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wttcsms · 7 months

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as it was ; suguru geto.

pairing suguru geto x f!reader word count 4.2k synopsis suguru comes back, only to find that you've been waiting and wanting this whole entire time. content contains modern no curses!au, gojo's sister!reader, brother's best friend, creampie, pet names (good girl, baby), most of the fic is geto's introspection, possessive sex, mutual pining/longing author’s notes im not even horny for geto like that, but i wanted to write angsty smut abt spreading ur legs for a guy that left u & who else is better for this than geto <3

First words are always a bit tricky to get right, especially whenever he has to take into account that he essentially ghosted you a couple of years ago, after taking your virginity no less, and now he’s back in the godforsaken city he swore he was never coming back to, and he’s just at a loss about what to say and more importantly, how to say it.

He supposes an apology, for starters, would be a good first move. And maybe it would be, could be, should be, if only he wasn’t him and you weren’t you, and the two of you were not something so confusing and intricate that it’s hard to put into words and harder still to describe with emotions. The two of you are something raw and painful, both of you taking turns playing both sadist and masochist.

Even to himself, the extent of your relationship sounds twisted, but there was always an underlying purity to it, something that justified its existence. To this day, Suguru Geto is certain that you’re the only person who ever loved him for him, with a love so pure and just that he tries to hide it from everyone else before they can get their filthy hands on it and taint it, twist it into something it’s not.

Sorry I left won’t cut it, and Geto doesn’t even bother trying to come up with any other variations of apology because it’s not necessarily your forgiveness that he’s come back for. The opportunity to say “I’m sorry” and have it actually mean something has long since passed. All that’s left to say is the truth for why he left, which for some odd reason, seems even harder to do than his original disappearing act.

I missed you — that’s a slight improvement. It’s the truth, if not an understatement of it. He doesn’t regret leaving Tokyo, he just regrets leaving you. Which he could say, if you would actually open the door to face him.

He figures it’s what he deserves. He deserves worse, if he’s going to be entirely honest. He deserves a slap to the face, or a kick to his balls, or for you to tell him that you hate him, that you never want to see him ever again.

He knocks on your apartment door, harder this time, as if it’s something urgent. And maybe it is. He’s felt more like himself than he ever has after moving, but the solitude of the countryside got boring soon after, leaving him only with the ghosts from his past to keep him company. He thinks if he doesn’t see you, in the flesh, he might actually go insane.

He knocks again, only to be met with more silence and a door that’s starting to become more of a familiar sight than he would like. Fuck, what is he even doing? Showing up here was a bad idea to begin with, and it’s only seemingly getting worse by every agonizing second that ticks by. Even if you do open the door, there’s always the chance that you won’t let him get a single word in — that’d be the smart choice, anyway.

And you’re a bright girl, don’t get him wrong. Something about the Gojo bloodline makes your family incapable of producing anything less than prodigal sons and daughters. If you’re not proof of this fact, there’s your older brother.

Yet another reason why showing up here is such a shitty plan. Satoru will catch wind of his visit, and when he does, he’ll show no restraint in showing Suguru what all of his private boxing lessons are good for. A broken nose and missing tooth would be a fair exchange to see you for at least a second, though. A tradeoff that he doesn’t need to debate on.

You have to leave your apartment eventually. Suguru dances with the idea of just making camp outside your door and waiting for your stubbornness to fizzle out. It’ll be embarrassing, and your neighbors will surely have something to say about it, but it would be well worth it.

He hears the ding! of the elevator opening and human reflex causes his head to turn at the sound of the noise.

Oh.

The world becomes contradictory at this very moment. The air suddenly stills, but the atmosphere itself seems to come alive at the same time. Stagnant air, bursting with electricity and something awe-inspiring. Everything seems to slow down, but suddenly he’s acutely aware of just how alarmingly fast his heart is beating. It’s been a while since he’s last seen you, not even bothering to check up on your social media because he knows one DM from you would have him crossing the ocean to be back by your side.

The reason why you weren’t answering your door was simply because you weren’t even home. Relief floods his body, makes him less tense, only for him to stiffen up once more whenever his eyes trail over to the warm body awfully close to you.

Or maybe it’s the other way around, since you’re the one clinging onto him.

You and Kento Nanami both look like you two have seen a ghost, and all things considered, you wouldn’t be wrong.

“What are you doing here?” You’re the first to speak, with Nanami’s arm wrapped protectively around your waist, and it’s this closeness that’s the only thing Suguru finds himself able to focus on. It’s been years. He shouldn’t feel this way. You’re free to do whatever you want with whoever you want. It’s your life. He’s the one that chose to walk out of it, anyway.

“I just wanted to talk,” he answers. Which isn’t a lie. He wanted to talk. He wanted to fight and make up and fuck your brains out and beg for forgiveness and cook you breakfast in the morning and warm your bed, amongst other things, too. But, he figures the condensed version of his list will do, especially considering that three’s a crowd, and most of his itinerary was for your ears only. “Did I come at a bad time?”

You bite your bottom lip, slowly removing yourself from Nanami’s grip. Nanami looks at you first, concern evident in his warm eyes, eyes that you wish were just a bit darker and colder, so that they would be the ones you’re so accustomed to drowning in.

You like Nanami well enough. He’s kind and looks out for you, and sometimes you even consider making a move on him first since he’s too much of a gentleman to cross any boundaries. Then again, you don’t think Nanami sees you as anything more than a little sister, and the last time you fucked one of your brother’s best friends…

It’s why you just give Nanami a smile, one that tells him that you’ve got this under control. His facial expression doesn’t give any indication of what he’s thinking, but the glare he sends Suguru’s way says enough.

Suguru can appreciate the fierce protectiveness Nanami has towards you, but it doesn’t mean he likes it. Especially when it’s Suguru that’s considered to be the threat.

You move to unlock your door once Nanami makes his reluctant exit, and when you enter your apartment, you conveniently don’t shut the door. Suguru trails behind you.

You turn on the lights, your living room and kitchen blending together in an open-floor plan, bathed in the stark, white lights hanging from your high ceilings. Your apartment, at least what Suguru can see of it, is tastefully decorated. Courtesy of your mother, he’s sure. He would ask about her, ask how she’s doing, but he figures now’s just not the right timing.

It doesn’t seem to be the right timing for anything he wants to say. He wants to mention that he’s thought about you, thought about reaching out — sometimes to explain himself, and other times just to discuss the mundane aspects of life — but he thinks that would be even worse than apologizing. It would be cruel of him to dangle this information in your face, haunt you with the knowledge that all this time, he’s truly been avoiding you. Knowing you, you would have questioned him on why he didn’t bother reaching out, and he would have been stuck admitting that it’s simply because he was too scared that you wouldn’t answer.

“Want a drink?” You ask him, back facing him as you peer into your fridge. He catches a glimpse of shiny glass bottles, water bottled in Europe and with the optimal pH balance, he’s certain of it. His throat feels a bit dry, but he tells you no.

“I drank enough water on the drive up here,” he tells you, which again, isn’t a lie. Suguru feels a bit pleased with himself, even if it is a bit narcissistic of himself for expecting a pat on the back for doing something so simple. He supposes it’s just because he’s gotten so used to never being honest with himself — or others, for that matter — so his current streak for telling the truth seems like something to celebrate.

“I didn't drink enough.” You say, and he can’t tell if it’s alcohol you’re talking about or water. You’re a lightweight; yet another trait that seems to be passed down the Gojo family. That explains Nanami escorting you home, then.

“Aren’t you going to ask how I found you?” Suguru helps himself to taking a seat on the white couch in your living room. Because there’s no walls separating the two different spaces, he can still look at you from this position as you rest your elbows on your kitchen’s island, as if needing the support.

“If you wanted me to know, you’d let me know.” It’s the way you say it that reveals that this comment isn’t made just in reply to his current question, but for everything else Suguru was going to follow it with. Don’t you want to know where I went? Don’t you want to know why I left?

It’s amazing what humans are capable of. Nearly six years since the two of you have lost contact — since Suguru broke all contact — and yet, you can still read him just as well as he can read you. You see him for what he is, not whatever mask he wants to disguise himself with, and it’s scary, he thinks. Scary to be seen by someone. And nice. It’s nice to have someone know you’re a monster and still not run away.

He’s not quite sure what that says about you.

“It’s a bit of a funny story.” He says, trying to steer this conversation to a more lighthearted tone even though the two of you are nowhere close to feeling light and the jury’s still out on whether or not Suguru Geto has a heart. “You don’t need the reminder, but don’t ever tell Mei Mei a secret you want to keep.”

The mention of your shared friend — if Mei Mei can even be considered one — makes the corners of your pretty mouth tilt upward. Mei Mei was born with a silver spoon, but the running joke is that it wasn’t in her mouth because she bartered with the doctor and blackmailed him into giving her a gold one. If you have the funds, Mei Mei has the information you’re looking for.

She’s the only number Suguru saved in his phone contacts, and it’s only because he knew that if he needed anyone else’s number, Mei Mei would readily give it after her Venmo request goes through.

“Of course she would tell you my address.” You say, but you don’t sound upset at all. Just amused, like this whole situation is something endearing, and you don’t harbor any ill feelings towards either of them, even though both Suguru and Mei Mei technically violated your trust. Suguru more so than Mei Mei, but, well, semantics.

“Aren’t you mad?” The “at me” is unspoken.

“Mei Mei is a free spirit.” It’s a joke, and Suguru makes a sound from his throat that resembles a laugh. Mei Mei may do whatever she wants, but nothing about her comes free.

He knows you know what he was actually asking. He’s been trying to gauge your reaction to everything he says, trying to see if you hate his guts or not.

“I missed you.” You tell him suddenly, and while he’s imagined those words coming out of your mouth, it still shakes him up a bit. It’s hard constantly posturing as if he’s cool and collected, nothing ever bothering him, his body and expression never betraying him. But it’s his heart that gives him away, and it’s heart that you hold, and no matter what face he puts on, he knows that you’ll know what the words he won’t say are.

“Don’t apologize.” You continue, closing the distance between you two and opting to take a seat next to him. There’s about six inches of space separating you two. The distance shapeshifts in his mind, sometimes becoming mere millimeters and sometimes feeling more like there’s an ocean between you both.

The sorry was on the tip of his tongue and it traveled all the way there from his heart. It would be a waste of a journey for him to not say it, but he’s certain the apology would do more harm than good, even if it is genuine.

Suguru stands out against the stark white of your apartment. Your mom likes the aesthetic of it, and since it’s your parents’ money, you merely shrugged and let her do whatever she wanted. In his black pants and black sweatshirt, he looks almost out of place in your home.

The thought that he doesn’t belong makes your heart hurt more than the burn of the alcohol from tonight going down your throat.

You don’t waste time wondering where Suguru went because for all intents and purposes, you never even knew where he came from to begin with. You knew him since you were children; your favorite out of all your brother’s friends because it was always Suguru who let you tag along and trail behind them. No one really knows much about Suguru’s life, his past, present, and future all a big blur to anyone but himself. From the way he slowly turns to face you, dark eyes meeting yours, you start to think of the possibility that maybe not even Suguru is an open book with himself.

Suguru looks like a shadow, standing out from the brightness of everything that is surrounding him in your living room. You want to ask him the questions that plague your mind ever since he’s been gone, but you don’t, because you’re scared he is a shadow. One wrong move, and he just disappears from your grasp once again.

There are the hard-hitting questions, of course. The ones that search for why he left and why he told no one and why he didn’t bother taking you. Then there are the gentler ones that would still require him to rip himself open and bare himself to you, things like how’s your new place and meet anyone interesting? You feel his gaze travel from your eyes to the slope of your nose and the apples of your cheek, downward to your lips. The intensity of his stare makes you nervously lick your lips, a tiny, quick action, but his eyes greedily take in the sight of the tip of your pink tongue casually making an appearance, only to retreat behind your pretty pink, glossed lips.

