him. He only hummed, seemingly concentrating on his work.

After a few minutes of silence, he asked you to test to see if it would work, and you started your kart, and it did work.

“Oh my god!” You smiled, leaving the kart, “how- how much does it cost?”

“Don’t worry, I wanted to help,” he shrugged, putting back his tools.

“Are you sure?” You asked again.

“Yes,” he stood up, and as his eyes found yours, shining under the sunlight, you smiled at each other.

“Thank you so much!” You said, offering a hand for him to shake.

“I’m Fernando,” he said, and as you said your name back, he smiled a little shyly and just said, “I know.”

“You know?” You whispered.

“Yeah. I’ve seen you in your kart. You’re good.”

You bashed under his praise, cheeks warming and stomach full of butterflies.

From then on, you and Fernando became friends, always meeting up in karting competitions, despite being usually in different categories, since he was a bit older than you. But you’d always be seen together on those occasions, or either of you on the stands, cheering for the other. Your parents knew you were close friends, and after a while, your parents would take turns at taking you two for competitions, usually going together.

You met again when you got to the Spanish Junior Championship, it was your first time at that competition and it would be Fernando’s third. Your rivalry was mostly playful in that competition, you were still the best of friends, even when you got close to his score, you still managed to leave the rivalry on the track. When it ended and you stared up at Fernando from the second place podium, you felt proud of him, happy even. You understood that he had more experience than you, winning that competition three times in a row, and you always would have next year to catch up to him.

That day when he took your hand to walk back to his dad, he held your hand tight. And when they dropped you off at home, you winked at him.

“I’ll catch you next year.” You walked to the door hearing him and José Luis laughing back in the car.

You didn’t manage to catch him next year. Fernando reached new heights as he moved up to world championships. Life took you apart, and without your greatest opponent in the championship, you took it home for three years in a row.

The next few years, you and Fernando were mostly apart. The distance was eating you thin, even when you two managed to talk for a couple of hours on the phone, or whenever he sent you letters talking about his biggest achievements. You still saw each other over summer and winter, which was what mostly kept your bond strong. You also managed to kart for fun sometimes, or go for ice cream, or just sit on the porch of your house, talking about life. You two always shared an ice cream on your birthdays, a tradition that was born ever since you were 13, and you and Fernando gathered together every coin you had to be able to buy one ice cream cone that you happily shared sitting on a sidewalk.

“We’ll make it to Formula 1 one day, Nena.”

You laughed. Despite being the greatest dream of them all, by that time, it had been twenty years since the last woman had been in a Formula 1 car, really competing. You wanted to, so bad, but you didn’t want to get any hope for it to be crushed later on.

“You, most likely, Nano. You’re brilliant, I’m sure you’re going to be a world champion one day,” you said, playful, “just don’t forget us peasants when you’re rich and famous.”

“You have too much faith in me, Nena,” he shook his head.

“No, I just know stuff. When you get your world championship, I hope you will hear my voice in your head telling you I told you so.”

He laughed it off.

Fernando extended you a bottle of cheap wine, it was his way of celebrating your 18th birthday, now you were of age. The wine warmed you up, leaving a pretty stain in both of your lips.

“What about that girl you liked? Are you dating her yet?” You asked to break the silence.

“No…” he shrugged then took the bottle from you to take a chug straight from it, “she’s not for me.”

“I’m sorry,” you said, even though he didn’t look particularly unhappy about it.

“Don’t be. It was just a silly crush,” his lips turned down, “The girls don’t find me attractive enough,” he shook his head, feeling shy for having this conversation with you, “and I don’t know, I’ve always been a little shy, I guess. I don’t have much experience in romance. None, if I’m being honest.”

“None?!” You sounded shocked at his lack of romance. He just shook his head.

At eighteen you had your fair share of teen love, having crushes here and there, sometimes even sharing kisses under the bleachers at school. Fernando was your best friend and you knew him like no one, and you could see that he was lonely and feeling embarrassed, up until that point, his life had been school, karting and work to fund his karting.

“Would you like to?” You asked, suddenly turning to him after drinking a sip of courage from the wine bottle.

“Like to what?” He frowned.

“To be kissed?” You whispered, and looked behind you, inside your house, where your parents were inside.

Your heart raced faster than you ever did, his pretty eyes looking for your face, trying to find any sign of joking, like you were just being silly. But you were serious, looking at his face intently. You were about to back pedal when he nodded softly.

“What-” his voice failed, and he gulped nervously, “what should I do?”

“Just follow my lead, and you will feel what to do,” you said, extending a hand and holding his face, “close your eyes.”

He did, and you just closed the distance quietly, but when you had barely touched his lips with yours, he bursted out laughing, leaning back. You also laughed at the strangeness of the situation.

“It’s ok, we don’t have to, Nano” you recovered, but he shook his head, giggling.

“No, sorry, sorry! You’re my favorite person, I trust you,” he sighed, closing his eyes again.

You held his face, trying to get closer again, and this time he let you. With a soft press, you pecked his lips for a couple of seconds. You felt butterflies in your stomach, and they pushed you to push into his lips, mouth opening a little and him following your lead. One of his hands found your face, and you deepened the kiss. He was inexperienced but surprisingly patient, letting you lead and slowly picking your pace and moves. Your kiss turned into an almost make out session, lasting long minutes, with Fernando getting the hang of it with every passing second. When you parted, his cheeks and lips were red, and you two smiled nervously at each other.

“Was that ok?” You asked, suddenly insecure.

“More than ok,” he whispered back, “I think we-”

A loud noise from inside your house made you two jump away from each other, and a second later, your mom’s voice boomed through the door, reminding you of your curfew, and checking your watch, you noticed it was almost eleven.

“Sorry, Nano. I have to go,” you stood up and he followed you.

“See you Saturday to go karting?” He asked just to confirm the plans you had made earlier.

“See you,” you waved awkwardly before sprinting inside your house.

Skipping to your room, you locked the door behind you and pressed a hand to your lips, still warm from kissing your best friend. Going to your window, you pulled on the curtains and watched through the gap as Fernando left, calmly walking down the street.

You never talked about it. And when you met again at the end of the week, none of you mentioned the kiss, things quickly went back to normal as you two pretended it never happened. Over a few months, your heart never let you forget about the kiss you shared with your best friend, and whenever you laid in bed to sleep, your mind would wander back to that specific night. You spent months building up the courage to confess you had feelings for him, and you wanted to be more than friends. Your choice was to tell him on his birthday, when you usually would go for a birthday ice cream.

“I need to tell you something-” You said at the same time he muttered, “Can I tell you something?”

“Go ahead,” he said, gesturing to you, but at that point, your bravery quickly faded.

“No, you first. You’re the birthday boy!”

“Uh, I’m dating a girl. I’m going to introduce her to you and my family at the birthday party tonight.”

That moment, with a smile frozen on your face, a small part of you was ripped forever. The excitement and fear of a young love turned into stone at the pit of your stomach. To this day, you don’t know how you managed to not burst into tears that very moment. Instead, you kept smiling, asking Fernando for more details so he could get distracted and not notice the pain in your eyes.

Managing to bury what you decided to call a silly teen infatuation after a few months, your friendship with Fernando became even stronger everyday that passed.

You made it to the international and European competitions, winning the former twice in a row, and the latter once. You were in the Euro Open when Fernando made it to Formula 1.

He told you personally, when he signed with Minardi, and you were so happy you jumped on his arms, hugging him tight and screaming.

“I told you! I told you!” You shouted, as he carried your feet from the floor, “My best friend is in Formula 1! Oh my god, Nano!” You let go of him, your smile barely fitting your face, “I’m gonna be insufferable! I’m claiming bragging rights right now!”

He only laughed at your happy ramble.

You balanced your competitions with working double shifts for almost two months, so you could afford to go to the Spanish Grand Prix the year of his Formula One debut. He didn’t win anything that year, but he still had your immense support every step of the way. When waves of self doubt came and left him shaken, you’d hug him and whisper softly how he was just a rookie, how he would still have time to prove himself.

“You’re gonna be one of the best there is, Nano.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”

He also would show you support whenever your schedule at the Euro Open didn’t coincide with his at Formula 1. It was one of the best feelings to get to the podium and see your best friend as you held the trophy. When you finally found him after the podium, he hugged you for a moment, commenting on his favorite moments from your race. As you stood, he gestured to someone, and a beautiful girl came closer.

“Nena, this is my girlfriend, Lucia,” he pointed. Your smile froze for a second. Another one, since the girl from last year couldn’t handle the distance of dating someone who was constantly traveling the world.

“It’s so nice to meet you!” You shook her hand, suddenly self conscious of your frizzy hair and sweat damp overalls. She was so pretty. So much prettier than you.

Lucia was pretty and kind, a little bit clingy, but she treated you very well, and wasn’t jealous of your friendship with Fernando, different from the last one. All your flings never went as far as becoming boyfriend or girlfriend, so you decided to focus more on racing and trying to make a name for yourself.

“Fernando,” you called one of the rare days you two were both free and could laze around, this time, sitting on the ground of the garden, staring at the clear sky and sharing a pint of ice cream.

“Hm?”

“I talked to your dad, and you’re going to be free the day of the last race of the Euro Open, so I was wondering if you will come to see me become the champion?” You turned to him, a smile adorning your face.

“Confident, are you?” He teased your certainty that you would win the competition.

“Not confident, just focused,” you corrected him, and started explaining the date of the race, but as you talked, his smile quickly faded and you stopped.

“I’m sorry, Nena. It’s Lucia’s graduation that day, I can’t miss it.”

You swallowed, thinking it would matter so much to you that he’d be there, but at the same time, you didn’t want to be selfish or make it seem like you’re competing with the girl he loved. You tried to disguise the disappointment in your face, but he noticed. At that point he knew you for half of your lives, he knew very well when you tried to mask your sadness. And unfortunately, he had been on the receiving end of that sad face one too many times.

“Oh,” you nodded, “Don’t worry, I totally understand.”

Fernando pressed his lips thin, your meek voice doing nothing to soothe the squeezing in his heart.

The day you won the Euro Open, you could barely contain your happiness as you stood on the podium, showing your trophy to your parents, who were watching you all emotional. As the podium ceremony finished, you walked back to your parents, your mom wiping her tears and your dad the happiest. Then, you finally noticed Fernando was with them.

“Nano!” You hugged him.

“Congratulations, champion!” He said. Your heart was so full you thought it would explode, so all you managed to say were two words.

“You came.”

“You called.”

Later you found out through your mom, who found out through Fernando’s mom, who found out from Fernando’s dad, that Fernando and Lucia had broken up. They said it was because of the distance and the relationship didn’t last more than seven months. You couldn’t blame her, you as his best friend barely saw him that year either.

You became a reserve driver for Renault in 2003, meeting Flavio Briatore yourself after you won the Formula 3000 two years in a row. You knew that, by that time, Fernando had ties with Flavio, but the man assured you it had nothing to do with Fernando, and everything to do with you being extremely talented.

Still, that same week you found Fernando, to inquire if he had anything to do with Flavio’s invitation, but he assured you that you’d achieved that with your own merit. The unexpected chance to race came when by the end of the following year, Fernando’s teammate was fired by the end of the season. So you had to replace him for the remaining three races of the season, the team fighting for P2 in the constructors championship. The first two races you went alright placing P7 and P5, but still not where you wanted to place.

“Hey, you’re doing great, Nena,” Fernando told you right before the race started. He knew you were upset, frustration practically emanating from your body.

“Not as great as I can do,” you shook your head.

“Just do your best, ignore everything else.”

You nodded, before closing your overalls and gettin ready to get in the car. That race, you and Fernando managed to race just like in your karting days, with a silent partnership never seen before coming from Fernando. You placed a 2-3 podium, him ahead of you.

When you got out of the car, you jumped straight into his arms, screaming and celebrating. Your first ever podium in Formula 1.

During post race interviews you accidentally let out to the media that you and Fernando were childhood best friends, which they took as a personal reason to go digging into your lives.

Next season, Flavio signed you with the team. But before anything, he sat you down for a talk. He explained how Fernando would be top priority this year, you were a rookie, and they would offer you all the support but you had to help Fernando first.

“You will gain experience, work together with your best friend, and we can achieve great things this year. And depending on how good of a performance you show this year, next year you will be able to race for the championship, yes?” Flavio explained.

And you were fine with that, Fernando would be the main priority while you took the year to get used to the car, to being in an entirely new category, while helping your best friend reach his peak. It was the dream, finally. It was the thing both of you had daydreamed together, nothing could get in the way of that.

So you did just that. You kept your head down, fighting fiercely against your rivals, and keeping yourself out of the way whenever you and Fernando were close in a race. Your time would come, as Flavio had promised. That season you managed good results in the points, and even got five podium finishes, which landed you fourth in the drivers’ championship and managed Renault to win the constructors.

That day in Interlagos, during the Brazilian Grand Prix, you woke up knowing Fernando would become world champion. You didn’t tell him to not put any more pressure on him. He only needed a podium to mathematically become the champion of the world.

He finished P3, and you finished P7. Seeing Fernando radiantly happy, dancing, shouting and jumping was etched forever in your brain as one of your happiest memories. The way he eventually found you, holding you firmly against him, the both of you crying happy tears became headlines all around the world.

“I told you, didn’t I?” You broke the hug so you could stare into his red rimmed eyes.

“You did. You’re right more often than not, I’ve come to realize.” He whispered. When someone tried to put a mic in your faces, Fernando pushed it away.

“This is your moment, go.” You gestured to the other side, where he had to go before the podium.

Looking up from the ground to Fernando, you were so happy you thought your heart would burst open. And you couldn’t wait for it to be your turn, to feel this happiness the other way around.

That night, you, Fernando and the entire team got ready to party, to celebrate his championship. You dressed up to the nines, putting makeup and spending a good half an hour styling your hair. When you left the elevator, meeting the whole team at the lobby, they shouted and whistled saying you were pretty. It made you a bit shy but you liked the attention.

You and Fernando danced and drank like crazy that night, going strong all the way into the morning. When the party ended and you two sat on your suite balcony, watching the sun rise, you bought out an ice cream pint you had kept in the room minibar.

“How do you feel, Mr. World Champion?” You sat cross legged in front of him.

“Like a dream come true, sometimes I don’t even believe it’s real,” he said, staring into the horizon.

“Remember when we would talk about this moment?” You took his hand in yours, as he nodded, “Wow. This is great. I’m so happy for you, and happy for fifteen year-old Nano, the bright eyed boy that fixed my kart charge free.”

It’s barely a second after you finished speaking that Fernando leaned into your space and just kissed your lips. It took you a second to understand what was going on, but when his hand found your hair, you reciprocated. His lips, that had been cold from the ice cream quickly became warm under your ministrations. You held his shoulders and let him pull you closer, until you were straddling his lap. The kiss was messy, all over the place, clanking lips, teeth and tongue. You moaned softly as he squeezed your ass, and you pulled his hair at the nape, grinding down on his lap, making him groan too.

“We should not,” he said, breaking the kiss. You nodded, panting.

“Yeah, totally, we-” you tried to speak but he nipped at your neck and you lost all train of thought.

“No, we won’t ruin-” he tried again but you pulled his hair, forcing his head up so you could kiss him.

“You’re right-” you muttered against his lips, right before smashing it when you kissed him again. You stayed there, kissing, making out like you were teenagers again, too scared to reach for each other's clothes and take the next step.

When the sun was fully up in the sky, and whatever was left of the ice cream had melted, your alarm rang, and you and Fernando parted. You were about to invite him to sleep with you for a few hours when he paused, his face worried. Fernando took one of your hands.

“This is a one time- thing, right?” He frowned, and you swallowed before nodding.

“Yes, of course.” You don’t correct him with memories of your eighteenth birthday.

“I just, I don’t want anything to ruin our friendship,” he stared at you, visibly scared for your friendship, and you didn’t have the heart to ask for more.

“It won’t ruin, I promise. If you want, we can forget it ever happened,” you said, hoping and praying he would change his mind. But he looked relieved at your words.

After he left, you sat down on the bed, disheartened, knowing that these scraps of affection would have to be stored in a safe spot inside your heart, and would be nothing more than memories, and what-ifs you’d only dare to look at late in your sleepless nights. You wondered how many times he would have to undervalue your romantic affections for you to understand he didn’t want you and never would. That was the second time you shared a moment, and the second time he had dismissed it. It’s not meant to be, you whispered to yourself.

When the new season started, you had gotten a grip over your feelings for him, focused on moving on. Being in love with your best friend for around a decade was pathetic enough.

Fernando was great during the start of the season, scoring two wins within the first three races. And despite not being the results you wanted, you placed top ten in all of them, even managing one podium finish.

When the fourth race came, though, it was when you and Fernando started to collapse. It was a very carefully plotted race for you and your team, and after managing your tyres with care, you didn’t have to pit twice. And you won, for the first time ever, you stood on the top of the podium. Unfortunately, Fernando didn’t get a podium. Holding your trophy, you looked down from the podium looking to your team, and searching for Fernando.

He wasn’t there, and your heart shattered a bit with his absence.

Maybe he had a problem and couldn’t be there for you. Maybe he was busy.

You went down to speak to the press, happily talking about strategies, how you and your team masterminded it, how you managed to preserve your tyres for longer than expected.

“How do you and Fernando manage to balance your friendship out of the track with the rivalry happening inside the track?” Someone asked. You were caught by surprise, taking a few seconds to actually compute the words he said.

“Well, I haven’t seen Fernando yet, but I believe he’d be happy for my good result as much as I’d be happy for him,” you told him, but immediately regretted it as the reporter had a gotcha expression on his face.

“Well, actually, this is what Fernando said a few minutes ago when he gave an interview-”

The man gave you a tape recorder attached to a pair of headphones, and your stomach filled with dread as he pressed rewind and play.

“Fernando, today’s win puts your best friend as a contender for the championship, what do you say?”

“Well, I believe she is talented, but too young and not yet ready to face me and actually compete for the championship.”

His voice was bitter, like he didn’t see you as nothing but a bug under his shoes. Instead of making you sad, it only left you seething in anger, but as you removed the headphones, you controlled the urge to smash the headphones on the nearest wall and smirked coldly to the camera that was waiting for your reaction.

“What do you think about Fernando saying you’re still not ready to become world champion?” The reporter urged, waiting for a beef that he would successfully get.

“Well, I guess he feels threatened by me, so I’ll take that as a compliment,” you shrugged, not caring about adding more fuel to the fire. If Fernando thought he could go running his mouth and you’d be fine or not jab him back, he was in for a surprise.

After wrapping up the interviews, you finally managed to go to your room and take a shower. You were getting ready to leave when Fernando found you again, walking into your room without bothering to knock. You didn’t even look at him, just kept packing your bag.

“Nena…”

“Don’t fucking talk to me,” you shook your head, holding on to the anger instead of allowing yourself to be sad. How he was able to ruin your first ever win in Formula 1, you couldn’t know.

“Nena, please, just-” He tried again, blocking your path to the door.

“No! Fuck you, Fernando!” You took a step back, letting your bag fall to the floor, an accusatory finger pointing to his face, “How dare you do this to me? You know how many times I cheered for you? How many times I wasn’t even on the podium and still, I was happy for you? Huh? I was there for you every step of the way, and you can’t be there for me once? Now you go out there and disregard my win in front of the whole world? What did I ever do to you for you to say that shit about me?” Your voice trembled, but you refused to cry in front of him, “I’d never do that to you, you selfish asshole.”

“I shouldn’t have said that, but I was pole and didn’t even manage to turn it into a podium? I was upset, the strategy fucked me up! I know I should not have said that! You’re right! I was selfish and an asshole-”

“Damn right you were!” You shouted, then picked up your bag, “I don’t want to see you right now.”

You walked past him, leaving at once.

That night, you went to celebrate with the team and without your teammate, you got pretty wasted, dancing and drinking like you had never done before. You refused to let yourself feel down because of Fernando’s big mouth. Dancing the night away, you didn’t stop even when people on the team asked you to, since you were getting out of hand. You were grinding on a stranger, dancing to reggaeton when you felt a hand on your arm.

“Let’s go,” the voice said and you turned, seeing Fernando in front of you. He looked like he was dressed in pajamas and hair all disheveled.

He was asleep when someone on the team called him because they wanted to leave and you were being difficult, so they hoped that your best friend could come pick you up and convince you to leave.

“Excuse me?!” You pulled your arm from him.

“We’re leaving!” Fernando said, pointing to where your team was, seeing it empty, “you’re not going to stay here alone.”

