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sweetestdesire · 1 year

Note

here have a random rafe thought: ok it’s bestie rafe. you got in an argument with him idk about what. but you ignore his calls and text + you decide to go get drunk at the island club. so you get hammered. jj is your waiter so you’re being flirty. well one of rafey’s friends spots you and calls him and is like uh rafe your girlfriend’s here drunk off her ass and flirting with maybank.

rafe pulls the whole she’s not my girlfriend (bc he’s in denial) the friend is like yeah whatever (bc everyone knows how you two feel about each other. and how handsy you are with each other and how protective rafe is) just come get your girl

so unknown to you rafe comes to pick you up and you’re like wtf are you doing here. cue another fight bc you’re bratty and then it finishes with smut

💓

WHAT’S MINE IS MINE

WARNINGS: DUBIOUS CONSENT, hair pulling, extreme domination, choking kink, spanking, etc. 18+ readers only

PAIRING(S): Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: in which Fem!Reader is Rafe Cameron’s, even if she doesn't know it.

"You broke his fucking arm!" Y/N snapped as she puffed her cheeks out, reaching to poke him in the ribs.

"He was touching you, Y/N.”

“I know how to take care of myself, Rafe. I’m a big girl.” She could feel how wild she must have looked, her hair falling out of its ponytail, fire in her eyes from the fight. Rafe wasn't wrong, she had plenty to drink, and JJ got a little too handsy with her at the Island Club.

"Most girls just say thanks.” Rafe mumbled, finally gaining some humility now that they were removed from the situation.

"Thanks." Y/N snapped, still glaring at him.

Rafe caught her hand as she went to poke him again, and she noted the strength of his fingers as she struggled against his grip. She swung her other hand around, and he caught that one just as easily. She glanced down at his fingers curled around her wrist and dragged her eyes up to his. His gaze met hers steadily.

"Let me go or I'll bite you.” Y/N declared, hoping her voice didn't sound as shaky as she felt.

Rafe leered at her and shrugged his shoulders, his eyes never leaving her face. With a snarl, she twisted down to him, gnashing her teeth that was mostly playful. She felt his laugh vibrate through her as she locked her jaw on his arm, gnawing like she was trying to chew her way through. When that failed to move him, she tried a different tactic. Gathering up spit, she used her tongue to coat his arm in saliva.

He yanked his arm away, wiping it against the couch, and Y/N used her freedom to poke him in the ribs again, laughing at the apparent disgust on his face. This turned out to be a mistake, and he snatched her hand with a growl, pushing her back into the couch, and swinging over her in one smooth motion, pinning her hands.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a brat?" Rafe said, not quite managing to hide his smile.

"It's called strategy.” Y/N replied primly, squirming under his weight.

"Is that why you're pinned against the couch?" He drawled, that hungry look back in his eyes.

"You win some, you lose some.” She dismissed, with a light laugh.

Her attempt at lightening the situation fell flat, and she felt her heart rate double as he leaned in, and dragged his lips up her neck.

"You know," Rafe rumbled. "I've been thinking a lot about what happened between us a few months ago at Topper’s party.”

"Oh?” Y/N stuttered out, knowing he could feel her thudding heartbeat beneath his lips as he kissed his way up her neck.

"If I remember right, it went something like this.” He smirked, and nibbled her neck.

Rafe bit deeper, his hands tightening further on her wrists as she writhed around, trying to avoid his sharp teeth. He stilled and looked down at her. His lips came down hard, almost bruising in their intensity, and his hands left hers, tangling themselves in her hair and drawing her closer.

Y/N gasped against his mouth, reeling from shock and the excited lurch in her gut, and he took the opening to force his tongue in, angling her head and deepening the kiss. She bit his tongue, and he reeled back, eyes flashing.

"Are you going to behave, or do I need to make you?"

"What do you plan on doing to me?" Y/N attempted to sound disapproving, but she couldn't tear her eyes away from his lips, and she liked the sound of punishment more than she should.

"Keep misbehaving and you'll see.” Rafe warned, lowering his lips to hers again, one hand gripping her jaw.

He kissed her again, biting her lip harshly as she whimpered. When his tongue wormed into her mouth, she tried to push it out with hers, as he began frantically kissing her. His tongue dominated her mouth, wrapping around her tongue and probing against her teeth.

Without any conscious permission, her hands climbed to his shoulders, and he growled approvingly as sharp nails raked down his back. His teeth pushed against hers as she raked down his back again. He broke the kiss minutes or hours later, and rested his forehead against hers, breathing harshly.

"I don't think you have any idea how long I've wanted to do that.” Rafe said quietly, and the sincerity in his voice shot straight to her core.

Y/N covered it by ducking her head, but his fingers caught her chin, lifting it, and she met his eyes. Whatever he saw there made him lower his lips to hers again with a groan. This kiss was different, though. The fury and hunger were gone, and what was left was unexpectedly sweet and soft. She bit his lip and ran her tongue over his lips, sucking and pulling. There was silence except for their panting breaths, and the rustle of their clothes as they moved against each other.

Rafe’s hand trailed down to her shirt, revealing again her bra, and her heaving chest. Her breath caught in her throat as he lowered his lips to her breasts with a final, burning look. His hands were gentle, stroking her breast through the cups of her bra, but his teeth were ruthless, biting and marking and claiming.

When Rafe pulled away, her skin glistened wetly, bruising even as she watched. He rumbled in satisfaction, and repeated the motion, until her breasts were swollen, skin broken and sensitive.

"Take off your shirt.” Rafe commanded, lips full and eyes bright.

Y/N remembered his warning, and some idiot part of her brain replied, “Make me."

His answering smile was all pointed edges and signs flashing danger. “I thought I told you to behave."

"What makes you think I'll do as I'm told?" She shot back, immediately regretting the words as he lifted himself off her, dragging her from the couch and into the bedroom.

Y/N struggled, and he locked his arms around her, bending her over the mattress and pushing her face deep into the covers as she struggled to breathe. He yanked at her shirt, and it came away with a clatter of buttons and a few ominous pops. He pushed one hand against her head as she attempted to raise it, fingers curling warningly in her hair.

With his other hand, he unsnapped her bra, worming his fingers up and around to her nipple and pinching sharply. She yelped into the blankets as he continued his assault, bruising her nipple with his rough fingers. His teeth sunk deep into her shoulder, and her bra was pulled off with the same carelessness and ferocity as her shirt.

Without warning, Rafe picked her up, throwing her whole body onto the bed. When she spun around, attempting to roll up and away, he pounced, pinning her shoulders with a feral smile. He dropped his teeth to her uncovered breasts, and lathed them with his tongue, coaxing her abused nipples to attention. He rolled a nipple between his teeth as she whimpered and struggled, before he bit down, sucking forcefully.

A small squeak worked its way up her throat, and he paused his torment to grin at her. “I did warn you."

Y/N turned her head away, trying to control her breathing, only for him to yank it back sharply, fingers snarled in her hair. Rafe kissed her again as one hand continued its assault, rolling and pinching and stroking. She whimpered into his mouth, and their teeth clinked together as he grinned at the sound.

"I like that sound a lot more than what's usually coming out of your mouth.” Rafe growled against her lips.

Y/N’s witty retort was muffled by his lips pressing against hers, and his hand moved between their bodies, fumbling with the catch on her pants. Her pants were removed with a rustle of fabric, and she squirmed as the cold air of the room assaulted her. His shirt followed shortly after, and she had a moment to appreciate the view before he squatted between her legs.

Rafe was silent, and stared down at the length of her body with her bruised chest heaving. She attempted to bring her legs together, embarrassed, and he shoved them open, her hips popping with the force. His fingers curled in, and she huffed a breath, unable to take her eyes off him. His hands snapped to her waist, and with a rip, her underwear was gone.

"Rafe! How am I supposed to leave with half of my clothes destroyed?" Y/N protested, eyes still locked on his unmoving form.

Rafe looked up at her, and instead of responding, he ran his fingers through the curls on the top of her pussy, the tips of his fingers just brushing against her clit. She jerked up, instinctively chasing the feeling of his hard fingers on her. He smiled at that, and brushed her clit again, amused by the feeble thrusts of her hips. She had to bite back a frustrated scream as his hands skimmed back up her body.

"I don't know that you've been punished enough, so I don't think I should reward you yet.” Rafe hummed, looking at her disheveled state with dark pleasure.

Y/N set her jaw stubbornly. “I don't want a reward. Just give me some clothes and let me up. I want to go home." She almost believed herself.

Rafe cocked an eyebrow at that, and reached one hand down, skimming the entrance to her hot, throbbing pussy. She couldn't help the whine that escaped, or the twist of her hips, trying to coax him deeper.

"Yeah.” He rasped. “That’s what I thought."

Y/N blushed, feeling it travel down her chest and he watched the skin redden with interest. He tugged her to a sitting position, then pulled her from the bed, dragging her forward a few steps to a floor length mirror.

"You're going to watch yourself as you suck me off.” Rafe informed her, matter-of-factly.

"And what makes you think I'll do that?" She challenged, cheeks still flushed.

"Because I'll return the favor.” He said lowly, pushing on the top of her head.

Y/N couldn't help the wave of heat that rushed through her, or the dig of her teeth into her lip at the thought of him between her legs, his tongue swirling, squirming, and lapping. She clenched her legs, and turned her head, nose in the air.

"You really are just making this harder for yourself.” Rafe said, mildly. "If you would’ve just behaved, I could’ve had my cock buried in you by now."

Y/N tried to feign disinterest, even as her stomach turned over at his dark tone and her eyes flicked to his jeans, his cock clearly straining to get out. Good, if she wasn't getting what she wanted, then he wouldn't either. She twirled away, attempting to bolt through the door, and he pinned her against a wall, dragging his lips up her neck, grinding his erection against her soft, round ass.

"Oh, no.” Rafe breathed. "You're not getting off that easily." He chuckled quietly and at the same time, sent his hand through the air to land on her ass with a sharp crack.

Her eyes widened as heat, then pain flashed through her. Before she could say anything, there was another crack, and another. She attempted to twist her body, but he merely gathered her hands in one of his, and slammed them against the wall, almost certainly bruising her wrists in the process.

That pain was overshadowed by the burning that was climbing up her ass, turning her whole body hot and tense. His hand came down again, again, and, after ten dizzying smacks, his hand came to rest on her ass, rubbing it softly to ease the sting.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" Rafe asked, sounding perfectly in control.

Between pants, she responded, “Bite me."

He clicked his tongue in disappointment. “Wrong answer.”

The pain resumed again, and with each smack, she fought back tears, until she was almost gasping with the effort.

"What about now?"

"I'm sorry!" Y/N finally squealed, as his hand began its descent for the ninth time.

Immediately, his hand was on her livid, inflamed ass, stroking it and running down the broken skin.

"That's better.” Rafe said, against her skin. "Good girl." And she tried so hard to be outraged, but the warmth in his tone made her flush with pleasure, even as his fingers stroked back and forth against her abused bottom.

"Now, do you want to behave, or do you want to keep mouthing off? I could happily spend all day marking up this gorgeous ass.” He said, punctuating his statement with a reverent brush of his fingers on her cheeks, his rough fingerpads leaving a tingling trail.

"I'll behave.” Y/N whispered, shivering and twitching under his gentle touch.

Rafe stroked her hair and turned her around, gently wiping her tears. He put a pillow on the floor and guided her down. She went, flinching at the feel of her bruised ass coming into contact with her legs as she folded them beneath her. She sat still, breath still coming in quick pants, her tongue flicking out to lick her lips nervously.

He looked down at her for a long moment, seeming to enjoy the view, eyes darting over her battered body with heated desire. Then, he dropped his jeans, and Y/N came face to face with a monster.

Unconsciously, she licked her lips again, wincing at her sore ass, her eyes locked on the cock that was about to ravage her throat. She enjoyed blowjobs, but she would rarely deepthroat, her gag reflex far too sensitive for such rough treatment. Her eyes lifted to his, and she shook her head ever so slightly.

"It's too big.” Y/N trailed off diffidently.

With a wolfish smile, Rafe guided his cock to her lips, fingers in her hair and said simply, “Try your best.”

Carefully avoiding her reflection in the mirror, Y/N reached out with one hand. It dwarfed her. She had a vivid flash of being pulled down on top of that cock, her pussy straining as it split her like a log, and her stomach panged with desire, shooting down to her twitching pussy. She could feel her arousal dripping on to the cushion.

Rafe seemed impatient, and rocked his hips forward, smearing her lips and cheeks with his pre-cum. Nervously, she reached up her other hand, and slowly began massaging down the length of his rigid cock. He groaned, eyes half closing, but still fixated on her, undisguised lust and satisfaction in his eyes.

With a quick look upwards at his unwavering gaze, she stretched out her tongue and rasped it along the tip of his cock, savouring the saltiness of the pre-cum glazing her lips. His hips twitched and twisted as she began licking at the top and slowly made her way down and around the length of his cock, before coming to his balls.

Y/N pumped his cock with both hands, her saliva easing the motion, and flicked her tongue over his balls, burying her face in and licking deeply. Rafe pulled her hands away for a moment and rested the length of his cock on her face, his expression feral.

Rafe’s eyes were dark, malicious, and hungry. She regretted, for a brief moment, all the times she had teased him with her body. All the times she had "accidentally" brushed against him, letting him feel her soft curves pressed against him.

Y/N remembered those burning eyes whenever she would eat in front of him, closing her eyes and moaning slightly at the taste. She assumed the hunger in his gaze was for her food. Rafe had been imagining this. There was no doubt this was a fantasy of his, and she wondered what else he had been dying to do to her. Her pussy twitched as she realized she might find out.

Y/N was brought out of her reflections as his cock throbbed against her tongue, bobbing in her mouth. She resumed licking and sucking, cramming inch by inch into her mouth. She got as deep as she could and breathlessly pulled back.

"It's too big.” She insisted, between pants. "I can't fit it all."

His hands stroked her hair, tugging her back on to his dick. Rafe smiled and that really should have warned her as he slammed his cock as deep as he could into her throat. She still only managed half, and gagged viciously around it, saliva starting to pool in her mouth. He pulled her off by her hair, laughing lowly at her indignant look, and dragged her back to his cock.

Each thrust buried his cock further in her throat, blocking her windpipe. She heaved, eyes beginning to roll with panic. She pushed against his thighs, digging her nails in and he let her go. She gagged again as she pulled away from his cock, and took in heaving gulps of air, blinking away the tears in her eyes to glare at him. He traced her swollen lips with his finger and smiled down at her.

"Keep going.” Rafe instructed.

She opened her mouth, fully intending to tell him where he could stick his cock, before the sound of whistling air echoed in her mind. He took advantage of her mouth hanging agape, and crammed his cock back in.

"Keep your eyes open.” He commanded, his voice tight with need.

Y/N pried open her eyes, only for them to squeeze shut as she gagged and convulsed, another half inch sliding down her throat. Rafe pulled his cock out and watched with satisfaction as she came undone, heaving for air, drool dripping from her swollen lips, smeared all over her pretty face, her eyes glazed and faraway.

"Lick my balls.” Rafe instructed, and she was eager to comply.

Y/N sucked and swallowed at his balls, her fingers dancing along them as they gleamed wetly. She buried her face in them, heedless of the drool she was covering herself with. He tugged at her hair, bringing her back up. She drooled and gagged and writhed on his cock, feeling submissive and small, and hornier than she ever had in her life.

Her pussy dripped unabashedly, and without her realizing, one of her hands drifted down. The slightest touch sent a jolt through her, and she would have panted with need, if it weren't for the cock locked in her throat.

"Look at yourself.” Rafe grunted, voice strained with the need to cum.

And she did. She looked terrible. Her makeup was running in streaks, her whole face was shining and red with exertion. There was a manic glint in her eyes, and her pussy was dripping on the pillow as her fingers plucked and pulled at her clit. He reached down and tugged her hand away, placing her hands on his thighs instead.

"No playing with yourself. You were a little brat, so I get to cum first." Rafe growled, tugging on her hair harshly.

Y/N was filled with an impotent anger, and her fingers twisted and scratched at his thighs, curling into fists against his legs. She pulled back, catching her breath, then pounced on his cock again, taking out her frustration with her mouth. He reached his hands down to her neck, wrapping his fingers around her throat.

