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onlymingyus · 9 months

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Your Games Suck: Next Level

pairing; jeon wonwoo x choi seungcheol x f reader

genre; smut (minors dni)

warnings; unprotected sex, protected sex, dom!wonwoo, dom!seungcheol, sub!reader, fingering, oral (m & f receiving), hand on throat, breeding kink, creampie, cumplay, praise, degrading, petnames, degrading names, manhandling, scratching, pining down, a lot of tension between wonwoo and seungcheol, aftercare

w/c; 4k and some change

requested; no

a/n; i blame wonwoo and cheol for this one. -- i am scheduling this fic to drop at the time promised, any tags owed to my taglist will come later in the day once i have slept since my schedule is messed up from work. my apologies!

before continuing remember reblogs are incredibly important and please read how to support me here

“This is fucking stupid.”

“Restart it.”

Wonwoo laughs even as his lips brush over your throat and your moans carry through the room to tempt Seungcheol’s ears. He knew his friend was frustrated, but that was the point of the game. Could Seungcheol make it through a single round of the game without cursing?

Glancing over his shoulder, Seungcheol groans to the sight of your back arched off the bed. You were beautiful and he wanted nothing more than to throw the controller in his hand onto the desk and bury his cock into you. Instead, he was clenching the plastic and metal in his hand so hard it was popping under the pressure.

“Ah…fuck you feel so good.” Wonwoo groans the words as he rolls his hips towards yours. You were clenching around him deliciously. He knew you were close, but he wouldn’t let you cum too quickly. “Cheol…if you break my things I won’t let you play with Y/N.”

Muttering under his breath, Seungcheol loosens his grip on the controller only to feel it vibrate in his hands and to see his character die in the game.

“Oh, what the fuck! This isn’t fair.”

Wonwoo raises a brow, sliding his arm under your back to lift you toward him as he glances at the man sitting at his desk. He knew that Seungcheol knew the rules so he just watched as the man pressed restart with a pout on his face. Wonwoo couldn’t help but grin situating you into his lap, your knees on either side of his strong but slender thighs.

“Come on baby, give him a pep talk. At this point, the poor man is going to be running around the same area while I make you cum to the point of exhaustion and then he won’t get to fuck you because you won’t be able to stay awake.”

Heat spreads across your cheeks at Wonwoo’s words, but you knew he wasn’t joking. Not with that dark look in his eyes and with the way his hips were pistoning into you like a man on a mission. You knew you were leaking obscenely over his cock and his thighs, but it only served to make him work harder.

“Cheollie…oh god! I need you to win the game. I want your cock too. Don’t you want my pussy around your cock? Haven’t you missed me? Just be a good boy and don’t curse.”

The sound of an exasperated breath escapes Seungcheol’s lips at your words. The man shakes his head in disbelief at how filthy your little mouth could be and he finds himself wanting to stuff it full of his cock or fingers instantly.

“You have no idea how fu—freaking distracting you are right now Y/N. This game is already a…it’s hard, but I also have to listen to your slutty little mouth running and moaning behind me and there isn’t a thing I can do about it.”

Wonwoo smirks when you smile at Seungcheol’s words and how he manages to skip around the words that would get him sent back to the beginning of the level once again. A sharp slap to your ass draws your attention back to your boyfriend who lifts his brows at you, his bottom lip caught in his teeth between groaning breaths.

“I’m sorry, Seungcheol. I just can’t be quiet. Not when Wonwoo’s so deep inside of me and when I know that you are so hard. I can’t help but want you both inside of me. Try harder for me? I need you to fuck me. I might cry if you don’t.”

Laughing, Seungcheol lifts his hand from the controller briefly to brush his hair back as he bites back the urge to curse. He was now further in the game than he had been all night so maybe your little pep talk was actually working. Either way, he wanted to give you exactly what you wanted while also teaching you just who he was.

“Don’t you worry your pretty little head, baby. I’ll make sure you cry, how does that sound? Now let me finish this game so I can show your boyfriend a thing or two, huh?”

When you giggle, amused with Seungcheol’s answer, Wonwoo’s hand meets your ass once again causing you to moan his name as you clench around him tightly.

“So much talk and not enough playing. Mm, she’s gonna cum, Cheol. You’re gonna miss the first one. What a damn shame, all because you can’t restrain your mouth.”

With his thumb pressed against your clit, Wonwoo keeps his eyes on your face as he watches you fall apart on his cock for the first time that night. Seungcheol’s groan fills the room, but instead of the sound of a pleasured groan, it is an annoyed one as he listens to your whining moans. Slowing his thrusts, Wonwoo lets his fingers trail along your thighs. A smirk on his face, eyes locked on yours, your boyfriend lets you roll your hips over him to ride out your high.

“Such a good fucking girl.”

Lifting a hand to his face, Wonwoo pushes sweat from his brow before looking over at Seungcheol. The man’s shoulders tense, his eyes locked on the screen as he tries desperately to keep his attention on the task at hand. Even from where he was Wonwoo could see how far Seungcheol was in the game. He had played it so many times he knew the map by heart and with you still clenching around him, he knew you were desperate for another orgasm.

“Watch that building Cheol. You’ll get hit and sent back.”

Surprised by his friend’s merciful tip, Seungcheol almost misses the gunmen hiding in the building but is able to dodge the shot letting out a sigh under his breath. You watch under lowered lids as the man bites at his plush lips trying to keep any forbidden words from slipping between them.

“Oh god…that’s so good. Wonwoo, he’s getting so far. I need more, go harder?”

Leaning his head forward, Seungcheol laughs in disbelief at what he is hearing and missing. Forcing himself to keep his eyes forward, just a growl of frustration slipping from his bitten lips. When Seungcheol finally drops the controller onto the desk with a loud thud, the screen proudly displays the level complete.

Wonwoo can only laugh, his hand resting next to your head as he thrusts into you hard and deep like you had asked. His eyes meet Seungcheol’s as the man swivels the chair around to take in the scene in front of him.

“I did it. I finished it.”

Nodding, Wonwoo smirks at his friend, lifting his hand to brush your hair from your eyes as he leans you back on the bed so you can look at Seungcheol.

“And now you want your prize, Cheollie?”

Scoffing, Seungcheol nods before moving to stand from his chair. You can’t help the way your eyes fall on the obvious bulge in the front of his sweatpants that causes your mouth to water and for you to clench around Wonwoo.

“I think I deserve it. You have no fucking idea how hard that was. All that moaning and whining behind my back. You like having cock inside you that much, little whore?”

Watching the man, you arch your back letting out a moan when Wonwoo’s teeth graze over your soft skin near your nipple. Your boyfriend’s low chuckle draws your attention back to him only for him to tilt your head back towards Seungcheol so you can watch the man undress.

“Don’t be rude, Princess. He earned this, didn’t he? You’ve whined about wanting him back in our bed.”

Seungcheol smirks at Wonwoo’s words, his hands making quick work of his shirt letting your eyes drink in the sight before you. Whining Seungcheol’s name, you cling to the sheet under you causing the fabric to strain under your fingertips. You knew the man was teasing you just as much as you knew your boyfriend was enjoying the way your pussy was clenching around his cock.

“What is it, Y/N? Am I not moving fast enough for you? I had to sit at that desk for almost an hour listening to Wonwoo’s fingers fucking you and then his dick. Do you realize how wet you get and how loud it is? Do you even know how to muffle your moans?”

Shaking your head no, you feel your cheeks heat up. Wonwoo smiles against your breasts before leaning to sit up, his hands sliding along your thighs. The man’s eyes fall between your legs to where his cock slowly enters you again and again.

“Would you want her to be quiet? If she had been, your dumbass would still be dodging headshots.”

Seungcheol rolls his eyes, his thumbs pushing at his sweatpants. Grumbling under his breath, he steps forward letting his pants fall to the floor when his eyes meet yours, and his ego soars. Seungcheol can’t help but to smirk at how your mouth is watering over the sight of his cock. Tilting his head, he lifts his brow before stepping closer to the bed moving to rest his knee on the mattress, keeping just out of reach of you.

“What’s that look for, baby? You like what you see that much? You already have a cock inside you and you are looking at me like I’m something to eat. You want something in that cute little mouth?”

Reaching out, Seungcheol’s lips fall open at your soft gasp as his thumb brushes against your lips. The feeling of your warm tongue presses to the pad of his finger and the man’s mind spins with how much he wants you.

“Wonwoo…help me slide her back or I’ll pull her off your dick.”

Rolling his eyes, Wonwoo bites back his annoyance with Seungcheol choosing to give in to his request instead. You smile at your boyfriend as his hands lift at your hips and Seungcheol’s wrap under your arms so that the men can move you towards the end of the bed.

“You could have just asked me to move.”

Seungcheol laughs, his fingers brushing over your head before you feel his fingers tighten against your scalp causing you to whine into a moan. Wonwoo narrows his eyes until he watches your mouth fall open in pleasure, the other man leaning down to speak against your lips.

“What’s the fun in that? When you have two men here who’d happily move you all over this house to fuck you? Do me a favor and open that mouth. Stick out your tongue.”

Watching you follow Seungcheol’s requests, Wonwoo digs his fingers into your thighs quickening his thrusts, beginning to feel that sense of possessiveness rush over him like it had in the past when he had shared you. It wasn’t that he couldn’t do this, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to, or that he didn’t enjoy it. The point was that it brought out a different side of Wonwoo, it made him want to claim you even more.

“You remember the rules, Cheol?”

Waving his hand at Wonwoo, Seungcheol dismisses his friend in place of watching your tongue slip from your mouth. A smirk spreads across his face, Seungcheol groans, his hand wrapping around his shaft so that he can guide his cock to your waiting mouth.

“Fuck, good girl. You look so pretty like this. Getting fucked and still wanting my cock down your throat.”

You can’t help but whine at Seungcheol’s words and the weight of his cock on your tongue. Your eyes locked on him, you lean forward to take his head into your mouth, relishing the sound of his groan when warmth envelopes him and you hollow your cheeks.

Fingers once again tighten in your hair, nails sliding against your scalp as Seungcheol leans his head back to close his eyes. The feeling of your mouth was almost as good as being between your thighs and he was going to commit it to memory.

Thrusting into you hard enough to send you towards Seungcheol, Wonwoo groans your name before pulling from you completely, causing you to whine around Seungcheol. With a sharp slap to your thigh, Wonwoo then leans down to press a kiss to your warm skin as his cock throbs at the loss of your warm walls around him. He just couldn’t finish first, not when Seungcheol was in the room, he needed to be the last person you were with.

“Take it all, Princess. There you go…all the way to your throat. Perfect.”

The moment the tip of Seungcheol’s cock hits the back of your throat and you gag around the man you have to pull back not only to breathe but because of the feeling of Wonwoo’s mouth between your legs. His lips wrap around your clit and with the same intensity you had been using to go down on Seungcheol, your boyfriend sucks at the sensitive bundle of nerves causing you to tighten your thighs around his head.

“Holy shit! Calm down, Y/N. I can’t cum in your mouth and I don’t want to. Fuck…keep your damn hips down. Can’t you see that Wonwoo is working hard for you? Don’t run away from him.”

The two men caused your head to spin. One minute they were arguing, biting at each other’s throats over nonsense and the next they were working together to drive you crazy. Sliding his hand along the center of your stomach, Seungcheol works his fingers between your legs using two of them to spread your folds for Wonwoo’s tongue. A smirk spreads across his features at your reaction, the way your back arches before he pushes you back down.

“You gonna cum on his tongue like a good little slut? Be a good girl for your boyfriend. He’s being generous tonight. Give him one more before I fuck you so hard you can’t walk tomorrow.”

Nudging his nose against Seungcheol’s hand, Wonwoo groans against your folds before moving to wrap his arm around your thigh pulling you in closer to his mouth. You loved anytime that Wonwoo would eat you out but there was something different about tonight. There was something about how he seemed to be trying to prove a point with how quickly he could push you over the edge by knowing every inch of you.

“Oh my god…Wonwoo!”

Your fingers slide into the man’s hair, tightening harshly when you cum like both of the men had been urging you to do. Wonwoo smiles against your soft skin taking turns between licking you clean of the cum beginning to seep from your entrance to placing kisses on your swollen folds and clit.

“That’s my girl.”

Your cheeks burn at Wonwoo’s muffled words, your fingers gliding through his hair once again before the man’s gaze meets yours from between his legs. A glint of mischief in his eyes before he leans to nip at your thigh causing you to kick your legs playfully when he moves from between them.

“Cheol…need you now. I feel empty. You made promises.”

The man at your side can only laugh at your words and how you whine them on panting breaths. He loved to hear you beg for him but he wasn’t in the mood to deny you tonight, not when he had been waiting for so long to be inside you.

Sliding from the bed, Seungcheol can feel your eyes on him as he stops only to pick up the condom that Wonwoo had laid out for him. The same smirk that had been playing at his lips all night causes his lips to pull up to one side even as he holds the foil square between his teeth and rips it open.

You can’t seem to help how antsy you are in anticipation watching Seungcheol roll the condom over his thick cock. His eyes once again find you as he moves to take Wonwoo’s place. Warm, skillful hands slide over your sides to your legs as Seungcheol listens to your breaths become moans.

Wonwoo’s brows furrow, his cock resting back on his stomach as he settles into the chair beside the bed. Running his hand over his face, Wonwoo has a mental fight with himself on how long he will stay seated. How long he will be able to just sit there and watch his best friend touch you like that. It isn’t until you gasp out Seungcheol’s name, the older man’s hands pushing your legs towards your chest, his arms moving to pin yours at your side that Wonwoo makes another sound.

“Dammit, Cheol, be careful with her.”

Seungcheol smirks against your cheek, the feeling of your warm breath brushing against his face as he feels the heat of your pussy against his cock resting against your folds. Lifting his hips, the man glances towards Wonwoo with a questioning look before reaching between your bodies to line himself up with you and sinking into you slowly and deeply.

“I’m not doing anything she doesn’t want. You know your safe words don’t you, baby? Do you want me to treat you soft and gentle? Or…do you want me to keep my promise and wreck you?”

Tears run from the corners of your eyes as you whisper your answer to Seungcheol causing Wonwoo to curse under his breath. He already knew the answer but it was driving him crazy. He knew better than anyone how much you enjoyed Seungcheol treating you like this, he knew that you liked it when he treated you rough. There was a time and a place for gentle lovemaking and it wasn’t tonight.

“Please, Cheol…don’t stop. Feels so good, you’re so deep.”

Seungcheol chuckles into a groan. Your walls closing around him, the man nips at your lips before capturing them in a kiss for the first time that night swallowing your moan for himself. Wonwoo can only watch feeling as if he was tied to the chair, his cock leaking heavily against his abs.

“That’s right I am, Y/N. You like me deep? Hmm? Fuck, you are so tight. Wanna fill this pussy up with my cum, you’d want that, wouldn’t you? Leave it all dirty for you? Wonwoo would clean it up for you, wouldn’t you Wonwoo?”

Fingers digging into the chair, Wonwoo bites at his lips hearing you moan that you want it. He knew you were lost in the moment and he also knew there was no way, short of Seungcheol taking off the condom, that he could cum inside of you. This was a power trip and one that Seungcheol enjoyed far too much when it came to fucking you.

“You are fucking pushing your luck, Cheol. You’ll never do that to her.”

Seungcheol laughs, his lips sliding along your neck as he feels your thighs trembling against his chest under him. He could tell you were close, but so was he. Groaning out your name, Seungcheol runs his tongue along your neck to your ear whispering against your ear loud enough for Wonwoo to just barely hear.

“Never say never, right little whore?”

Scratching at his arms, you gasp out a moan loudly as your orgasm rips through you when Seungcheol’s cock hits you just right. Toes pointed, you find it hard to breathe, your vision clouded by tears from how intense the sensation is when the man burying his cock into you doesn’t slow down. Instead, Seungcheol chases his own high that quickly follows yours. With a loud groan, Seungcheol buries his face back against your neck as his cum fills the condom instead of you.

His hips coming to a stop, Seungcheol pants against your skin before leaning back to look down at you in wonder. Lifting his hand, the man rests it against your throat before running his fingers along your jaw and leaning down to kiss you deeply as he keeps his body connected to yours.

Swallowing hard, Wonwoo tilts his head. His own breath was unsteady from watching you and Seungcheol come undone together. He allows you both a few moments of silence until it becomes too much to handle and the sound of the chair under him sliding across the floor draws both yours and Seungcheol’s attention.

Lips pull up in a smile against your own before Seungcheol pulls away. A soft whimper escapes your lips to the feeling of the man sliding from you leaving you once again empty. Licking his lips, Seungcheol glances at Wonwoo unsure of what his reaction would be. He isn’t completely surprised when he meets an unamused gaze.

“Princess, did you have fun with Cheol?”

Nodding, you lift your own hand to your face pushing your hair from your eyes as Seungcheol helps you lower your legs. The man then slides from the bed completely not wanting to piss off Wonwoo any more than he already had.

“Mm, I had fun too, baby. Maybe we can do it again soon.”

Wonwoo purses his lips glancing back at Seungcheol who had already taken care of his condom.

“Soon" is a relative term. Do you still want me, Princess?”

Looking up at Wonwoo as if he had asked you the dumbest question possible, you watch the man’s lips turn up in a smile when you reach for him. Seungcheol’s brows lift as his friend moves back onto the bed without first telling him to leave.

“Did you want me to…”

“Sit the fuck down and watch, Cheol.”

With his brow lifting, Seungcheol clears his throat before doing as Wonwoo wants. His hands find the arms of the chair, similar to how Wonwoo had when he had been sitting before, but it felt different for Seungcheol.

“You see…” Wonwoo grins looking down at you, his fingernails running along your thigh to pull your leg up towards his hip allowing you to do the same on the other side as he pushes into you with one slow thrust. “Where you can talk shit and say how much you want to fill her up…I can do it.”

A breath escapes Seungcheol’s lips and as much as you want to look over to the man, the feeling of Wonwoo’s cock pushing against your cervix keeps you where you are. Your lips fall open in a moan and much like Seungcheol had done, Wonwoo leans to kiss you collecting the moan for himself. Teeth nip at your lips leaving them feeling swollen and bitten as Wonwoo’s cock fills you deeply and completely with each skillful, knowing thrust.

“That’s what you want isn’t it, Y/N? Cum dripping out of you? You wanna let Seungcheol see what he can do? Let him learn his fucking place?”

When you nod, Seungcheol lifts his hand to his lips pushing at them as his cock throbs against his thigh once again hard. He knew he should be pissed off that Wonwoo was talking so much shit but instead, he was fascinated by it all.

“Please, Wonwoo…I need it.”

Wonwoo pouts in faux concern at the whine in your tone as you beg for his cum. He was close and he was going to give you exactly what you wanted. Nodding, your boyfriend nips at your lips once again whispering how much he loves you against them as the coil that had been winding inside of him snaps. You feel his warm cum spilling into you only to be pushed out with each deep thrust.

Seungcheol can only groan at the sight, his breath getting caught in his throat. Even if it wasn’t his cum dripping out of your pussy it was still the most beautiful thing he had seen all night. He could just imagine pushing it back into you. As if he could sense what his friend wanted, Wonwoo slips from you only to reach between your legs. Two fingers brush between your swollen folds to find your dripping entrance. Your loud moans once again fill the room as Wonwoo fucks his cum back into you with his fingers making sure he feels your cum running down his wrist along with his own before he stops.

“Fuck, perfect.”

Whispered words tickle your ear as Wonwoo slides his fingers from you. His lips pepper your neck and shoulder until you feel the bed shift as the man slides from it completely. The feeling of Seungcheol’s plush lips finds your cheek along with the warmth of his chuckle as he whispers for you to get some rest your eyes close when both men leave you in the room alone. It isn’t until Wonwoo’s hands run along your hips and his deep voice mutters against your ear sometime later that you whine in protest causing him to laugh.

“You’ve slept long enough. You need to take a shower and eat something. I should have made you get up right afterwards but you were dead to the world.”

Muttering against the bed, you cause a laugh to escape Wonwoo as he pulls you up from the comforter into his arms with a questioning sound for you to speak again.

“Said, where is Seungcheol?”

Gentle fingers brush against your side as Wonwoo helps you slide off the bed and towards the bathroom. His lips meet your neck with a sigh at your question.

“He went home. He needed to rest too. You are a lot of work, you know that?”

Pushing at his shoulder, you can’t hide your smile. Wonwoo walks you into the warm shower letting you lean against him as he helps you wash the night from your skin.

“I liked it.”

The man nods, a smile on his lips feeling you nuzzle your face against his neck. It was becoming a lot easier to share when he was the one who got the moments like this at the end.

“Mm, I know. I liked it too. He’s gotta work on his damn mouth first. Can’t have that around my, Princess.”

Wrinkling your nose, you laugh at how Wonwoo phrases his comment, turning in his arms to rest your forearms on his shoulders as you rest between his knees. The man’s body leaning against the shower wall, the water running down your back and legs like rain.

“Seems like someone needs to work on yours.”

Wonwoo grins, his lips pressing against your soft and sweet.

“Mmm, you gonna help me with that?”

Laughing, you brush your fingers through the wet hair at the nape of his neck as his fingers trail along your lower back.

“It’s the least I can do.”

#wonwoo smut #seungcheol smut #seventeen smut #svthub #scoups smut #svt smut #wonwoo x reader #seungcheol x reader #seventeen x reader #scoups x reader #svt x reader

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viennakarma · 3 months

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Alonso Shenanigans

Fernando Alonso x Reader

Summary: Mamá has business to attend, and Fernando is left to watch his son and get a hold of his whereabouts.

Word count: 1.8k

Tags: female reader, established relationship, tooth rotting fluff, dad!Nando, silly little slice of life, not beta read

Relationship: Fernando Alonso x Reader

Note: Another bite sized fluffy Nando fic, because I think about that one thing he said about finding happiness in becoming a father at least four times a week. Comments and feedback are appreciated xx

“Are you sure, love?” You asked again, nervous, watching as Fernando carried Alejandro attached to his hip.

“Yes, I’m sure, will you be back later today?” Fernando asked, as Ale played with his father’s hair, mumbling a little lullabye.

“Yes, in around three hours,” you said, kissing the top of Ale’s head, then pecking Fernando’s lips, “I’m really sorry, this meeting came out of nowhere, I promise I’ll make it up to you when-”

“Amor, it’s ok,” Fernando interrupted, “Go, we’ll behave and wait for you.”

It was just media day, but unfortunately a last minute meeting at your company needed to happen, and you’d have to leave your husband and kid alone in the paddock so you could go back to the hotel to attend the meeting online.

“Love you two to the moon and back!” You said, scurrying off.

“Mamá!” Alejandro asked, suddenly noticing his mother’s absence, and getting fussy.

“Mamá had to work, we’re going to have a lot of fun together today!” Fernando said, putting him on the floor, and holding his hand.

He took Alejandro all around, when he went to talk with the mechanics about the last update to his car, when he went to take a few pictures, recording a few marketing stuff, here and there. Everyone knew Alejandro as “Little Alonso”, his tiny feet padding around, his head full of disheveled brown wavy hair, and eyes that were pretty much the same as his father. He was always around, pointing at his dad’s car, muttering gibberish half in spanish and half in english, he also liked walking to the engineers pulling on their shirts to get their attention so he could ask for a headphone.

At the age of four and a half, Alejandro was a known face around the paddocks, always asking questions and waiting to know about everyone’s business.

