#But I just sat down and watched the last season in 2 days | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

viennakarma · 5 months

Text

Everything I Wanted II.

LESTAPPEN X READER (PART 2)

Summary: Your journey to become a Motorsport legend wasn't easy, especially when your path clashed with your greatest rivals, Max Verstappen and Charles Leclerc.

Word count: 8.9k

Tags: Driver reader, mentions of crash, angst, abusive parent, daddy issues, trust issues, character death (not reader), cursing, strong rivalry, misogyny in motorsport, invasive media, aggressive fans, reader suffers with cyberbullying and hate, smut, female reader, +18, unprotected sex, voyeurism, exhibtionism, edging, filthy, porn with plot, queer! everyone, polyamory lestappen, bit of dirty talking, pet names, not beta read

Relationships: Lestappen x Reader

Mentor!Kimi Raikkonen x Reader

Sebastian Vettel, Fernando Alonso, Lewis Hamilton x Platonic!Reader

Notes: this is full of motorsport categories inaccuracies, just go with the vibes please. There are a few inaccuracies regarding other drivers' lives, but they are just to fit the story. This chapter is very angsty and none of it is an attack at the drivers nor their fans and personalities, please.

I know I KNOW, this got out of hand, AGAIN. I promise next part (and hopefully last) is more focused on the romance, and the happy ending reader deserves.

Find me on Twitter!

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3

You spent Christmas with your mom, sharing a lot of presents and watching a bunch of stupid Christmas movies. New Year’s was now a tradition to spend with the Raikkonen Family, joined with the closest friends for a little get together. It was a good opportunity to reconnect with Kimi’s kids who missed you a lot during the season.

Charles never contacted you during winter break, which you were sure was the best after that mistake. You hated each other too much and the only thing that could come out of that was toxicity from the both of you. You refused to even acknowledge what had happened and its implications, that wouldn’t and couldn’t mean anything.

During the pre-season testing in Bahrain, you and Charles were back to whatever your relationship was before that one lapse in judgment months before.

Nobody noticed anything.

One day, Fernando pulled you aside for a little chat. You two sat side by side on big moving boxes, sipping on energy drinks.

“There’s something I have been wanting to talk to you about since last year,” he started, seemingly pensive, distant.

“Is everything ok?”

“Yeah, yeah. Remember after we first met when you asked me if I had advice for you regarding your career?” Fernando said, and you remembered.

Right after you had gotten close, you asked him for advice, you always did, especially about racing. But one day, you were chatting about his career, and you asked if had any lessons you should never forget. He had laughed joking about read all your contracts then asking if you were calling him old, but he said if he ever had any advice, he would tell you.

“Yes, have you got my answer yet?”

“Sí, Nena,” he paused, looking deep into your eyes, “enjoy.”

You frowned and he saw the confusion on your face.

“I see much of my younger self in you, you know? The same passion, this fiery desire to win, your goal for the championship, to conquer the world…” Fernando paused, looking up to the clear sky, the sunset coming around, “And I did. But I wish I had enjoyed it more. I should’ve gone to parties, I should’ve visited the countries we went to and tried the food, I should’ve made more friends, I should’ve had more lovers… I was so focused on winning, on getting my hands on that trophy of champion of the world, that I missed out on a lot.”

You felt your eyes tear up, and you wiped it before the tears came down. Putting your hand on his shoulder, you smiled at him.

“It’s such an honor race with you. And an even greater honor to have you as a friend, Nano” you whispered to him, you two laughed as his eyes watered too, and slapping his shoulder you laughed, “don’t make me cry, you old softie!”

You took his advice to your heart.

You went to the parties, you met new people, and that’s how after two entire seasons, you managed to befriend Lando, your teammate. You two had to open your hearts a little bit and meet in the middle. Which proved to be great, the whole team loved the change in your dynamic. You still weren’t besties, but you were close colleagues, and that was great. Everyone noticed the change and it reflected on how you started racing as a team instead of individually.

The car was even better than the year before, and the first race of the season you got a promising win.

That win, Lando’s pestering, and Fernando’s advice was how you ended up in a party after the Bahrain GP. Wearing a skimpy mini dress and 5 tequila shots deep, swaying your hips to the sound of Rihanna. You were dancing and singing with Lando and a few of his friends, loudly screaming the lyrics.

When it was way too hot for you, you grabbed a water bottle and beelined your way out of the crowded dance floor. You found a corner of the VIP section where the AC seemed to be working better, and as you stumbled inside the small space, you ran chest first into someone.

“Sorry,” you said, taking a step back and pressing your back against the cold wall.

“Enjoying your win?” Your head snapped up as you recognised Max’s voice. You had run into him.

Lando had mentioned inviting Max to the party, he had gotten a P2 in the race but you doubted he would go to a party he knew you would attend. You were obviously wrong.

“You know I am,” the victory was so good that nothing could ruin your mood.

“Well, then enjoy it. I’m coming for the win, again.” He warned you but his voice was devoid of anything, just sounded like he was casually telling you about the weather. But you knew that he was implying his championship the year before, rubbing it in your face.

“Don’t be so confident, Max,” you finished your water, smirking at him, “Enjoy the view of my rear!”

You flipped your hair, feeling his eyes on you the whole walk back to the dance floor.

And yet-

Somehow-

You ended up back at that small corner, dancing with your body pressed between Verstappen’s and the wall, his hand holding your jaw firmly, you rolled your hips against him, feeling the way his body responded to yours.

“We can’t-” he said to you, still, his eyes hadn’t left your lips, like he was so oh so tempted.

You rolled your eyes, annoyed. Sober you would never do that, but then, that was a problem for later. Checking to see if anyone was looking at you, you hooked a finger around his waistband and pulled him towards the bathroom.

As soon as the two of you were inside, you locked the door and Max pressed your back against the door, latching his lips to yours in a very desperate open mouthed kiss. You hugged his shoulders, opening your lips to him, his hands went down your sides and he grabbed your ass, pulling you into him. But that wasn’t enough, so he held your thighs and pulled up, carrying you. You locked your legs around his waist, and he stopped the kiss to walk, sitting you on the marble side of the sink, still between your legs, forcing his bulge against your panties, and eliciting a moan from you.

He took a half step back to hike your dress up, palming your cunt over your panties feeling the dampness of it, he tried to press his hand under your panties, but the lacy fabric didn’t leave much space, so he simply tore the bottom of them, exposing you to him. He just ran a finger over your slit, collecting your wetness for a brief moment before pushing a finger into you. Max watched your face with concentration, studying your body’s responses. Your hips shaking at the movement of his finger, and when the second one joined, you got louder. He curled his fingers up, his thumb pressing your clit, and you had to use both hands to hold onto him, your head lolling back against the mirror.

“Take it and shut the fuck up,” he grunted between clenched teeth.

He was pressing your insides so good, the slick sound of his fingers going in and out, his heavy breathing, the loud music outside and his laser focused fingers had you coming against his fingers in minutes. When he noticed you close, cunt spasming against his fingers, he pressed the other hand against your mouth, covering your moans when your toes curled and you orgasmed on his hand.

Max barely let you recover as he opened his jeans and stroked himself twice before pushing his cock into you in one swift move, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion.

“That’s what you wanted, right? Fucking teasing me all night,” He pushed particularly hard, hitting your g-spot, making you see stars, “you’re a fucking menace, y’know that? Fucking insufferable,” then his words became a mumbling of something dutch you couldn’t quite catch anymore with the way his hips snapped against yours, taking all your focus away and turning you into a mess of moaning.

Max fucked like he raced, focused and relentless, brutal. He hugged you with one arm around your waist to keep you in place and the other held you face, tilting your head so he could kiss you, or whatever that mess of saliva, tongues and teeth was. Your orgasm crashed through you unexpectedly, and you only hugged him tighter, pressing your face against his chest, biting into his skin through the fabric of his T-shirt to silence yourself, your teeth sinking into him was enough to send him also over the edge, coming with moans against your ear.

That night, you went home with shaking legs and an incoming headache, as Max left with the scraps of your panties in his pocket and your lipstick stain on his shirt, above his chest.

It was the seventh race of the year, Monaco, and you absolutely hated that specific track since your years of F2. During your two first years in F1 you had awful experiences, the rookie year you DNF and the year prior you had barely managed a P7. You were trying to keep your head up, be hopeful that you could at least try for top 5.

But since you couldn’t catch a fucking break, an old video of your teenage years resurfaced.

You were walking to your first round of interviews when Amanda, your PR manager, started walking by your side.

“There’s something. An old video of a karting competition resurfaced, where Max and Charles pretty much call you stupid,” Amanda was always direct, you could give it to her.

“Let me see the video” you asked, offering your hand for her phone.

“We don’t have time, but everyone will ask you about it. I need you to be the bigger person and act like it isn’t important, yes? They will try to taunt you and get a bad reaction from you, I need you to dismiss everything they throw at you. Agreed?”

You sighed. You knew the stuff from your teens were pretty bad, you rarely badmouthed Max or Charles, but they always felt threatened by you, so there were lots of instances they attacked you. Honestly, you just didn’t want to come out of this victimized. So as you entered the first round of interviews, you decided you were going to downplay anything they asked you.

“Y/N, have you seen the footage of you, Max and Charles from your teenage years that resurfaced recently?”

“No, uh, I haven’t.”

Someone pushed an iPad in your hands because of course, they wanted a live reaction from you. You pressed play, reading the subtitles someone put on the video. It was an amateur recording like a post race interview made by another teenage guy. First as Max walked out of the track, the guy asked what he thought of your win.

“It was luck, she’s not bright enough to think of a strategy,” Max said, walking away, clearly pissed having lost to you.

There was a cut and the camera was turned on again when Charles walked toward the guy asking the question. He repeated exactly the same question he had asked Max.

“Y/N, I don’t worry about her long term. She’s not going very far in this sport anyway,” Charles shrugged, seemingly unbothered.

As the video cut again, it showed your face, you remembered when that was. You were 14, and your dad had dropped you a few months earlier, so you were working your ass off balancing school, work and karting.

“Hey, Y/N. What do you think of your result today?”

“Uh, I tried a new strategy I learned earlier this week, thankfully it worked in my favor,” teen-You dried your forehead with your coat’s sleeve.

“What are your plans for this competition?”

“Well, I hope to be good enough to get into F4 next year, and work my way up into Formula 1,” you smiled softly and walked away after a quick bye.

The video ended and you still spent a few seconds staring at the black screen of the iPad. This interview didn’t come to your mind in more than a decade, but it was nice seeing how you made your 14-year-old dream come true.

“So, what do you say?” The reporter extended his mic to you.

“I guess I proved them wrong, right?” You giggled a little, “don’t take it to heart, really. We were all hormonal teenagers, I’m sure if someone digs, they will find a video of me saying the same stuff about them,” you shrugged, despite that being a lie, sounded dismissive enough.

“So it doesn’t upset you?” The reporter insisted, and you knew he wanted a scandal you weren’t willing to give.

“Of course not. I’ve always known my worth, and I’m P1 in the driver’s championship as of right now. So I don’t really care.”

The interviewers soon let the video go, when they realized you didn’t care about it. You weren’t sure if anyone would also approach Charles or Max with questions about the same video, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to avoid drama for the time being so you could focus on the championship instead of this bullshit.

On the morning of qualifying, you were in your room, trying to meditate and clear your mind, when a knock interrupted you.

“Guys, I asked for twenty minutes so I could-” you stop yourself when you realize it isn’t anyone from your team, but it’s Max and Charles, “what are you doing here?”

“We came to apologize about the video,” Max started.

“Did your PR teams send you here?” You looked around, trying to catch a camera or even a phone recording.

“No uh, we realized we were very immature with you, and this video is just proof of how silly that was,” Charles sighed, seemingly embarrassed.

“You don’t need to apologize, I mean- the two of you really had it out for me, you called me dumb a lot,” you pointed to Max, then Charles, “and you called me ugly countless times. I don’t know why it would make any difference now.”

You were just so used to being defensive, to protect yourself from hatred you found it hard to believe them, to give them a chance to apologize because you couldn’t believe it to be genuine.

“Even if you don’t take it, or believe it, I would like to apologize for that behavior. I was just a stupid kid.” Max looked deep into your eyes, which could’ve made you uncomfortable if he didn’t seem so honest.

“I’m really sorry, Y/N. It was too idiotic to be like that to you, growing up. You were just a kid too.” Charles added.

You understood where that apology came from, it was stupid and embarrassing for all three of you this teenage rivalry when you all were barely mid racers back in the day. Sighing, you looked around, dropping your façade for a second, allowing yourself to display the same honesty they showed you.

It was hard and required some sort of deprogramming because you could only see them as rivals, like your dad had whispered in your brain so many times before, like their actions towards you had cemented dad’s words. They had said things that were on your mind for so long, that had made you defensive and deflective.

“Look, don’t worry about it. Whatever happened back then, it’s water under the bridge,” You shifted on your feet. As they started walking away, you added “this doesn’t mean we’re friends.”

They only nodded before leaving. Your routine went back to the same, and as the next scandal went on, people forgot about the silly video, but a very specific part of the fans started shipping you and both your rivals.

The rivalry never died down though.

Then, out of nowhere, Sebastian pulled you and Lewis aside to a conversation. Then he told you that he was going to retire by the end of the season. It was the first time the two of them saw you cry, and Sebastian hugged you tight, shushing your crying softly.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” he whispered, petting your head.

“No, don’t apologize,” you let him go, drying your face, “I have listened to you talking countless times about how you missed the kids. Don’t apologize for choosing to be a great dad. I know Hanna and the kiddos will be ecstatic.”

“You two are my closest friends here, that’s why I wanted to tell you first, before my announcement.”

“Thank you, Seb,” you said, eyes still watering, “I’m going to miss having you around.”

“Thank you for telling us beforehand,” Lewis said, also visibly emotional.

The season was writing itself to be just as close as the year prior, but now you were slightly better at keeping the lead most.

That is until Zandvoort. This GP was always a nightmare to you, because it was full of Max’s fans, and they absolutely hated you for being his rival. You had been booed when you were on the podium the year before, so now, you and Amanda decided it was best to keep your head down during the whole week. Not out of shame, but more of a matter of safety, you didn’t know how far the crowd could go in antagonizing you. When you were booed the other year, Max had said it was part of the sport and dismissed the conversation.

The morning of free practice, you went into the paddock very low-key and kept to yourself. You arrived with a little cup of coffee and got mentally ready for a hostile environment the whole weekend. That, until you spotted a small group of people dressed with your color and wearing your number, waving wildly to you.

In a spur of the moment decision, you went there, getting close to the barrier to sign a few caps and take a few selfies. In retrospect, you knew you shouldn’t have done that, especially with only two bodyguards accompanying you.

You were finishing chatting with your fans when you felt something heavy hit the side of your head and the impact made you stumble backwards, you were confused as you heard the screams and felt one of the bodyguards pull you back, as the other jumped the barrier and started running. You patted your temple and something wet and sticky was dripping down the side of your face. You stared at the small group of fans who were looking at you horrified. Staring at the hand, you saw the red staining your fingers, and as the bodyguard kept pulling you away to somewhere safer, the thing flowed even more and got into your left eye.

You wondered if it was blood as you touched your temple but felt nothing, not a gash nor small cut. You covered your left eye as it started to sting from what you supposed smelt like paint.

“Hey, hey, what happened? You’re bleeding!” Max jogged up to you.

“Not blood, just paint” you muttered, trying to use your coat to clean your face.

“Someone threw a paint ball at her,” the bodyguard said.

“Fuck, it’s burning!” You exclaimed, feeling tears in your left eye.

“Come here, the RB hospitality is close,” Max said, holding your wrist, he stopped shortly pointing to your bodyguard, “and you, sort this and find the person who did it.”

You let yourself be taken by Max into the RB territory, the burning so annoying that you rather take whatever solution he was thinking of. He held your waist and placed you sitting on a sink, and then you felt water streaming down your face.

“Stay still,” Max commanded, holding a hose over your head, pouring water down your face, “now blink slowly, let the water wash it,” his voice soft as you did what he told you to. Slowly but surely, it washed the paint away, relieving your left eye from the stinging. Max held the hose up and held your chin, tilting your head up so he could check your eye, still letting the water stream down your face.

You took a few minutes, breathing and regulating your heartbeat from that scare, trying to come back to normal and understand fully what was going on. From what you gathered, you were chatting with fans when someone else came and threw something with paint at you.

“How does it feel?”

“It’s better, already stopped burning,” you told him, feeling your heart miss a beat at the close proximity you found yourself to him. You were sitting on a sink, Max standing between your legs pretty much like you two had done months before for entirely different reasons.

“Open your eye, let me see,” he asked, and you tried to blink it open, “can you see?”

“It’s a little blurry but I believe it will get better,” you explained, and he didn’t let go of your chin. Suddenly, he covered your right eye with the other hand, leaving you only with your left eye sight.

“How many fingers am I putting up?” He showed it to your left eye. The vision was a bit blurry but you still could make out the shapes very clearly.

“Four, Max. It’s just a little bit blurry, probably will get better in a few minutes” you sounded annoyed, you tried to move but he pressed a hand against your waist, keeping you in place.

“Now, what happened?” He asked finally. You ignored the proximity, and the hand still on your body.

“We’re in Zandvoort, that’s what happened,” you shrugged, really annoyed about it.

“What do you mean?” He was visibly confused. You scoffed because you knew it wasn’t something he didn’t know, since the year before he has dismissed the importance of how hostile people were to you.

“We’re massively surrounded by your fans, Max.”

“I don’t understand.”

“They hate me because you hate me, and they think because you hate me they’re justified in their hostility towards me,” You explained, with a sigh, you pushed away from Max, “this GP has been like this for me ever since Rookie year.”

“I don’t hate you,” he said, brows furrowed.

“You do. And they do too,” you pointed down at the paint that had also stained your shirt as proof.

“I don’t,” he insisted and you rolled your eyes, jumping off the sink, but he didn’t give you space, which made you stand chest to chest with him, “I promise.”

You stared at him, breathless. That wasn’t part of the game you played, being kind, sounding worried and making promises. None of that was part of this whole rivalry. Pushing his chest, you tried getting away but he caged you against the sink, body flush against yours.

“Do you believe me?” He asked and your eyes fell to his lips, and you allowed yourself to remember the desperate and chaotic kisses you had shared in a dimly lit bathroom, “I don’t support any of this behavior.”

You heard voices and steps approaching, which made you finally push him away, walking towards the door. Whatever little magic had been happening between those walls was undone the moment you remembered none of that would’ve happened if he had politely put a stop to it earlier.

“It’s part of the sport and I have to deal with it, right?” You returned the very same words he had said about you when you were booed by the crowd the year prior.

As you opened the door, you were faced with Sebastian. He stopped, taking you in and then pulling you in a hug.

“Are you ok? We just heard what happened!” He murmured, guiding you out of the bathroom. He held your shoulders and looked at your face, checking how your left eye was still a little red, “we should take you to see a doctor, come on.”

Lewis soon arrived at the entrance of the RBR station, he warned about the reporters crowding outside, waiting for a glimpse of you after the attack. The British man gave you a Mercedes coat so you put it over your head and avoid the cameras waiting outside. With the bodyguards and both Lewis and Sebastian leading you away, you ended up at the medical center, and after a quick examination, the doctor gave you eye drops to put throughout the day.

Your Principal suggested you sit the FP1 out, letting the reserve driver take your place while you recovered. By the middle of FP1, your eyesight was 100% and you went to get ready for FP2. The whole day you felt like everyone was being extra careful, tiptoeing around you. You hated feeling like you were being pitied, so when the inevitable round of interviews came, you knew what you had to do.

“We heard about your incident earlier today, how are you feeling about it?” Someone asked.

“I’m pretty upset, to be honest. Formula 1 is a sport loved around the whole world, and the paddock overall is supposed to be a safe place not only for the fans, but also the workers and drivers. What happened today is unacceptable and could’ve been much worse. I’m voicing my dissatisfaction and I intend to, through legal means, take this complaint to the FIA.”

Later that night, as you laid awake on your bed, scrolling through the repercussions of the day, you stopped when you saw a snippet of Max's interview.

“What happened today was dangerous and unacceptable, I don’t support this behavior and I stand with Y/N,” that was all he said, but Max usually was a man of few words, always knowing when it was enough.

You knew he should’ve voiced that much earlier in your career, specifically after the booing the year before, but still- He also could have opted to not say anything at all, and he didn’t.

Amanda also sent you the news that the fan who had attacked you was found and banned for life from Formula 1.

After calling Sebastian, you managed to get ahold of Max’s phone number and texted him a simple message.

Thank you. Twice. - Lioness

The text went to read almost immediately, and the three dots appeared from his side of the screen. You wait, and wait, and wait. And then the dots disappeared, and an answer never came.

After a solid P2 that weekend in Zandvoort, you went home for the summer break. You and your mom had planned to go to Monaco for a little while since you were planning on buying a place there. From there, you and your mom would go all around the French Riviera to enjoy the sea and spend a few days in a spa resort. Then, you would go back home and relax before going to Ibiza for a weekend to meet Lando and his friends to enjoy some partying.

Everything went according to plan, but one day when you came back home after the trip to the French Riviera, you found your mom passed out on the living room floor.

You called an ambulance, quickly taking her into the hospital. Everything was a blur, the tests and scans, your mom still unconscious on a hospital bed, and the results. The results that pulled the floor from under your feet.

Your brain couldn’t fully compute what was said. Cancer Stage 4. Surgery. Palliative care.

The world was muted around you as you sat on a chair in the waiting room, hands shaking when you tried to understand what was happening. You somehow ended up calling the one other person you trust.

“Y/N? What happened?”

“I don’t understand- she just- she just passed out and I thought- but- but they said- palliative care” you try to come up with words.

“Talk to me. Are you sick?” Kimi’s voice is so focused and a little soothing.

“It’s mom”

“Send your location, I’m going there,” that’s all he said.

Waiting for Kimi gave you some sense of purpose, because it’s Kimi. He could fix anything. He fixed your life when you were 14, he can do it again. He would get there and find a way to help. Your mind got so clouded when the word cancer was thrown in the conversation, that you probably missed the part about treatments and- and surgery and stuff.

In your mother’s room there was a comfortable couch where you tried to settle to sleep, but you only spent countless hours awake. You hoped to see the doctor again to try and get him to explain everything for a second time.

You wished you were smart and quick, but no, you just sat there holding onto the hope that Kimi had a way to fix this.

Kimi arrived early the next morning, knocking on the door before entering. You stood up, hugging him tight.

“What happened?”

“It’s pancreatic cancer, they said. We need to see more about surgery and- and treatments.”

You and Kimi found the doctor, who explained again, and in that moment you finally understood what he meant the first time around. She was in a late stage of pancreatic cancer, which was usually a very difficult illness to find before it is too late, due to the placement of the organ in the body and late symptoms. The only options were either to try a very risky surgery and chemo so she could extend her life for around 8 months to a year. Or she could go home to live her last few months the way she wanted.

You begged and cried and bribed and offered every single solution your brain could muster to try and save her. Kimi held you when you fell to the floor, sobbing.

When your mom woke up and you and Kimi told her the diagnosis, she cried too, sobbing in your arms as you tried to hold it together for her sake. It took a couple of days for her to choose to go home. The two of you spent the last days of summer break traveling around the world a bit more, visiting temples and statues, and seeing nature and everything good the world had to offer, going to places motorsport hadn’t taken you to.

Your mom went to every race week from there on, even when she felt especially weak, even when you had to hire a full time medical team for her.

Your focus on the season was solely on the moment between entering the car and leaving the car. You still managed to race like you’ve done before, calm and controlled, with the help of your engineers and team, you still could put the car where you wanted it, paving your way for a solid world championship that year. It was like your brain was seeing racing as the one thing in your life you had full control over, so sometimes you even felt like you and the car were one.

You didn’t tell anyone about her. Though every driver noticed how distant you were, even Charles and Max and the ones that weren’t very close to you noticed how you were only fulfilling your obligations and leaving, you weren’t even celebrating your wins, leaving the fastest you could after a race.

The Singapore GP was tough for you, having to leave your mom home alone with the medical staff and a couple of friends from her book club, since she wasn’t strong enough to travel anymore. Your attention was failing all throughout media day and free practices. Qualifying was shit compared to your performance the rest of the season.

In Q3 you did a reasonable sector 1 and 2 but you messed up sector 3 completely. It was a complete accident when you got in the way of a Ferrari when he was doing his fast lap, and you ended up messing his qualy too. Jace let you know it was none other than Charles Leclerc, who was setting the pace for a pole position. Out of 19 drivers, you had to ruin his lap. In the end, Max got pole, Charles qualified P3 and you qualified P5.

You went through the motions during the post qualifying press. You were about to leave after debriefing, when Charles Leclerc found you on the way to the parking lot. You pulled your coat tighter around yourself protectively as he walked up to you. You were hoping to escape his fury at least until after the race the next day. Before he could even get a word in, you started.

“Look, I know I messed up your pole. I know you won’t believe me, but it wasn’t intentional. I really thought there was no one doing fast laps on the track, I thought everyone was either still doing out laps or in the pits, so when you-”

“Calm down, breathe,” he interrupted you, “I’m not here to fight.”

“No?” You frowned, confused with the kindness in his eyes.

“We know you’re going through something, and I’m sure I’m the last person you want to hear this from, but you’re not alone. And you should really consider talking with someone on the grid. They’re all- we’re all worried about you.”

The words felt alien coming from his mouth, but the gentleness was so comforting you felt a lump in your throat.

“Why do you think I’m not ok?” You muttered trying to sound confident, but your voice failed, betraying you.

“You’re skinny and you look sleep deprived for a few weeks now,” Charles said directly.

“Damn, thanks.”

“I don’t mean it like that, you know it,” he paused, putting both hands on his pockets, “have you been eating?” Your lack of response made him press further, “have you eaten today?”

You pressed your lips together, not wanting to answer that.

“Let’s go, I’ll drive you to the hotel, we’ll stop on the way to grab some food,” Charles gestured to his car, a few meters away. You stood there, shocked as he started walking away, then he stopped looking over his shoulder, “come on, I don’t have all the time in the world.”

As you sat in his Ferrari, Charles put music on and you didn’t do much talking, but it was tranquil. He called the restaurant to order take out on the way, and 30 minutes later he dropped you off at the hotel with a bag full of food.

“Thank you, Charles.” You whispered before leaving the car.

You ate the food while on a video call with your mom.

You recovered well during the race, finishing P2, behind Max and ahead of Charles.

Your mom passed away a few days after the Japanese Grand Prix, the one you had won and dedicated it to her from the top step of the podium, even if she wasn’t there, just watching from home. You went home and stayed with her, holding her hands and hugging her as much as you could.

Some part of you knew she was somehow fighting, because she had promised you the year before she would be there when you became world champion. You could see she was hoping to make it to the end of the season, but you also knew she wouldn’t, and you rather she didn’t have to endure any more pain just for your sake.

“You don’t need to fight anymore, ma,” you whispered before she went to sleep, “you raised a strong woman, too. I will see you on the other side, ok? You can rest now, I love you.”

