#so yeah the second part of every sky

[classyrbf]

THE MAN I USED TO KNOW! #2 — SUGURU GETO

SYNOPSIS...you feel suguru has grown distant your relationship, leaving you lonely and confused, so when you confront him in hopes to find reassurance, you find out the worst instead

INFO...geto x fem!reader, angst, mentions of cheating, mentions of breakup, arguing in public, no comfort, not proofread

OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated

part 1

It’s been a month since you left the apartment. A month since he’s last heard your voice. A month since he’s last seen you. He can’t tell what’s so different now, what makes him feel like he suddenly cares about you and how things ended. In his mind it doesn’t make any sense. How could someone be said he fell out of love with, cheated on, suddenly be plaguing his heart like a disease. You were hard to get rid of.

He stays up at night, staring up at the ceiling after trying hours and hours to fall asleep, only to fail. The house is so quiet you could hear a pin drop and the bed feels so empty and cold. Not a sound could be heard, not your small breaths as you slept, or your touch when you cuddled against him in the night because you wanted to feel loved by him.

He twisted and turned in the bed, flipping over to your side, staring at the pillow. He swears he could smell your perfume faintly on the fabric, but that could be his mind playing tricks on him. It’s been doing that ever since. Dinner was always takeout, never the warm home cooked meals that you always had prepared. He was starting to get sick of the taste, opting out of eating in general because no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t replicate your cooking.

A deep sigh leaves his lips as he sit up, feet planting on the hardwood floor. His phone rings loudly, illuminating the dark room. He slowly turns his head, looking at the caller ID. It was the woman who he threw everything away for temporary pleasure. He’d been ignoring her calls ever since that day and he doesn’t know what overcame him, but he decided to finally pick up the call. “Hello?” He answered, voice scruffy and gravely.

“Suguru! Finally you pick up! Why have you been ignoring my texts and calls?” She asked frantically.

He rolled his eyes, shutting them. “It’s the middle of the night can we not do this?” He rubbed the bridge of his nose, shaking his head.

“Is it because of her? Are you two still together? I thought you said you were going to end things with her eventually? What changed?” She was asking question after question which only made him more irritated than he already was. “I miss you, Sugu,” she pouted.

The nickname made him wince, reminding him of how gently you used to call his name. “I need to go.” He abruptly hung up the call. His thumb hovered over his screen, pressing on his messages and scrolling to find your name. His jaw clenched at the sight of the contact name he had for you, forgetting to change it.

“My girl” it read.

He clicked on the contact, eyes scanning over the last messages that were sent. It was the day he told you, the day it all fell apart.

Geto: might be a little late for dinner

My girl: no worries, I’ll keep it warm :)

Even when you were falling apart you always treated him with kindness. It was never about the arguments, not with you. Yeah, sure you’d fight with each other, screaming matches back and forth. But, that’s normal in a relationship. Sometimes things lead to disagreements. It’s only when he took it too far, grew distant, fell out of love, cheated, while you were at home, waiting for him each and every night.

“Fuck,” he whispers under his breath, contemplating to text you. He stares at the screen for a few more seconds before deciding to close his phone, placing it back down on the nightstand.

The smell of fresh brewed coffee filled the air, a quiet atmosphere settled around you as you sat at a small table, scrolling through social media. It was a cold early morning, soft snow flurries fell from the cloudy sky and painted the ground in a blinding white. It was the perfect day to relax in a cozy coffee shop and enjoy yourself, something you haven’t done in a long time.

From time to time, your brain wanders to that night you found out Suguru was cheating on you. It still makes your heart twinge, an odd feeling in your chest. You’d cry countless times in one day, wondering what it was that you did, how you could have been better. There were so many questions that you still had to ask, but you weren’t sure if you wanted answers. Sometimes ignorance is bliss. You’d think about them, wondering if Suguru and whoever the woman he was seeing were now happy together, living in the apartment that you once shared with him.

You sipped on your coffee, the hot liquid trickling down your throat. The cold breeze from the outside blew into the coffee shop as the door opened for a few seconds, the bell above letting out a high pitched ding.

“Morning, could I small latte, please?” The familiar voice made your body freeze in place, eyebrows raising in slight shock. Lifting your head, you seen the familiar long, black, silky hair. Quickly, you looked away, scrolling on your phone. The longer you looked at him, the more afraid you’d threaten to break down in tears, maybe even scream at him. “Thank you,” he softly spoke.

It felt like time froze, the more you sat here, the harder it felt to get up. Did he already see you? Maybe he’s ignoring you too? While your thoughts were telling you one thing, trying to convince you of some other reality, you could feel eyes burning into your skull. You didn’t dare turn around to see if he was looking at you. With flared nostrils, you inhaled deeply, clearly your throat to rid of the awkwardness, mindlessly scrolling on your phone to make it look like you were busy.

It was getting to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. As soon as the barista called for his coffee, you were quick to stand from your seat, grabbing your wallet and coffee off the table and making a dash for the door. The cold winter breeze hit your skin as soon as you stepped out, a cold chill sending down your spine.

“Y/n.” You halted in your tracks at the sound of your name. With closed eyes, you let out a deep sigh. Do you keep walking? Do you turn around and face him? Would you be able to keep your composure for even a second if your eyes meet his?

The snow under your feet stuck to your boots, heels twisting into the ground. You were now facing him. It felt like every memory that you shared with him came flashing back in an instant—good and bad. Your heart felt conflicted, knowing you still had time to walk away. His mouth partially opened like he wanted to say something, anything, but nothing came out. He looked defeated, stuck in place. His eyes could do nothing but scan your features, search for any hint that you were felt the same for him like he felt for you. But he highly doubts that. “How have you been?” He asked.

Clenching your jaw, you narrowed your eyes at him, stuffing your hands into your pockets. “Fine.” You shrugged. Your tone was bitter and cold, one that he wasn’t familiar with. There you both stood in the middle of the sidewalk, snowflakes kissing your skin, stinging your cheeks. “What do you want, Geto?”

The use of his last name makes his heart sink into his stomach, a weird feeling in his chest. He bit the inside of his cheek, shaking his head with pinched brows. “I…I don’t know,” he said barely above a whisper. “I’m sorry, y/n. I’m so sorry.”

“You don’t get to say you’re sorry when you don’t mean it. You’re only saying it because you got caught. I don’t think you understand what you did. At all.” Surprisingly, your voice was calm and composed compared to the last time you spoke with him. It was hard not to lash out, but you knew it wouldn’t make you feel any better than you already did. “I loved you, Geto. It’s sad that you didn’t realize that sooner. Look,” you step closer to him, “I don’t know where our relationship took such a turn, I don’t know the exact moment you fell out of love, but I genuinely hope you find someone who is worth your time.” You softly smiled.

“You were worth my time!” He said with desperation, almost like he was begging.

“No, I wasn’t. And it’s fine, I accept that.” You nod your head at him. “You can feel regret, you can change your mind, but you can’t undo what you did,” you state.

“I miss you, y/n, so fucking much. I can’t sleep, I can’t eat. All I ever think about is you, how I hurt you, brushed you aside—”

“Just stop, please. Nothing is going to change my mind, no matter what you say.” You chew on your bottom lip, a look of sincerity in your eyes.

“No, don’t say that. Come on. Please,” he begs, watery eyes looking at you.

“Let me go, Geto. It’s best for the both of us.” You felt your eyes sting with tears, your vision blurry as you tried your hardest to hold them back. You didn’t want him to see you cry again, he didn’t deserve it.

“What if I don’t want to? What if I can’t?” He had a pained expression on his face, closing the distance between you two. It’s the closest he’s been able to get you, the closest he’s felt to you in long time. He doesn’t mean physically, he means emotionally, mentally. It shouldn’t be under these circumstances, not when he’s ripped your heart in two. It should be when he’s holding you at home, his lips on yours as he tells you how much he loves you, because he does love you. He realized it when you walked out that door.

“Then I’ll make the decision for you.” You turned away from him beginning to walk away, the cold wing hitting your skin, your eyes burning.

Geto pulled you back by your hand, your touch warm and soft in his. “I’m not letting you walk away again.”

“Let me go, Geto—”

“I love you, y/n. I need you. I wanna feel your love again, your warmth, your laughs, I want it all.” His grip grew tighter, a tear falling from his eye as he stared at you. A frown formed on his face, the tears he was holding back all this time came rushing out.

“You didn’t want it then. What makes you think you deserve it now? Huh? Now you know how it feels.” Your tone was harsh, like sending daggers straight into his heart. You snatched your hand from his. “You cheated over a petty argument, not once, not twice, but several times you’d meet up with her, lie to my face! Do you know what went through my head? How disgusted I felt with myself? I was questioning my worth, wondering if I was enough for anyone! I shouldn’t fucking feel like that!” You pushed him, hot tears warming your cold cheeks. “Leave me alone! Please! Just do this one thing for me.” You sniffled, your feet moving before you could think, walking away from him.

Once more, he watched you slip away, your figure disappearing into the snow. He swallowed thickly, looking down at the cup of fresh coffee he had yet to take a sip from. He tossed it. The content spilling on spilling on the ground and staining the glistening snow. He no longer had an appetite for anything anymore. The pit inside his chest grew larger, sucking him in like a black hole.

He stood there for what felt like minutes, hoping, waiting to see you walking towards him again. But the wind just howled loudly and the cars drove past without a care in the world. Everyone has their own lives to live, their own stories. Though, in his story, he’d live with regret, guilt, and shame until the very end. Even if he does manage to find someone else, love someone else, live his life to the fullest, just know you’d always be in back of his mind as a reminder of every horrible thing about himself.

[sleepyjuice]

Omg imagine everyone outside watching the fireworks but you and JJ are fucking in his room and the lights from the fireworks illuminate him beautifully through the window 😩

PHEW!!! i have a few filled requests sitting in my drafts but i had to write this and get it posted today for the 4th! thank you pookie for this!<3

warnings: 18+!!! unprotected p in v sex, creampie, think that’s it!

“Ah, fuck, JJ, they’re gonna hear us.” You spoke between moans, face smushed into JJ’s pillow as he slammed his cock into you from behind, the loud sounds of skin slapping against skin (even louder than usual in this position) filling the room.

His grip on your hips was tight, his rings cool against your skin creating the perfect contrast to soothe the slight burn from his grip.

“It’s loud as shit out there, baby, the whole fuckin’ island lightin’ off fireworks right now, no one’s gonna hear us.” He assured you, not stopping his movements as he spoke, his voice shaky from his relentless speed.

He was right, it was loud as fuck outside. Fireworks had been going off for at least an hour now and they would surely continue throughout the evening, so you two weren’t missing much.

You didn’t plan on sneaking away with JJ, but apparently he did. Something along the lines of how you were “struttin’ around in that thin ass bikini all damn day.” But you had no complaints.

“I’m close, Jay, oh god.” You whined as his cock continued to hit that perfect spot inside of you, your stomach tightening by the second.

“Yeah? Let me see that pretty face.” He breathed, his hands quickly sliding up your waist, cock still deep inside of you as he flipped you around so you were on your back and you were looking into each other’s eyes.

He had only stopped his movements for maybe three seconds, quickly continuing where he left off, his strong arms planted on both sides of you head as he kept himself up, his abs contracting with every thrust. He was so fucking hot.

Through glossy eyes, you took a moment to really take in the sight of JJ above you. His blonde hair and tan skin was perfectly illuminated by a multitude of different colors that seeped in through the window from outside, fireworks in the distance as well as many that were much closer sparkling in the night sky. You were a done deal.

“Shit— I’m coming, don’t stop, don’t stop…” You whimpered, your orgasm exploding through your body, similar to the fireworks just outside the window.

Your pussy clenched hard around his cock as his thrusts grew more and more sloppy by the second, his gaze transfixed on your face, flushed cheeks and parted lips as a sequence of soft curses and moans fell from your lips as he fucked you through your orgasm.

“God, you’re so perfect, takin’ my dick so good. Fuckin’ Christ, gonna cum, baby.”

That was more than enough to bring him to his end as well, stilling inside of you as you felt his thick cock twitch, his balls now wet with your cum pressed against your ass as he bottomed out and released inside of you, long hot spurts filling you up.

He grunted loudly as he spilled inside of you, slowly thrusting his cock inside of you a few more times, fucking his cum deeper into your pussy.