His hips snapped and her face was mashed into his pubes as she gagged and twisted under his hands. Rafe jerked, groaning her name so lasciviously that her fingers moved from his leg, trying once more to reach her dripping pussy as she felt his cock throbbing in her throat.

Rafe held her there for a while, hips snapping forward as he dumped his cum straight down her throat. As her throat relaxed, she felt him pull out and she collapsed against his legs. His fingers stroked her hair.

"You did so good, Y/N. I never imagined that you could swallow it all." He sounded worn out, too and he continued stroking her. "I'm so proud of you."

Rafe stepped away from her, causing her to whimper in protest. Shame burned hotly for a moment at her neediness, but then he was back, gently cleaning her face with a towel, wiping away her running makeup, and kissing each part as it was cleaned.

Unconsciously, Y/N leaned into the treatment, feeling light and untethered to everything except him. She rubbed her head against his thigh, almost purring with pleasure at his fingers through her hair.

"I knew you were perfect for me, but this just takes the cake.” Rafe muttered, easing her onto the bed.

She blinked at him, sleepy and content, hoping he would curl up next to her, but he settled between her legs instead, spreading them wide. She watched him as he stared at her hungry pussy, grasping for a cock or fingers to fill it. His fingers traced their way up her thighs, his eyes still locked on her streaming cunt.

As his fingers neared her throbbing entrance, she twitched. Her body was overstimulated, and her clit was a live wire, waiting to electrocute her. With gentle fingers, Rafe pried open her pussy lips and stared into her depths as she writhed on the bed, the ache traveling up her entire body.

Y/N needed to cum. She needed to come apart around his fingers and cock and tongue, again and again. He knew this and he was teasing her, pressing open mouthed kisses to her thighs, bumping his nose against her swollen clit, watching as her pussy desperately clenched with need.

"Beg for it. Beg for me to eat you out." Rafe whispered hoarsely.

She whimpered, hands clenching and unclenching, toes curled, eyes squeezed shut as she attempted to catch her breath.

“Come on, Y/N.” He whispered. "Give in to me. You know that you want me just as bad. Beg for me. I want to hear you beg me to lick your sweet cunt."

She whined, attempting again to thrust against him and he caught her, smacking her bruised ass.

"Y/N.” He said warningly, as his mouth began to slide from her.

"I want you to eat my pussy.” She muttered, turning her face to the blanket.

"What was that?" She could picture his lascivious smile and growled unintelligibly.

"Please.” She gritted out, pussy clamping against nothing.

"Please, what?"

"Will you eat me out? Please, Rafe.“

"I don’t know.” His deep voice vibrated through her, shattering her control as she waited with clenched teeth. “I think you can do better." Rafe pulled completely away from her, pressing kisses to her thighs, before pushing himself up.

"Please, eat me out. I need you to bury your face in my cunt. I want to belong to you, and only you. Please, eat me out and make me yours, Rafe.” Y/N struggled to breathe. She was blushing furiously, her entire body taking on a pink hue.

"That’s my girl." Rafe smiled and kissed her thigh again. "Ever since I first laid my eyes on you, you’ve always belonged to me. You’re mine, Y/N.” His voice was dark and possessive, and his hands shot to her thighs, gripping them with bruising force.

Without warning, his tongue dragged up the length of her dripping cunt and she almost screamed. Her throat was too hoarse, however, so what came out was a sad little squeak. Rafe blinked at that, a grin stretching across his face. Her pussy spasmed, and she shrieked into the bed as he lapped his tongue deeper.

Rafe’s tongue flicked around her clit, and her legs clamped either side of his head, locking him in place and drawing him in. She whimpered and squealed, hips thrusting against his lips, and he sucked her clit into his mouth, rotating his tongue around it, and sucking deeper.

Just as the pressure had become almost unbearable, three of his long fingers slammed into her pussy, curling deftly, stroking some secret spot inside her. She wailed and thrashed, clenching clenching around his fingers and face.

"That's it.” Rafe whispered, sounding proud and awed. "You're such a good girl, so fucking sexy.”

Y/N came for what felt like hours, before finally collapsing on the bed, shaking, her pussy quivering and spasming still. He extracted himself, his face dripping, and licked his fingers clean with a satisfied noise, his eyes dark and intent on her as he did.

"Did you know that you're a squirter, Y/N?" Rafe grunted, wiping at his face. She didn’t respond, but instead stared sleepily back, her eyes drifting shut as her lips curled up in satisfaction.

"What a fucking sight.” He mumbled quietly to himself.

Rafe grinned as her limbs dropped to the bed, her mouth agape, her eyes glazed. Her vision swam back into focus, and she glanced up at him. He was kneeling over her, staring. His gaze was possessive and caring, his eyes roving over every inch of her. She twisted around to bury her face in his chest, nuzzling against him with a contented sigh. He sighed as well, draping his arm over her, tracing her curves.

They stayed like this for a while as she dozed, worn out from a long day. Eventually, he got up and she whimpered in protest, catching his arm and looking at him pleadingly.

"I just have to grab something. I'll be right back, baby." The pet name sent heat to her cheeks, and she collapsed back, staring at him as he sauntered out to the living room, still naked.

Y/N started to whimper as he disappeared from the view, craving the feeling of his hands on her again. Her soft whimpers grew louder and louder, and he reappeared in the doorway, holding a glass of water and looking far too amused.

Rafe sat her up and helped her drink, stroking her hair and saying under his breath what a good girl she was, and the words reignited the fire that had burned down in her stomach, sending warmth through her.

Y/N’s eyes began to close, and she shot him a tired, satisfied smile. His hands traced down to her spine as he returned her grin, looking more alive than she could ever remember seeing him.

TAGLIST: @lovedetlost @valeriiecameron @outerbankspov @ailee-celeste @adventuresinobx @tee-swizzle @pankowperfection @maybankslover @drewbooooo @penny4yourthoughts @variety-fangirl @fangirlwithlou @thecameronchronicles @lafantasiaworld @softsatnin @glutenfreepeach @blueicequeen19

4K notes · View notes

disneyprincemuke · 3 months

Text

invisible string * ms47

unbeknownst to you, there was a force that was pulling you and mick together your entire lives

pairings: mick schumacher x fem!reader

word count: 5.4k

notes: hi guys i missed mick so here's a mick fic pls ignore the fuck ass ending, i didn't know how to end it ok

(f1 masterlist)

21 years ago

you sigh tiredly, cheeks pressed against your father’s shoulder as he weaves through the busy crowd moving in several directions. and you must have dozed off for a bit, letting the stuffed bunny you held in your hands fall off in your slumber.

because when your father had buckled you into your car seat, the fluffy white stuffy was missing from all the action.

“where’s bunbun?” you ask softly, rubbing your eyes as he buckles you up.

“honey,” your father says softly in confusion. he takes a step back and looks around his feet if you had dropped it. “you were holding bunbun while i carried you back.”

you whimper as the sleepiness wears off. have you really lost your best friend in a stuffed animal? “what?”

tears quickly well in your eyes, lips quivering as you feel a sob bubbling from your gut. “i lost bunbun?”

“aw, i’m sorry,” your father sighs, sitting on the floor of the car. he cups your cheeks and wipes away the tears now falling excessively. “but, honey…”

you’ve lost your favourite toys before, one time even leaving behind a doll at the airport cafeteria when your mother was in a rush to head to the boarding gate. you’ve even lost a toy phone once.

none of that is ever as serious as losing your stuffed bunny.

“we need to find her, daddy,” you cry, rubbing your eyes roughly. “i’ll miss her! she’s my best friend!” you kick your feet in frustration. “let’s go back!”

your father sighs, looking back at the crowd pouring out of the grandstand exit. he looks back at you. “maybe bunbun will have a new best friend to make memories with?”

“no! she’s my best friend for life!”

is there even a way to console a four-year-old when she loses her favourite stuffy at a formula one race? he doesn’t even know he knows where you’d dropped it.

“you know, you’ll make new best friends,” your father hums with a small and hopeful smile. he brushes the hair out of your face as you cry. “i’m sure you will reconnect with bunbun if you’re really meant to be best friends.”

you stifle a sniffle, folding your arms over your chest. your father didn’t make any sense to you. but you’re tired of explaining yourself over a stuffed bunny.

so you just nod and turn your head, grabbing the stray blanket on the backseat of the car. you’d spend the entire night — and the next two entire days — mourning the loss of your best friend, bunbun.

on the other side of the grandstand, there’s a small boy running around as his older sister chases him around with a giggle and her hands in the air.

“i’m coming for you, mick!” she giggles, slowing herself down when she finds herself eventually catching up to the little legs that were trying their best to keep him away.

he screeches as he tries to get away from her, their mother in the far back craning her neck to see where her children are running off to before resuming her conversation.

he comes to a slow stop when his eyes are able to make out the small bundle of white on the ground. his sister bumps into him lightly, not expecting him to suddenly stop.

“what’s this?” he asks, bending down carefully to pick up the soft toy. he turns around to his sister. “cat?”

“no, silly,” she laughs, dusting off the stuffy lightly. it doesn’t take a genius to figure out the animal, but her brother is still young. “it’s a bunny. look at its ears.” she takes it into her hands and holds it by its long ears to show her brother. “see? long ears.”

“cool.” he takes it back into his hands, wrapping his arms around it. he holds it against his chest and grabs his older sister’s hand. “mama will let me keep?”

“maybe! let’s go ask her!”

he tries to follow his older sister’s pace as they run back to where their mother stood.

“hey!” she greets them, immediately dropping into a squat and her arms wrapping around them. she notices the object in her son’s arms, knowing well that he had not left her running with that. “what do you have here?”

he points to where he had picked it up from. “gina and i found this over there,” he explains, nuzzling himself into his mother’s arms. “can i keep it?”

she presses her lips together, contemplating the safety and cleanliness of it altogether. “are you sure? papa and i can just get you a new one.”

he pouts his bottom lip out and bends slightly. “please, mama? it’s a bunny,” he whines, holding it in his hands to show her. “please, please?”

“okay, fine,” she laughs, rubbing his back gently. “give it to me first, okay? we’ll wash it when we get back.”

“yay!”

mick would wind up bringing that stuffed animal everywhere he went for the next couple of years, refusing to fall asleep without the softness of its fur by his side. he ended up naming it ‘stitches’, inspired by the off-white stitching it has right between its legs.

14 years ago

“hi!” you look up from your book, finding a girl towering over you with a smile. you’re about 10 now, sitting on a bench in the backyard of your school during recess. you’re newly transferred after moving into another town. and well, you didn’t really have any friends yet. “we’re playing tag and we need one more person — would you like to join us?”

your eyebrows shoot up in shock, looking around you to make sure that she’d been talking to you in the first place. you don’t want to be one of those people. “um, are you sure? i’m not really a runner.”

“that’s okay. neither are we,” she smiles. “i’m shannen. you’re the new kid, right?”

you nod shyly and say your name. you slot your bookmark between the pages before closing the book. “yeah, i came from a few towns over. this school’s closer to our new house, so i transferred.”

“oh, cool!” she beckons you over to join the rest of the kids gathered at the school playground. “come on and join us! i’ll introduce you to my friends.”

“alright.” you follow her hesitantly, hanging your head low as she introduces you to her friends. you were never great at approaching people by yourself, which is why you’re typically by yourself. you’re typically adopted by the extroverts and you didn’t mind that one bit.

you would spend the next two or three years, up until graduation, attached to the hip with shannen. she spends time in your house, and you go over to hers to swim in her pool with her friends outside of school. you’re best friends, even, up until you were in secondary school.

but for some reason, life had gotten too busy to keep the friendship. eventually, you drifted apart, as you had with several other friends. at some point, you’re just social media mutuals who don’t talk anymore. but the times you spent together still make you smile.

10 years ago

mick snorts, throwing his head back. “mate, let’s go! we’re the last ones there!”

“i can’t find my phone! hold on!” the girl shrieks, digging through her bag for her phone. there’s a fire alarm drill, and they had to stay back because she couldn’t find her phone. “go ahead!”

“your phone really shouldn’t be your priority in a fire!”

“it’s not even real!”

“what if it was?”

“i don’t care! i’m not standing in the sun for an hour without anything to do,” she grumbles under her breath. she throws a notebook out of her bag and digs some more. “i found it!”

she holds her phone triumphantly in her hand and waves it at mick. “see? i found it. it didn’t even take me long.”

“shannen, mate,” mick laughs, shaking his head. he yanks her into the hallway, blending in with the mass majority of the student body on their way to the stairwell. the fire alarm bounces around, prompting both mick and shannen to cover their ears.

“if this was a real fire, we would both have burned to death, you know,” mick points out as he rolls his eyes jokingly. he bumps into shannen lightly with his shoulder. “good thing this is just a drill.”

“you are so dramatic.”

mick and shannen spend the rest of their secondary school years together. while they’re not necessarily friends outside of school, they keep a casual friendship — often hitting each other up on social media every couple of months years after their graduation.

they swear to each other that if they were to ever get married, an invitation would definitely be sent.

7 years ago

you hum with a small smile, picking up the grey kitten into your hands. you coo as it purrs against your chest. “oh, i love her. thank you so much,” you grin, nuzzling your cheek on the kitten’s head. “i’m sorry it took me forever to get back to you. i’ve just finished settling into my new apartment.”

“oh, it’s absolutely no problem,” the woman smiles, watching you bend down and put the kitten into the carriage you’d gotten just for the kitten. “just remember to give her plenty of fluids. you don’t want her getting a uti.”

“of course,” you smile, picking up the carrier from the bag. “thank you again for waiting for me. i’ve been looking for a kitten forever, and when i saw your listing on instagram, i immediately fell in love.”

the woman shrugs, walking with you to the door of her home. “well, you seemed very determined to adopt a cat. i had to reserve one for you.”

you drive home with the grey cat in your passenger seat. you name it ‘concrete’ because it’s grey, giggling as she hesitantly comes out of the carrier to venture into her forever home. concrete falls asleep on your chest that night after dinner.

you wake up the next morning with a text message from the woman you’d gotten concrete from, telling you that she’s accidentally given you the wrong cat. she had only realised because the guy looking to adopt the last cat of the litter arrived and noticed that the cat he’s bringing back didn’t have the white patch of fur in the shape of a heart above its tail.

you sigh and ask her if you can just keep concrete since you’d already bonded in the day that you had her. much to your surprise, she agrees and says she’ll find a way to convince the other adopter otherwise. then you hang up and get up, preparing concrete’s breakfast.

meanwhile, mick sighs, holding the phone up to his ear. “well, they already gave the kitten to someone else, gina,” he explains softly, looking over his shoulder at the woman also on the phone. “the kitten really looks identical to the one you wanted. it’s not really anybody’s fault.”

“what?” gina says softly, as if she’s in the room with mick. “but that’s what really drew me to the kitten — the heart in its fur. is there really no other way?”

“the cat was taken home like yesterday… do you really wanna ask for a kitten back from somebody like that?” mick raises an eyebrow. he looks down at the kitten that’s walked up to his feet, dropping on its belly above his toes. “this one’s just as cute as the one you showed me.”

truthfully, he’s never really been a cat person. he very much preferred dogs over them, but the light grey kitten that’s plopped over his toes is convincing him otherwise. the kitten’s green eyes look up at him with a soft mew, making his heart skip a beat.

“ah, forget it, mick,” gina sighs over the phone. “you’re right. but i don’t think i want the cat anymore.”

she quickly hangs up. he puts the phone into his back pocket as he squats down to pet the kitten on its head.

“you’re very cute, aren’t you?” mick coos, smiling widely when the kitten purrs against his finger. “you know, i’m not a cat person.”

the kitten simply blinks at him, before closing its eyes as he scratches its chin.

“um.” he turns around, smiling at the older woman now walking towards him. she has worry written all over her face, and it only tells him that his sister will never get the cat that she had spent weeks swooning about. “i really tried convincing the other person…”

“it’s no problem,” mick grins. he stands up with a soft huff. “i’ll adopt it nonetheless.”

that’s how mick schumacher ended up with a cat instead of a dog.

5 years ago

“where do you reckon we should go for dinner?” mick asks, tapping on his phone. he looks over to his side, his smile dropping when he sees arthur holding up his phone with the front camera open. “arthur, hello?”

“quiet for one second,” arthur mutters, moving the phone around and sporting different smiles to try and get a good picture. “charles is asking where i’ve gone without him.”

mick raises an eyebrow. “charles or your secret girlfriend?”