Begrudgingly, you let him lead you outside, one hand in your arm, and the other one on your back. You stumbled in your heels, and Fernando pressed you against the wall, kneeling to remove your shoes and help you walk better outside. Silently, he drove you back to the hotel, while you were with your arms crossed and sulking.

He walked you to your room, helping you change into pajamas, then tucked you into the bed. He stood there for a second, pushing your hair away from your face as you closed your eyes, letting his knuckles run over your cheek softly.

“I wish-” you mumbled, sleepy, “I wish you were happy for me.”

His eyes filled with tears, seeing just how awful he had been to you. A dream was coming true and all he could think of was himself.

“I am, Nena. I’m so happy for you,” He said, but you didn’t answer, already asleep, due to being tired from the race and heavily drunk.

You woke up with a pounding headache and a stomach churning hangover. Still, you showered, drank tea and got ready to go home. When Fernando knocked on the door of your hotel room later that day to apologize, you were already on a flight to Spain. Your birthday would be later that week and your family wanted to throw you a dinner party.

Your birthday was nice, despite obviously feeling Fernando’s absence.

You were sitting alone on the porch, after the party, when he showed up, late in the night. You didn’t say anything as he walked up to you.

“Peace offering?” Fernando showed you a small ice cream pint “I’m so sorry. I never meant to undermine you. I was a jerk, and you didn’t deserve any of it. I’m so, so sorry.”

You hesitated for a second, but his eyes were so gentle, remorseful, that you couldn’t help but give in. You jumped into his arms so suddenly he almost dropped the ice cream, but he managed to balance it and hug you back with the other arm.

“Happy birthday, Nena,” he whispered,

“Thank you,” you said, without letting him go, “I’m sorry too. I apologize for implying you felt threatened by me.”

“You should have called me worse things,” he whispered.

You ended up sharing the ice cream once again, talking about life.

Deep down, you hoped things would go back to normal, but a part of you knew that things would never be the same. You two were too much alike for anything to work. Too proud. Too stubborn. Too competitive. When you were good, it was great, but when you were mad, your words were daggers.

The both of you tried to stay normal the next couple of races, but it was strained, forced, especially when you were racing each other. You supposed Fernando was used to you backing down for him, since it was all you had done the year before when you were a rookie. But now you were used to the car, to explore all the possibilities while pushing your tyres to their maximum, while trying insane strategies and making it work. You were a risky driver, just like him, often seen as reckless.

All the while, the media started catching up to it. They went digging to find pictures of you and Fernando when you were kids, in karting and junior competitions, finding out people to interview, old classmates, people you two had met over the years, telling everyone about your close friendship, about you growing up together. Despite you both refusing to comment on your past, the journalists would always find a way to learn more and more about you.

Eventually, it got to your nerves, harsh words were often said whenever questions were thrown at you. You were in a press conference, where Fernando was also there along with a few other drivers.

“It is noticeable that you and Alonso’s driving style is very similar, would you say that he taught you everything you know?”

You didn’t like his tone, you hated whatever he was implying, not because of Fernando, but because it meant to reduce your efforts and abilities.

“No, Alonso has no part in my racing,” your tone was firm against the mic, and you could feel Fernando’s eyes on you, two chairs away on your left.

“But you grew up together?” The man insisted, and you loudly sighed, exhausted from everyone trying to make you talk about it all the time.

“And that doesn’t mean anything!” You said with gritted teeth.

There was a moment of silence right after your outburst, and you didn’t dare to look anywhere besides ahead. When the questions moved on to other drivers, you breathed again. Finally sparing a glance to Fernando, he only looked at you for a fleeting moment, but you knew him so well, you could recognize his teary eyes. Only then it dawned on you how badly you fucked up by insinuating he didn’t mean anything to you.

When the conference ended, you watched as Fernando left really quickly, not even looking in your direction. You ran, trying to find him, going to his room that was right beside yours.

“Fernando-” You walked inside, not even bothering to knock.

“So, our friendship means nothing!” He shook his head, looking disappointed.

“I didn’t mean it like that, Nano!”

“Now I’m Nano again?” He scoffed.

You wanted to cry and plead, to explain that you never meant it this way. You were just tired of people trying to attribute your success to others. You were tired of people comparing the two of you, and saying everything you were came from him, just because he joined the category five years before you.

“Fernando, please-”

“Leave.” His eyes were cold, almost detached when he pointed to the door.

“Please, Nano…” You whispered, feeling your own eyes welling up with tears. He just shook his head ‘no’ again.

You walked out quietly, not allowing your tears to fall down as you got into your room, inhaling and puffing your chest. You didn’t let up, trying to talk to him again, because it was just a misunderstanding.

Three days later, you tried to find him again, after the race ended, hoping he would have calmed down after a good result, a P2 in that race. You knocked on his door and entered. He was changing clothes as you walked in, he finished dressing a shirt.

“What?” He said, barely looking at you, as he sat down on the sofa, brushing his hair.

“I wanted to talk about what I said during-” your words were interrupted by a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Fernando said, and soon, two pretty girls walked in, wearing pretty dresses, one blonde and the other brunette, “pretty girls!”

You recognized they were grid girls, and they looked familiar from this weekend.

“Can we talk?” You said, trying to make him at least send the girls away for a moment.

“I’m listening,” he smirked, and you gulped as the blonde ran a hand up and down his chest. The brunette leaned into his ear with a seductive smile, whispering something.

“Fernando, please…” You asked again and he didn’t even look at you, laughing at something the girls whispered to him, “I’m sorry,” you whispered, before turning in your heels and leaving his room.

Shame and jealousy burned inside you.

He started giving you a silent treatment from then on and three races later, your silent strain came to a head, once again.

You were right behind him at the race, you P3 and him right ahead, but you had enough speed to outpace him soon, maybe a couple more laps and you’d equal him enough to try and overtake, you rode turn 2 smoothly, but as you two kept going, Fernando half a second in front of you, he suddenly hit the brakes, making you hit his rear.

“What the fuck? He brake tested me!” You shouted into the radio, reassessing, you gulped, noticing the damage to your front right tyre, “I’ve got damage!”

You called into the box to change your tyre, which fucked up your entire strategy, and made you go from the P3 to P9 in the grid. You managed to recover a little bit, but still ended P5 and out of the podium.

The rage was burning your chest as you went to the garage absolutely fuming. After all the podium proceedings and celebrations, you waited for Fernando, but he just walked past you without a care in the world. That made you even more pissed, and nobody managed to hold you when you tossed your helmet aside and marched up to him.

“That was really fucked up, Fernando!” You cut his path, making him stop short. Suddenly a bunch of people started gathering around you two, everyone ready for a show.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He shrugged, but you knew him like the palm of your own hand, and you knew that condescending smile he showed you.

“You are a fucking coward if you have to brake test me just to get a podium,” you said, venomous, feeling your dad trying to pull you away and dissipate the commotion. But you weren’t done, “you’re pathetic, Fernando.”

“That’s enough!” Your dad said, pulling you back.

“Or maybe you’re just not good enough, have you thought about that?” Fernando said back, and you jumped on him, trying to get close enough for violence, but your dad held your waist, removing your feet from the ground and pulling you back.

“Man up, Fernando! You fucking asshole!” You shouted as your dad dragged you back into the garage.

Your dad placed you inside your room, grabbing water so you could drink and calm down. When he turned back, a sob broke from your throat, and you covered your mouth with a hand, trying to muffle the sounds of your crying. You shook as you cried again, your dad hugging you close and murmuring to you to let it all out.

You never thought your friendship with Fernando would ever come to this. You weren’t even sure of how the buildup happened that led to this.

“I don’t recognize him anymore, Papá. I don’t recognize my best friend anymore,” you shook your head, your voice breaking in hiccups. You pressed the plant of your hand to your eyes to try and stop the tears falling down, but it was useless.

“It’s ok, bebé. You’re both hotheaded, you need to talk calmly, try and fix it.”

You didn’t try to talk to him. He was wrong when he brake tested you, and if he couldn’t apologize for that, and for the hurtful words he said, then it was better to stay that way.

It only got worse as the season went on, the team tried to force you to give him advantages, but you refused many times, making the competition for the World Drivers Championship be between the two of you.

“We need to talk,” Flavio called you a day after another one of your wins, one that Fernando placed third, one that he didn’t even look at your face when you were up there.

“What happened?” You sat down in front of him by the table.

“You have to follow team orders. When we say you have to switch places with Fernando, you switch. You are deliberately going against orders, what is going on? You and Fernando are now in a cold war, the media caught up, the other drivers caught up too, why-”

“Am I the only one getting lectured?” You crossed your arms, seeing Flavio getting red in the face, angry.

“No. I want answers from both of you, and the way you’re being aggressive with each other, we believe it’s better to talk to you separately,” Flavio sighed, “What is happening? Before it was interesting, a beautiful rivalry, but now you way past that. You’re harming your own races and the team.”

“You talk to Fernando. He thinks because I won’t back down he needs to use every dirty trick in the book to damage my race. If he can’t handle competition like an adult, then he shouldn’t be here.”

Suddenly, the door opened, which made you jump. Fernando walked inside, fuming.

“So that’s what you think of me?” He raised his voice.

“Yes, you have been acting like a fucking kid,” you stood up.

“Me? You told the whole world our friendship means nothing to you! Have you any idea how that made me feel?!” Fernando got closer.

“Do you know how many times people disdain my career to pin it to someone else? To attribute my successes to you, or to Flavio, or even my dad?! You’ve got no idea what it's like being a woman here!”

“Power got to your head! You think you have to walk all over everyone to get what you want!”

“Power?! Literally every man here does that! You do that too, Fernando!”

“Funny you say that since you wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for me!” He shouted, pointing a finger to the ground.

“Fernando, stop.” Flavio muttered, coming closer to where you were face to face with Fernando.

You frowned, your anger completely dissipated and what was left was dread. And a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

“What?” You hated how your voice was nothing more than a vulnerable whisper.

“Fernando, enough!” Flavio commanded out loud, gesturing with a hand.

“What do you mean, Fernando?!” You asked again, ignoring Flavio trying to pacify the fight.

“I was the one to ask Flavio to sponsor you. I asked him to take a shot and invest in your career!” Fernando’s words were poison and in his eyes you couldn’t see anything left of your former best friend.

“Is it true, Flavio?” You asked but your eyes never left Fernando’s.

“Yes, but if we calm down, we can talk like adults.”

You couldn’t even come up with words, speechless not only from what Fernando told you, but from the tone he used. It was like he had punched you straight in the gut. You couldn’t contain your tears anymore, the lump in your throat threatening to suffocate you. You wanted to jump on him, to push him to the ground and punch his face. You wanted to scream in his face and call him all the dirty names you could think of. You tried to hold onto the anger but your limbs were still, and the pain expanded inside you like wildfire. He had lied to you, in the biggest step of your career he had lied to you. Even when you pressed for answers, he lied straight to your face.

You stared into his eyes one last time. It was the first time he had seen you really cry. He had seen you teary eyed or even emotional before, but it was the first time he had seen you truly cry.

“You’re dead to me, Fernando.”

Was all you managed to rasp, fat tears streaming down your cheeks. Flavio called your name as you walked away, but you never looked back and didn’t stop until you were inside your car, wailing like a baby. You sobbed all the way back to the hotel. You cried as you packed your bags, and tried but failed to contain your tears all the way back home, until you were at your parents’ door, sobbing on their sofa.

They didn’t ask anything until a couple of hours later when you managed to stop crying.

“I hate Fernando, so much, Mamá,” you whispered.

“Honey, don’t say that. Don’t do or say something you might regret later on,” She told you. You shook your head.

“I’m done with him. Done.” You bit back a sob, “he was so cruel, you had to see it.”

“He’s your best friend, dear. I’m sure it will be alright later on.”

“You should’ve seen the hate in his eyes, I don’t know him anymore. That’s not my Nano.”

So, your racing career was a lie. You didn’t make it because of your talent or your efforts. You were in Formula 1 because of Fernando. That was the cruelest thing someone ever said to you, not only because he was mean in the way he said it, but because with a few words he diminished your entire career. And what could you come up with to contest? He was right. You would never be there without him.

You wanted to give up so badly at that moment. You wanted to stay home and never come back, but you knew you couldn’t, your sense of duty was loud and you had to make it work. You had to prove that you deserved your spot in Formula 1, that all of Flavio’s forced investment on you was worth it.

You had to prove to Fernando you were more than a friend he pitied, more than a charity case he took so he could throw it at your face later.

It was one of the hardest things to realize and accept, the fact that he wasn’t your friend anymore. Maybe he never was. Despite all the disagreements the past couple of years, and all the beautiful history you had before the pinnacle of motorsport, maybe he never saw you as a friend. You thought you’d never treat a friend the way he treated you.

So you had to prove Fernando wrong.

NOTE: If you want to be tagged on part 2, please let me know in the comments!

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #formula 1 #f1 fic #f1 #formula one #fernando alonso x you #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso #brocedes #Spotify

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feelingf1 · 8 months

Text

pretty isn’t pretty - daniel ricciardo

pairing: daniel ricciardo x female!reader

summary: you’ve started comparing yourself to the other wags, and now you’re starting to wonder, does daniel deserve someone better than you?

authors note: i am obsessed with this song. it’s not okay. this is also kinda short, sorry😭

enjoy!

—————

You collapsed onto your bed after an enjoyable but exhausting day. You had spent your day accompanying Daniel in the paddock on the last race of the season.

Because you were still mainly located in yours and Daniel’s home town, you didn’t often get the opportunity to travel so far to go and see him race, but you were glad you could.

You threw your outfit on the bench, putting on your comfy pajamas before making a call for room service and scrolling through your phone.

You opened up Instagram and saw that Carmen, George’s partner, had posted a picture of you, Lily, Isa and Charlotte.

You liked it, reposting it to your story, before checking the comment to see what people were saying.

That was your big mistake.

You opened a comment section to people slagging you off, for every reason they could.

“Y/N looks like she pulled that outfit out of her cousin’s closest”

“Jesus she could try and make some effort with her hair and makeup.”

“What?” You said to yourself. It hadn’t come to your attention before that people online didn’t really like you.

“She’s such a slag, sucking off Daniel for his money”

-> “Pity she wouldn’t use Daniel’s money to dress herself up a bit.”

“Daniel deserves way better than her.”

That last comment stuck with you. Your friends had always told you not to believe what the comments said. But surely if they’re all saying the same thing, they must be right?

You scrolled through the other photos the paparazzi had captured of all the other wags. Looking through them, you came to understand how you believed you were a lower standard compared to them.

They had the newest handbags, shoes, clothes, makeup. They had people dressing them up for this and every event they attended. They didn’t even had to think twice before flashing their card in a designer shop.

You, on the other hand, had to go to a thrift shop to buy the dress you wore so you could still afford your rent and bills at the end of the month. You used the drugstore makeup you had been using for years, as getting it done by somebody would cost too much, and you’d have to cut back on buying groceries.

How could you ever expect yourself to compare to these angels who had everything they could ever want? Of course, if you had asked Daniel, he would have bought you a brand new Louis Vuitton dress with a Gucci clutch bag just for today, but you prided yourself on not having to rely on your boyfriend for money. Maybe you prided yourself a little too much.

Tears started to fall from your eyes and down your cheeks. You couldn’t help but think you were and embarrassment to Daniel. That he only kept with you because he felt bad for you and your sad little life.

You headed to the bathroom to take off your makeup, so you could cry without looking like a panda. You stared in the mirror for a little too long, starting to point out imperfections that nobody else saw but you.

You started to cry again.

You crawled into the hotel bed, pulling the covers up over your head, and wept. You wept and wept until you felt empty. And then you came to a realization.

You had to break up with Daniel. You had to let him find someone better than you. Someone prettier, someone richer, someone who wouldn’t put shame on his name.

You were too busy crying to hear the sound of your hotel room door opening and closing. The second Daniel saw you upset, he rushed to your side.

“My love. What’s wrong?”

He pulled the covers down from your face gently, revealing your reddened cheeks and puffy eyes. A look of worry washed over his face.

“What’s happened?” He asked, softly.

You wiped your eyes in your hoodie sleeves and started at the ceiling, not even having it in you to look at his big, brown, beautiful eyes right now.

“We- we need to break up.” You croaked out.

Daniel’s face dropped. “What? Y/N, what the hell are you talking about.”

You brought your hands up to your eyes and started to cry tears you thought you didn’t have left. Daniel softly stroked your cheek in an attempt to calm you down.

“There’s- there’s just comments I saw online and they say how bad I look compared to the other girls.” You rambled out, still not able to look at him.

“Oh, doll.” He whispered.

“And one comment said that you deserve someone way better than me, which you do. I’m too ugly and poor to be with someone as good as you.”

Your breathing started to increase a little as you started to panic. Daniel pulled you into his arms, cradling you, as he rubbed soft circles on your back.

“Oh Y/N. You can’t listen to those silly little comments. I’m the one that’s lucky to have you.” He said, into your ear.

“But-” You went to argue but Daniel cut you off.

“No, listen. Y/N, I’m the luckiest person in the world to have somebody like you. Somebody so kind, so pretty, so smart, so sweet, so dedicated. You’re the prettiest girl in the whole entire world. Nobody compared to you, my love.”

He softly took ahold of your hands, removing them from your face.

“Let me see my beautiful lady.”

You smiled up at him. You were so lucky to have somebody like him. He really was one of a kind.

“Y/N, I love you.” He said.

Your face lit up, he said them. He really said those three beautiful words for the first time. Just when you thought you couldn’t love him more, he proved you wrong.

“I love you too, Daniel.”

He pulled you into a proper hugs and you stayed there for what felt like forever. You didn’t care, as long as you had Daniel, you could stay with him forever.

#Spotify #f1 #formula 1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #feelingf1 #daniel riccardo x reader #daniel riccardo imagine #daniel ricciardo #daniel ricciardo x you

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fluentmoviequoter · 30 days

Text

April Fools In Love

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!cop!reader

Summary: When Angela convinces you to prank Tim by pretending to leave him on April 1, you plan to get through the day quietly and then split your winnings with Tim. Then Wade assigns you and Tim to ride together, and the day is anything except quiet.

Warnings: discussion of bets (Angela and Nolan start it lol), angst, arguments, gunfire (no major character injuries), fluff

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

Masterlist | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

You know it won’t end well. But when Angela and Nolan bet you $100 each that you wouldn’t do it, what were you supposed to do? Say no? Besides, if it works (and you’re terrified it will), you and Tim will have over $1,000 to split. You just have to break his heart first.

When Tim gets out of bed before the sun comes up, you’re already awake. It seems like forever as you lay in bed and wait for him to leave. But, while you’re alone in the house and preparing to pull off the biggest April Fool’s Day prank of your life, you miss him. Angela’s genius idea to prank Tim by pretending to leave him was never a good idea but as the betting pool grew in the Mid-Wilshire station, you let the money convince you. Your heart and Tim’s are on the line, and you can only hope he knows you well enough by now to see what you’re doing and play along.

Once all your belongings are hidden in the spare closet and every trace of you is gone from Tim’s house, you leave a note on Tim’s nightstand and leave. You intend on returning, as long as Tim will let you by the end of the day. It was Nolan and Lucy’s idea to send you to Lucy’s apartment at the end of shift, the proverbial “cherry on top” to convince Tim that your relationship is truly over. As you walk to your car, anxiety builds in you, and you consider backing out. It would cost money but save your sanity and your relationship. So, you only have one question: What would Tim do? The answer comes to you immediately: lie to the bet makers and win even if you lose. Now, you just have to figure out how.

Entering roll call is everything you expected it would be. There are countless eyes on you, and your lack of greeting is what Nolan needs to know you’re going through with it.

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d do it,” he whispers from behind you. “No offense.”

“That is the least offensive thing you’ve ever said to me,” you answer quickly. “But just remember that you have to ride with me tomorrow, and anything that happens to me today is your fault.”

Nolan’s eyes widen before you turn in your seat. Breaking Tim’s heart will hurt, but yours is already fractured just from the idea. When Grey enters and gives assignments for the day, you hope that work will distract you for as long as possible. If Tim doesn’t find out until he gets off, you only have to lie to him and avoid him for a few hours before the day ends.

Wade says your name and the smile on his face concerns you. You take a deep breath before asking, “Yes, sir?”

“Bradford needs someone to ride with him today. Now, you can say no.”

You open your mouth to say no, but he raises a hand to stop you.

“Or,” Wade continues. “We can double the current pool if you say yes.”