You gasped at the feeling, not missing the loud squelching sounds made from his movements, a pool of both of your releases dripping out of you once he finally pulled out.

You were panting, your naked chest rising and falling rapidly as you worked to catch your breath, properly and perfectly fucked.

“Shit,” JJ breathed, dipping his head to kiss your swollen lips sweetly before leaning back and grabbing a towel to clean you up.

“God bless America, ain’t that right?”

“JJ, shut the fuck up.”

[lnfours]

us. | l.n

summary: and what seemed like fate becomes "what the hell was i doin'?" ; aka time heals all wounds, so they say, but has it been long enough for it to heal the one he left?

warnings: the highly requested part two to ‘august’, use of she/her pronouns, childhood friends to lovers, second chance romance, oscar giving lando advice bc duh, pining, language, lando absolutely word vomiting when it comes to his feelings, fluff towards the end.

‘august’ | listen | masterlist

oscar piastri took pride in being more observant rather than being the life of the party. he much rather preferred to be labeled as the 'wall hugger' rather than the wild child between him and his teammate. he let lando have that role, opting on sitting on the sidelines more often than not.

but tonight, it was completely different. the aussie driver had agreed to hitting the club in monaco tonight to celebrate charles' first home win and his own second place finish. he couldn't shake the feeling that something was going on with his teammate, eyeing him as he sat down in the lounge area the group had gotten for the evening. something out of the normal for the brit.

he decided to take matters into his own hands, joining his friend on the couch. lando sent a tight lipped smile to his teammate, another red flag the aussie picked up on. he wasn't sporting his usual smile, the one that beamed. one of pure joy.

"you feeling alright, mate?" oscar asked, genuinely concerned.

lando nodded in response, "'m good, just a bit tired."

he hummed, crossing his arms over his chest as he looked out at the dance floor of people. the crowd normally lando would be in the middle of, but not tonight.

"gonna make me pry it out of you or are you just gonna tell me?"

lando chuckled softly, letting out a soft sigh, "y'know that new reporter for sky who was in the media pen earlier?"

oscar furrowed his eyebrows in concentration, trying to remember your name, "think so? shit, what was her name?"

"y/n," lando said and oscar nodded in agreement.

"yeah, that's it," the aussie turned back to look at his teammate, "what about her?"

"well, a few years ago, her and i kind of..." lando trailed off, leaving his teammate to raise his eyebrows.

"you two had a thing?"

lando nodded, "yeah, she had a vacation rental next to mine in the states, and one summer we just really hit it off. y'know, we went on dates and eventually it turned into something more, and... oscar, i was in love with her."

the australian was shocked, "did you tell her?"

"i did," lando nodded, swallowing before continuing, "and i was with her when i got the call that they wanted me to join the team, and i just... i fucking left. i left without waking her up and saying goodbye. the best few months of my entire life, falling in love with someone who has never made me feel more loved and appreciated, and it all went down the drain because i fucked it all up."

oscar sat in silence for a minute, processing what the brit next to him had just told him, "well, do you still love her?"

"i never stopped," lando looked over at his teammate, his expression showing the guilt he still felt for leaving that one night, "i don't think i could ever."

"have you told her?"

he shook his head, "pretty sure she hates my guts, so, no."

oscar sighed, "listen, although she has every reason to hate you, i mean, i would too, doesn't mean deep down that she does. obviously, running into you again has probably brought up all of those feelings she worked to get over, but if you really feel the way you're telling me you feel about her, and it seems like you do, you gotta fight for it. you can't just let her slip through your fingers, again, and live a miserable life. nothing's gonna come out of it if you don't work for it."

lando sat in shock at his teammate, blinking at him like a deer in headlights. he had never known oscar to be this wise when it comes to relationship advice. he truly didn't know he had it in him.

"what?" the aussie laughed, "mate, i've been with lily for five years. you think we haven't had our own fair share of ups and downs?"

"no, i'm just amazed that at your age you're so wise." lando joked back, the two of them laughing.

"yeah, whatever," oscar waved him off, "but seriously, i mean what i said."

he nodded, "i know, i just don't know when i should talk to her."

oscar shrugged, "the sooner the better. that way you stop moping around like a sad, lost puppy."

lando jokingly rolled his eyes, pulling his phone from his pocket, "shut up."

his heart hammered in his chest at the thought of messaging you, opening instagram. but, just when he went to open his messages, your profile picture caught his eye at the top of the screen. he tapped onto the story you had posted not long ago, holding it down so it wouldn't disappear as he scanned over the picture.

you were still at the track, posting a picture from one of the offices. a video from your interviews today sitting on the screen, clear that you had stayed late to finish working on them. a caption written out on the photo.

'in desperate need of another cup of coffee'

he was up on his feet before he could even think through what he was about to do. shoving his phone in his pocket as oscar smiled at him softly.

"where're you heading?"

lando turned, walking backwards away from the lounge area, shouting over the bass of the club music playing loudly through the speakers, "'m feeling like having a cup of coffee! thanks for your help, osc!"

oscar raised his glass in a cheers motion to his teammate, watching him turn around and make a beeline for the exit. lily found her way to the lounge area, sitting next to her boyfriend and jabbing her thumb over her shoulder, motioning towards his teammate.

"where's he heading?"

oscar smiled, swallowing the sip of his drink, "going to get his girl."

the night breeze in the monaco air felt nice on lando's skin, a contrast against the overly warm club he had been in. he pulled his phone out once again, searching for a coffee shop that would still be open at this hour. he found one that looked promising after a few minutes of searching, putting in the directions to it and taking off in the direction.

he ignored the hammering of his heart in his chest as he carefully placed the cup in the holders of his car. was it the best idea to show up unannounced with a coffee in hand, especially when he wasn't sure how you felt about him? probably not. but after the conversation with oscar, all he could think about was how he couldn't lose you again. how even after searching for someone to fill the ache in his heart that was put there by his own doing, no one could compare to you. they couldn't ever be you, even if they tried or if he tried to make it work. it wasn't the same.

he parked the car, heading towards the building he knew all the journalists worked in. some of them still hanging around, sending lando smiles but confusion clear in their eyes as his eyes scanned the room.

"do you know where y/n is?" he asked an older man, a guy he had recognized to be your camera man from earlier. the man nodded, pointing towards the room with glass walls. he could see you in the room, your back facing the door. headphones sitting on top of your head, clearly invested in your work. he swallowed nervously, thanking the man before heading towards the room.

you hadn't noticed he entered the room until a hand placing a coffee next to you caught your attention. you slipped the headphones off, placing them on the desk before turning to see who was standing behind you.

he met your eyes, which were also laced with confusion as you spun around in your chair. he sent you a small, nervous smile. the same smile you had given him in the media pen hours ago.

"lando? what're you doing here?" you asked, "and how did you.."

he smiled softly, "saw your story."

"what is it?" you asked, moving to grab the warm cup, "i mean, i like my coffee-"

"with light cream and two and a half sugars. the pink packets, though, not the white ones."

your heart squeezed in your chest, he remembered the way you liked your coffee.

you took a sip of the warm liquid, tasting exactly the way you liked it. you took in a deep breath, meeting his green eyes once again and you swore you were slowly falling in love with him again. it was like you were back at the beach house, back at the exact moment you had realized you were in love with him.

maybe the feelings you thought had gone away after the years weren't truly gone.

your lipstick left a pretty mark on the white lid and he scanned your facial features. in the dim lighting you were still as gorgeous as the day he met you, pretty colored eyes that complimented the color of the strands of your hair. a pair of glasses sitting comfortably on your face, remembering that you only wore them when your eyes were starting to get irritated after a long day.

your voice was soft, "lando, what're you doing here?" you asked again, still confused on why he had come, "i mean, other than dropping off a coffee, which thank you for, by the way, but shouldn't you be out with the rest of the drivers? y'know, celebrating..?"

"well, i was," lando breathed, ignoring how it came out a little shaky, “but, to be honest, i just.. really want to talk to you.”

everything he rehearsed in his head during the driver over here was going out the window with each passing second. the longer he looked in your eyes the more he wished he had never walked out of that house all those years ago. the more it was eating him up inside that he let the best thing he ever had go, that he never told you why.

you sighed, pointing over your shoulder to the screen behind you, “i really have to finish this,”

“it’ll be quick,” he was almost begging. about to get on his knees if he had to, “promise.”

you nodded, your brain yelling at you for agreeing but your heart almost leaping out of your chest at the fact that he was here. standing in front of you. right now. when he could’ve been at the club, wrapped around some other girl. but he wasn’t.

“okay, just, let me grab my things.”

he nodded, biting down on his lower lip nervously as you saved your work and exited out of the editing software. you packed up everything in your bag, pushing the chair in before grabbing your coffee from the desk.

he held out his hand, “here,”

you furrowed your eyebrows in response. he motioned to the bag and you smiled softly, “oh, thanks,”

he nodded, letting you lead him out of the office. you said goodnight to the crew that was left, not batting an eye at the looks they gave you for having the, arguably, most sought out driver on the grid tailing behind you.

once you were outside, he walked next to you. matching your pace as he looked over at you, “so, uhm, how’re they treating you at sky?”

you nodded, “good,” you smiled softly, “didn’t expect i’d work in the same sport as you, to be honest.”

“you’re telling me you didn’t follow me here to make me realize i’ve been missing out all this time?” he joked and you laughed, shoving his shoulder with yours.

“shut it,”

“sorry, too soon?”

you chuckled, “forever might be too soon.”

he chuckled with you, unlocking the doors to the mclaren. he opened the passenger side door, letting you sit down in the seat. you took your bag from him and smiled, a silent thank you, before he closed the door for you and rounded the front of the car to get in on his side. he started the car, looking back over at you, "hungry?"

you hummed, "starving."

"perfect," he said, putting in the directions for a place he knew you'd like. you rubbed your lips together nervously, watching the monaco lights pass by you. the breeze was nice, something you could get used to.

you cut through the silence that fell over the two of you, speaking over the soft music he had put on for the drive, "so, what did you want to talk about?"

he looked over at you, the red of the stoplight illuminating his face. he had grown into his features, but the boyish things about him was what you loved. the way his dimples deepened the wider his smile was, the moles and freckles that littered his skin like stars, and you had noticed the small scar on the bridge of his nose. one that wasn't there years prior, but you had grown to love. you silently hoped he'd tell you the story sometime. wanting to know every detail of his life the past few years, the years you spent watching from the sidelines.

"about what happened," he said, the light turning green and his attention fixing back to the road, continuing to drive, "i feel like i owe you a very long, detailed, explanation."

you nodded as he pulled into a parking lot, "okay, yeah," you breathed out softly, "sure."

he parked the car, turning the engine off before looking back at you. you turned to face him, giving him a soft smile as he looked at you, eyes dancing around your face before he took a deep breath.

"listen, i know it's been a while and i really wouldn't blame you if you hate my guts, but i just... can't. i can't pretend that i've lived in a world i'm completely satisfied with. and i can't bring myself to fall in love with someone else because no matter what, i find myself wishing i was with you, at that stupid beach house where i first felt what love truly felt like."

you sat in silence, taking in his rambling thoughts. this conversation definitely wasn't going as well as he had rehearsed it in his head, but it was too late to turn back now. he was sitting here, spewing every emotion he's felt over the past couple of years in front of you. it's how he truly felt. no filter, no hoops to jump through, just pure emotion and longing and hints of regret, and true apologies.

"you're the first thing i think of when i wake up and the last thing i think of before i go to bed, and hell, sometimes i even find you in my dreams because for a while that was the only place where you and i co-existed. and i'm so fucking sorry for how i left you, how i packed up and moved on with my life without even considering how you would feel. it makes me sick to my stomach to think about the fact that i've fucked up the part of my life that felt normal. that felt real, and all because i was too much of a coward to tell you what was going on. too scared to drag you into all of this,"

he was still rambling and you couldn't help the way your heart hammered against your chest. the moment you had wished for all these years finally unfolding in front of your eyes and you couldn't help the tears that were starting to prick your eyes.

"but now, you're here, and i'm here, and... holy fuck i'm still so in love with you."

his throat bobbed, swallowing down the nerves as you watched him. you were speechless, unsure how to respond to everything he had just spewed to you. your heart was caught in your throat, the tears closer to spilling over after his rambling. he had said everything he was feeling and little did he know it was the same way you had been feeling too.

after every wish and journal entry wishing he'd waltz back into your life, he finally was here. sitting across from you, and now you were speechless. unable to find the words to tell him you felt the same way.