“I’m so proud of you, honey. I love you to the moon and back.”

You made it through her small funeral, following what she had written down before passing. An intimate funeral, full of flowers and a toast to her life. You cried the whole time, with Kimi and Minttu taking turns at comforting you as they could. Coming back to an empty home smelling of cleaning products made you almost lose your mind, and the sight of you in such despair was enough for Kimi to convince you to stay with them until you had to travel for the next race, in almost seven days.

The days passed in a crying blur, you let part of your team know about your mom’s passing. Only Amanda, Jace and your Principal. Jace tried to convince you to take a break and not go to the next race in Austin, but you quickly shut it off. Not only because racing was the one thing keeping you sane amidst the chaos, but because you were so close to the championship, and it was still close competition with Max and Charles, so you couldn’t afford to lose a race and the points that could come with it.

You had to honor your mom in some way.

That’s how you ended up on a plane to Austin with Kimi and Amanda. You knew Kimi had convinced you to let him go because he was sure you’d have a mental breakdown anytime along the weekend, but deep down you appreciated the company. Arriving there, Jace was the first to hug you and whisper his condolences, as well as your TP too.

You survived the entire weekend without breaking down crying in public, but that was your worst race in a few months, the first time out of a podium since Spa. You ended up P5, which luckily wasn’t too bad because Max finished P4 which you were grateful for as he was the one who was P2 in the driver’s championship close behind you.

After that week, you packed your stuff and moved to the new condo in Monaco you had bought during summer break. Despite loving your mom to pieces, you couldn’t manage to live alone in the house you bought for her a couple of years before, it was lonely and it hit you with overwhelming waves of sadness all the time. You distracted yourself a lot with buying furniture and decorations for the new place, and discovering Monte Carlo in a whole new way. The one comfort in all that, was knowing your mom wasn’t suffering anymore.

Then you went straight to Mexico for the next Grand Prix, this time, Kimi left you because he had to come home to Minttu and the kids. Amanda had been such a support for you, that you knew you had to give her something special for the holidays, out of gratitude.

Everything was going as expected until the press conference. You were there with Charles, Max, Sebastian and Lando. You suspected they were putting you always in the same group as Max and Charles because, as the season nearing the end, only three races left, they were your close competition.

While someone asked something of Charles, you were whispering with Sebastian, chatting about Mexican foods you wanted to try after the race. Then, something bizarre happened, and phones started to ping all around the room, between reporters, cameras and everyone else started checking their phones. It seemed like something out of a black mirror nightmare.

You reached for your phone but then remembered you left it to charge in your room.

“This question is for Y/N,” a reporter asked, reading something from his phone, “there’s a new article that just came out saying your mom passed away a couple of weeks ago, is that true?”

Your blood ran cold, and every sound felt like it was muted inside the room. Wide eyed, you searched for Amanda, who was somewhere on the opposite side of the room, and when you found her, she was pale. Then, there was a cacophony of voices and cameras and questions, that made you suddenly overwhelmed.

Swallowing, trying to reassess, you found Sebastian already standing, holding your shoulders. Looking around you noticed how the other three drivers had stood up, making some sort of shield around you, protecting you from the cameras and reporters swarming around.

“We can go, ok? Come on,” Sebastian was saying when Amanda caught up to you, leaning beside Sebastian.

“We can leave, right now,” she said, holding your hand.

Still a little confused, you nodded and let them both guide you back to your room.

“I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry for your loss,” Sebastian hugged you, running his hands on your back for comfort.

“How- how did they find out?” You ask Amanda.

“An article came out, I’m not sure. Someone was probably digging into your life, but don’t worry, I put the team on it already.”

“How do- how we diffuse this? How do we proceed? We need to address this, right?” You started blabbering, trying to wrap your head around everything.

“That was very disrespectful of them to ask like that!” Sebastian exclaimed, making you two jolt.

“We’ll do whatever you’re comfortable with. Do you want me to release a note asking for privacy?” Amanda suggested.

“Can I write something and then run it by you?” You asked, she only nodded.

After a moment, both Amanda and Seb left you alone as you typed a note on your phone. You rewrote and deleted a few times before settling on something heartfelt and respectful but also, calling out the invasion of privacy.

My mom passed away a few days ago after battling with cancer for the past few months.

She had requested of me to keep it a secret until after the season was over, so I could mourn her without the weight of racing over my shoulders.

But obviously someone went digging and disrespected not only one of her last wishes but also disrespected my grief and my right to privacy. I love my mom but I’ll not be answering any more questions about her illness or death, please respect me and respect her memory.

All the love, Y/N

Nobody asked anything over the weekend, but again, it felt like everyone was tiptoeing around you. As soon as you first saw Nano the next day, he held you tight for almost a minute whispering his condolences, and it made you almost cry again. Lewis also spared you a hug, saying if you ever needed anything, to contact him.

You survived that weekend, and decided to go straight to Brazil for the next GP instead of going back to Monaco. In São Paulo you mostly slept your worries and fears away. You had promised yourself to try and focus on the season only, to make your dream come true, to fulfill your mom’s promise in some way.

With Ferrari’s bad strategy in Mexico, they had ruined Charles’ chance at the championship. Now your only competition was Max and the Red Bull rocketship.

You rewatched the race a couple of times as you usually did, to try and catch any mistakes you or your team may have made, to fix it for the next one. But also to try and notice any weaknesses of your rivals, if it was something you could use in your own favor.

You noticed right away in the FP1 that your car wasn’t adhering to the track, you were losing balance and needed more force than usual to keep yourself in place. By FP2, you managed to control your car better, but that caused your tyres to wear off way more quickly.

Quali was one of the shittiest you’ve ever done in your career, taking you out in Q2 for the first time that year, placing you for a start at P12.

“Listen, we’ll do better tomorrow, ok?” Jace told you as soon as you entered the garage, seeing Max still out with a shot at pole position.

“Give me a few minutes to unwind, please,” you asked, dropping your helmet, balaclava and gloves at a nearby table.

You went straight to your room, searching for your phone. Immediately calling Kimi, you waited for him to pick up.

“I watched it,” he said first and foremost.

“If I do bad in the race tomorrow, and Max does well, then I’m gonna lose the championship, Kimi,” saying that out loud made you shiver in horror, “FUCK!” You screamed, kicking a chair.

“First of all, even if you did bad tomorrow, you’d still have a chance to fight for the championship in Abu Dhabi. You know that,” Kimi warned you as if he was scolding a little kid, “second of all, I never taught you this loser mindset. You’ll have to find a way to work around the problems in your car tomorrow.”

“Shit, I’m so fucked! How? How could I even-”

“Remember when I first met you? Your kart was with almost this same problem, yeah? Remember you got P2? You went ahead and fixed it. That’s what I need you to do tomorrow, don’t focus on what you can’t do, only focus on what you can do.”

“I’ll try my best.”

“No trying. Do it.”

After spending the entire night crafting plan A, B, C and Z with you strategists and engineers, you barely got any sleep, but you forced yourself to rest. In the morning, you went to the track early to meet with your team again, to run your strategies one more time, when you had an idea. You’d still follow the plans you had carefully crafted with the team, but you decided to make a Plan Star, as you had called. Interlagos didn’t have any safety car in the last two years, so it was dangerous to fully count on one. But your plan star consisted in the case of a safety car in this one specific window of laps, you’d go to the pits for hards, counting on everyone else being on old softs or mediums at that specific point in the race. But for it to work, you had to be the first of the front field to go in.

As the lights went out and you accelerated, you got already three positions up, landing in P9, and luckily, the points zone. Jace was worried in your ears, talking about the car and the tyres management. With controlled calm and Kimi’s voice in your head, you managed a few more positions in the first 14 laps, landing P7. You lost a bit of time there, since Nando was P6 and everyone knew how tough it always is to overtake him. But you eventually managed to get the position. Unfortunately, it was the moment you had to go to your first pitstop. Due to the problems in your car wearing off your tyres, you would have to go for a two-stop, which ended up costing you three positions again. But you were patient and you were rewarded when the other cars had to pit, which gave you back the four places you had lost.

The race you went on and you barely moved up or down from your P5, but you managed to concentrate.

Jace, on the other hand was sounding more and more worried about your second pit stop, about the difficulty in get closer to P4, about the P6 trying to enter DRS zone behind you, with your tyres wearing off, with the-

“Jace, I love you but please shut the fuck up, I know what to do,” you were praying for a miracle when suddenly, there was a yellow flag, and the safety car went out during the perfect window of laps, “fuck, Jace, this is plan star.”

“Copy,” he paused, his voice sounding secure, “Box, box.”

You changed into hards, no one else went to the pits, and the race restarted after three more laps. The safety car had closed the gap between you and the P4, which made you overtake him easily.

Jace was still keeping quiet to help your concentration, he only interrupted to warn you about overheating your tyres, and your velocity per lap compared to the next position. You started overtaking like a madwoman as much as your tyres allowed.

“That’s P1, Lioness,” Jace told you.

“Copy that.” You said with your voice shaken.

As you managed your P1, you went back to be aware of your surroundings, seeing a Red Bull right behind you, trying to overtake but you managed to hold position.

When you took the checkered flag, you sighed with relief, Kimi was right.

“Congratulations, Y/N! That’s a brilliant, brilliant win!” Jace’s voice was sounding shaken too.

“You’re crying, Jace?” You laughed softly.

“It’s an honor to tell you that you, Y/N Y/L/N, are a Formula 1 world champion!” Jace shouts, and behind him you can hear more people screaming.

“What? Jace you’re fucking with me!”

“No, Lioness, you’re the 2022 champion of the world!”

“But- but how? There’s one race left? And Max was right behind me!”

“No, Verstappen DNFed during that one yellow flag. Behind you was Perez.”

You made the calculations quickly in your head. Max was P2 in the championship, but this DNF meant no points, and even if he managed to win the last race in Abu Dhabi, he wouldn’t be able to equal you in points. So-

“OH MY GOD, oh my god!” You screamed your lungs out, feeling the tears streaming down into your balaclava, “Fuck yes! I’m Formula 1 World Champion! Thank you, thank you so much guys! Jace, holy shit, I’m the champion!”

“You’re the champion!” Jace confirmed.

You felt joy in a way you hadn’t felt in a long, long time, as you stopped your car on the number one spot. Still a little dizzy from the thrill, you left the car, going straight to your team, heavily waiting for you. They all hugged you, hitting your helmet, saying congratulations and everything. You took a moment to hug Jace and Amanda, who had been of great support throughout the year.

After getting weighted and being congratulated by the other two on the podium, Perez and Hamilton, the latter hugging you tight as he took you off the floor, you drank water as you waited for the post race interview with Nico Rosberg.

You were giddy, barely holding yourself together with how happy you were feeling, how you wanted to hold the trophy, how grateful you were and more importantly, how you felt a great weight being lifted off your shoulders.

“Y/N, congratulations on becoming a World Champion! I have to say, as a girl dad, it is great to see you become the first woman ever to win this title. How do you feel? What do you want to say?” Nico offered, with a kind smile.

“To be honest, I can barely contain myself. It’s such an honor to be here and be the world champion. I look at the past and see my younger self who never thought would make it to Formula 1. It’s such a dream come true, after this year’s hardships, I’m glad to achieve the greatest dream of them all!” You said, kinda quickly, rambling as you tried to put into words all the emotions mixed with the happiness, “I’m sorry, I know I’m taking up all your time, I just want to dedicated this win, and this championship to three people who saved my life: Kimi, thank you for being the salvation of my career when we first met; And my mom, who’s not here anymore, thank you for being the light in my darkest days. And lastly, I want to thank myself for working my ass off and never giving up.”

You muttered a thank you as Nico only laughed at your rambling. Before you moved to the cooldown, you grabbed the mic back again.

“May I add one last thing?” You asked for Nico, who only nodded, pointing to the camera again, “This is to my father: I made it, you asshole.”

You wanted to send the middle finger too, but you knew you couldn’t because of the FIA’s guidelines, and you were already risking a penalty for cursing on live TV. In the cooldown room, you sat beside Lewis, watching a few highlights of the race on the screen. It showed a couple of your overtakes.

“Damn, you overtook like crazy,” Lewis muttered, seemingly amazed.

“I pulled a Lewis Hamilton in Interlagos last year,” you joked, and he laughed.

That podium felt like the culmination of everything you had worked for your whole life, felt like recovering your love for the sport for what it was, for the fast cars and the adrenaline. Being on that podium in Brazil as a World Champion shifted something inside you forever. During your anthem, you laughed, and when you got the trophy, you cried, pointing the trophy to the sunny sky with a silent prayer to your mom. You barely noticed, but you felt the champagne raining on you, and opened your arms to shower in it. Putting the trophy down, you splashed the other bottle, laughing and wetting everyone that was close to you, Lewis, Checo, Jace, who had gone up representing the team.

When the celebration ended, you stayed behind a little more, watching the crowd from the podium, and they started chanting. It took you a few seconds to realize they were chanting your name.

You raised your trophy at them, and they cheered even louder. Then you pointed it to the sky again.

“Look, ma, I made it” you whispered to yourself, feeling the tears streaming down your face.

TAG LIST: @be-your-coffee-pot @supremebaddietrash @mellowarcadefun @cmleitora @kyuupidwrites @80sloverry @newlifeforus @soulaires @hrrorflm @redwolfxx @icarus-nex @jenniferrvsesi @bborra @leilanixx @hc-dutch @withyoutilltheendodthismess @is-just-a @freetimemachinequeen @saturnchase @butterfly-lover @eddiesbitch83 @elliott-calls @nb26fort @wcnorris @vellicora @mac-daddy-210 @hiraethrhapsody @losore-prone @gills-lounge @enrapturedbythemoon @formula1mount @mightiestheroes @cherry-piee @chezmardybum @whodis-26 @mortallyblueninja @f1mockingjay @dance-the-painting

#f1 #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fic #formula 1 #formula one #charles leclerc x you #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #lestappen #lestappen x reader #Spotify

2K notes · View notes

puckinghischier · 17 days

Text

Suds n Sorrows

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: anon request for reader comforting nico after losing the last game of the season

notes: y’all i kinda love this one 🤭. me being a cancer, i’m patiently waiting for the day i can nurture and comfort nico. that’s all. hope you enjoy !!

(also, i used google translate for any german present in this fic, so if its wrong, oopsies)

[2.9k]

part 2 (18+)

You already felt terrible you were having to miss the last game of the season, but as you watch the clock hit zero on the screen of the tv in front of you, signifying another Devil’s loss, you really wished you could be there. You think about how defeated your boys look, not being able to secure one last win for the fans this season. You watch as they skate to the middle of the ice, thanking their fans with rounded shoulders and sad smiles on their faces.

You curse your professors, hating that their review schedules for finals fell right in the middle of the end of the hockey season. You were supposed to be there tonight, supporting your friends and boyfriend; but a last-minute email from a professor informing you of a mandatory review session, starting only an hour before puck drop, threw your plans out the window.

You pick up your phone to send Nico a quick text, telling him you love him and are proud of him no matter what. You know he won’t see it right away, with post-game interviews and the added responsibility of fan-appreciation activities, he won’t be home for another hour or two at the earliest. You turn the tv off, not wanting to see the dejected looks from the team any longer.

You go to the kitchen and start to busy yourself by making one of Nico’s favorite treats, wanting to give him something to smile about when he gets home. You make plans in your head to either make something or order something to take to the rest of the team tomorrow during their locker cleanout. Once you’ve finished the task at hand and cleaned the kitchen, you make your way back into the living room, figuring Nico will be home any minute.

You were scrolling through Instagram, lost in the comments on the Devil’s most recent post about the fans, when you heard the front door to your apartment open. You sat up, turning your body to face the entry way, watching Nico walk towards you. He dropped his bag as he reached the couch, wordlessly flopping down beside you, throwing his body half on top of yours. He buried his face in your neck, inhaling the comforting scent of your perfume, squeezing your body against his own.

“I’m so proud of you,” is the first thing you said to him, taking the beanie off of his head so you can run your fingers through his hair.

“Nothin’ to be proud of, Schatz. We lost. Didn’t you see?” You feel him mumble against your skin.

“Hey, now. No more pity party, alright? You still went out there and gave it everything you had. I’ll always be proud of you, win or lose,” you scold, hating when he doesn’t give himself credit for all the work he puts in for this team.

“Just wish we could’ve won one last one. For the fans. For the guys. For Jack.”

“How is he, by the way? You heard anything?” You ask about the middle Hughes, knowing how upset Nico was he wouldn’t be finishing the season with the rest of the team.

“Yeah, talked to him before the game. Sore, but good. Already trying to weasel his way back onto the ice, but Ellen has him under house arrest.”

You chuckle, causing Nico’s body to shake with yours, knowing how stubborn Jack can be.

“I swear, if he doesn’t just let himself rest and heal I’ll fly out to Michigan myself to babysit him,” you tell your boyfriend, earning a laugh in response.

The conversation falls silent soon after, the two of you just soaking in each other’s company. You had adjusted your bodies so Nico was fully laying on you now, one hand continuing to play with his hair, the other lightly tracing shapes up and down his back. You worry he’s fallen asleep until you feel him lift his head, resting his chin on your chest so he can look up at your face.

“Wanna talk about it?” You ask him, looking down at his soft, sad eyes.

“Not much to say. We lost. The game, the season, the cup. We just didn’t perform this year. Got a lot to work on going forward,” he shrugs, not meeting your eyes.

“Okay, when I asked if you wanted to talk about it, I didn’t mean give me locker room answers. I meant, do you want to talk about why you’re being so hard on yourself? Why you’re acting like you won’t ever play hockey again? I know how hard this is on you all, especially after the season you guys had last year, but not every year is a stellar year, Neeks. Sometimes you have to have a bad season before you know how to have a great one,” you pushed him off of you slightly, both of you sitting up so you can face each other.

“I know we can’t be great every year, Y/N, but I at least expected us to do as well as we did last year. Coming off of such an explosive season, even though we didn’t win the cup, I figured everyone would show up ready to go, ready to win some games. And then then everyone started getting injured, and the longer the season went on, something shifted. It’s like they gave up before we even got started. It’s like they didn’t even want it anymore!” Nico cries out, letting himself get worked up.

You simply nod, encouraging him to keep going, knowing he needs to get it out of his system.

“I just-“ he hesitates, calming himself from his outburst mere seconds ago. “I worry about who’ll be coming back next season. I like this team. I love these guys like they’re my brothers, and I wanted better for so many of them. Nothing is ever guaranteed in the league, and I just want to keep playing with this team. Tonight could’ve been the last time I ever stepped onto that ice with a few of them.” He continues, emotion so raw on his face you almost want to cry for him.

There it was. The real reason he’s so upset. You knew this was more than just a loss, even if it was a hard one. He hardly ever comes home and just allows the two of you to sit in silence, always going over what they could’ve done better, and what they need to work on in the future. He’s upset about losing his team. Nico always gets so attached to his players, wanting to give every person he plays with the best guidance and outcomes he can. You figure its why they made him captain.

“Oh Neeks,” you start, reaching out to grab his hands. “These guys love you, you know that, right? They want to do their best for you, always. You think they don’t beat themselves up for letting you down?” you pause, wanting your words to truly reach him. “But…you know this is always a possibility. Trades get made, contracts expire. It’s just part of the world you signed up for. I can guarantee you, nearly every one of these guys would come back next year if it was up to them. They love this team just like you do,” you reiterate, having been told this by his teammates more times than you can count. “You gave them everything you could this season. I can assure you, not a single player left that arena tonight thinking of what you could’ve done differently, instead focusing on what they could’ve done differently.”

Nico sat for a second, absorbing your words. He takes his hands from yours to place his head in them, trying to collect his thoughts.

“Wenn es nur so einfach wäre,” you hear the foreign words muffled by the sound of his hands.

“Neeks, you know I’m learning, but I have no clue what you just said,” you chuckle slightly, not knowing if he’s even aware of the language switch.

“I said, if only it was that easy. I know you’re right, I do. But I just can’t make my brain hear the words the way my ears do,” he sighs.

You look at the man in front of you with sad eyes. You wish you could carry some of this burden for him, but you can’t. At the end of the day, you don’t know what it’s like to be the captain of a hockey team. You don’t know the full extent of the pressure not only his coaches place on him, but the team management, as well.

“My sweet, sweet boy,” you coo sadly, reaching out to cup his face, his own sad, brown eyes looking into yours. “Why don’t we just relax for the rest of the night, yeah? I was thinking about a bath earlier, if you wanted to join me? I’ll add some of that bubble bath you like. The one that smells like oranges and raspberries?” You question, deciding you’d talked enough hockey tonight.

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” he agrees, leaning into your touch, letting his eyes flutter shut.

You lean forward to give him a small peck on his forehead before standing and making your way to the bathroom.

You make sure the temperature of the water isn’t too hot, but still wanting it to be warm enough to soothe the ache not only in Nico’s muscles, but the ache in his chest, too. You decide to light a few candles, wanting to make the space as relaxing for him as possible. The bathroom door opens as you’re lighting the last candle, Nico having already discarded most of his clothing, standing before you only in his boxers.

He closes the door behind him, walking fully into the bathroom and leaning against the counter next to you. You set the candle away from anything that could potentially catch fire, and walk over to Nico. You wrap your arms around his torso, resting your cheek against his bare chest.

The two of you stand like that for a few moments, trying to transfer every ounce of love you have for the man through the contact. Eventually he pulls back, placing his hands on your shoulder before cocking an eyebrow, eyes raking down your body at your still fully clothed figure.

“Shouldn’t you have much less clothing on if we’re meant to be taking a bath together, Schatz?” he asks, the teasing in his voice a nice change from earlier.

“Are you trying to get me naked, cap?” you try to act shocked, but you can’t help the amused smile that breaks out on your face.

“Always, Mrs. cap,” he cheekily responds, using his teammates’ nickname for you.

You step back with a giggle, undressing yourself as Nico removes what little clothing he had on. After you walk over to turn the bathroom light off, the two of you step into the steaming tub, settling into a comfortable position. Your back rests against Nico’s chest, head resting on his shoulder, his clasped hands resting on your stomach. He begins tracing shapes on your stomach like you were on his back a few minutes ago, letting the warm water heat your skin and wash the stress of the day away.

“You know, even though I’m sad the season’s over, it does mean I get to spend more time with you now,” Nico breaks the silence, head tilted to rest against yours.

You hum in response, smiling at the thought of no more early morning alarms or late-night interruptions when he gets home from a roadie. You daydream about lazy mornings and breakfast in bed, something the two of you don’t get to indulge in nearly enough. You open your eyes, the thought reminding you of the treat you made Nico before his arrival home, nearly forgetting about the baked good sitting in your kitchen.

“Oh, I almost forgot, I baked you a little something before you got home!” you sat up a bit, water splashing around you.

“You did? What ever for?” Nico asks, eyes widening a bit at your sudden burst of enthusiasm.

“Just because. Knew you had a hard day, wanted to make sure you had something sweet to brighten it up a bit,” you shrugged.

“Not necessary. Not with the promise of getting to come home to you already.”

Your cheeks flush red, never really getting used to the sweet words Nico always throws your way.

“Well, I guess you don’t want any Luzerner….Luzerner…Leb…” You start, but can’t remember how to pronounce the Swiss dessert. You huff, crossing your arms over your chest, aggravated with yourself and your lack of fluency in Swiss-German.

“Luzerner Lebkuchen?” Nico finished for you.

“Yeah…that.” You roll your eyes at his perfect pronunciation.

“You really made it for me? From scratch?”

“Mhmm. Used your mom’s recipe. I hope it turned out. I didn’t want to cut into it to try it before you got home. Wanted to surprise you.”

Nico’s heart swelled at the confession, amazed that you’d go through all of that effort just for him. It wasn’t an easy dish to perfect, by no means. It took his mom years to get her gingerbread cake perfectly moist and flavorful. Regardless of how it tastes, he’ll savor it like it’s the last food on earth, simply because you made it for him.

“Well consider me surprised,” Nico murmurs, leaning in to kiss you.

You love moments like these. Lost in Nico, the two of you in your own little world. No hockey, no schoolwork, no responsibilities. Just two people hopelessly in love with each other, soaking in every ounce of affection the other has to offer.

Nico runs his hand down your back, causing your body to shiver at the contact. He pulls you closer, his other hand coming to tangle itself in your hair, tugging just enough to cause your mouth to open in a gasp, using the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Your tongues fight one another, his winning the struggle for dominance in the end, a groan working its way out of his throat. When he starts to move his hand lower down your back, grabbing the flesh of your ass in the process, you pull back, lips swollen and out of breath.

“Nope. Slow your roll, hot stuff. This was meant to be a relaxing bath, not a sex and suds party,” you push him back by the shoulders, earning a pout from the man across from you.

“But, a sex and suds party sounds pretty relaxing to me. No better way to unwind after a hard day than watching your face as I make you cu-“

“Nope! Not happening right now! Keep it up and it won’t be happening at all tonight,” You warn, turning back around to resume your earlier position, hands resting over his on your stomach to keep them from wandering.

Nico laughs, finding amusement in your commitment to the relaxing bath you promised him. He places a kiss to your temple, deciding to leave it alone for now, knowing he’ll revisit the subject later.

The two of you sit in the warm tub until the water runs cold, talking about anything that crosses your minds. From your upcoming finals to summer destinations you’d love to visit, the security of your bubble filled world allowing no room for hockey talk or stressful situations to infiltrate the delicate space.

After you start shivering, having put up with the cold water for as long as you could, Nico reaches forward to drain the tub, deciding that its time the two of you get out and dry off. You step out of the tub, reaching for the towels you had placed on the closed lid of the toilet seat, grabbing one for yourself before handing one to Nico. The two of you dry off your bodies, no sound other than the draining tub in the room. You look over to Nico, towel wrapped around his waist, and admire the man you love. You love him for so much more than his physique, but you’d be lying if you said it wasn’t the cherry on top of the already perfect soul before you.

Before he catches you staring and gets anymore ideas, you look away and wrap your own towel around your body, trying to shield yourself from the cool air on your damp skin.

“Thank you, Schatz,” Nico breaks the silence, causing you to look up at him, noticing he had closed the distance between the two of you, reaching out to place a piece of hair behind your ear, hand falling to your cheek.

“For what?”

“For always being here when I need someone. For always knowing exactly what I need, even before I do. For being you,” he states, referencing the many times you’ve been his sanity after days like today, always managing to take his mind off of his troubles and filling his head with thoughts of you, instead.

“Always,” you turn your head, placing a kiss on his palm before placing your cheek back against his palm, flashing Nico one of your loving smiles.

“Now, what about digging into that cake I made you? It’s not going to eat itself, you know?” you perk up, wanting to find out if you efforts paid off or not.

“Oh, I have a different kind of dessert I’d rather dig into, if you don’t mind,” Nico smirks, watching your eyes widen as he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, laughing at your squeal as he heads towards the door of the bathroom, ready to savor his sweet treat.