“Double?” you repeat incredulously. “That’s-“

“Over three thousand dollars. At the moment.”

You stare at the board behind Wade before nodding. “Okay.”

The room erupts into cheers and yells, but you drop your head into your hands and ask yourself why you’re selling your heart for a few thousand dollars.

“Bradford’s waiting,” Wade says as the room silences again.

“I hate all of you,” you mumble as you exit.

“Yet you seem interested in our money!” Lucy calls behind you. “See you at home later!”

Tim is waiting by the war room, and he smiles when he sees you. You don’t return the smile, not because you’re mad at him, but because you’re worried about everything.

“Are you okay?” he asks as you approach him.

You nod, but Tim doesn’t move. “Can we go?” you ask.

Tim’s smile drops as he nods. You lead the way to the shop, and Tim’s eyes are on you the entire way. Once you’re in the car and all the cameras are on, you hope he’ll stop talking and leave everything alone, but you also know that won’t happen.

“Why are you out on patrol?” you ask.

“Looking for leads on a gun trafficking case. We’ve got a few buyers who either don’t know or won’t tell who’s running the operation,” Tim answers.

You hum and look out the windshield. The computer on the dashboard has a few possible suspects, and you keep an eye open for them. Los Angeles is big, so finding three low-level gun sellers (alleged gun sellers) won’t be particularly easy. The long day alone with Tim would be a reward any other day, but not today.

Lucy’s voice comes through the radio as she says your name. You reach for the channel to change it, but Tim’s brows furrow, and you stop.

“Are you sure about this?” Lucy asks. “I mean, of course, you’re welcome to stay with me, but maybe you should just talk to Tim.”

“About what?” Tim asks you.

“Nothing,” you answer quickly. It comes out short and harsh, and you decide to take your anger out on Lucy. “No personal lives on the radio, Chen,” you demand.

“I agree,” Wade adds. “But no one wants to see either of you hurt. You’re with Bradford all day, just talk to him.”

“I don’t have to because he can hear you,” you snap before switching the channel.

Tim drives a few blocks in silence. He glances over at you every time he has to stop.

“Are you going to ignore me all day?” Tim asks. “Because I can go back to the station and get someone else to come with me.”

“Your choice,” you reply.

“Okay,” Tim says. His hands grip the steering wheel tighter. “Are you staying with Lucy tonight?”

“I’m not talking about this right now, Sergeant Bradford. You are my superior and this doesn't seem appropriate,” you say.

Tim knows something is wrong; you won’t look at him, and your answers aren’t really answers. He pulls into an alley and switches off his body cam and the dash cam.

“Dispatch this is Bradford, switching radio off to approach the suspect. Will advise,” he radios.

“Copy, Bradford.”

Tim gestures toward your body cam, and you ask, “Why?”

He rolls his eyes and reaches across the console to pull the cam away from your chest. His hands are gentle on you, but he tosses the camera haphazardly onto the dash after switching it off.

“No cameras, no radios,” Tim says. “Now what is your problem?”

“Yeah, because I’m the one with a problem,” you reply, crossing your arms over your chest. “We’re supposed to be working, Tim. Drive.”

“Not until you tell me why you’re snapping at everyone. Being grumpy is kind of my thing.”

“Clearly,” you say with a chuckle.

“If you’re mad at me, just say it.”

“This is not the place or the time.”

“So, I’m just supposed to deal with this attitude all day?”

“I deal with yours.”

Tim rolls his eyes and leans back in his seat.

“I’m not staying with Lucy tonight. I’m staying with her until I can find my place, so you don’t have to deal with my attitude for much longer.”

Tim’s jaw unclenches as he looks at you. You’re looking down at your lap, but you can feel his eyes on you.

“What does that mean?” Tim asks quietly. His anger is gone; it disappeared when you said you weren’t going home with him... to him.

“I can’t keep doing this, Tim.” I can’t keep lying to you, is what you mean.

“Then don’t.” You shake your head, and Tim presses, “Don’t do this. Whatever happened, we can work through it, right?”

“Not right now.”

Tim falls silent and tears his eyes away from you. He can’t decide whether to be upset or angry, but he turns all of the cameras back on and shifts the car into reverse to back out of the alley. You snatch your body cam from the dash and put it back on, but you miss the feeling of Tim’s hands.

“If not now, when?” Tim asks as he stops at a red light.

“I don’t know,” you whisper. “Report.”

Tim glances over at you quickly, and when you move your fingers toward the radio, he realizes you’re talking to him as a cop, not as someone who loves him.

“Dispatch, I’m code 4,” he says quickly.

As you continue driving around Los Angeles, the minutes stretch into hours. Tim has stopped talking to you, and the radio has been quiet. Your fingers bounce against your thigh in rapid succession, and if something doesn’t happen soon, you may burst into tears and tell Tim everything.

“Bradford,” Angela radios, “switch to a private channel.”

He does, but when he pulls the radio to him, his movements make you flinch. “What?” he asks, his grumpiness returned in full.

“Are you alone?”

“No.”

“Okay, good.”

You hold your breath as you wait to hear what Angela will say next.

“We got a hit on one of your perps. Was seen near a cigar store somewhere off La Brea.”

“That’s not helpful, Lopez,” Tim snaps. “Anything else you can give me?”

“The Debonair Cigar Lounge,” you inform. “It’s on La Brea and there’s tons of reports of illegal back door sales. Nothing we’ve ever been able to prove.”

Tim nods and drops the radio.

“You seem in high spirits,” Lopez adds. “Your captain is waiting for your report.”

“10-4,” you radio.

✯✯✯✯✯

After a waste of time at the cigar lounge, you and Tim follow several more tips. The sun is going down and Tim’s shift is nearly over by the time you catch one that seems helpful.

“Don’t you need to get back to the station?” you ask. “We don’t have time to track this and for you to report to your captain.”

Tim ignores you and pulls into another alley. Why does LA have so many dirty alleys? And why are they Tim’s preferred argument location?

“You said it earlier, I’m your superior. If you’re not going to answer my questions, I’m not going to accept your advice,” Tim explains.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you argue. “Me not wanting to talk about our relationship issues in the shop is not the same as reminding you that you have other duties.”

“Oh, now they’re relationship issues. That sounds like talking about them.”

You tip your head back against the seat and sigh. Something moves in the alley, and you lean forward to watch for it.

“Just tell me what is bothering you!” Tim says. You don’t answer, too interested in what is or isn’t moving in the shadows, but Tim takes it as you voluntarily ignoring him. “Fine, you don’t want to talk? I can wait.”

“Bradford, drive,” you say quickly.

“No.”

“Tim!” you yell.

The worry in your voice causes Tim to look forward, and the man you’ve spent the day looking for is standing in the middle of the alley and pointing a gun at you.

“Get down,” Tim demands.

You lean toward him over the console as he jerks the gear shift down. Before he can move, the man starts shooting. Tim leans over you as he backs out of the alley. While he gets you to safety, you radio for backup. The car slides to a graceless stop as a bullet takes out the front tire on your side.

“I’m going to Lucy’s because I can’t stay with you tonight,” you admit.

Your voice is raised over the continued gunfire, but Tim’s face is pressed beside yours as he drapes his body over you. His protectiveness is one of many things that you love about him, and as you prepare to tell him the truth, you’re more grateful for it than ever.

“You’re leaving me?” Tim asks.

“Tim, what day is it?” you ask.

A bullet breaks your window, and Tim pulls himself tighter against you as he raises his gun toward the opening. The man is nearing you, and Tim waits for him to get close enough before rising up so he’s visible.

“April Fools,” Tim answers as he fires a single shot.

He leaves you alone in the shop as he runs to the downed gunman. The bullet hit his leg, far from fatal, and Tim cuffs him before putting pressure on the wound.

“I can’t believe you just broke up with me while we were being shot at,” Tim yells angrily.

He winks at you quickly, a nearly invisible movement. His jaw remains clenched, though, and you can’t tell if he’s mad at you or the man who tried to kill you.

“Bradford!” Angela yells as she exits her car. “What happened?”

Tim pushes the man toward another Metro officer and turns away from you.

“Plenty,” he answers before walking away. “Give her a ride.”

You lick your lips as you watch Tim leave with Metro.

“You told him?” Angela asks. “How did that go?”

“He seems mad,” you answer.

“This may be better than expected. I’m taking you to Lucy’s.”

“But I need to-“

“Grey knows,” Angela interrupts. “Let’s go.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“Just sit down,” Lucy pleads. “Tim cares and he’ll talk to you eventually.”

“I told Tim that I was leaving him when all I wanted to do was tell him I love him,” you point out. “I’m not going to sit down.”

Lucy sighs and turns away. She had enjoyed the idea before this moment, but now that you and Tim are both understandably miserable, it isn’t as much fun.

“Incoming,” Tamara whispers dramatically as she opens the door.

“Where’s your stuff?” Tim demands as he steps inside.

“Not with me,” you answer honestly.

“Then let’s go.”

“Where?”

Tim fixes his eyes on yours. There’s a storm in them, and it’s a dangerous one. You decide not to fight him and instead walk toward him.

“Hey, you can talk here,” Lucy offers.

Tim doesn’t reply as he closes the door behind him. You walk wordlessly beside him as he takes you to his truck. Once you’re inside, he runs his fingers through his short hair before hitting his open palm against the steering wheel.

“I know you pointed out that it’s April Fool’s Day,” he begins. “But when I get home and all of your stuff is gone, it’s a little hard to believe it’s a joke.”

You glance at the clock and see that there’s still a little over an hour left until midnight. If you want the money, you can’t do anything until then.

“I put it somewhere,” you say quietly. “Until I knew for sure what I was going to do.”

“Are you going to give me a real answer?”

You look at the clock again, but this time Tim follows your movement. He sits back in his seat and turns on the radio.

“I’ll wait,” he offers.

“Why?” you ask. “After everything I did this morning?”

“Lots of words for it: love, stupidity, obsession. Take your pick.”

“April Fool’s Day was more fun last year,” you mutter.

Tim smiles as he remembers; you had tried to convince everyone in Mid-Wilshire that you and Tim hated one another and that any memory that had otherwise was a figment of their imagination. When you got home that night, Tim kept up the act until you threatened to take Kojo in the divorce, and then you got the attention you’d been missing all day.

As the clock inches closer to midnight, you lean back as well and simply sit beside Tim. Your phone rings and you sigh when you see Angela’s name.

“Hello?” you answer.

“Where are you?” she asks.

“Outside Lucy’s apartment.”

“Is Tim still with you?”

“Why would Tim be with me?”

Tim shakes his head beside you, and you remember when he told you about the bet with Lucy when she tried to set him up and failed. You met the next day and then Tim won the bet, he had said.

“Are you planning to call him at midnight?” she asks.

“Yes! I have been lying to him all day, Angela, of course I’m going to call and tell him.”

Angela sighs, but it sounds funny.

“What?”

“He blew up on his Metro team. There’s a chance he may not be able to forgive you, or… won’t want to.”

You glance over at Tim, and he cocks his head at your furrowed brows.

“So, he’s really mad,” you repeat softly. “And my apologies won’t be good enough.”

“I don’t know that for sure!” Angela soothes.

What actually works to make you feel better is Tim’s hand taking yours. The clock changes, and you hang up. 12:00 am, April 2.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper.

The fear you’ve been pushing down all day appears as tears, and Tim cups your face to wipe them away.

“My stuff is in the guest room, but if you don’t want me to come back-“

Tim cuts you off with a kiss. He pulls you toward him as he leans over the console, but it’s uncomfortable, and he breaks the kiss quickly.

“Please tell me you won something for your success,” Tim says.

You smile and answer, “Nearly three and a half thousand dollars.”

Tim’s jaw drops as his hands drop to your shoulders.

“I was thinking we’d go see a Dodgers game, sit behind home plate. Or you can have it all since I did ruin your day.”

“Watching you get shot at ruined my day,” Tim corrects. “But as long as you go home with me, no harm, no foul.”

“I really am sorry. I do love you, and I’d never leave you like that.”

“I know,” Tim answers smugly. “I stopped by the house after you left, and Kojo led me straight to your stuff.

“You knew the whole time?!” you exclaim.

“I had an idea. Asked Grey to let me spend the day with you to see if I was right.”

“I felt terrible-“

“And you should have! Kojo and I will need lots of hugs and kisses to make up for the emotional distraught you put us through.”

You roll your eyes, and once you’re sandwiched between Tim and Kojo, they don’t seem to accept your apologies unless they’re punctuated with some type of physical affection. Tim also takes the opportunity to yell at everyone involved in the bet when he gets to work the following morning, but the promise of another night and a Dodgers game with you makes it worth it.

#hanna writes✯#tim bradford x reader #tim bradford fluff #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford fic #tim bradford the rookie #the rookie #the rookie abc #tim bradford #fem!reader #april fool's day #tim bradford x you

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sluttywonwoo · 4 months

Text

instead of you [part thirty-seven] || l.mh

pairing: [best friend’s brother] lee minho x college!reader ft. han jisung

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, alcohol, smut (18+ ; mdni)

word count: 3.1k

a/n: revamped my tom holland series from my main blog ( @wazzupmrstark ) to try and motivate myself to finish it!!

additional smut warnings: public-ish sex, fingering, oral (f receiving), switch!minho

“So, what movie are we seeing?” you asked, exhaling deeply to try and physically release the stress you’d been holding.

Minho pursed his lips, making you narrow your eyes in suspicion. “So the thing is, it’s not really a movie, movie.”

“Minho, what are we watching?”

He mumbled it. “A BTS concert from 2019.”

“You took me to see your own movie?”

“It’s what they were showing! I had nothing to do with it, like they’re in the middle of a marathon. Last week they showed one from 2018.”

“Seems awfully convenient,” you mused.

“Trust me, I know. I thought I was losing my mind when I looked at their website earlier. But I promise I had nothing to do with it. Apparently, they have a really big fanbase in Hawai’i. You really think I’m so tacky I’d take a date to my own gig?”

“No comment.”

“Listen, I wouldn’t have taken you to a K-pop thing if there was something else playing, but there’s only the one lot. The music is good, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Minhno smirked. “I do say so. I think you’ll like it, actually.”

“Oh, you do?”

“Yeah, I hear there’s someone very good-looking performing.”

You hummed thoughtfully. “Oh yeah, they’re supposed to be really handsome, right?”

“Fuck you.”

“I’d rather fuck you,” you quipped. He raised an eyebrow suggestively, making you laugh.

“What are we doing here, then?”

“We’re on our date!”

“But we could leave.”

“I can’t believe you’re trying to get into my pants on the first date,” you scoffed.

“I don’t have to try,” Minho pointed out. “I was already successful before our date. Many times, actually.”

“I was there, you don’t have to remind me.”

“Are you sure?”

You rolled your eyes through a grin. “Positive.”

“Alright, well let me know if you change your mind.”

“You’ll be the first to know,” you assured him, leaning over the center console to nudge his shoulder.

You stayed there, shoulders resting against each other. He looked over and smiled at you before reaching for your hand and taking it in his. He lifted his other hand to check his watch.

“The movie starts in about ten. I know they have a concession stand but if you want snacks you’ll probably have to be the one to get them. I can give you the money, obviously, I just can’t…”

“Leave the car,” you finished for him.

“Yeah, pretty much.”

“I’ll go see what they have,” you decided. Minho handed you his wallet but you didn’t take it. “It’s on me. You bought the movie tickets.”

“You know I’m in this movie, right? You don’t have to worry about splitting the cost of everything.”

“I know, just, let me do this.”

Minho held his hands up in surrender and pocketed his wallet. “Fine, fine. Can you get me a beer?”

“Sure. Any kind in particular?”

“Whatever they have is fine. I’m not picky.”

You nodded and stepped out of the car, smoothing your dress out in case it had ridden up. You stood on your tip toes and craned your neck to try and find the concession stand above all of the cars.

Luckily, there was a big neon sign that read CONCESSIONS with an arrow pointing to a kiosk that was presumably sitting underneath it.

You wove inefficiently through the parking lot over to the sign, sighing when you spotted the long line. It was moving pretty fast so you didn’t have to wait very long and by the time you made it to the front, you still hadn’t decided what to get.

The woman behind the counter looked bored and impatient so naturally, you panicked.

“Hi, um can I please get a medium popcorn and two Nerds Ropes?”

“Anything to drink?”

Your eyes flicked to the menu overhead but all of the options seemed to blend together in an unintelligible jumble. “Uh, a water bottle and a peach High Noon, please. And what kind of beer do you guys have?”

She listed off a handful. You chose the first one you recognized and hoped it was one Minho wouldn’t mind too much. You waited as she ID’ed you and rang you up, dropping a couple of bills in the tip jar when she handed you your change.

You had stupidly declined a tray so you had to very precariously carry everything back to the car in your arms. It was one of those establishments that took the caps off of bottled drinks and opened cans before you were allowed to leave the counter which meant you had to be extra careful with how you balanced things so that nothing would spill.

“You good?” Minho asked, watching you struggle with everything. “I’d help, but that would kind of defeat the purpose of not going to get the stuff in the first place.”

“I’m fine,” you insisted.

He didn’t look convinced but it wasn’t like he could do anything but watch so he didn’t comment further until you were seated again.

“What’d you end up getting?”

“Well, popcorn.”

“It’s not a movie without it.”

“Exactly,” you agreed and handed him the bucket. “And I got us a water to share and some Nerds Ropes, I hope you like those.”

“Love em.”

“And then I got myself a High Noon and I got you a Heineken. I’m sorry, I blanked when she told me all of the types of beer they served and chose the first one I knew.”

“It’s okay! I told you I’m not picky. Heinekens are fine, babe, thank you.”

“Are you sure?”

Minho chuckled and took a sip from the bottle as if to prove to you that he liked them. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t they be? Do you have something against Heinekins?”

You made a face. “Bad memories.”

“Mm, I see. In that case, I won’t offer you any.”

“Thank you. Did you want to try some of my drink?”

“Sure, what’d you say it was?”

You passed it to him. “A High Noon. Have you never had one?”

“No, I don’t usually go for seltzers.” You watched him take a sip, laughing when he made a similar face to the one you had made just a few moments prior. “Oh god, the bubbles hurt.”

“How big of a sip did you take?!”

“A regular-sized sip! The carbonation is just a lot!”

“You’re so dramatic. Beer is also carbonated!”

“Not that carbonated!”

You rolled your eyes. “You just enjoy your drink and I’ll enjoy mine.”

“Gladly.”

Just then, the parking lot’s overhead lights dimmed. The projector flickered to life, casting the station to which to tune your car’s radio. Minho fidgeted with the dial until it was tuned to the right frequency.

“Welcome to Aloha Drive-In’s adult-only feature film of the night! We have late-night showings for ages eighteen and up every weekday.”

“What makes it adults-only?” you asked aloud. “Is it actually a strip show or something?”

“They serve alcohol,” Minho explained. “Something with the licensing prevents them from offering it during regular showings.”

“Oh.”

“I can give one when we get back later, though.”

“Only if you sing the whole time.”

He grinned. “Name the song, I’ll do it.”

“Please stay in your car for the duration of the film unless you need the restroom or concessions. In case of emergency...”

You listened to the rest of the spiel in silence, snacking lightly on what you’d bought until the BigHit logo appeared on the screen.

You had to admit that it was a pretty good concert, even though you didn’t have a lot of context as to what was going on. It seemed like there were a lot of inside jokes between the artists and the fans that you were missing because you weren’t a fan.

Minho pointed himself out during each song, sometimes giving extra context to the performances, like how long rehearsals were for them or how they had to change the choreography because someone named J-hope didn’t like the way the formations looked.

You realized this was the first time you were seeing Minho dance. And he was good. You knew he wasn’t the focal point of the concert but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. He made all of the movements look so easy, so natural.

Out of the corner of your eye, you could see him watching you, gauging your reactions. You could tell he was pleased by how entranced you were and even though you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of ogling over him, it was impossible not to.

You were surprised by how many of the songs were... sexy. The subtitles didn’t translate the lyrics, only the dialogue, but from the dance moves, you got the feeling that they weren’t all PG.

“I thought you said this wasn’t a striptease,” you muttered, watching the dancers’ hips roll in time with the music.

Minho laughed. “We’re not stripping,” he insisted.

“You might as well be.”

“Just keep watching.”

You did, keeping your attention on on-screen Minho. The camera cut to him for a brief second as he had a moment with one of the members and you almost gasped out loud as he wrapped a hand around the older man’s neck. You shifted in your seat, squeezing your thighs together as the Minho on the screen squeezed Namjoon’s (?) throat. Minho’s gaze fell to your lap when he caught the movement of your legs.