"i'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away and straight ahead of him, almost as if he was embarrassed to spring all of that onto you, "that was a lot all at once, i'm sorry-"

you leaned over the center console, grabbing his face in your hands, turning him to face you and smashing your lips against his. the tears falling down now at the feeling of having him this close again. the familiar feeling of having his lips on yours again being enough to send them dripping down and onto your shirt.

he was quick to kiss you back, as soon as the initial shock wore off. his hand moving to cup your cheek, deepening the kiss as you grabbed his shirt in your fist, not wanting to let go after he had been away from you all this time.

he pulled away when he needed to catch his breath, forehead resting against yours. you smiled softly, the two of you panting breathless and in love. he brought his thumb up to your cheek, wiping away the few stray tears that were still lingering. you leaned into his touch and he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

"i love you," you breathed, nose bumping his, "so much. i never stopped, even after you left."

he smiled, his voice soft, "i'll spend a lifetime making it up to you."

you shook your head, "it doesn't matter. you're here now, that's all that matters."

"can i start with dinner?" he asked, smiling softly and brushing a piece of hair from your face. you hummed and nodded, pulling away from him as he got out of the car, jogging to open your door. you smiled and placed a quick kiss to his lips, joining your hands together. he walked with you into the restaurant, and as he opened the door for you all he could think about how he was the luckiest man on earth.

there was no way he was letting you again. you were incomparable. chemical.

[hugsandchaos]

Seeing Double

Part One, Part Two, Part Three

Summary: A ghost who looks a lot like Phantom comes to him in search of protection, and their newest member instantly agrees. He calls her his little sister, and sooner or later, Phantom also might end up with a new brother.

*bangs pots and pans together* @vixen-uchiha, @starlightcat04, @blueliac, COME GET Y’ALL’S JUICE!!!

Phantom smiled to himself looking up at the night sky. The event he’d been waiting for finally started a few minutes ago, the top right “corner” of the moon was dark with the tiniest hint of red on the “edge”. He was pretty grateful for being allowed to go outside for the lunar eclipse. Especially since the other members of Young Justice got to tag along as well. He could hear Wally explaining the specifics of the event to Conner below, but ignored it.

Phantom was well above the trees so he could get a perfect view of the lunar eclipse, so it wasn’t very hard to ignore them. Especially since he was so happy about what he was going to see soon. And by soon, he meant an hour or so. Since they were so far out from the city the civilization in general, Phantom also had an amazing view of the stars. It seemed like every second he spent looking at them instead of the moon, a new one would pop into existence. Or he’d recognize another constellation.

He leaned back so he was floating with his back facing the ground and crossed one of his legs over the other. He folded his arms over his abdomen and smiled fondly, acting as if he was laying on solid ground instead of being in midair. Then a small blue fog of smoke came out of his mouth.

Phantom quickly swung himself upright and looked around. He really didn’t want to deal with any ghost fights right now, he just wanted some peace. As he scanned the area around him, he noticed something in the distance. It definitely wasn’t a star, and it was too small to be a pod. It might be the ghost he had sensed being nearby.“Phantom?” Robin called out. The ghostly hero glanced down below.”Everything alright?” He asked.

Phantom nodded and went back to looking at the ghost.”Yeah, just a second. I think I see something.” He yelled back. He squinted his eyes to try to see if he could recognize the ghost. It didn’t take long for him to figure out who it was, and when he did, a huge smile broke out across his face.

“Danielle!!!” Phantom called out.

He quickly rushed towards his younger clone. He didn’t notice his friends calling for him, but he noticed that Dani had definitely spotted him since she was also hurdling towards him. They reached each other somewhere midway and Phantom slowed down enough before they practically collided with each other. Dani didn’t really slow down as soon as him and knocked him back a little, but he wasn’t too fazed by the impact and wrapped his arms around her.

He hugged his sister considerably tighter than he usually hugs people, and spun around a bit as a small way to release some of the new, excited energy. Dani laughed a little as they spun, then he stopped.”How have you been?!” He asked excitedly.

“I’ve been great!!” She said. They both ended the hug with big grins on their face, very happy to see the other after months had passed. Phantom was about to ask her about her time apart from him, but she opened her mouth to speak.”I’ve seen so many cool things that I wanna tell you about, and guess what?!“ She asked. She held her mouth open and pointed at the upper part. That’s when Phantom noticed her canine teeth were a bit bigger than a regular human’s.”I’ve grown fangs, like yours!” She exclaimed. The older halfa gasped softly. He wasn’t quite sure what emotion had just swelled up in his chest a little, but he’s felt it before, and it was definitely positive.

Was it pride? Was he proud of her? He wasn’t sure if that was it or not, but the feeling remained.”That’s so cool, Dani! They’re fang-tastic.” He said.

Dani’s grin grew a little bit wider when he said that.”Why, fang you!” She said. Suddenly, her expression changed drastically from pure excitement to what looked like distrust. Her eyes looked at something behind him, and Phantom quickly turned around to see what or who it was that caused her reaction.

Megan was floating there.”Who’s your friend, Phantom?” She asked kindly. Phantom calmed down a little and smiled again. He glanced back at Dani again and noticed how she looked a little confused, but still defensive. He floated back to be next to Dani.

“Hey, Megan! This is my little sister. She has the same powers as me.” He said. Him talking with his friend so calmly and casually seemed to help Dani relax. Which was what he was hoping for.

Megan’s smile grew as she looked over at the other halfa.”Really?! You’ve never mentioned your relatives before!” She said. She held a hand out.”It’s really nice to meet you, Danielle. I’m Megann! Well, Megann is my Earth name.” She introduced herself. Dani glanced over at Phantom. He knew what it was she was asking and gave her an encouraging nod. With the affirmation that it was safe, Dani smiled and shook Megann’s hand.”Nice to meet you too.” She said with a small smile. For a moment, Phantom was happy that they hadn’t met her in some kind of fight or had a misunderstanding. Then he remembered something pretty important. Not wanting to make it awkward, though, he decided to try to play it cool.

He gave Megann a slightly apologetic look.”I’m sorry, but would you mind letting us chat for a bit? We have a lot to catch up on and talk about, and something tells me it’s going to get a little personal.” He asked politely. He tried to make it understandable and reasonable, and to him, that sounded like a good explanation. He’s been pretty private about his life before he joined Young Justice, anyways.

Megann nodded.”Oh, yeah, of course! I’ll let the others know what you’re doing if they ask.” She said. The older halfa agreed with that idea and nodded to show it. The martian turned around and flew back to the others, and once she was gone, Phantom glanced over at Dani.

She turned to him at the same time, also looking pretty serious. Seemed like they both had something to say.”You go first.” Phantom said. Dani remained silent for an extra minute. Phantom waited until an idea of what it was entered his head, and he didn’t like it one bit.”It wasn’t Vlad, was it?” He asked. Dani shook her head.

“I was... I was spotted by one of them.”

Those words briefly made Phantom’s core stop. The sweet moment suddenly turned way more sour than he was expecting. His eyes widened in shock and horror and they both floated in silence for a while. With each passing second, Dani looked more and more like she’d start to cry. Tears were slowly starting to form, but she was holding back.”I don’t want them to catch me... We both know I can’t go into the Ghost Zone, so... I didn’t know what else to do.” She said. Her voice came close to cracking at the end.

Phantom quickly pulled his mind back together. An urge to protect his sister began to block out the fear he also felt for her and he pulled her into a hug.”They won’t get the chance. I’ll do everything to make sure of it.” He said. He wasn’t entirely sure how he’d be able to actually protect her against part of the government, but he wasn’t lying. He was going to do whatever he could to protect her from the Guys In White. Dani hugged back.”Thank you.” She said.

“Anytime.” Phantom said. It was practically obvious to him. As long as his core was still vibrating and his heart was still beating, he’d protect her against anything.”But listen, my team doesn’t know I’m a halfa. They only think I’m a ghost. I think you should say the same.” He said. Dani nodded.

They soon ended the hug and Dani looked better than before. Phantom noticed something above and pointed behind her.”Look at that.” He said. Dani followed his gaze and let out a small, amazed “ohh” under her breath when she saw it. The lunar eclipse wasn’t complete yet, but it was getting there. A part of it was still white, but the majority of it was getting more and more red, and even looked a little orange.”I saw one of those before. Lunar eclipse, right?” She asked.

“Mhmm.” Phantom confirmed.

The two remained there for only a few minutes, watching the moon change ever so slightly, before Dani filled the silence again.”Can we meet the rest of your teammates?” She asked, turning to face him.

“Duhh! This way.” Phantom said, then flew to where his friends had set up camp.

It was a pretty short flight, and once there, his teammates were already looking at them. The group had used Megan’s bioship to fly out an hour or so away from the mountain and brought their own tents, and obviously some campfire snacks along with other necessities. They were all aligned in a circle with a sort of “entrance” facing the direction of the bioship. Phantom landed with Dani close behind and glanced back at her to make sure she wouldn’t get overwhelmed or anything. He wasn’t entirely sure how good her social skills were. She looked a little bit surprised, but overall okay. Phantom turned to his team.”Hey, guys! Hope you don’t mind one more.” He said, gesturing towards his sister. Dani smiled and waved at them.

Megan was the first of them to speak.”Not at all! Come on over, the eclipse is getting closer.” She said. Dani accepted the invitation and began walking over to them. Phantom obviously followed.

He noticed Conner looking a little surprised, but brushed it off since everyone seemed a bit surprised to learn that he apparently had a sister. Dani floated off the ground to be more at eye level with his friends.”How come all of your friends are taller than me?” She asked, glancing back at Phantom. He just shrugged and grinned.”I guess you just got the short end of the stick.” He said. Dani rolled her eyes and looked back at them.

“I’m Danielle! It’s nice to meet all of my brother’s new teammates.” She said. Robin held his hand out and Dani accepted it.

“It’s nice to meet you too. I’m Robin. That’s Wally, Artemis, Conner, Kaldur, and you’ve already met Megan.” He said. Phantom leaned closer to Dani and pointed at Wally.

“He doesn’t really believe in ghosts, so feel free to bug him when he’s not training or on missions.” He whispered.

Wally glared at him and Robin and Artemis both muffled a laugh behind their hands.”Hey!” Wally snapped. Dani gasped almost slightly offended, then grinned mischievously.

“Oh, I’d love to!” She said. Before she said something else, though, Conner spoke up.

“Megan told us you’re his little sister, but I didn’t expect you to look practically just like our friend. You could be mistaken for twins if it wasn’t for the age difference.” He said. He didn’t seem upset, and Phantom was a bit relieved about it. He didn’t think that Conner would start anything, but he had anger issues and had... negative reactions to being reminded that he’s a clone of someone who doesn’t like him.

Dani shrugged a little. “Well, yeah! I’m his clone, so of course I look like him and have similar powers.“ She said. The camp went quiet. The atmosphere wasn’t exactly heavy or intense, but it certainly wasn’t as happy and calm as before. Dani noticed the change and at first was confused, then she started to grow nervous. She glanced between Phantom’s teammates.

Finally, one of them spoke.“You said she’s your little sister.” Wally said. Phantom immediately hopped onto the defensive, but tried to remember about their treatment towards Conner and not mistake his confusion in his voice for something negative.

Dani seemed to make that mistake, though, since she began floating closer to him with a pretty nervous expression.”Yeah, because she is. Just because there’s no legal documentation or something doesn’t mean she can’t be my family.” Phantom said. Dani stopped right next to him and nodded in agreement. To her surprise and not her big brother’s, his friends all seemed almost a little heart warmed by this. Conner just looked surprised.

“That’s nice of you. To give her a family.” Kaldur said.

“I don’t see why I wouldn’t, but thanks?” Phantom said. Dani suddenly flew upwards and looked at the sky.

“Enough with the sentimental stuff, we’re going to miss it!” She said. The older halfa quickly remembered the reason they’d come outside in the first place and let out a small “oh”. He followed her lead and smiled at the moon once he was above the trees.