“Papá, I’m hungry!” Alejandro patted his own belly, which made his dad chuckle.

“Ok, we’re getting food, campeoncito,” Fernando muttered, leading his son to his room. Inside, he rummaged through all his bags, searching for his snacks and juice bottle.

He ended up sitting beside Alejandro in the cafeteria, the little boy munching in a pot of cut fruits, a bag of chips, and a mango juice. Alejandro talked about everything, asking about the people and the colors, and why everything was where it was.

Eventually, Fernando had a meeting, so he set a little playing mat to Alejandro on the floor of the meeting room, where he put his son’s toys, paper and crayons.

“Papá, yo quiero inside your car!” Ale asked, as Fernando placed him on the little mat.

“I’ll take you to sit in my car as soon as we finish here, yes? Just sit tight and I’ll be really fast. Do you want to play with your toys, or paint a little? Come on,” Fernando took a crayon and started drawing, looking over his shoulder to see his engineers and strategists getting inside, sitting down, opening their laptops and notes. Nobody batted an eye to Fernando kneeling on the floor, convincing his kid to sit quietly. Everyone was used to the Alonsos’ shenanigans.

Finally, after making sure Alejandro was still on the mat, under his sight, Fernando went on and started the meeting.

It took something between 20 and 30 minutes until it was over, and when Fernando went to pick Alejandro, he noticed his little boy wasn’t there anymore, and the door was slightly ajar. Muttering every curse word he could think of, he bolted outside. Alejandro had become a little menace in escaping rooms now that he was tall enough to tiptoe and reach a door handle.

“Have you seen Alejandro?” He stopped a couple of the staff in the hall to ask. They just shook their heads. He went to the garage, and stopped the whole team of mechanics, his heart beating faster than it did when racing, “Have you guys seen Alejandro?”

“He walked past with Lance a few minutes ago,” Someone said, pointing outside. Fernando breathed again, ok, at least he wasn’t alone, roaming around and in danger.

Striding forward, Fernando kept looking for his teammate and his son, and eventually ended up in Ferrari. He walked inside to ask Carlos if he had seen the little boy, but he stopped short when he noticed a tiny hand print made with what looked like grease on the livery of the 55 Ferrari, and the letters “ALE” written sloppily with the very same black grease.

“Oh, mierda,” he whispered. Carlos noticed him, walking up to Fernando with a smile.

“Ale was just here with Lance, we talked for a couple of seconds, and when we looked, he had his hand printed on the car,” Carlos explained, as Fernando winced.

“Lo siento, Carlos. Do you know where they might have gone?” He asked.

“Well, Lance said he was going to wash Ale’s hands. So, back to Aston Martin, maybe?” Carlos shrugged.

Fernando went back to his garage, looking for Lance and Alejandro. Finally, he found Lance using a cloth to dry his hands. He smiled and waved at Fernando, who quickly went up to him.

“Is Alejandro with you?” Fernando asked.

“Oh, he saw George walking by, ran up to him and they both bolted together. I have no idea where they went. Sorry.” Lance muttered.

Fernando walked out again, going to the Mercedes motorhome to find his son once again. Honestly, everyone loved Alejandro way more than they loved Fernando, he was pretty sure, and the little boy was frankly a menace all around. If he found someone like George to match his energy, they would go around causing trouble to everyone.

At the Mercedes motorhome, he found Lewis staring curiously at a bowl of fruits.

“Hey, have you seen Alejandro? Lance said he and Geor-” Fernando stopped himself when he got closer to the table where the bowl of fruits sat.

“Well, for sure they’ve been here,” Lewis muttered, holding an apple, showing how the fruit had one single bite taken off. One little bite which Fernando knew very well who that dental arch belonged to. There was a bite on the apple, the banana, the pear, the peach and every single fruit there.

“¡Ay, dios mio! I’m sorry about this!” Fernando whispered, “I need to find them before him and George set the whole paddock on fire.”

Fernando walked out, knowing that George was probably going to look for Alex or Lando, who would probably support their little mischief around. He found Williams garage first, where he found a laughing Logan Sargeant picking up what looked like hundreds of little pieces of lego. And Fernando knew his kid, and knew he loved throwing things to the floor to make a mess.

“That’s Alejandro’s doing, right?” Fernando asked, wide eyed. Logan nodded and explained how the little boy had been there with George to taunt Alex after throwing his lego piece to the floor and scattering all the tiny pieces. Fernando helped Logan pick up the pieces from the floor.

“The three of them left, saying they had to prank Lando too,” Logan told Fernando, when they finished.

Fernando ran off, walking to McLaren, where he found Lando washing off his hair which was tangled in pink play dough, and George was trying to help him. Standing a little far behind, Alex had Alejandro sitting on his shoulders, the two of them giggling with Oscar.

“Alejandro didn’t do that, did he?” Fernando asked, worried and getting angry.

“No, no!” George was quick, “that was an accident on my part!”

“Yeah, little Alonso is innocent on this!” Lando added. Fernando squinted, not sure if he fully believed that, since Fernando himself had gone through something similar with Alejandro and his play dough.

“Look, any kind of oil will remove that from your hair,” Fernando patted his back, walking to his kid.

Alex gave him Alejandro, who Fernando decided was best to keep attached to him, not letting the little boy out of his sight again.

“Green! Verde, verde!” Alejandro was exclaiming to Alex.

“What is going on, pollito?” Fernando asked.

“He asked me to paint my hair green next time,” Alex explained, showing his blonde hair.

“And you agreed?” Fernando frowned.

“Yeah, whatever little Alonso wants, little Alonso gets,” Alex shrudded, laughing and pinching Alejandro chubby cheeks.

“You guys spoil him too much!” Fernando shook his head, waving goodbye and taking Alejandro back to his garage, “now I understand why mamá wants to buy a little backpack leash for you, little troublemaker.”

Alejandro held his face, looking into his eyes, then hugging him tight, which made Fernando’s annoyance from having to chase his son around completely dissolve, and he melted, hugging his boy. He could never get angry with his cute little man, especially when he reminded him so much of his younger self.

“Papá? Where’s Mamá?” Alejandro asked, looking around.

“Mamá is coming back soon, pollito,” he whispered, kissing his son’s cheek, “I’m missing her too.”

Fernando didn’t lose sight of Alejandro anymore, and when he had to leave for the press conference with other drivers, he left his PR manager to watch Alejandro while you had not come back. He was sitting on the sofa, answering questions but he still could watch Alejandro in a little chair on the opposite side of the room, beside the manager.

At some point, he noticed Alejandro getting fussy and pouty from staying in the same place alone for too long and looking fairly sleepy, Fernando could tell from one look.

“Alejandro,” Fernando called into the mic, the little boy looked around, hearing his dad’s voice, finally, he set his eyes on Fernando and jumped from the chair, “vente aquí.”

The boy took off, running towards his dad, eliciting a little “aw” from the journalists, and a lot of cameras following him until he got to his father, sitting on his lap, nuzzling into Fernando’s chest.

Fernando kept answering questions, and in a couple off minutes, Alejandro was fully asleep. Everyone started talking a little lower, as to not disturb the little one who was sleeping so calmly on his dad’s chest.

When the press conference was over, Fernando carried Alejandro inside his room, keeping his son on his lap, while he went through some data.

Finally when you came back, you found Alejandro on Fernando’s chest, his dad holding him tight while both of them took a little nap, looking so much like each other that it warmed your heart. You kissed both of their heads, running your fingers through Fernando’s hair to wake him up.

“Let’s go back to the hotel, so my pretty boys can eat and rest properly, yes?” You said, kissing Fernando softly, his eyes shining with so much adoration that he didn’t need to say the words, you could see the I love you. “Did you two behave?”

“Like angels!” Fernando winked, which told you that they probably had some Alonso Shenanigans today.

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

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monzabee · 10 months

Text

lean on you – cl16

masterlist

Summary: The one where you learn to lean on Charles more than you thought you ever could.

Pairing: charles leclerc x medstudent!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: it’s been a while since i went to an actual hospital, so that, and also worried charles, mentions of sickness and vomiting, also mentions of food poisoning

Request: “Hiiii! I don’t know if you still accept request😅 but I have something in my mind if you are open to it, like the reader is quite sick before Charles’ race, he wanted to stay to take care of her but she insisted that he go on with the race and that she’ll be fine. But during the race, Charles’ got a call that she have been taken to the hospital by Lorenzo since she almost passed out. Charles went straight to the hospital and bit mad and angry at her being so stubborn. I just think Charles can be over protective and can be so upset or angry when he get very worried. Like how Charles will emphasise that she have him instead of being so independent all the time. 🤍🤍🤍 thank you if you will do it, but if not, it’s alright too! I just love and enjoy reading all your works!🤩 ”+ “Can you write a fic where the reader is a med!student with Charles? (definitely not projecting🫣)”

Author’s Note: hi, hey, hello!! i loved both of these concepts and i though they’d go well together, because most of my friends who are also med students love diagnosing themselves?? i kind of wanted to based the reader off of bow from black-ish if you guys ever watched it, it’s my current watch and i love her so much!! it was very fun for me to write, and thank you to both of the anons for their requests! Feedback is always appreciated, and i hope you guys enjoy! good morning, noon or night wherever you are, xoxobee

Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.

“Are you sure you’re fine, mignon? You look worse than you did last night.” Charles lets his eyes look over your fatigued figure in your bed, worry etched into his eyebrows.

Giving him a weak smile, you do your best to reassure his worries by reaching for his hand resting on the side of his body. “I’m fine, love, I feel better than I did yesterday.” Charles sighs softly, his worry not entirely dissipating. He moves closer to the bed, his hand tightening around yours, and you squeeze his hand gently, relaying the message that you appreciate his concern. “I really am, you don’t have to worry about me, okay?”

“You say as if that’s an easy thing, love.” He emphasises, giving you a small smile that still allows you to see the dimples on his cheeks. “I just don’t want to leave you alone, you seem worse than you did last night.”

Your expression softens as you recall the way he doted on you the previous evening, no matter how much you told him that you were doing fine. “I promise I’m feeling much better, it’s nothing but a stomach bug – and I promise I’ll rest today, too.”

Charles leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “You better keep that promise and rest, it’s doctor’s orders," he says with a hint of playfulness in his voice. "I'll hold you to it.”

You chuckle weakly, appreciating his attempt to lighten the mood. “I promise, Charles. I'll stay in bed, take my medicine, and rest. I have some lecture stuff I have to go over, anyway." You pause, looking up at him with sincere eyes. "And you need to focus on your race. I don't want you to worry about me, be careful out there please.”

His lips form a mock pout, making your facial muscles to pull in an involuntary smile, “But my favourite part is the part where my doctor takes care of me,” his thumb draws a comforting circle on your hand, “your kisses help immensely.”

You blush at his playful comment, grateful for his affectionate nature even in times of worry. “I promise I’ll give you kisses when you come back, but only if you promise you’ll be careful.” You sigh deeply at the boyish grin he sends your way, “I’m serious, Charles.”

Charles's expression softens, and he reaches out to cup your face in his hands, his touch gentle yet firm. "I promise, my love. I'll be careful. Do you need me to bring you anything before I leave?”

Your nod is sluggish and doesn’t go unnoticed by Charles, but he chooses to remain silent as he gives you a moment to think about your answer. “Can you just give me my computer and anatomy book, please?” You watch as Charles nods in understanding. He leans down to give you a tender kiss on the lips before making his way to the desk where your belongings are kept. Retrieving the items you requested, he returns to your bedside, placing them gently on the bed beside you.

"Here you go, mignon," he says softly, his voice filled with genuine concern. He notices the way you keep fiddling with the collar of his your sweatshirt – a habit you usually display when you’re sick because the clothing usually causes overstimulation in your mind. “Do you want me to bring you some water? Or maybe order room service?”

You shake your head to the either side this time, giving him a sleepy smile as you start talking, “I’m good, but thank you, darling.” You let out a small giggle at the unapproving glance he sends your way, “I promise I’ll order some food when I get hungry, Charles.”

Charles chuckles softly, his eyes filled with a mix of amusement and concern at the way you emphasise the word. "Alright, love. Just make sure you take care of yourself and eat something nutritious. I don't want you skipping meals, even if you're not feeling well."

You nod, appreciating his reminder. "I promise, Charles. I'll make sure to eat when I need to. But for now, I think I'll focus on studying and getting some rest."

He leans in to press a gentle kiss to your temple, his warm breath brushing against your skin. "That sounds like a good plan. I'll leave you to it then, but remember to reach out if you need anything, okay?"

"I will," you reply softly, your eyes growing heavy with fatigue. "Thank you for taking care of me, Charles. I love you."

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with affection. "I love you too, mignon. Rest well and take all the time you need. I'll see you soon." With that, Charles gives your hand a final squeeze and presses his lips to your forehead in a parting kiss before reluctantly pulling away and leaving the room. Taking a deep breath, you focus on the task at hand, determined to make the most of your day even if you’re feeling a bit down.

It’s not easy for Charles to focus on his driving that day, not easy at all. He can’t seem to focus on the track when you seem to occupy his mind and linger in his thoughts. The people around him notices the way he seems almost detached at the garage that day, and also noticing your absence, thankfully they accommodate him and his aloofness the best they can. He keeps an eye on his phone the entire time before he gets in the car – something he usually never does before a race just in case you call him in need of assistance. Charles takes a deep breath, trying to clear his mind as he prepares for the race. He knows he needs to focus, but his thoughts keep drifting back to you. Concern and worry gnaw at him, making it difficult to fully immerse himself in the adrenaline of the race.

Before climbing into his car, he approaches his brother, who is thankfully standing nearby. He looks into Lorenzo's eyes and speaks in a hushed tone, “Hey, can you do me a favour?”

Lorenzo, sensing the urgency in Charles' voice, gives him a nod, his own concern mirrored in his eyes. “Of course, Charles. What do you need? Is everything alright?”

Charles takes a moment to gather his thoughts before responding. “I need you to keep an eye on my phone, Y/N wasn’t feeling too good this morning, and i have a bad feeling about it.” He hands Lorenzo his phone, making sure to check one for one last time to see whether you’ve texted or called him, you haven’t.

Lorenzo's brows furrow with worry as he listens to Charles, but he understands the gravity of the situation and the significance of Charles' request. "Don't worry, Charles, I'll take care of it – and I'll let you know if anything happens. You focus on the race, and I'll make sure everything is handled."

With that assurance, Charles turns his attention back to the race ahead and quickly puts on his balaclava and helmet. He climbs into his car, adjusting his helmet and securing himself in the cockpit. The anticipation and excitement of the race surround him, but his mind remains consumed with worry for you as he tries to assure himself that you are fine and resting back at the hotel. The race begins, and Charles pushes the limits of his car, manoeuvring through the twists and turns of the track. But no matter how hard he tries, he can't fully immerse himself in the competitive spirit. Thoughts of you and your well-being linger, distracting him from the task at hand. His racing instincts seem dull, his reaction time slightly delayed, and he struggles to find his usual pace.

As the laps pass by, Charles notices that he's slipping further and further behind, unable to keep up with the leading pack. Frustration mounts within him, battling against his worry for you. The race that should have been a chance for him to shine becomes an arduous struggle to maintain his composure, as he struggles to keep up with the cars infront, the ones behind him seemingly passing him with ease and causing him to drop out of points. So despite his best efforts, Charles finishes the race with a disappointing result, far from his usual position on the podium. He steps out of the car, feeling a mix of exhaustion and disappointment washing over him. The familiar cheers from the crowd seem distant, overshadowed by his concern for you. His mind is occupied by imagining the worst as he gets out of his car, takes off his helmet and stumbles towards the team's garage. The once vibrant atmosphere now feels muted, as if the world around him has lost its importance. He can sense the curious glances and sympathetic looks from his fellow team members, but he can't bring himself to socialise with any of them.

His eyes hastily search for his brother, but Lorenzo is the one who finds him before he can spot him. Lorenzo's concerned gaze locks with Charles’, and he quickly makes his way toward him, his steps mirroring Charles’ urgency. Understanding the look in his brother’s eyes instantly, Charles asks, “What’s wrong? Is it Y/N? Is everything alright?”

Charles watches his brother expectantly as he places a comforting hand on his shoulder, making him want to slap his hand away, but the next words that come out of his mouth is enough to takes his breath away, “Carlos is on the phone with the hospital–”

“Hospital?” Charles interrupts Lorenzo, “Qu'est-ce que tu veux dire par l'hôpital qui t'a appelé?” What do you mean the hospital called you?

“Calm down, Charles, laisse-moi t'expliquer.” Lorenzo gives him a pointed look, and gently steer him towards his teammate’s cousin, “Y/N called me from the taxi, she said she was going to the hospital because she wasn’t feeling well,” he raises a hand to stop Charles from interrupting again, “she also told me that she’d call me once she got to the hospital but she didn’t, I’m guessing her phone died and the hospital called me instead. But my Spanish is non-existent and Carlos is talking to them, so for the love of God, calme-toi un peu.”

Charles's mind races with a mix of relief and anxiety upon hearing Lorenzo's explanation. He takes a deep breath, trying to regain his composure as he listens to his brother's words. The realization that Y/N is at the hospital sinks in, bringing a wave of concern to the forefront of his thoughts. Nodding in acknowledgment, Charles tries to calm his racing heartbeat and focus on the information at hand. “My girlfriend is at a hospital in a country she’s not familiar with, how do you expect me to calm down?”

“Just wait for a moment, we’ll have more information when Carlos is done talking to the hospital-people.” Lorenzo reassures him, and it helps Charles to focus on the current issue at hand – learning the name of the hospital and finding his way there as fast as possible.

Taking Lorenzo's advice to heart, Charles tries to steady his racing thoughts and focus on the present. He takes another deep breath, reminding himself to stay calm and composed. The minutes feel like an eternity as they wait for Carlos to conclude the call. Finally, Carlos hangs up the phone and approaches Charles and Lorenzo, his expression grave but determined. "The hospital confirmed that Y/N arrived safely," Carlos begins, his voice steady. "They're currently conducting some tests to determine the cause of her discomfort. The initial assessment suggests it may be a severe case of food poisoning."

A certain degree of understanding and relief washes over Charles as he lets Carlos’ words sink in. He offers his teammate’s cousin a grateful look, “Thank you for your help, Carlos,” he nods his head in appreciation, “do you have the name of the hospital?”

Carlos returns Charles's grateful look with a reassuring smile and a nod, “It’s the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona, she’s a smart girl, Charles, it’s an international hospital so she shouldn’t have any problems communicating with the doctors.” He pats Charles’ shoulder when the latter gives him a confused look, “You weren’t exactly quiet, mate.”

Charles lets out a small chuckle, realizing that his worries may have been more apparent than he thought. He appreciates Carlos' attempt to lighten the mood and offers a grateful smile. "You're right, I probably wasn't the most composed person just now," he admits, "but I'm glad Y/N is in good hands at hospital and thank you for your help, I appreciate it."

“No need to thank me, I hope she’s doing okay.” The older man smiles and gives him a final nod as he makes his way towards his cousin.

“Charles,” one of the PR people starts as they make their way towards the duo, “you still have media–”

The look Charles gives the poor intern in return can only be described as a mix of exhaustion and frustration. He interrupts the PR person before they can finish their sentence. “Bill me.” He, then, turns to his brother as he shoots him an expectant look, “Can we go?”

“Come on, I’ll drive,” Charles hears his brother’s voice, which causes him to raise his eyebrows and receive in return, “you’re obviously too high on adrenaline right now, let me drive.”

Charles, recognizing his own state of mind, doesn't argue. He nods in agreement and takes a seat in the passenger side, grateful for his brother's support, but because he is Charles, he mumbles, “You better drive fast,” under his breath as he follows his brother out of the garage.

As the car navigates through the busy streets of Barcelona, Charles finds himself lost in his thoughts – he glances out the window, his eyes darting from building to building, as if searching for answers that lie beyond the glass. The tension in the air is palpable, the silence between the brothers punctuated only by the hum of the engine and the occasional sound of horns from other impatient drivers. He tries contacting the hospital once again, but it seems like luck is not on his side as the operator speaks to him solely in Spanish, which makes him reconsider what Carlos told him earlier. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, the Hospital Quirónsalud Barcelona comes into view. Charles feels a surge of hope mixed with anxiety as Lorenzo skilfully manoeuvres the car into a parking spot. Charles is out of the car before Lorenzo even turns off the engine, which earns him a scolding from his brother, but he’s almost halfway through the walk to the entrance as he waves Lorenzo off.

As Charles approaches the entrance of the hospital, his pace quickens with a mix of urgency and concern. The automatic doors slide open, welcoming him into the bustling lobby. The sterile smell of disinfectant fills his nostrils, and the sound of footsteps echoes through the halls.

He makes his way to the reception desk, where a receptionist greets him with a warm smile, and (thankfully) speaks in English, “Good evening, how can I help you?”

Breathing heavily, Charles tries to gather his thoughts and speak clearly. “My girlfriend was admitted through ER earlier today, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me her room number and how she’s doing?”

The receptionist nods sympathetically. “I understand your concern, let me check the system for you.” She begins typing on her computer, her fingers dancing across the keyboard. After a few moments, she looks up at Charles. “I do see her in our system, but I don't have access to that information. You'll need to speak with someone from the emergency department.”

Frustration wells up within Charles, but he takes a deep breath and reminds himself to stay calm. "Can you at least direct me to the emergency department?"

The receptionist offers an understanding smile. "Of course. Head down this corridor and take the first right. You'll find the emergency department entrance on your left."

Thanking the receptionist, Charles follows her directions, his heart pounding with a mix of anticipation and worry. He walks briskly, determined to reach Y/N's side as quickly as possible. As he enters the emergency department, the sense of urgency intensifies – he watches the hustle and bustle of the hospital; how the medical staff rush by, attending to patients in need and people who are waiting to see their loved ones just like him. His legs aimlessly takes him to the nearest a nurse station and approaches a nurse who seems available. “Excuse me, Miss” he calls out, trying to catch her attention. The nurse turns to him with a professional yet compassionate gaze. “I'm looking for my girlfriend, Y/N Y/LN. Can you please tell me where I can find her?”

“Let me check her records,” the nurse smiles at him, an attempt to calm him and goes through the papers on the chart in her hands. “Here she is, it seems that she was recently moved – she’s supposed be in room 376, it’s on the third level, at the end of the main hallway.”

Relief floods over Charles as he receives the information from the nurse. He manages a grateful smile and nods in appreciation. "Thank you so much. I'll head there right away."

After thanking the nurse, Charles makes his way towards the elevators, following the signs that lead him to the third level. As he steps into the elevator, he can feel his heart pounding in his chest, a mixture of nervousness and anticipation. He makes sure he sends Lorenzo a text message to let him know where’s he’s headed, the ride to the third floor feels agonizingly slow, each passing floor adding to his impatience. When the elevator doors finally open, Charles steps out and finds himself in a long, well-lit hallway. He scans the room numbers, his eyes quickly landing on the sign indicating the direction of room 376. With determined strides, he makes his way down the hallway, passing by other patients' rooms and medical staff going about their duties.

Finally, he reaches room 376, and his breath catches in his throat. Taking a moment to steady himself, he gently pushes the door open, revealing a small but comforting space. Inside, he finds you lying in the hospital bed, an IV connected to your arm and one of your textbooks open on the bed beside you. He realises you’re asleep, however, as he watches you from afar. Seeing you lying there, Charles feels a mix of emotions overwhelm him—relief that you’re safe and being cared for, concern for your well-being, and a deep longing to be by your side. He approaches the bed with cautious steps, taking in your pale complexion and the weary lines etched on your face.