“Are you cold?”

“Um, a little,” you lied.

You were in fact, not cold at all. You were actually feeling a little warm.

“Here,” Minho said, reaching behind him to grab something. It was a blanket, and he draped it over your legs. “Don’t worry, it’s not the same one from the beach.”

You nodded in appreciation, grateful that he had clarified that it was a clean blanket and not the one that had been laid down in the sand and had sex on top of from the night before.

Minho kept a hand on your thigh even after he’d situated the blanket on your lap.

“Warming you up,” he explained before you could ask.

You were a little suspicious of his true intentions but he wasn’t moving his hand and he had gone back to watching the movie so you let it go.

The snacks you bought lasted you throughout the majority of the film. Once you’d finished them, you put the candy wrappers in the empty popcorn bowl and placed it on the floor of the car so that you could lean across the center console and rest your head on Minho’s shoulder. He met you halfway to make it less uncomfortable for you. It was a little awkward, trying to position yourselves in a way that felt natural.

Your suspicions about Minho’s hand were of course proved correct when you felt it begin to inch upward. Your thighs parted automatically for him before you could process what was happening. It was pathetic how responsive your body was to him.

“I’ve been trying so hard not to stare at you all night,” he confessed. “Look so fucking pretty in this dress.”

“You should try harder,” you teased, reminding him of when you had to kick him under the table at dinner with his family.

“You’d be doing the same thing if you were in my shoes,” he insisted.

“No, because I have self-control.”

“Oh, really?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your panties.

You sucked in a breath, physically holding yourself back from arching into his touch.

“This isn’t affecting you at all?”

You shook your head. “Nope.”

“What about this?”

You knew he could feel how wet you were getting. It was pointless to lie. But even as he pulled your underwear to the side and teased you by putting the tip of his middle finger inside of you, you wouldn’t admit it.

“This is doing nothing for you?” Minho prodded, curling his finger in a little deeper.

You gasped and gripped the car door handle, nervously checking your surroundings to ensure you weren’t being watched. Minho had parked in the back of the lot so there was no one behind you. Everyone else seemed zoned in on the concert playing like they were supposed to be.

“I asked you a question,” he reminded you.

“Feeling nothing,” you lied.

Minho tongued his cheek in annoyance even though it was clear you were just fucking with him.

“You’re such a brat.”

“You already knew that.”

He sighed. “That’s true.”

You were both quiet for a couple of beats, letting the screams of the crowd fill the silence. Minho’s finger was still halfway inside of you under the blanket and your dress and you had to try very hard not to think about it.

Then, beside you, Minho laughed.

“What?” you mumbled absentmindedly, forcing yourself to keep staring at the screen.

“Watching me dance is making you clench around my finger.”

Your cheeks burned with embarrassment and you sunk down in your seat, which coincidentally pushed Minho’s finger deeper inside of you, making you whimper.

“It’s not my fault!” you cried before he could say anything. “Obviously I’m going to be turned on by seeing you move like that!”

“You don’t need to explain yourself,” he assured you, voice full of amusement. “I’m glad I can make you feel that way. Quite flattered, actually.”

“You’re such a dick.”

He leaned over to whisper in your ear even though you were sitting right next to each other and no one else could hear your conversation. “And I’ve heard I’ve got a pretty nice one too. What do you say we get out of here?”

You made it through most of the concert, you figured that might as well count as a whole date, right? It was the thought that counted. But you couldn’t find it in yourself to care either way as Minho’s tongue traced the outline of your cunt.

He was on his knees for you, holding you against the wall of his hotel room with your leg over his shoulder. You moaned softly and pulled at his hair, making him grunt into you.

He paused for a second. You assumed it was to catch his breath but then he started talking.

“I’m sorry we didn’t finish our date,” he murmured against your thigh, kissing it as further apology.

“No you’re not,” you laughed breathily. You knew there was nothing else he would rather be doing right now.

“I am,” he insisted, “I said I wanted to take you out on a real date, not just have sex, and I couldn’t even control myself for a few hours.”

“To be fair, we spent all day together,” you pointed out.

“You know what I meant,” he sighed.

“I know, and I believe you,” you said, ignoring Jisung’s words in the back of your mind. “It’s not like I didn’t want to do this too.” Minho pushed out his bottom lip, half pouting. “Do you want to stop?” you asked.

“No, of course not,” he answered immediately.

“Are you sure? We don’t have to keep going.”

Minho stood up and took your hand, pressing it against the bulge over his pants. “I don’t want to stop.”

You gulped. “Okay.”

He sank down to his knees again and lifted the skirt of your dress, motioning for you to hook your leg over his shoulder like you had earlier. You did, with a little noise of effort. You didn’t have the strength to stand on one foot for very long so you hoped Minho wouldn’t make you stay like that forever.

“Good girl,” he praised, making your knees even weaker than they already were. “Fuck, you’re dripping. I’m sorry, baby.”

You didn’t realize he meant literally until you felt his tongue on the inside of your thigh. You shivered as he traveled higher and higher, collecting your arousal on his taste buds. He reached the apex of your thigh and moaned, sucking hard at the place just below your hip to punctuate the feat.

“There we go. Wouldn’t want to make a mess on the hotel’s nice carpet, would we?” he asked breathlessly.

You wanted to roll your eyes at his excuse. “You can just say you’re addicted to my pussy, it’s okay.”

“Fine. I’m addicted to your pussy.”

His head disappeared beneath your dress for the third time, and he was back at it like he had to prove what he’d admitted to, something you both already knew to be true. You trembled, hands flying to the back of his head to push him further into you, and he mumbled something that sounded encouraging but was unintelligible.

You yelped as he pushed his tongue inside you, legs shaking. He lifted one of his hands and waved it in front of you, offering it for you to hold so that you could stabilize yourself... somewhat.

You took it and squeezed hard, earning another eager sound from Minho. Having his hand helped a little, but not enough to get you to relax enough to where you felt like you could cum without falling over and breaking something.

“I think-” you started, voice shaking, “I think I’m going to fall if you keep going.”

He resurfaced, looking a mix of disheveled and feral.

“Wanna sit on my face?”

“I’d rather sit on something else,” you quipped, yanking him up by the collar of his shirt.

He moved easily, despite him being much stronger than you. He simply wasn’t resisting. You pushed him onto the bed with one hand and climbed on top of him with a smirk. You hadn’t forgotten that he said he would be a good boy for you when you were at the movies earlier and you wondered just how far he was willing to actually take that.

You had dommed plenty of lovers in the past but you hadn’t tested those waters with Minho yet, although it seemed that he was more than willing to adapt to this change of pace. He was already gazing at you longingly with those big brown eyes of his, allowing you to pin him to the bed.

Your theory was all the more confirmed when he started talking.

“I didn’t make you cum yet, though,” Minho whined, suppressing a moan as you grinded against him.

“You’ll make me cum with your dick,” you assured him.

“I wanted to with my mouth!”

“You always want to with your mouth.”

“Yeah, because you taste so good when you cum,” he panted.

“If you want it that bad, you can eat me out after you fuck me.”

“But-”

“What happened to being a good boy?”

He went quiet at that and you were afraid you had misread the situation entirely until he let out a quiet, “sorry.”

“What was that?” you asked.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated, a little louder this time. “I’ll be good for you.”

You smiled and began to unbutton his shirt. “That’s what I like to hear.”

lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!

#instead of you stray kids #instead of you skz #iou stray kids #iou skz #stray kids smut #stray kids x reader #skz smut #skz x reader #lee know smut #lee know x reader #lee know x female reader #lee know x bi!reader #lee know series #stray kids series

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roses-r-rosie3 · 8 months

Text

Wallflower

Jason Todd x M!Reader

Warnings: sort of angst, but mostly fluff ig, mentions of a breakup, reader not taking care of themselves

Summary: After a tough breakup, the reader’s friends force him to go to a concert to make him feel a little better. But little would the reader know, he would meet the love of his life at that concert

Quote: “Have you ever had someone paint you before”

✁ - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Your now ex boyfriend broke up with you, for reasons you don’t know. But one thing both you and your friends knew, was that you were devastated. You wouldn’t leave your room for weeks and you refused to talk to anyone. You just laid in bed, thinking about what you did wrong, why would he breakup with you? Why? Why would this happen to you? You were lying in bed once again when you heard a knock on your door.

“Y/n? I’m worried for you, you haven’t left your room in god knows how long, I know you loved him, but you need to come out of there” your roommate said.

“Go away” you mumbled.

“Y/n, please, open the door” your roommate spoke softly.

You knew your roommate would bother you all day if you didn’t open the door, so you grumbled something before opening the door. When you did though, your roommate was there with her boyfriend, but they were dressed to go out.

“Ok y/n, we got tickets for a local band, including you, and you’re coming with us, I can’t stand to see you like this, so go get ready” your roommate said.

God you hated your roommate for this, she knew that if she bought a ticket for you, you would be forced to go, because you would’ve felt bad for making her spend her money on you, even if the tickets cost a few cents. So you finally took a shower after weeks of just staying in your room.

After you were done showering, you changed and walked out to your roommate and her boyfriend, who both looked like proud parents.

“Don’t you look handsome? Who knows you might meet someone new at the venue” your roommate winked.

When you guys finally arrived, you noticed that the venue was very small and the crowd was very small, but hey, what would you expect from a local band? You were still moody though, I mean you were being a third wheel just a few weeks after you and your ex broke up.

“Come on y/n! Turn your frown upside down and enjoy yourself!” Your roommate’s boyfriend smiled.

You faked a smile before your roommate handed you a beer and she started to talk to her boyfriend about the venue and the band. The band, in your opinion, wasn’t bad, but they weren’t anything special. They both tried to drag you into conversation, but you didn’t want to talk, you still wanted to sulk about your ex boyfriend, you missed him.

You quickly excused yourself to the restroom to sulk, but on your way there, a guy suddenly turned and spilled his beer over your shirt.

“Oh my god i’m so sorry I didn’t see you there” the guy apologized profusely as he tried wiping your shirt with a tissue he pulled from his pockets.

“It’s fine, I didn’t really like the shirt anyway, my ex boyfriend got it from me” you said, earning you a little chuckle from the other guy.

When you made eye contact with the guy, his eyes were like the warmest melty chocolate brown and his heavenly gaze made your cheeks feel hot. He was attractive in a way that you couldn’t describe, he was attractive in a way that was completely different to how you found your ex boyfriend attractive.

“My name’s Jason by the way” the guy smiled.

“Y/n” you smiled back.

“So what brings you here?” You asked.

“My brother’s dragged me along, but if I’m being honest the band isn’t exactly my style” Jason laughed.

“What about you?” He asked.

“My roommate and her boyfriend dragged me along” you said.

You two started to talk about life, and what your hobbies were, he said he liked reading and cooking, while you said you liked to paint a little, to which he said..

“Have you ever had someone paint you before” As he winked.

You could feel yourself burning, and it didn’t help that your roommate and her boyfriend mimicking bedroom activities from the other side of the venue.

“I think my siblings are waiting for me, but do you wanna take my number before I have to go?” Jason smirked.

You froze for a second before you realized what he said.

“Oh, yeah! Of course!” You stuttered.

“I can’t wait to started texting you” Jason winked before strutting back to his brother’s who were looking at you with mischievous looks on their faces.

When you got back to your roommate and her boyfriend, still in a love-drunk daze state.

“Aren’t you glad that you listened to us” your roommate smugly asked.

“Shut up” you mumbled.

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whatifyoulivelikethat · 8 months

Text

afterimage, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader

summary: Min Yoongi is afraid. Afraid to break down the wall between what I want to say and what I cannot say. How someone answers tells him a lot about he can trust them or not. He wants to trust the smile that breaks rules. He shouldn't, but he wants to.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; alcohol consumption; jaded views of the music industry; a layered conversation of worldviews, coping mechanisms, and overwhelming sexual tension; smut (fem reader, ripping stockings, heavy petting, fingering, very minor restraint, m-receiving oral, spit kink, penetrative sex); non-BTS!AU - solo music artist!long-haired!Yoongi x writer!reader; Yoongi’s POV

“What is something that you want to say but you cannot say?”

Those careful eyes surveyed him closely. After a moment, she answered with, “Just a game, right?”

He smiled. Tipped his half-full whiskey glass towards her. She didn’t have one. Nothing in front of her but the walls in her eyes to keep him out. Not complete darkness though. There was a door if he really looked deep into that stare. Locked. But a door was a door. Any door could always be unlocked.

She was inviting him to break in.

“Yeah. Play along.”

They sat on the floor, his smoked-glass-topped coffee table in between them. Everyone else was gone. Only them left, somehow. She had lingered for a beat and he had turned it into a melody. Sit down with me. The request was met with measured silence and sharpened obedience. No nervousness in the face of danger. He wondered if she would take his question seriously or if he would be disappointed once more. In hindsight, it was a silly worry. She was not the others.

Her eyes followed his whiskey glass.

Voice calm.

“People only like success when it comes from suffering. When you’re happy and successful, they hate you.”

Her lashes shifted and then she was directly watching him. Piercing. Daring him to back away. Daring him to run. He was not the type to run. The intensity in that gaze tempted him though. He took a sip instead, both to smooth over the shake in his hand and the sudden cold in his throat.

“What about you? What do you want to say, but cannot?”

Min Yoongi kept his smile on.

“I hate them,” he replied.

Her lips parted. Not really from what he said, but the venom and bitterness ravaging his otherwise even, mild tone.

“I fucking hate people.”

There had been so many here. Quite a number, right here in his home. People who called themselves ‘friend’ when they were around him. Oh, he used the word too. He used to avoid it, but no longer. That was the way it was in this industry. Friend. Friends help friends until money became much more important and then ‘friend’ became only a word. Money was always more important. If not money, then ego. If not ego, then…

“People pretend they like you but, if you watch their words, you will see how they love to slip in that one aspect where they think better than you. If they are not trying to make you feel inferior, then they think they can be the one to make you better.”

Those eyes were following him.

No.

Not following.

Already there.

“They think they know you,” she finished for him.

He raised the glass to keep something between him and her.

“Do you think you know me?”

A moment of silence and knowing.

“I thought I didn’t, but now I think I do.”

She must have wondered why she was here tonight. A celebration, but something she was only barely part of. He thought, too, that she shouldn’t be part of the guest list. But there had been some kind of mix up and he wasn’t the type to take back an invite. It was fine. One more person wouldn’t impact the cost that much. She came alone. Didn’t even drink. The reasoning behind this moment mattered little. What mattered was that it was happening.

What mattered was that he was afraid.

People avoided fear, pain, the unknown, but Min Yoongi was not people.

He lowered the glass and placed it on the coaster. “Tell me another thing you want to say. But can’t.”

She looked at the whiskey glass with a lack of whiskey. Lashes shifted and then back to him, half-smiling.

“Alcohol is an excuse to escape.”

He didn’t smile. “Or a way to cover up,” he added.

Half to full. “You don’t need to cover up.”

Yoongi didn’t mind lying a little to be polite. He didn’t mind putting on his best when he wasn’t feeling his best for the sake of not dragging down the mood. Yet, to himself, he did no such thing. He knew his tendency. He knew what he was doing to himself. He wasn’t sure he was going to do it, though, because he was afraid.

Fate implied nice things. The correct word was inevitable.

“Who said anything about me?”

She kept her smile and changed the subject. “Do you think creation only comes from suffering?”

He frowned.

“No.”

She nodded.

“Me neither.”

She leaned back. It was an invitation rather than a retreat.

“But no one ever praises it as the best work you have ever done either.”

Her dress shirt was crushed black velvet. Buttoned all the way up to her slim neck. He knew she wore a fitted miniskirt tonight, one with a silver zipper detail that stopped at the waistband. Sheer black stockings. Velvet heels that matched her top, currently lined up by the door. Small purse and long coat present on his sofa.

She would have to pass by him to retrieve them.

“Even if by technical means, it is the best work you have ever done. Even if it’s the most expansive personal exploration you have ever done. Even if you are proud of how far you have come. Lyrically, melodically, vocally. People don’t like it… as much. Not unless it comes from suffering. Then and only then do they eat it up, finding pleasure in devouring your pain.”

He tracked her with his eyes. “I didn’t say that.”

She didn’t smile. “You didn’t. I did.”

Yoongi was afraid to stand up and pour himself a little more. Not that he couldn’t take it. He could. It was the shimmering nervousness eating away at his limbs that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to reveal.

“I’ve gone on too long. Your turn. What do you want to say?” she asked.

Not yet.

He breathed out and answered.

“I knew from the moment I met you that you knew me.”

Her forearms leaned against the edge of the coffee table. One hand poised over the table, fingertips not quite touching the glass. No fingerprints. She humbly tilted her head. Visible puzzlement. “I only played a very small part in the marketing. Just the written portion. I was a little surprised that they wanted to have a separate position from the marketing director.”

“I made the request.”

His elbow was resting on his raised knee. Fingertips loosely on the rim of the glass. He wore a designer suit as the host and for the celebratory occasion. The honey-mocha-colored blazer was now draped over the back of the sofa, leaving him in the slacks and tan silk shirt. His black hair currently reached past his jaw. He had it half-tied back to look presentable. Now, he was wishing that he had taken out the hair tie to have this conversation. As if on cue, she swept back part of her long hair over her shoulder, exposing her right ear.

His eyes followed the action and then met up with hers.

Vigilant.

He raised his head. Instead of elaborating, he asked again.

“What can’t you say?”

The silence was loud.

“Everyone has an ulterior motive when they speak to me,” she murmured. Not quite looking at him. Lips barely moving. “Everyone plays nice but, in the end, everyone wants something.”

He had to remind himself to breathe. “Don’t you?”

Her gaze flickered back. “Don’t I what?”

“Want something.”

Pause.

“Want someone.”

She hummed softly.

“You don’t think I could have someone if I wanted them?”

There was an edge to her tone. She placed her elbows on the edge of the table and laced her fingers together. Almost rude, if Yoongi had been one to care about etiquette. She had beautiful hands. Hands that could tell stories.

“Or, rather, are you of the opinion that people are might to be kept? That I, as a woman, must desire to keep someone, hold them, and base my worth on whether or not I can keep them in my grasp?”

A faint smile.

Not a kind one.

He really needed that drink. Gripped the top of his glass.

“I want to keep someone,” Yoongi confessed softly. “Someone who knows me.”

He lowered his knee.

He got up, breaking their shared gaze. Walked over to the bar and poured himself a little more. Drank it slowly to savor the burn that always came with whiskey. And yet he continued to drink it. He wondered why she agreed. He wondered why the skittering in his veins wouldn’t go away. He wondered why he let himself be in this position.

He wasn’t one to build sandcastles.

Exhale.

Yoongi left the glass behind and turned back around.

She was still sitting on her side of the coffee table on the pillow he had provided. Relaxed shoulders, elegant legs together, had shifted her weight to her hip to be more comfortable. One of her elbows was still on the edge of his coffee table, hand hanging down. She had sensed that she was in his line of sight and turned her head. Lashes lowered. Lifting.

The faintest tick of her eyebrow.

His hands found their way to his pockets.

“You want to keep playing this game?” she asked him.

He tilted his head, looking down at her frame.

“I don’t think either of us were playing a game.”

Eyes back up.

Standstill.

He smiled. “You’re too blunt and honest to be afraid to say what you want to say.” He let out a sigh from tiredness that wasn’t physical. “Me, I’m restricted by my choice of profession. Expectations. Public image and shit. You never know what someone says behind your back. You never know what harmless thing you said comes back to bite you. You never know when friend become foe.”

She remained seated but there was no question that they were standing on the same playing field.

“Am I considered friend? Or foe?” she asked.

He still had a chance to end the night.

Could have right here.

Yoongi stepped forward. Closed the distance. Squatted down, hiking up his slacks and resting his elbows on his knees to be eye level. In his expensive designer clothes, this casual action was almost laughable. No one was laughing. They both knew the difference between appearance and true self. In his heart, he was still the young kid protecting a dream no one believed in. Now, people saw him as someone who achieved that dream. Someone who made it. Someone who had it all. Money, ego, and loneliness. He hesitated to keep anyone. Everyone wanted something. Couldn’t blame them for it. But.

The air was thin up high.

“You’re right.”

Something flickered in her eyes. He nodded.

Exhale.