“Are you mad that I came back?” Suguru finds himself taking the role of interviewer, since it’s evident to the two of you that you know better than to bother asking him any questions. He feels like you’re treating him a bit like a stray cat, all cautious and scared of provoking him or forcing him to run away. He wants to tell you that this is not the case and that he actually plans on staying this time around, but he hasn’t entirely convinced himself yet, so he’s not going to break your heart with any more empty promises.

“No. Like I said, I missed you.” He wants to be able to blame your honesty on account of you being drunk, but he knows that you’ve just always been honest to a fault.

“You shouldn’t.” He tells you this, and you scoff. Probably because Suguru is the last person who should be giving any sort of life advice.

“Guess what I’m thinking.” You say, and Suguru feels something come alive from within, like he’s been frozen for the past six years, and the more he gets to bask in the warmth of your presence, the more he starts to defrost. There’s not a single hint of anger or malice in your tone, just the familiar, lighthearted, girlish tone of yours.

“That you think I’m a creep and want me to get the hell out.”

You frown, rolling your eyes, tucking your feet beneath you to get more comfortable on the couch.

“I’m thinking about that last time you told me I shouldn’t be doing something.” There’s a gleam in your bright eyes that clearly spells out desire, and Suguru is very, very close to defrosting. In fact, there’s a heat that’s beginning to settle deep in him, and maybe he should know better than to indulge in it, but it’s been years, and you are sitting here in front of him, pretty and fresh, and his hindbrain takes the driver’s seat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” But he does know, and he knows that you know that he knows, just as you seemingly know everything about him. Maybe not about his childhood — or lack, thereof — or what he’s been up to, but you know the important stuff. The things that make him tick and all the words he fails to say. Three words. Three words that he doesn’t think he’ll ever muster enough courage to say to you, but from the look in your eyes, you already know.

“I’ll jog your memory.”

And suddenly, your lips are pressed against his. You’re kissing him, and like the lovesick fool he is, he’s kissing you back. It’s pure muscle memory, maybe even animal instinct. He thought that leaving Tokyo was the right thing to do, and for the most part, it was, but with your lips perfectly melding with his own, he thinks that leaving was stupid.

Making out is such a juvenile ordeal, but he relishes in it because Suguru feels like he’s spent most of his youth trying to outrun it, and now he’s trying to take advantage of what his boyhood should have consisted of. The kisses are now bordering on sloppy and hazy, and somehow, you end up straddling his lap. He’s hard, and he should be embarrassed at popping a boner just from wet kisses, but it’s you. You have an effect on him that no one else does. His Achilles. The one weakness only he can feel.

Suguru knows that he is not a good person because a good person doesn’t go behind their best friend’s back and fucks their little sister. He had told, thirty minutes before introducing you to the feeling of his cock stretching you out, that the two of you shouldn’t be doing that. Suguru knows that he is not a good person because he cannot be any happier at the fact that history has a funny way of repeating itself. Six years later, and the two of you are back in a similar position.

You’re starting to rut against him, your dress riding up your thighs and exposing more of your skin to him. Suguru helps himself to handfuls of your soft flesh, squeezing in a manner that can’t be defined as gentle, but he loves how you take him as he is without any sort of complaint. All you do is let out a low moan, your pantyclad pussy grinding against his equally clothed bulge.

Your movements are a bit desperate, frenzied. You’re getting lost in pleasure already, and he hasn’t even done much to elicit such a reaction. The idea that only he can get you this riled up with doing so little makes him impossibly harder, and he looks down, realizing that you’re so soaked, your panties are practically translucent.

The two of you have the option of taking things slow, but neither of you want to do that. When you spend some time starving, you don’t savor the meal, you scarf it down.

That’s what the two of you are — hungry, greedy — as you both hastily strip as much clothing as you can bear to spend time getting out of. Your minidress is tossed carelessly on the living room floor, and Suguru can only bother with unzipping his pants and pushing down his briefs just enough to free his cock.

The intrusion of the tip of his cock entering your wet, needy cunt is less of an intrusion and instead akin to something rightfully returning to where it belongs. Your hands are tangled in his hair, and he relishes this feeling. This wholeness, this concept of being complete.

The inviting warmth of your pussy makes him want to cum right on the spot, but he can’t waste it. He’s spent years pining after you, missing you, and he wants you to feel like the time apart had been worth it.

“I missed you.” This time it’s him who makes the admittance. You tighten up at this confession, and it evokes a low groan from him, almost as if you had forced the sound to come from all the way down his throat.

“I know.” You gasp out, not able to speak clearly with how deep Suguru is hitting. Your living room is filled with the wet clicks and slaps of skin against skin, your juices coating his cock every time he pulls out.

The vein on the underside of his cock rubs against your walls, and the slight curve of it enables him to hit that gummy spot inside of you that has you seeing stars. You’ve never given much thought to cocks, but you know that Suguru’s is the prettiest of them all.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He grunts out, lips brushing against the soft skin of your neck before biting down; gentle enough not to draw blood, sharp enough to still leave a mark. You rock against him, hips moving in tandem with his thrusts, the steady hum of pleasure continuously building up in your lower belly. You are dizzy with pleasure; blanketed in it, being spoon fed it.

He doesn’t need you to say it to know it’s true, but you moan it out anyway, both to appease him and because there’s a sort of pride in knowing that you belong to him.

“I’m yours. I belong to you.” The words are separated, punctuated, by the little gasps for air you give out because with every word, he thrusts up even harder, hitting that special spot that will have you cumming all over him, making a mess.

“Yeah?” It comes out sounding like a shaky breath, and he’s close, you know it, you can feel it.

Calloused pads belonging to fingers much larger than yours are being pressed against your clit. You’re soaked, and the dryness of his hands combining with your overall slickness gives way to delicious friction that has you cumming with his name as a broken moan filtering through your swollen lips.

“That’s it, baby. Good girl. Good fucking girl.” He mutters, relishing in the way your walls tighten, spasm, clenching and unclenching sporadically as your body loses its energy and you press yourself up against his chest.

He follows after just a few more sloppy thrusts, the last one forcing himself as deep inside of you as possible. His cum is hot and thick, and it’s filling you to the brim. If he pulls out now, it’ll flood out of you, and the thought is both sad and hot at the same time. You want his cum inside of you, to serve as a reminder that this is real, that he’s real.

But seeing the physicality of him staking his claim, white seed dripping out of you, turns you on. Him, too, with the look of fascination and boyish wonder he has in his eyes as he stares at how the two of you are connected.

Before he can bother with confirming a round two, a sharp knock on the door has the two of you comically jumping a bit in surprise, both of you glancing at the door and then at each other.

“[Name], I know you’re in there!” You freeze.

Satoru.

Suguru wants to try to calm you down, whisper to you that everything’s going to be fine, but the anger laced in his best friend’s — former best friend’s — voice is enough to make him freeze up, too. Not just his icy tone, but what he says.

“I know you’re back, too, Suguru.”

#suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto smut #geto suguru smut #one shot #jjk x reader #jjk smut #angst #drabble #imagine

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writingforatwistedworld · 4 months

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Hii, I'm glad you're back . Even if it was for a few days you really left a place in tumblr not just for your work but for your presence itself.

I had a question for a while and I'm sorry if you answered it before and I seemed to not notice , if that's the case then forgive my ignorance but I was wondering , since sebek seems to respect his grandfather alot and has inherited the hate for humans from him and it's a known fact in self-aware au that the faes 'love' the overseer alot I must say.. does that mean that sebek also inherited his 'love' for the overseer from his granpa? If so how did green grandpa see the overseer, what made him 'love' them and how does he show it .

If you don't want to write this then feel free to ignore it , hope you have a great day and don't forget to drink water and eat well<33

Hi there Anon. It's so sweet of you to say that. I didn't think I would have made such an impression on anyone. But I completely forgot to write about Sebeks grandfather -_-

Well, better late than never.

Self-aware au

WARNINGS: Jp-version spoiler (like, the whole thing!!!), (Platonic!) yandere themes, war, religion, unhealthy mindset, isolation, unhealthy family dynamic

(Platonic!) Yandere headcanons

Ah yes, our local way too loud and loyal member of the reptilian family. No need to to worry about him. I mean, what could go wrong? (Hehe…)

Baul was not from the Valley of Thorns. Growing up in Sunset Savannah he did not grow up with the beliefs of the Faes (in other words, he was not part of a religious cult)

So imagine the huge shock he felt when he finally became a solider under the Draconia banner and started to become more and more like the other Faes

Well, for starters, yes, he wasn't indoctrinated into the whole church thing since birth but also wasn't raised to see you as an equal like the beastmen of the Savannah

You could say that he was a healthy mixture of both

Emphasis on the “was”

You see, isolation and being the only one sticking out (if we discount the humans invading the valley) does leave you open for a lot of things

If we count two (being the surroundings he was in) and two (his more or less unnoticed loneliness) together, we can see pretty fast where that led

Never mind his superior (and friend I mean come on they might as well be brothers) Lilia constantly rambling about the Overseer, savior of all, and how you accepted everyone in your kind embrace

Ok. Nice. Neat. Great. In the beginning, Baul wasn't very interested in joining any kind of religion

But the longer the war held on, the more he wished there was someone he could ask for help in his task of protecting those he deemed close to himself (you see the generational pattern?)

At some point, even the proudest of all can't hold on for forever

So he turned to you, the supposed God that was on so gentle

And goddamn that religious gaslighting and placebo effect worked damn well

Not only did he feel like there was someone there who supported him from somewhere in the universe (even though that was just him believing too much but let have him have some hope, ok?) but also he finally had a community

Whenever he would leave one of the many churches in the valley a Fae would approach, thanking him for protecting their home

Sooner than later did the former non-believer think of himself as your chosen shield of the valley

The war came and went away

If only the same thing could be said about Bauls new religious beliefs

And when he saw that grandson of his, cute little chubby hands that gripped a wooden toy sword tightly, he knew that his position as the valleys shield would not cease

Yes, even Baul would die one day. Fae or not, he was at the end of the day mortal

But that talent of his grandson would surely be of use to you, right?

If his younger self would see him like this, would it run away? Would it feel disgust at the thought that his future self would use his own grandson for selfish, religious reasons?

If only Baul knew that “God” didn't even know they were living beings that existed in a different world…

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #platonic #twst x reader #baul zigvolt #twst baul #Platonic Baul #tw: yandere #tw: religion #tw: obsessive behavior #tw: family problems #tw: unhealthy mindset

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raisans-art · 2 months

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Growing up with your eel but it used to be your brother but you don’t know that

Brothers’ Starter AU momence

Enjoy :)

#submas #submas au #ingo #subway boss ingo #emmet #subway boss emmet #submas angst #brothers starter au

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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6 to 1 | lando norris (part 2)

paring: lando norris x leclerlc!reader part 2 in the 6 to 1 series (read part 1 here)

you're a bit of a flirt, the drivers understand that even if charles doesn't and recently you've been a little less careful about your interactions in the paddock. you'd think that would deter lando, but he's still committed to moving up your ranking, no matter what it takes

word count: 6.1k tags: established friendships, minor social media au aspects, poorly translated French

“What’s it going to take for you to love me?”

Lando practically forced you away from your brother and Carlos as you walked behind them. You were staring down at your phone and didn’t even see the McLaren driver headed your way so it was safe to say you were startled when he grabbed your wrist to pull you aside.

You pushed your sunglasses up to your head, “Excuse me?”

Lando sighed, as if having to repeat himself was such an inconvenience. “What’s it going to take for you to love me?”

At this point, Carlos and Charles had noticed you stopped following them and were making their way back to you. Carlos was amused at your interaction whereas Charles was uncertain. He couldn’t tell what Lando’s motives were or if they went beyond moving up your driver ranking.

You pretended to think about it for a second and Lando looked hopeful, as if there were genuine steps he could take to get you to like him more.

You counted on your fingers, “Be about four inches taller, for starters,” You held out a second finger, “Have darker features and…” a third finger, “Don’t be a Formula 1 driver.”