Gently, Charles pulls up a chair beside your bed and sits down, not wanting to disturb your much-needed rest. He reaches out and lightly brushes a strand of hair away from your face, a tender smile gracing his lips as he watches you sleep. Gently, he reaches out and takes your hand in his, offering her a tender squeeze. "Hey," he whispers softly, not wanting to startle you. "I'm here. You're going to be okay."

You stir slightly, your eyes fluttering open. A weak smile graces your lips as you recognise Charles. "Charles," she murmurs, her voice hoarse but filled with warmth. "You came."

Charles feels a surge relief wash over him, he leans in closer, his voice filled with genuine concern. "Of course, I came, I'll always be here for you, chérie. What happened? How are you feeling?"

“I’m better now,” your voice comes off hoarse, and it makes Charles cringe inwardly, “I just wanted to come to the hospital because i kept throwing up and thought I had all the signs of food poisoning – but, honey, what are you wearing?”

Charles glances down at his attire, realizing he's still in his racing gear. “I didn’t have time to change,” he explains, his head tilted to the side as he gives you a strict look, “I should have just stayed with you.”

“You had a race, Charles,” your eyes widen in recognition as you remember the race. “Oh my god, how was it? Did you–”

“The race doesn’t matter, Y/N.” Charles interrupts, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. “I wish you wouldn’t try to be so independent all the time.”

He watches as your lips form a pout, your voice coming off more vulnerable than before as you ask, “What?”

"Y/N," he says softly, his voice filled with emotion. "What were you thinking? Why didn't you tell me you were feeling this sick? I could have been here for you."

You give him a guilty look, the pout on your lips becoming deeper. "I didn't want to worry you, Charles. I thought I could handle it on my own."

His frustration melts away as he takes in your weakened state. He moves closer, his hand gently cupping your cheek. "You don't have to handle everything on your own, love. I'm here for you, always. I would have been by your side if you had just let me. I should have been there with you today, not at some race when you were puking your guts out.” He pauses, his thumb caressing the back of your cheek soothingly. “I know you value your independence, and I admire that about you. But sometimes, it's okay to lean on others, especially when you're going through tough times. You don't have to carry everything on your own.”

You listen to Charles's words, and a mixture of emotions swirl within you. His concern and care touch your heart, but you also understand the frustration he expresses. With a soft sigh, you squeeze his hand gently. You shift slightly in the bed, wincing at the discomfort. "Being independent has been a part of me for so long, and it's hard to let go of that mindset completely. But I'm learning, slowly, to find a balance, and I'm learning to lean on you when I need to and to share my burdens with you." You give him the softest smile you can muster, “I promise I’ll try to be better, darling.”

His thumb brushes away a tear from your cheek, his touch gentle and comforting. "You don't have to apologize, mignon. I understand why you wanted me to race, but your health and well-being will always be my priority. I don't want you to ever feel like you have to face things alone. We're a team, remember?"

You nod, your voice barely above a whisper. "I know we are, and I’m sorry for worrying you, darling." You lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hand against your skin, and with a soft sigh, you begin speaking again. "I promise that I’ll lean on you more and remember that we’re a team.”

Charles leans down, pressing a tender kiss to your forehead. "That's all I ask, love. Just remember that you have me, and I'll always be here for you, okay? I love you."

As you feel his lips on your forehead, a sense of comfort and love washes over you. You gaze into his eyes, filled with gratitude and affection. "I love you too, Charles," you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. "Thank you for always being there for me, even when I push you away. I'm so grateful to have you by my side."

#monzabee #requests open #f1 fic #f1 fanfic #f1 smut #formula 1 #fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 x y/n #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fluff

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janeyseymour · 1 month

Text

She

an anon requested this song fic based on Dodie's song. It's a really beautiful song about longing... and i attached is my own cover of the song if you'd like to hear my version of it :)

WC: ~2.6k

From the first day you began working at Abbott, you knew Melissa Schemmenti was an ethereal being. She was perfect- stunningly gorgeous, hilarious and quick witted, fiercely protective of those who she cared about- never one to back down from a challenge or threat that presented itself. And somehow you wormed your way into her heart- you still don’t really know why or how.

Apparently, you were the absolute opposite of someone who would find themselves interacting with Melissa. You were just… you. You were young. You were positive and fun-loving, coming in with your hair done up nicely and always wearing something that had flowers on it. You were far from the blazers and jackets that she wore, but also just as far from the leather that she was usually clad in- your style was more Janine-esque. And oh how she loved to make fun of her colleagues outfit choices most days with her big skirts and ill-fitting sweaters, the clogs and shoes that didn’t have laces. The difference between you and Janine was that your clothes were shaped to your body, showing off your figure instead of hiding it- you wonder if that’s why she doesn’t make comments about your bright and sunny disposition.

But she liked having you around- she made it a point to keep you close to her during staff meetings, lunches, and outside of school- going as far as letting you come over for dinner and making you various meals.

And after so much time spent with the redheaded woman who loved to play hard and tough but was actually one of the sweetest souls, you find that you’ve developed feelings for her. The more time you spend with her though, it makes it harder and harder to mask and keep under wraps. Because she means everything to you, but you doubt she’ll ever know that. And oddly, you find that to be okay because you would rather have her in your life as a friend than as nothing at all.

——

But are you allowed to look at her like that? Could it be so wrong when she’s just so nice to look at?

You’ve had ample time to look at Melissa- she’s always sitting next to you or across from you if you’re at her house. You would be lying if you said that you never stole a glance at her figure- it’s killer. But what really draws you in is her face and the way that she is so expressive with everything she does. Her eyes light up when she’s happy, and the way that she scrunches up her nose when she finds something so delightfully adorable melts your heart. The redhead’s smile is radiant, and you swear it could light up even the biggest of cities all on its own. And when she’s sad, you see the way that her usually sparkly emerald eyes dull just slightly in disappointment or regret. It’s in the way that she bites her lip subconsciously when she’s hesitant or nervous about something.

“What’s got you dancing in here?” you ask as your eyes take a glance at the redhead’s voluptuous figure. Your eyes quickly flit up to her face though, and her eyes are brighter than usual, and you love the way that her smile meets her eyes.

“Just a good day,” she grins at you. “My cousin lost a bet, so I don’t have to make dinner tomorrow night!”

“Oh?” you raise a brow.

Melissa nods. “So, we’s getting Vin’s hoagies tomorrow. You’re still set to come over, right?”

“You know it,” you chuckle back. “As long as you promise I ain’t gonna get sick off ‘em.”

“You won’t. Half those reviews are full of shit.”

She doesn’t look thrilled coming into the break room for lunch today. Her eyes are dull, and there just isn’t the same pep in her step that there usually is when she sees you. She sits down quietly at her designated seat, keeping her head down and her mouth shut. She hardly touches her lunch that day.

“What’s got you down, Red?”

“I’m fine,” Melissa blinks quickly a few times. She tries to bring back the sparkle

in her eyes, but it’s lacking. And it’s still lacking come the end of the day when the two of you walk out together.

“C’mon,” you say softly. “Tell me what’s going through that pretty head of yours.”

She sighs. “I think I have to break it off with Gare.”

“Oh?” you raise a brow as you adjust the strap to your backpack.

“It’s just not working out anymore,” she says quietly. “He wants more than I can give him now, and maybe ever.”

You reach out and take her hand gently. “I’m here if you need support.”

“Thanks,” she says through a sad smile as she squeezes your handle gently before dropping it.

——

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep, she tastes like apple juice and peach.

Your phone rings to life at the ripe hour of one in the morning. There is your favorite coworker’s smiling face; and with you knowing what she was going to do earlier in the evening, you answer.

“Mel?” you ask, trying not sound as though you weren’t just in one of the deepest slumbers of your life.

“Please… come over.”

“Are you okay?” you ask her softly as you pull the covers back and slip on the sneakers by your bed.

You hear her sniffle. “Not really… no.”

“I’ll be there in ten,” you promise her.

And you are. Without the hustle and bustle of the city to detour you, you’re able to pull up to her townhouse in just seven minutes. When she opens the door, you can immediately smell the scent of lemongrass that is coming from the diffuser over in the corner, and she looks exhausted- as if she’s just woken up herself. But she’s also holding a glass of wine, so you really don’t know what you’re walking into.

“Mel?”

“I- I thought I was fine. I was drinking some of the apple wine that you know I like and I dozed off on the couch. When I woke up… it hit me that I’m- I’m single again,” she whispers. “I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“Okay,” you reply just as softly as her. “That’s okay. I’m here to keep you company.”

She nods as you reach for the bottle of peach wine that she keeps for you at her house. After she’s finished off the apple wine, she pours herself a glass of the peach.

The two of you begin to spend much more time together now that she doesn’t have to go out with Gary for dinners and for various events that his company would invite him to.

——

Oh you would find her in a polaroid picture.

Since her breakup with Gary, you and Melissa have been joined at the hip. It makes her feel less lonely, and you don’t mind being able to spend time with the woman that you’ve realized is essentially the woman of your dreams.

The two of you are currently out thrift shopping when you come across an old polaroid camera. You pick it up with wonder in your eyes. Melissa comes up behind you with a smile dancing across her lips.

“You should get it,” she says quietly. “It’s cheap, and it’s definitely vintage at this point.”

One of the people working there sees that you’re interested in the device and makes her way over. “It’s got a roll in there too. Works nice. We tried it out when it got here.”

You grin, keeping it in your hands. When the two of you leave the store, the camera stays safely nestled around your neck.

It’s a rather sunny day out, so the redhead has her sunglasses on and looks like she’s practically glowing. Without her noticing, because she’s walking across the street, you snap a picture of her. The Polaroid comes out, and you dry it quickly as you catch up with her before looking at it.

Yeah, she belongs in that polaroid picture. When you show it to her, she rolls her eyes. But then she gestures for you to take another. You hold the camera up to your eye, and she rolls those striking green eyes again.

“With you in it, ya goof,” she instructs.

Your lips form into a small ‘O’ before you take it off your neck and face the lens so that you’re both hopefully in the frame. She playfully pretends as if she’s kissing your cheek when you do snap the photo. The film comes out, you dry it, and when you look at it… wow. Your heart swells, and she looks at it in approval as well.

It stays on your fridge.

——

She means everything to me.

She just does. It’s that simple. She’s Melissa Schmmenti, and you would be a fool for not seeing her for the absolutely goddess-like woman that she is.

——

I’d never tell. No, I’d never say a word. And oh, it aches. But it feels oddly good to hurt.

You would never, ever tell her of the feelings that you’ve developed for her. Not after she’s been so upset about breaking it up with Gary. Besides, you know she says things like ‘decisive women are hot’ but what does that really mean in the grand scheme of it all? And even if she was attracted to women, who’s to say she’s attracted to you- that you’re her type at all?

And somehow, you’re okay with not telling her of your feelings. Because at least you’re lucky enough to have the woman in your life. If you were to confess your feelings and then she was never into you, it would crush you. You wouldn’t want to lose her forever. So, you hurt in silence. And it feels oddly good to hurt over this one- because at least she’s there.

——

And I’ll be okay, admiring from afar, cause even when she’s next to me, we could not be more far apart.

You sit outside of your classroom for your preps most days, responding to emails and grading papers, because you like the change of scenery. It doesn’t hurt that you usually get to see Melissa Schemmenti roaming the halls to chat with her work wife or with any of your coworker friends.

You can always smell her and hear her before you can see her, the lingering scent of lemongrass and clacking of her heeled shoes letting you know that she’s on her way down the hall. When she passes, you smile up at her. She smiles back, giving you a gentle wave, before continuing down the hall towards her classroom.

Sometimes she brings her own things out to work with you- or at least next to you. But you’re still worlds apart. Her single days now consist of going out and staying out to forget about all her problems, while you enjoy the warmth of your home. She tells you about the different people that she meets out at the bars and how they’re good company at the time, but she’s not destroyed when she parts ways with them. You know deep down that you won’t be out at the bars trying to pick anyone else up anytime soon- not as long as your feelings for the redhead are as strong as they are.

——

Cause she tastes like birthday cake, and storytime, and fall. But to her, I taste of nothing at all.

Coworker birthdays usually mean birthday cakes, gatherings, and just enjoying the company of each other. And at the beginning of the school year, your birthday falls on a Saturday. So naturally, you surround yourself with those that you love- your coworkers. Your parents are too far away, you don’t necessarily have friends around here. So, the Abbott crew is at your townhouse, happily sitting outside and enjoying the last of the Summer air with a few beers in hand before the crisp Fall air pushes in.

Melissa had taken it upon herself to make your birthday cake this year, and it’s perfect. It’s absolutely divine, and you can’t help but watch as she eats her own creation. She knows its damn good- you can see her smirk as the others praise her baking.

As night falls, the cool air sneaks in, and you’re reminded that Fall is just around the corner. And as the moonlight, along with the streetlights out front, light up your backyard, stories begin to come out of times before you had joined the Abbott crew.

Barbara tells you all of how her and Melissa came friends, Mr. Johnson tells stories that you take with a grain of salt but deep down now that there are little bits of truth sprinkled into his tall tales. Melissa lets all of you know that compared to when she started, y’all are soft.

You hang onto her every word, and she looks to you occasionally, but her eyes mostly stay on her work wife as she reminisces about what she claims to be the good ol’ days.

Those tales that haunt the halls of Abbott somehow turn to other stories that don’t revolve around Abbott.

Compared to some of the other people in her life, you realize, you mean nothing to her at all.

——

And she smells like lemongrass and sleep. She tastes like apple juice and peach. You would find her in a polaroid picture. And she means everything to me. Yes, she means everything to me. She means everything to me.

As your sitting on your couch alone on a Friday night, you stand to get some more wine from the fridge. Hanging on the metal box is that sweet picture of the two of you that you took on your polaroid. The other picture of just her is hanging there as well, as much as she tells you its ridiculous for you to have it hanging there- but you can’t help admiring her beauty.

Just as your about to sit back down and dig into yet another mindless binge watch of your favorite television show, the doorbell rings.

It’s late, so you don’t answer- pretending to be asleep.

“It’s Mel, and I know you’re still awake,” you hear her voice call.

You make your way over to the door and open it. She looks… well she looks as beautiful as ever with her hair tied up messily and clad in her Eagles apparel, but she also looks beyond exhausted. But she’s here.

“You okay?” you open the door as you invite her in. Her smell lingers as she brushes past you, two bottles of wine in hand.

“I can’t sleep, as much as I tried, and I knew my favorite night owl would still be awake,” she tells you as she settles on your couch. She opens the first bottle- one that has hints of apple. Then she opens the other- a peach wine.

“You brought peach wine?” you raise a brow.

“I know it’s your favorite,” she shrugs. “What are we watching tonight?”

As the night continues on, you stay awake. But her head falls gently on your shoulder as she gives in to her exhaustion and is taken away into a dream- unable to stay awake with you and watch the world pass by in a gentle silence.

You glance down at her. The frown lines or smile lines that are usually in her face are gone as she’s completely relaxed against you. Her warmth makes your heart swell. And she… she does mean everything to you- even if she’ll never know it.

#melissa schemmenti fanfiction #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #abbott elementary

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tervaneula · 1 month

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u said leoichi drabble prompt request. consider. one injured and the other protecting them and then the injured one has to calm them down bc 'they're okay, really, promise, rest now'

OKAY SO this fused with a ghost of an idea I've had for a while and it ended up being a bit more serious than the prompt called for and a lot longer than just a drabble. (It's ~1120 words.) CW: blood and injury

Also I made a silly header thing I don't know what to do with, so I'm putting it here since this fic doesn't come with art of its own :'3

“Yui, I’m okay–”

The rabbit turns his head to look at him, furious.

“I heard your shell crack, Leonardo, and I'm not an idiot! Now stay down and let me handle this!”

He falls quiet for a moment before redirecting his glare towards their adversary and then adds a muted, “Please.”

There's no compromising with Yuichi in this state, apparently, and Leonardo stays right where he got crushed between metal claws and the concrete, splayed on the ground next to those very same claws which had gotten swiftly cut from the wrist for their transgressions.

He does roll onto his side to get his body weight off his shell, and yeah, alright, one or more of the old cracks that never healed properly must have split open again. It's tough to breathe and his back feels… His kimono is sticking to his shell and his back feels wet now that he's paying attention, and that. That is not good.

Just his luck to run into a massive mecha wreaking havoc on an otherwise lovely day, huh. He wasn't even supposed to be on patrol and thus is embarrassingly swordless.

Good thing that his date and their resident samurai always carries his.

The slider watches as Yuichi does quick work of the metal hunk's wiring behind its knees, his frighteningly sharp katana slicing through the cables like butter. The mech falls with a ground-shaking rumble, unable to rise again, arm flailing as it tries to catch the rabbit. It's no use, Yuichi is much smaller and faster – and as soon as he reaches the mech's head, it's already rolling. The construct immediately loses power and Yuichi wrenches the windowed hatch in its chest open. Turns out there's no pilot, just a program-operated dashboard, and he makes sure that none of the controls are functional after he's done with them.

Leonardo thinks he could watch Yuichi trash villains all day long, he's practically mesmerised by the strength hidden in that soft frame despite his shell throbbing unpleasantly in tandem with his heartbeat. He sighs, lovestruck.

As his final move, Yuichi thrusts his katana into the heart of the mecha and Leonardo sees a spray of ink-black oil splash all over Yuichi's face and the front of his kimono. It makes him laugh and he realises his mistake too late, his lungs struggling to draw breath again as he finally gets hit with the pain, his body trying to stop him from moving; from causing any more damage. Shit, shit, shit.

He had hoped he wouldn’t need to bother any of his brothers today since he was supposed to spend the whole day with Yuichi but he knows to pick his battles, now. He opens the comm link embedded in his prosthetic, contacting someone who he knows will pick up.

“Che~ello!” comes the cheerful answer in just a few seconds, and Leonardo can't help but smile.

“Mikeyyy, hermano, I'm in a bit of a pickle,” he wheezes, feeling the shift in his little brother's energy as soon as he hears the strain in his voice.

“Leo? Are you okay?”

“Not really, no,” Leonardo grunts. “Got into a scuffle with some big haywire robot– don’t worry, that’s taken care of. I suspect Donnie will want to scrap it for parts. Um. My shell’s– my shell’s cracked though.”

Leonardo can vividly imagine the colour draining from Michelangelo's face and it would be funny if he wasn't acutely aware of a broken shell coming with the very real possibility of his innards turning into outnards.

“I'm calling Draxy. Stay put, I'll get Lee to pick you up.”

“Right,” Leonardo sighs, the line going out just when Yuichi is finally done with the mech and rushing to his side, face haphazardly wiped from oil. His gaze is sharp as he kneels next to him, sweaty and out of breath, and Leonardo thinks he looks like a knight. Or maybe like a samurai of the old, in this case.

“There’s my hero,” he coos before Yuichi can get a word out and the rabbit’s brow furrows.

“Don’t start,” he snaps but his tone softens almost immediately, “I saw you calling someone. It’s bad, isn’t it? It… it looks really bad.”

“Yeeeah, this kimono is definitely ruined,” Leonardo laments, “unless you know how to, gh, get blood out of corduroy? No? Or the obi?”

Yuichi stares.

“A– a shame, really, I did like this one a lot–”

“Leonardo!” Yuichi interrupts him and grabs his bicep, looking two seconds away from crying. Leonardo frowns. He knows he’s getting a little delirious but he was sincerely trying his best to lift his mate’s mood.

“Leon, please, you’re rambling. Is someone coming? Can I do anything?”

“‘m not rambling,” Leonardo grumbles, hissing when he fills his lungs again. “Leo’s coming to get us, Draxy– Draxum will treat the shell. And no, better keep the obi in place until we get to the medbay.”

Yuichi’s shoulders slump and he sighs, most likely relieved that he’s not going to have to figure out how to deal with a cracked shell. Leonardo does not like the lingering worry in Yuichi’s gaze one bit, though, and he offers him a grin. It’s a little shaky but whatever.

“Heeey, bunbun. Listen. This is nothing I haven’t been through before. I’ll be fine.”

Yuichi gives him an honest-to-God kicked-puppy look and Leonardo thinks it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen in his life. He almost tells him so but Yuichi cups his cheek and his forced grin melts away into surprised silence.

“I hate seeing you hurt,” Yuichi murmurs, leaning down to press his forehead against Leonardo’s. The slider’s eyes flutter shut and he lifts his hand to hold onto Yuichi’s wrist.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “I mean it. I should’ve been more careful.”

Yuichi huffs and leans away to gently bump their foreheads together.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

“Maybe, but ’m still sorry. Didn’t want to worry you.”

“You’re an idiot,” Yuichi says, exasperated. “You should know that at this point, I’ll always worry.”

Leonardo grins and this time it’s genuine. Breathing in his partner’s scent is like a balm to him, even if it’s tinged with the bitterness of motor oil, even if his body currently thinks that breathing is overrated. Even if he just got called an idiot by none other than said partner.

“Raincheck on the date?” he mumbles, and finally he gets a chuckle out of the rabbit. Yuichi straightens his back and flicks him on the nose.

“Like you even needed to ask. Idiot.”

Before Leonardo can express his displeasure of being called an idiot for a second time there’s the familiar electric hum of a portal opening behind him, and someone whistles.

“Sheesh, old man. That kimono is definitely ruined.”

#NOT PROOFREAD I had to stop myself because every time I tried to check this over I kept writing MORE and that's just not sustainable #sdfghhsfghjafsfd #anyway these peepaws gay #rottmnt #rottmnt fanart #rottmnt fanfiction #leoichi #peepaw leo #peepaw yuichi #other characters mentioned + a cameo from #rise leo #future leonardo #future leo #samurai rabbit #usagi chronicles #yuichi usagi #usagi yuichi #tervdraws #tervdrabbles

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hannie-dul-set · 4 months

Text

six quick and easy hacks to 🆙 the quality of your fanfiction!

as promised, here it is! i’m not here to tell you how to plot out your story, or how to write your characters’ personalities. the tips i’m sharing are more on formatting and structure, secret (not really) cheat codes to instantaneously make your already written work even better!

my qualifications? being a tumblr hag for over five years (my even more embarrassing pre k-pop writeblr included!) so i’ve unlocked quite a bit of secrets and discovered some eurekas throughout my time here HAHAHAH. anyway, let’s start!

#1 VARIETY IN PARAGRAPH LENGTHS, SENTENCE LENGTHS, AND SENTENCE STARTERS.

nothing turns me off more than seeing paragraph blocks after paragraph blocks when looking for some new fics to read, especially when you’re reading from a cramped up device such as your phone.

when i write a lengthy paragraph, i try to follow it up with a one-liner, or a mid-sized one. but it’s something i consciously keep track of— when i noticed that, “oh, this gdoc is getting a little too wordy, a little too chunky,” i make sure that my next paragraph is significantly shorter than the current one because it keeps the entire page interesting. one to two sentences of lines of paragraphs after another and another doesn’t look pretty. chunks of paragraphs after paragraphs is boring.

make your pages visually dynamic by ensuring variety.

like this, for example.

