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street-smarts00 · 5 days

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in omnia paratus

Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Summary: Spencer's been on the fence with his feelings for you. Due to his past traumas he’s decided to keep his feelings hidden. Until you’re caught in a dangerous situation at work

WC: 3.5 k

A/N: I am SO SORRY this took so long. I’ve been sitting on this for two months because I was being a perfectionist and had writer's block. Thank you so much to the person who requested this idea and I hope ya’ll like it! beta read by @whats-yesterday00

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Fluff, Protective!spencer, Friends to lovers, age gap (25 and idk 33 or 34), during season 9 (sadly no post prison Reid, I refuse to watch the show after Derek & Hotch leave), Maeve is implied

Warnings!: mentions of murder, stalking, gunshot wounds, hostage situation and incorrect info about hostage situation cause Idk I'm not in the FBI

Everyone knew Spencer Reid had a soft spot for you. Well, everyone except for you.

Since the moment you met you’ve been on his mind.

“Do you know how old she is?”

“No, how old is she?”

“25!” Penelope squeaked before being shushed by Rossi.

“Wow, she’s gotta be the youngest person to ever be in the BAU. Well, second to genius over here,” JJ commented while pointing to Reid.

“That’s if she gets the job,” Morgan added.

They were all crowded around the desks in front of Hotch’s office. The blinds were cracked and they could just barely make out the woman seated across from their boss for an interview.

Due to the increase in caseload after Alex joined, Hotch made the request to add an additional member of the team. After interviewing a few people that didn’t pan out, he heard quite a bit about you from your supervisor saying how well you’ve done with the FBI and you’d be an exceptional fit for the team.

Then of course Penelope looked up everyone who was interviewing with Hotch. You being her most recent victim.

“How long has she been with the FBI?” Alex questioned.

“Three years,” Penelope answered

“What? Did she join right after college?”

“Not right away. She graduated early and got experience with law enforcement first.”

Spencer sat at his desk quietly while everyone was peering into Hotch’s office. Not to say he wasn’t nosy as well. You were already behind the blinds when he arrived for work.

“Oh they’re shaking hands! That has to be a good sign,” Penelope cheered.

Morgan turned to the window, “It’s definitely not a bad one.”

Her eyes widened before loudly whispering, “Oh no they’re leaving. Disperse.”

She scurried off in her heels towards Derek’s desk while he followed behind with a grin. JJ, and Rossi averted their eyes from Hotch’s office and found Alex’s desk far more interesting.

All while Spencer’s attention was brought to the woman led down the stairs by his boss. It felt like his heart stopped beating when he saw how beautiful you were. He was brought back to earth as Hotch introduced you to the rest of the team.

“This is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he gestured to the man sitting at his desk.

You offered him a small wave and a kind smile, “Nice to meet you.”

It became quite obvious you two would get along very well. From very early on conversation flowed incredibly well between the two of you. There were very few people that he felt were easy to talk to because of his niche interests and the way he would ramble spitting facts left and right.

But he never had to worry about saying the wrong thing or talking too much with you. You often were a content listener or you would even match his passion on certain subjects. Most were topics Spencer already knew about.

When you first met Spencer you didn’t know the Dr in his name meant he held 3 PhD’s or that he was quite literally a genius.

So you were often telling stories or facts you found interesting that he already knew. In fact, almost every “fun fact” you brought up, he knew about already.

But he never interrupted you. He always was listening intently to what you had to say. Like he was hearing about it for the first time.

At some point you learned of his eidetic memory and how vast his knowledge was. It was during a case where you found out and mentioned it to him.

“Reid, remember when we were at the harbor and I mentioned that thing about sharks?” You hesitated, “did you know that already?”

“Yes,” he guiltily admitted.

You partially deflated suddenly feeling that the whole tangent you went on was pointless. “Why did you let me go on and on if you already knew?”

His eyes softened, “because I wanted to hear you talk about it.”

That was when his feelings started to peek through. As the months went on it only grew and grew. And you were none the wiser.

To the average person, it might not seem like much. Perhaps you were just good friends. But to a team of profilers (and best friends) it was painfully obvious.

It was almost painful the way he looked at you with a longing in his eyes. Or when his gaze immediately turned to you to catch your reaction or smile.

It was obvious by the way he found any excuse to bring you up in conversation. Or how in conversation with you he would mirror your mannerisms and lean closer to you.

As well as the things he remembered about you or the little things he did for you. Like the countless coffee cups he bought for you from his favorite coffee shop before work. And when he saw you struggling to find something or open something he was always right there to help.

Spencer Reid had feelings for you. Feelings so deep that he couldn’t pull the roots out even if he tried.

He didn’t know what to do with his feelings exactly. He hadn’t felt this strongly for someone since … well for a while. He was terrified of history repeating itself.

He couldn't lose you. He’d seen first hand what this job did to him, what it did to Hotch. Their loved ones ripped away from them too soon.

So for now at least, he kept his feelings to himself.

Well, until your last case.

The BAU was called in on a case that just turned serial. They found the unsub to be a man named Mark, who started killing because his girlfriend cheated on him. The first two victims reminded him of the man she cheated with. When that didn’t satisfy him, he hunted down and killed the other man.

Now the team and SWAT was stationed outside a bus that Mark was holding hostage. He stalked his ex-girlfriend and tracked down the new city bus she took.

The officers couldn’t get a clear shot of him because of where he was standing and he kept using the passengers as shields. Rossi was currently on the phone with him trying to make negotiation terms and get some of the people off the bus. Mark however was incredibly stubborn and didn’t want to let his leverage go.

So Rossi asked about the children on the bus and if Mark would be willing to let them off. They were met with silence on the other end of the phone, contrary to his previous behavior where he loved to hear himself talk.

After a short pause the phone spoke. “I’ll only send out the kids if you send in an agent.”

Rossi shifted his weight and crossed his arms. “Are there any other circumstances you’re willing to send out the children for?” he asked.

“Nope,” he said with a pop at the end of the word.

A look of concern was quickly exchanged between Rossi and Hotch. While their faces didn’t reveal much, their eyes spoke volumes.

“How about this,” the unsub continued. “I’ll send out their moms too.”

Rossi’s eyebrows furrowed slightly at the eagerness to comply from the criminal. “You’ll send out the children and their mothers if we send in one of our agents?”

“I promise.”

Rossi returned his eyes to Hotch who stood rigid and tall with his arms folded. He was met with an approving nod before returning to the call.

“Alright, we can agree to those terms.”

“Oh and agent Rossi?” Mark perked.

“Yes?”

“Send in a girl.”

There was a tension that quietly branched out between the agents listening to the phone call.

“Why do you want a woman?” Rossi asked, clearly changing the dialogue used.

“I’m losing too many ladies sending out these moms. I want one back,” he replied with a cockiness to his voice.

Ross confirmed they could send in a female agent. Almost immediately after the unsub hung up, you volunteered to be the agent going on the bus.

“I’ll do it.”

Spencer’s head shot in your direction. “No you're not.” His voice was laced with concern and a hint of demand.

“Reid-”

“He specifically asked for a woman. We don’t know what he’s planning, he’s devolving.”

“And I’m willing to take that risk to make sure those kids are safe,” You defended yourself.

You turned to your boss waiting for his thoughts. Hotch knew you’d been exposed to enough high tension scenarios to know what you were doing. But just like any member of his team, he silently hesitated, worrying for your safety.

He took a breath before meeting your eyes again. “Send her in.”

Right before you were led to the bus, Hotch took off the holster on his ankle and handed it to you. “Some extra protection in case something happens.” You couldn’t hear the concern in his voice, but you saw it clear as day in his eyes.

You made your way to the bus and saw through the window Mark holding a gun to the driver and telling him to open the door. You stepped on and the doors closed quickly behind you. The unsub took a long look at you, panning up and down.

“Well how about that. Aren’t you a beauty? He said with a cheeky grin.

You tried your hardest not to look disgusted with him. Instead you kept your composure and spoke with courage and a confident demeanor.

“You this flirty with all your hostages?” you asked plainly.

As he gazed down at your legs his eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed. He bent down and with the gun in his hand, pushed away the bottom of your pants leg. When he saw the gun in the holster, he tsked.

“You always carry this much dead weight on you?”

He stood back up and put his hand out, “hand it over, I told them no weapons.”

You reluctantly took off Hotch’s holster and placed it in the unsubs hand. Your one line of defense was gone.

The longer you were on the bus, the more anxious Spencer got. He knew you were an exceptional profiler, and you had enough experience and skill to handle yourself in situations like this.

But that couldn’t stop the ache in his stomach or the fact that his heart rate could power a car by now.

He stood closer to the bus now to get a clearer view of the windows. They managed to successfully get the children and moms off and to safety, but you weren’t safe. Spencer figured you were trying to negotiate with the unsub, but that was going nowhere. This was confirmed when Rossi tried calling him again but every call was ignored.

This unsub was stubborn as hell. He knows he trapped himself, but didn’t want to back down. At least he didn’t want to go quietly.

Spencer was talking with the rest of the team trying to devise a plan when the gunshots were fired. The team immediately ran back to the cacophony on the bus.

More shots were fired, he didn’t know where from. He didn’t care.

He just needed to get to you.

When he got a decent view through one of the windows that hadn’t shattered he saw you. Your hand over arm in pain but still standing in front of the civilians to protect them. The unsub stalking over to you, gun in hand and smacking you over the head with it. You slammed against the chairs and fell to the floor.

Spencer's face paled. He swore he was going to throw up.

Through the fog of his mind Spencer saw Morgan escorting Mark off the bus, his hands now behind his back in cuffs.

He rushed past them, clambering through the door and up the stairs to get to you, calling your name.

“Reid?” he heard your small tired voice through the crowd.

He followed it to you, laying on the ground struggling to open your eyes and clutching your left arm.

He crouched down to your level with a gentle hand on your uninjured arm.

“Hey, I’m here. I’m right here,” he comforted.

“My head hurts,” you mumbled.

His eyes softened, “I know. I think you might have a concussion, you need to go to the hospital.”

You slowly started to fade out of consciousness. Spencer’s heart dropped and his hand moved from your arm to your face.

“No no no no stay with me okay?” he caressed your cheek with his thumb.

“Stay with me sweetheart,” he consoled.

Your eyes stopped struggling to stay open and finally made their close. His other hand rushed to your pulse point as he called for a medic.

Time seemed to stand still while Spencer sat next to your hospital bed waiting for you to wake up. He couldn’t leave your side. He didn’t want to.

You were okay. You were laying in the bed in front of him. But of course in his mind he ran through all the possible scenarios of how things could’ve gone worse, how things could’ve gone better. What would’ve happened if you didn’t have your gun taken away, or if the unsub got angry that you tried to bring a gun in. What if he didn’t lose his cool and start firing. What if you never went inside in the first place.

And with all of those possible scenarios, the same thought plagued him.

He was wrong.

Before he was too scarred from past traumas to reveal just how much you meant to him. Not wanting to repeat the past and lose yet another person he loved cared for.

But now, after seeing you in danger right in front of him, now he was terrified at the thought of you never knowing. He was now more scared you would never know how much he loved the way your nose crinkled when you smiled. How he thought the sound of your voice could cure any ailment he had. How he admired your strength and desire to protect others. How you could light up anyone's mood by just being you. How he could listen to you for hours, even if you were lecturing him on things he’d known like the back of his hand.

To him it was a whole new experience hearing it from you.

Spencer was pulled from his thoughts as you stirred awake. He saw your eyes adjust to the bright fluorescent lights ahead. He quickly got up to dim the lights for you.

When he returned to his seat you smiled at him, “hi.”

“Hi,” he smiled back.

“How are you feeling?”

You sighed. “Like shit,” you complained with a hint of humor.

“The doctor said you have a minor head injury, bruised ribs, and the shot to your arm thankfully didn’t break any bones.”

“Fun,” you said sarcastically.

A moment of silence passes between you two. He doesn’t exactly know what to say. How do you casually tell your friend and coworker you have a crush on them?

There is no casual way.

“You called me sweetheart,” you broke the silence.

He furrowed his eyebrows, “What?”

You fidget with the blanket, “earlier, when I passed out on the bus. You called me sweetheart.”

He searches his mind for the memories of the day. When he finds the memory he realizes in the heat of the moment the term of endearment slipped out.

He wasn’t aware you heard it.

“I did,” he confirmed as his ears flushed.

“Why?” you asked curiously.

He didn’t know how to tell you that he’s wanted to call you that for weeks now. So instead he settled with-

“It just … felt right.”

“Oh,” you replied quietly.

Spencer tensed up at your response.

“If I crossed the line-“

“No. Of course not,” you interrupted with a comforting voice.

The corners of your mouth lifted and cheeks dusted pink. “I thought it was sweet. You don’t normally say stuff like that.”

His heart warmed at your confession and a smile spread on his face.

“You thought me calling you sweetheart was sweet?” he lightly teased.

“Shut up,” you chuckled, rolling your eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Your laughter was cut short by a sharp pain in your abdomen. You bit down on your lip and gripped the side of the bed in pain.

The reality that you were injured on the job was rushing back to him.

He licked his lips, his nervous unconscious habit.

“I was really worried about you.”

“I know.”

“No, you don’t,” he interjected.

“The entire time you were on that bus I was sick to my stomach. Terrified that something bad was gonna happen and it did,” he started to ramble.

You leaned closer to him. ”But I’m okay Reid.”

“You still got hurt. He shot you for christ sake!” his voice raising in pitch and volume.

“Reid-”

“He lashed out at you! You could’ve died!”

“Spencer,” you said firmly, pulling his attention towards you.

He never heard you say his name before. No matter how many times he said you could call him Spencer, you still called him Reid. Hearing his name fall from your lips was like the consistency of honey.

You placed your hands on his face caressing his cheek. His golden eyes meet yours.

“I’m alright. I’m still here,” you consoled.

“But if-“

“Spencer.”

“Please,” he pleaded. “It’s important.”

You nodded your head, signaling for him to continue. He gently grabbed your wrists and brought your hands in his. He took a deep breath before he decided to spill the thing that had been eating away at his heart.

“I have feelings for you. I have for a long time. Almost as long as you’ve been at the BAU,” he started.

With your hands in his he started tracing his thumb over your knuckles.

“If we don’t have work I count down the days until I can see you again. When I do see you I desperately want to see you smile, see you happy. And if I’m the one that causes that smile, it makes my whole day. That’s why I never interrupted when you talked about something I already knew. The way your face lit up when you talked with such passion was the highlight of my day.”

“For months I was scared of my feelings and I kept them to myself. I was too scared to admit how much I liked you because I-” his hold on your hands tightened.

“I know what it feels like to lose someone. This job takes so much from us; I never wanted it to take you.”

Spencer let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in.

“Today I realized it would be more painful if I went the rest of my life not telling you, than having even a fraction of a moment with you.”

A moment of silence danced between you two. Your head reeling from his confession, heart beating so hard you could feel it in your bones. Your palms sweaty from holding onto Spencers, but still neither of you let go.

The silence was deafening, plaguing him.

“Please … say something,” he begged.

Your lash line was collecting tears that you simultaneously tried blinking away. Your eyes found his tie less intimidating than his gaze.

“I never thought you would like me back,” you said with a soft tone.

Spencer's cheeks turned red as his heart started melting. “I do.”

You brought your eyes back to his. That precious smile on his face was infectious.

“Listen,” you squeezed his hands. “I’m not going anywhere. So you have as much time with me as you want.”

Spencer's eyes softened at your words. He raised your hands and placed a loving kiss on your knuckles.

The two of you were too lost in eachother to notice the footsteps towards the room.

“Hey, I found some Jello for her if she-” Alex abruptly stopped once she noticed what she walked into.

You both awkwardly pulled your hands away from each other; you fiddling with the hospital blanket, him rubbing his palms on his slacks.

“So, feeling better?” she asked hesitantly.

“Much,” you answered, still a bit flustered.

“Good, good to hear,” She tried not to sound too smug, but the small smile on her face said otherwise.

She raised and shook the jello container in her hand.

“I’m gonna leave this here,” she placed it on the table. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

“Thanks Blake,” you thanked as she left.

Once she was gone you quietly giggled and mumbled “oh my god,” under your breath.

“You know, she kept teasing me asking when I was going to ask you out. And don’t even get me started on Morgan,” he chuckled, shaking his head.

Your jaw dropped and eyes furrowed. “Did everyone else know but me?”

He pressed his lips in a thin line, “pretty much.”

“I must be a shitty profiler,” you half joked.

“Absolutely not,” he said in the most comforting voice. He brushed the hair that had fallen in front of your face behind your ear.

“You’re an amazing profiler.”

You smiled that smile he loved so much. The one where you couldn’t hide your joy and your nose crinkled.

“So, how do you think you’ll spend all those moments with me?” you inquired with a bit of a teasing tone.

“Doing anything sweetheart,” he answered seriously. He looked at you with awe written all over your face. “I'm ready for anything with you.”

“in omnia paratus” - ready for anything

Tag asks: @adrienneleclerc @ladybirdbeetle7

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid one shot #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid angst

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weeknd-ogoc · 3 months

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AMERICAN JESUS 𐙚 LOGAN SARGEANT

SUMMARY: in which logan feels like you're the only one who believes in him.

(inspired by nessa barrett's song, american jesus)

FACE CLAIM: nailea devora

CONTAINS: spanish!reader, o'ward!reader, lando being messy, small smut scene; unprotected sex, missionary, praising & a small angst scene due to an argument.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: hope you guys like it!! 💙

yn_oward

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yn_oward his blue jean little baby 🫐

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username my NEW favorite couple!

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yn_oward 😚😚

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elbaoward FINALLY! welcome to the family logan! 💙

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username nah this can't be

williamsracing can't wait to see you next weekend!!