Lando wasn’t impressed with your answers, mostly because they didn’t help at all and you weren’t being the least bit serious. Instead of trying to get some real information out of you, he reacted like a child and yanked your sunglasses off your head before turning and running down the paddock.

You cupped your hands around your mouth to help with the volume of your voice, “This is why you’re fifth on my ranking!”

Carlos waited until you rejoined him and Charles before asking about the sudden change, “I thought he was sixth?”

“Oh, I mean-” you waved your hand outwards, “yeah he worked his way up, I guess. By default.”

“By default?” Charles asked. You weren’t making any sense, but you also weren’t about to explain why Lando was now fifth, nor did you know how to explain why Pierre had been dropped without coming clean about hooking up with him.

Your shoulders tensed, “Yeah, I-”

“Hold on,” Charles came to a sudden halt. He pulled his sunglasses off his face and looked back and forth between you and Carlos. Neither of you knew what he was doing, but you felt obligated to freeze until he opened his mouth again. “Is Carlos your ideal man?”

It took you a second to figure out how Charles came to that conclusion, but you did say to Lando if he was four inches taller and had dark features, you’d love him. Which practically described Carlos. The only thing was, Charles was missing an important detail.

“Carlos is a Formula 1 driver. I don't date drivers.” you pointed out, starting your walk to the garage again. Carlos moved at your pace, draping his arm over your shoulder as Charles tagged along behind you two.

“What if I wasn’t a driver?” Carlos asked, a playful smile on his lips.

You smacked his chest, “No.”

“No,” Charles repeated, much louder. “Y/N, I am going to take away your paddock access if you don’t stop flirting with the grid.”

You held up your hand and stuck up your middle finger, a beaming grin on your face knowing Charles was staring at it with betrayal. Carlos laughed, tugging you into his side as you continued walking, leaving Charles to mutter a string of complaints the entire way down the paddock.

“So Lando made it to your top five?” Carlos asked, reaching for a pair of Ferrari headphones to hand to you.

“Unfortunately.”

“And where am I on this list?”

You slid the bright red headset over your ears, rolling your eyes, “Bold of you to assume you’re in my top five.”

“Of course I am,” there was a glint in his eye as he walked you to the visitor booth at the back of the garage. He waited until you stepped up to lean against the barrier, crossing his arms over it as he looked up at you. “Charles is probably first, which means I am second, no?”

You didn’t confirm or deny where the Ferrari driver stood, deciding to just press your palm to his forehead to push him away from the booth. Carlos laughed and before he could gear up to get into his car, you wished him good luck for the qualifying session.

You caught that faint sliver of a smile he sent you before sliding his helmet on and it took most of your attention that you flinched when you noticed Charles standing next to you. As you placed your hand on your chest to steady your heart, you couldn’t help but notice his scowl.

“What is your problem?” You asked, dropping the headset to rest around your neck. You wanted Charles to know that he had all of your attention because clearly something was bothering him. And if he performed poorly during qualifying because of it, he’d blame you.

“I don’t like it,” his gaze was stuck on his teammate, watching as Carlos chatted with the employee assisting him with his helmet strap.

But you weren’t following. Your brother seemed to be referring to a made up scenario he came up with that involved yourself and Carlos and the thought alone made you laugh. As in, tip your head back and cackle so loud that people turned over their shoulders to see what sort of animal just wandered into the garage.

Even Carlos looked at you. Through his helmet and with his faint head tilt, you could tell he was wondering what was so funny. You did your best to get your humorous expression under control and turned back to Charles.

“I don’t actually like Carlos, you know that right?” He had to have known that. Charles made it clear time and time again that he would figure out a way to kick you out of the Leclerc family if you started dating a driver, hence why you were so on edge about Pierre running his mouth around the paddock.

“You flirt with him a lot,” was his only reasoning.

“I think you’re looking for a reason to be annoyed with me.”

“Well I mean-” Charles shrugged a shoulder, “I don’t know, Y/N, tone it down a bit, is all.”

“Just get in the car and focus on qualifying,” you pushed on his shoulder right as someone handed him his helmet.

Charles definitely looked like he had more he wanted to say, but now was not the time to get into it. You gave him a thumbs up before he turned around, making the smart decision to put his focus into the upcoming sessions than to worry about you.

A friend of yours sent you the twitter thread after qualifying had ended and you thought that replying to it would not only be funny, but put some rumours to rest.

You definitely did post Carlos a lot, but you were with him a lot. It was just something that happened.

But you had no idea how the photos of you and each of the drivers surfaced. You tried to be careful and not be outwardly flirtatious or cross any lines, even as a joke, in public, but it seemed like some fans were starting to get suspicious.

You stepped into the paddock, water bottle in your grasp, your hand acting as a shield from the rare Montreal sun seeing as everyone expected this weekend to be a wet one.

“You look like you could use some sunglasses.”

Lando’s little tease had you stopping in your tracks. Your arm fell to your side as you turned on your heels and watched as the McLaren driver pushed himself away from a flag pole to walk towards you. How long had he been standing there? His racing suit undone and hung horribly low on his hips as his black fireproof long sleeve clung to his body.

“Don’t you have media to do or something?” You pestered, eyeing your sunglasses that he tucked into his collar, looking extremely out of place compared to the rest of his driving attire.

Lando stepped forward and you flinched when he raised a single finger up to your forehead, tracing his fingertip over the lines above your eyebrows, “You shouldn’t squint, you’ll get wrinkles.”

“Maybe if I had my sunglasses-” you reached for the accessory but Lando’s reaction time had you beat by miles. He jumped back and his laughter rang through your ears.

He adjusted them on his collar and when you realised you weren’t going to win this battle, you figured it wasn’t even worth it to fight.

And if he held onto them for the rest of the day, he’d have an excuse to find you later to give them back.

Not that you wanted that.

But you also didn’t not want that.

You didn’t know what you wanted, all you knew was that Lando confused you and each time you saw him this weekend so far, you held your breath or rolled your eyes or sometimes both.

Right now it was both as he sauntered to your side, draping his arm over your shoulder casually, as if you weren’t surrounded by people with cameras and smartphones with the ability to pick up on this little exchange and ultimately spin a story out of it.

Lando didn’t care, he had something else on his mind.

“Did you see where I placed?”

“Place what?”

He knew that you knew what he was talking about and the fact that you were making him work for it was, purposely, annoying. He tugged harshly on a handful of your hair which resulted in you pinching his side as retaliation. Lando knocked your water bottle out of your hand and jumped back to put space between you before you could yank on his driver suit, which you were trying to do.

You were children, essentially. Anyone walking by would see a couple of twenty-something year olds play fighting. You with a glare on your face and Lando with a cheeky grin because you picked up your water bottle and tried to throw it at him and the fucker managed to catch it like it was nothing.

“Qualifying, you little shit,” Lando finally clarified when he sensed you had given up on this immature battle. He tossed the bottle up and caught it with ease, still wearing that same smile. “I start fifth tomorrow.”

“Is that supposed to impress me?”

He winded his arm back and pretended to throw the bottle at you. Automatically, you held your hand up in defence and squinted, bracing yourself for an impact that never came. Instead, Lando stepped forward and grabbed your hand to lower it, a non verbal assurance that he wouldn't actually throw a water bottle at you…this time.

You noticed that his fingers lingered on yours longer than they should have. Lando did too and he handed over your drink, raising his hand to scratch the back of his neck to play off whatever that little gesture was.

“Lance starts tenth,” he pointed out.

Just to piss him off, you clenched your hand to your chest and sighed dreamily, “My Canadian hero.”

“He starts tenth!” Lando repeated himself, much louder this time. “Come on, Y/N, this has to move me up your ranking.”

“Qualifying higher doesn’t mean you get points,” you weren’t about to let him get his hopes up. “Finish ahead of Lance tomorrow and I’ll see about bumping you up to fourth.”

“You are cruel.”

“You sound funny when you say that,” the corner of your lips curled upwards when his British accent made the ‘r’ sound in cruel come across more like crool.

“You sound funny.”

“Good burn, you really got me,” your words were layered with heavy sarcasm and you watched as Lando rolled his eyes. You two could probably set a world record for the amount of time eye rolls are exchanged in a single conversation.

“I don’t actually mean that,” Lando suddenly flipped a switch, his cheekiness being replaced by a bashful smile. “I like your accent. I like when you speak French, even if I don’t understand it.”

You could have thanked him for the compliment, if it could have even been considered one, but that wasn’t the type of friendship you had with Lando. You liked making his life difficult and in return, he liked to annoy you.

So you stepped up to him until there was only a few inches between your bodies. He seemed confused when you placed your hand on the side of his cheek, a soft gesture, one to purposely mislead him.

“Oh Lando,” you whispered, your smile growing warm. “Tu as le QI d'une huitre.”

You watched as Lando tried to piece together what you had just told him and he definitely was hoping it was polite because the way your voice sounded like silk made him think you were giving him a compliment. But Lando knew you, so he wasn’t counting on it.

“Tu as..” he mumbled to himself as you laughed. “Huitre? What is that? What’s that mean?”

You patted his cheek, deciding it was best to let him figure it out on his own. He probably wouldn’t have, let’s be honest here, but as luck would have it, Lando spotted one of the two French drivers on the grid headed in their direction.

Lando waved him over and you watched as Pierre slid his phone into his pocket, figuring that the conversation he was about to walk into was much more entertaining than whatever his phone could offer him.

Much like Lando, Pierre still wore his driver's suit, the upper half unzipped and hanging loose around his hips. He greeted Lando with a fist bump and congratulated him on his P5 starting position, and then he turned to you.

Your relationship with Pierre wasn’t awkward, but this was the first time you’ve seen him since finding out he told half the grid you slept together. In his eyes, nothing was wrong but you were uneasy around him. He gave your arm a gentle squeeze, something he often did when he walked past and just had time for a quick hello, something that you used to love because it told you that Pierre wasn’t disregarding you, he cared about you. And now you found yourself tensing, just for a moment, but you simply didn’t want him touching you.

You thought that you putting on a good poker face and acting normally, but Lando noticed right away how apprehensive you were about Pierre's gesture. Instead of allowing there to be a lull in conversation for Pierre to also notice and call you out on it, Lando acted fast. He draped his arm over your shoulders and pulled you closer to his side, creating a bigger gap between you and Pierre.

“Gasly can you translate something for me?” Lando asked him. “Little Leclerc here said ‘tu as le huitre’ what the hell does that mean?”

“Tu as le que huitre…” Pierre shook his head seeing as Lando was missing a few words. “That doesn’t make any- oh, tu as le QI d'une huitre.” He looked at you, a smile curling up on his lips as he continued talking to you in French, “Oui? C'est ce que vous avez dit?” That’s what you said?

You nodded, but part of you hated that Lando couldn’t understand your words. You didn’t want to be able to have a private conversation with Pierre, you didn’t even want to talk to him right now. Lando being left out left you open to a sense of vulnerability with Pierre.

So you switched back to English, “He told me he liked when I spoke French.”

Pierre chuckled, “I don’t think that’s what he had in mind.”

Lando tightened his arm around you, putting you in a headlock for a second, “Will someone please tell me-”

“You have the IQ of an oyster, mate,” Pierre interjected, ending the translation with laughter. “That’s what Y/N said.”

Lando tilted his chin to look down at you, brows pinched, eyes narrowed, lips pressed together tighter. He was definitely taking back that compliment right about now and all you could do was offer him a guilty smile.

“I’m a lot smarter than an oyster,”

“Okay.”

“Why are you so cruel to me?”

“Why do you pronounce cruel like crool?”

Lando squinted at you, not able to come up with a suitable answer. And because you were finally within reach, you took this opportunity to snatch your sunglasses from the collar of his shirt and slide them on your face.

“Am I missing something here?” Pierre suddenly asked. Both you and the McLaren driver turned to him. Pierre was wagging his finger between the two of you, looking as if he was trying to solve a puzzle and somewhere between the close contact of you and Lando he'd find the last piece.

