#i haven't even listened to cupid in ages | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

literaila · 3 months

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stay

gojo satoru x fem!reader

summary: you're in denial (no you're not)

warnings: pining, no plot

a/n: i had to give you a little look at what they do when they're alone

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year two.

“what?” satoru asks, his voice blurred in the haze you're thinking in.

honestly, you haven't been looking at him for that long.

you've only been watching his arms as they move across the sink, veins drenched in water, hands scrubbing at a pot that you've made his responsibility.

you've only been thinking about him for the past five years. the way his mouth moves when he's focused, the subtle curve of his jaw from this angle.

and you're only staring now because you don't want him to mess up the kitchen. god knows how much it's worth.

you shake your head, subtle grin disappearing automatically. “hmm?”

“you’re staring at me.”

you blink. “oh. sorry.”

you and him both know that there's no denying it.

“and you think i’m spacey,” satoru mutters, turning to you with his arms crossed, a smirk adorning his lips. apparently, he’s perfected his dad stance. “what do you want?”

“what?" you look away, for one moment, when your heart feels a bit warm, then back to him. "why would i want something?”

“that’s what tsumiki does when she wants something.”

“well, unlike tsumiki, i’m not a child, so…”

“i beg to differ,” satoru leans towards you, raising a brow. “what are you? thirteen?”

he's different like this--when he knows that you're paying attention.

so ridiculously stupid that you can't look away from him.

“you are a single year older,” you tell him, “and i had to teach you how to do the dishes. our age gap is easily filled by my years of experience—“

“blah blah blah,” satoru interrupts, rolling his eyes, “hard work, torture, bills to pay. we get it.”

you shrug, lip twitching. “you started it.”

“by being born?” satoru asks, fluttering his eyelashes, trying his hand at flirting with you.

unfortunately, he's dreadful at it. even with his waggling eyebrows and throat when he swallows.

“oh my god,” you put a hand to your chest, mock shocked. “did i forget to become clan head the second i was born? my bad.”

“seriously. slacker.”

you roll your eyes.

then you turn to the counter again, messing with a stack of bills satoru has left there. you're probably going to be the one to deal with them anyway.

it's been twenty minutes since you put the kids to bed--frowning at satoru when he swore that they'd already brushed their teeth (they hadn't)--and you've already lost sight of getting out of his house.

some small part of you wants to stay, just so you can sneak some more glances at satoru.

“why are you staring at me?” he asks, nudging your arm with his hand. "get lost in my eyes?"

you scoff. “i just zoned out, satoru.”

“looking right at my face?”

you smile deviously, reaching a hand out to trail a finger across his cupids bow. “i was contemplating the different plastic surgeries that could improve you.”

satoru does nothing to push away your hand, but you snap it away when you feel him shiver.

“please," he frowns. "we both know there’s no room for improvement.”

you raise your brows. he says it more like a question than a statement, so you keep the same teasing smile on your face.

“don’t be mean,” he says, pouting.

“sorry.”

“no, you’re not.”

your smile brightens and you walk towards the door--listening to his heavy footsteps as he follows--and reach towards the hook for your coat.

you better leave before he convinces you to touch him again with nothing but his eyes.

“where are you going?” satoru continues pouting.

“home? the kids are asleep.”

he huffs. “but i’m not.”

“do you need me to tuck you in?”

“what if i do?”

“tough luck, satoru," you shove his hand away from where it grabs your jacket.

“c’mon,” he says, pulling at your wrist instead. “stay a little bit longer. let’s talk.”

“all you ever want to talk about is digimon," you answer, rolling your eyes.

you deny the fact that you'd probably listen to him talk about anything, just to hear the slight drawl in his throat or the teasing in his voice.

“well, duh.”

“and i don’t understand a single thing you say.”

satoru pulls you towards him, even when you dig your heels into the floor. “you think after five years you’d trust me enough to take one of my recommendations," he says, chiding you. like he's the most trustworthy person you've ever met.

like you might trust him with your life (you would).

“last time i trusted any of your recommendations i almost got kicked out of school," you finally pull away, smoothing out your sleeves to put your jacket on.

“first of all, that was your idea—“

“i was kidding.”

“and i was just trying to cheer you up," his hands gesture to you, obviously, "plus yaga didn’t even care that much. it’s not like we crashed the car. he just had to threaten us or he would’ve gotten fired.”

you roll your eyes, zipping up your jacket.

“stay,” satoru whines. “i get lonely when you’re not here.”

“that’s because you’re supposed to be asleep.”

“i can't sleep without you.”

you scoff. “we’ve slept in the same room twice.”

neither one of you dares to mention the several nights you’ve spent together on the couch or the brief moments when you wake up in the morning and realize who you’re clinging to. those are brief lapses in judgment. nothing more.

“third times the charm,” satoru says, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

despite his age, he is still a teenage boy.

the same one you've liked since you were fifteen.

“goodnight, satoru," you whisper, turning around.

