#maybe they all attend law school together

[shih-coulda-had-it]

whispering ''kiss me'' to your lover for duo holders please,please🙏

a/n: oh man okay. this is a nebulous Modern/No Quirks!Verse, but whatever plot you might perceive, it's super unimportant. for names, it's Hisashi (AfO), Kenji (2nd), and Sanjuro (3rd). wc: 773

//

For a birthday party dedicated to Yoichi turning twenty-four, it certainly seemed more like an excuse for Hisashi to hold court with his shadier friends. Already, his older brother had excused himself from the courtyard three times, leaving Yoichi to linger uselessly at the edge of conversations that turned awkward and quiet when he came into proximity.

Same situation, new year, he thought.

And then a warm presence brushed past him, followed by a second. Yoichi held back the instinct to apologize; he blinked upon seeing the back of his boyfriend’s head--russet-brown hair, sticking up in ruffled tufts--and also the back of Sanjuro’s spiky ponytail.

Had Hisashi actually agreed to invite them? Yoichi blinked several times, just to make sure it was Kenji and Sanjuro, dressed in similar-looking suits and doing their utmost not to draw attention.

Sanjuro turned his head to catch Yoichi’s eye, lifted an expectant eyebrow, and followed his friend away from the party to the front gates.

Well!

Yoichi muttered something like, “Excuse me, I have to be a good host,” and gladly withdrew from the latest group chatting around the subject of a pyramid scheme. Fading into the background was easier said than done, though. It wasn’t enough to hide in the shadows. Not with a crowd so accustomed to keeping watch in the dark.

So he pulled a trick from Hisashi’s playbook and wandered, weaving his way forward on a less-than straightforward path. Yoichi pretended to be the ignorant younger brother to the point that one asshole had dismissed him, saying, “Run along, boy, the adults are talking.”

He was definitely remembering that guy’s face. But Yoichi took the excuse, huffing exaggeratedly at the slight, and stalked outside the courtyard.

“Happy birthday,” called Sanjuro, smirking at the abrupt beeline Yoichi made for his direction. “Your brother kicked us out of the party before we could deliver the goods.”

“The ‘goods’?”

“Your present,” he clarified. “Mine’s a little less tangible, but Kenji’s got yours all prepped for the taking.”

“No one appreciates euphemisms,” said Yoichi pointedly. He came to a stop in front of Sanjuro and, sighing, bumped the offered fist with one of his own. “Where is he, anyway?”

“Little further down. There’s an alcove out of sight from the cameras. I’ll signal if it turns out your brother has a sixth sense for your location.”

“Count on it,” he said, and wiggled his fingers in a goodbye before skipping down the pavement to find Kenji. It was probably the first time Yoichi appreciated the architect who designed the walls; there were alcoves carved into the sandstone, deep enough to provide refuge for anyone caught in a downpour, or two lovers trying to have a private moment.

Kenji was leaning against the wall, hands tucked in his pockets. The light fixtures studding the space in-between the alcoves cast a yellow light on him; Yoichi grinned when they caught sight of each other, and saw his smile mirrored.

“Kenji-san,” Yoichi greeted, side-stepping into the alcove and leaning against the opposite wall. He held his hands behind his back, fingers curled around a wrist. “I didn’t know you were coming.”

“Surprise,” said Kenji. “We knew it’d be testing your older brother’s patience if we showed up last minute, but we also thought it’d be better to ask forgiveness than permission.”

“Nii-san definitely threw you out.”

“Yeah. Would you, uh, would you believe that this is all according to plan?”

Yoichi’s grin widened. “I would. You two didn’t seem like your tails were tucked between your legs, and Sanjuro already gave me a hint about my birthday present.”

“Ah, he’s spoiled it. The magic’s ruined. Wait for next year, I’ll give it to you then.”

“Hey!”

He pushed off the wall and went toe to toe with Kenji, hands flying up to both sides of Kenji’s head. The angle was too high for a good pin. Begrudgingly, Yoichi rested his wrists on his boyfriend’s shoulders instead and tipped his chin up.

“Hey,” Kenji echoed. His hands stayed politely on the outside of Yoichi’s blazer. “Happy birthday, Yoichi-san. How was your party?”

“Very boring.”

“A lot of people means a lot of presents.”

“More like tributes for nii-san,” Yoichi corrected. “Not to sound like a spoiled young master, Kenji-san, but…?”

“KENJI, THEY’RE ONTO US!” hollered Sanjuro.

“Goddamnit,” his lover muttered. Rubber-soled footsteps slapped against the pavement, louder with every second. It was too dark to see the color in Kenji’s eyes, but the intent focus and underlying frustration was clear enough.

Yoichi knew what the present was. Inexpensive, priceless--plentiful, unique--he tilted his head helpfully and whispered, “Kiss me.”

And Kenji obliged.

[mydearzero]

Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader

MASTERLIST

PART 2

18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.

Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!

3.9K words

Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree. 

You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason? 

You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.

The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor. 

Doctor Spencer Reid. 

You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age. 

He wasn't anymore, your age.

A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability. 

You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside. 

Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery. 

You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth. 

But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly. 

You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.

He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation. 

It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.

He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him. 

He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you. 

If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer. 

He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite. 

Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body. 

Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted. 

He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class. 

You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart. 

"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office. 

"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat. 

If only you knew how true that was. 

"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down. 

"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school. 

"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer. 

"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile. 

"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices. 

"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.

You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act. 

"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact. 

"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment." 

You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking. 

"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you. 

"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him. 

You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now. 

"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you." 

You gaped at his vulgar words. 

Hook.

"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again. 

"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered. 

Line.

"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh. 

"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly. 

Sinker. 

"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps. 

He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly. 

You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better. 

"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip. 

"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 

"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke. 

You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat. 

"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing. 

"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw. 

"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. 

"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him. 

"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat. 

"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?" 

You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before. 

"I asked. Am. I. Clear?" 

"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face. 

"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs. 

"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you. 

"Good girl." He said the riveting words. 

You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing. 

"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed. 

"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean. 

You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him. 

Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg. 

Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough." 

"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked. 

"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought." 

He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart. 

Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze. 

"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him. 

"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.

Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back. 

He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind. 

You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast. 

When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips. 

"Please, Spencer. Please." 

He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes. 

"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine. 

He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage. 

You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name. 

You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles. 

Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage. 

"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again. 

"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.

"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out. 

"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck. 

"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm. 

He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk. 

You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.

"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously. 

"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. 

You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily. 

Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game." 

"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir." 

Spencer groaned at the title. 

"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again." 

You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg. 

"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.

He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. 

"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away. 

You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor." 

PART 2

[guiltyasdave]

i can see the end as it begins

chapter 1 • series masterlist

pairing: Dave York x f!reader

summary: You meet your father’s new friend for the first time, but he’s a lot different than you expected.

word count: ~5k

tags/warnings: explicit smut -> 18+ mdni, dbf!Dave, unhealthy relationship dynamics, dom/sub dynamics, angst, daddy issues (reader’s dad isn’t a nice person), able-bodied reader, reader has hair, no use of y/n, divorced Dave, unprotected p in v, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk, praise kink, degradation kink, spanking, pet names, let me know if i missed anything 🫶🏻

a/n: my favorite person on this app @joelscurls planted the idea of dbf!dave in both our heads and after many many feral dms, porn gifs, plotting and just generally freaking out, we have finally managed to put the first chapter together :) we’re currently planning with 4 chapters in total that we’re gonna take turns posting, so go follow jess if you don’t already (criminal behavior tbh)! i’m beyond excited to be able to do this with someone whose writing i adore sooo much, we’re both beyond excited about this story, and we hope that you enjoy it 🫶🏻

follow @joelscurlsupdates and @guiltyasdavenotifs for updates and find jess’s masterlist here and my masterlist here :)

dividers by the lovely @saradika-graphics!

“I want a divorce.”

It’s been almost a year since Carol spoke those words into the tense silence of their dining room and they still echo in Dave’s mind as if it happened yesterday.

He doesn’t mourn the marriage, doesn’t miss Carol, not in the way he probably should. But he mourns the life that he had, the perfect suburban family, the stability. A little boring maybe, but safe, calming. Predictable.

And he misses his girls. He misses the sound of small feet on the hardwood-floor greeting him as soon as he opened the front door, giggly exclamations of “Daddy’s home!” and tiny hands grabbing at him, begging to be picked up. Now he opens the door to an empty, silent apartment. He has them every second weekend, which he rationally knows makes the most sense with his often irregular working hours, but it’s simply not enough. It’s like time is constantly running through his fingers and he just can’t make it stop, can’t bring his life back under control.

He’s doing what he can to keep himself busy, anything to keep his mind occupied and his thoughts from spiraling into that pit of loneliness that he’s found himself in. He started reconnecting with friends, going out with his colleagues and contacting people from his army days that he hasn’t spoken to in years, trying to build a social life outside of his family and the neighbors that he no longer lives next to.

It’s tedious, making him realize that he really doesn’t like people all that much, but it’s better than spending his evenings by himself and wondering where things went so awfully wrong.

He spends a lot of time with Jim, one of the guys that trained with him and that he always got along with rather well. Jim was delighted when Dave called, promptly inviting him to join him at golf the next day, which somehow turned into a weekly event on Dave’s schedule. It’s nice enough, giving him some sense of routine and he finds that he’s rather good at it. Jim runs his own company by now, the thing that he invests all of his time in, which got him a lot of money, but also a divorce.

It’s all he talks about, too, but it’s fine with Dave, not being forced to contribute that much to the conversation – because really, there’s not much worth mentioning happening in his life anyway – and he’s content to just nod along and hum in agreement most of the time.

Jim has a daughter too, a lot older than Dave’s though, already out of the house, attending law school. He can tell that Jim is proud when he talks about her, but it always seems to be connected to achievements, an underlying pressure to their relationship that leaves Dave a little uneasy and he silently vows to himself to never apply any sort of conditions to his love for his daughters.

But he's never met the young woman and he probably never will, so he doesn’t dwell on it, because what does it matter to him, really?

You huff a sigh as the familiar sight of the country club that your father loves to frequent comes into view and hand the Uber driver a tip before sliding out of the car.

You had thought you’d be getting a night out with your Dad, just the two of you, a rare occurrence. Not that you had been particularly looking forward to being grilled about law school, your grades, networking and internship opportunities, but at least he would be listening to you, paying attention. Joking that he was making sure that the money he put into your education was well invested, a joke that felt less funny every time you were reminded just how financially dependent you were on your father.

If the topic of conversation wasn’t school, it was what kind of acquaintances you’ve made, if maybe you’d met a guy with good connections, someone who could introduce you to the right people. Cautionary warnings not to get involved with the wrong sort, not to get on the wrong track.

Just once, you would like to talk about if you were enjoying school, what living on your own was like, how you got along with your roommate, the fun times you had with your girlfriends, anything about your life that wasn’t somehow connected to success or keeping up appearances. But your relationship wasn’t like that. He didn’t care about these sorts of things, he never had.

You continuously swallowed down the heavy feeling of envy in your stomach when your friends talked about their parents, painting a picture of unconditional love and support that was foreign to you, telling yourself that everything was fine the way it was.

“I invited Dave to join us tomorrow,” he then told you yesterday morning, offhandedly, sipping his coffee and his eyes already glued to his phone. You nodded silently, forcing your lips into something that resembled a smile. He had mentioned someone named Dave before, an old friend from his army days that he had recently reconnected with, if you remembered correctly. It didn’t matter, really, your father’s countless acquaintances blurred into a mix of vaguely familiar faces in your head anyway. If you had mixed feelings about the evening plans before, this new development made it clear that you wouldn’t partake in the conversation much, just smile politely, sit pretty and let the grown ups talk.

Steeling yourself, you walk in, your heels clicking against the floor. After spotting your dad almost immediately and waving in his direction, you make a beeline for the bar. He was sitting alone, you think, furrowing your brow in thought. You’re running a little late yourself, maybe that Dave guy couldn’t make it? You don’t hate the idea of that.

Dave had been reluctant to come out tonight, couldn’t help the feeling that he was intruding on his friend’s father-daughter time, something that he was desperate to have more of, but Jim had insisted.

“Lots of women you could meet there!”

He had scoffed under his breath, not able to picture himself meeting someone new, going through the motions of getting to know them, opening up, adjusting his routine to someone else’s again. He could much less picture himself meeting a woman he’d be interested in at a fucking country club of all places. Eventually, the thought of another evening in his silent and empty apartment with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company made him accept anyway.

He’s drumming his fingers against the polished wooden bar, waiting to pick up the second round of beers for Jim and himself, when someone slides up to the counter beside him. He glances over, eyes focusing in on the woman who is studying the drinks menu.

He feels an inexplicable pull towards her, couldn’t look away again even if he tried. She’s beautiful, he thinks as he takes in her features in the soft warm light, lingering on the shape of her lips, before his gaze trails down her body, over the short black dress that’s clinging to her in the most enticing way. She’s also younger than him; too young, the responsible part of his mind argues. Not the kind of woman that he should be interested in meeting. He still can’t look away.

“Evening.” The greeting comes out before he can stop himself. She looks up, a hint of annoyance on her pretty face, but her gaze softens as her eyes meet his. A smirk plays on her lips.

“Hi.” Her eyes flicker down his own body and up again, something akin to excitement taking over her expression. He’s rusty, hasn’t done this in ages, but her interest is palpable, and it shoots a thrill of pleasure through him.

“I’m David,” he introduces himself. No one has called him David in… god knows how long, but it feels better than Dave in this moment, right somehow. Like he can be a different person, just for a little while.

“Pleasure,” she grins, tells him her name and shakes his hand, her eyes glinting in the warm lights of the bar. Her touch on his skin, even just his hand, is like electricity is flowing through the air between them. She feels so soft and his life has been so devoid of softness lately that he has to force himself to let go of her hand again.

Something tugs at the back of his mind, like this name should ring a bell, but he shoves the thought aside. He’s too busy picturing himself taking her home this evening, imagining how soft her skin would feel in other places, how she would look splayed out underneath him on his sheets, how her breath would sound when he–

“I’ve never seen you around here before, are you new?” her melodic voice interrupts the vivid daydream playing in his mind. She has taken a step towards him and hints of the sweet notes of her perfume are beginning to surround the air around him. It’s getting a little hard to think straight.

“I– yes. First time actually,” he laughs and delights in the way her face lights up at the sound. “You come here a lot, then?” The cliché line makes him want to cringe, but she doesn’t falter, only shrugs and lets her eyes slowly trail down his body once more, obviously wanting him to notice.

“Depends. I might be here more often if it means I get to see you.”

She reaches out until her fingers softly graze his wrist and it demands a great amount of willpower not to take her home right this instant.

The heartbeat in your chest is thrumming along to the butterflies that are erupting in your stomach. You’ve never been this bold, too shy to flirt at all most of the time, but the stranger in front of you is clouding your sense of judgment and has your insecurities flying right out of the window. His interest is written over his face clear as day and you feel an immediate pull towards him that you can’t explain.

He’s so handsome that your hands are itching to touch him more, to find out if he’s as broad and solid as is large frame suggests, if that jawline would feel as strong under your fingertips as it looks, and if his deep brown eyes would soften before you press your lips against his. No wedding ring either, you note in the back of your mind, sending another surge of excitement through you.

The fact that he seems old enough to be your father, something that your therapist would probably have a few words to say about, is only adding to the arousal that’s coursing through your veins. You want him.

You almost jump when your drinks arrive in front of you; you had all but forgotten where you are, and that you’re very much in eyesight of your actual father. Suddenly, you feel silly, reality catching up to you. Surely he was just being nice and you read way too much into it, making a fool of yourself.

“Well, I–I’ll see you around then.” You hastily grab your glass and are ready to make a run for it, when his large hand wraps around your elbow.

“Looking forward to it,” he purrs, before he takes the two beers off the counter in front of him.

Awkwardness slowly sets in when you start walking in the same direction, but it doesn’t fully hit you until you both stop at the same table, your father beaming up at you.

“Sweetheart, you already met Dave I see, that’s great. Come, sit!”

You’re frozen, stupidly blinking between your father and the man beside you a few times. The man who introduced himself as David.

David. Dave. Oh. Oh.

“Y–yeah,” you stutter out eventually and plaster a smile on your face as you take a seat beside your dad. David looks just as dumbstruck as you feel when he slides into the chair opposite from you, quietly handing one of the beers over to your dad. His friend.

Your father launches into a story about their army days together and you’re nodding along, but not one word actively registers in your brain. The conversation eventually moves on to your dad’s recent work projects, the majority of the talking done by him, with the occasional question from David, while you’re silently sipping on your drink.

The initial embarrassment of the whole situation makes you want to sink down into the ground, but still you can’t keep your eyes from flicking to David again and again. They linger on his lips, constantly in a pout that you would give anything to feel against yours, the slight shadow of stubble on his cheeks at the end of the day that you know would scratch against your skin so deliciously, the way his hand dwarfs his beer on the table, thick fingers that could stretch– No. No, you’re not going there.

Your cheeks are burning and you stare down at the tabletop in front of you.

When your gaze lifts back up, David’s eyes are already trained on you, glinting like he knows exactly what you’ve been thinking about. You reluctantly look back at your father, who’s still rambling on about some big client that he’s currently dealing with, completely oblivious to the charged energy between his friend and you.

David shifts in his seat and his leg bumps against yours under the table. You grasp your drink tighter, forcing yourself not to react in any way, but you don’t move away either. Neither does he. You shoot him a look and the hint of a smirk plays around his mouth. He looks too damn good like this, so excitingly wrong in a way that makes your pulse flutter.

It feels like you’re burning up from inside and as little attention as your dad is paying to you, you’re certain that he’s gonna notice that something is off with you eventually. You hastily scramble to your feet and excuse yourself to the bathroom. You feel David’s eyes on you as you walk away until you’re out of sight.

The cool water that you run over your wrists and splash onto your cheeks does a poor job of calming you down. Stupid, stupid, stupid, you admonish yourself. It’s certainly not more than a tiny bit of flirting to him, if at all, just some harmless fun to amuse himself probably, and you’re getting this worked up about it.

No. You need to get out of this situation. You’re gonna walk back out there, make something up about a headache and catch a cab home. It will probably earn you a lecture about politeness later in the evening, but you’ll gladly take that.

When you approach the table again, your dad is just getting off his phone, his expression already far away. You know that look all too well, being subjected to it almost daily.

“Work emergency?” you ask, without a real question behind your words.

“Yeah,” he grumbles, getting up, barely looking at you, already all business. “Sorry, I gotta get to the office, Dave will drive you home. Right, Dave?”

Your eyes fly to David and you catch him swallowing hard, but he nods regardless, lips quirking up in a forced smile. “Of course.”

You both silently watch your father’s retreating back, already speaking into his phone again. The fabric of Dave’s pants ghosts against your bare leg below the table once more. You wish it were his fingers instead.

You hadn’t anticipated to be alone with him and all the reasonable thoughts that you’ve come up with in the privacy of the bathroom are wiped from your mind. It feels like you’re buzzing, a rush of excitement thrumming through your veins, like your body knows that you’re on the brink of doing something really stupid and really fucking tempting.

“I’m sorry, about earlier,” you murmur, looking up at him through your lashes. He smirks, a knowing glint in his eyes as he takes in your expression. He still hasn’t moved his leg.

“I don’t think you are.”

Your stomach swoops at his words. You bite your lip. He wouldn’t be acting like this if he didn’t want you, would he? His eyes dart to your lips at the movement and darken. Fuck it.

“No, I’m not.” You pray that he doesn’t catch the slight tremble in your voice. He’s fucking intimidating and this is wrong on so many levels and you want him so badly to want you.

The tension between you is a palpable thing, almost making it hard to breathe when he leads you out of the club, his hand at the small of your back and causing you to shiver. Will he really just drive you home? Will he say something, do something, touch you more? You don’t know how to ask for any of it and desperately wish that he’ll take the reins, that somehow he already knows what you want. You have a feeling that he does.

He opens his car door for you, another thing that really shouldn’t affect you this much, before he walks around the vehicle and gets in beside you. You catch a hint of his cologne in the confined space and press your thighs together before you can stop yourself. Your heart is racing and you just know that he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

He clears his throat. “We gotta stop at my place, I have some paperwork that I’d like your–” He interrupts himself, his grip on the steering wheel tightening until his knuckles are white, “that I’d like Jim to look over for me.”

You nod, a small hum leaving your throat. The implication of going to his place has you reeling. He nods back, stealing a glance at you before he starts the car. You can’t help watching him as he drives, the subtle control that he exudes, the way the muscles on his thighs are flexing underneath the fabric of his pants. He looks over at you a few times, and you don’t have it in yourself to pretend that your eyes aren’t glued to him.

“See something you like?” he asks eventually, the corners of his mouth twitching.

“Yeah,” you answer, so breathless it’s embarrassing and you shift a little in your seat. Your dress rides up at the movement, revealing more skin, and his eyes fly down instantly.

“Me too,” he rasps.

When he stops the car in front of his building, you decide that it’s time to be brave.

“Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No,” his answer comes instantly. His tone isn’t cold, but determined, not to be argued with.

“Oh.” Your cheeks are heating up again. You hate how small your voice sounds. “I thought–”

He sighs, rubbing a hand over his face, avoiding your gaze.

“I can’t. You’re– You know why. You know I can’t.”

“I don’t care. I’m an adult, I can do what I want.”

He shakes his head, still not looking at you.

“Sweetheart, stop. Trust me, I want to, but–”

“Please?” You’re begging, no dignity left in you, only want want want. “Just one time. Please, David?”

His eyes fly up to your face at that. You can see the shift, the way his expression hardens, turning into something feral that has heat growing between your legs.

“Just one time,” he repeats, his voice dark with desire, no longer trying to conceal it.

His hands find your thighs, grabbing at you roughly, moving you until you’re in his lap, legs spread wide, his breath fanning against your lips. One hand is in your hair, the other gliding under the hem of your dress, his touch turning you into a trembling mess.

“This is what you want?” he growls, the grip in your hair tightening. You don’t think that you’ve ever wanted anything as much as this.

“Please,” you whine again, and he presses forward, lips clashing against yours, the kiss all tongue and teeth and desperate need and you’re melting into him.

“Fuck,” he breathes, his hands all over you now, grabbing at your dress, your skin, any place he can reach.

Your mouth travels over his cheek and down to his neck, sucking kisses and bites into his skin. The stubble scratches against your face just like you thought it would and you start working on the buttons of his shirt with trembling fingers, rolling your hips, desperate for friction. His grip steadies you, pulling down the neckline of your dress, kissing along the lace of your bra before he pulls the cups down too. A groan rises up in his throat as he cups your tits, thumbs circling over your already hardened nipples before he leans forward and sucks one into his mouth.

“Fucking perfect,” he rasps, breath hot against your damp skin. You arch into his touch and he chuckles, sucking on the bud again before he bites down, eliciting a loud moan from you. His touch travels up your thighs, leaving a burning trail behind, until his fingertips rub over the soaked fabric of your panties and you gasp at the barely-there touch.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he coos, pressing down harder. “Already dripping for me, huh? You want it that bad?”

You nod eagerly, pushing down onto his fingers.

“Alright.” He sounds just as wrecked as you feel. He starts undoing his belt buckle and his pants and you lift up just enough to allow him to shove them down his hips.

At the first glance at his cock, your mouth falls open, a silent breath escaping you. He’s big, certainly the biggest you’ve ever had, and maybe you should think about how you’ll take all of him inside of you, but you find yourself craving him, craving the stinging stretch, craving the feeling of being as close as possible to him.

“Don’t worry.” He seems mildly amused, catching your lips in another kiss. “We’ll make it fit.”

Another shudder runs through your body at this. “I’m not worried,” you admit in a whisper.

He laughs at that, a breathless sound that you instantly want to hear again.

“Good.”

He pulls your underwear to the side and thrusts one thick finger up into your slick heat without warning. His thumb rubs around your clit and you already feel an orgasm creeping up on you. He adds a second finger, his rhythm relentless, and you cry out, grabbing his shoulders, trying to steady yourself, but it’s pointless. You’re already clenching, so close to the edge, when he pulls out of you and fixes you with a hard glare.

“Not yet. You’re only gonna come on my cock tonight, understood?”

You want to scream, want his fingers back, but you realize that you also want this authority, want him to take control, to take whatever he wants from you. It’s a heady feeling, one that you’ve never experienced before, but you’re already desperate for more.

“Okay,” you agree, and his responding smirk is enough for another wave of wetness to gather between your legs.

With one steadying hand securely on your hip, he leans over to the glovebox, mumbling about protection, but you stop him, fingers looping around his wrist.