512 notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 3 months

Text

never grow up * fem!driver

a collection of stories of when she first started out in the paddocks to the end of the season

pairings: sebastian vettel x fem!driver

word count: 4.7k

notes: hey i started this last tuesday and jusT finished it because i had the longest week known to mankind LMFAO

(series masterlist)

pre-season testing, 2023

sebastian is almost knocked back at the sudden presence of another in what he assumed was going to be an empty garage.

test session wasn’t for another couple of hours. but there, at the far end of the garage’s exit towards the pit, sat the driver. she sits on the floor, slouched over as her legs are crossed over one another.

“you’re early!”

“i couldn’t sleep,” she answers almost immediately. she turns her head to get a glance at sebastian. she gives him a small smile before turning away again to face the empty pit and grandstands. “i figured i should just sit here and take it all in.”

he smiles, closing the door behind him. he manoeuvres in and stops right next to her. he puts his hands on his hips. “i know, right? i didn’t sleep well days leading up to my rookie year either.”

she turns her head and furrows her eyebrows. “i didn’t think someone like you got nervous.”

“oh, i was terrified,” he laughs, finally bending down and dropping himself on the concrete floor next to her. “but i can only imagine the nerves, especially in your circumstance.”

“yeah, a woman in formula 1.” when he turns to look at her, she’s fiddling around with her thumbs. “first of its kind in decades.”

she laughs dryly before leaning back, resting her hands against the gravel. years ago, following her friends into formula 3 seemed like the biggest feat. then eventually, prema took a chance on her and threw her into formula 2 with the big guys.

even then, racing on the track and sharing the paddocks with bigger names like max verstappen and fernando alonso, formula 1 still seemed so far away. with good reason too, considering that her promotion announcement had been torn apart and overanalysed by the media.

everything, from mid december to early february, everyone had been tearing her apart.

but sebastian has been watching her since she started racing in f3 in place of oscar, after moving up to f2. she’s a joy to watch on the track.

and while he’s put away his years of being a villain to the public eye, he lives to prove everyone wrong. his first year as a race engineer, and then to have a woman as his driver? he would love to see it.

he is confident in the way she holds herself behind the wheel of a race car. there’s no doubt she’s a world champion in the making.

“no,” sebastian wags a finger in the air, “you’re a driver in formula 1. everyone in this garage — in the factory — supports you. we wouldn’t have put everything in developing the car for you if we didn’t think you’d be out here wrecking everybody.”

she sighs with a shrug. “i guess.”

he pats her firmly on the shoulder. “i’ll be here every step of the way, kid.”

bahrain, 2023

sebastian feels a presence looming over him as he scans the car with the andretti's engineers. he turns around with an eyebrow raised, locking eyes with the younger girl staring up at him with wide innocent eyes and a hopeful grin. a small smile stretches on his face as he straightens his back. “hi!”

“hi.” she glances away momentarily and licks her lips. she meets his eyes again with a soft sigh and a slightly wider grin. she hums as she sways, fingertips tapping against one another. “i have an interview.”

he nods hesitantly, raising an eyebrow. “alright.”

“okay.”

sebastian watches her curiously, not moving away from her position in front of him. she hugs she can on pepsi against her stomach as her eyes dart all over the garage. “is everything okay?”

“of course!” she answers almost too fast. she perks up with a smile and curious eyes. “i have a favour to ask.”

“anything, kid. what is it?”

she takes a deep breath and breathes out slowly. she looks away momentarily again and huffs. “well, you see… people keep staring at me when i’m walking around. it’s kinda… scary. they scare me.”

“okay? are they saying anything to you? who is it? give me names.”

“they’re not! but i can feel them whisper as i pass by — that’s never a good sign.”

“i’m sure they’re not gossiping about you, kid.”

“yeah, but, you know? i don’t like the possibility that they might be doing just that. and sometimes they point.”

sebastian smiles, slowly realising what she’s getting at. “do you want me to come with you?”

she hums, scrunching her nose and pressing her lips together. “do i? want you to come with me? what a bother!”

he shrugs, slowly walking away from her. “that’s okay, i was just offering. i’ll just see you–“

“yes! yes, seb! please, please,” she whines, grabbing his arm and pulling him towards the exit to the paddocks. “please come with me. i’m scared, i’m nervous, and oscar and logan are missing.”

he laughs, throwing his clipboard onto the table. “okay, let’s go. i’ll show you the best spots, kid.”

saudi arabia, 2023

she stares with wide eyes as she tries to process the question in her head. it’s the first of its kind, to be asked something like that. it echoes in her head like some of record player, unsure how she’s supposed to answer that question.

“do you think you’ll last longer than a couple of races like the last woman in formula 1?”

are they waiting for her to slip up and bring another woman down? a woman that’s basically urged her to even start racing in the first place?

is she supposed to say something that they could twist to make it sound like she’s against other women making it to where she is now? she’s just not sure. who even thinks of that question?

“is that question really appropriate?” sebastian steps forward with a hand on her back. “did you really sit there, watching this brilliant young woman walk towards you, and think that that’s an appropriate question to ask?”

“no, like i mean–“

“she will no longer be doing interviews with you. i don’t give a fuck who you work for,” sebastian mutters, slowly whisking the shocked girl away, shielding her away from the cameras.

she stays planted on the ground, head turning to follow sebastian slowly walking away. “no, it’s okay, really. i was just a little taken aback by the question.”

“no, this interview is over.”

sebastian shoots the reporter one last look before successfully whisking the young driver away from the cameras. “you don’t have to answer every question, you know?”

“it’s rude if i don’t,” she sighs, shaking her head. “i have to answer. what if they start thinking i’m a snob?”

“why is their problem if you’re a snob? if they ask you stupid questions, they can’t keep expecting sane answers,” sebastian scoffs. “write your narrative, don’t let them dictate and twist your answers.”

azerbajian, 2023

“seb,” she cries, nuzzling into his side as the marshals escort her. she has tears in her eyes as she approaches him by the medical building, finally pulling her hair back as sebastian takes her into his arms. “i’m sorry.”

“no,” he hums, rubbing her arm gently. “the important thing is that you’re okay, kid. don’t think about the crash at all.”

she shakes her head against his chest, finally letting out a soft sob. “but it’s so unlike me to crash. i’ve been racing for years!”

“these things happen.” he cranes his neck and pulls away slightly to glance at her face. she’s all red with tears streaming down her face, hiding her face away from curious race attendees. “you know what we should do?”

she mutters a soft ‘what’, rubbing her nose roughly as she glances up at him with sad eyes. he’s only gotten to know her better recently in light of him taking her under his wing, but it’s a very different energy when she’s like this. it’s not something he wants to get used to.

“i’ll walk you to the med bay, and then i’ll go and get you some ice cream. does that sound good?”

she shakes her head and sighs, letting sebastian wrap a protective arm around her as they walk. “i don’t want ice cream.”

sebastian gasps softly, flashing her a bewildered stare. “what? you don’t what?”

she sniffles. “i don’t feel like eating ice cream.”

“oh, come on,” he giggles, squeezing her cheek very lightly. “i’ll get you extra marshmallows and even add sprinkles in.”

she looks at him from the corners of her eyes, a small smile playing on her lips at his suggestion. “really? and extra chocolate syrup? just this once?”

sebastian nods with a smile. he moves over to her other side when he sees a camera approaching them, waving a hand in the air to shoo them away. “i’ll even let you eat a whole pint.”

australia, 2023

sebastian trails behind her, juggling between his phone and her helmet in her hands. he watches with a proud smile as she is stopped by a reporter.

“what does it feel like to be the first woman to score in formula 1 after years of the drought?”

she giggles giddily, stopping to answer a question. “hi! um, yes, it feels amazing to be the one to do it. it’s not a lot of points, but it really means a lot to me.”

“of course. do you think you can maintain this performance throughout your rookie season? what are some challenges you think you may face in the year to come?”

her eyes widen at the several questions for her. it feels just like they haven’t had any serious questions regarding the race for her since she started the year. sometimes they do, but it’s never really anything good that would reflect on her.

she looks over her shoulder, meeting sebastian’s eyes, as she smiles at him widely, as if to ask him ‘do you hear these legitimate questions they’re asking me?’. sebastian only gives her a warm smile in return with a thumbs-up.

she turns away and tries to come up with a proper answer to the question. “i think with sebastian’s help, it’s definitely made the transition a lot easier. hopefully i can stay consistent in the races to come. and my biggest challenge? definitely trying to catch up to max.”

they share a laugh. she turns around momentarily, looking at sebastian for approval of what she’s just rambled on about. sebastian gives her another smile and a nod, making a gesture to turn her back around.

“well, i think that’s everyone’s biggest challenge thus far into the season. thank you for your time today and good luck.”

miami, 2023

she holds the phone against her ear, temple laying against the window to stare at the paddocks. “where are you?”

“what do you mean?” sebastian’s voice comes through her phone, making her raise an eyebrow. “i don’t start as early as you today.”

“what? i’m supposed to walk into the paddocks by myself?” she shrieks, lifting her head. she looks around outside the car, watching the several people walking in and out.

“yes? aren’t you with oscar and logan?”

she tears her eyes away and turns to the other two men inside with her. “i don’t trust either of these idiots to not embarrass me walking in!”

logan throws his arms in the air, turning to her from the driver’s seat. his arm pokes between the two front seats, reaching to the back to try and hit her. she scowls and smacks his hand away, scowering away into the far corner from logan.

“you will be okay, kid. would you rather you walk in by yourself?”

she lets a moment pass. “okay. you got me there.” she sighs and rolls her eyes. “fine.”

monaco, 2023

“i’ve got an interview!”

he sees a shadow pass through the bottom of the car, prompting sebastian to jump up. the girl is already halfway towards the large exit that leads to the pitstop with a lollipop in hand. “coming!”

“it’s okay!” she holds her hands up in front of sebastian, grinning as he comes to a stop about three steps from the car.

sebastian tilts his head and frowns slightly. “what?”

“yeah, it’s a rookie interview. i got my bodyguards with me again today!”

he raises his eyebrows with an impressed grin. “oh! you’ll be okay without me?”

“yeah!”

as if on cue, two men — one in orange and on in blue — pulls up to the garage. “let’s go, loser!”

“okay,” sebastian laughs, greeting the two with a smile. he pats his driver on the back. “be back in one piece. i’ll see you later.”

“absolutely,” she grins. she runs around the car, throwing her arms around him and squeezing him. “you got my pepsi in the freezer?”

“i got 2 of them in the freezer just for you kid,” sebastian whispers, squeezing her back. he presses a kiss to the top of her head and waves as she starts walking away. “be safe!”

canada, 2023

“you don’t possibly need me just to get a cup of coffee downstairs, do you?” sebastian sighs. despite his complaint, he still follows the young driver down the stairs of the andretti racing home to get a drink.

and it’s been one their routines every race weekend: getting coffee together after their daily team meeting in his office. it’s endearing, really, how much she relies on him every weekend when she feels that the paddocks have their eyes glued to her too much.

“do you not like spending time with me anymore, seb?” she jokes, looking over her shoulder to tease him. “you can just say so.”

he laughs in bouts of sarcastic ‘haha’s and scowls at her slightly. “that’s not what i mean. half the season has come and gone — shouldn’t you be more comfortable roaming by yourself?”

“i guess,” she shrugs. “i just feel like being with you today!”

he pouts his bottom lip out and presses a hand against his chest. “oh, thank you. how thoughtful.”

sebastian stops in the kitchen of the office, grabbing the two custom andretti mugs with their names on the handle. his cup’s got her name and autograph, and hers with his. he extends his hand to her. “you know how i like my coffee, kid.”

“of course! i’m like your personal barista.”

austria, 2023

sebastian pushes the door open with a soft knock. “kid, are you better?”

“no! go away!” she shrieks, chucking a small pillow towards the door. “where are my meds? is logan seriously not back with them yet?”

he puts his hands in the air to surrender. “he’s trying to get here as quick as possible. are the cramps still bad?”

suddenly he feels like he wants to crawl into a random hole and stay there — the glare she is giving him simply made him wish that he never bothered to open his mouth.

“i don’t know. you tell me at the state you see me in,” she growls, eyebrows furrowed. “like–“

she whines again, clutching herself as she curls herself into a smaller ball on her beanbag. she closes her eyes and nuzzles her face into the stuffed koala with a soft cry.

“kid,” sebastian sighs, scratching his head. it sucks seeing anybody like that. “is there anything i can do to help? logan should be here any minute.”

“i want pepsi! freezing pepsi! like, with small bits of frozen pepsi in it — that’s how cold i want it.”

he hums. “i thought you shouldn’t be drinking cold drinks on your period?”

“you asked me how to help! i want pepsi! my frozen can of pepsi!”

he scrambles to run out of the room. “okay! i’ll get it from the fridge!”

silverstone, 2023

she shakes her arms and adjusts the neckline of her fireproofs. “i can do it.”

“yeah!” sebastian cheers, pumping his fist into the air. “i believe in you!”

“exactly. i can do it!”

but despite her words of encouragement for herself, her feet stay planted on the ground. her fists are balled by her side as her body stiffens up by the door with a scowl.

sebastian tilts his head, moving his head around hers to take a look at her face. he glances at the door. “do you have any intention to actually do it?”

“some time in the next hour, maybe,” she sighs. she turns around to sebastian and shakes her head. “i can’t do it, mate. i want to go home.”

“what?” sebastian throws his head back. he turns her back around and pushes her forward. “i promise you won’t die.”

“how do you know that?”

“you’re just walking the paddocks to the building to film a shoot with oscar and logan. you’ll survive the 2 minute walk, i swear.”

she huffs and pushes the glass doors open, glancing back at sebastian. “i’ll make a run for it so nobody has the time to realise it’s me.”

he shrugs with an impressed smile. if he were in her shoes, he never would have thought of that. “whatever works, kid.”

italy, 2023

“seb.” the girl drags her feet along the floors of the garage, hunched over slightly with a hand clutching her stomach. “how long til the first round of practice?”

“about 20 minutes,” sebastian says, looking up from his clipboard. by the sound of her voice, he already knows what’s going on. his suspicions are confirmed when he sees her at her state. “fuck’s sake.”

“i’m sorry. i promise i won’t take too long in the toilet.”

“we told you to stop eating ice cream before you have to get on the track,” sebastian sighs, throwing his head back. he puts the clipboard down, annoyed, yet he still reaches forward to wrap a protective arm around her shoulders and guides her towards the door leading to the paddocks. “your track anxiety doesn’t go well with ice cream, remember?”

“the idea was good in theory — it was pretty warm earlier.”

sebastian sighs and shakes his head. “you know where to find the meds for your stomach, right?”

she frowns, looking up at him. the pale lips and the sweaty forward simply told him everything he needed to know. he laughs with a small nod. “okay, i’ll deliver them to you with a glass of really cold water, okay?”

she nods with a small smile. “okay. thank you, seb.”

singapore, 2023

“what do i do with this?”

sebastian slowly turns to the girl with a scowl on his face. “what do you mean?”

“what do i do with this?” she repeats, putting her arms in the air in question. she turns to look sebastian in the eyes with eyebrows furrowed. “where do i put it? is it even mine?”

“they will make a replica for you to bring home.”

“but i live in an apartment with two hyperactive kids — they’ll only break it.”

“your ki– you mean kidnapper and stubby? just put it up away from them!”

“i,” she trails off, shaking her head. she lets her stare linger on the trophy sitting on the table in her driver’s room with worry. “i kinda don’t want it unless it’s a trophy for a race win.”

“complacent!” sebastian laughs. “are you that confident about being a race winner?”

“you don’t think i could win a race?”

“wait.”

“that’s kinda mean, seb. i don’t know.”

“you know that’s not what i mean.”

she shrugs and turns back to the trophy. “we just need to play bumper cars with max on the track, maybe.”

“maybe? definitely.”

she shrugs and puts her hands on her hips. “i reckon we just need more street circuits to throw max off. then maybe we get liam to be my teammate next year!”

qatar, 2023

sebastian looks up at the sound of the click of his door. he raises an eyebrow, frowning at the girl trying to silently escaping his office. “where are you going, kid?”

she stops with a hand on the door, head poking out as she smiles. “i’m going to get us coffee downstairs.”

he frowns and furrows his eyebrows. “without me?”

she squeaks slightly as she raises her eyebrows in shock. “i was gonna bring it back up here to you so we can chat while we discuss race strategies.”

“oh.”

“is something wrong? do you prefer drinking something else?”

sebastian shakes his head with a small smile. “no reason. you used to ask me to get coffee with you.” he puts a hand on his chest. “have you grown to hate me, kid?”

“aw, seb! it’s not like that!” she coos, running back into the room. she runs over to his side, resting herself on the armrest and throws her arms around sebastian. “i just thought i’d like to finally go get it myself, you know? you won’t be around forever.”

sebastian has to admit — that one kind of hurt him a little. he’d come out of retirement to step into an unlikely position in the sport so he could be part of her development as a driver. and also because he was starting to regret his decision slightly, but that’s besides the point.

and also the fact that he’s grown quite fond of her. while he’s got three children of his own back home, it’s just different with her.

“wow, kid. counting down the days to my eventual retirement that i won’t take back?”

“no, you misunderstand me, seb,” she giggles, resting her cheek on top of his head. “i just wanted to be a big girl; like you always tell me to be in the paddocks every weekend!”

brazil, 2023

“you’ll be okay without me?” sebastian hums, raising an eyebrow as he stands in her hotel room. he sinks into her pillows on the bed as he watches the young girl darting around the room to gather her things. “i can come if you want.”

“logan and oscar will be with me,” she grins, scrunching her nose with a soft giggle. “unless you would like to come with us, seb?”

he scoffs, folding his arms over his chest. “no way. i don’t understand valorant like you kids — i would have more questions than anything else. you don’t want that, kid.”

she laughs, shoving her items into her small purse. “it’s blythe’s finals! and i’m just as clueless about valorant as you are. the 3 of us know nothing.”

“i’m just upset you hadn’t invited me in the first place.”

“it was last minute! just come with us, seb!”

“i don’t have a ticket.”

“one of the players’ my sister. we’ll find a way to get you in without a ticket.”

sebastian raises his eyebrow. “wow, corruption has gotten to you quick.”

“no, that’s literally how we’re able to attend. blythe pulled strings.”

he rolls his eyes, a small smile growing on his lips as he pushes himself off the bed. he actually does want to come along. finding out he wasn’t even part of the original plan hurt, yes, but he doesn’t want to push himself to be a part of plans that he’s not invited to.

“okay, if you insist.”

las vegas, 2023

she raises an eyebrow, scoffing. “you’re fucking kidding, right?”

max raises his eyebrows, turning to the girl with an impressed grin. while she’s not one to shy from cussing away from cameras, doing it with a room full of cameras and reporters is simply a different thing. he glances at sebastian who has his chest puffed out and eyebrows furrowed since the question was being asked.

the question was easy: how do you do your hair for race weekends, and how does it always look good after the race?

kimi is right, his lecture that weekend in austin has finally taken its mark in her brain. why are all the questions directed at her during press conferences always redirected back to her womanhood?

if she wanted to be asked about her makeup routine and collection, she’d have started an instagram live instead of wasting her time on this stupid couch.

“it’s unfair, don’t you think? you’ve asked me one question about racing, now suddenly it’s about my hair?”

“in a sense that–“

“i’m just curious. i’ve raced the races of what i can give this year to prove that i should be respected as a driver. why are you asking me about my hair?” she raises an eyebrow. “you’re a 50-year-old man. what have you got to learn from my haircare routine?”

max snorts and sebastian bursts into laughter. she clenches her jaw, genuinely getting slightly agitated. she meets sebastian’s eyes who only gives her a thumbs up with the proudest smile.

it’s nice to finally see her standing up for herself.

abu dhabi, 2023

sebastian holds the phone up to his ear, looking into the designated car that she’d taken to the paddocks that night.

“yeah?” a soft voice comes through, getting overshadowed by the loud music in the background. “what’s up, seb?”

“where are you? i’m at your car.”

he hears her hum in confusion. “what do you mean? i’m already in the paddocks, seb.”

he scratches his head, raising his eyebrow as he looks towards the busy entrance of the paddocks. “what do you mean? i thought you’d wait for me outside? aren’t logan and oscar coming in later than we are?”

“yes. but i arrived before you so i thought i’d just wait for you here,” she explains. “did i forget something?”

“no, it’s just,” he sighs and starts making his way to the row of gantries, “you’d usually wait for me if you were by yourself. i thought we were doing the same — i completely forgot that you’re a big girl now.”

he hears her laugh, louder and wholeheartedly. “seb, that’s so sweet! i can’t believe you looked for me even though i haven’t said anything!”

he rolls his eyes. “oh, shut up.”

— bonus

“seb, look what i got you over the break!” she shrieks, jogging into his room with a paper bag in her hands. “i got us matching somethings!”

he raises an eyebrow, looking up from his phone. “what? you got me something?”

“yeah! i wouldn’t have gotten my first points without you, so i wanted to get us something to celebrate our first points as a duo,” she giggles, sitting on the seat on the other side of the table.

she puts the paper bag down and starts pulling a set of mug out of it. she hands him a mug and holds up her own excitedly.

he looks at the mug. it’s got her name on the handle and her signature messily printed over their names mushed together into one in big and blocky purple letters.

“look at the bottom.”

‘long live — all the magic we made’ with the date of the australia race is carved into the bottom of the mug.

he smiles, looking up. “you really didn’t have to, kid. but thank you. this is so thoughtful.”

she claps silently, jumping on the spot with a giggle. “it’s just a small token to remember one of the times we made history together.”

taglist: @wcnorris @treehouse-mouse @laura-naruto-fan1998 @mindless-rock @ironmaiden1313 @angsthology @cherry-piee @christianpulisic10 @elliegrey2803 @cashtons-wife @darleneslane @nikfigueiredo @happy-nico @namgification @sadg3 @a10vely-yutazen @mellowarcadefun @glitterf1 @megatrilss1885 @peqch-pie @gentlyweeps-world @woozarts @meadhbhcavanagh @inejismywife @2bormaybenot @love4lando

#sebastian vettel x reader #fem!driver #female driver #f1 fem!driver #f1 female driver #vettel reincarnate #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1 #disneyprincemuke vr #formula 1 x reader #f1 x reader #f1 grid x reader

600 notes · View notes

lovelybrooke · 10 months

Text

The way things were before (Platonic Yandere Muzan x reader)

This was inspired by the last episode of the latest season where we get some Muzan lore. This is kinda my first time writing real angst so tell me what you think. Keep in mind this is based on the anime and I haven't actually read the manga.

Pt.2

Check out my other works here: Masterlist.

Anger.

Ever since Muzan was young, one emotion he always felt was anger. It stuck to him like a tumor, destroying him from the inside out.

He felt anger for his illness that prevented him from having a real life. He felt anger for having to be tested on by doctors nearly daily. He felt anger that people looked down upon him as he grew weaker and weaker. But more importantly, he felt anger that nothing changed. He never got better, he never got stronger, no matter how much time went by.

As he aged, and his illness got worse, Muzan accepted the fact that his anger, his hatred for everyone would never leave him.

That was, until he found you. His beautiful, wonderful child, the only thing that could quell the rage inside of him.

You weren't his biologically, no, but that didn't matter to him. Before he was too sick to leave his bed, Muzan found you orphaned living on the streets and took you in. Ever since, you've been repaying him by taking care of him.

"Father, it is time to take you medicine." There you were, right on time. Muzan refused to take his medicine from anyone else, even his most notable doctors.

He was too weak to sit up, simply moving his head to acknowledge you, watching as you sat down in front of him. Muzan didn't complain as you moved his head so the medicine could travel done his throat more smoothly.

Once done, you lay his head back down, putting the small bowl down next to you, blessing him with a kind smile. "How are you feeling today father?" You question.

"I'm doing fine now that you are here, my child." You giggle, the smile reaching your eyes. A small smile graces Muzan's face at your happy demeanor. Even if it is only for a second, Muzan is happy.

"Oh, I almost forgot." You gasp, "The doctor has new medicine for you, he wanted to give it to you himself."

Muzan let out a childlike groan, rolling over to face the balcony. It was beautiful outside, but Muzan couldn't help but feel annoyed. The sun was too bright, the wide was too strong, the birds were too loud. Even the thought of having to interact with his doctor for a second caused his blood to boil.

You roll your eyes at him, "Father, you have to take your medicine, the doctor knows better than me." He does move to face you, but you could tell he was annoyed.

"The doctors are incompetent." He moves back on his back; his brows cross in frustration. "They have been treating me for years, but here I remain, trapped in by bed." He laments.

You frown at his words, looking away from your father with sorrow. You remember a time when he was still healthy enough to spend time with you, your favorite days being when he would grow flowers with you, teaching you about their meanings and medical uses. But now, just standing was enough to strip him of all his strength.

You've been forced to watch as your father grows more resentful for the people around him, hating his doctors, maids, even gardeners for simply existing, being able to live the life he most desperately wanted. On days where his illness is at his worse, he mumbles about wanting to destroy them all, something you assumed was delirium caused by the medicine.

Even though your father has changed, you still love him, and you can't help but see him as the carefree, happy man he was when you were younger, even now. It's why you so desperately want him to get better, so that maybe you could go back to the way things once were.

"Father, I promise they just want to help." You try and talk some sense into him, though his resolve doesn't budge. You sigh, "it would make me really happy if you let the doctors give you the medicine." You put emphasis on the word really, in hopes it would motivate him. To your luck it did, Muzan moving to face you, sighing at your pleading face.

"Fine." Was all he said, feeling warmth bubble up in him as you smiled. You leaned down and hugged him the best you could.

"Thank you, father." Muzan smiles, happy once more.

---

You haven't visited you father in days, him forbidding you from entering his room a few days after he took the new medicine. You didn't mind though, it probably had some bad side effects, so you left him alone. Though, you couldn't help but question whenever he ordered for a worker to enter his room, especially when you swore, they never left.

Today was the final straw, you had to see your father. Workers had been disappearing left and right, and you knew your father was not going to be happy about it if you kept it from him.

As you get closer and closer to your father's room, a stench more disgusting than anything you've smelt before entered your nose and caused you to gag. You would've thrown up than and their if you didn't cover your mouth quickly.

The smell only got worse as you slowly crept towards the door, it nearly becoming unbearable. You swallowed down you fear as you knocked at the door. You could hear the faint sounds of crunching, like someone was chewing on something tough which made heartbeat against your ribs.

"F-father, are you in there." The chewing stopped and your heart sank. Your hands shook as you heard someone move towards the door. Slowly, the door opened, revealing your father covered in blood. He smiled down at you creepily, a stark contrast between the horror that covered your face.

Muzan moves to cup your cheek in his hand, blood smearing on your face. He could hear your fearful breathing coming from your nose as you inhale and exhale in rapid succession. He rubs your cheek, trying to calm you down as you look into his room, seeing the mangled-up bodies behind him. Your breathing became even more erratic at the sight, Muzan simply sighing with a frown.

"(Y/N), you don't understand-"

"You killed them, father." You whisper, backing away from him.

"I am much stronger now; I can protect you." You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. What was he talking about?

"You killed them." Your repeat you back hitting the wall. Muzan was directly in front of you, looking down intimidatingly. For the first time in your life, your father scared you.