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landonorris 💔 you still have time to delete

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𐙚

"god, i don't deserve you." logan quietly whispered as he hugged your sleeping body just a bit more tighter.

every now and then he would think back to the day the two of you had met — it was really love at first sight for him but you on the other hand, it took you a good while to really notice him.

he was just a rookie and you were the younger sister of pato o'ward who was in the mclaren indycar team, zak brown had invited you to the mclaren garage every now and then so you were hanging out with people like lando and your brother's good friend, checo.

soon enough you were hanging out with oscar and he found this as an opportunity to finally introduce himself to you.

"they're good friends..." oscar told him as they ate and at the table in front of them sat lando and you. "pretty sure lando has a thing for her but she's hard to read so i'm not sure if she does."

logan was ashamed to admit that this moment was when he sort of became jealous of lando.

oscar knew him for years now so he knew how to easily read him, he had a crush on you. "just talk to y/n, she's really sweet so it's not like she's going to ignore you or something."

so when it was time to go logan held the door open for you and you smiled at him.

"such a gentlemen, thank you!" you smiled and turned back around to lando who was eyeing the whole interaction between the two of you. "you've never opened the door for me."

as time went on he saw you show up to more races — you never went into the williams garage but he still managed to bump into you and you guys even exchanged numbers at one point.

"captain america!"

alex and lily saw the little smile that appeared on logan's face when he saw you walking towards him.

they both thought you guys would be so cute together.

"congratulations on getting your first points!" they overheard, also seeing the hug you gave him and how quickly he was to wrap his arms around your waist and gently twirl you around. "i told you that you had nothing to worry about!"

𐙚

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[caption: my future wife and my son 💙]

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replies to your story

username omgg are you guys engaged??

yn_oward pls i look like death 🤠

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oscarpiastri wow you're a dad before me

patriciooward slow your roll brother, you haven't met me yet.

𐙚

logan sargeant was known to be quite the gentleman but all chivalry leaves his body when he had you sprawled out and trembling as his dick drilled into you at a steady pace.

his confidence in himself had gone significantly down since they chose alex to drive his car in australia this weekend and now there was rumors of a certain boy from formula 2 possibly replacing him.

"tell me again." he whispered as he pulled himself out of you, leaving his tip right at your entrance.

you whined from the loss of the feeling. "log plea-"

"tell me again." he pressed light kisses onto your cheek. "please, i need to hear it from you, always you."

aside from alex placing eleventh in his car and the rumors, lando had gushed to you about his pole position and decided to go find you after he placed p3 just to give you a hug, giving him a smirk right after letting you go.

"i love you and i believe in you."

he pushed back into you right after those words leading you to scratch down his very toned back and lock your legs behind his waist.

"god, i really don't deserve you." he said right before picking up his pace and hitting your sweet spot continuously soon leaving the both of you to see stars.

𐙚

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williamsracing home soil hits different 😮‍💨 #f1

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yn_oward i pledge my allegiance to this man 🫡

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patriciooward you got this!

𐙚

"i'm such a dumb fuck!" you overhead logan say as he placed nineteenth in qualifying for the sprint.

it completely broke your heart listening to him say that about himself because you knew he had what it took to get into a good position but since the team was always prioritizing alex it was making him lose his confidence.

so it left him feeling uneasy for the next two days because he really wanted to get points in and make everyone proud of him, make you proud of him.

the day of the race you made sure to give him a good peptalk and he nodded along to your words, kissing your forhead. "you're right i got this, what am i even worrying about?" and just before he could tell you that you were his good luck charm, alexandra was calling you due to the girls wanting to meet up to see the puppies together on the paddock. "go. i'll come get you before we have to go back into the garage."

after a good fifteen minutes of girl gossip and the puppies playing together — you had noticed a blue and an orange figures talking in the distance, you knew how lando was towards logan so you decided you should go stop their conversation incase it wasn't going well.

"ugh they're adorable, maybe i should tell pierre to get us one." kika said as she looked at both yours and alexandra's puppies play around.

just a few minutes before that logan had just ended his small discussion with alex and james, he was looking for you but instead bumped into lando instead.

"logan! i was looking for y/n, do you know where she is?"

"she's with the girls showing off our dog." logan emphasized the word our to him.

"oh right, oscar told me about that." he popped a chip into his mouth and patted logan's shoulder. "so when did you guys become a thing? we used to talk all the time and she never even mentioned you guys talking."

logan knew he wasn't the best liked on the grid so he knew you weren't going to get the best support through social media and you knew how protective your brother was over you that you guys decided to keep your relationship a secret for awhile.

"right, i actually asked her out during the mexican grand prix last year and we just decided to keep things quiet."

"so that's why she cancelled our date over there." lando popped another chip in his mouth and nodded. "keeping a girl like her a secret mus-"

"hey babe should we start heading to the garage?" logan felt a pair of arms wrap around him and felt his building up anger, wash away. "hey lan."

"hey, i was looking for you but we can talk later..." he smiled at you and looked back at logan. "well see you on the track and good luck out there."

he rolled his eyes as soon as lando walked off and began walking with you towards the garage to get ready before the race started — you knew that interaction probably bothered him because he was being extremely quiet which was rare for him.

he felt his hands a bit clammy after you handed him his helmet and before he could put it on he gently kissed you. "quit being nervous, you're going to do great."

he nodded kissing you once more. "see you in a bit."

once the race began, you had been watching him through the screen nervously since he was doing pretty good — you had hope he would do good so the both of you could be in high spirits to move into your new condo in new york.

"are you sure you want to move in with me? i drool sometimes." you giggled as logan twirled you around. "and your son tends to snore sometimes."

"i know, you've drooled on me a few times already." he chuckled and nodded. "i don't know i'm going to get any sleep around you guys but i'll manage."

as you focused you attention back into the race you saw kevin magnussen make logan spin out of the race and you knew it was going to be such a hard week for him.

𐙚

logansargeant

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logansargeant we're new yorkers now or whatever 🤎

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username happy for you guys!!

patriciooward i think its rude, you guys never show off my beautiful fur nephew

yn_oward you can facetime him and see him chewing up our shoes patriciooward smh you guys always make that litte man out to be a menace 😭

username i think i bent my phone a little

alex_albon lily is asking for a sleepover

logansargeant y/n said come asap in pajamas

username im glad to see a smile on your face after sunday!

username bye you're so lucky to have her logan

logansargeant i know 🙂

𐙚

after only four days since moving in, logan and you had already had your first fight which resulted you giving him the silent treatment that afternoon.

even though logan tried to put on a happy face you knew what happened on sunday was still bothering him but he didn't want to talk about it. "quit asking, i am fine!" he didn't mean for it to come out as loud as it did and he sighed looking back up to you. "look i-"

you didn't let him finish his sentence and walked into your shared bedroom with the dog following behind you — he pretended that your silence didn't bother him but it did and with all this silence he found himself thinking about the dnf and how this was most likely the end of his career.

he remembered you wrapping your small arms around his waist as he watched the rest of the race in silence. "it wasn't your fault amor."

at least he still had you right?

"it's a landmark day for lando, lando norris wins for the first time in formula one!" he scoffed as he overheard and excused himself from everyone. "it's victory in miami for norris and mclaren!"

he couldn't help but to think about lando — i mean he had a good team an even better car than him, he had the looks, his best friend and he knew the british boy wanted you.

but then he thought lando could never have you because you had eyes on him only and he was always letting his jealousy get into his head that he kept forgetting.

so the next morning you finally decided to leave the room quietly to walk your puppy and saw logan with a pout on his face. you had expected him to come crawling into bed some point at night but he never did.

he watched as you grabbed the blue leash and usually he would tag along but he thought you wouldn't want him around at time time.

and it was his own fault for missing out on it.

"be careful baby." he called out as you start heading for the exit but you just give him a small nod which causes him to slouch a bit. "have fun?"

your silence left him pouting once more and just as you were about to open the door, he sprinted towards you. "please tal-"

“logan, i'm giving you your spa-”

he groaned before grabbing onto your hand. "no. i want you to be in my space and i'm sorry for even shouting, it was so stupid and i did not even mean for it to come out like that."

before he could continue, you had placed a soft kiss on his cheek and nodded. "i know."

𐙚

patriciooward

liked by logansargeant, alexanderrossi and 102,540 others

patriciooward our monthly family game night was hosted by our baby sister for the first time, 10/10 will be doing it again sometime. 🎲

tagged: yn_oward, elbaoward

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username my favorite trio ❤️

patriciooward p.s. if captain america tells you he's a better monopoly player than me, he's a big liar!

logansargeant p.p.s if the duck tells you he beat me in monopoly, he's a big liar! elbaoward please the both of you lost! 😭😭 yn_oward I WON!!! patriciooward yeah cause you're a cheater 🙄

username i should've been your cuñado

username you snooze you lose, get a life!

username lols why was she mad?

patriciooward she wanted to take the picture 🙂

username never thought her siblings would like logan

elbaoward 10/10 aside from her dog being a real menace it was great1

yn_oward told you guys but you guys didn't believe me

username bye i love you guys all hanging out!!

𐙚

at the beginning of your relationship with logan, he was super patient with you after telling him he had to wait before you could introduce him to your siblings because of how protective your brother was over you and your sister.

"i just don't think lando is boyfriend material, he's like a diva..." you remembered your brother showing up to your room one early morning after pictures were posted of you and lando at a club.

"first of all, we're just friends i don't like him and please get out so i can continue my beauty sleep."

you had the biggest fear that your siblings wouldn't like him as much as you did but after some time you told your sister. "he's adorable, i'm glad he makes you happy."

just a month after lando had gone to tell pato about your relationship and your brother insisted on meeting him but you kept making excuses on why it wasn't the time yet.

"y el guero?" your brother asked the next morning and you guys giggled at his morning hair. "you guys don't look any better." (and the white boy?)

you scoffed throwing a pillow at him. "he went to get us bagels and coffee."

your sister braided your hair as she did since you guys were younger. "i like him, he's really nice."

ever since you were little pato had chased off boys that got too close to you and your sister but when elba had found her now husband, he became a little less annoying about who you were hanging out with.

he even tried setting you up with his other teammate david malukas before he knew about logan and you politely declined. "fine but you are missing out cause he's really great and i would approve instantly!"

pato nodded as he rested his head onto your lap. "yeah he's cool i guess."

by the time logan got back he caught the three of you having a pillow fight — he loved how close you guys were so he should probably get used to almost always having them around from now on, not that he had a problem with that because they were actually really fun to hang around.

he even planned to go fishing with your brother next week and your sister had invited you guys over for a sleepover the following week so he could meet her husband.

"i'll tell you what i told alba's husband the day i met him..." he remembered pato drunkly tell him last night. "she's a big girl and i know she can protect herself but i promise you te mataré si la lastimas." (i'll kill you if you hurt her)

right before he could even ask what that meant elba smacked her brother's arm. "he's kidding, he won't actually kill you."

logan chuckled nodding but with the look he was giving him right now he knew he probably wasn't joking. "i would never dream of hurting her."

later that afternoon everyone decided to watch a movie so you were setting up the snacks and logan stopped you, kissing your forhead as he always did.

"you're amazing." he whispered before giving you another kiss. "you're the greatest love of my life."

you smiled and before you could kiss him, pato cleared his throat. "sorry to interrupt this little nasty moment but your dog just peed on the carpet."

𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐨𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭!

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criminalamnesia · 2 months

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warnings: enemies to friends, hinted enemies to lovers, Tyler’s sister!reader, mean!scott, bickering, very real tornado danger, mentions of a car crash and physical injuries, not proofread, f!reader

summary: the three time you see storm par’s one and only scott, including the one in which he saves your life.

author’s note: look at me, finally writing something again! I’ve been extremely busy and, truthfully, in a writers slump. I started writing this after seeing twisters, and I just got the motivation to come back and finish it. I’ve been obsessed with this man since that movie, and good lord do we need more fics of him. anyways, enjoy! (also, for my traitor fans— I haven’t forgotten about you! I hope to work on the next part soon!)

the first time you’d seen scott, you’d wanted to break his jaw, and you hadn't even gotten his name.

“get lost on the way to the hillbilly convention?”

his tone is snarky, his eyes full of disdain as he watched you slide out of tyler’s truck.

your eyes had widened, your spine straightening as you registered his unprovoked hostility.

“the fuck is your problem?” you ask, eyes narrowing as you come back to your senses. you look him up and down, huffing a laugh at his clothes.

“you look like you’re going to a fuckin’ business meeting.” you say, coming to a stop in front of him. your cowboy boots dig into the dirt, and the sun beats down on your face.

perfect day for storm chasing, as your brother had said. darkening clouds rolled in the distance, and the wind was steadily picking up. according to lilly's drone data and tyler's instincts, your first chase would occur sometime within the next few hours.

you had been away at college when tyler’s tornado-chasing YouTube channel took off. you’d always loved the thrill of being close to the storms, but even when you came home to visit during summers, tyler refused to let you tag along.

until now, that is. now that you’ve graduated with a degree in meteorology, just like him. he had always accused you of wanting to follow in his footsteps.

“don’t mind storm par over there,” comes your brother’s drawl as he appears beside you, a hand coming down to rest on your shoulder. “the stick up his ass seems to have been lodged a little deeper recently. you’ll get used to it,” tyler grins, barking a laugh at the brunette's scowl.

"haven't seen you before," another man moves to stand beside the brunette. he's also wearing storm par gear, and you watch as him and the taller man share an unreadable glance.

"she's new," tyler responds for you, his wide grin still present as he acknowledges the shorter man with the tip of his hat.

"i'd run while you can, sweetheart," the taller one says, a look of pity in his eyes as he looks back to you. "fucking him isn't worth dying over."

you stare at the man for a moment before bursting into laughter. the storm par pair's eyes both widen, their stares moving from your hysterics, to tyler's rolled eyes, and then to each other.

"you two are supposed to be scientists, huh? the guys who are gonna 'tame tornadoes?'" you throw the last two words in air quotes as your laughter subsides.

the shorter of the two men nods, while the taller opens his mouth once more. "that's right. while you morons are out trying to get yourselves killed, we'll be busy doing shit that actually matters."

"right, right," you nod along, glee shining in your eyes as you stare at the taller one. "you must be so smart, then. where'd you get your degree?"

"MIT," he says smugly, popping the gum in his mouth.

"MIT, wow," you whistle, your eyes finding your brother's. tyler just shakes his head, trying and failing to suppress his laughter.

"you got a degree from MIT, and you're too stupid to tell that he-" you jab a finger towards tyler. "is my fucking brother?"

the man's smug grin instantly falls as his eyes scan you, then tyler, and then fall back onto you. tyler steps forward, smacking a hand on the man's shoulder with a laugh.

"meet my little sister, storm par. may not have gotten a degree from MIT," he says, tipping his cowboy hat to you. you mime tipping an invisible hat back at him. "but she seems to be a hell of a lot smarter than you."

the second time you see scott, you still don't learn his name.

"jesus christ, this thing is huge!" you yelp as tyler swerves the truck back onto the dirt road. he scowls as the storm par truck ahead of him jerks back and forth on the path, blocking his approach.

"how's the wind lookin'?" he asks, his words clipped as his hands grip the wheel tighter. wheat fields ripple on both sides of the road, an ocean of tan as the sky continues to darken.

"pickin' back up," you tell him, glancing down at the laptop in your lap. it was displaying real-time data of the atmospheric conditions. the software had cost a pretty penny, but had been worth it. plus, it had been more than covered by tyler's t-shirt sales. cheesy or not, tyler’s face on a shirt was worth his weight in gold to his followers.

tyler groans as the white truck in front of him cuts him off again.

"ty, just go around!" you yell at him, your eyes widening as you stare out of the passenger side window. the clouds overhead were beginning to swirl.

"i'm tryin' to drive nice," he tells you through gritted teeth. "don't wanna make you sick-" he begins, but you roll your eyes and reach over, jerking the wheel. the car swerves off the road and into the ditch beside it, and tyler scrambles to avoid hitting a wire fence as he swats at your hand.

"what the fuck?!" he yells at you, his eyes cutting to you for a second before focusing back on the road.

"stop tryin' to baby me!" you tell him. "show these storm par pricks what we're made of."

tyler falls silent, clearly debating his next move. you're about to grab the wheel again when his foot slams down on the gas and the truck lurches forward. you cheer, throwing a fist in the air as you laugh with glee.

"just don't tell mom!" he says to you, laughing along.

as the truck speeds forwards, tyler lets off the gas just enough to keep speed with the storm par truck. you lean past him to get a look into the cab, and there's the brunette you'd had the displeasure of meeting a few days ago.

you can see his scowl from here, and your grin is wide as you hold your middle finger up, waving it around to make sure he couldn't miss it. his scowl deepens, and before he can even think of responding to the gesture, tyler hits the gas again.

"what was that for?" your brother asks as you lean back into you seat.

you shrug. "just havin' fun."

the third time you see scott, he saves your life.

it's a week after the middle-finger incident. although storm par and your brother's wranglers have been following the same storms, you haven't had the pleasure of bothering the tall brunette, much less seeing him. you’d caught glimpses, but he seemed to be keeping his distance. you supposed he’d finally grown tired of your constant teasing.

you don't know why you find yourself caring. he's an asshole. an asshole who hates you, your brother, and everything the two of you stand for. who constantly underestimates and looks down on you.

and yet you miss his scowl and the unmistakable pop of his bubblegum.

"hey, you okay over there?" boone asks as he leans over the center console, his head peeking out between the two front seats. you know the question is directed at you, as boone is watching you like a hawk.

"yeah, fine," you shrug, your eyebrows furrowed as you lean down, getting closer to the screen of your laptop.

"ty, turn the music down for a sec," you tell him, and he listens without protest. a rare occurrence, but now wasn't the time for bickering.

what had first appeared to be a measly EF1 had begun to grow. it wasn't dying out, and things were starting to get scarily real as moisture kept feeding into the funnel miles ahead of you.

"this thing isn't stopping," you tell the two men. "you need to tell the rv to turn around. hell, we should turn around."

boone shakes his head, leaning further into your space. his eyes scan your computer screen, and although he's learned a lot from tyler, he still doesn't see what you see.

"nah, it's gonna be fine. ty said it's gonna die out anyways, right? we just need to get in it before it does."