“I’m on the pill, and I’m clean, I promise. You don’t need–”

He leans back, the grip on your hip tightening again.

“Fuck sweetheart, are you sure?”

You nod quickly, another “please” falling from your lips.

The grin on his face is downright feral as he hikes your dress up higher, eyes raking over your body. You’re sure that you look a mess, all intimate parts of you on display, your skin damp with sweat, your hair a wild nest. You curl in on yourself a little, but David won’t have any of that.

“Hey,” he growls, fingers digging into your thighs. “If I’m gonna do this, you’re gonna look at me and beg for it, are we clear?”

You lift your head, wide eyes searching his. Desperate to do what he asks, desperate for his approval. He’s gorgeous in the low lights, his cheeks flushed, a thin sheen of sweat covering his face and chest.

“Please,” you whine. “Please David, I need you.”

His movements turn frantic at your words, moving you around until you’re positioned just above him, your panties pulled to the side, the head of his cock nudging at your entrance, already soaking him.

“Just one time?” he rasps once more.

“Just one time,” you agree. You’d agree to anything right now.

He pulls you down slowly, beginning to part your walls. You whine loudly at the stretch. It burns, but you relish in the feeling of getting filled by him, and his responding groan has your lips pulling up in a smile.

You keep sinking down, moving until he’s completely sheathed inside you and your eyes fall shut at the overwhelming sensation. His fingers are on your chin in an instant, giving your head a light shake.

“Nuh-uh, eyes right here, sweetheart,” he reminds you, gritting the words out. He twitches inside you and you force your eyelids to open again.

“Feels so good,” you whine, your voice reduced to a broken, breathless thing, but then he starts moving and you’re not able to form words any longer.

He rolls his hips up into you and you meet his thrusts with your own movements, clinging to his shoulders for dear life. His hands are everywhere, digging into your hips, pinching your nipples, gripping your chin whenever your eyes are starting to slip closed again.

So you keep your gaze obediently on him, your eyes locked, delighting in the way his face scrunches up in pleasure, in the sounds that are falling from his lips, matching your own.

“Good girl, taking me so fucking well,” he groans, his hand connecting with your ass in a light slap. An obscenely loud moan escapes you in response and you clench around him, more wetness covering his length and your thighs.

He stills and leans back to take in your heated face and blown pupils, an amused smirk forming on his face. “You liked that, huh?”

You nod, once again unable to meet his eye.

“Hey,” he demands, his fingers grabbing your face again. “Eyes on me, remember?”

Your gaze reluctantly trails up and his smirk grows.

“So…” he drawls, slowly picking up his thrusts again, “what exactly did you like, huh? When I called you a good girl… or when I did this?”

He smacks your ass again and you grind down onto him almost instinctively. You’re burning up in shame, but you obediently hold his gaze.

“B–both,” you whisper, in disbelief that you’re admitting this to him, but you feel too good to hold back now.

“Fuck,” he growls, his movements speeding up and his grip on your hips bordering on painful, “knew you were a dirty little thing.”

Another slap lands on your skin, harder than before, at the same time that he thrusts deep into you. The combined sensations are enough to throw you over the edge that you had been teetering on since he first touched you and you scream out his name as you fall apart.

He holds your shaking body close, cock grinding into you as you pulse around him and he groans, burying his face in your neck, spilling his own release deep inside of you.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers, mouth pressing against your skin. “Can’t believe that you let me–”

You barely make out the words, ecstasy still coursing through your veins, but you lean into him, holding onto his broad shoulders, feeling like his body is the only real thing in your world right now.

You stay like this, entangled in each other’s embrace until your breaths even out and he carefully lifts your face, pressing one more kiss against your lips. It hits you suddenly, that this might be the last kiss that you share with him. Just one time, right?

He helps you to properly put your clothes back on, supporting your weight as you slink back into the passenger seat, before he pulls his pants back on and jogs up to his apartment to gather the paperwork for your father.

Your father. His friend. Fuck. Now that the lust-induced haze has lifted a bit and you’re able to think more clearly again, the weight of tonight’s events starts crashing down on you. He would kill you. He can’t know, no one can.

Dave returns within minutes, his brow furrowed as he takes you in. You think that he clocks the growing panic that is probably written all over your face. He reaches for your hand, slowly enough that you could retract it if you wanted to, but you long for his touch, for the reassurance of it.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

“Yeah.” You nod, trying to convince yourself as much as him.

He nods back, not prying, which you are grateful for, and starts the car, making his way over to your house. Your hand still clasped in his. Both your release and his pooling in your panties.

You only let go of him when he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine. You don’t think that your dad checks the footage from the security cameras regularly, but it’s a risk that you’re not willing to take.

“Thank you,” you mumble, once again unable to meet his eyes. “I– I had a great night.”

He smiles, appearing more relaxed than he’d been all evening.

“Me too, sweetheart. Good night.” You feel his eyes on you as you walk up to the door.

You shower, reluctantly washing away all traces of the evening and crawl into bed. You still feel his hands on your skin, the sensation following you into your dreams.

When the morning comes, hushed promises of just one time echo in your head, but the desire to do it again, for more, is burning through your body, consuming your thoughts.

“Hey Dad,” you ask, stepping into his office where he’s brooding over documents, “I think I left my jacket in Dave’s car, could you give me his number? Maybe I can go pick it up.”

if you liked this, please consider reblogging, leaving a comment or sending in an ask – it’s really the thing that keeps writers going :)

[vettelsdarling]

𝑩𝒆𝒕𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝑻𝒐𝒈𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓

➪This is the second part to “Good Together”

➪Read the first part here!

➪This is the final installment of “Good Together”

Pairing: Lando Norris x Verstappen!Fem!Reader

Warnings: (18+ content) smut, oral (m receiving), praise k!nk, tiny bit angst, really smutty

Word count: 6.3k+

“It’s rude to stare, you know?” Busted. Lando didn’t bother opening his eyes before he felt shuffling in the bed. You hogged the sheets as you went to grab some clothes from your closet. Lando swiftly covered himself with a pillow.

“I have to go talk to Kelly. Can you please leave?” You asked, throwing a bra and panties on the bed as you continued your search for something to wear.

“Hold on, okay? Just wait.” He decided to discard the pillow and got out of bed.

“What?” You turned around and tried your best not to look down. You saw something in his eyes. He was searching for answers. Answers you regretted giving the night before. Answers that you didn’t want to repeat.

“Why are you being like this?” He grabbed your arm, caressing it.

“Like what?” You shot back. All you wanted was for him to get out. After that, you definitely needed a margarita with Kelly.

“Why are you so hasty? So distant?” Lando left you no other choice, but to play dumb.

“What do you mean by that? I’m not distant. I’m right here.” Lando sighed and shook his head. He could clearly tell what you were doing, but he decided not to pry any further. Instead, he decided to give you the same treatment.

“Well, since we had a great time last night, I’d like to take you out tonight.” Bold. Very bold, you thought. You played him right back.

“No, actually. I have plans with someone else.” It was a quick lie that you’d be able to cover up by calling your brother. Maybe even another driver. Lando tried his best to keep it together but failed miserably. The image of you wrapped up in someone else’s arms disgusted him. Even if that someone was Carlos. Sure, they were friends, but he had no regrets about anything.

“Stop being immature and tell me what you want,” he said as he glared at you. Your eyes met his again. They showed a hint of desperation this time.

“What I want? What I really want?” There was a slight tug on your lip, restoring the tiniest bit of hope in Lando.

“Tell me, baby,” he smiled.

“Well… I really want…—“ You hesitated before continuing,

“I really want you to put some clothes on and get the hell out of my apartment.” His smile instantly dropped. You didn’t care. You returned to your closet, trying to find whatever would fit for day drinking.

“You know what? Fuck you,” he spat, as he got dressed,

“You go tell Carlos that we’re not a thing. Maybe you can beg him to take you back. I certainly won’t be in the way anymore.” He finished getting dressed before you, took his jacket, and slammed your front door behind him.

Once again, you were alone. Left to sit and soak in what you’d done to Carlos. At that point in time, with the shock of what had happened the night before, you didn’t care about hurting Lando. Sure, maybe he didn’t deserve it— but that was a problem the future version of you would have to deal with.

You got dressed and grabbed your phone from your bedside table. 5 missed calls and 12 new messages all from Carlos. Your heart sank. Whilst you’d been busy doing his best friend, he had tried to call to talk things out completely. You ignored it for the time being, and sent Kelly a quick text,

‘Hey, Kelly… up for some day drinking?’ Lucky for you, she saw the text and replied almost instantly,

‘Of course, I’ll tell Max I have some business to attend’. You went around your place, trying to find everything. After you did, you locked your front door behind you and went outside. You didn’t own a car, as the expenses of law school never really allowed you to. Instead, you decided to take the bus. That was the beauty of not being in the media all that much. Not a single soul recognized you on the bus. You were able to get to your brother’s house with no trouble at all.

When you arrived, you waited for Kelly to come out. However, when you noticed a fiat jolly parked out front. It was hard to believe your eyes, but they didn’t deceive you. Without much thought, you decided to go straight inside. You memorized the passcode to the flat, as you came regularly.

Going in, you tiptoed past the living room, found a place to remain somewhat hidden, and observed your brother and Lando. They weren’t playing video games like they usually were. No, they were conversing. You saw Lando sigh into his hands. They were most definitely talking about you. Still keeping yourself hidden, you moved closer so that they were in earshot.

“Maybe you were reading her wrong this morning?” Asked your brother to try and calm the Brit down.

“I don’t think so. Besides, how would I apologize for saying that stuff to her?” You didn’t really know what to think. On one side, Lando had told you that he loved you. On the other side, he had yet to show you. How were you supposed to trust him after he betrayed you?

“Oh, you’re here! Let’s go!” A voice behind you bubbled. You turned around to see Kelly standing there with Penelope hugging her leg. The little toddler went on to hug yours instead whilst smiling fondly at you.

“You almost gave me away, Kelly!” You whisper-yelled. She didn’t say anything and looked behind you as if there was someone there.

“Gave you away? Were you trying to avoid us?” Max asked. When you turned around yet again, you saw your brother standing there with Lando at his side. You were filled with embarrassment. The kind of embarrassment you hadn’t felt in a long time.

“Not at all. I’m just here for Kelly.” You only dared to look into the eyes of Max. There was no way you could bear to even catch a glimpse of Lando’s face staring back at yours.

“Oh okay, where are you going?” It almost felt like an interrogation, which Kelly luckily saved you from,

“Stop grilling your sister, would you? We’re just going out to shop and eat.” She pulled you with her to the front door, leaving Penelope with Max and Lando.

“Please make sure ‘P’ eats something light for lunch, I’m making dinner tonight!” Kelly yelled before closing the door behind her. The two of you got into Kelly’s car and she started the engine. After driving away from the house, you felt more at ease. Just being in the vicinity of the curly-haired Brit made your head pound.

You still hadn’t called Carlos back. You didn’t know if you could. Especially after sleeping with his best friend on the same day as your breakup. Your stomach was knotted with guilt. You could hardly think of getting anything down. How Carlos would ever think of forgiving you, you couldn’t imagine. The Spaniard had always been there for you. He’d always shown you how much he loved you. Although he hadn’t told you directly, you knew that he only had eyes for you. Everything he did, he did for you. Here you were, the second your past crush waltzed back into your life, you pounced. Had you ever been in love with Carlos? Did you ever actually feel anything for him? Was he just a temporary replacement for Lando?

You didn’t know whether to indulge in your own delusion, whether the delusion wasn’t a delusion, or whether to blame yourself. It’s hard for anyone to own up to their mistakes, but something like this was hard to own up to. Mostly because your mind was too clouded with guilt to see if you actually were in the wrong.

Carlos swooping in at the soonest opportunity didn’t seem too far-fetched though. His timing had been awfully convenient. The two of you started talking soon after Lando stopped talking to you. It could only mean one thing; Lando had confided in him and he used that information to get closer to you— eventually going as far as getting infatuated with you.

Was it a mere delusion, or was there maybe some truth to it? In any case, you were more than ready to drown it all out with booze. You didn’t have to wait long, as Kelly parked the car in front of a bar. You unfastened your seatbelt and quickly made it inside.

“Okay. I have one rule. Get as drunk as you want, just don’t get me too drunk,” she said with a chuckle. You went up to the bar and took a seat.

“We’ll start a tab. A Long Island iced tea for me, please.” Kelly gave you a shocked look before ordering her drink.

“Are you kidding? How bad is it?”

“I just don’t want to think about it anymore. I don’t want to think about him anymore,” you sighed and rested your head on the table in front of you. Kelly rubbed the bridge of her nose.

“Look, I saw you when things were good between you and Lando. Do you know what I saw in that? Raw and real chemistry,” she encouraged. You were unsure if you enjoyed her feeding you more delusions, but it felt comforting. Kelly usually had a comforting energy around you.

“I don’t know, Kelly. Why would he suddenly just not talk to me if we had that much chemistry?” The bartender slid you your drink and Kelly’s. You immediately took a sip of yours. The straw in the tea only elevated the experience of drinking it. For multiple reasons. Not only were you drinking with a straw, but you were also drinking on an empty stomach. Only time could tell how wasted you were going to end up before the bartender would have no choice but to cut you off.

“Didn’t he already tell you why? Come on, it’s right in front of you, honey,” said Kelly with a roll of her eyes.

The dilemma was that you couldn’t tell if you were feeding yourself hopeless delusions or if something suspicious actually happened. Carlos was such a sweet and gentle soul, but with so many things going on all at once; it was hard to rule out the possibility that he’d taken you from Lando.

“Hello? Stop spiralling, okay? I’m sure Lando feels awful for what he did to you… maybe forgiving him is a great first step, you know?” Kelly’s maternal instinct is exactly what made you like her that much more. She was right. You knew she was, but again, you hated admitting it. Perhaps you weren’t being fair to Lando. Not only had you actually admitted to still being in love with him, but you’d also acted on it. On the exact same day, you’d broken up with Carlos.

As time passed, you only got more and more drunk. The bartender decided to cut you off, and Kelly was in no position to drive either. You were far too gone to carry out another conversation with her, and she had fallen asleep on the counter. You then made the decision to call Max to come to get you in his car and to bring someone else so that Kelly could get her car driven home as well. The way you slurred your words and barely formed a coherent sentence worried him. You immediately blacked out after hanging up, thereby joining Kelly on the counter. It was only a distant hope that you wouldn’t have some drunken fever dream epiphany by the time you’d wake up.

By the time you woke up, you were in your bed at your brother’s place. Your head felt like somebody had rammed it into a wall. Your nausea wasn’t any better. It didn’t help much that it was pitch black, besides the moonlight shining in from behind your curtains. You could see the slight lighting on the window ledge. It was enough for you to see where you were going. You’d pulled yourself out of bed and headed into the kitchen to get something to drink. An educated guess informed you that it was past midnight, so you had to be careful not to be too loud.

“You’re not sneaky, you know?” You nearly dropped your glass of water when you heard the voice creeping up from behind you. It was clearly Max. He had that tired voice you remember from having to wake him up in the mornings to take you to campus.

“Max? You startled me…” your eyes squinted when he turned on some of the lights in the kitchen. It wasn’t too bright, but your eyes had just adjusted to the dark.

“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.” You somehow felt like that was your fault. Going out and drinking yourself shitfaced. It wasn’t exactly the best idea. Your brother cared for you to no end, so you could understand his concerns.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to worry you…” Your headache was a bit too overpowering to actually deal with anything at the moment though.

“You know, I really think Lando is in love with you. I don’t just think he likes you, I really do think he’s in love,” said your brother and grabbed a fresh apple from the fruit bowl on the kitchen island.

“I don’t know… he really hurt me, Max. What do I even say or do with him?” You sighed and gulped the last bit of your water down. Your throat was so dry, you could feel every last drop of water trickle down your throat. Max put his apple aside to pull you in for a tight hug. You could barely breathe, but you wrapped your arms around his back as well.

“I love you, okay? I just want what’s best for you. That’s why I’m telling you to hold onto Lando. It’s not just because he’s my best friend. I just never saw that spark between you and Carlos. You and Lando? I saw it all the time. I saw the way you looked at him and the way he looked at you,” he said as he pulled away from the hug. It was hard for you not to cry. You were still a bit drunk after all.

“I love you too… I’ll talk to Lando in the morning. Is he here?” Your brother nodded without saying anything in response. Shit. The thought of committing to Lando was frightening, but you trusted Max and his judgment.

“Is he… awake?”

“I’m not sure. He’s sleeping on the couch. I have to get back to bed, but try your luck.” He left the kitchen and you heard the door to his bedroom close.

Your heart was beating so fast, it felt like it was caught in your throat. You were in no condition to confront Lando, but you felt like doing it anyway. With heavy steps and a pounding head, you made your way to the living room. Max was right. There he was. Lando slept soundly on the couch. You noticed he didn’t have a blanket to sleep with, so you grabbed one from your blanket basket beside the TV. When you draped it over him, you saw his face ease into the warm feeling. It felt awfully domestic looking at him sleep, but it also felt like you were violating his personal space.

You couldn’t bring yourself to wake him up and eventually fell asleep on the floor by his side. When Lando’s eyes fluttered open to the morning sun, he noticed the blanket that was so delicately placed on top of him. Then, he noticed you. He noticed your hair, your smell, your lips… he was mesmerized by the sight of you sleeping, slumped against the couch.

“I think she’s trying.” Lando heard Max come into the living room.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah… I talked to her earlier. She’s hurt by what you did. I think she’s confused too. She doesn’t really know how to talk to you. Maybe you should try?” Max said and left abruptly after. He was already in a fresh set of clothes, so Lando assumed he had a meeting.

“Kelly left breakfast for the two of you, by the way. I’ll be off. See you.”

Silence. It was completely silent in the house. It was just you and Lando alone. Together. The realization nearly made Lando’s breathing come to a screeching halt.

“Hey… wake up.” He stroked your hair and gently shook your shoulders. Lucky for him, you were an extremely light sleeper. When he saw your tired eyes open to the sight of him, he swore he could’ve died and gone to heaven. He’d seen the only blessing he’d ever need in his life. The way your eyes fixated on his… he could barely take it.

“I was hoping we could… talk?” Lando helped you up on the couch. There was an awkward air between the two of you. It was hard to communicate, and you’d always known that communication was key.

“Sure, I guess.” It was an appropriate response, considering the awkwardness of the situation. You didn’t owe him much anyway… Did you? You curled up with the blanket. Lando let you have it, as he didn’t need it anymore. Both of you were waiting for the other to start. Lando was the one to cave in, however.

“Max came in just a few minutes ago. I know now that I should’ve been more patient with you. Having broken your trust, I shouldn’t have been so selfish about it. I should’ve waited for you to be ready.

“I appreciate you admitting that. I really do, Lando…” You looked down at your fingers sheepishly. Looking directly at the Brit whilst saying that felt too raw.

“—But?” Asked Lando. He knew there’d be a ‘but’ after that. He wasn’t wrong. There was.

“—but I don’t know whether or not to give you a chance. I just don’t know how to go about it,” you sighed into the blanket that comforted you.

“Can I hug you?” The tone of the question almost sounded like he was begging for your touch. You didn’t mind though. You pulled his head into your chest, letting him hear the beat of your heart. Fast but gentle. You stroked his curls, which he loved. It was like a drug to him. Your touch was intoxicating. Especially when it was so domestic and calming. Lando snuggled deeper into you and pulled the blanket over the both of you. At that point, you were leaning against the arm of the couch.

“I missed you,” he mumbled. You could hear the sincerity in his words, but you didn’t want to give in to trust too easily.

“I’ve always been right here.” Something about those words tugged harshly at the McLaren driver’s heartstrings. He felt that dip of guilt he always felt whenever you brought up Luisa. He knew it wasn’t a guilt trip. You were hurt for obvious reasons and you had every right to keep yourself reserved.

“I’m sorry, bunny.” Bunny. A nickname you hadn’t heard in a while. He used to call you that to annoy you, but you found it oddly comforting now.

“I know, Lan,” you sighed and leaned your head back to stare up at the ceiling,

“I just wish you would have come to me about everything earlier. I wouldn’t have hurt Carlos and you and I…” you trailed off. Was it really that hard to finish the sentence? It was as if something was preventing you from doing so. Some spiritual power.

Instead of saying something— anything, Lando pulled away from you and instead caged you under his body. Your eyes met his, as he dipped down to get closer to your face. Your lips parted. He took note of that, as he attacked them with his own. Those pretty little lips of yours were his to swell up. That pretty hair of yours was his to pull. That radiant skin of yours was his to bruise.

Just like before, there was no liquid courage involved. It was pure lust and boldness coming from the both of you. Lando pulled his shirt off. He put the statue of David to shame with his body that looked as if it was carved out of marble. God and the way he looked at you with adoration. You couldn’t help but succumb. Likely not in the way that he wanted, though.

You decided that you wanted to take control. If anything, gratitude is what he felt. The two of you flipped, with you on top of him. Your hips were against his, but you decided not to start grinding yet. You wanted him to be patient, as he hadn’t been before. You wanted to teach him a lesson once and for all. Your lips came down on his, biting his under lip— which he enjoyed a tad bit too much. You could tell by the twitching in his pants. He was definitely feeling restrained and you relished in making him feel that way. He deserved it.

Taking things to the next step, you took your tank top off painfully slow. The moment your bra was in sight, Lando sat up. You were quick to reject his advances and push him down again,

“Ah ah, you don’t get to touch. Patience.” The way he listened to you like an obedient little dog made you feel so powerful. You were in a position you’d always dreamed of being in.

You’d never slept with Carlos, but you had the feeling that he wouldn’t let you do something like that. Lando? He was more than happy to give up control, and you loved it.

Your hand slid down his chest, making him shiver with delight. The closer you came to his lower region, the harder he seemed to breathe. You could feel his excitement against your pelvic floor. Upon adjusting your position to completely match, Lando took it as if you were starting to please him. To give in to his needs. After all, whatever he desired was exactly what you desired.

It was too hard for you to keep the act up. You were just as hot and heavy as he was. Waiting for it was painful. Even for you, who hadn’t gotten action in months before you got it from the Brit. Your chastity was only what turned the both of you on even more. The way you’d only ever been used by few did it for him.

You leaned down to kiss him, thereby letting him unclasp your bra. He flung it into a corner, nearly hitting the flatscreen. Your brother would’ve ended your life, if sex would’ve knocked over his precious TV.

It was easy to tell that the curly-haired driver had gained more than a little too much confidence, as he asked you to take him down your throat. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to. You were more than happy to, but it’d be too easy. Although your patience was running out, you wanted his to be as depleted as possible. You wanted to see the desperate look in his eyes as he would beg you. The thought of it was enough to convince you to hold onto your own patience.

What was the purpose of drugs when you had sex? You were high on the feeling, and drunk on Lando’s expressions. He loved the way you looked on top of him. The way you were so confident and almost vicious.

“I want you so bad.” There it was. The first step towards a constantly begging Lando. What you’d done at your place was nothing compared to this. It wasn’t just a quickie either. The two of you both held the utmost respect for the other, wanting nothing but pleasure.

“You’ll get it if you’re patient, Lan,” you said with a small tug on your lips. He hated waiting. Patience might’ve been a virtue, but it sure as hell wasn’t his strong suit. Even with Luisa. He rushed into things with her, without realizing that he was in love with someone else. The two of you both had more than enough time, but all he ever did was rush. Lessons are taught for a reason. To make it his forté, you taught him using sex.

You kicked the blanket off and got off him, so that you could move further down his body, stationing your face between his thighs. Oh, how he wanted it. Just to watch him breathe out with an even shakier breath, you tugged at his boxer briefs with your teeth. You made sure to take a lick of his skin in between the tugging. His gasps were egging your heat on. It had risen to your head. Your mind was swimming in it even though the air conditioning had been turned on.

When you finally got them off with the help of your hands, his dick stood proudly in front of you. With beaming eyes, you admired that one, particularly prominent vein. Lando was obviously over the bend after waiting so long for you to do something— anything. Truly, anything. He craved your tongue, the walls of your mouth, and the back of your throat.

You gave him exactly what he wanted. Your tongue swirled around his tip. It was already leaking precum. The taste was salty, but like last time— you welcomed it with an enthusiastic smile. After having teased him enough with your tongue, you went down on him. His hands easily found your hair, pulling it into a messy makeshift ponytail. You learned from your lesson last time. Gag reflex? What even was that? The closer your nose got to his abdomen, the more you heard the sighs and seethes of the driver. He guided you up and down his dick, watching as tears pricked the corners of your eyes. Maybe you still had to practice some more. You had just the right way to do it in front of you. Practice makes perfect.