→ fic: home for the bitchless.

seeing a large chunk of text and a singular line immediately after also sort of forces your reader to stick around and read an otherwise intimidating lengthy paragraph because— oh! what could have possibly led to that singular like of dialogue or thought! #subtlemanipulation you get me? 😔🤙

this rule of mine applies to sentences and phrases within the paragraph as well!

→ fic: love vomit.

and as a bonus, you can use paragraph breaks and cuts to your advantage! manipulating the way a sentence or paragraph ends in a certain way makes your works more rhythmic! and, when you play it around the right way, abrupt cuts and breaks also add the right mood and drama to your work!

→ drabble: the boy who cried wolf.

part three of tip number one (one…we’re still at number one…) is on sentence and paragraph starters. i keep it as a rule of thumb that if i start a paragraph with “you,” or with someones name, i don’t use it again in the next one to avoid monotony. it’s a very miniscule thing really, and i doubt that people notice this HAHAHA but this is something i religiously swear by because repetitions like this are visually boring.

→ wip: sunwater.

of course, this can’t be avoided all the time, and repeating the sentence starter “You” or any other pronoun, word, or phrase can be intentionally utilized to strongly drive a point. just don’t overdo it!

→ drabble: patience, patience.

→ blurb: monsters don’t hide under the bed.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

there are other good and strategic uses for repetitions as well! we’ll get to that later.

lastly, variety in sentence and paragraph starters doesn’t simply mean changing up the first word. things can still get really boring even if you use “you” or a character’s name interchangeably if your sentence structure remains the same.

this, for example, is monotonous.

the structure (and length) of all three sentences are the same. A does this. B does this. A does this. and even if you switch things up but still use the same sentence structure, it still falls flat. case in point, below, a structure i often see in a lot of fics i stumble across.

those are flat. those are boring. they don’t…you know…make you feel something, even when you follow the rule of not using the same starter twice. let me try improving it by adding more variety in the sentences (+ adding a tip that i’ll be discussing right after!)

the word “He” here is used twice to create a rhythm and draw emphasis, but the rest of the excerpt maintains a sense of variety to make the narrative more interesting and compelling to read.

#2 PICK A POV AND STICK WITH IT.

before i start a scene, a drabble, or blurb, the first question i ask myself is, “whose point of view do i want it to be in?”

one, it’s a lot neater, more organized, than omniscient point of views in my opinion (unless you’re like a super fucking skilled writer of course HAHAHHA). two, it allows for a bit of mystery, suspense, and engagement because you don’t have access to what other people are thinking about, and three— in line with the first tip— when you know whose brain you’re in when writing, it allows for more dynamic narrations, gives you an excuse to be messy because our internal thoughts are messy as well, and makes the writing a hell of a lot easier when you’re focused on monologuing one person alone!

when writing shorter fics, drabbles, or blurbs, i swear by this rule, no excuses HAHAHAH but when writing longer fics, sometimes i switch around the point of views per scene, just to make a more well rounded story.

sometimes, the point of view doesn’t even have to be any of the main character’s! writing from an external POV is also really fun and adds another layer of interest. see example below, a Jeonghan breakup fic written exclusively from the perspective of the outsiders. very fun idea!

breakup scene written in Seungcheol’s POV.

another squabble written in Seungkwan’s POV.

→ wip: the breakup soup.

#3 REPETITIONS AND THEMES = COHESIVENESS.

this section contains tricks on how to wrap up your fics into one cohesive little present with a pretty ribbon on top!

first is the use of repetition. use a cool funky line at the beginning of your story, and reuse/rehash/revise it at the end for a neat finish, especially when you have trouble figuring out a way to end your story (lifesaving hack! trust me!)

i use this mostly in my shorter works—

→ drabble: you’re my bucket list.

→ blurb: louder.

—but it works just as well with longer fics, especially when the repetition is all throughout, and not just at the start and finish.

→ fic: mogi.

sometimes, it doesn’t even have to be a repeated phrase or line! it can be a little gimmick and it’d still work to make your fic cohesive! for example, in the fic below, i use the giving of strawberry candy/strawberry kisses to tie all the different scenes together because this was initially a set of separate drabble ideas wrapped into one long fic.

→ fic: the psychology of strawberries.

and for this one (another ricky fic….yes…..) i use the whole cat metaphor to do the same.

→ drabble: yours to keep.

the next tip to make your work cohesive is to grab a singular theme, object, whatever, and take advantage of it for your narration HAHAHAHHA this can be better explained by looking at the examples below.

theme: citrus.

→ drabble: citrus in the morning.

theme: storm.

→ blurb: blizzard.

the above examples are my shorter works, but it can work for longer fics as well! just check out this 36k word monster HAHAHAHHA.

theme: seasons.

→ fic: love vomit.

these are very simple ways to make your fic more put together! even if it’s just a simply blurb about a confession, adding a theme to aid the imagery bumps your fic quality to a +++++

#4 THROW AWAY THE Y/N’S!

now this one is quite honestly just a personal nitpick HAHAHHAHA but seeing the word Y/N when i’m reading something really pulls me out of my immersion. (and i only stopped using Y/N’s in my fics at the start of my 2023 comeback….so if you see my older works still using it…hahahha please don’t prosecute me).

anyway, you can do this either by embedding it in the narration—

→ fic: star studded baggage.

—or by using nicknames and titles instead!

→ wip: the breakup soup.

→ fic: can’t handle this.

#5 GET INTO THE (UN)NECESSARY SPECIFICS.

instead of just saying “Your professor called you,” grab a random last name and say “Prof Yoon asked to see you in his office.” instead of saying you went to the cafe, the mall, the store, grab an actual place or make one up because no one in the world says “they’re going to the cafe to grab a frappe,” (unless the store’s name is actually The Cafe). people say they’re going to Dunkin Donuts or Coffeebreak or wherever.

sure it’s not plot relevant, sure it’s not integral, but little things like this make your narrative and dialogue a lot more realistic and less awkward. it makes it seem like your characters are actually living inside a world of their own.

#6 GRAMMAR AND FORMATTING.

these are given HAHA but when i talk about grammar, i mean making sure that the commas and periods are consistently inside the quotation marks when writing dialogue. i mean minimizing the use of italics because overusing it can ruin the reading experience of a good piece (i was guilty of this too!) and i mean making sure that the use of tenses are consistent all throughout (unless if it’s a creative and plot choice), because all these things really matter if you want your fic, drabble, or blurb to be of overall high quality.

and that’s basically it! hope these tips help somehow...hope i’m not revealing my secrets for naught and someone can actually put them to good use HHAHAHHA what’s most important obviously is that you’re having fun with what you’re writing…etc. etc. insert inspirational you can do it speech here.

anyway, happy new year! and happy reading and writing<33

#writing hacks ft. my self promos HAHAHAHHAHA #tomorrow x together x reader #enhypen x reader #nct x reader #seventeeen x reader #zerobaseone x reader #riize x reader

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procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics · 1 year

Text

Black Widow

Summary: How a Black Widow made it out of the Red Room, and onto the 141.

Warnings: there’s a lot of talk of trauma in this, explicit smut, threesomes, jealousy, spitroasting, etc, etc, weirdly long (5k)

Notes: the reader was raised (ish) in the red room but this fic is not at all a part of the mcu – it’s just supposed to be the story of a defector, and how she became a part of the 141

kind of felt guilty while writing this bc it made me feel like ghost was cheating on red fox from the fics by @charnelhouse lmao

feedback and comments are very much appreciated!!!

Masterlist | requests are OPEN! | hmu to be added to one of my taglists!

The first memory you have of an outsider is at eleven years old. You and the other girls are sleeping in the dormitory when Madam Ivanova bursts in and opens the handcuffs binding you all to your beds. She pulls the others from their cots, and you almost don’t notice the man that grabs you by the arm.

He’s wearing a hat you’ve never seen before, and that immediately scares you – you don’t recognize him.

“I’ve found the girls!” he shouts, and others pour in, armed to the teeth. Madam Ivanova is still guiding other girls out of the room, and you can see the fear in her eyes. She’s not a kind person, but she takes care of you. Nothing bad has ever happened to you when you were with her.

Nothing like this.

So you turn around, and punch the man square in the face. It takes him aback, and he stumbles backwards. It gives you just enough time to run from him.

Later, you learn that his name is Price, and that he is with the British. An enemy of the Red Room.

Seven years later, you come face to face with him again. You’re three years into active duty, serving the Red Room, and you look drastically different from what you looked like at eleven.

It’s a mistake from another girl that causes your capture. It’s his face that you see first when the hood is pulled off your face.

In the past few years, he’s been the face of your nightmares, so you stay silent. It surprises you when the British don’t torture you. Instead, they offer you a deal. Provide them with the intel they want, and be free of the Red Room.

It takes you three months to accept that deal, and one more to get Price and his colleague Laswell the things they want.

They give you your pardon, and you move to New Zealand, as far away from Russia and Great Britain as you can.

With a fake passport, fake birth certificate and fake story, you leave all of it behind.

You wake up early, shrieking out of your sleep from a nightmare. Your first thought is to call Sarina, an old colleague who also made it out, but you know that she’s still asleep – at least the people in her time zone are. Instead, your feet carry you outside to the lake.

You fish around in your jacket, finding a cigarette and lighter. There’s a nervous feeling in your gut, ever-present. Trained into you since you can remember. This country is the safest and most isolated you could manage, and yet, there’s always the imperative of looking over your shoulder.

You hear Price walking onto the gravelly beach before you see him.

“You know I moved here to be left alone, right?” you tell him, taking another draw from your cigarette.

“I’ve got a job for you.” Price says instead, and you shake your head.

“I’m done with contracting work.”

“So you live off of government support and the intel you sell on the dark web?” he asks.

“That’s my business.”

“It’s about the Red Room.”

You pause, glancing over at him. He looks sincere, but you can also see the earpiece he’s wearing.

“Laswell on the comms?” you asked. You still remember the woman, distrusting as fuck from the moment she met you.

“Yeah. She’s helping with coordinating the team.”

You snort with disdain. “I don’t work in teams. We aren’t trained to.”

“You’ll like them.” Price promises.

“I doubt it. I don’t like you very much.”

Price gives you a dry laugh, and you know he doesn’t take it as personally as you want him to.

“I know that this is personal to you. You got out at eighteen – that’s later than most. You know what they do.”

“Ask any other defector. Sarina, or Antonya. I’m not interested.” You tell him firmly.

“We’re not taking many prisoners from the Red Room.” Price begins again, and you’re about to cut him off. “You can kill the head. Get the girls safe, and you can do with Dreykov whatever you want.”

The offer is too tempting to turn down. To be able to kill the man that ruined your life? The man that ruined the lives of all those other girls?

“I’m in.” you say, and Price gives you a grim smile in return.

“Pack your things. You can meet the team in England.”

Soap

Price had said that he was going to New Zealand for business. He hadn’t realized that ‘business’ entailed a woman.

“That yer girlfriend?” Soap asked, and the woman gave him a look so mean that she almost compared to Ghost.

“I’d hope not.” Price replied. “I’d be dead before morning.”

The woman sat down at the end of the table silently. She looked around, before her hands grabbed a pack of cigarettes from her jacket, lighting it up again.

Ghost was quiet too, but fuck, he knew Ghost. This woman didn’t say a single fucking word, but Soap still knew that Price didn’t have any kind of power over her.

“What’s the mission?” he asked impatiently, and Price set down a stack of Manila folders onto the table.

Laswell pushed off from the wall she’d been leaning against, pulling one of the folders from the stack.

“To most special operatives, the Red Room is a myth. A story made up by the KGB, and nothing more. But the Red Room exists, and we’re going to take it down.”

The woman made a sound for the first time, and it was a disdainful laugh. The others turned to stare at her, but Laswell cleared her throat to redirect their attention back to the right person.

“Over the years, the US and Britain have worked together to take the Red Room down, but it’s evolved from a KGB branch to a human trafficking ring. They take young girls off the streets all over the world and turn them into trained killers, mostly targeting politicians. Taking down the Red Room would mean putting a stop to their ongoing crimes and potentially explain some of the most unclear assassinations of the past seventy years.” Laswell said.

Soap glanced over to the woman, who was watching Laswell with close to no emotion on her face. Stubbing her cigarette on the steel table she leaned back, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

“And she’ll be a part of that?” Gaz asked, nodding to her.

Price nodded. “Her call sign is Black Widow.”

“Got a name too?” Soap asked, and she told him, quickly. Quietly.

“What do you do in the field?” Gaz asked her. Soap noticed that Ghost was watching her closely, as if he expected her to pull a gun on the team.

“Hand to hand combat, espionage, sexpionage. I can be a sniper if you want me to.” She answered quickly.

“She’s here to show you the way into the Red Room and make the girls there trust you enough to get them out.” Price added.

“What, don’t want to get punched by a kid again?” she said, and Price rolled his eyes. They knew each other, but they didn’t like each other at all.

When the meeting ended, the team began to file out of the room, but Soap stayed behind, hoping to catch her and introduce himself. Ghost shot him a warning look, that Soap chose to ignore.

“Welcome to the team.” He said.

“Thrilled.” She replied dryly.

“I’m John. Everyone here calls me Soap though.”

“I know. I read your file.” She deadpanned. She could have been funny if she hadn’t been constantly mean.

“Ya got access to that?” he asked.

“No.” she replied.

Of course she didn’t.

Ghost

They’d tried to get into a smaller base of the Red Room first, to gather some more intel. None of the team had expected there to be any people, much less a bunch of teen girls armed to the teeth.

It didn’t end well.

Out of the thirty girls there, they’d managed to get seven out alive. The others had either died via cyanide pills or while fighting them.

Black Widow had explained that they were brainwashed, and that was why they’d immediately committed suicide when other options ran out. She didn’t seem to be affected too much by it. At least, she tried to pretend that it was that way.

He’d taken a bullet to the thigh, and it had been her to stitch him up in the safehouse before he could call the medic. She’d been grazed by something, and she took care of that herself as well.

They’d all managed to get some time under the shower, and now, they sat in the living room together. She was in the cargo pants she’d worn on the mission and a black tank top, and Ghost could see the tattoo on her right shoulder blade while her back was to him.

The square hourglass symbol, followed by a number.

1047.

He didn’t have to ask to know that she was the 1047th girl they’d taken. He wondered how many of them had died at his hands, while he didn’t know that he was fighting children.

Price was working on the radio they’d found in the safehouse, but finding an enjoyable station in the middle of Russia was proving to be harder than expected. Eventually, he landed on a classical music station.

She didn’t seem to mind, scraping her can of tortellini clean, until a new song played. Ghost did not recognize it, but he saw her hands curl around the can tightly, knuckles turning white.

“Change the station.” She said. Price looked up. It was the first thing anyone had said in a few hours.

“Why?”

“Just change the fucking station.” She snapped. “Please.”

Price nodded, turning it to something else. A Russian voice chattered into the room. Ghost could see that she was listening, probably understanding every single word.

“What are they saying?” Price asked.

“That there was a fire in the warehouse we were in.” she said.

“Nothing about us?”

She shook her head. “From what they’re saying, they don’t have a clue. The Red Room will know.”

“Why?” Ghost asked.

“They chipped us. They know the last location of the girls, and they know that seven of the chips moved without the rest. I had the medics take them out, but it took them a while to get here. By now, Dreykov will know that something is going on.”

It was the most she’d said in one go so far.

Ghost didn’t trust her, but he didn’t mind her either. Most of the team disliked her, and Price couldn’t seem to stand her. Soap had his mind set on talking to her. But Ghost… he didn’t know who she was, only that she was as quiet as he was.

He knew that Soap wanted to ask about the scars that littered her arms and what they could see of her back, and he knew that she would not answer.

Suddenly, there was a shout of frustration from Gaz.

“What happened?” Price asked, immediately on his feet.

“Heater’s out.”

Glancing outside, Ghost saw that it was snowing heavily. Black Widow got up from her spot in the room. Ghost could hear her shuffle inside one of the cabinets.

She returned with blankets, dumping them in the middle of the room before taking one for herself. Ghost said nothing as she sat down next to him, an arm length of space between them. The snow only got heavier, until it turned into an all-out blizzard.

“We’ll be snowed in tomorrow.” Soap noted.

“Let’s worry about freezing to death first.” Gaz said. He was chattering, despite the blanket around him. Black Widow had gotten herself a second already, and she still looked cold.

“Taking first watch.” Ghost muttered, sitting down by the window.

“I’ll join you.” Soap said. Ghost knew that Soap wanted to chatter about something idle to distract himself from the image of 23 dead fourteen-year-olds.

The others shuffled together for warmth, except for her. She stayed where she was, leaning against the counter of the small kitchen.

“Ya think she’s from the Red Room?” Soap asked under his breath.

“Course she is.” Ghost replied.

“I heard they take the girls when they’re three. Teach ‘em ballet and how to be all pretty while killing a man. Then they send them out when they’re fifteen.”

Ghost nodded, letting Soap know that he was listening.

“Ya think that’s why she wanted ta change the station?”

“Huh?”

“They were playin’ sum ballet song.” Soap said. “Maybe she knows how to dance to it. “

“Doubt she does much dancing.” Ghost replied.

“Sight for sore eyes though. But after what she did today…” Soap mumbled.

Ghost still remembered it. How ruthlessly she’d fought against those girls. Wasn’t she supposed to know that they had no choice?

They had all obviously gone through the same combat training, but she was older and stronger. Those girls knew that. She knew that.

Ghost had watched her snap the neck of one with a twist of her hand. Something like that was so grotesque that even Ghost seldom did it, but with her it looked like the starter to a five-course-meal.

“She ain’t happy.” Soap said.

“No shit.”

“Ya think she’s a good person?”

“I doubt it.” Ghost replied.

“I think she could be. Maybe she’s an ass due to circumstance.”

Ghost snorted. Only Soap would say something like that. When he glanced over to her, he saw beady eyes glancing back in the darkness. He wondered if she’d listened in to their conversation.

She didn’t sleep for most of the time Ghost and Soap were on watch. A few hours in, she picked up her pack of cigarettes and lighter and offered them to take over watch.

Ghost nodded, about to get up and go back to bed, but Soap was hesitant.

“It’s fucking cold sleeping on tha ground.” He said.

“We can sleep close. For warmth.” Ghost replied.

“Nah. I’ll stay on my feet.” Soap said.

Ghost shook his head. What the fuck was going on with Soap?

You

You were back to square one, thanks to some wrong intel. On top of that, they all saw what you did to the other girls. You weren’t sure if their pity was worse or whatever they did now.

All of them except Soap, who still seemed determined to chew off your ear. Currently, he was telling you about his hometown in Scotland.

“You’re from New Zealand, aren’t ya?” he asked finally.

“I just lived there.”

“Then where are you from?” he asked. You shrugged in response. Russia was where you were raised, technically, but you did not know where you were taken from.

Soap smiled at you brightly, completely unguarded. It threw you off. He was a special ops, and yet, he sometimes behaved like anything but.

You didn’t need classes in the Red Room to know that he was attracted to you. Yet, you weren’t sure whether that would help or hinder you.

“Who raised ya? Masked soldiers?” he said, and you were sure he’d meant it as a joke.

“A woman called Madam Ivanova. She was in charge of us.”

“Was? Who killed her?”

“Price.” You replied curtly.

“I’m sorry.” He said quickly. You could see that he was regretting his words.

“Don’t be. She wasn’t a good person.”

“You say that as if she killed your friends.”

“She did.” You replied.

“What?”

“If recruits aren’t good enough, you don’t let them into your ranks.” You shrugged.

“Recruits? Fucking hell, you were girls.”

“Yeah, at the beginning of the program. 1 in 20 makes it through.”

Soap didn’t say anything else that night.

***

You stayed on after taking down Dreykov. By going back into this industry, you’d given up New Zealand, and in your gut, you’d known that when you made that choice.

The team had grown to accept you, and even Price was alright with your company by now. In return, you tried to be less snappy towards them. It worked, most of the time.

The last mission had been a good one. No one innocent had died, you’d gotten the intel, and the bad guys were dead. It was like out of a story, and the group was celebrating.

Price had gotten an empty bar, and Soap was playing bartender, giving out drinks like there was no tomorrow, and chugging his own just as quickly. Ghost was in the corner, mask rolled up to drink whatever Soap handed him.

You could see a bit of blond stubble peek out, along with a small scar. You knew how he’d gotten it. It had been in the Red Room, the actual Red Room, and an eight-year-old girl had slashed at him with a sharpened letter opener.

Ghost hadn’t defended himself. You’d pried the girl off him, taking the weapon from her and making sure she wouldn’t jam it into his neck next.

“Here.” Soap said, handing you a shot of Tequila.

“I’ve had enough.” You replied. “If I drink any more, I’ll get tipsy.”

“That’s the point.” Soap said, firmly putting the shotglass down. “You’re lucky we’re not playing any drinking games.”

You snatched the glass from him, ignoring his smug smile as you downed it, holding out your ahnd for a lime wedge. Soap dropped it into your hand quickly.

You laughed at some stupid joke he said, ignoring the stares on your back from the rest of the team. You couldn’t deny the fact that Soap could make you feel less…

You weren’t sure, but when you were with Soap, your past faded into the background. It wasn’t as important anymore. All the blood and fucking gore of it.

Ghost

He wasn’t sure why, but he hated that she was laughing at Soap’s idiot jokes. Somehow, he had convinced her to get tipsy, and it was a good look on her.

She was pretty when she smiled. Not that she wasn’t without, but it made her look careless. At some point, she walked over to him, another shot glass in hand.

“Soap insists you drink another. He wants to see you tipsy.”

Ghost took the glass from her, ignoring the fact that he enjoyed their hands touching.

“What’s wrong?” she asked. Ghost paused.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re quiet. You always are, but you’re like… quiet tonight.” She said. He wanted to scoff at her.

“You and Johnny fucking?” he asked. He wasn’t sure why.

“What?” she asked. “Where the fuck is that coming from?”

“Don’t want my team messed up.”

“Oh in that case, you don’t have to worry Lieutenant.” She spat. Her entire body language had shifted in a moment, and it was telling Ghost to fuck off. “I’m going for a smoke.”

Ghost watched her storm out, before glancing over to Soap. He’d stilled his movements, looking after her.

Ghost followed a few seconds after, leaving the bar. She stood outside, clicking on her lighter angrily.

“Don’t fucking say anything stupid.” She told him, throwing the lighter away with a frustrated movement. Suddenly, Ghost surged forward, grabbing her jaw softly. He had to lean down to look at her, even if she wasn’t short.

“Wha-“ she began

“I thought you learned about all of this.” Ghost mumbled, suddenly unsure what to do. Her hands surged forward, pulling the lower half of his mask up.

His hand moved the back of her neck, covering pretty much all of it. He could taste the sourness of limes on her lips. Her lips were so soft Ghost thought he might forget about everything else.

He ghosted over her jaw, and felt the tenseness in it. Carefully, Ghost broke contact.

“Relax.” He told her.

“I am.”

“This isn’t a mission.”

“I just- I haven’t done this just for the sake of it.”

Shit. Ghost felt terrible when she said that.

“Don’t stop now.” She whispered, and Ghost obliged, his lips meeting hers again. Her jaw wasn’t as tense as it had been, and her arms hung loosely around his neck. Slowly, he let one of his hands slide down to her waist, pulling her in closely.

She let down a quiet oof as she hit his vest, letting him guide her towards the wall of the bar. His other hand pillowed her head, making sure that she would not hurt herself.