"I had to, my child." He answers, his voice calm, but you could sense his annoyance. "It's the only way I can remain strong."

You don't say anything as he moves closer, hugging you into his chest as your world went dark.

---

It's been years since that day.

Your now older, more aware of the situation you're in. You father was now a demon, forced to consume humans in order to live. You realized quickly it was from the medicine the doctor gave him, and you curse him everyday for doing so.

He took your home from you, forcing you and your father out of your village. He took your life from you, forcing you to remain hidden with you father. Most importantly, he took your father from you, him now a husk of the man he once was.

Along with the myriad of strange side effects, your father couldn't go out in the day, the sun causing him immense pain, one of the only few things that could hurt him.

You learned to treasure the mornings, them being the few hours away from your father. While he was busy learning all he could about his aliment, you were trying to maintain the image of a normal human being. Working, socializing, anything you could do to forget about the atrocities your father committed when the sun set.

You wish things would go back to the way they were before.

"-N)? (Y/N)?" Oh, you were in the hospital, getting blood work done. You look over at the doctor in front of you, him attempting to get you attention.

You've been feeling terrible for the past few days, constant headaches, hot flashes, soreness. You could barely move without pain. You got blood work done, now waiting for the results with anticipation.

"I just wanted to ask you a question before giving you the news." His voice is solemn, not giving you a good feeling. "Does your family have any history of illness?"

You want to answer yes, but that would we wrong. You're not Muzan's child, so you shouldn't have inherited his illness. "No, my father was plagued with illness years ago, but he's...better now and I'm not his child biologically."

The doctor nodded, looking away dejectedly. When his eyes finally met yours, they were serious, "You've developed a rare blood disease." You heart sinks, but the doctor continues, "I suspect about a month or so is what you have left."

You could feel tears in your eyes, but surprisingly you didn't feel all that sad. Ever since you were young, you've accepted the fact that you would die, it's something you've learned from your times on the streets. The doctor continues talking, but you don't hear a word, to busy wondering how you're going to tell Muzan.

---

"Father, I'm home." No response, but you know he heard you.

On your way home, you accepted that you weren't going to tell Muzan. You knew if you would, he would try to turn you, and you couldn't accept that fate. To you, even death was a better fate than becoming a demon.

You slowly make you way up to your father's study, knocking on the door before entering. Like most days, your father is hunched over his desk, books and papers strewn about.

He doesn't acknowledge you when you enter, even when you move to stand beside him. You take a look at the scientific papers, not understanding a single thing about any of them. The only recognizable thing was the blue spider lily that for some reason was crucial to father.

"How was your appointment?" He doesn't look at you, flipping through pages of a book.

You sigh, shaking your head, "It was fine. Apparently, I was overreacting." You let out an awkward laugh. Muzan nods, before moving his attention back to his book.

It's like he was consumed by this flower, it was the only thing he cared about. You missed you father, even though it's been years since he's felt like one. In a way, you feel like death would be more welcoming than the life you have now, one that is consumed by fear for the man your supposed to feel safe around.

You left without telling you father, silently hoping you wouldn't see him in the morning.

---

Your hopes were not answered.

It's been week, but death does not come, all that greeted you was endless pain.

Your father found out when you collapsed one morning, and while he was mad you lied to him, he was livid when you refused to be turned into a demon. He's never yelled at you before, it surprised you when he screamed and threatened you, but you didn't change your mind.

In the end, your father was forced to watch you slowly succumb to your illness. You attempted to brighten his mood by framing the situation as repaying you. You took care of him, now he is doing the same. The only difference being you won't make it out in the end.

"Father, do you remember when I was little," You murmur to him; you voice raw and quiet. Your room was dark, blocking out any light so you could barely see your father looking at you. "You used to grow flowers with me." Your giggle sounds almost painful, but the smile on your face was one Muzan had nearly forgotten. "I'd get so sad when mine would die."

He doesn't speak, he can't, "Then you'd tell me not to cry, because death is normal for all living beings." Your voice is getting quieter as you speak, but he doesn't acknowledge it. "You were trying to comfort me about your death, I didn't know that at the time."

Muzan wants you to stop talking, he hates the pain in your voice. "I wish we could go back to the way things were before." You said, before finally going quiet. Muzan hears your breathing stop before letting out a sob.

---

It's been over a thousand years since your death and ever since then, Muzan has been filled with anger.

Anger for this imperfect world that took you away from. Anger at you for refusing the life he could've given you. Anger at himself for making your last few moments miserable.

He doesn't know who to blame for his misfortune, but he knows that if he lets anger consume him, he'll find someone to blame.

Muzan chooses to remember you when you were younger and at your happiest. When he's alone, his mind often wanders to these moments, when you were just a child, so small he was afraid anything would hurt you. He never let you out of his sight, wanting to protect you from the world.

Though in the end, he still lost you.

Since the day you died, Muzan was filled with rage. And he will continue to be until the day he sees you again.

He just wishes things would go back to the way they were before.

---

A/n: I don't even know if this counts as Yandere but whatever.

#yandere x reader #soft yandere #platonic yandere #demon slayer x reader #demon slayer #yandere demon slayer x reader #yandere demon slayer #kny muzan #kny x reader #platonic muzan x reader #muzan x reader

2K notes · View notes

violetrainbow412-blog · 11 months

Text

Hearts [S. R.]

Young!Spencer Reid x fem!reader

word count: 2.6k

and by public demand, part 2

summary: an intern pesters Spencer to get his attention and you help him get rid of it a bit, benefiting in the process.

A/N: here we go! started watching criminal minds last week and i'm halfway through the first season so expect a lot of content as I progress with the series. Spencer Reid from season one is the cutest thing I ever looked at

If you want to be added to the taglist just tell me, and if you have ideas, send them!

You'd think FBI offices would be quiet at night, but the truth is, with so many agents and interns reporting to do, the night seemed to be the busiest time.

After spending three months there you had almost obtained your own desk and knew most of the people, especially the BAU team whom you had been assigned to support for your internship. Since you began your university studies, you had wanted to work in that FBI unit and when the opportunity presented itself you were extremely excited, but now that it was a reality, you could realize that the workload was unimaginable and heavier than you expected. Still, with any luck, proper schooling, and practice you could be aiming for a permanent position in maybe two or three years. For now, being there as an intern was more than enough.

You were so engrossed in reading your computer screen that you didn't hear when the office door opened and it wasn't until a figure sat down next to you that you realized who it was.

You and Spencer Reid met many years ago, when you were both in middle school, in Las Vegas, and from that moment on you could appreciate what a prodigy he was. He was a very serious, quiet, and shy boy, but for some reason you always enjoyed his company and, judging by the fact that he never left you, you thought he did too. On some occasions you exchanged books that he returned to you in two days and you kept for a few weeks, you talked during some school breaks, you asked him for help with homework, and on more than one occasion you went so far as to defend him verbally from those silly children who bothered him; in general, you had something close to a friendship. You never thought that after so long, and so far from Las Vegas, you would see him again, much less in the condition you were in right now.

"Hey," you greeted him kindly, showing him a tired smile "What are you doing here?"

"I was finishing an analysis of yesterday's case," he replied. The team had had to profile another pyromaniac and for just a bit they had managed to catch him, which had left them somewhat tense "And you?"

"A report" you answered simply. You had the hypothesis that those kinds of activities ended up in the hands of the interns because they were extremely tedious and they wanted to get rid of it.

Reid wasn't much of a talker if the occasion didn't call for it and you knew it, so it wasn't too strange that he would only sit near you to watch you work, although there was something different about him tonight that alarmed you.

"You think I'm dumb?" he asked suddenly, forcing you to look up at him.

"You? Are you asking me if I think Doctor Reid is dumb? you asked, emphasizing his title, but he gently shook his head.

"Not in that sense, but like... weird or something."

“We all are a little bit. And that's not so bad” you said sincerely. You knew that on some occasions Spencer would ask questions and all you had to do was wait a bit for him to tell you what the doubt was about.

“And do you think…?” he started to say, a little unsure "Do you think I don't have a girlfriend because I'm that weird?"

"Who told you that?" you exclaimed more directly. You imagined that this concern could only arise from someone having suggested it, as had already happened on other occasions, and it still touched you a little that he had the confidence to assist you for that kind of thing.

"No, no one in particular"

"You know, I think you don't care about having or not having a girlfriend" you ventured to say "Was it Morgan?"

“No, not him,” he hastened to say, thinking a little about his next words, “Uhm, that girl from the department next door…”

"Victoria," you cut him off, rolling your eyes in anticipation and feeling the heat already rising up your cheeks. She was a typical mean girl; long black hair, tall, always wearing expensive dresses, high heels, and fake smiles. You'd met this girl during internships and it took you a couple of weeks to make you feel uncomfortable around her, but you finished hating her when you realized how intent she seemed to be on embarrassing Spencer every chance she got. The fact that her father was a department head made it a bit difficult to deal with any situation. "Why do you care what she says?"

“She is… persistent”

"You know she only does it because she wants to get your attention, right?" you explained, a little fed up with the situation and how he was always affected by what others said about him.

It was clear that from the beginning she had her eye on the young man, and on those days, she would walk around the office and try to start a conversation with Spencer, which he never carried out. When she noticed that her attempts were useless, she began to make hurtful comments that became recurring as the months went by, since it was the only time when she could receive any kind of attention from the brown-haired man. Spencer frowned, quite confused by the situation when you told him that, since apparently he hadn't made the same account of the facts as you.

"What are you talking about?"

"She likes you" you insisted, as if it were something obvious, although it didn't seem so to him. You could almost see how the gears in his brain were struggling to find a degree of coherence between the events that he had been ignoring for a long time.

"Then why does she say such horrible things to me?"

“It's because…” you mumbled, closing the lid of your computer and looking for a way to explain to the boy. It was amazing how he was the most intelligent person you knew and at the same time he would come to you to ask such banal things like that "she is a stupid girl who has had everything in life and since she isn't capable of having an intelligent conversation with you, she thinks that being mean is going to get your attention. It's like those kids who pulled your hair in elementary school," you muttered, trying to present an analogy, but he didn't react in any way “She probably only told you that because she wanted to know if you have a girlfriend, not because she really believed it.”

Spencer took a moment to absorb that, wondering how that made sense, since for him the fact that you liked a person implied being kind and attentive, not behaving as Victoria did with him. But you had read the signs from the beginning and that was probably another reason for your dislike for your internship partner, who you thought was unworthy of being attracted to someone as cute as him. Although during high school he hadn't been the most sought after by girls, now he was quite handsome and that shy and polite attitude made him even more attractive, at least for you. Besides the fact that, of course, it was a genius who you were talking to.

"And why didn't she just ask?" he genuinely murmured and you couldn't help but giggle.

"I don't know, when we like a person, we do stupid things"

"Do you really think she likes me?"

"Of course, what reason would there be for her not to?" you mumbled and he just looked away, as he did most of the time, while he shrugged, which made you think that maybe this conversation was more serious than you imagined "Do you like her?"

"No! Definitely not” he said right away, as if he was offended “It just seems strange to me that you say that”

"Say what?"

"That someone likes me"

"Oh, please," you breathed, completely incredulous. "You're charming, Reid, I don't think she’s the only one who likes you”

"Do you think I'm charming?" he said, slightly skeptical. You loved his reaction to any compliment he received.

"Sometimes" you lied. Actually, you thought he was charming all the time "Besides you're an FBI profiler, don't you detect that kind of thing in girls?"

"It's harder to analyze women than criminals," he argued, making you chuckle slightly.

Suddenly the report you had to make was forgotten and you wished you wanted to spend more time with him, although you didn't know if he would be willing to do the same. It was one thing to be together at work and another very different thing was that he wanted to be with you personally.

"Do you have anything in particular to do today?" you exclaimed cautiously, so the question allowed him to politely get rid of the invitation if he wanted to. You held back your urge to smile when he said no, attentive to what you had to say “Do you want to go to my apartment? If I'm still here I'm going to have a migraine and I think you should relax for a while too”

“Go to your apartment?” he asked, just to be sure, to which you nodded.

“Yeah, like… order some pizza, and… do you like wine? I have wine at home. And we can put on thrillers and see who can figure out who the killer is first”

"I would beat you"

"You think so, Reid?" you said, challenging his strange burst of confidence, and Spencer nodded playfully, a lock of hair falling over his forehead. "I'll buy you your week's coffee if you beat me" saying this, you knew full well you didn't stand a chance, but if a couple of dollars spent on coffee would get you a few extra hours with him, you were willing to accept that.

"It's a deal" he smiled and in less than ten minutes you were out of the offices.

As expected, you lost the game, but you couldn't say you ended the night disappointed. At first you didn't even know why you invited him, because outside of that neighborhood park in Las Vegas, you'd never spent any time alone. Spencer was all shy at first, always sitting up straight and hugging his briefcase, but when you broke the tension he relaxed considerably. The wine helped a bit because, although he confessed to you that he didn't drink often, you two ended up with a bottle of red that you had in the cupboard; not too much to lose consciousness, but enough to get gigglier. Even Spencer's ever-dapper outfit was thrown into disarray, as he'd loosened his tie and removed his vest to deal with the rise in body temperature the alcohol brought on. As promised you had pizza for dinner, which he refused to let you pay for, and in the process you put on some of the classic movies you found, according to google, making sure neither of you had seen them before. That night you were tempted to tell your partner that he could sleep over there if he wanted, but you had to say that a hint like that might make him uncomfortable. You didn't want to break the magic of the moment.

So the next morning you walked into the Quantico offices more energetic than usual, holding a couple of glasses of coffee on a tray.

"Good morning, Y/L/N" Morgan greeted you, as you approached the BAU work area, where Hotch and Elle were also present.

"Good morning, have you seen Spencer today?"

"I suppose he arrived, but I haven't seen him"

"I think he hid in the kitchen"

"Why do you ask?" muttered Morgan, who was probably the gossipiest of the three and also the most teasing. You knew, unfortunately, that if you didn't tell him, he would question Spencer, and you didn't want him to feel uncomfortable.

“I bought him a coffee. We made a bet last night and I'll be buying it all week"

"So you're trying to make him fall for you, huh" he exclaimed, completely ignoring your explanation, so you decided to play along.

"I think I'll need a few more months for that" judging by the man's laugh, you knew that the answer had satisfied him. You wondered if it bothered you that Spencer might misinterpret that joke as fact, but at the same time you wondered if it really was something that bothered you enough to deny it.

You walked down the aisle looking for the brown-haired boy and greeted a few people along the way, until, as if by divine grace, you looked at the man’s back and at the same time heard the click of heels, which you already knew quite well, going in the same direction.

"Spencer!" you called him before Victoria could tell him anything, and he turned with that awkwardness that characterized him showing a small smile when he noticed that it was you.

"Hello"

“You better not be making your coffee,” you murmured, getting close enough to hand her the cup you brought on the tray and making sure Victoria, who was making her own drink, would overhear the conversation. “I hope you like it. Sweet as you"

"Thank you," he replied, slightly embarrassed by the compliment you'd just paid him. He peered into the cup and frowned “Why did the barista write a heart next to my name?”

“It wasn't the barista, it was me”

It took Spencer a moment to sink the words in, and then he looked back at you with a confused expression.

"And why did you write a heart next to my name?"

You couldn't help but contain a laugh and Victoria, who had been attentive to the entire conversation, contained an angry sigh when she saw you extend your hand to the boy's bicep to give it a squeeze, taking the opportunity to get a little closer to him.

"I hope to repeat last night sometime" you muttered ignoring his question "I really had fun"

"Me too," he said, faster than you'd expect, and you smirked to notice that she was right next to him, her jaw clenching angrily. Without Reid realizing it, that talk could be completely interpreted as you've had a sexual affair, and not only that, but you were looking forward to it again.

"I'll see you around, right?"

"I think so" he replied. Spencer took a sip of the coffee you bought him, as if he'd just remembered it, and took a moment to savor it, closing his eyes in the process. You tried not to be distracted by the afterimage of him licking his lips. "I love it, what's with it?"

“Huh-uh, I won't tell you. If you want to drink it, you will have to ask me” you replied playfully. You thought that perhaps, at some point, he would become uncomfortable with your indiscreet flirtations, but when he smiled at you and looked away, you knew he was actually liking it. And if Spencer liked being fawned over, you weren't going to put up a fight.

"Thank you"

"It's nothing, doctor. Good luck on your day" you said goodbye, showing him the most beautiful smile you were capable of manifesting.

After that you made sure to look Victoria square in the eye as you left, confident that if she tried to say something rude to the profiler again you would confront her yourself and finally got lost. She looked at him, utterly offended, and then did the same, leaving behind the cup of coffee she was preparing to lock herself in the office and be grumpy all day. But Spencer didn't even notice any of it, as he was too busy looking closely at his heart in his cup to get any idea of what it might mean.

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #dr spencer reid #matthew gray gubler #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #jason gideon #JJ #penelope garcía

2K notes · View notes

apomaro-mellow · 4 months

Text

Every Baby Needs a Daddy 4

Part 3

"And you said yes?", Robin said, her voice impressively even.

"I did", Steve said, phone on speaker as he got ready for work. "I figure, if he's going to have a sugar baby, might as well be me, right? I think this is the universe giving me a break."

"Okay, yeah, sure, until he takes you out and gets you involved in like drugs or something, or takes his anger out on you when he doesn't win a Grammy or something. Or worse, you're a mistress and his actual spouse comes for revenge. OR you actually get really involved with him, help him get even more famous, have very talented children, but then his drug running gets you arrested and when you get out of jail he acts like he doesn't know you and estranges your children!"

Steve paused in putting on his shoes, grinning. "You've been watching Empire."

"Terrence did Taraji so dirty Steve."

"But not enough to learn their characters' names. I need you to catch up so we can watch season 2 together." It hurt being away from her. Before, whenever one of them started obsessing over a show, they could literally sit down and put aside one of their days off to binge a bunch of episodes.

"Sorry, let's get back to you dating a rockstar? Steve? Steve."

"We're not dating. He's just gonna text me whenever he wants to fuck. That's it. He might buy me something nice from time to time." Steve grabbed his keys and went out the door, nearly stepping on something left on the floor in front of it.

"Okay, yeah, sure, but isn't this the reason you cut your parents out? Did they want this exact life for you?", Robin asked.

"No, this is totally different. For one thing, Eddie doesn't want commitment. He doesn't want kids out of me. And even if I attend events with him, I'm just arm candy, but you know, in a good way."

"There's a bad way to be arm candy?"

Steve thought back to the functions he had to go to when still under his parents' thumb. There was definitely a bad way to hang off someone's arm like a decoration. He looked to the little box in his hand. No note, but it had clearly been placed in front of his apartment.

He opened it and found an expensive looking watching inside. The face was a cool navy blue color. He didn't need a card to know who it was from.

"Eddie's different from the guys my parents wanted", Steve said. "And when it's over, I'll at least have something to show for it."

"Just don't be stupid about this, dingus. If this goes sideways, I won't be close by to save your ass."

"Noted", Steve said as he closed the box and continued on his way to work.

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

The next time Eddie texted him, it was to go to lunch. It was a more casual setting than before, but still a pretty high end sushi restaurant.

"I must admit, I called you here under false pretenses, Steve", Eddie said as they sat in a booth.

Steve smiled at his serious tone. "I gathered, given our whole arrangement." Being taken out somewhere was typically a prelude for something intimate later, even in a normal relationship. When Eddie asked him out, Steve full expected sex. He wasn't complaining, last time had been very nice. He wondered how long until Eddie sent a simple 'u up?' booty call.

"I have to attend some fancy lunch meeting in a couple days and they're taking us to a sushi place", Eddie started to explain. "Problem is, I hate sushi."

"...Did you...are we here to train your taste buds or something?", Steve asked.

Eddie nodded. "These are some pretty important people and I can't sit there and tell them my favorite fish is whatever they use for fish sticks."

"Pretty sure it's cod."

"What? Nevermind. I just need to get one of everything and force myself to acquire a taste for it", Eddie said, eyes narrowing in focus at the menu.

Steve smiled. It was cute how serious he was being. He thought back to previous gatherings when some alpha would try and force a drink on him or when the hors d'oeuvres being served weren't to his liking.

"Want some advice?", he offered, continuing when Eddie nodded with his big Bambi eyes, "Instead of forcing yourself to like something, you should be able to say why you don't like something."

"Sounds like complaining", Eddie said, putting the menu down.

"No, you sound cultured", Steve clarified. "Watch." He cleared his throat and held up his glass of water. "Thank you for offering, but I only drink water from a natural spring. I prefer Canadian or Icelandic, but I'll take Swedish if you have it. Nothing from Switzerland though, it has this horrid mineral after taste to it." He set the glass down, adjusting under Eddie's wide eyed gaze.

"I don't know if that was bullshit or not but it sounded legit."

"It's legit what some girl said at a party once. I've never sourced where my water came from, but it works for just about anything. If you can articulate why you don't like something, it comes off better than just saying you don't like it."

"What kind of parties did you go to?", Eddie smirked.

Steve shrunk a little. "Just, you know, parties. So what's your experience with sushi?"

"Supermarket stuff", Eddie said simply.

"....You're kidding. How long have you been a rockstar?"

"I didn't realize this was an interview."

Steve tapped the table as he considered something. He looked to the other part of the restaurant. The bar where chefs were preparing the food. He almost asked Eddie a question directly, but remembered his role as a sugar baby. It wasn't his job to ask how much something would cost or even to ask Eddie to spend the money. All he needed to do was ask for what he wanted.

So he moved over to Eddie's side of the booth and leaned in close to his space. "I think you need something a little more...fresh."

"Fresh?", Eddie echoed as Steve led him to stand.

"And flavorful."

"Uh-huh."

"And satisfying", Steve whispered the last part before sitting down at the bar.

Eddie didn't know when Steve got him here but he did and he ordered something called 'omakase' and suddenly the chef's hands got really busy. He put a little filet of something on rice and then took a blow torch to it.

"I didn't know you could cook the fish..."

It was placed in front of him, but Eddie was still skeptical, which Steve noticed.

"'Omakase' means you're trusting the chef to pick out the best for you", he said. Then Steve took his chopsticks and picked up his piece. He ate it in one bite and Eddie subconsciously swallowed as he watched it pass his beautiful lips and then slide down that gorgeous throat. He wasn't even eating sexily, that was just how far gone he was.

Then Steve picked up Eddie's piece and held it to his lips. Eddie didn't even hesitate to open up and let it in. Tender rice, delicate fish, a total opposite to the sushi he'd experienced before. And it didn't stop there. The chef served cut after cut and each time, Steve asked him what he liked or didn't like.

Eddie was no slouch when it came to language. So he was able to come up with that on his own. He had just never considered respectfully refusing food and to do so with a haughty air deserving of a celebrity.

"Mmm, great choice on the shrimp", Eddie praised the chef. "Texture is superb. Sweet on the tongue too. Nice one, Tatsuro-san."

"Better than the crab?", Steve asked.

"I'm sorry, but nothin' beats an old fashioned crab boil for me. It's the only way I can eat crab."

"You've got opinions and you know how to voice them. I never imagined that be an issue for you, but I think you're ready now."

"Oh I've got opinions out the wazoo. I was just taught to never complain about food."

"Good boy", Tatsuro commented as he prepared something else.

"Very good", Steve agreed as an oyster on a half shell was put in front of him and Eddie.

Tatsuro winked at Eddie and he tried not to think about it as they finished up the course. He was absolutely not thinking about how oysters were an aphrodisiac, or how he'd had a great time, or how this felt like a date and not an outing with a hot piece. He wasn't doing a good job of being a sugar daddy, was he?

Time to fix that up right away. He paid for the meal, leaving a generous tip and led Steve out the restaurant, arm around his waist.

"You were extremely helpful. I can honestly say I like sushi now", he beamed. "And I think excellent service deserves a reward."

"You gonna give me a tip too?", Steve teased. And there was certainly a tip Eddie wanted to give him. Really the whole thing, but he had another idea in mind. And thankfully the appropriate place wasn't too far from here.

"You're buying me a suit?", Steve realized as they walked into a tailor's.

"I've got an eye for these kind of things. And you need something to match your new watch", Eddie said. He had a feeling Steve knew what to do, so he let him free.

Steve gave him a look and Eddie made a 'go on' motion. So Steve went, picking out different pieces for himself to assemble a new suit. There was a man awaiting any need of assistance and did so once Steve came out of the dressing room and stood in front of the mirrors.

Eddie was sitting before him, watching as Steve appraised his reflection and the tailor took some of his measurements. The suit was in silver, with a black shirt underneath. He finished of the look with a dark blue handkerchief in the chest pocket. It already looked great. Eddie knew he'd be breathtaking once it was bespoke. He ached to put his hands on him but public decency kept him from doing so.

"You look good enough to show off", Eddie praised.

"You look like you have somewhere in mind", Steve said, looking at the other man through the mirror.

"There's a shindig goin' down that I wouldn't mind having a date to."

Eddie put in the order for the suit to be done the day before the event. "Let's head back to my place."

This time, as they traveled, Steve was the one who couldn't keep his hands to himself. His hand stroked Eddie's thigh, getting close to where he wanted but never actually touching.

"What're you thinking about?", he asked when he noticed how hard Eddie was holding the wheel.

"Oysters. And you." And how he really should get a personal driver on hand.

Steve laughed softly and let a finger do circles on his crotch. "I think our chef was trying to be subtle. But I know what oysters are supposed to do."

"Oh?"

"And I don't need any culinary suggestion to get me in the mood." Honestly, he kind of felt like blowing Eddie now and probably would have chanced it if it wasn't still light out. "Can you be a good boy like he said?"

Eddie nodded.

"Good. Because we still have to take the elevator."

They didn't get as far as they did the first time they took this elevator but Eddie did attach himself to Steve's back and kissed at his neck. Once again, Steve could see their reflection in the wall. Eddie's eyes roamed his torso, wanting to go further but holding back. He only got bold enough to pinch a nipple through his shirt when the doors opened to their floor.

Steve only moved because of Eddie's prompting, finding it very easy to melt in his hold. They got about two steps out of the elevator before Eddie pushed him against the wall, kissing his lips and running his hands up under his shirt.

"Saw you lookin' at yourself in the elevator. Pretty baby likes how he looks?"

Steve's only response was to moan against his lips and rub against his leg. The closest camera was all the way at the end of the hall, though they'd be screwed if anyone opened up their door. He knew he looked good and liked looking good. And he'd seen the way Eddie's eyes were glued to him at the tailor's. That was a good feeling too.

Eddie took out his key card to open up his door and pulled Steve inside. They migrated to the couch, just needing to get horizontal. Steve lied underneath, Eddie's leg in between his again and providing friction as he rutted up against it. It was so hot, Eddie wanted to watch him get off just like this. If he got his pants off he could watch that sweet pussy drag-

Steve nearly jolted off the couch when a loud guitar riff sounded from Eddie's back pocket.

"Shit", Eddie hissed when he realized who was calling. He could ignore it, but he knew they'd just keep it up until they got to his door.