As the pace sped up, you relinquished control and let him use your mouth to unload himself. He deserved it after you kept him waiting for so long. Closer and closer, he was almost at the end of his rope, trying desperately to catch the tide below. With one final push of your head, he released himself down your throat. You eagerly swallowed everything like the good girl you were.

“You took me just perfect, bunny.” That nickname really did something for you. A tingle in your abdomen forced you to act on your desires. Your heart was beating fast and you weren’t really sure if you even had a thought going through your mind. You were drunk on his cologne, his shampoo, his body wash— everything. You wanted him bad.

“Ride me,” said Lando with hooded eyes, looking down at you. You didn’t know what to say. It’d certainly be a first. Whatever confidence you had before was gone. Lando’s pure sex appeal and desperate need for you had thrown it all out the window. Patience was no longer a virtue. Patience was a social construct. One that you wanted more than anything; to defy with no remorse.

You were swiftly able to kick off your shorts along with your panties, having them join your bra. Lando adjusted himself to sit upright to make your experience better. Instead of letting him enter, you decided to lubricate his dick with your slick. You started grinding against him, coating every inch of him with you. Not only did it make him hard again, but it also ensured his continued lust for you. Fuck, did you love the way we grabbed your hips, squeezing them the way he did. He was simply intoxicating.

It wasn’t long before you’d had enough and needed him. He helped by aligning himself. You slowly sank down on him, barely being able to take all of him. He didn’t rush you. He gave you the time you needed to adjust to his size. The stretch was unfathomable. Not something the average woman would expect in her lifetime.

“You’re doing so good, darling,” the Brit responded to your continued whimpering and heavy breathing. You were an absolute sucker for praise. You used his shoulders as a crutch, which he was more than happy about. That way, he was able to see the dip of your breasts and the way they’d come to bounce back and forth as you rode him.

When you began moving, you immediately felt his fingers dig into your hips. He was evidently trying not to hurt you too much, but the way he seethed and looked at you with those gorgeous blue-grey eyes— he wasn’t great at hiding it.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back as you began to go faster. Your moans bounced off the walls and his groans ricocheted with them. You saw stars. You felt fuller than after a whole Thanksgiving meal. He was big, and judging by his smirk in between his sighing and groaning— he knew exactly just how big he was. Lando was more than proud of the fact that he could please in ways nobody ever would.

“Lando- fuck,” you could barely form a coherent sentence. Your mind was too hazy and drunk on his dick. There was no such thing as multitasking. There was only riding and moaning.

“Fuck, baby, say my name again,” he responded. He could tell you were starting to get tired, by the way your legs started giving out. Respecting your wishes of wanting to stay on top, he kept you there. Only, he started thrusting into you with all the force he could muster.

“Lando,” you repeated. You sang his name like a Christmas carol. You sounded divine. He loved hearing his name spill uncontrollably from your swollen, little lips.

The two of you were both getting close. It was a stroke of luck that you’d started birth control when you met Carlos. You’d almost cancelled your prescription, due to Carlos never seeming interested in that sort of thing. You were more than happy with your decision to keep taking it.

Lando went faster, trying to get you to go before him. You were his number one priority. He needed you to finish before him. He wanted to spoil you. Your hips were red with marks he left from all the squeezing.

Your vision was blurry and you saw a faint light in the corner of your eye. It was likely the sun peering in from the windows, but paired with the blurring; it felt like you were in another plane of existence. Your walls started tightening. You felt it like an electric shock zooming through every nerve ending in your entire body. You bit your lower lip to avoid screaming out the curly-haired Brit’s name, but he was not having it. He wanted to hear you. Hell, he wanted all of Monaco to hear you. Loud and clear.

“Don’t you dare stay silent. Scream. Scream for me, bunny.” You weren’t a brat. You did exactly as you were told. To the point. You screamed his name, as your walls constricted Lando’s movements. Your sweet essence ran down his dick. Just the sight of it paired with the inability to move inside you pushed him over the edge as well. With a deep groan and a feeble attempt at a thrust, he painted your walls white with his cum. You were his canvas and painting was his hobby.

“That’s how it’s supposed to feel,” you sighed and let yourself fall against him.

“I know, bunny, I know”.

The rest of that week was filled with Lando. He drove you to campus, he drove you home, he drove you to go see friends, he brought you to his races, and he had you wear his McLaren fits.

Carlos came to understand the situation, as he’d not been in the right mindset from the get-go either. It was still awkward around him, but his friendship with Lando still went strong… despite the betrayal on both sides. He had admitted to going for the opportunity, knowing Lando was into you. The two of them were fairly quick to forgive and forget. You couldn’t quite make sense of how they did so.

Even though Lando pampered you to no end, you were still stuck. You still couldn’t tell whether or not to trust him. Kelly told you to let it go. Max told you to let it go. All of your friends told you to forgive Lando. You still had yet to do so. The trust issues had cut so deep, it had disconnected you from any sort of common sense whatsoever. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to trust him. You just couldn’t bring yourself to do it. You didn’t have it in your heart.

So, one day, whilst lying in your shared hotel suite, you contemplated sitting down with Lando to talk. He’d just finished qualifying, so it was the perfect opportunity.

When Lando walked through the door, you saw a look of elation etched onto his face. It likely meant he did well, which, of course, made you just as excited. You got out of bed to go congratulate him on his position.

“I’m guessing you did well?” You popped up in front of him. Oh, how he loved seeing you in your tiny shorts and his hoodie. Your hair was messy from shifting in the bed, but he didn’t seem to mind. It added to your rawness and your natural beauty. This was exactly what he wanted to come back home to every single day.

“P3, bunny.” His smile lit the entire suite up. He was really that amazing.

“Congrats, Lan,” you smiled into a kiss and buried your face in the crook of his neck when hugging him. He stroked your hair and hummed. His love language was physical touch, and he loved it whenever you’d indulge in it.

He saw a pile of files, documents, and photos lying on the desk of the table. It was a case you were studying for your upcoming exam. The thought of having you take your material with you for him pained him, but seeing as you didn’t mind; he didn’t say anything about it.

“Actually, could we talk for a second?” For whatever reason, Lando’s heart immediately dropped to his stomach. He knew of those words all too well.

“Of course, Bunny. You can talk to me. What’s wrong?” The two of you took a seat on the bed. It sank with your combined weight.

“I’ve actually been wondering… well… I don’t actually know how to go about saying this,” you started. The tone of your voice didn’t give him any hint as to what was to come, but he had a slight idea of what it was about.

“You can tell me anything,” he urged.

“I just have this nagging feeling that you’ll leave me again. I just… I want to know that I can trust you.” Although it was exactly what he’d expected, it still shook him to hear it out loud. The fact that you looked like you really needed him to tell you outright, saddened him. He didn’t blame you, of course. He just couldn’t help but feel hurt.

“I would never do that to you again,” he tried to reason, but you cut in,

“You did it once before. I’m scared you’ll do it again, Lando” You rarely used his name. You always resorted to nicknames and shortening it.

“Believe me, Bunny. Look at me. Look into my eyes,” he pleaded. You did as he asked and stared into his desperate eyes. He clearly wanted to do right, but you were blind. You had to hear it. You needed to hear him say it right.

“I love you. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. I’ll say it a thousand times if that’s what it takes for you to believe me.” He took your hands in his and gave them a light squeeze.

“I can’t even imagine a life without you if I’m being completely honest. The way you came to greet me at the door. I mean, why would I ever leave you? I’m so lucky to have you waiting for me after every race. So lucky to be able to wake up with you next to me. I was just a fool to realize it so late, Bunny.” He hoped it was enough. He hoped it had gotten through to you.

“I love you too, Lan. I love you so much.” You leaned into a gentle kiss, carefully intertwining your fingers with his soft curls. You felt his hands cup the sides of your face, caressing the back of your ears with his index finger.

“You and Carlos weren’t, but we are,” whispered Lando after pulling away from the kiss, forehead pressed against yours. You looked into his mesmerizing, blue eyes. The same ones you fell in love with before everything went down. The same ones you’d always loved.

“What?” You asked and chuckled, unsure what he meant by that. He smiled at you. You smiled at him.

“Good together.”

𝗥𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁𝘀 𝗮𝗿𝗲 𝗼𝗽𝗲𝗻...

𝘾𝙝𝙚𝙘𝙠 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙪𝙡𝙚𝙨 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙧𝙚𝙜𝙪𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙗𝙚𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙦𝙪𝙚𝙨𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙥𝙡𝙚𝙖𝙨𝙚!

𝙃𝙚𝙧𝙚’𝙨 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

©vettelsdarling

𝗣𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝗮𝗱𝗮𝗽𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 𝗶𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝘆 𝘄𝗮𝘆, 𝘀𝗵𝗮𝗽𝗲, 𝗼𝗿 𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺— 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗺𝘆 𝗽𝗲𝗿𝗺𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻.

[writing-like-a-whore]

gojo satoru x reader

it was the aftermath of everthing. the fight w sukuna and the curses were over, yuji and megumi somehow survived and were back and shoko revived gojo w yuuta's help. it was an incredibly difficult fight, and the journey was far from over, nobody could just move on. the heavy feeling of losing their loved ones and the heavier feeling of blood on their hands was worse. gojo was devastated but he just couldnt return to his older self, not after everything. the school seized to exist, no reason to train people and gojo felt as if there was no value to his life anymore, and in an odd sense it was a good thing, everything came to an end. shoko seemed to have been the one bringing everyone together. she arranged weekly dinners, truly uncharacteristic for her, but maybe thats why everyone attended.

the third dinner, she couldnt take it anymore, "we all fought for this freedom, you know. and youre all letting it go to waste by rotting away. pick yourselves up for fuck's sake." she stromed out but she was right, they had to pick themselves up. and so, little by little, piece by piece, gojo told himself to get up and not waste anyone's sacrifice. he started going to cafes and clubs, for what, he didnt know. but he did, and there he met you. you, with your long hair and your big glasses, squinting at your laptop. he could see you struggling from a mile away but he didnt say a thing. he tried to occupy himself by checking his texts to see if yuuji was here yet. "gojo-san!" he was here, "im sorry the college work took me some time," gojo waved his hand, he was happy to see yuuji back to his normal self. he went to college now, megumi too, gojo was so proud. "megumi said he was tired but i think he might have a date," gojo laughed, "yeah well, i better interfere right?" yuuji laughed and got up, "i'll go get some- oh is that y/n?" he said, looking at you.

"you know her?" gojo asked. yuuji nodded, "yeah shes like a senior advisor, at a law firm. she occassionally gives lectures for megumi's class. we've talked to her a few times. lets go say hi!" gojo didnt have much of a say as yuuji dragged him along. "y/n ma'am! hello!" you looked up, "ohh, yuuji, hi. its so good to see you." gojo was awestruck by your smile, and just by you in general. he tried his best not to gawk. "this is my old teacher, satoru gojo. he's like my father though." that snapped gojo out of it, "i prefer elder brother, you know. hi." you laughed. point scored. "yeah you dont look like a college student's father either. hello." and that was that. he was whipped.

somehow, gojo managed to stick around you. his boyish charm was back, much to both the happiness and dismay of his friends. he was back to his old bubbly, obnoxious self. he took you out on so many dates, always found ways to be with you and after a few months he asked you to be his girlfriend. dating him was fun, the dates, the clingyness everything continued, but you both wanted so much more. around your one year anniversary, you moved into his apartment. living with him rekindled that love in a way you could only dream. as you lived with him, you realised he was carrying a burden with you he couldnt share. he'd told you abt shibuya and sukuna long back but he always underplayed how much it affected him. you'd notice sometimes watching a movie he'd remember his friends and go silent, or at nights you could feel his restlessness, and when you asked, he simply gave you one of his famous (in his words) grins and said "im alright baby." you let it go for his sake.

until it was all too much, it was near the three year anniversary of the end. gojo was at a low you'd never seen, your heart filled with sorrow as he pushed you away even when he didnt want to. you came back home from work one day and found him lying on the bed, he didnt move when you called out his name. "satoru?" no reply. you carefully walk upto him and see a picture of you in his hand. you look into his eyes, swollen from crying, "baby, whats going on?" he finally looked at you, his eyes welling up again, and he looked back at the ceiling, "how could someone whose hands are stained with so much blood be any worthy of you or your love?" you were taken aback. this was so unlike the gojo you knew, the confident, obnoxious, overbearing, cocky, loving idiot. your hands find his face, wiping away his tears. "i've seen you in a million different ways, looked at you in a thousand different lights, and i have loved you in every single way."

he got up and kissed you before you could continue. you broke the kiss, only to mumble on his lips "dont bring this stupid i-dont-deserve-you bullshit ever again. youre worthy, of me, of love, of happiness and of moving on." gojo nodded, a little teary eyed but you could basically feel his actual personality coming back, "yea no, im winning rn."

[lucysgraybird]

whoa...part 3 of modern!university!coriolanus x fem!reader, and it's 18+? who is she. anyways part 1 here, part 2 here

warnings: mdni, oral (f&m receiving), p in v (unprotected), blood mentions (minor), religious imagery (minor)

The summer between junior and senior year comes and goes, as does the first semester of your last year in college. It's filled with internships and grad school applications, but you're still going strong with Coriolanus. You get through the most unguarded you've ever seen him – the weeks leading up to the release of LSAT scores. You're actually unaware that it's coming up because he's been so private about the whole process until you get into a screaming match in the Snow apartment with him about something you can't even remember now. When you threaten to leave if he can't be polite, he breaks down crying – something you didn't even know he was capable of. He apologizes and explains himself, and though you suspect his tears aren't genuine, you catch him in a hug and hold him on the couch until he falls asleep. 

A week letter, his score comes in the mail: a perfect 180. The celebration is quiet – just you, his family, and his boss, who Coriolanus is closer with than you knew. He's an interesting man – his name is Strabo Plinth, and you learn that he's the CEO of a company that manufactures weapons for the government. You want to tell your boyfriend that such a job may not play well on his resumé at the polls, if that's where he wants to end up, but it's not your place and you're sure he's thought about that. 

All in all, by the time the spring semester rolls around, your futures are beginning to take shape. You both get into your dream schools, him for law and you for intelligence analysis. When that letter comes in, Coriolanus teases you up and down about being the stereotypical academic recruit into the CIA, but you care more to understand these agencies than work for them. You won't attend school together anymore, but it's not more than an hour by train to visit, and there's been no indication of the end of your relationship nearing. In fact, when your parents come down for parents’ weekend, Coriolanus spends about forty minutes talking to your father away from you and your mother, and when they rejoin the group, your father claps you on the shoulder and tells you that you found a good man.

There's a brief, blissful period at the end of the year before graduation when everything's been turned in and you can just enjoy the sunshine and new warmth. One of these days finds you and Coriolanus lounging on the quad on a blanket. Your head is in his lap as he plays with your hair, working his fingers through the small tangles that the early May breeze has created. It is quiet, and you are bored.

“Oh, Coriolanus,” you say, opening your eyes to lock on his. The midday light turns them almost white, like his eponymous snow. It takes a lot of willpower not to pull a face. 

“Yes, darling?” A nickname he's picked up in the last month or so. It made you laugh in shock the first time he said it, but now it feels lush. 

“I got an email from the dean the other day. I made valedictorian,” you say with a toothy, cruel grin.

You're hoping for a reaction, maybe a flash of anger. It dances across his features for the barest fraction of a second, enough to work a little adrenaline through your body, and then you get a neat smile and a cock of his head.

“Congratulations.”

“You're not mad?”

“Why would I be? You've worked hard, you deserve it. I'm not going to get upset over a silly title.”

You sit up and turn to stare at him. “What do you mean, silly?”

Coriolanus rolls his eyes. “Don’t be like that. I mean that I decided it wasn’t important to me anymore, now that I’ve gotten into law school. I thought you had gotten over it too, but since it’s important, congratulations.”

He’s deflecting, obviously, and you tell him as much. 

The corners of his mouth quirk up and he shrugs. “Okay.”

“No, you are! What, did you get salutatorian? Since when are you fine with second place?”

“Since first place wouldn’t have gotten me anything, darling. You’re ruining this for yourself, okay? I’m glad you got what you wanted.”

You’re left with nothing to say, searching his face for any mark of that brief rage from earlier before flumping back into his lap. He laughs. 

“I’m sorry, baby. You don’t need to pout. I would’ve said something else if I had known it was going to upset you like this.”

“I’m not upset.”

“Whatever you say.”

“I’m not,” you say, giving him a gracious smile, having found a new mate-in-one. “Whether or not you wanted the title anymore, we’ll always know who’s smarter.” 

Your face says teasing – your tone has teeth. Coriolanus’ eyes narrow. 

“That’s not what this means.”

“It’s what it means to me. And you clearly don’t care about that, so it should be no problem if that’s how I’m taking it.”

And ooh, you know it’s petty. You know this is possibly the most childish conversation you’ve had with anyone in years. But he doesn’t reply, opting instead to settle back on his hands and stare across the quad. There’s a mean tension in the air now, blooming hot, fizzy pride in your sternum. It’s nearly suffocating, but you breathe through it until it’s just another triumph. 

Graduation goes as smoothly as anything run by the school can – which is to say, too long and a bureaucratic clusterfuck – but you give your speech and get your diploma and take about forty pictures of Coriolanus onstage, and it feels like the perfect punctuation on this chapter of your life. After seemingly endless festivities and photoshoots with various family members, you’re dropped back at your apartment. There is no work to be done, for once: nothing to write or study, and your lease doesn’t end for another month, so nothing to pack. For the first time in your memory, you are truly idle, and you’re learning that it is not a feeling you enjoy. You pick up your phone and call your boyfriend.

“Hi, darling,” he says when he picks up. His voice is brighter than usual, a sure sign that he’s been drinking. “Did you get home okay?”

“Mhm. Did you?”

“Just laying in bed now.”

“Oh.” You try to keep yourself from sounding too disappointed, but from the huff of laughter on the other end of the call, you know he’s picked up on it. 

“What’s wrong?”

“Well, I was going to ask if you wanted to come over, but if you’re in bed, then nevermind.”

“Come over, like–”

“If you want.” You have yet to go this far with him, but tonight seems like as good a night as any. 

“Um, okay. Yeah, I’ll be right over.” 

The line goes dead, and you have to laugh. For all his airs and poise, he is still just a man. 

The benefit of today being important is that you’re already pretty done-up: your makeup is still perfect, though your lipstick gets a reapplication, your hair looks good, and you have matching, nicer undergarments on. Honestly, you’re not really sure what you’re supposed to do for this, not with him, and the confidence you had calling Coriolanus is fading fast. 

Unfortunately, it’s too late to be having those thoughts, because within twenty minutes, he’s knocking on your door. You let him in. He's still in his button-down, tie, and slacks from graduation, though he's shed his suit jacket. He leans down to catch you in a quick kiss. You wrap a hand around the Windsor knot in his tie, though whether it's to steady yourself or pull him closer is a mystery even to you. Not like it makes a difference; it elicits an electric, low groan from him anyways, his mouth opening over yours and deepening the kiss. He tastes like champagne, sweet and shimmery and young. It is a contrast to the way he grabs your waist with a heavy hand and presses his tongue in to fight yours, which feels like whiskey; all heady, stinging heat. You have not had anything to drink: you are starting to wish you had. 

When he pulls away to catch his breath, his lips are swollen and slick and stained with your blood-red lipstick and finally, finally, something alights in your chest and in your stomach and even lower, a ball of fire sitting in the cradle of your pelvis. You release his tie and drag a manicured thumbnail under the line of his bottom lip, smudging away the rouge you left there.

“Pretty,” you murmur, though you're not sure where that comes from. He is pretty, though, especially like this; undone and imperfect and desperate (you can tell as much by the way he's pressing into your hip), all for you. 

A growl releases from Coriolanus' throat and his hand goes to the belt of your dress, deftly undoing the buckle. He is desperate, but desperate for you to know that you haven't made him weak. You can only have from him what he is willing to give, he will take from you anything he wants. Or, at least, that's how he thinks as he starts dragging the zipper of your dress down, crowding you against your apartment wall.

“I have a bed, Coriolanus,” you protest weakly, the complaint dying on your lips as his latch onto your pulse point. He scrapes his teeth over the tendon in your neck, and you recall how he smiled at you when you were first dating, like he wanted to eat you. You realize he could now, if he tried, open his maw wide and sink sharp canines into the side of your throat, pierce the carotid artery and stain perfect teeth red with blood. Tipping your head back against the wall, you shiver and give him better access.

“Let’s go, then,” he murmurs, not stopping his ministrations on your collarbone, where he's working a bruise into the hollow between your clavicle and the muscle of your shoulder.

You shove his head back gently and lead him to your room, which is tidy save for your desk, which is still scattered with papers from exams. Coriolanus doesn't seem to care, just crowding you back towards your hospital-cornered bed. Once you're down, he's crawling over you and returning to suck marks down your shoulders and chest as he tugs your dress off your body. When he gets to your bra (a small, silk thing, meant to lay smooth under the dress you wore today), he just stares for a moment, tracing a finger over the fine fabric. Just as you're about to tell him to do something, Jesus Christ, he latches his lips over your nipple and mouths at it through the cloth, sending sparks down your spine and a wavering moan up your esophagus. When he switches to the other side, the wet patch is exposed to the air and the sudden chill is almost more electric than the warmth of his tongue. You wonder if he could push you over the edge with just this; it certainly feels like he could. Then he shoves a hand under your back to release the clasp and tear your bra off, and the two seconds his mouth is off your skin gives just enough reprieve that when he returns and bites down, the rush of pleasure drops straight to your core with an ache that has your hips canting up. This inspires a breathy, warm chuckle from Coriolanus.

“Impatient,” he teases. 

You swallow hard. “It's not my fault you're…”

“Good at this?” He says, dipping his hand between your legs and dancing his fingers over the gusset of your panties, eliciting a whimper and an honest nod from you. 

“You don't know the half of it, darling,” and he hooks his arms under your knees to drag your hips forward until they're nearly off the bed. He's knelt between your legs like he's taking the Eucharist, ready to devour the blood and body of all that is holy. You watch his blonde head through fluttering lashes as he licks a line up the inside of your thigh before biting down right where it meets your hip. He breaks the skin, soothes the little wound with his tongue as he works your underwear down your legs. The way he stares at you – all of you – while he's still fully clothed, no mark of the past half-hour except his loosened tie and lipstick-marked mouth, makes you squirm. He braces your hips down with a strong forearm and looks up at you with a hunger in his icy eyes that is yet unfamiliar to you.

“Pretty,” he whispers like the beginning of a prayer, echoing your earlier utterance, and collects your wetness on his index finger as he runs it through your folds. 

The foreign feeling makes you whine. Coriolanus’ tongue flicks out over his lips like a snake before he dives into your cunt like a man starved. When your hand shoots down and grabs his hair, the groan that he lets out against you has you jerking like you've been electrocuted. He only grabs the fat of your hips harder, the pads of his fingers pressing in so hard that you're sure you'll have little dotted bruises there in the morning. It's almost embarrassing how quickly he works you to orgasm, your body trembling and your breath stilted as you teeter on that peak. His eyes flash and one hand releases you. Before you can ask what he's doing, he plunges two fingers into you and curls them up right as he sucks your clit hard, and that pain-pleasure of the sudden intrusion combined with his mouth has white-hot flames engulfing your body as stars explode in your vision and your legs very nearly go numb. His tongue and fingers don't stop until you're coming down and pleading with him in a broken voice, an orison to the congregant turned deity drunk on newfound power. He acquiesces, though, crawling up your body to kiss you and lick the taste of your pleasure into your mouth. Underneath it, there's the bitter, sanguine taste from his bite to your thigh, a reminder of the vulnerability necessary for that blessing. 

Legs still shaking, head still a little fuzzy, you use his determination to kiss you breathless to flip the narrative so you're straddling his hips, his growing need heavy and hard against you through the fabric of his dress pants. One eyebrow twitches up as he grins, though it wavers when you shift on him. 

“My turn?” He asks as he smooths his hands down your thighs, and you know he can feel the way your muscles twitch and jump under your skin.

“Your turn,” you reply, and shift so you can undo his belt. 

The metal of the buckle is cold in your hands, your skin still feeling a little like it's been set aflame, but you get it off and shove your hand into his boxers, unceremoniously pulling out his cock. He lets out a choked groan at the speed, and you think his eyes roll back in his head when you slide down his body. You allow yourself a moment of hesitation, having never done this before (or even really thought about it) before taking the head in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. The moan he lets out is primal, raw, and you are determined to get another from him as you hollow your cheeks and sink down further, minding your teeth enough to let them just graze the shaft. He shudders and jerks upward, hitting the back of your throat, and though it makes you gag, there's a certain pride in knowing you're breaking his composure, so you hold him there for a moment until he whimpers and slides a hand into your hair and you know you've taken the power back that he stole from you a moment ago. You swallow around him there before slowly moving back up, flattening your tongue against the underside before licking over his slit and sinking back down as far as you can bear, and his voice cracks around a moan as he cums down your throat. 

