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Reader Lore - Born to Break Records

So this is a little filler for between now and the next chapter. This chapter might have triggers for death, abusive parents, and brief mentions of bullying. If these make you uncomfortable, then please feel free to skip this chapter. The synopsis is the reader’s life up until her first race win in F2.

Welcome to Reader-Lore

2003

The cry of a baby filled the sterile walls of the delivery room. Pants filled in the quiet moments, but were mostly covered. The wailing baby was placed into the arms of the waiting mother, the father looking down on the two.

“It’s a girl,” the nurse told them, writing something down in a book.

The atmosphere suddenly changed. The once hopeful air was dampened with disappointment. The father sighed loudly, turning his head to look out the window. The mother, who had held her baby tight, loosened her grip. Her nose was now scrunched in borderline disgust.

The nurse, feeling the off energy, offered to take the baby girl. She made some excuse about needing to weigh her and make sure that she was healthy, things that could have waited until after the parents bonded.

The mother was quick to hand her over, waiving her hand as though it wasn’t a big deal. The father had now moved farther away from the hospital bed.

The baby had started to wail once more after being taken from the arms of her mother. Arms that she thought were safe. Arms connected to the body that had cared for her for 9 months. Arms that suddenly did not hold her tight. Arms that willingly gave her away to some stranger.

Once the nurse and frightened infant left the from, the mother and father looked at each other.

“I wanted a boy,” the male murmured.

The female rolled her eyes, “I know. And so did I. But we don’t have a choice anymore.”

“We do. Could always leave her here. A boy would be able to break records. A girl is useless.”

“And be arrested? No thank you.” The mother rolled on her side, arms around her front. The father just huffed.

“Everything we talked about, our future, is now a wasted memory.”

The mother looked at the door with a sliver of hope, although, it was too small for anyone to see it. “Maybe she can do everything that you wanted a boy to do.”

“We can just have another baby,” the father persisted.

“You heard the doctor. It would be too dangerous for me to have another. What’s done is done. You can walk out now if you can’t commit.” The woman went to say something else, but was interrupted by whimpers.

The nurse had walked back in, now with a swaddled baby. Begrudgingly, the mother held her hands out to take the bundle of blankets. She looked down at the brand new baby, but her heart didn’t swell with pride like she read about. Her heart filled with distain, as if the baby were a Christmas present that she didn't want. But this time, she couldn’t return the baby like she’d return a gift at whatever store it was bought from.

The father had taken a few steps closer to the bed, but kept his distance. There wasn’t a bone in his body that actually wanted the child.

“We still need a name for her,” the nurse stated, clicking her pen.

The mother glanced to the father before saying, “Y/n. Her name is Y/n.”

2008 – Five years old

The air was stuffy, filled with the scent of petrol and burnt rubber. The quiet that could have been was broken by the rattles of engines and throttles. You wished for silence.

You wanted nothing to do with this. But, you’d rather get in a kart then flinch at your father’s hand. You had been allowed to wander around the track. The big boys were driving now. And by big boys, you meant 11- and 10-year-olds. They were bigger than you and drove karts that were so much faster than the little one that you had.

You looked around. There was definitely not a shortage of girls hanging around, but none were dressed like you. Most were the older or younger sisters of the drivers. Their pink tops, paired with shorts or skirts, flowed in the wind. None of them were wearing an old itchy race suit that was two sized too big. They were allowed to wear sandals, while you had to endure the tight racing shoes that your dad had definitely yanked on the laces too much. It wasn’t your fault that you hadn’t learn to tie them yet.

You watched their hair bounce in the tall pony tails tied on the tops of their heads. They didn’t need their hair to be wrapped in a bun at the base of their necks so that it could fit into a helmet.

You wished that your mom and dad would allow you to cut it off so that you could be the boy that they wanted. You knew that they didn’t want you, your little mind was able to catch on to things like that.

You understood patterns. Patterns on the track helped you know what areas to avoid. Patters on the kart taught you where to put your feet and hands. Patterns told you that moms and dads should be happy for their children, and not yell at them. Patters revealed that children did not flinch when their parents patted their heads or caressed their cheeks.

The wind blew loud as the kart race came to a close. You knew that you needed to get back quickly to where you parents were waiting, but you wanted to see the winners, wanted to see them taste a victory that you were so desperate for.

You squeezed past the other boys and looked up at the three on the podium. The one on the lowest step wasn’t rememberable. His hair looked the same as others. His height wasn’t tall or small, just in the middle.

But the boys on the other two steps were. The one on the second pedestal had a shaggy hair cut, with bangs that pointed down. You had seen him before, surrounded by his family. A little brother, a big brother, mom and dad, and then a man who looked at the boy with stars in his eyes.

You wished someone looked at you like that.

“And in second place, Charles Leclerc.” So that was his name. Sharl. His eyes were bright green and filled with light and hope. But a sadness still glazed them as he looked up at the boy on the top step.

The boy who towered over the crowd had blond sandy hair. For a winner, he didn’t look happy. His blue eyes didn’t hold the same brightness that the green eyes had.

“And our winner, Max Verstappen!”

That was a nice name. Max. You wanted to look at the boy winner for a few more moments. Engrave his image into your mind. Because, you didn’t know when the next time you’d be able to do this. Your dad would probably ban you from such things, saying something like you didn’t need to look at something you’d never achieve.

But you were hungry.

You were taken out of your watching by the announcement that your own race was going to start soon. And you weren’t in your kart.

You rushed through the crowd, trying to put on your bright pink helmet on. You could put your gloves on while you got into your kart.

By the time you got there, your dad was already looking at you with a disappointed look. Your mother was nowhere to be found.

“Where have you been,” he hissed, hitting your helmet.

“I wanted to see the podiums,” you muttered, getting your gloves on.

Your dad shook his head. “What have I told you about that?”

“That I shouldn’t look at things that I can’t get.”

“Exactly. Now get in your kart.”

You did as he said. You heart was pounding as you taxied the little thing onto the smaller track. You were able to be seen by everyone, your helmet acting as a little flag. It seemed to say “look at me! I’m the only girl trying to be on par with all these boys! Watch me fail!”

But you were determined to prove them all wrong.

By the last lap, you were right behind one more kart. One more pass and you could win. Prove your dad wrong. Prove everyone wrong.

You watched as he broke your pattern. The pattern that would help you win.

He made a mistake, and you welcomed it with glee.

You passed over the finish line with a significant gap behind you and that boy. At the stopping point, you parked your kart and stepped out, exhaling sharply.

You thought that people would cheer and shout, but the silence that you had wished for earlier had come to haunt you.

You won and there was nothing to celebrate.

2015 – Twelve years old

Everyone thought he was crazy. There was no way that he was going to sponsor a 12 year old in karting, a female none the less.

He wasn’t crazy. How could he not want to sponsor you, a consecutive race winner in your league. He constantly watched you drive circles around the boys who would berate you in their free time. He watched as you would let their words roll right off your back. You didn’t let their words get to you.

But, he was your godfather and he had a sense of responsibility for you. He watched as you climbed out of the kart, looking around trying to find a familiar face.

He could see your eyebrows raise through the visor when you caught sight of him.

“LoLo!” you yelled, quickly sprinting over to him. He was ready to catch you, but not expecting the hit with your helmet.

He let out an oof as you knocked him slightly off balance.

“Hey kid! You did good!” He rubbed your helmet as if it were hair. You quickly unbuckled the pink contraption and took it off, hair sticking to your forehead.

You looked around before your shoulders slumped. You kicked a rock as you spoke, “They didn’t come.”

Lorenzo had noticed a lack of your parents as soon as he arrived. He would have come earlier to help you with your kart if he had known that they weren’t here. He looked down at you with sad eyes, and that’s the last thing you wanted.

You always wished for someone to look at you with so much love and affection that it poured out of their soul. But you only ever got looks of hatred and pity.

He rubbed your shoulder, “It’s ok kid. But you wanna know something?” He crouched down to your level, pant legs getting damp with moisture. You nodded your head. “LoLo gets to sponsor you!”

You gasped, eyes tearing. Even though you were twelve, you knew the weight of the situation. Your parents had told you that because you were winning, you were embarrassing them. And because you were embarrassing them, they wouldn’t pay any more years of karting after this one. You wailed when you told Lorenzo the next time you saw him. And he saw your heart break into itty bitty pieces while you did.

When you left, he looked into every possibly way that he could keep you in karting. The only option was to sponsor you.

And sponsor you he did. He emailed, texted, and called multiple companies, trying to get their support. He would get sponsorship to put on your kart so that you could carry the logos proudly. He had your new one sitting in the back of his old truck, but that was a surprise. It was blue with two proud bulls on the very front. He had done it. He found you a sponsor that would keep you going for a couple of years.

His thoughts were interrupted by you actually knocking him over. He knew his sweater was getting damp, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to see you smile for the rest of his life.

You were too busy whispering thank you after thank you for you to notice the weird looks that you were getting. Looks from the boys that you had just beaten. Looks from the parents who didn’t know the worries of paying for karting.

He quickly picked you up and took you back over to get your cart. He helped you load it on the mover and rolled it over to his truck. You wouldn’t be needing this kart that was almost falling apart. You had a new one, and you’d be all right.

You talked the whole way home, animatedly moving your hands around as you described your latest win. Your hands rolled over the other as you showed him how you turned the wheel, barely clipping the front of the kart who wanted to push you off.

Lorenzo only looked at you with pure adoration. A look that you wanted so much, but were too busy to see due to your explanations of your imaginations.

Maybe he was crazy, but he didn’t think so.

2019 – Sixteen years old (F3)

Your eyes were pricked with tears as you read the letter you received in the mail. The big letters of DISOWNMENT flashed in the reflections. They had done it weeks ago, according to the date on the top of the paper. By now, your things were probably thrown away or burned.

You had just finished the F4 category and were making a name for yourself in F3. You couldn’t deal with this now. One of the management people came and knocked on your door, telling you that the race was about to start.

You crumpled the paper up and threw it in the trash. If they didn’t need you, you didn’t need them. That was the lie you continually told yourself. Of course a girl needed her parents. They were the people who were supposed to nurture you and help you.

But they never did that in the first place. At least you didn’t have to constantly buy drug store foundation and concealer and try to explain the black and blue around your eyes after it melted off during the race. No more flinching. No more hiding.

Just no more.

You would call Lorenzo and see if you could stay with him for a bit during the break. You would have to or you wouldn’t have a place to sleep.

Your breath shuddered at the thought.

You told yourself that you knew this was coming. They had cut all contact with you months ago and weren’t spotted when you went home during the last break.

You allowed the tears to fall as you got your helmet on. No one would see the streams as you placed your visor down. You were now hidden away from the weird looks that everyone sent you. No girl had ever made it this far.

Sure as you grew, there were girls in karting. That number seemed to increase in F4. Most of them were from the driver academies. You were still able to participate due to multiple sponsorships that Lorenzo had gotten you.

But with increase, there has to be a decrease. You were currently the only female in F3 and were set to be the only female to make it to F2. Well, that’s what everyone told you. Your stats reflected your need to prove yourself.

Race win after race win helped thrust you through the blockades built by men. They wouldn’t stop you, and you didn’t want to stop. Not now, not ever.

Each race win fueled your hunger in this world. And it only grew and grew.

Your tears were brushed away by the wind brushing through your car. At that moment, you told yourself that you wouldn’t cry over your parents ever again. They didn’t deserve them.

You could cry about other things. Such as passing over the finish line, marking your first win in F3.

You constantly showed the world that you could do it. You wanted to cry again as you listened to your anthem. You wanted to cry when the boys celebrated with each other, leaving you out. You wanted to cry as you walked back to your “motor home,” knowing that it was put up quickly for you.

The time you finally let yourself cry was when you were talking with Lorenzo on the phone. Your eyes were tired and dehydrated by the time you quit. Lorenzo was able to calm you down. He told you that he would take care of everything, take care of you.

You knew you wouldn’t be able to see him much though. The F3 calendar was far busier than the F4 one had. And you knew the moment you entered F2, time for relaxation would be far and few between.

But you had Lorenzo to fall back on when the times got hard. You could always count on him.

2020 – Seventeen years old (F2)

It was too soon. Too too soon. It wasn’t fair either. Your tears had not stopped streaming down your face since you arrived. The sterile smell itched your nose, but you needed to be here. For him.

He had gotten paler in the few moments since you had been there. His breath rattled with each inhale and exhale. And each breath brought more tears. You didn’t want to let him go.

“Please LoLo. I can’t do this without you,” you whispered, knowing that he probably would not hear you. The doctors told you that he was far too gone for that, but you liked to believe that he was still listening. “You can’t leave me like everyone has. I can’t be alone. I need you.” You put your face down in the blankets, squeezing his hand.

The nurses stood in the door, with tears of their own. They were watching a child lose the only family that she had left.

You inhaled sharply, wiping your tears away.

“You know I’m going to do it. For you. It’s only ever been you. You’ve been my best friend and I don’t know how I’m going to get through this scary world without you.” You hiccupped. “But, I know that you need to go. And I’m being selfish for keeping you here.”

You stood and kissed his forehead.

“Thank you LoLo, for everything. I love you.”

His chest rose, fell, rose, and fell.

But didn’t rise again. The multiple beeps from the different machines let you know that he was gone. And he wasn’t coming back.

One of the nurses came and rubbed your back as you sobbed, not caring who heard you. Your tears did not stop.

They didn’t stop on the plane to Bahrain. They refused to dry up during the practices as you set record times. They let up as you gave post-practice interviews, saving you from being embarrassed.

You cried as you put your helmet on. Stickers had been placed on it the night before with Lorenzo’s name and dates of birth and death to commemorate his legacy that would continue through you.

You knew this race was important. You heard that multiple F1 drivers were there to watch. And you’d give them a spectacle, before hiding away to burry your dead godfather. You hoped that the blond kid with blue eyes that had grown up by now was there. He didn’t need to know that you looked up to him. You just hoped that he’d be there. And possibly the green eyed Justin Bieber look-a-like as well, you had followed him too.

You had managed to score a P5 starting on the grid and you knew it would be tough to fight for the front. But you had a feeling that you’d be just fine.

And just fine you were.

You all hauled your F2 car over that finish line, finishing with a gap of 10 seconds. Your crew was screaming in your ear through the radio and congratulations were being thrown everywhere. You pulled into the number 1 spot and climbed onto the nose. You put your finger on the big numbers on the nose of your car, kissed the finger that touched it, and raised it, pointing at the sky. You had changed your driver number to the permanent 89 this season, and for the rest of your career.

One time, Lorenzo had showed you pictures of when he used to kart. The big 89 was visible through the old photographs. He had trophies upon trophies, but was never picked up by anyone. You told him that if he had raced these days, he’d be able to skip everything and would be put into an F1 car immediately. He had just laughed and told you to do it for him.

So that’s what you were doing. After you commemoration, you scrambled down the car and jumped into the crews waiting arms. These days, you did not flinch when they hit your helmet. You knew that these were celebrations for racers and you were thankful to partake. Two boys followed you up and went before you. You didn’t remember their names, only the Australian accent and the odd American accent. But they would remember your name.

You carried your flag high as you walked onto the stage. The anthem sounded much sweeter this time around. The trophy felt a little heavier this time though. You looked up to see those blue eyes that you saw many years ago. Max said a quick congratulations before you raised it as though to almost offer it to the open sky. This time, you let the tears go. You quicky wiped them away and picked up the giant bottle of champagne. You hauled it over your shoulder and sprayed the others, absolutely drenching them.

This time, they did it to you as well.

You knew you made it.

I’ll do it for you, LoLo.

December 2024 – Twenty-one years old

Christian Horner sat in the folding chair, as he did year after year. A camera was right in front of him, with an interviewer to the side.

“Please state your name for the camera.” He rolled his eyes.

“My name is Christian Horner, and I am the Team Principal of the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team.”

“Let’s talk about your driver, Y/n L/n.”

The screen cuts to the pace of your car, passing multiple others in one clean sweep.

“She’s one of the best talents I’ve seen in a while.”

