#the amount of time i spent putting their teams together

[cutielando]

mr. and mrs. ~ oscar piastri

Summary: Wedding of the year is finally here between the two favorite youngsters on the grid. Everyone is invited!

Words: 1.3k+

Other works: my masterlist

♡♡♡♡♡

Oscar and Y/N.

Y/N and Oscar.

Everyone knew them, everyone loved them.

Ever since the young Australian lad had entered the Formula 1 world, Y/N had entered it with him. Always by his side, always attending his races while also attending university.

They had been together for many years, practically having invented the term “highschool sweethearts”. Despite Oscar’s busy schedule and Y/N being at university, they always made it work, never letting the distance affect their relationship.

Moving together to the UK had represented the first sign that they were both in it for the long ride. Packing up their entire lives and moving across the globe to follow their dreams proved that their relationship and the love they had was real.

Real and pure.

When Oscar got the opportunity to drive in Formula 1 and Y/N started her studies, the time they spent together shortened by a significant amount, but they managed to make it work.

They talked on the phone every day, texting when neither of them could speak on the phone, they took every opportunity to visit each other when they had free time, with Y/N visiting Oscar at his races or Oscar coming home when he would have 2 weeks off between races.

They made it work.

But Oscar wasn’t satisfied. He needed something more. He needed something that would put his mind at ease when he would be away.

He needed to officially make you his.

Towards the end of the season, you had a few weeks off uni and decided to join your boyfriend in Qatar for the Grand Prix.

You hadn’t really chosen the best race to attend, the heat and the humidity making it really strenuous on your already tired body. But seeing the smile that Oscar had while doing the grid walk with you by his side made it worth it.

Being there for Oscar’s sprint win had been the highlight of your entire year. Seeing him cross the checkered flag first, seeing his name on that first position on every monitor around the paddock, the feeling was unlike anything you had ever felt before.

Up until the moment Oscar got out of the car.

He made his way over to where you were waiting for him after he celebrated a little with the team, taking off his helmet and balaclava and giving them to one of his assistants.

“How about that?” he asked, chuckling as he pulled you into his arms, careful not to squeeze you too tightly because he was sweaty.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, Os. I can’t believe I was here for your first win” you said, your voice muffled because you had your face buried in the crook of his neck.

“It’s technically not considered a win bec-”

“Shut up and enjoy the moment” you interrupted, making him chuckle and continue hugging you.

As he let go of you, you didn’t notice him reaching for something behind his back, not even his assistant subtly handing him something as he appeared again from the garage. All you could focus on was him, and nothing else around you.

It only really hit you when Oscar lowered himself down on one knee in front of you, a red velvet box in his hand.

“Oh my God” you said, your eyes widening and your hands flying up to your mouth.

All around you, the McLaren team gathered in a circle, phones ready and cameras rolling to catch the sweet moment on camera.

“Y/N, I don’t even know whether words will suffice to say what I want to say right now. You’ve been by my side since we were kids, you moved to the UK with me and left your entire family in Australia just for me, and I can’t even begin to explain how much that meant to me. I can’t imagine my life without you in it, I frankly don’t think I could survive on my own if you weren’t here. I want to grow old with you, I want to have kids with you and build the life we’ve always talked about having. Y/N, will you marry me?” the words got stuck in your throat, so you settled for nodding feverishly.

The entire team around you cheered, but you could only see Oscar. As he got up and slid the ring on your left hand, you threw yourself into his arms and softly cried, the moment far too emotional to be able to hold back.

Your engagement had become national news in a matter of a couple of hours. Every media channel from the world had written about Oscar’s proposal in Qatar, speculating about when the wedding would be and whatnot.

It didn’t even feel like it had really happened when you stared at the ring on your finger, the feeling foreign but so welcome and like it was meant to be.

You and Oscar had multiple talks about when you would get married, where you would have the wedding and many other problems that came with being away from home and everyone’s families.

Which is why you decided to have the wedding back home in Australia.

After the season was finished and the winter break came, you and Oscar had started planning the wedding, which you settled to have after the last race before the summer break. He had already sent invitations out to the rest of the drivers, all of them very eager to attend the young lad’s wedding.

Lando was especially thrilled, but couldn’t help making jokes about how he had never thought Oscar would be the one getting married so young.

“What did you do to him, Y/N? You charmed him pretty damn well” he’d always joke whenever you guys would hang out in the garage before a race.

Yours and Oscar’s mothers took care of most of the things regarding the venue, the flower arrangements and catering, wanting to take the load off of you while you were halfway across the world.

The only thing that you had to worry about was picking your wedding dress and flying over to Australia to get married.

And when the day had finally come, excitement flowed through your veins.

Nicole and Oscar’s sisters had helped do your hair and make-up, your mother only watching as she sobbed quietly in the background.

“Mom, you’re gonna make me cry too if you don’t stop” you told her as you watched her through your mirror, making the other girls laugh.

“I just can’t believe my baby is getting married” she laughed, wiping her tears and walking up to stand behind you.

You smiled and took her hand, mostly to calm your nerves as well.

You were really getting married. And to the love of your life, which was a plus.

After you were prepped and ready to go, your father came to fetch you to walk you down the aisle. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you held his arm tightly and clutched the flower bouquet tightly in your other hand.

But your nerves disappeared like they had never even been there when the doors opened and you locked eyes with Oscar waiting for you at the end of the aisle, Logan beaming behind him as his best man.

The ceremony went by in a blur, the only focus on your part being on Oscar. You only vaguely remembered saying your vows and saying “I do”, your memory only having imprinted the first kiss you two shared as husband and wife.

You were positive that nothing could ever top this moment, getting married with all of your friends and families present, stepping into your new life with Oscar by your side.

Nothing could ever be better.

Nothing could top you becoming Mrs. Piastri.

Being Mr. and Mrs. Piastri.

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[zeroeightzeroone]

Hiyaa,

I have a request?

Producer!Bang chan x reader

Established relationship

Angst/comfort

Bang chan is in a bad mood so when he's at the studio he shouts at a co-worker he's close to/ 3racha member.

The co-worker/3racha member leaves and bumps into reader (who was already on the way to the studio? Because they haven't spent time together in a while?) and like hints at chan's bad mood.

Reader enters studio and chan starts to get mad but like reader is like "can I sit on your lap?" and he's like ❔ and she's like "you can continue working, can I sit on your lap?" and he's like "... Yeah?". Then it's fluff fluff fluff because fluff is the best 💯💯🚫🧢. Like a lot of fluff.

Oh also can you work in the reader saying something along the lines of "I get your frustrated but can you please not speak to me like that?" 🥺

And like chan gets more at peace/ relaxed/ less frustrated and apologies to coworker/ member and yeah and they all live happily ever after

creative differences - bang chan

genre: angst, comfort, eventual fluff

pairings: idol/producer!bang chan x fem!reader

warnings: chan is snappy, use of profanity

notes: thank you so much for your request <3 i hope i did it justice. this may also be the longest fic i've posted on this account with a little over 4.3k words

wc ~4.3 | moodboard

｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:*:･ﾟ☆ˏˋ°•*⁀➷ ｡ ｡･:*:･ﾟ★,｡･:

since their debut, the company had already set expectations that the boys would have at least two comebacks a year–one in the first half of the year and another in the latter half. if they wanted to have more than two, they could, but two was the absolute least. the first comeback of this year for the boys went off without a hitch, resulting in topping multiple charts and receiving a handful of music show wins. however, the process for this second comeback of the year was already off to a rocky start, and the road ahead only looks winding and increasingly difficult.

the boys of 3racha have been in the studio every day for the past couple of weeks brainstorming and trying to put things together for the upcoming release. but they all seem to be hitting walls, or the ideas clash due to the amount of stress and pressures looming over their heads. so many people are counting on them–the members, producers, choreographers, and the jyp entertainment team, stay. and as the days in the studio pass, with the boys not agreeing on songs, arrangements, mixing, and more, the weight on their shoulders increases as well.

bang chan, the leader of stray kids and 3racha, felt the pressures even more so than changbin and han did.

currently, the three boys find themselves in chan's room inside the jyp entertainment building; chan is seated on the rolling chair in front of the multiple screens and mixing boards, while changbin and han are seated on either end of the couch. the three of them with their phones, laptops and notebooks opened up as they continue to brainstorm and discuss. but much like weeks prior, the progress isn't progressing, the progress is lacking or non-existent.

letting a deep sigh slip past his lips, han's eyebrows furrow in frustration as he scratches over old bullet points and writes new ones in his notebook, looking for ideas that could work. changbin is scrolling through his notes app and audio recording app, intermittently bringing the speakers at the bottom of his phone closer to his ear to hear the audio better as it's turned down to not disturb the other two, changbin tapping his fingers on his knee as he listens with his lip pursed in a tight line. chan is doing a mix of what the two are doing; writing and scratching out old and new ideas in his notebook, scrolling through his notes and audio recording apps to find something that they could work with, as well as filing through the production hardware on the system to find any drafts that could also be used to at the least, spark some inspiration.

at one point, chan feels like he's going to tug his hair out by the roots as he runs his fingers through his locks haphazardly. he's reaching the end of his patience; they've been working for weeks, and they can't even find a starting place for the comeback–he feels as if all the old material he finds in the apps aren't good enough, that they won't exceed the expectations or hype of the last comeback, that it won't even reach those expectations. it's frustrating chan to no end as he feels like he's reaching a dead end.

with a sigh, chan turns in his chair to discuss with han and changbin who are on the couch. when changbin notices this, he glances at han from the corner of his eye, surveys the atmosphere, and runs a frustrated hand through his hair.

"we need to figure something out," chan splutters out, his mind quite frantic, "we have to have some ideas–at least something?"

he looks between changbin and han on the couch, their faces look just as discontented and their minds are frantic but blank at the same time–mirroring chan's own face and mind. chan shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm down his bubbling emotions as he leans back into his chair.

"we could look through the demos again?" han throws a suggestion onto the table.

"which ones?" changbin questions.

han shrugs while at the same time he says, "all of them?"

"why would we look through demos we already vetoed?" chan scoffs, "that would be a complete waste of time."

"it's just a suggestion," han restates, this time his tone laced with hints of irritation, "maybe one of those vetoed demos could actually work; we just need to rework it."

"this isn't the first time we've gone through the demos in the past couple of weeks," chan reminds, "if one of those demos could actually work, we would've found it on the first or second round of looking."

"what demos are you thinking of specifically?" changbin asks han, who shrugs.

"i don't know, but what harm is there to look again?"

chan groans in agitation, not understanding why han is so adamant about looking through the demos again: "this would probably be the fourth time–why waste our time with a fifth? we want to make progress, looking for a fifth time is a complete waste of time."

the older boy's tone is sharp, prompting an eye roll from the youngest in the room, his arms going up in protest: " hey. it was just a suggestion–at least something to get the ball rolling." he reiterates chan's words from the beginning of the conversation.

"how is doing something that hasn't worked the past four times for a fifth going to work? if it didn't work a majority, if not, all the past times–it's not going to work," the tension in the room continues to build.

"wouldn't it be better to start from scratch instead of looking through ideas that we already decided weren't working?" changbin chimes in.

at this, han starts to feel like the two older boys are ganging up against him, and he defends himself quickly, "once again, it was just a suggestion. i don't see either of you suggesting anything."

changbin scoffs, "did I not just suggest starting from scratch instead of looking through rejected ideas?"

han turns his head to face changbin on the other end of the couch, "haven't we also been trying to start from scratch these past couple of weeks? that also hasn't been working–if it did, we wouldn't be having this conversation!"

"how are we supposed to start from scratch if we have no ideas?" chan asks in a matter-of-fact tone.

"if we look through the old demos, put some together or play around, then maybe we can find ideas," han speaks slowly as if he's trying to enunciate his point to drill it into the other two's heads, "it's better than sitting at our notebooks and laptops and writing down, absolutely nothing."

han's method of slowing down and enunciating seems to have gone through changbin's head as he begins to see han's point. if they can't conjure something up from nothing, they might as well try to conjure something up from their old demos or many recordings of melodies that have come to mind in the past. putting things together could trigger some inspiration.

"no, i think han has a point here," changbin states, "if we have no foundation or starting point, we can't build anything on top of it. at least with the old demos, we can continue to build off of what we have."

a deep breath expels from chan's lips as he listens to both han and changbin bounce words of agreement off each other for this working with old demos plan.

"again," chan says slowly, "if it didn't work the past four times, why would it work now? the odds are not in your favour."

"but there's still a chance it could work," han argues, "if there's a chance, why not take it?"

chan tongues at his cheek, "because we have a deadline. we can't keep grasping at straws that are obviously not working."

"starting from scratch and coming up with absolutely nothing is also not going to help us meet the deadline."

"so you want to create an album of demos we've rejected? you want to release a subpar album?" chan taunts.

"that's not what i'm saying," han shakes his head.

"that's what i'm hearing!"

"look, hyung," changbin steps in, "just listen to us for a second."

"i'm listening," chan snaps, "and i disagree. we have a standard to reach, one to exceed. i'll be damned if we release something below that."

"why the hell would we release something below standard?" changbin scoffs, running his hands through his hair and over his face in exasperation. letting his hands linger on his face as he leans forward, elbows on his knees.

the youngest in the room snaps at chan, "the fuck? is this you saying you lack faith in our producing skills? that we can't rework old demos to produce something that not only hits that standard but exceeds it?"

the sharp change in han's tone and volume alerts changbin, who realizes this conversation–well now it's an argument–is getting out of hand. chan and han are practically at each others throats and they're both too headstrong but stubborn at the same time, neither of them will back down. obviously, avoiding conversation wasn't going to get them anywhere, but at this point, where emotions are high, and egos are even higher, no meaningful or productive conversation regarding the album will be shared. changbin realizes he needs to jump into action to diffuse the situation before it becomes a screaming match between the two heated bandmates.

"i'm saying we have a standard, we have expectations to uphold," chan speaks slowly, his voice deeper as he's practically sneering at han, "one that the company has for us, stay, everyone."

han snarls back, eyes throwing daggers in chan's direction, "i know that. i know that damn fucking well. i'm out here trying to innovate some sort of progress toward this album, progress that we have been severely lacking for the past couple of weeks. other than rejecting our ideas, what the hell have you been doing?" he raises his chin at the older boy in a provoking manner.

"han–" changbin starts but is quickly cut off by chan.

"what the hell have i been doing?" chan spits out the question, han nods, "i've been making sure all our releases since debut continue to surpass these standards–this upcoming album is no different. don't come into my studio questioning what the fuck i've been doing."

"hyung–" changbin tries again to no avail.

"maybe you should leave," chan hisses, and changbin's eyes widen, darting between the two other boys in the studio with fires in their eyes, "and come back when you have suggestions that aren't going to waste my fucking time."

"look, guys. hannie, channie hyung–" changbin is cut off again when han rises to his feet, jaw clenched as he stares down chan in front of him, eyes narrowed.

"fine. i'll leave," he declares, "this is a waste of my time. i'll come back when you've got your head out of your fucking ass and you're open to listening to anyone other than yourself."

chan spins back around in his chair, eyes rolling back in anger as he clenches his fists on the table. behind him, han is quickly packing up his laptop and notebook as changbin gulps, wracking his brain to think of who to attend to right now. when han stomps to the studio door, swinging it open and stomping out into the hall of the company building. changbin is quick to follow after him, leaving everything but his phone, keys and wallet in his pocket the whole time as he follows after han, shutting the door behind them, leaving chan to his own thoughts alone. he chooses to follow the younger boy to try to calm him down and ensure he's safe wherever he plans to run off to.

meanwhile, you're a couple moments away from the elevator reaching the same floor the three boys are on. your hands clasped in front of you as you keep an eye on the digital sign that changes with each floor, rocking back and forth on your heels to pass the time. you haven't seen your boyfriend in quite a while due to your conflicting schedules, work and life getting in the way of a relationship, but you were grateful for those moments in between the chaos where it was just steady love and happiness. you learned to cherish those small moments instead of grovelling over how much time you can't spend with your boyfriend–obviously you get sad once in a while when you're away from him but choose not to dwell on it. thankfully, tonight is one of those nights where you can spend your time in the comfort of your boyfriend's presence. but he has no idea that you were even planning on coming to the company building, he has no idea of this little surprise you've organized.

when the elevator dings, stopping at your floor, you exit quickly but you make your way down the hallway slowly. your head moving from left to right as you read the numbers on each door, ensuring you landed on the correct floor and were going in the right direction. when you hear footsteps and your eyes dart to changbin and han walking down the hall in your direction, a wave of relief washes over you until you catch a glimpse of the concern on changbin's face and the anger on han's. they notice you walking towards them belatedly, almost running into you, but you catch their attention before any collision.

"hey guys," you greet softly, concern written on your features at the sight of the two boys. eyes looking between changbin whose eyes are drooped with worry and han, who you can feel the anger radiating off of, "what's going on?"

they both exchange small greetings with you. given han's current state, his greetings are shorter and more reserved. his mouth shut and jaw clenched again once he's greeted you.

"creative differences," changbin says to which han scoffs, rolling his eyes, "ok well, that's how it started, but long story short, we got into an argument, and hannie walked out."

"we?"

changbin nods, "yeah, hannie, chan hyung and i."

your lips purse in a tight line when the second name rolls off changbin's tongue: "if you don't mind, could you explain what happened?"

not wanting to get into too much detail as changbin doesn't want further rile up the already upset han, he gives you a quick run down of the main points of the argument between the 3racha boys–mainly chan and han. you keep your mouth shut the whole time and nod, listening intently to changbin explain while han stands with his arms crossed over his chest, a prominent pout on his lips and his eyebrows knit together.

"you're on your way to see, channie hyung?" changbin asks for clarification and you nod, "okay, obviously after what i told you, he's in a really bad mood right now so proceed with caution. angry chan is scary chan."

you thank changbin for letting you know what happened from their perspective, bidding short goodbyes to both the boys as han and changbin decide to make their way back to the dorms. han needs some time to unwind and collect his thoughts after the spat with chan. you continue to walk down the hall, turning a corner and finding the room number that felix sent you earlier–103.

you knock on the door softly but hear nothing from the inside; you knock once again and hear nothing. you sigh and decide to turn the knob, letting yourself in.

chan heard the knocks; the first one sparked his annoyance, and the second continued to heighten it. the sound of the door being opened caused him to bark at whoever decided to come in when, through his silence, he clearly didn't grant the permission to.

"what the hell?" he mutters to himself before he barks out, turning in his chair, "complete silence after knocking is not an invitation to come in, fuckin–"

when chan fully turns in his chair to face the direction of the door, the words get caught in his throat at the sight of you. he assumed it might have been changbin, han or a staff member, but seeing you standing there took him by complete shock. you shut the door behind you and give chan a small wave that he reciprocates hesitantly, still trying to let it sink in that you're actually in the room with him and that he isn't hallucinating due to how long it's been since the last time he's seen his girlfriend in person. you move to sit on the couch that was once occupied by the two other 3racha members; now, one side is occupied by changbin's laptop and notebook while you sit on the opposite end. chan turns his chair, following your every move.

when you sit down, take the pillow and place it on your lap, you smile up at chan again, "hi."