It was now completed and fully red. Sure, there was still a tiny bit of lighter red, but the huge majority looked a lot like blood. It was a little creepy, but Phantom still couldn’t help but admire it. It was amazing, and made him almost forget about the talk he’d need to have with Kaldur and Red Tornado, and possibly the rest of the league later. He’d think about that after the eclipse was over. For now, he was just going to enjoy the sight.

[pupkashi]

cherry blossoms

satoru doesn’t wanna leave you for the japan grand prix, so he flies you out to join him

a/n: hi hi !! here is part two to my f1 au !! this has taken me so long to write i hope you guys like please please please let me know what you think !!! i know the japan gp was so long ago i fell behind in sorry </3 ; lets just act like the plane rides and time zone shifts make sense thank u <3

wordcount - 7,158

part 1 // main masterlist

LIGHTS OUT AND AWAY WE GO !

“so you’re going to japan in a couple days then?” you ask, sitting across from the white haired f1 driver, watching as he nods softly, taking one last bite from his steak.

“yeah, it’s my home race so I’m hoping it goes well” he smiles, it was obvious he was nervous for the race. you smile softly at him, “you’ll do great.”

it was like a bubble had engulfed the two of you after you first met, the chaos of the world and academia seemed to settle for the two weeks he had been in town.

“what do you have going on?” he asks you, hooked on what you’d reply with as the gears in his head turned.

“just classes, finally don’t have an exam this week” you cheer, looking up and seeing an unfamiliar look on satoru’s face.

“why don’t you come with me?” he asks, cerulean eyes gleaming at you. satoru is taken back when you laugh softly taking a casual sip from your water when your eyes land on his, stomach dropping when you realize he was serious.

“you’re serious? i can’t ditch classes for a week satoru” you laugh nervously, “i can’t even afford a plane ticket to Japan let alone a hotel and everything that comes with travel” you reason shaking your head.

“I’d pay for everything, don’t be stupid” he says quickly, “cmon just for the weekend then? you skip your Friday lecture all the time anyway what’s one more?”

you think for a second, biting your bottom lip and realizing you’ve only known this guy for the better half of a month. do things always move this quickly in relationships? you cant speak from experience, but before you think too long satoru is reaching across the table and taking your hand in his.

“it’s cherry blossom season and I’d want nothing more than to take you on a picnic under the beautiful trees” his cheeks are akin to those of the trees he mentioned and makes your stomach leap. “cmon you said it was on your bucket list didn’t you?”

you could feel your heart skip a beat, your face must’ve given away your surprise as he grins back at you. he remembered something you’d mentioned in passing? god he was making this harder than it should be.

when else would you get an expenses paid trip to japan and an f1 Grand Prix?

“i need to think about it” you say, his ears perk up and there’s a wide smile on his face that brings his dimples out.

“that’s not a no” he grins, you smile at him shaking your head.

“that’s not a yes either” you correct, squeezing his hand before letting go and finishing off your food.

he doesn’t bring it up for the rest of the night, instead appreciating every moment the two of you spend together, away from public eyes. satoru squeezes your hand a bit tighter, the sky a colorful painting of reds and oranges, a hue of pink blanketing the world around the two of you.

you sat in lecture on monday morning, only half paying attention to what your professor was talking about, messy notes on your tablet as your mind wandered.

what are the odds you miss something important on friday? satoru was right, you were already planning on skipping. satoru, you think, snowy hair and lashes to match, captivating blue eyes; what are the odds you come across him again?

who are you to fight against fate?

‘how much should i pack ? i am a chronic overpacker’ you type out, thumb hovering over the ‘send’ button before taking the leap and tapping it.

youre quick to put your phone on do not disturb and place it back in your pocket, figuring if you’re gonna miss lecture Friday you might as well take better notes now.

satoru was only half paying attention to what his manger was saying over the zoom call, chin resting in the palm of his hand as he listened. his phone lit up with your text, a wide smile immediately making its way onto his face as he grabbed it, reading your message.

“satoru are you paying attention?” his manager asks, slightly annoyed at the driver.

“media when we land, FIA wants me at the conference, tiktoks with george, a couple pre race interviews-” satoru continues to list off everything he’d been told perfectly, all while typing out a reply to you.

“oh could you book me a flight and an extra hotel room? I’m bringing someone this weekend” satoru grins, excited as his assistant nods yes.

satoru cheers, a bright smile into his camera as he waves goodbye to everyone and logs off the team call, finally settling on what to reply to you with.

‘pack as much as you want, I paid for a check in’

he can’t help but giggle, standing up from the table and flopping onto the hotel bed. satoru thought the image of the crushing schoolgirl was always an exaggeration, but the smile on his face and the swinging of his feet made him realize it was 100% true- and he was but a schoolgirl with a crush.

‘you already got me a flight?’

‘duh, wasn’t gonna risk you saying yes and me being unprepared :P’

you were trying your hardest to not smile, biting your lip and focusing on the music in your headphones. the suns rays beating down on you as you walked onto your bus, sitting near the back in case you did end up giggling at a message. (you failed miserably at hiding a smile.)

‘when does your flight leave?’

‘in an hour ish i think’

‘im headed to the airport now actually’

the two of you text the entirety of your bus ride and well after you get home. your phone rang after you’d set it down to focus on your work, satoru’s contact name flashing on the screen as you picked up the phone.

“hello?” you answered, a nervous laugh leaving your lips.

“hey! figured this is easier than texting so that you can do your work and stuff while we talk” satoru had a giant smile on his face, eyes looking out the window of the plane as he talked to you, “is that okay?” nervously bringing his bottom lip between his teeth.

“that’s perfect actually” you chuckle, “how was the airport?”

it didn’t feel like much time had passed since you answered the call, but as you looked out the window and how much work you’d gotten done you realized it been well over four hours. your eyes widened as you checked your phone as saw the length of the call

4:47:56

“oh my god it’s been almost five hours” you laugh, closing your laptop and putting it to charge. “unlike you i don’t have a flight attendant to give me food so” you trail off, realizing you’d forgotten to take out meat to thaw for dinner, takeout it is.

“alright alright, I’ll let you get back to life without me” satoru sighs dramatically, “have fun in the slow lane” he teases.

“oh please you’ll see me on friday” you laugh, “and i do not drive in the slow lane! you’re just used to going too fast in cars” you mumble, thankful he couldn’t see the wide smile on your face and the way you were playing with your hair.

the call went on for a bit longer, there was a pregnant pause between the two of you.

“I can’t wait to see you friday” satoru breathed out, staring at his lap before back out the plane window. everyone else on the small plane had fallen asleep already, trying to get a jump on the time zone shift. he should’ve been asleep hours ago, but he couldn’t bring himself to hang up on you.

“i can’t wait either, my second ever formula one race” you tease, “oh and you’ll be there too!” satoru rolls his eyes at you, smiling.

“haha very funny” his sarcastinf tone makes you grin.

“okay i seriously have to go now, let me know when you land?” you’re not sure of your words, it’s not like you were dating the guy.

“course i will, have a goodnight y/n” he says softly.

“goodnight satoru” you reply, a small smile on your face before hanging up. you’re stuck dumbfounded for a second, laughing before shaking your head, trying to get back to reality and not think about the tall, blue eyed man every moment possible.

lectures always seemed to drag on forever, but this week? eternal. especially on your final thursday lecture. had time always gone this slowly in class? your professors words were not the least bit interesting today, not compared to the thought of getting on a flight to japan for a Motorsport event.

not compared to hanging out with satoru again.

your fingers itched to text satoru, he’d been busy since he landed, with scarce texts sent your way. you didn’t want to seem too clingy, the thought of it scaring him away held you back from double texting him. he’d text you when he could, right?

finally lecture came to an end, you couldn’t help but breath a small sigh of relief as you packed your thing into you backpack and shuffled out with the rest of the class.

as if on cue your phone began to vibrate.

satoru

“hey” you smiled, pressing the phone closer to your ear as you tried to get out of the crowded hallway, going down the stairs and exiting out the side of the building.

“hey! is this a good time?” he asked, fiddling with the hotel duvet, the tv on as background noise.

“yeah i actually just got out of class- isn’t it night time over there?” you interrupt yourself, “shouldn’t you be getting eight hours of sleep or something?”

satoru can’t help but smile at your concern, “it’s only free practice tomorrow morning, just to get a feel of it all” he assures you, “what’re you up to?”

“heading to my bus stop actually! gonna get home and make sure I’ve got everything for my flight” you giggle, a little more bounce in your step as the time for your departure nears.

“do you need me to get you an Uber to the airport?” he questions, rubbing his burning eyes, refusing to give in to his exhaustion. just a couple more minutes, he told himself.

“nah my friend's dropping me off, but how am i getting to the hotel and stuff?” you’re beyond nervous for the whole trip, hands a bit sweaty just thinking about everything that could go wrong.

“I’ve got a driver picking you up, you might be tired so you don’t have to come to the free practices or anything, I’ll see you after they’re done, so maybe sometime in the afternoon” he replies, about to say something else when a yawn cuts him off.

“are you sleepy?” you ask, nearing your bus stop and internally cheering when an empty one arrives at the same time you do.

“just a bit, media was exhausting” he chuckles.

“why don’t you get some rest, we can talk all you want after i land” the words still don’t seem real to you, “you need to get sleep, satoru.”

“only because you keep insisting” he agrees, a dramatic tone in his voice that makes you smile. “goodnight y/n, can’t wait to see you tomorrow” he yawns as he speaks, eyes already fluttering shut.

“goodnight satoru, sweet dreams” you reply, biting back a grin as you hang up, your nerves at bay for now.

you should’ve known satoru booked you a first class seat, but you were still shocked when you sat down in the spacious seat.

‘how much did this ticket cost ????’

you didn’t expect a reply back, he was more than likely already at the race track getting ready for the first free practice.

‘don’t worry about price :) how’s the flight ?’

satoru had to be out in the garage in 30 minutes, his suit only half zipped as he sat in the room waiting for kento to come get him. he can’t help but think about you, how your flight was going, if you were regretting coming.

three sharp knocks on the door have him shooting you one last text ‘have to go :P’ before carelessly setting his phone on the counter and hastily putting the rest of his suit on.

“come in” he sing songs, knowing a familiar blonde headed man would be the one on the other side of the door. the door swings open only a moment after, kento giving satoru a small smile before stealing a piece of candy from his counter.

“you ready?” kento asks him, tossing satoru his gloves. “toto wants you to get a feel of the track, not pushing much this session” satoru nods at his words, following his friend out the door and into the bustling garage.

“alright let’s kick the weekend off!” satoru grins, grabbing his balaclava and helmet before putting them on and hopping behind the wheel.

you felt silly, really you felt like you were back in eighth grade and crushing on the star football player that everyone wanted. you especially felt silly asking you friend for their f1 tv login so you could watch the first free practice.

though satoru didn’t expect you to keep up with formula one and understand exactly how it worked, you’d figure if things were serious enough to fly you out to a different continent, you should at least understand what his greatest passion was. it was a rabbit hole you fell into one night, and multiple videos, google searches and questions to your friend later you had a basic understanding of the motorsport.

by the time you landed the second round of free practice was halfway underway, and as promised a driver was there to greet you and help with your bags.

“mr. gojo has arranged for you to have your own suite in the hotel,” the driver, ijichi, states. “however he has also asked me to give you a keycard to his room as well”, handing you two cards “in case you’d like to stay there instead.”

“oh thank you so much!” you exclaim, “I don’t have to check in or anything?” you ask, looking out the window in awe of the city around you.

“no, everything is set already” he says kindly, “and feel free to order anything for room service, if you’d like to go anywhere when he’s busy you can call my number” he hands you a small business card with a soft smile.

“oh wow thank you so much” you smile, “he really went all out huh.” ijichi smiles at you through the rearview mirror, nodding before focusing on the road again.

the hotel room was much larger and more expensive than you thought. you realized maybe you shouldn’t underestimate just how much money satoru had, and how willing he was to spend it on you.

curiosity got the best of you, setting your things down and walking into the hallway. the large window at the end of the hall caught your attention, your mouth falling agape when you saw just how close to the circuit you were. the cars seemed to fly on the track, and you found yourself looking for satoru’s. after a minute you headed back, finding his room and hesitantly putting the keycard up to the lock, heart racing when it actually unlocked the door.

satoru’s room was about the same as yours, and you could t help but snoop around. there were two beds in his room, whereas yours only had one. the notepad on the table has something written in it, you debated not reading it and minding your business. but you could only stop yourself for so long.

onigiri, strawberry sandos, chips?

the messy handwriting matched satoru's. was he thinking of foods to take on your picnic? the realization made your face heat up and your lips curl into a bashful smile. you stopped a giggle from leaving your lips, composing yourself before heading back to your own room.

your phone buzzed after a couple moments, speak of the devil.