A scene of you holding a trophy, high in the sky.

“What is one thing that you admire about your driver. She has said a lot about you.” Christian smiled. Of course you had. You told him that you saw him as the dad you never had.

“Almost everything she touches, she turns it to gold.”

The scene changes to your first win. The crowds of red cheered your name. Something you didn’t think was possible. You had taken that win from their favorites and you were being praised for it. Slow-motion splashes of champagne hit you from either side as you wiped your face.

The scene returns, but Max is in Christian’s spot.

“She’s different. She’s the epitome of what a rookie should be. I’m just thankful that she’s my teammate and not working against me.”

The screen fades to two Red Bull cars with an Aston Martin in between them.

“Y/n, Max is currently behind the Aston. Gap to you is 1.237 seconds,” Mitch’s voice is heard off screen through the radio.

“Tell Maxie that it’s time to do the old switcharoo!”

Your car suddenly slowed down just enough on the turn, and the crowd cheered as Max’s car went wide, putting him before you. You quickly got in his slip stream and the two of you sped off, leaving the green car in the dust.

Another driver, with green eyes, is now in the seat, answering the same question.

Charles looked up in thought while blowing some air out his lips. “She’s fearless. You normally don’t see that anywhere. Sure, everyone gets scared if they have an impact, especially as big as the one she had, but not her.”

The camera cuts to the violent scene of your first DNF. Your car flipped, you were trapped. People’s faces were adorned with tears including Christian, no one had been able to contact you. Yet, the focus is now on you, wiggling out from beneath the wreckage. You, in spite of it all, raised your fist as though you were celebrating a first win.

The scene cuts to an Australian with a straight smile. He looks semi-uncomfortable in the seat.

“It looked like you and L/n had a tussle in the beginning. Is that true?”

Oscar shook his head. “There was never a tussle. We both made mistakes, but that’s racing. Wheels touch all the time: it doesn’t mean that we have the urge to take each other out.”

The interviewer continued, “But she did take you out.”

The screen fades to a clip of two cars dangerously close together, one orange and one navy.

David Croft’s voice could be heard, “And there goes the Red Bull of Y/n L/n and the McLaren of Oscar Piastri! They are close together around that corner and they aren’t backing down. Are they going to make contact! And they do! Off the track they go, debris is everywhere. And I don’t think they are going to be able to continue.”

You knew that you should not have “never backed down never what-ed.” But Oscar was going for it and so were you. And you felt terrible. You quickly used the halo to climb out. Looking over, Oscar was doing the same thing.

The camera followed you as you made your way through the swarming stewards. You just knew that you needed to check on the Aussie.

The crowds could hear David speak again, “Oh no. Looks like L/n is mad. Does Red Bull have a thing for drivers with anger issues?”

Oscar looked up and saw you storming towards him, batting away the stewards hands. He stiffened, ready for anything. But what he didn’t expect was a giant hug. He could feel you shaking and he quickly put his hands around you.

“I’m ok.”

The screen flashes back to Oscar.

He huffed, “She did. But the moment she got out of the car, she came to check on me. She batted away the stewards who were desperate to make sure that she was fine, since she took the brunt of the hit. If that doesn’t convince you that Y/n is a great friend and better driver, then I don’t know what will.” The Aussie looked livid.

The scene cuts to now a new face, your manager.

The interviewer asks, “What is something that people might not know about Y/n.” Vito put his hand to his chin. You had already given him the permission to talk about what might be discussed.

He inhaled, “She’s strong. Not just physically, but mentally and emotionally as well.”

“Can you give us an example?”

“The kid was disowned in 2019, right before her F3 debut. And you know what she did? She put that F3 car in the P1 spot. She never showed it though. She held her head high, and was squeezing into her place, that was waiting for her, in this sport.”

A quick flash of 16 year old you, holding your first F3 trophy, was shown on screen.

Vito kept talking as the scene changed to you walking around your motor home, greeting everyone who was there. They knew what had happened, and comforted you with words and hugs. You were thankful for them.

“She also lost her godfather Lorenzo in January 2020. It was heartbreaking to hear her over the phone. Her debut in F2 was the next day. I told her that she didn’t have to, but she insisted that she needed to race, to win.”

The camera followed 17 year old you, helmet on and visor down, as you walked to your F2 car, shining with your new number.

“In less than 24 hours, she was back in the car.”

Your car sped down the straight, over the finish line.

“And she won.”

The scene shifted to 23 year old Max Verstappen handing you the big F2 trophy. Tears could be seen in your eyes as you took the cup and thanked him.

“Did you know?”

Max looked at her in bewilderment. “I didn’t. And you would have never guessed it. Y/n has her heart on her sleeve, everywhere she goes, except when she races.”

A quick cut now shows Christian back in the seat.

“The last driver I saw with that mental strength was Charles Leclerc. He previously lost his godfather, and then lost his father. A few days later he won his race. Y/n lost the only family she had in less than a year.” Christian laughed. “These rookies are built different. You’d think they were made for the earlier days of racing, with how much they put into it. But Y/n, I don’t know. Her aura commands attention.”

The scenes now shown are from multiple races.

The camera followed you as you walked through the crowded paddock, trying to get back to hospitality. You thought that it would be different, that you’d have to squeeze through to get by. But with each step you took, the people parted like water.

You flashed a smile at many fans who seemed awestruck to be in your presence.

A new driver is now in the seat.

“She’s almost like Charles, in a sense,” Lando said. “The two of them,” he looked around, “I don’t know. It’s hard to describe.”

“Can you try?” Lando shot her a cheeky grin. “They are basically the F1 royalty. Any driver has a ‘celebrity image’ and people are excited to see us outside. They ask to take pictures, but they also do things against us.”

The scene cuts to multiple instances of booing and pushing drivers.

“And yet, Charles and Y/n bend them to their will almost. They listen to them. The King and Queen of Formula 1.”

A video of you, Lando, Max, and Charles speaking before the Monaco Grand Prix plays.

“Ah, Max. Did I tell you that we have to address them as your highness now?”

Max looked up from his phone and followed Lando’s finger that was pointed at Charles and you, deep in conversation.

“No? Why?” Lando walked over and showed him the edit and comments on his phone.

The caption read “Y/n L/n and Charles Leclerc are F1 royalty and we need to address them as such.” The video that played started with a clip of Charles in Monaco, with the grid and Monegasque royalty behind him. He looked so majestic. It switched over to you in your home country, with a crowd around your pedestal. You hadn’t even won yet, and they looked at you as though you hung the moon. You stretched out your arms and the crowd roared.

Max looked back at the two, who were ignorantly blissed. Max looked up at Lando.

“You’re right.”

The camera is back to Charles.

His eyes were wide with eyebrows raised, “Lando really said that.” He smirked. Shuffling up to good posture he said, “I’m fine with that. Y/n has always been different, but in a good way. She knows what the people wants, but also doesn’t get caught up in all the PR. She’s herself.”

A clip of you with fans plays. Your smile was mirrored with theirs. Everyone wanted to see you, hug you, feel you. And the waves that were emanating from you only made the crowd happier.

Now, the seat is occupied by none other than Sir Lewis Hamilton.

“What do I think about Y/n?” he questions back to himself. “I know that she is one of the best rookies to ever come across in the world of Formula 1. I’ve had the opportunity to share podiums with so many drivers, but her? There’s something different.”

The scene flashes to a podium shared with you, Lewis, and Max. Lewis had been able to take the win, leaving you on the third step. You had almost had the win, but a late safety car ruined it. Lewis looked over at you, expecting a disappointed face. But all he saw was a smile that rivaled the sun.

“She never seems to be disappointed with anything. Even if she was to qualify in last place, she would still smile.” Lewis laughed. “And I think everyone loves her more than they realize.”

A small clip of you and a bulldog flashes across the screen. Roscoe was licking all over your face.

“Roscoe, stop!” But you were laughing, and the dog thought that he should continue. Lewis found the two of you in the middle of the floor in the Mercedes hospitality. A blanket was draped around your shoulders.

“And what are you doing here kid?” Lewis put his hands on his sides.

You shrugged. “Toto told me I could hang out here. Max is having one of those ‘adult meetings’ that Christian says my ears shouldn’t hear. I think they forget that I’m 21 now.”

Lewis just laughed, thinking of how Toto must have let you in and had given you a blanket as well. He just ruffled your hair and sat on the ground with you.

The scene changes one more time. You are now in the seat.

The interviewer asks, “Please state your name and your occupation.”

You smiled, “My name is Y/n L/n and I am a Formula 1 racer who drives for the Oracle Red Bull Racing Formula 1 Team. I also DJ,” you shot finger guns at the camera and clicked you mouth, “Thanks Lando.”

“How was your first season in Formula 1. You obviously showed the world of what you could do.”

You nodded before continuing, “The season went better than I expected. To place third in the driver’s championship as a rookie? Unheard of.” You smirked. “Until now.”

The person behind the camera continued, “You were only 10 points away from Charles Leclerc. How does that make you feel?”

You cocked your head. “It feels wonderful. Charles had a really good season.” You leaned in as though to tell a secret. “If anything, don’t tell Charles or Max I said this, but Max and I would rather lose to Charles than anyone else.”

“And why is that?”

You deadpanned. “Well Charles is Lightning McQueen incarnate and Max’s emotional support rival. Who else would we want?” People laughed in the background.

“Now that you know you could win a championship…”

You cut her off, “Oh I’ve always known I could win a championship. But I also know that I was born to break records. And right now, I’m on a path to help Max break the 7 streak.”

“Ah yes, sorry. What would you do after winning a championship.” You hadn’t seen Max slip in.

“I think I’d pull a Nico Rosenburg. Ya know? Retire while I’m ahead.”

“You would not do that!” Max said behind the camera and you looked straight at him.

“Yes I would.”

“No you wouldn’t. Because you said you were born to break records. Well Kid, if I make a record championship, you need to be the one to break it.”

Oh my gosh, I loved how this chapter turned out. And it is officially the longest chapter I have written so far – 6,077 words. Right now, I have to write the chapter for the last race of F2 and you readers have to pretend that it lands on a weekend that the F1 drivers can attend.

Also! I am pleased to announce that the first few chapters of a new series will be out shortly! It is called “Besties for the Resties” and it’s how you got close with many of the drivers. Not all of them will have their own chapter and not all the drivers are being written about. So please be aware that this will not be going over 10 chapters!

Thank you to all my readers and Happy Thanksgiving!

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pinkrelish · 1 year

Text

𝐭𝐡𝐞 "𝐲𝐞𝐬" 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐲.

singledad!mechanic!eddie x fem!reader

✶After a lifetime of questionable decisions, you moved from the big city to the sleepy town of Hawkins with your best friend, and took the first job you saw: answering phones for the most boring auto shop in the dullest place on Earth. It wasn't exactly the adventure you wanted it to be.. but attempting to win over the jaded mechanic who insisted on ignoring your existence proved entertaining.✶

NSFW — slow burn, eventual smut, strangers to lovers, flirting, mutual pining, angst, drug/alcohol mention/use, depictions of poverty, sort of grumpy x sunshine but eddie's just tired, reader and eddie are mid-late 20's

chapter: 1/20 [wc: 5.5k]

↳ part 01 / 02 / 03 / 04 / 05 / 06 / 07 / 08 / 09 / 10 / 11 / 12

AO3

Chapter 1: Surprise, Surprise

“Yes.” A simple answer which spawned as many awkward scenarios, as it did great ones. Your name was spray painted on the side of a bridge, you spent nights learning to tango on abandoned rooftops, the amount of tales you accrued of bad dates could fill a self-help book.

Whatever the question was, the answer was “yes.” Life was more exciting that way.

Well, your policy usually lended itself to exciting adventures, anyway.

Currently, you were sat behind a desk with your boss, Mr. Moore, who slouched on his black stool with his cheek propped on his fist, pointing a pencil at a customer’s pink invoice sheet in front of you, explaining who to call in the spiral-bound catalog for the parts to be shipped.

The tall counter top partially obscured the both of you from employees and customers alike, but as you soon realized, the number of employees was slightly above two, and the customers even less; and if any of them paid you any mind, you couldn’t tell from the disorienting mix of exhaust fumes, dirty oil, and grease wafting in from the glass door on the left.

Thus began the first day of your new job at David’s Auto Repair. Boring.

————

Your second and third days were hardly different. Arriving at the butt crack of dawn and beginning the routine that definitely wasn’t in the ad in the newspaper: clean the bathrooms (hey, at least they had two), start the coffee pot after scrubbing off years of neglect caked onto the inside, and organize the paperwork Mr. Moore left for you in his office.

Oh, and most importantly, after locking up your bike outside the front door, you made your way through the echoey workshop and poked your head out the back door to the parking lot–which, by all means, was a gravel alleyway with overgrown trees blocking your view beyond the sleek black car parked next to the dumpster.

“Morning!” you greeted the one employee who arrived early and stayed late. “Eddie, right?”

The man leaning against the gray brick wall didn’t bother acknowledging you. Didn’t lift his head from its dropped back position, nor open his eyes. Definitely didn’t take the cigarette out of his mouth to bestow you the gift of his chipper attitude, nor did he uncross his arms to offer you the bare minimum wave.

And much like the other days, you sat perched behind your desk and beamed up at him as he walked past you to the break room. And as usual, he slid his gaze to you. And like normal, he didn’t say anything.

But he did hold your eye contact for a fraction of a second longer, albeit, he looked a bit frightened when he did, as if he were suspicious of your smile.

You listened to the clunk of his heavy boots fade down the hallway, then return with him holding a mug of coffee.

This time, as he walked by, he remained vigilant, and your grin went ignored by his stupid big brown eyes surrounded by envious lashes.

Lucky you, the reception area was essentially a glass cage. Behind the black pleather seats for customers was the glowing blue sky, and beside you were floor to ceiling windows showcasing the artificially bright garage where the man in grease stained coveralls twisted gaudy rings off his fingers and placed them on a tray with his coffee, before picking up a dirty rag and popping open the hood of the car he worked on past closing last night.

“You’re welcome for the coffee,” you mumbled in a mocking tone, sneering at his red name patch–Eddie. “Jerk.”

————

Friday was different. You locked up your bike, chucked your backpack into your chair behind the desk, and made your way to the back of the garage for the routine, “Good morning.”

For some reason, you decided to reveal your whole self; more than your head stuck out the door, or rising above the countertop customers leaned on when trying to schmooze deals on parts–hell if you knew how to do that, anyway. You didn’t get paid enough to bargain.

You stepped onto the uneven gravel and surveyed the scenery, looking both ways down the alley to the major roads on either side leading to the heart of downtown Hawkins. Absolutely dismally silent. Void of life. Except for the small things you never noticed, like faraway birds, the hum of a distant motor, buzzing bugs before they disappeared for the cooler months. You felt the dew settling on your forearms, and swore you could smell impending rain on the cloudless day.

“Is it always this quiet?” you asked, face pinched in confusion as you took it all in. “I swear I can hear my own thoughts.”

Eddie may not have appreciated your joke, but he did surprise you.

He kept one of his arms crossed over his stomach, and took the cigarette from between his lips to flick the ashes. “You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked the dilapidated fence across from him.

Feeling cheeky, you schooled the thrill out of your voice from getting a response out of him, and said, “What gave it away?”

A drag on his cigarette was his wordless answer. Fair.

“I’m from New York.” The implied City followed without clarification. “Just moved here last week. My roommate’s from Hawkins, and she had to move back to help take care of her parents. They’re older and her dad has some health problems, and yeah, I couldn’t afford rent on my own, so you know, why not. Why not follow her to a town so small it’s impossible to find on a map.”

All your talking earned you a magnificent thing. Eddie finally opened his eyes, if only to pin you with a mild glare, and a skeptic pinch between his brows.

He said more to himself than you, “You must really like your roommate to come here.” The inflection at the end was both amusement and contempt, no doubt.