"hey baby," chan speaks slowly, "what are you doing here?"

you hum before answering, "well, we haven't been able to see each other in a while cos of our schedules but some time opened up for me today, so i wanted to pay you a surprise visit."

chan feels his heart warm at the gesture, but he's still quite irritated and agitated from the argument with han and changbin. the lack of progress for the upcoming album, along with the plethora of expectations looming over his head and his patience begins to dwindle again.

"that's nice, but i don't really have time for this right now," chan's tone is stern, his voice deep in warning, "i've got so much shit to do for this upcoming album, and nothing is fucking–"

"can I sit on your lap?" you ask, cutting chan off and causing him to furrow his eyebrows together in a mix of confusion and irritation–irritated that you had cut him off but confused about whether he had heard you right.

"what?" he deadpans, blinking at you.

"can I sit on your lap?" you repeat, and now he knows he definitely didn't hear things.

"did you not hear what i said?" chan holds back from snarling at you in frustration. "nothing is done for the album, and i don't have time to take a break."

you nod, hearing his words but adding, "you can continue working. i just want to sit on your lap while you do."

chan opens his mouth to refuse, but his eyes lock with yours–your shiny, beautiful eyes with a perfect array of colours decorating the irises, gazing up at him with a splash of hope in the depths of love in your eyes. that's when his mouth snaps shut again, probably looking like a fish when it opens again, but this time he says:

"yeah? sure."

the bright smile that stretches on your face feels like a reward to chan. you make your way over, placing yourself on his lap while facing him; thankfully, chan's chair is big enough for you to practically straddle him in a comfortable position. you wrap your arms around his shoulders and nuzzle yourself into his neck.

"you can go back to work now," you say, your voice muffled from the pressure of your lips against his skin.

chan can't help the lopsided smile that makes its way to his lips. he also can't help the way his whole body seems to relax with your touch; the longer he feels the warmth radiating off your body onto his, the more he feels the tension in his muscles deteriorating slowly. the feeling of your body pressed against his, his arms outstretched to continue typing or writing in his notebook, feels comforting.

moments pass when chan's room is quiet, and the occasional noise of chan typing on the keyboard, picking up or placing his pencil down to scratch down who knows what in his notebook. at the same time, you're still perched on his lap, your arms comfortably draped around him, and your face nuzzled in the crook of his neck and shoulder.

chan isn't sure if the arguing with han and changbin or if the feeling of you in his arms sparked some ideas to come out of him and onto paper, but he would like to say both. despite the heated atmosphere and half-hearted words thrown around, he doesn't want to feel like that argument was completely unnecessary and a waste of time; instead, he wants to see it as a bump in the road that shows him how he can continue to improve as a friend, producer, bandmate and a person as a whole.

meanwhile, you're thinking about how comfortable you feel in the position your in right now, and how you could probably fall asleep at this moment. sure, maybe your back will hurt when you wake up, but right now, you feel your whole body relax in your boyfriend's arms. a couple moments later, your eyes are half open and you felt yourself falling asleep, but you jump a little in shock when you feel both of chan's hands sprawled on your back. his hands rub your back gently and comfortingly before he circles his arms around your body and pulls you closer. a deep sigh escaping his lips as he holds you, his eyes falling shut for a few seconds. chan turns his head, kissing the side of your head on your hair.

"thank you," he whispers, placing another gentle kiss as his hands rub circles on your back again.

you respond in a small, quiet and slightly sleepy voice, "for what?"

chan shrugs, "for this. being here."

you nod, pausing for a moment before you say, "i ran into changbin and han in the hall."

you feel your boyfriend tense up in your arms. you begin to reciprocate his comforting action as you trace circles on his back with the pads of your thumbs, his muscles relaxing under your gentle caresses. you continue to speak in a soft, timid manner that only chan can hear since your lips are so close to his ear.

"i know you're under a lot of stress and pressure preparing for the album," you begin, "i get that you're frustrated, but can you please not speak to me like that?"

the man feels his heart drop listening to your words. his mind rewinds back to when he heard the door opening, and how his first instinct was to bark and scold whoever came into the studio uninvited. chan remembers how you blinked and gave him a small smile, trying to hide your surprise, but it was evident in how your eyes widened the slightest bit for a split second before returning to normal.

you and chan sit in silence; he's dwelling on your words while you're still tracing circles into his back with your thumbs. chan wants to say that he didn't know you were the one coming into the studio, to use that as a defence, but he knows how weak that is–that regardless of who came into the room, he shouldn't have let his frustrations blow over, flipping out and greeting them by raising his voice. sure, his emotions were high, which is a factor in how he acted earlier, but he can't use that as an excuse to get away with snapping at people who have nothing to do with what he's emotional about.

you feel chan nod, and he says softly, "i'm sorry." you go to say that it's okay, but chan interrupts, "it's not, though. even if i didn't mean to speak to you that way, i still need to figure out how to regulate and control my emotions."

"you're human," you say, "when emotions are high, it's hard to find a way to keep them under control all the time. but the fact that you recognize your mistake–that's a lot more than many people can say."

chan pulls you even closer against him, if it's even possible, "i'll try my best though. i'll speak to you at a normal volume, respectfully and saying sweet things. that's what my girl deserves."

your cheeks heat up at the way chan calls you 'his girl'.

"thank you," chan repeats.

this time, you pull away, sitting up straight to look at chan's face, your eyes meeting his soft ones. his hands rub up and down your sides slowly, a slight smile on his lips. you cock your head in confusion, "for what?"

"you always know the right thing to say," chan moves one of his hands up to tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, keeping his hand on your cheek gently and the pad of his thumb swiping over the skin, "i love you."

you're blushing even harder now, "i love you too."

chan uses the hand on your cheek to guide your face so your lips meet his halfway for a sweet kiss. after quite a while, a smile breaks out on your face at the feeling of his soft pink and plump lips against yours. your hands move to hold either side of his neck, and the two of you spend the next couple of moments sharing tender kisses and giggles in between.

in the midst of all of the kisses, you and chan are gazing down at each other when he brushes your hair away again. this time, he opens his mouth to speak with flushed cheeks, "i'm starting to think han and his suggestions were right; it'll be better to build on something we already have and improve on it than to force ourselves to start from scratch and continue to hit a dead end."

you brush chan's hair out of his forehead, and he continues.

"my head was too far up my ass to consider his suggestion," chan purses his lips together, and his eyes flash with regret as he recalls the words thrown around between him and the younger producer earlier. chan lets himself linger in his head again before voicing his concerns, "do you think they'll forgive me?"

you nod.

"really? you're not just saying that?"

you nod again, and this time, you explain, "as long as you can identify and acknowledge where you went wrong and what you did wrong, and sincerely and genuinely apologize–which i know you feel sincerely and genuinely apologetic for–i believe they'll forgive you."

chan's eyelids flutter quickly as he thinks, nodding as he fully processes your words. still, a wave of nervousness washes over him at the possibility that han and changbin won't forgive him.

"they're your brothers," you snap him out of his thoughts, "brothers fight, but at the end of the day, they still love each other."

main masterlist

#nikkys inbox 💌 #zeroeightzeroonerequests #stray kids one shots #stray kids imagines #skz imagine #stray kids imagine #skz imagines #skz scenarios #stray kids scenarios #stray kids bang chan imagine #stray kids bang chan imagines #stray kids bang chan oneshot #stray kids bangchan oneshots #stray kids bang chan one shot #stray kids bang chan one shots #skz bang chan one shot #skz bang chan imagine #skz bang chan angst #requests

[toughbunnyforever]

would 100% recommend putting your ocs in a pokemon just to feel a little bit more alive and like good things are possible. 10/10

#the amount of time i spent putting their teams together #worth it #my art #digital art #digital illustration #my ocs #oc #original character #original comic #webcomic #webtoon #webtoon canvas #fio #memo #pokemon #pokemon au

[age-of-moonknight]

House of M: Avengers (Vol. 1/2007), #1.

Writer: Christos N. Gage; Penciler and Inker: Mike Perkins; Colorist: Laura Martin; Letterer: Rus Wooton

#Marvel #Marvel comics #Marvel 58163 #House of M: Avengers #Moon Knight comics #Moon Knight #Marc Spector #Iron Fist #Danny Rand #Hawkeye #Clint Barton #now THERE’S a dynamic I would love to see explored (and it’s not /entirely/ motivated by my desire to get more into Iron Fist comics) #I just think (as presented here) Danny’s optimism would be an interesting contrast to Marc’s realism (that occasionally dips into cynicism) #even as they both deal with some /strongly/ supernatural aspects of the Marvel universe #like sure they were on that Midnight Sons team in Vegas and the Contagion team but they didn’t interact much you know? #so all that and the description of Moon Knight’s past here fascinates me #(naturally….what can I say the only thing comparable to the amount of time I’ve spent studying Moon Knight #is the amount of time I’ve spent studying the CIA’s crimes against humanity) #but more importantly heck YEAH I’m all for putting some respect on my guys’ names and how both individually and together #Marc and Danny are considerable forces to be reckoned with

[luveline]

do you have anymore pregnant bombshell!reader🥹🩷😭 ilysm, please stay hydrated

—Spencer comforts you when you feel like you aren’t yourself. pregnant!reader, 1k

It’s neither hot nor cold in Maryland that day. The work isn’t particularly strenuous, just threadbare, and the team are in good spirits. You’re fed, watered, and well-rested. Spencer spent an hour before work massaging your legs while you both watched TV on the hotel couch. You should be in great spirits. 

But for some reason, you aren’t. 

You don’t know what it is. Your chest hurts, maybe. The sun is bright above you, your feet ache in your heels. You’re thinking you might have to switch to converse and match Spencer if this continues. The sidewalk clicks below you with every footstep, a little rush of confidence in the sound, but it isn’t working the same. 

You’re really not feeling well. 

You stop walking. You like to believe it takes Spencer a shorter amount of time to notice you’re stopped than he would anyone else, but his chattering fades out of hearing range for a second before he comes running back. “Hey, what?” he asks, quickly panicked. 

“What?” you ask back. 

“You look like you’re gonna pass out,” he says. “Hey, come and sit down. Let’s sit down. Here, we passed a bench.” 

Spencer leads you to a wrought iron bench, encouraging you down with two kind hands to the shoulders. The metal is cold. You try to save face, worried that he’s worried, but there’s a dull aching behind your eyes that needs a lowered head. You drop your face into your hands. 

“Hey,” Spencer whispers, crouching in front of your knees. 

“Sorry.” 

“What’s wrong?” he asks, rubbing your thigh. “Huh? What’s wrong, baby?” 

Spencer doesn’t use very many pet names, not half as many as you do, but when he does they pack a punch. He says it with all the tenderness of a confession, and it rolls off of his tongue as though he’s been calling you baby all your life. 

Tears well in your eyes. 

“Do you know what’s wrong?” he asks. 

You shake your head tightly. 

“Is it a pain? Does something hurt?” 

You shake your head again. 

Spencer meets your eyes with patience. “Okay,” he says, darting up to kiss your jaw as he stands. His foot slides between yours, his one leg between yours, the other outside as he wraps an arm around you. “Tell me if I’m making it worse.” 

Your head races with tearful thoughts. You’re tired and weird and you’d needed to sit down, but Spencer being nice to you is making you wanna cry. 

“I don’t feel very well,” you say, a hot tear breaking through the hedging of your bottom lashes. 

He can hear the uncertainty in your voice, his hands swift to placate you, his cheek pressed to your hair. “It’s okay, I promise.” 

“We have to get back to the station.” 

“No, we have to stay here until we know what’s wrong.” 

“I was thinking about how my feet hurt, and everything does, and– and–” You squeeze him by the waist so he can’t leave. “Being pregnant is so hard,” you cry. 

Spencer sighs into your hair. “Oh, angel.” 

He rubs your back and administers some soft shushing as you shudder through tears. You didn’t realise it until you said it, that this awful feeling was inside, all the hormones and the fatigue. 

“I know it’s hard,” he says, “but please don’t cry.” 

“I don't like not being any good at it,” you splutter. 

“What?”

“I want this,” you say quickly, “I do, I want you and the baby and I’m so happy but I miss feeling like–” 

“Wait, nobody said anything about that.” He ducks his head down to smile at you. “I’m not stupid, I know what you want. You never do anything you don’t wanna do.” 

“I miss feeling put together. I’m not good at being me and being pregnant at the same time.” 

He takes your cheek into his hand. “I’m sorry you feel that way, but it’s not true,” he says, stroking his thumb along the line of your under-eye. 

You press your face to his chest. He keeps his hand there wedged between you, the other behind your back still. He murmurs to you softly, it’s okay, it’s alright, you don’t have to be upset, until your tears slow and your head is pounding but clearer for his touch. You hold your breath as he tips your head back, knowing you look even worse than when you’d begun. 

“I know it’s hard feeling out of control for you,” he says, voice dulcet, tone measured, “but you’re still just as perfect as the day we met. You don’t feel that way, but it’s true. And you’re so beautiful.” He couldn’t sound more in awe of you, then, his lips curled into a smile he can’t bite back. “Don’t think you aren’t. You’ve always had this aura around you and it hasn’t gone away. You walk into a room, and people just know it.” 

“Know what?” you ask, sniffling.

“That you’re amazing.” 

You can tell from his slight squint that he's aware of how saccharine a sentiment it is. You struggle to care, letting out a tired sigh as the warmth of his lips sinks into your cheek. 

“What should we do? Do you need to go back to the hotel?” 

“My feet hurt,” you mumble. 

You arrive at the precinct a terrible, inexcusable thirty minutes later than you’d said you’d get there, with a sweet baked good in a bag and Spencer’s converse on your aching feet. You’re smiling, to Spencer’s obvious relief. You feel better. 

“Sorry,” he apologises to Hotch. “My fault.” 

Hotch nods agreeably. “Yes, it is.” 

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction

[mrrharper]

Mandatory PE Class

Markus walked through the university campus, his face clearly showing his annoyance at the situation he was going through. His school decided to "promote physical activity among the student body", and by "promote" they meant a mandatory Physical Education class every junior had to go through. And Marcus was not happy about it.

Marcus was an introvert - he didn't particularly enjoy parties, going to bars, or other typical college activities. He spent his time reading, researching and weightlifting. This might seem weird for a "nerd", but whenever Marcus put on his noise-canceling headphones and grabbed the bar with 100 or so pounds on it, he felt like he could finally relax.

But even though Marcus enjoyed going to the gym, he enjoyed it when he was there alone - no one with him, the amount of people in the gym at a minimum. These were the perfect conditions for him. This class would not be it. He would have to deal with God knows how many people, plus most likely some smart ass coach, who thinks he's the next Arnold Schwarzenegger.

The university gave him a choice of what he wanted to do during the class and Marcus chose weight training, hoping he would be left alone and allowed to just follow his usual routine without any interruptions.

Marcus arrived at the athletics department's building and after wandering through its corridors he found his way to Weight Room C09. He knocked and heard a booming voice invite him inside. He opened the door and walked into a smallish locker room, where a few guys were getting ready and another man, clearly older than the others, stood on the side and waited. That was probably the coach.

"Marcus, right?" the supposed coach walked up to Marcus. "I'm Assistant Coach Baker and I'll be leading your group this semester." He extended his hand and Marcus shook it reluctantly. He quickly turned around and began changing into his gym gear.

Once everyone was ready (and there weren't many people in Marcus' group - only 6 guys) the group led by Coach Baker moved to the weight room proper. Marcus wanted to walk up to Baker and ask him if he could just do his own routine, but before he had mustered up the courage to do this Baker began warming up and expected the rest to do the same. Marcus rolled his eyes and sighed, before joining the group.

The next hour passed slowly. Baker had the group do a fairly quick and lite set of exercises, lite for Marcus at least. After the class had ended everyone was getting out of their sweaty shirts in the locker room. Marcus put his gear in his backpack and as the rest of the students began leaving the room, he walked up to Coach Baker.

"Sir, could I make a certain request?" He asked, a bit shy.

"Oh, Marcus, yeah? I also wanna talk with you about something. But go on." He wanted to talk with Marcus about something? That didn't sound great. He stood silent for a moment.

"So..." Baker looked at Marcus, his eyebrow raised.

"Oh yeah. So... I was wondering... I, I go to the gym quite often, and have for a few years now... and so I thought... Would it be a problem if during these PE classes I... I just followed my usual routine and you, you just did what you have planned with the rest?"

Coach smiled as he listened. Marcus wasn't sure if this was a good or a bad thing.

"Well, Marcus, I'm glad you see the importance of exercise. But I don't want no divisions in my group, you understand. I want to work with all of you, show something to everyone. Although, because you asked, I'll be sure to adjust the exercises for your level." Marcus nodded, although he wasn't really happy with Baker's response. "And while we're talking, I wanted to ask you something - would you be interested in trying out for our football team?"

This took Marcus by surprise. The football team? Where did that idea come from? He was not about to join a group of brain dead jocks.

"What?" he simply asked, confused.

"Well, I have noticed your strength during our hour together. And I think you would do great on the gridiron." Baker put his hand on Marcus' shoulder. Marcus did not like that.

"Wel, uhm... thank you for the proposition, but... no, I'm, I don't think I would fit in."

"Are you sure? I could help you fit in just right." Baker grinned again.

"Yeah... I'm sure... Mr. Baker" Marcus stood there and avoided eye contact with the older man.

"Call me Coach" Baker laughed. "If you're sure... well, I ain't gonna force ya. Now go, I'll see you next week."

As Marcus left the building he sighed. This was going to be an exhausting semester.

Reality turned out weirder than he expected.

As the months progressed Marcus attended every PE class, his annoyance with Baker's refusal to just let him do what he wanted not strong enough to risk messing with his attendance. Baker meanwhile stuck to his word, and for the most part Marcus was doing what the rest of the group was doing.

Although... this wasn't the whole truth. Because even though Marcus wasn't allowed to do his own thing, while doing the exercises Baker would come up to him and ask him to change something about the movements, add more weight, do another variant of the exercise. So even though he was working with the group, he did get the chance to do way more challenging things.

Baker himself was weirdly invested, at least that's how it seemed to Marcus. He very much got into that role of the supportive coach, he stood next to Marcus, counted his reps, motivated him to "just push further". Marcus found that strange, but didn't want to get into any kind of argument with the coach, so he just went along with this.

As the semester came to an end Marcus also had to admit he got something out of these classes. The exercises Baker had him do were pushing his limits, and he did adjust his normal gym routine to include stuff he learnt from him As he looked in the mirror, standing in his room on the day of the last class before the end of the semester he had to admit he was bigger than 5 months prior.

The last class came and went pretty uneventfully. Marcus beat his PB on the bench by 10 pounds and after an hour he came back to the locker room sweaty and gross. Baker thanked all the guys for coming, asked them to continue going to the gym and said goodbye.

As Marcus got ready to leave the locker room Baker looked at him and said "See you at practice, 90" and went back to the weight room. Marcus had no idea what that meant, but the class was over so he just shrugged and left.

Marcus entered his dorm room and sat behind his desk. He had some work to do on a paper he wanted to submit next week. He opened his laptop and quickly got to work. After a while he needed something to drink so he stood up and walked up to his mini fridge. There he noticed a mug standing on top of it. It was a cup branded with the logo of the Lions, his university's football team.