When you pull off him and swallow, he has an arm thrown over his eyes as he catches his breath.

“Where did you learn to do that?” He asks. His hair is tousled, sweaty strands stuck to his forehead and you grin, toothy and mean.

“Beginner’s luck,” you say as you take his softening dick in hand and watch how quickly he sits up.

“What are you-” he starts, but cuts himself off with a whine as you slide your hand up and down a couple times, trying to work him back up. “Stop, stop, that-”

Another moan, and you watch, pleased, as he starts to harden again in your grip. To be honest, you don't know where you're going with this, or what you expected to happen, you just wanted to see what other reactions you could get from him, how far you could take your regained power. 

As it stands, not very far, because he's hissing as you slide your thumb over the tip and flipping you over again so his elbows are braced next to your head.

“You're on the pill, right?” He reaches down between you to swipe his fingers over your clit.

You nod and buck your hips up into his hand, and with a breathy chuckle, he takes himself in hand and starts to guide himself into your entrance. There's a slight sting - he's bigger than anyone you've ever been with before - but he takes it slow, an uncharacteristic tenderness.

That is, until he's buried to the hilt and staring down at you, then snapping his hips in a way that should hurt but doesn't. It feels full and close and warm, his skin sliding against yours, sweat and other fluids mingling. You sneak a hand down to your clit and rub quick and hard, the way you do when you're alone at night and just need to get off and go to sleep. You're determined to reach your release before he does and you succeed, catching him in a kiss just as you cum, muffling your moans against his lips. The way your walls clench around him has him going rigid and giving you the most raw, tearing groan as he spills deep inside you, clearly not having expected to get there as quickly as you forced him to. He doesn't pull out immediately, opting instead to kiss you again, and you're not sure where you end and he begins, every bit of you mixed, in some way, with every bit of him. You stroke over the tense muscles in the back of his neck and he lets out a shaky breath onto your skin. Somehow, you know you've won this round, taken a weakness from him that he never meant to show you. When he rolls off you and tugs you into his side, you close your eyes, sleepy and sated in more ways than one.

[ash5monster01]

Dead Poets Society College Headcanon’s

Todd

NYU.

Was nervous as hell, more nervous than when he attended Welton. There was something more intimidating about not only a big school but a big city. It wasn’t until he joined a poetry club & made a few friends did he finally come into his own.

Charlie

Columbia.

Much to his father’s surprise he was still able to attend an ivy league and even though the last thing Charlie wanted to be was a business man, he dove head first into it anyway. Made sure he got good grades just to prove his father wrong. That’s not to say he didn’t also lean into the partying aspect of it either. In class he was focused, outside of it he was just a kid dreaming of a free world in a beret.

Knox

Harvard.

Cried when he had to leave Chris. Still did his best though because he liked the idea of a big new school. That didn’t stop him from calling and writing her every chance he got. Made new friends in his law classes and by senior year he kept an engagement ring in his pocket. The day he graduated he went and got the girl.

Cameron

Princeton.

Found he was extremely scared and wasn’t sure he could make new friends. Since majority of the boys at Welton didn’t talk to him anymore he figured he was too unlikeable. Thankfully his roommate ended up being a great guy. Cameron would help him with homework and in return he’d drag Cameron to any social events. He graduated top of his class and one of the most liked boys in school. It was very healing.

Meeks & Pitts

Yale.

The minute they were both accepted they put in a request to be roommates. Meeks ended up becoming Captain of the AV club and Pitts was at the top of his engineering classes. For fun Meeks got into dancing. Pitts tried to join but failed miserably so he discovered an art club he thoroughly enjoyed. Stayed best friends through it all and graduated together.

Neil if he lived

Harvard.

Much to his dismay his father got his way and landed him a full ride scholarship to Harvard. It's his first time seeing Knox since the night of the play because he got sent to military school. Knox hates the way his head looks shaved, makes Neil look much more trapped.

Yet as the years pass and his hair grows back, Neil finds his father unable to stop him from performing in the plays at school. Knox makes sure all the boys know so they can travel it they want to come.

The first time Charlie ever sees Neil again is when the curtains open and he's standing on stage like he's been there all along.

Maybe he had to go to medical school after this but at least he was happy. That's all he ever needed.

[blackcherryvelvet0909]

Different Kind of Beautiful (Deuce x GN!Reader)

Content Warning: Mentions of alcohol

Note: This story takes place six or seven years after the events of Twisted Wonderland. The characters depicted here are all adults.

Happy (belated) Birthday, Deuce! Let me know if y'all want a part two!

“It’s been so long! It’s nice to see you again!” 

No, no that didn’t sound right. Too eager? Maybe… Deuce tried again. “Hey, long time, no see! How’ve you been?” 

That sounded good - was it too casual? I mean, yeah, they were still friends, at least he hoped, but should he be a bit more cordial? Deuce let out an exasperated sigh as he leaned his elbows on the sink, closed his eyes and hung his head low. This meetup was turning out to be more stressful than it ought to be. Just a little get-together before classes resumed in the fall. For someone about to enroll at one of the best police academies in Twisted Wonderland, Deuce couldn’t seem to keep a clear head about this. And it was all due to one person: [Name]. 

[Full Name]: Deuce’s crush since his first year at Night Raven College. It was more than a crush now, honestly, had been for a long time. He was full on in love with them. Even after a couple years apart, each to pursue their own dreams, the man’s love never faded. He was one hundred percent guilty of stalking their social media, liking every single one of their posts, no matter the content. Was that too much? Possibly, but he couldn’t help himself. 

He and [Name] were still part of the ye olde group chat they started up at the college. The members included himself, [Name], Ace, Epel, Jack, Ortho, and - though it took a while to convince him - Sebek. While it was good to still be connected to his college friends, there was only one person who he had notifications deemed for; you can guess who that is. Again, sad, probably, but Deuce just couldn’t be normal about them. Each year that passed only made that connection, that attraction, grow evermore powerful. As far as Deuce knew, only Jack and Epel were privy to it - he would never hear the end of it if Ace were to discover Deuce’s well kept secret. Trey and Cater knew, too, and Deuce could only pray they kept their word and kept the knowledge to themselves. 

They would all be there today. Riddle would be, too, as Trey actually convinced him to take the summer off. Deuce thought he’d be picking Riddle up from his townhouse, but Trey opted to go instead. They were all in close proximity to each other, and Trey didn’t think Riddle would be fond of the idea of riding with Deuce on his blastcycle. Deuce didn’t think so, either. Some thought it was strange Riddle had yet to earn his driver’s license, but being an honor student at the most prestigious law school in the Queendom of Roses, Twisted Wonderland as a whole, took up much of your time. Good for him - Deuce felt Riddle would make a better lawyer than he would a doctor, as Mrs. Rosehearts had attended. Rude to say, but fuck her honestly. 

As for everyone else’s lives, Trey was in his final year of culinary school; Epel was working as a mechanic in a city in the Shaftlands; Jack was currently working towards his doctorate in physical therapy, while also participating in sport; Sebek had just graduated from Briar Valley’s military alongside Silver; Ace, like Deuce, had graduated college, but with a degree in interdisciplinary studies instead of criminal justice. You, of course, were also pursuing your own goals, and Deuce was your most loyal supporter. Your ‘simp’, as Cater had teased Deuce for many times in the past. At least it was meant affectionately, unlike if it came from Ace. He was one of Deuce’s best friends, but he could be a total ass at times. Everyone in their group was having their turn in trying to wrangle him into shape, with varying success. You were currently in the lead. 

Deuce turned on the sink and splashed some cold water on his face. A couple more splashes and then he grabbed the hand towel hanging beside the bathroom mirror and gently rubbed the water droplets away. His eyes met his reflection, staring back at himself as though expecting his mirrored self to come up with some foolproof plan to finally win you over. Like the past several times Deuce, there was no such revelation. Deuce hung the hand towel back on its little rack before exiting the bathroom and returning to his room. The doors of his closet hung wide open, just as he’d left them. On the inside of the closet were various shirts and jackets he could wear to the meetup - if only he could choose one. 

Deuce knew he shouldn’t dress formally; the restaurant’s dress code was dressy casual at most, and Riddle would certainly be the only one following that ‘dressy’ part. Everyone else would be wearing a T-shirt and jeans, dark pants and a simple button up, jackets or no jackets - outfits like that. All of these clothing items Deuce possessed, and yet he just couldn’t find the right one. Earlier, he even thought about going out and finding something new to wear, but decided against it. Deuce wasn’t strapped for cash or anything, but going out and spending money on clothes he might wear one time wasn’t very smart, let alone necessary. Perhaps he should peek into the group chat and see if any of his friends had posted pictures of their outfits. 

They had not, but Deuce was greeted by one direct message from one friend: Cater. “Don’t wrry so much about tonight, k?” read the text. “Just be yourself, dress how you usually do. Youll be fine!” 

Of course, Deuce wasn’t just referring to the young man’s choice of dress for the night. He was most definitely referring to you and how Deuce sometimes - okay, always fretted over you and how you might perceive him. A little smile tugged at Deuce’s lips as he read the text over once, twice, then proceeded to text back a short reply. “Thanks, Cater. I’ll try not to be nervous, lol.” Deuce didn’t wait for a reply, pressing the power button on the side of his phone and turning off the screen before tossing the device on the bed. He let out a soft groan as he placed his hands over his face, dragging them down until his fingertips reached his chin before letting them fall back to his sides. 

The blue haired twenty-three year old glanced back at his closet. He eyed the old varsity jacket hanging inside, in the middle of the rack of clothes. It was pretty old, but Deuce had managed to keep it in good, almost perfect condition. He stepped forward a few paces and took it off its hanger. He’d made his decision. 

***

Deuce entered through the front door of the restaurant: a local hole-in-the-wall that once was once an old pub. His combat boots thumped against the two-century-old wood as he walked towards the bar. He parked himself on the left side, though didn’t take a seat at one of the stools. Instead, while ignoring a couple flirtatious gazes shot his way (he didn’t notice to begin with), Deuce scanned the eatery for his friends. It didn’t take long to spot the group. They were gathered around a large booth situated in the right back corner of the restaurant, chatting away about something Deuce couldn’t discern. 

From left to right was Jack, who sipped on a - likely non-alcoholic - margarita; Epel, who just finished chugging the last of a beer; Cater, who, after his few years of self-discovery, didn’t have a phone in sight; Riddle, sandwiched between Cater and Trey, seeming a little out of place in such a lively establishment, but no less appearing to have a good time; Trey, who was smiling and nodding away with the conversation, munching away on some fries; Ace, who wore his favorite asymmetrical checkered loose button-up, seemingly joking around with Epel about something; and Sebek, who was not belting out every single word he spoke (he’d learned to calm his volume over the years). You, on the other hand, were nowhere to be found. Maybe you hadn’t arrived yet, perhaps in the bathroom? Deuce felt a tad guilty for feeling disappointed at your absence. It wasn’t like he wasn’t excited to see his other friends, just… Before he could wonder anymore where you were, you appeared from a hallway on the other side of the room. 

You were gorgeous. No different from usual, but the outfit you wore made you look absolutely stunning. Deuce had to bite his bottom lip to prevent his jaw from hitting the bar. He needed to get it together! Deuce couldn’t repeat the mistake he made in your third year at NRC, when, without a thought, Deuce sighed out how handsome you looked. Great Seven he’d been so embarrassed! At least you were flattered by the compliment and awarded him with an equally show-stopping smile. 

Grim was likely back at the hotel, where you both were bunked for the duration of your stay in the Queendom of Roses. It’d been the same arrangement when you’d all got together for a week in the Shaftlands, and before that a long weekend in Briar Valley. Did you still talk to Malleus? Of course you did, that was a silly question. Despite the prince’s courtly duties, the two of you still made time for each other. If it were not for time constraints on the fae’s part, he might have even joined you all at the restaurant. Deuce felt that guilt re-enter his heart as it mixed with the jealousy of how effortless your relationship seemed with the high prince, future king of Briar Valley. 

Deuce could never measure up to that. 

His hand gripped the wood of the bar as you glanced around the restaurant; his nails dug into the firm material when you briefly caught his eye. You smiled and waved at him, but before you could even finish the gesture Deuce had turned his head in the other direction. He hoped it looked effortless, like he simply didn’t see you. Anxiety pumped through his veins and muddled his brain, making him think of all the possible things that could go wrong, all the words he could say to screw everything up. If only he could be as articulate as Riddle; as suave and charming as Cater; as laid back and perceptive as Trey. If only he could be like Malleus and already have your heart right in his hands. 

“Twisted Wonderland to Loosey Deucey!” came a voice from beside him. It was paired with a small shake to his arm, which made Deuce flinch. Thankfully he recognized the voice enough to not let instinct take over and square up immediately. He turned his head to give Ace his full attention. 

“H-Hey, Ace,” Deuce greeted, stuttering for a second as he tried to shove all his previous thoughts to the back of his mind, where they belonged. “How’ve you been?” 

“Alright,” Ace replied. “Glad college will no longer be a pain in my ass.” The man grinned as he nudged Deuce with his elbow. “Congrats again for getting accepted into the police academy, Officer Spade.” 

“I’m not an officer yet,” Deuce chuckled. “You can’t call me that till I’ve graduated.” 

“Yeah yeah, I know, Mr. Play-by-the-rules. There! That’ll be your new title till then.” Deuce rolled his eyes, but a grin remained plastered on his face. That was until Ace changed the subject and asked, perhaps rhetorically, “Are you gonna come to the table, or are you just going to sit here and sulk?” 

“Oh, yeah, I am!” Deuce assured. “I was just about to walk over.” 

“Did you order something?” 

“No, I haven’t even seen the menu yet.” 

Ace pointed up at the chalkboard that lined the back of the bar. “It’s literally right there, dude.” 

So it was. “I actually didn’t notice,” Deuce laughed. “Really do need to start paying attention to the little things, huh?”

“Yeah,” Ace concurred, then leaned his elbow on the counter. “Like how you can’t just avoid [Name] when they look at you cause you’ve got goo-goo eyes for them.” 

Deuce looked quite the fool as he stood there, almost bug-eyed as he registered Ace’s words. “Hu-what?!” 

“C’mon man, don’t play dumb.” Ace smirked. “You make it so obvious.”

“I-” Deuce scrambled to find the right words. “How long have you known?” 

“Since our freshman year back at Night Raven.” Now, Deuce’s mouth was hanging open. Ace’s expression seemed to grow more amused as Deuce’s became more flabbergasted. “What? You thought I didn’t know?” 

“I never told you!” Deuce noticed how loud he was becoming and quickly toned his voice down. 

“You never had to. I see the way you look at them. You’re a nice guy, yeah, sickeningly so, but I’ve only seen you fumble over one person.” 

“I don’t fumble!” 

“Oh yes you do!” Ace teased. “I’ve never seen a guy trip over himself so much. You get tongue tied whenever they’re around; you’re [Name]’s own personal pack mule and guard dog; and you remember almost every single thing about them! I didn’t even know that they [secret quirk about you] - Malleus doesn’t either!” 

How surprised could one man get in one day? “He doesn’t?” Deuce balked. 

“Nope! Well, not till I asked him, at least. He at least didn’t know till I mentioned it.” Ace waved his hand, dismissing the memory. “Anyway, unless you’re Sebek and Riddle, everyone in the group knows, man.” 

Deuce’s heart dropped to his boots. “Even [Name]?”

“No, at least I don’t think so.” Ace poked Deuce’s wrist, which peeked out of his jacket cuff. “But if they do, they’re likely waiting on you to make the first move.”

Deuce wanted to sink into the ground and join the soil beneath. He frowned and stared down at his hand, studying the calluses on his fingers. “Or they don’t like me that way and just don’t want to hurt my feelings.” 

“Hey! No! None of that!” Ace grabbed Deuce by his bottom jaw and turned his head back up to look at him. It hurt a little, but Deuce kept his mouth shut. “Listen, man, I can’t speak for them, but I can tell that [Name] cares about you a lot - and I mean a lot. They talk about you even outside the group chat.” Deuce’s eyebrows raised in surprise. They really did? 

“Yeah,” Ace affirmed, “so much so it’s a common joke amongst us. Well, except for you, I guess. Anyway, if they really didn’t like you like that, they would tell you to your face. But I highly doubt that they’d reject you, Deuce. [Name] likes you!” Ace released Deuce’s face, but not before he gave his cheek a light, yet firm slap. 

“Now, come with me so you can go over there and talk to them and have a good time with the rest of us. Hell, flirt with them a lil bit while you’re at it! Before we leave for the night, ask them out! Before someone else does!” Deuce’s heart dropped at the very idea. No…no, he couldn’t let that happen! Ace was right -  he needed to make the first move! 

“Yeah, I will.” Deuce smiled and reached out to Ace, giving his arm a firm squeeze. “Thanks, man.” 

“No problem.” Ace gave a playful smile as he feigned a punch to Deuce’s chin. “Somebody had to give you the right nudge. I even thought about flirting with [Name] myself, just so you’d get scared and finally jump the line.” Deuce shot Ace a small glare, one the man knew all too well. Ace held up his hands in a mock defense. 

“Hey, hey, Cater talked me out of it! Epel threatened to beat my ass, too.” 

Deuce was silent for a few seconds, then let out a small laugh. “Nah, I wouldn’t have let him.” Deuce straightened his posture and placed his hands on his hips. “If he wouldn’t let up, I’d have to arrest him.” 

“Oh, thank you so much, mister officer, sir!” Ace mockingly praised in a tiny sing-song voice. “I feel so safe with you around!” 

With smiles on both their faces, Ace and Deuce made their way over to the booth, where their friends were waiting. Deuce greeted each of them, with either a handshake, a pat on the shoulder, or a quick side hug. That was, until he got to you. You were seated beside Sebek, right at the edge of the curved booth seats. Like always, Deuce’s smile grew soft, and his gaze became fond and loving, the moment he set his sights on you. “Hey, [Name],” he said, almost breathed, in greeting. 

“Hey,” you said in response. You rose from your seat and reached out your arms to pull him into an embrace. As he always did, Deuce returned it wholeheartedly. You stood like that for a long moment, probably longer than one should have, before separating. Even then, Deuce kept a gentle hand on your arm, which trailed down to your hand. His knuckles brushed yours, making direct eye contact with you as he added, “I’m happy to see you again.” 

To Deuce’s surprise, relief, and triumph, you blushed. Your smile - he could have died happy right then and there. “Me too,” you giggled, clearly a little bashful. 

Many of your friends exchanged knowing looks between them. The redhead and the crocodile fae, as usual, were oblivious - for now.

[seeingivy]

the ensemble cast

actor!eren x f!reader

**part of my method acting fic, masterlist here

content: eren being possessive for no reason, cherry + coke slushies, reader gets criticized online, good old teasing, reader mentions feeling anxious/having anxiety

an: lalalalalallalala lights camera action babes pls enjoy :D

previous part linked here

--

The set that Attack on Titan is filming on was originally from a previously scrapped project. Three weeks ago, when you and Eren first moved in, the two of you had pilfered from the leftover set dressings and props to see what you could find. 

That’s where you find the tandem bike. The breaks don’t work that well, and the seat in the back is really uncomfortable, but it works well for you and Eren’s purposes, which is running away from set on lunch breaks to get slushies at the convenience store two blocks down. 

As Hange said, you and Eren wouldn’t really have to do any method acting to become best friends. He’s literally the only other person on set besides Levi and Hange, who are usually too busy workshopping the set and the scripts to talk to you.

You guys eat breakfast together, go to class, and spend hours talking at night when you’re both too bored to do anything else. 

You’re both leaning against the bike, two straws poked into the extra large slushie that you and Eren got. The cashier, Michael, gives you guys the slushie for free, but only one since he’s “not made of money.” 

Hence, sharing. You guys always split the slushie in half - the right side is Coke for you, and the left is Cherry for Eren. It always swirls together halfway through when it starts melting, which is when you and Eren start playing with the straws - smacking yours into Eren’s and vice versa. 

“Do you think it’ll be weird when everyone comes tomorrow, Eren?” 

“Maybe a little bit. There’s a lot of them coming. And we’re used to having the place to ourselves.” 

Tomorrow is the first official day of filming. 

You and Eren have been filming scenes for the past three weeks. But tomorrow, the rest of the ensemble cast arrives, and you start really filming. And you can’t even lie - some part of the entire ordeal fills you up with anxiety. 

Because the rest of the cast knows know each other already. Because they’re better actors than you. Because you’re kind of a fraud. 

Eren mentioned that most of the people on the ensemble cast were great people because they were part of his class when he went to the SHWA. Meaning he already knew them. Meaning they all knew each other - that they had spent two years going to boarding school together and socializing within the same cohort. 

Eren has already co-starred with Mikasa, and he and Jean used to do cameos on a different show together. He used to room with Reiner when he lived at the SHWA, and they’re all still really close. 

Eren said it was kind of like a cult at times, how the industry seemed to function in that way. You just think he’s trying to make you feel better for being the sore thumb of the group. 

But even beyond just meeting the cast, this entire week is a big deal. The ensemble cast is supposed to attend a panel that WIT hosts every year to answer questions and play the teaser trailer. Hange and Levi are panicking because first impressions can mean everything to a start-up show like this. 

Eren tells you that there’s really big advertising company called the Elms that posts reviews of shows before they come out. They have no connections in the fields since they’re advertisers, but their opinions and reviews are basically written law once posted. 

They’re the industry equivalent of a Michelin Star.

That’s why the pressure is on for this week - for the cast to get along, for us to finish filming and taking pictures for the promo, and to do great at the panel at the end of the week. 

There’s so much to mess up you can’t even fixate on what to worry abo-

“Y/N. Stop it.” 

You look over to find Eren glaring at you, shuffling his straw through the bottom of the ice at the cup. His lips and tongue are tinted pink from the drink, his expression annoyed. 

“Stop what?” 

“Thinking so hard. They’ll all like you, even if you didn’t go to SHWA.” 

“I don’t know. I feel like you’ll all have inside jokes without me or something and leave me out. I don’t want to feel like a loser.” 

He takes the cup from your hand, now empty, and swishes it into the trash can a few feet away from you. And then his ice-cold hand is in yours, squeezing. 

You learn quickly that Eren isn’t the best with his words, but he’s always touching you in some way when a situation like this arises. He squeezed your shoulder when you forgot to bring your harness to set, delaying the entire crew for twenty minutes. And when you didn’t do so well on the French test you had last week, he put his hand in your hair but didn’t really say anything. 

If it were anyone else, it wouldn’t work. But it’s Eren, and for some reason, it just does. It’s almost comforting now that you can rely on his hands to be on yours whenever you feel awkward. 

“You’re not a loser, Y/N. And if someone thinks you’re a loser, I’ll just tell them they’re wrong about you.” 

“Okay.” 

“Plus. When they see us act, they’ll change their minds. You’re electric on the screen.” 

Eren yanks the tandem bike off of the stand and pulls you up by the hand, the two of you lazily biking back to set. You try to ignore Eren’s comment and how it makes your entire body buzz. 

- 

You and Eren make ramen every morning. Because Levi said that the first time he did, it was a one-time occurrence, and he can’t feed you guys daily. He leaves out all the stuff for you, even going as far as cutting up all the vegetables that you like to put in your bowl. 

“Eren.”

“Hm.” 

“Try to catch the extra carrots in your mouth.” 

You’re both playing the game a little bit too competitively as you start racing around the kitchen, trying to throw them so far that you both have to chase after them. And when Eren throws it all the way into the foyer, you go running. 

That’s when you bump into him. 

There’s a guy in the walkway who you accidentally knock into the ground from running so fast. He has short brown hair, the strands closer to his hair darker. And now that you’ve fallen on top of him, his hands are secured around your waist, both of your cheeks burning red. 

You quickly scramble off, awkwardly running your hands through your hair. 

“S-sorry. Me and Eren were playing a game.” 

“No problem. I’m Jean.” 

“Y/N.” 

He smiles, his eyes glinting at you. 

“Jean.” 

“You said that already,” Eren grumbles from the kitchen. 

You can see Jean’s cheeks burning red as the rest of them pile into the room, the quiet house suddenly bustling loud. You can’t help but get overstimulated by everyone you’re meeting, trying your best to remember names - Armin, Sasha, Bertholdt, Annie, Connie, Reiner - as they all start milling around the kitchen, sitting at the table. 

“So, when are we eating?” 

“Sasha shut the fuck up. All you’re worried about is eating.” Connie responds, smacking her across the forehead. 

You walk over to the side of the table, tapping Sasha on the shoulder. 