“We met in our first year of college and became best friends like that–!” You snapped. “Both theater kids going to school for acting, and we later made a comedy troupe with a few other people. When she asked if I wanted to move with her, I said ‘yes.’” Inclining your upper body towards him, you explained, “It’s sorta my thing. If anyone asks me anything, I say ‘yes.’ Obviously, I can veto shit that’s dangerous or crosses any boundaries, but it’s my policy to try everything. Life makes better stories that way.”

Your unique brand of wisdom furthered his obvious distaste for you.

Eddie inhaled his vice until the orange glow burned to the filter. Smoke fell from his mouth in a rush as if he were about to speak again, but he didn’t. He merely stared at you. And if he were having a staring contest, he won.

“Well, have a good day, then,” you said, spinning on the toe of your shoe.

You sat in your glass zoo for the day shuffling papers, making calls, and filling out forms. Most definitely not talking to the guy who appeared annoyed at your very existence.

Unfortunately for him, Hawkins was tiny and the pickings were slim.

Maybe it was his eyes, or the way the short layers of his choppy hair cut escaped his low bun to curl themselves in face-framing waves, or the fact he was twenty-years younger than the other two mechanics, but you took a liking to Eddie, much to his dismay. And due to your affinity for his annoyance, you noticed the subtle changes in his appearance sooner than you should.

————

Dark purple circles announced the lack of sleep under Eddie’s eyes before the bags could. Bloodshot and struggling to open past a sliver, he sucked down half his cigarette before the routine minutes of peace he carved into his strict schedule were interrupted by the newest knot in his muscles.

“Good morning!” you said.

“Morning,” he returned without thinking about it. Rookie mistake.

You stood closer this time, inching down the brick wall, approaching him as if he would startle like a wild animal to get a better look at the years wearing heavy on the fine lines etched into his face. Perhaps no longer ‘fine.’

“You good?”

He didn’t have the energy to put up his usual front. With his chin dipped to his chest, he kept his eyes closed, nearly drifting to sleep as he muttered, “Long night.”

“Ah.”

Your clumsy shuffling alerted him to your movement, and he reluctantly observed you standing a few feet in front of him, rocking on your heels. He filled his chest with an incredulous sigh before you even spoke.

“You seem like you could use some cheering up,” you beamed. “I could juggle for you! Should I do three or four?” Eddie’s jaw went slack, and the cigarette stuck to the wetness inside his chapped lips. You bent down to gather large rocks into your palms, opting for four when he didn’t answer.

You stood up and stepped back. Made a big show of tracing invisible arcs above your head with your gaze, readying your hands. Sucking in a breath. Building suspense while his expression slowly crept into one of tempered curiosity.

Tensing, you tossed all four rocks into the air, and made a genuine effort to catch them before they fell unceremoniously around you, bouncing off the gravel in your scramble.

Clasping your hands behind your back in feigned shyness, you announced, “I don’t know how to juggle.”

For a moment you thought he was going to continue to regard you as if you were a bug in his coffee.. Then his veneer cracked.

He snorted. The cute way, when someone’s trying to suppress it. A subtle shake in their shoulders, keeping their head down, and their smile hidden behind the heel of the palm.

Eddie hugged his arm tighter over his chest, and chastised himself, “Why’d I let that get me.”

And truly, when he flicked his gaze to you with the lopsided remnant of his grin, you were imprinted with the heat of his wonderment, and your body remembered that feeling. Sensing it later when you sat at your desk, tapping your pencil, rattling off a series of numbers and letters for engine parts, and you snuck a coy look over the phone at the exact moment Eddie turned around to ask Carl for a wrench instead of getting it himself from the tool box near the window.

And he felt your stare during lunch when you promised an irate customer their car would be ready by the end of business hours, and hung up the phone with the type of heavy-handedness one used when implying a ‘fuck you’ without stating it.

You pushed yourself from the desk and went to the fridge in front of the circular table in the break room, eyeing Eddie’s odd choice as you walked by. A bologna sandwich–fairly normal–but also a stained orange tupperware container with an array of dried out microwaved leftovers. A corner of spaghetti, pale instant mashed potatoes with three peas stuck on top, unidentifiable sludge that may have been beef stew at one point, and a handful of Kraft mac n cheese.

Pitiful amounts of food that most people would’ve thrown out.

Not that you should judge. Your lunch was the blandest rice-based meal your roommate’s mom made the night before. The woman had never heard of salt, much less other spices, but she was letting you live in their attic for free until you and Bobbie found a place to live.

Breaking your chain of thoughts, you smiled at Eddie on your way out.

He didn’t look up from his paperwork.

Wholly ignored.

————

Over the rest of the month, you learned there wasn’t a definitive pattern to which days of the week were hardest for Eddie, but it was clear when he was enduring the worst.

As the evenings grew cooler, you left the lobby door open, and in doing so, were wise to the bite in his words, the edge to his voice. The quick apologies to Carl when he let his frustration show. The fluidity of ‘fucks’ flying past his mouth, the way he wrung his nape while staring into the distance, and the lurking stress of bottled emotions causing his teeth to grind.

He approached you with concern spurned from the windows being painted black with night.

“You don’t have to stay behind, you know that, right?” Eddie got your attention in the doorway. You blinked at him, still seeing the words of the book you were reading swim past your vision. “I have a set of keys. I can lock up when I’m done.”

It was the most he’d said to you in two weeks. Three entire sentences composed of more words than he’d uttered if you added them all up since your juggling stunt.

“I don’t mind.”

A meager response which resulted in a standoff.

Eddie wasted no time bunching his shoulders at your defiance. He left streaky fingerprints on the door handle as he reached for his neck, and tucked his fingers under his collar to run his thumb along his chain necklace in a self-soothing gesture. A layer of grime coated his skin. His disheveled hair stuck to his sweaty, dirty neck. The front of his coveralls were blackened with grease, as was the white tank top he wore underneath, peeking above the unfastened top snap.

On the other hand, you overturned your palms and glanced around the barren room. “Is it really that much of a bother that I’m sitting in here being quiet?” you drawled.

“Yes.” Automatic irritation.

“It’s not like I have somewhere to be.”

“Don’t have a comedy routine to rehearse with your roommate?” he intoned in complete monotony.

“Ha-ha,” you replied, just as emotionless. You thought about correcting him in regards to you and Bobbie no longer doing stand up, but decided to grab your backpack and leave without putting up a fight. His concern about you staying late may not be genuine, but it was evident he wanted–or needed–you gone. You didn’t want to push his boundaries when he showed this level of discomfort, especially when the burden of fatigue wore beyond acceptable exhaustion, and he was ready to snap, no matter how hard he tried to quell it.

You surrendered, “Bye, Eddie.”

No reply.

In total darkness, you unchained your bike and hopped on, pedaling past the mailbox when you heard the thunderous slams of the service doors being lowered shut.

And you made it to the edge of the trees before coming to a screeching halt in the middle of the empty street, cracking your neck at the speed of which you whipped around to gawk.

Your heartbeat skipped, then timed itself with the extreme drum beat and opening wail of a guitar accompanied by high-pitched screamed lyrics.

The music may have been muffled, and the inside fluorescent lights struggled to penetrate the dense fog from the upper warehouse windows, but it was as if Eddie was subjecting the desolate parking lot to his own personal Judas Priest concert, hearing be damned.

You didn’t even know the dusty radio in the shop worked. But whatever helped him blow off steam, you supposed.

————

Today was a good day.

Eddie liked Fridays. Most people working weekdays did, but when he came inside early from his morning cigarette, and you hadn’t finished sweeping the shop, he made a point to idle around the orange car at the center, seeking your attention and offering an apology. Not a spoken apology, mind you. But it was rare he initiated eye contact, and when he did it with the purpose of showing deference in his softened features, you understood.

You forgave him with a gentle lift at the corner of your lips for an incident yesterday afternoon, wherein he grunted at you to leave him alone when you were telling him about one of the plays you and Bobbie acted in. Sometimes you required your own reminder of when you were being annoying, and gave him an apologetic smile for bothering him. He nodded. All was right with the world. All was forgiven and now he could get to work.

He wiped his hands down the sides of his coveralls, and leaned his upper half through the open car window to reach the latch for the hood.

The perfect opportunity to mess with him presented itself in all its glory. But first, you couldn’t resist taking a long.. long look at his backside, head tilted, mouth more than a little hung open.

“Huh?” He nearly banged his head on the roof, rounding on you with the sharpest glare in the Midwest.

Under the guise of perfect innocence, you kept brushing the broom over his work boots and toward the dust pan. “Sorry, sir, just doin’ my job. Gotta clean up the filth.”

“An actress and a comedian, huh?” he posed, allowing his smirk to foster as he gripped the edge of the door. “Gonna tell me you were a clown, next?”

“Actually..” You were interrupted by Carl coming in, followed by the near-retired Kevin who worked two days a week.

You greeted them loud and proud, overdoing it in the joy department at the ripe morning hour. Asking about Carl’s wife, and Kevin’s dog; really laying it on thick for the purpose of sending a message to the looming ghoul behind you: I’m annoying you on purpose now.

Still, as you entered the lobby, you caught sight of the sneaky grin on his face before he turned his back to you. A tight-lipped thing he was clearly trying to rid himself of while pulling his hair back into a low bun, and taking the time to tie up a bandana to keep everything out of his face, thus losing his security blanket from the world perceiving he wasn’t in a permanent bad mood.

And of course, Eddie kept up his act through lunch. Stomping through the lobby in that way people did when they were so very obviously trying to appear aloof, and coming across as anything but. Eyes staring straight ahead, but too wide and too aware to not be soliciting a reaction from their periphery. Chest out, muscles flexed. Posture the very opposite of casual, causing them to walk in a stilted manner like a robot.

And his charade continued when he came back from the break room, rounding the corner with softer steps. Slower. Hanging onto the precious milliseconds where your back was to him, and he could absorb your image freely without being noticed. Then, he lifted his chin and returned to his project, pretending you weren’t there.