“my brother, of course!” arthur scoffs, snapping a quick picture. he slows down his pace slightly and sends the picture. he looks up and turns to mick. “what were you saying about dinner?”

“where to eat, mate.” mick shoves his hands into his pockets and presses his lips together. “remember? robert asked us to choose where to eat tonight.”

arthur looks around, lips pursed together with a small smile. “i mean… we are in silverstone... what’s there to eat here?”

“i don’t know! that’s why i am asking you for help with the thinking.”

arthur momentarily turns away from mick as a pair of girls walk past him. his face lights up as he turns back to his friend.

mick, noticing that the distraction was caused by girls, smacks arthur on the shoulder. “focus! on dinner! not girls!”

“no, mate! you’ve got me wrong!” arthur laughs. “i know where to eat!”

but what mick hadn’t noticed, is that you had been the pair to walk past them, your arms linked with your best friend’s.

“oh, i heard there’s this really good restaurant up ahead. it’s got 4 stars on google — bar and grill or something?” you had said to your best friend as you looked down at your phone for options to dine in. “are you up for that?”

“sounds like a great idea!”

that night, mick would spend dinner in silverstone bar and grill in the far back of the restaurant with arthur and robert. all the while, you’re by the booth by the front doors of the restaurant with your best friend.

you would catch arthur’s eye as they flood into the restaurant, but by the time mick looked in your direction, you’d returned your attention to the menu for something to eat.

4 years ago

“ah, you look so pretty!” you shriek, holding yourself up on the sink in the toilet of the club. you put a hand on the shoulder of the new friend you had made. “you’ve got to tell me what lip product you’re using!”

“oh,” the woman laughs. ”it’s the too faced melted matte lipstick.” she reaches into her purse. “do you want to try it? i’m sure it looks good on you!”

you shake your head with a giggle. “no, don’t be silly! we can’t just share lip products like that anymore.”

you squeeze her shoulder endearingly before you step back at an attempt to pull yourself together. getting shit faced drunk was never part of the plan, yet here you are, four cocktails and three shots in, befriending the unassuming girl in the toilet.

she just wanted to wash her hands. it’s just unlucky, in your opinion, that she ended up next to you while you’re in a chatty mood.

“what are you in the club for?” you ask, reaching into your own pocket for your lip gloss. “celebrating something?”

“yeah, actually,” she laughs. “my brother won a championship earlier tonight. it’s a big thing — formula 2, if you’re asking.”

you stare blankly at her through the mirror, halting your application of your lip gloss. you don’t follow racing as much as you did when you were younger. in fact, you kinda despise it after you’d lost that damned stuffed bunny at one of the races you attended with your father.

or maybe it’s the alcohol, because you had no idea that something like formula 2 existed.

“oh, that’s cool…”

she laughs, patting you on the back. “it’s okay if you don’t know what that is.”

you hurriedly apply your lipgloss, recapping it then turning to her. “i’m sure it’s cool! i mean, congrats to your brother! you must be very proud of him!”

“i am, thank you,” she laughs. she taps you, her eyes shining bright. “can i follow you on instagram?”

you shriek again, stumbling back as you fish for your phone. “that’s genius!”

you give her your phone and watch her type her name into it. though you’re sure you wouldn’t remember her name — or the fact that you even followed her in the first place — in the morning.

she puts the phone back into your hand, squeezing it gently. “i’ve got to run, my brother’s waiting for me outside. it’s nice meeting you! and, my name’s gina.”

you wave at her giddily, watching her exit the toilet. you look down at your phone and hum, furrowing your eyebrows at the account that’s on the screen.

it doesn’t have a profile picture, or many followers. but you’re intoxicated. so you shrug and shove your phone back into your purse, returning to giggling giddily as your best friend stumbles out of the cubicle she’d been stuck in, puking her dinner out.

gina steps out of the bathroom, met by a stoic expression from her brother. “what took you so long?” mick grunts, guiding her through the crowd back to the table that his friends had gotten. “i waited almost 10 minutes for you.”

“i met the cutest girl inside,” gina laughs. she grunts and rolls her eyes when mick shoots her an unimpressed stare. “you wouldn’t get it.”

you have no recollection of meeting gina schumacher, and she never really posted anything on that empty account she gave you. she deactivates that account eventually, erasing the only evidence of the friend you made in the bathroom on a night out in abu dhabi for one of your friend’s bachelorette party.

2 years ago

mick follows the girl into the apartment, shaking his jacket off his shoulders. “cool apartment.”

“thank you,” cindy grins. “just give me a second, okay?”

mick nods politely, watching as cindy disappears into the apartment. he scans the apartment, overwhelmed by the vast differences between his and the one he stands in.

is this how drastic apartments are between guys and girls?

there’s several decorations, magazines on the coffee table, vases of flowers and pots of plants on shelves and–

interesting. a ferrari cap sits on the third level of the glass cabinet by the tv.

he walks over to it with a small smile. he hears footsteps behind him, prompting him to turn and glance at her momentarily. “i didn’t know you were a ferrari fan.”

cindy presses her lips together. “i’m… i don’t follow racing,” she says softly, pointing at the cap. “that’s my roommate’s.”

“oh, i’m sorry,” mick hisses to himself, taking a step away from the glass cabinet. “i didn’t… i’m sorry.”

“it’s fine,” she laughs, shaking her head. “um, so, here’s an umbrella you need to get home. be safe.”

“thank you,” mick smiles, receiving the umbrella with a grin. “i will… text you so i can return this to you.”

“good — it’s good investment to make sure you talk to me again.”

mick looks down at the umbrella tilting his head. “aw, it’s got cats on it. i love cats.”

cindy presses her lips together. “it actually belongs to my roommate. she’s got a cat,” she explains with a small smile. “i prefer dogs.”

“oh,” mick trails off. he’s not saying he’s so shallow to judge someone just because they don’t really like cats, but it’s really starting to sound like that in his head. “that’s okay.”

cindy takes a deep breath. “just… that’s my roommate’s,” she laughs, pointing at the umbrella. “i’ll need that back soon.”

“i’ll return it to you, i promise,” mick smiles. he raises his eyebrows as she leads him to the door. “on our second date? friday night?”

downstairs, you’re pulling up into the the street where your apartment complex is. you hum to yourself as you drive down the street, squinting your eyes as you try and see through the droplets falling on your windshield.

while you’re waiting for somebody to open the gates of the parkling lot of the building, you glance outside the window. there’s mick, leaving your apartment complex with a familiar looking umbrella.

you would walk into your apartment and sigh, asking your roommate if she had taken your umbrella with the cat prints again.

she would apologise for lending it to the man she’d gone on a date with, but swears she will get back for you. and she does — thank you, mick — and she briefly moves out about 4 months later to start her new life elsewhere with her boyfriend.

her boyfriend that doesn’t end up being mick, simply because she can tell that they’ve not got much in common. she breaks up with mick about a month later.

3 months ago

you squeak, hands on your cheeks as you look down the hallway. “concrete,” you say out loud, trying to make out the shape of your cat through the tears flooding into your eyes.

you had left your door open too long, according to a cat owner, as you struggled to bring your bags of groceries in. in the short three minutes that you struggled, your cat must have slipped out.

the worst is that you’d only realised about 10 minutes after you shut the door behind you that the house is suspiciously peaceful.

“you wouldn’t survive as a stray — you need to come back,” you frown, starting to walk down the hallway. “i don’t wanna get another cat.”

you have her bag of kibble in your hand, shaking it occasionally. as if your cat would reappear out of an non-existent nook out in the hallway.

you had never thought to get concrete chipped, of course. the cat had only started getting curious about the bigger world on the other side of the door recently when someone else with a cat moved in two weeks ago.

there’s a ding that echoes in the hallway, completely unbeknownst to you as you’re hunched over and still trying to lure your cat out with treats. the doors slide open, mick appearing with a grey cat in his arms.

“i don’t suppose this is your cat, right?”

you shoot up and whirl around, coming eye-to-eye with your green eyed cat. “you fuck ass feline! where have you been?” you scold, scowling as she comes into your sight.

you feel yourself soften up at the reunion with your car, relief washing over you. “why did you run away like that?”

you drop the bag of kibble to your side and step forward to take concrete into your arms. “thank you so much! where did you find her?”

“i saw her outside the apartment complex, meowing at people,” mick laughs, stepping back to watch concrete nuzzle her face into your chest and purr. “i was gonna house her for a bit until i find the owner — i didn’t know she lived right on the floor my friend lives at.”

“oh, thank you thank you,” you sigh, bending down to pick up the bag. “i really don’t know what i would have done if i lost her. i’m not a bad cat mum, i swear, she slipped out as i was bringing groceries in!”

“i don’t doubt that,” mick laughs. “i have a cat of my own at home. sneaky little devil, that one.”

you glance down at concrete and sigh in relief. a weight feels like it’d been lifted right off your chest. “is there any way i repay you? money?”

mick raises an eyebrow. “coffee?”

you stop dead in your tracks, a small smile playing on your lips. “are you hitting on me?”

“yeah? is that okay?”

you smile, nodding. “yeah, that’s okay.”

mick pretends he doesn’t notice the blush creeping up your cheeks as you continue to walk slowly. “how does wednesday night sound?”

you and mick would wind up getting coffee immediately after he’s done meeting his friend. your neighbour, dino, whom you actually are on greeting terms with when you come across one another out in the hallway.

you would spend the rest of the evening in that small coffee shop right at the corner of your street, talking about everything. this eventually leads to a second date, then a third, and then a fourth.

suddenly he’s telling you his full name, sending you into a shock as his name registers against the list of famous people in your head.

“ah, don’t mind the mess,” mick mutters, holding the door open for you as you slip off your shoes. “i wasn’t expecting to have anyone over so soon.”

you laugh under your breath as you put your shoes on the rack. “it’s not your fault there’s a storm bad enough to strand me,” you hum as you start taking off your jacket. “i’m sorry to be a bother when you weren’t expecting company.”

“no, no!” mick shakes his head quickly. he shuts the door behind you with a hand behind your back to guide you inside his apartment. “i mean, i was gonna invite you over soon anyway. we’ve just been so busy.”

“well thank you for offering me to stay the night anyway.”

he takes your jacket from your hands, disappearing momentarily into a room and comes back out emptyhanded. he jogs around his living room, picking up stray pieces of clothing and trash from the ground. “i’m really really sorry. i swear i’m not this messy. my schedule has been a little tight since i got back.”

you shrug and hunch over, picking trash from the ground with him. “i understand. if you look at the state of my apartment, i’d be the one apologising.”

mick does a double take when he glances up at you, noticing you helping him clean his living room. he shrieks softly, jumping over to you. he wraps his arms around you and drags you over to his couch. “what are you doing?” he screams, sitting you down on the couch and then taking the trash from your hands.

you look up with your head tilted. “i’m helping you clean!”

“don’t do that! make yourself comfortable,” he cries before walking away from you again. “don’t get up from that couch unless it’s to do something a normal person would do in someone’s home!”

“don’t be ridiculous. cleaning is fun to an extent,” you giggle, watching him walk back towards you with a small smile. “don’t worry about it.”

he huffs, looking around the objectively cleaner area. “do you want something to drink?”

“sure! just some water,” you smile politely. you look around the small apartment. it’s fairly clean, actually, even before mick had started picking stuff up from the ground.

you get to your feet and start navigating through the living room, admiring the picture frames right by the entryway with a small smile. mick has always been cute, it seems.

one picture catches your attention in particular, making you tilt your head in confusion. you lean forward slightly and squint your eyes.

“hey, mick?” you call out, eyes still scanning the picture of a toddler mick with his family in the paddocks. “you had a stuffed bunny as a kid?”

mick walks over to you, handing you the glass of water you requested. he puts a hand on your back and looks at the same picture. “yeah! he’s my favourite,” he says. “i have him in my bedroom, let me show you.”

you turn around with a grin, waddling after him. “i used to have one too! exactly like the one in the picture, actually. i lost it when i was like 4, but i loved that stuffed bunny like my best friend.”

“really?” mick asks from inside the bedroom.

you stop right by the door and lean against the door frame. “yeah, she had this stitching right between the legs. my cat tore it apart when i was 3. so there’s this really poorly done job of stitching it up where it tore.”

“that’s weird,” mick presses his lips together, appearing with a bunny in his hands. he flops it around in his hands, its ears flopping around as he shows it to you. he pulls the legs apart, showing the off-white stitching. “mine’s got that too.”

“oh, my god!” you shriek, taking it into your hands. you trace over the stitching, counting exactly 10 — the number you had known to be how many times your mother sewed it up for your impatient toddler self. you lift your head to look at him again. “this is weird. did you get this from somewhere?”

he laughs airily, towering over you. he puts a hand over yours and presses his lips together. “yeah, gina told me that i picked it up at one of my dad’s races in the paddocks when we were playing.”

you perk up. “i lost my bunbun at this one race my dad and i attended when i was 4.”

“oh, what a coincidence?” mick smiles with a soft laugh. “do you reckon this is the one you dropped?”

you puff your cheeks, tears welling in your eyes as you fight back a smile. “absolutely. the cracked eye… the ten stitches… this is bunbun!”

the world has a mysterious way of bringing you together with people you’re meant to be with.

you would spend the rest of the night, after taking a shower and cozying up in one of mick’s shirts, talking about your past. you joked that there’s clearly someone in the universe that thought you’re meant to be together.

to you, it’s the only way that bunbun would have ended up with mick in the first place. cause here you are, lying back on his couch with the first best friend you’d made in your life, all thanks to mick.

you spend the rest of the night, until sunrise, giggling over the invisible string that seemed to tie you together your whole lives.

“wait. i thought you said you had a cat?”

“oh, she’s at my sister’s,” mick explains. “i’ve been pretty busy — i haven’t had the time to pick her up yet.”

“you should pick her up soon! let’s set our cats together for a potential play date!”

@cashtons-wife @darleneslane

honourable mention: @localwhoore

#mick schumacher x reader #mick schumacher x you #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #disneyprincemuke #disneyprincemuke imagine #disneyprincemuke imagines #disneyprincemuke f1

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 month

Note

Ok I know you said time won't make them nicer to each other.

But I need her reaction to Carlos being diagnosed with appendicitis. Maybe she's the one that takes him to the hospital?!

The Uphill Battle {2} || CS55

Warnings: 18+ only, nsfw, smut, name calling, angst

WC: 2.9k

Part One

Carlos was grumpier than usual. And that was saying something since he had been in a mood since the news broke about Lewis taking his seat. You could understand that after losing seats to guys all the time before getting a spot in the Academy. Carlos, however, was not used to that feeling and it showed as he pushed himself harder at each training.

“You’re too weak,” he taunted as you wiped the sweat from your brow and started another set of reps with trembling arms. “It’s like you don’t even want to be in F1.”

You let the weight bar fall into the shelf and sat up. “Go project yourself onto someone else, you miserable shit.”

After taking second place at the feature race in Bahrain you had shown you had the drive for F1, but it didn’t seem to change his training approach. He was still firmly on the path of insult until you explode and prove him wrong. To be fair, it had worked so far.

A muscled arm, followed by a bare chest, blocked your way when you stood up, a sneer pulling at his lips. “You’re not funny.”

“I wasn’t joking. Now get out of my way, you have free practice to get ready for.”

He looked at the clock on the wall and sighed. He hadn’t meant to let time get away from him but when he found you in the gym he decided to finish his warm up routine alongside you. It had been a mistake because he couldn’t help but pester and critique you until he completely forgot what he was meant to be doing.

“Fine, but you need to stay and finish your set. That was just embarrassing to watch.”

“I’m done. With you. And with your training. Go fuck yourself, Junior.” You shoved past him, your elbow connecting with his gut, before you made your way to the stack of towels. You felt his presence follow you to the changing rooms and he closed the door to the shower cubicle.

“You’re done when I say you are done,” Carlos growled, turning you to face him before he pressed your back to the cold tile wall.

You tipped your head back and laughed darkly. “Only for the next nine months, then I’m Lewis’ problem. Or, maybe I’ll get the golden boy as my PT. Charles seems sweet and kind, I wouldn’t mind testing his patience.”

“Listen here, you little-” Whatever threat you would have ignored was lost as you flipped the handle of the cold tap and washed it gush out of the showerhead and straight into Carlos’ face.

“You were saying?”