“What you said about alcohol. I use it to escape. My thoughts, mostly,” he admitted. Tapped the side of his temple. “It’s a cage in here.” Pointed to the window, to outside. “A cage out there. Good or bad, expectations are a cage that fuck with your head. A cage to keep you in the dark.” He gave her a wan smile. An honest one. “You can still find light in the dark, even if you’re caged. You just have to let go. I learned to let go. People liked that… but not as much.”

She nodded. Didn’t reply. Nothing to reply to. He continued as he watched her eyes.

“But you don’t drink alcohol.”

There was something in there. Even in the shadows of the low lighting, he could see them.

“You are not trying to escape. You actively rebel against the cage of expectations. You don’t look for the light.”

Sparks.

“You are your own light.”

The corner of her lips rose.

“There’s more than one way to escape.”

There was gravity here. Telepathy. Inevitability. He lowered one of his knees, leaning in slightly. Her eyes followed his hands, then back up to his face. Yoongi knew he shouldn’t. He was someone and people were dangerous. Her hand raised, resting on her chest. Her fingers slid across black velvet. Tracing the button placket. Just because they were alone didn’t mean that this moment would stay alone. He knew that. She could hurt the life he had made for himself. He was afraid, yes.

But not intimidated.

She leaned forward. The scent of musky warmth, somewhere between blessed fruit and wicked temptation. He breathed in, keeping his gaze torso up.

“I don’t let people project their expectations on me,” she finally said. “The world demands. I question it and it seen as resistance. Insolence. People judge you solely on their moral compass that you had no say in. If they find a flaw in you, it is always on their terms.” She shook her head. “No. I will not live by their compass or on their terms. I choose what possesses me. I choose what makes me and what is left behind.”

His eyes followed the shape of her lips.

“I create my afterimage.”

He knew from the moment that they met that her hands could tell stories. He wondered what else they could do.

Wondered if they could make him fall apart too.

“Do you ever lie?” Yoongi asked.

She answered honestly and with a kind smile.

“Everybody lies.”

Lowered her hand from her chest. Placed the other on the floor. The distance between them was respectful but their shared gaze was closer than close. It wasn’t what was said that revealed the most. It was the words unsaid that revealed all. Her eyes tracked his. He followed the path created. He could blame the whiskey but that would be discourteous to the moment, to the feeling, to her. She sat up, to her knees. Stance no longer relaxed.

Now they were both on their knees.

Her whisper set his world on fire.

“Something you want to say, but cannot say?”

He held the tremble of his breath and now he couldn’t breathe.

“I really hope your method of escapism is what I think it is,” he replied.

That spark in her eyes gleamed. She moved her hands from her lap to behind her back. He could see the edges of her fingertips wrapped around her elbows. Yoongi recognized this feeling. It was the same exhilaration he felt when the melody and lyrics hit that sweet spot of the soul, the instant he knew he had gotten it right, the moment of a song becoming more than just sound.

“You can say it,” she urged gently. “I am not ashamed.”

He felt the side of his lips rise.

“I shouldn’t use sex as escapism.”

The tip of her pink tongue traced the edge of her smirk. A soft sigh, and she tipped her head back, exposing her neck. Her hair slipped along the line of her shoulders, framing her face. Downcast gaze. Then, a shift. Sensuality and sharpness.

No obedience.

“Good thing I don’t abide by your rules.”

The door was open.

He let his gaze linger on her face for a moment. Then, down. Down. The silver zipper was to the side of the skirt, along the center of her upper left thigh. Instead of zipping downward, it unzipped upward, towards the waistband. Decorative and functional. Sitting for a period of time had caused the article of clothing to hike up. Previously, Yoongi had never allowed himself to even consider it. Too dangerous to be disrespectful when others’ eyes were watching, and he had no desire to torture himself with impossibilities. But that was the past.

And this was the present.

He looked back up to watch her reaction.

Reached forward.

She kept her hands behind her back and her knees together.

Yoongi gripped the zipper pull and pushed the slider up her thigh.

The sound of metal teeth teasing apart. Then resistance. The delicate evisceration of fragile threads being torn apart. Obvious destruction. He could hear it. She could feel it. He saw himself in the shadows of her eyes as her stockings ripped from being caught in the skirt zipper. He didn’t look down. She didn’t stop him. Up. He had to scoot closer. She did not flinch. He hit the end of the tape.

He let go.

So close that their breath was mixing now.

His fingertip traced the rips, grazing over soft flesh threatening to spill out.

“I apologize. I’ll pay for it,” he murmured.

An open-mouthed smirk.

“For what?”

The zipper ended all the way up past her hip.

“Nothing is happening here.”

Then she raised herself, spreading her knees. Her skirt split apart further. Her hand raised, cradling his jaw for a split second before she leaned in and claimed his lips.

A kiss was evidence to intention. A kiss could reveal when someone wanted to be liked, when someone was trying to impress, when someone was desperate to be loved. A kiss showed Yoongi who meant well and who was selfish. Soft, insistent, angling her head to deepen the taste. She kissed with intent to bed him. With intent to feel him and his heart.

With nothing to hide.

He matched her intent, burning in it.

Hot and low, she whispered into his mouth.

“Rip it.”

He curled his fingers under the thin nylon. Soft, smooth skin under his knuckles. Tension in his grip and in the electrified air between their lidded eyes. Centimeters between them that felt like nothing. Her sweetness and resolve tingled against his lips. He pulled. Her breath stilled in her throat. The tearing sound was violence in the silence. He dug his fingers into the stockings, creating more holes, shredding them. Her fingertips by his ear pressed inward. Breath shallowing. His free hand settled on her other thigh with the stocking still intact. Slid up, stopping at the raised hem of her skirt.

His murmur shaking as he spoke.

“You wanna fuck me.”

He could feel his pulse thundering in his ears. Her touch left trails of goosebumps.

She promised with a question.

“Who doesn’t?”

His fingers danced up, up, tearing holes with his nails. The ghost of pain flitted over her features, but there was no fear. She closed her eyes, shuddering. Her fingers stopped at his hair tie. Lips to lips again, and he felt her other hand rise, steadying against his temple and tugging his hair free as he ripped her stockings apart. Pressure and breath and lust. Tongue against tongue. A curtain of black cascading around their faces, his long hair falling forward, and then they were closer, knees to knees, his hands on her thighs.

Squeezing.

Her hands in his hair, tangled into the darkness.

Every kiss made him want more, more.

Her hands tumbled out of his hair and slid past his shoulders, fanning over his back.

His fingertip outlined the center seam. Pressed down on it. Followed the dip down. She sucked in a breath from his throat, stealing it from him. The heat pooled in his core. A shared throb. His teeth caught the edge of his lips. A nick of pain. Her arms around his neck, and they were eye-to-eye, on their knees, saying nothing and feeling everything, his touch tracing her covered slit and her fingers twisting into his silk shirt, clutching fistfuls. He wondered why she didn’t touch him.

One look into her eyes and Yoongi knew why.

There was dampness. He pressed deeper. She spread her knees more, stretching the rips and making them worse. He hooked a finger along one. Guided the tear. Had a destination in mind. Dug his knuckle into soaked fabric. Her eyes slid shut. Shuddering breath. Hips rolling towards him. The uncomfortable strain traveled up his torso. He pulled his other hand on her thigh back, his jaw clenching as he adjusted himself.

A faint smile lingered on her lips.

No need for words. That was enough of a response.

He placed his palm back on her thigh and grinded circles along the top of her pussy.

Her lips parted, exhaling a lustful breath.

The slinky material of her panties molded to her folds. He ran his fingertips along her covered clit, pressing the thin fabric taut, drenching it with her slick. Heavy sweetness mixed with her decadent perfume and his fresh cologne. He pushed the pantyhose seam out of the way. Rubbed steadily, building the pace, gripping her thigh and feeling his own cock swell with carnal want.

“Take more.”

Her whisper dark and forceful. Two minds on the same one-track wavelength. Her eyes opened ever-so-slightly. Teasing gaze.

“Put your fingers in me.”

His fingernail followed the edge. Pulled back, sucking in a breath as the scent of sex strengthened. He met her stare with his own desire, into her eyes and bathed the light of the open door within them, suddenly feeling unashamed, unafraid, no longer any need to cover up, sliding two fingers into warm, tight heat.

Fuck.

Her eyelids fluttered. Tip of her pink tongue wetting her lower lip. He curled his fingers inward. She shook her head and he straightened them at the wordless instruction. Deeper, all the way to his knuckles. Her inner walls clamped around him. He pressed his thumb at the top of her pussy, using the pad to flare open the folds, finding what he was looking for when she softly moaned, right in his face, feathery breath washing over his lips.

She started the pace, hips rocking, her arms around his neck. She didn’t break eye contact. Neither did he. Slid his fingers out and then pushed back in, answering her want. Answering her force with his force, speed with her speed. Breathing quickening, the haze creeping into her eyes, and he pushed for the edge, tightening his jaw as he felt her pussy shiver around his fingers. Moved his grip from her thigh, finding himself unable to control his strength and instead turning it towards himself.

“Yoongi…”

He pressed his palm against his throbbing erection, wincing as the aching pleasure strummed up his torso. Even this faint stimulation was making him heady. Deeper. No sound but sloppy wet smacks and ragged breathing, stroking himself through his slacks and driving his fingers forward, tension at his fingertips and pulsing from her to him. Skin hot, muscles tense, staring at her parted lips and listening to the melody of her moan.

Yoongi leaned forward and kissed her as she came onto his hand.

Her nails twisted into the beige silk, raking along his shoulder blades, and he needed them on his fucking skin. He could feel her inner walls shiver violently, sweet honey seeping down his palm and sticking to his knuckles, and that shiver traveled through his nerves and up his arm, all the way to his head and scattering his better judgement.

Shouldn’t.

The kiss broke.

He pulled his hand away, breathing hard.

She lowered one hand and took his wrist, raising the mess to his lips.

All societal rules forgotten under the influence of complementing lust.

He curled his tongue around his middle finger. The taste was distinct and spread over his tongue, staining it with lustful memory. He watched her smile as his lips closed around his own fingers. Sweet with a hint of sour, stronger and more impactful than any other. The taste of her cum remained even after he pulled his fingers out and leaned in to kiss her once more.

A shared tension, and yet.

She broke the kiss. Shaking air, layers and heat and the gravity of the situation sinking in. She breathed against his lips, not looking at him.

“I… I can…”

He interrupted.

“Come closer.”

Wound his arm around her waist. Body to body. Her arms shifted, and he caught her left wrist with his left hand, pinning it to her lower back. She glanced up at him, curious. He looked back, strands of black clouding the edges of his vision. A second of connected eyes and his free hand hovering by her hip, debating on whether or not to say what he wanted to say.

“I can’t have you touching me yet,” he finally let himself admit. “Still afraid of your effect on me.”

His fingers danced along the curve. His eyes on her lips, remembering their softness against his.

“Let me give you one more orgasm.”

The edge of her mouth curved upwards. “Can’t refuse that, can I?”

Yoongi lowered his head. Nearly forehead to forehead. More than just give some, get some. Saturated scents, her and him, tension racing, his fingers slipping downward. Held breath, leaning against him. His knees against the hardwood were killing him. He didn’t care. Traced her slit, trembling at the smooth wetness. Pressing, coaxing, his lips to her jaw, following the lines. At first only the ghost of a touch, then harder. Kisses to tongue. Slow strokes to gentle circles. The experiment of teeth in the pocket of her neck and under her ear. Her free hand gripped his shirt, yanking him closer, her head tipping back, giving him more access.

The quiet breathing turned into breathy moans.

He set skin alight with his mouth. He knew how much pressure to apply so it wouldn’t leave a lasting or obvious mark. He noted the flinches of when he hit a particularly sensitive spot and paired it with the movement of his fingers, amplifying the pleasure. Slid two fingers in but didn’t move them. Only to provide fullness and feel her walls constrict and shiver. Built up the pace, kept it consistent.

Tightened his grip on her wrist.

Her hand let go of his silk shirt.

He clenched his jaw as her palm covered his clothed cock, her fingertips pressing into the fabric.

Raised his head. Found her eyes and they were already on him. It was not an easy angle nor convenient, but she didn’t stop and he couldn’t find the words to resist, seeping pleasure snaking through his core and down his thighs, face to face, unavoidable, her juices seeping down his fingers and her throbbing pulse at his fingertips, closer, harder, faster. Her low moan drifting into his open mouth, closing his eyes as the tingling sensations clawed up his back and head, desire aflame.

Her name falling from his lips in a rasp.

He knew she was watching him and he knew she saw all of him in this moment.

Then she came apart in his hands with a sigh, leaning her forehead against him, a smile with a bitten lip, pussy shuddering and thrusting her hips into his hand, taking him down, down with the racing rhythm and overwhelming shivers. Colliding, lips to lips, hunger, her hand gripping his thigh.

Creating a craving.

He shouldn’t have but he had no intention of stopping here.

She unzipped her skirt as she stood up. Pushed it down. It fell to the floor with a clatter. Crushed velvet skirt, ripped stockings, hair messy and tumbling over her left shoulder, pausing as she realized he was taking in all the details. She took him in too. Ceased silk. The thin fabric of his slacks that did nothing to hide his erection. His previously neat black hair now a sweeping mess over his cheeks.

Small smile.

“Still afraid?” she asked, knowing the answer.

He began to unbutton his shirt.

“No.”

Emotions of this caliber made him more attentive. More aware of the moment. Not a source for inaction but a reason for action, the reason to take her hand and hold it tight. There was no reason to hide now. It meant more to be in the present. Out of his head and into the insistence of hands fanning over bodies on the walk to the bedroom and into the hunger in catching lips between breaths. The aftermath was for the future.

Red knees.

Tangled arms.

They fell onto the bed and he let her hands tell a story.

They were warm. Exploring his skin with softness and hardness. Delicate pads across his collarbone. Digging fingernails dragged down his back. Followed his lines and pressed her lips to the inflamed skin, searing it with lustful fire. He sank his fingers into her thighs, then up her ass. Fanned over her back, gasping. Lips down his torso making an invisible path of kisses. The faintest touch on her shoulders and then gliding into her hair, pushing it out of the way as her mouth covered him.

Tongue around his hard length, dripping saliva.

Molded the wet muscle to the underside of his cock and applied varying pressure as he slid in and out of her mouth. Her hands spread over his hips, decorating him, running the sensitive head along the roof of her mouth and then back into the tightness of her throat, relaxing around him to press just a little deeper.

He gripped her hair harder.

Deep. Steady, flaring her tongue along the base of the head and making him twitch from the added burst of pleasure. His chest felt tight, trembling. Her hands pressed him into the mattress, not letting him escape, forcing him to feel it all. Eyelids fluttering from the brutal bliss. Skin prickling, unable to contain the overwhelm. Up and down, her hair spilling over his thighs, wet, constricting, the tips of her fingernails indenting his skin, closer, his lips parting.

A rough groan.

The precise sting of the high shooting through him and his palm pushed down, gasping as he felt the shuddering jerks and seeping release flood her mouth. She swallowed and he bit back the hiss, sensitivity bordering on pain, but that was its own exhilaration in a way. The suction ceased slowly. Her tongue continued, soft and slick, blanketing his tingling nerves with saliva and then licking it off, sending ecstasy in waves, up his chest and down his legs.

He stayed hard with soft stimulation.

She wrapped her hand around his cock and leisurely stroked it, extending the pleasure as she sat up.

Something in those shadowed eyes.

She smiled.

“Something you cannot say?”

Yoongi raised himself to his elbows.

His hair curled over his forehead and part of his jaw. Closed his hand around hers and made her tighten her grip, keeping it slow. Building the pleasure. Shuddering. Looking into her eyes and he knew what he wanted to say.

“Spit in my mouth.”

She raised her eyebrows.

He cocked one.

She leaned forward and he could taste himself in her saliva.

His entire body jolted when she spat in his open mouth. He hooked his other arm around her shoulders, pulling himself up and kissing her fiercely, the electricity of wrongness driving the lust, pumping himself with her hand and surrendering to her tongue. He had never asked for that before. Didn’t know if he was interested but most importantly neve found himself comfortable enough to make such a request. It felt wrong somehow, as a man.

Wrong, but delicious.

“Do you have condoms?”

“Yes.”

Her hands glided over her thighs, spreading them as he rolled down the condom. She knew her body. His skin still burned from where she touched him. A tactile afterimage. He watched her spread her glistening pussy lips open, twitching at the obscene image. He placed a hand on her thigh and thrust in, following the hunger in her gaze and the tension in her knuckles. She exhaled in sensual approval, pinning her own legs to her chest. His palms hit the mattress, gasping at the depth. The wet tightness sucked him in, closing in and massaging his length. An uncontrollable jerk of his cock and they both moaned, heat radiating.

She tapped his arm.

A smirk.

“Don’t hold back, Yoongi.”

He smirked back.

The hard, shocking force of hips to hips. Hers rising, his driven downwards, making them both snap their heads back at the power. Pleasure to borderline pain. Chasing a feeling, a primal appetite, a taste soaked into his tongue, and there was no going back, shallow breath, racing heart, finding each other once more, his head hanging down with a cascade of black strands along his periphery, knowing eyes and a devious smile underneath him. Rougher, hitting that angle, so deep and so tight that it sent a wave of boiling shivers up his spine, gasping as the tip of her pink tongue traced her teeth.

Erratic exhale and hazy gaze.

The ecstasy eating him inside out.

Her hands sliding up his arms, delicate caress in contrast to the harshness, stories behind those fingertips, fuck me with everything you’ve got, hesitancy that belonged to someone who knew and could see right through dishonesty, and he lowered his torso, his palms shifting up higher, using all of his power combined with gravity. Her legs sandwiched between their bodies, the position making breathing more difficult, but she wasn’t asking him to stop.

Not with that fire in those eyes and the way her hips smacked into him.

“Are you close?” he whispered.

A gasp with an edge. “Y… Yeah.”

His fingers twisting in the sheets. Burning. Growling.

“Take it.”

Meant it.

Hard, deliberate smacks, sucking in a sharp breath at the feeling of the head rubbing against her rigid inner walls, heady throb, clenching all around, maintaining the tension to avoid hitting his own high too soon, there, almost there, his eyes screwed shut and only hearing her torn moan, shuddering, and then it hit him, thrusting in and hit with multiple points of contact, her powerful spasms shattering through his nerves and knocking the wind out of his lungs.

He lost his control.

The grimace sliced through his jaw and the orgasm shot up his body, hers combining with his, a match to gasoline that made his spine pull back, helpless moan as it spread through his chest, his head, his thoughts reminding him that it was dangerous to want this, that he shouldn’t want this, that it was not advisable to think this was anything else than what it was.

Equally breathless, clawing for oxygen.

One of his elbows hit the mattress, his fingers curling into her hair.

Shaking eyes to shaking eyes. He kept telling himself not to want more. Her hand drifted to his chest, settling there. His heart was beating so hard that he could feel it in his throat. Under that gaze, in the light of her open door, she held his quivering heart in her hand and invited him to say what he wanted to say.

Even now, Yoongi could taste the vivid mixture of her and him on his tongue.

“I can’t… I can’t say that was by best work.”

She raised an eyebrow, panting hard.

He smirked.

“Haven’t fucked you a second time yet.”

She laughed. “Yeah, I’m going to need that money for my new stockings. In person, along with a formal apology. On your knees preferably.”

She had a smile that broke rules.

He didn’t know it then, but it would become a memory he would always have. A smile he would come to see many times afterwards. In nights, in days, in dreams, in moments he learned to call just theirs, a constant afterimage that appeared when he searched for a memory to comfort him in times of hardship.

A smile to light the dark and break him out.

“I look forward to it,” Yoongi promised.

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you

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leossmoonn · 5 months

Note

In love with ur Mike writings<33 can you write something about spending your first thanksgiving with Mike and Abby?

thank you :D and yes omg i love this idea!

bro this lowk angsty but it has a happy ending lol

————

thanksgiving was not something mike really did. he wasn’t really thankful for anything in his life — besides abby, of course. he hated his job, his house, his car, his nightmares. and even though abby and mike butt heads sometimes — all the time — he was thankful he had somebody like her to keep him getting out of bed in the morning and working. he started to feel just a tad better about his life when you came into the picture.

on the holidays, usually mike would take abby out to restaurants to have a meal. granted, abby rarely ate anything, but they both collectively agreed that it was special. but now that you were with mike, things changed.

“do you cook during thanksgiving?” you ask a week before the holiday.

“um, no,” mike shakes his head. “we usually go to like, applebee’s or something.”