You shook Lando’s arm off of you, “What do you mean?”

“You’re-” he stopped short, licking his lips before changing his choice of wording. “I don’t know, Y/N, you don’t usually flirt out in the open like this.”

You crossed your arms over your chest, “Excuse me?”

Pierre held up a hand defensively and tried to play the observation off with a breath of laughter, “I’m not wrong. It’s entertaining, for sure, but you’re always so worried about Charles seeing, are you not?”

Were you flirting?

Every once and a while you’d flirt with Carlos, just for fun because you both knew it meant nothing.

But even Charles called you out on it earlier, for flirting with his teammate. Maybe you weren’t as subtle or maybe you just didn’t care if Charles was a witness to it anymore.

And Lando…honestly you weren’t even aware you were doing anything. You were just having fun, trying to get on his nerves while simultaneously hoping to make him smile. That wasn’t flirting, was it?

Or maybe Pierre was projecting. You never flirted publicly with him, he was your brother's best friend for christ's sake. Charles would find a way to ban you from the paddock if he caught wind of you two becoming a little too friendly.

You went with that option. It was easier than admitting that you were in fact being careless.

“I think you’re a little jealous,” the corner of your lip twitched into a smirk. Even Lando tried to hide his snicker, probably having thought the same thing.

As soon as you said it though, you regretted it. You recognized the mischievous glint in Pierre’s eye, one that practically screamed he had no reason to be jealous of Lando. Lando wasn’t the one you slept with. Lando never saw you the way he did.

And even though all three of you knew what took place, Pierre wasn’t going to say anything, still under the impression you were thinking he had kept it a secret.

You didn’t want him getting away with it. You wanted to slap that arrogant expression right off his face. The last thing you wanted was for Pierre to be able to walk away from this conversation with a higher sense of self than he already had.

But you also weren’t going to cause a scene in the paddock. Whatever conversation you wanted to have with Pierre, could wait.

“Good luck tomorrow,” you told him, forcing the wish through gritted teeth. You turned to Lando, “Where are you headed?”

“Where- what?” Lando repeated.

“Where are you going right now?” You asked. “I’ll walk with you.”

Pierre got the hint. You were purposely ignoring him and making an effort to not include him in the paddock. Your body faced Lando’s, a physical barrier between you and Pierre and you had the feeling he would call you out on it later. He too wasn’t going to get into any of this in the middle of the paddock.

“McLaren motorhome,” Lando finally answered. He nodded his head towards Pierre, “I’ll see you later, mate.”

Pierre seemed a little annoyed, but said nothing as he turned around. You waited until he was out of earshot before releasing a heavy breath.

“I just don’t want to be around Pierre.”

“Yeah I think that was pretty obvious.”

He then nudged his elbow against yours, wanting you to uncross your arms and loosen up a little. You did, reluctantly, but it was easy to push Pierre out of your head when Lando was giving you one of his classic grins.

You started to back up, “I won’t actually walk with you, you’ve probably got-”

“I want you to walk with me, though,” he cut you off, starting off in the McLaren motorhome direction. “Just don’t call me an oyster.”

“I didn’t call you an Oyster.”

“Fine, don’t compare me to one.”

You glanced around, wondering if continuing on your walk with Lando was really the best idea right now. You enjoyed his company, but you didn’t want people to get the wrong idea. The more you accompanied him, the more likely people would be coming to their own conclusions.

But with Lando’s encouraging head nod beckoning you to walk with him, followed by a smile you really couldn’t say no to, you found yourself at his side, on the way to the motorhome.

You tapped his arm with the back of his hand, “You know that this-” you gestured between yourself and him. “-we, you know, this whole thing it’s not- it’s not real, Lando.”

Lando seemed unaffected by your words, yet another rejection he was going to ignore, “What’s not real?”

“Like if I flirt with you, it doesn’t mean anything,” you clarified.

He nodded once. And then again a few seconds later as if it really sunk in.

“Well, maybe if you let me take you out on a real date-”

You pushed your shoulder into his, shoving him towards the middle of the paddock as he laughed, the last of his sentence fading into the air.

“Okay fine,” Lando cleared his throat, strolling back towards you after adjusting the suit on his hips. “What if I get a podium?”

“I’m not following.”

“Will you go on a date with me, a real one, if I land a podium tomorrow?”

You actually laughed at the thought. Lando rolled his eyes, trying not to be personally offended by your reaction.

“Lando, just focus on your race,” you said, trying to mask your amusement by scratching the corner of your lip. “If you do better than Lance, maybe you’ll move up the ranking. A date isn’t going to do anything to help you.”

He shrugged innocently, “What if I just want to go on a date with you?”

“Why?”

“Why?” He repeated back, quite loudly might you add. You both looked around you but no one was paying either of you any attention, “Y/N come on, why wouldn’t I want to go on a date with you? You’re-” he took in a sharp inhale, “I mean, you’re stunning, for starters.”

“That’s it?” You raised your eyebrows. “My appearance? That’s all I have going for me?” You swiftly turned on your heels, “See ya’ later, Norris.”

“Hey, no, come on now.”

Lando was quick to grab hold of your wrist and tug you back. The sudden turn made you stumble over your own feet and you fell directly into his chest. Lando’s hand slid up your arm to help you regain your balance, but he didn’t let go of you once you were upright again.

He took a breath.

“When I see you during race weekends, my mood instantly improves,” Lando said, but he didn’t say it in a way that told you this was a sudden realisation. This was something he had known for a while, but never shared with you. “You’re so fun. I can be myself around you and you also grew up around motorsport so you’re familiar with this lifestyle. And I love talking to you, Y/N, even if it's just for a few minutes before I have to go to qualifying or- or now as we walk down the paddock and then go our separate ways. Your looks are- well they're definitely a plus, but they're not why I like you. I promise.”

You were speechless.

Genuinely, not a single word came to mind. Lando wasn’t one to just spurt out a string of compliments, let alone to you.

“Has it ever crossed your mind that maybe I want to go on a date because I just like spending time with you?”

“But the-” your mouth felt dry. “My ranking?”

Lando shrugged, “Well if I move up then that’s just an added bonus.”

Still, you were hesitant. His words were heartwarming, probably the nicest things you’ve heard in a long time, but you couldn’t just casually agree to go out with him.

The only upside was, Lando scoring a podium in his McLaren was extremely rare. He had yet to so far this season, it was unlikely one would come for him tomorrow.

“Fine,” you nodded firmly. “If you get a podium, I’ll go out with you.”

Lando seemed taken aback, like he didn’t think you’d actually say yes. Any other day, you wouldn’t have. But the podium ultimatum and his strangely out of pocket compliments pushed you towards possibly giving him a chance.

“What if I win?”

“Don’t push it.”

Lando’s head tipped back as he chuckled, “Come on, what if I win?”

Your arms flailed out to your side as you thought of something on the spot, “I don’t know, Lando. I’ll sleep with you.”

Lando’s eyes widened more than you thought possible and his jaw fell open. His grip on your arm loosened, probably because he couldn’t focus on anything other than staring right at you, completely frozen.

You lifted your hand to his chin to gently close his mouth, “I was joking.”

“But- you-” Lando sputtered, having trouble forming a coherent thought. “You can’t just say that. For Christ's sake, how am I supposed to do anything for the rest of the day?”

“Again, it was a joke,” you felt the need to repeat yourself so Lando didn’t get any hopes up. He was a guy. And like most guys, they thought with their dicks 9 out of 10 times. “Just focus on the race, okay?”

Lando’s head fell backwards and he looked up to the clear sky, looking for some sort of higher figure that could give him the answers he wanted. You patted his cheek before playfully pushing him in the direction of the McLaren motorhome.

“I’m going to go find Charles,” you said, using his silence as a reason to part ways.

You barely got a few feet away from Lando when he snapped out of his little daze and called after you, “But you weren’t joking about the date, right?”

“Focus on the race, Lando!” You called back, cupping the side of your mouth. You watched as he gave you one last eye roll and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t notice him trying to subtly adjust himself through his racing suit.

When you left to go find your brother, you had no idea that Lando would be replaying your words in his head for the remainder of the day.

If you get a podium, I’ll go out with you.

And if I win?

I’ll sleep with you.

He knew it was a joke, the sleeping with him part, but that didn’t mean it didn’t motivate him.

You were clueless to the fact that Lando paid more attention than normal during his post qualifying debrief. He usually gave the team anywhere from 90-95% of full focus, discussing his results, the strategies for tomorrow and everything in between. But today, it was 110%. Asking more questions and repeating them back for clarification. He wanted to get the most out of the car tomorrow, he wanted the date with you.

When you were sitting in the hotel lobby, chatting with a member of the Ferrari team, you weren’t paying attention when Lando walked through the doors. Up until now, neither of you were aware you were even in the same hotel, but Lando spotted you quickly. How could he not? Your captivating eyes and bold smile lit up the lobby at the end of a busy day. He was tired and ready for bed, but if you had noticed him and invited him to sit down, he would have happily nestled onto the couch next to you.

And Lando didn’t know that when someone called his name, you heard it. A faint ‘Lando’ echoed through your ear and momentarily pulled you away from your conversation. You weren’t trying to be rude when you looked over your shoulder and away from the team member, but you wanted to know if Lando was really in the room.

Sure enough, the second you found him leaning against the corner in the elevator, the doors slowly started to shut. He was looking down at his phone and hadn’t been watching you, but you didn’t know that he had been watching you up until he stepped into that steel box.

If you had caught his eye a second earlier, you probably would have ended your conversation and caught up with him to join him on the ride up. Just so you could have a few extra seconds to chat with him, see if you could an eye roll or two out of him before going your separate ways again.

Because for some reason, you really fucking liked talking to him too. He annoyed you at times, but in a way where you couldn’t actually stay mad and found some joy between his teasing. You could be yourself around him too, there weren’t any guards up around Lando.

You could admit you hung around outside the doors of the Ferrari motorhome longer than normal on Sunday, just in case Lando walked by. Was it so wrong that you wanted to wish him well before the race?

But as luck would have it, Lando wasn’t the driver to walk by and grab your attention. You looked up from your phone just in time to see Pierre making his way up the bright red steps.

“Can we talk?” He asked, but he only phrased it as a question for show. He wasn’t going to give you an option to walk away. Pierre leaned against the railing opposite of you.

“About?” You slid your phone into your pocket, head tilted innocently at the French driver.

“Yesterday,” he said. “There was just a bit of tension, Y/N, and don’t tell me there wasn’t any. I just want to know if we’re okay.”

You played dumb, “Why wouldn’t we?”

“Well I-”

“Because I was under the impression we would act as though what happened at Christmas didn’t happen,” you interjected sharply, a hint of sarcasm in your voice as you let Pierre piece together what you knew. “I sort of assumed that we would move on and be friends and that we wouldn’t tell anyone. So unless…something changed…why would there be tension, Pierre?”

You practically spelled it out for him. Something had in fact changed. Pierre didn’t know how to keep his mouth shut.

He dragged his hand over his face, “What did Lando say?”

“It doesn’t matter what Lando said!” You exclaimed with a bitter laugh. “We agreed to not say anything and yet you’ve gone and told half the grid!”

“Half the grid is a bit of a stretch.”

“I’ve told no one.”

“Well it’s different for you.”

“You’re such an ass,” you scoffed. “I don’t want Charles finding out, Pierre.”

“He won’t!”

“He will if you don’t stop talking to people about what happened six months ago,” you started to ascend up the stairs, having had enough of this conversation.

You had just reached for the handle when Pierre suddenly yelled out, “I’m sorry.”

All you could do was glance over your shoulder, “If you were sorry, you wouldn’t have done it, Pierre. We both knew sleeping together was a mistake but I didn’t regret it,” you paused, releasing a soft breath. “Now I do.”