“Brat.” The timber in his voice had the desired effect as his hand enveloped your throat and pulled you under the cold spray. His lips crashed against yours and his thigh nudged your legs apart, your hips riding the thick muscle as you kissed him back just as passionately. “I really hate you.”

You grinned, but it was more a baring of teeth ready to sink into his skin. “I don’t even hate you, that’s how little I feel about you.”

His palm glided over your ribs, touching the flesh bared by the sports bra you trained in, and slipped between the waistband of your shorts. His fingers spread your folds and curled into your core as your head fell back against the tiles.

“You feel something,” Carlos chuckled, dipping his head down to leave his mark on the swell of your breast. “Or you wouldn’t feel so fucking wet.”

“God I hate it when you open your mouth, just fuck me already.”

Carlos pulled the elastic waistband and let it snap back against your skin. The twanging pain was instant but then it was gone as he dragged the material down your legs. Another ache flared as he sunk his teeth into the soft supple skin on your thigh and you cried out at the heat that radiated from the indents he left behind.

“Fucking savage,” you growled, but you both knew how much you liked it that way.

“Sticks and stones, malcriada.”

You were needy, impatient, and well aware someone would come looking for Carlos as the countdown to free practice began. The lure of a verbal repartee would have to wait if you wanted some pleasure to balance out the pain in the arse that was Carlos. You pushed Carlos onto the bench where your dry towel had been abandoned and he lifted his hips for you to drag his shorts off.

“You gonna ride this di-“ You slapped your hand over his mouth to silence him and straddled his hips, sinking down on his cock with a moan that echoed around the changing room.

“Be a good boy and keep the commentary to yourself if you want a happy ending,” you warned as you let your hand fall to his shoulder and started to roll your hips. He heeded your words and bit his bottom lip to keep from saying something that would leave him with blue balls.

His hands gripped your waist and guided you up and down, setting rhythm that had you bouncing on his dick and an orgasm quickly building. The heat flashing across your body was the perfect contrast to the droplets of cold water collecting on your back and shivering down your spine.

“Fuck, harder,” you begged as your head fell back and he grazed his teeth over your throat. Your gasp filled the small cubicle as he nipped sharply at your skin and you raked your nails down his chest, earning a deep groan from his parted lips. The pained sound made your cunt clench and flutter before he suddenly stood up and turned you to face the wall. The emptiness within your body was quickly filled with the snap of his hips and his hand slapped over your mouth to muffle the cry at the sudden fullness.

“Shut up and take it,” he ordered quietly in your ear. “This is what you asked for.”

Carlos’ hands fell to your hips, bruising your skin with their harsh grip as he pounded into you. The slap of your bodies colliding filled the small space and your eyes rolled back into your head as your legs began to tremble. Your breathing deepened and you forgot where you were as your mind emptied and your body exploded.

“Fuck, that feels good,” Carlos moaned, your walls tightening around him with your orgasm. A wordless grunt warmed your ear before he sealed his lips over your racing pulse and left his mark while he filled your cunt.

Your forehead pressed to the cool tile as you regained your breath and Carlos pulled out, chuckling as he watched his cum leak down your still trembling thighs. “God, you’re a whore.”

“That’s more of an insult to you, desperado,” you teased. “Should I send the invoice to you or Sainz Senior?”

You forced yourself upright and stepped under the cold spray to see his smirk fade as you washed his seed away. You both jumped at the loud knock on the bathroom door and a voice called out, “Carlos, are you in there? You’re going to be late.”

“Just a sec,” Carlos shouted back before attempting to step under the now warm spray. You cast your hands out, splaying your fingers across his torso, catching the pained wince that crossed his face.

“Tsk, tsk, Daddy’s calling,” you said with a shake of your head.

He looked down at himself, the evidence of what transpired glistening on his cock. “Seriously?”

It was your turn to smirk and push him back further before waving him off. “Good luck.”

Free practice was already underway by the time you finished showering and changing into fresh Ferrari merch. No one really paid you any mind as you found a good spot on the balcony above the pit lane and watched the final 30 minutes of track time.

Despite there being better performers, your eyes kept being drawn back to your PT and the lowly 7th place he finished. You had catalogued a list of insults for him and went down to the debrief room ready to rule him up when you found him leaning against the corridor wall. Lines from his balaclava creased his cheeks and his eyes screwed shut as he clutched a hand to his stomach.

“Don’t think playing sick will let you off the hook for that performance,” you said as you crossed your arms.

There was no humour in his face, no wry amusement that usually came with your insults. Instead, he silently pushed off from the wall and made his way on towards the briefing room.

You kind of felt bad as you left the track and returned to the hotel. There had been a misstep in the turbulent dance that had been going on for months and you were left unsettled by it. Nothing on the tv could distract you enough that you finally gave up and took the elevator to Carlos’ floor. It was late but you figured he would still be awake as you knocked on his door.

“You look like shit,” you greeted, but your voice was thick with concern. “What’s wrong?”

Sweat beaded on his forehead and the sickly sheen covered his bare chest too. Reaching out, you felt his skin burning like a furnace and he swayed on his feet before leaning on the doorway.

“You don’t care, so just go,” he rasped, his voice pained and weak.

You rolled your eyes and stepped around him to see a sick bowl on the coffee table with some painkillers beside it and a rumpled blanket spread over the couch. He made to follow but he could barely hold himself up and it was only your arms that kept him collapsing. “Fuck sake, Carlos, you need a hospital.”

“Just need sleep,” he argued. His body shivered and his throat worked to swallow but you had been through enough hangovers to know what was coming. You leapt for the sick bowl and barely got it under his face before he hurled up the bright blue electrolyte drink that you spotted on the table.

“Where’s your phone and your keys?” He peeked up from the bowl pitifully and he saw the determined look on your face before pointing to the kitchen. “Can you stand on your own? Don’t look so offended, it’s a reasonable question in your state.”

“I’m fine.”

“And I’m Max Verstappen.” You let go of him for a second to see if he would crumple to the carpet but he seemed to hold himself on pure stubbornness so you dashed to the kitchen to dump the bowl in the sink and grab his belongings.

“Planning on robbing me too?” he asked as he noticed you grabbed his wallet too.

“Since I’m apparently a whore, you owe me a hefty debt,” you muttered sarcastically. “It’s for your ID, asshole.”

Carlos didn’t deign to respond as he curled one arm around your shoulders, leaning heavily into your embrace, and the other clutched his abdomen.

“You’ve been in pain since practice, haven’t you?”

“Maybe…can we just go?”

You pocketed his things and took as much weight as you could off him, using every ounce of your strength training as you guided him to the elevator. It was strange to see him so reserved in the elevator mirror as it headed down to the underground car park and it was even stranger to sit in the driver seat of his car.

“Please don’t crash it,” he murmured as you started it up and headed out into the street.

“I know you don’t believe it, but I am actually a decent driver,” you muttered. The city traffic was busy 24/7 but the satnav came in handy with the directions to the emergency room at the nearest hospital. “Should I call your dad?”

“No. It’s probably nothing but a stomach bug.”

That ‘probably nothing’ turned out to be acute appendicitis. You could have laughed at how spectacularly wrong Carlos was but you were too worried as he was wheeled away to surgery and you were left to make a phone call.

‘Do not call him Daddy Sainz,’ you reminded yourself as you entered the passcode on Carlos’ phone and hoped he wasn’t too delusional to get it right. Thankfully it unlocked and you went to his contacts. “Hello, Mr Sainz?”

“Who is this?” he asked worriedly.

“It’s Y/N, I drive for Ferrari in the Academy, uh, Carlos is my Mentor.”

“Where is my son? Why do you have his phone?”

“He’s at the hospital. They’re just taking him into surgery now to remove his appendix.”

The elder Sainz must had put you on speakerphone as you heard the noises at his end increase. “Which hospital? Why are you only calling me now?”

“King Fahad Armed Forces and you’re welcome, by the way, if it wasn’t for me your son would still be curled up on the couch in his room until it burst.”

“He said you had an attitude,” the old man muttered quietly before he resigned himself to a sigh. “Thank you. I’ll be there soon.”

You sent him the ward number that Carlos would be brought through when he was out of surgery and tried to make yourself comfortable on a vinyl chair. It must have been cozy enough as you dozed off, only waking when a nurse tapped your shoulder and smiled sweetly. “Mr Sainz is on his way up now, the operation went well.”

You rubbed your eyes and thanked her as you sat up to see almost two hours had passed. It was then you noticed a pair of brown eyes were watching curiously from across the room.

“Have you been watching me sleep?” you asked as you stretched and cracked your back.

The old man snorted a laugh and put down the almost empty styrofoam cup of black coffee. “You don’t need to wait, I can look after him from here.”

“And ruin my perfect posture for nothing? I’m fine waiting a bit longer.” You stood up and made your way to the percolator jug of black sludge and poured yourself a cup too before pacing the room. “Have you been talking with the other teams yet?”

His eyes followed you back and forth like he was trying to pick your brain apart. “About what?”

“2025. He’s too good for his F1 career to end now.”

The old man stood up too and refilled his cup. “Would you like milk and sugar?” he asked when he noticed your face scrunch at the first sip.

“Just a tiny dash of milk please, no sugar. I like my coffee like I like my men: a little dark and bitter.”

He chuckled and poured a small amount of milk into your cup before returning to his seat. “I can see why my son likes you.”

You spluttered on your mouthful and hurried to swallow the hot liquid. “You must be thinking about someone else. Carlos and I just about have a mutual understanding, and it wouldn’t be a stretch to say he borderline hates me.”

“Can’t be too many female Ferrari drivers that he mentors from the Academy, because I sincerely remember his comment about her,” the old man teased, crossing one leg over the other and staring over the rim of his cup. His eyebrow arched, daring you to correct him until he took the silence with an air of smugness.

Sounds grew along the quiet ward and soon Carlos was wheeled in on a hospital bed, parking into the empty space that had been between the two chairs. Though he looked a little sleepy, Carlos was awake and he smiled dopily from where he lay looking up at you.

“The doctors said your testicle retrieval went well.”

His smile broke with a deep laugh and he turned to look at his amused dad. “I see you met her.”

“I did.” Carlos Senior stood up and kissed his son’s forehead. “I’m glad you had her to take care of you, son. I’ll give you a few moments alone.”

You frowned as his dad left the room, waiting for the door to close quietly behind him. “What the hell were you thinking! Why didn’t you say anything? You could have died!”

Carlos shrugged and shifted carefully to get comfortable on this pillow behind his head. “We don’t exactly have the sort of relationship where we talk about things.”

You huffed and lifted his head, fluffing the pillow before shoving it back into place. “You’re a fucking idiot.”

“Back to the insults, finally.” The sick bastard smiled happily and settled into the pillow with a contented sigh. “For a moment I thought I died and went to heaven.”

“Not funny.”

“Was so, you just care about me too much to laugh. Admit it, you would’ve missed me.” He opened his hand and inched it closer to the edge of the bed.

“They must have given you the strong stuff, you’re clearly delusional,” you said with a roll of your eyes but placed your hand into his palm and he closed his fingers around them. “Your dad seems to think you like me.”

Carlos yawned and closed his eyes, but a smile played on his lips. “That’s probably the beginning of dementia. Don’t get your hopes up.”

“Trust me, I wasn’t,” you chuckled. A few moments of silence filled the room before a soft snore broke the quiet. Careful not to wake him, you kissed his cheek and whispered, “I’m glad you’re okay, Junior.”

“Knew it,” he said as he cracked one eye open and grinned.

You let go of his hand and dropped into your chair with an annoyed huff. “Asshole.”

“Brat.”

#ollie answers #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz smut #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 x reader

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atinylittlepain · 1 year

Note

ok so given that the oscars just happened, imagine a joel x actress!reader. before everything went to shit joel was a normal human being who loved watching movies and like any basic person had a celebrity crush. fast forward and the world has gone to shit and joel and ellie (and maybe tommy too) go on a patrol that goes wrong and get saved by miss “i just smashed a guys head in with my oscar” or something like that, just a fluff and fun imagine that isnt gonna break my heart in a million pieces like last nights episode

oh my god, your mindddddd - I love this idea :)

Big Fan

Joel Miller x actress!reader

Joel Miller masterlist

Joel recognizes her right away. After all, she starred in his favorite movie of all time.

warnings | 18+ a little angst, nothing wild, this is fluff through and through

Read part two!

.......................

“Are you–”

“I am.”

“You were in–”

“I was.”

“Well I’ll be damned.”

“Alright, somebody better start speaking in full sentences, because I have no clue what the hell is going on.” Joel huffs, glancing at Ellie who's looking at him like he’s gone crazy, her gun still cocked at the woman in front of them.

“What? You don’t recognize her, kid? I just showed you Curtis and Viper.” Ellie’s brow furrows, but then she looks back at the woman and her eyes finally widen in recognition.

“Holy shit.” The woman laughs, eyes still focused on the barrel of Ellie’s gun.

“That’s not usually the movie people recognize me from. But I suppose it was my big break.” Joel nudges Ellie, muttering for her to put her “damn gun away, jesus christ,” and she quickly tucks it back in her belt.

He’s trying to not be weird right now, they did just kill five clickers together, but he’s finding it hard not to lose his cool over the woman who had been a silly crush of his since he first saw that cheap action movie as a teenager. He knows she did much better films afterward, remembers hovering behind the couch one night while Sarah was watching one of those awards shows, lingering just a bit longer when he saw her giving an acceptance speech with a blinding smile in a dress that probably cost more than his house. She’s certainly less elegant-looking now, but even after twenty years in a world like this, he can’t help the quick kick of his heart at actually meeting this woman in the flesh.

He clears his throat, also trying to clear his mind.

“Are you alone?” She sighs, wiping the blade of her knife on her jeans before sliding it back into its sheath.

“I wasn’t, and then I was. We were headed toward a settlement we heard about, I think a bit further north from here?” Joel keeps his expression steady, but can feel Ellie glancing at him. Movie star or not, he knows they have to be careful about who finds out about Jackson. But apparently, this woman isn’t just pretty, and she seems to pick up on the heavy pause after what she said.

“Do you two know about the place I’m talking about? Are we close?” Joel, sighs, looking at Ellie before making a decision that Tommy is probably going to smack him for later.

“We, um– we’re from there, actually. If you’re talking about where I think you’re talking about.” She huffs out a laugh, and offers them that megawatt smile Joel remembers seeing on his TV screen. Ellie, meanwhile, scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest as she glares at Joel.

“No shit. Do you think you have room for one more?” Joel’s eyes dart once more to Ellie, just seeing the subtle shake of her head, but he chooses to ignore it. How could he say no to the woman who had, embarrassingly, been one of his first wet dreams?

“You’ll have to talk with my brother, but I’m sure you’ll be welcome to stay on.” Megawatt, megawatt, megawatt. He reckons that smile could melt steel beams.

…

“Joel, what the fuck–”

“Ellie–”

“No, what are you thinking? If not Tommy, Maria’s gonna be so pissed she’ll probably cut your balls off.” He shushes the girl, glancing ahead at the woman hiking further in front of them.

“Look, she’s all alone– hardly a threat– and she’s looking for somewhere to stay–” She scoffs.

“Oh, so this has nothing to do with the way your eyeballs practically popped out of your head just looking at her?” He grumbles, hand tightening around the strap of his rifle.

“You just mind your own business, alright? I’ll take care of it.” Ellie huffs, starting to trudge further ahead of him, but not before muttering out “whatever you say, fanboy.” Joel is stunned still by her words.

“Where the hell did you get that word from?” She turns on her heel, walking backwards for a beat as she smirks at him.

“One of those old magazines. Pretty sure she was on the front page if you wanna borrow it.” Before he can get a word in edgewise, she’s already turning back around and continuing their hike back to Jackson.

…

“Holy shit. Joel, look who it is!” Joel grunts, nudging Tommy out of his starstruck stupor.

“Yeah, I know. Just hiked five miles with her.” Tommy laughs, slapping him on the back before grinning at her.

“It’s real nice to meet you. You know, Joel here had your poster on his bedroom wall–” The nudge he gives his brother this time is a little less friendly, causing Tommy to grumble and rub his arm. She, however, takes it in stride, laughing lightly as she shifts in her boots.

“I’m flattered, really. It’s, um, it’s nice to meet you, Tommy.” Tommy’s eyes go wide.