He hated to admit that kissing her was everything he wanted in that moment.

It was so perfect, the taste of her lips, her small hands on his chest and his own encircling her waist. Their closeness.

And then, the illusion shattered.

She sprang back from him, looking towards the door of the bar.

“Soap?” she asked, voice hoarse.

Soap

He’d only come out of the bar to check on her and Ghost, expecting them to be at each other’s throats. They were, just not the way he’d thought.

“Soap?” she asked, surprise apparent on her face. Ghost’s hand was still on her waist, but she’d backed away from him as soon as she’d heard his steps.

His stomach dropped. He wanted her. Simon fucking knew that. He’d wanted to do that to her since he’d met her, and he’d told Simon. He’d told him about what he thought of her and he did this?

And from the look on her face, she knew how he felt as well.

“Fuck you, Riley.” He spat, turning back around. Ghost stayed where he was, but she followed him.

“Please don’t go.” She said. “It was- I didn’t mean to-“

“What? You looked like you were about to fuck him right there.” Soap replied. He knew his accent was thick due to anger, and he didn’t care. He didn’t expect her to push him like a petulant child though.

Soap barely stumbled, and that only seemed to enrage her more.

“It was a heat of the moment thing!” she finally said. “He got me angry, and it worked, okay?”

“I don’t know why you’re so upset.” He finally replied. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“But I like you.” She blurted out. Soap blinked dumbly.

“What?”

“Don’t make me say it again. It makes me sound so childish.” She said. Behind her, Ghost moved.

“So why’d you make out with him?” Soap asked. She didn’t reply, but for the first time since he’d met her, she blushed. Furiously.

Oh.

He glanced over to Ghost, who towered behind her. He saw it too. Their eyes met, and Soap saw the idea that was coming to his mind mirrored in Ghost’s.

Oh.

They’d never even come close to something like that, but maybe…

Softly, he tipped up her chin, There were the beginnings of tears in her eyes, but her cheeks were still flushed from kissing Ghost and the Tequila she’d had. Her pupils were still dilated.

She was so fucking hot.

He could share with Ghost.

This wasn’t the first kiss Soap had imagined, but imagination be damned, it was still fucking amazing. Soap pulled her closer by the loops in her belt, feeling her body press against him. Her hands grabbed his neck, pulling him closer.

Soap could practically feel Ghost hover behind her, feel the impatience rolling off of him.

“Let’s get outta here, yeah?” Soap offered, and she nodded, grabbing him by the hand. Ghost followed, putting a hand on his shoulder.

He leaned in, whispering. “She’s never had sex for the sake of sex.”

Soap nodded. If she knew they were talking about her, she ignored it.

“I wasn’t planning on not focusing on her.” He replied.

Ghost

They found a dingy motel, and Soap barely managed to scrape money out of his wallet before he was already sprinting up the stairs to their hotel. The woman behind the desk gave them a look that told Ghost she knew exactly what they were planning.

Not that he cared much.

He caught up with her, grabbing her by the waist and throwing her over his shoulder. Soap shook his head, unlocking the door to their room as quickly as he could.

Ghost let her down on the bed, crashing lips onto lips. She gave a surprised squeak that turned into a moan as his hand wandered to her tits, greedily squeezing.

Blindly, she pulled Soap onto the bed, causing it to groan from the weight.

“Might break it if we keep going.” Soap said.

“That’s the goal.” She replied, before kissing him. Ghost didn’t know why he didn’t feel jealous but he was glad. Carefully, he set to work on pulling off her jacket, and then, her shirt.

He paused when he saw a massive scar, running from under her left breast until her hipbone. Ghost ran a thumb over it carefully. There was another, low on her stomach. Ghost didn’t want to think of where they’d come from. Kissing up her breasts, she felt her hands tug at his vest.

He shrugged it off, watching as she wrapped her legs around Soap’s waist, flipping him onto his back.

From under her hair, he saw the tattoo. It disappeared again when she leaned forward to suck on Soap’s neck, softly biting his shoulder.

Soap groaned and Ghost suddenly felt his pants grow uncomfortably tight.

He moved to kneel behind her, feeling her grind against the bulge in Soap’s pants. His hand snaked onto her neck, and she turned to kiss him.

“Good?” she asked. Simon and John nodded at the same time. She’s the most naked out of all of them, bra and pants still on, and God, it’s not enough for him. He picked her up, knowing exactly that she knew this was nothing for him, and beginning to open her pants.

Soap sat up, looking almost offended at being left out but then, he leaned back, giving her an appreciative smile.

Simon had almost managed to not feel guilty for making out with her behind the bar despite what Soap had told him.

She’s a pretty lass. I think she’d kill me if I told her.

That was the first thing Soap had told him, and Simon had silently agreed. He’d had no idea that Soap’s simple attraction would turn into a full-blown crush, like that of a lovesick teen. He’d had no idea that he’d follow so closely behind.

It had happened to him after the mess with the Red Room. She’d come out of Dreykov’s office, covered in blood, slick with it, and collapsed at his feet. He’d picked her up and carried her to the medics, but not before he’d caught a glimpse of the office.

Dreykov’s body, scattered across the room, his bodyguards dead with him.

He’d seen her carnal violence, and she’d held his hand afterwards, as they stitched her back together. Three bullets and six stab wounds, and she’d squeezed his hand so hard he was sure it would fall off.

They never spoke of it afterwards, but there was something there then.

There’s a moment of awkward rustling where Soap and Widow pull off their clothes, and Simon stands off to the side, unsure whether he should take his off as well.

Instead, he lowers himself to the end of the bed, pulling her towards him until her cunt is in front of his face. She crosses her legs for a moment, and Simon begins to work on her thighs. It takes her a moment, and then she lets him touch her.

Soap is somewhere above him, making out with her so intensely that Simon can see her chest heave with each breath. He’s so hard in his pants it almost hurts.

But this is about her. For her.

The first moan he coaxes from her is muffled, almost swallowed by Soap’s kiss, but the second comes more loudly. Simon stays where he is, until her legs wrap around his head with a trained strength and he can barely breathe.

He’d die happy between her legs.

Soap

Everything that’s happening turns into an avalanche once her clothes are off. She’s still sweaty from the bar and walking to the motel, but he couldn’t care less. Her tits are in his face – he has no right to.

Ghost is somewhere, doing something, and he can barely concentrate on what he’s doing with the sounds that are coming from her mouth. She’s not fragile – he knows she isn’t. And yet, he feels like he has to hold her like she’ll break apart.

“I want…” she begins, but trails off again, into another moan. Johnny throws a look behind his shoulder and sees her legs wrapped around Ghost’s head, so tightly that he isn’t sure his friend is still alive.

“What do you want?” he demands from her. She could ask anything from him right now. He’d shoot his own brains out if she wanted him to.

“Please, I need you.” She begs, and he thinks he’s going to lose his mind in this shitty motel.

Slowly, she lets Ghost go, and he stands up, pulling his mask over his face again. He’s still wearing his clothes.

Soap lets her get on top. Ghost is somewhere, holding her somehow, but all he can focus on is the feeling of him inside her. It’s never-ending, golden, and Soap knows nothing has felt more right.

“Fuck.” She mumbles, her arms shaking as she tries to steady herself on his shoulders. Ghost had done a number on her, and it looked amazing.

When she began to move, the scar on her stomach stretched, pulling on her skin. Soap wanted to take her away from it all. Him and Ghost, they could protect her. Let her truly retire.

She was younger than both of them, and had worked this kind of stuff long before them. Only Price had more experience.

Suddenly, she leans forward, her lips grazing his ear.

“Ghost feels a little left out.”

“We don’t want that, do we now?” he replies.

“I have something that might work.” She says, and Johnny trusts her. She turns around, offering her cunt to him from behind, facing Ghost. He takes out his cock, stroking leisurely, and Soap wants to gulp with her.

It’s fucking massive. She wants to suck him off when he’s that big?

But then she’s practically begging him to fill her cunt again, and all thoughts of possible or not possible are gone when he’s inside her.

He watches, through a haze, as Ghost feeds her his cock. She gags on it, and Johnny can feel himself twitch inside her. She feels it too.

Ghost is careful with her at first, whispering praises.

Good girl. You’re doing so well.

And then, he kind of forgets all about that, slowly guiding her head. The enormity of him causes her to rock back against Soap, and he wishes he could see her face.

He feels himself growing close, and suddenly he panics – there’s no condoms.

So he pulls out of her, and both Ghost and her halt their movements.

“You on the pill?” Soap asks quickly.

“I can’t have kids.” She replies. He halts at that for a moment, but then, she and Ghost are back at it, and he doesn’t want to miss out.

His hand snakes down to her belly, finding her clit. It causes her to clench around him and it takes Soap all of his willpower not to come then and there.

He doesn’t know where to look. The perfect fucking curve of her back. Her ass. Her face in Ghost’s crotch, taking him as if that wasn’t a fucking challenge.

Soap barely manages to coax an orgasm out of her before he cums. He's so close his brain has turned to mush. She shudders against him, and he has to hold her up, feeling her pretty ass bump against him, always begging for more. He gives as much as he can, making her moan around Ghost’s cock so loudly that the woman behind the desk downstairs has definitely heard.

One last time, he grabs her hips tightly, cumming inside her, before he pulls out and leans back.

He gets to enjoy the view as she continues to suck off Ghost, his cum dribbling out of her cunt. His handprints are on her hips, already beginning to bruise. Ghost doesn’t take much longer before he comes too, holding her head down. Soap hears her choke, and it’s enough to make him hard again.

She collapses onto the bed next to him, sweatier than before and hair in tangles thanks to Ghost.

Soap takes the stringy towel Ghost gets him from the bathroom, wiping down her thighs and offering it to her for her face.

“No need.” She says with a proud smirk.

“God, stop. You’ll be in for another round otherwise.”

Ghost sits on the bed across from them before she waves him over. It’s barely enough space, but she manages to squeeze between them. Soap scratches her back carefully, and she purrs like a cat.

“Was that good for a first?” Soap finally asks.

“Oh no it was totally terrible.” She answers, her voice sarcastic. “It’s not like I came all over your dick.”

“Jesus.” Ghost manages, but Soap sees his massive hand already on her ass.

“Round two?” Soap asks, and she gives him an adoring smile. There’s a moment where he feels himself falling in love with her even more, and maybe even with Ghost, for taking care of his girl.

“Give me a moment.” She says finally. “But yeah, let’s go for a round two.”

2K notes · View notes

ewanmitchellcrumbs · 6 months

Text

Easy On Me

Pairing: Tom Bennett (World on Fire) x f!reader Warnings: Smut. Word count: ~1k Summary: A little epilogue/add on to Best Intentions, but can also be read as a standalone fic. Based on this request.

Author's note: No tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications. Community labels are for cops.

She grumbles quietly, eyes heavy and still closed, her mind groggy with sleep as she feels Tom’s arm wrap around her waist, pulling her back flush against his chest.

“Tommy, I’m tired, leave me be,” she mumbles, squirming away.

He wrestles her back against him, hand snaking up her body to paw at her breasts through her nightie. “Jus’ wanna cuddle,” he whispers.

She sighs, screwing her eyes shut tighter in protest, determined to fall back to sleep. “Can’t we cuddle when I haven’t got to be up at five to do the sodding papers?!”

Since they’d gotten engaged it was as though a switch had been flipped in Tom. Seeing the delicate gold band upon her ring finger drove him wild, igniting a possessive streak that she’d never realised he had.

There was no denying she enjoyed the extra attention. His constant need for physical contact made her feel desirable, wanted. It was nice when his hand reached for hers as they walked down the street, nice when he’d walk up behind her and press featherlight kisses to the crook of her neck, nicer still when he’d pull her into his lap on the sofa and fuck up into her with reckless abandon, unable to control his urge to be inside of her.

However, her mum has now retired from the shop entirely and, not making enough of a profit to justify hiring additional help, she’s left to work opening until closing each day by herself. So, when Tom’s neediness interrupts her sleep she feels more than justified in feeling irritated by it.

“C’mon, let me be close to you,” he insists, entangling his legs with hers, making her gasp as a sudden jolt of cold causes her body to tense, her eyes snapping open.

“Your feet are bloody freezing!” She cries out, making him chuckle.

“Maybe you can warm me up?” He says with a grin against her neck, his hand trailing downwards towards the hem of her thin, cotton nightie.

She whines, feeling her resolve begin to crumble, arching into him involuntarily as his touch awakens the fluttering of desire in her lower belly. “I’ve gotta be up early, stop it…”

“It’s nearly five anyway,” he tells her, pressing a kiss to her pulsepoint that causes her to inhale a shaky breath. “I’ll be quick, and I’ll even make you a brew after.”

Grinning, she presses her backside back against his growing hardness. “Thought you just wanted a cuddle?”

“We can cuddle,” Tom says quietly against the shell of her ear, “afterwards.”

His hand pushes her nightdress up over her hips, before dipping between her thighs. Swiping between her folds, his fingers quickly find her pearl, rubbing soft, sure circles of her arousal against it, making her sigh in pleasure. Her head relaxes back onto the pillow as warmth licks at her core, making it throb.

“Better be an amazing cuppa,” she smiles, her breathing growing heavier as she feels him roll his hips against her, his hardness pushing firmly against her.

“Oh, it’ll be good,” he promises, taking his hand away to push down his briefs.

She braces herself against the mattress, feeling him grip her thigh and bring it backwards over his hip, opening her up to him, allowing him easier access.

They groan in unison as he brushes the head of his cock through her slick. Once, twice, three times, before settling at her entrance, slowly pushing forward.

She whines at stretch, the shudder of his breath against her flesh as he bottoms out causing her to clench tightly around him, making him grunt.

“God…” she whispers breathlessly, feeling light headed as he draws back, only to push back in once more. It’s exquisite torture, too much and yet not enough all at once.

“Yeah, I know,” he rasps, his pace quickening as she adjusts to his size, each thrust being met with less resistance as she grows wetter. “Feels so fuckin’ good.”

The bed frame creaks beneath their movements, and she is grateful for the fact that they live above the shop. She can’t imagine the sorts of complaints they’d get if they had neighbours beneath them. Tom is insatiable, and too irresistible to her to refuse.

She moans as his fingers dig into her hip, pulling her back against each of his forward thrusts, bullying the spot inside of her that makes her breath hitch and her toes curl.

He pants against her skin, perspiration building upon his brow. He drags his hand from her hip back between her legs, his forefingers rubbing insistently at her. His rhythm becomes sloppy, an indication he’s nearing his end.

The thought makes her tighten, nudging her closer to the edge, and when his rubbing becomes rougher, coupled with the dull pulsating of him inside of her, she topples over it, white hot waves of bliss throwing her body into spasms.

“Fuckfuckfuck,” he cries out, hips stuttering, before pressing tightly against her, burying his face in her shoulder as he spills himself inside of her.

He holds her close as they both lay there gasping for breath, their hands absentmindedly stroking over each other’s forearms. It’s only when Tom begins to soften that he pulls away, rolling onto his back and grabbing his cigarettes from the pocket of his trousers, which lay discarded on the floor from when he’d come to bed.

Still deathly tired, but with a satisfied ache between her legs, she supposes there are worse ways to begin the working day.

She runs a hand through her hair as she sits on the edge of the bed, mentally preparing herself to begin getting ready to head downstairs. Reaching for her wrist watch that sits on the bedside table, her eyes narrow as she takes the sight of the placement of the hands.

“Tommy,” she hisses in annoyance, “it’s fucking half one in the morning!”

She turns, seeing him laying back against the headboard, one arm slung behind his head. He plucks the unlit cigarette from the corner of his mouth and smirks at her. “Yeah, guessing you won’t be wanting that brew then?”

“Bloody nuisance!” She scolds him, playfully chucking a pillow at him, before settling back into bed.

She knows it won’t be long until he’s cuddling back up to her, seeking out her warmth once again.

#tom bennett x reader #tom bennett x you #tom bennett x y/n #tom bennett imagine #tom bennett smut #tom bennett #ewan mitchell #tom bennett fan fiction #tom bennett fanfiction #tom bennett fan fic #tom bennett fanfic #world on fire #world on fire fan fiction #world on fire fanfiction #world on fire fanfic #world on fire fan fic #tom bennett world on fire #world on fire tom bennett

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antimony-medusa · 19 days

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Another post cause I’ve been seeing some stuff on my dash.

Okay so first of all it’s fine if a media fades and you move on to other things. That’s fair. You objectively have less content to work with when it’s not airing/uploading. Go on to greener pastures and thrive.

However, it is also like, perfectly fine if you keep being enthusiastic about a thing that is on hiatus or over. Heaven help us, there are still about five fics uploaded for SMPEarth a month, and half the time I’m one of them. I just wrote recursive fic (fic inspired by other fic) of something published in 2021, which is about the time that I joined the fandom in the first place. I was cruising collections the other day and the K/S Star Trek fans just ran a prompt fest that got like 50 fics submitted to it. I’m subscribed to someone who uploads fic from the Witcher books (not the show, the books) about once a week. Repeatedly in exchanges I’m in, the most popular fandom is Biggles, which is an adventure pilot series that came out in 1930s (I understand it’s very gay and whumpy).

If you still want to talk about or create about a fandom that is not airing rn, I promise you are not going to annoy people. Anyone who thinks you’re cringe isn’t worth worrying about. Even if it’s just one guy deliriously happy in your notes, you will find your audience. You don’t have to do Fandom as work where you have to stay current, you can just follow your bliss, even if that means you just draw one more ctommy, and just one more ctommy, and one last ctommy, and just one more ctommy.

So yeah like I’m giving you a thumbs up if you leave, find something new that scratches that itch, but also if you keep making things, even for something long past, I promise nobody worth caring about will think you’re weird.

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primaviva · 4 months

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blue christmas; león kennedy

featuring. leon kennedy x fem!reader

synopsis. you’ll have a blue christmas without leon, or will you?

warnings. minor angst, mostly fluff. also my first leon fic! (i’m terrified)

once again, it was christmas time, a season meant for cherished togetherness. the air was supposed to be filled with the warmth of loved ones, snuggled in front of a crackling fire, adorning the tree together, relishing in the joy of classic christmas movies, and immersing themselves in the enchanting spirit of the holidays.

but for you, that idyllic scene remained elusive—something you never quite experienced when dating an agent.

leon, your boyfriend, was constantly thrown into classified missions, shrouded in secrecy. there were times he couldn't even disclose the nature of his work, which meant you were well aware that a festive christmas break wasn't likely to be granted amidst his tireless efforts of dismantling organizations and gathering crucial intelligence.

during moments like these, you sought solace in solitude, confronting your sadness directly. you declined all invitations for plans during the final week leading up to christmas. a glimmer of hope remained that he would be present, and you wanted to ensure ample time to be with him. however, a sense of unease lingered, drawing you to want you to reject the idea of spending the holiday with anyone other than him and your family.

with a heavy sigh, you reluctantly left your warm bed, resigning yourself to the familiar routine of tending to daily errands and tidying up the house. nestling into the couch, you absentmindedly flipped through the channels, the repetitive christmas movies playing for the fifth time that week. then, a buzzing sound breaks the monotonous atmosphere.

your heart leaped with joy as you saw exactly who was calling. it was leon.

his calls were infrequent during his missions, making each one a precious and treasured moment. you never knew when you would get to hear his voice again, so you answered eagerly, your giddy anticipation evident in your high-pitched voice as you called out, "leon?" through the speaker.

"hey there, beautiful," leon's voice comes through the speaker, warm and familiar. "i hope i didn't catch you at a bad time."

a radiant smile illuminated your face as you responded, "no, not at all. there's not much to do anywhere with this snowstorm anyway." your gaze drifted towards the window, captivated by the swirling white fog gliding over the water, the snowflakes dancing amidst the relentless gusts of wind, their delicate forms adhering to the windowpane. "i’m about to binge another round of christmas movies," you added, a touch of wistfulness in your voice. "so, what's on your mind, leon?"

there's a slight pause on the other end, and you can almost hear him hesitating before he speaks again. "listen, i know it's christmas eve and all, and i hate that i can't be there with you. but this mission... it’s longer than i expected."

your heart sinks at his words, disappointment flooding your system. this was the same story every year, but it still hurt to hear it. "oh, leon," you say, trying to hide the disappointment in your tone. you were always polite with your sadness, like a little kid not wanting to deliver bad news, you didn’t want to ruin him because of yourself. "i was really looking forward to spending christmas with you. but i understand, duty calls, right?"

there's a tinge of sadness in his voice as he responds, "yeah, duty calls. i promise i'll make it up to you when i get back. we'll have our own little belated christmas celebration, just the two of us."

you can't help but let out a small chuckle. "you better make it a good one, kennedy. maybe i'll even let you take over the cooking for once," you tease, trying to lighten the mood.

leon's laughter comes through the phone, and you can almost picture the playful smile on his face. "deal. just don't expect anything gourmet, okay?"

as you two continue your conversation, your disappointment slowly fades away. even though you won't have him physically by your side for christmas, knowing that he's safe and that you’ll have your own celebration when he returns brings you comfort. and in the end, that's all that matters.

that was the mindset you had to have—enjoy the moments you have with him, even when it seems to be few.

you giggled at his joke. “y’know for an italian, aren’t you supposed to know how to cook? kinda embarrassing if you ask me,” you tease, snuggling yourself into the blanket as you hear a low chuckle of his from the phone.

leon's chuckle grows louder on the other end of the line. "hey now, i never claimed to be a master chef. i've got other talents, you know," he retorts playfully.

"oh, is that so? and what other talents might those be?" you ask, feigning curiosity.

"well, for one, i can take down a horde of zombies with my eyes closed. i can make some pretty funny jokes if i do say so myself," he replies, coated in sarcasm. "oh, and let's not forget my impeccable ability to make you smile, even from miles away."

you can't help but laugh at his response, as corny as it is. it's true, leon has a way of making the toughest situations bearable with his humor, even with the dad jokes. "well, i guess i can forgive your lack of culinary skills then. just make sure you're ready to put on your apron when you're back, alright?"

"i'll do my best, but no promises," he states, amusement clear in his tone. "but hey, i've got a surprise for you when i get back. something i think you'll love."

your curiosity piques at his words. "oh really? now you got me curious. what is it?" you ask, unable to contain my excitement.

leon lets out a mischievous chuckle. "sorry, babe, can't spoil the surprise. you'll just have to wait and find out."

you groan, pretending to be disappointed. "you're such a tease, leon. but i guess i'll have to be patient."

"patience is a virtue, my love," he replies, his voice filled with warmth. "just a little longer, and then we can have our own christmas celebration, complete with whatever surprise i have in store for you."

you grin, feeling a surge of anticipation. "i can't wait. just make sure you come back to me in one piece, alright?"

"you got it. i'll be home soon. i love you," he promises, his voice filled with sincerity.