"You need to take that?", Steve asked, voice a little breathless.

"Just-just gimme a moment, it'll be quick." Eddie answered and Steve could be patient. He just couldn't be good and patient. He rubbed at Eddie's arm before taking his hand in his own. He brought it to his lips and swirled his tongue around his index finger, keeping his gaze down at first and then looking up at Eddie.

The man above him was speechless, up until whoever he was talking to shouted at him from the other end and got his attention again. Well, half of it anyway. The other half was on Steve sucking down two of his fingers now. Eddie groaned both in frustration and the beautiful man under him. Steve was only half following the conversation but it sounded like their time together might be cut short.

Eddie hung up with a sigh. "Baby...baby I gotta go."

"Right now?", Steve asked.

"Yeah but...but if you could, I mean you can stay here until I get done. It'll be quick, just a couple of hours tops. And I can take you out to dinner too."

"You want me to stay?"

Eddie's hair shook as he nodded. He stood up, glad he had a bit of time to calm his boner down. Then he saw Steve lying there on the couch, lips kissed wet and certain his lips farther down were just as glistening. He leaned over to cup him between the legs, feeling the warmth through his clothes.

"Don't forget who this belongs to", he growled when Steve whimpered.

"Okay." And because this man was sent from above, he whispered, "Daddy."

Eddie couldn't hold back then, kissing him hard, tongue marking his insides while rubbing Steve through his pants. He unzipped them, thinking he could just get him off quick when the ringtone sounded again. Pulling back was the hardest thing to do.

"Keep it nice and warm for me", Eddie said before fully removing himself.

"Hurry back."

And then Steve was alone. In a rockstar's hotel room. He thought about what a sugar baby might do when their daddy went off for what must be a very important but impromptu meeting, especially when it stopped such a heated moment. It became very obvious what he needed to do and so he headed straight for the bedroom.

Part 5

I need you to know that when I first envisioned this fic it was literally just supposed to be smut with connecting scenes but it somehow turned to "don't catch feelings" and "oops we're accidentally dating" the fic so here we are.

Tag Team

@awkotaco24 @lingeringmirth @littlewildflowerkitten @estrellami-1 @tartarusknight @velocitytimes2 @mrsjellymunson @trashcanniballecter @marklee-blackmore @dragonmama76 @paintsplatteredandimperfect @a-little-unsteddie @sllooney @starman-jpg @oxidantdreamboat @xxbottlecapx @chaosgremlinmunson @newtstabber @tiny-enthusiast @desidrarry-wolfstarshipper @y4r3luv @hello-fellow-nerds @anonymousbandgirl @alyelf @potato-of-the-lord @beckkthewreck @greatwerewolfbeliever @croatoan-like-its-hot @pluto-pepsi

#apo writes #stranger things #fanfiction #steddie #platonic stobin #omegaverse #a/b/o #next part is gonna be oohoohoo!

434 notes · View notes

stevie-petey · 1 month

Text

episode nine: the fall

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.” He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

Summary: surprise ! life still carries on even with minor brain damage from constant concussions :( on the bright side, you and the gang all become homies. meanwhile, steve grapples with the warm fuzzies and parental issues before his worst nightmare happens: you meet robin. the horrors !

Rating: general, some swearing

Warnings: fem!reader, use of y/n, swearing, mentions of wounds

Words: 9.1k

Before you swing in: this is it !!! last official chapter of season 2 :) this chapter is pure fluff yall. just 9k words of utter disgusting bug n steve, so i hope it makes up for how long it took for them to get to this point lmao. enjoy !

True to your promise with Jonathan, nothing necessarily changes between the two of you; things just shift. You stop being so tactile with him out of respect for Nancy, now only reaching for his hand for comfort rather than to have him so near. It takes some trial and error, but eventually the two of you manage to strike up a good balance.

You still spend most of your days either together at his house or yours. Only now, Nancy accompanies you, and it’s lovely.

“Dustin told me that Steve practically drooled over you last night before the Snowball.” Jonathan teases you, hunched over his kitchen table scribbling a half-assed essay that’s already a day late.

Nancy giggles as you throw your pencil at the boy. “That did not happen, mind your own business.”

“I don’t know, Y/N. He kept staring at you today during lunch.” Nancy slides over her paper and taps her pencil on a particular problem she’s stuck on. She’s still getting used to talking about this with you, but she pushes aside her unease and tries anyway. “Do you know the answer for number five?”

Her words cause you to blush, your mind still reeling from your conversation with Steve last night. You told him you’d wait for him, and he looked at you as if you’d promised him the world and more. Then, today at lunch, Steve had boldly found you sitting with Nancy and Jonathan outside and joined.

It was a welcome change, and he sat so close to you that your thighs pressed together underneath the picnic bench you’d been eating at.

“He wasn’t staring at me,” you mumble, embarrassed and still feeling his weight pressed against you, before sliding your paper over to Nancy. “And I got Henry Ford.”

Frowning, Nancy erases her answer. “That makes no sense.”

“My answer or Steve not staring at me?”

“Both.” Nancy and Jonathan say at the same time.

You throw another pencil at Jonathan. “I wasn’t talking to you, write your late essay.”

He ducks, “Would you stop?”

“Not unless you stop speaking.”

“This is my house, bug–”

“And I can call your mom right now and she’d let me stay.” You cross your arms at Jonathan, knowing you’ve already won the argument. “Any more complaints?”

Jonathan goes back to writing his essay, grumbling under his breath about how you can’t keep pulling the mom card, and you giggle at his anger alongside Nancy. He’s the one who wanted the two of you to get along, he should’ve known that you and Nancy would just make his life miserable.

The three of you go back to working quietly at the table, you and Nancy occasionally asking each other for help on certain questions, while Jonathan grows more and more frustrated by his essay. After he’s angrily scribbled out his fifth line, Nancy snatches the paper from him and points towards the back door.

“Out,” she tells him.

Jonathan blinks. “What?”

“Go outside, take a small walk, and calm down. You’re frustrated and won’t get anywhere if you keep this up.”

They stare at each other, Nancy silently daring him to argue with her, and you watch in amusement. She has him wrapped around her finger, and after only a few seconds, Jonathan sighs and gets up from the kitchen table. “I’m doing this because I want to, alright?”

You snort. “Sure, buddy.”

He gives you the finger, presses a kiss to Nancy’s forehead, and then grabs a coat to go outside.

Once he’s gone, Nancy turns to you and sets down her pencil. “So, how long are you planning on pretending that Steve doesn’t like you?”

You whip your head up, dropping your pencil in the process, startled by her forward question. “I’m sorry?”

“You heard me.”

“I…” Though you’ve slowly gotten used to Nancy being with Jonathan, it still feels too soon to talk to her about Steve, even if she’s given you her blessing. It feels too raw, too inappropriate, to discuss it with her. “I don’t think we should talk about this–”

“C’mon, Y/N. It’s obvious he at least feels something for you, and if anyone deserves Steve, it’s you.” Nancy gently takes your hand, her voice sincere. “He came outside for lunch looking for you today, he drove you to the Snowball, he’s been visiting you at work ever since you smiled at him last year.”

You look away from her. “It’s… complicated.”

“It’s not…” Nancy swallows, clears her throat, and looks away as well. It still has taken her time to adjust to the shift between the four of you, to finally understand that it’s now okay to talk about these things with one another. “It’s not because of me, right?”

A beat of silence passes, and when you don’t say anything, Nancy sighs. “Shit.”

“He’s still healing, Nance.” You admit, feeling bad for bringing this upon her. You don’t want her to feel responsible for any of it, it’s not her fault that the boys you’ve loved have loved her first. The wound of it has healed now, though the scar that it has left will never fade.

You both know this, neither one of you want to admit it to the other.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.” She shakes her head, the familiar guilt of somehow always the one hurting you clawing at her. “I wish things had been different between me and him.”

You shrug, you don’t see any reason to blame her. “I don’t.”

“You don’t what?”

“I don’t wish things had been different between the two of you,” you admit, knowing how bizarre it may sound. When Nancy raises her eyebrows, you’re quick to explain. “What I mean is, if Steve had never been with you, who knows who he’d be now? Or if Jonathan had never been my best friend, would you still have found each other?”

Nancy bites her lip, still unconvinced. “I don’t know, Y/N…”

“I think, truthfully, that we all unwound with who we were supposed to.” You’re not sure how to explain this, to express your unusual way of viewing such complex situations. “Without our histories, without being so intertwined with one another, I don’t think we ever would’ve unwound how we were supposed to. Does that make sense?”

“I think so,” Nancy nods, although hesitant. “And Steve is still… Unwinding from me?”

You cringe, knowing how silly it all sounds. “I know it sounds dumb, but he is, and while I’m not saying he doesn’t like me… I told him to take his time.”

“You’d really wait for him?”

“I would.”

Nancy sighs and goes back to her assignment, continuously amazed by your selflessness. “You’re too good.”

You shrug again, now used to being told this by others. It doesn’t bother you like it used to, you’ve come to view your kindness as something wholly yours and no one else’s to understand. It took so much violence to become so kind, and you will never, ever apologize for it now. “It adds to my charm.”

Jonathan walks back in right as Nancy bursts into loud laughter, you do as well, the remaining tension between you and her now gone. He sees the way she clutches her stomach and how you have to grab onto the table so you don’t fall over as you laugh. “Did I miss something?”

You wipe at your eyes, still giggling. “No, bee. Sit down and do your work.”

“Yeah,” Nancy giggles again, feeling breathless. “What Y/N said.”

“You two are the worst.” Jonathan slumps in his seat and goes back to his essay.

“You love us,” you tease, knowing that he hasn’t told Nancy this yet.

He smiles shyly and avoids Nancy’s eye. “Yeah, I do.”

They both blush and there’s a childish energy to them, shy and soft and sweet. You watch them with a warm smile, endlessly happy for them both; they’re sweet to watch, still shy around one another.

As you watch Jonathan and Nancy giggle softly as they help each other with their assignments, looking over at you for help as well, you know that junior year is finally starting to look up.

–

Steve continues to join you, Jonathan, and Nancy for lunch. He makes himself a permanent seat next to you, never once straying far from your side, and eventually he even ends up back in the library with the three of you.

It’s reminiscent of your sophomore year, back when you’d just defeated the Demogorgon and Nancy had gone back to Steve. For a brief few months, you’d all study in the library together and formed your own nice, albeit tense, group.

Then lines and threads became tangled and unspoken feelings became harsh actions.

Now, Nancy and Jonathan are whispering about something, off in their own world, and you’re currently helping Steve with an English assignment.

It’s the last day before winter break, so it’s hard getting him to pay attention to what you’re saying. All he can focus on is the way you’ve pinned your hair up, some pieces of hair falling over your face, and how you look so lovely in your white sweater.

“Are you listening to me?” You ask him, narrowing your eyes.

Steve coughs, knowing he’s been caught. “Yeah, totally.”

“Okay,” you cross your arms and lean back in your seat, distancing yourself from the boy, which only makes him frown. “What did I just say, then?”

“C’mere,” he huffs at you, tugging at your chair so that you’re now pressed flush against him; just the way he likes it. You blush, your stomach flutters wildly at the idea that he can’t be more than five inches away from you. Steve sees this, sends you a wink, and tries to use this to his advantage. “We both know I wasn’t listening, angel.”

Angel.

It’s become his new name for you, though he hasn’t said it since the night of the Snowball; the name drips from his lips as if saturated in sunlight. Although you want to litter his face with kisses and call him lovely and handsome and wonderful, you know that in this instance, Steve has only used the nickname to get on your good side.

And two can play that game.

“I don’t know, honey.” You lean in closer to Steve, angling your head so that you look up at him while you use your own name for him. His breath always hitches when you look up at him like this, when you call him honey again for the first time all sweet and soft. “I was hoping you’d been listening.”

Steve gulps, he’s still not used to the way your voice dips low when you want his attention. How when you call him honey he swears he can taste the residue of it in his mouth. He leans closer as well, your faces inches apart, and he’s forgotten what the two of you are even talking about. “I–I’m sorry?”

As soon as he’s apologized, you pull yourself away, just before Steve’s lips land on yours, and go back to the English assignment. You’re immensely pleased with yourself, especially when Steve almost face plants against the library table when you suddenly move away. “Apology accepted! Now, let’s go back to Shakespeare, shall we?”

Steve’s jaw drops, only now realizing that he’s been tricked. “Oh, that was evil, Y/N.”

“Don’t hate the player, hate the game.” You wink at him, and Steve has never wanted to kiss a smirk off of someone’s face more.

He’s addicted to it, honestly.

Later that day, once school has let out, Steve drives you to work. This was another shift that came with Jonathan and Nancy getting together. While your best friend still drives you to school, it’s now Steve who drives you to work and picks you up.

He enjoys spending the time with you, having you all to himself during the simple ten minute drive to Bookstrordinary. The two of you rarely say much during these drives, and it’s everything Steve could ask for and more; he simply has you with him, nothing else needs to be said or done.

Mrs. Waters greets him with a knowing smile, the woman has become more invested in Steve’s infatuation with you than even your mother. “Hello, young man.”

“Hi, Mrs. Waters.” Steve gives her a wave and walks over to his usual station: behind the counter, waiting for you.

You give your boss a quick hug and clock in. “Any new shipments today?”

“All the new books are in the back, so make sure your handsome man does all the heavy lifting, sweetie.” Mrs. Waters giggles at her own words before she slowly makes her way into her office.

“Well,” you nudge Steve. “You heard the woman, you’re a handsome man. Go do the heavy lifting.”

The compliment, though indirect, still rolls over Steve in slow, warm waves. He smiles bashfully at you. “Handsome, huh?”

“Oh, don’t pretend as if you didn’t know.” You flick his nose and walk over to the back door to start retrieving the new shipment. “Seriously, though. Could you help me with these boxes?”

Steve is quick to run over and help, he will always be happy to help you, but before he picks up a box, a thought occurs to him. Leaning against the doorframe, he smirks at you. “I’ll help, after you explain to me that little stunt you pulled earlier in the library.”

“What stunt?” A huff escapes you as you try to pick up a box, but Mrs. Waters had been right. The shipment is heavy, and Steve is currently useless.

“The whole ‘honey’ thing.”

You look up at Steve, knowing exactly what he’s asking, but you toy with him anyways. “Only if you explain the whole ‘angel’ thing.”

“C’mon, Y/N.” He groans, annoyed that you’re so good at dodging all of his questions. He doesn’t know what makes you Hendersons so great at deception, but it’s a terrifying thing to witness. “You’re an angel, it’s a fitting name for you.”

Though you’d been expecting him to say this, hearing Steve’s explanation still causes you to blush. Normally it bothers you when people call you an angel and act as if you’re some person above everyone else, but with Steve you know that he means it so genuinely. To him, you’re an angel because he knows you so well.

He doesn’t view you as this innocent creature that can do no wrong; Steve knows how you came to be, he knows the anger you once held, and it’s because of this that he has come to view you as angelic. It takes a lot for someone to become kind again, and Steve knows this better than anyone else.

“You’re sweet honey,” you finally respond, your face still warm from the vulnerability. You want to try for him, become okay with the feeling of being seen. “You asked for a nickname, and that’s what I’ve landed on. Any more questions?”

Steve practically melts against the doorway, and you almost giggle at the sight. “I’m honey?”

“Mhm, sweet honey, but honey sounds less dramatic.”

He laughs, his head is spinning and he’s so enamored with you. “Okay, I like that, but can I ask one more question before I agree to helping you?”

You roll your eyes but nod, secretly enjoying this moment with him. “Ask away.”

“Why honey? Not that I’m complaining, but…” Steve shrugs. “Not so creative.”

You gasp, “Are you saying you don’t accept my nickname for you?”

“No! I–” Steve frantically tries to correct what he’s said, but you grab his hand to calm him down.

“Relax, Steve. I was teasing,” you give his hand a squeeze, his fingers are strong against yours, and take a deep breath. The explanation is more intimate than you’d like, but he deserves to know. “Did you know that honey can be used to treat wounds?”

Steve shakes his head, silent as he listens.

“It’s a natural remedy, an unsuspecting cure, disguised as something only sweet.” You’re suddenly shy again, but you offer Steve more of yourself because you can; because he’s here, all warmth and love and summer. He’s healed wounds within you that you hadn’t known existed until you noticed their scars fading—cuts that have littered your skin from abandonment, guilt, and love. “When I was young, my dad would take me to this local farm on my birthday every summer and he would buy me honey. We’d use it to make sweet tea.”

You pause, the memory practically on your tongue as you remember the taste of the local farmer’s honey and how it would drizzle, slow and smooth, into your sweet tea. You remember your father’s laugh, how he would boast to the entire town that his sweet tea could win awards. “I never really liked tea, but my dad’s sweet tea was amazing.”

The honey had been his secret ingredient.

Steve is quiet after you’ve finished your story. He takes his time responding, he allows the story you’ve told to sink in, he rolls it around in his head, memorizes its details. He knows that you don’t like talking about your father, and the fact that you’ve shared a happy memory about him with Steve…

“Thank you,” he says. There’s a weight behind his thanks, he knows he will never be able to put into words how much this means to him. He tries, though, and pours every truth that he can into his words, “I love the nickname.”

The two of you begin unpacking the new shipment of books after that, working silently side by side.

It’s a lovely summer day within Bookstrordinary, even though it’s the middle of winter in Hawkins.

–

This Christmas Eve, you have your entire kitchen on lockdown. No one is allowed to come in, all food and drinks have been thrown onto the dining room table for others to use. Your hair is tied up, your apron is on, and you’ve banished Dustin from even looking at you.

“This is excessive, even for you.” Dustin scoffs from the living room, annoyed that he can’t even sit at the counter and watch.

You’ve just preheated the oven and are now whisking your dry ingredients together for Mike’s favorite brownies. There’s a rack of Will’s oatmeal raisin cookies on the counter cooling off, alongside Mrs. Wheeler’s sugar cookies she loves. “You lost your baking privileges when you mixed up the salt and sugar last year. Those gingerbread cookies were awful.”

“They’re both white! How was I supposed to know?”

“Stop talking and leave,” you point towards the living room with your whisk and some powder flies out of the bowl in the process.

Dustin tries to argue, but then the doorbell rings and he immediately breaks out into a shit eating grin. “Perfect timing.”

“What–” You try to question what your brother is up to, but he’s already run to answer the door. Sighing, you slowly mix in your wet ingredients and mumble to yourself, “I hate him. I really do.”

“Who do we hate?” Steve slides into the kitchen, not a care in the world, and slides right into Jonathan’s peanut butter cups. “Shit!”

“Steve!” You quickly catch the desserts, barely able to hold onto the bowl of brownie batter in your hands. Once the crisis is averted, you turn to Steve and begin hitting him with your batter covered whisk, effectively ruining his sweater. “What are you doing here?”

“I invited him!” Dustin now slides into the kitchen as well, a gleeful look in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Steve looks down at the batter he’s covered in and scraps some off with his finger before bringing it to his mouth. He hums, nods appreciatively, and smacks his lips. “Ya know, why haven’t I had this before?”

“The brownies are for Mike.” Dustin says, sneakily popping a peanut butter cup into his mouth.

“Wheeler should share, this batter is delicious.” Steve licks some more off of his sweater and you and Dustin cringe at him. When he sees this, he simply shrugs at you both. “What? My sweater is clean.”

You shake your head at the teen in disappointment. “Never thought I’d have to say this, but please stop licking your sweater, Steve.”

He puts his hands up in surrender, albeit with a slight scoff. “Sue a man for not wasting food.”

You blow a piece of hair out of your face and go back to the batter. “Again I ask: what are you doing here?”

“Like the kid said, he invited me.” Steve points to Dustin, who sends you a thumbs up. “Didn’t know I’d be walking into a war zone, though.”

“It’s Christmas Eve,” you say, as if this is all the explanation he needs. When Steve only tilts his head at you in confusion, you huff and put down your bowl so you can quickly explain. “I bake everyone their favorite desserts for Christmas, and normally it’s fine. However, now I have Max, Nancy, Hopper, and El to add to my baking list and I…”

You stumble, now suddenly feeling the effects of baking all day catching up to you. You’re slightly woozy, you can’t remember if you had lunch today. “I’m doing great, honestly.”

“She’s going insane.” Dustin loudly whispers to Steve, his fingers circling around his head in a “crazy” motion.

Steve ignores the boy and stands next to you, placing a hand to the small of your back and leans over your shoulder, allowing you to lean back against him. It’s a simple gesture, and you melt immediately against him. “Give me a bowl and recipe, angel. I’ll help you bake.”

You reluctantly move away from Steve and quickly find a piece of paper and a pen to scribble the recipe for Nancy’s chocolate chip cookies. It’s an easy enough recipe, you trust that Steve can handle the basics.

As you hand the recipe to him, Dustin’s jaw drops. “What, no fair! Why can’t I help bake?”

“Salt and sugar, Dustin. Salt and sugar.”

Steve gathers the ingredients he needs. “Do you have a spare apron?”

“I mean, sure,” you show him where one hangs next to the doorway. “But you’re already covered in brownie batter, so I’m not sure why you need one now.”

“Wanna match with you,” Steve quickly ties the strings around his waist, the apron is far too small on him and it makes you giggle.

Dustin, now very much third wheeling, throws his hands up in the air and marches out of the room. “You two are disgusting, ya know that?”

“Love you too!” You call after the boy, who responds by marching even louder towards his room.

With your brother gone and with Steve’s help, you manage to get through the rest of your baking list in no time. While you hadn’t expected Steve to necessarily fail in the kitchen, you were also pleasantly surprised by how comfortable he seemed to be while helping you bake.

“How’d you get so good at measuring sugar?”

Steve doesn’t look up from his measuring cup, too focused on the task at hand as he carefully counts out how many cups he will need. “My mom.”

“Oh,” you breathe out, not having expected the answer. He never really brought his parents up, something that you’ve noticed but never touched on with him. You figured it was like your father, never wanting to talk about someone who has hurt you.

Hesitantly, you try to learn more. “Does she bake with you a lot?”

“She used to,” Steve counts his third cup and mixes it into the bowl, now working on Max’s coconut bites. “Back when I was little, we used to bake her banana bread together all the time.”

His voice is light, the conversation isn’t a painful one for Steve, so you decide it’s safe to press further. “Well, if you can remember the recipe, I’m sure we can bake it today.”

Steve looks up at you, eyes wide. “You mean it?”

“Of course I mean it, dummy.” The way he’s looking at you with such genuine enthusiasm makes your heart hurt; he’s surprised you’ve offered him kindness. “I was going to bake you those caramel banana cookies, so I have some ripe bananas anyways–”

You’re cut off by Steve’s arms wrapping around you. He holds you tight, and he smells of sugar and cinnamon; it’s an addicting scent. “Thank you,” he breathes out, touched that you would do such a thing for him, and you tighten around him, happy that you’re able to give him this.

Later that night, when you walk Steve to his car after a long day of baking, he opens his passenger side door and grabs something from the seat. You watch him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What are you doing?”

“You think I came all the way here on Christmas Eve without a gift for you?” Steve teases, a smirk on his face as he hides something behind his arms.

You gasp, “You planned this, didn’t you?”

“Dustin called, I answered, and I saw it as the perfect opportunity to surprise you,” he shrugs, as if it’s no big deal. “Plus, I got homemade banana bread out of it, so shush and close your eyes.”

“Fine, but only because I have your gift waiting in my room. The second we’re done here, I’m running inside and bragging about my impeccable gift giving abilities.”

Steve chuckles fondly, knowing that whatever you will give him will ultimately be his favorite gift he’s ever received. “Okay, moron. Close your eyes.”

With a giggle, you close your eyes and eagerly await whatever you’re about to be given. Steve’s gift from last year, a signed poster of the original Spider-Man comic, now hangs on your bedroom wall. You love it dearly, every time you look at it, you smile.

Something soft is placed within your hands. Its texture is woolen, the material is heavy yet lightweight, and while you can’t figure out exactly what it is, you can’t help but notice how expensive it feels. “Okay, open your eyes.”

You do, and when you see what Steve has given you, you gasp. “Oh, it’s beautiful!”

Within your hands is a cardigan. The wool it has been knitted with is a lovely cream color, and you bring the clothing closer to admire all the wonderful details within the knit pattern. With small pieces of wool, hints of baby blues and pinks weave in and out of the cream. Along the front are buttons made from a beautiful dark wood, polished to perfection.

Steve lets out a nervous chuckle and stuffs his hands into his pockets. “Yeah, well. Figured I owed you a new cardigan after basically tearing apart your old one.”

“I was bleeding out, Steve.” Your finger traces over a button, its wood is cool to the touch and so smooth that you can hardly believe it’s real. “If you hadn’t torn my favorite cardigan to stop the bleeding, I wouldn’t be alive today to call you an idiot for even considering I would be mad about that–”

As you admire one of the sleeves, your finger catches on something. Turning the clothing around, you see, within the inside of the sleeve, a messily sewn on patch. The stitches are crooked and horribly uneven, clearly done by someone unskinned with a needle. “What’s this?”

Steve clears his throat, uncharacteristically flustered. “Just… Something I added.”

The patch is small, no bigger than an inch or so, with messy handwriting on it that has become familiar to you through long hours at Bookstrordinary helping you write down all the orders needed for shipments.

S.H.

Steve must mistake your stunned silence for disgust, because he quickly tries to take the cardigan away from you in embarrassment. “Fuck, you–you think it’s weird and you hate it and I went too far–”

He had wanted to give you a piece of himself somehow.

His panicked rambling is cut off by your entire body being thrown against his. Suddenly he has an armful of you, flushed against him in the December chill, and Steve’s heartbeat threatens to beat out of his chest. He has you right where he wants you, in his arms with your perfume swirling around his brain as he buries his face into your hair.

Everything calms within him, all the panic and insecurity he had just been feeling is now gone.

“It’s perfect,” you whisper, not even bothering to hide the fact that you’re now crying. No one has ever made something for you, and the hand sewn patch that now resides on your beautiful cardigan makes everything within you burn.

Steve’s fingers slowly make their way to your hair and he risks pressing a kiss atop of your head. He relishes in the way his lips feel against your hair, how it feels like he’s done this all his life. “You really like it?”

“I love it.” You pull your head from his chest and catch his eye. They shine when they look at you, and you can’t help but think about how similar they look compared to last summer. Last July Steve had looked at you like he’d fall to his knees for you and kiss every crevice of your skin if you’d asked him to, and you had run away, terrified of the feelings you weren’t ready to face.

Now, as Steve stares down at you still as if you’re holding the sun within your hands, all you can think is home.

Home.

What a fascinating concept, being able to find a home within someone’s arms.

And it’s a fall like no other.

“I’m glad you love it,” Steve is breathless, both relieved and in awe that he’s done something to render you this speechless, that he has this effect on you.

Neither of you know how long you stand there wrapped in each other, but eventually you force yourself to detangle from the boy. When Steve groans at the loss of your touch, you gently shove him away with a smile. “I still owe you a gift, dummy.”

He thinks about this for a moment, hums to himself and taps his finger against his chin. You giggle, which is all he wanted to make you do, and finally he seems to come to a decision. “Fine, I will allow this because I wanna know what you got me.”