“I can’t believe you just said my name. This is crazy–”

“Tommy.” Joel cuts his brother off with a hard look before he embarrasses himself anymore. He clears his throat, seeming to get a hold of himself as Joel continues.

“She had been traveling with a group, looking for this place. She’s the only one left though. Was hoping to join the town.” Tommy grins again, glancing between her and Joel.

“Well, I’m sure we can make that happen. I think Joel would kill me if I didn’t let–” He squeezes Tommy’s shoulder hard, willing him to shut his mouth.

“That little house next to ours is still empty. Why don’t we set her up there?” Tommy’s smile at his brother’s words is all too smug for Joel’s taste, but he still nods, turning his attention back to her.

“If that’s alright with you, ma’am. I’ll let the folks know to turn the gas and electric back on for that place.” She smiles brightly at that.

“That would be amazing. Thank you so much. I owe you all big time.” Tommy snorts.

“I’m pretty sure you can pay Joel back with an autograph, he’d probably cre—“ Joel’s heard enough, resorting to kicking Tommy in the ankle to shut him up. Ellie huffs from where she’s watching their pathetic display.

“Alright, well if you two freaks are done making fools of yourselves, I’ll show her over to that house.”

…

When Joel gets home, the first thing he does is look at that DVD. He had found it a week or two ago on a patrol shift, left in a hollowed-out RV. Ellie was less than impressed and Maria refused to show it at movie night because it’s so gory, but he held onto it anyways. He can still remember going to see it in the theater with Tommy, both of them too young to get in if not for their friend working the ticket booth. He flips the case over in his hands, and sure enough, there she is on the back cover, looking impossibly beautiful while firing a machine gun. What’s not to like, right?

He’s broken out of his revelry by the sound of the front door opening, and soon enough, Ellie is stomping up the stairs to come looking for him. When she finds him in his bedroom, sitting on the end of his bed, she glances at the DVD he’s holding, a grin spreading over her face.

“Just like you remember, huh, old man?” He grumbles, getting up to set the movie back on the bookshelf before turning back to Ellie.

“She settling in alright?” She hums, nodding lightly.

“Yep, made a beeline for a shower. Told me to thank you. I told her you’d be coming around for your autograph later.” His face crumples in indignation while Ellie lets out a cackle.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But in all seriousness, I think she’s interested– in you– which pains me to even say, but, I figure you deserve to know that the woman of your pubescent dreams was asking questions about you.” Joel’s jaw goes slack, his eyebrows shooting up his forehead.

“She– she was asking about me?” Ellie nods around a smirk.

“Mmhmm. And I told her you’re a grumpy old bum who doesn’t take kindly to strangers.” He huffs, but she laughs again.

“Sorry, kidding again. I didn’t tell her much. Just that you’ll be around. But if I were you, I’d “be around” sooner rather than later, before the rest of Jackson gets a piece of her. Snatch her up before there’s sweeter bait to bite down on, you know?” He thinks briefly that he needs to see just what sort of magazines this kid is reading, because he can’t quite believe what’s coming out of her mouth. He grumbles, shaking his head at her antics.

“There ain’t gonna be any snatching going on. Just mind your–” She huffs, already walking out of his room.

“Mind my business, yeah, yeah, I know. But think about what I said, old man. Better cast your line quick for this one. My guess is you weren’t the only one who had her poster in your bedroom back before.”

He’s not letting that kid read magazines anymore.

…

When he steps out on his porch later in the afternoon, fully intent on what Ellie has affectionately started calling his “adult nap time,” he’s interrupted by someone calling his name. He catches sight of her sitting on the porch of the little house next door, waving and smiling at him like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

“Hey, neighbor.” He tentatively waves back, but that doesn’t seem to satisfy her as she motions for him to join her. He sighs, rather stiffly walking over to her porch and joining her on the bench seat, keeping a very respectable distance between them. Clickers, raiders, general imminent danger, he can handle. Pretty lady? That’s touchy. Pretty lady who he imagined marrying as a teenager? Just put him out of his misery already. He knows it’s ridiculous, that none of that matters now. She’s just as worn and weathered as the rest of them by this crumbled world. But that smile she keeps flashing him might just bring him to his knees.

“I wanted to thank you– for bringing me along. I was, uh, starting to lose hope back there a little bit.” He nods, glancing at her.

“No need for thanks. Just the right thing to do in this world. I’m sorry– about your group. I don’t know what happened, but that couldn’t have been easy being out there on your own.” She shrugs, waving off his sentiment.

“It was barely a group to begin with. Just some folks who happened to get out of the San Francisco QZ together.” His brain is quickly trying to knit together the movie star he remembers from the past and this woman who sits before him now, an obvious edge to her.

“Were you in California? Back when everything…” She nods, her face set in a grim look.

“LA, where else? Now that was a nightmare. I bet the only worse place to be when everything went down was New York. Bodies everywhere. Don’t think I’ll ever forget it.” She lets out a humorless laugh before glancing at him.

“That movie you like so much? I remember when I got the role, I had no idea how I was gonna pull it off. Grizzled heroine with a dark past and a penchant for violence. I was nothing like her. But now, I feel a whole lot more like her and a whole lot less like me.” She sighs, shaking her head.

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why I dumped that on you.” Joel is quick to shake his head, leaning over his thighs to catch her gaze.

“No, no. I get it– in my own way, I guess. The world changed and– we had to change with it.” That coaxes a crooked smile out of her as she looks at him. A simple silence descends between them as they share quiet smiles. She finally giggles, scrunching her nose at him.

“That girl– Ellie? I think she said something about you wanting an autograph?” Joel can feel the hot blush creeping up his neck as his face goes slack. She just splits out in a laugh, tipping her head back in delight.

“I’m sorry, I’m kidding. But, you know, what I went by, what people still call me, that isn’t my real name.” Joel’s eyebrows quirk up and she sighs, shaking her head.

“Just a stage name. I don’t really mind people calling me that, but can I tell you my real name?” He can feel the smile tugging at his mouth as he nods. Before he knows what she’s doing, she’s taking his hand into her lap, slowly tracing out her name with her finger across his palm. An autograph, of sorts. He’s pretty sure his brain short-circuits, just barely stringing together her name as she finishes. He murmurs it lowly and she offers him her brightest smile yet, still holding his hand lightly in her own.

“And you’re Joel, right?” He’s only a little embarrassed by how quickly he nods.

“Mmhmm. Miller– Joel Miller, yep.” She lets out a breathy laugh, now clasping his hand in a firm shake.

“It’s nice to really meet you, Joel Miller.”

#joel miller fanfiction #joel miller x reader #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller fluff #joel miller angst #tlou fanfiction #tlou #the last of us #joel miller imagine #joel miller blurb #request

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yamamasjumpercables · 2 months

Note

reader that is matt’s best friend but chris has a hugeeee crush on her and gets kinda nervous around her

and matt tries to push them to tell each other

the rest is up to youuuu 🫶🏾🫶🏾

Don’t be nervous

Chris Sturniolo x Fem!Reader

Warnings: kissing and a little cussing. That’s really here🤷🏾‍♀️

a/n: Ok so I’m new to writing but here goes nothing

Chris Sturniolo…nervous about a girl? Seems insane, but when it came to you he was more nervous than a guilty man in an interrogation room. I mean he could just avoid you at all costs. Block you, ignore you, hell even ghost you in real life. How could he though, after all you were Matt’s best friend. Everywhere he went there you were. Any other person would’ve been tired of seeing your face. Not Chris, every time he sees your face it’s like he’s at peace with the whole world. Chris didn’t necessarily believe in destiny or love at first sight, but when he saw you he had to contemplate his beliefs. Now here you were, adding a few accessories to your outfit. The triplets were sitting on the sofa, mindlessly scrolling on their phones. Looking at a few funny TikToks or influencers unboxing their latest packages. “Y/n can you hurry up” Matt yells from the couch. “I’m almost done I just need to put on my necklace, but my damn nails is not allowing me to” you say walking over to the three. “I’ll put it on for you” Chris offers, his cheeks turning red as he speaks up. “Thank you Chris” you say giving him a bright smile. You give Chris the necklace to put on you. Chris is losing all composure. His breath getting caught in his throat from how close in proximity you are. He think he might actually faint. You smell just like the YSL perfume he got you for your birthday last year. “Are you almost done” you say softly. “Almost” Chris says, his warm breath on your neck sending chills down your spine. “Can you hurry up” Nick complains. “Done!” Chris says, finally taking a breath as if he’s been underwater. “Thank you Chris” you say giving him a kiss on the cheek. “How do I look you guys?” you say doing a quick 360 for them to see the whole outfit. “You look like a bad bitch Y/n” Nick says happily, clapping his hands. “You look great considering all that time you took” Matt says jokingly. “What do you think Chris?” You say turning around to be met with a love struck Chris. “You look beautiful” Chris says in awe. “Thank you Chris” you say hiding your face with your hand. Chris removes your hand from your face, intertwining both of your fingers together. “You always look beautiful” Chris says, cheeks red and heart beating rapidly. “Bro you two get a damn room” Nick says, while fake gagging. You and Chris both look at Nick confused, then you both look down at your intertwined fingers. “Chris likes you Y/n” Matt says while scrolling on his phone. “Matt why the fuck would you-“ Chris says, getting cut off by you giving him a passionate kiss. “I like you too Chris” you say, looking at Chris with your E/c eyes. “Ok so are you guys done here because I’m starving” Nick says, getting up off of the sofa. “Yea we should go” you and Chris say simultaneously.

I hope you guys enjoyed this I’m definitely new to this. 💐💐

Thank you to @worldlxvlys for helping me out 💋

#chris sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #chris sturniolo fluff #yamamasjumpercables

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un-lawliet · 8 months

Text

“Present.”

— in which Dazai wants to kiss you

part two here <3

“Osamu…”

Dazai lifted his gaze, his eyes narrowing at your figure.

It was cold.

The Summer, having prolonged its stay, pliantly welcomed the first cool breeze of Autumn, inviting the ember shafts of the moon a little earlier, cutting the day shorter and introducing the night before the clock struck nine.

And Yokohama appeared to come alive at night.

The streets bustled with crowds, lively and impeached with an alacrity one would expect to see when the sun was much, much higher in the sky.

Dazai found himself outside the Lupin Bar, leaving a half empty glass of sake idle on the cracked confines of the bar top, the crisp air steadying his somewhat dizzy state, un-fogging his senses and clearing his head.

Leaning against the bar wall, his hands in his pockets, an indiscernible look in his eyes as he watched the ever moving city around him.

It was moments like this when you knew his mind was elsewhere, reminiscing over memories in which you did not know, memories that left you except and puzzling over the glimmer of recognition in the depths of his eye.

Breaking his trance he regarded you with quiet solidarity, as if debating weither or not he should throw up his defences or continue to stare, an eyebrow raised in subdued acknowledgment of your appearance.

He didn’t seem shocked at your return, having been on a mission at the other side of Yokohama for a few days, you feel a sickly indulgence of disappointment in his lack of reaction, your shoulders dropping as you approach him slowly.

He probably knew of your return, he has a habit of knowing seemingly every action and it’s equal reaction before they are even taken, it’s a habit that leaves you uneasy at best, and terrified at worst.

Sighing, you join him against the Bar, leaning your head back against the bumpy surface of the wall.

He looks at you for a moment longer, and it’s as if you can feel him back away, creating an insurmountable distance between the pair of you.

In reality, you know he does not move, but at the sight of an ill placed smile stretching his face, you have never felt so immeasurably far from him.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” He grins, and it’s ugly for a man so devastatingly beautiful in your eyes, you hold back a grimace.

“I’m back.” You say simply, unable to look at him anymore, the footpath suddenly becoming the most interesting thing you’d ever seen before.

A street lamp flickers, the light momentarily dies leaving the pair of you in the dark for a split second before the light returns, Dazai glances upwards to look at it, you don’t even notice.

You don’t know why you even sought him out, your feet seeming to move on their own after Kunikida grumbled that Dazai had headed to Lupin’s Bar just after his shift at the agency.

You have a gift for him from your mission, you tell yourself, attempting to justify your foolish actions, ignoring the voice in your head that reminds you that you would have seen Dazai at the agency at some point the following day.

“You’re back.” He mimics, and he’s back to looking at you again, trying to understand your actions, trying to comprehend why you were currently standing outside in the cold, cold night with him.

“The mission was successful then I suppose?” His smile seemed less indulgent now, and if you were to look up you would surely notice how his body swayed slightly, a testimony to the tipsy feeling resonating in his chest.

You don’t however, your eyes staying downcast as you nod; mumbling about how it was more boring that anything, you hear him laugh at your admission, you hate how empty it sounded.

“Is everyone at the agency ok?” You ponder, clinging to the tail ends of a conversation you were slowly losing.

“You didn’t visit them before you came to see me?” Dazai questions an undeniable tease in his voice, you feel yourself flush.

“I did, it’s how I-” Found out you were here.

The words die on your tongue, refusing to go into detail of how you actively asked for his whereabouts about five minutes into your return.

“Hm?” Dazai coaxes you, although you’re certain he knew what you were about to confess.

“Nothing.” You mumble, your hands clammy, “I uh did, but I only saw Kunikida and Yosano so..” You trail off.

“Ah” He muses.

And in the back of his mind, he wonders if you were simply here because you felt like it, that you had no alterier motives, internally frowning at himself for his suspicions despite knowing you were part of the ADA, critiquing himself silently for falling into old habits that should have died when he left the mafia.

He supposes that maybe you just wanted to see him.

The breeze falls over you both and he’s moving to leave, you look at him again, your head cocked, holding yourself back from questioning, restraining yourself from clinging onto his hand and begging to follow him, indulging yourself in the warmth of other human.

The bar door opens, and for a brief moment you hear the drunken giggles and exclamations of careless patrons, before the door swings shut again, muffling the voices. It grounds you.

Dazai takes a few steps and then turns to face you, his face unreadable, before he tilts his head gesturing for you to follow him, you think your heart soars.

“You coming?”

And you’re pushing yourself away from the wall, nodding.

He doesn’t wait for you to catch up, and you find yourself walking at a pace slightly behind him, your hand subconsciously tracing the box in your pocket.

You wonder if you should give him his gift now, or if you should wait.

When you can’t decided you stay silent, choosing to speed up to level the distance between you both.

You have no idea where you’re going, simply following a man who’s actions you couldn’t begin to understand. He makes no effort to inform you of the destination and so you make no effort to ask.

Dazai likes to think when he walks, constantly scheming, devising ways in which he could encourage Atshushi to grow, or better yet, another way to end his life, and fail, over and over again.

A bitter cycle that infringes upon his thoughts like a bullet.

Tonight however, his thoughts circle back to you, and your silence, and how your face seems to glow in the dim light of the night. And he blames the alcohol that’s coursing through his blood, the last of his drink finally hitting him as he walks, dizzying him and rendering him in a state of concealed vulnerability.

“So.” His voice comes out steady, despite his tendency to slur his sentences when under the influence.

You look at him, gently urging him to continue.

“You’re hiding something.” He states, and you curse him for his intellect and damn observation.

You grip your coat tighter, eyeing the bulge in your pocket, defeat already coaxing you to reveal your intentions.

“I suppose.” You whisper, concluding to yourself that there was really no reason to hide the present from him, after all it was just a gift shared between two work colleagues, there was no need to plaster it with a hidden agenda.

Reaching into your pocket you timidly lift it out, his gift was wrapped, just like everyone’s gift from the agency, a pretty ribbon tying it all together in a clumsy bow. You feel foolish.

“I brought you something from my mission.” You explain, your eyes trained on his face.

And Dazai pauses, his steps slowing to a stop as he stares at the box in your hand, and you scramble to explain yourself, eyes wide.

“I-I got everyone from the agency something!” You stammered, “I just…wanted to give it to you.”

He doesn’t move for a second, his eyes moving between your flustered face and the present.

A car drives past, it’s headlights cause you to blink.

“Do you plan on giving them their presents in such an intimate manner as well?” His voice was softer, as if he himself is unsure of your answer.

His question makes you freeze, feeling as if you were caught in your own actions.

You whisper a tiny “No” and Dazai just nods.

And you hate how you don’t understand.

His hand brushes yours as he picks up the box, his hands are cold, you try not to shiver under his calculating gaze.

“You don’t have to open it now.” You mumble, willing yourself to look him in his eye.

Truthfully you hope he doesn’t open it in front of you, unable to cope with the silent weight of the consequences to your actions.