You walked into the motorhome without giving him another chance to apologise and you stayed there until it was time to head down to the garage. All hopes of seeing Lando had now vanished, you didn’t want to step outside and see anyone.

Was Lando disappointed when he walked past Ferrari and didn’t see you anywhere? A little, but he wouldn’t admit it. He thought maybe he’d catch you before the race, most drivers headed towards the garages at the same time anyway.

And when that time came, he spotted the bright red attire of Carlos and Charles, but you weren’t anywhere to be found. He even went the long way to the McLaren garage just to try and sneak a glance into Ferrari and see you in the visitor booth, but you weren’t there.

You didn’t show up until minutes before the cars were wheeled out towards the grid. You wished Charles good luck and grabbed a headset, finding a spot in the booth beside the VIP guests and family members.

When you glanced at the screen, your eyes landed on Lando sitting in fifth.

You would always root for a Ferrari 1-2, but what if Lando found himself on the podium today?

There were no words exchanged since you left him in the paddock yesterday. You doubted the date idea was forgotten about, but you wondered how serious Lando was about using it as motivation.

Not wanting to think too much about it, you focused on the race, something you've been telling the drivers to do for the last 24 hours.

The first ten laps, nothing happened. Charles kept his second place position, Lando dropped down to seventh.

By lap 11, George, who was in third, spun out, taking himself out of the race and Checo as well.

The safety car helped Lando catch up and because two cars were officially retired, he found himself in fifth, fighting for fourth.

A close call from Max earned him a five second grid penalty and when he went into the pits, his team unintentionally screwed him over. The wrong tyre was grabbed and his pit stop, that shouldn’t have been any longer than 8 seconds, ended up being almost twenty. Equivalent to an hour during a race.

Suddenly Lando was in fourth.

Charles led the race, Carlos behind, Lewis in third.

There was no way Lando had better pace than Lewis, not in that shitbox of a McLaren that seemed to provide horrible results week after week.

But then Lewis started struggling with degradation and Lando was catching up.

It was nearing lap 67 by the time Lando was within DRS range. You held your breath each time he activated it, letting his rear wing open. Each corner brought him closer and closer to Lewis.

And you had no idea what his end result was. When it became clear that the team was going to get a Ferrari 1-2, the crowd of you ran towards the gates to be able to celebrate with the drivers when they parked. As much as you wanted to see the battle between Lewis and Lando, you had to be there for your brother.

So you ran with the team, screaming in excitement when the chequered flag was waved at the end of lap 70. Charles taking home a win, Carlos close behind. They parked their cars in front of the banners labelled 1 and 2 and shared a congratulatory hug after stepping out of the cockpits.

But who got third?

Your view was blocked, you genuinely had no idea who crossed the line after Carlos. You wouldn’t know until the third place car finished their cool down lap and pulled in, which should be happening any second now.

You gave your brother a hug, squeezing his arms, all while keeping an eye at the end of the lane.

And then your question was answered.

The bright orange car drove up and came to a sudden halt in front of the third place banner. The McLaren crew crowded the barrier next to everyone from Ferrari, ready to congratulate the British driver.

Time froze for you as he climbed out of the car, fisting pumping the air. This was his first podium this season. He was overjoyed, he was walking on air, he was on top of the fucking world.

And then he took his helmet off and spotted you.

Lando should have gone directly for his team. He should have jumped into their arms and celebrated with them, but he used Carlos as an excuse to be near you. He patted Carlos on the back, the two of them sharing the same level of excitement, before he turned to you.

You held your breath as he leaned in, a wicked smile on his face, he didn’t even care that he was surrounded by a sea of red or that his team was waiting for him or that the media was definitely catching how you were the first person he approached after landing himself a podium.

You barely caught his eye before he dipped his face towards your ear, speaking only loud enough for you to catch his words.

“You free tonight?"

All you could do was nod.

Lando pulled away, but not before brushing his hand over your arm, sending a chill down your spine.

"Perfect."

masterlist here | part 3 in the series here taglist: @moneymasnn @thotd-f1 @masonspulisic

#lando norris #lando norris au #lando norris instagram edit #lando norris social media au #lando norris fic #f1 requests #f1 #f1 fic #formula 1 #lando norris x y/n #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #holllandtrash

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personasintro · 7 months

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Mutual Help | #29

↳ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬; in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires ⏤ he calls it mutual help

⇢ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jungkook x reader

⇢ 𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: fake dating au, fluff, angst, smut, slow burn

⇢ 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: explicit language, mature content

⇢ 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 6.4k+

⇠ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯. | 𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐱 | 𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 ⇢

"Come on, Y/N," Jungkook chuckles, nose scrunched at the distress on your face as soon as you step out of the car and meet his very amused expression. "They're just my parents, nothing to be stressed about."

Rolling your eyes, his words bring no comfort to you whatsoever and it's noticeable on your face. "Yeah, exactly. They haven't seen me for-- fuck, I can't even remember the last time I've seen them." you gasp.

What if they don't want you here? You're coming with their son to visit them, you're practically a stranger to them. No matter how much welcomed they made you feel when you first visited. But it was for three hours, not for the weekend. It doesn't matter how many times Jungkook assured you on your way to Busan, that his parents know you're coming and they're excited to see you again, you feel like you're about to meet your parents-in-law (which is ridiculous). This is your best friend's parents whom you met already. You just worry you'll be a burden to them, even though you know they're lovely people.

"Two years ago," Jungkook responds, "The first time you came with me to Busan and visited them."

You're so annoyed how careless he's taking this, which of course he does, these are his parents he can't wait to see and unfortunately don't get to see that often. You know he usually calls his mom almost every day and they even video chat together throughout the week. Still, you hate how you're the only person feeling uneasy.

"Fuck," you breathe out, "It's been that long?" you whine, ready to smack your face into the palms of your hands but before you can do that, Jungkook stops you and grabs your shoulders.

"For starters, stop swearing," he advises, causing you to gulp as you obediently nod. Shit, you hope you won't swear in front of them. Sometimes you can't control it, maybe that's why Jungkook is warning you in front of their house. "And stop, my parents like you. Jungwon too."

"Jungwon?"

Your eyes widen at the mention of Jungkook's older brother. You got the chance to meet him and hang out with him, with Jungkook of course, a couple of times when he was visiting Seoul or you went to Busan with Jungkook. It's safe to say his older brother has his own charms, just like it runs in the family, which explains the little crush you had on him when you were eighteen. You were at that age when not many guys looked attractive enough for you but Jungwon, that was a whole nother story. Surprisingly, Jungkook resembles his father a lot. He's a spitting image of him with a tiny mixture of features that he got from his mother. However, Jungwon resembles Mrs. Jeon.

"Yeah, he's coming too." Jungkook tells you, shrugging and your jaw drops ready to scold him that he missed this tiny fact and hadn't told you. Something tells you he purposely left that fact out, already sensing your uncertainty when it came closer to the weekend.

Before a swear word can leave your mouth (because you're just like that and that's exactly why Jungkook alerted you to not swear), the front door of Jeon's house is pushed open before a cheerful voice carries itself onto the street.

"Jungkookie!"

There is no mistake the voice belongs to Jungkook's mother, the same sweet and melodic voice you got to hear personally two years ago, or whenever Jungkook calls with her and you just happen to be there.

Jungkook turns to you, giving you a perfect view of his little scrunched nose from the nickname his mother calls him, growing embarrassed but you see the warmth spreading on his lips and in his eyes at the sight of his mother. He doesn't hesitate, calling out to her before they both meet in a loving hug.

"Were you waiting by the door?" Jungkook teases her, obviously knowing how excited she's been to finally see her son after a couple of months of not seeing him personally. Video and voice calls only do so little.

"No, I just walked past the window a few times until I saw your car parking in front of the house," she tells him, causing the two of them to laugh and to be fair, it makes you smile in amusement because there's obviously so much excitement evident on her face.

"Y/N, sweetheart! Don't just stand there, come here so I can give you a hug too!" she calls out to you, hands already waving you over as you smile and make your way to the both of them.

You barely get to greet her properly before you're being crushed in a hug, her arms tightly wrapped around your frame while she pats your back a couple of times. Or more like smacks which makes you choke, earning an amused chuckle from Jungkook beside you who simply just pats his mother's shoulder.

"Don't choke her, mom. I kinda need her." he says jokingly, causing you to snort and if his mom wasn't here, you would give him a proper smack.

Listening to her son, she lets you go but still lets her hands graze over your forearm as she stares at you with wide and happy eyes. She looks good, almost too good for a woman of her age. By that you don't mean that she's old, but she looks way younger than a woman who has two adult sons. There are a few wrinkles adoring her face, mainly beside her eyes and mouth mostly caused by her smiling rather than her being in her late forties. But she looks just the same since you last saw her, even better.

"It's so good to see you, Mrs. Jeon." you grin, giving her a slight bow which she just waves off as if there's no reason for you to do that.

She's always been more friendly, rather than formal and strict. Maybe that's why Jungkook is such a lovely human being, raised by two people who gave him and his brother nothing but love and support. Just her sweet greeting and personality is enough to ease your nerves, and your past doubts about coming here are wiped away.

"It's good to see you too, sweetheart! I wish you both would visit more often," she says, giving a teasing grin to her son.

She's aware that her son doesn't exactly live close enough to visit every day, and he has a job and his own life to take care of now. As much as he's busy and not able to visit how he would love to, he's trying to keep in touch with his parents and family as much as he can. Being friends with Jungkook made you realize and notice that he's a family guy and knowing his family you know the reason behind that is the constant love he's receiving from them. It's understandable and even though Jungkook can be quiet to himself and much reserved, he's a caring friend who loves his family and friends.

"Come inside! Your father will come home later, he's still working!" she says, ushering the two of you to get your stuff from the truck as she's already opening the front door.

Their house, the one where Jungkook grew up, is the same just like you remember when you last visited. Sure, there are a couple of changes with the decorations such as different plants or pictures hanging on the wall, but other than that, it still carries that sweet vanilla and cinnamon scent and looks just the same. When you look at Jungkook who puts down his and your travel bags, you notice the fond smile he has as he looks around. Maybe this is what he needed, to get out of Seoul and come to different thoughts. It's surely better than getting drunk with his friends, now that you think of it.

You're so overwhelmed with everything — even though there's not that much going on — except you're about to spend the weekend at Jungkook's childhood house, you're oblivious to another presence in the house until you make your way into the living room.

"Look who decided to show up!"

Your eyes widen, the look of shock quickly wiped off as soon as Jungwon stands up from the couch and greets you both with a wide grin. He's outstretching his arms, already walking towards Jungkook who seems to mimic his grin before they hug into another warm hug.

Jungwon looks slightly different than you remember him, although he remains to look just the same at the same time. It's hard to describe, but the few points you manage to make before his face is hidden in Jungkook's shoulder, he looks slightly bigger and bulky than you remember him. His hair is short, shorter than Jungkook's right now and now that they're standing beside each other, you notice that Jungkook is slightly taller than Jungwon.

"Look at his hair, oh my!" Mrs. Jeon says, walking to her two sons as she swipes her fingers through Jungkook's thick and dark hair like any mother would. "Don't you need a haircut, darling?"

Jungkook looks at her, looking offended as he gasps at his mother's proposal meanwhile Jungwon cackles before his attention is turned to you. He smiles widely, already enveloping you in a hug just like his mother did, although his one is much more gentler.

"How have you been?" he asks politely, grinning at you. You're reminded of your tiny and silly crush that you used to have on him, which you totally understand now that you're looking at him. He's still handsome, both of them are. They've got some great genes, that's for sure.

"Great, it's nice to change the scenery and I'm so grateful that I can be here." you tell him, hearing Mrs. Jeon tease Jungkook about his hair some more which causes him to whine like a little kid.

"Of course, we're glad to have you here." he smiles at you, before your conversation is quickly cut off by Jungkook turning to you with a bunny grin.

"Besides, Y/N says I look good with longer hair. Don't I?"