“oh, how fancy,” you tease. mike chuckles softly and nods. “it’s a lot less expensive, believe it or not. we rarely go out anyways, so it’s like a little treat for us.”

“i see,” you hum. “would you want to continue your little tradition?”

he shrugs, “i don’t know why we wouldn’t. we have nothing better to do.”

“i could think of something,” you say. he glances at you. “you can come with us, if that’s what you were thinking. you’re always invited out with abby and i.”

you can’t help but smile. god, he’s so cute when he’s clueless. you take his hand and he turns his full attention from the tv to you.

“i was thinking we could have a proper thanksgiving.”

mike’s heart stops. “uh, uhm… no, it’s fine. it would take all day to cook and abby might not even eat anything. that’s so much food and money wasted.”

“don’t you worry about the money. i got it covered,” you take his hand in yours. “and we can cut down the portions. make a small thanksgiving meal and make just enough to have leftovers the next day. i think it would be fun. i can start cooking tonight, even.”

mike sucks in a breath, hesitating to say yes, even though he wants to. he hasn’t had a thanksgiving dinner since before garrett disappeared. it’s so painful for him to think of his last thanksgiving. it’s one of the last happy memories he has with his family. and now you want to do it with him, which was just another issue in itself for mike.

he’s not used to people doing things for him. and when they do, he pushes them away.

albeit, he’s started to get used to accepting favors and help, and it’s all thanks to you. all the dinner dates you’ve gone on, you’ve probably paid in full for half of them, and split the check on the rest. you’ve paid for every sporting event you’ve taken mike to. you’ve bought him clothes he obviously wanted, but kept insisting he didn’t want them because they costed money. he always feels terrible because it should be the other way around, but you’ve always assured him that you don’t mind. you love spoiling him because you truly thinks he deserves it. and he always makes up for it with little things like buying you flowers, gift cards, and sweet treats.

something about spending thanksgiving with you just makes him nervous and uncomfortable. thanksgiving for him reminds him of family and he hasn’t had a family since he was a kid. if he starts to think of you, abby and him as a family, he’s afraid that it’ll disappear just like it has before. but he knows what happened was a decade or so ago. he’s not the same little boy he was. abby’s safe with him and you. he knows he’s safe with you.

“sure,” he nods slowly. “are you sure, mike?” you ask, knowing exactly what’s going through his head. “we really don’t have to. we can go to applebee’s or texas roadhouse or something. i just… i think it would be nice.”

he nods in agreement. “no, i do, too. really. i-i’m excited.” there is truth in his words and you can see it in the twinkle in his eyes.

“great! tell me every dish you like for thanksgiving and what abby might like, and we shop for ingredients tonight!”

the next day went surprisingly well. you showed up at mike’s at the ass crack of dawn, awake and ready to bake and cook all day. you made all of mike’s favorites: green bean casserole, sweet potato casserole, ham, and peach pie. you both agreed to make abby some spaghetti and meatballs and cookies as a back up plan.

“do you we want to say what we are all thankful for or dig in?” you ask.

“let’s dig in!” abby exclaims. you chuckle and move to cut her some ham, but mike stops you. “let’s, uh, say what we are thankful for first.”

abby groans, “i’m hungry.” “please, abs. the food won’t disappear,” mike says.

she nods and complies, placing her hands in her lap.

“abby, why don’t you start,” you suggest.

“okay,” she nods. “i’m thankful for um… cartoons, disney princesses, crayons and you! and mike, i guess,” she adds quickly.

mike and you share a laugh.

“i’ll go next,” you say. “i’m thankful for my mom and my grandparents. i’m thankful for the twilight movies and my cat.” you then grab mike and abby’s hands, squeezing them both. “and i’m so thankful for you two. my life feels so fulfilled with you two in it. i really appreciate you guys letting me in and join your family.”

abby grins up at you. “we think you’re awesome, too.” “thank you, abby,” you say, patting her back lovingly.

you then turn to mike who is tapping the table with his free hand. “i am, uh, thankful that i somehow still have a job. i’m thankful that my parents gave me another sibling, whom i love very much.” he gives abby a little smile and she sticks her tongue out, not being able to contain her own smile. mike turns his head to you, eyes scanning your face as he wipes his sweaty hand on his jeans.

“and i’m thankful for you. i know i have a lot of shortcomings and before you deny it, we both know it’s true. you just… for some reason see something in me. and i’m just really glad that you’ve stuck with me and shown me how to be better and do better. you’ve given me hope and make me look forward to waking up every day. i’ve never had something so steady before, so constant. i…i hope that you continue to be that for me, and i hope that in the future i can continue to show how much i appreciate you.”

you sniffle once he’s done and realize you’ve started to cry.

“oh, i-i’m sorry,” mike rushes out. “i didn’t mean to —”

“i love you, honey,” you lean over and peck his cheek.

abby groans and her stomach grumbles. “please stop! the food is getting cold.”

“sorry, abs,” you pat her back. “what would you like to eat? we made some spaghetti, too, if you —”

“i want ham and bread!”

“you got it, babe,” you say. mike helps you cut the ham, giving a piece to everyone. you all dig in and mike realizes how much he missed this, how much he’s wanted this for so long. he places his hand on your thigh, squeezing it. “i love you, too.”

#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #fnaf

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dexlexia · 9 months

Text

daddy issues (ver. 1) - toji x reader

pairing: toji fushiguro x reader rating: 18+ summary: Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it. tags: pwp, daddy kink, smut, pet names (princess), d/s, rough sex, lingerie

Being the princess was a hard task. Being spoiled by your daddy was such a burden on your fragile shoulders. To be waited on by the man who spoiled you was such a difficult task. You weren't too sure how one could even TRY and do it.

But you weren't the princess of a big castle in a far off land, you were the princess of a spacious apartment in the heart of Tokyo. And the daddy who spoiled you was a perverted older man with a shit relationship with his son and needed something to fuck into the expensive mattress.

And you were never one to say no to pretty, cute things and a thick cock that made you see stars. So being the princess of your own kingdom seemed like a fitting title for what your charmed life was.

You woke up around noon and found that Toji was gone. You wanted to curl back into bed for another couple of hours but you had to get your day started at some point. you got on your fuzzy slippers and stretched your arms above your head, arching your back in the process. In the kitchen you found a note from Toji

'be home tonight. wear the two piece when i get home. - t“

You brought the paper to your nose and inhaled the scent of the cologne he used and probably sprayed on the letter. You squirmed a little at your love for him as you started your day.

A nice hot cup of coffee and toast with bananas, powdered sugar and syrup on it. You sat on the couch and watched the news as you rested your feet on top of the coffee table. You briefly remembered Toji trying to assemble the table when you first moved in. He swore up a storm as you coyly handed him different screwdrivers. Eventually he took a break and ended up fucking you on the shag carpet next to the semi built table.

Toji could be a rough lover, he liked things that didn't break. He pushed you to your absolute limit to make sure he was getting his money's worth. He said it was like hitting the gas at full speed on an expensive car to make sure the engine didn't burst.

Your day went by quite quickly, most of the time you were kept at the apartment. Toji worried about bad men getting their hands on you, something so sweet and fragile should be protected at all costs. But when you were inside, you had full reign of the apartment. Usually it was spent trying new recipes for Toji, snuggling with the massive stuffed animals he bought you and watch television.

You weren't too sure when Toji was going to come home. It could be at three in the afternoon or one in the morning, he was a busy man after all. But he knew he had a sweet girl to come home to, someone who'd take care of all of his needs once he walked through that door. After all, you'd do anything for daddy, that's what made you such a good princess.

You brought the giant brown teddy bear from the corner of the bedroom and rested against it on the couch, it smelled like him. After all, you did spray it down every few weeks with his cologne when he wasn't looking. You threw the stuffed arm over your shoulder and relaxed against it, imagining it was your daddy. You really couldn't wait until he got home, you were so excited that while in the process of getting the stuffed teddy, you laid out the two piece for him.

The lingerie wasn't anything too special. It was a white bra and panties set with cherries printed all over it. You didn't get what turned him on about them so much, you had so many nicer, more expensive sets but he wanted you in it all the time. When you asked him, he shrugged and said the fabric was durable for when you 'played rough'.

But you wouldn't be putting it on for a while now, as you got comfy you felt your eyelids grow heavy, and it wasn't long before you fell asleep in front of the television. You weren't too sure how long you had been asleep, but then suddenly you woke up to the sound of the front door closing. You popped your head up and looked over the back of the couch to the door and saw your daddy kicking off his shoes.

His dark eyes looked over at you and the corner of his mouth curled, “I see the princess is tired? Didn't sleep well last night?” His voice was low and deadly, it struck a chord in you as you rubbed your thighs together. He was the sorcerer killer after all, he was a force to be reckoned with. He came up to you and rounded the couch so he was in front of you. He reached down and grabbed your chin, “I thought I said I wanted you ready.”

“I'm sorry, daddy.” You gave him puppy-dog eyes as he held onto you. There was no fucking around with Toji, you might be the spoiled princess but he was the man who funded your charmed lifestyle, his word was law within the walls of your apartment, “You didn't tell me when you were coming home.”

He reached for your ass and grabbed it tightly. His calloused hand felt your flesh as he kept his eyes on you, his grip was almost bruising which made you wet. He ran his tongue across the scar on his lip and then said, “Well, baby, you have five minutes to make yourself presentable or else you won't be sitting right for a week. One, two, three, go.” His voice was a growl as he got out of your way to let you get up and rush to the bedroom.

He laughed to himself as he watched you run away, you really were his good little princess. He knew that he had you wrapped around his finger, he'd spoil you as long as you were good to him. But he knew you'd always be good for him, you didn't have a bad bone in your body.

A few minutes passed, in all honesty Toji wasn't keeping track, he then called out, ”thirty seconds, princess.“ And dropped himself onto the couch, his erection strained the front of his pants. His eyes were kept on the door to the bedroom where he heard you bumping into things and cursing to yourself. It was almost adorable how you tried to keep up with him, but he never wanted you to worry your little head about anything. Just sit there, suck his cock and look pretty.

Soon the door swung open and you looked perfect. Toji grinned to himself like a crazed man, that was the princess he knew and loved, wearing something skimpy for the man's eyes only. He adjusted himself in his seat and said, ”C'mere now.“

You even put on the little sheer white thigh high socks with the satin bows at the top. Perfect, perfect, perfect, Toji had no excuse to punish such a sweet angel, his darling princess. You straddled his lap and kissed him on the cheek, ”How do I look, daddy?“

”Like a dream.“ He rubbed his clothed erection up against your panties, you moaned and he grabbed onto your hips, furthing pushing it up against you.

You noticed he had a bruise on his face and went in to carefully kiss it. He hissed through the pain and then moved his head to kiss you on the lips. You had little room to protest as you just melted into his touch. You could feel yourself grow more wet as you felt his hard cock pressed up against you.

”Daddy.“

”Yes, princess.“

”Will you fuck me on the couch?“ You asked, your tone sounded so innocent compared to what you said. Your voice made his cock twitch in his pants. Soon you were placed beside him and he began to pull down his baggy pants past his cock, he freed it and it looked impressive against the black of his athletic t-shirt.

Then he started to fully undress you, he liked the power that came with your nude and him fully dressed. It also gave him more exposed skin to leave marks on. He pulled the panties past your thighs, if this was a cheaper pair he would've ripped them right off. Once you were nude, he leaned forward and smacked your ass as you scrambled back onto his lap.

”There we go, princess. Fuckin' perfect. You're mine right? You're so addicted to my cock that no other man could satisfy you?“ He said, his dark eyes looked darker with lust as you grabbed onto his shoulders and slowly sank down on his cock. He grit his teeth as he felt his cock enter you, a tight wet heat that felt like a punch to the gut.

You whined, ”Yes, daddy.” And sat yourself on his impressive length. You already felt hot all over, the thrill of having sex with him was exciting. You loved the feeling of his cock bullying your insides as he pushed you closer to climax. You especially loved it when he left large, dark marks on your skin, it satisfied a deep part of you that wished to be owned.

“Such a good girl for me. That's it, ride daddy's cock.” He licked his lips, he had that look in his eye that he got when he was fighting. It could be chalked up to the similar feeling of the thrill of the hunt. Toji was the beast and you were the bunny that he wanted to sink his teeth into. He began to bite at your chest. He sucked dark marks on your chest, leaving especially dark ones near your nipples. He knew you'd been feeling them for some time afterwards. That thought excited him.

You moved your hips at a nice, easy pace in an attempt to accommodate yourself to his size, but the pace soon bored your daddy and he gripped your hips and started to bounce you on his cock. His lips were on one of your nipples as he bit and roughly pulled at it. That combined with the also aching feeling of his cock being pushed in and out of your poor pussy made your eyes roll back in ecstasy.

“That's my good girl, such a perfect princess. Always a cock slut for me. You know how to satisfy me.” He groaned as he continued to harsh movements on you. He felt painfully hard, and he couldn't wait to paint your insides white. Thoroughly owned by him.

“Ah, daddy!” You moaned, “Please that feels so good, thank you daddy! Yes! Yes!” You whined as your breasts bounces as you fucked him. You believed that you were a good girl, this was what you were made for. For the affection of older men who enjoyed fucking sweet pussy.

The two of you moved on the couch, Toji could feel the sweat of his body making him stick to his t-shirt and the leather couch. He looked over and saw the stuffed animal looking back at him. He reached out for the giant toy and knocked it to the ground so it would stop staring at him.

“Daddy, that was rude!” You whined as you gripped onto his shoulders tightly, still thrusting your hips up and down on his cock.

“I didn't like how he was lookin' at us, sweetheart.” He grabbed you by the hair and pulled you down for a searing kiss as you continued to move up and down on his cock. The kiss was hot and messy and you could feel his cock bruising your insides as you moved. The sensation left your mind running blank.

Toji thought you looked perfect riding him on the couch, he always thought you looked beautiful when you were nude before him. You were his dream come true as he buried his cock as deep as he could inside of you. He liked his princess, well behaved, generous with her love for him. He wanted you submissive and all hs, even if you could be a brat.

You both felt close to orgasm as the two of you continued to fuck. The kiss soon became open mouthed and Toji's tongue was basically down your throat, muffling all noises that came from you. He grabbed your breasts and played with them, his grip was hard and you knew it would only lead to more bruising. But you loved when Toji bruised you, it made you feel good.

You pulled away from the kiss and wrapped your arms around his neck and shoved your breasts in his face to get a good position to ride him. Toji groaned at the feeling and let you work your magic on his cock. He groaned and gripped your hips once more to guide you like the good daddy he was.

With a few more hard thrusts you soon arched your back and came around his cock. The feeling was immense as you felt all the fight leave your body as pleasure filled up your skull like cotton. You dropped yourself against him, smothering him further with your breasts. He picked up the slack however and continued to thrust up into your limp body as the curl of pleasure formed in his gut.

Soon he was finishing inside of you with a groan, and peeled you off of him to look down at him. Your eyes were glazed over and your mouth hung slightly open as you gulped for air. He grinned and slapped your ass, the sound rang in the air, “That's it.” He purred, “That's a good girl. My darling princess, such a good slut for me.”

You nodded, body hot all over. You slid off of his cock and by his feet on the couch. You rested your cheek on his leg as you tried to catch your breath. And he played with your hair while he relaxed. Where you belong with him. His dark eyes gazed down at you, and you looked up at him.

He smirked at you, “Well c'mon, princess. Why don't you clean daddy up?”

#toji x reader #toji fushiguro #jujutsu toji #toji smut #toji fushiguro x reader #jjkedit #jjk smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #fushiguro toji x reader #toji fushiguro smut #jujustu kaisen #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen smut

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harrywavycurly · 2 years

Note

Hi Sarah this is so random so don’t feel like you have to do it 🙈

But could you give us some random conversations with Eddie and the reader when they are pregnant? I just see them having super cute moments but also funny ones! Thank you xx

Hiii babes!! So just thinking of Eddie as a dad to be makes me wanna just turn to puddle of mush so thank you for wanting this and I hope you enjoy💖

*Eddie being willing to do just about anything to make you happy is what I live for also this is a mixture of fluff and like sassy realness lol*

“Are you allowed to do that while you’re with child?” “With child? What century are you in?” “I mean you’re…with a child.” “Don’t ever say that to me again.” “Got it.”

“Why do clothes that are so small cost so much money?” “Because they are extra cute and tiny so they have to charge more.” “You’re fucking with me.” “Nope it’s called the cute and tiny tax. Look it up Munson.” “It’s scary how convening you can be.” “What do you mean?” “Well come on, tiny tax? That’s not a real thing.” “Are you calling me a liar?” “Oh shit are you crying?”

“What about pizza? You love pizza.” “I don’t want that.” “Okay oh I’ve got it what about that weird sandwich you craved last week? I can make that for you.” “I will literally throw up on you if you even try to make me eat that right now.” “That’s a no then…uh pasta?” “That doesn’t sound horrible.” “Okay I’ll take that. Now what kind? We have like three different options.” “I don’t know.” “Please don’t cry sweetheart. I’ll just make them all okay? Let you pick and I’ll have whatever you don’t want. Just don’t cry baby.”

“Give me your hand.” “Oh no I’m not falling for that again.” “Eddie please give me your hand.” “What is that?” “You felt that? It’s the baby kicking.” “Holy shit.” “Are you crying?” “Yes. I just felt my baby kick for the first time I’m entitled to some waterworks.” “You’re so precious Eddie Munson.”

“Do you want to be called daddy or dad?” “I think I’ll save daddy for you princess.” “Why are you like this?” “Sorry. Dad is fine.” “Oh what about father?” “Too Darth Vader for me baby. But really dad or like what do babies say? Dada? That’ll be fine I’ll respond to anything they wanna call me.” “What if they call you Munson?” “They absolutely will never call me that.” “Oh oh what if when they are mad and they call you Eddie?” “You think they’ll be that mad at me one day to call me by my actual name? I didn’t learn Wayne’s name till I was like ten.” “I mean teenagers can be mean.” “Thank god we have time to prepare ourselves for that. But if they ever call me Eddie I’ll let you handle it.” “Me?” “Oh didn’t you know you’re totally the bad cop on this duo baby.” “No way in hell! I’m the good cop you asshole.” “You just proved my point sweetheart.” “You’re so annoying.”

“I feel like a whale.” “Am I allowed to tell you how beautiful you look or will that get me in trouble?” “You’re allowed.” “You look fucking stunning baby. I know they say pregnant woman have a glow and they were right. You…just take my breath away every time I see you.” “Laying it on extra thick today are we?” “Just being honest sweetheart.” “You like me all big and pregnant?” “Honestly I do. So much so I wouldn’t mind seeing you pregnant again after we meet this little metalhead.” “I’m gonna need you to slow your roll Munson. Let’s see how this pregnancy goes before we plan the next one.” “Fine. But really you’re fucking sexy as hell okay? If you ever forget it don’t worry I’ll happily remind you.”

“Thank you Princess.” “What are you thanking me for?” “For wanting to have a baby with me.” “Well thank you for sticking around.” “Oh you’re gonna have a hell of a time trying to get rid of me now baby.” “Oh god am I stuck with you for good?” “Yup I’m afraid so.” “I guess there’s worse things I could be stuck with.” “I feel the love princess.” “I love you Eddie.” “I love you too baby, both of you.”

“Have you ever thought about how you’re a walking party of two?” “I can’t say that I have.” “Like when we go to Benny’s we could say Munson party of three.” “Eddie is this what you think about while you’re home alone?” “I mean…yeah. It’s just really mind blowing knowing there’s a whole human inside of you right now.” “I know it is pretty wild to think about.” “Like you have two hearts inside you.” “I do. Yeah.” “That’s so fucking cool.”

“How’s this?” “It’s fine Eddie, I swear you’re not hurting me by putting lotion on my belly.” “I just don’t wanna put too much like pressure anywhere and make you have an accide-” “It happened one time and you swore you’d never bring it up again.” “Sorry sorry I didn’t mean to. I love you.” “I love you too.” “And I love you as well my little metalhead.” “Did you just kiss my belly? Why are your lips so cold?” “I don’t know? Wanna warm them up for me?” “That was smooth Munson.” “Hear that little one? Your dads still got it.”