Dazai finally breaks eye contact to look at the bow, his finger going up to play with the flimsy material.

You brought him something, you had thought of him. Dazai, was unable to fathom how you could be so pure and act so well intentioned to someone with his past.

Did you not believe him to cruel? A man desperately trying to patch over his history with the excuse that he had changed. Changed from the eighteen year old who’s presence struck fear in those unfortunate enough to know his name. Who’s presence alone caused the death of the only person who-

Bitterly, he reminds himself that you had thought of everyone at the ADA.

Without a word he pockets the gift, that same ugly smile rippling his features yet again.

“How kind of you to think of me!” He exclaims, his voice far too loud for the quietness of the gesture, clapping his hands together in an enthusiastic display of himself.

The distance between the pair of you stretched for miles and you shake your head.

“I think about you plenty.” Your voice is hushed, edging on exasperated, because (although you would rather die than describe your complicated feelings for Osamu Dazai out-loud) you don’t appreciate being pushed away.

The moon appears to hide behind the clouds, leaving the street lights to fend for themselves. Their glow emphasising your features as he looks at you.

And Dazai wants to kiss you.

It’s a desire that materialises amidst the acutely awkward silence that follows your admission, it breathes down his neck and forces him to lose any and all words that might escape his lips.

He smiles, a bandaged hand reaching up to cup your cheek, your eyes squint; confusion, admiration and need seeping out from their sockets and onto your face, and Dazai, for once, is grateful for his ability to read people, to read you.

He wants to kiss you, but he doesn’t.

You lean into his hand as his thumb gently draws circles across the area just below your eye, your lips part, a question you will never ask bubbling in your throat.

The pair of you look at each-other for another brief moment before Dazai removes his hand from you and turns, hiding his expression.

“You’re cold.” He states, starting to walk, “You should go home.”

And you watch him go, your feet refusing to move, body overcome with a melancholy you only ever seem to experience around Dazai.

The moon peaks out from behind the clouds again, as if to ask if you’re ok. Illuminating both you and your surroundings like a blanket.

And you feel exhausted.

masterlist <3 or part 2 here :)

feel free to leave a request !

A/N: this was supposed to be fluff idk what happened- i think i started thinking of chapter in 109 half way through, i’m sorry ANYWAY hi bsd fandom ily ily ily and thank you for reading !!!

#dazai x reader #bsd dazai #bsd season 5 #bsd manga #bsd #bungo stray dogs dazai #bungo stray dogs x reader #hurt/comfort #angst #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs manga #dazai osamu #dazai smut #dazai x reader comfort

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lewkwoodnco · 2 months

Text

Falling For You - Lockwood x Reader

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

a/n: tfw you almost die in the arms of your future employer :) rip lockwood and co, never an agents first choice be it in canon or fanon ok ill stop now also just to be clear we’re all ignoring how much the title sucks ass okay god only gave out a limited number of brain cells and we can’t ALL be as creative as @bella-rose29 (will make a separate post on this a little later, not enough space here) (but also she was SICKKK for coming up w the title deck the halls (and not your partner) ok didn’t mean to turn this into a belle appreciation post but 👍)

warnings/tropes: fluff fluff FLUFF, this is about as fluffy as it gets from me ashdkd, cringy pick up lines overload, also I declare plagiarism (?) of some rlly popular incorrect quotes, you'll know it when you read them

word count: 2.6k!

TAGLIST | MASTERLIST

She and Lucy were in the kitchen, putting the kettle on and waiting for the boys to reach home. The four of them had split up to get some errands done that morning before breakfast - she and Lucy went to collect the payment for a few jobs, while Lockwood and George dropped off some paperwork at DEPRAC headquarters. Lucy put the kettle on while she refilled their teabag jar, and a minute later the boys walked in.

George was telling Lockwood off for something, who wasn't looking too sorry for whatever it was that he had done, though he clearly cared enough to try to suppress his giggles.

"Those forms took me hours, Lockwood. I wasn't about to let you drop them into some slush."

"I keep telling you, I wasn't going to drop them."

"How would you know when you were too busy making an ass of yourself?"

"I haven't seen a good pickup line in a while, George. You found it funny too."

"Yes, and the threat of you chucking our forms was downright hilarious."

She handed out the mugs of tea.

"What pickup line?"

"It was just a DEPRAC ad. Something like 'Are you a wraith? Because you have me love-locked.' Just a reminder of some quick signs of a visitor presence for Valentine's Day."

She meandered over to where Lockwood was standing at the kitchen counter, a little too casual. He immediately snapped up whatever he was scribbling. She looked mildly (read: exaggeratedly) injured, but he just gave her one of his winning smiles. Really, she was well within her rights to be suspicious.

"S'that?"

"A bill."

"What bill?"

"Nothing to worry about."

"I'm not worried."

"Good."

"Show me the bill."

"You're adorable."

It was a poor excuse of an attempt at a distraction, as she immediately started trying to snatch it away. Lockwood just held the folded paper above his head, trying to pry his jacket out of her yanking hands. After a minute or so of vehement struggling, the scuffle ended the way all of their scuffles ended - her playing at sour grapes.

"Oh! Go boil-yer-head. I don't even want to see that bill anyway."

He slotted the letter into an envelope smoothly as George cut in.

"Speaking of bills, hopefully, we'll be able to pay more of them off soon. Couples like to go away for Valentine's, so it's the perfect time to get any lingering visitors taken care of. We should put an ad in the paper, like DEPRAC."

That set Lockwood off again, and George groaned. As he got up to get another biscuit, she conspiratorially turned to Lockwood.

"Y'know, for someone who's so tickled by pickup lines, I bet you'd be terrible at them."

"Not more terrible than you."

"I beg to differ!"

"Wanna bet?"

"Thought you'd never ask."

“First person to laugh loses.”

”Not fair! I’m always laughing when you’re around. You’re bloody ridiculous.”

”Fine. First person to…er, feel something, loses. Deal?”

It wasn’t a question as much as it was a challenge. She hesitated. He took a sip from his mug. She let go of the breath she was holding.

“Deal.”

Their bet had taken a back burner in her mind while she was preparing for their case that night, but she was still immediately suspicious when she walked into the kitchen to see Lockwood innocently snacking on a bowl of raisins.

"What did you do?"

"Nothing."

"What are you going to do?"

"Nothing! Can't a guy eat his raisins?" He silently proferred the bowl to her. She narrowed her eyes.

"No thanks."

"How about a date?"

"When did we get - oh. Ha ha." There was a mischievous crinkle in Lockwood's eye. "Sneaky. I was busy preparing for our case, like a proper agent."

"Hmm, excuses, excuses."

"Fine. If George finds out you haven't read tonight's case file, you're on your own."

"NO no no no please please please -"

She prepped a few pickup lines before they left, just enough to stop Lockwood from becoming completely unbearable.

"Are you a visitor? Because you've been haunting my dreams."

She scrunched up her nose. "Boo. That's terrible."

"You try coming up with a visitor-themed one. They're all so horrible."

She paused for a minute.

"Are you a Lurker? 'Cause you're making my heart race."

"...no one likes a show-off," he grumbled, and she smiled to herself as they continued rooting through boxes, looking for a potential Source.

"Your hand looks heavy. Could I hold it for you?"

"What's it like to be the most gorgeous person in this room?" That one got a good laugh out of him.

"Might be more flattering if my competition wasn't a Raw Bones. You’re pretty and I’m cute. Wanna be pretty cute together?"

"If you and I were socks, we'd make a great pair."

She revelled in the huge smile that lit up his face. She knew he'd get a kick out of that one.

She hadn't expected to have as much fun with their game as she did. They recounted their highlights to Lucy and George on the way home, which made for an entertaining end to the case. As Lucy and George put away their coats, Lockwood lingered behind, looking at her as if there was something he wanted to say, but couldn't quite find the words. She became even more alarmed when he placed a hand on her shoulder, because of how serious he looked.

"Is everything okay?"

He took a shaky breath and tightened his grip on her shoulder ever so slightly.

"If you let me borrow a kiss, I promise I'll give it right back."

The line itself wasn't particularly outrageous, but in the darkness by the door, with their faces in the shadows and him holding her close, she momentarily forgot how to breathe.

"Good one," she whispered.

He gave her a sloping smile and retreated into the kitchen. She stood there for a moment, thinking about the warmth on her shoulder, as if his hand was still there.

"Did it hurt?"

"When I fell from heaven?"

"When you fell down the stairs. Right in front of us. It's been ten minutes and you haven't even gotten up yet."

With a strangled wheeze, he righted himself, looking more than a little stupid with his affronted expression and hair sticking up in all directions. They were on a case, and Lockwood had been a bit too close to the stairs whilst investigating the death glow on the landing. It had been quite a painful-looking rollercoaster of a fall with many bumps as he flailed for the railings, ending with a muffled scream.

"I was checking for broken bones."

"For ten minutes? Do you even have that many bones?"

He had an oily smirk on his face, though it was mostly nullified by his slightly crossed eyes.

"I've got...so many bones, I could give you a...wait. No. Hey lady, do you want a...bone? If you were a bone, you'd be in my...body...my body has all the bones...hang on. Okay, got it. Bones....fuck."

"...concussion?"

"Nuh-uh."

That was the moment his knees chose to buckle under him, and the three of them hurried to hold him upright. Even though he kept insisting he was fine, he was looking far too pale and woozy, so they flagged down a cab and pushed Lockwood into it. After a quick round of rock paper scissors, she joined him in the cab while George and Lucy got to stay to finish the job.

It had been a bit of a challenge to fumble for the key to the front door with the dead weight that was Lockwood compressing her spine, but she somehow managed. She tried her best to keep track of all of his long limbs after he knocked his head on the side of the door frame, groaning again. She dumped him onto their living room sofa, going down with him in the process, and with some difficulty peeled herself out of his grip. The bump had clearly taken quite a bit out of him, for by the time she returned with a blanket, he had completely passed out.

With some difficulty, she wrestled his rapier off of him and draped the blanket over him. She put away her own gear and rapier and curled up with a book on the armchair opposite the sofa. It was odd to see Lockwood sleeping. And even more odd to see him doing it so peacefully, like all thoughts and worries had been knocked clean out of his head. Much like her thoughts, the first time they met.

It hadn’t even been her goddamn fault. She had been lugging around her uncle’s rapiers since hers had been sent for cleaning and it was starting to make her arm ache. She deserved a little lean, no doubt. Only, what she thought was the door frame had been the door itself, so when her then-future employer had opened the door, she stumbled right into his arms.

And then promptly fell out of them when he let her go by surprise. To his credit, he was superfluously apologetic and sympathetic, and kept asking if her head was alright throughout the interview. It was a little annoying, if she were entirely honest, but she was grateful when that sympathy translated into a job, because all coherent thoughts in her head were lying somewhere on their front door runner.

As much as she tried not to think about the incident since Lockwood showed no sign of doing so himself, it kept her up at night more than she'd like to admit. But it had also been rather liberating, as there was little else she could do that would be any worse.

As if hearing her thoughts, Lockwood began to stir after an hour or so, opening his eyes blearily. She instinctively put her book down and crouched next to the sofa, where she immediately felt awkward. After a moment's hesitation, she placed her hand on his forehead, and they blinked at each other in confusion.

"How're you feeling?"

"Great." He cleared his throat, which barely helped his hoarse voice. "Chipper."

"Are you sure? Feeling chilly?"

"No, I'm fine. Are you a construction worker?"

"...huh?"

"Because you are building."

"What."

"I win."

He turned to his side and buried his face into his cushion with a satisfied look on his face.

"Oh, Lockwood. I don't think..."

He pulled his head out of the cushion alarmingly fast. That couldn't have been good for his neck. "Ohhh, too good for my pickup lines now, eh?"

"I...what?"

"I get a bump on my head and you don't like my pickup lines no more?"

"Why do you have a Brooklyn accent?"

"You's got a Brooklyn accent."

"Okay, now you're just throwing a tantrum."

He fussed for a few more minutes, muttering out of the corner of his mouth or into the cushion, but eventually calmed down. As his eyes fluttered close, his breathing becoming long and even, she quietly got up to leave.

"Just so you know...I do think you're building."

The Brooklyn accent was gone, and though his low murmur was comfortably familiar, something in it sent a spark running through her brain.

"I think you're building too."

She could have sworn he had a small smile before his mouth relaxed as he drifted off again.

She didn't see much of him after that, given how much rest he needed, and the reprieve from their game was a welcome relief. The pickup lines didn't slide off her tongue as easily when she meant them as much as she did now. Still, she couldn't hide from him forever, and ran into him in the kitchen a few nights later.

"Oh. Hey."

He held up the biscuit tin. "Hello. Catching up on my biscuit rations."

She smiled. "Feeling better?"

"Definitely. A little sick of lying about, but I think I've finally got my head on straight."

He smiled, and the tension between them melted. She smiled back.

"Must have been scary, having your brain go wonky like that."

"It was...wild. I don't even know how I had the presence of mind to put my rapier away."

Her cheeks burned as she pointedly rummaged through their pantry for a snack while Lockwood brewed tea for the both of them. They sat at the kitchen table in silence, slowly sipping their tea as they ignored the elephant in the room. That is, until Lockwood broached the subject.

“Did it hurt?”

She put her mug down. “Lockwood.”

“Did it hurt?” He pressed, firmly.

“I’ve already heard this one.”

“Just - humour me for a minute, won’t you?”

She looked at the little she could see of his face, given how close they were sitting, and gave a small sigh.

“So. Did it hurt?”

“When I fell from heaven?”

“When you fell into my life.”

He lightly squeezed her hand, it was only then that she realised that they were holding hands. She choked on her breath in a mildly undignified manner, but with the proximity and the unexpected answer, she was well and truly taken aback. She waited for the embarrassment to kick in. There were a lot of things to be embarrassed about at that moment - how he could probably see every imperfection on her face, how he could probably tell how nervous she was getting from how clammy her palm must be, and of course that he remembered their dreadfully embarrassing first encounter.

But the shame never came. If anything, she felt oddly…touched. There wasn’t anything embarrassing about the memory anymore. It was…as much as it pained her to admit it…slightly romantic. She looked away from his face, shaking her head slightly, staring at their gripping hands. So easy it was to hold onto each other in the shadows, but terrifying in the daylight. Scratch that, it was terrifying to see herself holding his hand just as tightly as he held hers. Maybe he did compel…something in her.

His hand disappeared into his pocket, and a moment later he was pulling out a familiar, weathered envelope.

"I've never...I've never asked anyone to be my Valentine. Never knew how it worked. Still don't really know how it works. So I tried writing it all down, and..." Lockwood frowned at the loopy yet measured scrawls in front of him. He sighed in defeat, crumpling the letter. "...and I still don't know how it works."

She swallowed through the lump in her throat. "Me neither. But..." she tore her eyes away from the table, looking at his face with his emotions stacked plain as day. "I think we know enough."

She curled her fingers into his. Years ago, she hadn't thought knowing if she was in love would ever be an issue, but for so many years she struggled to find the love they wrote books, songs and poetry about. But sitting here now, in the dim light of the kitchen, with a person whose face she could trace in her sleep, she realised Little Her had had it right all along.

“I always thought you were very nice to me in that interview. A little too nice.”

“You didn’t hear the way you screamed. I thought you were going down with a heart attack.”

TAGLIST: @dangelnleif @elenianag080 @snoopyluver20 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @avdiobliss @mitskiswift99 @ahead-fullofdreams @neewtmas @mischivana @houseoftwistedspirits

#lockwood and co #lockwood & co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #fanfiction #fanfic #anthony lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood imagine #valentines day #fluff

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uglyducklingofthe2000s · 11 months

Text

To Lose One, Is To Lose Both - Charles Leclerc

Summary: Crashes happen. Cars are dangerous. Sometimes there’s nothing you can do.

Themes: Major character death. This is gonna be sad, don’t say I didn’t warn you. Sad ending.

Y/n has been there to watch every race for the past 2 years. Sometimes she’s been late and not to go properly wish him good luck (damn traffic on race days), sometimes she’s spent the entire race sick to her stomach. Today she has to leave early for a flight to get home for work.

“You are going to do amazing out there, baby.” Y/n smiles brightly knowing that Charles hasn’t been feeling well. They’re only hoping that he’ll be ok to deal with the length of the race.