You almost grin at his hopeful eyes that practically beg you to agree with him, although you see the teasing glint in his eyes. "He does." you nod, Mrs. Jeon smirking from the corner of your eyes before she grabs Jungkook's arm and pulls up the sleeve of his shirt.

"And you got more tattoos?" she gasps, staring at her son's inked skin while Jungwon whistles in appreciation and eyes them too.

"Yeah, just a little bit. There are not that many." he answers, sounding like he's calming down his mother who seems to be shocked by the sudden ink that's covering her son's right arm. Surely, she has seen the few ones he got the first time but since then, he added a couple more to his collection.

"Oh, my sweet boy. You grew up so fast!" she whines, clutching to his right arm like a koala which makes you smile and gush at her cuteness meanwhile Jungkook laughs with his nose scrunched again.

"Here we go again." Jungwon jokes beside you, walking with you while Mrs. Jeon is too busy tugging Jungkook to sit down on the couch trying to catch up with him.

It's nice to see Jungkook being back home, his childhood home, catching up with his mother who looks nothing but proud of her son and his accomplishments as he shows her some pictures he's taken. Like every mother, she gushes at each picture he shows her while he comments on each picture and what occasion it had been taken.

You don't fail to notice that in between their childhood pictures hanging all around the living room, there are a few pictures Jungkook had taken, professional ones that again scream nothing but a proud mom. To some stranger, they would just think those are the pictures to go with the interior. To you, as someone who knows Jungkook and his type of work, you know it's his.

And even though you're here as a guest, not even once they make you excluded and you find yourself chatting with Mrs. Jeon and Jungwon just like Jungkook does. They're kind enough to be curious about you and your own life, making you feel like a part of the family and as if Jungkook could read your mind, when your eyes meet there's a soft and understanding smile spreading on both of your lips.

Jungkook catching up with his mother and brother is a very touching and nice sight to see, especially when Jungkook looks much more happy and okay than the last time you've seen him. Funnily enough, it was the morning after he got drunk and woke up, flashbacks coming back to your mind instantly.

"You okay?" you ask, voice worried at the sight of tired Jungkook whose face is completely puffy and slightly pale from the amount of alcohol he drank.

Somehow, he managed not to throw up during the time you both were sleeping. Still, you kept the bucket beside his bed after you woke up just in case.

Jungkook's eyes are scrunched, barely even registering you before he takes your appearance, seeing you all dressed up with the makeup bag in your hand. Fuck, he forgot you're moving back home today. He can't even think properly, his head is about to burst and his stomach hurts. Noticing the pills on the nightstand, he gulps them down with the water that you prepared for him before he's capable of giving you any attention.

"Fuck, I'm dying." he groans, plopping back into his soft sheets as he hears your amused chuckle. You must be enjoying this right now, he thinks. You kind of are, it's a rare sight seeing him so hungover and well, you're glad he's not crying and is relatively fine.

"Don't be dramatic," you roll your eyes, "I wasn't sure if you'd be eating after you wake up, but there isn't much in the fridge. I recommend ordering a chicken soup that could help with the stomachache and hangover overall. I'd do that for you, but I had to move back in and the repairman is already waiting for me."

Shit, he can barely focus on your words. The only thing he caught was something about a chicken soup and you having to go.

"Fuck, sorry. Let me dress up, I'll go with you." he raps out but barely has any strength to lift himself up as he stays laying in his bed.

Snorting, you sit beside him as he cracks one eye open before he pries open the other one. "And why would you do that?"

"I don't know? To help, I guess."

There's no point in him coming with you. All you've to do is talk to the repairman, so he can explain what really went wrong and you'll probably have to sign some papers. You haven't brought that much clothes and stuff with you, and you've your own car parked in the parking lot. You're completely fine with going by yourself.

"There's no need. You should rest," you tell him, "Do you remember yesterday? Or today is more accurate." you chuckle, seeing him sigh as he licks his dry lips.

"I would rather not," he groans, "I can't remember everything but enough to be embarrassed." he admits, causing you to laugh but you shrug in response.

"I don't think you've to be embarrassed. Everyone gets drunk from time to time and you weren't that bad, although I thought I would slap you. God, I wanted to so badly. You were so annoying, but funny at the same time." you try to easen up his embarrassment and assure him that it's not the end of the world.

However, Jungkook thinks otherwise.

"I'm sorry." he mumbles into his pillow, closing his eyes as you look at him with pity.

"You don't have to apologize, Kook. I'm just glad you're fine. You are, right?"

"I guess," he shrugs but that's not enough of an answer for you. "I think the alcohol just intensified my emotions and I just lost control over myself. I'm sorry you had to come pick me up, I know I told you I got it."

"It's okay," you assure him, "I know you'd do the same if it was me."

He stays quiet, silently agreeing with you but at the same time he looks like he's completely out of it and barely staying awake.

"Okay, I gotta go. You should sleep it off and don't worry about me. It's not the first time and certainly not the last time that I'm saving your ass." you joke hearing him letting out a sarcastic laugh.

"Y/N?" His muffled voice is heard as you're picking up your travel bag off the floor. You look at him, seeing him lifting himself on his elbows as he looks at you.

His hair is completely disheveled, sticking to every possible direction and if it weren't for his poor puffy eyes and for the pity you feel towards him right now, you'd most likely cackle at the sight and even snap a picture for the future.

"Thank you," he says, making sure you hear him as you give him a smile. "Are you still coming with me to Busan next weekend?"

"Yeah, text me the details. Gotta go, bye Kook." you tell him, hearing a faint bye from him before you're rushing from his apartment.

You're already running late.

You hadn't seen him for almost a week, since the two of you had hectic working schedules but you texted each other almost every day. When it was nearing the weekend, he texted you details saying he'll come pick you up in the morning and here you are right now.

"Jungkookie, I even bought you the banana milk you love." Mrs. Jeon's voice cuts off your thoughts from last weekend and Jungkook's wild night out, causing everyone to chuckle as Jungkook's cheeks flush with embarrassment.

"Mom," he whines, "I don't drink it anymore."

"You do, he still loves it." you interfere, ignoring the glare Jungkook gives you as Mrs. Jeon giggles and looks at her son knowingly.

"I always knew why I liked you." Jungwon says, laughing as you just shrug with a content smirk on your face, especially when Jungkook glaring at you in betrayal.

"Anyways, go and settle in. I'm cooking a proper lunch, Jungwon, you're helping me in the kitchen." Mrs. Jeon says, causing the older man to groan but you know he's just teasing his mother who glares at him in a warning before they both chuckle at each other.

It's nice seeing Jungwon here too. Not because of the stupid crush you used to have, which you don't anymore but you can still appreciate that he's still handsome and ageing suits him. As far as you know, he owns a coffee shop and stayed loyal to Busan since he's living here, staying close to his parents. Oh, and he's actually married. You forgot about that. Of course, he is. Who wouldn't snatch this handsome piece of man?

"Y/N, sweetheart, Jungkook's bedroom is ready for you. There are already fresh sheets and I brought you a diffuser there in case you'll have trouble sleeping, which I hope you won't be having. But feel free to use it." Mrs. Jeon tells you as Jungkook goes to grab your and his travel bags, ready to put your stuff in a place so it's not lingering on the floor in their corridor.

Smiling at her sweetness, you thank her while Jungkook stares with confusion written on his frowned features. "Is ready for you? What about me?" he quotes her, asking his mother who stares at him as if it's not obvious.

"You? You're going to sleep on the couch, of course." His mother shrugs, causing Jungkook's jaw to drop as he stares in disbelief at her.

"On the couch?" he clarifies, an almost horrified expression on his face that makes you chuckle in amusement as Jungwon does the same and winks at you when your eyes meet.

"Yes, on the couch," she clarifies dumbfounded, "You're going to be a gentleman and leave your bedroom to our guest. I hope you don't want her to sleep on the couch." she frowns at that thought.

You're trying to hide a smile because she looks cute and dangerous at the same time while Jungkook shakes his head.

"Of course not," he justifies quickly and innocently, "But my bed is big enough, it fits both of us."

"Yah!" You're surprised by the sudden loud and scolding voice that comes from none other than Mrs. Jeon herself. "She's your friend! Have some decency, ah, this kid."

She pinches Jungkook's ear as he whines and tries to use his height to get away from her, which he does successfully as Mrs. Jeon shakes her head disapprovingly at him before she walks away to the kitchen without another word. Not before she calls out to Jungwon who seems to be smirking and enjoying the little scene that just unfolded, which causes Jungkook showing him his middle finger which Jungwon mimics automatically.

Brothers.

As you make your ways to the stairs, you feel Jungkook leaning towards you as he tells you deeply and quietly, right into your ears. "If she only knew I've fucked you."

You gasp, ready to scold him but he's one step ahead of you as he takes two stairs at a time, but not before he gives you a cheeky grin. Shaking your head in disbelief, you can't help but chuckle and blush at the same time. What is he doing to you? You seriously can't with him.

Following him up the stairs and to his bedroom, it hasn't changed a bit. There are still posters of different rock bands on the bluish wall, and you remember when you first saw them. This room has such a different personality than his current bedroom back in Seoul. It's understandable, he grew up into a man and instead of posters, there are beautiful pictures he had admired ever since he got into photography. His whole apartment is designed into a modern place that makes you admire his choice of furniture and colors. His childhood bedroom is smaller than the one he has right now, it only fits his bed and small desk in the corner of his room, plus a chest of drawers where he used to keep all his clothes. There's no way it fitted all there. The amount of clothes, black clothes he has is just not enough for two chest of drawers.

The room is clean, smells like mint and wood, completely clear from Jungkook's scent which is caused by him simply not living here anymore.

Jungkook puts down your travel bags onto the floor, looking around with curious eyes before he lets out a gentle sigh that escapes his mouth.

"Please, tell me you haven't fucked anyone in that bed." you speak, pointing towards a made up bed that's definitely smaller than your or Jungkook's bed.

What the hell did he mean his bed is big enough for the two of you? Knowing him, he just doesn't want to sleep on the couch and somehow thought the argument of saying his bed is big enough would be okay with his mother. Remembering her glare she sent him is enough to make you chuckle underneath your breath.

"No, I haven't," Jungkook answers, cockily chuckling as he looks at you. "But I got a mindblowing blowjob on it."

Scrunching your nose in disgust, Jungkook laughs at your expression clearly enjoying the way you feign a gag. There's no lie that Jungkook had been famous among girls (and maybe some boys too) even in his teenage years. Even back in the day when he used to have slightly chubby cheeks and a few pimples on his face, which you know because Jimin told you that and you've seen some photos of him from that period.

"Thanks for coming with me." he says suddenly, causing your brows to shoot up before you give him a smirk.

"Nice and smooth way from blowjob mention to thanking me for coming." you laugh, seeing him grinning as he rolls his eyes at your joke.

"I'm serious," he chuckles, "I really am happy you came with me."

Your heart warms at that, seeing the look he has in his eyes that seem genuine and soft. "Of course, I'm glad to be here. Your mom is great, I've missed her." you smile.

"Did you miss Jungwon too?" he wiggles his brows, wiping the soft look on your face in a second as you send him a glare.

It wouldn't be Jungkook if he wasn't teasing you for the stupid crush you had on his older brother. You've never told him about it, but Jungkook is attentive enough to notice the way you acted around his brother. You weren't that scolding and typical Y/N Jungkook experienced and knows. Instead, you were giggling over anything he said and he even caught you blushing a few times whenever Jungwon was just being nice to you.

"Shut up," you scold him through clenched teeth, "I don't have a crush on him." you point out, because that's obviously what he was hinting at and judging by the smirk, he's enjoying it way too much.

Jungkook walks up to you, your features relaxing as a curiosity replaces the glare you were so kindly giving him. He tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, like he used to at that time he was pounding you to his mattress (or anywhere it was available) and you feel your breath hitching at the softness of his hand.