“Baby? What’s wrong?” “I can’t sleep I’m having a hot flash.” “Okay let me get the fan.” “But then you’ll be cold.” “I’ll be fine baby I’ll just get an extra blanket. Besides I love sleeping with the fan on, the sounds are very relaxing.” “You hate our fan it squeaks too much.” “What are you talking about? The fan squeaking is the most soothing sound my ears have ever heard sweetheart.” “I can just sleep in the living room with the fan it’s fine.” “Baby please just get back into bed.” “You swear you don’t mind the fan?” “I swear.”

#boyfriend eddie munson #dad!eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson concept #eddie munson request #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson x pregnant!reader #Eddie Munson #my little dungeon master baby #eddie munson fanfiction

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8um8le · 1 year

Note

I absolutely adore your cyberpunk au! The designs are so lovely and cool and your backgrounds are just absolutely gorgeous! I just fell in love with it and love everything about it, including the world!

I was curious about some things though and hope it's alright asking a couple of questions!

1. All relating to their job here, but: Have the boys ever taken on a job that they regretted in the end? Have they ever accidentally hurt a child during their job? Have they ever been backstabbed/set-up?

2. I'm not sure if you answered this or mentioned it before but, what are the boys to each other? Friends, brothers, etc.?

3. Okay, another one sort of relating to their jobs again: Have the boys ever had their night job cross over to their day job? Like, has someone sought revenge by threatening the daycare or something along those lines? Maybe just an incident where they've dealt with some not so great adults that wandered in?

4. Okay, another job related question: Have either of the boys gotten seriously hurt on their night job before? How do they go about fixing each other up? How protective/worried are they for each other?

5. Which of the boys is more affectionate? How would they react to a surprise hug? (I figured a silly, simple question was due after all the previous serious ones XD).

Sorry for the long list of oddly specific questions, I'm just really curious, happen to be up at 1 am with questions circling in my brain, and adore this au to pieces! I hope you have a lovely day/night, and thank you for taking the time to answer this ask! Sorry again for how long it is!

Heheh like these questions, long post under the cut <33

Before the two became hit-men under a contract, they had to build their way up to that position, in their previous two forms they were backstabbed multiple times. An example would be how sometimes they would be assigned one task within an organized group, and after they did their deed, their “team mates” would try to take them out and take credit for their work.

As for accidentally hurting a child in their day job, one of the kids cut their hand from getting too close to Sun’s rays. The parents really didn’t mind, but ever since, Sun has been very careful with the kids and his rays. (Funny how the rays that were meant to defend him, backfired in a way)

2. The boys have this found-family type of situation, they were born with nothing, thrown away left to rot, without knowing why they were even made. They’re all that they have when it comes to family, they see each other as brothers. Though I must say Sun is most definitely the responsible older brother who stresses over everything, and Moon is the chaotic little brother who needs to be put on a backpack leash.

3. When it comes to the day and night job crossing, it never happened yet, since their night job is top secret. Also since they are ranked pretty high as hitmen at this point, they have protection when it comes to identity.

Also the jobs they take are never personal, they’re just sent by someone, so it wouldn’t really make too much sense for someone related to their deceased targets to go after em.

4. Every gig they take in their night job is a life or death situation, so they are in constant danger, they have been badly damaged during their night jobs. Mostly moon because of his careless behaviour.

They try their best to not get damaged though, their contract does comes with their own robot doctor, that will patch them up, it will just cost them money, taken straight out of their paycheque. When it comes to weapon damage or replacement, they don’t have to pay nearly as much though.

Although they complain about the stupidest shit with each other, they really do care for one another, they never verbally say it upfront to one another, but their actions and constantly making sure one another is okay goes to show their affection. Also Moon’s chill nature can be very helpful when it comes to calming Sun’s panic attacks.

5. I think the more affectionate one would be Sun, he understands human emotions a bit more than Moon does. He’s very caring, sometimes too caring which leads him to a spiral of overthinking. Moon on the other hand is just naturally loveable, he doesn’t need to try when it comes to charming others.

Funny little thing I’d like to add is their skill at each job, and who does what better, since there is a bit of irony there. Sun is excellent when it comes to his night job, he’s calm, calculated, and swift, perfect for clean and quick executions. Though at his day job, he finds that he can unintentionally scare the kids with him being jittery and over-enthusiastic.

Moon on the other hand, He’s very smart when it comes to countering attacks and could take mechs twice his size, but he does poorly at stealth, and lacks patience. In his day job, the kids love him, since he is super easy going and nonchalant.

Sorry for the grammar mistakes im sleepy~

Ty for the cool questions!!

#cyberpunk au

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bobgasm · 3 months

Text

kingpin ⦾ nine

pairing: robert “bob” floyd x ofc!emery young word count: 2325 warnings: moving, boxing,

summary: in which bob’s intense and emery is feeling things

author’s note: we’re slowly learning more about the characters and seeing bob and emery interacting a bit more 🤭

eight | kingpin | ten

The weekend came around fast and Emery had finally packed all of her belongings into the back of the U-haul. Penny had helped them finalise the lease on the first apartment during the weekend, and while Nat had fronted most of the bond, she knew Emery would pay her back.

Emery had worked up a sweat helping Nat bring out all of her belongings. They’d sold Emery’s beat-up little Toyota Corolla, which would pay for their food and the cost of the U-haul, but was one less thing for them to worry about. For now, their mission was to travel back to Los Angeles and start unpacking.

Emery had picked the truck up from the lot in the city after work on Friday evening. She’d had to finish a little earlier, but Bob knew why. He’d encouraged her to leave her car in the lot at the office, and had driven her to the depot himself. The gesture was kind and she’d appreciated that he was eager to help in any way, even offering to help unpack if they needed it. She’d assured him they’d be fine and make a weekend of it.

That, and she didn’t really want her boss in her apartment.

He’d told her to call if she had a change of heart, then she’d put the last of her money towards the deposit for the truck and drove back home. Nat was waiting at her apartment when Emery arrived back, and had already loaded up her own car with a few things. Spending about an hour moving all of Emery’s things into the truck before winding up at Nat’s and ordering pizza while they cracked on. Working late into the evening to get the majority of the things packed. Keeping only Nat’s mattress and tv in the apartment so they could watch a movie in bed.

By the time Saturday morning came around, they spent an hour at both places cleaning thoroughly before their landlords took their keys, promising their bonds would be returned to their accounts within the week. Then was the drive back to the city. Nat led the way in her Nissan while Emery followed in the U-haul.

Penny was there to meet them, alongside the landlord to officially hand over the keys and help them get settled in. The landlord was a lovely woman named Heather, who they’d briefly met while going over the lease agreement. From what Penny had told Heather, she knew the two girls were in a tight pinch for funds. Heather assured them she wouldn’t expect the extra week’s rent until the three month mark, to give them time to settle in and earn their keep.

Emery found it weird. She knew landlord’s to be money hungry sharks who couldn’t care less for their tenants. Natasha beamed brightly. “Thank you so much, but we’ll be able to pay it at the start of the next month.”

Heather made her leave shortly after welcoming them to the building, while Penny stuck around a little longer.

“Do you need any help moving your things in?” She asked.

It was a struggle to get their things downstairs. Neither Emery nor Nat anticipated how hard it would be to get them up. They assured Penny they’d be fine before she bade farewell.

“My boss offered to help if we really need him to,” Emery said as they struggled to get the mattress out of the truck. “I’d rather he not be in our apartment, but maybe we do need help.”

“Does he seem like a creep?” Natasha asked.

“No,” Emery replied. “More like a personal boundary thing.”

“I get it, but it might be worthwhile to make the call,” Natasha agreed.

“Okay,” Emery said, grabbing her phone and dialing Bob’s number. Natasha started on the smaller items in boxes while Em waited for Bob to answer.

“Hi,” Bob exhaled heavily. Emery rolled her eyes.

“Hi Bob,” she greeted as warmly as she could. “You know how you offered to help my sister and I move?”

Bob let out a breathy chuckle. “You changed your mind about that, huh?”

“Yeah, guess I did,” Emery said softly. “I understand if you’re busy…you sound like I interrupted something.”

“Just boxing,” he assured her, whistling off to the side to grab someone’s attention. “You guys mind helping me move some stuff?!”

Emery paused as she strained to hear any response from whoever Bob was talking to. The clearest answer was “when?”

“Now, I’m assuming,” Bob told the man who spoke. Then, to Emery, he said, “text me the address. I’ll bring some friends, get it done quicker.”

“Alright. Thank you so much, Bob.”

“See you soon.”

Emery put her phone away as Nat strolled back outside. “He’s on his way and bringing friends.”

“Did he say how long they’d be?” She asked.

Emery shook her head. “No, but they’re apparently boxing,” she replied, handing another box to Nat before grabbing one of her own.

“I wonder if they go to Fitch’s,” Nat mused as they started inside.

“Guess we’ll soon find out.”

They managed two more trips upstairs with boxes before Emery spotted Bob walking towards the truck, flanked either side by two equally gorgeous men. The one on the right was almost broodingly handsome, face set like he was daring someone to piss him off. The one on the left wore a much more relaxed smile that put her at ease.

“Thank you for coming,” Emery said with a smile, looking between each of the three men. “Hope it’s not cutting into your boxing practice too much.”

“Was almost finished anyway,” Bob assured her. “This is Coyote and Payback.”

He pointed to them both as he said their names. Emery greeted them warmly before introducing Nat, her sister.

“Payback’s my new boss,” Natasha said.

Joy. Emery’s boss is friends with Nat’s boss. Small world.

Emery kept the smile on her face, though she was sure she didn’t look pleased by the new information. Instead, she busied herself and put them to work. Telling them they were up on the sixth floor and only needed help with the couch and bed, because suddenly, she wanted them gone sooner rather than later.

Together, they all made quick work of unloading the truck and Nat’s car. It took them close to an hour, but was a lot quicker than either woman had anticipated.

“Where’s your bed?” Bob asked, standing in the doorway of Emery’s bedroom. She had a chest of drawers and boxes with her belongings in the room, but no actual bed. She couldn’t blame him for being curious, though she wished he’d drop it.

“It’s getting delivered this afternoon,” she was quick to lie.

Bob studied her quietly. He made her feel small under his scrutinizing gaze. He didn’t look convinced by her lie, but she was grateful he didn’t press any further.

“Thanks for your help again,” she told him.

Bob hummed in acknowledgement. “Of course,” he said with a shrug. “I’ll see you on Monday, Emery. Welcome to LA.”

Emery stared after him as she watched him leave, making sure the door to their apartment closed before she let out a breath she didn’t realise she was holding.

“He’s cute. Intense, but cute,” Natasha said.

You’re not wrong there, Emery thought in agreement. “I’ve gotta take the U-haul back to the lot. Mind following me?”

A full day of unpacking on Saturday saw the apartment looking more habitable. The couch Emery had been using as a bed was now the main couch, with Nat’s armchairs adding to the lounge furniture. Emery had taken the mattress into her room – she had her own room now, not a studio where everything was in the one room, – and she loved it. Sure, she’d save to buy a decent bed later on, but for now she was happy.

Since Nat had put the most money towards their bond, Emery had insisted she take the room with the ensuite attached. She didn’t mind, in all honesty. Nat had more belongings than Emery did. It was a no-brainer.

After they returned the U-haul to the lot, they stopped off to pick up a few groceries to stock the fridge and cupboard. Nat enjoyed meal-prepping for the week, but given that they were balling on a budget currently, she opted for prepping their dinners instead. If anything was leftover, they’d be able to take it for lunch during the week.

Emery enjoyed her first night in their new apartment, even if she was sleeping on a mattress on the floor. She had to think of the positives. They’d made the move together. They’d both found amazing new jobs that would be able to provide them a better life than they’d previously known.

She kept being reminded of FBY, the account the Floyd’s paid fairly regularly. Was it a charity or a not-for-profit organisation? Was it a client? Either way, knowing there was a five grand payment scheduled every Wednesday had her on edge. She didn’t want to snoop in case her hunch was right, and the Floyd’s had affiliations with the mob. But she couldn’t in good conscience keep the payments going through every week until she had answers.

What if the account belonged to the diner guy? The guy who’d gloated about how much he’d stolen from Floyd. Was Floyd even the same Floyd she now worked for? What were the chances of them all being connected?

She couldn’t talk to Nat about it. Emery knew she could, but knowing now that Nat’s new boss was friends with her own boss…she didn’t want Payback to pass on anything she wasn’t sure about yet. Nat would never gossip about Emery’s concerns, especially not if they were as important as Emery feared they were. Still, she wasn’t willing to take that risk. She didn’t want to get Nat involved in whatever the fuck was going on.

Emery had a restless sleep that first night. She enjoyed the happiness she felt of living with Nat again, but her mind was racing. She needed an outlet for her frustrations – needed to process them in a productive way, – so when Nat suggested they sign up for a beginners boxing class together, Emery jumped at the idea. Eager to work up a sweat and hit something if it meant she could actually sleep at night.

With everything going on, the move, a new job, and her theories about what business the Floyd’s were running, it’d been a minute since Emery had been to one of Nat’s spin classes. She was hoping that they’d be able to take this class together instead, at least until Nat built up her clientele at Fitch’s Boxing Gym. She was excited as Nat gave her the tour, and surprised when Payback stopped by to chat.

“Hey, good to see you here,” he greeted warmly. “Nat mentioned you attended a few of her spin classes, and while we don’t have those, I mentioned that we do offer a lot of other classes. Glad to see you’ve decided to check one out.”

He had a calming presence that Emery found herself relaxing in. Offering him a warm smile back. “I’m excited to try something new. New job, new city, why not a new fitness class?”

He laughed softly. “That’s a great mindset to have,” he told her. “Hopefully something piques your interest. I know a lot of combat exercises isn’t everyone’s cup of tea, but I want you to feel comfortable here. Give a couple different classes a try until you find one that fits. We offer Jiu Jitsu, boxing and self-defense classes, but I’m sure Nat’s given you the run-down.”

“She has, but I’m still keen to give them all a try. Can’t hurt, right?” Emery replied with a laugh of her own.

“Let me know when you find one you like, or if there’s a couple then I’ll do a deal for you. Like a friends and family discount of sorts,” he replied.

“Thanks, Payback, I appreciate that,” she said. He wished her luck with her class, letting her find Nat again. “Your boss is so cool.”

“Your boss looks like he wants to kill him for even talking to you,” Nat replied. Emery followed her line of sight to where Bob was standing in the ring, Coyote clearly saying something to him. When he noticed Emery was staring, he gave her a small half-smirk before turning away.

“He’s so fucking intense,” Emery said quietly. She’d felt a shiver run down her spine under his steely gaze and had barely been able to suppress it. Now, with his attention turned away from her, she stopped fighting it.

Nat’s words stuck in Emery’s mind. He looks like he wants to kill – she was right. His eyes had been cold and his features hard, and even now as he fought Coyote, she could see the power behind each punch. The way he was quick and light on his feet. He could do serious damage if he wasn’t hindered by the boxing gloves or headgear Coyote was wearing.

Bob didn’t have that; the headgear. He managed to duck and avoid each one of Coyote’s calculated hits, and she wondered if he was letting Bob win. Surely not. Both men looked like they belonged in the ring, but Emery had seen Bob in a suit. She knew he was a businessman, and a finely dressed one at that.

Sighing, she turned her attention to the instructor who had just introduced himself and tried to pay attention. Bob’s grunting kept her mind otherwise occupied and she found herself tuning into their fight. Watching the way both he and Coyote moved – fluid, like water. A well-rehearsed dance around the ring with several hard hits being thrown in the mix. It was an art. She was transfixed, and the noises her boss was making had no business siring erotic thoughts in her mind.

#bob floyd #bob floyd x oc #bob floyd x ofc #robert bob floyd #robert bob floyd x oc #robert bob floyd x ofc #bob floyd fanfic #robert bob floyd fanfic #bob floyd fanfiction #robert bob floyd fanfiction #mob!bob floyd #mob!au

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kickthecan-revolution · 4 months

Text

Got here around 11:30pm last night to no internet. The electric wiring on one side of the downstairs duplex isn’t working, so no internet, tv or fireplace and the refrigerator is turned off because of a leak that’s raised the floor a bit. Theres so much deferred maintenance here, it’s such a huge project that it makes me tired to think about.

I needed to get dessert for the dinner tonight so woke up at 5am with a headache and decided to just go to the store. They were out of almost everything but I snagged some stuff, and then had to go to another store to get wrapping paper and tape because what I sent here via instacart yesterday arrived to the upstairs unit, and I didn’t want to disturb that tenant who’d not just brought it downstairs like I’d asked, even though there was picture confirmation he had it. Then my brother texted, asking me to bring more stuff.

For a second I flashed on all of the chaotic Christmases across the decade - going to gas stations and convenience stores Christmas Day because i worried my mom didn’t have enough food, trying to find things for people to snack on before dinner. Looking back, I don’t know if my concerns were valid, I think they just reflected some deep unspoken beliefs I held that my mom was not equipped to be able to pull off a dinner for a large amount of people in a way that wouldn’t make her completely stressed and shamed, and then have a meltdown that destroyed the day. I flashed to the chaos of staying in hotels and Airbnbs, and even here in between tenants on outdoor cushions and a sleeping bag in a freezing temperatures because the fireplace wouldn’t come on again. The constant rush of getting everything ready for Christmas Eve to go to my brother’s house, and then quickly flying out Christmas Day to get home fast to the rest of a vacation in front of the TV doing nothing by myself, but at least that wasn’t drama. The moments where two hours before we all went to my parents house on Christmas Day, my dad would call to cancel it because my mom wasn’t up for it anymore. All the wasted money and flights. I can’t remember a recent Christmas where there wasn’t some kind of drama or chaos or sadness or shame or anxiety. When you don’t feel like you really have a home, there’s something about Christmas that makes you feel so much more temporary.

But I can do this differently now. I can tackle these house issues up here in the spring. My sister will help me. I don’t have to rush around so much even though I don’t have a working refrigerator, there will be plenty for me to eat tomorrow, I don’t have to worry about that which I was panicking a little about in the grocery store trying to plan for it. I can rest a little bit today, wait for my headache to go away, and go take a walk and find some beach glass when the tide goes out. I can have fun with my friend Simone who I’m going to have lunch with later on today - I don’t have to worry about the place we agreed to meet at might be closed, we’ll find something else. I don’t have to go see my parents (where their ashes are) today – I can see them tomorrow on my way up to Bellingham. I don’t need to rush home tomorrow to catch a flight, I just changed my flight - thankfully this time at no cost - to leave late December 26 so I don’t have to get up early. I don’t have to rush and I can have a little time here in Seattle to just chill out.

I can do all of this now. I don’t have to be afraid. When my brain seizes up with fear, I can wait for it to slowly uncurl itself. I’m different than what I was back then. I can prioritize myself in my experience differently. I’ve done the work, I’ve been given the Blessing from the Source. Now I just need to live it. I’m so glad I’m leaving my company next year, life really does need to start being lived differently.

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joesalw · 5 months

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brazilian here. i wanna say that, beofre i saw that anon ask talking about swifties worried about taylor’s rep, i didn’t see anybody saying it was taylor’s fault or something similar. HOWEVER. i just read what taylor wrote on her instagram story and it’s baffling. the last thing she ever thought would happen, yet when swifties were (rightfully so, i’ll give them that) ‘fighting’ with scalpers that were buying dozens of tickets to resell for absurdly expensive amounts of money, they (the swifties) were tagging taylor and taylornation and they didn’t say a word. at the moment some swifties were saying that taylor didn’t care, and i agree with them in this situa.

there’s a video of taylor throwing a water bottle to the fans, and while i do appreciate her concern, it’s not enough. she’s taylor swift, she could ask the company (tickets 4 fun) to let people bring their water bottles, she could say ‘i won’t perform in these conditions’ (the company closed the gaps in the structure of the stadium so ‘outsiders’ wouldn’t be able to see/hear, and this made it worse to endure the extreme heat brazil’s going through right now), she could have at least said the name of Ana Clara.

some politicians already stated measures will be taken. but, as someone that’s not exactly a swiftie, but is going to one of her shows here in brazil, i expected a lot more. and again, this isn’t her fault, but she has the power to do something. she could at least have made a better statement.

(also: there weren’t enough people in the medical tents, not enough firefighters, water bottles cost R$10,00 — it’s EXTREMELY expensive —, and the medical staff said some people that were getting sick because of the heat should take some kind of sedative medication — as if people were just anxious because of the show, not because it’s the most extreme heat wave with thermal sensation of ~60°C (which is a lot for ANY region of brazil))

overall just a disaster to get more money out of the fans.

btw this isn’t really anti taylor, i just wanted to clarify things for people that may not know what’s going on here in brazil.