‘just finished wrapping up, did you make it safe?’

you couldn’t stop a giggle from escaping this time, biting your bottom lip before typing out a reply.

‘yup !! just got to my room actually :3’

satoru smiled at his phone at your text, sending you a ‘see you soon then ;)’ before putting it in his pocket. as he exited the paddock a couple fans called out for him, making his step falter and head back to say hello, signing a few things before waving goodbye.

“good luck! we are all rooting for you!” one of them called out, he couldn’t help but smile widely, nodding before walking off. it hadn’t dawned on him really, the fact that it was his first ever home race in formula one. something he’d dreamed of since he first discovered the sport as a child.

he could feel his heart begin to race, hands getting a bit sweaty before he shook the thoughts out of his mind. he let his mind wander as he made the short walk to the hotel, catching himself grinning when he remembered you were waiting for him.

the soft knock on your door made your heart leap, unforeseen nerves surfacing as you thought about being face to face with the famed driver once again. a deep breath later you’re opening the door with a small smile, one that grows when satoru’s expression mirrors your own, growing in size upon seeing you.

“you really came” he breathes out, a relieved laugh leaving his mouth. “for a second i thought you were lying to me and had backed out” the admission made you gasp incredulously, smacking his arm and inviting him into your room.

“you wound me” you quipped back, “i wasn’t gonna leave you hanging, not after all the effort you’ve put into all this” your arms motioning to the room around you. satoru is glad his face a bit flushed from both the free practice and the walk here, or else you’d surely notice the prominent blush on his cheeks and ears.

“did you wanna go out today?” he asks, taking the liberty to sit on the edge of your bed, you’re quick to join him. despite having only known you for under a month, he could tell you were at odds as to what to say. “we can stay in, i know how exhausting flights can be.”

satoru’s toothy smile warmed your heart, his dimples seemed especially prominent today. you let your head rest on his shoulder letting out a small sigh.

“as much as i wanna go out and explore, yeah im exhausted” you chuckled. satoru couldn’t help but smile wider at the physical contact.

“how about we watch some movies and order in?” he suggests, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you down so the two of you were laying on your backs.

you turn to look at him, nodding your head as your eyes traced over his features. his hair was somehow still fluffy, blue eyes softly meeting yours. he couldn’t take his eyes off you, he didn't know someone could look as stunning as you do after a flight.

“sounds perfect” you whisper, eyes briefly landing on his lips before focusing back on his eyes.

satoru excused himself after ordering food, going to shower and change before coming back to your room to join you for the night.

it felt like the two of you were back in a bubble. just you and satoru getting to know each other, feelings growing after every exchanged glance and shared laugh. it didn’t feel like you’d met him three weeks ago, everything about him felt familiar. being with him felt safe, it felt right.

satoru felt it too, and it thrilled him. the warm feeling in his chest anytime he saw you, the way he couldn’t help but let his gaze linger on you a beat longer than normal.

it was during a stolen glance that the two of you caught each other, bursting into a fit of laughter before calming down.

“i thought you were watching the movie” you accused, tone playful as you look at satoru. he was leaning back on his arms, a charming smile on his lips as he cocked his head at your words.

“why should i? you aren’t watching it either” he shot back, smile never faltering as you crossed your arms over your chest.

“yes i am!” you defended, “you’re the one who keeps looking at me” satoru grins, leaning in a bit into your personal space.

satoru was confident and cocky when he wanted to be. but he was never one to make the first move, too scared to mess things up. it was the reason he hadn’t kissed you yet, despite having taken you out on multiple dates. with every centimeter he leaned closer, his heart rate rivaled the speed of it pounding in his chest during a race.

his face was only inches away from yours as he replied back, “too pretty to not look at.” the words have your face hot and heart pounding, your brain all over the place.

thankfully you didn’t have to think about what you wanted to do next. instead you bit the bullet and closed the space between the two of you, lips crashing onto his. satoru was quick to move a hand to cup your cheek, shifting it to the back of your neck to deepen the kiss after a moment.

you let your hands wander, tangling your fingers in his hair before traveling the expanse of his back and finding their way to his chest. pushing gently when you desperately needed a breath of fresh air.

even as you two pulled away your senses were consumed with him. you nose filled with the smell of his cologne and body wash mixed together, making your brain feel even fuzzier than it already was.

satoru was not much better, his mind in a haze as he tried to reel himself back in. the taste of your lips and the feeling of your hands on him stuck in his mind.

the end credits of the movie began to roll, causing the two of you to snap your heads to the screen before looking back at each other and laughing once more.

“i didn’t pay attention at all” you confessed, a shy smile on your face when satoru’s mouth dropped open.

“after you chewed me out for not paying attention!” he gasps, wrapping his arms around you and tackling you back onto the bed, “neither was i” he admits, laughing when you smack his chest.

there’s a moment of silence that blankets the room, a comfortable silence. it’s only broken by satoru’s phone buzzing, making him apologize and grabbing his phone to read the text notification.

suguru geto 11:37 pm

good luck tmrw

you take the opportunity to go to the restroom, coming back to find satoru laying on his back staring blankly at the ceiling. you’re quiet as you join him back in bed, laying next to him and glancing over at him.

“nerves?” you whisper, he gives you a convincing enough nod. satoru was not prepared to lay everything out for you, not tonight.

“first ever home race” he breathes in, sighing after a while before flipping to face you. “glad I’ve got you with me though” he grins. you blush, nodding your head before placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

the second movie was a failure as well, with both of you talking over it (and making out) the entire first half and falling asleep for the second half.

the next morning satoru is up before you, his eyes fluttering open and gaze settling on your sleeping form. he can’t describe the feeling in his chest, the feeling of waking up next to you. it’s something he wants to relive over and over again.

tomorrow, he decides. he’s asking you out tomorrow.

when you wake up there’s a note sitting on your nightstand. it’s satoru’s handwriting, written when he was still half asleep you assume from how messy it is.

left for free practice but I’ll see you at qualifying?? <3 :)

there’s a small doodle of a race car and two stick figures you can only assume are you and him. you can’t help but smile, folding the paper and putting it into your suitcase for safekeeping.

satoru feels good enough after the third free practice, getting out of the car with a smile. he’s quick to take his gear off, heading over to where kento was sitting to go over the strategy they had planned for qualifying.

you decide to head over to the paddock early, beating the crowds for qualifying so you don’t get lost or in the way. before long you’re in the Mercedes garage, with satoru’s assistant smiling at you and waving you over.

“satoru just went to the restroom but he’ll be back soon! you can wait here in his room” she opens the door and you thank her softly, looking around before taking a seat.

the door swings open, with satoru’s eyes seemings glowing with joy as he spots you.

“you’re here early! i didn’t think I’d see you until after qualis” he grins. you can’t help but be in awe of satoru in his racing suit, with the fireproofs hugging his body perfectly. as much as you try to not focus on how perfectly sculpted he is, you can’t keep your eyes off him. “hey now my eyes are up here” he teases, putting a finger underneath your chin and gently pushing it upwards.

“dunno what you’re talking about” you smile, “been looking at those pretty eyes this whole time.” satoru’s skin flushes, a smile on his lips before he’s pressing them onto yours, giggling into the kiss before pulling away.

“well now that you’re here do you want a tour?” you’re quick to nod yes, making his smile widen as he takes your hand in his and walks you out of the room.

satoru begins pointing and explaining everything, going into detail about more important things and how they contribute to the race. there’s movement all around you, with satoru speaking quite loudly so you can hear over the chaos of everyone prepping things before qualifying.

there’s a sparkle in his eye as he explains what the engineers do, his hands moving expressively as he looks at you, excited to see you’re paying attention to him still. “this is obviously the car, usually there’s more work being done around it but since we can’t make changes anymore it gets some time alone” he jokes, making you giggle as he takes your hand again, leading you out into the sunlight.

“so this is the pit lane, where the pit stops happen” he rambles on about pit stops for a second, pointing across the lane where the race engineers sit and explaining quickly how they communicate with him during the race.

satoru also explains to you what qualifying is all about, make it in the top 15 in Q1, then top 10 in Q2 then as best as you can in in Q3.

before long you’re wishing satoru luck, squeezing his hands and placing a kiss on his cheek. you head up to the seating area you’d been told and watch as he puts his helmet on before getting in the car, people surrounding him as they talk about god knows what.

soon enough he’s exiting the garage and into the pit lane, the first round of qualifying fast underway. he’s one of the last ones to set a time, landing himself in P14, a fact that made your palms sweat, knowing if he’d been a couple seconds slower he would’ve been out.

by the start of Q2 satoru pulls himself together, mind focusing only on the track and the car. he lands himself in P8, talking to the race engineers and tweaking his strategy to try and improve before the final round.

your fingers are crossed when he heads out for the final round of qualifying, bottom lip between your teeth as he pushes on his final attempt for a better starting position.

“and satoru gojo manages to land himself in P5! a rocky start to todays qualifying for the rookie but it seems as though he’s ready to take on his first ever home race” the commentator speaks.

you can’t help but cheer along with the others in the garage, beyond excited and proud of satoru as you join them outside to watch him pull into the assigned position.

it’s a sight to behold as he gets out of the car, pulling his baclava off his head with an open mouth smile. he finds you in the crowd almost instantly, winking at you before going to do his post race duties.

you wait for him in the garage, smiling when he finds you with a smile on his face.

“i told you you’d be amazing” you praise, letting him pull you into a hug despite being quite sweaty. “are you done for the day?”

satoru shakes his head, “not yet, I’ve got some media stuff and a debrief to go over data from right now” he sighs. “you can head back to the hotel and we can get dinner when I’m done?” he grins as you agree, saying goodbye to you before heading back into the garage.

true to his word satoru takes you out to dinner, treating you to only the best food as you two talk about anything and everything. you try and coax him into heading back early, but he refuses, taking your hand and pulling you through the city.

after two hours in the city satoru finally agreed to head back to the hotel, fingers interlocked with yours as you swung your arm back and forth with his.

“you’re nervous again” it comes out as more of a statement than a question. satoru sighs, staring at the sky while the two of you sit on a bench near the hotel.

“i don’t want to disappoint anyone, you know?” his voice is a bit shaky, “everyone has such high expectations of me because of how I’ve been doing and it’s getting to me a bit i guess” he changes his focus from a drifting cloud to picking at his nails, leg bouncing a bit.

“you’re going to do great out there” your hand makes its way to his thigh, squeezing reassuringly before taking his hands in yours. “and even if everything goes wrong and you get dead last you’ll still be my favorite driver,” satoru can’t help but smile, shaking his head and looking at you.

you end up staying in satoru’s room that night, despite your protests. he left you no choice when he grabbed your room keycard and held it above his head. you voiced your fear of getting in the way of whatever pre race rituals he does, to which he simply giggled and kissed you.

“i think cuddling can be a new pre race ritual of mine instead” he had replied, a coy smile on his face when you gave in and got into bed with him.

the next morning is a whirlwind as you head to the paddock with satoru. the two of you entering through a lesser used gate, one moment you were wishing him luck and kissing him on the cheek, the next he was already out of the garage and behind a Red Bull in the formation lap.

you help your breath as the five lights went out, watching on the edge of your seat as all 20 cars reacted quickly, fighting to get to the front.

“and the rookie tries to get the inside line on piastri but is unable to! pushed down to 7th place as alonso and norris over take him.” you let out a sigh as you listen to the commentator.

satoru stays in seventh for the better half of the race, managing to exit the pits before the mclaren in 6th and taking his spot. satoru is gains on alonso after a while, enabling DRS on a straight and managing to overtake him just before the turn.

a cheer erupts in the garage, with you nervously clapping as you stare at the monitor, a smile on your face as he fights to catch up to Ferrari ahead of him. soon enough he’s right behind him on a turn, pushing just enough to manage to get the inside line and successfully pass leclerc, putting himself in 4th place.

one more place for podium, you think. there was only a slight moment of peace when the standings were consistent for a good couple of laps, until satoru was close enough to 3rd to finally overtake them. the garage claps as he gained on the red bull in second place, with only a handful of laps left the chance of moving up a place was becoming slimmer.