“don’t you get lonely in your apartment all alone?” he asks, almost pleading, spinning you around again from the hem of your jacket. “what if you have a nightmare?”

because satoru has ever been concerned about a single thing that happens to you.

you roll your eyes. “i wake up, like an adult, and remember that it’s not real.”

satoru raises a brow.

“seriously, it’s late. i need to go before—“

“stay.”

“we’ve talked about this.”

“no. i make a suggestion, and you don’t listen.”

“because i already know what you’re going to say.”

“no, you don’t.”

“‘c’mon, y/n, i have a bedroom just for you. it can even be mine if you want.’”

“i don’t sound like that," he says frowning. though how could he deny the obvious?

“satoru, we need space--" more like you need space from him. several decades of space, just to catch your breath. "i can't spend every waking moment with you. i have a life.”

“yeah, me.”

you laugh, shaking your head (he's not wrong).

“just for tonight?”

“no.”

“just for an hour? what if one of them wakes up? you know i don’t know what to do," he says, very convincingly. his voice is quiet like he knows some sudden movements will scare you away.

you pretend to pause, humming. “send them back to their rooms…?”

“please," he begs you, so close that his breath is almost yours.

“no.”

“we never get alone time anymore,” he pouts, “i miss you.”

you know that he's using this to his advantage. like he's sure that his quiet voice and soft mouth will get you to break, will get you to stay here like you already want to.

but you refuse.

“stop.”

“and it’s cold. you don’t want to go home yet," he acts like he can read your mind.

“i promise you that i do," you reassure him, taking a step back. satoru only follows.

“we can watch a movie or something," he answers like you've already agreed to this. "i saw a trailer for this dumb comedy and it looks—“

you groan.

“what if i promise to sit on the other side of the couch?” he bargains.

“no," you frown, "you’re a liar.”

“what if i let you pick the movie?”

“no.”

“what if i pay you to stay?"

you flick his forehead. “are you kidding?”

“please,” he repeats, softly, leaning even closer. “you don’t have to stay for long…”

and it reminds you of every other time you've felt like your heart has disappeared. like your head has been eradicated by his low voice and his sparkling eyes.

it feels like being the same teenager you might still be, hoping that something will come from his pleading. from yours, however unspoken.

and you almost break, almost push him so far away--

but then there’s a tiny cough. and a sniffle. “y/n?” a voice asks, so soft you almost can't hear it over the sound of satoru’s ego.

over the sound of your own beating heart.

satoru smiles like he planned this all along.

you sigh. “an hour,” you tell him, sternly.

he only smiles, slinging an arm around your shoulder, spinning you both towards tsumiki.

you don’t say a thing when you wake up the next morning, sweat staining your neck, legs tangled in much longer ones.

your head is pounding from a night spent on the couch. from so many hours spent laughing at satoru, at the stupid things he says.

and he’s already looking at you like he could sense this moment coming.

like he can see beyond you, into your soul. into the very wanting you're sure is on your face.

you don’t say anything as you stare back into his eyes.

this is the one moment where he’s not allowed to comment on it. to make fun of you for your small smile, or laugh at your bed head.

this moment is just for the two of you. the rest of the world can disappear, right now. every terrifying thing, every horrible mistake, completely eradicated by the sound of satoru's heart, his eyelashes as they flutter open and closed.

you breathe in, almost about to say something. to break this thing before it can form.

and then you hear something banging in the kitchen, and it’s time to get up.

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celemilii · 1 month

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NOT IN LOVE- FERNANDO ALONSO| 00;CUPID TEAM

WATTPAD | INSTAGRAM | MASTERLIST

warnings: curse words; in this universe Sebastian Vettel is getting divorce and starting dating Alessia (this is part from SHS saga on wattpad); english not being my first lenguage so my apologies if you see any mistakes :)

taglist: just tell me in the comments if you wanna be tagged in the following parts!

a/n: I hope you like this chapter!

⇚previous part next part⇛

╰───────────✧──────────────╮

2022

At a very young age I discovered that love is an illusion that, sooner or later, disappears without saying goodbye. It's just a mirage that shows how false it is when you get closer. I never understood how love can outweigh common sense and passion override logic, and how it's so disconcerting that no one else really knows how you feel when the only person you can trust with your back is to yourself, always. That's why when my intuition told me to send my resume to Mercedes, the Formula 1 team, without having any idea about the sport, I listened to it. Even when that didn't make the slightest sense.

I check my reflection in the mirror of the narrow bathroom in the Mercedes garage before heading back outside. There is a dress code that we must comply with when we come to the paddock. According to Mr. Wolff, we are the face behind the drivers, even when I am not involved in any way with them or the cars.

The clicking of my heels against the floor catches the attention of several of those present there, who turn to look at me strangely. The only ones I had had the opportunity to meet were the pilots and a few engineers who from time to time had meetings with Toto that I had to take care of.

"Mr. Wolff, I'm sorry to interrupt," I say in a strong voice, drawing the attention of the Austrian and the man I was with, who I believe is called Bono.

“Victoria, no problem. What's happening?” he crosses his arms and waits impatiently for what I want to say. The first warning I got as soon as I started working here was that Toto would try to intimidate me to prove what I'm made of, but he has no idea who he messed with.