“They’re catering since you all flew in. They should be here in twenty minutes.” 

She gives you a gleaming smile, returning to arguing with Connie. You can feel a hand tugging on your wrist, the guy from earlier yanking on your arm. 

“So if they’re catering, why are you making ramen?” he asks, his cheeks pressed in his palms.

“Ah. Eren and I are kind of in the habit of making it. We kind of forgot they were supposed to cater today.” 

“Well, it smells really good.” 

“Did you want it, Jean? I don’t mind because Eren and I kind of ate before.” 

“Oh, no. I couldn’t-” 

You march over to the kitchen, where your steaming bowl of food is, much to Eren’s dismay, and return to place it in front of Jean. And when you return to the kitchen, you watch chaos ensue.

Connie and Sasha claim that Jean should share because they’re best friends. Jean says that Sasha’s asking for too much. Then Ymir says that Jean’s face is asking for too much, and now everyone’s arguing with each other. 

You lean over, whispering in Eren’s ear as you talk. 

“Are they always like this, Eren?” 

“Unfortunately.” 

He pushes his own bowl of ramen to your side, placing the chopsticks in your hand. 

“Oh. It’s okay. I was the one who willingly gave my breakfast away and started World War Three, so.” 

“Don’t be stupid, Y/N. Let’s just share.” 

You and Eren shuffle the chopsticks in between your hands, taking turns eating from the bowl.  And you’re so distracted because Eren’s asking you about Falco and Colt that you don’t realize it when it happens. 

Connie taking a picture of you two. 

And suddenly, they all stopped arguing with each other and started teasing Eren. 

“So this is why you didn’t tell us anything about her? Trying to keep her all for yourself, huh?” Connie says first, smirking at Eren. 

You can see the tips of Eren’s ears turn red as he denies it vehemently, only goading the rest of them on more. 

“Eren. Do you think Y/N is pretty? Do you love her?” Ymir asks, swinging her arm around your shoulder. 

“Where do you get off, you little bitch? Why would you even ask me that? Do you think Historia is pretty?” 

“Yes. I do think Historia is pretty.” 

You crane your neck over to Historia, whose sitting at the table, her cheeks glowing pink in her hands. Mikasa and Armin are sitting right next to her, focused on typing away on their phones, but you can see the smile pressed on both of their faces. 

“You didn’t answer, Eren. Do you think Y/N is pretty? Do you guys kiss each other goodnight? ” asks Reiner, this time leaning even more forward. They’ve backed you and Eren into a corner, the six of them smiling bloody murder at Eren. 

Eren hates being put into a corner like this. But he hates it even more when you’re looking over at him, your eyes boring into his, expectantly waiting for an answer.  

“Yes. I think Y/N is pretty. No, we don’t kiss each other goodnight.” he murmurs, his cheeks burning red. 

You can feel your own cheeks heating up as Levi comes by, dragging the rest of the new people to set with the promise of food. Sasha’s the first one to leave.

Leaving you and Eren alone in the kitchen again, the half-finished bowl of ramen between you. 

“Eren.” 

“They’re always like that. It’s so embarrassing. Now I’m never going to hear the end of it. Especially from Connie and Reiner, they’re so fucking annoying sometimes it’s-” 

You place your hand on Eren’s shoulder, stopping his rant in his tracks. 

“I think you’re cute.” 

“Huh? What?” 

“You told me that you think I’m pretty. Just thought you should know I think you’re cute,” you say, shrugging your hand off and grabbing your harness from the ground as you walk off to the set. 

Eren joins twenty minutes later. 

He needed the extra time to get his heart to stop violently thumping in his chest. 

- 

Armin is the only one brave enough to ask. He leans over, straight into Levi’s headspace, and asks. 

“Levi. What are they doing?” 

The eleven of them have been watching you and Eren do this for the past few minutes. You’re both…standing there, staring at each other. You’re not exactly talking, though you do whisper something to each other a few times. You’re just kind of…standing there together. 

“They do this before they shoot scenes. Y/N said it’s not really a thing for her, but Eren says he needs to feel some… tingle before he can shoot.” Levi responds, yanking his headphones partially off. 

“Tingle?” Armin repeats. 

“Tingle.” 

“That’s not a tingle. He’s just excited to see Y/N.” Reiner responds, the rest of them chuckling. 

You’ve asked Eren to explain it to you maybe a hundred times. And he always says the same thing. That he needs a second before he can shoot to stop being him, Eren, and being the character, Eren. And he knows he’s thought about it hard enough when he can feel this… writhing in his chest. 

Most of the time, it’s not bad. He usually just stands there for a few seconds, looking at the ground or the set, and he’s ready. But today, the entire thing is making your cheeks burn. Because not only are the rest of them watching you, but he’s staring at you - green eyes, all soft and warm. He never really looks at you like that, straight on. 

“Are you nervous, Y/N?” 

“A little bit. They’re all watching, and it’s kind of a hard scene.” 

“You’ll be fine.” 

“Why are you taking so long today? You’re literally just supposed to look all passed out in my arms.” 

“For you. You’re like nervously twitching and have to stop before we can start.” 

The scene isn’t too bad. You’re just supposed to get suspended in the air and then grab Eren when he comes out of his titan. Levi and Hange said it was preferable if you could try to cry, which Eren has been trying to coach you on for the past few days. 

It’s supposed to be an emotional scene. You’re supposed to think Eren’s dead and that he’s returned to life. That your best friend, the only person whose been with you since you were little, will still get to be by your side.

(Hange’s really dramatic when they explain scenes). 

And when you do it, you can feel your hands shaking. They’re blowing a lot of steam onto the set as you and Eren stick out of the prop titan, making your hair stick to your forehead and your skin sizzle under the lights.

You’re sure Eren feels the same way. You place your hands around Eren’s face as he starts wobbling in the air in your hold. 

You’re not supposed to say anything. You’re just supposed to feel it. 

That’s what Hange wrote on your script, next to the blocking for this scene. You place your hands around Eren’s face and take the sight in. The red marks streaking down the side of his face, the way his eyes are closed, and you’re not sure what makes it happen, but you really want to hug him. 

Because if this were really true, if you really did think Eren was gone, you would want to hug him. You would want to hold him in your arms, press yourself into his skin to make sure that you can feel him, so that you knew he was really there. 

So you do. It wasn’t in the script or what Hange and Levi wanted you to do, but it just felt right. To hold him like this. Some part of your stomach is burning because Eren isn’t really wearing a shirt and even Eren awkwardly shuffles when you do it. You whisper down into his ear. 

“Sorry. Felt right.” 

And when Levi yells cut and they pull you and Eren down, Annie is the first one to say something. 

“I get it now.” 

“Get what, Annie?” Eren asks, yanking his own harnesses off. 

“You’re not a good actor, Eren. I was really confused when they picked you as the lead. But I get it now. You guys have really good chemistry.” she replies, milling off. 

You apologize to Levi for not following the script. He, in turn, tells you to do it more often. 

-  

After four days of filming, Eren’s more pissed than ever. Because he figured that his jealousy or possessiveness would wear off by now, that it was just because he was used to it being just him and you for the past three weeks. 

And he gets why everyone wants to talk to you because they’ve all known each other for years, and you’re the shiny new toy, but do they really have to talk to you all the time? 

He can’t eat ramen with you in the mornings because Sasha always begs you to make her some too. Then she’s milling around in the kitchen, asking you mindless questions while you make some for her. 

He can’t do homework with you in your room because Reiner always joins - and he gets that Reiner is really bad at French, but does he always have to ask for your help with the assignments? 

And he can’t even talk to you at night when he’s bored anymore. Because Mikasa’s always there too - teaching you how to braid your hair, the two of you giggle about things he doesn’t understand. 

He loathes it, which is why he has the outburst that he does. 

He invited you to go for slushies with him on Friday before you fly out to Cannes for the panel. But when he yanks out the tandem bike and Jean asks to go along, he can’t help but get irritated at him. So he yells at him . Like bloody murder yells at him. Which is why you and Eren quietly bike, awkwardly sharing the slushie on the bench. 

“So.” 

“I wasn’t going to let him come, you know? Slushies are our thing, Eren.” you respond, swirling the brown and red ice together. 

“Oh. Really?” 

“Well, yeah. Some things should be just ours. And I can’t help it for other things - like when Sasha asks for food, or Annie wants help with the props - but I can for this.” 

Relief floods through Eren’s chest, and he smiles for the first time in five days. Thank god. 

“Okay. Good.” 

“Were you feeling… bad about it or something? Like I wasn’t really talking to you?” you ask, Eren not meeting your gaze and instead focusing on the geese walking across the street. 

“I know you’re not like supposed to talk to me or whatever, but like. I just kind of missed you, that’s all.” 

You smile, leaning your head against Eren’s shoulder. 

“I missed you too, Eren.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

You and Eren bike back, matching pink lips, which is just asking to get teased at this point. Ymir asks how long you and Eren were sucking your face to get lips that pink, which just pisses Eren off to no extent. Levi makes them both sit on separate sides of the plane. 

“Each person answers the panel questions in sets of two or three. There are three panels, so ensure you’re with the right person for each part.” 

Your first panel is with Ymir, which you lucked out on. Because the second they start asking questions, your face is burning, your throat is itching, and you can’t answer even a single one they ask you. 

You’ve never really been the anxious type. You’ve acted in school plays before and performed for big crowds. But that was always low stakes in your mind. The only people in the audience were people that you grew up with, their older sisters that always compliment you on their hair, and their parents that love to take pictures with you. 

This crowd is something different altogether. They’re all wildly unfamiliar, with big cameras and notepads in their hands as they scribble down every little detail they can. Before you and Ymir could even introduce yourselves, even give them something to write down or take a picture of, they were already going hard. 

That’s why you feel petrified on the stage. One of the questions is literally what your name is, but for some reason, this crowd of adults with shiny cameras and notepads makes you choke. Ymir saves the day. She’s charming enough to woo them all on her own, with a few comments from you here and there throughout the panel. Every word out of your mouth feels like balmy chalk running down your throat. 

Your second panel is with Mikasa and Connie, who are surprisingly a really comedic duo. They’re both so different that they complement each other really well, providing funny anecdotes from set and talking about what it’s been like to film.

Connie, much to your dismay, tells the audience that you and Eren are inseparable - so much so that he’s caught you cuddling together on set before. 

That was an accident. You were just tired from shooting on set for eleven hours. You can sneak by with another comment here and there for this panel too. 

But the third panel is just you and Eren. And you know you can’t choke here because you and Eren are the leads. And granted, you haven’t really been acting like a lead this entire time by squeaking once like a mouse, but it’s infinitely worse to do it now. 

“What’s wrong?” 

You can feel the tears welling in your eyes as Eren looks over, concern washing over his face. 

“I-I can’t do this.” 

“What? Why not?” 

“I don’t know. I already messed it up. My entire panels I- I didn’t even say anything because I felt so weird and like- I don’t know, I just can’t be a lead role. I’m not cut out to-” 

He shakes his head, yanking you forward to push you into his embrace, his arms warm. His mouth is hovering by your ear, his voice so soft that it sends shivers down your spine. 

“You’re going to be fine. You’re literally everyone’s favorite person on set because you’re just the best to be around. And it’s the same thing out there, just with people you don’t know.” 

“You guys…you guys have to like me. And it’s hard when they’re all looking at me.” 

“Don’t look at them. Just look at me. Just pretend you and I are sitting there, and the person asking the question is me, not them.” 

You shake your head, burying it deeper into his shoulder. You can feel your panic subsiding, but there’s still a bubble of anxiety right in your throat.

You and Eren walk out, Eren’s hand pressed in yours, as you sit at the table, your hands still locked together under the fabric. 

He squeezes three times before starting, introducing the two of you. The first question is for you. 

“Who is your favorite person on set?” asks the lady in the front.  

“Um. Maybe Hange. I’ve always looked up to them for a really long time, and getting to work with them has been re-really cool.” you mumble straight into the microphone. 

You look over at Eren, who feigns shock as he talks into his. 

“I’m offended, Y/N. My favorite person on set is you but your favorite person on set isn’t me?” he says, the crowd laughing. 

“What? You’re so full of it, Eren. If they asked you, you probably would have said Levi because he did your laundry once.”

The crowd laughs again, and Eren smiles, his eyes warm as he looks into yours. 

“You’re annoying, Y/N. I’ve literally said you’re my favorite person on set on every panel. You think you’re special to someone and find out they don’t even like you that much.” 

“Oh, be quiet Eren. You’re so irritating. You know I like you.” 

“What was that? Say it louder for me, I didn’t really hear you.” 

“I like you.” 

“One more time, Y/N. Use your big girl voice.” 

“I hate you, Eren. You’re not funny and you’re not cool.” 

The entire crowd laughs, Eren squeezing your hand under the table as they ask him questions next. You’re doing it. 

And for some reason, you’re really in awe of this side of Eren. You never figured that he was the type of guy to be really good at press since he seems so awkward and stumbly when he’s around you, but he’s…really charming when it comes to this. He’s cracking jokes, poking fun at you while answering all the questions. 

“Last question. For Eren. What was your favorite scene to film?” 

“There’s this scene that we filmed a few weeks ago. Y/N did some really good improv in it, and when Hange and Levi showed it to us for the first time, we were just so excited for the show to start airing. Basically, you think my character is dead, but-” 

You feel your eyes widen as you clamp your hand over Eren’s mouth, stopping him from spoiling the show before it airs. And you forget that you’re on the microphone because you accidentally start berating him into the speakers. 

“Eren. You’re so full of shit. Stop spoiling the show before it can even come out.” 

For some reason, the entire cast finds the entire ordeal so funny that they’re clapping bloody murder for you and Eren as you deck out.

And when you get to the back of the stage, Hange’s applauding you both for doing so well and Levi’s threatening Eren with promises of masking tape on his mouth the next time he tries spoiling the show.  

You’re just thankful Eren held your hand through the entire thing. You wouldn’t have been able to stomach it if he wasn’t. 

- 

The review comes out early the next day. The eleven of you huddle around the computer, you and Eren sharing a chair as you wait for Hange and Levi to return with Erwin from the airport. The man of the hour himself has finally arrived to set, meaning you can watch the review. 

It’s two girls with short blonde hair on both of them as they dissect the teaser trailer Hange and Levi produced for the panels, and the individual speaks themselves. 

They introduce each actor and their character, commenting on past roles, character dynamics, and how they feel about the character overall. Almost everyone gets a glowing commendation except for Armin, who they feel doesn’t look the part. 

You can tell from the way Armin shifts uncomfortably in the seat that he’s a bit put off by the comment, but Jean and Marco are already coming to his defense, whispering reassurance in his ear. 

“Now, onto the leads.” 

You instinctively grab Eren’s hand under the table, the two of you leaning closer to the computer to listen. 

“The male and female leads for Attack on Titan are Eren Jaeger and F/N L/N. Eren Jeager was in the fourteenth SHWA cohort and already has a nice plethora of credits behind him - even going as far as to have already co-starred with major parts of the ensemble. We’re sure he will be a great lead for the show, a career-defining role if he does it right.” 

You squeeze Eren’s hand three times under the table, everyone patting him on the back and squeezing his shoulders in congratulations. 

“We’re unsure if the same can be said for female lead F/N L/N. Upon closer inspection, head casters Hange Zoe and Levi Ackerman have chosen something a bit untraditional by not picking an SHWA-affiliated actor. We’re unsure if she can hold her own on a show with big chops like this one since she could barely handle the panels themselves. Sure, everyone has been gushing over how cute the two leads are together, but Eren can’t really carry that part of the charm for her on screen. We’re unsure how it’ll play out, but it’s feeling pretty bleak for now.” 

Eren squeezes your hand under the table, but you let go altogether. And when you look back, they’re all awkwardly staring at you, Hange and Levi pinching the bridges of their nose. 

“Um. I’m not in the next few scenes, actually. So I’m just going to go eat dinner if that’s okay.” 

“We’ll come with you,” Mikasa responds, yanking Sasha up from her chair. 

“Oh, you guys have to stay on track with filming. You shouldn’t backlog the schedule. It’s okay.” 

Eren watches you walk off set alone, Hange and Levi already doing damage control on their side. Levi’s already screaming bloody murder that they have no right to say that when they have no experience in the field, and Hange’s getting ready to run off and comfort you. 

“Hange. Let me come, please.” 

Eren watches Hange's features contort as they shoot him down. 

“Sorry, Eren. I don’t think she really wants to talk to anyone right now. And I’m just going there to sit with her till she’s ready to talk.” 

“She’ll talk to me. I can sit with her, I do it all the time. We’re best friends. And I just want to come. Please, please let me go.”  

“Eren. These are all your scenes. You need to stay here. I’ll let you come check on her after, okay?” 

Eren watches Hange run off and angrily acts through the next seven scenes. 

- 

When he’s done on set, he basically all but sprints to your room, snatching the video camera from Levi and Hange’s office, and knocks on the door lightly. And when he sees it, he can’t tell which emotion he feels most strongly. Never mind, he’s almost positive it’s anger. 

You’re lying flat under your soft blanket, Hange’s hand in your hair. He can tell that you’ve probably been crying for a better part of the day, your eyes were all swollen and pink and your nose all runny. 

Eren climbs under the blanket with you, hand locking with yours under the sheets. He squeezes your hand three times, which you return as you wipe the excess liquid from your face. 

“Y/N.” 

“What, Hange?” 

“I’m going to call your mom and tell her that you have a boy in your bed.”

You and Eren laugh, rolling your eyes at Hange as you reach up to pull on their hair. Hange hops off the bed, retreating downstairs to get make the ramen that you asked for, as you and Eren shuffle under the blanket. 

“Y/N. You okay?” 

And at the sound of the question, you immediately start crying again, eyes burning as you lean your head into Eren’s shoulder. 

The entire thing - it’s just so fucking embarrassing above anything else. It’s already humiliating enough to get called out as one of the only bad actors in the cast. Sure, they really dug on Armin too but it wasn’t to the extent that they did it to you. And Hange said that was because you were a girl, and they’re always going to be more critical of you than him, but it sure doesn’t feel that way. 

You can’t act. You can’t do press. And for some goddamn reason, you’re the one leading the show with Eren instead of someone else. Maybe it should have been Mikasa or Historia or something, they’d surely be doing a better job at this than you. 

“Nothing you say is going to make me feel better, Eren. Hange’s been trying for the past few hours, but you’re all just lying to make me come back to set.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“You guys just feel bad that they said that about me, even if it’s true. And now that you’re stuck with me, you have to make me do it. I’ve been telling Hange - I don’t know what they saw in me even to pick me in the first place. They clearly made a mistake.” 

“Hange and Levi didn’t pick you.”

“What?” 

“Well, they did. But, I picked you too.” 

He reaches over, grabbing the shiny black recording camera from your nightstand. He pulls his arm around yours, holding the camera a few feet away from your face as he holds the looks for the video. And when he plays it, you recognize the same soulless room you did your chemistry screening in, Eren sitting in the chair. 

“So Eren. We’re picking through the last few candidates for the lead. Is there anyone you want it to be in particular?” 

You can recognize Levi’s voice over the video, and you’re sure Hange has to be the one recording from how the videos wobble around so much. 

“You’re going to let me pick, Levi?” Eren from the video asks, eyes wide from shock. 

“We’re in between three and we can’t pick one. And this person is your co-star, you’re probably going to spend a better part of the next five to six years with them if things go well. Should be someone you like.” 

“Y/N.” 

Hange comes into the frame on the video, pinching Eren’s cheeks as they ask. 

“That was fast. Any particular reason?” 

“I don’t even remember the names of the other ones. That’s how lame they were in comparison.” 

“You sure, Eren? You really want it to be her?” 

“Positive. I’d even bet on it.” Eren responds, looking over to Hange. 

Hange smiles, circling a name on the clipboard, turning to the camera as they speak. 

“F/N L/N it is.” 

The video ends, the white screen glowing back on you and Eren’s faces. 

“You… you picked me?” 

“Yeah. And I’m not lying to you when I’m trying to make you feel better or tell you that you’re great. Maybe Hange and Levi are, but I’m not. I’ve always thought you were great.”

You and Eren lean back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling. His hand is still in yours under the blanket, warm and sweaty, but you don’t really want to let go. Eren doesn’t say much after that, but when Hange comes with dinner and he has to go back, he says one thing which such confidence that you can’t help but believe him too. That you want it to be true. 

“You’re going to prove them wrong, Y/N."

--

next part here

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[palepinklilies]

the injury of finally knowing you

Note: Initially posted on ao3 but with a different title (this is my draft title btw); Trying my hand at posting my pieces here! I hope u guys read my stuff nd like em ^__^

Summary: Marriage is a vow… for better or for worse, for richer or poor, in sickness and in health… What’s to happen when vows are… wiped… erased… Or The one where Gojo Satoru fails to remember his darling wife at the right time.

wc: 10.2k

Chapter 1: Of lines and intersections (ch.2)

The last memory you have of him as he is, is a sore topic. Frankly, you blamed —is still blaming — yourself for the accident that befallen the sole person you love the most. Your husband, Satoru Gojo got into a terrible car crash that put him into a coma for half a year now, barely showing signs of regaining consciousness. 

The night prior might be considered as your worse fight in the eight years that you’ve been together with Satoru. He always used to say that fights shouldn’t be slept in through the night, but not all things we want go as planned; because that night, you both had said words that couldn’t be taken back. Specifically, Satoru opened Pandora’s box and used it against you.

The cause of the fight wasn’t anything too destructive. Yet, it created a deep-seated wound between your relationship. It’s as simple as the talk of kids. 

It’s not a sensitive topic in yours and Satoru’s marriage because you’ve already had a long conversation around wanting and having children of your own. For a while, both of you were on the same page: ‘no kids until we’ve established what we want to happen with our careers.’

Somehow, somewhere along the line, he wanted it differently. For quite some time, he’s been hinting making a family with you. It could be as simple as pulling you by the baby section in a department store, or showing you funny — adorable and cute — baby videos from the internet. At first it was endearing and warm to see him think about children so lovingly, especially with the prospect of one being half him and half you. But unlike him, you’ve yet to reach the dream younger you had always reached for. 

Maybe it’s his leverage of having been brought up as a trust fund baby — someone with a golden spoon. While you had to work your way — with grit and passion, just to reach where you are now. 

He’s Satoru Gojo, a genius business scion turned mogul. He’s already well respected, recognized and established for his prowess in handling many corporations and conglomerates under his family’s control. 

Well you on the other hand… You’re still in law school. Against his insistence, you refused to use his money to attend law school after your pre-law undergrad. Which is why you had to apply for work to be able to afford it. One of the reasons for this is your pride. As foolish as it was, pride was your drive, not only because you didn’t want to succeed behind the shadow of his surname and money but also because you wanted to prove to his family that you’re worthy of being his wife. 

Okay, but who is Satoru Gojo if not persuasive? Eventually he convinced you to accept his offer, albeit with your condition that the fees will be split in half and that it’s the only thing he will finance in your pursuit of a career as a lawyer. So when he threw those god-forsaken words of insult, it hit all your insecurities and broke you.

“I don’t understand why we can’t! I try to give you everything I can and yet this simple thing, you refuse to give to me!” His voice booms across the living room. Hearing those words only made you more heated. 

“It’s not as simple Satoru! We… agreed. We agreed that we will establish our careers before we try for kids. Why are you turning back on that now?!” The pitch of your voice is starting to match his’ and the conversation was just escalating and getting more heated. The air feels heavy and your brain has triggered fight or fight and right now, fight seems to be the default choice. 

“You wouldn’t understand me because you’re already at the peak of yours! — because your career is only moving up and forward. But what about me? What about my dreams?” Exasperated, you just sit down the couch, your head in your hands. Tears are also brimming your eyes and your chest feels tight and heavy. 

Striking the iron while it’s hot, he resigns, “You know what, maybe my mom was right. I shouldn’t have married a selfish, poor girl like you.” 

As if time stops for you; your voice gets stuck in your throat and the tears threatening to spill, had spilled. You didn’t know what or how to respond to that. Is that what he really thought of you? 

For a few seconds, silence had finally taken over. The air felt suffocating. Leaving is the only thought you have above everything that’s been speedrunning your mind.

You wordlessly get up and brushed past him, only then does he see you tear-streaked face and your bloodshot eyes. 

Feeling braised, he immediately realized the gravity of what he said. He quickly catches up with you as you scramble to pack a small overnight bag. 

Everything feels heavy — feels tight, and all you can focus on is getting essentials: 2 pairs of undies and whatever clothing within your reach and your essential cosmetic products. Satoru watches you in chaos. 