This was weird, as Marcus did not recall ever getting any merchandise like that. Maybe someone left it here by mistake, Marcus didn't know. But it seemed it was the only clean mug he had, so he quickly poured soda into it and went back to his laptop.

He got into the flow of writing and research pretty quickly. Then, around half an hour later, he was surprised by a notification from some group chat. 10 unread messages from "jungle kingssss 💪". What the hell was that? Marcus was sure he never joined such a conversation. Maybe it was some new kind of scam.

The notifications just kept coming, and at one point instead of deleting it Marcus clicked on it and a chat window appeared.

nah bruh, ya slayed that bitch well dude - steroidss#96

dude concentrate ffs - big dog jake#7

stfu bros where the fuck is tron where ya need him - mike chief#53

hes jerkin of or meal preppin bro, ya know that - steroidss#96

Marcus looked at the chat, even though he had no idea what he was looking at. It seemed he somehow had access to a group chat of some random meatheads. Although the numbers from their nicknames were tickling something at the back of his head, somehow.

if hes jerkin his fat dick ill kick his fat ass, we have state to fuckin beat - big dog jake#7

State? What does it mean they have to beat-- oh yeah, the Lions' next game is against Ohio State.

Wait.

What does that we mean in "we have state to beat"?

How did he know the Lions' schedule?

Marcus felt his head spin a little. Was he sick? He looked at the screen again and suddenly a new message appeared.

am not fuckin jerkin off you piece of shit, got fuckin dumbass school to take care of you idiots - tron's big dick#90

Marcus looked down. His fingers were still touching the keys. HE WROTE THAT!

And that we... It meant the football team! Marcus was reading the football team's group conversation. How the fuck did this happen?!

dunno why i even bother wit any of your stupid fat asses you fuckin shits - tron's big dick#90

Marcus jumped out of the chair. He did it again! His fingers were betraying him. He shut the laptop down and opened the window. Maybe he had to breathe in some fresh air. Was he hallucinating? Was this some infection? What was happening to him?!

He sat on his bed and breathed in, then out. In and out, in and out. In and out. In and out-- was he drooling!? Marcus wiped the drool from his face. It was getting late and he decided it would be beneficial to go to bed early. He turned around to get to his bed only to notice a sweaty hoodie with badly cut-off sleeves. It had the Lions' logo on the front and the number 90 on the back.

This was not happening.

This was just a dream.

Marcus told himself that repeatedly as he got into his PJs. He checked if his laptop was turned off and laid on his bed. He could swear he could feel a faint smell of sweat and... cum? But this didn't stop him from quickly falling asleep.

Marcus was dragged out of sleep by his alarm clock. He slowly got his body into an upright position, then began going through his usual morning routine.

He made himself a protein shake with added creatine.

He ate the oatmeal and eggs he always had for breakfast.

He put on the sweaty shirt from two days ago. It was fine, no one would notice. And he looked hot in it anyways.

He sent a message on the group chat.

you bitches ready to get dominated n pushed into the grass by my fat dick - tron's big dick#90

He got his gear ready and put his duffel bag on his shoulder.

the faggot of the team has spoken everybody - hall/of/glory#38

Marcus walked through the campus. He let out a dumb chuckle as he read the message. Jalen was the best.

not everyone can slay pussy like tron, bitch - tron's big dick#90

He entered the building and walked towards the locker room-- Marcus suddenly stopped and looked around.

Where was he?

He didn't remember waking up.

He didn't remember dressing up.

He didn't remember coming here.

Where was he?

As he tried to understand what the fuck was going on Assistant Coach Baker appeared, walking through the corridor, coming towards him.

"You know why you're here, Marcus?"

"No!" Marcus shouted, surprising himself, but not Baker.

"As I thought. Follow me" the older man waved at him and Marcus instinctively followed his lead. They walked through the football wing of the athletics department until they reached a door. Locker Room L01.

They both entered - Baker first, Marcus second - and Coach pointed to an open locker. Marcus walked up to it and looked inside.

Jersey. Number 90. Schoeder. His name.

Shoulder pads.

Cleats.

Condoms.

Gym gear.

It all reeked of sweat.

So fuckin' musky.

Huhuhuhuh, a proper jock's smell, bro

bro

bruh

WHAT!?

Coach came up to Marcus and looked him in the eyes.

"Do you know why you're here, 90?"

Marcus opened his mouth and tried to answer. But no words came out.

Coach grinned and took a sweaty Under Armour shirt from his locker. He then put the shirt up to his nostrils.

Marcus automatically inhaled and a fog descended over his mind. He took a few more sniffs. So sweaty, so musky. A fuckin' football jock's smell. A stupid grin appeared on his face, drool began flowing from his mouth. Bruh, that was so fuckin' good bro.

"Sick bro..." Tron drawled and put his arms into a double bicep pose. Coach Baker just smiled and took back the shirt before throwing it into the locker.

"Now, 90, put on the gear. I've trained a new defensive end for 5 months. Let's see it it was worth the hassle." He patted Tron on the back before barking at him. "Main field in 2 minutes or you won't be able to walk for a week, 90!"

"Huhuhuhuh" Tron responded with a dumb chuckle. "Yeah, Coach. No worries, dude."

He then quickly got ready and ran out onto the field.

whos ready for a fuckin beatin - tron's big dick#90

#nerd to jock tf #personality change #football jock #jock tf #jock

[holllandtrash]

now that we don't talk | charles leclerc

pairing: charles leclerc x reader part 2 to say don't go

so i pay the price of what i lost and what it cost now that we don't talk

word count: 5.6k tags/warnings: slight angst, mentions of being disloyal, this is sad, pato o'ward makes a guest appearance had to rewind a bit because because this is charles' pov during and after the relationship - i promise we'll find the ending eventually

Charles was late to the welcome party in Vegas and maybe that was a blessing in disguise.

He showed up a little after 11pm as he really wasn’t in any sort of rush to make an appearance. This week was going to be a long one already and with the obligations piling on top of each other, he tried to spend the minimum amount of time doing what was required of him.

So on that Wednesday evening, he showed up over three hours after the recommended time of 8pm. Alexandra was with him, Alex as she preferred to be called. The coordinated outfits were her idea and Charles didn’t mind it, but it wasn’t an outfit he would have chosen himself. 

But they showed up, hand in hand and Charles found a few members of his team - or rather, Mark found him. 

“Did you know Damon Hill and his family are here?” Mark didn’t even start with a greeting. He did smile at Alex, out of politeness, but his interest lied with Charles knowing that the Monegasque driver hadn’t spoken to you in a few months.

“The whole family?” Charles asked with a breath, feeling the tense glance from his girlfriend. 

Mark nodded, “Yeah. Yeah they’re all around here somewhere.”

Here being the very large venue dedicated to tonight, to the inaugural Las Vegas Grand Prix. Members from each team, the drivers, invited guests and sponsors, everyone was here tonight. 

And apparently, so were you.

Mark was not the only person to mention to Charles that you were there, in fact Mark was the first of about eight people who felt the need to tell Charles that the girl he once spoke to was somewhere around.

Of course, no one could tell Charles exactly where you were, but it didn’t surprise him to hear you were leaving good impressions on everyone you had spoken to. You, someone who could part the red sea with ease, took a more delicate approach tonight. 

You were fully aware Charles was going to be there, but he was of no concern to you. You were polite to absolutely everyone you spoke to and if by chance someone mentioned that, ‘oh, Charles will be here eventually’ you simply smiled and nodded because you weren’t about to make any more waves in the motorsport industry. You preferred your name stayed out of the tabloids and what good would it be going around telling people how Charles broke your heart? 

There was speculation, of course. People knew you spent time together. Those online shared their opinions, right or wrong, thinking they could put the pieces together just based on the fact that he was seen in Paris with you one day and then in Monaco with Alex the next.

It didn’t help that you left England soon after, making only one more appearance in Formula 1 when you went to Spain. 

Charles still thought about that conversation, how calm you were throughout, not allowing him to take any piece of your dignity despite what he did, how he made you feel. 

Charles thought he was better off this way, with Alex. 

You were certainly better off. 

He didn’t like admitting it, in fact he probably never would, but he kept up to date with you, with your life. He saw on Instagram when you dyed your hair and then dyed it again and then chopped it to your shoulders. He saw when you spent time with the F1 Academy drivers, when you attended Nascar races, when you started spending more and more time with the Arrow McLaren team.

You had told him that you wanted to watch a few races, check out a few teams before deciding whether or not you wanted to pursue a career in the motorsports field.

And you had done just that. From the outside looking in, Charles couldn’t help but think that this was you just trying on different lives. Indecisive, certainly. But you looked happy, so who was he to have a say?

It shouldn’t have come as a shock when the news dropped of you being brought on as a Performance Engineer for the US based papaya team starting in 2024. The photo that accompanied the headline was you sitting at the pit wall in Portland, already with the orange headset on as you watched the race.

Charles was in Italy when he read the article. Just over three months after your relationship ended...but who's counting?

He had finished fourth that Sunday, not his worst race but his best one either. He was just on his way to his car, wanting to head to the airport when he came across the news on Instagram.

He wanted to congratulate you. He wanted to call you and tell you he was excited for this move, for this career you landed on. He wanted to joke that he could have gotten you a job at Ferrari if you had just asked. 

But you didn’t talk anymore so he couldn’t say anything. This was the cost of losing you. Charles couldn’t stay your friend, not after what he did, and in return, you were out of his life. 

It wasn't that he was looking for you that night in Vegas but he wasn't not looking for you. It was quite a large crowd that even he had trouble navigating his way around. Alex walked behind him, following Charles at a close distance. 

And truthfully, Charles tried not to compare you and Alex, but something about knowing you were in the vicinity had him thinking of what would be different if you had accompanied him tonight. 

You wouldn’t reach for his hand, but you would have lightly grabbed the back of his shirt if the crowd started getting a little suffocating. Just a slight tug on the material and Charles would turn around and assure you with a smile that he wasn’t going anywhere. 

The first time you did that, you were in Monaco. Those weeks he flew you out to spend time with him after only meeting once in the Ferrari garage. 

After leaving a nightclub, the crowd got a little rowdy- they all wanted a piece of him. You stood behind him as he walked to the car that was waiting but when people started moving closer you felt as though you were suffocating. Heart racing as anxiety crept up, a new feeling because you didn’t think you were claustrophobic but you had also never been in this situation before. 

You reached for the back of Charles’ shirt, hand brushing over the thin material before taking it between your forefinger and thumb. It was helpful for you, knowing that you could still touch him, feel him. It grounded you. A little bit of comfort amidst the chaos.

Charles turned when he felt the faint tug. He recognized the wide eyes, the fear that you tried to play off because this was normal for him. But it wasn’t normal for you so he raised his hand, sliding his fingers into yours to give you that gentle squeeze before finally making it to the car.

The anxiety faded the second Charles closed the door for you. He walked around to the drivers side and slid in, hand automatically finding your leg. 

He didn’t ask about it, the sudden panic. He knew you had been around large crowds a handful of times before. You weren’t in the public eye per say, but your father was and growing up you became used to it. 

But this was just different. Charles recognised it, and he knew moving forward he’d have to be mindful of it, of you, of how you were feeling. 

He wondered how you were doing tonight in Vegas, if there was someone else's shirt you were clinging onto this time. Or maybe that was something you saved just for Charles. He couldn’t ask, though. He wouldn’t know the answer to how you were feeling because you didn’t talk anymore.

He also had absolutely no idea where you were. 

Maybe you had left by now. It was getting late. If you showed up on time, which you probably did, you’d have been ready to call it a night thirty minutes ago. You’d have gone back to your hotel room and scrubbed your makeup off, changing into one of those matching jumper and sweats sets you always had. 

You craved comfort over anything else.

Charles remembered Paris. The first night. Not the night where everything fell apart right in front of him all because he couldn’t say those three little words back to you.

No, the first night was good. It was great, magical even. Charles had taken you out to dinner. The skin tight black dress you wore, the one with the low cut neckline - Charles still thought about it. He’d love to know if you still had it, if you wore it for anyone else but those were questions he kept to himself. 

He remembered at the end of the evening you were at your second wine bar, having come across this one completely by accident on your way back to your place. Charles remembered pulling you inside, suggesting that one more glass wouldn’t hurt anyone and you hesitated because it was getting late, but nevertheless, you followed. 

One glass turned into splitting an entire bottle at one of the high tables in the very back. This place was old-school chic with the decor and the 80’s records playing on low volume. It was nothing like the modern and elegant bar you had just spent the last hour in. No, this place was intimate, cozy and surprisingly you didn’t want to leave, even as the night went on. 

And that surprised Charles because you had joked at the beginning of the night that you wanted to be in bed by at least eleven. It was half 12 now and you showed no signs of trying to get back to your flat. 

“So do you or do you not like staying out late?” Charles asked, trying to get the proper read. His hand was resting on your leg, fingers daringly close to the hem of your dress. You were both way too overdressed for this establishment but no one seemed to mind. No one paid you two any attention.

You smiled and glanced around, wanting to bring light to the fact that no one had approached you since you stepped inside, but you didn’t want to jinx it.

“After a certain hour I like to be comfortable,” you answered. “There’s nothing comforting about a stuffy bar and loud music and people in your space who think they know you but they really don’t. And I like going out, I do, but I don’t like staying out longer than I need to.”

Charles nodded, understanding the point you were getting at. This wine bar was a hole in the wall, a hidden gem that provided you the comfort you desired. While you weren’t entirely alone, it certainly felt like it. You could laugh freely without worrying about being too loud or embarrassing. You could sit as close as you wanted to Charles without being cautious of who was nearby. It was just you and him. 

And you could have gone back home, but home would always be there. This moment, this bar, this was just as comforting and in the back of both of your minds, you knew it wouldn’t come again. 

You were right.

Charles would have rather been back in that corner of the wine bar with you now, back in Paris without the impending end of your relationship weighing over his shoulders. 

He wished he could relive that night over and over because for a moment, he thought that maybe, possibly, he could love you.

Charles blamed it on the wine. The way the dim light hit your delicate features was only accentuated because he was drunk. Your laughter was soothing, heartwarming even, but he reminded himself he had heard it hundreds of times before. You looked at him that night, a naive glow to you and it terrified Charles. 

He pushed that four letter word aside. He couldn’t love you. He couldn’t love anyone, he couldn’t have that commitment, not with his lifestyle- his career. If he loved you, you’d become a distraction. You’d want more from him and he couldn’t do that, he couldn’t give you more.

So when you told him you loved him only a few days later, he ran.

He ran back to Alex because she would never tell him she loved him. She wouldn’t put that on his shoulders, she wouldn’t carelessly hand over her heart that way you had. Because that’s what you did. You gave Charles everything, all of you and he didn’t know what to do with it. He wasn’t ready to give you everything in return.

He was left with a tainted memory of Paris.

So yes, he tried to think of that first night more than any other one. At least that memory was pure, wholesome. 

It wouldn’t have surprised him to find out you left this Vegas party already. Probably found the quietest bar on the outskirts of the strip. Or you might have even gone back to the hotel because what comfort could a bar bring you? 

Did you still think about that night in Paris too? Or had you tried to completely forget about your time together there? Again, Charles couldn’t just ask you that. You didn’t talk. 

But there were people here that you did talk to.

Charles spotted Pato O’Ward, the well adored driver in the IndyCar series. You may not have been hired as a performance engineer for his car, but you were going to be a crucial part of the Arrow McLaren team. Plus you had spent a handful of races with them already, sometimes in his pit lane box. 

They had met before, briefly but it was a long enough interaction that Charles didn’t feel uncomfortable approaching the Mexican driver. 

They chatted about the race happening this weekend, about Pato’s upcoming practice session he’ll be participating in in Abu Dhabi. Charles was friendly, he knew how to carry a conversation.

He also knew how to find out the information he couldn’t get first hand from you. Of course, waiting until Alex walked off to get another drink.

“I heard about Y/N joining the team,” Charles casually mentioned. “That’s exciting, she’ll be a good addition.”

“Oh for sure,” Pato nodded in agreement. He glanced around, as if trying to find you but he didn’t spend too long looking. “She’s a genius. We’re happy to have her. I’m surprised that she didn’t find a job in Formula 1, though. With her father and all and-”

Pato cut himself off, unsure if this was a line he wanted to cross.

But Charles chuckled, making light of the history he had with the new Arrow McLaren employee. The more at ease Pato felt, the more likely he’d be willing to talk about you.

“Honestly I could have gotten her a job at Ferrari if she showed interest,” Charles told him. He wasn’t sure if that was true or not, but Pato wasn’t going to talk if Charles was quick to shut down the topic of you. So he continued, “But she always talked about IndyCar. She only ever spent time at Formula 1 because of the history, because of her dad but her interests lied with your series. I think it’s because she grew up with Formula 1, you know, there was no more fascination. IndyCar is almost like a challenge for her…she did always like to challenge herself. I hope this career is good for her- I think it will be, I think it’s what she needs. I mean, I guess I don't really know what she needs but I hope she finds it at Arrow McLaren.”

Where the fuck did that come from?

Even Pato was a little taken aback. He didn’t show it on his face, but he certainly hadn’t expected Charles to say any of those words about you. There was a longing in Charles’ tone. He wasn’t just speaking highly of you, he was pulling from his heaviest memories, his cherished moments. He wasn’t just telling Pato everything that Pato probably already knew. Charles was reminding himself of the person you were, the person you still are. 

The person he didn’t know anymore.

Charles cleared his throat, “Do you talk to her? Or not so much in the off season?”

Pato moved on along with Charles, as best as he could, offering him a faint shrug, “I chatted with her earlier tonight. She’s in the middle of a move, actually.”

“To the states?” Charles asked.

“Bristol, I think,” Pato racked his memory but was confident with his answer. “She lived in Paris for a bit but is going to spend the next few months in Bristol before heading to the states at the end of February.”

Bristol did not come as a surprise to Charles. 

“If you could move anywhere, where would you go?” You had once asked him. Although, your timing was poor as you were both currently lounging on the front of his yacht in the French Riviera. Why would he want to move anywhere else when everything he needed, for the most part, was right here?

“I don’t want to move,” Charles gave you the answer you had expected. He turned his head to face you, arm resting on the back of the chair. He had sunglasses perched on the bridge of his nose but he took them off his face and handed them to you when he realised you were squinting as you looked at him.

“I’d move to Bristol,” you told him, unprompted. His sunglasses were a little big for your face, but the gesture was sweet. 

“Bristol,” he repeated. “Why Bristol?”

“It’s beautiful,” you said. “Rich in history and culture. I’d live on the seaside. I’d spend my days in the market. There’s still a bit of a nightlife if I feel like going out. But It’s serene there. I’d be happy there.”

Charles sat up a bit, “Monaco has all that. Why don’t you just move here?”

You laughed. As if moving to Monaco was that easy. 

Regardless, Monaco was missing something you cherished.

“I enjoy the cold weather, Charles.” You said as if this wasn’t something he already knew. “Bristol’s like the perfect place. It doesn’t snow often but it still drops in temperature during the winter and if I wanted a white Christmas I could just drive a few hours inland. I can’t thrive in 365 days of heat. Sometimes I just want to make a cup of tea and curl up on the couch with a blanket.”