“Interview with Sky Sports on 10,” notice, “with Webber and Chadwick,” pats the man's shoulder in farewell and tells me to follow him.

"Okay, this is what I want you to do today," he says as we leave the tent. “When you're in the garage, keep an eye on Roscoe…”

“Hamilton 's dog?”

“Yes, you have to take care of him. Besides…”

“With all due respect, I wasn't hired to be a babysitter, sir. I sort papers, schedule and remember appointments, I'll even bring coffee, but, as much as I love animals, I'm not anyone's caregiver.”

"It seems fair to me," my boss exclaims. “And you can tell me Toto, Victoria, that we are going to be together too long not to call each other by our names.”

"Of course, Toto," I say forcefully.

“Now, bring me a coffee like the usual ones for when the interview is over,” I look at him waiting for him to say what I want to hear and he seems to understand it. “Please.”

I walk away from the Austrian to look for wherever they sell coffee here.

I started working with Toto as soon as the year started, so we haven't been around for long. During pre-season I stayed at the England base because I was "not ready" to go to the paddock, as it seems I am now.

"Excuse me," I caught the attention of a girl who was walking around. “Do you know where I can buy coffee?”

"I'm looking for exactly the same thing as you," she tells me. “I've never been here.”

“Yeah, me neither, but my boss sent me to buy him coffee,” we started walking together almost without realizing it, so I guess we would look for it together.

“Your boss? Do you work here?”

“Yes, I am the assistant to the Director of Mercedes.”

“You are Toto's assistant!” she exclaims as if he had discovered the most interesting thing in the world.

“Are you a fan?”

“No, it's just... let's say I'm dating one of the pilots.”

“Oh, you're a wag.”

“No, my God! I hate when they say that. Besides, Sebastian and I are taking it slow,” Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian, which one was Sebastian?

“Sebastian... Vettel?" Fortune teller.

“Yes, exactly! By the way, I'm Alessia,” she introduced herself. “I'm already talking to you about my relationship and I don't even know your name,” I giggled at how nervous she had become and introduced myself as well.

“I am Victoria.”

“You are Spanish,” Alessia notes. “I like the accent. I am italian.”

“Oh, that's great.”

"Yes... I'm trying to learn Spanish," she says with excitement.

"I can help you if you need it," I offer.

When I left Spain, I left everything.

Friends, family, acquaintances, customs. It wouldn't hurt to have someone to talk to, someone who is in a similar situation to mine.

“Oh really!? I'd love to. Let's do this,” she says, taking her phone out of her bag, “save my number. We can go out if you want,” she smiles shyly at me and I nod. “There's Seb. Come let me introduce him to you.”

"Alessia, it's not necessary," I say as she drags me towards her boyfriend and his friend, whom I recognize from several advertisements they show on Spanish television.

His gaze crossed with mine and I didn't need words because I saw it all there.

Fernando Alonso

An idiot, a womanizer, who thinks he is better than anyone else just because he won two championships and because the national press idolizes him as if he were some kind of God.

I know I said I don't know things about sports but I don't live under a rock either.

Also, it's not the first time I've seen him. A few years ago, my ex-boyfriend and I went to a club where famous people used to go, to see if we could meet someone and, indeed, we did. Fernando Alonso with his hand under a girl's skirt in the middle of the dance floor.

A very good first impression.

"Mein Leben," the German exclaims when Alessia enters his field of vision and she laughs like a teenager in love.

“Vita mia,” greets the Italian. “This is Victoria,” she introduces me. “She is Toto's new assistant”

Sebastian barely looks at me when Ale greets me. He can't take his eyes off Alessia, who keeps talking about how we met by chance looking for coffee. The love in the blonde's eyes is evident, idyllic and I would even dare to say nostalgic. It looks real.

“The coffee shop is over there,” Alonso comes in, who doesn't take his eyes off me. “I'm Fernando,” he introduces himself.

“I know.”

“You are Spanish. A sports fan I guess," he says in a humorous tone.

“I can't be further away.”

"Wow, that's good too," he laughs nervously. He definitely wasn't expecting that answer.

"Alessia, I have to go," I warn her. “If when the interview ends, Toto doesn't have his coffee, he's going to get annoyed.”

"No, wait," the brunette man stops me.

“What's happening?” I ask confused.

“I…” he tries to find the right words while his hazel eyes merge with mine, as if he were looking for what he can't say in them, “nothing. I hope you find your coffee.”

[...]

I see Victoria go towards where I had pointed a few minutes ago wanting to go after her.

"You two have to help me," I ask the couple.

“To what?” asks my friend.

“Do you believe in love at first sight?” I question before agreeing with them.

“No.”

“It's stupid,” supports Alessia.

"I didn't believe in it either," I admit, "but I just fell in love with Victoria.”

___________________________________

taglist:

@bellinghamsbitch

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #fanfiction #formula 1 #formula one #fernando alonso #fernando alonso fanfic #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x female reader #fernando alonso fluff #f1 imagine #f1 x female reader

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