"That's a good thing you don't," he says deeply, eyes dancing across your face as he licks his bottom lip. "Because he's married and has a kid." he deadpans, ending it with pinching your cheek which happens all quickly. Yeah, you forgot about that kid part too.

You're left stunned, standing there for a moment but you do make sure you rush towards him as he walks out of his bedroom laughing, you slap his arm which he barely reacts to, laughing at your weak strength.

What a brat.

It was around five in the evening, just the right time for the dinner, when Mr. Jeon came from work. He excused himself, saying he had to stay overtime since he's the teacher in a college and had to grade essays before he could come home. Like he said, they never bring work home and he stayed loyal to that.

Even though you've met Jungkook's father before, the resemblance between him and his son is always quite interesting and in a certain way shocking. You could easily tell Jungkook is his son just by looking at him. Just like you remember him, he's welcoming and sweet like his wife, making sure he greets you properly and makes you feel welcomed in their house.

He catches up with Jungkook over dinner as he doesn't forget to praise his wife's cooking, which is incredible and that's why you're stuffing your mouth full. Now you understand Jungkook's constant praise of his mother's cooking. She deserves the title 'best cook' like Jungkook called her.

You're picking up some kimchi and garlic with your chopsticks when Mr. Jeon reaches for the soju and sips on it. "Jungkook-ssi, I'm glad you brought Y/N here. But how's Kiko? Where is she?"

You almost drop the chopsticks as soon as you hear the question, the name of Jungkook's ex lingering in the air but none of them know how suffocating the air has become. Jungkook's parents don't know that Jungkook broke up with her, judging by Mr. Jeon's question and looking at Jungwon, he seems equally interested in why his 'girlfriend' isn't here. They're probably wondering why you're here when Jungkook has a girlfriend, but they're too kind to voice that way. Mr. Jeon's question and curiosity is nowhere near impolite or rude in any way.

Looking at Jungkook, you see him stop swallowing for a few seconds as a prominent frown makes an appearance on his face before he allows himself to swallow the bite. He doesn't look at you, avoiding everyone's curious eyes and your pitiful gaze that you're giving him as you're sitting right next to him.

"We're not together right now." he answers, bracing himself to look at his parents.

Mr. Jeon's eyebrows shoot up in surprise while his wife gasps and puts a hand over her mouth.

"Oh no, what happened dear?" she murmurs, mimicking your pitiful gaze as she looks sad over the news.

Seeing this, you realize that Kiko is not only loved by her friends and everyone around her, but Jungkook's parents love her too. You always knew how important it is for Jungkook that his parents like and accept his girlfriend. His family means a lot to him.

Jungkook's parents not only loved her, but they adored her and were extremely happy whenever the two of them visited. Which was way more often than now. Jungkook's almost embarrassed at that fact, Kiko was the one who pushed him to visit Busan since she couldn't stop talking about Jungkook's family.

"We broke up," Jungkook settles on saying, but you see him gulp while he fights that lump that is stuck in his throat. "But we're possibly getting back together." he adds, wanting to sound hopeful but ends up sounding even more defeated.

"Oh, my baby," Mrs. Jeon gasps, "I hope you can work it out. She's such a lovely young lady and I know how much you love her. You are perfect for each other." she says, almost pouting while her husband nods along her words.

Those words affect you more than you'd like to. Especially since they've this image of her and don't know the whole truth. You're sure they wouldn't be her fans if they knew the truth and how much she hurt their son. It's not your story to tell and you decide to stay quiet, simply and quietly eating the food while the rest of the family seems still shaken up by the news. It's up to Jungkook whether he decides to tell them what happened or not.

There are a couple of reasons why he wouldn't want to tell them the truth. First, there might be some kind of embarrassment of admitting that he was cheated on. Secondly, there is still a chance they'll work it out and maybe he knows their parents would change the way they see her. Even though you're sure they're not capable of hating anyone, and will support their relationship nevertheless if it means their son is happy. It's very similar to the way you feel, even though you feel a bittersweet taste in your mind at Mrs. Jeon's words.

"We'll see," Jungkook gives them a tight smile, reaching for the beer as he simply sips on it. "I hope everything will work out just fine." he adds, but you're not sure whether he did it to get them off his back or really means it.

Either way, Mrs. Jeon nods as she gives her son a hopeful look. "I'm sure it'll, Jungkookie."

The rest of the dinner is much less cheerful than it was, no doubt that topic Kiko has affected everyone and not even casual conversation between Mr. Jeon and Jungwon haven't helped. They do bring up his son and wife into the conversation, saying they couldn't visit because they stayed home. Something about his son having a fever and they didn't want to risk it just in case it's something serious.

The evening is spent nicely, sitting in the living room while chatting with everyone and even though Jungkook seems fine, you do notice the sudden quietness and the lack of happiness he had when he came back home. Reaching for his hand, when everyone is too busy commenting on the current news that is playing on the television, you squeeze it and give him a soft smile of encouragement when he looks at you.

He returns it, mouthing 'I'm fine' as if he could read your mind. But then again, maybe he can't read your mind but he already knows you well enough to guess what goes on your mind.

It's around ten at night when everyone decides it's time to get ready for bed, and by that you mean taking turns in the bathroom because there's only one. Jungwon goes back to home, making sure he says goodbye to everyone. You don't miss the reassuring hug he gives Jungkook, murmuring something into his ear which Jungkook just nods to while he tries to muster a smile. The kind people Jeon's are, you're the first one who gets to take a shower, no matter how many times you've assured them that it's fine and you can wait. They insisted, so you try not to take too much there as you quickly take a shower and put your pajamas on. Saying goodnight feels awfully similar to the way you used to do so to your parents back home, bringing a nostalgia to your heart as you take a note to visit your family soon.

And it's around midnight when your body is ready to take a sleep, the peaceful quietness in the house is like a lullaby. But that's until the door of Jungkook's old bedroom is quietly and slowly being pushed open. Widening your eyes, you recognize the figure almost immediately but you don't even have to – because who else would be sneaking into the bedroom at midnight?

"Jungkook?" you mumble tiredly, plopping yourself onto the elbow.

"Yup, it's me," he whispers, answering your question as he walks up to the bed casually, getting in. "Scoot over." He almost scolds you for not already doing that, as he finds you laying right in the middle.

You give him more space, frown adoring your face which he fails to see because of the darkness. The little bit of lightning comes from the moon through the blinds, but it's nothing. All you can see are shadows.

"What are you doing?" you ask, confusion laced in your voice as he hums comfortably as he's trying to make himself comfortable. He even tugs onto the blanket you're using, exposing the side of your leg as you tsk at him.

"What does it look like? I'm sleeping here." he answers nonchalantly, still trying to find the right position as the whole mattress wiggles and even the bed frame slightly creaks underneath both of your weights.

"Your mom is going to kill you if she finds out." you inform him but all he does is scoff.

"I'm not going to sleep on that uncomfortable couch when I've got my own bed here," he deadpans, causing you to frown again as you shrug. "Besides, I'll wake up earlier and go back before she can notice."

"You're taking my blanket." you scold him, trying to tug it back but he holds onto it tightly as you hear him scoff.

"This is my bedroom." he points out, causing you to let out a chuckle before you quickly tug the blanket back. Since he wasn't prepared for that, you've done it successfully but not until he pulls it back. Fuck his strength and muscles.

"Oh my god, what are you, ten?"

"No," he answers, "But I love comfort and even my own mother won't take that from me. Besides, she did it just because we're friends and she thinks it'd be inappropriate for us to sleep in the same bed."

"It is inappropriate." you point out. Not necessarily that it makes you feel uncomfortable, because it doesn't. But in general, you know where his mother is coming from and you're not blaming her for wanting her son to sleep elsewhere.

"Hmm, maybe," Jungkook hums, "But she doesn't know we slept in the same bed too many times and did way worse things in it."

Your eyes bulge out at his deep voice and words, causing you to hide your face underneath the blanket for a second before you catch a breath. "Shut up," you scold him, "Just shut up. Let's sleep."

You hear him trying to hold his laughter at your frustration and he's sure that if he turned on the nightstand lamp, your cheeks would be red. It's funny how easily frustrated you can get, especially about something that you've done shamelessly. More than once.

"I'm good with that." Jungkook hums, smacking his lips a few times as he plops himself on the side, facing you.

You laying on your back, you mentally groan at your best friend before you turn to him with your back, wanting to cover more of yourself with the blanket. But your amazing best friend is holding it for a dear life. God, he could've at least got his own blanket.

"I'm not fully covered," you inform him, filling the silence once again. But Jungkook just plainly ignores you and you're met with silence that makes you sigh in frustration. "Jungkook, you know I can't sleep with just a tiny piece of blanket."

You love to wrap your legs around the blanket, sometimes use it as your pillow too. Not the whole blanket though, just a small piece enough to plop underneath your head, so you can press your cheek against it.

"Then scoot closer," he says lightly, too innocently. Suspiciously innocently. "I don't bite." he adds and you can hear the amusement in his voice as he tries to say it deeply, teasing you.

You groan, wanting to throw a tantrum because he's being a teasing shit. Although, there's a small side of you wanting to laugh at that.

"But no funny business." you warn him, scooting closer just enough for the blanket to cover your body fully.

You can feel the warmth radiating from Jungkook's body, too comfortable warmth.

"I'm not even going to touch you," he mumbles, too tired to pay full attention to you. "Now shut up and sleep."

You roll your eyes, stubbornly tugging onto the blanket some more but Jungkook's strong arms are already holding it. You're ready to scold him but something about his soft and slow breathing stops you. There's no point in bickering in the middle of the night.

So you close your eyes, now not only the quietness but also Jungkook's soft puffs of breaths that leave his mouth lullabies you to sleep.

#networkbangtan #ksmutclub #ficswithluv #btswritingcafe #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts au #jungkook fanfic #personasintro

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sixosix · 1 year

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Hi! I'm on a sae brainrot lately it's gonna consume me and your fics are soo good😫 can I req a sae with reader in love with him despite being friends with rin, I just love the idea of rin being annoyed with the two of them giving each other heart eyes when reader comes over to their house, thank you sooo much!

think of this as an au where the itoshi brothers aren’t as insane and strained ur welcome ALSO ANON HELPP this idea is so funny

rin doesn’t consider himself as someone who has homicidal urges. on a good day, at least.

but you are making it harder and harder not to just strangle you and yell out strings of profanity whenever you sigh dreamily over his brother.

his big brother, of all people. rin knows that he and sae are pretty popular, but for his best friend to be head over heels for his brother when you should be immune to the itoshi bloodline is a bit absurd.

“it’s the best friend’s brother thing,” bachira said. rin has no idea what that means, but apparently, it’s when people go crazy over the best friend’s brother. rin hopes that none of sae’s friends are giving him the same googly eyes you do whenever sae passes by—that would be horrifying.

“he’s so handsome,” you explained to him when he asked why you are so obsessed with his brother in blood. “so—! just soo fucking—” and then rin asked you to not finish that sentence because he might have to damage his eardrums by hand if you continue.

that’s not even the worst part, no.

a normal person (like rin) would think that, okay, pining isn’t that bad. crushes are normal. my friend’s weird obsession with wanting to kiss my brother stupid is normal, maybe. but no. it’s not that easy. rin cannot just coax you to move on or force to imply anything in case sae hunts him down.

because his big brother, itoshi sae, is in love with you.

rin doesn’t know when— how it started. he just found out when you had to come up to rin to ask for something and left like a frightened deer, and sae, dead-inside, doesn’t-give-a-fuck-about-you sae, kept staring at you until you were out of sight. there was a smile on his face—a fond one, if that makes it any better.

(it does not. rin didn’t even know what to say at this point. his hands are itching.)