Charles admired a lot of things about you, but near the top of that list was how much you appreciated the little things in your life. You were raised in wealth, with a name that everyone was familiar with, but you were simple. You worked hard for what you wanted and you cherished what you had. You never asked for anything more and you were always content, never one to complain. You were probably the most down to earth person he’d ever met.

So no, it wasn’t shocking to hear that you had moved out of your flat in Paris to spend a few months in Bristol. To get that British winter one more time before moving for your career. 

“I’m sure she’s around here somewhere if you-” Pato stopped mid sentence, his eyes landing on something, someone, behind Charles. 

Naturally, Charles turned over his shoulder to look.

There you were. 

Part of your hair was pinned back with a pearl hair clip. You opted out of a dress, going for a matching skirt and cropped blazer instead, pairing it with a pair of heels only a shade darker. You were chatting with someone that Charles didn’t recognise, a champagne glass held delicately between your fingers. You were so into your conversation that you had no idea that you had gained the attention of not just one driver, but two.

Charles wasn’t the only one who was dying to spend some time with you tonight. 

He turned back at Pato and Charles would be lying to himself if he said his blood didn’t boil over at the way Pato was looking at you. He was envious in this moment. He knew you were larger than life, but you were such a well kept secret, his secret, and you were the farthest thing from that now.

Pato muttered something about catching up with Charles later and all Charles could do was watch as the IndyCar driver made his way over to you. You greeted him with a warm smile. His hand found your lower back with ease, like he had placed it there before. You handed him the champagne glass in your hand and Pato took a sip, holding it onto it, like that was normal. Like you shared drinks with him before.

And Charles knew he didn’t have any sort of right to care, to question, to even wonder what you were doing now but god it pained him to think that you were possibly, probably, sleeping with Pato O’Ward.

When did that start? Before you signed your contract or after? Did that matter? No of course it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because Charles was with Alex. He made that choice, he let you go. He foolishly, stupidly, regrettably, let you go and now he had to watch from the sidelines as you lived your life without him. You found the career you wanted, not in Formula 1.

If you were with Pato, there was no doubt in Charles’ mind that Pato treated you better than he did. He was a stand up guy, he was charming, he leaned in and whispered something in your ear that had you blushing in seconds.

How Charles was feeling wasn’t fair and he knew it. He knew he was in the wrong. He knew he couldn’t be jealous seeing you with someone else. You had moved on, you had every right to move on. 

He knew that it shouldn’t have taken seeing you with Pato to realise he had made a mistake. This was a conclusion he should have come to a while ago, honestly he should have never even let you go in the first place. And maybe he did know it and just didn’t want to admit it until it was screaming at him, a brutal hit to the face over and over until he just couldn’t ignore the bruises anymore.

He shouldn’t have let you go. 

But he did and this was the price he had to pay. He watched from the outside, watched you change and grow through the stories he overheard and pictures you shared. He was a mere crumb in your life now compared to when you handed him your heart on a silver platter. 

Charles regretted everything. He regretted that he left you waiting for him to say ‘I love you’ and at the very least, hoping he would say ‘don’t go’ and instead gave you nothing. Now he couldn’t say any of those words. Now you didn’t talk. 

He left the party early. Alex didn’t say anything on the ride back to the hotel. Neither did he. What was there left to say anyway?

But the silence from her left less of a hole than the silence he got from you. 

He sat in the hotel bar while Alex packed up her suitcase and asked the front desk for a new room. She wasn’t going to leave. Not yet, at least. Just give Charles the space he needed and honestly, Charles knew she was waiting for him to return to her once he came to his senses, like he did last time.

Because Alex gave him what he wanted. Comfort, but she didn’t ask for it in return. Adoration, but didn’t expect the love to be reciprocated. She played the part of the girlfriend and she played it well, accompanying Charles wherever, whenever. Alex thought that if she played the long game, Charles would love her. Charles would see a future with her.

You, though, you didn’t have time to wait. You weren’t going to sit ideally and beg for him to love you back. You weren’t going to tell him that you’d wait for him, that you’d be there if things with Alex didn’t work out. 

You moved on. 

Charles tried to accept that, really. He tried to just focus on the last two races and not about what you were doing. If Bristol was everything you dreamt it was. If Pato and you were together. He tried not to think about anything that revolved around you. 

He thought he could at least make it to the New Year, and maybe he would have. He might have reconnected with Alex on the 31st if he successfully went the entire month of December without his mind trailing back to you.

But the second his friend who resided in London called him up and asked if he wanted to attend a fashion show he was part of...well, it was embarrassing how fast Charles agreed to go. Because London was certainly closer to Bristol than Monaco was. And if he was in London, it was hard to find a reason why he shouldn’t just…go to Bristol.

Actually it was very easy to find dozens of reasons. Charles simply ignored all of them. 

He didn’t think this plan through at all, which was why he stood outside your door for nearly five minutes before knocking. What was he going to say?

For starters, he was really hoping you wouldn’t ask how he knew where you lived. Charles didn’t feel like explaining the hoops he had to jump through that may or may not have involved Joris at one point pretending to be your brother and calling your place of employment. 

It was fucked up. Charles could admit that. But if he could admit that, he could admit it wasn’t the only fucked up thing he did. Letting you walk away from him was at the top of that list.

When you opened the door, you weren’t upset to see him, but you weren’t happy either. Charles carried that vibe the entire time he was inside, starting from when you reluctantly let him in to the way you handed him his cup of tea without so much as a word. 

“How’s Alexandra?” You asked him. Charles could tell you were only trying to be polite. 

“Do you care?” He asked in return. 

No hesitation from you as you shook your head, “I do not.”

He always admired your honesty. He was still scared shitless at the way you could quite literally kill someone with kindness, but he also respected it. You were the only person he knew who’s gentle smile had the ability to send someone cowering. It was a skill, truly. 

“So let’s not talk about her,” he suggested and you nodded, but you also weren’t about to let the conversation carry on if it was pointless. 

“Charles if you don’t tell me why you’re here…”

He had an entire drive to figure out how he wanted to word this. He had a whole plane ride to put together the perfect sentence, the perfect mix of apologies and admittance and instead his mind was blank. He didn’t know the words to say to you, not after going so long without saying anything. 

But he lifted his head and met your eyes. He thought about reaching for your hand only to decide against it because your hand wasn’t his to hold anymore. 

“I shouldn’t have let you go,” he said, voice low, breaking almost. He shook his head, repeating it. “I made a mistake, I shouldn’t have let you go. I don’t want to be someone who’s not in your life. I don’t want to be someone who means nothing to you anymore. I-”

I love you, he wanted to say. 

Because he did. 

At least, he thought he did. At one point, he knew he could. If he could then, he could now, right? He could still love you. If you took him back, if you found a way to still love him, Charles wanted to love you back in the same way.

Or maybe he just didn’t want you to love anyone else.

“Charles you don’t know how to love anyone,” you knew exactly what he was going to say. And at one point, you wanted to hear it. Now, though? This was the one time you were hoping he didn’t say it.

“That’s not true.”

“It is,” you stated, like you knew him better than he knew himself. Maybe you did. “You don’t want to love someone, you just want to be loved.”

“I want to be in love with you.”

“That’s not the same and you know it,” your words could have cut through him like glass if your tone wasn’t so soft. 

Charles shifted uncomfortably. This conversation hadn’t gone as planned, but what was he truly expecting? You’d take him back? You were better off without him. Anyone could see that.

“Listen, I had to get over you and you weren’t even mine, Charles. Do you know how twisted that is? The only person to blame for my broken heart was myself because I knew, all along, you weren’t mine. I knew it and I went along anyway and I’m not doing that again. I will not love you again. I don’t need another wave of self destruction and false hope and unrequited love. I am happy, okay? I didn’t need you to come here with some sort of declaration that you can’t even say with your chest. I don’t- I don’t need that. I don’t need you.”

He still tried, still attempted to win you back with the what if’s but you saw through it. You cut him off before he could finish his question. What if I do need you?

You shook your head, staying firm with your decision. “It’s over now, Charles. It was over then and it’s over now.”

Charles believed that. He repeated your words the entire way home. He could never give you the closure you needed so you gave it to yourself and you seemed adamant that your past with Charles was going to stay there, in the past. 

He didn’t get back together with Alex. He couldn’t. He ended things the second he returned to Monaco. She asked if you were the reason and Charles didn’t really have an answer. You weren’t dating, but you were still there. In the back of his mind, in his dreams, everywhere he looked he saw you.

He didn’t think he’d actually see you again. He knew you were moving in the New Year. That you had officially gone on with your life. 

So imagine his surprise when you showed up at his door on New Years Eve. 

Smudged mascara under your eyes, an unopened bottle of wine in your hands and a dress that left very little to the imagination. Charles had hundreds of questions, for you, for himself, like was he just imagining this? 

And then you stepped past him, sliding your heels off and immediately going to his cupboard to pull out two empty wine glasses. It was a screw top, the bottle in your hands, Charles wondered where you got it but he didn’t ask. He just let you pour a very healthy amount into each of the glasses. He didn’t say anything when you handed one to him, you both just took a sip in peace.

Charles wasn’t sure where he found his voice, but he somehow managed to. And he said the stupidest fucking thing ever.

“I thought we were over.”

“We are,” you stated, taking another sip. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror behind him and you tried to wipe your undereyes but the dry pads of your fingers did little to help.

Charles stepped into the bathroom to grab one of those white hand towels that he hung on the rack. He ran it under some warm water before making his way back to you. He was hesitant to step close, but you didn’t flinch away.

So he raised his hand to your cheek, holding you still as he wiped away the stains of mascara, the remains of whatever you were crying over. His touch was gentle. You could feel his breath hit your face and you couldn’t help but glance at his lips. You hadn’t been this close since Paris.

“Thank you,” you whispered when he dropped the cloth to the sink.

Charles didn’t back up after. He stayed with his hand on the side of your face, even sliding his fingers against your scalp to get tangled in your hair. Something he knew you loved. You hummed at the feeling, how normal this seemed, like you weren’t the one to end things that last time around.

Unlike last time, Charles was the one to ask, “Why are you here, Y/N?”

You shook your head, wishing he could just accept this for what it was. You didn’t want to have a conversation.

So you reached for the front of his shirt, dragging your hand up to the collar as you brought your lips closer to his. The little twitch in the corner of your mouth, that faint smirk, it ruined Charles. His hand found your waist, he was only human.

“Please, Charles,” you breathed out. Not a beg, a request if anything. “Now is not the time to talk.”

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 one shot #f1 fic #holllandtrash #say dont go #cl16 x reader #cl16

[imaginaryf1shots]

Doubt | Lewis Hamilton

WC: 4.1K

Lewis H. x reader

Summery:(REQUESTED) What happens when the news about Lewis move to Ferrari gets leaked and all eyes turn to you.

Warning: cursing? (Don't remember if there's any, but just incase be warned)

Masterlist

You've been in a relationship with Lewis for a little over two years, and it’s safe to say that they’ve been the best two years of your life. You couldn’t dream of a better boyfriend even if you tried, you don’t think you’ve shown Lewis or his fans any bad thing. You feel like you’ve always been friend;y with the fans, never responded to the hate you got for dating the 7 times world champion, and you’ve gotten a lot.

On February 1st you woke up to Lewis getting out of the bed, you blinked seeing him looking at his phone as he walked out of the room. His back is tense, you slip on Lewis’s shirt from the day before as you get out of the bed, you follow him out and see him pacing back and forth in the living room. You gave him a questioning look but he doesn’t give you any indication of what’s going on.

”-I just don’t understand how it’s already out.” Lewis says on the phone and you start to piece together what happened. “Only a few people know about the move.”

You close your eyes knowing how the media will eat this up and be all over the news analysing everything that ever happened and will happen this season, you go to the kitchen and put the kettle on for some tea, you also put some food in Rosco’s bowl. It takes Lewis another 10 minutes for him to finish the call. you go to his side with the tea, he gives you a thankful smile which you return.

“Who leaked it?” You ask him knowing that this is what’s going to be on his mind the most.

”We don’t know yet.” He groans and leans back on the sofa, his head tilted up, you rub his arms and lean in and press a kiss to his cheek.

”What will you do?” You ask him softly, not taking your eyes off him.

“Not address it for now, wait a bit to see what reactions the people will have.” Lewis says and you sigh.

”Okay, well don’t overthink it, it happened, we have under a month before the season starts, so let’s enjoy the last bit of your time off, come on, what do you feel like having for breakfast?”

“Hmm, anything you are I’ll love.” Lewis says with a smile leaning over, you kiss him softly on the lips and get up to head to the kitchen to start on breakfast.

*

you knew this wasn’t the end of it and that the teams will look into who leaked the news of Lewis’s move from Mercedes to the media, fans also were on it and had their theories and as the last bit of vacation came, they got wilder and wilder, the thing you truly didn’t expect os for the fans to turn their sights on you. those that hated you looked like they doubled with the amount of hate you’ve had on your socials, you’re being accused of everything under the sun, you’re being bullied and shamed for your looks, for not being trustworthy, for being a gold-digger and everything else under the sun. nothing really affected you from all that hate, as long as it;s coming from people that don’t know you, you believe that it’s done out of jealousy and want for what you have, they don’t know you so why would their words affect you? doesn’t mean you like it, or that it should happen in the first place, but you do slow down on your social media presence, but you don't sit and let it consume you, you continue living your life and let them talk.

Lewis and you are in England for the last preparation before the start of the season, he’s been super busy so you spent the last few days barely seeing him, spending your time with his family and your friends in the UK. so you’re a bit surprised when you get back from shopping with his mu, to see him on the sofa with his phone.

”Hey, when did you get back?” You ask, smiling, putting your bags to the side, and walking to his side.

”Two hours ago.” He says not looking up from his phone, you hum and lean in for a kiss but he moves last second so your lips fall onto his cheek instead, and before you could react he’s standing up and heading to the bedroom.

”Lew, is something wrong?” You ask and stand up following him slowly, confused, your brain goes over everything that has happened lately trying to find something wrong that you’ve done but coming up blank.

”No.” He says simply, you frown not believing him, he’s acting cold, it’s a stark contrast to his usual self, he goes to the closet and closes the door, you stand there nt knowing ahwaz to do, he didn't kiss you, left you in the icing room, is giving you one word answers, and closed the door to change all things he doesn’t do. you sit on the bed and put your head in your hands that are resting on your knees, there’s something definitely wrong, because why is this happening out of nowhere. You’re biting your lips, stressed and lost at the same time, when he comes out he’s dressed in a hoodie and sweats with the hood up covering part of his face.

“You’re leaving?” YOu ask him standing up, again he doesn’t look at you, another unusual thing.

”Yeah.” Is all you get.

”Where?”

”Out.”

”Oh.” It takes everything in you to get your eyes not to fill up with tears, but your vice is breathier and shakier. “When will you come back?”

“I don’t know.”

“Okay, well have fun.” You manage to say before he’s out of the bedroom and out of the house. Why is he acting so… so asshole-y, nothing is making sense to you right now, there’s no reason for him to be this way, no reason, and even if there was something that you’ve done, you’re the kind of couple that are completely open with one another if something is bothering one of you then you talk it out, you don't just let it come between you because well most things are misunderstandings, and you need to be patient enough and understanding enough to talk it out. You debate calling someone to ask if something happened, but you’re also not the type to ask for outer help when it comes to your relationship, to outsiders they think that you’ve never had a fight or disagreement that you’re the perfect couple. You’re really private when it comes to the dynamic and the inner workings of your relationship.

Feeling frustrated and suddenly so alone, tears gather in your eyes and l eaves in waves, you sit in front of the bed leaning your back to it, and just let them flow. Rosco comes into the room and whines, he rubs up against you making you scratch and pet him the way he likes.

”Do you know what's wrong with daddy? hm? I didn't think so.” You mutter and smile as Rosco licks your hand. “I know, I know, I love you.”

You decide to stop crying and wait for Lewis to come back, because there must be a reason for him being like that and you just need to talk it out, you convince yourself that he went out for a breather and he’ll come back soon, but as the minutes turn into hours and there’s no sign of him coming back, you change into your pyjamas and head to bed. You don’t know how long you laid there, tossing and turning, covering and uncovering yourself. you’re still awake when Lewis eventually comes back,sitting up when he gets into the bedroom, you know he expected you to be asleep from the look on his face. Your eyes are slightly red making him soften up a little, but he’s mad, he’s upset and feels betrayed and it’s eating him up.

“Lew, can we please talk?” You ask hating how small you sound, this is not you at all. you’re always confident and sure of yourself, you’re not this small upset little girl. guess when it comes to the ones you love you’re everything you’re usually aren’t.

”Later.” Again with the one word answers, he changed again in the closet closing the door behind him. You know that if he doesn’t talk to you, you won’t be able to fall asleep, so you move to the end of the bed and wait for him until he comes back out.

”I think we should talk now.” You say standing up but don't move towards him, in fear or rejection.

”I don’t think so.” He says shaking his head and shrugging, still not looking at you.

”Well, it’s not just up to you.” You say frustrated, you’re not backing down until he tells you what you’ve done wrong, or what happened. “You’re in a relationship okay, this works both ways, and you can't just ignore me for no reason because you want to.”

“No reason?” He scoffs, sounding a bit amused before he changes his tone. “No reason, there is a reason, okay.” This is the first time he’s shown you any emotion today and you can’t be happy because it;s all anger coming out of his mouth at the moment and it’s completely unwarranted.

”Then what is the reason Lewis, because surprise! I don’t read minds, and we haven’t even seen each other that much these past few days, so please tell me what happened.” You plead with Lewis in desperation, another thing that doesn’t ever happen, you never plead or beg unless playfully and in the bedroom.

“I know okay, I know, you don’t have to act anymore, you can just tell me.” Lewis says leaving you even more confused.

“Tell you what? you haven’t even said anything, how am i supposed to know what to tell you when I don’t know myself, look Lewis this isn’t like you, we never solve things this way, I don’t know what has gotten into you but just tell me.” You sounded tired at this point, no further well to keep fighting after being ignored and talked to in cryptic words.

”The news about Ferrari-“ Lewis starts before he stops himself.

”What about it? What does that have to do with-“ It dawns on you what happened, the reason he’s refusing to talk to you, the reason he’s so cold and distant, the reason for the betrayed look on his face. You couldn’t help yourself, you laugh, you laugh and you laugh.”Fucking hell LEwis, I don’t believe you right now, I truly don’t”

”Do you deny it?” He asks and you laugh again, every time you laugh you know he gets annoyed but you don’t have it in you to care, you see it now, and it’s all over his face, he’s feeling cheated, like he was stabbed in the back, just betrayed.

”Why does it matter what I say? I mean you already decided that I did it, so why does it matter if I agree or not?” You ask him, shaking your head.

”Just answer me, did you tell the media?” He asked stepping half way closer and this time you step away, you turn and head into the closet. “Where are you going? I’m not done talking about this.”

”Well, I am.” You say closing the door in his face, quickly changing in a sweat set and taking a beak pack and put a few essentials in, when you open the closet door to head out you find Lewis waiting for you, but you ignore him and take your purse from the vanity.