"i love you too, leon. stay safe," you reply, bringing the phone closer to your ear to hear every tone of his.

despite the disappointment of not being able to spend christmas together, you know that seeing leon after will make it all worth it. and for now, you’ll hold on to that thought, eagerly awaiting his return.

as the beep resonated from your phone, signaling the end of the call, a harsh reality settled in, causing you to slump back into the couch. despite the excitement of hearing from him, the sting of loneliness remained. you pondered whether leon truly understood the weight of your solitude, yet hesitated to voice your feelings, fearing it would burden him with guilt or worry amidst his own demanding circumstances. after all, he must be grappling with his own shit.

rising from the couch, you made your way to the christmas tree, reaching down behind it to plug the lights back into the socket. a growing smile adorned your face as the warm glow illuminated the room.

the christmas tree stood tall and proud in the corner of the room, its branches reaching upward like outstretched arms. it was adorned with an array of ornaments, each one holding a special significance and memory. the lights, now aglow, cast a soft, warm radiance that enveloped the tree, casting playful shadows on the surrounding walls. the branches were adorned with a delightful assortment of decorations, ranging from delicate glass baubles to whimsical handmade trinkets. shimmering silver and gold balls mingled with vibrant red and green ornaments, a harmonious blend of colors that captured the essence of the holiday season you adored. nestled among the branches were strands of sparkling tinsel, something that leon claimed to hate on trees but so desperately wanted to put on yours, that caught the light and added a touch of magic to the scene. handcrafted paper snowflakes, carefully cut and strung with thread, dangled delicately, evoking the whimsy of winter's first snowfall. at the very top of the tree, a glittering star shone brilliantly, serving as a guiding light to illuminate the room and symbolize the hope and joy of the season. leon had held you up on his shoulders for you to get that very star up there.

as you gazed upon the tree, its beauty and the memories it held washed over you, reminding you of how you and leon had happily adorned this tree together just a couple of weeks ago. now, you stood before it alone. you physically felt the silence of his hands wrapped around your waist as you peered up at the star, his chin on your shoulder as his breath hit your neck whilst whispering sweet nothings.

another sigh escaped your lips as you acknowledged the familiar reality of how your holiday was going to pan out.

determined not to dwell on it indefinitely, you pushed aside the melancholy and headed to the kitchen to prepare your breakfast. you knew that allowing yourself to be consumed by these emotions all day would not serve you well.

as you make your way to the kitchen, the smell of freshly brewed coffee fills the air. leon always made sure to set the coffee maker the night before, a small gesture that never failed to bring a smile to your face. but the smile wasn’t on your face, as he wasn’t here the night before or the nights before that. everything in your home seemed like an echo chamber of leon. though the house feels empty without leon's presence, you remind yourself that it's just temporary. he's out there, doing what he does best, and you couldn't be prouder of him. you know that his work is important, and sometimes sacrifices have to be made.

you pour yourself a cup, savoring the familiar taste and warmth. you grab a couple of eggs from the fridge and start preparing a simple breakfast. as you crack the eggs into the pan, you can't help but remember the times you’ve cooked together, laughing and joking around in the kitchen. you can still find joy in the small moments, even if it's just making breakfast for yourself. you turn on some music, filling the kitchen with some christmas classics, and start humming along as you cook.

as you sit down at the table, enjoying your breakfast, you glance at the calendar on the wall. christmas day is just around the corner, and you can't help but feel a twinge of excitement. soon enough, even if you hate how it is now, leon will be home.

you refuse to let the loneliness consume you. after finishing your breakfast, you clean up the kitchen and decide to fill your day with activities that can lift you up. whether it's going for a walk, reading a book, going on youtube for endless hours, hanging out with a friend, or even just watching more christmas movies, you’ll make the most of this day.

speaking of a friend, one of your friends had invited you to a christmas eve party a couple of days ago. however, at that time, you were deeply immersed in your emotions and sought solace in your own sorrows of being alone. but now, you've reached a turning point. the time for crying and being consumed by your emotions has passed.

you grab your phone and swiftly send a text to your friend, inquiring if the party is still happening. after a brief moment, you receive a reply confirming that the party is indeed taking place.

a surge of excitement rushes through you as you realize that attending the party would serve as the perfect distraction. it's an opportunity to spend time with friends, indulge in a drink or two, embrace the stupid holiday festivities, and momentarily let you forget the absence of leon.

as night fell, you wasted no time in preparing for the occasion. slipping into a stunning, curve-hugging short red dress, you embraced the perfect color for the festive season. its vibrant hue radiated celebration and joy. accompanied by elegant heels, every step exuded glamour.

attention to detail was paramount, so you meticulously selected accessories to complete your ensemble. your signature hoops and rings adorned your ears and fingers, adding a personal touch of style. but you didn't stop there. to harmonize with the season, you chose a few matching bracelets, flawlessly complementing the red dress.

turning your focus to your face, you skillfully applied makeup in a warm, natural palette, harmonizing with the enchanting christmas theme. subtle earthy tones accentuated your features, while a hint of shimmer on your eyelids added a touch of festive sparkle. a sweep of lip gloss provided a luscious glow, completing the radiant look.

before stepping out, you took a moment to enhance your curls. with a touch of product, you breathed new life into your locks, giving them refreshed volume that cascaded gracefully around your shoulders.

now fully prepared, you were ready to embrace the night, exuding confidence and capturing the spirit of the occasion.

with a sense of finality, you diligently switched off all the lights, the stove, and the remaining appliances. as the last item on your checklist, you knelt down to unplug the christmas tree, a tinge of melancholy tugging at the corners of your lips as you observed the once-bright lights flicker and fade into darkness. retrieving your keys from the coffee table, you approached the front door and closed it with a resolute click, sealing the chapter of your time within.

as you stepped out into the night, a cool breeze greeted you, whispering a farewell as you pressed the button on your car keys. a satisfying beep resonated from your vehicle, parked diligently in front of your house, punctuating the moment. slipping into the comforting embrace of the front seat, you took a moment to gather yourself, preparing to start the car.

as you make your way to the address, the air is filled with the lively sound of remixed holiday music and laughter. instantly, your energy shifts, and you feel a surge of excitement as you prepare to join the festivities.

upon entering, you find the party in full swing, with vibrant decorations adorning every corner and the delightful hum of friends and acquaintances mingling. across the room, you spot your friend, who eagerly waves you over with a warm smile.

twinkling lights illuminate every room, casting a warm, festive glow. garlands and wreaths, adorned with pinecones, holly berries, and shimmering ornaments, grace the walls and banisters, emanating the scent of fresh pine. the fireplace crackles with a cozy fire, casting dancing shadows on the walls. tables are adorned with holiday-themed centerpieces, featuring arrangements of poinsettias, candles, and miniature winter scenes. delicate snowflake decorations dangle from the ceilings, creating a whimsical atmosphere. everyone arrived dressed in their holiday best. other girls such as yourself don elegant cocktail dresses in rich colors, such as deep reds, emerald greens, and shimmering golds. some opt for fashionable jumpsuits or tailored pantsuits, exuding sophistication and style. the men present sport sharp suits or smart casual attire, complemented by festive touches like velvet blazers or patterned ties.

as you immerse yourself into the party, a profound sense of belonging washes over you. the room echoes with laughter, shared stories that make you blush, and an all-encompassing festive atmosphere. the night unfolds with drinks being passed around, party games igniting the atmosphere, and an abundance of delicious food and desserts to satisfy your cravings. witnessing spontaneous moments like people taking shots of coquito from another's belly button brings a carefree and joyful spirit to the occasion, exactly the kind of fun you needed.

in this lively setting, you let loose, embracing the merriment, and allowing yourself to simply revel in the happiness of the present moment.

as the night draws to a close, you say your goodbyes, feeling a little uplifted. the party had been a perfect distraction, you just dreaded going home to the silence you once shared with your lover.

you smile gratefully at your friend, feeling the warmth the her hug she encases you in. "thank you," you say sincerely. "i really did need this. it was a great distraction, and i had so much fun."

her embrace reminds you of the support and understanding that you have in your life. it's moments like these that make you appreciate the importance of having people to lean on.

returning her hug, you express your gratitude once more. "i'm lucky to have a friend like you. thanks for inviting me and being there for me. it means a lot."

“of course, don’t stress it,” she replies nonchalantly. as she walks you to your car, talking as much as you can before you have to go astray, eventually you part ways with her.

you slip into your car, starting the engine as you embark on the journey back home. the anticipation of returning to the quiet solitude of the house weighs heavily on you. eventually, you navigate through the drive-through and park your car, eager to reach the front door swiftly, mindful of the cold creeping up your bare legs, accentuated by your short dress. with haste, you insert the key into the lock, feeling a sense of relief as the door swings open. stepping inside, you swiftly turn to lock the door behind you, the click of the lock providing a small measure of comfort.

rubbing your tired eyes, exhausted from the emotional roller coaster of the day, you fumble to flip the light switch, craving the clarity of illumination. as the room floods with light, your senses jolt awake at the sight of someone familiar, causing you to momentarily snap out of your weariness.

“leon?” you voice, taken aback by his appearance.

leon stands in the middle of the living room, a mischievous smile on his face. he holds up a bouquet of flowers and a small gift, his eyes filled with warmth and excitement. he looks at you, his voice dripping with charm.

"surprise," he murmurs, a smile forming at the side of his mouth as he spoke. "i couldn't stay away for christmas after all."

your heart skips a beat as you take in the sight of him, unable to believe that he's actually here. the exhaustion and dread you felt just moments ago vanish, replaced by an overwhelming sense of happiness and relief.

you rush towards him, your eyes welling up with tears as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. "leon! i can't believe it! you're really here!" you exclaim, hands practically shaking from the withdrawals of him not being in your grasp for what seemed like months on end.

he holds you close, his embrace reassuring and comforting. "i wanted to surprise you, beautiful," he says softly, his voice filled with affection. "i finished my mission earlier than expected, and there was no way i wasn’t coming back home to you the minute it ended."

you pull back slightly, your eyes searching his face, still in disbelief. "but... how? when did you even...?"

he chuckles, his piercing midnight blue gaze never leaving yours. "i made all the arrangements i needed to keep it a secret. i wanted to see the look on your face when you walked in and found me here."

that was just code for him that he probably drove here early and parked the car a block or four down so you wouldn’t bat an eye at it appearing mysteriously in the driveway which would give his little plan away. a mixture of awe, joy, and gratitude washes over you. you feel truly blessed to have someone like leon in your life, someone who goes above and beyond to make you happy.

"i can't believe you did this," you repeat, beginning to sound like a broken record. "you've truly outdone yourself, leon kennedy."

there it goes, his name leaving your lips once again. nothing made him more tender than hearing you say his name. leon smiles, his eyes twinkling with affection. "you know i would do anything for you."

basking in the joy of being reunited, you can't help but feel a sense of contentment and love.

"i really thought i would be spending another christmas alone this year," you whispered, your voice filled with a mix of surprise and delight. stepping back from the embrace, you allowed yourself a moment to fully absorb the sight before you, taking in every detail of leon.

leon's eyes soften as he looks at you, understanding and empathy shining through. "i'm sorry you had to feel that way, my love," he expressed gently, his voice filled with sincerity. "i never want you to feel alone, especially during the holidays."

he takes a step closer, reaching out to cup your face in his hands. "i know how much this time of year means to you, and i wanted to make sure it was special. you deserve all the love and happiness in the world, and i want to be the one to give it to you."

you lean into his touch, feeling the warmth of his hands against your skin. "you've already made my christmas just by being here," you reply, voice laced with gratitude. "i can't even put into words right now how much it means to me."

he smiles, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek. "you don't have to say anything. seeing your smile and knowing that i could surprise you like this is enough for me. i love you, and i'll always be here for you, no matter what."

you reach up to hold his hand against your face, savoring the moment and the love that surrounds you both. "i love you too, leon."

as you stand there, wrapped in each other's embrace, you can’t help but nuzzle yourself closer to him as if in one blink he’d be gone again.

you peer over to the flowers he had put down to hold you, and next to it a small box. “what’s that pretty little thing you got wrapped?” you inquire.

leon grins mischievously, now holding up the small gift box for you to see. "ah, this? well, that's a little something i picked up for you," he states playfully.

curiosity piqued, you eagerly reach out to take the box from him, as you carefully untie the ribbon and open the lid, revealing a delicate piece of jewelry nestled inside.

"it's a necklace," leon explains, his tone prideful as he was proud to come up with this gift for you. "i saw it and immediately thought of you. i added a little something too, look inside."

you delicately lift the necklace from its cushioned bed, admiring the intricate design and the way it catches the light. your fingertips grace the metal edge of the pendant as you flip it open, revealing a familiar photo of you and leon within. you instantly recognized the photo, a flood of memories rushing back as your eyes fell upon the familiar image. it captured leon perfectly, dressed in his black suit and tie, a visual testament to the moment he officially became an agent after his time as a cop in raccoon city—a chapter of his life that was cut short, to say the least. but your connection with leon had transcended those challenging times, as you had been together even before his days as an agent.

“so you always have me with you when i’m away,” he explains, his eyes creasing a bit from the smile on his face as he studies your features. “do you like it?”

it’s not like you could hear what he was saying as all the background noise felt like muffled echoes as you fixated on the image before you.

"it's beautiful, leon," you whisper, fighting the tears that threaten to trickle down your cheeks. "thank you. i love it."

he comes closer, rubbing the sides of your arms. "i'm glad you like it. i know it doesn’t replace the real thing, and it’s nowhere near close to,” leon affirmed, a laugh escaping his lips from referring to himself so highly. “but it’s something. and if it makes you happy, then i’m happy.”

with a gentle gesture, he extended his hand, delicately draping the necklace around your neck. the weight of the pendant against your skin sent a tingling sensation, as if it carried a significance beyond its physical presence. standing behind you, he carefully lowered it onto your chest, his touch evoking a sense of tenderness and affection. as the clasp secured the necklace, you swiftly turned around, your eyes meeting leon's.

in that fleeting moment, specific emotion could only describe how you felt—love. love for the person standing before you. the necklace settled into its rightful place, a symbol of the connection between your hearts, and you couldn't help but feel overwhelmed by the depth of your feelings.

leaning in, you press a soft kiss against his lips, your heart beating so hard against your chest you feel it might burst. "thank you for everything, leon. you truly are the best gift i could ever ask for."

you go to hug him one more time. leon holds you tightly in his arms, savoring the warmth of your body against his—a sensation he hasn’t felt in a while. "and you are the best gift i could ever ask for too," he replied, touching your heart as corny as it appeared. "being with you is all i need."

you remain intertwined in a tender embrace, savoring the preciousness of the moment and the profound love that envelops you both. as you nestle into each other, you can sense leon's arms enveloping you tighter, his hands gently pressing against the small of your back, conveying a depth of longing and affection that words could never fully capture. in that tranquil moment, you find solace in the knowledge that your connection is unbreakable, and that together, you can weather any storm that comes your way.

as leon's gaze shifts to the clock, his eyes follow each passing second until it finally strikes twelve, signaling the arrival of christmas. with utmost tenderness, he leans in to press a gentle kiss against your forehead, his affectionate gesture filling the room with warmth and love. his voice, as soft and delicate as the snowflakes that dance outside, gently breaks the silence of the room.

"merry christmas, my love," he whispers, his words spoken with a delicate care that wraps around you like a cozy blanket. the air seems to get warmer as he continues, "let's make this one to remember."

and as the joy of the season filled your heart, you knew that this year, your christmas would be anything but blue.

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jeankluv · 8 days

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Birdie - Satoru Gojo | Chapter 05

Words: 4k

Summary: You didn’t like him, at all. But due to your bad luck you would have to be forced to work with him and different circumstances end up leading you to the fact that perhaps the word dislike is not the one you use to describe him.

Warnings for this chapter: panic attacks

Ac: _3aem

Tags: modern au, college au, fem!reader, academic rivals, he fell first, fluff, old money Gojo Satoru, abusive parents, slight slow burn, Satoru is a softy, secondary couple (Geto Suguru x oc), a bit of angst, no use of y/n, hurt/comfort, eventual smut, Gojo plays basketball, Gojo needs a hug

Authors notes: thank you for still supporting this story and for always like and leaving feedback and lovely messages ❤️

Materialist | previous chapter | next chapter

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Haibara's words hit you like a bucket of cold water.

“You also play on the basketball team?” You said with surprise.

Haibara laughed. “Yeah, I´m not as good as my seniors, Gojo and Geto, but I’m also on the team.”

“So obviously…” You sighed. “It’s impossible for us to change our shifts that day right?”

“I’m afraid so.” You looked down, you were really sad. “You have something important that day?”

You shook your head. “I got invited to the match and I wanted to go, but it’s okay! It doesn’t matter if we can’t change shifts.” You smiled.

“You got invited to the match?” He exclaimed and you nobbed in surprise. “I will talk with my grandma, I don't think she will mind if we close the store for one afternoon. Or maybe my sister can come…” He mentioned.

“Please Haibara, there is no need.” You said with worry.

It wasn't necessary for him to do that, there would be other chances to attend a game. Although you were feeling a bit sad for missing out, it wasn't catastrophic. Whether or not you attended didn't hold significant weight. Haibara had gone through the trouble of arranging it all for you, solely because you harbored a desire to fulfill Gojo's request. Goodness, you felt foolish.

“My grandma won’t mind, don’t worry. She adores you and she adores me.” He joked. “Besides it’s just a day, nothing will happen. Once she finds out that is to go to her dear grandson’s basketball match, she might even show up there herself.” He laughed. “Although I know you won’t be watching me.”

“I will also cheer for you Haibara.” You planted your hands on the table and looked at him seriously. “You’re my friend after all, right?”

“You consider me your friend?”

“Of course!”

Haibara shouted your name and hugged you tightly. “You are my friend too. I will present to you my friends from the team, although you already know a few of them.”

“Alright.” You grinned.

Haibara bid you farewell and exited the grocery store. Now you understood why he was always in a hurry; it was for his basketball practices. Retrieving your cell phone from your pocket, you messaged Kyoko that it were most likely going to the match too. The match was scheduled for Friday, and today being Wednesday, you wished you had discussed it with Haibara earlier, but time had been scarce for a calm conversation.

Despite the usual midweek routine, Gojo remained his typical self, yet you couldn't shake the feeling that he was concealing something behind his playful smile. Though hesitant to inquire, you continued studying, occasionally seeking clarification from him on various matters that crossed your mind during your free moments together.

You spent the afternoon attending to customers until Kyoko arrived; that day, she had promised to pick you up to go home together. You closed the shop, and Kyoko took hold of your arm to draw you closer as you walked towards home.

“You won't believe this.” She smiled, showing her teeth and squinting her eyes. You turned your head to look at her. “Suguru gave me his jersey; he wants me to wear it in the game.” She said with excitement.

“Really?” You said in amazement, to which she nodded eagerly. “Wow, Kyoko, are you two not officially dating yet?”

Kyoko shook her head. “Not yet, but I think we're heading in the right direction.” She sighed and whispered your name. “Do you think it can work out this time?”

“Yes.” You said firmly. “Suguru is not like the jerk…” You left the sentence hanging, recalling how Kyoko felt talking about that. “You know. The times I see you both, you seem genuinely happy, and Kyoko, believe me, the way Suguru looks at you is like the gaze of a romantic movie protagonist.”

When you met Kyoko, she was dating a guy whose name filled you with disgust. They had been together before entering high school. Kyoko was truly in love, while he was a complete jerk who was capable of cheating on her with more than five girls in just one month.

You still remember Kyoko's inconsolable crying when she found out, lamenting whether she wasn't enough for that pig. You recall seeing her light dim and her confidence shattered. That's why when you saw him on campus, you couldn't help but beat him up; at that moment, you didn't care about the possibility of being expelled or reprimanded, you were tired of seeing your best friend cry in corners because of that pig.

Fortunately, Kyoko moved forward, and that jerk transferred to another college. Since then, Kyoko had regained her confidence and her radiance; you only hoped and wished that Suguru Geto wouldn't do anything like that to her, not even close, or else you would do what you did back then all over again.

Both of you arrived at Kyoko’s home and greeted her parents, who were waiting for you to eat dinner. At that moment, you felt the need to cry but hold it back all together, you didn’t like crying in front of people.

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･'･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

In the blink of an eye, game day arrived, and Kyoko and you headed to where it would be held. There were quite a few university students, including professors. But it wasn't surprising after all, your basketball team was quite famous.

You sat next to Kyoko on the bench, positioned not too far from the playground, offering an optimal view of the players. It seemed likely they could spot you too. Kyoko brimmed with excitement for the match, donning the t-shirt Suguru had gifted her, emblazoned with his name and number. To an outsider, it might seem as though they were already a couple, but Kyoko insisted they were merely in the process of getting to know each other.

You glanced around, taking in the scene. It was your first attendance at one of the college basketball team's games. Yet, you were keenly aware that almost the entire college turned out for these matches due to their exceptional prowess. They rarely suffered defeat.

Apparently the team they would face that day was from Kyoto college, the only thing you knew was what Kyoko had told you and it seemed last year they faced each other in a final or something like that, the truth is you had not understood very well. Nonetheless, your team won, although with some difficulty.

You noticed how Kyoko grabbed your hand and rested his head on your shoulder, while she raised and lowered her leg nervously.

“Kyoko, relax.” You tried to calm her down. “They will probably win.”

“I’m not nervous for the match. Suguru said he wanted to talk with me after the match.”

You slightly opened your mouth in surprise. “Oh… maybe it’s the day Kyoko!”

“Maybe!” She smiled. “But still I’m really nervous.”

“It will be fine.” You tried to calm her.

The whistle signaling the start of the game brought you back to where you were. Kyoko squeezed your hand tightly, her eyes fixed on Suguru Geto. On the other hand, you watched the game, paying attention to most players. Haibara was among them, visibly happy to be there. There was also the blond guy you had seen with Haibara outside the store that time – what was his name? Nanamin? Yes, that might be it.

But without a doubt, you were consciously avoiding fixing your eyes on a white-haired guy. Though it was relatively impossible as he stood out on his own, and the entire venue went crazy whenever he touched the ball.

He was good, or so you thought, considering your limited knowledge of basketball. Yet, the way he moved, handled the ball, and shot was exquisite to watch.

Oh God! What are you thinking?

You shook your head to dispel those thoughts, trying to avoid looking at him. Your foolish mind led you to think things you shouldn't.

You shifted your gaze to the scoreboard – 34-27 in favor of Tokyo. You were winning.

The game continued, intensifying with each passing moment, causing the crowd to become even more excited in the action.

During one of the timeouts, as Kyoko commented on how handsome Suguru looked in his uniform and sighed, your eyes drifted across the team, catching the direct gaze of Gojo's blue eyes.

A pang in your heart made you immediately turn your head away. His gaze had been soft and warm, causing you to feel nervous, even from five meters away.

Feeling flustered by the unexpected encounter, you tried to focus on Kyoko's words, but the image of Gojo's penetrating gaze lingered in your mind. The intensity of his eyes seemed to convey a message you couldn't decipher, stirring up a whirlwind of emotions within you.

As the timeout ended and the game resumed, you found it difficult to shake off the lingering effect of Gojo's gaze.

With just a few minutes left for the game to end, both teams were tied. You and Kyoko gripped each other's hands, eagerly awaiting a decisive move.

The ball moved swiftly between players. Eventually, it landed in Suguru's hands. Realizing the dwindling time, he swiftly passed it to Gojo. Could he make the shot from that distance?

The court fell into silence as Gojo launched the ball towards the basket. Your breath caught as you followed the ball's trajectory – one spin, then another. When the buzzer sounded, the ball found its mark.

The arena erupted in cheers and applause, celebrating the victory of the University of Tokyo. You and Kyoko embraced, jumping with joy.

Your university had won.

“Can you believe we won? Suguru was incredible out there!” Kyoko screamed, jumping on her place.

You nodded, but your gaze involuntarily wandered towards Gojo, who was now surrounded by his teammates.