“that’s just a little brother thing,” shidou remarked once when rin lamented about his worrying urge to throttle you and sae simultaneously. rin understands that one, at least.

you have to come over today.

it’s not a big deal since you’ve come to his room to hang out before. it’s not always voluntary on rin’s part; you just appear out of nowhere, carrying pillows and about three blankets, materializing out of nowhere and onto his doorstep.

the difference is that his brother is back in japan, and you’re coming over today.

why is this a problem?

well, for starters: rin is not fond of seeing you make a fool of yourself and cry about it to him later on. he sleeps through it, usually, but you smack his head when you meet again, and he is afraid he might get brain damage soon.

second, rin only stays in his room, so it is where you follow. if the time comes you leave, sae will interrogate the hell out of him and give the coldest glares out of sheer jealousy. rin cannot be bothered to explain that no, he doesn’t like you that way, and sae is free to take you.

he doesn’t want to expose you like that, though. he is not that much of an asshole. as horrible and hilarious it is to watch you trip over yourself to see him, rin knows you genuinely like sae.

rin sees it in the way you smile helplessly whenever anyone mentions him, and rin can tell that it’s serious. you’re still his friend; he still cares about how this will work out for you.

“rin, i’m telling you,” you say, and in your excitement—or hysteria, really—you fail to notice that your voice is terribly loud. “shidou is out to get me. i have nightmares about him hunting me down because i beat him four times. he has a bat with nails on it.”

“let him win, then,” rin deadpans.

although it is his house, he’s the one trailing after you. mostly to make sure you don’t eat all the ice cream. again.

“i can’t lose to shidou, rin. that’s a stain on my resume.”

“then don’t dream about shidou with a bat with nails on it.”

“you’re the life of the party, itoshi.”

you yelp as you turn into a sharp corner on the way to his room. rin blinks at the sound and visibly deflates when he realizes who you’ve crashed into. he holds back a groan, knowing precisely what’s coming next.

cue: romantic guitar, doves flying, bells ringing.

“y/n,” sae says, holding you up by the shoulders.

“...sae,” you reply, belatedly. and then proceed to gape at him as if you forgot that he is rin’s brother and they live together for that reason.

“nii-chan,” rin says, too, because he really is not in the mood to witness this.

sae blinks up at rin. “where are you two going?”

rin hesitates. “my room.” you’re still steaming because sae is still holding you.

sae narrows his eyes.

“y-you can join us!” you blabber, refusing to meet sae’s eyes—which is horrible, really, because if you just took a single glance at sae, you’d see how his eyes softened impossibly.

“don’t say that.” rin scowls. he already has it rough having one lovesick freak in his room; he is not fit to handle two simultaneously, for each other, too.

“i’ll join,” sae decides instantly, staring right at you. rin wants to throw his hands in the air. “what did you say about shidou?”

thx for reading i had too much fun w this LMFAOOO

#606:BLLK #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #bllk x you #blue lock x you #itoshi sae x you #sae itoshi x you #itoshi sae x y/n #sae itoshi x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae fluff

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luveline · 9 months

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Steve zombie au with reader getting hurt at the new camp (like always) and Eddie offering support as a friend but Steve gets all jealous while trying to take care of HIS girl

for you my love ♡ steve zombie au —steve is riddled with guilty jealousy as you and eddie become friends. fem!reader 2k

It's a brave new world.

For starters, there are enough guns at camp and able bodied gunmen for fires in the daytime. There are warm meals eaten under the sun, songs sung quietly but nonetheless sung around the fire. There are happy children. There are books to be read to them, and batteries to power flashlights for story time under the stars.

Things aren't perfect, but after the tragedy of The College, things are good enough. Steve can bring himself to leave your side (though not for the first few days where he's bed bound, and not for a few more after that).

He can't lie, he hates that you like Eddie so much. His jealousy is a raging monster of stiff spines and dry eye twitches, insecurity that you've met someone new and that you trust them so quickly.

You were cagey at The College, scared of Steve's friends and petrified Steve was going to break up with you. He couldn't understand at the time how you would ever think such a thing, but now, with Eddie sitting by your knee and a piece of string between his fingers weaving a cat's cradle, your eyes alight with delight, Steve gets it. He totally gets it.

"It's not hard," Eddie promises you, letting the string fall from his fingers and into your lap.

"I don't have a complicated brain," you say.

"It's not rocket science. Even Steve can do it."

Steve picks an overcooked Lima bean up from his discarded dinner tray and aims to flick it between Eddie's eyes. You're gathered around the campfire in your cold weather coats, a procession of young (ish) adults knee to knee chatting away the worthless hours. When the Lima bean smacks Eddie in the cheek, Steve could pin it on any number of the people gathered. Christopher is a renowned professional when it comes to bothering people, and Jonathan has that older brother's penchant for being irksome, but Steve owns up to it.

"That's a touchdown."

Eddie gives him the finger as he instructs you, completely unbothered. "It's those two fingers– No– Yeah, you got it. And then push this finger under this, and this finger… Nice."

In another life, there's a Steve who doesn't care. He hasn't had to vy for your attention before besides sharing your friendship with Robin, and he's pathetically sorry about it —you should have friends. Steve thinks unabashed that you're the best person they ever made. All you want (all you've ever wanted) is to be loved and to give love back. He's known that about you for a very long time. And in his eyes you deserve what you want.

You deserve to have friends. He can share Robin, and you can have friends of your own, too. You can have everything.

Steve can't get a handle on how it's making him feel, is the issue. He's envious as a teenager with their first crush.

"You honestly just need to practise," Eddie assures you, laying back in the grass with his arms behind his head.

"You'll have to show me again."

You stay sitting and Eddie shows you the pattern again without sitting up. You aren't flirting with one another. Steve wonders if that would feel better, to be jealous of something substantial, but you're doing normal things. Eddie is treating you with exactly the kindness and friendship you deserve. Steve wishes he managed it himself when you first met, because you're his best love and his best friend.

Robin not included. (Robin is always included. Steve would die for her.)

Like she can sense his devotion, Robin puts a hand on his shoulder, pulling his weight gently to the left. "You'll burn a hole in his leather jacket."

"I hope he catches on fire."

"What are you so worried about? She had plenty of chances to leave you for somebody new. Jonathan's been nothing but sweet to her the entire time they've known one another and she barely notices."

Steve grimaces. "Jonathan likes her too?"

"He wants to be her friend, just like Eddie. I, on the other hand, want to marry her."

"Funny." Steve yanks grass up from its roots, the blades soft and cold between his fingers. There's an ice patch growing on his ass and thighs from the cold as the temperature drops. "It's fucking cold."

"You can move closer. I need to go and find Sarah for a bit. Don't burn your new kicks, Steve, they were a great trade."

Robin swapped a useless handgun for them to the resident portable blacksmith. Steve wriggles his toes in them gratefully.

Steve and the remaining group move closer to the fire slowly. When the sky is black and smooth as velvet dotted only by stars like pin holes, Will comes running with a miraculous bag of marshmallows, trailed by his ragtag group of friends; Dustin with his fraying hat, Lucas, and a teenaged boy named Peter.

Steve couldn't believe Lucas was alive at first. Eddie told the story to him when he was recovering in the shitty portable medbay. You'd been sleeping in the plastic chair by Steve's bed, your face pressed to his chest, a puddle of drool soaking into his t-shirt. He'd stroked your forehead for hours.

Eddie and a whole bunch of Hellfire members didn't quite manage the escape rendezvous orchestrated by Hopper at the start of the apocalypse. You and Steve must have just missed them when they set out in Eddie's van for safety. The story goes that Eddie's shit with directions, and while he managed to get to Michigan eventually, it was hard. They met up with a group of much older people who were able to take some of the weight off, eventually finding a group of military soldiers who'd been drafted to protect a politician's family. Their group kept growing and growing. While they never set up camp somewhere permanent, they've kept it together. If Eddie's group (or moving community) had managed to make it to The College, Steve thinks they might have survived the attack.

But you're together now. Hawkinites reunited, Hopper alive and well and nursing new plans.

"Hopper give those to you?" Christopher asks Will.

"How's that fair?" Eddie asks. "Family favouritism."

"I have to share them," Will says.

"Oh, well. Never mind. Accusation renounced."

The teens kidnap Eddie and run off to find sticks for marshmallow roasting. You turn to Steve with a smile that makes him feel worse rather than better, so subtly devoted.

"How's your arm?" you ask, leaning into his shoulder.

"Aches."

"Can I have a look?" you ask.

Steve offers his arm with no qualms. You fight to push back the sleeve of his coat and jacket. His wound is closed and healing nicely, but the infection must've been in his muscle or something because the ache won't go away. It feels as though he's done a hundred pull ups with one arm alone.

You don't touch anywhere near the site.

"I think it's looking better." You thumb over one of his little moles. "Pretty."

"You're pretty."

"You're prettier," you say, folding his sleeves down again with infinite care. He thinks you might be batting your lashes at him. That, or he's whipped to the point of delusion. "You feel okay, hm? You're mopey tonight. Do you want to go sleep?"

Steve shakes his head vehemently. "And miss marshmallows? No way."

You both notice that your question of mood went unanswered. Luckily for him, you dip down to rub your cheek against his sleeve. "Love you."

He loves you too. He says it under his breath, pressing his cheek to your head for as long as you're willing to stay there.

"Y/N-kins, Steven," Eddie says, returning with a handful of long branches covered in foliage. "I have a job for you."

You pull leaves off of the branches. It should be an easy job with the three of you sitting criss cross applesauce yanking the twigs naked excitedly, but you pull with too much enthusiasm and stab the meat of your thumb.

You hiss and look down. Your noise draws Eddie and Steve's attention in tandem, Eddie closest to the injured hand.

"Oh, shit," Eddie says, pulling his sleeve over his hand. He presses it to your skin as a surprisingly fat rivulet of blood springs and drips down to your wrist. "Here, don't get it on your clean coat."

Steve doesn't know why he does it. He isn't proud. But he thinks, That's my girl. Eddie's being friendly, and Steve knows that's all it is, but he can't stop himself from batting Eddie's hand away and moving in protectively.

"Cop a feel somewhere else, Munson," he bites.

"Steve!" you say, laughing.

Eddie rolls his eyes, sitting back in his spot with a laugh of his own. "Ridiculous. I wouldn't cop a feel ever 'cos I respect women–"

"Nice," you say.

"And if I were trying to flirt with her, Harrington, I'd definitely do it better. But as you both know my heart is promised to someone very important. I'm busy keeping the memory of metal alive, I don't have time for stealing girlfriends. Not that you're not worth stealing, Y/N."

Steve dabs your hand. You wink at Eddie playfully. "You keep her alive, Eddie. Are you gonna play some more rock songs for us tonight?"

"Duh."

"How do you manage to hurt yourself every single day?" Steve asks, distracted from the conversation by your cut. It can't be a quarter of an inch long but it's bleeding in a rush.

"See how it got faster when you came to save me?" you ask Steve. His heart drops, but you continue, "My heart gets faster when you're close. My blood pressure rises."

Steve tries not to show how pleased he feels at the compliment. You tap his elbow knowingly.

Steve assesses your cut. It stops bleeding just as soon as he leaves it alone and the kids arrive with their marshmallows, putting an end to Steve's makeshift medbay.

Someone puts a couple more logs on the fire to get it roaring now that night is creeping in. Steve insists on roasting a marshmallow for you.

"I have one working hand left," you protest.

"And knowing your luck, you'll burn it."

"I'd never control you like that," Eddie says, deadpan.

Steve stabs Eddie with a stick that's lightly smouldering at the tip. You tell Steve off, but when he presents you with a roasted marshmallow for eating you give him the world's greatest thank you kiss. Another after you've eaten it, your lips sticky with sugar.

"Do you want mine?" Steve asks.

You wrap your arm around his waist for a lopsided hug. "No. Don't ask me again though, I might say yes."

"Do you want mine? Seriously, honey–"

"I'll have it," Eddie says with a shit-eating smile, eyes trained on the fire where he toasts his own marshmallow.

You wave your hand at him. "No, you won't." You lift your chin to kiss his cheek. "It's yours. Don't let it burn, handsome."

Alright, Steve might have jumped the gun on the whole jealousy thing.

#steve zombie!au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

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