He’d never step down from a race unless he’s bed bound or a hospital visit is needed. So today is no different.

“Hey, don’t look like that, you’re going to be fine.” Y/n states leaning in for a kiss. “And I’ll be here till lap 45. I’m still going to be watch you for the most of it.”

It’s going to be the first race she isn’t there to see him at the end of. But he feels like it’d be childish to get so upset over something like that.

“I know, I’m going to win for you even if you aren’t here.” Charles grins hiding his sadness that he won’t get to celebrate it with her.

Y/n is one of the last non-team members escorted from the grid, though she gives Charles one last kiss on top of his helmet with a wish of good luck and a promise that she’d still be watching the live broadcast of the race till she’s on her flight.

There shouldn’t be any reason for him to win other than for himself and the team, but she somehow beats both those reasons. He knows unlike a lot of the people he spends his time with now, she’ll be the one he sees every day after he retires.

-----

Charles sighs getting to the cool down room. His body buzzing with the thrill of having followed through on winning the race despite her not being there. But the team member who is there for the constructor award is talking to one of the FIA and they exchange a look before looking at him.

“Charles, we have to tell you something before you go out.”

They can’t let him go out there beyond happy when there is bad news that is already spreading its way throughout the the F1 community online.

“What is it?”

There’s a long pause. Max and Lando (my dream podium rn) have silenced to listed to whatever is so urgent.

“There was a crash.”

“Is the race? Was it after I crossed the line?”

“Y/n was in a crash. She’s in the hospital-wait, you have to wait. She’s been taken in for emergency surgery and you will-”

“I don’t care. They can fine me, give me penalties. Take the win, she is my girlfriend. I will not stand here and celebrate!” Charles exclaims leaving the cool down room despite several trying to fight him on it.

He gets himself to the hospital after learning which one she has been taken to, he keeps himself there. Ignoring his phone, ignoring everyone around him, ignoring fans who spot him. Eventually a nurse is kind enough to place him in a room away from people. But he doesn’t utter more than a grateful thanks.

It feels like he’s waited ten lifetimes, but eventually a surgeon appears with a nurse and the look on their faces almost makes his sick on the spot. He’s still coated in a layer of sweat and he’s wearing his entire race suit with he boots and all.

“We’re sorry. Y/n’s injuries were just too severe. She passed, there was nothing more than we could do.” The surgeon states making the weight of world crush him. Charles isn’t even sure he’s breathing as he stumbles back and drops into the chair he’s just spend god knows how long in. “We’ll give you a moment. Is there anyone we could call for her or yourself? Being alone at a time like this is never advised.”

Words choke in his throat and in place of them comes a sob.

He’d just bought her the ring, he was going to ask her during the summer break. They were meant to get married, have kids. Live a long happy life together.

But even if they weren’t even if the worst was to happen. It was meant to be him. He’d die in a crash. How could it be possible that it’s not him?

Maybe he did crash, maybe he crashed in the race. This is just an injury induced nightmare, he’s just been knocked out and this is a horrible dream.

Despite the denial. The hurt, the impossible ache that feels like someone used a dessert spoon to hollow out his chest.

“Can I see her?” Charles asks with a voice that he hardly recognises. Distorted and distant like it wasn’t even him who asked.

“Of course.” The nurse who was apparently awaiting for him to finally walk out the room he’d been allowed to sit in.

She does disappear to make sure that y/n is ok to be seen before reappearing and allowing Charles in.

Her body is covered by a sheet with her head uncovered looking white but like she’s still just sleeping rather than completely dead.

-----

The funeral was a numb haze of pitiful sorries, heart-wrenching speeches and endless sobs. Her family and Charles family are destroyed with emotion. But Charles can’t react.

He just stared at the coffin and then he sat and watched them fill the grave plot, covering it with the flowers as her mum requested. Slowly he’s accepting the devastating truth.

Y/n’s gone.

He’ll never get to live out all those conversations they spent hours discussing.

Leaving doesn’t even feel like an option that he can consider. So instead he sits there till his brothers appear again.

“It’s time to go...you can come back.” Lorenzo states offering a hand up to his younger brother who has never looked so fragile, he’s not even sure that Charles can get up and stand on his own two feet without some support.

It’s obvious that despite people trying, Charles hasn’t eaten or slept in the past week since her death. He skipped the next race to be here, but due to the circumstances. The race win wasn’t taken from him, and surprisingly for once the other teams acted human enough to not argue about it.

Death brings out a more understanding side to those in the sport apparently. Since Charles knows that him refusing to get on the podium would otherwise been demanded as grounds for disqualification.

“Charles, come on.” Lorenzo sighs feeling some relief when Charles does take his hand allow himself to be pulled up.

Charles looks down at the flowers alongside his brothers, tears already gathering in his eyes, blurring the bright colours into a mass.

“I was supposed have her for the rest of my life.” Charles whispers, throat still raw.

“We’re going to get you through this.” Arthur promises but honestly they all feel the grief for this loss. She was family for them all.

They’d helped Charles plan out the proposal. They’d spent hours hearing him talk about her. They’re not even sure how they’re going to help him through this because really they’re not sure there’ll ever come a day that he can truly move on from her.

“Formula 1 fans have begun to share concern over Ferrari driver, Charles Leclerc. He lost his girlfriend due to a head on collision two months ago that occurred while Charles was still mid-race and since then, Charles return to races has proven that he’s been more ruthless, reckless and uncaring of risk. We can only hope this is a temporary attitude as a result of his loss. But we just don’t there to be tragic ending for Charles too.”

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc imagine #leclerc #formula 1 #f1 #fanfic #sad ending #character death

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botlabyrinth · 3 months

Text

ok i’m thinking many thoughts stick with me here yall

“power and glory and nothing else matters.”

and “olympians fight. we betray. we backstab. we will push anyone down a flight of stairs to get ahead.”

this is the essence of the gods’ way of thinking. which is why sally says about percy that:

“i want him to know who he is, before your family tries to tell him who they want him to be.”

she doesn’t want percy to be like that. she doesn’t want him to be ruthless and willing to hurt anyone just for personal gain. she wants him to be considerate and human and kind.

and now throw in annabeth saying: “it’s easy to forget what’s important when you’re alone.”

and how the gods, in a way, are alone. they are immortal, disconnected from humanity, millions of years old. they lose touch of what’s important because of their immortality.

and guess who else is alone. luke.

luke doesn’t get to figure out who he is before he’s thrown into the demigod world. he loses his mother, in every way that matters, so young. he gets thrown into being on the run, into fending for himself, into going to camp. he sees the way the gods are and he turns angry as a result. and in doing so, luke becomes who the gods would want him to be. “power and glory and nothing else matters” is what is eventually luke’s whole motive. he may have the same intentions as percy: to bring justice to demigods, to help the unclaimed, to get their parents’ attention. but he doesn’t go about it the right way. he does it the way the gods would. he lets kronos tell him who he should be. he chooses violence and anger and wants to take down the gods entirely. get rid of everything, good or bad, and let kronos take over.

but percy, because his mom didn’t send him to camp so young, does get to figure out who he is. he learns about unconditional love. he learns that there is more to life than power and glory. he isn’t that way. he’s better than that. because sally didn’t send him to camp at a young age. because he got to figure out who he is before the gods could tell him who they want him to be. because he has that humanity, that unconditional love, that support from sally. he still has the same idea as luke: the gods shouldn’t be allowed to birth a bunch of children just to ignore them and leave them to fend for themselves. but he is never swayed onto kronos’s side. he doesn’t think the destruction of the olympians is the answer to solve that. he works to dismantle the broken system. instead of taking immortality as the reward for saving olympus, he uses his reward to force the gods to swear that they will be different. that they will stop leaving their kids to fight for themselves. he does this because of his humanity, because of sally jackson. because he doesn’t become who the gods want him to be. because his mother raised him right.

#on this chapter of luke and percy are the most insane character foils of all time:#lol no on a real note idk if this fully makes sense but it does in my brain?#perhaps this is meta as hell but whatever it’s what i’m choosing to take from these lines in the show #pjotv #pjo spoilers #pjo tv spoilers #pjo tv #pjo tv show #percy jackson #luke castellan #pjo #percy jackson and the olympians #percy jackon and the olympians #pjo meta #ruch rambles

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heliads · 11 months

Note

ok so… i’m totally obsessing over Newt from TMR rn but i’m not sure if u still write for him🤧 but if u do i was thinking maybe something like during bonfire night the reader has had too many special drinks from Gally, accidentally confesses to Newt and lists everything she loves about him and then Newt gets all flustered and stuff (he’s so cute omg) but the reader is too drunk to go back to their own hammock so then Newt carries reader to their hammock but ends up sharing a hammock and then the reader doesn’t remember anything the next morning and then i’ll let u decide the rest😭

gally's special brew as a plot device >> it will always be famous to me

masterlist

In roughly thirty seconds, you’re going to reach a milestone you never thought possible. You’ve been waiting for this for a while now, counting down the days and hours and minutes like you were going to find yourself anywhere other than right here when your self-imposed timer went off. All you’ve got to remember the date is a memory, but given the fact that you only recall so many of those, it was easier to place than one would expect.

An alarm goes off across the Glade, ear-piercing klaxons rattling off of the high stone walls surrounding you. The rest of the boys around you start to amble towards the source of the noise, the Box newly arrived from who knows where, but you stay put for the time being, just breathing in the moment.

One blond boy next to you, your closest friend and favorite person here, nudges you in the leg with his foot. You’re both sitting in the unruly grass, ignoring the press of the green strands against your arms and calves. You have a habit of always wanting to keep him within reach.

“Why aren’t you racing towards the Box?” He asks.

You tilt your head to the side, staring up at the sky. Robin’s egg blue dappled with clouds, it’s the only pocket of space outside the Walls that you’ll likely ever know. “Today marks one year since I showed up here for the first time.”

Newt whistles through his teeth. “Shoot, already? Feels like time has flown. I swore you came up just last month.”

“No, I’ve been keeping count. Twelve months and I’m still here.”

Newt winces. He made a promise to you at the very start that he would get you out in six months, then, when that deadline came and went, he lengthened it to a year. The oath was only sworn because you were nervous about this place when you were still a Greenie and unused to the idea of living and dying here in endless repetition. You’re no happier about that fact now, but you are more used to it, at least.

“Well,” he starts off, “maybe you’re still here, yeah, but Minho and the other Runners are getting closer to finding a way out, I swear. Minho says they’re this close to having mapped the whole thing, then we’ll have an escape route for certain. Just give it another year. You won’t even notice the time passing, I promise.”

It’s kind of Newt to try to distract you again, even though you both know by this point that it’s useless. Minho is getting closer to traveling every pathway of the Maze, yes, but what Newt isn’t mentioning is how little the Keeper of the Runners actually is to finding something useful. Whenever you ask Minho what he’s learned about how to get out of here, he only ever comes up with a blank slate.

Still, harping on that doesn’t exactly make for a good time, so you’ll let yourself play along with Newt’s idea of your inevitable escape from this place for now. He’s losing hope even faster than you, even if he doesn’t tell anyone. It would be good to keep up the pretense.

You eye his leg, the one with the limp, and nod. “Yeah, next year for sure.”

Newt sits in silence for a moment or two longer, then stands up carefully, offering a hand to you. “Come on, then. We’ve got a Greenie to stare at and stuff to unpack from the Box, no time for musing. Besides, we’ve all got to get ready for the bonfire later tonight.”

You accept his offer of help, and when you’re on your feet once more, your smile is back. “I forgot about the bonfire! Oh, that’ll make everything better. Always does.”

Newt grins. “You’re just saying that because it’s the one time a month Alby will let all of us get proper wasted and skip work for the afternoon.”

“Of course I am,” you laugh, “I want to have fun! Is that such a terrible thing?”

Newt slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you closer to his side as the two of you walk lopsidedly over to the Box opening. The other Gladers have already crowded around the opening, but there’s enough space for the two of you to peer in at the befuddled newcomer inside if you squeeze past a few Track-Hoes.

“No,” he murmurs later, once you’ve almost forgotten what you were talking about, “I don’t think it is.”

Damn right. You’ve looked forward to each Bonfire Night of your full year here with just as much excitement as everyone else. The soaring flames, the delighted shrieks and shouts of your friends, plus Gally’s special brew, everything about the celebration is a joy to behold. You can watch Gally kick the asses of people who should have known better to challenge him, or observe the Greenie as he tries to figure out his name.

Or, better yet, you can sit in a circle of your friends and tell jokes that get progressively worse as the lot of you get progressively more tipsy and tired. The night wears on, the stars burn themselves out above you just trying to catch a glimpse of your magnificently roaring fire, and all is well, as much as it can be around here.

At some point, you look up and you’re sitting alone with Newt towards the outskirts of the gathering. You don’t remember quite when that happened, but you’ve refilled your glass enough times that the memory loss sort of makes sense. Does anything here, though? No, not at all. Not ever.

Newt’s grinning over at you, saying something that you have to focus extra hard to hear. “Are you lucid again?”

“Not entirely,” you beam up at him, “Have I had a lot to drink tonight?”

Newt grimaces. “Probably more than you should have. You’ll be regretting it tomorrow, I can promise you that. Sorry for not cutting you off earlier.”

You shake your head a little too wildly and have to pause for a moment to blink the stars out of your eyes before continuing. “No, that’s not your fault. You don’t have to watch out for me all the time.”

Something almost like hurt plays upon Newt’s features, mixing with the warm glow of the firelight, and it makes you rush to say something so he stops looking so unhappy. “Only if you don’t want to watch out for me, that is. I like having you around. Makes me feel better.”

“Really?” Newt asks, amused.

“Really,” you confirm happily. “You’re my favorite person here by far. Minho teases me about that a lot, actually. He says I should soldier up and just tell you that, but he can’t bully me anymore, because I’m talking about it right now, aren’t I? He’s right, though, I do like you. Oh– I was thinking, Newt, and– and I think I’m okay, staying in the Glade forever, if I’ve got you here with me. You’re the best thing about this place.”

You hadn’t meant to ramble on like that, but the words came easily enough from your throat, and Newt seemed like he really wanted to hear what you were saying, so you went ahead and let him.

Newt sits for a few minutes in stunned silence before clearing his throat a little too loudly. “Um. Well, I think you should get to bed. Like, now. I think you’re drunk.”

“No,” you protest, “well, I am drunk, yeah, but I’m not just saying that because I’m drunk. I mean it, Newt. I really do.”

Newt’s expression softens. “I know you did, sweetheart. Let’s go to bed anyway, though. I think some rest would be good for you.”

“Alright,” you decide.

Newt stands up. You try to start walking back with him, but your feet refuse to cooperate on the uneven ground and you end up tripping more than you should. Eventually, Newt laughs quietly and picks you up, easily carrying you back to your hammock. He tries to set you down but you’re seized by the overwhelming panic that he’ll leave you here alone and you complain vehemently.

He’s still in a good temper, though (is it not wonderful to be needed?) and instead shifts so he’s lying down in his hammock instead, you on his stomach. You whisper goodnight to him and he says goodnight back, then a beat and a half later, did you really mean what you said? About me, that is? About how you–

You can’t really pick up what he’s saying, though. He was right about you needing rest, because the gentle swaying of the hammock and the soft beat of his heart under your head is just enough to send you off to sleep. Darkness pulls you under in an instant, and you’re rocked away to the tune of the crickets chirping somewhere in the distance and Newt still mumbling questions against the top of your head.

You can sense your hangover looming like dark clouds on the horizon, signaling a true storm of a day about to wreck you for good, but for now it’s just in the distance, not quite yours, not yet. The terrible feeling is warded off by an odd sense of calm and quiet. It’s warm now, warm and comfortable in your hammock, which is strange. Usually, you wake up cold on mornings in the Glade, but not today. It makes you want to snuggle down further, push off consciousness just a little longer.

Then your hand connects with something that isn’t one of your few allotted threadbare blankets or the knots of your hammock, something soft, like skin. A hand, one that isn’t yours. Your eyes fly open and– well, you don’t remember this, but you’re not exactly going to complain.

Newt is lying next to you, still asleep. You are curled up beside him, must have fallen asleep with your head on his chest. One of his hands is just touching yours, the other is cupping the back of your head to pull you closer to him.

Immediately your brain splits into two warring factions. One half wants to run away quickly, figure out what happened and why you’re here. This isn’t what you’re supposed to be doing, you know. Shuck, Alby would have a fit if he saw the two of you like this. Probably enough to throw you in the Slammer for a couple of hours.