Before you enter the bathroom for your toothbrush, he wraps his arms around your torso, as if to restrain you. His head hung low atop your shoulder and you feel his ragged breathing. “Don’t leave. Please. I didn’t mean any of it. You can slap me, punch me or kick me but don’t leave, please.” A sob chokes him as he says the last word. 

You’re also sobbing at this point, snot faced and all, barely able to say a word without hiccuping in between. It’s starting to physically hurt being skin to skin with him right now, so you break free from him. “Th-that doesn’t make it hurt any less. I… I just need time for myself.” You say as you step inside the bathroom. He just stands there silently crying, like you. 

Before you cross the threshold to your shared penthouse he speaks, “I love you. Be safe.” More tears escape your eyes. He sounded so soft and defeated, and you know it’s nothing but sincere. Without looking back, you wordlessly shut the door until you hear the ping of the lock. 

You stood in front of the door for what seems like a lifetime, crying and contemplating if you should actually leave knowing that once you do, something in your marriage will shift. Against all odds, you swallow the block in your throat and start walking away from your home, from your love, from your husband. 

You ended up in a decent inn away from the heart of the city. Checking-in in a hotel was an initial thought, but with what happened hours prior, you couldn’t bear to spend more than you have to. It’s not pride — well maybe it is, however no one has the right to scorn you for choosing not to touch any amount in the shared bank accounts Satoru arranged after marriage. 

Regardless, the salary you get as a part-time para-legal in a small law firm was enough to guarantee you the luxury of being away from anyone at the moment. You’re guaranteed the luxury of solitude, quiet and contemplation. 

The life’s mundanity became an afterthought…ergo commitments left at work and in law school. You’d cross the bridge when you get there: you’d face the consequences of going AWOL once you’re mentally and emotionally fit to be back.

Three days passed and you still haven’t gone back to his penthouse. You also shut off your phone, disconnecting from everyone and anyone who can contact you. At one point during day 2, you felt homesick. You almost went back, keyword being almost.

The quiet and solitude gave you the opportunity to rest, sleep and tune everything out. You wouldn’t know how to face your husband anyway. Everything still hurts to the point that it feels numb. But then a thought crossed your mind: home. It was a fleeting thought, a snap decision if you will, but that same hour you packed up and waited for check-out time. You were going home. 

An hour after check-out and you’re on a train back to your shared penthouse, which at this moment, is a gamble. Satoru’s spontaneous yet predictable (for you, that is). There’s a 50-50 chance that he’s home waiting for you while there’s also a chance that he’s at the office. There’s no moment for you to ponder on it, you just act.

Arriving, the only soul you’re able to meet are the trusted cleaners who comes and goes on schedule. You honestly forgot about their schedule, which is on a Friday. They meet you with curt greetings and smiles, which you return. You just hope that none of them have been talked by your husband into tipping your arrival at the unit.

Packing a small hand-carry luggage was quicker than you expected it to be. You take in a deep breath and think of ways how you can leave (without suspicion). Which is a difficult feat considering that one: leaving directly and walking out without a word would rouse so much suspicion. The word of the mouth isn’t so reliable and you wouldn’t want to leave and these people would make the false assumptions and tell on you; two: Satoru had probably gave the cleaners an order to inform him of your arrival and when you’d leave the penthouse. 

Of both options, one thing is for certain, Gojo Satoru will follow you and will scour the whole of Japan just to find you. 

You decide on a quick shower before leaving, which only took less than 15 minutes. You’re trying to minimize the time when Gojo could potentially come home if someone had snitched of your presence in the penthouse. Surprisingly, your exit went smoothly, even in the building’s concierge. 

On the far side of the city, in the heart of the central business district, Gojo Satoru gets notified of your arrival in your apartment building. Quickly he tells his assistant to cancel today’s remaining meetings as he rushed towards the elevators. You came home. You came back. Satoru knows that this might be the last time he’ll see you. He knows he’s hurt you deeply. He knows the gravity of his words when he used the biggest insecurity you have in this marriage, hell, since the start of your relationship even.

On the monitor pad of his Jaguar, he had dialed your number 5 times in a row, only to be sent to voicemail. In all honesty, he’s praying to every god up there that you’re napping or doing other things that keeps you preoccupied enough to neglect your cellphone. 

And right now as he’s currently speeding beyond the city’s limits, he’s left you yet another voicemail: “[name], hey, I’m still on my way back. I’m sorry for everything I said. I know I shouldn’t say it through voicemail but I want you to know that I am. I’m really sorry and I can’t ever justify the things I said. Wait for me at home, please. I love y-”

He wasn’t able to finish the last words when he felt a large collision against the left side of his vehicle. At that moment, time stood still for Satoru Gojo. One moment he was speeding forward with one goal in mind and in a split second he’s receiving a blunt force that made the car skid across the lightly trafficked road. 

Nothing in his field of vision registered in his brain, it was all a blurry haze. Soon after the car skids to a halt, the last thing he sees is your contact name on the monitor pad before losing consciousness.

On the flip side, you’re seeing blurry hazes of Tokyo fading into greens as you’re seated on a train ride back to Sendai, your home — first home. Exhaustion is clearly seeping out from your skin albeit the lack of physical activity and work. Your mind is so muddled and fogged and it’s not helping that your brain is rejecting any other emotion aside from hurt. 

Clarity and peace of mind is what you’re expecting from this short trip back home. In the back of your mind, a part of you is excited to return to your parents’ house, where you grew up and learned how to love and be loved. 

After the train ride, the first thing you do is visit the cemetery. It’s been a year since you last visited and paid your respects. You brushed off a few dried leaves from the grave, and poured water over. “Hi mama, dad. Sorry it took me so long to see you again.” You couldn’t modulate your voice louder than a whisper with the tears that had started to streak down your cheeks. And there at your parents’ grave did you pour all the tears that you thought you had cried. 

All the feelings of hurt, anger, pain, betrayal and most of all guilt came crashing down on you as sob your eyes out. It was only then that you felt you were safe to be vulnerable. Even without their physical presence, your mother and father had always been a source of comfort. 

You kept whispering ‘sorry’s and you don’t even comprehend to whom and for what are you asking for forgiveness and reconciliation. Everything still feels heavy and all you want yo do is curl up and cry yourself dry. “Daddy I-i m-miss y-you… So m-much.” How you wished for your dad to be there. To be there and give you a tight hug and kisses on top of your head. 

Catching your breath, you tried to calm down so you can vent to the empty air. Sniffling you start speaking softly, “Uh… I-i had a terrible argument with Toru daddy.” Verbalizing it only made you tear up again and a lump rise to your throat. Maybe this was what you needed: to be able to freely speak your mind without any external opinion that wouldn’t even help console your feelings.

“And it’s because I… it’s because I don’t want a baby yet…” your eyes shut tight and tears fell with it. “But I do want to be a mom so much… so so much especially if he’s going to be the dad… but I want to be a lawyer to the same extent.”

What stage of grief are you in right now? They say that going through the five stages of grief is non-linear. You could be in the first one: anger, then after a few hours you could have skipped to the third: bargaining. Some would even switch from one stage back to the other. Perhaps you’re in a limbo stage of feeling everything all at once? Is that even possible? 

After crying in silence for what felt like an eternity, you stand up and dust your palms from the jeans you’re wearing. “M’sorry for not getting you guys flowers and forgetting to light some incense… I’ll see you at home…” You give a light touch to your parents’ names engraved on the stone.

The last time you’ve been to the house where you grew up in was the day of your father’s funeral. Entering the threshold once again after many years gave you a feeling of nostalgia. 

You take in the dusty surrounding. All furnitures have been covered by drawsheets and the living room carpet had been rolled off to the side. Everything was almost the way that it was as you’ve last seen it. 

“Mom, dad I’m home.” Only silence greets you, it leaves a bitter taste on your tongue that no one is there to greet you a “welcome home.” But still, you feel better being here. In a sense you know that your dad’s presence is here with you and that’s enough.

You decided to sleep in your parents’ room for the night so you left the luggage by the door and looked for cleaning supplies to tidy and clean the room up. In retrospect, you should’ve brought spare bed sheets and pillowcases, but you decided to simply run them in a nearby laundromat. 

In the living room, you decided to look through photo albums for entertainment.

You’ve lived your life with your dad being the only parent you’ve ever known. Your mom died with the complications of giving birth to you with a weak heart. And your dad tried his best to immortalize your mom through pictures that they took during the whole pregnancy. Here you find the photo album you made of the first year you started college, the same year you met Satoru. 

Coincidentally, snapshots of your relationship weren’t really put here on purpose — well for the first half of it at least. 

Before you left for university your dad gave you one of his film cameras and told you to make and keep memories of college because it’s one to give the most notable memories of your lifetime. You think he was exaggerating then, but it made sense as you grew older.

Flipping the page, you see the first picture you took with Satoru and his group of friends. It was your first year as a university student, taking up literature, and he was in his second year. The only reason your paths had crossed that year was because you wanted to meet new people and make friends… so you attended a party without fully knowing how city kids define parties.

Initially, you attended the freshmen mixer within university grounds and it was fun! You met a sophomore guy who was one of the student council organizers for the networking event. His name was Suguru Geto. He had an aura that was enough for you to trust him… just a little bit though. Throughout the mixer event, you barely interacted with people your age. In your mind, you know it’s because of the fact that you were from the country side… who knows who or what city kids want as a friend right? 

Admittedly, you did enjoy the mixer even if you were just seated at the corner. This went unnoticed to the senior members of the student council, hence, Geto approached you with a light taps on your shoulder. He simply gives a curt smile upon your surprised expression. “Hey, you doin’ good here? I’ve noticed you haven’t been going around talking to people.”

Embarrassing. You then reason out that no one wants to approach you or if you initiate, they usually cut conversations after finding out that you’re new in the metropolitan. “It’s fine though, I’m actually enjoying even if it doesn’t look like it. I just wish I can meet one potential friend.”

Now, Geto isn’t one to take pity in people. He’s got a quite awful attitude underneath his cool and calm demeanor. But somehow, he thinks you need a springboard. It’s out of his character to take strays in, but he does. 

“Every year, after the freshman mixer, my friends and I throw a welcome party for students returning for the semester and for those new as well. If you’re interested, you can come. Just approach me after so I can write the address down.” He quickly bids you goodbye after that. You couldn’t even say a curt ‘thanks’ for his offer. Contemplating if you should go to that party is what plagues your mind as you decided to walk around in case you stumble upon someone who would appreciate talking to you.

So you did approach Geto for the address once the mixer finished… and you ended up in a… house… packed with young adults chugging alcohol, smoking and grinding against each other. You have half a mind to turn back and just enjoy the rest of the night in your small apartment, but you also wanted to experience the liberties of being a college student, namely the drinking and getting wasted privileges.

The loud bass reverberates against the floorboards and the walls of the entryway as you enter. Here you realize that you’re underdressed for the occasion. While other ladies wore micro-mini skirts, tube tops, little black dresses, and what nots, you were still wearing a university-dress code-appropriate outfit from the mixer earlier. You didn’t bother changing your cream skirt that goes just half an inch above your knees, a simple black halter top and a knitted cardigan over it. 

Though you feel awkward and misplaced, you figure that you could find where they get drinks. You suspect that they’re in the kitchen, so off you go. Surprisingly, Geto is there too with a number of people laughing and bickering with each other once you stood by the kitchen entryway. He immediately took notice of you. 

“Hey! Freshie girl you actually came! For one second I thought you wouldn’t.” All eyes went on you the moment he acknowledged your presence. It was agitating to be under their gazes, scrutinizing you, and perhaps the raven-haired boy took notice.

He motions for you to come closer to the kitchen island, “C’mon, what type of drink do you prefer? We have beers, cocktail punches… or are you a hard liquor type of girl?” His eyebrows raise, waiting for your response. “I’ll take the beer, please.” He takes a green bottle from one of the red ice boxes and pops the cap open for you. “Here you go, one bottle.” 

You’ve only drank occasionally. Like during family festivities or birthdays, and those were limited to sips of cheap champagne and traditional sake. “I’ve told you my name but I haven’t caught yours, how do you want us to call you?” he asks before you took a swig of the bottle. You apologize and tell him your name, “Hey guys! This freshie girl right here is  [name]! Be nice to her.” A series of ‘hey’s and curt waves were thrown your way and you slightly bowed your head slightly as encouragement of their greetings. “Well, this is a big party! I hope you meet the potential friends you were expecting from this afternoon.” After that you were left alone as one of the ladies in the group notified everyone of a ‘beer pong’ at the back area of the house, and they left.

The condensation of the beer bottle had transferred to your palm so you looked for paper towels and after that you went ahead back to the crowd and started walking around like a lost puppy. You expected something like this and it felt surreal to experience your first college party. Could be better but not bad for a first time right? 

Surprisingly, the beer was palatable at least, but you start to think that maybe the offer of the cocktail punch could’ve been better. You passed by Geto’s group in hopes of being free from the cramped living room and he sends a small wave and a curt smile your way. You can’t help but silently herald him for being so polite, when his friends (in your assumption) are snobbish. 

Beside Geto Suguru was his best friend, Gojo Satoru, and the raven-haired’s greetings to you didn’t come unnoticed to him. Suguru wasn’t the type to be that friendly, so naturally, it piqued his interest. 

“Who’s that? Didn’t know you were into prude freshmen now?” He scoffs. The raven-haired tossed the ping pong ball, landing inside the far right cup, “I’m not. The girl looks like a lost puppy, felt bad for her that’s all.” Satoru just hums and takes his turn to toss the ball, he misses, and Geto knows it’s on purpose so he just scoffs. “Well, I’ll take a walk around then.”

In a less dense corner of the backyard, you tried angling the film camera so that you’d be in frame. You find that taking pictures of yourself like this is more difficult than if you’d use your phone. But maybe that’s the point of it all. You can hear your father say at the back of your mind. 

“Phone cameras are becoming obsolete now huh?” You look to your side to see who’s come to intrude your bubble and what stands before you must be the prettiest person you’ve seen in your lifetime. Recovering from your surprise, you put the camera down. “Umm, I don’t think so?” He chuckles, “I’m messing with you. I’m Gojo Satoru by the way.” He offers you a hand and you shook it, also telling him your name. 

He offers to snap a picture of you, which you don’t accept because you feel shy. You discover that this man doesn’t take ‘no’ for an answer when he lightly grabs your wrist and takes the camera from your grasp. He starts pointing the camera at you, and you stand there in confusion, “well c’mon, strike a pose?”

And you do strike an awkward pose. Maybe this weird but beautiful guy can be your first friend? Or maybe he’s just looking for someone to hook-up with? That’s a common thing at parties… right?

Soon enough after Satoru had broken the ice between you and him, you find yourself back with Geto and his group, where you discover that he and Satoru are best friends. You may be naïve and new to these things but you weren’t stupid. The people in their circle definitely didn’t want you there. As you spent each passing minute in their presence, you piece that together as most of them choose to ignore you apart from the two men who took you under their wing. 

It feels overwhelming having to do too much socializing for one day so you try to bid them goodbyes. Since no one acknowledged, you start to walk away, but someone grabs a hold of your arm. 

“Leaving so soon? You haven’t even used the whole film roll.” He takes it upon himself to open your small shoulder bag and took the camera and raised it up, “Hey guys! say ‘cheese’!” He says as he wraps his arm around your shoulders and you look up the camera with a contorted smile with flushed cheeks. “Well then, see you around campus.”

Expectations always differ from reality because it wasn’t part of yours to keep stumbling across the silver-haired man. You could be in the classics section of the library and he’d coincidentally be there too, or by the university quad where you’d often write your essays and prose, and other unsuspecting places where you’d least expect him to be. At one point you suspected it was intentional but he just brushed it off that you were simply being so observant. 

For the many months that you’ve spent time with him, you enjoyed his presence and completely, laughed at his jokes — saw him as Satoru and not Gojo Satoru, the scion of a multi-billion business empire. 

But you knew to keep things platonic. At the back of your mind, you were certain that he’d never see you more than a friend he met in university. You were almost certain that the moment he gets his degree, you’d never cross paths and all will be part of your college memories. But really, not all expectations become the reality. 

A huge chunk of the student body knew that Gojo was a notorious playboy. This is a false accusation and merely an assumption. Yes, he did like to sleep around but not as much as they say. If anything, Geto’s more of the playboy between them, who’s engaging in different set-ups with different girls almost every week! And he wasn’t able to shield you from the potential bad (false) things you’d hear around. But you weren’t just a notch in his belt. 

He was able to show you a side of him only people he’s extremely close to can see and experience. You caught his interest in that party and never left his mind since. It feels foolish to orchestrate every single time you think you come across him in campus “coincidentally,” but he succeeded.

He used his charms — more like pulled off some strings, to get your schedule and he had everything memorized just so he can get a chance to meet you. Suguru had even called him a stalker for it and maybe he almost became one until you simply expected him to be where you are. Eventually, he got you — even if it took so much work and convincing for you to believe the sincerity of his feelings. 

You’ve always considered him as a friend. A friend who you have feelings for, more like. Your subconscious would always tell you that if he did make a move on you, he’d leave you hanging and bruised. It was a simple push and pull: Satoru would make moves that seem to blur the lines of friendship and you would try your best to keep it platonic and not read into it. You’d always think he’d break your heart eventually, be it as a friend or be it as a lover.

So when you woke up in his bed naked after a long night of drinking and partying, you knew for sure that was the end so you left without a goodbye. Not a single bit of what memories you can recall from the night before were laced with regret. 

When he rested his forehead against yours and kissed you with his soft lips, you didn’t pull away. You wanted to, but you didn’t. When he started touching — caressing you under your dress, you didn’t want him to stop. When he whispered sweet nothings as he plowed through your sopping gummy walls, you didn’t ask him to stop. How could you, when at that very moment it felt as if you’re the only people on this earth.

The boundaries you tried to keep for the past months of your friendship had been crossed the moment you let him kiss and undress you. It was a night of passion you couldn’t forget and regret. With a heavy heart, you walked away and left half your heart with him but with pride and dignity intact. You can’t ever be just one of his conquests if you’re the first to leave.

When Satoru woke up to an empty bed that morning, he was confused. It agitated him to see you nowhere in his suite and it didn’t help that you blocked him from everywhere he could reach you. 

For the following days after that he’d leave class five minutes early so that he can catch you as you leave yours; Or, he’d try to catch you in the places on campus that you’d frequent during your vacant hours but to no avail, no one could ever catch a person who’s avoiding you like the plague. But still he was relentless.

Everyday he’d try to find you in the vast campus of the university. He tried to think how you would so he can anticipate where you’d probably go — was a hit or miss situation. But he was able to catch you in a back staircase made to be an emergency exit in the same building as most of your classes. 

The thought was like an epiphany for him; he was staring at the narrow line of floor to ceiling windows by the back of the buildings when it occurred to him that you initially stayed there in your first days of university. 

Even if he’s the captain of the basketball team, he was quick to leave practice saying some shitty excuse of an emergency, to which his best-friend just rolled his eyes at. He knew exactly why. But he didn’t pry nor try to tell on him. And so Gojo Satoru ran across the campus and skipped steps until he reached the 4th floor landing of the staircase. 

You were mindlessly listening to a posted lecture on your student portal. You’ve been having sleepless nights trying to finish all the writing and literary analyses that was required of you. Eyes drooping and almost falling asleep, you were startled by another person’s presence within the landing. 

It was the single person on campus who you’ve been trying to avoid for the past weeks. It’s the only person who’s taking up a huge space in your mind when you aren’t distracted by your courseworks or classes.

Catching his breath, “y’know- this is a clear breach of building safety codes-” pants “you’re an illegal obstruction to this exit [name].” He stands before you all sweaty and still in his jersey and you couldn’t speak, dumbfounded as you figure out how he managed figure out your hiding place. You were almost successful in avoiding him completely but he just had to chase and look for you. 

“W-what are you doing here??” He drops his duffel bag at the base of the next flight of stairs and sits beside you. “Why have you been avoiding me? You even had me blocked everywhere!” Always the straightforward one, he’d always speak his mind.

This was a confrontation you have been dreading to face — the reason why you had to change where you’d frequent these past weeks. Coming to terms with sleeping with a friend is one thing but having to unpack sleeping with a friend, letting him be your first when you know you have feelings for him is a whole other different conundrum. 

You quickly closed your laptop and fumbled with placing your notebook inside your bag. But before you could even take a leave, he grabbed your laptop and hugged it against his side — one that was away from you. “Give it back Gojo-san.” You can see him frown and pout at what you said. 

So it’s just Gojo now? Not Satoru? How cold. How cruel. You’re such a heartless woman. How could you have it in you to immediately leave seeing him? Did you hate him that much? Why were you being so indifferent when you used to smile and speak with him warmly? 

“No, not when I know you’d leave once I do. Not when you haven’t answered my question.” 

You bit your bottom lip, why is he making this so difficult? You still try to reach for your laptop so you can leave but he just keeps it out of your reach, until you just give up.

“Why does it matter? Can’t I simply be busy with my own life?” You say as calm as you could while avoiding his gaze. 

“Of course you can. I just want to understand why. Didn’t… did… anything from that night mean anything to you?”

And there it is. You hoped to avoid this, truly. But since it fell on your lap out of nowhere, might as well face it right? “Did it mean anything to you?” The way you returned the question took him aback. Your voice was suddenly laced with indifference and he couldn’t place where that should go. 

“Of course. I wouldn’t have initiated that if I didn’t want it to happen.” He tried to hold your hand but you refused his advances. “How can I trust your words Gojo?” 

He’s reeling. He knows where this is going. At this moment he admits that he approached things out of order. He wasn’t able to shield you from the rumors surrounding him and his “dating” history. He shouldn’t have given in to his emotions and took advantage of your drunken vulnerability. “Is that what you think of me? Is that how you see me?” are the only things that come out his mouth. You can’t help but feel guilty when he said that.

It’s true. You believed that there’s some truth to what people say about him and, that, along with your naïveté is enough to make you an easy target for him. You let out a deep sigh. 

“It doesn’t matter. Let’s forget things happened alright? We’re still friends anyway.” Lies. You knew damn well you can’t stay friends with him anymore. 

“No. I don’t want us to be friends anymore.” And there it is. A man of his caliber that has an equally large ego wouldn’t take it lightly — the way you left that morning without him having to put a word in. 

But it takes you by surprise when he goes down a step and squats in front of you so you’d meet eye to eye. “I want you to tell me how you really feel. I want you to tell me why you think I saw you just as a body count.”

“You’re so frustrating Goj-” “Satoru. Call me by my name.” That shut you up. Everything is confusing and frustrating and all you want to do is leave his overbearing presence and cry your frustrations out of his sight.

“Why are you doing this? I’ve already slept with you! Isn’t it like rule number 1 to forget and move on to the next!” He could feel your exasperation the moment you finally looked at him with teary eyes and he only gently stares right back at you with his blue ones. 

“If this is just an ego trip because I left without a word then you can just tell people whatever you want that’s in your favor.” By now tears have started to fall and yet your eye contact remains. He gently thumbs the tears away, “Fuck. You’re killing me sweets. It’s not like that… I’m sorry… don’t cry.” 

It’s weird. It’s unusual. It’s confusing. It’s making your heart beat rapidly and makes your chest feel like it’s going to burst. And the next words that come out his mouth was just the catalyst for your emotions. 

“Listen, to me you’re not just a body count. I wouldn’t go out my way to memorize your schedule down to the last second. If you were just someone I wanted to fuck, I’d have done that at the party.” 

His thumbs caresses the apples of your cheeks and a warm smile grazes his lips, “I did all that because I like you. I took interest in you, for you… I’m sorry for doing things out of order. You have to tell me now if everything I did matters so I know when to back-off.”

The proximity of your faces and the way he holds you like you’re fragile glass makes your heart beat faster than it is. You take off all your inhibitions, all the weight holding you down and connect both your foreheads. It’s a risk but you’ll take it. “I… I like you so much Gojo Satoru.” It doesn’t take him much effort to mesh your lips together in a soft, chaste kiss. 

After a few seconds he breaks away and you completely feel his lips turning into a smirk against yours, “So, the status between us now is girlfriend and boyfriend huh?” 

The memory is fond, as if it happened yesterday and not years ago. From there your relationship wasn’t always sunshines and rainbows but you made it work. You both held on to each other. Love is also sacrifice as much as it’s to be received. You realize that you’d go through all of that again as long as you get to stay with the only man you’ll ever love intensely.

With a newfound sense of rationality, you realize that whatever happens, you’d come back to Satoru. You need to talk things with him in a more peaceful and stable environment. You realize that the only way to fix this is to hit the train the first thing tomorrow morning and go home to your husband.

Tokyo mornings will always be hectic as the crowd bustles to arrive at their offices, schools or whatever they had to do that day. Even if you took the earliest shinkansen that you could catch, the Tokyo crowd will always be there. 