“Mhm, that’s what I thought.” You flick Steve’s nose and begin walking towards your house. “I’ll be back in a second!”

Steve watches as you run back inside, the cardigan he has gifted you is clutched tightly to your chest, and he knows he’s falling as well. He can feel it, the slight tug within his chest that expands into a warmth that steadily beats alongside his heart.

As you promised, you’re back with a small box wrapped in a simple blue paper within no time. Only this time, you’re now wearing the cardigan and Steve’s heart skips a beat when he sees you.

You’re practically skipping as you return to his side, stupidly excited for Steve to see what you’ve gotten for him; you all but shove the gift into his hands. “Open it!”

He can’t help but laugh at your enthusiasm, though his heartbeat still hasn’t quite settled yet. “So bossy.”

You ignore Steve’s teasing and instead watch the look on his face as he unwraps the box and opens its lid. Within the box, tucked delicately between sheets of tissue paper, is a framed photo of Steve and Dustin.

A mix of emotions cross Steve’s face, from shock to curiosity to pure adoration. His lips part slightly, a slight gasp escapes him. “Y/N…”

You’re beaming, though you shrug as if it’s just another Monday for you. The photo is your favorite, taken the other day while they worked on a robot set that Steve had brought over. “Jonathan left his camera at my place a few weeks ago, and you and Dustin looked incredibly sweet working together, so… I snuck a picture while you two were busy bickering over drill bit sizes.”

In the picture, Dustin’s hands are gesturing wildly at Steve, his eyes manic, yet there’s a genuine smile on both of their faces despite the clear indications that they’re arguing. Tools are scattered around them and a poor, misshapen robot lays discarded on the table in front of them, long forgotten in the midst of their argument.

It’s the perfect photo, honestly.

Steve lets out a wet chuckle, his eyes are shining with fondness. “That kid is such a pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, but you can’t help but love him anyway.” You nudge him, drawing his attention back to you. “It’s not often I see Dustin befriend someone so quickly, ya know.”

Steve ducks his head down, flushed from what you’re implying. “Yeah, well. He’s a good kid.”

“He is.” You stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his cheek, before whispering into his ear, “and so are you.”

You feel Steve shiver, and he grips at your waist so that you can’t back away again. He pauses for a moment, allows your words to sink in and your kiss to seep throughout his body. There’s more he wants to say, his lips practically beg to be drawn to yours, but he takes a deep breath and says what he knows he can give you. “Merry Christmas, angel.”

“Merry Christmas, honey.” Your lips graze Steve’s ear and he shivers again. This, he knows, is where he was always meant to be.

–

Spring comes, and Steve doesn’t get into any of the colleges he applied for.

It’s a hard blow, and the months you’ve spent trying to rebuild his confidence comes crashing down within seconds.

Steve draws into himself, you don’t see him at school for a few days and he doesn’t stop by your work. He’s embarrassed, hiding from his shame of not being good enough to even get into Tech. He’s everything his father told him he’d be. A failure, an embarrassment to the Harrington name.

You give Steve a few days to himself, trusting that he’ll come back when he’s ready; you know how deeply he carries the weight of his father’s expectations. However, when almost a week goes by without any word from the teen, you decide to take matters into your own hands.

Which leads you to now: knocking on Steve’s door with platters of fresh baked goods, Mike and the others holding their own assortment of snacks and movies for tonight.

It took a lot of bargaining and multiple batches of brownies, but in the end you convinced Dustin and the others to surprise Steve with a movie night at his house. You knew his parents would be out of town this week, they’re hardly ever home anyways.

After a few swift knocks, you don’t have to wait long before Steve opens the door. He looks tired, his hair is a mess and he’s wearing the ratty sweatpants that you absolutely hate on him. It looks like he hasn’t slept in days, and when he sees who is behind his door, he frowns. “Why are you all holding snacks?”

“Well, hello to you too, buddy.” Dustin is the first to enter, shoving past Steve without a care in the world. He looks around and whistles, impressed with the house. “Y/N said you were rich, but damn.”

“Is that a pool?” Lucas makes his way in as well, Max loosely holding his hand as she follows.

El looks up at you. “What is a pool?”

“Mike,” you call for the boy to get his attention. When he turns to you, brownie shoved in his mouth, you point towards El. “Can you explain to her what a pool is while I talk to Steve?”

Mike salutes you and grabs El’s hand, yanking her inside so that you’re left alone with the teen. As soon as they’re gone, Steve lets out an exasperated sigh. “What is this, Y/N?”

“Mandatory movie night!” You exclaim, hoping that your fake enthusiasm will be enough to rub off on him as well. You really, really hope that this plan works.

Steve sighs again, his heart isn’t in it to play along. “Y/N…”

“You’ve missed an entire week of school and Bookstrordinary misses its most loyal customer.” You’re basically pleading now, scared that Steve will turn you and everyone else away. “I just… I miss you and I know you enjoy the kids, even if you try to deny it, and I want you to just spend this one night with us. No worrying about the future, no family drama, just me, you, and the kids as we watch horrible scary movies and eat an unhealthy amount of sugar, okay?”

“But–”

“No, you’re not allowed to argue with me.” Steve stares at you, baffled, but you simply barge past him and enter the home as well. “We’re going to have fun tonight, damn it.”

He watches as you walk inside and start ordering the kids around. Within no time, you’ve arranged a neat row of cookies and brownies and chips and dinosaur nuggets on his dining room table while the kids start making a fort in the living room.

Steve sighs, knowing he’s long lost this battle with you, and joins you to help with grabbing more blankets and pillows for the fort.

One part of the deal for a movie night at Steve’s was allowing all the kids to pick their own movie to watch. You’d been very hesitant to say yes to this, but ultimately Mike’s nagging won in the end. His movie choice goes first, and within the first fifteen minutes of it, a fort has been made and the kids quickly settle within it, a mess of sheets and pillows and blankets.

You’re on the couch, lazily stretched out, knowing that there’s no room for you in the fort with the others. You don’t mind, you honestly prefer having the couch to yourself, and you only further come to enjoy this when Steve makes his way into the living room and looks around.

“Where am I supposed to sit?” He asks, slightly offended that he doesn’t get to share the fort.

“Here,” you pat the couch, though you don’t bother to make any room for him. Your entire body rests on the couch, there isn’t enough space for him to sit comfortably on the edge.

Steve bites his lip. He wants, more than anything, to lay on top of you and melt into your body, but he just isn’t sure what boundaries have been placed between the two of you. When you notice his misplaced hesitation, you simply sigh and tug at his legs, causing him to fall on top of you. “Shit–”

He collapses onto you and your body braces for his impact, the weight of him foreign yet welcome. He’s wearing the cologne you love and you reach for his shirt to tug him closer so that he’s now properly laying on you. You sigh happily, wrapping your arms around Steve. “See, was that so hard?”

“If you wanted to cuddle, you could’ve just asked.” Steve grumbles, but he situates himself so that he’s laying more comfortably on you and scoops you into his own arms as well. He rests his head against your chest and your fingers find their way into his hair, as they always seem to do.

Steve closes his eyes and lets himself enjoy your touch, for once not caring that the kids are just below the two of you in their fort. Normally he’s more reserved around you when they’re near, especially Dustin.

That kid never lets Steve catch a break when it comes to you.

But he’s exhausted and has spent the last week either crying or pretending that he’s someone he isn’t, so Steve indulges in your warmth and relishes in the way your fingers seem to unconsciously draw small circles on his back; he’s so fucking grateful that you exist.

You’re always there to catch him, to remind him of who he can be despite his continuous flaws.

The surprise movie night ends up being everything Steve needs. He laughs at Mike’s horrible jokes, shows El how to use the VHR, he argues with Max about whether peanut butter belongs with chocolate, Dustin throws popcorn at you when you kiss Steve’s cheek, and Lucas even asks him about basketball and if he has any advice for him once he gets to high school.

It’s the most fun Steve has had in a while, and he realizes why you spend so much time with these kids. They’re everything, really. Smart and fucking hilarious and easy to be around. They’re honest with him, they tell him he’s an idiot for not getting into college while in the same breath debating with him about if college is even worth it.

Plus, you litter Steve’s face with more kisses than usual tonight, which only brightens his mood further. You’ve been more affectionate with him lately, holding his hand more often and pressing your lips wherever you can. It’s as if he’s found some key, unlocking all the love you’ve stored within you.

Steve isn’t an idiot, he knows there’s more to it, so do you. However, rather than acknowledge it, you both choose to simply bask in it. It’s not time yet, bringing this into the light. It’s delicate, still forming into something that Steve is sure will be incredible.

For now, he allows his lips to skim across your face while the kids aren’t looking. They’ve been dying to do this ever since he’s known you, and the giggle you let out is more than enough for him.

–

Spring turns to summer and before Steve knows it, he’s graduating.

He rolls over in bed and stares at the ceiling. The Harrington household is quiet. His parents have gone on yet another business trip, his father had scoffed when Steve had asked if they’d be back in time for his ceremony.

“Why should we attend if you’re not going to do anything with that diploma?”

“Right,” Steve had scratched the back of his neck, embarrassed that he had even thought to ask his father to come. “I’m sorry.”

His mother, who had been quiet as they spoke, only stepped forward once her husband had left the room. She brought a hand to his face and tentatively stroked his cheek with her finger. “I’m proud of you, my beautiful boy.”

Steve had smiled at her, knowing that she meant well and yet heartbroken that she couldn’t voice this in front of his father. She smiled sadly at him, as if she sensed what he had been thinking, before following after her husband. As she always does.

The doorbell rings, effectively breaking Steve out of his momentary self pity. He looks at his alarm clock and frowns. It’s early in the morning, he doesn’t know who could be at the door at such an hour.

Sighing, he gets out of bed and makes his way downstairs angry at the world. He’s tired of growing up, his parents suck, he’s almost definitely skipping his graduation ceremony, and now he has to get out of bed to go answer the door.

He opens the door and when he sees that it’s you, his mood drastically improves. You’re dressed in a pretty lavender sundress, a departure from your usual t-shirts and shorts that Steve has come to associate as your summer uniform. By the time he manages to take his eyes off of you, he realizes too late that you’re holding flowers and shoving your way into his home.

“Ready to graduate?” You ask, carefully setting the flowers down on his kitchen table. “You can’t skip it if I’m here, ya know.”

Steve groans. “How did you even know I was going to skip?”

“Because you’re predictable and I enjoy making you do what’s best for you.” You’ve grabbed his hand and are dragging him towards his room. “Now, go find something nice to wear while I put your flowers in a vase.”

“But–”

You don’t give Steve any time to argue as you’ve already left the room to go and take care of the flowers. He lets out another groan, he knows he can’t argue his way out of this one. You’ve dressed up for a graduation, bought Steve flowers, and now he has to put on some stupid outfit to make a smile cross your pretty little face.

He settles on a simple white button down shirt and a pair of nice dress pants, and you return to his room as he’s struggling with the buttons. When you see him, you laugh with affection and walk over to him. “Here, let me see.”

Steve lets you button his shirt, your breath is warm against his chest as your fingers quickly secure the buttons into the place. He admires the cute frown on your face as you concentrate, and he allows his hands to come up to yours and slots your fingers together. You’re taken aback by the sudden affection.

“What are you doing?” You ask, a familiar blush on your face from his touch. You don’t think you’ll ever get used to this.

“Nonthin’.” Steve says, though he lets go of one of your hands and places it on the small of your back as he always does. He uses the hand to push you closer and the other hand remains intertwined with yours. He stares down at you, he’s close enough to count every eyelash that dots along your pretty eyes. “Just admiring you.”

“Is this some ploy to distract me from your graduation?” Though you try to tease him, you’re weak and let out a soft sigh when Steve pulls you even closer, feeling his body against yours. He’s allowed himself to become bolder with you, and as if to prove this, he tucks your hair behind your ear and kisses your brow. You exhale with a shaky breath, your resolve dwindles. “Honey…”

Steve chuckles at your reaction, revels in it. He hopes to one day memorize all the ways he can make you sigh his name and shiver against him. For now, however, he pulls away and finishes getting dressed. “I know, I know. Graduation time.”

The perfectly aimed sandal that you throw at him is enough to solidify to Steve that he is, truly, happy.

–

Dustin is the first one Steve sees in the bleachers, then Mike, and then El, before he realizes that the entire party has managed to make it to his graduation ceremony.

“You invited them?” He turns to you, somehow surprised that you would do such a simple and lovely thing.

“Of course I did.” You kiss his cheek and quickly fix his hair as you adjust his graduation cap. You’ve been fretting over his appearance ever since you left his house, and he hates how giddy he feels whenever you dote on him. “Now, go find your seat and don’t trip on the stage!”

You’re gone in a flash, leaving Steve alone as you go and join the kids in the bleachers with all the other friends and family in attendance. The school’s gym is packed, everyone has someone there for them to see them walk across the stage, and though Steve’s actual family isn’t here, he has you and the kids in the stands cheering for him.

Steve decides, then, that you and the kids are his true family.

The ceremony is long and boring, and Steve spends the entire time sneaking glances at you.

You’re attentive, nodding along to all the boring speeches made by teachers and clapping for every student’s name that is called. He sees you breakup a fight between Mike and Max over something, he guesses it’s probably something dumb, and he laughs when you switch seats with Max in the end.

As he watches you, Steve feels what he felt the first day he ever spoke to you when you almost hit his car with your bike. When he’d gotten out of his car and found you laying in the ditch, he felt what he feels now: a slow, all encompassing wave of sunlight.

He felt it when he drove you home the following week and you’d told him he wasn’t a bad person, and he felt it again when you’d spared him kindness at Jonathan’s while fighting the Demogorgon. Then, in front of the hospital’s vending machine, the sunlight turned into a fireplace within his chest when you’d giggled and told him you were friends.

Since then, the fire has only burned deeper within Steve. It burned when he’d gifted you that poster, when he had spent every day at your job just to be near you. It had burned Steve when you’d left him that summer, the sting of it unbearable as it seared his skin. Then it had dimmed, abandoned, until you came back again and reignited it once more.

When you whispered confessions to Steve in the dark, he felt it then. When you sacrificed your life to save his, leaving a scar on your rib cage that Steve can feel whenever he hugs you, he felt it then as well. The fire was there when you leaned against him, accepted the help he has always tried to provide for you, when he gave you a piggyback ride back inside Jonathan’s and tucked you into bed.

It all comes back to Steve in flashes.

Your promise to him to wait, to stay even though he couldn’t give you what you deserved, what you needed. The gentleness of your promise and the framed photo of him and Dustin that now sits proudly on his bedside table. The surprise movie nights, how you call him “honey” and he calls you “angel”.

It’s always been there.

The warmth had started back before Steve even knew what warmth was, when he first saw you. He had been thirteen and you had been twelve.

Now, at almost seventeen and eighteen, you’re cheering for Steve’s name as it’s called upon the stage and he finally knows what this feeling is. Steve accepts his diploma and shakes hands with his principal and he swears he can hear your voice, screaming his name with pure joy, above everyone else’s; it’s as if his body is attuned to yours.

This, Steve knows, is love.

–

The school year ends and summer break begins.

There’s a new mall in Hawkins, one that’s big and flashy and opens just in time for summer vacation. Dustin spends entire days there with the party before he reluctantly leaves for Camp Know Where. You miss your brother dearly, but you know the camp is good for him.

When you find out that Jonathan and Nancy have become interns at the Hawkins Post, you scream and throw yourself into their arms, incredibly proud of them, yet you’re sad as well. You didn’t realize that you’d be spending your last summer before senior year apart from your best friend, though you know he’s always dreamed of showcasing his photography.

It’s bittersweet, but when Steve gets a job at the new mall, the free ice cream that you get makes up for it.

Plus, his uniform for Scoops Ahoy doesn’t hurt.

“You’re not allowed to laugh.” Steve threatens you, horribly self conscious with how short his shorts are. You made him promise to show you the uniform, but now he’s seriously regretting it as you bite your lip; he sees the laugh before it comes. “I mean it! No laughing, it’s already bad enough that I have to work–”

He’s cut off by your loud, smug laugh. It overtakes your entire body as you hunch over, gasping for breath as you wheeze out, “You look great!”

Steve hides behind the ice cream counter, absolutely mortified. Here he is, being laughed at by the girl he’s so fucking in love with, as he wears a stupid sailor hat and a god damn ascot.

In between your laughs, you see the despair on Steve’s face and you try to calm down. “Okay, I’m sorry,” you wipe tears from your eyes, still slightly giggling. “It’s just… You look so adorable in that uniform!”

Immediately Steve straightens his back and crosses his arms, trying to look more dignified. “One, never call a man adorable. That’s just offensive. Two, I will not get out from behind this counter until you stop giggling at me.”

“Who are we giggling at?” An unfamiliar girl now appears, wearing the exact same uniform that Steve is, and when she sees you standing in front of the teen, she raises her eyebrows in disbelief. “Henderson with Harrington?”

She knows your name, and you quickly wrack your head to try and figure out why she looks so familiar. At the very least, you know she has to be a grade below you, though you can’t quite place her, which you feel bad about. She looks kind.

“Yes, Henderson with Harrington.” You extend your hand out for the girl to shake. “I’m Y/N, though I guess you already knew that.”

“Robin Buckley,” she accepts your handshake, giving you an interested smile. She already seems to like you, which you’re relieved by.

Steve watches this interaction with pure dread. He had met Robin a few days ago during his interview for the job, and she’s made his life a living hell of torment and teasing ever since. Now, with you two meeting, he knows that you’ll only add onto Robin’s incredibly quick wit. “Oh, please don’t become friends.”

“Too late.” You wink at Robin. “Wanna check out this insanely large mall together?”

Robin gasps. “It’d be my pleasure.” She hops over the counter, completely bypassing the door that lets you out, and loops her arm through yours. “Later, dingus!”

“Bye, Steve!”

He stands there, defeated, as you and Robin giggle together while you leave. It only took thirty seconds before you abandoned him like some traitor. Sighing, he picks up a rag and starts wiping down the tables in the ice cream shop.

From the corner of his eye he can see you and Robin running around the mall. You’re giggling as you chase after the girl, your hair is tied in a loose ponytail and one of the straps on your overalls has slid down your arm. You look happy, bright and alive, far from the girl Steve remembers from last winter.

It takes Steve’s breath away.

Then, as if you can sense his eyes on you, you turn. Your eyes connect, your cheeks are flushed from running and you’re breathless as you smile at him. Steve returns your smile, winks, and he can almost hear your giggle.

You finally look away, going back to chasing after Robin as the two of you retreat further into the mall, and as your figure fades in the distance, there’s only one thing on Steve’s mind.

I can’t wait to make her mine.

⌑ series masterlist

⌑ if you would like to be added/removed from my taglist, just let me know :)

⌑ taglist: @siriuslysmoking @sheisjoeschateau @thytorturedpoet @innercreationflower @juhdoche @frostandflamesfanfic @goosy-goose @quinnsadilla @munsons-queen @stefansring @rice-elephant @bex22109 @bitchkeery @bex22109 @officerrrfriendly @kazunish @idkitsem @emilieluckwood @ryoujoking @criesinlies @tagakalat @dcnerd98 @sucker-4-angst @kitdjarin1 @onecojg @innazra @areiofhope @spaghetittied @cultish-corner @g8sstuff @videogamesandpoorlifechoices @hsllfirescoops @l0ve-0f-my-life @newyorkangelbaby @aliceespector @chervbs @poppet055 @bookkeeperlove @bellenotthebeast @swiftieblyth @ladyobscurus @moon-flowerss @estaticheart @dreamingofts18 @lanxsee @thecapricunt1616 @aheadfullofsteverogers @marvel-and-music @angie2274 @thescoopstroopers

#steve harrington x henderson!reader #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #stranger things #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things rewrite #slowburn #angst #wtlws #m's writing #i think is my first solely fluffy chapter in come home #my god

355 notes · View notes

filmofhybe · 6 months

Text

when enhypen sees a beautiful fan ( maknae - line )

pairing -enhypen maknae line ! x reader genre -idol! x fan! , fluff warning - none 400-450 words per member

> masterlist of my other works

> Hyung line

정원 jungwon

Man had heart eyes

It was during send off for their tour when he first saw you.

You somehow stuck out the most out of everyone

when he was around your barricade area he was hoping you would ask him for a picture or just ANYTHING

“Jungwon~ can we get a polaroid together?”

YOUR VOICE MATCHED YOU SO WELL so soft and delicate

“ ye-yes of course.” He stuttered so badly cuz how can he not after a beautiful girl just asked him for a POLAROID PICTURE WITH HIM?

His hands was shaking when you handed him your polaroid😞 bless him

He held the camera up and took a picture with you. While you air cupped his cute cheeks (cause your respectful) and did a kissy face near his cheek.

Oh how much he wished you would actually kiss his cheeks

He grabbed a pen and signed the polaroid before handing it back to you.

You were so excited you didn’t even realize jungwon “accidentally” took a polaroid of you. Quickly shoving the polaroid in his pocket.

He fr thought he was slick with it💀 cuz not even 10 minutes after the send off ended videos and pics of him admiring you was all over Twitter

Especially when ppl saw him shove a polaroid pic of you in his pocket

Engenes was crazy about it and spammed your insta comments with like “JUNGWON HAS A POLAROID OF YOU!” , “got THE Yang jungwon staring at her😞” , “I’m not even surprised she’s so pretty..” ETC.

got to see you at the last stop of their tour and didn’t even hesitate to talk to you and ask for your weverse 😨

like your that pretty he asked for your weverse😭

선우 Sunoo

Saw you when he was filming en-LoG

Basically he went to this little pet café with Niki and he wanted to play with the cats

So when he walked into the room. It wasn’t too crowded but the first thing he lay his eyes on was a Calico cat on your lap.

You were patting it so elegantly it made him stare at you for a little bit too long

Niki had to snap him out of it

he than sat down 2 table away from you

Cuz he wanted to keep admiring your gorgeous features

Niki was filming him playing around with the cats but he noticed sunoo wasn’t even focusing on the cats atp😭

His eyes was on you and the fact he had a little blush on his face after realizing his pc was behind your phone

You were so focused on the cute cat you didn’t even realize your own bias was staring at you💀

Like dumbass fr

But after awhile you felt like someone was staring at you and when you looked up you saw him

You were flabbergasted like the guy behind your phone is in front of you?

Like What In the what? You fr thought this only happens in fantasy words

But you both smiled at each other and before you know it the cat that was on your lap walked over to sunoo

You were kinda upset cuz you felt a special bond with the cat that had now BETRAYED YOU but watching sunoo play with the cat made you smile

“Sorry for stealing your cat.” JGSGHHVNRG YOUR BIAS JUST TALKED TO YOU?

You were freaking up and told him is alright before sipping on your drink

After a few minutes you decided to go visit the dogs. Of Course you were sad cuz you didn’t get a pic with sunoo but you want to be respectful.

Before you step out of the café you noticed sunoo walking towards you

“Will you be back anytime soon?”

“I actually own this place.”

Jackpot. His next few en-log would be at the same location now💀

The type to have a secret insta acc and following your café to keep up with it

にしむらりき Nishimura Riki

Yk how enhypen went to this school and they performed?

You weren’t even planning to go in that day cuz exam season and you were having a cold so like ew

But your twin sister was ranting how you should go cuz enhypen was going to perform

Like I mean I guess that what get you going

You thought she was joking until they actually appeared in front of you.

You wanted to scream but your sore ass throat wasn’t doing you any justice.

Than suddenly they were going to pick a random fan out of the whole crowd and the mc saw you had a pc of niki behind your phone and picked you

Bro you were so embarrassed ibsfr with you

Like you didn’t know what to do

The mc went like “Niki she’s a fan of you!!”

but you didn’t realize niki was the one who picked you

Brotha told the mc to pick you because your the most beautiful girl he has ever seen

He didn’t even know your bias was him he just wanted to interact with you

And when he knew your bias was him, his heart melt

The mc asked you if you were good at singing and everyone started saying yes

Your the golden voice of the school

“I can’t sing I’m sick today.” You said into the mic making everyone kinda chuckle and the mc was being such a silly person and told you is okay because is enhypen

“Yeah don’t worry just have fun.” NIKI? WHAT? Bro said that to you. Bro you folded.

So now here’s you singing “Given-Taken” while enhypen dancing to it.

They were all shocked when you hit heeseung’s high note WHILE BEING SICK?

Niki was in love bruh he wasn’t even tryna hide it when he didn’t want to pull away after you guys shook hands

Bro was still clinging onto your hands and staring at you with heart eyes

And everyone saw how he looked at you

Bro every engene wished they were you

And let me tell you how Niki said he wanted to go back there to perform just to hear you sing and see you again

It happened and Niki wanted you to be his so bad like omg man has never been this down bad

Stalked your whole school social media page just to find your the golden voice of the school and your insta😞

Whipped asf

a/n: 1989 TV VERSION IS OUT I WANT TO CRY SLUT! IS SO GOOD😞😞 Also I did not even realize how much ppl liked my recent enhypen ot7 series. It was just a random thought at 4am and I wrote it the next morning😭 thank you for the amount of support🫶 I really really appreciate it and I really hope you all enjoy it!!🩷

taglist : @surefornext @spilled-coffee-cup @skepvids @amymyli @in-somnias-world @okjaeminn @nonotwice1 @thinkmyg @blubbfsh

comment or reblog to be on my taglist :)

634 notes · View notes

aaakikoo · 9 months

Text

Low effort scenarios with my favorite fictional man. Bakugou.

an -> low effort is what I do best lmao, I hope you enjoy this. I have alresdy done these with more effort put in them 😭 I’ll list some below.

here and here.

another an -> requests currently open, or if you want to send ideas, thirsts or suggestions feel free to do that too. Comments and rblogs r appreciated!

paring -> k.Bakugou x f!reader

warnings -> language, idk tell me if there is any other.

———

1. NOT SHARING HIS RAMEN WITH YOU

“Babe please just one bite” you said as the blond was slurping on his noodles. “Fuck off, get your own.”

“You made the last pack! I am not heading to the store for a packet of noodles!” You said in defense but he didn’t seem to care as he continued chewing.

“Babe please!” You held him by the shoulders as you whined further. “I said no.” He said taking another bite.

“Fine.” You huffed and sat your ass back down on the couch. after Bakugou had finished slurping and munching on his noodles he came and sat with you on the couch.

At first you didn’t pay him any mind until he made a mistake and placed his arm around your waist.

You quickly slapped his arm away. “I’m mad at you.” You said leaving the living room and heading to your shared bedroom.

On your way you heard him scoff but you didn’t care.

A few minutes later he came in to apologize but it wasn’t successful.

“Why do I have to apologize after eating something I ate, and paid for? Do I have to share everything with you.” He asked in annoyance.

“Well you could’ve gave me one singular bite!” You said in defense and he scoffed and left the room annoyed at your behavior.

About half an hour later he came in, this time you didn’t bother to look at him. He didn’t say anything either, he came in and picked you off of the bed.