"boone," you warn, turning in your seat to face him. "love you, but shut the fuck up right now." you reach out a hand and grip tyler's arm.

"ty, I mean it."

rain starts pelting the windshield. you can hear the wind howling outside of the truck, and you shudder as hail begins to pound against metal.

tyler mumbles something under his breath as he kicks the windshield wipers up to maximum speed. "you sure?" he finally says.

he turns to look at you as you nod, and those precious seconds are all it takes for the world to spin on its axis.

a fence post slams through the windshield as rain and hail continue to obscure the world around you. you scream and tyler jerks the wheel out of instinct. the truck turns sharply, running off the road. your stomach drops as the truck drops and rises again- your own personal rollercoaster from hell.

"tyler!" you yell, gripping the straps of the harness holding you in.

"workin' on it!" he responds, jerking the wheel the other way. the truck rights itself back on the road, and you close your eyes as adrenaline rushes through your veins.

fuck, the others-

"boone, tell the others to turn around now!" you yell at him, and he's nodding frantically from his seat in the back, his hands fumbling for the walkie talkie in the floor.

"so much for an EF1!" tyler says, and although his tone sounds easy, his face betrays him. you can see the glimpse of fear in his eyes. it mirrors your own.

"yeah, ri-" you begin, but the sentence never fully forms.

you black out as another car slams into the passenger side of the truck.

"c'mon, get up!"

everything feels fuzzy. your head is pounding, and your ears are ringing. pain shoots through your body, engulfing every inch of skin. you think something has to be broken, judging from the numbness you feel on the right side of your body.

"get up!"

your eyes begin to crack open, but your vision is blurry. someone is a few feet in front of you, but you can't make out who it is.

"for fuck's sake-" the voice growls, and you can just hear the faint crunching of glass before your hearing comes back in full force.

the wind is an unbearable howl, and the rain and hail pounding down around you make hearing your own thoughts almost impossible-

your thoughts. what had happened? one second, you're driving and then-

fuck. tyler. boone. where were they?

your eyes shoot open, your body jerking against the harness still keeping you strapped to the leather passenger seat.

you look to your left- to the driver's side- but tyler isn't there. you try to turn you head to see into the back, but a sharp pain in your neck quickly stops you.

"tyler?!" you yell, but your voice is carried off by the wind. you can't even hear your own words.

"boone?!"

"they're fine!" a voice calls to you, and your gaze shoots back to the driver's side. you can see a man crouching by the driver's now blown-out window— which is upside down.

you were upside down. the truck had rolled with the impact of whatever had hit you. everything comes back with devastating clarity, and even though adrenaline pumps through your veins, the pain is beginning to become unbearable.

“can you move?” the voice says. you can’t tell who it is through the spots in your vision and the sheets of rain still coming down.

“I-” you start, pushing your chest against the harness. “I think so.”

“good,” you recognize it as a man’s voice. “then hurry the fuck up and get out!”

under different circumstances, you would’ve scoffed at the order, but now wasn’t the time for defiance. your life was literally on the line, and if you didn’t get to shelter before the tornado engulfed you—

well, you didn’t want to think about that.

you force your brain to gather itself, directing your thoughts toward moving your aching limbs. your left arm is the only one that responds, coming to fumble with the metal buckles of the harness.

the first one unclasps and you swear you could cry from relief.

“any day now!” the man calls, and you can’t help but roll your eyes. you reach your left hand across your torso, working at the clasp on your right side.

“im trying!” you call back. once you get it undone, your arms fall downward as gravity claims them. you groan in pain as your right arm shifts. something is definitely broken, but you can’t afford to give into the pain at the moment.

you reach for the lap belt, tugging at it with a shaking hand. the wind continues to howl around you, and you feel tears pricking the corners of your eyes. hopelessness begins to eat away at you as you try and try again to undo the lap belt, to no avail.

“it’s stuck!” you call out, hoping the man can hear you. “I can’t get out!”

your breathing is picking up. your chest feels tight, and the feeling you still have in your left hand ebbs as you begin to panic.

you don’t want to die. you know that. it scares you shitless.

but you don’t want anyone else to die, either.

you’re stuck. whoever is outside of the truck isn’t. he should run while he can—

“hold on!” you’re jarred from your thoughts as a figure begins to crawl through the hole left by the blown-out window, and that’s when you register your savior.

it’s him, the brunette from storm par. the man who belittled you, who rolled his eyes at every sentence you spoke, and who you somehow found yourself missing.

he’s crawling into the cab, his arms no doubt suffering cuts from the shattered glass littering his path. “I’ve got you,” he calls to you, and when your eyes meet his, there’s no look of disdain. there’s thinly veiled terror.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him, and you can’t tell if the wetness on your face is from your tears or the rain that’s now blowing sideways into the destroyed truck.

“shut the fuck up,” he tells you, groaning as he slices his forearm on a jagged piece of metal.

“im serious,” you reply, your left hand still fumbling with the belt restraining you. “I can’t feel my right side—”

“will you shut up? please?” he heaves out, his face inches from yours now as he reaches for the lap belt.

you fall silent, but not because you’re heeding his demands. no, you’re too busy examining his face. he’s never been this close to you, and you’re taking in every little detail before death comes to sweep you up.

can’t blame a girl for wanting to gawk at a handsome man in her final minutes, can you?

“stop staring at me,” he grits out, his forearm flexing as he tugs at the lap belt. something has the fabric trapped, and although he’s freeing it inch by inch, you’re not sure if—

the belt gives, and his arms leave your lap to cushion your fall, protecting your head from slamming into the metal below you.

he doesn’t say anything, but you watch as his gaze flits over your right side. stone cold as ever, his expression gives nothing away regarding your physical state. you can’t bring yourself to look down.

“im gonna pull you out, okay?” he says, and you absently nod your head. the pain is heavier now— harder to push away. your vision swims as he hooks his arms under yours and shuffles back on his knees.

agony spreads through your thoughts as the numbness gives way to excruciating pain. your eyelids flutter, but the man doesn’t stop. he grunts as he pulls you forward again, slowly but surely removing you from the truck.

“you need to leave me,” you tell him again, your teeth biting into your bottom lip to stifle a scream of pain. “im not going to be able to walk. I’ll just slow you down—”

“jesus christ, you don’t listen, do you? im not leaving you here to die.”

he finally makes his way out of the wreckage, pulling you with him. once you’re free of the ruined truck, he stands on shaky legs— fighting to maintain balance as the wind whips across his figure. he reaches down, scooping you up in his bloody arms, and starts to run as best he can. the rain is so thick you can’t even see a foot in front of you, let alone where he’s taking you.

lightning cracks overhead, followed by thunder so loud it shakes your shattered bones. your head tilts up to the sky, and you watch in horror at what was once an EF1 tornado races toward you. it’s got to be an EF4 by now— maybe even a 5 based off its sheer size.

“drop me!” you screech, your working hand clutching the soaked fabric of his storm par shirt.

if he hears you, he pays you no mind as he continues to struggle against the wind.

with your eyes focused on the impending doom behind you, you don’t even realize when he reaches his destination. he jumps down into a deep ditch, and you hear him groan as his feet hit the ground. he must be hurt, too.

“is she alright?” a voice calls, and your eyes widen as boone comes into view, a large cut across his forehead that looks like it definitely needs stitches.

“not the time!” the storm par man shouts, ducking behind your friend. your eyes catch boone’s over his shoulder, and you give your fellow storm chaser a weak wink. boone’s lips crack into a wide smile, even amidst this horrible storm.

the brunette carrying you falls to his knees, laying your back against muddied dirt. he refuses to let you go, his arms cradling you against his chest as he shelters you with his own body. there’s nothing to hold onto except for him, and you know if the tornado gets any closer, you’ll both be goners.

you close your eyes tightly, welcoming your end despite your overwhelming fear— but it never comes.

you pry your eyes open as the sounds of wind and rain finally begin to subside. the body above yours still clutches you tightly.

“are we alive?” your voice comes out a whisper. your left hand flexes against the man’s chest, and sure enough, it meets a solid body. he’s not an imagination— he’s real. you’re still here.

“yes,” his chest rumbles with the words, and his arms slowly snake out from under you as he sits back on his haunches. his eyes are locked on yours, his icy blues unreadable as he watches your face.

you don’t say anything for a moment. and then,

“you’re the stupidest son of a bitch I’ve ever met.”

his eyes widen in surprise, and his stern facade cracks for the first time— at least, that you’ve seen— and he chuckles.

the bubble surrounding you two quickly pops as tyler’s voice meets your ears. you turn your head and there he is— your brother, running towards you with relief written all over his face.

“oh, thank god,” he says, throwing himself to his knees and scooping you up in a hug. you hiss in pain and he pulls back, his hands on your shoulders as he looks you up and down with a grimace.

“you took the worst of it. those storm par pricks—” his eyes cut to your savior, who is still sitting nearby, watching the two of you. “hit us. you and boone were knocked out, and you were stuck, so I got him first and was coming back, but—”

“ty,” you interrupt, your left hand landing atop one of his. “it’s okay. im okay. we’re okay.”

tyler takes a deep breath and nods, his eyes flitting back down your body, focusing on your right leg. you follow his gaze, grimacing at the unnatural twist of the limb. no wonder it had gone numb.

“I’ve had worse,” you tell him, taking notice of your limp, lacerated right arm.

“now’s not the time to play hero,” your brother chastises, standing up before reaching down and picking you up. your eyes meet your savior’s once more. he’s standing now, too, his arms crossed over his chest as he matches your gaze.

“guess we owe you a thanks, clipboard. and you owe us a new truck.” tyler says, to which the brunette rolls his eyes.

“ty,” you roll your eyes, too, as you keep your gaze locked with the brunette’s. “ignore my brother. thank you for saving my life….” you trail off, realizing, truly realizing for the first time that you don’t know his name.

“scott.” he tells you. you nod.

“thank you, scott.”

he nods back, turning his back to you as he starts to limp back to the road your vehicles had been abandoned at. you doubted they would still be there.

just as you’re about to look away from his retreating form, he glances over his shoulder and gives you a true, sweetly small, smile.

maybe storm par isn’t so bad after all.

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piccolos-bigtoe · 2 months

Text

Scouts first intel grab, he got shot and died five seconds after this fly high angel. I can’t sleep so I’m posting Ermm what…. Doing anatomy studies lately, kind of boring but I think it’s because I do them while I’m at work so I’m bored anyways. Try not to change how I draw scour every time I draw him challenge impossible.

Pro life tip if you ever thrift something always look at the tags, if it says dry clean only and is 100% Rayon believe the tag because it will shrink like a mfer.,. True story thrifted a reallly nice shirt and it freaking shrunk. But it’s okay I restretched it by soaking it in warm water with conditioner like the internet told me to and it’s basically back to normal.. yes I am a pro at looking up things online and reading wikihow hold your applause. Like there are some dry clean only things I do just toss in the washer and they’re fine but apparently Rayon will not be fine (which I didn’t check the tag when I threw it in,, oops)

I went to the park with a friend and saw not one, not two, but FOUR herons, freakay, and a turkey buzzard, I’ve seen herons flying but I had no idea they like nested at the park, mustve been maybe kind of recent because I used to go there a lot as a kid and never saw them there, or maybe I didn’t see them. Nature is crazy. I would’ve taken a picture but they’re so thin they kind of just blended in with the reeds. The geese were there though just like always, they hissed at me. I also went to a Perkins for the first time in forever and wow it was old people central kind of wild.

#tf2 #team fortress 2 #my art #tf2 scout

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landograndprix · 3 months

Text

•°. *࿐ 𝘣𝘪𝘳𝘥𝘴 𝘰𝘧 𝘢 𝘧𝘦𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳 ° ₗₙ⁴ - i

𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬

•°`♡ life is pretty amazing and but there's a void that, no matter what, you're not able to fill and yet the ‘solution’ is right by your side– you just need to open your eyes.

•°`♡ one jealous ex, one very love sick lando and a very annoyed friend

•°`♡ reader's nickname is giggles or gigs. Comments and reblogs are welcome ♡

𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭

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y/nusername

liked by riabish, maxfewtrell and 97,563 others

y/nusername 'bout last week.

tagged: madmaddie, landonorris, faithiams, maxfewtrell

view all 892 comments

norry4 Maddie is such a mood 😂

y/nlando I smell a lot of new content!!

julieeeexo JASPER?!

↳ julieeeexo oh no my bad its lando lmao

haileywilliams wow, max is so cool

↳ maxfewtrell the coolest

y/nusername get off your high horse you short little man

maxfewtrell well that's just rude

landoscar 🌟 sibling core 🌟

yukisan every girl in here fighting for their lives thinking its the crappy ex who's building legos with our gigs 💀

bobnorris girl for a second I thought you were back with jasper and was about to write a whole paragraph until I saw you tagged lando 😭

↳ chilisainz fr I was about to lecture her again 💀

landoscar day 197394 of begging lando to introduce martin to y/n so they can make a song together

landosy/n and the lego dates continue 🥰

hannahh ma'am I'm in desperate need of new music

↳ maxfnorris don't think our version of tswift has been through a break-up recently 😭

hannahh our version of tswift 😭 I need gigs to fall in love again or get her heart broken for the 1000th time

pastrynorris the fact we all feel the need to tell gigs to stay away from jasper is sending me, that man really is trash 😭

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y/nusername

liked by landonorris, pierregasly and 88,781 others

y/nusername little shits & gigs ♡

tagged: faithiams, haileywilliams, landonorris

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landito just saw your story from last night, did lando get off the sim at all? 😂

↳ y/nusername take a guess bestie, men always disappoint :(

landito all men are the same fr :(

norrizz Monaco suits you girls <3

lanlan4 so we're not going to talk about that last picture? No? Cool, okay 😭

faithiams the actual love of my life ❤️

↳ landonorris love you too babes ❤️

norry4 lando 😭

faithiams wrong girl my guy 😉

yukisan last picture?!

madmaddie did he at least let you drive a couple rounds in the sim or what?

↳ landoscar this muppets going to replace me in the car this weekend, she was on fire 🔥

fewtrelllando stop it now all I can think about is lando watching gigs all proud and shit while she drives her little heart out 😭

lastlaplando last pic looking a little too much like a couple

carlandooo love how the girls got a place together for their lilttle girls trip but y/n decided to stay at lando's place instead 💀

↳ haileywilliams shocker

faithiams are we really surprised? No.

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y/nusername posted to their story

jasjohnson replied to your story

jasjohnson

how cute

still wondering if you fucked him when we were together

jasjohnson

you don't need all that on your face, you know that right? you're prettier without it 😉

jasjohnson

I'm in Monaco as well, you wanna catch up?

hello?

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Everything taglist; @thomaslefteyebrow @hopefulinlove @smoothopz @softboystarkey @honethatty12 @cixrosie @parkersmjs @ireadthensuetheauthors @celestialams @be-your-coffee-pot @heli991113 @kodzuvk @reality-is-a-con @80sloverry @bibissparkles @myescapefromthislife @lanando4 @elliegrey2803 @ravisinghs-wife @harrysdimple05 @minkyungseokie @pretty-little-bunny382728 @thatgirlthatreadswattpad @severewobblerlightdragon @cherry-piee @namgification @mycenterfold @devineendevers @celestialend @jsjcue @d3kstar @themislovesf1 @geehsf @mehrmonga @gentlemonsterworld @destinyg237

Lando taglist: @beatricemiruna @simp-for-fictional-people @landossainz @christianpulisic10 @bored-brunette2 @i83andrew @mcmuppet @justdreamersdream @alltoomaples @jule239

bird of a feather taglist:

#lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris #lando norris x y/n #lando norris smau #lando norris fanfic #ln4 x reader #f1 x reader #lando x reader

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alygator77 · 2 months

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ᰔᩚ motherhood and matrimony I ch 2 ᰔᩚ

ꨄ︎ pairing. au ceo! satoru gojo x single mom secretary fem! reader

ꨄ summary. satoru gojo, the arrogant and irresistible heir to a billion-dollar corporation and the son of your boss, the ceo... but when satoru’s father dies unexpectedly, his inheritance hinges on a stipulation: he must marry and have a child, but the child doesn't necessarily have to be his, right? together, you strike a deal: a fake marriage that promises financial stability for you and corporate control for him. as the lines between business and emotion blur, you must decide if your partnership is purely contractual or if it could evolve into something real.

ꨄ︎ warnings/tags. 18+ MDNI, nsfw, enemies to lovers, opposites attract, fake marriage, slow burn, smut, fluff, bit of angst, reader is single mom who recently broke off her engagement, satoru being a cute step dad, naoya is your crappy ex » 【note, there is physical & emotional intimidation in this chapter (from naoya not satoru), this is a form of domestic abuse, reader discretion advised】

ꨄ words: 12.5k

ꨄ a/n. firstly, wow thank you so much for all your kind words on ch 1 :") secondly, this series may be more than 3 chapters (maybe more like 4 or 5?) idk i'm still working out the pacing rn bc i really want the relationship to feel fluid and natural. this chapter ended up being much longer than i anticipated 😅 but as always, i would love to hear your thoughts and hope you enjoy ♡

ꨄ taglist: closed (ao3)

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series masterlist ꨄ︎ previous chapter ꨄ︎ next chapter →

ch 2 // under the spotlight

Becoming a mother makes you realize you can do almost anything one-handed—though honestly, sometimes you wish you had an abundance of limbs.

Especially now. Your apartment is a whirlwind of activity – scattered toys, half packed bags and the remnants of breakfast still on the table. You’re in the middle of prepping your daughter’s essentials, trying to make sure you don’t forget anything important. Her preferred snacks, extra clothes, diapers, and a few of her favorite toys all stuffed into a bag.

“Mama, mama, look!”

Haru’s innocent voice rings out like a melody amidst your morning clamor. Halting your frantic movements, you’re drawn to her face, lit up with pure joy as she holds up her beloved Pikachu plushie. The bright yellow toy bounces in her hands as she makes it dance.