”Wasn’t it you that said that we have to talk?” Lewis follows you and you sigh.

”Yes, and it was also you who ignored me.” Lewis gets in your way blocking the front door. “Lewis, love, look, if you doubt me then why are we even talking, I mean you believe the conspiracy theories that the fans spouted out as if we haven’t been together for years, you clearly don’t trust me to believe that I would do something like this, you have no trust in me.”

”So you’re going to do what? Leave?” Lewis asks and you sidestep him.

”What else am I supposed to do, stay and beg you to believe me? I’m not that kind of woman Lewis and if I was you wouldn’t have been with me in the first place.” You say and open the door to leave. “Once the season starts, I’ll come back to gather my things, same with Monaco, you son’s have to see me anymore.”

You close the door in his face and leave, Lewis stands there in silence and for the first time since he was told by someone in his team that it was you that did it, he’s starting to doubt it, yes you’re one of the only people who knew about his move, but you weren’t the only one. however his fans and his team, everyone is saying it’s you.

*

The season starts and you’re not in the paddock, something that is clearly noticed. In the last two years you’ve been at every first and last race along with as many as you could, you’re one of the wags that are at most of the races. All this rules the rumours but they’re just rumours as of now, there’s no way for anyone to actually know, you still follow each other, but you haven’t posted since you last saw Lewis. You’ve dropped off the face of the earth, gone MIA. LEwis sen you one text saying you can stay in his London house for as long as you needed, and that was it. He wasn’t cruel, he begged you to move in with him and he wasn’t about to leave you in the streets, but he knows you haven’t been there, the security system hasn’t been deactivated once.

Bahrain comes and goes and so does Jeddah and Lewis is missing you, he won’t admit it but he misses you like crazy, he’s so used to having you by his side. You’re always there to hug him and take care of him after a race, whether you’re physically there or you’re on facetime with him. His bed is cold when he gets in, he finds himself reaching to your side of the bed to pull you close only to find you not there and every time it kills him a little. He still feels betrayed but he misses you, he loves you and it makes it so much harder for him.

It’s been over a month and you still haven’t confirmed your breakup and you haven’t unfollowed each other, but the fans have taken your absence as a sight to confirm that it was you that leaked the information.

The truth always comes out, sometimes it’s instant, sometimes it takes a while, but eventually it does come out. So here you are sitting on the sofa at your parents’s house, where you've been since you left Lewis in February. The headlines are bold and clear, someone from Mercedes heard Toto and George talking about the move and sold the news to the media for a bit of money. Suddenly you’re trending on twitter(it’s not X) and flooded with apologies and ‘I believed you’ and ‘we were wrong’, but it doesn’t matter to you, you don't care. You turned off your phone and went to go find your mum to help her with dinner.

*

You don’t turn on your phone the next day, or the day after or the day after that. Feeling happy with the detox you’re having. you do wonder what’s going through LEwis’s mind thought, he now knows the truth as well, he knows that you had absolutely nothing to do with it and as much as you want it to fill you with joy that he’s proven wrong, it doesn’t. You’re still miserable and hurt, you’re so hurt by him believing that it physically hurts you, you lost a big piece of you that day, the piece that you had given Lewis, the part that he promised to take care of to protect to love and he broke that promise, you thought, you believed the he’s different but he didn’t believer you in the end, he didn’t even ask you.

It’s a Wednesday night when someone rings the front door bell, you’re in your room and don’t move knowing one of your parents will answer the door.

”y/n!” Your mum calls for you, you get up from your childhood bed and go to see what she wants, walking into the living room you stop in your tracks seeing Lewis standing in front of you. You look at your mum and dad, your dad had an annoyed look on his face, you haven’t told them what had happened and they didn’t ask, but it doesn’t take a genius to guess with you turning up at their door one random day with a bag and no explanation.

”Hi.” Lewis says and takes you in, dressed in one of your lounge sets with your hair in a messy bun, but looking oh so beautiful, he missed you so much, he missed everything about you. You stand there not knowing what to do, you haven’t expected him to turn up, you haven’t been to Monaco to get your things yet, but you cleared your stuff from his London house and into a storage until just a week ago.

”Do you want him to stay?” Your dad asks and you know that if you said no, he;d kick Lewis out, no questions asked.

”No, no it’s okay.” You mutter and give your dad a small smile, your parents nod and leave the living room and go to the garden, you know for a fact it’s an effort for them not to eavesdrop on your conversation if they’re in the house.

Once they’re out you turn to look at Lewis and you see the bags under his eyes, you know he hasn’t been sleeping well, he hasn’t for a while, you could tell even from the TV. “Sit down.” You gesture for him to sit on the sofa, he follows your instructions and you sit across from him, placing your hands between your legs.

“I uh, I tried calling you.” Lewis says sounding nervous, you’re both acting like you haven’t been in a relationship for over two years and understandingly so, the last time you talked Lewis was hurt about the thought of you betraying him and now, he’s here because you never did but he betrayed you by doubting you and that hurt you and it missed him up. The guilt is eating him up, he came here knowing there’s a big chance you wouldn’t take him back and forgive him, but there’s a bit of hope inside of him and he’s willing to take that risk and try, he’d get on his knees if he had to.

”I turned my phone off a few days ago, it was all a bit too much.” You say and bite at your lip, not looking at Lewis for too long, you haven’t cried since you left him that day, but you feel like you’re about to cry now if you keep looking at him too long.

”I’m sorry about that.” Lewis says and you shrug.

”It is what it is.” You mutter, giving him a tight lipped smile. “Can’t do anything about it.”

”I could’ve but I didn’t, y/n, love, I’m so sorry, I’m truly sorry, I wish I could take it all back.” Lewis says his voice heavy and full of regret. “There’s no excuse for what I’ve done, and I should’ve stood up for you online and for my team. I feel terrible and I don’t blame you for being upset and mad at me.”

”I’m not mad.” You say tears leaving your eyes, you have to look away, your jaw clenching and unclenching, you sniff before you look back at him. “I’m hurt Lewis you doubting me is what hurts the most, I don’t care that you didn’t stand up for me online or any of that stuff, but you were so cold to me and you didn’t even talk to me about it like you usually do, you ignored me and the accused me, you were so cruel.”

”I know, and it’s my biggest regret, I don’t want to lose you, those weeks without you have been the worst and you’ve been, you've been too kind to me, you can yell if you want, curse me, hit me, tell me how messed up I am, just-just give me a chance, give us a chance.” Lewis moves to the coffee table so he’s close to you and there's no escaping his eyes now, the ones you missed so much the last few weeks. “Don;t forgive me yet, wait until I’ve earned it, but don’t shut me out, I’d do anything you want, apologise a hundred times if you want just please.”

“I don’t know Lewis, just as you felt betrayed when you thought I leaked it, I feel betrayed because of how you were.” You say pushing your tears away with the back of your hand, your lips red from all the biting you were doing to not sob. “I love you with all of my heart, but I still feel so hurt, it physically pains me to know you;d think of me like that, that I’d be capable of betraying your trust in me.”

”It was a moment of weakness, believe me darling, it would never ever happen again, never, I love you so much and being away from you is much worse than anything I’ve even been through.” Lewis says and takes your hand in both of his, they’re warm and conferring, you take in the details of his tattoos, the ones you usually take when you’re lost in thought or board, the ones that hold you and pull you close, the ones that pull you for randomly dancing because he just felt like it, the ones you missed so much. You stay silent lost in thought, you know you still love Lewis and you want to get back with him, but something like this can’t be forgotten easily. Lewis gets on his knees moving even closer to you. “I’m begging you my love please, just give us a chance, and if at any point you feel like you can’t forgive me then that’s it, I’ll let you go, no matter what I feel.”

You sigh, closing your eyes and resting your forehead on his, your hand cupping his cheek, feeling his beard, his skin, feeling him.

“Okay.” You breath, your voice is barely a whisper, Lewis thinks he may have misheard or imagined it. “Okay, let’s try to move on from this, but, but it’ll take time for both of us to heal.”

”I know, and I’ll wait for you and help you heal, as much time as you need.” Lewis pulls away to kiss your forehead feeling like a kiss on the lips might be too much right now. “Can I hug you?”

”Please.” Lewis stands up pulling you in for a much needed hug, you stand there for a long time, not saying anything just holding each other. Basking in the comfort of finlay being in each other’s arms again, you’re home.

*

It takes a while for things to get back how it was, you still were offline, and there has been no sightings of you with Lewis anywhere, everyone assumed that your relationship has ended and that you’ve both went your separate ways, but you’ve been working on your relationship and on yourselves, taking all the time you needed to heal and come out stronger than you were before.

So it takes everyone by surprise when you turn up to the paddock in Monaco hand in hand with Lewis, the fans go crazy with the news, the true ones over the roof with happiness. You do have to admit that you missed the paddock and the excitement and the rush that comes with it. You and Lewis aren’t big on PDA, but pictures of you two holding hands, hugging and sharing a couple kisses are all over the internet by the time the weekend comes to an end.

#f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 scenario #lh44 #lewis hamilton fluff #lewis hamilton x reader #lewis hamilton fanfic #lewis hamilton one shot #lewis hamilton imagine #lewis x reader #sir lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton #angst

[muneca-lemon-steppa]

Need me a Thomas Shelby with “you fell asleep in my arms. it was kind of adorable.” thank you and cg for 100 followers!!

Thank you so much for this request my love! I'm so sorry it's so long coming. Again, I'm studying for the bar and it is crazy with the holidays! Also, I hope you like this! Tommy is not my typical bread and butter but I wanted to give people the option! Sending all my love to you angel! - Mo

100 Follower Celebration: No Man Works Alone

Thomas Shelby x Fem!Reader, fluff

When you got connected to the middle Shelby boy, you were warned that life would never be the same. You assumed as much, knowing that their business went much farther than horse racing. You were up to the task. You had been in the Shelby orbit for years, you saw what it all took, and when Tommy made his intentions known to you, you were willing to step up and do your part in expanding the empire.

Polly joked that you were made for this life with the way that you so seamlessly came in. While the Shelby company were encroaching into higher society and government facades, they needed a pretty face to butter up old money hands. When the boys were running liquor and snow and violence, you ran sweet words and high teas with women whose husbands had deep and ancient pockets. Even before Thomas met with potential partners, they were already inclined to agree since you were just so kind and elegant looking. Surely a woman like you would never be with someone not reputable right?

But it wasn’t just the business you managed to soothe and nurture. You also added a salve to the Shelby familial wounds. Some wounds required more care than others. Some would never heal completely, but petty arguments could be solved and begin the groundwork for a more harmonious union. You had stepped in more than once to facilitate peace agreements between the Shelby siblings more than once, “Do it for the children yeah? They deserve to be able to see their cousins and aunts and uncles freely. Shelby’s need each other. And it’s Christmas for God’s sake!”

And no good deed goes unpunished it seems. Due to your expert people skills and kind face, you were put in charge of a Christmas gala for all the biggest names in the city. A dual purpose to flaunt the power of the Shelby family, and to raise funds for a women’s shelter to be built. In the same week you were planning to host Christmas dinner and Christmas morning in the home for the entire Shelby family. Everyone was coming and it was to be a beautiful affair. It’s would be wonderful save for the sheer amount of people to take care of. You had spent the day running around, only to continue into the evening, taking care of your and Tommy’s children; putting them to bed and giving them each some attention in the absence of their father.

By the time you had finished your tasks for the day, it was late, and Tommy still wasn’t finished with the ledgers and accounts. He looked exhausted, the puffiness of his eyes evident in from under his glasses. Sleeves rolled up and shirt open the quiet desire for sleep was coming off him in waves. You wrap your soft satin robe tighter around you as you gently sit next to Tommy. Without looking up from his work he says to you in a gravely voice, "You should be in bed, it's late love."

You shake your head, though you feel as though invisible fingers are dragging your eyelids down, "Mm not tired."

Tommy chuckles as he hears you attempt to stifle a yawn. He takes off his glasses to look at your faltering face. "You're not eh? You sure?"

You lean back on the comfortably expensive sofa Tommy had set up shop on, stretching out the ache in your back, "Perhaps a little. But I don't like not sleeping next to you. If you're up, I'm up. We're a team yeah?"

Tommy smiles, enamored by your insistence. It was one of the things that drew him to you the first time he saw you. Your quiet defiance. You intent to keep people together and not leave anyone behind. It was only a small fractal of how sweet and tender your heart was. Tommy leaned over to gently kiss your temple, "Alright then. If you insist Commander. I'll be done soon enough I promise."

With another poorly hidden yawn you say, "Take your time darling. I brought reading."

Just as Tommy predicted, within 15 minutes you were out like a light. Back when you all were children, it was a running joke that you would be running and playing as hard as you could one minute, and fall dead asleep on any surface the next minute. It never changed. As Tommy chuckled and picked the book off your face where it fell, he was reminded of you as a young girl. Though there were a few more marks and lines on your face now, you had the whispers of your youth still on your face. Your daughter with Tommy slept the same exact way. Mouth open slightly. Arms raised above your head. Utterly at peace. Tommy was tempted to wake you to tease you, but knew you would punish yourself for 'falling asleep on the job'. He opted to finish his paperwork instead, working diligently and quietly so as not to disturb you. Soon enough he was done and put everything away in his desk to pick up tomorrow. Pressing gentle kisses to your face, he whispers against you, "Darling, wake up. Let's go to bed eh? Get you more comfortable."

You jolted awake, nearly knocking Tommy over, "Oh God... what time is it? Are the kids ok?"

Tommy chuckled deeply, pulling you up by the arms, "No no darling. Kids are alright. You fell asleep next to me. It was a bit adorable really. You look exactly like Matilde in her crib. "

You throw yourself back down, "Oh God I fell asleep while you were working! That is not what I wanted to do! I wanted to keep you company!"

Tommy laid himself over you, pushing your arms away from your embarrassed face, "You did keep me company. Perfect company. You needed to sleep. You've been running around. Being the best mother and wife. Being the best coordinator. Being the best aunt and sister in law. Hard work my love. C'mon. Let's get to bed yeah?"

You let him kiss you and take you to bed. Sleep took you both sweetly and quickly. And in the morning you would start it all over again. Waking to your children jumping on top of you with joy, and another list of things to attend to. But as long as Tommy was next to you. It would all be worth it.

#peaky blinder fanfic #tommy shelby x reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fanfic #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby x you #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x you #100 follower celebration

[saerins]

─── 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒

+ sae x f!reader | wc 3.2k | content: angst, insecurities, death

notes: i’m sorry idk how this came about but i was in a mood :’) i promise i love him okay <3 feedback & reblogs appreciated !!

summary: he’s back home, and you recall the times you’d spoken to him. all the calls you made, then all the calls he made, and then all the times it went to voicemail.

you remember every conversation you’ve had with your boyfriend. the good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. it’s hard to quantify into numbers since you’d been together for the last five years.

but there’s a few of them that are prominent, that are burned into your mind, engraved onto your brain. the sound of his laugh, for one, that’s always been precious to you, if only for the fact that he doesn’t laugh often.

sae always said you were the only one who could get that out of him, and you’ve kept it close to your heart since.

to the world, he may have seemed rude and off-putting at times, and despite the countless false reports of sae being an asshole to all his girlfriends in private (because the media can never decide who he’s actually with), he’s always been the same itoshi sae to you—the kind of guy who only ever bothers what you think about him because the other people not involved in your relationship don’t matter.

you remember everything he’s ever done for you.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?”

yeah, you definitely remember.

MARCH 2020; [ sae’s fifth day in spain ]

“you miss me, itoshi sae?”

you can feel him rolling his eyes from the other end. “i should just hang up right now.”

“you could, but then you’d miss me even more.”

sae suppresses a grin, even if there’s no one around to see it. you’re right, but he doesn’t say anything.

it was rare for sae to call you at all. but then again, it is the first time you two had been apart since you got together. maybe it isn’t so weird after all.

“how’d practice go today?”

“it’s fine, nothing i couldn’t handle.” of course he’s fine, he’s the youngest on the team and yet it was as though he’d played the longest.

“of course it was fine, mr genius,” you tease, and he smiles because he knows you’re smiling too.

you can’t really remember how the rest of the conversation went. but you only remember this moment because it was the first time you realised that amidst all the times you’d pester him to go on a date with you, amidst all the times you asked him for a kiss, sae could miss you too.

SEPTEMBER 2020; [ sae comes back to japan soon ]

“hey so i was thinking, i’ll meet you at the airport?”

sae hums, “wanna see me that bad, huh?”

“shut up,” you snap at him, hating his quick tongue that so easily gets you flustered. “so i miss my handsome, successful boyfriend, big deal.”

he missed you too.

“am i just arm candy for you, y/n?”

“what? no—”

“too late. i’m offended. bye.”

then he actually hangs up on you.

it takes you half a second to pull up your message thread with him.

itoshi sae, you wanna die or something?

it takes him the same amount of time to respond to you.

y/n l/n, okay, then maybe i’d get some relief from you.

before you can even be actually offended, your phone vibrates again.

miss you too, stupid. see you tomorrow.

you can’t seem to rub the smile off your face.

FEBRUARY 2021; [ first valentines’ apart ]

it takes him three rings to pick up.

“happy valentines’, lover,” you giggle over the phone.

it’s been a few months since your about-to-go-pro soccer player boyfriend had gone back to spain, doing pro soccer player things. you miss him, especially since it’s the first time you guys are spending the romantic occasion apart.

it sucks that you couldn’t even spend new years with him. it’s okay though, you managed to video call him while you spent time with his family.

“think you got the wrong number.”

“itoshi—”

“open the door, smarty pants.”

“w-wait, what? did you send me something?”

you hurry over to your front door, not knowing what to expect. but you definitely didn’t expect sae to be there, in the flesh, sighing when you finally open your door, a pretty bouquet of flowers in his hand.

“what are you doing here?” you’re still shocked from his mere presence.

sae smirks, and you realise just how much you miss him. “think i got the wrong apartment, i was supposed to deliver these to my other girl—”

but you kiss him to shut him up. he’s full of nonsense, and so, so witty, and he’s here.

sae’s always claimed that it was not soccer stealing him from you, it was more the other way around. and he had been joking at the time he said that, but right now he thinks maybe there’s some truth to it.

if there’s anyone capable of having and getting him to willingly relinquish his attention from soccer, it’s you.

JUNE 2021; [ night of sae’s first PR event ]

“someone looks handsome,” you comment as you watch your boyfriend getting ready over the phone.

he has an entire entourage of people over at his hotel—they must be the makeup crew and stylists. his entire team is getting vip treatment for being champions of the league thanks to last week’s game. now, even more brands are trying to sponsor them and you really shouldn’t be surprised over the amount of girls going crazy over your boyfriend.

“and someone should really sleep,” sae pauses for a moment when the man beside him (presumably his stylist, because he’s double checking sae’s suit) asks a quick that your girlfriend?, to which sae says “yes.”

the man winks at you through the video. “lucky girl,” he comments, eyes back on the fabric he’s touching, “the only time i caught him smiling was while he was texting ya.”

you snicker through the phone as you watch sae’s face go beet red before frowning at you.