Yep, so painfully obvious when he forgot reflections existed and you were surrounded by glass.

~~~

Fridays were the days he anticipated most. Work was grueling, and he had many things to finish before the break for the weekend, but he didn’t mind staying late. He preferred it.

Fridays meant he could rely on someone else handling the stressors at home, and he was free to earn his late hours at the garage, indulging in his loud music, and unwinding the constant state of tension lurking beneath the surface. It was the only way he knew how to cope. To stay sane.

Yeah, he loved Fridays. Until a surprise came running at him in her tiny pink shoes.

Eddie screwed his eyes shut and exhaled a long, hard breath through his nose.

“Sorry,” came Wayne’s earnest apology as his nephew wilted; shoulders sagging, head hung. Tapping the wrench he was holding on his thigh. Trying his best to keep it together. “Don’t mean to drop ‘er off on you, but work called me in, so I came here after picking her up.”

Turning away from the engine he was installing, Eddie assumed his authoritative voice, but it came out as a weary sigh. “Adrienne, you know the rules,” he warned lowly, “No running in the shop.” After a beat, he corrected himself. “I mean, no being in the shop at all!”

She giggled as she skipped away from him, sloppy pigtails bouncing with mirth, plastic glittery shoes slapping the concrete floor where a myriad of items she could trip on laid.

“Adrie!” He called out, but she was too busy opposing him to pay attention.

Lucky for her, a certain receptionist caught her by the shoulders before she crashed into a rogue tire.

“Whoa there, little Miss!”

You looked to Eddie for further instruction on what to do with the girl currently laughing up a storm at your feet, but he was frozen. A bit paler, and wringing the back of his neck. Unable to articulate any of the broken consonants on his tongue as he stared at you. You switched your gaze to the older man beside him, but he was equally confused as to why Eddie was having trouble speaking.

Addressing anyone who would like to volunteer an answer, you asked, “And who’s this?”

“This.. This i-is my daughter. She, I, Goddamnit–I’m sorry, can you take her inside? I swear she’ll be quiet. Right, Adrie?”

Seeing the pure desperation settle around his eyes, you assimilated into the role of babysitter, wanting to alleviate his anxiety despite the sudden surge of your own. You held your hand out for her to take, and she did so without a second thought, grasping onto you with her little fingers and standing up, being the one to lead you to your desk.

As the door closed behind you, you overheard the older man clear his throat under the strain of bad news. “The water heater is broken again, and I couldn’t– ..Before I had to leave.”

Their private conversation was sealed behind the glass. You didn’t care to eavesdrop. It was too heartbreaking watching Eddie frantically catch his fingers on his bandana before removing it so he could tangle his curls into his fist, tugging them over his face as he groaned in a fruitless effort to hide himself from the world.

But on the subject of his brunette waves..

His daughter had the same curl pattern. Almost the same cut, too. Clearly Eddie was the acting barber of the family. Something you’d find adorable if it wasn’t for the pang of rejection in your stomach.

Daughter. Family.

The words repeated themselves in your head as your eyes wandered to the black tray beside the tool cabinet. He wore several large rings. Lots of jewelry, in fact, but you couldn’t remember if any of them were a wedding band, and the embarrassment of developing a crush on a married man for weeks without taking two seconds to cross reference his left hand burned your cheeks hot.

“Hi,” his daughter said cutely, swaying from foot to foot while holding two of your fingers.

You crouched to her level. “Wanna draw while we wait?” She nodded, sucking on the tip of her thumb.

Steadying your spinny office chair while she climbed into it, you made sure she was comfortable before bringing out the black stool from Mr. Moore’s office, and sitting next to her. You opened your backpack, flipped to a clean sheet in your sketchpad, and presented it to her along with your colored pencils.

“Hmm, what should we draw?”

Adrie snatched the bubblegum pink color, and began her masterpiece. “Mrs. Teresa read us a book about a mouse.”

Thank God she said it was a mouse, because you didn’t want to be the one to guess what the two oblong circles on the page were.

Adorably, she filled you in on the parts of the story she remembered, and added a triangle of yellow cheese under the mouse, then waited for you to prompt another thing to draw. You followed the nocturnal theme and asked for an owl. She hesitated on what colors to choose, and you helped her pick out the shades of brown and tan.

“How old are you?” you asked while she inundated her bird with too many feathers.

“Four-and-a-half,” she said proudly. “How old are you?”

You raised your brows. “Certainly not four-and-a-half.”

At some point, your arm had wrapped itself around her. Maybe to help shift her closer to the desk. Maybe to collect her in a pseudo-hug when she completed her art. Maybe to let Eddie know everything was okay when he craned his neck to check on you while conversing with the man outside, and you put on your best face, grinning at the story his daughter reenacted about a cartoon she watched that morning at preschool.

“What next? What next?”

“Let’s see.. Can you draw me a bat?”

She was more sure of herself, grabbing the black pencil and outlining an entire colony of bats mid-flight with more attention to detail. “My daddy has bats.”

“He has bats?” you questioned, sweeping loose hair out of her face.

She pointed to her elbow.

Thinking on it for a moment, you perked up. “Oh! He has tattoos?” She recognized the word, nodding vigorously. “Interesting, interesting.”

She’d hardly begun to fill in their wings when Eddie opened the door, and held up the comically small backpack slung on his arm, signaling it was time to leave.

You helped her down from the chair, and she excused herself to the bathroom, which only contributed to the awkward silence when she disappeared down the hall and Eddie was forced to wait at your desk.

It didn’t have to be analyzed, nor stated. The reality.

He had an entire life outside of work.

Duh. Of course he did, but still. It was one he never shared with you. Not like you earned the privilege to know, or to be included in anything he didn’t want to divulge, but with how private he was, it came as a surprise.

Invoking the thousands of dollars you spent on acting classes, you moved on, and kept your tone light, “The butterfly backpack suits you. Not sure about the color, though. Bright pink clashes with your navy blue outfit.”

Tough crowd.

His sulky demeanor permeated in his dull gaze trained on his stained sleeves. “I’m sorry.”

“What for?”

“Dumping her on you like that. Normally my uncle has the day off work and can take care of her, but he’s gotta go in because someone called out sick, so, yeah..”

If it were at all appropriate, you would reach across the countertop to soothe him from picking at his torn cuticles. But it wasn’t appropriate. So you didn’t.

You locked your hands behind your head and leaned back in your chair. “Funnily enough, I worked a brief stint as a clown for children’s birthday parties, so I’m actually quite comfortable entertaining them.”

“I’m shocked,” he said, void of shock. Finding the strength to lift his eyes from the animals she drew on your sketchpad to the encouraging curve of your lips, he tried to match your grin, but it fell flat. “At least you can go home on time today.”

You sucked in a breath for a quick retort, but Adrie interrupted you in her tiny voice, “Daddy! I can’t reach the sink!” And maybe that was for the best before you humiliated yourself more.

Because, the truth of the matter was, you always had the ability to go home on time. It was only because Eddie stayed behind that you made excuses to sit at your desk past your scheduled hours, prattling off some nonsense about memorizing the catalog.

“C’mon,” he said to his daughter, supporting her on his hip. “Let’s get going.” His tone wasn’t unkind, but it wasn’t exactly patient, either. The creeping exhaustion he kept under wraps was breaking through. Stress fractures in the mask he wore around others. The sanity he gripped for dear life for the sake of Adrie.

He caught the empathetic pinch between your brows, and used the last of his energy to turn so his daughter could see you. “Say ‘bye,’ and ‘thank you’ for playing, Adrie.”

She waved with the same enthusiasm as a golden retriever wagging their tail. “Bye! Thank you!”

“Bye, Adrie,” you laughed. “Bye, Eddie.”

Like usual, he didn’t respond. Today that was okay.

————

Eddie was on the verge. He was trembling, failing to loosen a bolt on the water heater to investigate why it broke–again–when his hair was yanked–again–and his knuckles scraped a bent piece of metal–again.

He was kneeling on his kitchen floor, craving nothing more than a shower to wash away the work week until his skin burned, but he was not afforded the simple luxury.

No relaxation. Not for him. No one to call on when Wayne was gone. This was his life to fix. On his own.

After repairing cars all day, he was exhausted. Touched out. But Adrie needed something from him, something he couldn’t understand with his tired mind. All he wanted was a break. All he needed was a break from her using his coveralls to scale his body. All he sought was the energy to deal with her pulling his hair.

But he was not spared the fortune.

“Adrie, please,” he resorted to begging. And when she didn’t stop, he withdrew his arms from the closet, and pried her hands off his hair, peeling her away and setting her on the floor.

She made to grab him again, but he used his waning strength to squeeze her arms to her sides, giving her his full attention she fought for.

“Can I get you a snack? Or put something on the TV? Do you want a nap?” He listed off anything, shaking and desperate.

“I wanna play with Daddy.”

Guilt amplified the shame.

He was a shit dad. He knew. He did his best and it was never good enough.

“I know you do,” the words fluctuated in the wake of water stinging his eyes. “I know you do, but Daddy needs to fix this. I can make you a snack and you can eat it in the living room. How ‘bout that?” Under normal circumstances, that wasn’t allowed. She had a penchant for dropping sticky food on the carpet–which was just another thing he’d have to get around to cleaning–but he was willing to bend the rules for the promise of a shower.

Adrienne thought about his offer for a long while, and settled on his deal.

And yet, it was hours.. hours until he was able to sit down.

The water heater required more service than he initially thought, and his daughter wasn’t entertained by herself for very long. She came to him in intervals of minutes, climbing up his back and hanging from his neck. He stopped caring. He didn’t have it within him. He made sure she was safe, and that was it.

He fed her a dreadful dinner, and she was so happy for her overcooked noodles in pasta sauce. He saved the leftovers. Put them in the nearly-empty fridge and took out two beers for himself, cracking the tops before sinking into the couch.

Adrienne stood between his legs while he wrapped her in her favorite blanket, and placed her in his lap. The top half of his coveralls were tied by the sleeves around his waist. No matter how dirty he was, this was how they ended the night. Him staring blankly at the TV, and her cheek on his chest, ear pressed to his white tank top, listening to his heartbeat. Curling her fists into her tattered quilt in response to him nuzzling the top of her head, and resting there in a content hum. Closing his eyes. Turning off his brain. Tipping back swigs of beer until he felt better, and giving her kisses until she giggled and squirmed.

The kisses were as much for her as they were for him, giving and receiving the only affection in his life. Apologizing for earlier when he couldn’t stand to be touched.

Her hug was small, yet powerful. Clumsy, but what he needed. Another person to gather in his arms and have their weight fall asleep on his chest.

He collected Adrie, and gave her a few more doting kisses while carrying her to bed.

“Stay, Daddy.”

Sometimes he did, just to have a real bed to sleep in, but with how long it took to fix the water heater, there was only enough hot water to bathe her. He’d have to wait until the morning.

“Not tonight, Daddy’s still dirty from work.”

It hurt to walk away. It hurt more to sleep on the lumpy couch. Hurt worse when Wayne came home to crash on the roll out bed, and the sun funneled through the windows, and the day started all over again.

Hurt the most when Eddie thought about the surprised look on your face when you learned he had a daughter.

Hurt the least when he imagined a world in which you wouldn’t care, and still flirted with him come Monday morning, because fuck, it was the only thing he looked forward to after Adrie’s meltdowns on the way to school.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson #stranger things #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #mechanic!eddie #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things fanfic #the yes policy

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vietproit · 2 years

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Tải về Windows All in One ( Win 7 Ultimate / 10 &11 Pro ) TPM x64 (Update 11/2021)

Tải về Windows All in One ( Win 7 Ultimate / 10 &11 Pro ) TPM x64 (Update 11/2021) Tải về Windows All in One ( Win 7 Ultimate / 10 &11 Pro ) TPM x64 (Update 11/2021) là bản dựng Windows AIO gồm Win 7 Ultimate X64 X86 Win10 Pro & Win11 Pro TPM cập nhật mới nhất tháng 11/2021. Bản dựng bao gồm 1 file ISO chứa 3 bản dựng Windows 7, Windows 10 và Windows 11. Tải về Windows All in One (7/10/11) x64…

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#1 file ISO chứa 3 bản dựng #Tải về Windows All in One #Update 11/2021 #Win 7 Ultimate / 10 &11 Pro

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nebulablakemurphy · 11 months

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Moves & Countermoves (Part 19)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing. Trigger warning: discussions of trauma surrounding ‘desirable’ victors.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18

“Tell me about the stairs,” Dr. Aurelius says.

Y/N stares at him blankly, the stairs.

He waits a moment, tapping his pen to paper. “At the request of your husband, you will be issued a nightlock pill, to use in the event that you are captured.”

Y/N nods. One of the stipulations to Haymitch agreeing to her deployment, on this mission to rescue Peeta.

‘Show me you can reach it with your mouth.’ He tested the accessibility of her suit’s pill pocket, rigorously. ‘Show me you can still reach it with your hands behind your back.’

It isn’t something he wants her to use, but knowing that whatever Snow has planned for her would make Peeta’s captivity look like child’s play…

“By President Coin’s orders, I cannot release this… medication unless you are of sound mind.”

“You have reason to believe I’m not?” Y/N asks.

“One of your former guards told me you asked if anyone had ever jumped from the elevator.” Aurelius purses his lips.

“It was one time!” Y/N waves a hand, “and it was a joke.”

“You have a dark sense of humor.”

“You would too.”

The therapist affords her a soft smile, “you may be right. Even still, you are my patient. I need to act in your best interest. So please, tell me what happened on the stairs.”

Y/N takes a deep breath, “it’s kind of a blur. Everyone was pushing, yelling, especially after the upper levels were damaged and the rain started coming down.”

“How did you feel?”

“I felt…worried, I guess.”

“In what way?”

“About Haymitch, Madge and the kids. Worried about what was happening to Peeta. Worried about getting Katniss into the bunker.”

He jots this down.

“That was a normal response.” Y/N snaps.

“Very much so,” the doctor agrees, “not every note I make is a bad one.”

Y/N crosses her arms.

“Did you worry for yourself? Your own safety?”

You’re supposed to say yes.

“There is no right answer, Y/N.”

“There’s an answer that gets me to Peeta and one that doesn’t.”

“True,” he shrugs, “but I trust you not to lie.”

“You shouldn’t.” Y/N narrows her eyes. “I’m a good liar, I’ve been doing it since I was fifteen.”

“How do you feel about death? Is it something you long for, or run from?”

“If I die, my kids lose their mother, my husband loses his wife, my sister loses her sister. The list goes on. So it really doesn’t matter how I feel about death. All I know is that I cannot die.”

“Yet you think you could bite down on this pill?” He presents the dark purple capsule.

“As a last resort. If I have fought tooth and nail and I know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that I can’t get free? I could.” Y/N decides.

Dr. Aurelius nods, holding the nightlock out to her. “Best of luck.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch curses Katniss’ name, as he shuffles through the crawl space she’s gone to hide in, after refusing to make the propo saying thirteen survived Snow’s attack.

Have kids, they said. It will be fun, they said.

Though none of his biological children have forced him to squeeze in such a tight space, parenthood is not for the faint of heart.

He plops down beside her with a sigh, “so this is the end, huh? I guess we’re just gonna hide down here forever.”

“I can’t be the mockingjay,” Katniss chokes out.

“Not the mockingjay,” Haymitch tosses a bit of hair away from her face, “just Katniss.”

She blinks at him, warily.

“Look, I know I’m not good at this pep talk stuff. That’s Y/N’s department.”

“She doesn’t want to see me,” Katniss understands.

“She spent the morning getting cleared by her shrink.”

“Cleared for what?”

“They’re going to rescue Peeta.” Haymitch tells her.

“What?”

“The dam went down in district five, took out most of the power to the Capitol. Knocked out their signal defense, Beetee’s inside their system, reeking all kinds of havoc. The window is open to us, for how much longer? I don’t know, I guess until the Capitol can get the power back on.” Haymitch explains.

“And Coin?”

“I can never fully support that woman. But Plutarch got word that Peeta and the others are in the tribute center. With the power out, Coin sees this as an opportunity. She knows that Peeta is the Capitol’s weapon, the same way you’re ours. And as opposed to having you two pointing at each other, she’s going to get him.”

“I have to go help them.” Katniss springs to life.

“Woah, hey,” Haymitch reaches out a hand to stop her. “What’re you just gonna jump out of the vent and go storm the Capitol? Besides it’s already underway. Six soldiers went in, volunteer only. Y/N, Gale, Boggs and three others.”

“You just let her go?” Katniss frowns.

Haymitch admits, “she’s not the type of person you ‘let’ do things. But you know how that is, sweetheart. Between the two of you,” he lets out a low whistle, “I’m exhausted.”

————————————————————————

Madge breaks her dinner roll in half. Splitting it between Everest and Arista, the same way she’s watched Y/N and Haymitch do since they got here. Making sure little bellies are full, before their own.

Pollux approaches, motioning to the seat across from Madge, at the metal mess hall table. He sets down his tray and pulls out his note pad, to jot a message down. “Is this seat taken?”

“No,” Madge greets him, “please, sit.”

“Hi, I’m Pollux. You’re Y/N’s sister, right?”

Madge nods.

“She keeps your picture in her pocket.” Pollux smiles. “And them.” He points to the oldest children.