Her innocence provides a brief, much-needed, calm to the storm of nerves brewing inside of you. After all, today’s the day you’re meeting with Satoru and his lawyer to finalize the marriage contract. Your marriage—weird.

It feels odd saying it, the word foreign on your tongue. Marriage is a concept you never thought you’d be rushing into, especially not like this.

Once upon a time, you thought you’d marry Naoya Zenin.

Back then, you were so in love with his charm, his confidence, and the way he seemed to have everything figured out. But reality had a way of shattering those illusions.

His charm turned to arrogance, his confidence to control. It wasn’t long before you realized he cared more about owning you than loving you, and now you’re left with nothing but heartache and a broken family.

But amidst your turmoil you found a precious gift—Haru.

Her infectious giggle is a stark contrast to the chaos within your mind—it always manages to pull you back from your whirlwind of worries.

You’ll do anything in your power to keep her smiling, even if that means marrying Satoru Gojo, the man who is guilty for an abundance of your headaches.

With a deep breath, you zip up your duffle bag and turn to Haru who is lovably babbling to Pikachu.

“Come here, sweetie,” you say, kneeling down with her small jacket in your hand.

She toddles over to you, clutching her comforting plushie, eyes wide and curious.

Easing her tiny arms into the sleeves, you gently help Haru into her jacket.

“We’re going to meet some new friends today,” you tell her softly, fastening the buttons with care. “One of them is named Mr. Gojo.”

“Mr. Gojo?” she echoes, face scrunching up in concentration.

Truth be told, you weren't planning on bringing Haru to this meeting, but you’re faced with a lack of options, especially since technically, you’re fired.

Well… temporarily.

Until Satoru rehires you, paying the nanny isn’t feasible with your already stretched finances, Utahime, your ever-reliable friend, is unavailable. Your neighbor, who sometimes steps in to help, is out of town, and your mom is… your mom – as undependable as ever.

At this point you'd rather be caught dead than call Naoya again.

Calling him yesterday, when your nanny bailed, was a moment of pure desperation, a lapse in judgment driven by the chaos of the day and the fear of getting fired. Not your proudest moment.

It’s no surprise he’ll likely use it against you—hold it over your head like a weapon. It’s a pattern you’re all too familiar with.

But today marks the beginning of a new chapter, one that you’re determined to make the best of for both you and your daughter—once this marriage is finalized, you’ll be back to earning a steady income again.

A sigh escapes your lips as you focus back on Haru, her innocent eyes look up at you expectantly.

“Yes, Mr. Gojo,” you repeat, giving her a reassuring smile as you reach down to tie her shoelaces. “We’re going on an adventure today, just you and Mommy.”

“An adventure!” Haru cheers, clapping her hands in unbridled excitement.

Just as you pull the last loop tight, a knock reverberates through the front door, startling you. It’s unexpected, you weren’t anticipating any visitors.

With a deep breath, you twist the handle and pull the door open. The sight that greets you sends a cold wave of dread crashing over you, your heart pounding in your chest.

Speak of the devil—Naoya.

He has an uncanny knack for impeccable timing, always appearing when he’s least wanted.

His presence is as imposing as ever—a smirk crowned on his lips, posture relaxed, hands in his pockets—exuding an air of ownership over everything that’s around him.

As if he owns you.

Damn it. You really can’t deal with this right now; you don’t have the time. Satoru is expecting you, and you need to get moving.

Leaning nonchalantly against the doorframe, he surveys you with that annoyingly smug expression plastered upon his face.

"Well, well, if it isn't my two favorite girls," he drawls, sarcasm dripping from his voice.

The frustration you feel from Naoya is vastly different from what you experience with Satoru. With Satoru, it's harmless—like dealing with a mischievous child. But with Naoya, every sight of him makes you want to flee, as if each encounter is a battle you barely survive. He reopens old wounds that never truly healed, leaving you raw and exposed.

Every fiber of your being screams in protest at the sight of him, but you force yourself to maintain composure—refusing to let him see the effect he has on you.

"What do you want, Naoya? I really don’t have time for this today."

Turning away from him, you begin gathering the last of Haru’s things with brisk, precise movements, making it clear you have no intention of prolonging this interaction.

He steps inside, smirk widening with satisfaction and tone laced with mock concern.

"Just thought I'd drop by and see how you're managing. Got your message. Heard you were looking for a babysitter yesterday.”

As expected—you’re really kicking yourself for calling him. His false sympathy only heightens your irritation, grating on your nerves as the condescension drips from his words like venom.

If you weren’t already leaving, you would slam the door right in his smug face.

Gritting your teeth, you attempt to keep your tone steady, for no one other than Haru.

"We're fine, Naoya. We don’t need your help."

In hopes to end this conversation quickly, you grasp Haru’s hand and attempt to brush past him. But he sidesteps, effectively forbidding your path to the door, looming like an unwanted shadow.

"Still as stubborn as ever, I see. How’s that working out for you?” he scowls as he peers through your apartment, “This place is a mess. And you don’t look like you’re dressed for work. Lost your job already?”

His words hit a nerve, you feel your cheeks flush with a mixture of anger and embarrassment.

"We are managing just fine. Now, if you'll excuse us, we have somewhere to be."

But he wasn’t going to let you go so easily. His expression darkens, and as you repeatedly try to step past him, he halts you yet again, blocking your way like an insurmountable wall.

"And where exactly are you going? Shouldn't you be at work today?"

"That's none of your business. I really need to go," you retort, lifting your chin assertively as you force your way past him. Your shoulder brushes against his in a deliberate act of defiance.

The moment you cast him aside, he immediately pursues after—but choosing to ignore him, you close the door behind you, turning the lock with a decisive click.

As you start leading Haru towards the elevator, you adopt a brisk pace in hopes to put as much distance between you and Naoya as possible.

But he raises an eyebrow, smirk widening as he traverses after you. You hear his footsteps echoing down the hallway of your apartment complex.

"Oh, I think it is my business. Especially when it concerns my daughter."

Oh, please.

It’s painfully ironic how he pretends to care about Haru only when it suits him.

After you served him child support papers, he had the audacity to demand a DNA test, claiming he needed ‘proof’ that Haru was his. Of course, something like that takes time for the judge to arrange.

He knew that damn well—it was just another ploy to delay the process further.

As anger bubbles up within you, a scoff escapes your lips, teetering on the edge of a bitter laugh.

"Oh, so she’s yours when it’s convenient for you. Don't pretend you care about Haru now. You’ve done nothing but make our lives difficult."

Your movements are sharp and frantic until you finally halt in front of the elevator. Just as you press the button to descend, Naoya’s presence descends over you—suffocating like a dark cloud, his face twisting into a menacing scowl.

"Maybe if you weren’t so damn stubborn, things wouldn’t be so difficult. You know, if you ever need help, all you have to do is ask," the insincerity in his voice makes your skin crawl—as his words slither into your ears, each syllable is laced with a condescending edge.

You scoff, jabbing the button over and over again with mounting urgency. Can this damn elevator come any faster?

"Help? From you? I'd rather figure things out on my own than rely on your 'help'."

He steps closer, making you feel small and cornered. It’s a familiar tactic he would use to get his way—the accustomed sense of intimidation he used to exert over you returns, chilling your spine.

"Suit yourself. Just remember, you can’t keep this up forever. Sooner or later, you’ll realize you need me again,” his voice drops to a low, threatening whisper, the underlying menace making it clear that he relishes the control he still believes he has over you.

Suddenly, you feel small tiny hands gripping tightly onto your leg. Haru’s wide eyes dart between the two of you, her innocent face reflecting a nervous unease that she can’t fully understand—but you do.

Fuck it. Enough is enough. You can't let this continue any longer—screw the elevator.

With a determined breath, you scoop Haru into your arms, feeling her trembling slightly against you. "Come on, sweetie," you say softly.

Her tiny heart beats against your chest, mirroring your own anxiety. Holding her close, you immediately head towards the stairway, your stride quickening.

But Naoya's presence lingers, his footsteps echoing ominously after you.

“Really, Naoya?”

Oh, this is it. Your patience is wearing thin—he’s like a growth you can’t get rid of.

You feel Haru’s grip tighten around your neck as she buries her face into your shoulder. You have been trying desperately not to yell, for Haru’s sake, but at this point, Naoya is overstepping your boundaries.

“Just go away. The only thing I need from you is to hurry up and finish that damn DNA test,” you shout, refusing to look back as you head towards the stairs. “There was no reason for that bullshit; you know Haru is yours. I know you’re just trying to stall our court date,” you snap, your voice trembling with frustration and anger.

Naoya’s eyes gleam with a cold amusement, and the corners of his mouth curl up into a mocking smile.

"Stalling? Hardly. You’re insane, I just want to be thorough. You should understand that, being so meticulous yourself," he sneers, tone derisively sweet.

Finally, you reach the stairway—beginning your descent, Haru clings tightly to you as Pikachu dangles precariously from each hurried step.

"This conversation is over, Naoya,” your voice echoes in the narrow space. “Stay out of our lives. I only want to see you in court."

Naoya contemplates following you, lowering himself a few steps before abruptly stopping. As his voice reverberates through the stairwell, his unsettling demand bounces off the cold concrete walls, chilling you to your core.

"For now, y/n. But remember, this isn’t over. Not by a long shot. You always come crawling back to me one way or another. You’re incapable of anything without me."

There was a time when you believed those words, but you will not fall back into that same vicious cycle.

Choosing not to respond, your resolve is sharpened with one clear goal, getting Haru and yourself out of this building as quickly as possible.

The moment you clear through the lobby door, a shaky sigh escapes your lips. This day is already starting off with a bang—hopefully it goes much better at Satoru’s.

Forcing a smile for your frightened daughter, you try to mask the tears welling up in your eyes—the tremor in your voice quaking.

“Come on honey, let’s go meet Mr. Gojo.”

Time to get this marriage finalized.

ꨄ︎

You had expectations of what Satoru’s house would be like, but even those couldn’t hold a light to the real thing—it’s a stark contrast to the modest apartment you call home.

The meticulously manicured lawn, the pristine arcadian, and the large, ornate door all showcase opulence.

It’s far more luxurious than you had imagined, making you feel distinctly out of place as you step out of your car in your worn jeans and t-shirt, hair pulled up in a lazy bun.

Wait…should you have come dressed businesslike?

But you have Haru—was this supposed to be a professional meeting? Fuck.

On top of everything else, you’re already a few minutes late. Tardiness has become a tiresome trend in your life, one that exhausts you to your very core.

Traversing the entryway, Haru grips your hand tightly as you walk through the stone pathway. Her fingers tremble slightly, perhaps from the unsettling encounter with Naoya, or perhaps from the overwhelming new environment.

Nerves simmer through you once you approach the doorway, but you resolve to mask them. You weren’t going to let Naoya ruin your day—this meeting is your chance to retake control of your life.

As you reach out and press the doorbell, a soft melodic chime resonates, echoing through the spacious foyer beyond.

Within moments, the door swings open, revealing Satoru.

You immediately feel a sense of relief as you observe him dressed surprisingly casual—a fitted blue t-shirt that accentuates his broad shoulders and lean frame, paired with dark jeans that hug his long legs. His snowy hair remains tousled in that effortlessly stylish way, framing his strikingly handsome face.

It’s impossible to advert your eyes as he greets you with that familiarly confident smile curling upon his lips, and those vivid blue eyes, enchanting you with an intriguing glint.

“Hm, late again, I see,” Satoru teases, dramatically placing a hand over his heart as if wounded with an exaggerated sigh. “I was starting to worry you wouldn’t show up. Here I was, thinking you might divorce me before we even get married—” he stops, lifting his brow as his gaze shifts to the small figure peeking out from behind your legs.

“Well, well, and who is this?”

Haru’s wide eyes are filled with curiosity and apprehension. She peeps out nervously, clutching her plushie’s worn, familiar fabric for comfort.

Satoru’s smile softens as he looks at the little girl, but a twinge of uncertainty tugs at him internally. Children were a mystery to him, their emotions and reactions unpredictable.

What should he say? How should he act?

A flicker of fear crosses his mind—what if he says the wrong thing and makes her cry?

Oh God…

The thought of dealing with a child's tears makes him feel out of his depth, a sensation he’s not accustomed to. Satoru finds himself in unfamiliar territory. He’s used to commanding rooms and negotiating high-stake deals, not interacting with shy children clutching stuffed toys.

But faking confidence has always worked in the business world, and he is determined to make a good impression now.

As you notice Haru’s uncertainty, you gently caress her head, delicately coaxing her out from behind your legs.

"It’s okay, sweetie. This is Mr. Gojo, can you say hi?"

There is an air about you—the gentle ease in your voice, the way you instinctively know how to comfort Haru. It stirs something within Satoru, something he can’t quite place.

All he knows it that now he really doesn’t want to fuck this up.

"I’m really sorry for bringing her along," you begin, tone earnest as you meet Satoru with an apologetic gaze. "I hope it’s okay. I just didn’t have anyone who could watch her today. But she’ll keep to herself during our meeting, I promise."

Satoru’s expression softens further as he looks at Haru, his uncertainty momentarily forgotten. She is so fragile, so docile. In her delicate features, he sees an uncanny resemblance to you—a small reflection of your strength and vulnerability intertwined.

“Oh, it’s no problem at all,” he reassures softly. Crouching down to her level, his toothy smile is warm and inviting. “Hi there, I’m Satoru. What’s your name?”

Haru looks up at you for reassurance, her small hand tightening around your leg. Encouraged by your nod, she turns back to Satoru and whispers tentatively—

“Haru.”

Satoru grins, captivated by the softness and delicacy of Haru's voice. Though he is uncertain how to connect with a child. His mind races—

What do kids like?

What should he say next?

While his thoughts scramble, a spark of an idea forms the moment he observes Haru clutching Pikachu.

“Nice to meet you, Haru. Do you like Pokémon?”

Haru nods, her grip on the plushie relaxing slightly. There is a subtle warmth behind the apprehension in her eyes as she holds up her Pikachu toy to show Satoru.

“Yes, Pikachu.”

“Pikachu is pretty cool,” he lets out a contemplative hum as he tries to find common ground. A faint nostalgic smile plays on his features. “But you know, Digimon is even better. Have you ever heard of Agumon?”

Haru’s eyes widen with curiosity as she shakes her head, her interest clearly piqued.

Satoru’s inner child shines through—eyes sparkling with a genuine enthusiasm as his lips curl up into a grin. This is his chance to bridge the gap between them.

“Tell ya what, maybe we can watch some Digimon together sometime. How’s that sound?”

You feel Haru’s grip loosen on your leg. A faint smile touches her lips and a quiet giggle escapes as her initial shyness begins to slowly fade.

“Okay.”

There are many thoughts that come to your mind as you watch this interaction play out—the foremost being how unexpectedly gentle Satoru can be with kids. Something about him, that overconfident and sometimes arrogant man you’ve worked beside, feels different now. Almost likable.

Charming, even

But what you really can’t fathom the most is the image of a sophisticated billionaire engrossed in a kids’ cartoon. That concept alone is enough to make you suppress a laugh.

“You’re a fan of Digimon?” you raise an eyebrow.

Satoru stands up, brushing off his knees with a nonchalant shrug and a crooked smile.

“I used to watch it all the time growing up. Please, come in,” he ushers you inside the building, leading you down the grand hall.

Your breath hitches at the sight of the expansive foyer. The high ceiling, polished marble floors, and impressive chandelier casting a warm glow leave you speechless.

Following behind him, you find yourself studying Satoru’s confident strides—the movement of his back, his broad shoulders and the effortless air of authority he exudes. It’s a stark contrast to what you just witnessed moments ago with Haru.

But that alone makes him even more intriguing to you. Satoru can feel a bit like a wild card. Glimpses of tenderness hidden behind feigned aloofness—subtle playfulness followed by an exacting seriousness.

He keeps surprising you.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Digimon fan,” you remark as you follow behind him.

Satoru chuckles, scratching the back of his head.

“Guilty as charged.”

You can’t help but notice the way he avoids your gaze—is he perhaps being… bashful?

Oh, this is rich.

You really would need an abundance of limbs to count on your hands the amount of times Satoru has given you shit—making your life a daily torture is his specialty after all. Perhaps that is why you couldn’t resist letting this opportunity pass up.

“Next thing you’ll tell me is that you have a secret stash of Digimon cards somewhere,” you snort.

Satoru lets out a contemplative hum.

“Well, I did have a pretty impressive collection back in the day. Who knows, maybe I still have them tucked away in a drawer somewhere.”

“Seriously?” you are unable to hide the amusement in your voice. “You, with a collection of Digimon cards? That’s something I’d pay to see.”

He rolls his eyes with a pout tugging on his lips.

“You’re enjoying this too much. Maybe I’ll dig them out for you one day. But only if you’re nice.”

You scoff, shaking your head in disbelief.

“Me, nice to you? That’s a tall order.”

A faint chuckle leaves Satoru’s lips as the spacious foyer transitions into a grand hallway. Haru skips beside you, glancing up at Satoru with a newfound admiration.

The moment you reach a large set of intricately carved wooden doors, he pauses, turning to you with a reassuring smile before pushing them open.

Inside, a cozy yet sophisticated study awaits—shelves lined with books and a large mahogany desk dominating the room.

“Yo, Suguru,” he waves flippantly, “this is y/n and her daughter, Haru.”

Your eyes are met with a man seated behind the desk—a calm and composed air about him. He is strikingly beautiful, raven hair tied back into a bun with louse tousles framing his face. As he looks up from a stack of papers, his sharp yet gentle eyes focus on you and Haru. He rises, extending a hand with a polite smile.

“Pleasure to meet you both. I’m Suguru Geto.”

“Nice to meet you as well,” you shake his hand with a subtle nod.

The presence of another stranger causes Haru’s shyness to return as she hides behind your legs again—you kneel down, smoothing her hair gently.

“Haru,” you pull out a small bag of her favorite toys from your duffle bag, “why don’t you take a seat over there and play with your toys while Mommy talks with Mr. Gojo and Mr. Geto?”