“he did not.”

his stylist is laughing at his reaction too. “totally did. i thought he was possessed.”

sae grabs the phone and relegates himself to the bathroom, glaring at you through the screen. he’s not mad at you, he’s just embarrassed and you know that. you’ve known him long enough now to tell his cues.

“i hope you know i hate you.”

he’s always all bark and no bite and you’re still laughing at him.

“aw, i hate you too, mr itoshi.”

“stop with the smart mouth before i find another contender for a mrs itoshi.”

you and sae had been staring at each other through the screen up until that point, when sae realised what he just said and has to look away.

“you… think i could be?”

neither you nor sae have ever broached another about the future, and sae has always been generally avoidant about it, which is why it makes you even more surprised that he’s the one who slipped up about it.

after a moment of silence, he sighs, trying to suppress a smile. it tugs at the edges of his lips, not really there but you can feel it.

“you know that one day you’ll be mrs itoshi, right?”

you don’t know that, he doesn’t know that, not until the day has come. but yeah, you really, really want to be.

OCTOBER 2022; [ sae’s birthday ]

“happy birthday, mr. itoshi,” you greet when he picks up the phone.

things had been rocky lately, admittedly. only because you and sae lived worlds apart.

sae is famous now, in both japan and europe, and it’s no surprise because he’s one of the best midfielders anyone has ever seen. his life is now full of the glitz and glam that you’re not even close to familiar with.

and you; you’re just a simple girl living in tokyo, with a normal life and normal friends and normal everything. except for the fact that sometimes people stalk you online because based on theories, you’re his girlfriend.

he was advised against confirming your identity with the press. for a myriad of reasons, apparently. and you’re fine with it, because yeah, you’re aware there are games to be played when you have his status. and it was fine with you, except for times when it’s not.

like how at his previous PR event he had to appear like he was dating some other celebrity. which was fine, but you’d be lying if you said it didn’t suck having to see your boyfriend appear intimate with someone else. even worse when you hear said someone else mention in multiple interviews that she’s always had a huge crush on him.

“thanks, though it kinda sucks today.”

but it’s fine; you’ve been with him long enough to know that sae isn’t the type to hurt you like that. so even if it’s rocky, it doesn’t stop you from loving him.

“why? i thought the guys were bringing you out drinking tonight.”

sae sighs. “that’s exactly why.”

you smile, thinking how sae is still the same sae you’ve always known. “you’ve been playing with them for more than a year now, i think one night out wouldn’t kill you, babe.”

“but they’re freaks.” and sae says that because they’re rowdy, noisy guys and he doesn’t even want to imagine them drunk.

“we both know they’re going to bother you to no end if you don’t go,” you point out, and sae relents. “and if you need an escape when you’re too tired, you could just use my name.”

you break into a grin because you know for a fact that sae uses you as an excuse to his publicist sometimes to not attend events.

“yeah, maybe i’ll tell ‘em the missus is angry,” he jokes, and you find yourself wishing you could hug him right now.

“have fun tonight, okay?” a little hesitance comes to you before you ultimately open your mouth, “i love you.”

sae chuckles, and he can’t even describe the relief that comes to him each time he hears you say those words.

“i love you too.”

DECEMBER 2022; [ the day you break ]

you don’t pick up his call.

when you saw the picture earlier, it’s like you’ve gone numb. and now everyone in the world will see the picture too. but you don’t really care. the images the paparazzi capture will die down after a while. the rumours will take longer.

right now you’re not even sure if your relationship is dead.

but you love him. you still do. and he’s still calling for what seems like the ninetieth time tonight.

this time you pick up.

“what?”

sae flinches on the other line because he’s not used to this coldness. “can i at least explain?”

you sniffle, gritting your teeth to stop your crying. “sure, why don’t you explain why i had to find out from the fucking news that you kissed someone else on your birthday?”

it’s that girl. the same celebrity you’ve seen ogling him and gushing over him and the one who has PR relations with him.

“i promise, she means nothing,” and you can hear the panic in sae’s voice. he sounds apologetic and manic and scared. “look, i-i was drunk, and she kissed me, and i pushed her off right after—”

“then why didn’t you tell me?” you yell back. because you’re sure that’s what happened. you believe him. but it wasn’t the fact that some other girl was so desperate for him that she’d do that, it was the fact that sae kept it from you.

sae can’t answer. he knows it, but he’s struggling to find the words. “i-i didn’t want you to misunderstand,” is all he can manage.

you pause for a while because you’re crying again, and sae can sense it even if you’re silent. he loves you and he’s killing himself for his stupid decisions.

“sae,” you call him, softly. “is that how much you know me?” because after all this time, you’d think he’d know better. you trusted him. a hundred percent. now? you’re not sure.

“please, y/n, i’m sorry, please just- forgive me?” and sae’s not sure how to do this. sae’s never had anyone he cared about this much other than you. you’re the only one and you forever will be. and he’s stupid and clueless outside of soccer but he’s always had you to hold his hand through this, yet now you feel further away from him than ever.

you’re quiet and he’s not sure what to expect. you’re just sniffling on the other side, not saying anything, and for the first time in his life, sae is afraid.

“babe, i—”

“don’t say it, sae,” you sigh, because you don’t want to think that he’s saying it just to appease you.

sae obeys, because he’s scared that just a little nudge would push you right off the edge. “i’m gonna fix this, okay? i’ll tell everyone that—”

“it’s fine,” you interject, your mind in shambles. you’re tired, and you really don’t know what to do about this when it’s so fresh in your heart. “i need to think things through anyway.”

“no- y/n, please, i—”

and for the first time ever, you’re the one who hangs up abruptly. then you turn off your phone because you know sae’s not going to stop but you really just don’t want to to feel bad about not picking up.

you still love him, but you’re just heartbroken right now.

sae stares at his phone after you hang up. he can hear his heart beating out of his chest and his breathing gets shallow. he tries to call you again but it’s not even ringing.

there’s only one thing he knows: he fucked up.

a stupid, stupid mistake which was grave enough to make you doubt everything and you’re right. this was on him for not opening his stupid mouth and just trusting that you’d understand.

for the first time ever, he heard what you sounded like when you’re hurt and he can’t forgive himself. not if he doesn’t do anything about it.

he gives up on trying to call you and pulls up his club’s coach’s contact instead. “sub someone else in for me tomorrow, i won’t be there.”

“what? what are you talking about? we can’t play without our star midfielder! it’s a big match against our home rivals—”

but everything he’s lecturing sae about falls on deaf ears because sae’s already packing his duffel bag and searching for his passport. he doesn’t even bother acknowledging anything before he hangs up, dialing his assistant’s number instead.

“i need to fly back to tokyo. immediately.”

his assistant’s distraught voice is apparent. “wha- um, you have a game tomorrow—”

“i don’t care. i need to fly now. get me a flight or you’re fired.”

“uh, but- um, the private jet’s not available—”

“then get me tickets on a commercial flight. i don’t fucking care about what kind of plane it is.”

yeah, because he only cares about fixing things with you. no one and nothing else, just you.

his assistant sighs because he knows he’s going to get in trouble for aiding sae. “fine, i’ll send you the details soon.”

JANUARY 2023; [ the present ]

it goes straight to voicemail. you still talk.

“you know, i hate you so much for not having a voicemail recording.”

you pause, the tears streaming down your face. you’re staring at your phone, at his instagram, at his last post. something he posted before his flight.

a picture of the both of you in private, in your room. he’s sitting behind you on the bed, his arms around your neck as he kisses your head and you take the picture.

it’s funny because he was forbidden from sharing any sort of those pictures yet he still did it anyway. you stare at the caption.

i love only you

“itoshi sae, how am i going to hear your voice now, huh?”

you’re already full-on crying now, as you have been for the last month.

“itoshi sae! talk to me, answer me!” you’re screaming but no one will ever hear you.

how can sae hear you? you’re unreasonable for expecting that.

“tell me how to reach you,” you wail into the receiver.

you’re painfully aware of what you’re getting now.

“i love you, mr. itoshi.”

there’s no one on the other line who’ll chuckle now. you can’t hear the same fondness in his voice when he says he loves you too. you can’t ever hear him joking with you again.

no more sighs, no more video calls, no more love. no more you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you hang up and look at the note in your hand; something sae’s assistant passed to you on the day of his funeral.

a few weeks ago, sae asked me to get this for him. i know he wanted you to have this. before he left for tokyo, he told me to get this done for you at all costs. it was only ready a day after he left. i thought you might still like to have this. i’m sorry you have to go through this.

the gold velvet box sits heavy in your hand. it’s all of sae’s commitment to you, feelings for you—it’s all of his resolution in one tiny package and it’s heavy.

you open it, same as the countless times before.

it’s still beautiful. it’s shiny and four carats and princess cut because you were always his princess. inside the band, he has mrs itoshi engraved.

you know one day you’ll be mrs. itoshi, right?

you bring up his messages and play the last audio he sent to you.

“look, i know i fucked up and it was stupid of me to keep it from you. i’m sorry, okay? and i know you don’t want to speak to me right now but i can’t just sit around and do nothing. i love you, so i’m coming back home, and we’ll talk, and then… i promise you, nothing like this will happen again.”

you remember your last words to him and can’t help but to hate yourself. you should’ve told him one last time before you lost your chance.

if you’d just stayed on the line, he wouldn’t have come back. if he didn’t come back, he wouldn’t have gotten into that cab. if he didn’t get into that cab, he wouldn’t have been in that fatal accident in shibuya.

staring at the ring, calling his number, getting no response, visiting his plot and running into rin. and repeat. that’s all life is now.

sometimes you wear the ring to pretend he’s still here. to pretend he’s already proposed and you’re waiting for him to come back from spain.

you’re probably at voicemail #314 now.

mrs itoshi stares at you until you’re crying all over again.

you’ll never hear his voice again. never hear his laugh. never get to hug him, or pick fights with him. you’ll never get to feel his broad shoulders or his strong arms around your body. you won’t get to go home ever again.

you’ll never be mrs itoshi now.

#bllk x reader #itoshi sae x reader #sae x reader #sae itoshi x reader #blue lock x reader #sae x you #sae x y/n #itoshi sae x you #itoshi sae x y/n #blue lock x you #blue lock x y/n #bllk x you #bllk x y/n #itoshi sae angst #blue lock angst #bllk angst #૪ aeri’s fics !

[ultra-violetra]

the reason why red team wins isn’t because they submit tasks last minute. that isn’t even the biggest part of their strategy, so let me tell you what red is doing to win:

delegating tasks: each member has spent most of their time collecting whatever resource the team needs. they work together to come up with specific goals (eg. enchantment table, mining iron, getting string) and then send specific people out to do that task, usually whoever’s free at the moment

helping each other: they would all drop everything at a moment’s notice to help a teammate in trouble

sharing resources: red team shares literally everything they own. most notably, bings and personal quest items

personal tasks: they all help each other out to finish these, and they make sure everyone active gets them done. i think a good chunk of their points come from this category actually, since the other teams don’t seem to prioritize it as much

not seeking fights: ok sure, they’ve gotten in a decent amount of fights, but usually the fight comes to them. they aren’t spending their time searching for people to kill, rather most of their kills have been from running into others in the wild or at spawn (foolish did spend time looking for tina today, but that was mostly looking for blue base as a strategic point)

using time wisely: to kind of add onto the point above, they aren’t spending all their time walking thousands of blocks to others’ bases. they also are very communicative about how much time they have left and what to use it for. they’ll ask how they can help the team with their last ten minutes, for instance

communicating: red team spends almost their entire time on the server in a vc together. I know this isn’t exactly every creator’s thing, but they could still type in chat if they didn’t want to talk. red team have even been leaving discord messages to their teammates to tell them info when they’re not online!

varying their points: i think this is the most important thing tbh. instead of only focusing on tasks or kills, etc. they do a little bit of every. they make sure to do well in every possible point category

being silly: it’s the best part!! the silliness boosts team morale

seriously though, the red team doesn’t just sweep the win at the last minute. if that was true then they wouldn’t log in until the last ten minutes. all the active members spend their 5 hours (or however long they’re playing that day) working on gathering materials and being useful for the team. the only advantage they have from being online later is they know how many points they need to get to catch up. so they can sort of measure how many kills or resources they’d need, etc. but knowing what they need doesn’t guarantee they’ll get it. the red team puts a lot of hard work into their wins it’s not just a cheap sweep. they are clever, resourceful, and strategic

#this is strategy analysis not discourse #i’m analyzing this like it’s a betting sport #it’s FUN #really if the other teams want to win they just need to communicate better that’s the whole point of the event!! #and before anyone comes at me i have been watching all 3 teams #and me saying red team does this doesn’t mean i’m saying the other teams aren’t doing it #i’m just saying this is what red is doing that’s making them WIN #qsmp

[triptuckers]

capture the flag - leo valdez

Request: nope Pairing:  leo valdez x apollo!reader Summary:  during capture the flag, no one gets stuck in leo's traps and he wants to find out why Warnings:  none Word count:  800 A/N: this has been sitting in my drafts for a while and now that I'm back in my pjo era time to finish it! enjoy :)

capture the flag is always fun. it's a nice way for people to train together while it feels like a game. even though sometimes people get too competitive.

it gives leo the chance to litter the forest with traps, and to test new inventions. of course, he could test them in the bunker or on his friends. but this is the real deal. no one knows where the traps are, how many there are. it's the perfect conditions to test them.

he's made a new batch of them but for some reason none of the traps work.

whenever he goes to check on them, they're all disabled. no one's activated them, or he would have found a fellow camper near one.

and leo is absolutely sure he activated them. they didn't blow up so there's nothing wrong with them.

and yet they're disabled.

rather than trying to capture the flag, he decides to hide in the bushes near one of his traps to see what - or who - is disabling them.

he listens to the sounds of the woods around him and pulls stuff out of his tool bel two mindlessly build little machines.

after a while, he spots movement out of the corner of his eye.

whoever it is moves quietly and gracefully. so definitely not an ares kid, leo concludes.

the person slowly walks over to leo's trap, careful where they put their feet down on the forrest floor.

leo watches as they walk around the trap, examining it. he shifts to get a better look at who it is.

he frowns slightly. he would have expected someone from the hermes cabin. maybe piper because he's spent a lot of time trying to explain his machines to her.

but he didn't expect it to be a daughter of apollo.

to be fair, leo thought the apollo cabin didn't know anything about traps or machines in general. their skills were mostly archery, medicine and music. not traps built by a hephaestus kid.

leo's eyes follow your hand movements as you carefully prod around the trap. surely you wouldn't be able to- and you disabled it.

smiling to yourself, you straighten your back and us your foot to slide the now useless trap aside.

when you turn around, you hear leaves rustle behind you.

instinctively, you knock an arrow on your bow and turn on your heel.

you are met by leo, who is frantically waving his hands in front of his face.

'don't shoot, don't shoot! I come in peace!' he yells.

you lower your bow. 'leo! gods, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare you!'

'that's alright.' says leo, lowering his hands. 'I was the one hiding behind you.'

you frown. 'why were you hiding anyway? usually you like to be in the middle of the action.' you say.

'can't help the fact people start fighting over me wherever I go.' says leo, making you chuckle.

'yeah, right, valdez. as if anyone could come near you with the amount of traps you're setting.' you say.

'speaking of which.' says leo, walking over to his trap and picking it up to examine it. 'how did you know where the kill switch was on this?'

you shrug. 'that's a tactical secret I can't reveal.' you say. 'for future capture the flag purposes.'

'or you just got lucky.'

'23 times?'

'yeah, that seems unlikely.'

you smile. 'there's a window in the roof of bunker nine.' you say. 'it's actually a two way mirror. it doesn't let any light through. gives me a perfect view of your workspace, though.'

'so the tactical secret is spying.' says leo.

'can't win if you don't play a little dirty every now and then. plus it's cool to see all the stuff you create.'

you shoulder your bow. 'good luck activating all of the traps again.' you say. 'I need to get back to my cabin.'

you start to walk toward the noise your fellow campers are making, to see if your team is winning and how you can help.

'hey!'

you turn around to see leo is still standing in the clearing with the trap in his hands.

'if you want to, I could show you how to make these? then you will be able to do more than just disable them.' he says.

you smile at him, you've always liked leo.

but you are surprised, you know leo is kind of protective of bunker 9 and usually only Hephaestus kids go inside. it must be a huge deal for someone from another cabin to be invited into the bunker.

and Leo wants you here.

'sure.' you say. 'I'd like that. but first we have to steal your flag.'

'oh no, you won't.' says leo.

with one last smile, you disappear into the woods, leaving leo to reactivate his trap before coming after you.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit/Max

#first time writing for leo <3 #pjo #pjo fic #pjo fics #pjo fanfic #pjo fanfiction #pjo fanfics #pjo oneshot #pjo oneshots #percy jackson #Percy Jackson fanfiction #Percy Jackson fanfics #Percy Jackson fanfic #Percy Jackson fanfictions #Percy Jackson fic #Percy Jackson fics #Percy Jackson oneshot #Percy Jackson oneshots #Leo valdez #Leo valdez x reader #Leo valdez fanfiction #Leo valdez fanfic #Leo valdez fanfics #Leo valdez fic #Leo valdez fics #Leo valdez x apollo!reader #Leo valdez oneshot #Leo valdez oneshots

[inuyashaluver]

hi hi hi I love your fics. I was wondering if you could more grace clinton. maybe about a new years kiss?? <33 also I love the way you add the social media posts very nice touch!!

happy new year - grace clinton

grace clinton x reader

description: in which you and your best friend don’t have anyone to kiss for new years, a friendly kiss won’t hurt, right?

warnings: long!! a little swearing

a/n: my love! you’re so sweet, thank you so much for the kindness and your request, enjoy ❤️ media posts till i DIEE, also can we tell i get to requests late HAHAHHA

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

since the day you and your best friend, grace, met, she has always been your go to person. you and grace had a bond that people could only dream about, radiating love, warmth and respect.

the two of you were truly a dynamic duo, stuck together like glue. unfortunately for the both of you, in a platonic way, something you both unknowingly wanted to progress further into something more.

it’s been that way since you were both 12, the best of friends through thick and thin. the bond between the two of you was very special, everyone could tell.

specifically through the way you both could laugh at anything and everything. the ability to be serious yet silly all at the same time.

sharing your stupid little inside jokes that had you both cackling while everyone shrugged around you because they really didn’t understand the joke. it was soulmate energy, affection begging to be shown between the two of you.

no one really understood you like grace did and vice versa. you truly brought out the best in each other, both on and off the pitch. it was honestly quite concerning how the two of you didn’t realise the amount of mutual infatuation you had for each other.

especially since you lived together, played in all the same clubs, spent each and every minute of everyday with each other, yet the confessions were never verbalised.

the amount of times the two of you had been ‘subtly’ told by your teammates that you both liked each other was unnerving. both of you dismissing it.

in your case, you were terrified to say something, the time didn’t feel right. you and grace had just been called up to the senior england team, both of your seasons at the spurs was going well, you didn’t want to jeopardise anything, you couldn’t afford to lose grace.

in grace’s case, she was also terrified, she could never really confirm whether your affection towards her was strictly platonic or not, you were notorious for being one of the kindest people in the world, you were incredibly affectionate, she truly believed you only viewed her as a friend.

oh how the two of you were just plain wrong. you’re absolutely perfect for each other.