“W-what? Hey, what are you doing??” You asked surprised, no answer. “Put me down!” Still no answer.

He walked downstairs and headed to the kitchen placing you on one of the island chairs.

“What are-“ you words were swallowed up as you saw what was in front of you.

“Stop being mad at me now okay?”

He had bought you more noodles, made them for you, cut you fresh vegetables to have with, seasoned it, and put chopsticks on the side for you to eat.

You didn’t replay, only offering him a little hidden smile as you began munching.

The man still sat across from you on the island. “Thank you. Best boyfriend ever.”

“Huge mood swing.”

2. BUYING FOR YOU

It was a Sunday afternoon and you were both chilling on the couch.

Tomorrow was your day off so you were in a good mood, scrolling on whatever expensive brands site, checking out their latest drops and most hottest items.

Also Bakugou told you he will be taking you out after his shift, by 7pm. So you were trying to see if you could make a steal for the date.

Currently, Bakugou’s eyes were glued on the tv and your eyes were glued on your phone.

The guy in the show Bakugou is watching had made a pretty funny joke and Bakugou looked down at you to see if you had catched that.

Instead he finds you eyeing a dark red pair of high pump heels. He saw you like it and add it to your list and he thought that was it.

He continued watching the series like nothing happened and you closed your phone and now focusing on the tv.

The next day you woke up to an empty bed like always when it is your day off, currently 9am and you headed down to make yourself breakfast.

After you had eaten you clean up a bit and chatted with your friends for a little. Until the doorbell rang and there was a mailman, delivering you a package and asking for your autograph.

You had told him that you didn’t purchase anything but he kept on insisting that this was the right address.

You took a look on the address and it was correct then you saw that it was bought with your boyfriends name. So you gave the mailman your autograph.

After you closed and locked your door you took the box into the living room. Wondering what your boyfriend could’ve possibly purchased. He always asks for your opinion before he purchases anything.

Curiosity got the best out of you and you opened the brown box, the box revealing another box inside. A more expensive looking one. Matt black box with golden letters from the expensive brand you were looking at earlier.

You opened the black box, now this time the box revealed a white stretchy bag, you opened the box and your jaw dropped at the sight.

The dark red pumps you were looking at yesterday. Before you could properly make up your thoughts your boyfriend messaged you.

[ wear em today ]

Is all he sent to you, you wondered how he knew that you had gotten them, then you remembered he gets a notification when a package is delivered.

Your heart was filled with warmth.

By 17:30 you started getting ready, quick shower, blowing your hair, picking your outfit. A long black silky dress and gold jewelry everywhere from your ears, wrists to your neck and fingers. Elegant makeup and your hair out up in a golden butterfly claw clip. Along with of course the new heels.

By 18:50 you received a text. Which meant to head outside. And so you did.

When you stepped outside you were met with your boyfriend dressed in black suit pants and a white dress shirt with a dark red tie to match his eyes and your new bought heels.

He greeted you with a hug and a kiss on your temple. “Thank you.” You said and pecked his lips.

“Nothing but the best for you.”

611 notes · View notes

delfiore · 8 months

Text

—MY DEAREST FRIEND AND ENEMY. (2/5)

pairing: ona batlle x fem!reader

synopsis: you and ona become much closer, but in the wrong way; an offer on the horizon threatens to tear you apart.

word count: 3.7k

warnings: description of collision in football

PART I, PART III, PART IV, PART V

Sports Illustrated: USWNT International Y/N Y/L/N Scores in First Game Back From Injury “Y/N Y/L/N will not stop scoring. The Man City star returns to action with a stunning header in a home game against Everton since picking up an injury this summer in the CONCACAF final against Canada. Though the U.S. emerged victorious thanks to Alex Morgan’s penalty kick, Y/L/N was forced off in the 68th minute with a torn hamstring. She was expected to be sidelined for 3 months. […]”

You skimmed through the article, waiting for your coffee to brew. It has been an arduous few months as you focused on rehabilitation. You were supposed to be match-fit at the start of the season, but the physios determined you needed at least a few more weeks before you could play. Your thigh still felt a bit tight every time you stretched them. Nonetheless, you were back to playing, that was all that mattered.

It was early November, and the winds were picking up in Manchester, and yet you were warm.

“Morning,” you said, smiling at the figure waddling into the living room.

Bratwurst was wagging his tail by her side, no doubt looking for more food as if you hadn’t fed him half an hour ago.

“Good morning,” Ona said, rubbing her eyes.

“Coffee?” You nodded towards the machine.

“No, I have to get to training. Thanks, though.”

“In my shirt?” You smirked at looked down at her top. Sure enough, it was the old T-shirt you lent her after you were done last night.

“Hah hah.” She mocked you, but then took off the shirt, leaving her top half completely bare, and threw it at your face. “Obviously not.”

You let your eyes travel freely, as she went back into your room and returned wearing the clothes she came in last night.

“Looks like you’re back to being your insufferable self.” She walked to where you sat, putting on her necklace. “Can’t even go on social media without seeing people praising your goal.”

“All in a day’s work,” you said, grinning.

Ona rolled her eyes and put on her shoes. “I’m glad you’re back, but I won’t go easy on you.”

You stood up and pecked her lips.

“I never asked you to,” you leaned closer, ducking your face into her neck. “Maybe when we’re alone.”

She snickered quietly and patted your cheek. “Try not to miss me too much. Bye-bye, Bratwurst.”

The pup sat by the door as he watched her close it behind her. Ever since she started spending time at your apartment, it felt like he liked her more, always following her around and snuggling with her as she gave him pets.

Ona had been coming over since the kiss at the end of last season with the premise of meaningless sex. You both had an arrangement, and you were committed to keeping to it. You were surprised when she suggested it, thinking her not to be the type, but Ona continues to surprise you.

You had only meant to meet up over dinner to talk about what happened, but the night ended with her hands tangled in your hair and your legs tangled in her sheets. The ups and downs these past few months never deterred you from seeing each other. In fact, Spain losing out in the Euros prompted her to come over and forget about it for a night. In a way, you both had each other.

Your teammates at Man City were especially amused whenever you’d forget to cover up and come to practice with marks on your neck.

“Who’s the unlucky gal this time, Y/N?”

“Have you been busy while you were injured?”

Every time, you would just shake your head with a grin because you’d never kiss and tell. Also, because Leila and Laia would flip out if they knew you’d been screwing their teammate on the national team.

Your arrangement worked for a while, both of you still too young and too committed to football to think about anything else. While a lot of your colleagues would disagree, it was the excuse you told yourself to fully admit that what you felt for Ona was beyond just carnal desires.

You were treading on dangerous waters, your feelings bubbling to the surface every time you saw the girl. It was much more challenging to keep them under wraps, especially when you had to play against her every couple of months. From what people knew about you two, you were rivals, and that was your relationship. Rumors of a romance surfaced too, amongst younger fans, but it was the result of baseless shipping. If only they knew.

Ona wasn’t an incredibly affectionate person, not by a mile. The only times you would catch her lowering her guard by the tiniest of margins were when she was tired, maybe then she’d let you cuddle her after sex. But you remembered when Spain was knocked out of the Euros way too soon, and she was crying on the phone to you. You had just won the CONCACAF with the US across the Atlantic, and yet all you wanted was to hold her.

And so that was what you did. Two days later, after you were dismissed from your international duties, you flew back to Manchester and waited for her. Ona liked to be the little spoon whenever she was sad, and you were very happy to oblige. If she was feeling generous, she would even thank you for it. As much as you wanted to, you never teased her about it, because you knew what you had was fragile, and a slight mention of it could topple everything to the ground.

That was how it was with your Spanish beauty.

“Wooooooow . . . You’ve got a handful,” said your teammate, Chloe, as she stood in your kitchen, eating your chips.

“Yup,” you pressed your lips thinly, grabbing some seasoning from the cupboard. “That’s my life right now.”

You proceeded to tell Chloe everything one day, omitting a few saucy details, of course.

“Have you tried talking to her about it?”

“That’s the thing, though. There’s nothing to talk about. I can’t just walk up to her and demand something that wasn’t part of the arrangement to begin with.”

“I know, but it’s clearly affecting you. You like her, don’t you?”

“No.” A few seconds of silence followed, and Chloe was looking at you with a glare. “Okay, I think she’s cute, like, really cute.”

“I think you should talk to her, Y/N,” Chloe said. “Worst case scenario, you lot stop whatever you’re doing with each other behind all of our backs. Best case scenario, you date her.”

You smirked, but nothing no usual quippy or smug remark came out. “I should try,” you spoke quietly.

Chloe nodded expectantly and continued eating her chips, now. “I can’t believe it. You tricked all of us! It was Batlle all this time!”

“I didn’t think you’d come tonight,” you whispered quietly into the room, sitting by the edge of your bed.

Ona was under the covers, on her phone. “Why? ‘Cause we played against each other?”

You nodded bashfully.

“I’m here, aren’t I?” she set her phone down. “Or did you not want me to come?”

“It’s a little too late for that, don’t you think?” You said, gesturing at the clothes strewn on the floor.

You let her study you for a moment, finding the ruffled sheets much more interesting instead.

“What’s wrong?” She said.

“Nothing.”

“You’re too quiet.” Her voice was low and calming. She reached out and caressed your hand. You wanted to bury your face in her neck and be done with the conversation instead.

“I was just wondering . . . would you like to come over a bit earlier from now on?”

Your question made her look at you with a puzzled expression. “Have I been staying too late?”

“No, no. I mean—you can stay as late as you want, but come a bit earlier. I can cook for us, and then we can just sit and . . . talk.”

You fumbled with your fingers, your eyes drifting up to her, seeing the realization dawn on her. She exhaled. “Okay, that sounds nice . . . but as friends, right?”

“Um . . . no?”

“Y/N,” Ona breathed. Her silence was killing you. Finally, she looked up. “That wasn’t our arrangement, and I’d like for it to stay as we’ve agreed. You’re okay with that, right?”

“Yeah,” you lied, caressing her arm and flashing a smile. “It’s for the best.”

She nodded but watched you closely. “Come here,” she whispered.

You obliged, letting her pull you into her embrace. A searing kiss followed, leaving you to straddle her bare waist.

A short gasp left your lips. “Fuck me, Ona.” You pleaded quietly, hoping she’d fuck you until you forget the conversation ever happened. But you also hoped she’d go slow and make love to you, proving that she’d finally reciprocated your feelings.

You’ve decided that you wanted both. Maybe then, you’d finally get what you wanted.

You didn’t know that Ona was scared to let you in too, so she settled for sleeping with you.

You had been an obsession of hers for three years, a game she played besides having to focus on the actual game she was paid to play. But now, here she was—sleeping with someone who could possibly be her mortal enemy. She didn’t know when, but suddenly, she couldn’t bring herself to see you harmed.

She wanted you, but that was the selfish part of her speaking.

In the morning, you had expected her to be there, but your bedside was empty.

Ona moved through her days like a ghost. She didn’t expect it to be this hard three years ago when she first set foot in Manchester. She didn’t expect a forward to make her life this hard, or that she would fall in love with you. Every minute she spent tangled up in bed with you were minutes where nothing else outside that bedroom mattered, and it scared her.

It scared her that only you could make her feel that way, that something she had spent so hard working towards for herself, you did so easily for her.

She thinks of the nights after the Euros when she practically stayed over all day, and how you took care of her. She thinks of the cheeky winks you would send her way whenever she played against you, and the not-so-innocent brushes that you sneak in whenever she defended you. She think of your face when she shut you down, and how quickly your walls came back up.

She thinks of you the entire time she was on the Zoom call with her agent.

“You need to decide soon, Ona,” her agent had told her. “Barcelona doesn’t wait for anyone.”

It was a no-brainer, but she thinks of you all the time.

The referee blew the whistle and the 90 minutes were over. You collapsed on your knees as the Etihad erupted into cheers. Man City had reached the semifinals of the Women’s Champions League for the first time ever in the history of the women’s club. You would be playing Wolfsburg next, but you couldn’t care less about that right then. You just wanted to celebrate with your teammates.

You wished that you could celebrate with Ona too.

You sent her a text much later in the night, but she didn’t respond. Thinking it to be too late for her to come over, you went to bed, soaking in your victory.

But then, she didn’t respond the next day, then the day after that. A week later, she still hadn’t responded. Then the first leg of the semifinal came, and City drew 2-2 to Wolfsburg. You had given her space to deal with whatever she didn’t want you to know and knew double-texting made you look desperate, but you have had enough of the silence.

A vote of confidence would have been nice Sent 4:29pm

Nothing.

You weren’t going to put your life on hold for her. You wouldn’t give her that satisfaction.

The week of the return leg, you had almost forgotten all about Ona from the amount of training you were doing.

“Okay, ladies. Gather around,” said Chris, the assistant coach. “This will be our last practice session before the Champions League game. We’re gonna do some passing to start with, then a set-piece practice, and we’ll close off with a 5v5 scrimmage. That sound good?”

You were starting to feel more confident than jittery. Your movements were sure and steady, so were your finishes. Big games never deterred you, but it was the added fact of Ona not responding to your text that caused you to check your phone every time you were able to.

“No phones, Y/N,” Chris said, and raised an eyebrow.

“Sorry, Coach. Just checking news from family,” you lied. He extended his hand anyway, and you begrudgingly handed your phone over.

“I can’t have you distracted, Y/N. The match is tomorrow.”

“I know, I know. I’ve been good, though, haven’t I?” You grinned, taking a swig of water.

Practice ended later than scheduled, but you didn’t mind. You needed the extra preparation, and you were glad to have done that with your teammates. Chris finally gave you your phone back, like a naughty student, and you quickly checked your messages. Still nothing. It wasn’t like this was the biggest game of your life or anything.

Going to the news, flipping through articles upon articles on politics, your eyes landed on one about sports.

The Busby Babe: Ona Batlle Set For Barcelona Return “Manchester United and Spain star right back Ona Batlle is reportedly on the verge of completing a move back to Catalonia, rejoining Barcelona Femeni at the end of her contract with the Red Devils. […]”

The match of your life started. You were on the left wing as you always were, playing inverted so Laia would be running the flank. You scored one, but Wolfsburg got one back towards the end of the first half.

“Make those runs, ladies. If you see them coming at you, call out to your teammates. Use the third man to break free of the defense.” Gareth pointed at the board, showing hypothetical scenarios that the team could exploit for an opening.

“Hey,” Chloe sat next to you, her forehead glistening. “You alright?”

You uttered a small ‘yeah’ and closed your hand over her sweat-clad one over your knee. You couldn’t be distracted. You owed it to Chloe and everyone else on this team.

You were slamming your fist on the door, but you didn’t care. Your jaw clenched as you swayed on your feet waiting for her to open up.

“What the fuck, Y/N?!”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” You stepped into her apartment.

Her face went pale. “How did you know?”

You let out a laugh. “You’re pathetic. You’re a coward for not even saying a single word.”

The ball was sent over long from deep aiming towards you. You called for Filippa for a one-two, but once you dribbled, you were tackled inside the box. You put your hand up at the referee but huffed in disbelief when she only shook her head and granted a corner.

Slapping your hand on the grass, you sprung up with a grunt. It must have looked like you were throwing a tantrum, but you couldn’t care less, you wanted to win.

“I didn’t know how to tell you.”

“So you were just not gonna say anything at all?! You owe me that much to—”

“I don’t owe you anything, Y/N.” She snapped. She had never snapped at you before, not while off the pitch. “You know what we have is just sex. That’s all we ever had and that’s all we will ever have.”

Tears formed in your eyes. You felt like a kid again, being scolded and taken for granted. “Please, don’t do this.”

“I’m sorry, Y/N, but this isn’t some fantasyland,” Ona said firmly. “I told you what I wanted, and I thought you agreed.”

There was a period of struggle over the ball soon after, mostly in midfield. You were growing increasingly frustrated as passes continued being cut off just before they reached the attacking third.

“Come on, guys! Let’s finish this!” You called out to your teammates in an attempt to hype them up before a throw-in.

Your irritation mounted, but you told yourself to quickly snap out of it. I need to stay calm, my team needs me. It proved quite difficult when Lena Oberdorf slithered up from behind to mark you. She dug an elbow into your back to keep you at bay, and when you moved, she moved. So you pushed back, much harder than you anticipated. It set her off. Good, stay off me.

Soon, you heard the ref’s hurried whistle, as Lena shoved you back. “The fuck are you pushing for?!” Your opponent seethed, getting all up in your face to challenge you.

You were feeling bold, so you smirked at her. “Come closer, see what I’ll do. Or do you just want a piece of this, huh?”

It wasn’t your best quality, you admitted it, but you liked it when you set off an opponent. You didn’t care when Lena was hurling insults at you in German as she was being led away. What mattered was that you had gotten in her head, and it would be much easier to break her defense from now on. The referee blew her whistle again, and a few teammates of yours attempted to separate you from Lena.

“Sei ruhig, Mann. Bleib’ da drüben.” Be quiet, man. Stay over there. Waving at her dismissively, you saw the way her eyes looked like they would pop out of her sockets in fury, knowing she didn’t expect you to know German. You couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Last warning, Y/L/N.” The referee warned before continuing the match.

There would always be one player that completely drove the opposition crazy, and you would gladly be that asshole, so your teammates wouldn’t have to. You wanted to win.

“You kissed me first. I thought . . .”

“Please, don’t make this any harder than it already is,” Ona said quietly.

“I thought we had something, Ona,” you tried to steady your voice. You knew you sounded pathetic, but you never believed Ona could betray you in such a way.

She only pressed her lips thin. “We don’t. The only thing we have is our arrangement and however you feel about me on the pitch.”

Bunny scored in the 75th minute, and that would be the last goal for City in this match. The game went to extra time, and you could feel your teammates getting tired and sloppy in possession. You were tired too, but you wanted to keep fighting, anything to keep the thought of Ona out of your head.

You were so focused on the ball that you didn’t see a defender coming up beside you, her body colliding with yours in an attempt to redirect the ball. You fell to the ground with a thud, the stinging impact beginning to spread across your back. You felt the wind getting knocked out of you, your vision beginning to fade until all you could see were the lights atop the stadium, until those faded too.

The next thing you knew, you were on your side. Then the uncomfortable pain in your gut started to become more apparent, and you felt like you couldn’t breathe anymore. You gasped for air, just as a couple of your teammates knelt beside you.

“Y/N, can you hear me? Medic!” You heard a voice almost like Demi’s call out.

You didn’t know who knocked into you, you didn’t care anymore, because you had the overwhelming urge to throw up whilst still struggling to breathe.

“Can’t . . . breathe,” you wheezed out, tears starting to fill your eyes. You wanted to go home.

One of the medics shone a flashlight in your eyes. “Pupils are PEARL,” she said. “Okay, I need you to try and take deep breaths for me, alright, darling?”

You drew a shaky breath. There was a wheezing noise, in and out. In and out. The more you did, the easier it got. Your head was dizzy when you stood up, just as you heard applause ringing throughout the stadium.

Chloe appeared in front of you and offered her arm while a medic took your other as you walked toward the sideline.

“You’re alright, love,” she flashed you a warm smile and wiped away the stray tear that lingered on your cheek.

It was much too unfortunate, because you still had a lot more to give, but you were done for the night. Gareth knew it too, so he sent Hempo in to take your place.

You finally let the tears fall freely when the final whistle came.

“When do you leave?”

“In two weeks.”

A scornful laugh escaped you that you didn’t even bother to hide. “You didn’t even have the decency to tell me, not as your booty call, but as your friend.”

But you were kidding yourself. You knew Ona and you were never friends, never quite lovers either. Only two people floating around in a sexual limbo who were too scared to admit to themselves what was right in front of them. Now she was leaving, and you would never get the chance.

It didn’t matter anymore, any of it. You had a Champions League semifinal to play.

ESPN: Wolfsburg Grabs Victory in Extra Time to Reach Women’s Champions League Final “[…]”

a/n: it was so heartwarming to see the support for jenni and the players :’) it’s abt fuckin time man let’s hope this continues until rubiales and vilda’s resignation

#ona batlle x reader #ona batlle imagine #ona batlle imagines #ona batlle angst #ona batlle #woso

772 notes · View notes

bangchansgirlsblog · 7 months

Text

Broken headsets

- Chan

Warning: A lot of Angst, slight violence?

Pairing: BangChan x reader.

Summary: where he snaps at you while working.

!Not proofread!

(This is just a trail story, I lost my first story that was actually good ☠️I’m probably going to delete this)

“Channie?” I call for him. My hands gently rubbing his back while playing with his hair. So soft and messy.

“Mhm” he replies softly. The sound of his fingers typing against the keyboard as his headsets sat around his neck. His brown curls fluffy and everywhere.

His silver hoops sitting perfectly on both his ears and his black shirt tight around his muscle making him look delicious.

“Baby you need to eat something. You’ve been on that computer ever since you got home.” I plead with him.

He needed to eat, he hadn’t eaten all day due to the busy schedule and lack of time on his plate. The mangers were on him 24/7 due to their comeback in a few weeks.

Comeback season meant no time for anything, no time for dates, no time for sitting around, no time for spending time with one another and I hated it. I hate it so much. It made me angry.

“Baby this is really important, I’ll be there in a second.” He quickly says not even bothering to look up.

“Chan you’ve been at it for the past 2 hours, you haven’t even looked at me.” I complain. Yes I wanted attention, shoot me!

“I’ll give you all the attention you want my love, just please let me finish this.”

Sadness fills my heart as I silently put the clothes inside the closet.

A ringing sound in my ear and a tight feeling in my throat.

I was trying not to cry. I refused to cry.

Chan was a workaholic, no doubt in that. His days consisted of waking up early in the morning to head to the JYP building and coming home very late only to do more work. Some nights he wouldn’t come home at all and he knew I didn’t like it so to make my happy, he sometimes would bring me with him to the studio but that was when he thought he wouldn’t be coming home.

Our conversations in the studio normally contained:

“Just 30 more minutes my love”

“I’m almost done”

“I promise this is the last thing.”

He loves his job and he puts 110% in it but that makes him lack in other areas. His health.

Some nights he doesn’t sleep, some days he forgets meals and other days his mental health is the worst but still he doesn’t care because he loves his Job. He loves the boys. He loves Stay.

“Fine.” I sigh. One minute meant 1 hours at this point. I quietly leave the room closing the door behind me. Leaving him in his little world.

The cold tiles sending a shiver up my spine as I walked down the corridor.

“What am I going to do with you Channie?” I whisper to myself while packing up the food.

The dishes in the sink waiting for me to touch them while the laundry basket sat in the living room waiting for me to fold the messy clothes in them.

The house was quiet. The A.C hitting my skin with cold air as I sit on the floor and start folding the clothes one by one.

Berry by my side watching me.

Our apartment wasn’t big but it was huge for two people.

Some days it was a real big hustle to keep everything clean especially when they boys stay over but other days it wasn’t hard to maintain with the help of Chan.

“What am I going to do with your dad Berry?” I sigh again looking at the dog who seemed to be care free.

I grabbed the last set of clothes and walked over to the room. Chan’s back facing me. Not even noticing me in the room.

“Baby..” I call for him as I set down the clothes and start to load them into the closet.

“What Y/n?” He says a little harsh. I roll my eyes, frustration starting to build in my chest but I decide to be the bigger person and ignore his little attitude.

“Baby do you know what we’ll be doing for our 2 year anniversary?” I asked him trying to atleast have a conversation with him.

“I don’t know Y/n. You deal with it I don’t have time. Just tell me how much it is and when it is.”

“When it is?” I ask him obviously taken back.

“Ugh I didn’t mean when it is, I mean when you wanna do it.” He quickly corrects himself and rubs his temples with his fingers.

“Atleast act like you care Chan.” I tell him honestly.

“I’m not starting an argument with you right now so please can I get back to my work?”

“Chan why are you being like this?” Ignoring his request I decide to push because honestly I was tired of it.

“I’m not acting like anything I just want to finish my work in peace.”

“Chan you’re acting so selfish right now!” I say now slightly raising my voice.

“Y/n” he says firm and glaring over at me. What’s the worse he could possibly do?

“Just listen-“ I beg before I’m cut off.

“Y/n i said leave me alone!” His voice booms and the sound of breaking glass fills the room. My body freezes. Hands shaking.

The now broken headsets and mirror laying on the ground.

“Did you just throw that at me?” I ask him in disbelief.

“Babe-“ his body was stood up now and he was reaching out for me. His face filled with panic and guilt.

“Don’t.” I say getting away from his touch. The clothes that were once folded no scattered on the ground. Words refusing to come out of my mouth until I force myself to get up from the floor.

“I-I’m going to leave…” I say softly. My heart hurt and I hope he knew that. I felt the tears that were all built up from frustration, anger and hurt all start to flow down my cheeks.

When would he realize that being with him was starting to slowly ruin me?

Pt 2 ⬇️

552 notes · View notes

yarrystyleeza · 19 days

Note

Happy birthday tomorrow Yuna! Hope you'll have an amazing day ❤️❤️

As for a request... When I saw you would write for Daryl, I knew I had to send you something. Season 1 and 2 Daryl lives rent free in my mind, so can I please request:

"when they tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear while you talk" and "brushing against each other, even if there is enough room"

Thank you in advance and again, Happy birthday 😁❤️🎉

Awww thank you my love, sorry for answering this late, hope you didn't mind it, it was stupid of me! 😅💖💖💖

I was stuck with the plot of the request for the last two months until last night, I literally wrote this in less than 10 hours lol 🤣🤣🤣 hope you enjoy it, though, and sorry for keeping you hanging! 💖💖💖 You're so welcome and thank you for dropping this request and for the birthday wishes! 🥰🥰🥰

Little Things (D.D)

Requested by @munsonownsmyass

Pairing and dynamic: Daryl Dixon x female! reader, idiots in love

Prompt: fluff, s1!s2!Daryl, tucking hair behind ear, brushing against each other even if there's enough room + petnames for the cherry on top!

Word count: 1.4k!

Writer's note: I loved writing this one so much! As you lily, season one and two Daryl is my favorite Daryl era (beside S8). Not 100% proofread but I hope you really enjoy it, have a great day! <3

"Hurt y'self, little thin'?" He teased, watching you lying on the forest bed after your foot faltered and slipped you into the bottom of the hill. Your brows knitted, you rolled your eyes, he chuckled at the face you made, "alright, I'm comin'."

He slides down, smoothly, and a little bit pompously—with a smirk on his face. You can't lie—he made you smile though you desperately wanted to punch him right in the face.

He offered his hand to you and you accepted his help. At first, he let you wrap your arm around his neck as he walked you towards the hill exit—but as it turns out, you sprained your ankle so bad it was impossible for you to take another step. He scooped you in his arms and carried you back to the quarry.

And that's how you met Daryl.

You can't admit he wasn't a pain in the ass most of the time—if not always, getting on your nerves and driving you up the wall, it was so constant you started thinking he was doing it on purpose.

It kinda was. Daryl had serious troubles with conveying his emotions, and that idiot had a sickening crush on you ever since he saw you at the camp with the girls. He wanted your attention and he only got it when he drove you mad, so he tooled it in his advantage.