With a light nod, Haru takes the bag and settles into a comfortable armchair in the corner of the room—spreading out her treasures with a look of concentration.

You take a seat across from Suguru, with Satoru sinking into the chair beside you—posture relaxed and seemingly indifferent.

“Alright, let’s get down to business,” Suguru leans forward, “I’ve drafted the marriage contract based on the discussions I’ve had with Satoru. I’ll walk you through the main points.”

Referencing the document upon the desk, he begins.

“Firstly, as you both know, the purpose of this marriage is strictly business-related with no romantic implications. Both parties agree to maintain the appearance of a committed relationship in public and professional settings.”

Okay, easy—right?

You nod, but in the corner of your eye you can see Satoru lounging back in his chair. The mild disinterest on his face and the nonchalant way he twirls a pen between his fingers makes you grit your teeth.

He carries a casual attitude—one you shouldn’t be surprised with at this point because it’s the same infuriating aura he brings to every business meeting. But in this case, it’s a stark contrast to the gravity of this conversation. Here you are, discussing marriage and he’s sitting here as if you’re determining what to eat for lunch.

Yup, nothing’s changed. He still aggravates the hell out of you.

“Next, the duration of the marriage is set for one year, starting from the date of signing,” Suguru continues. “There are provisions for extending or terminating the marriage early, should both parties agree.”

You absorb every word as you listen intently, but Satoru seems to be in his own world. It takes all your self-control not to roll your eyes as you catch him leaning back further into his chair, now balancing it on two legs. He taps his pen against his lip thoughtfully—an indifferent expression plastered across his face.

Is he even listening?

Here you are, about to commit to a fake marriage for the sake of your job and your daughter, and Satoru looks like a bored child.

You shoot him a sideways glance, silently willing him to take this more seriously, but the moment he catches your eye he simply offers a lazy wink, making your blood boil even more.

Suguru, unfazed by Satoru's demeanor, continues outlining the contract.

“The financial arrangements are next…Satoru will include a monthly allowance to you, y/n, to cover personal and household expenses. Both parties will maintain separate bank accounts, and any joint financial decisions require mutual consent.”

You blink in surprise. A monthly allowance?

Though you had asked Satoru to cover child care, you weren’t expecting this level of financial support. Isn’t that a bit excessive?

“Wait, what?” you blurt out, unable to hide your astonishment. “A monthly allowance? For personal and household expenses?”

Satoru’s chair drops back onto all four legs with a soft thud as he leans forward, finally showing a hint of interest. He raises an eyebrow at your reaction, a lazy smile curling his lips.

“We wouldn’t want you or Haru to struggle, now, would we?”

His words sound almost considerate, but it’s the casual way he says them that makes you question his sincerity.

“Some might see you being my secretary as a conflict of interest now. You’ll still work beside me, but I can’t give you a formal salary for that role. Doing it this way ensures that all you have to worry about is playing your part. Besides,” he adds, a hint of amusement creeping back into his voice, “what kind of husband would I be if I didn’t support my wife?”

Raising an eyebrow, you shoot him a wary look, trying to gauge his true intentions. It makes sense… but is he mocking you, or is this his way of showing genuine concern? With Satoru, it’s always hard to tell.

Suguru clears his throat, drawing your attention back to the contract.

“Moving on to the living arrangements, you will both reside in the marital home here.”

Satoru interrupts, tone almost too nonchalant as he leans back in his chair and lazily stretches, “I’ve already arranged for a moving company to pack your things in a few days. They’ll handle everything.”

You blink, the suddenness of it all sinking in.

“Huh?”

“Problem, sweetheart?”

“I... I didn’t realize I’d be moving in so… soon. What about my apartment? I have a lease, and breaking it will incur a penalty.”

He waves off your concern with a dismissive hand, leaning back further with hands casually behind his head.

“I’ll pay it. Consider it handled. No point in you staying there when you’re supposed to be living here.”

Your eyes widen, taken aback by his insouciant dismissal of what, to you, is a significant expense.

“You’re sure?”

“Of course. We need to make this look legitimate, and that means living together. Consider it part of the arrangement.”

To him, solving problems with money seamed effortless.

To you, this isn’t just a contract; it’s a complete upheaval of your life.

You’re starting to really feel the difference in your two worlds.

The abruptness is a bit overwhelming, and yet, Satoru seems to handle it with the same ease he applies to all his business dealings.

It’s a bit unnerving. It’s not that you aren’t grateful, but you can’t help but wonder…does he pity you? See you as a charity act?

Suguru, sensing your hesitation, interjects your thoughts with a soothing tone,

“It’s important for appearances that you both share a residence. It solidifies the arrangement in the eyes of your colleagues and the public.”

You take a deep breath, nodding again. “Right, I understand.”

Suguru nods, making a note on the document.

“Good. Now, let’s move on to the responsibilities and obligations. You’re both expected to attend public and social functions, maintaining the façade of a loving marriage.”

Satoru who still remains leaned in his chair, now has his head tilted back, looking up towards the ceiling.

"Oh, and by the way," he begins, eyes flicking to you while his posture remains unmoved, "we'll be getting married at the courthouse tomorrow to make things official on paper. Our public ceremony will be a grand affair, but it will come later to keep the media satisfied and appease everyone."

Tomorrow?

You give a hesitant nod, absorbing the rapid pace at which your life is changing.

“Alright…tomorrow.”

Suguru flips to the next page, “In terms of termination, either party can initiate it with a 30-day notice. Grounds for early termination include breach of contract or mutual consent. Upon termination, Satoru will provide a one-time settlement payment to you, y/n.”

You blink as Suguru pushes the contract towards you, the settlement amount highlighted in bold. Did Satoru add a few extra zeros by mistake? That number can’t be correct, right?

You glance up at Satoru, who is now inspecting his nails with a look of utter boredom.

“Is this…correct?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

Satoru looks up, meeting your eyes with a casual shrug.

“Yeah, it’s correct. Consider it a thank you for playing along.”

You shake your head slightly, trying to wrap your mind around the figure. This settlement could change your life, secure Haru’s future, and give you the stability you’ve been desperately seeking.

You could pay off your medical bills for the childbirth, could go back to school. Hell, you could be free of Naoya, you wouldn’t need him or his money.

You narrow your eyes, suspicious of his sudden generosity.

"And what’s the catch?”

Satoru chuckles, a lazy grin spreading across his face as he leans forward, resting his chin in his hand.

"Come on now, sweetheart. Just think of it as me taking care of my...business partner."

Suguru clears his throat, glancing between the two of you.

“Well, there is one additional detail, y/n. The settlement is contingent on maintaining a favorable public image. Any actions or behaviors that damage Satoru’s reputation would result in the forfeiture of all financial support and settlement funds.”

You blink, the implications dawning on you. Ah, of course there would be a condition—you knew better than to think he was just being generous.

“So… I’m responsible for upholding your image? What does that even mean?”

Satoru’s crooked grin widens.

“It means no scandals, no controversies. You play the part of the perfect spouse, attend events, smile for the cameras, and keep any...personal indiscretions out of the spotlight. Simple enough, right?”

Your stomach churns as you realize the depth of his control—you thought you were escaping Naoya’s grasp, but it seems control is still a prevalent force in your life.

This isn’t just a marriage of convenience; it’s a binding agreement that keeps you in line with his public persona, ensuring that any slip-up on your part will have dire financial consequences.

A part of you can’t blame him, though. It makes sense for him to take extra precautions. The Gojos have always been in the public eye, and there have been countless rumors about Satoru's refusal to settle down.

“What if something happens that’s out of my control? What if someone tries to smear my name?”

Satoru’s eyes harden slightly, though his smile remains.

“We’ll handle that on a case-by-case basis. But let’s just say I have ways of managing the media. You just need to play your part, nothing more.”

The calculated control in his tone, juxtaposed with his unwavering smile, makes your skin prickle with unease. The room feels suddenly colder, and a knot tightens in your stomach. You thought you were stepping into a partnership, but now it feels like a performance where one wrong move could cost you dearly.

Suguru interjects, his tone professional.

“This clause is essential for protecting both your interests and Satoru’s. Maintaining a positive public image is crucial for the success of this arrangement and for avoiding any complications that could arise from negative publicity.”

You take a deep breath—this was a gamble. The settlement would secure Haru’s future, your future, but your every move would be scrutinized, and any misstep could strip away the stability you desperately needed.

Your eyes wander to Haru, quietly and innocently playing with her toys. For her sake, you were willing to play Satoru’s game, even if it meant living under the constant pressure of his expectations.

“Alright,” you say firmly. “I agree to the terms.”

Satoru’s eyes flicker with satisfaction and Suguru leans forward sliding a pen towards you both.

“Good. If you both agree to these terms, we can proceed with the signing.”

You observe Satoru as he reaches for the pen—he is back to that usual air of nonchalance; it is almost unsettling. He signs the document with a flourish, barely glancing at the terms, and you envy his composure.

When he hands you the pen, meeting your eyes with a confident smile, you hesitate for a second—then, with a determined snatch, you take the pen from his delicate hand.

Holding your breath, you press the pen to paper and sign your name in one fell swoop. Each stroke of the pen feels heavy, final, but also strangely empowering.

No turning back now.

ꨄ︎

The courthouse ceremony was as brief and impersonal as you expected.

Something about Haru witnessing you legally enter into a fake marriage just didn’t feel right—so you opted to leave her with Satoru’s nanny.

Standing in front of the judge, reciting vows, and signing the official documents felt more like a business transaction than a wedding.

Glancing at Satoru, you couldn't help but feel a bit solemn as you observed him, his expression as indifferent as ever.

This wasn't the fairy tale wedding you once dreamed of. There was no crowd, no rings, no romantic gestures—just a legal agreement with a pen on paper, binding you to him for the next year.

But then again, you knew that coming into this—it was never about romance or dreams; it was about survival and securing a future for Haru.

It was over as quickly as it began—just like that, the judge declared you husband and wife, immediately leaving you alone with Satoru right after.

Noticing your serious expression, Satoru leans in slightly as you gather the official documents.

"You look like you're attending a funeral, not a wedding Mrs. Gojo," his voice drips with playful mockery.

Hearing him call you ‘Mrs. Gojo’ sends a shiver down your spine. That was going to take some getting used to.

“And you look like you’re at a board meeting, not your wedding, Mr. Gojo,” you retort, unable to hide the underlying bite in your voice as your fingers shuffle through the pages.

A deep chuckle reverberates through the otherwise solemn atmosphere. Once you tuck the documents under your arm, you begin to make your way towards the exit. Satoru immediately falls into step beside you.

“Touché. But really, lighten up sweetheart. Gonna need to work harder to convince everyone you’re head over heels in love with me,” there’s a playful challenge in his voice.

Rolling your eyes, you couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh.

“Well, forgive me for not swooning over this magical moment. You know, this isn't exactly how I pictured my wedding day," you mutter, trying to mask the internal melancholy whirling within you.

When you reach for the door, Satoru beats you to it, holding it open with a flourish.

"Oh? And how did you picture it?” he raises an eyebrow as his eyes gleam in amusement, “Let me guess, lots of flowers, a big white dress, and some poor guy professing his undying love for you?"

Okay, screw him. He was really not making this any better. You feel the heat rise to your face as a scoff escapes your lips—the only response you will give him.

Brushing past him, your heels click against the polished floors through the marble halls of the courthouse. As you glance to the tall, ornate windows lining the corridor, the sunlight streams through, casting intricate patterns.

“Hmm, think I guessed right,” he chuckles as he saunters after you.

“And what if you did?” you snap, voice echoing in the grand space. “Is it so weird for me to want a normal family for my daughter?”

The teasing glint in his eyes dim as his expression softens slightly. Once you reach the elevator, Satoru presses the button—the two of you wait in an awkward silence.

The moment the elevator door slides open, you both step inside, the quiet hum of the machinery enveloping you.

“No, it’s not weird. It’s just... different from what I’ve ever thought about,” he says while he presses the button to the lobby.

You huff, crossing your arms as you lean against the back of the elevator.

“What, Mr. Perfect never thought about settling down?”

Satoru's gaze drifts for a moment as he considers your question. The elevator begins its descent, the soft whirl filling the silence.

“Honestly? No, I never did. My father used to pressure me about it all the time. Wanted me to marry someone who could... 'enhance' our family’s status.” He was contemplative, and the echoes of old frustrations are clear in his voice.

You raise an eyebrow, surprised by his sudden openness.

The rumors about Satoru had always painted him as a carefree bachelor, uninterested in the constraints of marriage.

Some said he was too focused on his career, while others whispered that he enjoyed his freedom too much to settle down. There were even speculations that he had a hidden lover, or perhaps he was waiting for the perfect match to come along, someone who could stand by his side both in business and in life.

“…and you never found anyone who fit the bill?”

He chuckles, a hint of bitterness in his voice.

“Plenty of candidates. None that I wanted to spend my life with. Plus, all those ‘suitable matches’ were just women trying to get their hands on the Gojo fortune. Most people just see the money and power. They don't see the person behind it.”

The vulnerability in his eyes is fleeting, and you realize that his father’s expectations must have weighed heavily on him. The pressure to find someone was not about love or companionship—it was about maintaining an image, a legacy. In a way, you both have been victims to control your entire lives.

As the depth of his frustrations become more apparent, you feel a pang of sympathy. It’s enough to make you wonder about the real Satoru. The elevator continues its descent, and you find yourself lingering on his words.

“That sounds... difficult. So why did you go through with this then? With me?”

His gaze softens; his expression thoughtful as he watches the numbers descending the floor levels. He tilts his head slightly, meeting your gaze with an intensity that makes your heart skip a beat.

“Because you’re different. You didn’t come to me looking for wealth or status. You needed help, and I needed a solution. It’s honest, in a way. No hidden agendas, no false pretenses.”

A nervous flutter dances in your stomach, your fingers fidgeting with the folder of documents in your hands. The softness in his words catch you off guard, and you find it difficult to maintain eye contact.

A small, rueful smile tugs at the corner of his lips.

“In a world where everyone wants something from me, I find your straightforwardness refreshing.”

Your heart skips as a warm blush creeps up your cheeks.

“I never thought you’d see it that way. I just... I wanted to do what was best for Haru.”

“And that’s what makes you different,” he replies softly. “You’re doing this for her, not for yourself. That’s why I agreed to this. Because I believe you’re sincere.”

The elevator chimes softly as it reaches the ground floor and the doors slide open to reveal the bustling courthouse lobby.

The weight of the conversation settles between you, a rare moment of vulnerability that made you see Satoru in a new light—a glimpse into his inner world.

The moment you near the courthouse door, you and Satoru push it open in an attempt to exit, but are immediately greeted by a barrage of flashing cameras and shouted questions. Paparazzi swarm around you, seeming to have materialized out of nowhere—how did they even know where to find you both?

Satoru, ever the master of public appearances, wraps an arm around your waist, pulling you close. His touch is warm and firm, and you can feel the steady beat of his heart through his suit.

The sensation of his hand resting securely on your hip sends a tingle through your body, a fluttering in your stomach—you realize now that this is the first time he has touched you.

“Smile for the cameras, Mrs. Gojo,” he whispers into your ear, breath tickling your skin.

You blink, heat rising to your face as you’re momentarily caught off guard by the sudden display of affection. But you quickly compose yourself, remembering the role you have to play.

Leaning into him slightly, you offer a shy smile to the cameras. The flashes intensify and the questions grow louder.

“Mr. Gojo why are you in a courthouse?”

“Mr. Gojo, what is the status of Gojo Corporation?”

“Who is this woman Mr. Gojo?”

“What is your statement on your father’s passing?”

As the paparazzi continue to snap photos and shout questions, Satoru leans down and presses a quick, gentle kiss to your temple. His lips were soft, and the warmth of his breath burned your skin. The gesture, though small, sends a shiver down your spine.

It was all for show, you reminded yourself. Just part of the act.

Yet, the unexpected intimacy lingered, making it hard to ignore the way your heart raced at his touch.

Satoru’s kiss had worked perfectly, fueling the media frenzy. The paparazzi went wild at the tender action—camera flashes intensifying and voices growing louder. They call out more questions, desperate to capture every angle of the seemingly affectionate moment. You feel the eyes of the crowd boring into you.

“Let’s get out of here,” Satoru murmurs, voice low and soothing amidst the chaos.

He reaches out, hand warm and firm as he interlocks his fingers with yours, gently guiding you through the throng of reporters towards the waiting car. His other arm subtly shields you from the crowd.

As you finally break free from the mass of flashing cameras and shouting voices, you slide into the car, feeling a sense of relief wash over you as Satoru slides beside you immediately after.

Glancing back at the courthouse, the reality of your new life begins to sink in. Once the car pulls away, a breath escapes you—one you didn’t realize you had been holding in.

“That was... intense.”

Satoru chuckles, arm resting behind your shoulder. He tilts his head slightly, allowing a few tousles of white hair to fall into his eyes. Through the soft strands, his gaze meets yours, a mix of amusement and seriousness dancing in his striking blue eyes.

“Welcome to my world," he murmurs. "Better get used to it, sweetheart. This is just the beginning.”

ꨄ︎

The following day, a moving company arrived at your apartment as promised—they packed up your belongings with swift efficiency, leaving you feeling like a spectator in your own life.

Watching your life be boxed up and loaded into trucks was bittersweet—as your small apartment, with its familiar creaks and cracks, had been your safe haven.

Everything was arranged, down to the smallest detail. By mid-afternoon, you found yourself standing in the grand foyer of Satoru’s mansion once again, this time with all your worldly possessions.

Haru, wide-eyed and excited, clung to your side, her tiny fingers wrapped around your hand.

"Welcome to your new home," Satoru says with a grin.

It felt more like stepping into a palace than a home.

He reaches down and grabs one of your suitcases, lifting it effortlessly,

"Let me show you to our room."

You feel your face heat up instantly.

"Our room?" you stammer. "Why would we need to share a room when no one is here to watch this charade?"