Everest’s eyes scan the page. “Our mom told us about you. What happened to you in the Capitol…I’m really sorry.”

“Honey,” Madge runs a hand over his hair.

“Thank you, Everest. It’s nice to meet you. Your mom talks about you all the time, she is so proud.” Pollux turns the page quickly, for more room. “Arista and Daisy too, of course. Your mom loves you all very much.”

With that the children turn back to their meals.

Madge smiles, stabbing at her food with one hand, while patting the baby in the sling. The tray moves and Pollux holds out a hand to stabilize it. “Oh, thank you. It’s ok though, you eat.”

He draws the hand back, long enough to scribble, “I’d offer to hold the baby instead, but I don’t think we’re there yet.”

Madge laughs, “funny.”

“It’s really no trouble.”

Madge shrugs, as he grips the edge of her tray, loosely. Managing his own dinner just fine.

Cressida calls him away, after a while, for Finnick’s live propo, to help jam the Capitol’s airwaves.

“I’ll see you around.”

“I’ll see you.”

————————————————————————

“This is Finnick Odair, winner of the sixty-fifth Hunger Games, coming to you from district thirteen, alive and well. We survived an attack by the Capitol, but I’m not here to give you recent news.”

“Why is Finnick doing a propo?” Katniss wonders, watching the split screen of the control room. The large, right panel is an image of Finnick. Just outside the rubble, where they asked her to film earlier, the sun has set and the lights are trained on him. The left hand side is home to six smaller panels, with the soldier’s helmet cam footage.

“It’s a lot more than that,” Haymitch informs her.

“Beetee’s commandeered the system,” Coin says, proudly.

“They’re down to generator power, so there’s a more limited range of frequencies available to them. I’m filling them all up with Y/N and Finnick. It looks like they’re both live.” Beetee assures Katniss.

“Snow will think she’s still here?” That’s brilliant.

“Not many will see it, but those who do will assume they’re just propos.”

“What they don’t know is that these broadcasts are jamming their entire system with noise. Early defense warnings, internal communications, everything. As long as one or both of the broadcasts are going through, our team should be able to get in and out without being detected.” Beetee assures her.

“You can survive the arena, but the moment you leave, you’re a slave.” Finnick narrates. “President Snow used to sell me, or my body, at least.”

“Mockingjay one, you are twenty seconds from perimeter defense.”

“I wasn’t the only one. If a victor is considered desirable, the president gives them as a reward, or allows people to buy them. If you refuse, he kills someone you love.” Finnick presses on, looking straight at camera.

“Ten seconds.” The hovercraft pilot begins counting down. “Nine, eight, seven, six.”

“Just because a victor is married doesn’t mean they’re safe.”

“Five, four, three…”

“The Capitol’s more generous patrons paid dearly to watch the wedding night, even more to witness the conception of the most beloved children in Panem.”

“Two, one.”

Katniss freezes, surely he doesn’t mean- it couldn’t be. The dress, that stupid dress they crammed her in. Why it upset Y/N so badly. Snow was taunting her.

“No response from perimeter defense, we’re inside Capitol airspace.”

“Yes,” Beetee rejoices.

Haymitch is watching the smaller screen, his jaw tense, doing his best to ignore the eyes that fall on him. Twisting his wedding band around and around. It doesn’t matter what secrets Finnick reveals, so long as he keeps jamming the signal. Keep Y/N safe.

“To make themselves feel better, patrons will offer presents of money or jewelry. But I found secrets to be a much more valuable form of payment.”

“Gear up,” Boggs orders the soldiers on the hovercraft. They are just seconds away from the tribute center. “Masks on.”

Their lenses are tinted for night vision, the red light inside makes Y/N’s heartbeat faster.

“Open the door.” Boggs says, his voice echoing through her headset. “Command, this is team leader, preparing to deploy gas. We will confirm once inside.”

“Such a young man when he rose to power, such a clever one to keep it. How, you may ask, did he do it?” Finnick is captivating, well spoken.

Katniss is hanging off every word.

“One word, poison.”

The timer for the gas grenadines finishes, on Bogg’s stop watch, “get ready to drop.”

Y/N secures her harness to the wire, giving it a firm tug. Descending through the open loading dock, releasing the wires as they reach ground.

“Clear.” Boggs, informs the team. “We’re inside, headed for target number one. Cell B forty-five, lower level two C.”

“So many deaths to well known adversaries, even allies who were deemed as threats.”

It’s dizzying, giving equal attention to Finnick’s message and the feed from inside the tribute center.

Haymitch is glued to that screen, her screen. Like he wants to reach through and bring her back with him.

Once Peeta’s holding cell is gassed, they are cleared to enter.

“Snow would drink from the same cup, to deflect suspicion. But antidotes don’t always work, which is why he wears roses that reek of perfume. To help cover the scent of sores, in his mouth, that will never heal.”

Poison, Katniss shakes her head to clear it. He’s still talking about poison.

Inside the room is a lab, full of jars, experiments. Cages. Medical equipment, some with blood still visible.

“What the fuck?” Y/N whispers, reaching out to try and make sense of it.

“Abernathy, on me.” Boggs warns, they need to stay focused.

“What is this place?” Gale asks, venturing deeper.

Their screens lights up, all of them at once. Too bright to see.

“Ahh.”

There is a collective hiss, from those in the tribute center. The power’s back on.

“Beetee?” Katniss has a hand flat against her belly, where the worry eats her alive.

“Ma’am, the Capitol air defense is rebooting. It’s coming back online.”

“They must be diverting power from another source, filtering transmissions. Another sixty seconds and we’ll be cut off.” Beetee scowls, typing furiously at the control panel.

“Get them outta there,” Haymitch demands.

“Madame President, should we call back the hovercraft?”

“Broadcast me,” Katniss decides, “if Snow’s watching this, maybe he’ll let the signal in, if he sees me. Put me on the air so he can see me.”

“Yes,” Plutarch snaps a finger. “Yes.”

“Put her on,” Coin agrees.

“Can we still do this?” Haymitch’s hands are shaking as he positions the camera in front of her. “Can we still get in?” Can we still save her?

“Yes, for the moment,” Beetee replies. “The line’s open, he will only see you.”

“Ok, Katniss,” Haymitch steps away. “Go.”

“President Snow.” Katniss says, “President Snow, it’s Katniss.”

The static continues to crackle. No more Finnick, no more footage from the tribute center. Just her.

“President Snow, can you hear me?” Katniss repeats, hoping for a miracle. “I need to speak with you, are you there? President Snow.”

“Miss Everdeen,” his voice is distorted for a moment, until the signal hones in. “What an honor. I don’t imagine you’re calling to thank me for the roses.”

“I never asked for this. I never asked to be in the games.” Katniss reminds him. “I just wanted to save my sister and keep Peeta alive. Let him go and I will stop being the mockingjay. I will disappear and you’ll never have to see me again.”

“You couldn’t run from this anymore than you could’ve run from the games.”

“Please, you’ve won.” Katniss says, “release Peeta and take me instead.”

Snow shakes his head with a smirk. “We are long past the opportunity for noble sacrifice.”

“Then tell me what to do, I’ve always kept my promises. Haven’t I?”

“You said you didn’t want a war, and that’s just what happened. I told you what a fragile thing peace was and still, like a child, you took pleasure in breaking it. I know what you are, I know you can’t see past your narrowest concerns. But please, Miss Everdeen, I doubt you know what honesty is anymore.”

“You asked me to convince you that I was in love with Peeta,” Katniss challenges. “Haven’t I at least done that?”

Snow takes great pleasure in what he’s about to say, it’s written all over his twisted features. “It’s the things we love most that destroy us. I want you to remember I said that.” He pauses. “Don’t you think I know Y/N and your friends are in the tribute center?”

Katniss feels the floor fall out from under her.

“Cut them off.” Snow says, turning away from the screen. It returns to the static hum of nothing.

They had comms back, but now Beetee’s lost them again.

“What happened?” Katniss sobs.

“Boggs, do you read me? Boggs, come in.”

“He knows they’re in there,” Katniss calls to Haymitch. “It’s a trap.”

“Katniss, calm down.” Haymitch whispers.

“We have to get ahold of them, tell them to get out. He knows.”

“There’s no signal, we can’t contact them,” Plutarch sighs.

“No, Haymitch.” Katniss crumbles, “he knew the whole time, he was taunting me! No, Haymitch-”

“No, no, we don’t know that.” Haymitch hushes her, because he has to be strong. He has to be steady, even with his world falling to pieces.

“Did I lose them all tonight? Did I lose them all?”

Haymitch pulls her into a hug. “Shhh,” he smooths down her dark waves, the same way he would his other daughters.

She holds fast, allowing him to comfort her. “Did I lose them?” The cry is muffled against his shoulder.

“Shh,” he sways them, gently.

“No, no.”

“Katniss,” Haymitch breathes, “listen to me. I need you to listen.”

She nods, unable to calm her erratic breathing.

“If Y/N died, I would feel it. I would feel it in my heart, if she was gone and I don’t. If she’s alive, Peeta is alive, Gale is alive. All we have to do is wait.”

————————————————————————

“Systems are back online.” The pilot informs them.

There’s nothing they can do. Communication with thirteen is shut down, no way to get through to Beetee. They’ll either shoot them out of the sky or they won’t. The only way out is through.

Y/N doesn’t mean to, but she holds her breath. Waiting until they clear Capitol airspace to resume a normal pattern.

Of the five other soldiers on this rescue mission, there is one medic. She begins tending Annie, Johanna and Peeta in turn. Starting IV fluids, as they are all dehydrated; unconscious from the gas.

Annie looks like herself, maybe a bit gaunt, but recognizable. Peeta is thin, so thin and covered in bruises. Johanna’s head has been shaved, cheeks hollow and ribs showing. Y/N tosses off her helmet, running both hands over her face.

“Soldier.” Boggs puts a hand to her shoulder. “You did good. We accomplished our goal. Now we can all go home.”

Y/N nods, blinking away tears.

“Take a breather, there’s a separate compartment through there,” he motions to the rear doors. “He’ll need you when he comes to.”

Peeta does not wake for some time, beginning to struggle at his bindings. No, he realizes, it’s not a binding that holds him. It’s a hand. Just one wrapped loosely around his.

It feels familiar, soft. Someone he knew once, it smells of artificial air. She is warm, the space around her is warm, gentle and kind. A second hand strokes his hair, the way he once wished his mother would.

His eyelids begin to flutter open, daring to reveal that he is conscious. If he’s wrong…if it’s not her and they’ve tricked him again, it will be his own fault.

“Peeta,” Y/N says, staring down at him.

He blinks up at her, in the too bright light. His breathing heavy as she tries to move away, to give him space, but he holds her. Squeezing her fingers.

“Peeta, do you know who I am?”

His throat is sore, voice hoarse, from screaming. “Y-yes.”

“Good,” Y/N smiles.

“Where am I?”

“We’re in a hovercraft, on the way to district thirteen.”

Peeta studies her face. There was something…something is missing, something’s wrong. “What happened to the baby?”

“She’s fine.” Y/N assures him. “Keeping her siblings and Haymitch company.”

“You’re all ok?”

Y/N nods, “yeah, honey, we’re all ok. Now we focus on getting you healthy. Ok?”

He doesn’t flee from her touch, only the occasional flinch when he forgets where he is, until she reminds him that he is safe. “You came back for me.”

“Of course I did.”

Y/N leaves him briefly, with the doctors, upon arrival in thirteen. She needs to find Haymitch, tell him she’s ok. And she is running, searching, colliding into him, with such force that they are both sent off balance.

Down to the floor, the dirty, cold floor. But no place has ever felt better. To hold him, for him to hold her and inhale the scent at the crook of his neck.

“Never again.” He pleads, massaging the back of her scalp, like he does when she’s falling asleep. “Never do that to me again.”

“I’m sorry, Haymitch.” She nuzzles the delicate skin of his throat.

“Don’t make me live in a world where you don’t exist.”

‘All I know is that I cannot die.’

Part 20

Series Taglist: @praline357 @flowercrowns-goodvibes @justheretoparty420 @avocadotoastwithegg @treehouse-mouse @emo-markie @spilled-mi1k @magical-spit @greaser9902 @jessicamellarky @yourebuckingkiddingme @smuha2004 @sendhelplease @ninimackbrews @wittiestrain184 @r1dd1kulus @erenluvr69 @helpimhyperfixating @jackierose902109 @jellybear455 @dreammgc @dadbodfanatic-x @ftdtcmlovr @inky-sun @ms-brek-ker @undercover55655 @mischiefmanaged21 @avoxrising @koiphisch @drwho-ess @daisydaisybilly

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #thg haymitch #haymitch abernathy x yn #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark

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ms-demeanor · 8 months

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I use Win 10 for work and it's fine I guess. With them ending support for it in 2025, is it worth upgrading to 11 now? They seem to be trying to be more Mac-like and I don't use Macs for a reason.

Hmmmmmm. Okay so every computer I get with a Windows OS has a pro OS, so I don't have to deal with some of the intrusive and annoying features that home OS users do (ads built into the OS being the main one) and even still I go in and kill things like location tracking and cortana as soon as I install a new OS.

All that being said, 11 is a little nosier and a little more intrusive than 10 and has some aesthetic differences but both 11 and 10 are remarkably similar to 7. On a functional level it is very dissimilar to OSX, though on a visual level there are some things that are a bit more mac-like (the centered start bar is easily changed and i think that's the primary thing people were talking about)

One of the main visual differences that I've seen users complain about is that menus now show pictograms instead of words for things like copy/paste, etc. in the file explorer:

And I do in fact hate this and as far as I know there's no fix for it.

But if you're someone who goes through your computer and shuts down intrusive stuff and removes unnecessary programs anyway, there's not a ton of difference between windows 10 and 11.

Here's basically what you want to do to make 11 more private; it's not at all dissimilar to what you want to do to make 10 more private.

So, all of that being said: if you can set up the privacy protections that you want in Windows 11 (and I think you can) and the visual differences in the OS won't make it totally unusable for you (that has been a stumbling block for some people but at least keyboard commands still work) then I think there's no reason to delay updating to Windows 11.

(sometimes people will scream about stability issues and crashes but that all got ironed out within a couple of months of wide release; the same thing happened with Windows 10 - pushing an OS out to hundreds of millions of users reveals more problems than seeing what happens when it's used by hundreds of thousands of early adopters but even given some hiccups in the early days there have been no particularly notable issues with stability and functionality; the people who yell that Windows 11 is going to crash your computer and eat all your data and set your house on fire *may* pop up on this post and they are exactly as incorrect about it now as they were about Windows 10 crashing your computer and eating all your data and setting your house on fire in 2016.)

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gojofavho3 · 7 months

Text

Pretty much Nanami winned soo, let's do it, Nanami lives, why? Because I said so ‼️

A/n: Again probably english mistakes

When it comes to dialogue I'm not the best, you could see that in the other fanfic that had only one speech, but I'll try do my best. smut with plot

Idk if I should put no minors aloud because that would be a little Hypocrite tbh

Nanami leaved the house a half hour ago, so you were alone on the couch waiting for him. He said it would take time and he probably would arrive home late so you shouldn't wait, but still you wait

Man spreading, looking at the tv and the clook next to it

Watching some random show

9:27 pm

'he said he was going to Shibuya, so he probably arrives at this time' you think as your eyes look at the clook and then goes back to the show

Watching the random show

10:01 pm

Watching the same random show

11:32 pm

Watching the random show

12:56 pm

Your eyes were already tired from the cycle they had to do in the last 3 hours

You look to the living room ceiling, thinking about what to do

" I should get some sleep.. I'm tired as hell, and Nanami would probably scold me if he founds out I'm awake waiting for him.. "

You slowly get up and turn off the tv looking at the window seeing the sky, spacing out in the middle of the living room

Funny, it wasn't not even one star, at least that you could see, you decided to get a little close but stopped yourself in the moment, focusing and going to your shared room, with quiet steps you couldn't even hear your feet hitting the floor

Not even going inside the covers, you just stared to the bed and fall over with the face, putting you to sleep immediately

0:12 am

It was just silent, only your breathing could be heard in that room

...

The front door opens

6:23 am

It was Nanami, his clothes were bloody and almost rip off, his hair was all messy, as he takes his shoes in a hurry and goes running to the bedroom

When he sees your figure almost falling off the bed he hugs you desperately, putting his head on your neck giving small kisses all over it

You obviously wake up with the hug that almost crushed you

" Nanami...? ...Your crushing me..."

" sorry, didn't mean to " he says putting you sitted on the bed, grabbing your hands, putting himself on his knees speaking softly looking into your eyes " god, I thought that was my end, I wouldn't bare losing you without a proper goodbye, that probably would be my only regret..."

You wasted no time to kiss him, as he also waisted no time to pin you down on the bed kissing you passionately, going to your jaw and you cheeks

" b-but, are you hurt anywhere? Do you need any medicine?? You look really.. hurt" You ask pulling Nanami softly out of your jaw looking at his brown beautiful eyes

" no need... I went to shoko first before coming home, didn't want you to worry so much " Nanami kisses you again going down slowly, taking your clothes off like the most care in the world as you do the same for him

His clothes seemed to be held by a very thin thread, so it wasn't that difficult to take off it.

As he takes out your boxes and throws it on the floor, he caresses your dick, going up and down, up and down with one of his hands while the other is grabbing your tights, squeezing them softly, not enough to hurt you

You were red as a tomato as you mantain your eyes shut trying not to do so many noises, but that quickly went away when he started to sucking it

And let me tell you, that guy looked like he was starving, because he was sucking that shit so bad that could fall at any moment

" n-nanami... hm! N-not so hard.. "