—

grace was scrambling around your shared flat, huffing out in frustration when she couldn’t find her left boot. you both had to leave for training in 5 minutes.

“love, have you seen my boot anywhere?” she yells out, now for some reason throwing all the pillows off the couch.

you come into the room with a concerned expression, holding back a laugh at an annoyed grace laying on her stomach with her phone light shining under the couch.

“gracie” you call out, holding the boot in your hand with a cheeky grin. she whips her head towards you, letting out a sigh of relief and hurrying up towards you.

“you’re a lifesaver” she breathes out, grabbing the back of your head and placing a kiss on the top of it before she rushes back to her room.

your cheeks flush instantly and you have to fan yourself to calm down, moving to grab some pre-made smoothies from your fridge for the car ride, pressing them against your cheeks.

you sling your bag over your shoulder and wait for grace by the door, she was always the late one out of the two of you. she comes out with a smile, a little puffed out from all the hustle and bustle.

she takes one of the cups from you, also taking your bag off your shoulder and putting it on hers, “gracie,” you groan, ready to tell her you can carry your own bag.

she looks over her shoulder at you, winking when she caught your eye, “shh, let gracie help you, love” she mocks and shuts you up, making you shake your head fondly as she walks you out to her car.

when you’re both situated in your seats, grace wordlessly hands you the aux cord, sending you a gentle grin as your fingers brushed hers as you took it.

whatever song you played, grace made an effort to add it to her secret playlist dedicated to you, learning all the songs on there off by heart so she could scream the lyrics with you.

you and grace both entered the spurs training facility with bright grins, laughing loudly with each other as you stumble through the door, unaware the social media team was filming a little project at the moment.

“our dynamic duo, what’s on your lockscreen?” she said, you and grace simmer down your giggles, taking your phones out and showing them to the camera.

“this is a picture of grace being an idiot” you chuckle, saying it while directly looking at her, she sticks her tongue out and puts her phone in front of yours, “here’s a photo of (y/n) being an idiot” she parrots cheekily, making you laugh when you see the photo.

you both wave to the camera and grace slings her arm over your shoulder, still carrying yours and hers bags when you enter the change rooms.

the comments on that video had everyone going insane, there was always the common debate about yours and grace’s relationship, considering how close the two of you were.

—

there were so many instances where you and grace were obviously in love, not uncommon in your day to day life.

you were both walking out to the pitch for training, grace telling you a story that had you laughing brightly, only becoming worse when she would keep adding to it, struggling through the laughs she was producing.

“and then i fucking dropped the drink on the floor and it went everywhere!” she laughed, you join her, stumbling over your feet about to fall to the ground before you felt a warm hand planted firmly on your waist.

grace pulled you up quickly, the force of it having you smashing into her side, “easy” she chuckles, rubbing up and down your waist quickly before she let it linger on your lower back, directing your steps.

your cheeks go pink, your breath quickening a little at the interaction.

grace looks down at you a little worried about your breathing, “you okay?” her thick, northern accent making your stomach lurch, butterflies were an understatement when it came to grace.

“yep, fine” you breathe out, grace narrows her eyes at you but nods, hand still on your back as the group gathers, only leaving your body when you had to train, and of course, you’re partnered up.

clearly the two of you were in a silly mood because you two could not stop giggling. everyone would smile at the two of you, honestly the both of you were big kids stuck in adult bodies and it was incredibly endearing.

you were a striker, grace decided to practise her set piece with you in preparation for an upcoming match. you were known to be a little unstoppable, a rising star in everyone’s eyes, you were relentless when it came to scoring goals.

grace kicked the ball to you and you plant it in the back of the net, grace runs over to you and hoists you up in her waist, running around with you as you scream and laugh. acting as though she’s never seen you score before.

“top bins” she yells, making you laugh brightly as she jumped up and down with you in her arms, you slap her shoulder with a laugh, “gracie we have to practise,” you chuckle, she places you down on the floor with a laugh, waiting for you to run up so she could pass you the ball again.

and when you manage to score again, she just could not ignore the amount of admiration for you, hoisting you up again and running around the pitch while the team laughs at your screams and laughter.

“$5 they confess right now” beth jokes, celin laughs brightly, “no way, i don’t think it will ever happen” she smiles, watching as grace puts you on the ground as you shove her, your smiles infectious for everyone watching. “they’re so stupid” beth coos.

“gracie, don’t do that anymore” you laugh, giving her chest a little shove, “never” she replies cheekily, giving your nose a little squeeze before running off.

you smile as you watch her running off, waiting for you by your water bottles and chucking yours to you when you were near.

“what a save! ever considered being a goal keeper?” she teases, you drink your water with a shake of your head and flip her off, making her giggle before you both chat back and forth, promptly getting yelled at by beth for being distracted.

—

changes were evident when you and grace got called up again for the senior team, only this time, you were both debuting.

you were both starting, grace managing to assist you in two goals and getting her own in turn. you both got subbed off 20 minutes till full time and collapsed on the bench with bright smiles.

“little superstar, two goals” grace smiles down at you, nudging your shoulder with hers, you smile at her, “little superstar, one goal, technically three with your perfect assists” you say cheekily, nudging her like she did to you.

she looked down at your lips for a second before swallowing harshly, suddenly hyper aware of where she was, she faced the front with a nervous expression. you missed it completely.

she quickly begins to feel comfortable when you joke about something, falling into comfortable conversation and giggles.

you both joked as you watched the match, both of you yelling when something bad would happen or when something went well. all grace could really focus on was you, only reacting when you would because you were actually paying attention.

when the match concluded, you jumped on grace’s back and without a second thought, she held you by the underside of your thighs as you went to talk to your teammates.

“are you two dating yet?” ella laughs when she saw you leaning down to whisper something in grace’s ear as she chuckled.

you both froze, alessia winces and slaps her best friend on the shoulder, “tooney!” she exclaims, ella looks at her offendedly, “what?” alessia shakes her head, sending you both an apologetic smile as she dragged ella away, promptly scolding the girl as they walked.

you clear your throat and wriggle out of grace’s embrace, awkwardly chatting while you walked along side each other but returning to normal when you both laughed about a sign someone was holding with both you and grace on it saying ‘bestie goals’. you both wished it said something else on it.

—

though, what really changed everything was a new year’s party the lionesses frequently had. you and grace both got ready at home and when you came out of your room to an awaiting grace on the couch, her breath hitched at seeing you.

you looked drop dead gorgeous, stumbling inside while adjusting your earring. her mouth was slightly agape as she took you in, “do you think this looks okay?” you say with a little uncertainty, giving a little twirl with a nervous smile.

“(y/n) you look so beautiful,” she says earnestly, her eyes staring into yours as you nervously shifted your weight between your feet. your cheeks were pink, and so were grace’s.

“really?” you breathe out, grace nods firmly, “really, love” she smiles, you look at grace up and down, smiling as you took in her appearance. you were unintentionally in matching colours.

“you look beautiful as well, gracie” you smile, “but you copied my colour” you tease, grace rolls her eyes amusingly, “fine, i’ll change” she jokes when she stands up from the couch, you catch her hand before she could move past her.

“you look perfect, no” you scold, pulling her towards the car. she swore she went into cardiac arrest then and there.

you’re still hand in hand by the time your reach the car, grace making an effort to open the door for you with a sheepish grin when you smile at her affectionately, a small, “thank you, gracie” escaping your lips that made her nervous.

when you both get to the party, you’re instantly thrust into different conversations, unfortunately being separated.

that didn’t mean you didn’t stop looking at each other, however, your eyes always managing to connect from the other side of the room before making your way to each other again.

you and grace opted to not drink, she had driven and you didn’t want her to be sober alone, she was incredibly grateful for you.

you both chat and laugh, engaging in other conversations while grace placed her hand on the small of your back again, claiming you needed to stay with her or she’d ‘go insane’.

it was 11:50 and you watched as your teammates and friends all neared their partners, sticking close to them so they could have that new years kiss.

you looked to your side on the small couch, grace. grace was there. like she always was.

you couldn’t help the lingering thoughts of how you wanted grace to be your new years kiss, something you dreamt about every year.

if only you knew about the war going on in her mind at that moment, she fiddled with the rings on her fingers as she watched the surrounding couples get increasingly affectionate as the time neared.

you and grace danced along to the music on the couch before you both got pulled up by ella, “no sitting!” she laughs, pushing you forward and making you stumble into her arms before she walked away with joe.

grace’s hands catch you by the waist, your own holding her shoulders for support as you looked up at her. she swallowed the lump in her throat as she looked at you, your wide eyes and plump lips making her incredibly nervous.

you glance over at the time quickly for good measure, 11:59. “it’s almost midnight” you breathe out, grace nods, humming at your words. “yeah, 1 minute” she points out, her head double checking before focusing back on you.

“should we kiss at midnight?” you blurt out, internally cursing yourself for your forwardness. though, to your surprised grace nods, “why not?” grace shrugs.

a little smile plays at the corner of her lips at the thought of kissing you. you were both incredibly surprised at how forward the whole situation was.

“nothing wrong with kissing your best friend” you stutter, “no, nothing at all” she rushes out, making you both giggle before you hear people counting down from ten.

your pupils were blown out, grace as well, additionally with the two of you so pink in the cheeks, it looked like you were sunburned.

both of your eyes would stare into each other’s before dropping to your lips, both of you were incredibly nervous but overall excited.

by the time it reached two, everything felt in slow motion as grace cradled your cheek in her hand, gently pulling you forward till your lips met hers.

“happy new year!” people yelled.

almost feeling as though you had done it before, you both kissed each other sweetly, expressing everything you felt just with the press against your lips.

she pulled you closer as your arms wrapped around her neck, pressing you against her as your mouths moved together.

grace lets out a happy sigh against you, her hand around you waist moving to give your hip and gentle squeeze.

you hum against her, making her grin against your lips, your own little grin making its way into the kiss before you both pulled away in need of air.

you’re both still incredibly close to each other, everything tuning out around you as your breaths intermingled with each other.

“i love you” she breathes out, you smile at her and without hesitation you reply, “i love you” making her grin and press another tender kiss against your lips.

you hear some faint cheering but you ignore it, only focusing on the girl in front of you. your girl. her girl. finally.

of course when you and grace pull away, you’re teased like no tomorrow, both of you just taking it with bright grins as grace back hugged you, her arms around your middle as she kissed your cheek, your hands holding onto her arms resting on you.

—

you both got home after the party and grace just couldn’t resist you anymore. kissing your neck gently while your shaky hands attempted to open the door.

she places her hand around yours holding the key, helping you open it with a chuckle and closing it behind her when she gently pushes you inside.

as soon as the door closes, you surge forward and kiss her, she hums out surprised against you, walking you backwards until you both reach the couch.

she sits down first, patting her lap and giving you an inviting smile that had you swooning. you straddle her lap and she pulls you into a kiss without missing a beat, your tongues exploring each others mouths before her teeth gently tugging your bottom lip.

you smile when she releases it gently, moving forward to kiss her again. she suddenly giggled against you and you pull away with an amused smile, cocking your head to the side questioning her giggles.

“sorry, i just never thought this would happen” she says adoringly, her hand moving to rub the apple of your cheek gently, “yeah, me too” you smile, carding your hands through her hair and gently scratching the back of her neck with your nails, making her completely melt under your touch.

you both talked and talked all night, interrupted by a few stolen kisses until you both fell asleep on the couch. when you woke up to grace’s head resting on your chest as your legs were tangled, you couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

you smooth down the back of her hair gently and she stirs awake, holding herself above you and smiling down charmingly before tucking her head into the crook of your neck.

she places a gentle kiss there before she straddles your hips, kissing all over your face until you broke out into a fit of giggles, making her giggle along with you just at the sweet sound.

“will you be my girlfriend, baby?” grace breathes out, nudging your nose with hers, you nod instantly, pulling the back of her neck until your lips met with hers gently.

“i’d love to” you whisper against her, another kiss placed on your lips that made you so dizzy, you were both absolutely blissed out.

—

when you both went back to training, let’s just say some money was passed around with groans at seeing your intertwined hands.

⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆ ★ ⋆

you know the drill, just pretend it’s you! ily celin❤️

liked by ellatoone and 44,232 others

graceclinton_x: me looking at her like this even though she stole my food

view all comments

yourname: baby, sharing is caring

↳ graceclinton_x: sharing is caring when it only applies to you, baby girl

↳ yourname: very true xx smart girl!

↳ graceclinton_x: mhm

ellatoone: why don’t you ever look at me like that, clinton?

↳ alessia: ella

↳ graceclinton_x: ella

↳ yourname: ella

↳ ellatoone: what?

#woso #woso community #woso fanfics #woso x reader #woso one shot #woso imagine #grace clinton x reader #grace clinton

[sprinkler-ashes]

gold rush // aaron hotchner x reader

aaron hotchner x fem!reader

description: in which aaron hotchner hates social media – unless it’s yours. inspired by gold rush by taylor swift.

words: 2.2k

warnings: hotch is down bad, curse words, a bit of pining and jealousy

a/n: i love the idea of the bau being active on social media + hotch having no idea what any online terms mean lmao anyways i just really like this little fic. happy reading!!

i don’t like slow motion, double vision in rose blush

i don't like that falling feels like flying ‘til the bone crush

everybody wants you

but i don’t like a gold rush

Aaron Hotchner is not a fan of social media.

Maybe it’s because of his job. He knows that posting too much information online could sometimes lead to bad situations because there are always people lurking – it’s impossible to know who, exactly, is watching online. Or maybe it’s because he simply didn’t grow up with it. It didn’t really matter – he just knows he does not like using it.

Penelope had shown him quite a bit of Twitter after several BAU cases started trending while the cases were actively going on, even somehow agreeing to let her set him up an account. Aaron didn’t really want an account, but it was almost impossible to say no to Penelope Garcia who Aaron genuinely liked a lot.

Facebook was another one that he had. He didn’t even have a profile picture and only harbored a small amount of friends – entirely family. The site was strictly used to keep up with Jessica since she was an avid Facebook user. If he couldn’t get a hold of her through her phone, he would send her a message on Facebook’s messaging platform, Messenger. She typically responded that way.

The last social media account Aaron had was a new one. Or, well, new-ish. It had just been created a little over a month ago. He didn’t want the account, but Penelope wasn’t the one who asked him to get an account that time.

It was you. And saying no to you was even harder than saying no to Penelope.

A group photo was taken at Rossi’s last month during a get-together after finishing a case. Penelope went straight to Instagram to post it, tagging everyone except Aaron who wasn’t shy to say he didn’t have an account. He was the only one – even Rossi had made an account.

“You’re not on Instagram?” You’d asked Aaron only moments after that.

He shook his head. “I don’t really use social media.”

You frowned like you were in deep thought before turning to him again with a smile. “We should change that.”

All it took was a good minute, maybe even less than that, and one of your signature smiles to convince him to let you help him create an Instagram profile.

He accumulated a small amount of followers since then, which he had to approve, of course, as Aaron made sure his account was set to private – mainly family, some friends, and the team. However, that was as far as it went. He was still figuring out the app, but completely forgot about his new account due to his busy life.

Except for now.

It’s a slow Friday at work – mainly just a day spent catching up on paperwork – and Aaron never really complains on days like this. Yes, it’s usually boring, but having a day without a case means he actually gets to see his son at the end of the day, so it’s a win for him.

But a slow day creates boredom, especially when he’s actually ahead on paperwork. Aaron can’t recall the last time he was this bored at work – probably because he usually has something to do – but when his eyes ghost over the time on his expensive watch, he has to resist letting out a sigh of agitation because, somehow, there are still four more hours left in the workday.

Aaron puts the pen he’s holding down and moves the file he’s in the process of reviewing. He grabs his phone from one of the drawers in his desk and turns it on. The lock screen, which is his favorite photo of Jack, lights up before he enters his passcode.

He does errand-like things at first, including responding to a couple of texts, checking his personal email, and even spending a minute, or five, on Twitter, not that he would ever admit that to Penelope.

Eyeing the colorful app with a white outline of a camera, he hesitantly opens Instagram, still not really used to it considering it’s been over a month since the last time he was on it. He waits a second for it to load up until a photo appears on his feed from JJ, who posted a picture of Henry and Will before she left for work.

jj_jareau: My two favorite guys <3

Aaron knows that the symbol on the end of her caption is supposed to represent a heart because you often send the same symbol in the BAU group chat. He’s not sure why you never use actual emoticons – he’s never asked you – but he associates the symbol with you.

Not that he’s associating hearts with you specifically. Or overanalyzing all your texts in the group chat. Of course not, it’s just because you use it often. That’s all.

When Aaron tries to scroll, he accidentally presses on your username that was showing up in the preview of the comments, sending him straight to your own Instagram page.

He’s about to click the back arrow above your profile picture that he’s assuming will take him back to his feed, but Aaron can’t stop himself from glancing over your profile. Your page is filled with photos from moments in your life that go back years.

Looking up from his phone, he can see you from his chair as the blinds in his office are currently open. You’re chatting with Spencer who’s sitting across from you, a smile on your face as you continuously glance from him and back over to your computer screen where you’re typing, making sure Spencer knows you’re still listening to whatever bizarre fact he’s probably ranting about.

Aaron looks back down to his phone. He’s never been on your page, nor have your posts ever shown up on his feed during the rare times he’s actively gone on the app. It almost feels too personal – like he’s not supposed to see the side of you he doesn’t work with.

He carefully presses on the last post you made. It’s a post from only one day ago, but you’re not in any of the seven photos you’ve posted, which makes him frown with a tinge of disappointment.

Your caption reads, September photo dump, with a couple emoticons.

Wondering what the hell a photo dump is, Aaron looks through the set of pictures again. Everything is random. They range from a sunset to a picture of a meal you must’ve eaten at some point during the month of September, which just passed, and even one of Emily’s cat.

He scrolls down to the next post from three days ago. This time, you’ve only posted one picture and luckily for him, you’re actually in it.

You’re sitting at a dinner table, head resting gently on your hand with a sweet smile while your other hand is gently holding a glass of what – Aaron brings the phone closer to his face without knowing he can actually just zoom in – appears to be champagne.

It only takes him a few seconds after admiring how you look in the photo to wonder about who’s on the other side of it.

Aaron doesn’t know who took the photo and is getting to see you smile like that, but he does know that he wishes it was him because you’re just so damn pretty.

The man is pretty sure he would quite literally melt down to the ground if you looked at him like that.

He’s attempting to push these thoughts to the back of his head as he prepares to scroll to the next post. Aaron is well aware of the fact he shouldn’t be thinking about you in any way that isn’t strictly platonic. He is your boss and even aside from that, the two of you are not only co-workers, but friends.

Friends, he reminds himself. That’s all.

But as he scrolls to the next post, every thought of friendship leaves his body.

It’s a photo taken with the flash on from exactly a week ago, last Friday night, of you, Emily, JJ, and Penelope in what appears to be a club that Aaron can’t say recognizes. You’re standing on the end, your arm snaked around Emily’s waist with your body turned towards the camera while mid-laugh.