Satoru's grin widens, clearly enjoying your discomfort.

"Relax, I'm just teasing you. You have your own room. I just wanted to see your reaction."

You shoot him a glare, feeling a mix of relief and annoyance.

“You're impossible," you mutter, trying to hide the blush creeping up your cheeks.

He chuckles, leading you up the grand staircase, and Haru follows closely, her eyes darting around in awe at the luxurious decor. The polished marble steps feel cool underneath you, and the ornate banisters gleam under the soft lighting.

"Come on, let me show you around." Satoru says as he leads the way down a long corridor.

The walls were adorned with intricate tapestries and framed artwork, each piece more exquisite than the last.

Eventually, Satoru stops in front of a set of double doors, turning to you with a small, satisfied smile.

"Here we are."

He pushes them open to reveal a spacious bedroom. The room beautifully furnished, with a large bed, elegant drapes, and a balcony overlooking the manicured gardens below.

"This is your room," he announces, setting your suitcase down gently.

"Wow," you breathe.

It feels a bit overwhelming the moment you step foot inside. Haru, on the other hand, darts past you, exploring every nook and cranny with a delighted giggle. It was easily twice the size of your old apartment.

"This is beautiful... and a lot."

Satoru leans against the doorframe, arms casually crossing over his chest.

The soft light from the chandelier above casts a gentle glow on his features, highlighting the sharp lines of his jaw and the curve of his lips. His white hair, tousled just enough to seem effortlessly stylish, frames his face perfectly.

"Only the best for my... business partner," he says, tone light yet carrying a hint of something deeper.

You offer a simple, "Thanks," but your voice is softer than you intended. Your eyes betray you, lingering on him for a moment longer than necessary.

Satoru's eyes hold yours with a softness that catches you off guard—a striking shade of blue that seems almost ethereal. In that moment, you couldn't help but notice the intensity and warmth in his gaze, it’s almost tender, making you feel like anything but just a ‘business partner’.

Was he always this beautiful?

You can’t help but wonder, feeling a warmth spread through you as the silence stretches on. The moment feels strangely intimate, a connection forming that neither of you expected.

Crap. What are you thinking?

Haru’s giggle breaks the spell as she jumps on your bed.

"Oh, and just so you know," he adds with a playful glint in his eye, "my room is right next door. We share the bathroom, so try not to hog all the hot water."

You blink, surprised. "We have to share a bathroom?"

Curiosity getting the better of you, you open the bathroom door and peer inside.

It was equally impressive, with a large tub and walk-in shower, all in pristine condition. The fixtures gleam, and the marble countertop adds a touch of luxury. There was another door leading directly to Satoru’s room, a constant reminder of his proximity.

"Yep. Just think of it as our first test of marital bliss. Can we survive sharing a bathroom?" Satoru's voice was suddenly closer.

You turn to find him standing right behind you, having moved from his previous spot at the doorframe. The idea of sharing such a personal space with him was a bit unnerving. An awkwardly intimate setup for such a detached relationship, but you didn't have much of a choice.

"…I suppose I'll manage.”

Satoru laughs softly.

"That's the spirit. And don't worry, Haru's room is right across from us. She's got the best room in the house actually," he adds, tilting his head to the side as a cue for you to follow him.

Haru trails excitedly behind as you walk through the luxurious hallway, her giggles echo off the walls. Opening the door, you peek inside and are struck by the sheer extravagance of it.

The room was a child’s dream—decorated in soft pastel colors, with a canopy bed draped in delicate lace, plush toys neatly arranged on shelves, and even a small play area complete with a dollhouse and a set of building blocks. The walls were adorned with whimsical murals of fairies and woodland creatures, creating a magical atmosphere that seemed straight out of a storybook.

Haru's delighted squeals bring a smile to your face, easing the last of your worries.

It was clear that Satoru had spared no expense in making her feel welcome. Each detail spoke of thoughtfulness and care, from the cozy reading nook to the vibrant rainbow-colored rug that added a playful touch to the room. How on earth did he pull all this off so quickly?

“Wow, look, Mama!” she exclaims, her eyes lighting up with joy, running inside to inspect her new haven.

A sense of relief washes over you as a tender smile forms upon your lips. At least Haru would be happy here. The sight of her so animated and cheerful makes the transition a bit easier to bear. Satoru stands beside you.

“I wanted her to feel at home," he says softly, eyes reflecting a rare sincerity.

“You've done more than that. She's ecstatic," you reply, watching Haru dive into a pile of stuffed animals with a gleeful laugh.

Satoru clears his throat and rubs the back of his neck, the gesture uncharacteristically awkward. He glances at the clock on the wall, as if searching for an excuse to end the moment.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," his tone is gentle and almost hesitant. "Let me know if you need anything. Dinner will be ready soon, see you down there?”

His usual confidence is somewhat muted—you wonder, is it you? Haru?

"Yeah,” you nod, “I’m going to put a few of my things away and then we’ll meet you downstairs."

“Right. Take your time. There's no rush."

You can’t help but replay the interaction in your mind as you unpack the essentials from your suitcase. The awkwardness between you and Satoru would pass, you hope. For now, it was enough to know that Haru is happy and safe.

Haru’s laughter echoes from her room, a sound that brings a smile to your face. She seemed to be adjusting much faster than expected, her innocent joy undiminished by the upheaval.

And to you, her laughter solidified it—marrying Satoru, this was the right call.

ꨄ︎

The past few days living with Satoru had been a whirlwind of adjustments—it wasn’t without its challenges. The mansion, with its sprawling rooms and luxurious decor, is more like a museum than a home.

The sheer size makes you feel small and out of place at times, and the constant presence of staff make it difficult to find a moment of privacy.

Satoru, however, had been surprisingly considerate. He’s a constant reminder of the delicate balance you need to maintain—attentive yet reserved, playful yet serious, a paradox that kept you on edge.

Your interactions with Satoru had settled into a routine of polite, if somewhat distant, cohabitation. There were moments of unexpected tenderness, like when he had found you struggling to open a jar in the kitchen and had stepped in to help with a playful grin.

Another time, you had been overwhelmed while trying to assemble a new toy for Haru, and Satoru had quietly taken a seat beside you, helping to figure out the instructions without a word.

Yet despite these moments, there was always an underlying tension, a reminder of the unusual circumstances that had brought you together.

As the days passed, the impending charity gala loomed larger in your mind—the first public event you would attend together as a married couple.

Satoru had taken the time to sit down with you and discuss how you would present yourselves, a task that seemed daunting but necessary.

You agreed on the basics: stay close, exchange subtle touches, and share occasional whispers to create an air of intimacy. The plan was straightforward, but the execution would be another matter entirely.

He emphasized the importance of appearing united, offering tips on how to handle the media and the probing questions that were sure to come. His confidence and ease in handling the media was something you were learning to lean on, though the pressure of maintaining the charade weighed heavily on you.

“What about Haru?” you asked, concern evident in your voice.

“We’ll leave her out of the spotlight,” Satoru replied gently. “I don’t want to overwhelm her. She takes no part in this agreement beyond being your daughter. She’ll stay here with the nanny during the event.”

Amidst all this, your phone had been buzzing constantly with missed calls from Naoya. You hadn't answered any of them—maybe you should just call off the court case?

You did just go through a life changing event, marriage, and that often interferes with the legal process anyways. The judge would need to take into consideration your new source of income for the child support payments.

Honestly, you don’t need Naoya’s support anymore.

You’ll take care of that after the gala though—right now you already have too much on your plate, spending hours with Satoru, fabricating shared experiences and finding common ground to make your relationship believable.

The task of memorizing details about his likes and dislikes, his habits, and his quirks was daunting, but you found yourself surprised at the small details you were beginning to remember about him—the way he took his coffee, his favorite late-night snack, the way his eyes crinkled just slightly when he found something genuinely funny, or how he would absentmindedly run a hand through his tousled white hair when deep in thought.

As the days slipped by in a blur of preparations and rehearsed smiles, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this carefully constructed façade was starting to take on a life of its own. Each shared glance and each moment of unexpected kindness blurred the lines between reality and pretense, leaving you wondering just how deep this charade would go.

ꨄ︎

Standing in front of your bathroom mirror, you adjust the luxurious dress Satoru had picked out for you. A deep, elegant blue fabric clings to your curves in all the right places, and the V-shaped open back that rests above your hips adds a touch of allure.

Loose cascading waves frame your face perfectly, and the professional makeup artist gave you a look that is both subtle and glamorous, enhancing your features in a way the felt natural yet striking.

You barely recognize yourself.

The transformation was astonishing, turning you from a frazzled single mother into a vision of sophistication and grace.

Was it too much? You feel out of sorts, like you’re wearing someone else's skin. The elegant image in the mirror is both thrilling and unnerving.

As you try to steady your racing heart, a knock on the bathroom door makes you jump slightly—Satoru’s door.

“Y/n you ready?” his voice calls out.

With a deep breath, you take one last look in the mirror. As you open the door, Satoru’s frame leans casually against the entryway.

The sleek black tuxedo he is adorned in highlights his broad shoulder and lean frame. His white hair is perfectly styled, contrasting sharply with the dark fabric.

He meets you with a stunned silence—eyes widening slightly as he takes you in. The cool blue of his irises seem more vibrant, gleaming with anticipation as they trace over your form.

You had never seen his eyes linger across your figure like this before—the intensity of his gaze makes your stomach flutter. Feeling a bit self-conscious, you fear what will come out of his mouth.

Does he think it’s too much?

“Wow,” he breathes, voice almost reverent. “You look... stunning.”

A blush creeps up your cheeks at his unexpected compliment, and you find yourself unable to meet his gaze.

"Thank you," you say softly, smoothing down the fabric of your dress.

Satoru steps closer, eyes locked on you. He reaches out and gently lifts your chin, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

“Seriously, you look amazing. I knew the dress would look good on you, but this... you’re going to be the star of the gala,” a slow smile spreads across his lips. “Ready to knock them dead?”

You nod, trying to ignore the fluttering sensation in your stomach.

“As ready as I’ll ever be…hopefully I can live up to the part.”

“You will,” offering you his arm, he adds, “Just be yourself, and stay by my side, we’re in this together."

ꨄ︎

The ride to the gala is filled with a comfortable silence.

The city lights blur outside the window as the car smoothly navigates through the streets. You find yourself stealing glances at Satoru, admiring the way his profile looks in the dim light.

Strange.

The usually insufferable man seemed different tonight—steadfast, dependable, almost... comforting? Perhaps it’s the nerves.

His arm rests casually behind you, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder, and you’re surprised yourself how it does not bother you—in fact, it’s actually quite soothing.

Once you arrive, the grand ballroom is a stunning sight. Chandeliers hang from the high ceiling, casting a soft, golden glow over the elegantly dressed crowd.

The room is filled with the city’s elite—a sea of luxurious gowns and tailored suits mingling and exchanging pleasantries. The sight of you and Satoru together was enough to turn heads, drawing curious and admiring glances.

But the sheer number of people, the pressure of playing your part, and the countless eyes watching your every move—it’s all a bit overwhelming. You really felt out of place here.

Sensing your unease, Satoru leans in close, breath warm against your ear.

“Remember, just follow my lead.”

Guiding you with ease, his hand rests lightly on the small of your back as you voyage through the attendees—the warm gentle touch is electric against your bare skin.

Your eyes skim through the herd of people and land on a waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses. Perhaps a drink would ease your nerves? You don’t hesitate to grab a glass as you navigate the crowd.

Satoru, ever the socialite, seamlessly traverses the room, introducing you to important figures and engaging in small talk that you struggle to follow.

Discussions ranged from market trends and corporate mergers, to the latest charity galas and art exhibitions. Trying to keep up, you nod and smile at the appropriate moments.

It’s clear that Satoru is in his element—his charm, effortless. You find yourself admiring how easy he makes it all look.

As you cling to him, the pride in his eyes when he looks at you makes you feel like you belong, even if you are just playing a part in this elaborate charade.

The evening flowed smoothly enough, with your glass of champagne acting as a steady companion. The warmth of the alcohol helps you mingle with guests, exchange polite conversations, and stay close to Satoru, all as planned. But each interaction was a delicate dance—your smiles and nods masking the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

Honestly, your mind was elsewhere—there is an undercurrent of anxiety as you anticipate Satoru’s announcement on stage, where he would publicly acknowledge your marriage during his donation speech.

When the moment you had been dreading finally arrives, you settle into a chair near the front, heart pounding in your chest.

Satoru takes the stage with a natural grace, and as the spotlight illuminates his striking figure, his presence commands the attention of everyone in the room.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he begins, his voice resonating with a confident authority. “I want to thank you all for being here tonight. Your generosity and support make events like this possible.”

His words flow smoothly as he speaks eloquently about the cause and significance of the charity, each sentence perfectly crafted to engage and inspire—you marveled at his ability to enthrall people.

Pressing your champagne glass to your lips, you desperately hope the cool liquid can help to steady your nerves a bit more.

Then, the moment came.

“I will be donating ten million dollars to this charity,” Satoru announces, his voice carrying a conviction.

The amount causes a ripple of excitement and murmurs to spread through the crowd—you nearly choked on your champagne in shock.

Ten million?

You couldn’t even fathom having that much money, let alone donating it. The magnitude of Satoru’s status is staggering.

A smile tugs at Satoru’s lips—a genuine warmth mingling with the mischievous glint in his eyes. He pauses, letting the impact of his words settle, then lifts a finger to tap his chin contemplatively, as if he just remembered something.

“Or should I say, we will be donating—me and my lovely wife.”

Satoru gestures in your direction as a spotlight beams upon you. The crowd erupts into an enthusiastic applause, causing your heart to race the moment all eyes instantly turn to you.

There is a rush of heat that rises to your cheeks, mixing with the warmth of the alcohol. The weight of the crowd’s gaze makes your vision a bit blurry.

Beckoning you to join him on stage, Satoru extends his hand and offers a comforting smile. Though, the moment you stand, the room spins slightly—perhaps it’s from the champagne, or perhaps it’s the sheer pressure.

You can’t fuck this up.

With as much grace as you can muster, you make your way to the platform.

Satoru wraps an arm around your waist the moment you are at his side, pulling you close and steadying your trembling figure. He looks down into your eyes with a genuine look of endearment.

“Everyone, please welcome my beautiful wife, y/n,” he says softly in the microphone, his voice filled with a gentle pride.

The applause swells, and you manage a smile, trying to focus on Satoru while ignoring the spotlight’s heat and the intense gazes of attendees.

Leaning in, his lips brush against your ear as he whispers, “You’re doing great.”

Despite the orchestrated nature of your relationship, in this moment, his genuine reassurance means everything. His presence is a steady anchor in the sea of faces and flashing cameras, the only thing holding you together right now.

When the applause dies down, Satoru continues his speech, the warmth of his hand remaining on your waist as his thumb traces soft circles.

You can barely focus on his words, the dizzying reality of where you’re standing feels both exhilarating and terrifying.

The moment Satoru’s speech concludes, the soft hum of conversation mingling and the delicate notes of the live orchestra begin to fill the air yet again. Satoru leads you off the stage, his hand never leaving your side.

Almost immediately after you descend to the floor, Satoru is approached by a business associate, his demeanor shifting effortlessly into that of a seasoned negotiator as they exchange discussions of market trends, potential collaborations, and strategic ventures.

Your heart is still pounding—public speaking was never your strong suit. Despite not needing to speak, being on that stage stirred something within you.

You recall a particularly disastrous presentation in college where you accidentally knocked over the projector, sending your notes flying across the room. The laughter from the audience still haunts you, and since then, you’ve always dreaded being the center of attention.

With Satoru engrossed in conversation, you seize the opportunity to make your way to the bar—seeking a moment of reprieve. Another drink wouldn’t hurt, right?

The gleaming rows of crystal glasses and various bottles of wine and spirits catch your eye. You scan the selection, your gaze lingering on a particularly rich, deep red wine.

Deciding it’s exactly what you need to steady your nerves, you signal the bartender and opt for a glass of the robust vintage, savoring the thought of its smooth, calming flavor.

One glass turned into two—your nerves finally beginning to settle as the soothing effects of the alcohol take over your senses.

Realizing you’ve been away from Satoru for quite some time, you prepare to rejoin him—but just as you start to rise, a familiar, unwelcome voice interrupts your thoughts.

“Well, well, look who we have here,” Naoya sneers, leaning against the bar beside you, a glass of scotch swirling in his hand. “Didn’t expect to see you here, mingling with the high society.”

A chill runs down your spine and you heart drops. No amount of alcohol could have prepared you for this moment.

“Naoya,” you stiffen, clutching your wine glass tighter. “What are you doing here?”

He takes a swig of his scotch, emptying the glass and placing it down on the counter with a loud clink. Leaning closer into your space, his eyes narrow—a cold, cynical stare boring into you.

“I could ask you the same thing. This doesn’t seem like your usual scene. What’s your angle?”

Your breath quickens and you feel your pulse hammering in your chest. Adverting your gaze, your fingers brush against the rim of your wine glass.

“I’m sure you heard, I’m here with my husband, if you must know. Not that it’s any of your business.”

The sneer he meets you with makes the room suddenly feel smaller, as if his presence is suffocating you.

“Husband, huh?” his eyes rake over you with contempt suspicion, “Quite the leap from where you were a few weeks ago. Is this some kind of game to you?”

Summoning your courage, you straighten your back and meet his gaze head-on.

“Not a game, Naoya. It’s called moving on. You should try it sometime. My life is no longer any of your concern.”

Taking a step closer, he looms over you—his voice lowering to a menacing whisper.

“I don’t buy it. This whole charade… you think I don’t know what you’re trying to pull?”

For a moment, you are frozen in place, the fear and control Naoya exerts paralyzing you. Your mind races, the implications of his words sinking in.

What if he exposes you?

What if this carefully constructed facade comes crashing down?

Before you can respond, you feel an arm slip around your waist, pulling you with practiced ease out of Naoya’s bubble and right beside Satoru.

“There you are, darling. Everything alright?”