As you ping the elevators down to the lobby, your palms started to sweat and your heart, hammering against your rib cage. But upon entering your shared penthouse, it’s unnervingly quiet and still. “I’m home.” — no answer. 

Leaving the luggage by the door, you immediately patter into your home gym. Considering it’s as early as 9 AM, your husband is probably preoccupied with his workout. With an expectant smile on your face, you walk inside to see no one, not a single trace of movement. Not a single trace of Satoru. 

If you were nervous on the elevator ride up, you’re feeling something similar yet different in your gut. Rushing back to your bags, you rummaged for your phone. Cursing out loud that you left it off for days, you quickly turn it on.

Moments later and your phone is flooded with many missed calls, messages and voicemails from Satoru. 

Lover ♡ 78 missed calls

Lover ♡: baby, I’m off to work. I love you. Call me when you see this. (Tuesday 7:12 AM)

Lover ♡: ugh this meeting is such a bore. I’m so packed with board meetings this week sweets. Hope to see you at home. Miss you. Love u <3 (Wednesday 9:43 AM)

What you weren’t prepared for was 5 missed calls from his father’s secretary with messages requesting you to call back urgently, and Suguru Geto leaving 13 missed calls and a message that made your hands tremble and the phone to fall onto the marble floors.

Geto Suguru: [name], i don’t know where you are but please call me as soon as you see this. Satoru’s been rushed to the hospital. (Friday 12:34 PM)

Your knees follow as well, hitting the hard floors as you silently weep alone. You were in shock. How? What? Why? were the only things running your mind. “It’s not… true?” you try to make yourself believe as you run up to the second floor of the suite, to your bedroom. Your cheeky husband’s just running a prank on you and even got Suguru and his dad’s assistant on board. 

“Toru? Baby?” You say as you see the bed still pristinely made, just as the cleaners would’ve left it last Friday. “Satoru, this is a very bad joke. Come out, I’m not mad I promise.” Tears keep streaming down your cheeks as you make yourself believe in denial. Sooner, you’d call his best friend to ask where he is.

Suguru didn’t need to ring the doorbell for you to open the door for him. He’d already asked you to text him the passcode. It was kinda foresight on his part that you’d be a crying, confused mess so he took the initiative. 

And just as expected, he arrives to see you hiccuping and sobbing alone on the living room floor. He approaches you slowly, “Hey, [name]. I’m here.” 

In his head, he thinks that this situation is royally fucked up. You’re an absolute mess and he’s also a mess. Everyone’s a fucking mess with Satoru lying almost lifeless in a hospital bed and with you who’s yet to find out the state your husband is in.

Quickly wiping you tears and composing yourself, you try your best to greet Suguru, albeit in between sobs. “O-oh, G-geto-san! I-uh didn’t notice you e-enter.” Seeing your state, he decides that you’d need a primer for the events that happened in your absence.

“Have you eaten? I can whip up a quick breakfast for you.” He says as he places his hands on your shoulders and ushers you towards the breakfast counter. 

“I’m fine… I-I’m n-not really h-hungry,” you try to steady your breath and words. The man before you is unrelenting though, he’s already rummaging through the fridge and has had water boiling in the kettle.

“Y’know, I’m usually never this enthusiastic about breakfast but I’m starving!” He turns around with eggs and a few tomatoes in his hands, “would you be a peach and make us warm tea? I already started the kettle.” His warm grin and presence grounds you for a moment and wordlessly follow his request. The raven-haired man huffs a breath of relief seeing you open some of the drawers for tea bags and sweeteners. 

A few moments later, as he tosses the eggs around the pan, you speak again. “Geto-san… Satoru… is he– um, he’s just working on weekends again isn’t he?” Your voice starts to shake as you steep both teas.

Perhaps there’s really no way he can tell his friend, his best friend’s wife, that her husband’s currently comatose for rushing home to catch her. The finishes off the eggs with a dash of salt and turned off the range.

“There’s no soft way I can break this to you [name]…” Only then did you have the courage to look into his eyes. “Satoru’s currently in a coma. He got into a terrible car accident.”

He’s gauging your reaction. He’s purposely omitted the fact that his best friend ran multiple red lights and sped beyond limits because he caught word of you coming home. It would break you, and blame your self as the reason he’s in a vegetative state. “No… N-no you’re kidding… this is just some silly prank he got you in.” You chuckle without a trace of humor. 

The man in front of you wordlessly plates the eggs and stale bread. “C’mon, eat up. I’ll take you to him.”

Suguru was patient enough to help you clean up yourself as he helped you to the bathroom and even got you a fresh set of clothes on the bed. But the gravity of the truth only weighs on you as you sit in the passenger seat and the familiar city streets and the hospital comes into view.

While the elevator lifts you up, your palms start to sweat; as if mirroring the events this morning but with more melancholy than ever. The sterile scent of the hospital is making your stomach sick and all you want to do is throw up.

You never liked being inside the hospital. It serves as a reminder of sadness, grief and death. And right now as Suguru leads you toward the VIP ward, your hands start to tremble and your pace starts to slow down.

Before the raven-haired man opens the door, you quickly grab his wrist, “Geto-san, I-I can’t. I’ll come back when he’s better.” You turn to leave and he is quick to grab your arms to stop you. 

“Hey, I know this is harder for you, more than anyone else, I’m the only one who understands that. But please, for Satoru,” he says with a squeeze to your arms. With tears brimming, you nod, and he let’s one hand go to slide the door open. 

When Suguru thought that this was a royally fucked up situation, he never meant it to snowball into this royally fucked up situation.

The moment after he slid the door open and you entered the room, he’s met by Satoru’s mother. And upon seeing your presence behind him, the woman immediately reached for you to slap you square in the face “You have some gall to show up here!! You witch!! How dare you! How dare you come see my son when you’re the reason he’s here.” 

It all happened so fast that Suguru couldn’t stop the older woman from her rage and protect you from her misplaced anger. But still, he comes between you and Mrs. Gojo, “Auntie, please… not in front of Satoru… not like this… please.”

By that, the older woman’s cold, hatred-filled gaze had befallen Geto. “And you! I’m disappointed! You’re his best friend, how could you bring the very woman that’s the cause of my son’s suffering!”

“I apologize for not informing you beforehand, but she’s his wife. I’m certain that Satoru would want his wife to be here if he were awake.” 

Trying to make yourself smaller, you just stood there shaking and silently crying, not registering how the confrontation is going down. What did she mean that it’s all your fault? You were the cause of all this? What did you do.

You tried to peek a glance out of Suguru’s broad shoulders, only managing to see the foot end of Satoru’s bed and hearing the beeping of various monitors. 

Satoru’s in a coma. Your husband, your lover, is in a partial deathbed because of… you. Bile and guilt rises up, so you did what any coward would’ve done: you ran out.

Hearing the door slide open, Geto quickly turns to look at you only to see you take off. He immediately calls your name and runs off to follow you, his pace increasing as he tries to catch you, and he does.

Before you were able to enter the elevator, a hand grabs your arm which you try to shrug off. “Geto-s-san let go.” The man doesn’t, he wraps you in his arms instead; and there you cry even harder.

Geto feels… sad for you. He couldn’t ever imagine the pain you’re in at this moment as you keep saying ‘I’m sorry’s over and over again, in between your sobs. The best he could do was offer you a hug and pats on your back as you cried hard.

Suguru was kind enough to lead you to the hospital’s roof top garden to take a seat. He just let you cry all your tears, only offering pats on your back and a shoulder to cry on. Sooner the sobs and hiccups die down. Geto stood to get something to drink from the vending machine. 

It seems mundane to sit in silence with the cold lemon beverage in your hand. Except, nothing about this is normal. This is a hospital, your husband is here, unconscious and barely living, and it’s supposedly all your fault. 

By now, no more tears are left to be cried, you’re just staring blankly as if a void has materialized in front of you. “Geto-san, what did she mean by that?”

The man swallows dryly, thinking of ways to ease the information to you. “Hmm… you mean Satoru’s mom?” He tries to play the nonchalant one but your lack of any reaction nor reply tells him that he should just lay everything out in the open.

“Investigations during the day of the crash points to you and him having a conflict… The police said that the circumstantial evidences lead them to believe that he was driving beyond city speed limits distracted.” There’s no reaction from you so he continues.

“The footage on the black box of his car showed that he was talking to someone in haste… That he was trying to call someone repeatedly… It all pointed to you when the call registry log they had retrieved showed 28 missed calls to your number.”

Your nails start to fidget along the rim of the unopened can. So it’s like that. Have you not shut off your phone then you wouldn’t be here in this shithole. Have you just stopped being selfish and texted him of your plans and whereabouts then none of these things would have happened. 

A hand on your shoulder is enough to snap you out from your thought. Turning to Geto, you give him a sad smile, “I’m sorry… I know I’ve been saying that for the past hour… but she’s right…”

The canned drink is taken from you and Geto opens it. “You don’t have to believe that. None of this is your fault. Hell, you weren’t even the one driving that goddamn truck. It was all… just… bad timing.” Geto tries consoling you. It’s true. It’s called an accident for a reason. No one wanted it to happen in the first place. He gets up and you just look at the hand he’s offering. 

“So come, let’s go see Satoru,” he says with a gentle smile. The way you looked down at the drink and sipped on it is so melancholic. Shaking your head, “His mom is probably still there… I should just head home… and come another day…”

The older man just clicks his tongue. “Y’know that shouldn’t stop you from seeing him? You’re literally his wife. Plus, I have a feeling she left the hospital already. When have my hunches ever been wrong?” You resign with a sigh, stood up, and threw away the half empty can. 

Actually, as Geto got you a drink, he already texted Satoru’s father of what had happened. He hoped that it would be enough to take wife off the hospital premises so that you could see your husband.

To yours and Geto’s dismay, Mrs. Gojo didn’t leave just yet. However, she wasn’t alone. Her husband is also in the room when they got there. Seemingly, this quelled the older woman’s anger that she held for you. “Auntie, sir” Geto says and you join him as he offers them a bow. 

You don’t look any of them in the eye. Well, it’s rather difficult and you do have shame. After all, this was mostly your doing that their son is in that state. What shocked you is Seishiro Gojo approaching you; who gave you a brief hug.

“Welcome home [name]. It’s a relief to see you back.” The older man’s voice is stern yet there’s softness underneath. He is the first to welcome you back ever since you stormed out of your home earlier this week, and gosh did it feel so comforting. 

Among all the members of the Gojo clan, apart from Satoru, he treated you the nicest. You’d even say that he welcomed you as a daughter and not just an outsider to the family, even though that only happened after Satoru fought neck and neck with his whole family the day he proposed to you. 

You didn’t know what to say to him so you expressed your gratitude and kept your head low once again. This earned a snide remark from his wife, “Tsk, there’s no point in this farce Shiro.”

“Enough of that nonsense, she is family as much as anyone else in the Gojo family, and we are not doing this in front of Satoru.” It ends at that. Though you know for a fact that Mrs. Gojo will never let it go, ever. Because that’s just the type of woman she is.

After all the not-so-pleasant pleasantries, you finally got to see Satoru as a whole. It pains you to see him hooked to multiple tubes that’s probably there to help him stay alive. He looks paler than he usually is. There’s multiple minor cuts on his cheek, his brows and his chin. His forehead covered by gauze, which you’re assuming he’s suffered a fatal blow to his head. 

The sight made you tear up again. Slowly, you walk towards his bed and with shaky hands, you reach for him. His hand feels warm and you think that’s a good sign. “Hi Satoru, I’m home,” you whisper and a single tear streaks down your cheek.

It takes you a long moment to absorb the feeling of being near him again. At the end of the day, he’s your person as much as you’re his’. 

“I’m home… so…” Your eyelids shut close as you try to anchor yourself in this reality. “Wake up baby… please…” you whisper desperately, clutching his free hand. 

Geto suggested that you stay here for the night as Satoru’s watcher, to which Mr. Gojo had agreed with. His mom was adamant and quick to leave a snide remark but couldn’t really go against the final word of her husband. 

Soon the older couple left. Geto stayed for a while to answer some of your questions and got you take out before going back to the penthouse to get you an exchange of clothes.

As you sat on a stool beside your husband’s sleeping form, you couldn’t help but remember the last time you saw him. He asked, no… he pleaded for you to stay. That’s what probably hurts you the most; he practically begged you to release your anger and pain by hurt him physically so you don’t need to leave. You’d never do it, but now you regret leaving. Fuck. Sleeping in the guest bedroom would’ve given you the solitude you sought that night!

“Satoru… I’m sorry. I’m so… so… sorry I left.” The tears didn’t come as you tried to hold it in. You don’t deserve to cry, not with your husband’s current status. 

Geto returns with a gym bag full of your clothes. He’s met by your hunched sleeping form, hand still clutching Satoru’s. He leaves a note on the bedside table and drapes a thin blanket on your shoulders. He hopes that you can ride the wave and see it through. You’re strong, he’s sure.

Days passed. Weeks passed. 

Unable to commit to a full time at the law firm, you turned in your resignation letter and hoped they can understand the situation you are in. Law school semester continued and you try to juggle it along with looking after Satoru.

It’s been a month since the accident and you’re barely functioning outside the hospital. Partly, the reason for resigning was because you wanted to lessen the time you spent away from Satoru. He can wake up at any moment and you need to be there when he does.

Anyone who knows of your situation would tell you that it’s difficult to balance classes and taking care of your sick husband. It is. But you’d endure this for another year if it means that there is always a chance for him to wake up.

Besides, you plan on finishing this last semester so you can focus more on him. It’s almost mid-sem so it’s just a few more weeks before it’s over. 

Everyday you talk to Satoru about your day. Sometimes you narrate a case that was assigned as a reading material and tell him the process on how you dissect it clause by clause, paragraph by paragraph. It’s futile though. He’s unresponsive. But people always say they can hear us speak to them. It’s never too wrong to try.

Geto drops by weekly to check on both of you. He had suggested you write down your day on a notebook so that when he wakes up, he’d still get filled in on the things he’d missed. His mother often comes as well. You know because flowers are constantly changed and replenished. Albeit, you don’t see her as often. You think she comes in the day when you’re in class.

Some nights are just harder than the others, you’d often wake up by your phone’s alarm, nose dived into your books and laptop after you passed out from studying all night or breaking down as you try to get your readings done.

Day to day life since you came back has been on auto-pilot mode. It’s a cycle of rinse and repeat. You wake up, check on Satoru, attend class, go back, check on Satoru again, study… it just circles back. So it is not a surprise that you passed out on the way to one of the lecture hall your class was held in. 

White popcorn ceilings were the first to register in your line of vision as you opened your eyes. You assume that you’re in the university’s infirmary. You lay there for a few more minutes before the cream curtains are slightly drawn.

“Oh you’re awake! I’m Nurse Minato, you’ve been brought here after you passed out in the hallway… do you remember that?” You simply nod.

She does some physical tests on you to see if you’re still coherent and asks you some questions on your lifestyle, which you all answered truthfully and concisely… except for your monthly cycle.

“Alright, how about your cycle? Notice anything unusual?” She asks, eyes planted on the clipboard and scribbling down things. You remain silent, forehead scrunched down. Things were too hectic for you that you never really noticed if you had it the past 2 and a half months. 

“Um… I’ve been too stressed out lately so I haven’t really noticed. Do you have my bag? I have a tracking app.” The nurse pulls out a caddy from under your bed and hands you your bookbag. 

Opening the app quickly, you see that your cycle prediction show that your period’s been delayed for around 73 days. Now it’s not always accurate, but 73 days is extreme.

“Uh… it says here that I’ve been delayed for 73 days.” With that she stops scribbling and slowly looks up to meet your eyes. She says nothing and gets up to grab something from the cabinet fixtures within the room. 

“Are you sexually active?”

Then it dawns on you. It is highly possible. The last time you had sex with your husband was when he returned from an overseas business trip to France. That was 2 weeks prior to your heated argument. 

“Not at the moment… but I…had last contact with my husband a few months back.” She simply hums and hands you a pregnancy test. “Restroom is at the back. Come back when you’re done okay?”

You stare at the box as if it’s done you wrong. The possibility of pregnancy is actually high considering that night, Satoru asked you to hit it raw until you agreed. You laugh humorlessly. What great timing! The one time you have sex without the condom and he’s able to plant one in you?

Setting a timer, you follow the box instructions and collect your pee sample. Each passing second was agitating and had you shifting your weight from one foot to another, arms hugging your torso. What then if it reads two pink lines? 

The timer blares and echoes in the confined space of the restroom. The irony of it all is that the baby you and Satoru had argued awfully about will be here in a few months. Fuck.

[hischierswhore]

heyy!! could u write a fic based on the video and kai and sophia where the documentary follows christian and his girlfriend (maybe two or three years) around?

(if she is a lawyer or something, that would be very lovely!)

a day in the life

pairing: Christian Pulisic x Reader

TW: none

“Hey everyone. It’s Christian Pulisic here, and today I will be showing you guys what a normal day in my life looks like” Christian says as he holds the front door open for the cameraman to enter. You were still upstairs in your shared bedroom, finishing getting ready for class. You were currently in law school to become a lawyer.

“Usually I wake up, say goodmorning to my girlfriend and then prepare breakfast for the both of us. We usually alternate with our cooking schedule depending on whether or not she has class that day. On our days off, she usually cooks a larger & more thought out meal for us, while I usually whip something up quickly for the both of us to eat whenever we have early morning plans” He shrugged as he made his way to the kitchen.

You could hear movement in the kitchen, so you assumed Christian and your guests were there. Once you had finished zipping up your boots, you made your way downstairs. You entered the kitchen to see Christian rummaging through your refrigerator while the cameraman sat at the island, holding the camera still on the countertop.

“Hi” You whispered to Chris as you walked behind him, causing him to turn around and acknowledge your presence.

“Morning, sleeping beauty” He smiled as he leaned down and pulled you in for a quick kiss. Moments after, you turned around and acknowledged the camera.

“Hi everyone!” You smiled towards everyone in the room before turning around and grabbing two glasses to pour some juice into.

“Are you good with a bagel or did you want something else?” Christian asked you as he made his way around the kitchen.

“A bagel sounds perfect. Thank you Chris” You replied before sliding past him to grab the jug of juice from the fridge.

“So Chris, would you say it’s hard to manage your time evenly between football and your personal life?” The interviewer asked him as you sat down at the small dining table for two. You watched Chris put away the spread before bringing both places to you and seating himself across from you, all while the camera slowly panned to your seats.

“I would say it’s been difficult at times. I mean, Y/n is a law student so she’s constantly busy and I’m usually at a match or at training. We’ve been together for a little over 3 years now, so we’ve gotten the hang of things but there are times when we find ourselves a bit too busy and unable to spend time together” Chris spoke honestly before looking over at you, signaling if you wanted to add anything.

“That’s why we cherish and enjoy our days off so much. You’d think that living together would allow us to see each other more often, but 80% of the time that’s not the case. We’ve both got really busy schedules and we try to designate at least one day a week to just relax and enjoy each other's company” You added.

“Y/n, when and how did you & Christian meet?” The interviewer turned the conversation over to you.

“It was actually when he played for Dortmund. I was visiting some family and they invited me to attend a BVB match with them. I went and we had great seats, like right behind the bench. Mind you, I didn’t know any of the players or anything. After the match had ended, I was getting up from my seat when he came over to me and just started a conversation before asking for my number” You looked over at Christian to see him blushing like a madman.

“Did you guys start dating after that?”

“We talked for a bit, but we didn’t start dating until a year after we met” Chris added

“If you could go back and do it all again, would you?”

“Without a doubt” You smiled at Chris to see him smiling at you as well.

You both finished eating, kindly asking if the cameraman could stop recording for a few minutes while you ate, to which he respected and shut the camera off before walking into the other room. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ After you both finished eating, you went back upstairs to brush your teeth before grabbing your bag to leave for class. You jogged down the stairs, seeing Christian in the middle of answering a question the interviewer had asked him. You didn’t want to interrupt, so you waved at him and blew him an air kiss. Christian’s eyes focused on you when you got to the bottom of the stairs, noticing your movements before you turned to leave.

“Wait Y/n” He called for you as he made his way out of the kitchen and to the foyer, where you were standing, to say goodbye.

“Give me my goodbye kiss” He teased as you got on your tiptoes and pressed your lips to his. You felt his arms wrap themselves around your waist as he pulled you in for a hug. You copied his actions, instead wrapping your arms around his neck. You both stayed like this for a moment before pulling away. You reached for your bags but Christian beat you to them.

“No no no, this is my daily routine” He joked with you as he held the front door open for you. You both got lost in the moment, clearly forgetting that he was in the middle of an interview. He carried your bags to your car and shut the passenger seat while you situated your bags properly beside you.

You rolled the driver’s side window down to speak to him briefly before you left. He bent to the height of the car and rested his elbows on the spot where the windows would be. “Text me when you get there, alright?” He asked as you nodded.

“I will. Do you have training today?”

“Nah, I was booked for press today & tomorrow, but tomorrow’s plans got cancelled so I’ve got a free day”

“Maybe we can plan a picnic or something for tomorrow since you’re free now”

“Whatever you want, princess”

“Alright well I’ve gotta get going or else I’ll be late”

“Bye, Y/n. Have a good day, I love you”

“I love you too, Chris. See you later” You smiled as you put your car in reverse and drove off, waving at Christian before you drove out of the community.

Moments later, you received the notification through your Apple Carplay that Christian had sent you a text. You clicked for Siri to read it out loud since you were driving and could not look at your phone.

Siri: Christian said “As soon as you left, I turned around and realized the camera people were still here… LMFAO”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

taglist

@ithinkimokeei @myheartgoesvroom @mounthings @tall-tanned-tattoo @itsnotgray @alwaysclassyeagle @charlewiss @mortirolo @chelseagirl98 @lovelynikol16 @username-envy @pulisicsgirl @lizzypotter14 @bracedes @thoseboysinblue @swimmingismywholelife @neverinadream @pulisichavertz

[mostmouse]

Late Night Treat

Baxter gets home later after a work function to find you already took your nighttime medication and have passed out. However, that won't stop him from a little late night indulgence.

Baxter Ward x f!reader (mild spoilers for his DLC, 3,300 words, explicit)

You sighed heavily, whining softly. Baxter had texted you that he wasn’t able to make it home until late tonight - some event happening in the office that he had committed to going to. With his resolve to stop weasel out of things, you had encouraged him to attend and spend time with his coworkers and forge some connections. Although, you had to admit you were disappointed it would be going so late into the night.

Stretching out, you made your way to the bathroom, winding down for the night and sleeping the time apart from Baxter away. Stripping down, you put on a joint playlist the two of you had made and washed the stress of the day away. You were relieved it was a Friday night, you and Baxter could sleep in in the morning without a care in the world. 

Humming along and dancing slightly, you moved the bizarre mix of songs that came over the shower speaker. Eyeing your boyfriend’s body wash, you sighed contentedly as you opened it and inhaled the subtle manly scent of it. Holding the bottle to your chest, you giggled bashfully. Everything that reminded you of Baxter made you feel as giddy as a school girl. You were still in awe of finally ending up together again. 

It had been well over a year now that you two were together, and you were pleased to say the two of you lived together harmoniously the last couple months. Living a few towns apart wasn’t so bad, but it couldn’t compare to living together. Getting good night and good morning - and a lot of good afternoon - kisses couldn’t be beat, they were incredibly preferred to texts. 

Turning off the water, you toweled yourself off. Pursing your lips, you looked around suspiciously, as if your boyfriend would suddenly appear. Stealthily moving out of the bathroom without partaking in your usual shared skin care routine, you felt as if you were breaking the law. Laughing softly, you moved to the bedroom, turning down the sheets, and crawling in nude. 

You hoped Baxter would be home soon, and maybe wake you up for a quick midnight romp. Giggling to yourself, you moved to grab your nighttime medication, and with a quick drink of water, you settled down to pass out for the night, dreamily happily of your beloved.

Pulling into the apartment parking lot, Baxter sighed heavily, relaxing into the seat before hauling himself out of the car. Grabbing his blazer, he slowly made his way into the building, past the expansive fireplace, and into the elevator, pressing the little floor eleven button. Resting back against the wall, he looked up into the mirrored ceiling. 

You had sent him a goodnight text, so he wasn’t expecting you to be awake, but he couldn’t deny that a part of him hoped you were. Rubbing the back of his head, he made his way down the hall, unlocking the door and flicking on the entryway lights. Stretching his arms high above his head, he hung up the jacket by the door before making his way to the master bedroom.

Flicking the flights back off as he entered the hallway, he gently opened the door. Seeing all the lights out, he sighed, smiling softly. There you were, bundled up under the sheets and sleeping soundly, the soft sound of the fan joining the white noise machine on your bedside. 