" I'm sorry, it's to good " Nanami says as he goes up giving a little peck on your lips, he put himself in your entrance " do you need me to prepare you sweet boy? "

You said no with your head, red cheeks not looking at his eyes to nervous

Nanami nods as he starts thrusting you in a slow speed at first but then started to get more fast, like how gojo got turned into half

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out

You were in tears and a whimpering mess, Nanami kissed all your tears while hugging your head murmuring 'i love you' in every single thrust, he missed you so much while in Shibuya, Seeing his life passing before his eyes, promising he'd come home

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out

Only broker his heart further thinking about it, imagining the sad face his love would have if he didn't come back, it just making him more angry just thinking about how he could would get killed by that blue hair freak

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out

Push in

Pushes out-

" NANAMI!!! " his lover yells as he was breathing heavily covering on his own cum, more white then a dream concert, with one eye closed and the other semi closed " c-could you stop...? I'm a little t-tired.. "

Nanami blink his eyes a few times, as he takes immediately his dick out of his lover one, continuing to hug him

" I'm sorry, got a little distracted " Nanami puts you and him inside the covers hugging you close " you okay my darling? I'm sorry that I was tough "

" you weren't tough, just got a little rough at the end, nothing to worry, I'm fine, as long your next to me... "

"...." he kisses you again and And starts rubbing his face against your cheek, kissing it "you should stop being so cute, it just makes more hard to leave the bed in morning"

" then don't leaveeee "

" you know I have to "

It was a silent after that was your head was in Nanami boobs not really knowing what to say

" so, you want to talk about your mission..? "

" not really "

" but could you at least tell me why you space out in that way? "

"..."

"do you remember curse I talked about with you? The one who killed that boy that befriend itadori?"

"Hmmm.... yes! I remember, he tried to kill you???"

"you could say yes, but fortunately, itadori appeared in the right moment"

His lover hugs him more as he gives a little smile and puts his hand on your head caressing it " I really need to thank itadori when I see him next time " you murmured in his chest

"your not allowed to leave bed tomorrow"

"but-"

"no buts, you will relax with me, you deserve it"

"... *sighs* fine"

He knows when it comes to argue with his man and his health is better just accept everything

"now that the mission finally ended you can relax after many hours of work, dw, I'll do your paperwork!!"

He doesn't argue with that and just hugs you further

He knows the mission is far from ending, as long as gojo stayed inside the box, he has to fight to protect the people he loves, especially for his lover

Bonus

" shouldn't we clean up..? "

" yes, but I'm to tired for that "

" I'll clean us both, and the sheets "

Nanami says holding you gently and putting you on the bath while he was changing the sheets like he said

" Nanami? "

" yes dear? "

"l love you "

" love you too "

Finally I ended this man

I wish I knew more english words, it would turn the story more interested, at least that's what I think

If you have any suggestions, please say, I feel like this is shiiit

But anyways

Hope you like it, and see you till next time ‼️‼️

Edit: I forget they were dirty 😭

#jjk headcanons #jjk x male reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen #nanami kento #nanami x male reader #nanami x reader #jjk nanami

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months

Text

Shadows Entwined: part 6

BatmanVsTmnt!Leonardo x sidekick!reader

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 / Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Bonus (18+)

-------------

A/N: And one week later, the Gotham adventure continues💙

-------------

You arrive at Arkham Asylum, finding the eerie building abandoned, with the expectations of a few mutants. One mutant especially, makes Leo realize a fear he did not know he had.

Warnings: Spelling, fear gas visions, imaginary death, angst, desperation.

The reader and the turtles are 19.

--------------

“I win!”, Robin said proudly as he landed at the gates of Arkham Asylum. “And you owe me a pizza”, he said, gesturing towards you, seeming oblivious for a short time, as the rest of you took in the appearance of Arkham Asylum and its menacing atmosphere. From the gates to the front entrance, was a path marked with dead trees, all casting contorted shadows on the ground. Its gothic walls were dark, with a glow of green and red, giving it a sickening appearance. Windows were smashed and not a single window carried any light, making it feel similar to a haunted house in the worst horror movies.

“I’ve never liked this place”, you mumbled, causing Leo to turn his head slightly towards you. The look on your face, it wasn’t fear. Batman had probably learned you to not show fear, yet there was something in your eyes. Your pretty eyes. A determination yet a hesitance. Leo noticed how your shoulders had tensed a bit, and how your demeanor had changed so much since your small race on the rooftops.

Leonardo offered his elbow out to you ever so slightly, causing you to look at him in slight confusion. “Just hold on if you ever need to”, he said, feeling his heartbeat to raise ever so slightly when he saw a small smile on your lips.

“No sign of the Foot or the League”, Batman’s deep voice sounded, causing both of you to jump back to reality, back in front of Arkham’s threatening gate. “Stay sharp”.

With all of your weapons ready, you followed Batman up the path and through the main doors. None of you saw anyone. Not a single soul. All you could see was the dark corners of Arkham, and the haunting silence.

BANG.

You jumped slightly, placing a hand on Leonardo’s arm. If it wasn’t for the threatening atmosphere of Arkham, Leo would probably have enjoyed the feeling. Maybe he would even have turned to smile at you, if not for the sound of something being dragged along the ground.

“Well, would you look at that”, a voice sounded in the darkness. A dog-like being dressed in a jester costume and carrying a big mallet, jumped onto the railing at the top of the staircase. “The bat has made some new best friends! So, are you gonna introduce me to your new turtle pals or what?”

“Harley. What have they done to you?”, Batman asked, ever so stoic.

“The ooze”, Donnie spoke up. “They must have injected themselves”.

“Aha”, Harley said with a finger in the air before jumping back from the railing. “There’ll be plenty of time to talk once you find Mister J and our guests. He got a whole thing planned! I don’t wanna ruin it. You know how he gets!” And with those words she turned and left, leaving you and the rest in shivering unease. All expect Batman and Leonardo.

The said turtle stepped forward, ready to follow the mutant, but Batman stopped him. “Wait”, he said, causing Leo to look at him. “Presumably Shredder and Ra’s have mutated all of the inmates of Arkham”.

“Was this their plan?”, Batgirl asked in confusion. “Mutate the villains and unleash them on the city?”

“I have a feeling this is just one part of the puzzle”, Batman said. “Split up. Investigate each wing. (H/N), you and Leonardo come with me. Remember, this whole asylum is essentially a maze. There are hostages to rescue, and on top of that, even before they were mutated, these inmates were the deadliest criminals in all of Gotham”. That was the last the dark knight said before he turned, his cape flowing behind him.

“I was kind of expecting a pep talk”, Donatello said, looking to you, Batgirl and Robin for some sort of confirmation.

“That was the pep talk”, Robin grumbled, slightly irritated over the fact that Batman had chosen you to go with him, and not him.

“Go team”, Batgirl said, two thumbs in the air.

You and Leonardo did just as Batman had told you to, and followed him down the hall. Well, not before you shot Batgirl a smug grin, as she and Donatello decided to go together. But that smug grin soon disappeared as the three of you walked through the halls of Arkham in complete silence. You felt a slight frustration at the way Batman would position himself either between you and the blue clad turtle, or just behind you, never leaving any of you out of sight. You knew very well it was because of Batman’s protective mannerisms towards his family. It was his wish to protect that made him look out for any danger that could harm you. But to Leo it felt different. He couldn’t shake this itching feeling that Batman did not want him to be alone with you in Arkham. Was it because he did not trust that Leo could protect you, or did he not wish his daughter to be alone with the mutant turtle she was starting to show affection? Well, he couldn’t blame the bat. He still hardly knew Leonardo.

The three of you continued down Arkham’s many stairs, until you came to the boiler room. Walking into the middle of the room, Batman suddenly stopped behind you and Leo, his attention turned to the side of the room as he listened.

“What is it?”, Leo asked, noticing the sudden shift in attention.

“Someone’s here”, was all the bat said, making it shiver down your spine.

“Can you please stop saying it like that?”, you asked, rubbing your arms to calm the shiver. “Nothing good happens when you say it like that”.

That was when something flashed above your head, moving swiftly in the shadows. Black feathers fell from above, landing before your feet. Leo watched the movement before flicking his katana slightly out from its saya, using his thumb. That was when whatever that had moved in the shadows landed before you.

“Hello, Batman”, said the being covered in feathers. “I was afraid you wouldn’t show up. Though not as afraid as you’re going to be”.

“Dr. Jonathan Crane”, Batman told Leo.

“Calls himself Scarecrow”, you added.

Leo couldn’t help himself. He turned his head towards you, one brow raised. “Really?”

Scarecrow let out a cry, before flying towards you, causing all three of you to jump out of the way, just before Scarecrow’s claws could skim the floor, just where you had been standing. You stumbled on the ground, having a hard time finding your footing.

“Watch out”, Batman called out from the other side of the room, as he started to cover his face with his cape. ”He has a fear gas that can make you see things that aren’t real”.

Leo looked up, seeing Scarecrow hover before flying directly at your turned back. Batman saw the same thing, calling out your name as he launched forward, all stoic features gone from his face, and now replaced with fear.

“(Y/N), watch out!”

You started in shock at Batman. He never used your real name whenever you were in costume. It was an unspoken rule. When in costume, you were (H/N), just like Bruce was Batman. Just like Damian was Robin, and just like Barbara was Batgirl. You could not think, shocked that he used your name while Leo and the Scarecrow was around. Leonardo however, not thinking further about the name he had just heard, ran and pushed you out of the way, just as the Scarecrow threw a gas that made him choke on his own breath.

Leo fell down on all four, coughing as he tried to breath. He opened his eyes, watching in horror as the boiler room changed around him. He stood and turned, taking in the warping world around him. Until he saw his brothers. The Scarecrow looming over them. Leo yelled, his heart in his throat, telling them to get out of there. Then the Scarecrow opened his wings, sending furth an army of crows, swarming his brothers. Leo watched in fear as the crows poked at his brothers, tearing them apart. Leo could not hear their screams, but he could see it in their eyes. They were hurting. His brothers were hurting. His best friends. His one and everything. The reason he lived and fought to be a leader. They were hurting.

It happened so fast yet it felt like an eternity. The crows formed into a black mass surrounding his brothers. They disappeared, leaving behind three dried bodies. Raph, Donnie and Mikey. His brother dead before his very eyes.

Leo’s breath was erratic. He fell to his knees before clutching Mikey’s dried hands in his. His fear and horror only grew as wind picked up, turning all three of them into dust. Leo yelled, screaming at the top of his lungs before falling back to the ground.

“That’s right”, Scarecrow's voice sounded in his ear. “Everyone is gone, and it’s all your fault”.

“Leo?”

Leonardo’s heart almost stopped at the sound. So weak, fragile, scared.

“Or, almost everyone”, Scarecrow sounded yet again.

Shaking in fear, Leo turned to see you on the ground, shaking in fear. Your legs had given out, your arms working to get you moving as far away as possible.

“(H/N)?” Leo stood, walking towards you, only for you to scream and scrabble further away.

“Stay away!”, you yelled, tears pooling in your eyes, your voice cracking. Leo was confused, his heart breaking a bit as you right tried to get away from him.

“(H/N)?! What’s wrong?!” Leo was growing more and more desperate with each passing second. First his brothers and now you.

“Don’t look at me!”, you started screaming, covering your face trying to hide from him. “Don’t look at me!”

“Tell me what’s wrong, (Y/N)!” Leo was surprised to hear himself use the name Batman has just used.

“You’re eyes!” You were crying. Leo felt a pain in his chest at your words. You were scared of his eyes. You were scared of him. “Please don’t look at me! I beg you! Don’t look at me!”

Desperately he tried to reach for your hand, but you screamed, pushing back trying to get away from him. Leo wanted to cry, he wanted to yell and scream at you. To tell you were hurting him. You were crying and Leo didn’t know what to do. He was paralyzed, frantically trying to get you to look at him. So frantically, that he did not notice the Scarecrow came and pulled you away.

“No!”, Leo yelled, standing to run towards you, only to be surrounded by Scarecrows, taunting him. His brothers were dead because of him. You feared him. It was all his fault. It was all because of him.

“Leonardo”. Leo turned to see a lone Scarecrow with you hiding behind it. Leo’s blood boiled. “Listen to my voice”.

Batman ducked as Leonardo came after him with his katana in hands, fear and anger in his eyes. It was different from the eyes that had looked at you a moment ago. Fear and sadness. They were nothing like the blue eyes that you had found yourself spending so many thoughts on.

“You killed them! You took her!”, Leo yelled, slashing out his katanas at what he saw as the Scarecrow. But Batman continuously dodged the sharp blades, hearing all of your gasps as you watched on helplessly.

“I don’t know what you’re seeing”, Batman said. “But it’s not real”.

“You’ll pay for what you did!”, Leo yelled, slamming his blades against the pipes they passed.

“Your anger won’t help your brothers”, Batman said. “And it won’t save (Y/N)”. Batman jumped and rolled, before kicking Leo in the back, bringing him to the ground. You gasped, ready to jump in, but Batman signed at you to stay out of it. “You have to focus! Fight it!”

Leo sat on the ground, in a trance-like state. His normally beautiful eyes wide, as he held his katana extended out in front of him. Then suddenly he turned, swinging his katana through the air and hitting Scarecrow. The flying mutant fell groaning to the ground, as Leo braced himself against his katana, fighting to regain his breath.

Batman walked up to Leo, pulling a small pink liquid and needle from his utility belt. “The antidote to Crane’s gas”, he said as he injected Leonardo through the shoulder. “It should wear off quickly”. And so it did.

In the blink of an eye, the boiler room turned back to normal. The irrational fear left Leo’s mind, and he could finally breathe normally again. He saw as you came to his side, all though hesitant in your steps. It poked in Leo’s chest yet again. He had indeed scared you, just like the fear gas had made him believe. But now you looked him in the eyes, as if you never had been scared of them. Leo wondered if you ever actually had been scared of them. And with that thought he remembered his reaction. How he had reacted to the fear of you not wanting to see his eyes. He felt embarrassed, ashamed. He had had no control over his actions, with no regards for how it may have affected you. Yes, he had been affected by Crane’s gas, but to Leo, that was no excuse. He had to do better than that.

As if you had been able to read his mind, you placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, your eyes never leaving his beautiful blue ones. The ones that you were just happy to see again. Leo placed a hand over yours, enjoying the feeling for a moment.

Batman watched the two of you for a second, before speaking up, once again ripping you out of whatever thought you had been having. Your hand falling off of Leo’s shoulder, causing him to feel what could only be described as disappointment.

“Let’s move”, Batman said, directing the two of you back towards the door and out of the boiler room.

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coffeeandacig · 5 months

Text

HUGE M*A*S*H NEWS!

Direct of the MASH Matters Facebook Page

M*A*S*H: THE COMEDY THAT CHANGED TELEVISION, AN ALL-NEW TWO-HOUR CELEBRATION OF TELEVISION’S MOST INFLUENTIAL SITCOM

NEW ORIGINAL SPECIAL AIRS MONDAY, JANUARY 1, ON FOX

Featuring New Interviews with Cast Members Alan Alda, Gary Burghoff,

William Christopher, Jamie Farr, Mike Farrell, Wayne Rogers and Loretta Swit,

as well as Original Series Executive Producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe

Plus Rarely-Seen Archival Interviews with Writer/Producer Larry Gelbart,

and Stars Larry Linville, Harry Morgan, McLean Stevenson and David Ogden Stiers

In the all-new two-hour special, M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television, premiering Monday, January 1 (8:00-10:00 PM ET/PT) on FOX, join the men and women who made M*A*S*H as they celebrate one of the most beloved, enduringly popular, often quoted and influential comedies ever created.

As the definitive look at the 14-time Emmy-winning television classic, the special centers around new interviews with original cast members Alan Alda (Capt. Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce), Gary Burghoff (Cpl. Walter "Radar" O'Reilly), William Christopher (Father Francis Mulcahy), Jamie Farr (Cpl./Sgt. Maxwell Q. "Max" Klinger), Mike Farrell (Capt. B.J. Hunnicutt), Wayne Rogers (Capt. "Trapper" John McIntyre) and Loretta Swit (Maj. Margaret "Hot Lips" Houlihan) and series executive producers Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe. In these intimate, highly personal remembrances, the creation and evolution of the show’s iconic characters are revealed, alongside rare and never-before-seen behind-the-scenes footage, photos and stories.

Writer/producer Larry Gelbart, as well as additional series stars Larry Linville (Maj. Frank Burns), Harry Morgan (Col. Sherman T. Potter), McLean Stevenson (Lt. Col. Henry Blake) and David Ogden Stiers (Maj. Charles Emerson Winchester III) are remembered through a vibrant collection of clips from the series as well as in rarely-seen archival interviews. With unique experiences, observations and memories from 11 seasons of M*A*S*H, this special will make audiences laugh, touch their heartstrings, and leave them on a nostalgic high while celebrating the sustained brilliance of the iconic sitcom.

“M*A*S*H is not only a great television series, it is a cultural phenomenon. It has made multiple generations of viewers laugh, cry and think, often in the same episode,” said Executive Producers John Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan. “We are excited to team with FOX to create this unprecedented window into an innovative television classic.”