His voice is smooth and warm, and his gaze flicks between you and Naoya, narrowing as he surveys the situation. The look on your face unsettles him—something feels off.

Naoya straightens himself, leaning against the bar with a supercilious smirk as he crosses his arms.

“Just catching up with an old friend. No harm in that, right?”

“I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced.” Satoru’s tone was light but laced with an underlying steel, “I’m y/n’s husband, Satoru Gojo.”

A scoff escapes Naoya as his eyes flash with irritation, but an unnerving smile remains upon his lips.

“Yes, I’ve heard. You certainly move fast, don’t you, y/n?”

Naoya can see right through you—you fell a flash of panic. Turning to Satoru, your eyes meet his with a silent plea for support. His expression softens and he gives you a reassuring nod while tightening his grip upon your waist.

“Well, when you know, you know,” Satoru says with a charming smile, “and we knew.”

Naoya snickers, running his hand through his hair in disbelief.

“Come on y/n. How did someone like you end up with someone like him? Seems... unlikely. You don’t belong here.”

Heat rises to your face and the sudden urge to shrink away overwhelms you—your heart dropping at the sting of Naoya’s words.

Suddenly, Satoru steps closer, creating a protective barrier between you and Naoya—the playful glint in his eyes gone, replaced with a cold, steely determination.

“Watch your mouth, you don’t get to talk to my wife like that.”

“I’m just stating the obvious,” Naoya shrugs, meeting Satoru’s glare with an indifference as he shoves his hands in his pockets. “She’s out of her league here.”

Satoru’s jaw tightens, his voice low and dangerously calm.

“If you think she’s out of her league, then you clearly don’t know her at all. You’re out of line. Y/n belongs here more than anyone. So, unless you have something worthwhile to say, I suggest you move along.”

“Is that so?” Naoya raises an eyebrow. “You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit skeptical. After all, you’ve always been a bit of a lone wolf, Satoru Gojo.”

Panic seizes you as Naoya’s observation hangs in the air. The last thing you need is for him to start spreading rumors or causing trouble. You realize you have to do something, and fast. Your mind races, desperately searching for a way to convince Naoya of your authenticity.

Summoning all the courage you can muster, you step forward, threading your arms around Satoru’s neck as you rest your forehead against his own. Your words are addressed to Naoya, but your eyes remain on Satoru the entire time, drawing strength from his steady gaze and the warmth of his touch.

“Satoru and I... we chose each other for reasons that go beyond what you see. We may have our differences, but we’re stronger together, and we have a connection that you can’t comprehend.”

Satoru’s eyes soften, reflecting a silent understanding and a shared resolve—his breath mingling with yours.

Feeling Naoya’s probing gaze, you know he won’t be easily convinced, and so, acting on impulse, you pull Satoru closer and crash your lips against his.

For a moment, Satoru seemed caught off guard. His eyes widened in surprise before they fluttered closed, his hands moving to rest on your hips. The world around you seemed to fade away as the kiss lingered, heat pooling in your stomach.

It was supposed to be a quick peck, just enough to sell the act. But the moment your lips met his, something shifted.

Perhaps you were emboldened by the alcohol, perhaps it was the need to be convincing, perhaps it was the way Satoru stood up for you—without thinking, you deepen the kiss, parting your lips and slipping your tongue into his mouth, making things more intimate than you originally intended.

You can feel Satoru tense for a moment, his surprise evident. But then, with a soft hum against your mouth he melts into the kiss, a hand moving to cup your face as he returns the intimacy with unexpected fervor—his other hand encircling around your waist, pulling you closer against him.

Your fingers thread through Satoru’s hair and the world around you seems to fade away—the only thing that mattered now was the heat radiating off of Satoru’s body, the warmth of his lips against yours, and the lingering sweet taste of the gala’s chocolate cake mingling with the wine on your tongue.

It was a moment that felt both incredibly real and utterly surreal.

When you finally pull back, you are both breathless. As you catch a flicker of something unreadable in Satoru’s half lidded eyes, for a brief moment, you forget about Naoya completely, about the act, about everything except the electric connection between you both.

Satoru's thumb gently caresses your cheek, his gaze softening.

Pulling yourself back to reality, you peer over to Naoya—his smug expression had vanished, replaced by a look of genuine surprise and irritation.

“As you can see, we’re very happy together,” you say sweetly, rubbing your nose against Satoru’s.

"Didn't think you were the type to move on so quickly," Naoya sneers.

A wave of exhilaration and embarrassment course through you as Naoya retreats back into the crowd. The kiss had done its job, but it had also left you with a lingering sense of uncertainty. Satoru’s touch is still warm on your skin—you can still taste him on your lips.

"You okay?" he asks softly, his concern genuine.

The question pulls you out of your thoughts, but his gaze does the opposite—your face flushes and it feels like your heart is going to pound out of your chest.

"Yeah. I... I just needed to convince him.."

Satoru studies you momentarily—knowing there is more to the story with Naoya. But he also knows now isn’t the time to pry.

He chuckles softly, his hand lingering on your waist.

“Well, I think you succeeded. That was... unexpected. You really went for it there,” he murmurs.

For a moment, it felt like you were playing a role, but the feelings stirring inside you were anything but fake.

"I'm sorry," you swallow hard, face flushing with embarrassment. "I didn't mean to..."

“I didn’t mind,” he interjects, thumb brushing against your lower lip, sending a shiver down your spine. “Just so you know, you did great. Better than I expected,” his voice low and husky.

Fuck.

You blink—Naoya is gone, but here Satoru is, still holding you so intimately, so intently.

The way he looks at you, the warmth in his touch, the tone of his voice—it makes you question the lines between reality and pretense.

“Didn’t know you had it in you.” Satoru hums, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from your face. He leans in, his breath dancing on your lips, tantalizingly close. “But next time, let’s save the tongue for when we’re really alone, hm?”

What is he saying?

Your mind races, trying to decipher his words, his intentions. Was he still in character, or was there a hint of genuine desire in his eyes?

The electricity in the air was undeniable, and you find yourself lost in the intensity of his gaze—the crowd around you fading, their murmurs and whispers becoming a distant hum.

Satoru’s eyes held secrets you were desperate to uncover.

As you struggle to formulate your thoughts, Satoru’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb tracing a soft line along you jaw.

"Relax," he murmurs, "We're just putting on a show, remember?"

You nod, though your heart betrays you with its rapid pace.

“Right,” you whisper, forcing a smile. “Just a show.”

But deep down, you can’t shake the feeling that there was more to this act than either of you were willing to admit.

ahh i really enjoyed writing this chapter. okay, i was snickering at satoru's internal turmoil when he met haru for the first time. i couldn't resist with the digimon 🤭 my daughter is currently obsessed with pikachu so that's where that inspiration came from lol. also, this kiss was one of my favs to write 🥰 lemme know if you guys are interested in me making this a longer series. as always, thanks for reading 🫶🏻 → on to the next chapter ꨄ

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a-d-nox · 13 days

Text

astro hypothesis: dress for the occasion

everyone is always mentioning to dress like your venus sign. recently, i have seen a lot of tiktoks where people are like dress like your crush/boyfriend's venus sign to look like his dream girl. and i was like what about dressing for the occasion? which brought me here! grab your venus persona and take a look at the houses.

5h - prom, dances, dates, and clubs

5h cancer (4°, 16°, 28°) and/or 5h moon: elegance is key. you might be drawn to long, flowy gowns with shimmery fabric. something light but glowy! often the fabric is dark (black or midnight blue) or slivery/white. a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder cut tends to look beautiful on these people. often you are drawn to semi-sheer fabric as it adds some mystique to your appearance.

5h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 5h venus: light pastels or ivory are likely to grab your attention but a plain white or black dress is likely to give you that elegant/timeless look that you want most in pictures to remember your day (otherwise, you might take pictures in a colored dress and turn on a black and white filter). you want the wow factor! so a-line, a ball gown, or fit-flare dresses might be your go to look. a floor length dress is likely a must for you. silk, satin, chiffon, and/or organza are likely on the tags of these dresses even if you don't know what these materials are by the naked eye. dresses with a sweetheart neckline or off the shoulder sleeves are likely to make you feel elegant. you may like very simple accessories - plain earrings, a dainty bracelet, small pendant necklace, classic heels, etc. a v-neckline, bateau, or strapless design is likely to fit your elegance same could be said about a low back dress.

5h aquarius (11°, 23°) and/or 5h uranus: you are likely to be drawn to the blue family (sky, sea, ocean, water, turquoise, etc.). iridescence/holographic/shimmery material might draw your attention in a store. you often go for something very atypical in the store (might be from seasons ago - its likely the last of its kind). something a-line, flowy, and/or high-to-low might be of interest to you - the cuts of a dress bring interest to your favorite parts of yourself (example, maybe its a two piece dress). something high neck or off the shoulder is likely of interest to you as well. a loose braid and/or waves might be all you need to finish out your look.

7h - wedding attire

7h aries (1°, 13°, 25°) and/or 7h mars: as a bride you should be wearing pure white. nudes or off-whites aren't likely to hold your attention anyway. grab the pure stark white. it is likely that reds are going to be an accent of this wedding - roses, nail, polish, bridesmaid dresses, etc. but if you aren't in the wedding party, go for the red whether its a fiery red or a deep burgundy, its the way to go! no matter if you are the bride, the guest, or a member of the wedding party - you should opt for a fit flare dress or mermaid silhouette. or be really dramatic and go for a deep slit, a plunge neckline, or something backless! the devil is in the details too so things like careful beading, sequins, or embroidery should be something critical to your look (if not the fit and/or the drama). alternatively, minimalism/modernism might be something you enjoy for your look.

7h gemini (3°, 15°, 27°) and/or 7h mercury: as a bride, you might lean towards ivory or whites with an undertone of some color (like a blush). you don't tend to go for the traditional white color, in my experience. if you are a guest or in the wedding party it is likely you will find yourself in soft pastel colors! movement is of the utmost importance to you so opt for a-line or flowy gown. you might also enjoy wearing things that are asymmetrical - the hemline might be high to low or you might like the one shoulder strap design. these people also like details in their dresses whether it is lace, embroidery, beading, ruffles, tiered skirts, or glitter - the options are endless. chiffon, tulle, or organza might be the fabrics for you because they are light and breathable.

6h - everyday clothes and workwear

6h pisces (12°, 24°) and/or 6h neptune: soft fabrics like cotton, silk, or jersey in gentle, soothing colors such as ocean blues, seafoam greens, lavender, and soft pinks. loose, flowing clothes like maxi skirts, wrap dresses, or wide-legged pants that move gracefully. style would likely be bohemian and free-spirited, incorporating layers, delicate patterns, or subtle prints (florals, paisley, etc.). clothes would be cozy and easy to wear—think oversized sweaters, soft cardigans, and flowy blouses. might like jewelry that is delicate, handmade, seashells, pearls, and/or celestial themed.

6h libra (7°, 19°) and/or 6h venus: these people have a natural sense of style and an appreciation for their appearance. outfits would likely be classic, well-tailored pieces in soft, neutral tones like blush pink, dove gray, cream, and pastel blues. the fabrics would be light and luxurious - like silk blouses, cashmere sweaters, or satin skirts. well-fitted blazers, A-line skirts, and or high-waisted trousers make them look polished and graceful. they effortlessly blend comfort with sophistication. everything else is minimal yet thoughtfully chosen - delicate gold or silver jewelry, a stylish handbag, etc.

9h - graduation and religious events

9h taurus (2°, 14°, 26°) and/or 9h venus: elegance, luxury, and comfort ("it has pockets too!"). a sleek, well-structured dress in an earthy tones like emerald green, soft brown, or blush pink. the fabric might be luxurious, like silk, satin, or velvet. a silhouette would likely be timeless and flattering - a wrap dress or an A-line dress that cinches at the waist, emphasizing femininity and grace is well suited for this placement. delicate embroidery or subtle jewelry accents. understated but beautiful accessories, like a simple gold necklace or pearl earrings.

9h leo (5°, 17°, 29°) and/or 9h sun: bold, glamorous, and attention grabbing. vibrant colors like gold, fiery red, or royal purple. the fabric might be something that shimmers or catches the light, such as sequined, satin, or metallic materials. a silhouette could be daring and statement-making, like a fitted flair dress, a high-low hemline, or an off-the-shoulder design. ruffles, a thigh-high slit, or an open back, ensures all eyes are on them. accessories would be bold—think large, sparkling earrings, a dramatic statement necklace, etc. yes, realize what my sub-header is for this section.

9h sagittarius (9°, 21°) and/or jupiter: it's never just one graduation or church event and thus never just one dress/opportunity. the dresses would likely have a regal, flowing quality to it. jewel tones like deep sapphire, royal blue, or amethyst. flowy, A-line, and/or empire waisted dresses that gives a sense of movement. fabric might be lightweight and ethereal, like chiffon, tulle, or silk. intricate embroidery, beading, etc. accessories would be tasteful but luxurious, like a delicate gold bracelet or a jeweled hairpiece.

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#astrology #astro community #astro placements #astro chart #natal chart #astrology tumblr #persona chart #astro notes #astrology chart #natal astrology #astrology readings #astrology signs #astro #astro observations #astroblr #venus persona chart #persona chart observations #what to wear

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xxkissesforchanniexx · 5 months

Note

Best friend Chan who is in love with reader but has a girlfriend?

𝐒𝐨 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭?

Pairing: bestfriend!Chan x reader college au Genre: Angst (i cant write that for shit.), fluff, smut Word Count: 4.5k (lord help me) Warnings: Chan's gf is controlling, gf is a pick me, mentions of cheating (not by chan), mentions of college (younger half of members + chan gf + reader), fade to black sexual moment kinda >.>, nosey ass friends >.>, mentions of ateez members, not proofread, fighting >.> DO NOT DO IT, lowkey (highkey) cringe... UHH Idk what else...

A/N: I have exams soon so >.> i won't be taking requests until like May 😭 uhh I might get out the requests I have but until May I won't be accepting any very sorry >.>

You pursed your lips as your best friend's girlfriend, Chaewol, rubbed herself all over your friend, Chan's, arm.

"Chrissy." She said sweetly. "Can we go now?"

Your other friend, Seungmin stared at her, not even trying to hide the look of disgust on his face.

Minho just blinked slowly.

"Babe, we just got here." Chan sighed.

"I know but the waitress keeps giving me dirty looks." She pouted.

Hyunjin, a man who'd grown to be as close as a brother to you, made a face and leaned in close to you whispering, "Maybe if she hadn't been all over Chan as if the waitress wanted to steal him she wouldn't get dirty looks."

You gave your friend a knowing face.

"It's fine Chan." Seungmin smiled, stirring his drink with his straw, "Just go."

Chan looked at you with an apologetic look.

You shrugged. "We'll just try again some other time."

He smiled. "Alright. See you guys." He stood with Chaewol, who gave you the nastiest look as Chan led her out.

"The waitress wasn't even looking." Seungmin pinched the bridge of his nose.

"She's obviously jealous." Hyunjin huffed. "I would be too if my boyfrie-"

Seungmin elbowed him.

You looked between the two confused. "What?"

"Nothing." They both said.

Minho grabbed. a bunch of tissues from the dispenser in the middle of the table and tried forcing Hyunjin to eat them.

You burst into a fit of laughter as a waiter came over with water to help the spluttering Hyunjin.

Your phone buzzed with a notification from Instagram, you opened it and sucked in a breath at the post. It was of Chan and Chaewol at a bubble tea shop, she was kissing his cheek.

Hyunjin looked at your phone and sighed. "It's fine."

You nodded, "Yeah. Say any of you up for barbecue?"

Seungmin smiled, "Let's go."

It was late now, well past midnight, Chaewol was asleep, and Chan lie awake. He sucked in a breath, rolling onto his side and grabbing his phone, he opened Instagram and squeezed his phone. The picture Chaewol had taken earlier had blown up, "he's so sweet" and "you're so lucky" flooded the comments. He kept scrolling and stopped at a post where you were in a shopping cart and Changbin was pushing you, while Jisung was in a separate cart and Hyunjin struggled to push him. He laughed lightly and paused at a post from 30 minutes ago, that would've been 1am, you were at a table with the other guys. Jeongin was out cold on the table and the rest of them looked drunk stupid except for Minho, probably the driver..

Chan felt his heart clench. When was the last time he'd gone out like that with the rest of you.

He tapped your profile and scrolled through your recent posts, baking with Felix, cooking with Minho, gym day with Han and Changbin, movie night with a friend, a guy, he didn't know..

He stared at the image for a moment before swiping to the next, same guy, laying on his back between your legs, head rested on you stomach, your fingers in his hair, all that was visible, his nose and eyes.

Chan whispered softly, "Who the fuck is that."

Chaewol rolled over, murmuring, "What is it?"

"Nothing." Chan said, "Go back to sleep."

Chan looked through the comments,

Hongjoongisworld 1w Wow, so that's where my snacks went.

HWWAAA 1w Lucky.

former stronk man 1w ;-; why wasn't I invited.

and you tagged Sannie..?

Chan tapped the tag and exhaled slowly at all the pictures of a muscular man with a square jaw and pretty face. So this was Sannie. This was the man doing things he should be, Choi San, who goes to an entirely different school from you.

Chan jumped as suddenly his phone was gone. "Chae-"

"He's hot.." She scrolled through San's profile and hummed. Then her face fell.

Chan leaned over looking at his phone, there you were, phone covering half your face as you took the picture, San behind you, his arm wrapped a little too tight around your waist. Chan took his phone from Chaewol and put it down.

"Go to sleep." He huffed, rolling to face away from her.

Chaewol stared at Chan in the darkness for a long moment before pursing her lips. He's not mad that I called that other guy hot. He's made that Y/N is close to him... And she rolled to face away from Chan, biting her pink nails. What could she do to you?

You were drunk, buzzed, completely inebriated. To the extent Minho had to call someone to pry you off the pole outside of the bar. He'd used your phone and called someone you had labeled as Mr Sannie

Mr Sannie turned out to be someone named Choi San, he was a close friend of yours apparently, and you hugged him poking his face and neck as he half carried, half dragged you to his car.