Moving about as quietly as he could, he let his mind drift as he listened to the automated ocean sounds. The apartment was too inner city to hear the ocean properly, and while the white noise machine wasn’t the same, you had said it was close enough.

Stripping down completely, he rubbed his face with his palms. He didn’t feel up to showering, the socialization burning his motivational candle down. Messing up his perfectly swooped hair, he made his way to the bed, sliding into the sheets and immediately seeking out your warmth. However, he couldn’t help but grin as his hands met your soft bare skin. 

Licking his lips, he pulled the two of you closer to the center of the bed, gently turning you over. Seeing the serene look on your face almost had him feeling guilty, however, he knew you were very much okay with him waking you up for quality time together. He leaned down, kissing you softly, wanting to see how far he could go before you awoke. 

His eyes stayed half lidded, watching for your facial expression to change or for your beautiful eyes to flutter open. When you didn’t so much as make a peep, his warm brown eyes searched your nightstand. Grinning wolfishly, he saw your medication container empty for Friday night. Biting his lip, he tried to keep his newfound enthusiasm under check. Oh, he would most certainly be having his fun with you tonight, whether or not you woke up. 

Part of him hoped you didn’t wake up. That you’d sleep through him taking advantage of you while you were asleep, only to awaken in the morning leaking his cum and feeling sore. Kissing you once again, Baxter moaned as his hand came up to hold your cheek, easing your mouth open and petting your warm tongue with his. 

Sighing, he pressed tighter against you, hand leaving your face as they both slipped down to spread your legs open to fit him. Basking in the heat of your cunt against his somewhat hard shaft, his hands drifted along again, groping and pawing at your chest. Breaking from your kiss, he nibbled and bit your bottom lip instead, the skin flushing with warmth at his stimulation. 

Rocking his hips against yours slightly, he grinned as he heard your breath pick up. Soft sounds leaving your kissable lips as he pulled gently at your nipples. Dipping down, he continued the soft grinding of your hips together as he licked and sucked one of your sensitive nipples. Moaning softly, he swirled his tongue around before giving steady flat licks. 

You remained generally unresponsive, the only real reactions being the soft sounds and occasional panting as he worked you quickly just to drop back down again. Popping off one breast, he moved to the other, giving it the same soft treatment. However, as his eyes flicked up to your face, turned to the side with a warm flush across your cheeks, he sucked tighter and pulled up on your chest, teeth dragging along your nipple before it fell from his mouth. 

Your brows knitted together, a soft moan spilling from your now parted lips. He smirked to himself, turning his attention to your breasts once more. After your split that one summer, he found himself fantasizing about your body more often than he’d like to admit. Every time he had the utmost pleasure to see you in your swimsuit was another cherished memory he would unpack when he was hard and pining for you. 

One hand groped your opposite breast while he licked and sucked your nipples back and forth. Biting around your soft skin, he made sure to leave marks all across your chest. If you weren’t sore from how he planned on pounding you, then you’d have all his sweet marks to show you his nighttime activities as well. 

Leaning back, he admired his work in the low light of the bedroom. Your arms were tossed up by your head, hair messy around your pillow, and your perfect nude body spread out beneath him. Licking his lips, he openly leered at your snoozing form, hand stroking his fully hard cock. 

Biting his lip, he grabbed for his phone blindly on his nightstand, changing the setting to low light as he snapped a few pictures of you. Leaning in close, he took closer shots of your bitten and marked chest, groping you for a few of the pictures. Grinning, he tossed it aside to grab for later once he was finished with you. 

Letting his hands slide over your belly, they drifted down to hold your inner thighs. Rubbing his thumbs across your skin, he massaged your plump legs as he admired your shining cunt. You weren’t nearly as wet as he would like you to be, but it wouldn’t be a problem. Considering you had yet to even be roused from sleep, he’d take this little round of love making for his own pleasure. He’d make it up to you in the morning. 

One hand moved to cup you, fingers gently stroking you. He watched your expression closely, brown eyes half lidded as he slipped a digit inside. Moaning softly to himself, his gaze dipped down, admiring how he fit so well inside, the familiar feeling of your hot cunt wrapped around his fingers. 

Feeling how slick you were, he slipped another digit inside, the pace slow and methodical. Gaze once again admiring you, he used his other hand to push your thigh open, spreading your cunt and letting him push his fingers deeper inside. He watched as your brows pinched together, breath coming out in pants as you whined slightly. 

Using his knee to keep your leg spread, he leaned down to rest on his forearm next to your head. Kissing your forehead, he moved his hand faster. “That’s my good girl, can you hear me, darling? You’re being so wonderful for me.” You whimpered in your sleep, hand loosely curling into a fist, with no strength behind your movements. 

Baxter grinned, dark hair falling to rest on your forehead. Biting your bottom lip, he tugged slightly, your mouth opening once more and basking in your moans. Readjusting his wrist, he slipped another finger inside, listening as you let out a low cry, hips moving just slightly. It was obvious you were trying to wake up, but your sleeping medication was keeping you sedated. 

He pressed a kiss to your open mouth, slipping his tongue inside and touching yours as it moved restlessly against his. Hooking his fingers, he pressed up towards your gspot. Breaking away, he watched as you choked on a gasp of air, his thumb teasing your shy clit. It wasn’t enough teasing for either to become swollen enough to have you screaming, but he was content with that. Afterall, he wanted to use you for his own pleasure tonight. 

Slipping his fingers out of you, he licked them clean idly as he watched your body calm back down. His cock was flushed and throbbing, and he knew if you were awake and coherent, you’d be begging him to let you suck him off. He moaned at the thought, cleaned digits wrapping around himself as he so clearly could hear you in his head begging to blow him. “You’re a naughty little minx, aren’t you, my love?” 

Lustful eyes traced over your features, his gaze hot and heavy as he admired you. Moving so he could grip both your legs, he propped them up on his hips, pinning one as he guided his shaft to your slick cunt. Once the tip slipped in, he tilted his head back and moaned. Your heat was incredible, it made his head fuzzy as soon as he felt it, warming up his chest and heart. 

Swallowing, he held your legs wide open, watching his cock as it slipped inside a bit deeper. Of course, you weren’t aroused enough for it to be an easy fit, but he was excited to see how tight you’d feel. Half lidded gaze watched your face as he pulled back a bit to sink into your heat once more. Releasing a shaky breath, he moved one leg to rest flat against his toned chest. Using his now free hand, he rested it next to your head on the pillow, watching you closely for any signs of pain as he freely used your body. 

Baxter rocked his hips easily against yours, content with the slow progress and your sleepy body. He took the time to admire you, watching as your chest bounced with every subtle move of his hips, how your brows knitted together, moaning softly but not waking up. His hand fisted the fabric. He couldn’t help but think how easy it would be to wake you up, to shove himself inside and wait for you to adjust that way. 

But he wanted you to stay asleep. There hadn’t yet been a time where you either stayed fully asleep or just as quickly fell back asleep, he wanted to make your dreamy fantasy a reality, and so far it looked like tonight would be that night.

Hissing slightly, he felt your muscles tighten around him, groaning as his hips bucked deeper inside you instinctively. Freezing in place, he panted, watching as you writhed gently. “‘ax... ahh.” Your voice was soft and low, rough with sleep. Smirking, he smugly wondered what you were dreaming about, you were positively ravishing enough, but hearing you try to say his name as you were fully unconscious while he was fucking you made him eager to know what was happening in your dreams. 

As if answering his inner monologue, he felt your tight cunt unfurl around him slightly, a wave of heat and wetness washing over him as he shuddered. Licking his lips, he propped the leg in his hand a bit higher, moving his hips just a bit faster. 

Pulling out slightly, he pushed in deeper. Your broken moans and small cries encouraging him further. He couldn’t help but pant slightly, your impossibly tight cunt and burning heat working him up. “Fuck, you feel so good. Too bad you’re not awake, darling, I just know how you’d love to see me fuck you.” 

Biting his now sore lip once more, he leaned back, spreading your legs wide open, wincing as your hips popped, he pushed inside. You squeezed him tight, like the vice grip you had when you were in the throes of pleasure and climaxing. Wincing, he focused on moving slowly but forcefully, pressing himself deep inside until he felt himself pressed to the hilt. 

Opening his mouth, he let himself pant heavily, peering down at your joined bodies, and moaning hotly at the sight of his swollen cock pressed flush against you. Swallowing thickly, he moved your legs to rest on either side of his narrow hips, groping the sheets for his phone. 

Grabbing it, he sat back on his heels, the position forcing your legs to spread wide open, displaying your perfect cunt with his lengthy cock shoved fully inside you. Taking a few pictures, he played idly with your clit, recording how you fluttered around him, your muscles pulsing around his shaft. Groaning, he rocked into you slowly and gently. 

Moving to rest the camera by your face, he used his fingers to slide your mouth open, his digits resting on your tongue as you remained blissfully unaware. Locking his phone once more, he lifted your legs back up, pulling nearly all the way out before snapping his hips back into you. He smirked as you cried out, face twisting but not awaking. 

Smirk morphing into a wolfish grin, he slid both legs to be pressed against his chest. Anchoring his hands on either side of your head, right by where your own hands rested, he began to fuck you in earnest. Panting as he bucked his hips against you, he moaned loudly, wanton gaze watching you. 

You whimpered and groaned, soft pants and moans escaping you with every solid thrust. Soon, Baxter watched with smug satisfaction as your eyes cracked open, blearly gaze unable to meet his. Letting himself fall to his forearms, he kept his quick and deep pace as he watched you. 

It was obvious you weren’t awake, or coherent, but still he found himself talking with you. “Beautiful, absolute perfection- ah! You’re so- fuck, so amazing. Such a good girl, your body knows to take my cock, not even hard to fuck you while you’re-” He his his face in your shoulder, shuddering as you tighted around him. Were you able to comprehend his dirty talk? 

Biting you on your neck, you couldn’t help but cry out, your legs pinned between you and your salacious boyfriend. “B-Baxter-” He moaned loudly in your ear, making you clench down on him, as he heard you moan his name. 

“Ahh~ Is my little darling awake? Such a dirty girl, going to bed with no panties- fuck! You were begging me to fuck you once I got home, weren’t you?” Drool was pooling in his mouth as your heavy hands moved to rest on the back of his head and on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin. 

“Ahh!~ Baxter, p-please! Fuck!” You took the opportunity to bite him, leaving marks across his pale skin, bruises and red marks showing easily and quickly. “C-Can’t, damn it, I can’t- ahh~” His pace quickened as you felt the edges of sleep overtake you once more. 

Baxter leaned back, watching smugly as you tried to fight off sleep, your sedatives not allowing you to stay awake. Your hands slowly fell from his body, coming to rest on either side of your hips. Licking his lips, he anchored his feet into the sheets, pressing your hips higher with his own as he began to pound you harder. 

You continued to blearly watch him, eyes unseeing as you moaned and panted broken syllables of his name. He basked in your body and trust, letting your heat wash over him as he felt his body tense. “Fuck, so close, ahh! Don’t worry, my l-love, I’ll give you every bit of my cum, fuck! Gonna pump you full, ahhh~” He was wanton above you, cheeks flushed down his chest, body rosy as he felt his climax coming. 

His hips stuttered, the salacious sounds of your joined bodies echoing around him, the impossible heat of your cunt surrounding him, squeezing his cock and smothering him. Panting, he cried out your name as he felt himself lose his rhythm. Kissing you sloppily and wetly, he felt himself cum inside your perfectly tight cunt. Jerking his hips, he dumped every bit inside of you, willing strength in his arms as he hovered above you. 

Your face was pinched as you felt him inside you, unable to burst through the heavy fog of sleep as you vaguely heard Baxter speak to you. You could feel his warm hands on your face and body, and as he touched you, you felt yourself fall into a deep slumber once more. 

Baxter watched as your face relaxed completely, smiling as you fell back into a deep sleep. Rolling his shoulders, he groaned as your hips moved against him. Licking his lips and swallowing his mouthful of drool, he slowly and gently moved your legs down, rubbing your thighs as he did so. Settling his weight on his knees, he gently eased himself from your burning body. 

He couldn’t help but moan as his cock slipped from you completely, a bit of cum leaking out of you down your slit. Grinning wolfishly, he used his fingers to swipe it up and press it back inside of you. Moaning at the sight, he grabbed his phone once more, taking a handful of photos with his cum leaking out and his fingers pushing it back in. He readjusted his wrist, holding your slit open as thick cum slowly leaked from your pulsing cunt. 

Tossing his phone aside for the last time for the night - early morning? - he moved you to rest on your side, grabbed the blankets he had kicked down, and settled in right next to you. Deep brown eyes watched your face softly, love blossoming inside him euphorically. He brought you close, one arm wrapped around you, letting the other slip under the pillow, and tangling his legs with yours.

Sighing contentedly, Baxter allowed himself to relax with you in his arms. Feeling the exhaustion of the night catch up with him, he felt himself go limp before falling asleep beside you. 

[mydevilofhellskitchen]

“fuck you matt, i swear” you seethed, turning on your heel to get your bag and walk away from him. “yeah you wish, honey. maybe that’s where all your angers coming from” he chuckled. something snapped in you “what is making your ego so big murdock?” you almost shouted “playing the blind card to get all the ladies is your only trick”. he scoffed “no, i think they were just attracted to me, and my academic abilities of course” his voice twinged with sarcasm, but you knew that he meant every word he said, you wished he could see you scornfully look at him. “academic abilities? you fucked your way to the top in law school” you muttered, finally bringing your voice down. before matt could get the last word in, you tried to walk off “you’re jealous because you weren’t one of them” matt smiled, “you think i want to fuck you? you’re delusional” you whipped, turning round for one last glance before you walked away.

matt and you were frenemies, with unspoken sexual tension. you, him and foggy all attended law school together. matt, top of his class, took every chance to ridicule you for your lawyer abilities. this often led to public disputes, shouting down the phone, and bickering like a married couple….

should i continue this?? thoughts

[maniacwatchestheworld]

What if: Bruce Wanye, Harvey Dent, Vlad Masters, Jack and Maddie Fenton, all went to college together?

Hmmm... Not a bad idea... I wouldn't think that Vlad, Jack, and Maddie would be likely to go to Gotham University, but I suppose it's possible! I have doubts that they would mix much though without a series of very specific coincidences though! lol

Like, Bruce went mostly to study medicine and probably criminology. Harvey went to study law. Bruce and Harvey were roommates. I don't really know what Vlad, Jack, and Maddie would have been studying... Likely something like engineering...? History...? Mythology...? They might have shared some core and prerequisite classes together, but I imagine that Bruce and Harvey would have run in much different circles than Vlad, Maddie, and Jack, not to mention having been in much different departments. :p

If anything, Bruce might have been in some of the trio's classes because of course Bruce would have been trying to take as many classes as possible! And I can see Vlad trying his damnedest to get close to Bruce. But Bruce can smell someone trying to kiss his ass from a mile away and wouldn't be too keen on getting to know Vlad because of it... Until Jack and Maddie came into the room! Bruce would probably like Jack and Maddie and the energy they bring to the table! Even if he thinks that their whole ghost obsession is pretty silly and not very useful at all. But from there the 5 might become friends. But obviously they couldn't have been super close given that Vlad apparently had no visitors after the ecto-accident, and where he might reject Jack's company, he likely would have let Bruce visit. (And let's face it. Bruce would maybe try to fix Vlad because he's like that...)

Additionally, it's possible that they could have all been on the football team together. Sounds like something that Bruce and Harvey would do... As well as Vlad and Jack...

In college though, I can see Harvey getting along pretty well with Vlad. Though Harvey is quite obviously WAAAAAAY cooler than Vlad! Jack and Maddie can give Harvey a well-earned reprieve from his law studies lol. But they probably didn't keep much in touch after undergrad. Vlad was in the hospital, Harvey went to graduate (law) school, Bruce went to do his Batman training, and Jack and Maddie went off to... Do their thing... And have kids. :p

Don't really know how their dynamic would be after several years apart from one another without keeping in touch... Or why they would try to meet back up after that many years. I have doubts that Harvey or Bruce would care to attend their college reunion. Bruce miiiiiight go to Jack and Maddie if he needs some ghost insight that he can't get otherwise. But I have NO idea what Harvey would want from Jack, Maddie, or Vlad. Vlad might try to run in the same circles as Bruce, but Bruce likely would not run into him very often, in spite of Vlad's efforts lol (Bruce is too busy being Batman and so while people are reporting him being at every fancy event in Gotham, he only stays there long enough for people to be able to report him being there before leaving again.) If anything, Bruce would be keeping an eye on Vlad purely to see if he's up to any criminal activity. The moment he can get solid evidence on Vlad, you can bet your ass that college friendship or no, Vlad is GOING to go to jail the moment he sets foot in Gotham again! And if Vlad became one of Batman's rogues... Well... He would be running in the same circles as Harvey again! But I think that Two-Face would mercilessly and constantly bully him lol. Vlad can try to bite back all he wants, but Harvey and Two-Face have the one thing that Vlad doesn't. Confidence and comfort in being themselves (they just don't like having to share those things with each other). Also while it would be difficult for Harvey and Two-Face to get weapons that can effect ghosts, it sure as hell wouldn't be impossible! So like... If Vlad tries to get too smart with them, they could always just shoot him. How willing would Vlad be to shoot back?

Also imagine if Harley Quinn and Jonathan Crane were also at Gotham University at the same time. Could be very entertaining. :p

[randombookposts]

Canaan University Au

Ok I thought of a college au for the locked tomb a awhile ago but I never bothered to write it down until now. Anyways I think they would all go to this imaginary university in New Zealand and it’s like the first book but with a lot less murder. Here’s what I think each house would study

Judith- Criminal justice major. Huge stickler for rules and doing homework. If she’s not in the gym reading a textbook while doing push-ups, she’s in the library getting into a heated debate with a Corona. Had a huge crush on Marta and went to the same college as her to hangout, just getting over it, may or may not have feelings for Corona, maybe.

Marta- In law school, was a mentor to Judith when she was in high school and that’s how they know each other. Gently turned Judith down but they’re still friends and study together sometime. Is the DD at every party.

Corona: Majoring in marketing with a minor in fashion merchandising. Doesn’t do great on tests but aces every presentation. President of her sorority. Can and will gaslight frat boys. Everyone wants her but she only has eyes for the stuck up criminal justice major.

Ianthe- Management major with a minor in maybe finance. Commits tax fraud and gets away with it. Sometimes does Corona’s homework for her. Doxxes people online (mostly Babs), smokes in the dorm hallways. Flirts with Harrow during their study sessions, which Harrow ignores.

Naberius- Economics major, and major fuck boy. Makes thirst traps and is doxxed. Hangs out with the twins even though they bully him. Doesn’t do shit during group projects. Will get a job at his dads company post graduation.

Jeannemary and Isaac don’t go to college but are tutored by Abigail at her house. They just silly teens who experiment with makeup and clothes to find their look. Talk loudly about anime in the school hallways. A little cringe but they’re doing their best.

Abigail- Anthropology professor and is really cool. Tough grader but genuinely loves her students and shares trivia with them. Brings donuts to test days. Will accidentally derail class to talk about books or her husband. If one of her students brings up one of the incredibly niche topics she likes, she will talk about it for hours.

Magnus- Not a teacher but visits Abigail's classes often. Nice guy, helps look after Jeannemary and Isaac. I'm not sure what he would do as a job, maybe chef or stay at home husband lol. Regardless, he's the one making all the meals.

Palamedes- Pre-med, wants to become a doctor so he can save Dulcinea save people. Smartest guy in the room always, a go to for anyone struggling with their biology homework. Has a friendly rivalry with Harrow (it's more rivalry than friendly for Harrow but she grows fond of him over time). Is the one derailing class with philosophical debates.

Camilla- Physics major, too cool for you. Really into sports, just not sure which, like gymnastics or soccer or rugby or fencing. Works hard but actually remembers to eat and sleep too. Probably in student government as well. Her and Palamedes are attached at the hip, they later get an apartment together and that's where all the main hangouts with the other characters happen.

Dulcinea- Suffers from chronic illness and focuses her life on learning and traveling rather than getting a traditional job. She's got multiple degrees in stuff like literature, philosophy, and art history. She is active on social media and has a blog, and sells crocheted animals on Etsy. Became mutuals with Pal and Camilla on social media and they met up later when they went off to college.

Protesilaus- Dulcie's caretaker, helps her with her medical stuff. Becomes like a cool uncle figure to her and her friends. Hangs out a lot with Ortus and they share poetry.

Silas- Double major in theology and philosophy. Freaky teen prodigy who graduated high school early and attends university. Little shit who people are either freaked out by or straight up just don't like him. Will snitch on anyone for anything he doesn't like. Really only friends with Colum.

Colum- Silas' nephew, but way older than him, weird dynamic. Not in school but drives Silas to his classes and Silas lives with him during the school year instead of in the dorms. Nice guy, looks out for Silas' well being the best he can but tries to keep him from being too nasty to others.

Harrow- Double major in theology and archeology. Studies at all hours and forgets to eat and sleep. Local cryptid. Autistic with special interests in religion and burial rituals. Went to Catholic school and had a suffocating home life. Trying to grapple with that as she starts to navigate adult life. Also trying to mend her relationship with Gideon after being so harsh in her younger years.

Gideon- Kinesiology major, butch vibes to the max. Does swordfighting and weight training in her down time. Has kissed both Ianthe and Corona at some point, though it never went anywhere after that. Wears her sunglasses at all times even in class. Finds the worst fashions from thrift stores and wears them to piss Harrow off. Grew up with Harrow in a foster home Harrow's parents ran and also attended Catholic school with her but they rarely interacted beyond antagonizing each other. Reconnected after being randomly assigned roommates. Now they're buddies and hang out alongside the 3rd and 6th, (also the 2nd and Dulcie sometimes too). They all do stupid shit together like sing karoke off key and hit up Taco Bell at 2am after binge watching movies.

[auspicioustidings]

What would the 141s college degrees be if they went to school

Ok so a bit of a change to prompt, but I think Soap and Gaz go to university while Price and Ghost go to college. For context college here is further education while university is higher education (eg uni is degree level).

Soap has got to be some sort of chemistry mechanics dual degree and not one person actually knows that. Like he's a bit of a party boy, on the football team and generally comes off as super laid back so nobody would guess that he is absolutely top of his class in a very difficult course. The uni ran their first mini highland games purely because they knew anything that he was doing in a kilt was going to do well and it outperformed expectations because the chance to see John MacTavish caber toss was not something anyone was passing up.

He knows Gaz because they are on the football team together. He is the opposite of Soap, everyone assumes he is doing some super technical degree because he is just so clever, but he's actually nowhere near the sciences and is somewhere in the literature department. He put the Scots poetry module to good use and was a menace for a semester with how he kept making Soap blush by coming out these beautiful romantic lines in Scots.

The archnemesis of the football team in this uni the rugby team in the college that has a campus right next to theirs because both teams do massively well. Is part of it because Soap and Gaz bristle when they hear people fawning over Riley and Price instead of them? Maybe a little. They think it's ridiculous, football is the superior sport to them and they hate that at their games some people are wearing rugby shirts thinking it's still showing support because the uni and college are the same area. It's even worse because Riley and Price do not view them as the rivals for fame and adoration that they should! They are always really nice to them and come watch their games and Simon keeps offering to spot for Soap when they're in the gym and Price brings Gaz soup when he's sick :(

Ghost is doing hairdressing. This is fully from one throwaway comment from Tommy (he cuts his brothers hair) that he's good at it and he wishes he could do Beth's because her salon trips cost a fortune and while she loves getting her hair done she doesn't do it often because of that. Simon Riley is such a fucking family man that he runs with that, thinking nothing of dropping all the time and money required just so he can make his sister in laws day a little better. And if he can do his mums hair as well? Even better.

Price is doing a bunch of night classes for woodworking and welding. He owns his own place where he runs classes but likes to make sure he keeps up to date with any new techniques by attending new courses when they pop up. He's a favourite of the college because he's been doing that for years and has taught a couple of workshops for them. His workshops have a massive waiting list.

Ghost and Price are laid back and on the rugby team because they enjoy the game. They see Soap and Gaz as these hot-headed young men with a lot of heart and are oblivious to the fact that while they view them as mates, Soap and Gaz think there is a bitter rivalry happening. After all Gaz always let's Simon practice on his hair and he seems to enjoy it? Like he always sighs in such contentment when he's getting his hair washed. And Soap has started attending Price's home shop for some classes! Although Price is sort of confused because the man doesn't seem to be paying attention half of the time to the actual project he is supposed to be doing (of course he isn't, he's busy going bright red anytime Price rolls his sleeves up).