The black dress you’re wearing hugs every inch of your body perfectly – you’re showing more skin in the photo than Aaron has ever seen out of you. He’s seen you dressed up before – even seen you in person at clubs himself – but nothing like this before. Ever.

Much needed girls’ night out, your caption says.

Aaron’s not even sure he’s still breathing when he swipes to the second, and last, picture in the post.

This time, it’s only you. You’re still in the same dress, looking at the camera with a sultry smile. You’re not in the club this time. Aaron can’t tell where you are, but that doesn’t really matter because you’re looking straight at the camera with one of the most attractive looks he’s ever seen – it almost feels like you’re looking directly at him.

prentiss_emily: Baddest bitch in the bureau

yourusername: @ emily_prentiss Only behind you ofc

Though he knows she means it in an endearing way, Aaron doesn’t want to call you a bitch, but Emily’s comment on your post technically isn’t a lie. Unfortunately, he also can't seem to figure out what "ofc" means.

A part of him feels guilty. He knows he can’t have you, yet he’s going through your Instagram right now imagining a thousand what-if scenarios, a tinge of jealousy running through his veins at the idea of you ever looking at anyone the way you’re looking at the camera in your photos.

Aaron spends so much time trying to convince himself he doesn’t feel the way he does for you because there are so many reasons why he shouldn’t have the feelings he does. He can’t think of a scenario where you can be his nor can he think of a world in which you feel the same.

So, after he looks at this photo for another couple of seconds, he’s finally going to close out the app and forget about the way you look in that dress.

He can’t get the chance to do that because the door to his office is opening abruptly, startling him to the point where he drops his phone onto his desk.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath, hands fumbling to lock his phone so your Instagram will go away.

There you are, mouth open to say something until you notice him fumbling with his phone.

A sheepish look appears on your face. “Sorry, I forgot to knock.”

“It’s fine,” he says, hoping his voice is even and doesn’t scream: Hello, I just looked through your Instagram. “What do you need?” He lays his phone down – it’s finally locked – and looks up at you, trying to appear like he was actually doing something.

“Oh, I don’t need anything. Reid and I are going to try that new place that just opened up down the street for lunch. I was wondering if you wanted me to grab you something.”

“Do you have a menu?” He asks.

“Yeah, give me a second. I’ll text it to you,” you tell him.

You’re pulling your phone out of the pocket of your pants and if Aaron had been paying attention and not pretending like he was working, he would’ve seen the way you glanced up at him, back to your phone, then back to him, a giddy smile on your face.

You do as you told him you would and send him the menu. “Take your time looking over it. Just text me what you want within the next fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks. I’ll look over it in a minute.”

Aaron really does go back to work this time, his hands moving to pick up the file he moved earlier. He hears the door open and assumes you’re on your way out of the door, but you don’t leave yet.

“Oh! Before I go,” you say, your body out the door and your hand lingering on the outside knob of his office door. He looks up at you, pen in hand. “Thanks for the like on Instagram.”

Aaron thinks his heart has stopped upon hearing those words. Before he can even say anything, you shut the door, and you’re making your way back to where Spencer is still sitting.

He swallows hard, closes the file, and sets it away once again. His fingers frantically type in his passcode, and Instagram immediately pops up, still open from when he tried to turn his phone off.

To Aaron’s horror, he sees the Instagram heart that’s used to like photos filled with red and seemingly glaring at him. It was too late to unlike it now. You’d obviously already gotten the notification.

Meanwhile, as Aaron is mentally panicking, you’re whipping out your phone again to send another text. This time to Emily who is currently in a meeting.

I will never doubt you again – Operation post-a-thirst-trap worked!

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner one shot #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch x y/n

[nineteenninety-six]

Hi! can you do chishiya and his s/o in the jack of hearts of game please? Have a good day!

A/N: I don't really think this is all that good but I hope you enjoy it anyway.

The unmistakable sounds of people fucking greeted YN and Chishiya as they walked into the Jack of Hearts game venue.

YN couldn't help the grin that grew on their face, "Seems like they have the right idea."

Chishiya hummed in agreement as he slipped the collar on, "Indulging in pleasure in a world of death... makes sense I suppose"

"Interested?" YN asked as they slipped on their own collar. "I'm sure we'll manage to find a free space on our calendar to fit it in, you know between running for our lives from the King of Spades and trying to find our group again."

Chishiya didn't respond, simply waving YN upstairs to the guardroom where a few other people were waiting. All of them looked uncomfortable from the noises coming from one of the cells. one of the older ladies gave them a judging look as they walked by as if expecting them to go off to a cell as well.

Chishiya finds a shadowed corner for them though YN can barely wait a couple of minutes of silence before they speak up again, "Do you think they came to this world together and were a thing before or do you think that they're just making the most out of a bad situation?"

Chishiya gives them an incredulous look." What difference does it make?"

YN shrugs, "None I suppose. I just wanted to gossip... I miss Kuina, she was always willing to gossip with me"

"You two spent more time gossiping than doing anything else." Chishiya engages in conversation. "A miracle you managed to clear games."

YN rolled her eyes at his derision, "It's not like there was much else to do. Most people aren't making DIY flamethrowers and backstabbing people, believe it or not."

Chishiya releases an amused huff and the conversation dies off again, at least until the noisy couple comes out to join the growing group of players filling the room, when chishiya whispers to YN, "They came together. Boss and secretary, perhaps?"

YN nods, "Uh-huh, the power dynamic must be crazy..."

┆彡

YN looked around at the players as the rules were explained, they weren’t exactly worried as they knew that Chishiya had their back but figuring out who the Jack was, is going to take an insane amount of time.

Heart games were psychological and YN had heard of heart games that had been designed so that only one person survives but this game seemed to be one that focused on backstabbing and creating suspicion amongst its players. 

There was no time limit, unlimited food and visas weren't going to expire. Putting scared and nervous people in this environment only caused these people to get caught up in their thoughts and paranoid.

Whoever the Jack was, they designed this game to be a massacre. Picking off people whilst disguised as a player. A smart way to design the game but every player had a secret and putting someone in a situation like this may bring out a new side of them.

“So, what do you think?” Chishiya whispered as they watched groups being formed around them.

“To early to even make a guess, give me a couple more rounds”

Chishiya nodded before the young man next to them asked if they could team up, as YN watched two men interact on the floor below through the floor grate. The smaller man seemed to be establishing dominance to create an uneven partnership.

YN looked away from them as a young girl in a blue dress walked over to them with her group following behind her,

“Say, would you like to join our team?” She asks, “It’s okay if you don’t want to”

The guy that Chishiya was talking to quickly responds before looking over at Chishiya who looks at YN.

YN gives a nod and shrug, so Chishiya turns back to the girl and nods, 

“Okay. Let’s work together.”

┆彡

YN watched Chishiya as he watched other people. He always had some sort of plan in motion at any given time and during games, he had backups to his backups.

YN had given up trying to guess whatever was going on in his head and usually went along with him though, they never relied on him a hundred per cent, making sure they had at least one plan because if something ever happened to Chishiya, they’ll be fucked.

Rounds kept on passing with at least one person dying each round and YN was over it, the smell of death permeated the air and no amount of free food and stay could convince them to stay any longer than necessary.

There were six of them left now, YN, Chishiya, Bada, Matsushita, Bada and Kotoko and just after the previous round ended with two more dead bodies, YN followed Chishiya to beg for him to set whatever plan he had in motion to end this game.

“You know who it is, right?” YN asks as they follow Chishiya around the food room.

Chishiya hummed as he picked up a packet of cookies and began snacking on them.

“You do?” YN huffed at their boyfriend, “End the game now. We can be done with this and look for Kuina.”

 Chishiya offered YN cookies which they refused with a roll of their eyes, “The plan is already in motion.”

“How long have you known who the Jack of Hearts was?”

“I wasn’t certain until this round” Chishiya took a bite of his cookie, “Satisfied now?”

YN bit their tongue, it was no good to start an argument now, especially since Chishiya was never a fair person to argue against, he had a tendency to use personal things against whoever he was fighting against to win the argument.

┆彡

YN speed walked out of the prison after the Jack of Hearts was defeated and they had cleared the game. Though ‘defeated’ was a strong word when you remember that Banda and Yaba had tortured Matsushita to the point where he could no longer talk so when the round concluded and he couldn’t say his suit, his collar activated and killed him.

“Are you still upset?” Chishiya asked as he followed them out, jogging at times to catch up to YN’s fast pace.

“No” YN grumbled, their pace not decreasing, “Let’s just focus on finding Kuina and the others.”

Chishiya saddles up to YN’s side and doesn’t say a word but he does reach out and take YN’s hand in his. His version of an apology.  

#chishiya x reader #shuntarou chishiya #chishiya imagine #chishiya imagines #alice in borderland imagine #alice in borderland imagines #shuntaro chishiya x reader

[nightdiary]

HELLO MILA <333

I love ur blog sm and i just realised i never asked anything ??????

So i was wondering if u could do something with beomgyu’s s/o surprising him at their recent tour 🫶🏻👀

word count: 2.1k genre: fluff, (secret) established relationship dear anon!!! thank you so much for your wonderful request, i hope i was able to do your idea justice! i had lots of fun writing this, and i've always wanted to try writing something similar! i'd love to hear your thoughts, thank you for your support and patience 🤍

the nature of your relationship with beomgyu had always been built on something light-hearted, even as the two of you grew into your separate selves and careers.

it’s what you believed kept your relationship blossoming– the spark as so many relationship experts had dubbed it. it’s what you believed kept you and your boyfriend together after so many years, after so much time spent apart, and after so many things had attempted to come in the way.

easily put: loving your idol boyfriend was easy because of the both of you were just a little bit unserious (sometimes).

the unexpected call comes at an hour too late for you to ignore. beomgyu’s manager is on the other line with a proposition that makes you sit up in bed and tug your sheets off urgently. you nearly think you’re stuck in the midst of a wishful dream, his voice a mere product of your sleep-deprived mind. but then he mentions something you’d been pondering on for months, something you’d never thought would be brought up to conversation with your boyfriend’s management team.

you’re left staring at your frazzled reflection in the bathroom mirror when he hangs up. he leaves it up to you to decide whether or not to tell beomgyu.

so, when beomgyu’s message inviting you to their last show on tour appears on your phone with a muted ding!, you decide to act. it feels a little mean, and it nearly makes you break your act when he sends enough sad face emojis to make the app lag, but you tell him you’re busy; unable to get a day off from your employer, who’s livid at the thought of you taking a vacation on such short notice.

it’s believable, almost too much so, because beomgyu answers with a voice message comforting you and promising to take you next time. he also sends you a selfie of him in his hotel bed, hair wet and lips devastatingly pouty, and you resort to turning your phone off to avoid telling him the truth.

you’ve come across countless photos and videos from his concert before, received even more from your boyfriend directly, but no amount of beomgyu fancams could prepare you for physically seeing him on stage. he looks absolutely incandescent, like a star that’s gotten to close to earth, and your lungs constrict at how effortlessly he carries himself through the songs.

the fervor and keenness with which he throws himself into his performance has left you awe-stuck every time, but seeing it on a stage in such a large-scale venue makes your heart squeeze with pride. there’s a certain glow to all of the members, really, one that made it hard for you to take your eyes off the stage during the entirety of the three hour show.

the stadium’s alive with roaring fans, the energy palpable in the thrumming air as each note reverberated like an echo. the eagerness in your throat nearly suffocates you. with every passing song, you could feel yourself growing more and more nervous, increasingly unsure of how beomgyu will react. despite sitting somewhat close to the stage, he has yet to acknowledge that he’s seen or recognized you.

beomgyu’s eyes briefly meet yours during one of the ments when he’s scanning through your section. his gaze pauses on you for just a moment longer, enough to let you see the brief flicker of shock on his unassuming face, before he schools himself and moves on to fans that are seated higher up. but you still manage to catch his gaze on you every now and then throughout the remainder of the show, fleeting and brief, yet progressively more incessant as everything draws to a close.

you swear you see him mouth something at you, but then confetti’s being blast out and you’re drowning in the screams around you. admittedly, the hardest part is waiting for the venue to begin emptying out, enough so that you can find a trusted staff member and be escorted backstage. you’re unsure of how long after the show it’s been when you can finally slip away to see beomgyu, but it’s all forgotten in the past when you turn into a room and see him staring back at you, this time unabashedly.

everything around you bleeds into hazy, distant nothingness as you run forward to close the gap between you two. beomgyu’s arms encircle you like a lifeline, pressing you into his chest with a measured tenderness. he’s warm and firm and familiar, and as he tucks himself into your shoulder, you feel like you can finally breathe again.

“i can’t believe you made it,” he mumbles against your neck, hold tightening around your waist. he’s sweaty all along the front, shirt practically drenched through after hours of performing, but all you can think about is the fact that he’s finally here. not on a screen. not in your fleeting thoughts throughout the day.

“airplanes are a crazy invention,” you joke breathlessly.

beomgyu laughs wetly from where he’s nuzzling your collarbones, seemingly intent on getting as close as physically possible to you. your own hand raises to card itself through his damp locks, untangling them where they’ve gone unruly from his dancing. you almost feel awkward with the mill of staff around you, but they look too busy tending to the clean-up process to even worry about the two of you huddling in the middle of it all.

“you two are so cute,” you hear from behind you, and as you crane your neck to meet taehyun’s genuine eyes, you flush.

stepping back from the hug, you feel beomgyu’s calloused palms move to cup your cheeks, gently cradling your face with a tenderness so raw it nearly hurts. he’s looking at you with such intent, almost as if in belief that you’re real and in front of him, and you resist to rock forward on your toes and kiss him square on the mouth. his thumbs smooth over your damp cheeks, and you realize with a start that you’ve been crying.

as the room continues to crowd with more staff filtering in, beomgyu takes the initiative to pull you into one of the more secluded corners of the lounge for some semblance of privacy. you lean back against the wall and peer up at him through your lashes, studying the way the glitter of his makeup catches the light. he’s even more beautiful up close, impossibly ethereal, and your heart aches at the thought of leaving him again.

the rest of the members seem to have also taken note of your presence, judging by kai’s excited holler from the doorway, and you preen under their attention when they crowd into your corner. beomgyu makes a noise of complaint when they circle around you, but the frown on his face doesn’t last long as he watches you hug the rest of his bandmates. they’re all still dressed in their stage outfits, equally sweaty and noticeably exhausted, and yet they greet you with such heartfelt enthusiasm that you feel yourself go warm all over.

“no way, you didn’t tell us you were coming!” soobin pulls back from smothering you to look you over, gasping when he notices the tour shirt you’d slipped on over your outfit. “you’re wearing the one beomgyu sent you! oh, i hate couples. i’m going to be sick–”

soobin breaks off, pretending to gag, and you swat at him with a smile so wide that hurts your cheeks.

“we’ve missed you so much,” kai continues earnestly, grinning impishly, “probably more than gyu, if we’re being honest.”

“careful, i know where you’re sleeping tonight,” your boyfriend grumbles, sticking his tongue out at the both of them as he scoots into your side, wrapping his arm around your waist.

“so do i? we’re literally staying on the same floor…”

“at this point, can’t we just ask manager-nim to get an extra room at our hotel for you?” yeonjun’s question is innocent, but it makes you go warm all over. partly from excitement, partly from embarrassment.

“no way, your manager’s done already done so much for me.” that was an understatement. he’d been more than understanding when you’d first brought the idea up to him, been too kind and patient in sorting out details and ruling out alternatives. he’d pulled too many strings to secure you a spot at the show, backstage even, that it felt outright inconsiderate to ask for more. you’d gotten to see beomgyu shining from afar, gotten to see him sweaty and tired and soft between your arms.

it was enough, no matter how selfish you wanted to be.

“it’s okay,” a deeper voice cuts you off before you can continue, and you back up into beomgyu in surprise. their manager laughs good-naturedly at your shock, moving in between the members and reaching out to shake your hand in greeting.

“it’s okay?” you squeak, meeting his hand tentatively.

“i appreciate your consideration,” he nods, turning to pat beomgyu on the back. “the boys have all worked really hard on this tour. it’s the last stop, and they have a long flight back to korea tomorrow. what’s one night of celebration? you’ll have to take a separate car and follow extra protocol, but it won’t be anything our team can’t handle. beomgyu, think of this as my congratulation to you for a successful tour.”

“if beomgyu gets to be with his partner, i want in-n-out,” soobin pouts, and everyone in the circle breaks off into laughter. yeonjun seconds this with a raise of his hand, and you watch with amusement as kai and taehyun quickly follow suit.

“thank you,” beomgyu whispers to his manager, smile sincere and flustered. his hold on your hand tightens, and you look over at him to share a knowing look.

the anxiousness at the back of your mind doesn’t disappear as beomgyu and the rest of the members go through the motions of warming down and preparing to leave. you’re instructed to wait on one of the empty couches in the corner, leg bouncing restlessly as you watch your boyfriend disappear down the hall, presumably to change into something with less frills and gems.

outside, you can still hear the hum of excitement from the venue, though considerably scaled down from what you remember it being during the show. your heart squeezes with pride at the thought of how far they’d all come– sold out venues with capacities the size of small towns. an achievement so deserving, and yet once unfathomable to the entire group.

beomgyu returns clad in sweatpants and a loose shirt, face wiped clean of highlights and glitters. he seems almost bashful as he approaches you, looking around with a shy quirk to his mouth as he comes to back you up against the corner. you know what’s coming before he even leans in to peck you, know from the determination in his eyes that this isn’t the last you’ll be seeing of him like this tonight.

“ready to head out?” he asks once he pulls back, reaching for your hand with a smirk playing at his lips. your fingers comfortably slip between his, and as you make your way out after the staff, you clear your throat and try to hide the blush on your cheeks.

“i also want in-n-out,” you say.

your boyfriend’s answering laugh is loud and fond, and it rings down the hallway like peals of bells. he leans into your side, nudging you with his shoulder, and you note that he still smells like the body wash you have at home.

“almost sounds like you’re more excited for the food than to spend time alone with me,” he pouts.

flicking him on the forehead, both of you pause before a set of doors, ones you assume lead to the exterior of the building. you know his manager isn’t far behind you, and after being briefed on the measures you’d have to adhere to once outside, you think it’s best you stick by a familiar face. the security milling around should have you feeling more on edge, but beomgyu’s secure hold on your hand is enough to make you forget all about the predicament.

“i’ll see you at the hotel,” he promises.

there’s a crowd of staff forming behind you, commotion rising in the hallway as the team prepares to leave. you look at the flutter of beomgyu’s lashes as he looks up at them, then back at you, and you hum quietly when he begins to let go of you hand.

“with in-n-out?”

beomgyu’s smile is blinding, like that of a star you’re finally able to hold in the cusp of your palms. “with in-n-out.”

#nightdiary.writes #written-asks #txt #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt fluff #txt angst #txt fic #yeonjun headcanons #soobin headcanons #beomgyu headcanons #taehyun headcanons #hueningkai headcanons #yeonjun x reader #soobin x reader #beomgyu x reader #taehyun x reader #hueningkai x reader #txt imagines #txt boyfriend #txt scenarios #tomorrow x together headcanons #yeonjun fluff #soobin fluff #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #hueningkai fluff