In her ig story Taylor stated that the fan passed away before the show, but it actually happened during cruel summer. Idk if that wrong statement was put out to clear her image or what but it's weird. The stadium was already heated enough but they still didn’t change the script and the stage flames were blazed on, for which like thousands of people needed medical support. They also closed the air vents of the stadium so that fans won't be able to see the show without purchasing the tickets. Like all of these unethical acts happened and it caused someone's life to maximize their profit, and taylor still didn’t acknowledge the management's fault or didn’t call out the event organizer. I think she's heartbroken but at the end of the day she will fly on her private jet just to spend a weekend in nyc and provide her fair share of impact in global warming.

#anti taylor swift #anti swifties #swifties dni

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fallingwaynes · 6 months

Text

FOLKLORE ; SEVEN

JASON TODD X READER

Stealing the tires of Batman’s car was possibly the best thing that could’ve ever happened to Jason Todd. He expected to be arrested, but instead he was welcomed with a nice home and hot food. Where he lived, hot food was a rarity but now at the Wayne Manor, he could eat as much food as he wanted.

That made up for having to fight most nights, as Batman’s second Robin. He didn’t even care about the bruises on his faces, because at least he could come back to a warm bath (he was surprised at the hot water running through the pipes) and a large plate of food Alfred would cook for him.

The only downside of moving away from his poverty, and crime ridden neighbourhood was leaving his best friend behind. You had helped him out, in more ways than he could even imagine and he had just left you to fend for yourself. Jason felt guilty, and that was one of the main reasons why he chose to visit you every weekend.

Right now, he was pacing up and down your bedroom and trying his best to hide the bruises that littered his face. He turned to face you, and smiled softly. “I’ve missed you.”

He didn’t know how else to word it, so he decided to tell you exactly how he thought it. You noticed the bruises across his face, under his eye and on his cheek. “Jay, how did you get those bruises?”

He winced at your question, turning away from you and staring out the window. Your bedroom gave a direct view of the abandoned, half destroyed warehouse on the opposite side of the street and he sighed. “These bruises are nothing.”

You always knew when he was lying, and he knew that. He shrugged, the twelve year old turning to face you now. “I promise, it was just a little fight.” It wasn’t just a little fight but how else was he supposed to admit that he was the crime fighting vigilante Robin?

At first, when Bruce had told him of the opportunity to become Robin, his thought had been to tell you. He knew you’d be thrilled by it, as he’d listened to your many excited rants on how Batman and Robin were amazing. How they fought to help the defenceless people of Gotham. However Bruce had made him promise he wouldn’t tell anyone, and that included you so he kept his mouth shut. He wanted, and needed, Bruce to trust him.

“I’m alright.” he mumbled, before lifting his head with a smile. “You should come visit the Manor sometime.” He hoped that your answer would be yes, and he could convince Bruce to adopt you too. He hated knowing that everyday could be your last, and he might not be able to protect you.

You frowned as you looked at the bruises on his face again. “It doesn’t look like a little fight.” you muttered to yourself, but then shook your head. If he wanted to talk about it, he would. You didn’t want to push him into talking, out of fear that he might shut you out.

“How is it at the Wayne Manor?” your eyes lit up, grinning slightly.“Is Bruce how I thought he’d be?” You hoped for Jason’s sake, that Bruce is as caring and loving as you thought he’d be.

“Way nicer than you thought.” Jason confirmed with a small nod. “Really, he’s a great guy, it’s pretty great living with him.” He could sense your worry, so he pulled out a small bracelet from his pocket. Bruce gave it to him as a welcome gift, but he decided you needed it more. “I have something for you. It’s for you.”

You looked down at the bracelet, and he reached for your hand. His touch was rather gentle, and he slid the bracelet onto your wrist. It didn’t fit perfectly, there was still a bit of a gap between your wrist and the bracelet but Jason thought it suited you.

Jason loved the smile that appeared on your face, as you stared down at the bracelet. He hadn’t seen you smile like that in a long time and for the first time, he felt as though he was actually doing some good in Gotham.

“It’s nice to see you smile again.” he admitted with a soft smile.

You nodded again, running your hand along the bracelet. It must’ve cost a lot of money, but Jason seemed happy enough to just hand it over to you. “It’s nice that you’re happy with Bruce.” your tone was genuine, but your smile fell slightly. “You’re lucky to get out of this area.” you gestured to the window, referring to the crime run area he had managed to leave.

“I know, it’s just I-“ he frowned, unsure how to phrase his next words. Jason knew better than to lie to you, he always had. “I wish you could have come with me.” He finally admitted.

You sighed, that’s what you wished too but the decision was up to Bruce Wayne. “Me too.” you spoke after a short moment, and then stared over at Jason. “It’s up to Bruce, and what he says.”

“I talked to Bruce, he said no.” He admitted. It was one of the most difficult things he had ever done, approaching Bruce after a night as Robin and asking about his best friend. Asking if you could come live with him.

Bruce had been polite and understanding, he had let Jason explain the situation. He had listened calmly, but made it clear that his answer was no. Jason didn’t blame him, but he was slightly disappointed and annoyed by the answer. “He said he can only manage one child at a time.”

You nodded, a sad smile on your face. “It’s okay.” you rubbed the bracelet again, as though it would give you luck. “I’m just glad one of us is out of this neighbourhood.”

Jason hated the idea of you being sad, and he reached for your hands again. “Maybe you can still visit.” he nodded, sure that Bruce would at least agree to that. “Alfred is so nice, he loves classic literature as much as we do.”

You hesitated to answer, and he frowned at your silence. He rubbed circles along your palm with his hand, and he stared at the bracelet. He wanted you to be happy, and he didn’t know what else to say. “Bruce will be fine with it.” Jason assured you.

“Then I’d love to come.” you nodded, smiling at Jason’s actions. Maybe seeing the Manor would remind you how life could turn out for you in the future. A reminder that you weren’t stuck in Gotham for the rest of your life.

Jason smiled again, still circling your palm with his thumb. “I promise you one thing,” he muttered softly, his head tilting as he looked at you. “When we’re old enough, we will leave Gotham.”

He didn’t know where you two would go, but all he knew is that it would be far away from Gotham. Maybe a nice countryside home, or a safer city. “Anywhere, just away from here.” he promised again, hoping that he could at least keep this promise to you.

“Anywhere.” you repeated his words softly, smiling again at him. He nodded quickly, and waited for you to say something else, to suggest somewhere they would escape to. “We can move to India.”

He nodded again, holding out his pinky finger almost as if to swear it. “We can move to India, if that’s what you want.” he tucked his finger against yours, and smiled.

“India seems like a lovely place.”

#jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd #robin!jason #robin!jason x reader #robin!jason x you #robin!jason x y/n #apollo’s writing!!

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weixuldo · 2 years

Text

unconditionally // ch 2

anakin x reader

(a/n: so these chapters r gonna b longer cause i have way too much to say abt this heheh, im also posting on ao3 now if you like that format better :/ it’s linked on my master list :)

you unexpectedly watch the kids for the night

warnings: cursing, asshole behavior

__________________________________________

You woke up the next morning to a text from “Anakin”. You yawned and squinted at your phone. Basically every day, come over at 3:00 and leave when Anakin shows up. Except Friday, you had that day off. Easy enough. Hopefully he wouldn’t come back too late, you still had school after all.

You stretched and got out of your bed. As you finished your morning routine you began to plan out your week.

Breakfast, class one, study in the library, class two, lunch, go over to Anakin’s, entertain the kids, back to the dorms, homework, sleep.

Your weekend really just consisted of your friends dragging you out to the mall to shop for “party clothes”. That really just meant trying on skimpy dresses that cost way too much. However this weekend you actually had money to spend.

You were all trying on outfits for this new fancy bar that recently opened. They were practically bursting with excitement to go to it on opening night next month. The bar was high profile and you had to “know people” to even get on a waitlist. Kind of a hassle you thought. But you didn't mind treating yourself to some new fashion.

You found a unique sage green dress, it wasn’t too revealing but it wasn’t quite modest either. It cascaded off of your shoulders, really highlighting your collarbone, the silky material clung to your hips perfectly. You looked damn good.

You decided to splurge and buy the dress. Your friends were astonished you actually bought something for yourself, usually you never made personal purchases for pleasure.

__________________________________________

Monday rolled around and you drove to the house one more. Once you got there you realized he never gave you a key. Shit.

You debated calling him, what if he was in a meeting? But what if he didn’t get your text. You began to worry, it was only your second day.

Soon you felt a small hand tug on your shirt. You looked down to see two little pigtails.

“You’re back!!” Leia exclaimed, hugging your leg. Luke followed soon after clinging to your other.

“Hiii, guys!” you exclaimed, hugging them back.

“I’m sorry i’m just standing here, I forgot to ask your dad for a key” you admitted, sheepishly.

Luke smiled and pulled out a key from his pocket. It was a small brass key with a temporary tag that had your name on it. You gladly received the key and Leia spoke.

“Daddy said he’s really sorry he forgot”

“Oh no worries!” you said thanking the twins.

You unlocked the door and the kids bounced right on in.

“How was school? Was the bus ride nice?” you asked them as you placed your things on the marble countertop.

“It was so cool! We learned about volcanoes, they explode!! Like boom-pew-pssh” Luke exclaimed enthusiastically as he made motions with his hands.

Leia giggled then said “Well I learned about long division! We divided seven digit numbers!”

“That’s awesome you guys! I’m really proud of you!” you said encouragingly.

Leia pointed to your bag, “Do you have homework too?”.

You nodded, “Want to do our homework together?”.

“Yes! Yes, please!” she exclaimed, grabbing her bag.

The three of you sat at the counter for a while doing your respective work. Every now and then Leia would tease Luke about his handwriting and you had to assure him it was very good for kids his age. You sliced up some fruits for them to snack on while they finished up.

Around 5:45 the front door clicked open. Anakin walked in with an empty coffee cup in hand.

“Daddy!!” the kids exclaimed, hopping off their stools to greet their father.

He dropped his bag and held his arms out to embrace them.

“Hey guys! How was your day?”

“I learned about volcanoes!”

“That's great, bud!” Anakin exclaimed.

“I did long division!” Leia said proudly.

Anakin kissed her on the cheek, “That’s wonderful, Princess”.

He rose from his position near the floor and made eye contact with you. His eyes seemed to subtly change. They were colder.

“Hello, F/N”

“Hi” you said back, shyly.

“I see you got the key. That was my mistake.” he said stiffly.

You began to shake your head, “no, don't worry about it! I should have remembered to ask” you offered.

He looked at you for a moment before curtly nodding.

You began to gather your things and say goodbye to the kids. Anakin , on the other hand, had already retreated to his room upstairs. You figured that was your cue to leave.

__________________________________________

The next two weeks went by rather quickly, Anakin sent out the same scheduled times to you and you went. Each day was filled with quality time with the twins. Luke seemed to be developing a small crush on you. It was amusing, but you made sure to remind him of the kids his age. You grew accustomed to their banter, Leia usually the one coming out on top.

You also learned that their mother had died shortly after giving birth to them, and it seemed their dad was still sensitive to the topic. As for Anakin himself he hardly spoke to you at all, mostly he just glared at you from a distance. But he was paying your bills, so you didn’t complain.

Today was Thursday and you were making crafts with the twins, once again, on the marble counter. They originally wanted to go to the park, but a big thunderstorm decided to pass through. So now you were watching Leia make a “magical butterfly community” while Luke did a “robot-dinosaur mega-world”. You aided them only with the glitter and glue, Anakin would be pissed if it got everywhere.

”Daddy seemed annoyed yesterday,” Leia said to Luke while she stamped blue butterflies on the paper.

“Yeah” Luke agreed, not really paying attention.

She rolled her eyes and you offered your opinion.

“He seemed irritated, yes. But he seems like he acts like that alot”

“Yeah but he usually isn’t rude like that, I’m sorry.” she said, taking some stickers from the sheet in front of her.

Yesterday was rude? Anakin was normally rude, yesterday was downright disrespectful. You had gone to the bathroom and were not in your normal spot at the counter when he walked in. He kind of flipped out on you for not “watching the kids” and threatened to fire you. Honestly, once you got in your car you began to cry. But you told yourself he probably just had a bad day or something. Plus you needed the money.

“I think your dad doesn’t like me” you half laughed, playing with the glitter cap.

Leia shook her head, little brown braids swaying. “No, he does. He would have made you quit if he didn’t”.

You were curious, “what do you mean by that?”.

“He’s nicer to you than he was to any of the other nannies. He doesn’t yell at you”

He was usually more of an asshole? You couldn’t even imagine the damage he caused the other poor nannies. Though you still had a hard time believing he liked you.

Soon enough you heard the door open and a familiar set of footsteps enter the house. Your heart began to quicken, was he still mad at you?

He sighed loudly as he shook off his raincoat. You heard mutter a curse under his breath. Once he stepped into the kitchen he smiled at his kids. As they greeted each other you studied him. He was tall, slimfit, and had great muscle definition on his arms. His hair looked particularly enchanting with raindrops adorning his curls. He was a beautiful man.

He looked at you with less disdain than you expected. “It’s raining pretty hard, huh?” you offered, expecting him to say “obviously” or something else to make you feel stupid.

Instead he responded truthfully, “yeah, I hate rain almost as much as I hate the beach”.

“The beach?” you laughed.

He rose to his full height and gave a small smile, “Mhm, it’s hot and there’s sand everywhere, not to mention all the little shells you step on trying to get to the ocean”.

You giggled again, that was the most he’d said to you without being cold or sarcastic.

“I guess we’ll never do a beach day then” you smiled at the kids.

After cleaning up you said your goodbyes and headed towards the door. But before you made it into the rain Anakin called your name.

“Yes?” you asked, confused.

He walked over to you and grabbed an umbrella out of the holder by the door. He opened it on the porch and motioned for you to join him.

He walked you out to your car, holding the umbrella over you as you put your bag in the backseat.

“Thank you,” you said to him. You were honestly confused as to why he was being oddly nice to you after being so rude yesterday.

“Don’t want you to catch a cold and give it to my kids,” he said.

Aaand there it was.

“Of course, thank you anyways though” you smiled.

You were focused on getting in your car, but you missed the small smile that tugged at the corners of his lips.

__________________________________________

The school day ended with buzzing excitement. That new bar was finally opening tonight and campus was in a frenzy. Everyone was seeing if they knew someone who knew someone that could get them in. Your friends paraded around the fact they were already on the list, while you could honestly care less. But, alas here you were doing your makeup and sporting the sage green dress you bought a while ago.

Once you were finished you took a minute to check yourself out in the mirror. Damn, ok… you looked hot.

You smiled at your new found confidence and began to put on your heels. You grabbed your keys and began driving off campus. Soon your phone began to ring, you looked down and it was Anakin. Confused, you answered the call.

“H-Hello?”

“Hey, I’m really sorry, but do you think you could watch the twins tonight? My department is having an impromptu dinner. I’m sorry, I’ll pay you double-”

He sounded genuinely sorry.

“You don’t have to pay me extra Anakin, I’d be happy to” you smiled, the bar could wait.

“Ok, thank you so much F/N” he said.

“Oh! I was going out with some people, so I’m still in my outfit. It's not inappropriate, is that ok?” you asked, thinking about the kids.

“That's fine,” he said before promptly hanging up.

You shook your head and took a deep breath as you got ready to call your friends… they were not going to be happy.

__________________________________________

You arrived at the grand mansion in record time. You really didn’t want to make him have to wait for you to get there, he might get mad at you. You knocked on the door since you knew he was home, you didn’t want to just barge in. The door opened slowly but Anakin wasn’t the one standing there. Instead there was a man with a clean beard and nice sandy brown hair.

“Hello there” he said in a jovial tone.

You blushed, not expecting some random guy to open the door. “Hi”.

“You must be F/N, I’ve heard alot about you” he said stepping aside so you could enter the house.

Before you could respond Anakin interjected from the top of the stairs.

“From the kids, they won't shut up about you”.

He was walking down the stairs buttoning up his suit. Both men were dressed in formal attire. The bearded man had a gray suit while Anakin wore a black one.

“You two look very nice” you offered. The bearded man gave a sweet smile while anakin just kind of stared at you.

“Oh, by the way you can call me Ben” the bearded man extended his hand to you.

You shook it firmly and smiled.

In your peripheral vision you saw Anakin’s gaze traveling up and down your body.

“Oh, yeah, I’m sorry Anakin, I didn’t have time to change… Do you have anything I can change into by chance?” all of a sudden you didn’t feel so confident under his watchful gaze.

He handed Ben the car keys and asked him to bring it around as he asked you to follow him upstairs.

This was the first time you had been in Anakin’s room. The interior was mostly black and white with an occasional splash of color. He sighed before opening the closet. Far in the back there was a box with some clothing.

“It’s not fancy, but it's better than what you’re wearing,” he huffed. He must really think you’re revolting…. You just felt awful now, what if he made assumptions about you? Would he not let you work for him anymore?

You were pulled out of your thoughts as he tossed a baggy t-shirt and some sweats at you. They smelled different than him, they had a lingering scent of perfume.

“I have to leave now, once you put them on leave my room and close the door, the kids are in the playroom” with that he left.

You took off your green dress, maybe you wouldn’t wear it anymore… you felt embarrassed. You put on the other clothes he gave you, they were obviously women’s clothes, they fit you well and the sweat pants hung off of your hips nicely. You sighed and went to find the kids.

__________________________________________

You found them playing connect four on the floor of the playroom. When they saw you their eyes lit up and they ran to greet you.

“I thought you weren’t coming back til monday!!” Luke exclaimed.

You laughed, “surprise!”.

Leia pulled back to look at you for a moment, “wait did daddy give you that?” she asked, pointing to the clothes.

“Oh! He let me borrow them” you explained.

“Wait, aren't those mom’s old clothes?” Luke said.

What.

“Yeah, that’s why I was asking,” Leia said back to her brother.

Anakin.

Let you wear his wife’s clothes?

The kids showed you a picture of their mother wearing the exact same outfit, lying on the sofa downstairs. She was beautiful.

Leia looked so much like her, the resemblance was uncanny.

While you were having an internal crisis as to why Anakin let you borrow those clothes, the twins couldn’t be less bothered. They had never met their mom, and to them she was no more than a fairy tale character. It was kind of sad, but maybe it was better that they weren’t stuck mourning her death.

The rest of the night you continued to make dinner for them and ended up on the sofa watching 101 Dalmatians, once again. Around the halfway mark both twins were fast asleep on each side of you. You smiled, you felt a sense of family amongst the kids. You weren't really as close with your friends recently, and your love life was a fucking joke. But at least you had two people who were always excited to see you.

You too began to doze off at some point. You dreamed of the early stages of spring, the baby animals, fresh dew drops on petals in the morning, the fresh air, the love. You must have been deep asleep because when you woke up the twins were nowhere to be seen.

You shot up in a panic before you heard a strong voice behind you.

“Don’t worry, Ben and I put them to bed” Anakin was sitting at the kitchen counter, a glass of wine sitting beside him.

You exhaled and walked towards him. “Why didn’t you wake me? I could have put them to sleep.”

He took a sip of the maroon beverage as he looked at the wall in front of him. “You looked peaceful”.

You rubbed the rest of the sleep from your eyes and took the seat beside him. “How was the dinner?”.

He slowly turned to face you, “It was well, Ben and I had a few drinks”.

You smiled, you could smell the liquor on his lips. “By the way, thank you”.

“For what?”

“The clothes, Leia told me…You know you didn’t hav-”

“It’s fine.” he took another sip of the drink in his hand.

You looked down at your hands, what now?

He stole another glance at you, “They’re just clothes F/N”, after that he tipped the glass towards you and arched his brow.

You gave a small smile and took a sip from the opposite side as him, the wine went down nicely, it tasted expensive. You scrunched your nose as the alcoholic burn traveled down your throat.

He huffed out a laugh before looking forward again.

“I see you watched that damn dog movie again.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry, I can tell them no when they ask next time”

Maybe it was his buzz or maybe it was truly just him. But he faced you with a look you had never seen on his face before. It was sincere, adoring and somber all at the same time, “No, I enjoyed seeing my kids with you on the couch watching that movie.”

In a way you felt guilty, you were in his wife’s spot, in her clothes, with her kids, watching her favorite movie… He only said that because he was replacing you with her.

With that you took another swig on the wine.

***

(a/n: Ok soo im in love with this fic..Yall dont even understand, there are already 54 pages on my doc and ive only written 6 chapters)

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