“and we are in the final lap, with satoru gojo alarmingly close to Perez, could the rookie manage to snag second place in his first home race?”

“it seems like he might- he has DRS enabled and it pushing to pass Perez and he’s going to do it!” your mouth is agape in shock before you begin to cheer, smiling widely as he races by the checkered flag.

you can hear satoru cheering through the radio, the sound makes your heart grow warm. the entire garage is cheering, with everyone hugging each other and celebrating his success. everyone moves outside to greet satoru behind the barricades, with him throwing himself into his mechanics before even taking off his helmet.

when he finally does take his helmet off he’s looking for you, smiling widely when his blue eyes meet yours. he gets weighed and interviewed quickly, excitement over flowing as he answers questions with a giddy smile on his face the entire time.

as the podium ceremony begins you smile softly when satoru walks out, the crowd cheering loudly for their countryman as he waves. he finds you in the crowd again during the Dutch national anthem, sending you a wink as he claps when it ends.

the crowd cheers louder for him as he gets handed his trophy, holding it up proudly before setting it down as the celebratory music plays, being showered in champagne by the two Red Bull racers before he gets the chance to even pop his open.

when you see him again he’s pulling you in by the waist, smiling happily when you press your lips to his. he tastes like the champagne he was dripping in, the two of you are smiling into the kiss, giggling by the time you pull away.

“see? you had no reason to worry” you say, satoru smiles at you, his attention fully fixed on you. “my favorite driver” you grin, pressing another kiss to his cheek. it takes everything in him to not just ask you out then and there, not wanting to spend another moment with the thought of you never joining him again.

his name being called stops him, and he’s snapped back into reality.

“I’ve got some interviews i need to do and some stuff to make and film- but how does a picnic sound?” he asks.

“sounds perfect” you reply, “now go before they ban me for being too distracting” you push him softly, making him laugh before he’s giving you one last kiss, heading over to the social media coordinator.

it’s astounding to you the difference in demeanor satoru has now, sitting next to you atop a picnic blanket, compared to how he was during the race. the usual sure footed and confident formula one driver is gone, replaced by a nervous and bashful version of him.

“thank you for bringing me” you say, ending the beat of silence. “and thank you for the food too, it was really good,” you smile, relieved to see satoru smile back at you, slowly growing in confidence once again.

“i did tell you the convenience store was the right move” he quips, nudging your shoulder with his own.

“convenient, some would even say” you retort, giggling when he rolls his eyes and acts as if he’s scooting away from you. “you fly me out to japan just to scoot away from me?” you gasp, your lips turning upwards when satoru turns his back to you with a smile. “you know i think max might be my favorite driver” you say, laughing when he immediately snaps to face you with furrowed brows and a scowl on his face.

“that is so not fair!” he cries out, tackling you with a hug that causes both of you to fall backwards on the blanket. “take it back! say I’m your favorite!” he can’t help the smile on his face while he’s looking at you, hair a mess against the blanket.

“okay, okay you’re still my favorite driver” you admit, biting back a smile when you see how much his face lights up at your words. the spring breeze hits the two of you as you sit back up, cherry blossom petals falling around the two of you against a sky painted pinks and reds to match.

“i really like you” satoru blurts out, his gaze switching between his fidgeting hands and your face. you’re tempted to make a witty remark, something about you’d hope so after three week, but you hold your tongue.

“i didn’t think I’d find something serious, i wasn’t really- it wasn’t something high on my priority list you know?” he lets out a breathy laugh. “i told myself i was only gonna focus on driving, getting better and being the best, no time for anything else, no distractions,” you’re watching him intently, trying to read his facial expression when he’s looking at you.

was he breaking up with you? or was he-

“but you’re not a distraction, and i want to make time for you” his blue eyes are locked on yours now, no hints of uncertainty in his voice as he continues. “i want to be with you more than anything else; be by your side, have you cheering me on and celebrating after you pass exams, be able to just talk with you” he smiles.

“will you be mine?” satoru finally asks.

there’s a million thoughts in your head as you process his words, hundreds of reasons why you should say yes and thousands of what if’s. what about his schedule? and how much he travels and time zones and stress and school and-

there’s another gust of wind that causes more cherry blossoms to fall from the sky, landing over the two of you. you can hear a bird singing and you wonder if the universe itself is rooting for the two of you. a blossom falls perfectly on your face, landing on your cheek, it makes you smile.

“yes” your cheeks hurt from the smile on your face as you wrapped your arms around him, “of course yes!”

satoru meets your gaze with equal happiness as his arms immediately wrapped around you, squeezing your tightly. he lets out a sigh of relief, a wide smile on his face as he peppers your face with kisses. the two of you radiate the epitome of romance as you’re in each others embrace, with hearts practically forming as the two of you look at each other.

the night is spent in each others arms, giggles and dumb conversations filling the hotel room until late into the night. silly anecdotes and surprisingly deep questions keep the two of you from falling asleep, even when you both admit to your eyes burning from exhaustion.

“i don’t wanna go to sleep yet” he whispers, “because then it’s less time with you before your flight” the sadness in his voice is evident, and your tone mirrors it when you respond.

“me either” you sigh, one hand brushing the snowy hair out his his eyes and exposing his forehead a bit, “but then we’re both going to exhausted tomorrow” a small smile on your lips when satoru chuckles softly.

“yeah you’re right” he yawns, scooting closer to you before speaking up, “still can’t believe i won.”

“second place in your first year driving is an insane win” you agree, “you’re so talented, I’m so proud of you.” the words hit closer to his heart than satoru anticipated, breath hitching n his throat as he quickly regains composure and smiles.

“oh that too” he nods, “but i was talking about you being my partner” even as he utters the sentence he can’t help but get giddy, heart flipping as he watches a smile fight its way into your lips.

“you’ve had a great day haven’t you?” you ask with a smile, laughing when he nods happily in response.

the next morning both of you are beyond exhausted, a consequence of sleeping a mere four hours. neither of you regret it, only laughing it off as the two of you pack your bags up.

satoru would be heading back to his house in Monaco for the by-week before heading to shanghai for the chinese grand prix. you’d be heading back to your apartment for university and trying to catch up on work you could’ve been doing the entire weekend; you don’t worry about that yet, not when you have a 6’3 formula one driver by your side as you head to the airport.

“you’ll call me when you land?” he asks, a pout on his lips despite your nodding. “I’m gonna miss you so much” he sighs, pulling you into him by the waist and crashing his lips to yours.

you pull away after a moment, chasing his lips with a quick peck before sighing. “me too” you frown, “but we’ll call and text right?” the thousands of what if’s flood your mind as you look up at him, eyes frantically searching his face.

“you’re gonna be annoyed of me texting you” he smiles, kissing your cheek and extending out his pinky, “i pinky promise to call and text.”

you smile widely at his gesture, linking your pinky with his and shaking it softly, “i pinky promise to call and text.” satoru beams down at you, kissing you one last time.

you had barely sat down at your gate when your phone buzzed, a bashful smile on your face as you read the notification.

satoru <3

‘hi :3’

two what if’s were loudest in your head as you typed out your responsed; what if it worked out? what if it really was meant to be?

taglist: @chilichopsticks @anime-for-the-sleepless @safaia-47 @nanamikentoseyebags @fushironi @nineooooo @the-mom-friend-dot-com @gojoshooter @beautiful-is-boring @sweetheart-satoru @luna0713hunter @torusmochi @kentocalls @sadmonke @cactisjuice @thewondrousdreamer @beaniebaby12 @kenmacantakemeaway

[roanofarcc]

THE ALCHEMY

pairing. tyler owens x boone’s sister! reader

summary. the reunion of you and your high school sweetheart, years after your split, brings back all those long-lost feelings you tried to bury. (based off of taylor swift's "the alchemy")

warnings. ex-high school sweetheart tyler owens. fem!reader. reader was a pageant queen. bull rider tyler lives rent-free in my head (I need to write more bc oof...). a little bit of angst but with a happy ending!

word count. 5.3k || masterlist

‘What if I told you I’m back?... I circled you on a map… I haven’t come around in so long,  but I’m coming back so strong.’ 

The sweet smell of rain filled your senses the second you stepped out of your car. The gray sky overhead spat little droplets onto the red dirt road, instantly causing the dirt to stick to your boots. You pulled your jacket closer to your body as the wind picked up.

“We couldn’t have met up at a gas station or something?” you shouted, cupping your hands around your mouth to draw the attention of the group huddled around a red pickup truck parked off to the side of an empty road, which was split between two freshly planted fields. 

“Oh, shit!” A wide grin broke out on your brother’s lips as he rushed towards you. He tackled you in a hug that quickly became him hooking an arm around your neck as he brought his knuckles down against the top of your head, screwing up your hair. With a huff, you shoved him off, playfully punching him in the arm as you mirrored his smile. 

“You could have at least told me we’d be meeting up in the middle of bumble-fuck,” you said. 

Boone rolled his eyes. “Everywhere around here’s bumble-fuck,” he said. “We’re waiting for a storm to come through here and the closest building is school fifteen miles north.” 

You didn’t get a chance to say anything else before it was Lily’s turn to tackle you in a hug, nearly knocking you to the ground. The rest of the Wranglers surrounded you excitedly, all talking over each other, but you had gotten good at following their chattiness from the years Boone had been a part of the internet famous storm chasing group. 

“I can’t believe Boone finally talked you into chasing with us,” Dani said. 

“He didn’t tell me you guys were chasing this weekend until I landed,” you replied, glaring slightly at your brother. “It felt too late to back out.” 

“Damn right!” Boone said, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “You’re gonna love it; right, Ty?” 

Compared to him in the group’s livestreams, Tyler Owens stood unusually quiet and lingered back in the group that swarmed you. Since you often tuned into their streams, he didn’t look too different, but it had felt like a lifetime since you’d seen him in person. The last time you met his gaze, he had just hit his last growth spurt as high school neared the end. He wore his tattered cowboy hat nearly every day and the same old pair of boots that you used to get excited about when you saw them discarded in your mudroom. The Tyler looking at you now was grown and broad, in a new hat and boots. 

“Yeah,” Tyler answered, sending you a quick, unsure smile. 

You returned it before turning to Boone. “Great. Can you help me with something first?” He nodded and followed you back to your car. You opened the driver’s side door and pretended that you really did need your brother’s help. “Did you not tell him I was coming?” 

Boone sucked air between his teeth, his tell-tale sign that you were right, but he was going to try to lie about it. You glared at him, and he sighed. “No, not exactly. Not until this morning…” 

“Boone!” you groaned. It was one thing being in awkward proximity to your high school sweetheart, it was another when he had no idea you were coming to crash his party. You two had kept it weird but civil, considering Tyler and Boone were best friends and had been since the day they met at the county fair, but you two had grown exceptionally good at avoiding each other, up until then. 

“I’m sorry! But you already planned to come out this weekend and Mother Nature had her own plans. It’s been years, can’t you two just get along?” 

It was more complicated than ‘getting along.’ You could get along with Tyler, probably pretty easily if you had let his presence slip from your mind since you ended things with each other before you split up for college. But you still found him stupidly charming through your screen; seeing him in person was a different ball game. You never outgrew the space you had carved out in your heart for him, and it was embarrassing. 

“I’m sure we can get along just fine,” you said. “But that doesn’t make it any less weird.” For you, probably not for Tyler. He seemed to be doing rather well for himself. If you were being honest with yourself, he probably hadn’t thought about you in years, not too deeply anyway. You were just some girl he dated in high school and the sister of his best friend who never came around anymore. 

“If it feels weird, just make that weird face you do when Grandad makes a bad joke and I’ll try to buffer it out.” 

You rubbed your temples. “Fine,” you huffed, peering around the door at the group invested in their conversation. You looked at Tyler, standing with his hands on his hips and a small, genuine smile on his lips as he listened to his friends. You couldn’t help the memories the sight of him dredged up. 

‘Call the amatures and cut ‘em from the team. Ditch the clowns, get the crown. Baby, I’m the one to beat.’ 