“What's on your mind? You seem a bit distracted.”

You hesitated before replying, “I... noticed something during the game.”

Kyoko raised an eyebrow. “What? The handsome players?”

You chuckled nervously, “No, it's just... Nothing, it doesn’t matter.” You shook your head.

“You sure?”

You nodded, trying to brush it off, but the memory of Gojo's gaze lingered, leaving you with a sense of intrigue amid the celebration.

Both of you stood up and headed outside; Kyoko needed to talk to Suguru before you went home. You walked to the exit where the players were leaving and waited. A smile spread across your face as you saw Suguru approaching you both.

“There is your man.” You gave her a light elbow nudge, and she blushed. “Go on. Then you have to fill me in on everything.” You warned her.

Kyoko started walking and smiled at you. “You know I will.”

You watched as your best friend approached Suguru and congratulated him on the victory. If it weren't for the fact that it was real life, you'd think you were watching a romantic movie from the '90s, the way Suguru had taken your best friend's hand and led them away from the crowd. You could almost vomit rainbows at that moment.

You pulled out your phone from your bag and checked the time, 21:45. It was still early.

“You came.” You heard a voice behind you. You knew whose voice it was; you could recognize it almost anywhere.

The voice of the person you had been trying to avoid making eye contact with all night, and the same voice that had now caused your heart to beat a little faster. Would it beat even faster if you looked into his eyes?

“Well…” You turned to face him; he still had his uniform on, and his hair was wet. Damn. “You invited me to the game, didn't you? It was the least I could do for my private tutor and project partner.”

Gojo simply smiled at you. “We have some soda if you want.” He pointed to where the rest of the players were.

You shook your head. “I'm good, but thanks.” You played with your hands and looked at the ground; for the first time, you felt embarrassed about what you were about to say. “You played really well, Gojo. It was very... very good. You were good, I guess.”

“Birdie…” You lifted your gaze and realized he was incredibly close to you again. “Are you free now?”

“Um…” You hesitated. You were, but... “I'm waiting for Kyoko.”

Gojo cleared his throat and grinned. “Then you're free. Those two lovebirds will take a while.” Gojo stood next to you and took hold of your arm. “Come on, I want to take you somewhere.”

“Wait, Gojo.” You tried to free yourself from his grip. “Are you going like this?” You looked him up and down.

“Yes, why?” He checked himself. “This is my other uniform, and I've showered.”

“Oh.” You nodded. "I thought..."

"You thought I'd take you around all sweaty?" You averted your gaze, avoiding his. "You can see me sweaty under different circumstances..."

You pulled away from his grip and looked at him with a furrowed brow. “No, thanks.”

“I meant during basketball practice.” He teased you. “You thought wrong.” And you couldn't help but blush.

Gojo grabbed your arm and practically dragged you to the parking lot. You could feel people's gaze on you, which wasn't hard considering Gojo drew too much attention, much to your dismay. Most looks were curious, although many would have buried you alive if they could.

Gojo stopped in front of the black car he had taken you in before. You didn't know much about cars, but you were sure it was expensive. He let go of your arm and opened the trunk, searching for something. Then he pulled out a hoodie and handed it to you, and you frowned at him.

“You've been shivering since we left the venue.” He said, offering it again. “It might be colder where we're going.”

“Thanks... I guess.” You whispered as you took the hoodie. “But I don't understand why you want to take me somewhere. Kyoko will be looking for me.” You protested.

“I already told Suguru, I'm sure he's told Kyoko. So relax.” He shrugged.

“I still don't understand why you want to take me somewhere.” You sighed.

“Simply because I want to, birdie.” He put his hands on his hips. “I… I'd like to show you something.”

“Gojo, if you try anything, even the slightest thing, I won't hesitate with you.” You looked him in the eyes.

“I know, and I won't do anything you don't want.” He smiled. “Shall we go now?”

“Yeah…” You looked carefully at his face, noticing how the wounds were almost gone. “Your wounds… you treated them?” Gojo nodded, touching his face a little bit. “That’s good, I’m glad.”

“Oh birdie, is worried about me.” Gojo teased you.

You rolled your eyes and said nothing. Because in fact a part of you was worried about him but saying it out loud didn’t feel right.

You put on the hoodie he gave you, it was warm, and Gojo's scent filled your nostrils. It was too big for you, but it covered your thighs a bit. You got into Gojo's car and fastened your seatbelt.

Before Gojo got in too, you quickly sent a message to Kyoko.

You to Kyoko ☀️

If anything happens to me, it was Gojo.

I love you

Gojo hopped into the driver's seat, starting the car with a confident grin. As he drove away, Gojo seemed oddly focused on the road, a stark contrast to his usual carefree demeanor.

You watched outside the window and observed the city lights were starting to fade, distancing yourselves from the bustling Tokyo and entering a quieter place. That was the feeling as you looked through the window of Gojo's car.

The soft lights of fireflies illuminated the road. Gojo kept his eyes on the road, and the silence in the car wasn't awkward. In fact, you didn't feel uncomfortable being with him. It's true that he annoyed you, and often you couldn't stand him, but discomfort wasn't present.

Admitting it aloud was a challenge, but slowly, Satoru Gojo was earning your appreciation, even though you always proceeded with caution, carefully observing his actions.

It had been 30 minutes since you got into Gojo's car when the speed began to decrease; it seemed you had arrived at the place. A strange sensation took hold of you; you didn't know what it was, but it was there.

You got out of the car, just like Gojo, and waited for him to reach your side.

“We have to walk a bit, but I swear it'll be worth it.” He smiled and started walking ahead of you.

You didn't say anything and simply followed him; Gojo walked with determination and confidence in every step he took, regardless of the fact that the only light available was from the flashlights on your phones.

“I used to come here when I was little.” He broke the silence. “And then when I got older too, it helped me clear my mind and relax.” He looked over his shoulder at you and smiled.

You continued walking until you finally reached the place. The moon was reflected in the crystal-clear water of the lake, displaying a beautiful view.

“Tara!” Gojo sang, spreading his arms and smiling. “It's incredible that a place like this exists near Tokyo; it's wonderful.”

You wanted to say yes, it was, but that feeling in your stomach was back, and your head was throbbing.

“Birdie…?” You noticed Gojo looking at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“I’m tired…” You said. “Sorry…”

“No, don't be…” He shook his head. “Why don’t we go and sit over there?” He pointed at a bench near the lake.

You nodded and started walking towards the bench. You didn’t quite know what got into you but it was an uncomfortable sensation that wanted to break out.

Gojo sat next to you and you noticed how he started to play with his fingers. Was he nervous?

“Gojo…” You broke the silence.

“I’m sorry.” He cut you. “I’m sorry, you told me you didn’t feel like coming and still I brought you here, without caring. You probably wanted to get home and rest. Shit…” He held his head between his hands. “You are always working so hard and already came to see the match although you had to work and here I’m bringing you here when you are tired.”

You looked at him attentively; it wasn't necessary for him to react like this. He didn't need to worry so much about you.

“Gojo.” You whispered, gently touching his shoulder. “It's okay, don't worry. I just started getting a headache.”

He removed his hands from his head and looked at you before returning his gaze to the lake.

“I always come here when I need to clear my head.” He whispered. “When classes get too much or after training.”

Who would've thought, the great Satoru Gojo would be overwhelmed. You never would've been able to tell.

“Lately, I've been coming here too often, to be honest.” He whispered.

“Are classes getting to you?” You asked out of curiosity.

“Not exactly, it's more family problems.”

“Oh... I understand.”

“You know, when I was a kid, I used to sneak out and come here.” He smiled and looked at you. “When my parents scolded me or we argued, I'd grab my bike and come here.”

“You came here as a child alone?" You said in surprise, the place was a bit far away for a kid to come on their own.

“Yeah, they didn't care.” He said with a sad smile.

“Gojo…” You said concern, Gojo was opening to you in a way you wouldn’t have thought he would.

“But it's okay, I could relax here, and one day, I met someone.” He turned to look at you with a smile.

Gojo continued talking but you struggled to maintain focus, the intensity of the memories threatening to overwhelm you. His lips moved, forming words you couldn't decipher over the deafening roar in your ears.

A sharp pain shot through your head, causing you to wince and clutch at your temples. It felt like your skull was being crushed in a vice, the pressure unbearable. Breathing became a struggle, each inhale feeling like a futile attempt to fill your lungs with air.

The memories flooded back with relentless force, each fragment adding to the torment. You remembered the bright sunshine glinting off the surface of the lake, the sound of your mother's voice calling your name.

And then, the screech of tires, the sickening crunch of metal, the scream of terror that ripped through the air. You remembered the impact, the sensation of being thrown, the blinding pain as your body collided with something hard and unforgiving.

But amidst the chaos and confusion, one image stood out with stark clarity: your mother, her arms wrapped around you, shielding you from harm with her last breath.

Tears blurred your vision as you struggled to make sense of it all, the weight of grief and loss crushing you with its unbearable heaviness. You felt like you were drowning in a sea of sorrow, unable to find solid ground to anchor yourself.

“Birdie…” You could hear Gojo calling your nickname and your name.

You were having a panic attack?

“Are you okay?” Gojo's concerned voice broke through the haze, his hand reaching out to steady you.

You blinked, trying to focus on his face through the blur of tears and agony. It was all too much to bear, the weight of the past pressing down on you like a suffocating blanket.

“I... I…” Your words came out as a choked whisper, your voice trembling with the effort to contain the overwhelming pain.

Without another word, Gojo wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close in a comforting embrace. In that moment, his presence was a lifeline amidst the storm of your shattered memories.

Gojo's arms held you warmly and tightly, as if he wanted to remove the pain you were currently feeling from your body and mind.

That's when you realized how shitty you had been. Satoru Gojo had cried hugging you and at that moment you had not been able to do anything for him, instead you stayed silent like the coward you were.

Gojo was the opposite of you, he was what you wanted to be, open, positive, energetic, sympathetic but you were far from it.

“Birdie?” His voice was gentle, filled with concern, as he steadied you.

You blinked back tears, not wanting Gojo to see you cry, and trying to find the words to express the turmoil inside. “I... I need…”

“It’s okay…” He whispered, still embracing you. “I think the best is to leave.”

You simply nodded. Gojo separated from you and stood up first, feeling the warmth you had felt previously disappear.

As you looked up, you saw Gojo's hand extended towards you. On another occasion, you would have rejected it and said something to him, but in that moment you just wanted to feel the calm and warmth you had experienced next to his body.

You grabbed Gojo's hand and walked in silence to the car. In a way, you were anxious and felt that if you got into the car after remembering what you had remembered, you might have another panic attack. But if you stayed at the lake, you didn't think you could be calm. Anyway, all you wanted at that moment was to get away from there.

“Birdie…” Gojo's gentle voice brought you out of your thoughts.

You looked at him and saw the sadness and concern in his face.

“I'm fine.” You forced a smile, knowing he didn't buy it when he held your gaze. “Really, how about you invite me to dinner?” You tried to change the subject. “I'm starving.” You touched your stomach.

Gojo's features relaxed for a moment and he nodded. “Okay…” He opened the car door. “Pick any place you want, it doesn't matter. I'll take you.”

You nodded with a smile.

The drive was quiet, the only sound was the hum of the radio. You stole glances at Gojo, noting the tension in his posture and the furrow of his brow. Despite your attempts to lighten the mood, you could tell that he was still worried about you.

You wanted to assure him that he didn’t have to worry about you.

Notes: if you want to be tagged, just comment below 🤗

Tagged: @lavender-hvze, @crybabytoru, @sanriosatoru, @norvacaine, @sadmonke, @faetoraa , @hexipessimistic, @gojoful

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otonymous · 2 years

Text

Caught Between a Wall and a Hard Dick (Grayson) (DC Nightwing - NSFW) - Kinktober 2022

Description:

(First posted on Pa*t*reon (pls see link in pinned post)! - early access Sept 25/22)

Kinktober 2022 Prompt #1: STUCK IN A WALL (aka kabeshiri - yeah, I had to look this one up LOL)

Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language and mature themes - reader discretion is advised. Potential trigger warnings include: outdoor sex (in a sense lol), being stuck in a wall/"glory hole" type situation, some bits faintly wavering towards dub-con, mentions of masturbation, brief mention of edging

Word Count: ~3700 words (I promised myself I would keep these to 1500 words max. Didn't happen. Story of my life 😂)

Author's Note:

Hello lovelies!

Hope October is treating you well so far! 💕 Since we are dealing with more mature topics (Kinktober being the name of the game and all 🤣), please check out the warnings listed above! That being said, please know that this fic is absolutely ridiculous, and I laughed myself silly writing it. All in all, a good time was had. I hope you will have fun reading this one, my friends!

-XOXO, Otonny 🥰💕

PS: Please suspend your disbelief and just imagine for one hot second that triple woven kevlar can be ripped by the bare hands of one super horny superhero. Thanks! 🤩🤣

“Okay, on the count of three. One, two, three!“

“Ow…ow! Ouch! Stop! Nightwing, stop!”

“This isn’t working. Thank god Batman isn’t here to see this.”

“This wouldn’t have happened if Batman were here in the first place. He’d use the door, like a relatively normal person would, not try to show off by somersaulting through a hole in the wall. Stop laughing, Dick!“

“All right, I’m sorry,” Nightwing wheezes in between peals of laughter, broad shoulders shaking as he tries to catch his breath. “To be fair, no one told you to follow me through the hole. Also, ‘Batman’ and ‘normal’ have no business being in the same sentence together.”

“I thought I could make it. Clearly, I was wrong. Damn these birthing hips!”

You struggle some more, kevlar gloves gripping onto brick for purchase as you attempt to push, pull, do anything to free the lower half of your body from the wall it was currently stuck in, your ego now thoroughly bruised in light of your previous declaration that you could do anything Nightwing was capable of doing.

So when tonight’s training consisted of you keeping up with him as he raced across the rooftops of Blüdhaven, you followed close behind, fighting to keep your breath even and steady as you ran, swung, flipped and jumped, doing so well at keeping pace that even you were surprised until Nightwing jumped — no, glided — through a hole in a wall on the rooftop of an apartment building, his form so perfect, he made it look like child’s play, so easy that anyone could do it…

…or so you thought until you got stuck, reality hitting hard in the form of a vice-like squeeze about your hips by brick and cement that refused to budge.

And now, your ass was literally an easy target, vulnerable and exposed to the dark night beyond while the upper half of your body fumed at one costumed Dick Grayson, still snickering in the stairwell of the decrepit apartment complex.

“Okay, so I need a bit more training before I can come out patrolling with you. I get it. But can you please stop laughing and help pull me out before someone comes?! I don’t want to have to fabricate some weird sex fetish to explain why I’m wearing a mask and cape.”

“All right, just relax. I’m moving. Guess I’ll have to use the door this time.”

Dick draws out of sight and then you hear a click and thud, the heavy steel door echoing down the stairwell though Nightwing had done his best to let it close softly behind him.

You can sense his approach: the faint vibrations of his footsteps on the tarmac, the quiet rustle of limbs heard so faintly through cracks in the wall one might have missed it if one hadn’t been trained to listen.

You imagine Dick, his blue eyes behind the mask trained intently on your ass and you cannot keep a sudden rush of heat from rising to the surface of your skin, cheeks burning in a way you wanted to think had absolutely nothing to do with how close he was likely standing to you now, the sharp V of his hips level with your jutting rear end, scratching his chin as he contemplated how best to free you short of blowing up the wall and waking up everyone in a three-mile radius.

“Hey Nightwing, everything okay out there?”

You try to keep your voice as low as possible, but cringe at the way it still echoed in that stairwell, the acoustics absolutely perfect for a Black Canary performance.

“Ahem, uh, yeah. Just, uh, trying to figure out the best way to…dislodge you.”

“Not to seem ungrateful or demanding, but could you please hurry it up? Believe it or not, this position’s not exactly comfortable.”

And it was true. Just not necessarily in the way it would seem.

It wasn’t so much the physical strain of being bent over and stuck that presented a problem; Dick had trained you well enough in the gym and out in the field that maintaining this position for an extended period of time wasn’t an issue. Rather, it was the thought that his undivided attention was now focused on your ass; that he would have to put hands on your hips and thighs in order to free you from your prison. Even thinking about this set your nerves on edge, reminding you of the time Dick had accidentally touched your breast in the midst of practicing an aerial maneuver.

At that time, he gave no indication he had even noticed what had happened, occupied as he was on making sure he caught you before you had the chance to fall to your death on a pile of overflowing trash bins sixteen stories below.

But you, you had burned red beneath your mask, thanking god all the while for the fact that it was too dark for him to really see your face.

Although, you suppose he could with those infrared cameras he had built into his mask…

Never mind.

You weren’t going to think about that. And you definitely weren’t going to ruminate on the excitement you felt to have his hand on your breast. Or how large and manly they looked whenever he peeled his gloves off at the end of a long night of patrolling, right before reaching into the cupboard for a box of sugary kid’s cereal as a snack before collapsing into bed.

No, you were determined not to think of those twilight hours spent lying awake in the room next to his, wondering if Dick could somehow sense your heart pounding through paint and drywall as your fingers traipsed beneath the waistband of your pyjama bottoms to pretend your hand was his, rubbing insistent circles over the wetness that would inevitably pool between your legs every time you thought of him:

Dick Grayson. Nightwing. Your mentor and partner in the fight against crime.

NO.

Now is neither the time nor place, you scold yourself, steering your thoughts towards the more pressing matter of why you could no longer hear him on the other side of the wall.

“Um, Nightwing, is everything okay? Are you all right?!” you ask, panic starting to set in to think that somehow, unbeknownst to you and the upper half of your body, trouble had come calling for your partner and booty.

Though presumably, you would’ve heard something. The wall did have a hole large enough for a person to slip through (albeit not one with hips that Shakira would’ve been proud of). And Nightwing was more than capable of taking care of himself in any situation. So what, then, was the cause of the radio silence? The fact that you could no longer sense any movement behind you?

“You’ve torn your suit.”

“What?!”

Voice catching in your throat, your strangled reply echoes like a ghoul in the night. It wasn’t so much your outfit that you were concerned about — that triple woven kevlar could somehow rip without your knowledge. What you did find concerning however, was the way Nightwing was now behaving: strangely out-of-character.

“Right…” he continues, voice barely audible on the other side of the wall. “…here.”

GASP!

You clap a hand over your mouth, attempting to muffle the sound that escaped the moment you felt his touch: one long finger running along the seam that joined your skintight suit down the middle, sliding down the small of your back and over the curved crevice of your backside to close in on the heat between your legs.

You start to sweat, temperature suddenly spiking in reaction to the weird turn of events — as if the night could get any more bizarre. Holding your breath, you wait for Dick to crack a joke; say something lighthearted to ease the tension like he could always be counted on to do. Except this time, he doesn’t. This time, he says:

“This is dangerous. Your suit is compromised. We need to fix this. Immediately.”

Different. Darker. Dick’s voice is even lower now in both tone and volume, so much so that you have to strain your ears to hear him. The measure of his words is slow and sure, and it makes you twitch, hips shifting in an animal inclination to wiggle your ass in order to please him.

“Wh-what do you suppose we do?” you ask, palms planting on your side of the brick wall so as to exaggerate the curve of your back.

In your mind’s eye, you imagine Dick’s breath catching — much the same way it did that time he accidentally caught you running naked from the shower to your bedroom because it was laundry day and you had forgotten to replace the towels in the bathroom you shared as roommates.

For a moment, he had stood frozen: mouth open and blue eyes fixed to your bare breasts, the creamsicles he had left the apartment a few minutes ago to procure for the two of you dripping down both hands. And then, he had abruptly turned his back to you, muttering something about chasing down ice cream trucks that didn’t want to stop.

But you had caught it: the desire in his eyes.

Undeniable, like the flush creeping up his cheeks or the tent in his jeans before he spewed “Sorry-i-didn’t-see-anything” and ducked into his room, pulling the door closed behind him with his foot because he was still holding on to two melting lumps of citrus-flavoured ice cream.

It was the elephant in the room. The big, unspoken cloud that constantly hung over the two of you when you weren’t preoccupied with discussing training plans or the moves of petty criminals and supervillains, a topic neither dared to broach because it would make things way too messy, too complicated…

…too good to be true?

Was it really too good to be true? And if so, how good? you can’t help thinking, having left the ball in Dick’s court and waiting with bated breath for his next move.

“I think there’s only one thing to do to get you out of this sticky situation.”

More rustling of limbs behind you. Perhaps your partner moving in close, kneeling to get a better look at what he was dealing with. Which could only mean one thing:

Dick’s face was now in your ass.

He touches you and you jolt, feeling the slip of his finger through the rip in your suit, right at the junction of your thighs. You wonder if Dick could feel it — the soaked gusset of your panties. But the suspense lasts for all of a second before he mutters,

“God, you’re wet,”

and adds a second finger to the first, Nightwing gripping onto your suit to tear it down the middle in one swift motion, exposing your flimsy panties to the night.

Throb.

Legs growing weak, you lose your balance for a moment, falling into the brick at the waist. Your clit pulses at what had just transpired, ushering in a new wave of wetness that threatens to spill down your thighs.

“There. Now that part of your suit has been removed, try squeezing through the hole on your side.”

It was bullshit and you knew it. The suit was thin to begin with; shaving off a few millimetres wasn’t going to do much. But you obey regardless, moving your hips from side to side in a manner so suggestive you felt your nipples harden to think of the effect it must’ve been having on Dick.

“Like this?”

Laying it on thick, you feign innocence in an attempt to see how far the charade would take you.

“Yeah, just like that. But it’s not good enough. I think we ought to get rid of this too.”

And just like that, your panties fall away with another unceremonious rip.

“There. Spread your legs. Wider. Yes, like that. Try moving now.”

It was insanity.

How his instructions aroused you so, even with Dick’s voice muffled and muted behind a brick wall. You couldn’t see him, and he had barely even touched you aside from doing what he needed to do to tear off your panties and the bottom half of your suit. And yet, he had you on edge, every shake and tremble of your body foreshadowing a climax so intense it threatened to make you scream so loudly it would wake everyone in the building.

The evening air blew cool across your skin, a contrast with the wet heat radiating out from between your legs, obediently spread for your mentor’s inspection; a crude reminder that you had an audience.

So you put on a show, exaggerating the arch of your back as you walk your hands further down towards the base of the wall, playing up the angle of your ass in an attempt to beckon, to entice…

…to prod Dick into crossing the tension-filled line the two of you had been toeing for months now.

“It’s still not working. I think I need a push. A thrust from behind.“

There. The final nail in the coffin.

All Nightwing needed to move.

You can hear it, sense it; the flurry of activity as a half-step brings him towards you: the cool sensation of Dick’s dark suit as he pressed his hips into your bare skin, the familiar sound of a glove slipping off before his palm is resting on the small of your back, a shudder of breath rising from the cavity of his chest, escaping in a soft hiss the moment he feels the touch of you, skin to skin.

He really was so obvious.

“Are you sure about this? I-I can always try the explosives, if you want—“

And a gentleman through and through.

“Just fuck me, Dick Grayson.”

Another intake of breath, sharp this time, and Nightwing’s moan transforms into a growl, low and guttural. You bite down hard onto your lower lip, doing your best not to draw blood though it was imperative that you did not scream. But the feeling of Dick’s lips on your body — tracing kisses in arcs that rounded the flesh of your ass before traversing the sensitive skin of your inner thighs — made it difficult not to, especially when they grew in urgency, his tongue extending to lap the length of your slit, the heat of his breath combining with an appreciative hum that you felt more than heard, thrumming through your core.