Minho stared at San for a long time. What is Chan even going to say..

In light of your recent Instagram posts and a long call with Minho, Chan decided to leave Chaewol at home and go hang out with you for the first time in a long while. It was fun, running around being stupid with you. You and Chan were eating ice cream in the park when he asked suddenly.

"Who's San?"

You blinked a bit surprised. "He's a friend of mine."

Chan looked at you before looking back at his ice cream. "Just a friend?"

"Of course." You laughed, it trailed off as you realized he was serious. "Chan, San is just my friend."

Chan looked at you and smiled, "Good."

You didn't exactly know how to respond to that. Good why?

Your phone buzzed and you looked at it, there was a message from Yongbok to the group chat your friend group had.

lixie 3:47pm We're having a party off campus, you senior citizens tryna join in?

He Who Feeds Them Tissues 3:47pm I will if Chan will.

OMG SLAY💅🏻 3:48pm Why are we senior citizens...

Chubby Cheeks 3:48pm Because you've already graduated.

Hangry 3:48pm But we're not senior.

OMG SLAY💅🏻 3:48pm Minho and Chan are.

He Who Feeds Them Tissues 3:47pm You haven't eaten tissues in a while have you Hyunjinnie.

Me 3:49pm You're cooked. 💀

Loaf 3:49pm I'll go. Hyunjin hide.

Channie 3:49pm LOLLL

STAAA 3:49pm OMG GRANDPA LEARNED LINGO

lixie 3:50pm 😧 never thought i'd live to see it.

You giggled and looked at Chan who rolled his eyes.

Your phone buzzed again and Chan peeked over your shoulder, tensing at the sight of Sanniepoo..

Mr Sannie 3:50pm There's a party. Go with me?

Chan looked at you, you hadn't clicked the notification, hesitating.

"Are you going to go?" You asked him.

He bit his lip, "I have to ask Chaewol."

You looked down at your phone and tapped Mr Sannie's chat, typing something. "It's fine." You looked at your phone again and stood, "I have to go meet up with a friend."

Chan opened his mouth to say something, that friend was San, this guy he didn't know, who his own girlfriend thought was hot. You were going to meet up with this guy...

"Bye, Channie." You said before he could get any words out.

And you were gone.

You were sitting in class biting your pen and trying to study in art history before the teacher arrived, when you heard the steps then the whispers. You didn't bother looking up until a pink purse was thrown on your textbook.

You knew that purse, you'd helped Chan pick out that purse for...

"You really think you're funny." Chaewol said. Her group of girls dressed as if this were still high school looked at you with disgusted looks.

You looked up at her. "Am I laughing?"

The chatter in the class died.

"Leave my boyfriend alone." She said.

You raised a brow. "You think I'm messing with Chan?"

"Chris. Doesn't want you."

You stood, "What makes you think I want Chan?"

"Why else would you be all over other guys to get his attention?"

The class gasped.

"I've done a lot of stupid shit, but trying to get a guy's attention is not on that list yet." You said glaring at her.

"You're such a liar!" One of her friends said. "We've seen the pics of you with the guys from KQ Uni."

Chaewol got in your face. "Listen here, Y/N, if you don't leave Chan alone, it's going to be and you."

You sucked in a breath, "Back up."

"If I don't?" She asked.

"How old are you, Chaewol?" You asked irritated.

Chaewol smirked and turned, letting her hair extensions hit you as she grabbed her purse.

You pursed your lips.

You hadn't expected to be greeted by San's car outside of school as you left.

He gave you the corniest smirk as you got in, "I have a surprise for you."

You tilted your head, "What is it?"

He held a out a small box covered in blue velvet and you took it, opening the box you smiled at the sight of a plain black ring band. engraved in silver on the inside was "Dumass #1"

You burst out laughing and put the ring on as San held up his right hand, showing his matching band. You two took several pictures before San started driving.

"Hungry?" he asked.

"You know me so well," you smiled.

You took several more stupid pictures and a few pictures of your food, you were going to post the images but then you remembered what Chaewol had said.

"Why else would you be all over other guys to get his attention?"

You shook your head and pressed post.

"We should go meet the guys, they're out and about today." San hummed.

You nodded, "Okay."

You were laying in bed scrolling when Chan called you, you stared at your phone for a moment before answering. "Helloooo?"

"Uh.."

You heard the shakiness in his voice as he spoke.

"Can you come over? I- Chaewol and I aren't talking." He said sniffing.

"Chan what happened?" You sat up in bed, it wasn't the first time something like this happened...

You were at his house in 20 minutes, staring at your friend as he sniffled and allowed you before hugging you. You patted his back and made him sit as he cried about Chaewol cheating on him... again.

"Am I doing something wrong?" He looked up at you with tears in his eyes.

"Of course not Channie." You smoothed his hair and smiled at him gently. "She's the problem."

He muttered something about not being good at anything and lied down on the couch, resting his head on your lap.

You spent most of the night comforting Chan and relaxed when you got him to go to sleep. You stared at your friend's sleeping face, so content and calm as if in his dreams he'd forget about everything. You smiled slightly and leaned back against the couch falling asleep yourself, sure this would be the last time, positive...

When you woke up Chan wasn't laying on your lap and you assumed he'd gotten up to go do something but as you were about to stand you heard the voices by the door...

"Chris, you know it didn't mean anything. I love you babe." Chaewol sobbed.

"Please don't..." You heard Chan sigh.

"Chan!" She sobbed louder, and you heard her fall to the floor, "Babe it won't happen again! I swear! I love you, please!"

He wouldn't... right?

"Chaewol stand up."

"Not until you forgive me." She sniffed.

You exhaled slowly as Chan told her, "Come back later."

"Chrissy please-"

"I'm serious."

"Fine."

You heard the door close then Chan was back in the living room staring at you.

"Y/N-"

"It's fine. Just enjoy yourself." You pursed your lips and rolled your eyes, before leaving him standing there.

Chan's mouth was half open he was going to say something, he willed the words out. But a small, "Thanks for coming over." Left his lips instead and was met with the door slamming.

Chan kissed Chaewol and muttered, "You did so good for me."

Chaewol lay there on the bed trying to catch her breath, after cleaning up, Chan got into bed and Chaewol was already out cold. He rubbed her head gently, then he got a text from Changbin.

Baby Changbin 7:59pm Did you see what Y/N posted?

Chan opened instagram, there was a bunch of posts with you and a bunch of guys he didn't know, there was more with that Choi San... and he scrolled to this afternoon, food, you two being stupid, then.. a picture of your hand and someone else's, someone Chan could assume was San, wearing matching rings.

Chan bit his lip and looked at his jewelry drawer. He'd stopped wearing the necklace that matched yours because Chaewol thought it was "intrusive" and "a physical show of emotional cheating".

That left one thing...

"Baby." Chan shook Chaewol gently.

"Huh?" She groaned.

"There's a party tomorrow," He muttered.

"I know." She opened her eyes a little.

"Can we go?"

"Yeah whatever, let me sleep..."

Chan lie back and stared at the pictures of you and San.

He opened his chat with Changbin.

Me 8:02pm He goes to KQ Uni?

Baby Changbin 8:02pm They all do

Me 8:03pm We're going to that party.

The day of the party Chan pulled up in front of the old college he once attended, where you and Chaewol currently went. He had come on Chaewol's request, so he could take her to buy a new outfit for the party.

He saw you and Jisung and was about to get out of his car to go talk to you but another car pulled up. Chan froze as he got out of the driver's seat and hugged you then began counting on his fingers while making an exaggerated face. Jisung cackled. You rolled your eyes and pushed San's head, he faked a hurt expression and opened the front passenger side door for you.

Chan squeezed the wheel and this time got out of the his car, he would've approached but the sound of a squeal made him look away from you, Chaewol and her friends came over and she threw herself on him.

She looked in your direction, then made a face, "That's the guy from KQ Uni isn't it?"

Chan didn't answer, eyes glued on the way you and San went back and forth before you finally got into the car and Jisung got in the back seat.

Chaewol shook him slightly. "Chris?"

Chan's eyes met San's as he closed the door. All the man did was smile before getting into his car and driving away taking you with him.

Chaewol squeezed Chan's arm. "Is something wrong?"

"Not at all." Chan lied, "Let's go, hm? Gotta make you look even more beautiful."

Chan pulled up to the party with Chaewol and her friends. He got out and opened the door for Chaewol, who quickly scampered to join her other friends. Chan shook his head and started looking around for his friends, then he saw Minho, there was a group of guys with him, Chan could only recognize San.

He approached and San smiled at him, Minho patted Chan on the shoulder and introduced him to the rest of the men. "This is my good friend Chan. Channie, this is San, Seonghwa and Yunho."

Chan nodded and smiled, "Have you seen Y/n?"

"Oh, she ran off with Seungmin somewhere." Minho said. "Probably to get drinks."

"Oh, okay."

San raised a brow at Chan, "You know Y/N?"

"She's my friend from high school." Chan said.

Seonghwa looked between the two sensing the tension and laughed nervously, "I'm going to go.. get us some drinks? Yunho come with me." Seonghwa grabbed Yunho and dragged him away.

MInho stared at the two in shock, "Hey, hey, hey. It's a party, don't look so aggressive.."

San nodded, "Of course."

A moment later, you and Seungmin came bouncing back giggling like little children. Seungmin grabbed Minho, "Hyunjin wants to dance with you." And he dragged him away.

Chan smiled at you. You gave him a hug and poked his nose, "Didn't think you'd make it."

"I'm here." Chan shrugged.

San's mouth fell open dramatically and he made a face at you. "Am I invisible???"

You gave him a side eye. "I saw you earlier."

San clutched his chest, "So cruel..." he faked tears then the two of you started laughing.

Chan felt a tug on his arm, he looked at Chaewol.

"Oh," She looked at you and San.

San looked past you at Chaewol and you turned, pursing your lips ina. tight smile.

"Hi," Chaewol smiled at you and then looked at San, "I'm Chaewol."

"San," He nodded before looking right at Chan as if asking with his eyes So you have a girlfriend... San smiled at you and grabbed you, "Y/N we should dance."

Chan was about to say something but Chaewol pulled him away, "Babe we should go get some drinks."

Chan wanted to pull away he wanted to say no but then.

"Christopher."

He looked at Chaewol and smiled, "Ok."

As the party neared its end, Chan didn't know where Chaewol was, but he was too drunk to wonder. Minho had found him half passed out on the couch and helped him up. Minho helped Chan walk and eventually found you, talking to San's friend Seonghwa.

"He's too buzzed yo drive and Chaewol is no where to be seen." Minho said before carefully passing Chan's weight to you.

You stumbled slightly and somehow managed to support him. Seonghwa helped you before you fell over, you carried Chan to Seonghwa's car and tossed him in the back seat.

Seonghwa drove you to Chan's house and parked before asking, "Are you okay to carry him in alone?"

"Of course, I've got him." You laughed, and woke up a half asleep Chan in the backseat before helping him walk to his front door and convincing him after a bit of bickering to open the door. he trudged into the house and flopped face first onto the couch.

You laughed and he looked at you.

"Are you going?" he asked quietly.

You stopped laughing and nodded.

"Why...?"

"Because I have to go home, Chaewol wouldn't like seeing me here." You said.

Chan sat up and looked at you, "Please don't go."

You stared at him, "Chan-"

Before you could protest he hugged your waist and buried his face in your belly. "Please.

You stood between staring down into his eyes as he looked up at you. "I can't... Chaewol might get angry."

Chan's grip on your relaxed for a brief second. Then it tightened again and he whispered, "I don't care... Please... Stay. I need you to stay."

"You're drunk." You shook your head and started pry yourself away from Chan but he held you tighter.

"Would you be mad at me if I told you I liked you?" He muttered.

"No." You said quietly. "I'd ask you why."

"And if I said I love you?"

You stared at Chan. "You're not thinking straight." You started to pull away but he squeezed you for a moment.

"I don't need to think." He stood up and smiled gently at you, "It feels better if I'm with you." He hugged you completely against him and rested his head on your shoulder.

"Chan I-"

"Don't push me away right now... I might cry if you do." He breathed.

You held him as his body relaxed against yours. And the door opened.

You weren't sure what happened between the door opening and where you were now. What you did know was that you were going to beat the crap out of the person pulling your hair.

Chaewol pulled your hair and screamed at you as her friend tried pulling her back. It was a mess of punches and scratches and hair-pulling. "Boyfriend stealing, home-wrecking BITCH!" Chaewol screamed as she pulled your hair.

"You're the one who can't keep your legs closed!" You shouted, swinging at her.

"Don't come back here! Keep your hands off Chris!" She shouted as Chan pulled you off her and she kicked at you still gripping your hair.

You grasped on her hair as well and pulled out her hair extensions. "You fucked your relationship over yourself! You cheater! You ugly, ungrateful- OOOH!" You threw her extensions in her face as Chan picked you up around the waist and carried you out the door.

"Christopher! Get back here! Bring her back right now!" Chaewol shouted as her friend tried calming her down.

You were trying to get away from Chan as he dumped you on the ground and held you so you wouldn't run back to keep fighting.

"Chan are you even living?!" You shouted. "Howw do you let her treat you like that! It's your house, your money, your LIFE!" You pulled away from him and started walking away.

He grabbed your hand and pulled you back hugging you tightly. "Please." he muttered. "I love you."

You stared blankly for a moment. "Huh?"

"I need you." He pulled back and looked at you.

"You're probably just in shock and drunk."

He shook his head slowly, "I'm tired. I'm tired of fighting and screaming and everything.." He leaned down and pressed his forehead against yours. "Please."

And you didn't stop him as he kissed you.

Chaewol was faking tears the following monday in class and everyone was running to her to console her. Except you.

"Chaewol don't cry." Someone said rubbing her shoulder. "What happened?"

"I went home after the p-party. And Ch-Chan and Y/N were all over each other," She sobbed.

The whole class shot you dirty looks, you kept about your business staring at your text book.

"A-And then..." She snuffed. "We had a fight and Chan carried her out." She sobbed dramatically.

You made no move of any kind when some girls came up to you asking if it was true.

"IT GETS WORSE!" Chaewol shrieked. "THAT HOMEWRECKER KISSED HIM OUTSIDE TOO!"

You closed your textbook and got up from your seat, going to leave. As you stepped out of the building Chaewol's friends flocked behind you.

What you hadn't anticipated to see outside was Chan, he leaned against his car looking at his phone. Looking up at the sight of you and the other girls.

"Where's Chaewol?" he asked.

"She's inside crying over your sorry ass." One of her friends spat.

Chan opened his car and pulled out three pink suitcases and set it on the side walk. "Tell her to come get her stuff. If I missed anything she can come get it herself."

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" Chaewol's voice came from the front entrance and you turned to see her running out and down the steps where she grabbed Chan. "Chris! Chrissy! Baby! Honey!"

Chan pulled his hand away from hers.

"WHY?!" She screamed, other students were looking through class windows or from where they were walking.

"I'm tired. I'm so tired." Chan said simply and grabbed your hand.

You gasped as he put you in the car. "Chan-" You started as Chaewol tried to open your door.

"Let them try." He said locking the doors and looking at you. "I want to talk to you."

When you were a sophmore in high school and Chan was a senior, you became fast friends. Not that Chan wanted to be your friend, really, he had been hoping to get your number and possible convince you to date him. But he'd failed miserably as Minho told him countless times before.

You'd have been lying if you had said you weren't into him, he was sweet and funny and gorgeous. But when he went to JYPU, he met a girl from another school, she was sweet at first, but when they started dating things didn't work out well. At least for Chan. The first time he'd called you crying saying that he and Chaewol had fought you thought it was normal. But the more it happened, the less normal it seemed to you...

And then he didn't speak to you for months on end... because Chaewol said he couldn't.... Becuase Chaewol didn't trust you.

And when she'd cheated and you suggested breaking up, it wasn't even a day before he'd forgiven her. And you couldn't help but wonder why. Why you were in this car staring at your hands? Why you let him drag you out? Why you let him kiss you?

Chan whispered quietly. "I talked to San."

You looked at him.

"I'm sorry."

"It's not you fau-"

"It is." He rested his head on the steering wheel. "I let Chaewol take over my life, and every time she lied and betrayed and and promised it wouldn't happen again it did... and I let it happen." he sat up and turned to you. "I'm sorry."

You sucked in my breath. "You shouldn't apologize. You couldn't have known better.."

"But I did know better." He looked at you. "I've known better- No, I knew you were better. I just.. I was scared you didn't want me back. Let me tell you when I'm sober. While you'll listen.."

"Channie." You stared at him.

He leaned in. "Can I.." he said quietly.

You nodded slowly and Chan leaned into you, his soft breath against your lips before he kissed you gently. He pulled away and whispered. "I love you."

You looked into his eyes. "I love you too..."

Your phone buzzed in your bag for god knows what time. Chan's lips were on your neck, you whined as he sucked a dark mark to the skin.

You moaned as he rutted against you. Rubbing his tented crotch against your clothed pussy. He pressed his thumb to your lip, "Suck." He muttered.

You opened your mouth and sucked on his thumb obediently. He groaned and pulled your shirt over your head. Chan kissed down your chest and removed your bra before moving lower and pulling off your pants. He kissed your thighs and smiled at the wet spot on your pantie. "This for me?"

He pulled your pantie off and licked a big strip of your pussy and moaned into you. You grabbed his hair.

"This is mine. You hear?" He looked up at you, coffee colored eyes dark and pupils blown wide. "This pussy is mine."

You whimpered and nodded.

"Good girl." He whispered before shoving his tongue into you.

You squealed.

"And the rest was..." You smiled to yourself blushing deeply.

"So then what?" Seonghwa asked as he sipped his coffee.

"You horny little-." San slapped him.

You rolled your eyes and smiled as your phone buzzed with a message from Chan.

Channie🥰 2:14pm I wanna take you out, text me when you get home.