Cotton candy was sticky on your fingers as you plucked it from the stick. You resisted the urge to wipe them off on your brand-new dress, knowing your mom would have a fit even, though it was impossible to stay clean while doing your duties strolling around the fairgrounds, greeting guests, and getting pictures taken. A sash was placed across your chest, sparkly and bright, declaring you the winner of Fair Queen, a beauty pageant you’d been dreaming about since you were a little girl in 4-H, watching the pretty girls up on stage in their gowns and cowgirl boots. 

You walked with pride, head held high to keep your crown upright and a smile stuck on your lips. Just as you finished your cotton candy, you spotted your older brother set up a picnic table. He was with another boy, the two talking excitedly to each other despite you never having seen the kid he was talking to before. He sat opposite of Boone, dressed in a dirty pair of boots and a hat that covered wild blond hair that poked out from underneath. 

You absentmindedly fixed your hair, as you had been doing all day in the summer heat, before heading towards them. The blond spotted you first, sitting up a little straighter. 

“Boone,” you called out, gaining your brother’s attention. He waved at you with a mouth full of pizza. You noticed the spread of food between the two boys. “You didn’t spend all of mom’s money, did you?” 

He winced, swallowing his bite and slowly pushing a half-eaten basket of fries toward you. “I saved you these…” You narrowed your eyes, and he threw his hands up in defense. “You’re fair royalty! I didn’t know you had to pay for food!” 

“I’m not the queen of England,” you said. 

“Here,” the blond piped up, holding up a fresh slice of pizza. You looked at him, confused and a little dazzled by his soft smile and the smear of dirt across his cheek. You knew for sure he’d never hung around your brother before because you’d remember a face like that. The boys at school and that your brother hung around weren’t nearly as cute as the blond cowboy. 

“What?” you said after a beat too long. 

“You can have it; we can’t let the royalty starve, now can we?” 

You felt heat rush to your face but played it off with a shake of your head. “No, it’s okay.” 

“Technically, I think it’s yours. Boone bought it for me. Besides, I gotta get back. My dad will have my ass if I skip out on feeding the bulls…again.” The blond all but shoved the pizza into your hands.

Boone groaned dramatically. “Aw man, I was gonna say we should try to sneak onto the rides.” 

The blond grinned, standing up and stretching his lanky limbs. He was a head or two taller than your brother, and you noticed the paper pinned to the back of his shirt. 

“You’re one of the bull riders?” you asked, an impressed tone dripping into your voice. 

The blond adjusted his hat before he tipped it in a nod. “Yes, ma’am. Tyler Owens,” he said, stretching out his hand toward you. A little too quickly, you shook his hand, matching his toothy grin. 

“It’s nice to meet you,” you said. 

“Right back at ‘cha, your highness,” he teased before turning to Boone. “I’ll be here all week. When I’m not practicing for the rodeo next weekend, I’ll get us those wristbands for free.” 

Boone gasped. “You got a double agent carnie?” 

Tyler laughed, patting Boone on the shoulder before he started walking away. You smiled sillily down at the slice of pizza in your hand, knowing there was no way that cowboy would leave your mind any time soon. 

‘What if I told you we’re cool? That child’s play back in school, is forgiven under by rule.’ 

As terrifying as it was, you had to admit, storm chasing was incredibly thrilling. Boone had been doing it for years, but you never tagged along. You’d been taught to run away and shelter in the face of storms, but that didn’t stick for Boone like it had for you. 

Racing down the backroads in the back of Tyler’s truck, you found yourself incredibly stressed and entertained at the same time. From the front seat, your brother hollered as he live-streamed, clearly having the time of his life. 

Tyler stopped on top of a hill, throwing the truck into park before everyone rushed out to snap some pictures as the tornado raged on across the wide-open fields. The deep gray clouds were captivating, swirling around in a dangerous but beautiful display. It hurried further from where you stood, taking your anxiety along with it. You held your camera up to your face, capturing the moment in a way you’d never before. 

You laughed in disbelief, riding a kind of adrenaline high that made you begin to understand why Boone loved chasing. “That was incredible!” you said, a little breathless. 

“Did it live up to your expectations,” Tyler asked, appearing beside you. You faltered, seeing him face to face up close. He had the same smile, one that made him look freshly seventeen again. Only he was no longer the lanky kid who used to pick you flowers before every date and entertained your family game nights with zero complaints. It was a hard pill to swallow, especially standing in front of him, but you didn’t really know that Tyler Owens. The internet-famous Wrangler was worlds away from the rodeo star you used to know like the back of your hand. 

“Yeah,” you replied, voice soft in the afternoon air. He turned his gaze out over the expanse of field that started at the bottom of the hill and stretched beyond what your eyes could see, staying quiet as the rest of the Wranglers excited chatted somewhere behind you guys. You didn’t look at him either, focusing elsewhere while your mind conjured up the pretty little memories of you and Tyler from high school against your wishes. “I’m sorry Boone forgot to tell you I was coming.” 

Tyler was quiet for a moment, letting out something between a sigh and a chuckle. “I don’t think he forgot. I think he thought I’d tell him not to bring you.” 

“Would you have?” 

You felt his eyes shift onto the side of your face, and you turned your head. “No, ‘course not.” 

Relief flooded your chest. You didn’t know why it was important to you if Tyler wanted you around or not. In hindsight, you had dated years ago, back when you were kids, so it probably hardly counted as a real relationship in his head. But it was more than that to you. As silly as it sounded, you’d always hold a soft spot for Tyler. That’s why you tried to avoid him face-to-face. It made you feel weird, plucking at the abandoned teenage heartstring you once tied to him. 

‘These blokes warm the benches. We’ve been on a winning streak.  He jokes that it’s heroin, but this time with an ‘e’.’ 

The fair week raged on in a wonderful storm of non-stop chaos and action. You were there every day, dressed up all pretty with a sash and a crown, grinning from ear to ear at every little kid who tugged on the skirt of your dress to get a picture and front row of every competition. 

When you eventually got a little downtime from your queenly duties, you met up with your brother, who had resorted to hanging out at the grandstands. He didn’t technically need to be at the fair all day, every day like you did, but he was your ride. Instead of making trips back and forth, he used you as if free entry into the grounds and spent his days bouncing between the food stands and his new friend, Tyler Owens. When Tyler was busy practicing for the big rodeo on the very last night of the fair, Boone cheered him on from the bleachers. 

“How’s he lookin’ today,” you asked, taking a seat beside Boone. 

“A shoo-in for stayin on that son-of-bitch the longest, which I think is the point but to be honest I haven’t been paying that much attention. Did you know all elephant ears are half-price if you order a lemonade? It’s a steal,” he said before taking an obnoxiously large bite, letting the cinnamon sugar spill onto his lap. 

You rolled your eyes before you turned your attention to Tyler. He was standing against the fencing, listening to the man beside him talk, who you assumed was his dad. He must have felt you staring because he turned around and squinted upward at you and Boone before a grin broke out across his face and he waved you over. 

“Shit,” you hissed, smoothing out the skirt of your dress and the fabric of your sash. “Is he calling you or me down?” 

Boone wiped his mouth. “You for sure. I was just down there, and he kept asking, ‘where’s your sister?’ ‘what’s she up to today?’” he said, a slightly mocking tone in his voice. Your heart quickened in your chest, a little flutter like a butterfly wing forming inside your stomach. “I told him you were so not interested in some wannabe cowboy; you’re welcome.” 

Your eyes widened before you smacked your brother’s arm, hard. He nearly dropped his elephant year. “Shit! What the hell?” 

“Why would you tell him that?” 

Boone looked at you like you had grown two heads. “Those were literally your own words when mom asked you about any cute boys at the fair!” 

If you weren’t in public, you’d strangle him. Of course you weren’t interested in most of the boys strolling around the fair with their high and mighty attitudes, but from the little you’d been around Tyler, he didn’t seem too much like them, and he was much cuter. 

“Idiot,” you muttered before you climbed down the bleachers to where Tyler was. 

“Afternoon,” you greeted him and the older man. 

Tyler beamed. “See dad, I told you I met her. She’s even got the crown to prove it.” 

Tyler’s dad chuckled and shook his head. “And here I thought my son was making up meeting the queen herself.” He extended his hand just as Tyler had when you first met him a couple days prior. “It’s nice to meet you. I hope my son hasn’t been causing you too much trouble.” 

“No, sir. Not at all," you said.

“Good.” He checked the watch on his wrist and seemed to contemplate something. “Ty, you got an hour and a half. Buy her and yourself some dinner, but don’t be late, got it?” 

Tyler nodded, a bit too enthusiastically. “Yes, Sir!” He snatched a couple of bills from his dad’s hands before he shoved them in his pocket. His dad wandered away while Tyler practically bounced on his toes. “How does a pizza sound?” 

Between you, Tyler, and Boone, you finished off a whole pizza, comfortably seated at a picnic table. Your bother offered to buy everyone a pop, leaving you and Tyler alone. You propped your chin up on your hand and gazed at him from across the table. 

“Boone says you’re a shoo-in for winnin’ the rodeo,” you said. 

Tyler ducked his head and shrugged his shoulders. “My dad wants me to win more than anyone, I think. I don’t know if I will though.” 

“Well, I’ll be rootin’ for ‘ya,” you said. 

“Really?” He looked at you all stary-eyed.

You’d had plenty of crushes on boys before, but there was something about Tyler that settled differently in your chest. Maybe it was his tinted pink cheeks when he talked to you, or the little creases by his eyes when he smiled widely. Maybe the summer heat and crown on top of your head made you woozy with confidence and flushed with admiration. Whatever it was, all you knew was that in the very short time you’d known Tyler Owens, you wanted to keep on knowing him. 

‘Cause the sign on your heart, said it’s still reserved for me.’ 

The Wranglers and you pulled off at a little motel a couple miles off the interstate, near where a cluster of storm cells were brewing over the next couple of days. Tailgating was all a part of the storm-chasing experience, according to the Wranglers, and you were happy to join them. 

You sat on the tailgate of Tyler’s truck bed, watching with amusement as your brother shot-gunned a beer with Dani. She threw the can down first, earning a round of cheers. Dexter offered you a beer, and before you could decline, Tyler appeared beside Dextor, returning from where he had disappeared to. 

“She’s not a beer drinker,” he said. “Unless you’ve had a change of heart?” 

You were surprised he remembered. There had been countless summer bonfires where Tyler’s friend had tried to get you to drink a beer, and every time you tried it you didn’t change your mind about the taste. You’d hand it off to Tyler for him to finish. 

“No, still can’t stand it,” you replied. Dexter moved on with the cooler while Tyler hopped up beside you, leaving a fair gap. He held out a pop that he must’ve gotten from the vending machine, offering it to you. “Thanks,” you said. 

As the night stretched on, you found your attention drifting away from the Wranglers and onto the sky. It was stunningly clear, putting the stars on display. You rested back on your elbows, peering upwards. You had missed catching Tyler's curiosity until he knocked his shoulder with yours. 

“What can we see tonight,” he asked, the same way he once had when you found yourself in a similar position as teenagers. Tyler would ask you about the constellations, but he often paid more attention to you than the sky. That wasn’t the case anymore, though; his eyes were actually fixed on the dark expanse of sky overhead, glittering with stars as far as the eyes could see. 

You pointed out the ones you could see, tracing them with your finger until you had run through all of the ones you could make out. The two of you continued to watch them, listening to the Wranglers’ conversation in the background. It was unnervingly peaceful, something you hadn’t been in a long time. Even when you’d visit home, there were too many differences to make it feel fully like the home you had left when college rolled around. You knew that was the nature of growing up, things changed; they had to. But there was something about the laughter of your brother that you could almost pretend was from a room just across the hall, and the presence of Tyler beside you that made you feel seventeen again. 

It lulled you into a false sense of peace that you were okay with. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fluttered closed, head resting on your crumbled-up sweatshirt as you lay in the bed of Tyler’s truck. The smell of spring and the hum of the wind put you into a light sleep. 

It wasn’t until someone gently shook your shoulder that you woke up with a little start. It was still dark, but the parking lot had emptied of tailgaters. You rubbed your eyes, unblurring the world around you until the face of Tyler came clearly into view. 

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, a flush of embarrassment crawling up your spine. “Sorry.” 

Tyler chuckled lightly. “You can still do that, huh?” You furrowed your brows, confused. “Fall asleep anywhere.” 

“Oh,” you said, sheepishly sitting up right. “I guess so.” 