"M*A*S*H is among the most iconic sitcoms in the annals of television history. It's a timeless show that comedically captures the 4077th medical corps and how they managed to maintain their sanity while saving lives on the front lines of the Korean War,” said Dan Harrison, EVP, Program Planning & Content Strategy, FOX Entertainment. “Larry Gelbart, Gene Reynolds and Burt Metcalfe brought this incredible comedy to life thanks to their ensemble cast led by the incomparable Alan Alda. FOX is proud to celebrate the landmark achievements of one of the best comedies ever created."

The M*A*S*H two-and-a-half-hour series finale that first aired on CBS in 1983 remains the highest rated telecast in television history, delivering an incredible 77 audience share and 60.2 rating. To-date, the show has never left the air, continuously running in syndication, on basic cable and now streaming on Hulu. The series was produced by 20th Television.

M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television is directed by John Scheinfeld (Reinventing Elvis: The ’68 Comeback, The U.S. vs. John Lennon and What The Hell Happened To Blood, Sweat & Tears?) with Scheinfeld and Andy Kaplan as Executive Producers.

Viewers can watch M*A*S*H: The Comedy That Changed Television next day on Hulu, Fox.com, On Demand and FOX Entertainment’s streaming platform, Tubi. On Demand is available for customers of Cox Contour TV, DIRECTV, DISH, fuboTV, Hulu + Live TV, Optimum, Spectrum, Verizon FiOS, XFINITY, YouTube TV and many more.

#m*a*s*h #mash #mash 4077 #m*a*s*h 4077 #hawkeye pierce #mash4077 #alan alda #trapper john mcintyre #mike farrell #wayne rogers

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seresinhangmanjake · 2 years

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Signed Away: Part 2

Jake “Hangman” Seresin x Reader Series

Summary: You find out about the contractual marriage your parents arranged with Jake’s when you were a baby. You’re plently angered by it, but Jake doesn’t seem too bothered. He might even be happy.

Notes/Warnings: cursing, fluff, eventual smut, angst, contract marriage, loss of rights, feelings of being trapped, poor parent/child relationships. Italics are a flashback. This is looking to be about 10 or 11 chapters of similar length.

As always, comments can make my bad days worth getting through, so i’ll never not appreciate them. Reblogs and likes make me smile uncontrollably, but no pressure :)

Masterlist

Words: 1454

-----

“Hello, Jake Seresin.”

“Why do you always say my last name when you come over to play?”

“I like it.”

“My last name?”

“Yep. It sounds super cool. I wish it was mine.”

His mother cleared her throat, shocking Jake out of the daze of his past. He sat up straighter in the armchair and set the book he’d long stopped reading to the side before looking at Amelia. When she stepped further into the room, her blond hair shimmered in the light of the library’s window, just as his did.

“I got a call from Deanna just now,” she said. Jake rose an eyebrow. “She wanted to make sure Y/N wasn’t difficult with you earlier. Apparently, she gave her mother quite the earful.”

Jake snorted as he adjusted his legs from their stretched-out position across the ottoman, placing his feet on the hardwood floor so he could brace his elbows on his knees. He clasped his hands and shook his head. “Did any of you really expect her to jump for joy?”

Amelia paused. Her parted lips sealed, tightened, then parted again. “You just found out too, and you didn’t throw a fit.”

“It’s not the same, and you know it.”

“Well, it’s not as if there’s a relationship she must end.” Jake shot her a look, and she rolled her eyes. She walked over to him, scooted the ottoman back, and took a seat on the shiny leather. “I want you to call her. Take her on a date.”

“What?”

“Now that you’re both well aware of the situation, I think it would be best if you attacked it head-on.”

Posture forgotten, Jake’s body fell against the back of the chair. Exasperation was barely restrained by his amusement at his mother’s audacity. “You want me to attack dating my future wife head-on.”

“Why are you looking at me as if that will be a problem. It’s not as if you’re a slow mover, son.”

“She’s going to be a slow mover, mom. Snails will move faster. I’ve got to give her the time she needs to figure this all out in her head.” If he didn’t, he knew he’d lose you before ever getting the chance to have you.

“Neither of you have forever.”

That, he couldn’t argue with. For whatever reason your parents felt the need to tie you to him at the ripe old age of twenty-one. Ridiculous really, considering the birth of the contract came from protecting the company after their fathers’ deaths, and neither was in questionable health. But that didn’t change the fact that you’d be getting married in less than two years, and Jake knew he’d need at least five to even begin to win you over.

“You could at least ask her.”

“Mom—”

“Show up with flowers like a gentleman. She’ll go weak at the knees,” she said as she patted his. An optimistic smile spread across her face.

One thing Jake could say for sure: his mother wanted this to work. She wanted him to be happy no less than she had wanted for his sisters. Your mother, he wasn’t so sure about. Jake had never been fond of Deanna, mainly because of the way she nit-picked at your every move, word, or choice. He’d always felt the instinct to protect you, even as a child; snap at your mother and put her in her place the way only an eight-year-old could, despite the inevitable consequences. But you always beat him to it. You never let your mother verbally break you down without giving her something in return. It was admirable. Beautiful. He loved that about you, always had. And now he would be the target of that stubbornness and bite.

“Are you forgetting who you’re talking about?” Jake asked. “It’s Y/N. She is not like everyone else. And no matter what I do, her knees will stay sturdy as hell.” He could nearly guarantee it. Though that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to try. It was going to be a challenge, but you were a challenge he wanted.

-----

A week later

“You look beautiful,” he said after you opened to door to your parents’ home. Your home, too, until you figured something else out. You looked down at your oversized sweatshirt and ratty jeans with the holes in the knees you’d worn in yourself rather than pay extra for. He swallowed hard at your silence then offered you the bouquet in his hand. You wrapped tentative fingers around the ripe stems. “I hope these are okay. I didn’t get a chance to ask your favorite, so I just went off what I remember you stealing from my mother’s garden when you were six.”

You stared at the bound bunch of flowers, each one perfect in color and shape. He’d gotten it right, and something about that spread unfamiliar uneasiness throughout your body. “Um…you don’t have to do this kind of stuff.” You looked up. “You know, compliment me and buy me things. I have to marry you regardless.”

The signature smirk was back. That twinkle in the mossy-green of his irises. “Finally accepted it, have you?”

You rolled your eyes and he followed you into the kitchen, carefully observing as you filled a glass vase with water and said, “I saw the stack of signed and dated papers.” Also known as your entire future organized and held together by one little staple. A pathetically thin piece of metal you weren’t strong enough to pry open and snap in half. “I hired a lawyer to peek for any loopholes, but my father saw the bill on the accounts and refused to pay her before she really got anywhere with it, so…” Shrugging, you set the vase on the counter between you and met his eyes. Your brow scrunched at the indecipherable expression on his face. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Am I really that bad?” he asked.

“The situation is that bad,” you replied, not skipping a beat. “Who wants this part of their life decided for them?”

“I’ve adapted rather quickly.”

“Because me being your wife doesn’t stop you from doing whatever the hell you want.”

The word ‘wife’ brought a quirk to his lips that fell when you reached the end of your statement. A need to put that smile back arose before you a had a chance to tamp it down. He reached out and placed his palm atop your hand. “I would never keep you from doing what you want, Y/N.”

Sliding away from his touch, you said, “It wouldn’t be about you. Money has people paying attention to our families and you know there are expectations that come with that. Ones I won’t be able to properly meet simply because of the person I am.”

“I don’t have expectations of you, either.”

You shook your head with a huff. “You’re not listening, Jake. It’s not you.”

“If it’s not me then can’t you think about it as if it’s also not forced? Forget everyone and everything else. We’re just two people trying to get to know one another again.”

You wondered what his parents must have told him, how they must have explained it for him to be taking it all so well. You’d not slept for a week, could barely keep your meals down, and here he was looking perfectly fine, rested, fed, ready to take on the damn world; like he wasn’t about to be tied to a wife he didn’t want in just short of two years.

“Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped. “I can’t.”

He paused and then his mouth opened to respond. But it wasn’t his words that reached your ears.

“Oh, Jake, what a surprise!”

Both of your heads whipped in the direction of the invading voice to find your mother standing in the entryway of the kitchen, the smile on her face wide and hiding too many scheming thoughts; thoughts you were too well-acquainted with. She made her way to the counter and reached out. With her left hand she grabbed one of Jake’s, with her right, yours.

“To think my daughter is getting such a wonderful man. So attentive that he’s willing to come see her even when her behavior has put a bratty child to shame. She sighed. “It’s almost enough to make me jealous.” Squeezing your fingers in her tight fist, she continued, “I’m glad you’re both here, so I can tell you that Amelia and I have set a date.”

Blond eyebrows rose. “A date? For—"

“The two of you will be married the day before your twenty-first birthday, Darling.” She met your glare with her own. “Isn’t that exciting?”

Wedding Countdown: 622 days

Tags: @marvel-ousnesss @thespeeder @nobody7102 @marrianena @fangirlingoverfangirls @blue-aconite @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @dempy @chaoticassidy @alana4610 @hotch-meeeeeuppppp @dracosluvbot @smoothdogsgirl @smit41 @princessphilly @kkrenae @castle-bookworms-world @xoxabs88xox @blackwidownat2814 @acupnoodle @itzyogurl92 @zippitydoda @asteria33 @the-mouse27 @111angelnumbers111

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dankwebofficial · 1 year

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I want to introduce you to a project I've been working on The Danknet Explorer. It is an internet nostalgia browser (a fork of the Palemoon browser to be specific) that is dedicated to looking like IE6/IE7. Currently, it's just UI changes, which I obviously could have done as themes submitted to Palemoon but I plan to make larger changes to functionality to a certain goal that makes it substantially unique, features that I will mention at a later date. Since it's built from the Palemoon browser it runs flash out of box (with the usual flash bugs of course)

So far I've tested it only for Windows 11 (presumably windows 10), but I hope to have this project running on Mac, Linux and older versions of Windows. Ideally, this would run as far back as Windows XP, but that's likely not possible. The project is and will forever be open source. The repository is currently private while I fix the last few UI bugs but I'm hoping to get it up by January. The repo will be posted on my GitHub. If anyone with some CSS experience wanted to write new themes for it, perhaps to make it look like even older IE versions that would be awesome, or if you wanted to do some work porting and building the Mac/Linux/Older Win versions to make the UI consistent that would also be great!

Progress will be really slow by myself because I'm a master's student and don't have a ton of free time. But I've started a devlog on my personal tumblr, was keeping one on my gaiaonline journal for a bit if you want to go back and read those and I've made a discord for it if anyone wants to get involved, get updates, or suggest changes/features :)

#old internet #internet explorer #classic internet #y2kcore #internet nostalgia #early web #early internet #early 2000s #2000s internet #internetcore #2000s nostalgia #2000s core

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cantagirldrawinpeace · 1 month

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ONE PIECE DRESSROSA ARC MY LOVE

(Uncensored version + closeups with big spoilers under cut)

YUSSSS!!!!

+closeups (with handwriting translations)

1. Coolest pacifist ever 🩷 I want nothing but good things for her

2. Clinical insanity 😊 we love to see it

3. LEO! He’s the coolest, I admire him

4. Sorry you had to endure Zoro, girliepop

5. God. They kill me. Just. They’re everything.

6. “I’ll keep you safe no matter what I have to become” and “you’re the one good thing I have left” and “why can’t you love yourself enough to know how much I still need you” and- FUCK!!!

(I could talk about Rebecca and Kyros forever TT^TT)

7. Slaayyy. He’s so fail queen.

8. THE VOICES!

9. I love Dollar Store ZoSan :D

10. He/they lookin haircut. The guy ever! The stinky!

11. This man needs to become real and win every political election ever.

12. I feel like if I hugged him it would feel like hugging my dad (positive, I love my father)

13. Also shoutout for that fantastic speech. He made me sob.

14. 4 episodes of screen time and yet silly heart guy is one of my fav characters

15. Threw child out a window -> the child stabbed him -> they are ♡family♡

16. Ace my love my light TTATT

17. I need a reunion with her and Jimbei ASAP

18. Also more Koala content in general plz. She plagues my mind..

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nebulablakemurphy · 9 months

Text

Moves & Countermoves (Part 21)

Summary: No one ever wins the games, even fourteen years later, Y/N is still playing.

Prologue | 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20

They try something new, in the form of Prim visiting Peeta with Y/N. Katniss and Haymitch watching from the viewing window. Things are going well…until they’re not. The news of Peeta’s family sends him spiraling. Yelling and cursing Katniss, saying it’s her fault that Snow bombed twelve. That she’s a threat. Telling Prim to kill her.

“Peeta, what you’re saying isn’t real.” Prim says, in a whisper. Withdrawing from the edge of his bed.

“She’s a monster, Prim!” Peeta insists, the angry vein pulsing in his neck.

“Peeta,” Y/N calls his attention back to her. “You’re safe. No one is going to hurt you, I’m here.”

“She’ll kill you too. She’ll kill all of us. She’s a mutt, the Capitol created to destroy us!”

Nothing settles him after that. The doctor has to use a tranquilizer for the first time in days.

Y/N excuses herself to the opposite side of the viewing glass. Catching Katniss’ gaze, holding it as she moves closer. “It’s good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?”

Katniss says nothing, catapulting herself into her mentor’s arms.

“I’m here,” Y/N assures her. “I’ll be here.”

————————————————————————

Haymitch escorts Katniss’ to the Nut in District Two. Y/N hangs back in Thirteen, with the kids and Peeta. Cashmere is sent to stand in for her best friend, which Katniss seems to appreciate, allowing her to weigh in on dialogue for the propo to sway the loyalists.

“Plutarch wrote a speech for you.” Haymitch tells Katniss, as they get into place near the tunnel left for civilians to escape, after the bombs were launched to bury the Nut and all the weapons inside.

The suggestion was Gale’s.

“Killing isn’t personal, Katniss. I figured you of all people would understand that.”

That’s what he told her the night before. Only she doesn’t agree, “killing is always personal.”

Cashmere takes the paper from his hands, reading it thoroughly. “She’s not saying this, they’ll tear her apart.”

“I never said it was a good speech,” Haymitch fires back. “Look, Katniss, you have to remember that you’re talking to everyone. Not just the people in the districts, but the Capitol, survivors from Two. You want them to lay their weapons down, so you might want to experiment with a little sensitivity.”

Katniss nods, though it isn’t her strong suit. “This is Katniss Everdeen, speaking to all the loyalists, from the heart of District Two-”

She is cut short by the train behind her, screeching to a halt.

Boggs wants to get her back, away from the tracks and the people who will soon emerge. But Katniss will hear none of it, especially after shots are fired. Ending up with a bullet in her own gear and unconscious all the way back to Thirteen.

Y/N finds them upon return. “What happened?” She asks Haymitch.

“Bruised ribs, bruised lung.” Haymitch runs a hand over his face. “It’s my fault. Shouldn’t have let her go.”

“Haymitch, you know there’s no way we could’ve stopped her.” Y/N sighs.

“No, but she’s more likely to listen to you than me.”

“I don’t think that’s true.” Y/N swallows.

“How are things? How are the kids?”

“They’re good, they missed you though.” I missed you.

“And Peeta?”

“They showed him the propo, he has real memories of Katniss.” The one’s the Capitol couldn’t taint because they didn’t own them. “He wants to see her.”

“You think that’s a good idea?” Haymitch wonders, feeling his wife reach for his hand.

“I know he’s in there. We can’t give up, there has to be a way.”

“No one’s giving up,” Haymitch assures her. “When Katniss is cleared to leave medical, we’ll ask her to see him. Tell her that he wants to see her. I think that’s progress in itself.”

“Yeah,” Y/N nods.

“Come ‘ere.” Haymitch pulls her against his chest, pressing his lips to the crown of her head. “We didn’t come this far, just to come this far.”

Again she nods, fisting the fabric of his uniform in her hands. Somehow he makes it hurt less.

No one could carry this burden alone, instead they learned to shoulder it together. To trade off when the other was weak, they learned to be two halves of a whole. Trying to pull away from that now seems impossible; excruciating at the very least.

Only when she is there, resting safely against his beating heart, Haymitch can breathe again. “I love you, Y/N.” More than you will ever know.

“I love you too.”

————————————————————————

Days pass, Finnick and Annie get married. It’s beautiful, everything they deserve. They’re glowing; so in love.

Daisy squeals her distaste during the ceremony, until Y/N manages to quiet her with milk.

“I hear ya, kid.” Johanna adds, under her breath.

At the reception everyone dances. Not Johanna. She doesn’t understand how these people can prance around while the world is going to shit. Brooding until little hands pull her to the dance floor. Everest and Arista Abernathy always do get the best of her. Just like everyone else, she was begrudgingly wrapped around their fingers from the day they met..

“Let me go.” Johanna finally demands, with a smile.

Cashmere is their next victim, any and all bystanders are fair game.

Katniss narrowly escapes; finding Johanna among the crowd.

“You saw Peeta, didn’t you?” The victor of District Seven asks. “Did you tell him hi for me? We’re old friends, you know. We had adjoining cells in the Capitol, we’re very familiar with each other’s screams.”