The other part of yourself wants to stay here forever, to close your eyes and make Newt wake up first and handle it. You haven’t felt peace like this in a while. It’s just the two of you, soft and sweet and mostly folded over in sleep. Why should you disturb this? Disturb him? He’ll just be unhappy if you wake him and force him to realize that you’re here. Probably. Unless he’s the one who let you sleep in his hammock, which is more likely and far more terrifying.

Your issue is solved when Newt shifts slightly, rocking the hammock, and wakes up at last. You quickly shut your eyes and feign sleep, but judging by the movement of his chest as he laughs, you were caught in the act.

“I know you’re awake, Y/N.” He says.

You reluctantly open your eyes. “Maybe. By any chance, do you know why I’m here and not in my own hammock?”

You might just be kidding yourself, but you swear something almost like disappointment crosses Newt’s face. “You were pretty drunk last night,” he says at last, “I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

It’s a decent explanation, but that doesn’t explain why he’s looking at you like he really, really wants you to remember something about the events of the most recent Bonfire Night. “What did I do last night?” You ask slowly.

Newt shakes his head. “You didn’t do anything, trust me.”

“Then what did I say? You’re looking at me like you’re going crazy.”

Newt furrows his brows in a moment of indignation. “What? I’m not– I’m not looking at you like that. Anyway, you might have said a thing or two. Maybe.”

You stare at him in disbelief. “Newt, if you keep withholding information from me, I’m going to rock the hammock so much you fall on the ground. What happened?”

He has the audacity to laugh at your threat, as if you weren’t completely serious about it. “Alright, alright. You might have told me that you liked me.”

Your sense of terror, which had faded briefly after Newt woke up, is back in full force. “I did what?”

“You told me you liked me,” Newt repeats, “and I thought– well, you were drunk, so I thought you didn’t mean it, but–”

“I did mean it,” you whisper.

Newt’s eyes are wide when you dare to risk a glance back up at him. “Oh.”

That’s a bad oh. Has to be. You move to get up and try to run away before he can look at you like that anymore, but Newt tightens his grip around your waist, forcing you to lie back down. “Wait, wait. Don’t go. I like you too.”

Now it’s your turn to be surprised. “You do?”

“Yeah,” he says, smiling, “Have for a while. Minho teases me about that too, by the way. No wonder he seems so frustrated about it, he has to listen to both of us moping around even though we both like each other.”

You laugh. “That would be annoying, yes. He has to be happy now, though, we finally told each other about it.”

“That we did,” Newt says, and you can feel the upturned crescent of his lips as he presses a kiss to your forehead.

Maybe you spent a whole year in the Glade without ever seeing rescue. Maybe another year will pass without anything, or maybe five, or ten. Maybe you’ll never leave at all. Still, you’ve got your reasons to be happy after all. They start with him.

maze runner tag list: @rogueanschel, @ellobruv, @retvenkos, @neewtmas, @mayfieldss, @hiya-itsamber, @gods-fools-heroes, @hope92100, @w1shes43, @23victoria, @ilovexavierthrope, @fadedver

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alwritey-aphrodite · 5 months

Note

its ur fav anon pookie!!

i’ve been thinking a lot about an arranged marriage/relationship with either sejanus or coryo. i feel like both of their guardians would want them to get to a higher ranking in the capital, so naturally, marrying their kid off to the capital sweetheart (reader) is the best option.

you don’t even have to write anything on this if you don’t want to, just a silly idea i had 🤭 i feel like they would both react so differently to being forced into something like that omg

Ok I love this idea so I’m writing one for Sejanus too, and I’ll link it here when it’s finished!

For as long as you can remember, there had been talks and jokes and quips about you marrying Coriolanus Snow, the grandson of your own grandmother’s childhood best friend. At first, the comments went well over your head, but the older you got, the more serious it seemed. And now, with Coriolanus at your elbow and your mother across from you at the dinner table, it seemed more serious than ever.

“In the springtime, of course, after you’ve both finished your studies,” your mother is saying, the two older women at the end of the table nodding along and whispering together, clearly planning their own sequence of events. All this marriage talk has made you lose your appetite, so you push yourself away from the table and make your way to the gardens, ignoring the shouts of your parents.

There are footsteps behind you, the heavy footfall of your betrothed, and you slow to a stop, despite the urges to turn and slap him across the face. He’s obviously pleased with this arrangement, gaining access to all that money he surely believes has long been his right, growing up with all the trappings of Capital luxury and none of the wealth.

The boy is as cold and emotionless as the statues that surround you, his eyes a pale blue that give the impression of a motionless pond. You wonder if your mother would let you choose the Snow cousin you’d want to marry, certain that Tigris would be much more enjoyable to spend the rest of your life with.

“Well, this must be wonderful news for you,” you sneer after a few minutes of silent walking, desperate for a fight.

“It is, I’m going to marry the most desired girl in Panem,” he says, his voice infused with pride, as if he’s done anything at all to win you over.

“The most desired fortune in Panem,” you correct, knowing exactly why all the boys at the academy fell over themselves trying to get close to you.

“Are you going to attend university?” He asks, changing topics as if he has any interest in what you want, any interest in you beyond the fortune tied to your last name.

“Yes, I am,” you try to be polite, but part of you is waiting for a fight, waiting for Coriolanus to finally snap and show you that he’s not an emotionless machine, “and I’m sure my parents would be more than happy to pay for you to attend as well, I can’t be having a deadbeat for a husband.”

You’re successful in riling him up, if the way Coriolanus crowds you up against one of the stone pillars near your house is any tell. You knew money would be a sore spot, and seeing his chest heaving with rage, his eyes an electric sort of blue you’ve never seen before, has a smile tugging at your face. He’s standing so close that you need to look up to look into his eyes, but you’ve never been one to back down from a fight.

“You have no right to speak to me like that,” he grits out, and you can’t help but scoff, the pride of this boy unbelievable.

“I was only trying to help,” you ply him with a sickly sweet smile, ready to complete the rest of your little experiment.

It’s difficult, with the way he has you crowded against the pillar, but you press your lips to his, cutting off any snide remarks he was waiting to use and resisting the urge to bite off his tongue. He’s motionless, hands by his side but his mouth is much more responsive, and when his hands start to catch up with his brain and he makes to grab your waist, you slip out from where he’d had you effectively trapped, sauntering back into the house.

When you look back at him over your shoulder, his chest is heaving for an entirely different reason, and you can’t help the grin that splits your face. He thinks he’s in control, but you’re the one who holds all the cards, and maybe this marriage won’t be as awful as you think.

I’m in love with this dynamic if anyone has any more asks for these two :)

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow fanfiction #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes fanfiction #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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letstalkaboutshtufff · 1 month

Text

Not Weak

Highschool Gojo x reader classmate

Pairing: Gojo x reader (this can be seen as romantic or platonic since I didn’t really specify. I do like platonic friendship stories a lot tho)

Summary: You are trying your very hardest to catch up to your classmates and not get left behind.

Warnings: language, mentions of a little blood, fainting kinda

Hope you guys enjoy!

*************************************************

Pathetic. There was really no other way to put it. Truly and utterly pathetic was what you were. All this training and yet you could barely summon any energy.

At this rate you’d only be able to defeat a raccoon.

“Ugh why can’t I do it…” you slump down on the tree, the target in front of you barely scratched.

You were a first year like your classmates, Gojo, Geto and Shoko but for some reason they were all improving and you were still stuck in the same place like a fly in mud. Your family had a technique, ice manipulation (excuse me while I make things up) but for some reason you were the only person who wasn’t an instant prodigy. It was extremely discouraging, especially when Gojo and Geto were so strong already.

“Hey snowflake, you’re getting better, almost felt a little chill there for a second”

“Gojo… did you come here just to make fun of me?”

“Aw cmon I wouldn’t do that, just wanted to see what you were up to, you weren’t at breakfast.”

“Just training… I’m close to a breakthrough I can feel it”

“Well do us all a favor and figure it out soon because this heat has been killing me- would love a personal air conditioner”

“You threw a rock aimed at his head which of course bounced off thanks to his new trick, infinity.”

“Rude” you just rolled your eyes and moved to stand again, ready to try again.

“Satoru stop picking on y/n” Geto emerged from the trees.

“Huh? I’m not picking on her, if anything she’s bullying me!”

“Yeah like that’s believable…” Shoko popped out behind Geto. Cigarette hanging from her lips.

“Great you’re all here…” you mumbled. Now you can all witness my patheticness…

“We didn’t see you all day, we got worried” shoko ever the sweet one looked at you concerned.

“Well I’m fine” you said with a bit more bite than you meant to.

“Ooh someone’s in a mood”

“Leave her alone Gojo she’s working hard unlike you”

“Why you little-“

“It’s not exactly a lie though is it”

“You to suguru?!? I thought you guys were my friends!”

During their little scuffle you snuck away. Your mind on one thing and one thing only. Getting your damn technique to work.

Once you were far enough away you positioned yourself towards a large boulder.

Ok breathe in

Breathe out

Focus

You raised your hand towards the boulder.

Focus

Prickles travelled up your arm towards your hand.

Ok now build the energy in the palm

Hold it

Don’t lose it come on!

Focus!

You trembled trying to control the energy

“FUCK” you felt your body jerk heavily and the energy disappear completely, like it did every damn time before you could even send it out.

You doubled over breathing heavily.

Why?! Why couldn’t you do it!? Were you always going to be this weak??? No, no you couldn’t… if you did they’d leave you behind… you couldn’t be left behind….

Again. You had to try again.

“Ok, focus” you repeated this cycle about a hundred more times or so it felt. It was nighttime but you were still at it.

Just……one……more…..time…..

“Urgh” you collapsed onto your hands and knees. Blood droplets coated the grass. You coughed a few more times before continuing your ritual.

Again… one more time…

But this time when you rose you stumbled and fell again.

Pathetic. Come you useless sorcerer get up. Every bone in your body was screaming but you ignored it completely and rose once more.

Focus

Foc-

Suddenly your target boulder blurred and you felt yourself tipping to the side.

“Woah hey, you ok?” Gojo…. What was he doing here. And most importantly why couldn’t you speak.

He held you upright and leaned down to look at your face,

“You look like hell…” his eyes gleamed in the darkness, appraising your sorry state.

“Mmfine” you slurred unconvincing.

“Hm yeah sure you are…” Gojo said sarcastically.

“Come on, let’s go find Shoko.”

“I don’t nee-“ your world spin again and gojo gripped you tighter so you wouldn’t fall.

“You were saying?” He raised an amused brow.

You sighed, there wasn’t really much training you could do when you couldn’t stand…

You nodded half heartedly in Gojos direction. You tried taking a step and stumbled,

“Alright stubborn Bambi up we go”

Ah!?

“Gojo I can walk, let me down!” His long legs easily carried you both across the training field in record time.

“Stop moving or I’ll drop you geez”

“Gojo-“you sighed in defeat. Hating yourself even more for getting dizzy again and being forced to lean your head on his chest.

“Don’t wake shoko… just need sleep…” you whispered but you knew he heard it”

He looked down at you and thought for a moment.

“Uh you sure? You were coughing up blood you know…”

“Mm sure…” you mumbled already halfway to lala land. For trash like him, he sure did smell good…

“Ok fine but in the morning you should at least let her-….aaaaand you’re asleep.” He sighed, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest. He frowned a bit at your state. He knew you were trying but some people just weren’t cut out for this line of work. He wasn’t trying to be mean or anything, it was just the truth…

He knew you wouldn’t take that well if he told you that though. Ugh why did things have to be so complicated!?!

****************************************************

The next morning you felt like a hundred bricks were weighing you down.

You groaned as you tried to sit up. Every single part of you ached.

You vaguely remembered last night with Gojo. Heat rose shamefully to your cheeks. How embarrassing it was that he had to carry you and to top it off you fell asleep on him!? How were you going to face him ugh…

It took about a hour for pain meds to kick in enough for you to shower, change and promptly make your way to the training grounds again. You would make sure this time though you wouldn’t push yourself to the point of collapsing.

Ten minutes later you were in front of the same boulder in the same position.

Familiar pinprickles soon formed in your palm

Focus…

Foc-

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Fuck

Your concentration was abruptly broken by the unmistakable voice of your midnight savior.

“training duh” you said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Are you really that eager to fall into my arms again?”

You rolled your eyes and turned towards him,

“That was… well I guess I should be thanking you… sorry for the trouble last night…” you mumbled scratching the back of your neck.

“Mm I’d believe you expect for the fact that you seem eager to repeat last nights fiasco.”

“I’m fine now… I’ll know when I should stop…”

That was a lie, you both knew it.

You turned back to your target hoping that Gojo would leave you alone.

Palm raised up

Focus

Just a bit more…

Almost there…

Ah! Your body jerked like it did every freakin time and you let out a labored breath.

Gojo watched silently from the sidelines

You tried a few more times, your breathing and now coughing getting worse and worse each breath.

Finally when he felt you truly were at your limit again he decided to stop you.

Your eyes widened in surprise at the hand clutching your wrist because honestly you thought he had left awhile ago.

“What ….are you ….doing…?” You asked between heavy breaths.

“You’re gonna pass out if you keep going”

“I won’t… I’m ok really, just a few more then I’ll stop…”

“Yeah no, that’s not happening,”

“Let go, seriously it’s fine, I need to train-“

“When did you become more stubborn than me huh?” You tried pulling but he wouldn’t budge.

“If I let go are you gonna stop?”

“…… yes”

“You’re a horrible liar” he deadpanned.

“Ugh just quit it Gojo! Don’t you have better things to do than babysit me?? Can’t you see I’m trying to train over here??” You were starting to get really annoyed now.

“….” Should he say it? Should he say that maybe you weren’t cut out for this life? That maybe you should quit trying? Could he say it? It would break you he knew but better a broken you than a dead one….

You saw the change in his eyes and gulped suddenly uneasy, “what…?”

“Maybe…. Maybe it’s time to stop…” in his defense, he really was thinking about what’s best for you.

But you on the other hand…

Your eyes were wide as saucers. His words echoed like a deadly bell that sealed your worst nightmare. He said only a few words but you understood the deeper meaning behind them in an instant.

Weak

Pathetic

Useless

He and everyone else knew it

And now you were going to be left behind.

Against your will tears beagn to burn in your eyes.

“Y-You-“ but the words choked in your throat.

“I w-won’t” you whispered, hot tears now streaming down your cheeks while you yanked your hand away from him and he finally let you.

He looked at you with a face you hated more than anything, pity…

“Stop it….” You felt your emotions start to rise.

“Stop looking at me like that! I will get strong! I won’t stop! I can’t stop! So don’t you of all people tell me to stop!”

“Ok, listen I’m sorry, just calm down alright,” he held his hands up trying to calm you but it just make you angrier.

“No- I won’t calm down! You don’t get to come here and tell me I’m weak when I’ve been trying my hardest to get stronger! Not everyone is a prodigy like you Gojo!! But mark my words I’m going to kick your ass one day and make you regret ever underestimating me!!”

“I’m not trying to call you weak-“

“JUST SHUT UP ALREADY, CANT YOU YOU’RE ONLY MAKING THINGS WORSE! JUST GO ALREADY!”

“Y/n-”

“NO-ENOUGH! IM NOT WEAK! IM NOT WEAK IM NOT WEAK!!”

“CRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAASH”

Both you and Gojo froze, eyes wide at the sudden noise. Slowly your heads turned simultaneously to the left where your hand was outstretched, towards the boulder- sorry correction- the pile of very teeny tiny rubble.

Wha??

“Gojo….”

“Y/n….”

You both slowly turned around to each other

Then promptly burst into excited smiles and loud laughter.

“I did it!!!”

“You did it!!!”

“I did it!!!!”

You jumped onto each other hugging and jumping up and down like children.

“See I told you I could do it!!!”

“You did didn’t you!?!!”

“I’m gonna be strong Gojo!! I will!!”

“You’ll be kicking my ass in no time!!”

You both were laughing like crazy people

*******

“Uhhh…. What the hell did we just walk in to….” -Shoko

“I’m not sure I even wanna know….”-Geto

- How I imagine them hugging lol

****************************************************

Hope you guys enjoyed! This was just a quick thing I wrote, was in the mood for some friendship fluff.

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