You were his favorite. You're the only one he talks to—other than his brother, Merle—and you, too, are the only one who wants to talk to him.

You too had a crush on him. His silly fights and bickering became more amusing to you—sometimes you couldn't even contain the smile drawn across your face when he's mad about something so stupid and could be fixed in complete silence, and when you gave him your smug face—it always drove him insane. You learnt he's quick-tempered, but these ones were visibly made up just to get a chance to be with you.

Daryl reminded you of those little boys in the playground when they used to ruin the girls' sand castles or pull their braids and ribbons just to get their attention. Ever since you came up to this conclusion—life has never been easier!

But things changed a little bit after the attack on the quarry. Daryl turned from only being a hot-headed idiot to be completely protective of you, but that doesn't mean he stopped getting angry—God forbid he does! But he got more reasonable and collected—around you, at least.

As soon as you got to the CDC, he grew closer to you, more friendly, more worried, more caring. He barely slept the night you spent there, checking on you every thirty minutes to make sure you don't need anything—despite you being a wall apart. It was adorable, and it stirred something in you.

Same night at dinner, right before you went to bed, he sat beside you as you dined, he made sure your plate was full and that you'd eaten well because 'it's been a while since you got a decent meal', he says.

And in the middle of the chaos the following morning—he solely cared for you, and not a thing was going to stop him from smashing Dr. Jenner's head that morning if it wasn't for you calming him down.

The two of you escaped in his pickup truck. But despite the horror you had just fled, you couldn't stop stealing glances at each other, Daryl was focused on driving but you spotted him staring at you with soft eyes a couple of times. Both of you blushed, multiple times—vividly, but you couldn't stop. Something was so amusing and sweet about the way he was looking at you, and you were so tempting to him he could stop staring at you even if he wanted to.

Now, staying at Hershel's farmhouse, Daryl turned out to be that sweet lovey dovey guy who'd absolutely melt under your touch—in complete opposite to the face he's been showing to everyone.

As you went out to search for Sophia, Daryl offered to accompany you. He kept brushing arms with you, pumping into your side, and gently holding your biceps to guide you as you walked. He kept putting himself between you and any threat, not letting you shed a drop of sweat—you were almost a passenger princess, but on foot.

But it was very obvious the night he got shot—your heart dropped when it happened, and when you learned it was your Daryl and not some misinformation. You couldn't watch as they took the bullet out, you couldn't watch him screaming in agony—yet you heard him from behind the door. It tore your heart into pieces.

The night fell as you sat on the chair next to his bed, your head dripping every couple minutes as you drifted in and out of sleep. Your head was heavy as a rock sinking in the ocean—yet you kept fighting Mr. Sandman back, shaking your head and rubbing your eyes and patting your face.

"Go to bed, pet," he softly demanded, "ye're tired from sittin' here all day," he extended an arm, gently placing it on your thigh and squeezing it chastely, "ya need some rest."

You shook your head, "I'm fine, Daryl," you shrugged, "it's not like it's the first time I stay up late."

Both of you stay silent, staring at each other with soft eyes. "Climb up in 'ere," Daryl says, his voice was tinted with plead "at least you won't have to keep droppin' yer head like a sippy chicken."

"No, Daryl," you shook your head in utter refusal, desperately trying to show him how awake you are despite craving a warm bed, "you need your own space. What if I accidentally hit your wound--"

"Come on, pet, you know you won't..." he softly smiles, shaking his head. You sigh and climb into the bed with him and he shares his blanket with you. He turns to face you, the moonlight is perfectly casted upon your faces, his blue eyes sparkled and reflected you like a looking glass. He grazes your cheek, tucking your stray hair back behind your ear and his fingertips linger on the skin of your neck.

"Get some sleep, love," he caresses your hair, "I won't need nothin' when ye're right next to me."

You woke up tangled up in his chest, it was warm and peaceful. You never wanted to slip out of his arms—if it wasn't for Hershel coming over to check on him and the men accompanying him.

Daryl got better as the days gone by. You started to see him in the kitchen fetching some biscuits or chips, he'd pump into you on his way out, brushing arms with you and glancing at you with his blueies and a smile. And if he's in the right mood, he'd take you off guard and peck your cheek, and you'd turn red and try to bite your smile. He caught it had quite the right effect on you, and he's been doing it ever since.

"Let it down, pumpkin," Daryl flirts as he snatches the scrunchie out of your hand as you tried to tie your hair, "love it when it's coverin' yer pretty face, gives me a reason to keep tuckin' it back."

"But we're going on a mission," you protest, "it would be dangerous for both of us!"

Daryl takes a run around the golden field and you chase him—but he overpowers you and you stop running, panting and clutching your chest as he giggles. He mischievously walks back closer to you, so you try to take it back, but he's taller than you, stretching his hand up with your scrunchie and shaking it to tease you. "Ya ain't tiein' it today, darlin'."

"Give it back!" you giggle as you jump to reach for your scrunchie, but he keeps stretching his arm above his head.

"Ye look so cute like that, pumpkin," he pulls a smug face as you lean forward against him, your chests compacting and you're an inch away from kissing.

"You could've told me you wanted to kiss me," you tease, not minding that he lowered his hand back down. He tucks your stray bangs behind your ear, ending up doing what he wanted to do all along.

"But it's more fun to watch ya tiptoe and lean on to me like that," he rounds you with his big arms, pulling you deeper into his chest with a Bastard smirk on his face, "it makes you even prettier, pet. These little things you do."

Likes and reblogs are appreciated, thank you for coming to my birthday sleepover celebration! 💞💞💞

#yarrystyleeza #daryl dixon #the walking dead #daryl dixon x female reader #daryl dixon x reader #daryl dixon x y/n #daryl dixon x you #daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon fluff #the walking dead daryl #the walking dead fanfiction #daryl fanfiction #daryl twd #daryl x you #daryl dixon imagine #norman reedus

208 notes · View notes

billybob598 · 10 months

Text

More Than You Know (Leah Williamson x Reader)

All right! So this is a F1 reader x Leah fic requested by anon. Again any feedback good or bad is welcomed! I'm sorry if there's lots of f1 talk and some don't get it. I have another f1 fic coming up but other than that nothing else so, if people want to start sending me requests, please do! I'll get more into that later. Anyways, enjoy!

Word Count: 2.1K (That's what Docs said anyways)

Set at Abu Dhabi GP, end of 2023

Thursday

“Hello everyone, and welcome to the final press conference of the 2023 Formula 1 season.” You fix your shirt as you settle into the seat. Max Verstappen, your teammate, on your left with Charles Leclerc beside him.

“Question for Y/N and Max, heading into the final race of the season the title battle is close between the two of you. What kind of mindset do you have for one of the most important races in your career?”

“To win,” Max says simply. All the reporters let out a laugh as you crack a smile.

“Y/N?” The guy who asked the question prompts you.

“Uh, well, I mean for sure to win is the goal but, trying to just stay calm and do what I’ve done for the last twenty-two races,” you explain. After a few more minutes of questions, they let you go. Walking through the paddock and into the Red Bull garage you can’t help but let your mind spiral. This was your first championship battle, this was Max’s third. You were only 22 years old, if you won on Sunday you’d be the youngest-ever F1 champion and the first-ever female champion. You knew you had to be a little lucky on race day, considering you sat five points behind Max.

Entering your driver room you’re met with your girlfriend, Leah Williamson.

“Hey babe, what are you doing now?” She asks you, watching as you pace back and forth across the room.

“Track walk, I think.”

“Okay, well I’m going to meet up with Alex in a couple of minutes so, I’ll see you later, yeah?” She presses a small kiss on your forehead.

“Okay, yeah, see you later,”

Friday

You loved racing around Yas Marina Circuit, it had just the right amount of technical corners and overtaking opportunities. You loved the lights and going underneath the hotel. Probably the worst part of it though, was the heat. Sitting in your car you feel like you’re going to die from the heat. Sweat just keeps pouring from every pore on your body, making your race suit damp. At the end of Free Practice 2 you were the fastest overall. This gives you a little bit of confidence, your race pace also seemed to be pretty strong so these were all good signs. Leah watches as you take your crash helmet and balaclava off, trying your best to fix your sweaty hair. You looked hot, and Leah was living for it.

“You’re drooling,” Alex, who happened to be right beside her, said. Leah shakes out of her trance enough to give Alex a light slap on the shoulder.

“Whatever mate, if you had a girlfriend as hot as mine you’d be drooling as well.”

A couple of hours later, after all the media was done and the sponsor dinner was finished, you and Leah finally were able to settle into bed. Leah’s arm draped over you and her head nuzzled into your neck. She was just about to doze off when you spoke very quietly into the darkness,

“Would you be mad at me if I didn’t win?” Of course, Leah knew you were nervous, who in their right mind wouldn’t be? But, for you to think that she would be angry with you if you finished second? That was terrible.

“Of course not, love, I’d be sad for you, sure, but mad? Never.” This seems to calm you down a bit, and soon enough you both are sleeping soundly.

Saturday

“Good luck kiss?” Your favourite blonde questions. It was a tradition in your relationship, whenever either of you were participating in a sporting event you had to make sure you kissed just before it started.

“Of course,” you say with a smile, not that she can see it. Your helmet already on with your visor up so she can see your eyes. Leah kisses where she imagines your lips are, you can’t help the dopey smile that comes across your face, the squint of your eyes making it obvious what you’re doing.

Leah watches on as your car pulls out of the garage and onto the track. After making it through both Q1 and Q2 easily now comes the biggest test, the top 10 shootout. Your banker lap for Q3 is solid, only six-hundredths of Max’s time and you know you can improve. As you cross the line to start your second flying lap you feel the adrenaline rush through your veins. Every turn of the steering wheel, every push of the pedals, and every G against your body feels just right. Heading into the final sector you know you’re going faster than your first lap. Crossing the line, your entire body relaxes as you hear your engineer over the radio,

“Okay mate, that’s P1 so far, P1 so far, but Max is yet to cross the line.” You wait anxiously for Max to finish his lap. Leah feels her heart sink as she sees Max’s name move above yours on the timing screen.

“For fuck’s sake, fuck this shit, honestly,” you say over the radio.

“It’s okay Y/N, points come tomorrow,” your engineer replies.

“You’re right, you’re right, let’s get them tomorrow.”

Leah gives you a hug when she finally sees you after all the media and post-qualifying traditions.

“You did great love, don’t be too hard on yourself,” she says sweetly. You sigh, knowing she is right.

“Mhm, I’m not that happy but I’ll get over it. I think right now all I wanna do is go back to the hotel and cuddle with you,” you mutter with a little pout. Leah finds this adorable. So, when you guys do get back to the hotel she cuddles with you until you fall asleep, only hours before one of the most important races of your life.

Sunday

When you wake up you feel the nerves settle inside of you. Leah tried her best to get you to eat something before your race. Abu Dhabi was a night race so, you still had the whole day ahead of you. After going through the pre-race meetings with your engineers you feel pretty confident in the strategy for today. As you walk around the grid with the music in your headphones blasting you see your girlfriend walking towards you. Slipping one side of your ear so you can hear, you give her a questioning look. She never usually comes onto the grid before races, why would she now?

“I just wanted to wish you good luck,” Leah says kindly, “I know you’re nervous, but don’t be, you’re gonna smash it out there.” Your heart melts at her consideration.

“Thanks Lee, I’ll do you proud I swear,” you say, looking at her with what can only be described as heart-eyes.

“You already have, more than you know,” she smiles at you, giving one last kiss on your lips before heading back to the garage.

A couple of minutes later, you’re sitting inside your car mentally preparing yourself for the race. The entire formation lap your mind is blank, trying your best to not overthink. As you park in your grid slot as close to a billion people watch with their breaths held.

“And it’s lights out and away we go for the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix!” Crofty exclaims into his microphone.

You get a good start drawing alongside Max heading into the first corner, but he pushes you wide. As the pair of you continue to the first of two long straights, you follow closely behind him gaining a slipstream. When you enter the braking zone you decide to go for a dive bomb, getting your elbows out a little to barge past your teammate and take the lead.

“She can’t fucking do that, mate. She pushed me off the track,” Max voices to GP.

“If Max has a problem with that, then he can cry in a crib, that was clean.”

As the race gets past halfway done, both you and Max had made pit stops, while also exchanging the lead of the race multiple times. Leah had about chewed her entire nail off watching. She was nervous as hell, she could feel something bad about to happen, she just knew it in her gut.

You once again closed up to the rear end of Max with DRS. As you got close enough to pass you slightly jerked out to the left before cutting back to the right, effectively dummying him. You were on the outside heading into the sweeping left-hander of Turn 9, you tried your best to give him space, but he completely misses the apex and rams into your front wheel/side of your car. Your neck whips to the side as you try to keep control of your car.

“What the fuck was that?! What a fucking idiot, I gave him shitloads of space! Is there any damage on the car?” You are pretty much yelling into the radio. The anger you’re feeling showing through your choice of words.

“So, major front wing damage we are going to have to box. Box, box.” Swearing under your breath you pull into the pit lane for new tyres and a new front wing. Stopping on your marks you sit there for what feels like forever before finally getting the green light and getting back on track. Leah knows you are fuming but she also knows that you’re very good at turning that anger into motivation. She readies herself for a wild end to the race.

“Okay, so the gap to Max is 30 seconds.”

“Just leave me alone, I know what to do,” you say sternly.

For the next 24 laps, you put in of the most impressive comebacks in F1 history. Closing the gap a little bit each lap. You fully catch up to him on the final lap of the race. The entire world sits on the edge of their seat as you stick right up to Max’s gearbox for the majority of the lap. Entering the final sector, you find the gap to stick your nose down. Making an unorthodox move down the inside into Turn 12. When it becomes clear that you stuck the move your side of the garage goes crazy. Leah screams, thinking it is too good to be true. As you head around the final corner, the Red Bull mechanics hang off the side of the fence cheering and yelling as you cross the finish line.

“She’s redefined motorsport as we know it, and as she crosses the line Y/N Y/L/N is CHAMPION OF THE WORLD!” Crofty shouts.

“AAAHHHH OH MY GODDDD! YESSS GUYS COME ON! I’M GONNA FUCKING CRY!” You scream over the radio.

“YOU” VE DONE IT MATE! YOU’VE DONE IT! GOOD LORD!” Your engineer screams back at you. You start to cry as you go around for your celebration lap. When you park in front of the number 1 sign you take a minute inside of your car to collect your thoughts. Finally, you get out and stand on top of the car, raising your arms in celebration. You jump down and start sprinting to your team. After receiving multiple hugs and slaps on the back, mixed with a varying range of screams and yells, you decide to look for your girlfriend. Looking around you spot your favourite person on Earth and make a beeline for her. She pulls you into a bone-crunching hug, tears streaming down her face.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, more than you know,” she says tearfully. You give her an award-winning smile before moving to take your helmet and balaclava off. You surprise Leah when you connect your lips in front of God knows how many cameras.

“I’m a World Champion Lee, a World Champion.”

“I know Y/N, I know,” she giggles at how excited you look. After completing the post-race interview you make your way to the podium.

“And your Abu Dhabi Grand Prix winner and 2023 World Champion, Y/N Y/L/N!”

The crowd and paddock below you roar as you make your way onto the podium, pumping your fists with joy. Stepping onto the top step of the podium, a sense of relief washes over you, everything you’d worked for this entire season, your entire life basically, had finally paid off. You take your cap off when your national anthem plays and begin to scan through the crowd until you meet blue ones. You give her a grin and blow her a kiss. She returns it. When you are finally handed your first-place trophy you raise it high with a little yell. After the rest of the podium is handed their trophies, you get to your favourite part, the champagne. Spraying it in every possible place, you can’t stop the stupid-looking smile from taking over your facial features. When the celebrations seem to die down a little you look over at Leah, mouthing,

“I love you.”

“I love you too,” she mouths back.

“More than you know.”

#leah williamson x reader #woso imagine #woso x reader #engwnt x reader #f1 reader x woso

641 notes · View notes

girlgenius1111 · 6 months

Text

is this a mistake too?

part 2 of that night was a mistake

smut! 18+. tw for creepy men, but it's brief.

You and Ona didn't quite make it to coffee. Instead, you found yourselves out with your teammates after your win in Madrid. You'd all arrived in Barcelona late, but you had the next day off, and some of your teammates had decided they needed to celebrate the first win of the season.

You stood in the dimly lit club, sipping your drink, music blasting throughout the room. You were surrounded by your teammates, all of whom were talking and laughing loudly. You, however, sat quietly, observing those around you. Pina and Cata were engaged in some drinking game, which Alexia watched carefully, sipping water, keeping an eye on the 2 troublemakers. Ingrid and Mapi were pressed close together, dancing to the music, looking at each other as if they were the only people on earth. Patri sat next to you, clearing noticing your out of character quietness, keeping a close eye on you.

Ona was across the room, dancing with Jana and Bruna. She was wearing a tight black corset top and ripped jeans; possibly the simplest going out outfit, yet you couldn't tear your eyes off of her. It was getting harder and harder for you to pretend you weren't completely in love with her. Being just coworkers didn't work. If the events of this afternoon indicated that you were becoming friends again, you were sure that wouldn't work either. It was taking every ounce of willpower in you not to shove your way across the room, pull Ona into your arms, and ravish her; it's slightly possible the alcohol you had consumed was only inflaming this desire. Tearing your eyes away from the defender you turned to Patri.

"I'm going to go get another drink. Want anything?" You questioned.

"Si, one of whatever you're having." Patri responded with a smile, hoping you were over whatever had you so down. You turned to head towards the bar, but a hand on your shoulder from Alexia stopped you, a disapproving look on her face.

"Last one, y/n. You too Patricia." Alexia's voice was stern, and you smirked at her as Patri gasped indignantly at the use of her full name.

"I don't think we're the ones you need to be worried about, Capi." You nodded your head towards Claudia and Cata, who were both putting back another shot they'd obviously procured while Alexia was distracted.

"Ay! What did I tell you two?" Alexia began to scold the two girls, and you slipped off towards the bar. You waited for the bartender, distracted from the people around you, which proved to be a mistake. You jumped when you felt a hand press against your lower back, so low you wondered if it could still be considered your back. You turned, finding yourself face to face with the most average looking man you'd potentially ever seen. He was smirking down at you like he was god's gift to earth, and you unconsciously wrinkled your nose, leaning back as far as you could.

"Can I help you?" You questioned, trying to keep your voice neutral.

"My friend thinks you're cute." He slurred out, nodding to the man sitting on the other side of you. Only then did you notice that they had caged you in. The other man spoke,

"I'll buy you a drink." He said, smirking at you. Neither man had moved an inch away from you, and the first man's hand remained on your back, fingers digging into your skin slightly. You couldn't tell if it was on purpose or if he was just too drunk to know better. You opened your mouth to speak, about to throw caution to the wind and tell both men to fuck off, when the first man jerked backwards, a heavily tattooed hand yanking him back by the shoulder. He stumbled away, and another hand reached out, pulling you away from the other man.

You looked up to find Patri wrapping a protective arm around your shoulders, glaring at the two men that had been speaking to you. The expression on Patri's face was nothing compared to the one on Mapi's, who looked like she was ready to square up to the two men that were at least 8 inches taller than her. It still wouldn't have been a fair fight, as the commotion had caught the attention of some of your other teammates, and you knew that the combined efforts of Ingrid, Alexia, Mariona, and Sandra would be more than enough backup for Mapi.

She began spitting words at them, rapidly insulting them, and warning them to never act so aggressively again towards a woman. At the same time, Patri spoke, tearing your focus from Mapi's loud words and gestures.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Her eyes looked at yours, torn between worried and angry.

"I'm fine, he barely touched me." Your voice came out slightly shakier than you intended, and Patri's brow furrowed. "I promise, I just need some air." You reassured, pulling out of her grasp and heading for the door. You really were okay, just feeling a little claustrophobic from the way the men had crowded you. You exited the bar, leaning up against the brick wall, taking big, deep breaths.

Your eyes are closed, but you aren't surprised when you feel a hand on your arm. You expected Patri or someone would follow you out. You did not expect to open your eyes and see Ona standing next to you, her face contorted with worry. You felt the heat of her hand on your arm, and suddenly it felt like the air outside had gotten warmer. If you weren't already flushed from being in the crowded club, you're sure you'd be blushing heavily.

"Are you ok?" Ona asked, her voice gentle as her thumb rubbed softly on your arm.

"I'm fine, seriously." Your voice came out slightly choked in response, not because you were upset, but because Ona was so close to you, you could smell her perfume. It smelled like rain, and something floral, and you were thoroughly distracted. But Ona's face looked slightly panicked, as if she didn't know what to do, so again, you reassured your friend. "Ona, I promise. I'm okay."

"You don't seem okay."

"It was crowded in there. Those creeps only made it worse. I just needed some space." In response, Ona pulled her hand away from your arm, but you grabbed it, holding onto it tightly, but sending her a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Oni. You could never crowd me."

She blushed, and her eyes looked at you with a guarded hope in them. You knew then that you were drunk, because suddenly the urge to pull Ona into your arms and kiss her senseless was almost overpowering. You resisted, however, assuming that Ona would not welcome that. Even if she was blushing. There was no question that she remembered what happened the last time.

You were wrong. After a moment of staring into your eyes, Ona must have seen something in them that gave her confidence, and she was surging forward, lips smashing into your own. Your bodies molded together, her hands coming to hold tightly to your waste, your own gripping Ona's face. After a moment, she pulled back, her face suddenly shy, suddenly worried. Her lips were still close enough that you could feel them against yours as you spoke.

"I'm not going to run again, Oni. Not this time." You spoke gently, putting all the sincerity you could muster into your voice. At your words, Ona visibly relaxed, pressing forward again, this time allowing her tongue to slip into your mouth. She had you pressed up against the wall of the bar, your mouths melding together as you pulled her impossibly closer into your body. You got lost in the taste of her, the feeling of her lips on yours, her tongue moving in and out of your mouth. You moved a hand to thread your fingers through her hair, and tugged lightly, and she let out a whimper into your mouth at the feeling.

"Ay dios mio. This team is going to break a record for the number of players sleeping together."

You and Ona broke apart, but you kept a hand wrapped around her waste, unwilling to let her go for even a second, even as you both looked sheepishly at Patri, who was looking at the two of you with a slightly annoyed look on her face.

"Don't let me interrupt. Just came out to make sure you were okay." She turned to walk back into the club, saying one last thing over her shoulder. "Please don't have sex against the wall of this club where everyone can see you. Both of you have 2 perfectly lovely apartments like 2 blocks from here."

As Patri disappeared back inside the bar, you turned back to Ona, eyes roving over her freckled face. She had a few pieces of glitter on her cheeks, likely fallen from her eyeshadow. They sparkled in the faint moonlight, but were nothing compared to the look in her eyes as she gazed at you.

"Can I take you home Oni?

"Please."

----

You were barely inside your bedroom before you were tugging Ona's shirt off, pushing her backwards to lay on the bed, crawling on top of her. She was whining into your mouth as you reached a hand up to tug at her nipple. Her hips bucked up into yours, and you pulled back looking down at her.

"I need you, baby. Now." She whimpered. You understood. It was like you couldn't move fast enough, you needed to feel all of her, see all of her, this instant.

You sat back, yanking Ona's pants and underwear off, before pulling your own off, so fast that it would have been embarrassing , if Ona hadn't brought up a hand to play with her own nipples, desperate for some stimulation.

Climbing back onto the bed, laying next to her instead of on top this time, you reconnected your lips with hers. Your mouths met messily, tongues pushing back and forth, your teeth coming to nip at her bottom lip. You were both making desperate sounds, breaths coming hot against each other. Grabbing one of Ona's hands, you pulled it down between your thighs, before bringing your own to her core. She ran her fingers through your folds pulling back as you whined against her.

"Oh baby, you're so wet for me." She gasped out. You really were dripping. You didn't think you'd ever been this wet in your life, and Ona had barely touched you. You pressed your fingers up against her, relieved to find her just as wet as you were.

"All for you, baby. Only for you." You were breathless, all of your energy focused on keeping your fingers moving against Ona's clit, as she did the same. It was insane how good it felt. You'd been with other women, but nothing had ever felt like this before. Her fingers knew exactly what to do, where to go. Your bodies fit together like you had been created for the sole purpose of being pressed up against Ona, her body writhing against yours.

Suddenly, two of her fingers were teasing your entrance, before pushing in, starting to pump in and out at a fast pace. She was met with no resistance, your arousal leaking out of you, and allowing her in immediately.

"Ona. Harder." Your voice was filthy, barely words, mostly moans, as you begged Ona for more. At the same time, you slipped your fingers down, finding her just as ready for you. You pushed in, gasping at the feeling of her walls clenching around you already.

"Fuck baby. You feel so good." Ona whined, clearly nearing the edge. She curled her fingers into you then, increasing her speed. You did the same, and the room was filled with the sounds of your fingers frantically thrusting into each other, as you panted into each others mouths, foreheads pressed together, too overcome to keep kissing.

"J-Jesus Ona. So c-close." You stuttered, and she somehow increased her pace, pushing you over the edge. You buried your face into her neck as you cried out, fingers stilling inside of Ona. Your legs twitched against hers, and you whimpered as you came down, gasping for breath. As you came back to yourself, you felt Ona's body moving against your fingers, hips grinding down desperately. She was clenching around you tightly, and you could tell it wouldn't take much.

Pushing your body down the bed, you buried your face in between Ona's legs, moving your fingers again, and attaching your lips to her clit, sucking harshly. Ona cried out, her thighs wrapping themselves around your head as she came, hips thrusting against your face. You couldn't breath, and you didn't care, relishing in the sweet taste of the girl wrapped around you. You licked against her, pulling your fingers out.

You only pulled your head away from her when she tugged at your hair and loosened her legs, overstimulated. Dragging yourself back up the mattress, you next to her again, tugging her into your arms. Your bodies wrapped tightly around each other, as you both fought to regain breath. Her face was resting in the crook of her neck, and you pressed kiss after kiss to the top of her head, desperate to express your affection for her.

You felt yourself beginning to drift off, and forced yourself out of bed, into the bathroom. You returned to Ona with a wet washcloth, gently cleaning her up, before doing the same to yourself. Ona was laying on the bed, eyes closed as she sighed contentedly, clearly exhausted. You threw the washcloths into the laundry basket before collapsing onto the bed, and pulling Ona to lay against your chest. She placed a soft kiss the the underside of your jaw, before laying her head against you, tangling her legs with yours, and almost instantly falling asleep. You followed soon after, arms wrapped tightly around Ona, drifting off into sleep.

-----

You woke the next morning, stretching you arms out to find an empty mattress. Your eyes snapped open, searching for Ona, only to find the room empty. You blinked, before noticing her clothes that her clothes were missing from the floor as well. Ona was gone.

-----

hope you enjoyed :) i'll try to get the last part out tomorrow or wednesday.

also the number of woso fics i've read where men being creepy in a bar leads to realization / admittance of feelings...

#woso imagine #woso #woso x reader #ona batlle x reader #barcelona femeni x reader #patri guijarro #alexia putellas #mapi leon

380 notes · View notes