“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmy—“

You barely recognized the sound of your own voice: pitched high and growing in desperation by the second in a way you knew would make you cringe later on to remember when you were dressed more casually in a t-shirt and jeans. Because there was no way you’d ever forget the way this felt: Dick’s tongue laving slow before flicking fast across your swollen clit, the man’s mouth on your pussy nothing less than pure magic in the way he brought you just to the edge of orgasm before backing off, teasing you in this way over and over again.

They said he was a pretty boy with a face too handsome to shoot, a man who had no trouble scoring even after having made some bad life decisions, like wearing green pixie boots, or even sporting a mullet. It didn’t hurt either that he could easily count his rear end among his best “ass”-ets: pert and ample and shapely enough to fill out his suit like nobody’s business. But it was only now that you were realizing that when it came to Nightwing, looks were only a tiny part of the equation.

Because the way he worked you over was almost criminal — sinful with how good it felt to be at his complete mercy that you were actually thankful to have gotten stuck. Having sat himself between the wall and your thighs, Dick ate you out with gusto, his fingers busy kneading the flesh of your ass when they weren’t sliding into your pussy, taking turns in competing with his tongue to see which could elicit the most salacious moans from your lips.

“Better keep it quiet over there. Don’t wanna wake the neighbours.”

The smirk is obvious in the voice of the hypocrite who shamelessly chose to ignore the wet sounds he himself was producing with his head between your legs, Dick lapping with abandon as his fingers gripped onto your hips, encouraging you to rest more of your weight onto that handsome face.

Your breasts ache within the confines of your suit, sorely missing the action on the other side of the wall. In desperation, you touch yourself, trying in vain to feel pinches and caresses through material that just refused to give. Frustration mounting, you accidentally let out a petulant whine — much to your horror.

Whining was never your thing.

But then again, neither was having sex through a hole in a wall.

“Baby, if you wanted more, just ask.”

Baby? BABY?! Did having midnight sex on a rooftop in the heart of Blüdhaven mean that you and Dick were at the point where terms of endearment were allowed? Also, how was it possible that the word sounded a million times sexier coming from his mouth?!

Dick pulls away and there is more shuffling, more movement. You imagine him pulling down the bottom half of his suit until it sits below the diamond-cut V of his hips, the sleek black second-skin hugging the rounded curves of his perfect glutes. You imagine his tights bunched around the bulky musculature of his thighs, the same ones you covertly juiced over every time it was leg day at the gym.

You had always wondered whether he wore underwear beneath that unforgiving suit, and if so, how it was even possible for him to hide those lines. For now, however, you were content with settling for the image of Dick Grayson pulling out his, well, dick, and slowly stroking from base to tip and back again, a smile on his lips as he contemplated the messy smear of your wet pussy, spread wide and waiting beneath the hazy glow of the city’s ambient light.

“You ready for your second lesson of the night?” he asks.

“Second lesson? What was the first?”

“Not to jump through holes in walls unless you’re absolutely sure you can make it.”

You’re so lucky I’m horny as fuck right now, you grit your teeth. “Right, of course, Professor Nightwing. And what’s the second lesson?”

“I’m gonna teach you how to be quiet in any situation. Now get ready for a pop quiz.”

THRUST!

Gasp!

You almost choke on it; the air that catches in your throat the moment Dick enters you fully with a single thrust of his powerful hips. You can feel him, the base of his cock flush against your body, your walls pulsing in reaction to the sudden intrusion of his length, his hardness, his girth, Dick’s fingers spreading your cheeks wider as he attempted to bury himself even further.

“Keep quiet now. Not a peep, understood? Or else it’ll be an F for you. And I know you don’t like to fail. Isn’t that right, teacher’s pet? Yes, that’s what I thought. Such a good kitty.”

Dick reaches down as he says this, hand between your legs; petting and teasing as his fingers skirt over your clit in an attempt to see how wet you could get, how tightly your walls could squeeze around him.

He settles index and thumb in a crescent about the circumference of his cock as he picks up speed, savouring the feel of your delicate skin stretched thin and wide around his body, every stroke dislodging more and more of your mutual arousal, the creamy evidence eliciting a guttural moan from the man that you considered entirely unfair when you were forced to keep quiet in a stairwell that possessed the acoustics of an opera house.

“This feels incredible. You are incredible,” Nightwing sighs, stopping to pull back for a moment, as if to admire the sight of your pussy trembling from his administrations, right before diving back in with renewed speed and vigour to make you clench both hands into fists, biting your lower lip until it was blanched of blood. “God, I could fuck you all night. All day too, for that matter.”

Dick Grayson had always been chatty. Apparently, sex was no exception. It made you blush; every sweet, filthy word falling from his lips adding so much to the lasciviousness of the situation that you weren’t sure which turned you on more: the way his cock managed to hit just the right angle at just the right time, or the way he played with your mind, his verbal calisthenics every bit a match for his physical prowess.

And though you did your best to stay quiet on your side of the wall, the lower half of your body was a different matter — arousal made obvious to your partner with every slick slide of his cock in and out of your body, the wet sounds of your copious juices dripping down to smear the insides of your thighs and across the hard, muscular plane of Dick’s groin.

Nightwing was right. It felt incredible. Even when stuck in a wall, he could’ve fucked you all day and night and you’d still want more, eager and willing to take him deeply into yourself, to have Dick do whatever he wanted with you. Because you trusted him like you trusted no other:

You trusted him with your life.

And perhaps it is this very thought that sends you, makes you feel free to let go; stepping off the ledge of control to let the most intense orgasm of your life take you.

Dick fucks through it: pushing through the clenching pulse of your walls around him, your pussy milking his cock as he neared his own completion.

But not before he gives you one hard, final thrust from behind.

Because Nightwing — always dutiful, always resourceful — would never leave his partner hanging, stuck in a brick wall with her bare ass exposed.

And right before you pass out from the arrival of a second orgasm coming fast on the tail end of the first, you feel it:

Your hips finally sliding through the hole…

…and your head meeting the ground.

And one Dick Grayson muttering:

“Oh shit.”

Ahahahaha!! Hope y'all enjoyed that ending! 🤣 Thank you so much for reading till the very end! Much love to each and every one of you! For more juicy reads, please check out my P*a*t*reon page (please see link in pinned post)!

👀👉🏼 Feel free to peep the Masterpost here!

-XOXO, Otonny 💖🥰

(Illustration taken from Nightwing Cover #88 by Bruno Redondo)

#nightwing #dick grayson #nightwing smut #nightwing fic #dick grayson smut #dick grayson fic #batfam #batfam fic #dc universe #dc comics #dc #my writing #kinktober 2022 #dc smut

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yuis-art · 9 months

Text

🏋🏼‍♀️ Gym Trainer!Abby x Fem! Plus size Reader 🏋🏼‍♀️

Part 2!

< Hi everyone! Sorry it took me so long to make a part 2! <3 I got a little busy with work and stuff! But without further ado here u go!! Also I May draw something for this! Like I could draw scenes for u guys and imma post them with the fics! >

Word count: 1.5k!

Proof read: a little!

No use of y/n!

Part one: here!

Part three: here!

< btw sorry if my writing is a bit wonky! I never really written fanfics before!! >

🩷🩷🩷

You’re sitting in your car, contemplating; waiting on Nora to get here. You text her.

You: Nora? You here? I’m not walking in unless you’re here.

Nora: sorry i won’t be there today! Something came up, i got called into work, sorry dude. :/

Your face drops. ‘Oh my god oh my god, i have to take the class by myself, NONONO.’ You begin thinking and you end calming yourself down.

You: it’s ok :((!

Nora: I’m sorry girl, but you got this, i promise abby is nice. She’s cool. Trust 🤞🏾

You look at the door and sigh hevaily in the car. “Ok.” You get out and grab your gym bag and your phone. Your making your way to the doors and peek in only a little. It’s nice. The walls are a soft blue with a light pale yellow mix. It’s pretty small but you’re glad, at least it’s not huge gym. “Hi! How are you?” A girl at the front desk smiles at you. “H-hi.” You walk in and adjust your bag. “I-I’m looking for Abby.”

“Yeah, just sign in right here and then just head down that hall and turn to your left!” She smiles and walks away to help another member. You sign and make your way down the hall.

It’s an all white room, more like an office? There’s a tiny desk in the corner of her gym room. It’s a pretty big room tho, enough for a class of 6, but it’s only you here so far. Where’s Abby?

You look around the small room, and head towards her desk. She has pictures of her and what you assume is her dad.

You look around and grab it. “Aww.”

You sit it back down and as soon as you turn around Abby is standing there watching you again.

“You’re early.” She says and she walks towards you. “S-sorry I didn’t mean to snoop through your things!” She comes closer. “Chill it’s ok. I don’t mind.” She smiles softly and reaches over looming over you again to adjust her and her dads picture. You back up into the desk a little while she leans over you. She smells so good. Her hair smells like pine.

She leans back, but she’s still close to you. “I see you chose the blue.” She chuckles. ‘Even her laugh Is sexy.’ You think. “Y-yeah. I had too. I mean… if you thought I looked good in this one.” You smile and advert your eyes from her again. “I-I like the one you chose too!” You say speaking up a little. She’s wearing an orange gym wear. Which is really showing off her physic to a T. She smiles. “Thank you pretty.”

Your face turns hot. ‘There’s no way she is flirting with me right now.’ You think to yourself.

“If you want to we can do a warm up before everyone gets here.” She points to the mats on the floor, “let’s do stretches.” Abby smiles and walks across the room grabbing mats. “Ok!” You say eagerly.

You walk over to her and watch her closely. Her arms, the way she lays the mats. “Here sit.” She says as she gets on the yellow mat and then points to the black one next to hers. You walk over and cross your legs and sit and watch her. You’re honestly excited. I mean this girl hasn’t done anything and it’s already motivating you.

“So..” she says stretching her torso while she sits in place.

You repeat after her. “Soo..”

“How did you meet Nora?” Abby says as she watches you repeat her movements.

“We met in high-school! She told me you guys use to be dorm mates in college..?”

Abby smiles and nods her head. “Yeah. She talks about you a lot. But I never got a chance to ever see you.” “Same here.” You say agreeing with Abby. You both sit there in comfortable silence.

Occasionally looking at each other. Abby looks like she wants to ask you something but she’s so nervous. You see her blushing, cheeks getting redder.

“Can I ask you something.” Abby says breaking the silence, but that’s when her other students walk in. You look up at her. “Talk to me after class I wanna talk more.”

—————————————————————

Class ends and as your grabbing your bag. Abby taps your shoulder. “How did you like it?” Abby says. Your clearly out of breathe even if it was a beginner exercise. You stand up straight wiping your face with your towel. “I honestly liked it! You give me so much motivation Abby. You’re so cool. And the way you teach oh my gosh, it’s so relaxing.” You’re smiling at her and Abby blushes. Did you say something bad? “Oh.. I’m sorry! I just get a little excited about things-“ “N-no you’re completely fine! I appreciate it really. You’re so cute.” You smile widely, and hide your face in your hands. Your melting. This women is making you melt, and you barely know her. “Hey.. hey!” Abby is waving her hand in front of your face. She gently places her palm on your hand and moves it away from your face. She chuckles. “Are you thereee?” Her face is so close. You see the details on her. Her freckles, her ocean eyes. The way her nose scrunches when she smiles. “I-I’m sorry. I Just. Listen Abby. I know we kinda just met, but if you don’t mind me asking.. are you flirting with me?” Abby’s eyes widened and she backs away a little. “And if I was..?” She looks away shyly. “Oh my gosh..” you knew you weren’t delusional. “Abby-“ “Um.. listen I have to go, but I’ll see you next week right?” “R-right..” you say. You watch Abby grab her bags and her gym equipment. “Wait.” You say. Abby looks at you. “What were you gonna ask?”

“Oh uh.. if you wanted.” She struggles “We could have one on one sessions where it’s just us. We could talk more.”

Your eyes widened. “I would. I would like that!” You smile and Abby looks shocked. “Really? Ok! Um.. I’ll shoot you a text, but if I forget, don’t be shy and just text me ok!” Abby smiles and winks as she leaves the small room.

You get your phone out. Immediately texting Nora.

You: Nora!?!!!

Nora: yessss?

You: Girl. I think Abby likes me.

Nora: not to be a teller but

Nora types.

Nora: she’s been texting me about you, she was wondering if you’re single and I told her yes, and ever since then she hasn’t asked me anything about you since.

Your eyes widened.

You: WHATTT OMGOMGOMGOMG

Nora: yesss girl, she literally texted me the day u bought the workout clothes, she sent me a pic of you in line and was wondering if it was you or not, I think she’s been liking you since I showed her a pic of you when we were dorm-mates?

You: TELL HER DONT BE SHY TO MAKE A MOVE

Nora: why don’t you txt her?

You: cause I’m a pussy, TAHTS WHY!

Nora: dude.

You: FINE..

————————————————————

A couple of hours pass. You grab your phone, your fingers hovering over you and Abby’s chat. You haven’t texted her but it doesn’t hurt to say hi.

You: Hey!

You look at the text and tap your index finger on your phone.

“NOO… to excited.” You take off the exclamation.

You: hey

“Too formal damn.” You say pressing backspace.

You: Hey! <3

“Well… fuck it.” You send it. You turn off your phone and walk around your apartment. You’re tapping your feet.

A ting rings from your phone.

It’s Nora. She sent you a TikTok. Your head hangs back and you throw your phone. “Ugh. I need to distract myself.” You start cooking anytging you can find.

Seconds turn to minutes, minutes turn to hours. You’re watching a movie and then you hear a ting.

Abby: Hey, what’s up? :)

Your face goes blank your hands start to sweat. “Oh my gosh oh my gosh. Uhhh… be chill.”

You: Nothing much! Just had a question about the one on one sessions. What days did u want me to show up!

Abby: how about, Monday thru Thursdays?

You: ok that’s fine! :)

Abby: Cool cool :)

You’re staring at your phone, you don’t know what to do or say.

She’s typing.

Abby: So what are you up to Rn?

You: nothing, why?

Abby: wanna grab something? My treat :)

Your face gets hot. Is she asking you out?

You: yes omg ofc, I would love to hang out with you more. :)

“Smooth, keep it smooth.” You say and you grab a pillow and squeeze it.

Abby: meet me here!

She sends you a location.

Abby: unless you want me to come get you. I don’t mind.

“Hmm.. ride in Abby’s car.. or take your own..” you think for a moment.

You: I don’t mind riding with you. :)

Abby’s typing but she’s taking a minute to respond.

Abby: Ok, send me ur place and I’ll be there In a hour.

You: Ok! :))

You think for a moment and then you stand up. You’re shaking “oh my gooooddd, I’m freaking out so bad, is this a date? Would this count as a date?” You look at the time. “I don’t know what it is but all I know is I have to get ready!” You rush to the restroom.

🩷🩷🩷

#abby anderson #abby tlou #the last of us #abby anderson the last of us 2 #abby anderson x reader #abby x fem!reader #abbytlou #muscle mommy abby #abby the last of us #yuisart fanfics

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junhuiste · 23 days

Text

experi-meant to be ⋆ park wonbin

pairing: wonbin x gn reader

tags/warnings: fluff, cursing, college au, laboratory environment, one mention of baking, 1600 words

a/n: i meant to publish this on valentine’s day since i had lab that day but i never finished it lol. there’s some microbio lab procedure jargon so like this is what streaking plates is if you want a visual lmfaoao. this is my first published work in like three years it feels weird haha + i might change my layout/header for fics but for now i’ll keep the same layout i've had for past fics

wonbin believes U are the uracil to his adenine—you should always be paired together.

| seunghan: dude

| seunghan: lowkey i can’t come to lab bc my car won’t fucking start so i’ll have to make it up next week :\ but taehyun and his partner would probably be willing to help you out with calculations and clean up hopefully

Wonbin pants heading up the stairs into the classroom lab, cheeks immediately pink as he’s made a spectacle amongst everyone already sitting and tuned into the TA’s pre-lab lesson. Sighing as he processes Seunghan’s text, Wonbin turns to the drawing of bacterial growth curves on the whiteboard but is soon after preoccupied with the fact that there is no Taehyun on a stool. There’s just your backside entirely in front of him.

Taehyun is one to set up all his materials before the TA even steps foot through the lab door so if he isn’t here now then that means—

“Guess you’re stuck with me for today.”

Wonbin tries to swallow but it gets stuck halfway down his throat and is about to go into a choke type cough frenzy when he surprises himself and softly clears his throat instead. His thoughts are all just stuck there—in the middle of his esophagus, begging for them to travel back up to his brain so he has enough stamina to stick it through the four hour class.

“No hate to him because Taehyunnie’s a tad faster at getting through the steps, so you know, we’re usually out thirty minutes early, but I can promise you I’m better at calculations. And I’m more precise with measurements,” you let out a small giggle before setting your backpack on the floor next to Wonbin’s.

The commotion of pipettes being thrown onto the surface, glass tubes clinking, and sneakers squeaking rushing to obtain their samples is right away drowned out in Wonbin’s ears by the sight of you perched atop the stool a mere few inches away from him. He tries to keep his chest from heaving at bay by taking his notebook out of his backpack and reviewing the method for today’s class. The solution is only short lived though, promptly taking notice of how you gather materials from the drawer while simultaneously reading through your own notebook.

Every Tuesday and Thursday, Wonbin assumes his seat in the third to last row of his Virology lecture, close enough to the door that he can be among the first to leave as soon as “see you guys next time” leaves Professor Choi’s lips. He longs for the day (ideally it would be quite before the last week of classes but realistically that’s the best he has to offer for now) that he musters up just the slightest bit of courage to join you and Taehyun in the second row, where Seunghan also occasionally accompanies you two. It’s only the third week of this semester, but perhaps the sixth course of his over the past three years Wonbin’s seen you in. From Biochemistry to Rhetoric 2, he has never taken place at a desk next to yours.

Wonbin’s always aching to know how you’d answer everything he could ever ask you, be it the attendance quiz question or your weekend plans—what time you usually roll out of bed, whether or not you stroll to the local farmer’s market near campus, if you’re spending Saturday with a special someone. He needs to hear you laugh at Taehyun’s cynicism about college. He needs to hear it up close, not having to strain his ear when he’s fifteen rows behind when you crack up at your friend during the five minute break Professor Choi gives the class.

But Wonbin will take what he can get for now, and if that’s helping you fulfill your wish of completing the lab procedure as quickly as possible, he’ll do it.

“I can do the calculations for us,” you begin, “would you mind getting our mutant strains at the front of the class and streak the Petri dishes?”

Wonbin nods almost too enthusiastically and curses at himself for seeming embarrassingly desperate in front of you. Sure, he’d like to muster up the courage to ask you out, but today he’ll try to take it one step at a time.

When Wonbin returns with new plates to grow your bacteria on and two tubes filled with your bacterial strains, you scoot your chair closer to his to later show the finished calculations. He catches a whiff of your light perfume and almost falls out of his own chair.

As he’s setting up the Bunsen burner for sterilization, you chuckle, “you know the real reason Taehyun’s not here today is because he left town last night to get a head start on the extravagant romantic weekend he has planned with Gaeul.”

“If there’s one way to use our one free unexcused absence, that’ll do it,” Wonbin replies.

“Do you have any plans for Valentine’s Day, Wonbin? I mean if you did I just hope you wouldn’t leave me early like Taehyun did,” your eyes meet his for a brief second before flitting back to your notebook.

Wonbin’s grip on the matchstick to light the burner loosens. He just barely catches himself before the match could fall from his hand onto the lab bench. What he needed to get a grip on was his fucking sanity—he almost set the classroom on fire because his heart instead is aflame for yours.

Taking a breath, Wonbin exhales when the flame turns to blue, finally lighting the Bunsen burner.

“Nope, no plans,” he briefly turns to you. There’s a beat and he considers that asking you back would seem too forward, but he does it anyway.

Upon seeing your grin before you open your mouth, he turns his attention right back to the tubes and plates in front of him.

It’s so over.

For a second Wonbin’s relieved, because he thinks he can actually get through the next two hours without overthinking his micro movements in front of you. Now that it’s over for him, maybe he can actually pay attention to the way the metal loop he’s holding makes contact with the jelly-like agar inside the plastic plate and not disappoint Seunghan with the results. However, it’s not realistic because even still, Wonbin takes note of all your beauty and remains completely bewitched.

“Honestly I wish...I mean Minjeong, Yunjin and I are gonna do a rom-com binge and bake desserts…but you know…not any plans with someone like that…”

Your temporary lab partner tries to hide his smile and nods silently as he continues switching between spreading bacteria on the plate with the metal loop and then sterilizing the loop in the blue flame.

The rest of lab goes smoothly as Wonbin tries to quell the embers within him for the time remaining. There’s forty minutes left but technically to you Wonbin knows time is dashing away and it should feel like there’s what but only ten minutes left to do everything. Your pair was a few steps ahead of the others, just like how it would be when Taehyun accompanied you every week.

Wonbin has been psyching himself up the past two hours to finally ask you out but currently he’s stuck in his head and just can’t seem to get it out. Does he chase you after you’ve stepped foot out of the lab or should he leave you be? Or maybe he can try next week. He’ll keep telling himself that until there’s one day of instruction left and then he won’t see you for three months and then he’ll lament the entire summer to Seunghan that he didn’t say shit.

He can do that…or just rip the bandage off at an agonizing speed.

The last Petri dish that Wonbin holds is being wrapped in parafilm to prevent contamination. He’d been going through the motions of the procedure while simultaneously not paying attention to his surroundings, at his own self’s behest. You’ve already cleaned the entire lab bench and he doesn’t notice until he hears “see you in Virology,” and suddenly you’re slinging your backpack over your shoulder.

It’s now or next week…or never—wait you know that Wonbin’s in your Virology class? What you said is ringing in his ears and it hits him all at once.

Petri dishes in hand and turning around, Wonbin freezes in his tracks.

“Um…”

Your eyebrows furrow.

“Do you want to hang out tomorrow?” his own mouth betrays him and suddenly it’s all coming out much too quickly for his liking.

You’re about to answer but before you can even get a word in, “I-I don’t mean to interfere with your plans with your friends but uh, if you wanted to do something like that I’m down.”

Your lips press into a line and Wonbin is about to pass out from the threatening fluorescent classroom lights.

“Park Wonbin…are you asking me out on a date?” He can practically feel his sweat melting the parafilm tape off and a vision of him dropping the Petri dishes in front of you, cracking open and shattering, exposing E.coli to everyone in the room flashes before him. He blinks once and calms his vice grip on the plates.

“Yes. Yes I am asking you out on a date,” Wonbin looks down at your sneakers, not knowing where else to shift his gaze to.

“Well, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” you smirk, slinging the other strap of your backpack over your other shoulder and saluting.

Park Wonbin swears his heart is on fire and does a backflip off a fifty foot cliff. A curve forming on his lips, he smiles slightly waving with the plates still in his hand, “see ya…”

You halt your forward movement and turn back around, “Wonbin?” he perks up again, “you should sit next to me in lecture on Tuesday.”

#riize imagines #riize scenarios #wonbin scenarios #wonbin x reader #riize fluff #wonbin fluff #wonbin imagines #riize #wonbin

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