“I’m going to kill Snow.” Katniss says; her tone is cool, calculated. Watching Prim take Daisy from Y/N, so she too can join the crowd. She knows that if she dies, to end all of this, it will be worth it. Prim will have her mother and her former mentors to get her through. She would be taken care of. “Nothing good is safe while he’s alive, and I can’t make another speech about it. No more cameras, no more propos, no more games. He needs to see my eyes when I kill him.”

Johanna’s scowl tips up into a grin, “now you’re talking.”

“I need to find a way to the Capitol while everyone is looking the other way.”

“I hear the medics talking, they’re shipping supplies to the front lines from hanger two, around midnight tonight. Medicine, painkillers, I was gonna go steal some for myself, but I guess I could just stay here and cover for you.” Johanna turns to looks at her dead in the eyes. “Anyone can kill anyone, Katniss. Even a president. You just have to be willing to sacrifice yourself.”

————————————————————————

When Katniss disappears that night and crops up later with troops in the Capitol, Haymitch wishes he could say he’s surprised. But Katniss is who she is and he expects nothing less.

Coin can’t bring her back now. Instead she shoots for plan B, deploying the ‘star squad’ to join her. “It’ll be perfectly safe, you’ll be days behind the main troops. This is just to rally continued support and to document our journey to victory, spearheaded by familiar faces. I’d greatly appreciate if one or both of you could be there. Peeta is being deployed soon as well.”

“Peeta?” Y/N stammers, “Peeta can’t be anywhere near Katniss, let alone a war zone. There are too many triggers.”

“Dr. Aurelius has assured me that you’ve made leaps and bounds together, aiding in Peeta’s recovery. I’m sure that he would benefit from having you there.” President Coin gives Y/N a pointed look.

“I need to discuss this with Haymitch, in private.” Y/N insists, before her husband has a chance to wring the other woman’s necklace.

“Of course.” Alma nods, “I hate to spring this on you, but we are pressed for time. I’ll need your answer by tonight.”

Part 22

#moves & countermoves #haymitch abernathy fanfic #haymitch abernathy x reader #haymitch abernathy #haymitch abernathy x y/n #haymitch x reader #haymitch abernathy x you #haymitch fanfic #haymitch x y/n #katniss everdeen #peeta mellark #johanna mason #finnick odair #annie cresta #haymitch abernathy fanfiction #thg haymitch #hunger games fanfic

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beechersnope · 10 months

Text

Summer of Cum Days 10/11/12: cock warming, cinnamon bun, coming dry

christian/max, warnings for christian being a generally awful person, abortion mention, consensual somnophilia, 1046 words

***

Christian’s cock has been inside her for close to an hour when he finally remembers that Max is supposed to be on her period.

She’s fast asleep; she needs it, has to get up early to make a flight and then it’s work, work, work as soon as she lands. Christian doesn’t want to wake her, and he’s more than comfortable himself, so he closes his eyes and does the math in his head rather than rolling over to grab his phone from the nightstand to confirm.

It isn’t a fetish thing. Max’s period cramps are so bad that she can barely race without a steady supply of just the right sort of painkillers, hot water therapy, intensive massage—and copious amounts of orgasms, of course.

Keeping a log of Max’s menstrual cycle in his calendar is just the sort of thing that any good team principal would do for their star driver.

Christian counts backwards to the last time he’d had Max squirming in pain in his bed, tucked up in the fetal position with his fingers inside her and a dark-colored towel under her hips. This should’ve been the last day of her period, he realizes, which means she isn’t just late, she’s late.

Christian feels himself getting hard again inside her and stifles a groan in the tangled mess of her hair. He’d already come three times: once with her riding him, then again with her on her back, then finally like this, spooning as she fell asleep. He hadn’t expected to fuck her again, not at his age, but the thought that she might actually be pregnant has him feeling as though he’s nineteen again.

She’s not going to keep it, of course. Christian will tell her in the morning, and he’ll make all the necessary arrangements to keep things discreet so she can race in the rest of the season and win him a championship. But that doesn’t make the current reality any less potent.

Max isn’t a light sleeper, but Christian knows that he can’t fuck her the way he really wants to without waking her, so he stays inside her for the moment and breathes out quiet little groans against her back as he gently grinds his cock inside her.

It feels good, even without the friction he so desperately craves. She’s always tight, unable to fully relax even in her sleep, and he can feel her pussy fluttering around him every time he moves so much as a millimeter. He thinks he could come like this, but it isn’t what he really wants.

Christian waits until the last possible second before pulling out with a too-loud gasp that echoes in the silence. He rolls onto his back and waits, listening to the steady rhythm of Max’s sleep-breathing, peaceful and uninterrupted. Carefully, he extricates himself from the sheets and gets out of bed, palming his cock against his belly as he circles around to the other side where Max is curled up.

It takes a few minutes to coax Max into the position he wants without waking her. He turns on the bedside lamp to its lowest setting, wanting more illumination than the light of the full moon outside coming in through the bedroom window. He pulls the sheets down past her feet, leaving them scrunched up at the foot of the bed. He carefully nudges her onto her back, arms above her head, legs splayed so he can see the damp center of her where she’s still open from his cock. There’s dried come at the edges of her pussy, and it makes Christian stifle a moan against the back of his hand.

Christian isn’t the only one fucking her, but he knows it’s been a while, maybe even long enough that it’s his baby in her belly. The thought has his balls drawing up tight against his body, his cock in his hand giving an almost painful throb. He almost wishes he could fuck off the rest of her season, just keep her here in Oxfordshire while she gets big and round with his kid. He’d fuck her endlessly, right up until the moment she's ready to pop.

Maybe someday he will, Christian thinks as he frantically fucks his own fist, staring down at the soft swell of her belly, even though there’s nothing there for him to see—not yet. Maybe once she’s done with Formula 1 for good, he’ll knock her up again, have her birth a whole litter of kids, even. Put them into karts once they’re old enough, the same way Jos did with her. That’s what they do with retired racehorses, isn’t it? Use them as breeding stock?

Christian carefully climbs up onto the bed and kneels over her as he strips his cock even faster. He’s close again, he can feel it, but after staving off release once, it eludes him the second time, making him even more desperate, the grip on his cock so tight it hurts.

Christian has visions of painting Max’s belly white with his come, but when his orgasm finally washes over him, nothing but a few drops of watery jism splash down onto Max’s skin. Christian lets out a disappointed whine, and immediately drops down to fuck his cock back into Max’s pussy before he can go soft.

Max gives a little jolt under him as Christian’s weight suddenly falls on top of her.

“Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” Christian says, carefully lifting himself back up again so he can look down into her face without pulling out of her.

“S’okay,” Max said sleepily. “What time is it?”

“You still have a few hours,” Christian reassures her.

He hesitates for a moment, thinking he should tell her now. It would be the right thing to do, the responsible thing to do. She could make her arrangements in Belgium with her mother at her side and come back to him once it’s over.

“Christian?” Max says, sounding a little more awake now. She must have seen the conflict playing out on his face. She was always just a little too good at reading people. “Is everything okay?”

Christian forces a smile. “Of course, darling. Go back to sleep.”

They still have plenty of time.

#summerofcum2023 #hornstappen #f1 smut #my fic #sorry for going sicko mode twice in a row #or not sorry if you are also a sicko #f1 rpf

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tinyozlion · 4 months

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--The Gundam Wing Drinking Game! (*you don’t actually have to drink)--

Happy Eve War Armistice Day, everyone! As we all gather around the warmth of a flickering screen with friends, family, or discord buddies to celebrate the beginning of True Peace between Earth and the Space Colonies-- WHICH WILL SURELY LAST FOREVER-- why not play a little festive anime parlor game? This can be played with beverages, snacks, points, or the penalty/reward system of your choice!

THE CLASSICS— take ONE any time:

1) Someone shouts: "IT’S A GUNDAM!" or "THAT’S A GUNDAM!" 2) Magical Gundam Transformation Sequence 3) The BFG: the buster rifle beam canon does what it does best. 4) Relena Yells At The Clouds 5) "Omae o korosu!": Heero threatens to kill someone and then doesn’t. 6) THAT'S SO FETCH: Duo calls himself the God of Death or says one of his catchphrases. 7) BOOBY TRAPPED: Heavyarms fires its chest missiles. 8) SAFETY FIRST: Quatre wears his goggles. 9) GO-GO-GADGET: Wufei uses the dragon claw extendo-arm.

THE SPECIALS— take TWO whenever the following occurs: 1) A fruit or vegetable is given meaningful screen time. 2) Episode title is the opposite of what occurs in the episode. 3) VA Hall of Shame: a voice actor fumbles a line or really chews the scenery. 4) This Is Big Nose: An impossibly silly military call sign is used. 5) Someone with Special Eyebrows conveys normal information in a straightforward way. 6) FOUND FAMILY: The Maganac Corps shows up to save the day. 7) Bee-bee-bee-bee-bee-bee-bee!

SING ALONG AT HOME— you MUST CHANT whenever:

1) KAIJU SHOT! KAIJU SHOT! a mobile suit looms into view of a window and horrified onlookers. 2) CRAB! CRAB! CRAB! CRAB! any time you see a MS Cancer or its aquatic friend group. 3) CLOWN! CLOWN! CLOWN! CLOWN! any time you see a clown. 4) HEEEEEEROOOOOO: you know what to do. *Stackable with article 1 section 4. 5) PUSH THE BUTTON FRANK: an ominous button is pressed to devastating effect.

POUR ONE OUT— take TWO and go "Oooooo, YIKES!" whenever one of the following occurs:

1) Someone REALLY should have locked their mobile suit hatch. 2) One Day From Retirement: a hapless schmuck gets got immediately after giving the all clear. 3) A gross failure to correctly estimate the impact tolerance of gundanium alloy despite all documented evidence. 4) Heero takes it on the dome or otherwise hits the ground at speed. 5) Duo gets used as a punching bag. 6) The Bright Noah Special: someone gets slapped or hit in the face. 7) Brutality: A mobile suit makes direct lethal contact with a human target. 8) Red Card: a fencing move does damage to a person or their equipment. 9) The Can Opener: Something gets split in half by a beam or heat weapon. 10) Fuck This Thing In Particular: A mobile suit (or other vessel) self detonates-- *stackable with article 3 section 5. 11) Up-Skirt Shot: A mobile suit or its pilot gets an unflattering camera angle.

HALL OF FAME— FIRST ONE TO SPOT one of these gets a freebie:

1) BRAND NAME: shout the Improbable Brand Name™ featured on background signage or product. 2) QUICK CHANGE: A character somehow gets into or out of a space suit off screen with no indication how. 3) GOOD BOY ALERT: There's an animal on screen (end credits don't count). 4) THE FUTURE IS NOW: State of the Art 90's Tech in use. 5) IMPORTANT PERSON SITTING AT A DESK ON THE LEFT SIDE OF A ROOM WITH A LARGE WINDOW BEHIND THEM: An important person sits at a desk on the left side of an empty room with a large window behind them.

EXTRA CREDIT: SLAP THE TABLE and call "DID YOU KNOW" to win a chance to make the FRIEND OF YOUR CHOICE take a penalty-- IF:

1) You can correctly identify one of the main voice actors in a bit role. 2) You spot an easter egg or reference to something from Universal Century. 3) Space Physics Don't Work That Way: you can explain why physics don’t work that way in space. 4) Actually Physics DO Work That Way: you can explain the science or theories behind an element of space tech, tactics, or engineering. 5) You can name a real-world location used on a map or background shot.

Happy holidays, enjoy responsibly, and have fun! -Wesley, and to a lesser extent, Tinylion

#gundam wing #endless waltz #gundam wing drinking game #fandom fun #tinyozlion pgw #unparsable

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aneyef0raheart · 1 month

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𝔓𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱 ℜ𝔞𝔠𝔢 11

TW: Backshots, cussing, violence, sucking and gang banging!? (little warnings you've ever seen)

You and Choso starting your engines at the finish line while hearing cheers and chants surrounding the both of you guys. CHOSO honked his car which startled you for you to get his attention, he rolled down his windows with you doing you doing the same thing. "If you win, I'll buy you whatever you want. If you lose..." He chuckled "You'll just have to wait for that answer." He grinned and rolled his window up. A few seconds later the sirens began as the starting of the race, we took off in a flash.

A few minutes felt like you were very proud of yourself being ahead of Choso until he sides his car next to yours shaking his head, he must've been saying "you won't be able to beat me". You will show him what I'm capable of, sooyou across the road an obstacle was placed, you switched gears of the joystick and reversed your car, it was a 10 feet ramp that would be able to crush your car as soon as you hit the floor, if you're smart enough you'll be able to land with just a few scratches. Lucky you, it made your car spin like a fidget spinner, it made me dizzy which made me even more competitive. You see him copying my method landing bumpier than me, he watches my car spin around, as soon as it gets back to drive straight across a sharp turn comes across us, you still had my car reversed and flipped him of with both hands and my tongue sticking out with a smile.

You turned back switching gears pulling into a drift almost to make your car tilted over the side, Choso's eyes widened as soon as you made that badass move, his mouth curled into a wide smirk. It distracted him from seeing the sharp turn and imediantally switched gears as fast as possible "Damn this town is such a cannibal!" He yelled. He revved his engines trying to catch up to you but before he could, you were already at the finish line. He gripped his hands onto the steering wheel and yelled "Fuck!" He made an overwhelmend and angry expression as soon as he hit the finish line as last. He rested his head back catching his breath, sweating from the overwhelming race. You got out of your car and walked over to his window with a smirk. Choso rolled down his window to hear what you have to say, "Guess who's number 1 now eh?" You chuckled and leaned forward pulling his head towards me kissing his cheek. His eyes widened in surprise that a girl actually kissed him, a hot one too!

You pull away and winked at him before leaving to talk to Satoru and Suguru, Choso came along with you and stood next to you. You think to yourself feeling a bit of regret for kissing Choso, wondering what he'll do next. As Satoru and Suguru were talking you notice Choso staring at you with his violet eyeshadow and the mark across the bridge of his nose, don't even start with his sleepy eyes. You took a glance back at him and imediantally transfered it to the black and white haired men. "To celebrate we should have a sleepover! At the champions crib~" Satoru turned to you with a sly smirk.

"Uhm... Why are you looking at me like that..?" I stuttered "Oh too much!? Whatever! Let's get it!" The group all got into their cars and followed your way home, I guess this really happening ain't it? As you guys got to your house the first thing you do is lock yourself in the room to take a shower due to all the dust in the tracks and sweats. You were finished showering and changed into your room, you can hear the guys all yelling and having fun outside your room, you wonder what they're doing until the noise gets even louder... Closer to your room, soon a loud bang crashed into your door. "AH! WHAT THE SHIT!?" You imediantally got into a pair of shorts and a hoodie, you open the door seeing Choso, Satoru and Suguru all tangled up together Infront of your door "You guys... Are perverted." "Oh come on it was only suppose to be a peak but then Suguru wanted to ReSpEcT your 'privacy'." Satoru said in a mocking tone.

"Ugh..." You walked over them wishing you could've just stepped on them, before you walked off you felt a grip of your ankle almost making you trip. It was Choso gazing upon you "Come onnn Y/N... You know you want it, how about the deal we made? You get anything you want all from my money or just me." He smirked. "You never said it was going to be you as in you." I poked his shoulder. Choso smirked and got up, next thing you know he grabbed your arm tight throwing you back into your room.

The two other guys got up and closed the door behind them "Oww what the fuck was that fo-" Suddenly you felt someone's lip on yours, who was it? Gojo's... "Hey what! It was supposed to be me you bastard!" Choso complained pushing Gojo to the side crashing into the wood of your bed. Choso started kissing you imediantally forcing you to open your mouth trying to bribe you on excepting tongue. "Damn... Never knew racers were this freaky." Gojo chuckled. Suguru walks towards you and sits behind you while Choso kisses you, "Yeah she might as well... You know 'Toru." Suguru had a wide grin appear on his face.

The only time he makes that face is when things get out if hand, Satoru smirks and makes Choso pull away from you, "Aw fuck, I was about to get my hands on her..." You were clueless and lost wondering what's happening. Why is it? What the hell is happening!? Suddenly, Satoru picks you up and sits on your bed while still being able to carry you "P-put me down 'toru!" "Okay." He gently lays you on the bed while surrounded by three men, are you able to take all three? Then Suguru grabs you by the collar of your hoodie and Imediantally starts kissing your neck like he wants to leave marks on you, then Satoru comes along sitting behind you moving your legs around, all of the sudden they were being so touchy? Choso then finally takes your mouth running one hand through your hair and the other lower on your hips. His knees in between your thighs felt sort of good? You tried so hard not to make a noise on what was happening right now. Choso forcing his tongue into your mouth almost like he wants you to come and gag. The kisses started getting sloppier every second while saliva runs down both your chins, you gave up and excepted your situation. Choso's, Suguru's and Satoru's hand all sliding under your hoodie. They all had such cold hands it made you shiver even more just by their touch.

*Soon you get gang banged with Choso fucking you from the back, Suguru making you suck his cock while Satoru watching the whole thing... Go as plan.*

*Choso never even gave you the chance for you to tell him what you wanted after the race, it seems your reward is this...*

#jjk choso #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #getou suguru x reader #suguru x reader #choso kamo #choso x reader

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