He ran a hand through his hair, a smile softly playing on his lips that you found yourself looking at for a moment too long. He caught you but didn’t drop it. Instead, he outstretched his hand and nodded his head toward the building. 

“Come on,” he said. “I’ll walk ‘ya to your room.” 

You didn’t think before taking his hand, some kind of old muscle memory, but the second your fingers curled around his, you felt that stupid flutter reemerge in your chest. It made you feel childish; a crush you couldn’t kill despite having outgrown it. For a second, as he helped you off the tailgate, you thought you saw the same light blush that crept across his cheeks when he shook your hand the first day you met, but you wrote it off as a trick of the dim lighting. 

When your two feet were on the ground, you both let go and you let him lead the way to your motel room. Boone had left your keys with Tyler, and he handed them off to you as you approached the door. You hesitated for a second. 

“Tyler,” you rushed out. He hung back from where you stood, leaving a stretch of space that felt like a world apart. “Thank you for letting me tag along today.” You weren’t sure what else to say, how to voice the hot creep of old feelings refilling your gut. 

He searched your face for something, before he said, “I’m glad you’re here.” That felt like a step closer, even though you two maintained the distance. 

“Me too,” you replied. “Good night.” 

“Good night.” 

‘Cheers chanted ‘cause they said, ‘“there was no chance trying to be the greatest in the league.”  Where’s the trophy? He just comes running over to me.’ 

The last night of the fair blew in with a light breeze and a clear sky. You and Boone had raced to the grandstands and sat as close to the front as you could to get a good view of Tyler’s bull ride. Energy swirled across the bleachers, painting you in jovial unease. You bounced your knee and kept a steady gaze at each bull rider who attempted to win the prize. 

When Tyler’s turn came around, you weren’t sure you had ever cheered so loud for someone. He still wore his dirty pair of boots and hat that was nearly too small for his head, but he claimed they both were his good luck charms. Under the bright lights, he glowed with pure determination and pride. The entire time he was out there, you held your breath. It happened so fast. One second, they’re calling his number and the next he’s being announced as the winner. 

You stood up alongside Boone, hooting and hollering at the top of your lungs as Tyler smiled in disbelief at his luck. Through the people lining the stands, you raced down toward the fence that circled the ring. The crown nearly toppled from your head as you climbed the fence just enough to stand tall among the crowd. The excitement that filled you was on par with your own win earlier that week. 

The announcers stood in the middle of the corral, announcing the prize as you locked eyes with Tyler. He broke out in a grin when his eyes met yours, even bigger than the smile of a winner he already held. As he was supposed to stay with the announcers to claim his prize, he took off toward you instead. 

He climbed the fence on the opposite side, meeting you eye to eye a couple of feet off of the ground. You threw your arms around him, a little unsteadily. Above the cheers from the crowd, you spoke into his ear, “You did it!” 

Tyler pulled back just lightly, just enough to see your face. His eyes shined, stary and bright, chest heaving with excitement and adrenaline. For a second, he just stared at you, looking for something until he found it in the twitch of your lips and the reflective shine in your eyes. He crashed into you, kissing you quick and sweet. 

All in a quick second, somewhere over the speakers the announcers laughed, the flash of a camera went off, and Tyler pulled away before racing back to claim his prize. You stood in a daze, fuzzy-headed and lovesick. 

‘Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?’ 

You still had the photo of your and Tyler’s first kiss. You kept it in the locket he got you for your birthday. You never wore it; it never left your jewelry box. But for some reason, it had found its way in with the other jewelry you packed for your trip. How, you weren’t sure, but as you got ready for the next day, you found it. You traced your finger across the small heart, almost missing a light knock at your door. 

It wasn’t until your name was called that you snapped out of your daze and rushed to the door to find your brother. Boone greeted you with a cup of coffee before he pushed his way into your room and jumped onto the bed with a tired huff. 

“Ready for day two? Rader’s lookin’ like we’ll have some good ones today,” he said. 

Sipping your coffee, you nodded. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” 

He opened his mouth to say something else, but his hand knocked against the locket you left on your bed. He grabbed it before you could, holding it up to the light before his face filled with recognition. “Holy shit, you still have this thing.” You knew he only recognized it because you had talked about it non-stop after Tyler gave it to you. But to confirm his suspicions, he popped the locket open to reveal the little picture of you and Tyler inside. 

“I didn’t mean to pack it,” you blurted out. “I-I don’t…” You sighed heavily, plopping down next to him. Boone handed the locket back to you. 

“You know, he asks about you, a lot,” he said after a beat of quietly contemplating. “He tries to be nonchalant about it, but I think he forgets that I’ve known him forever. He’s not nearly as smooth about it as he pretends to be.” 

You fiddled with the necklace in your hands. A part of you didn’t believe your brother, even though he’d have no reason to lie. You opened your mouth to retort, brush off his words, but another knock echoed from your door. You kept the locket held in your palm as you opened it to see Tyler. 

Wide-eyed, you faltered in a greeting. Boone beat you two it, appearing from behind you with a stupid smile as he patted your shoulder. “I’ll meet you two downstairs,” he said, slipping out of the door past the two of you quickly, but shooting you a smirk before he disappeared down the stairs and towards to parking lot. 

The morning sun caught the metal locket, reflecting off of it and drawing Tyler’s attention right to the piece of jewelry. Before a greeting left his lips, he said, “You still have that?” 

“Yeah,” you replied with a sigh. “I couldn’t get rid of it after…” You two broke up in what was disguised as a mutual split but didn’t feel as much. The second you were out of Tyler’s sight after the conversation that ended it all, you bawled the whole drive home. Your momma had tried to console you, and Boone threatened to beat up his best friend, but nothing mended the split in your heart. Even a college fresh start didn’t quite rid Tyler from your mind. He had always been there, a ‘what-if’ and ‘what could have been.’ Getting rid of the locket felt like a final nail in the coffin that you couldn’t, even after all that time, make. 

He seemed touched by the sentiment, smiling softly down at the object in your hands. “I remember that old picture you used to keep in it,” he said. “The one of us at the rodeo. You know, my ma still has it on our fridge? She says it was because the only picture he had of that day, but I know she’s lying.” 

You unclipped the little latch on the side of the locket and flipped it open with your thumb to reveal the same photo that existed inside. A rush of different emotions you couldn’t quite pinpoint flashed across his face he as stared at the photo. You two had been so young, so flushed with pretty emotions. Just two kids not sure what love was but found themselves at the start of it. 

“I don’t know why I packed it,” you admitted. “I didn’t even know I’d be seein’ you until I landed, and Boone suckered me into chasing with you guys. I just…I’ve thought about this lot, an embarrassing number of times.” 

“Thought about what?” 

“Seeing you again. What’d I say to you. But, I’ll admit, actually seeing you in person again I…” You weren’t sure where the sudden rush of words found the confidence to leave your lips, but you knew they needed to get out. “I don’t know how you do it.” 

Tyler stepped closer to you, lingering in the doorway. His brows were pulled in confusion, but his eyes shined with something between his usual starriness and softness. “Do what?” 

“Just being ‘round you,” you sighed. “I feel like the girl in this picture again.” 

You half expected him to look at you with pity, gently let you down in the way only he could. Maybe you could catch an early flight back home and spend the rest of your life avoiding the boy you fell in love with as a teen who never quite left you. You’re sure Boone would understand, and he wouldn’t suggest you go with them again. It would be fine, really it would be. 

But Tyler didn’t. He reached out, brushing a thumb across your cheek before he let it rest cupping your jaw. There was a slight hesitance in his movement, giving you enough time to move away if your words hadn’t meant what he thought they did. But you stayed, and the second you smiled at him he closed the space between the two of you with a hot rush of feelings. His lips moved against yours with familiarity mixed with a newfound excitement as his hands held onto the side of your face like he was scared you’d slip away from him all over again. 

It felt like something that only happened once in a few lifetimes; almost too good to be true but standing right there.

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹｡ tell me about love (show me how) | gojo satoru

wc: 7.4k

summary: you teach gojo how to love. 

contains: f!reader in mind but no pronouns mentioned, descriptions of blood (typical jjk canon type stuff), shibuya onwards manga spoilers, implied minor character death, there are swears, suggestive bit at the end (but it’s funny!), lots of internal thoughts/dialogues, kind of canon divergent

a/n: relates to my short blurb, do you believe in love?, explores a lot on how i think gojo would be when it comes to love; ambiguous but linear timeline (jumps through scenes)

collection masterlist: conversations on love 01. do you believe in love? <- you are here -> 2.5. and my body keeps saying (it's yours)

When Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it. 

It’s unusual for him to be so restrained, being born into greed and predetermined purpose—a one-man clan fated to hold power close to God. There exists a hunger within him, insatiable and stubborn, unstoppable until he gets what he wants. It’s all he’s ever known: to take and devour, simply because he can. 

Yet with this, he doesn’t. He can’t seem to. 

“I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

When you offer your heart to Gojo, he looks at you softly. 

You catch his eyes and see the sky, bright, with flecks of light floating on his irises like cotton clouds in its periphery. It’s different from the piercing blue you’re used to—a terrifying riptide that washes you away. 

It wasn’t intended as a confession, but Gojo always takes whatever you have to say. He commits it to memory each time; how could he not? Words that come from you flow so naturally, so earnestly that the air around you shifts all on its own.

His lips part slightly, red spatterings lining pink inner corners before they close again. He doesn’t say anything, but you know Gojo and the fingerprints of his soul—the way he bites his lips to withhold himself from speaking. 

It’s dangerous, he thinks, how you make wanting something so complicated seem so simple.

He takes a small breath, then you feel it, pressed against you—the faint signature of his cursed energy overlaying his entirety. It tickles your skin a little, the effects of it brushing. You don’t remember the last time he put it up around you.

A million things run through Gojo’s mind for every split second he breathes, but at this point in time, he counts a million and one—one thought that if he touches you by infinity instead of his hands, he can have this good thing for now, that this is the only way how. 

You’d think this a rejection, if any, but he doesn’t move away from you, and the blush blooming at the tips of his ears says more than he ever could. 

.

.

.

The subtle intimacy you share with Gojo grows sporadically, from knuckles brushing to pinkies touching. He stands next to you more often, a few inches closer than he used to and sometimes, still, with an infinity connecting you.

.

.

.

When you hold Gojo’s hand for the first time, he jolts very slightly, as if you’ve shocked him. He’s started to put his infinity down around you again, and you continue the limbo of whatever it is you both are—except this time, he’s made it clearer, just a little bit. 

During the last few leaves of fall, Gojo skips to an ice cream stand like a pre-schooler on early dismissal. You trail behind him slowly, shaking your head affectionately; he’s the only adult you know that still acts like he’s 5. 

“You’re like a horse.” you jest, stopping next to him in line.

“You’re a snail.” he huffs, side-eyeing you, like a child.

You gasp exaggeratingly, hitting his arm. He fake-winces, but that’s all it is; Gojo’s the strongest and you don’t know of any human touch that has managed to hurt him, except—

Yeah. Your eyes trail to the side of his neck, hidden in the shadows of his jawline; there’s really nothing, but sometimes you blink and see crimson, oozing, gushing, leaking—you shake away the thought.  

When he receives his ice cream cone stacked with vanilla-strawberry-vanilla and rainbow sprinkles on top, the smile on his face parallels the sun. He looks cozy, almost boyish, beaming against the autumn breeze blowing on his thick gray hoodie. 

You wonder if he feels just as warm.

(Maybe that’s why you do it, then).

Once Gojo turns to give you the cone, you reach for his other hand tentatively, shyly—your fingertips grazing his palm lightly. You want to give him an out if he can’t take this, but he doesn’t move. He twitches a little, as if he’s been caught off guard, but that’s it. 

His eyes widen briefly, just a bit, before turning into the same soft skies frequenting them lately. 

“Sorry, is this okay?” you whisper, peering up at him. 

He stares at you for a while, his hand in yours unmoving. You leave a sliver of space between your palms–your own version of his infinity–just in case. And he takes it all in: how tiny your hand is wrapped around his, how gently you speak—how warm he feels now amidst this autumn breeze. 

“The strawberry’s really good,” he finally replies, pressing the dessert closer to you, “try it.” 

You give him one last look before you indulge in his request. Gojo’s always been good at that: pushing and pulling—pushing you away with non-answers only to pull you back in with something else. 

But he doesn’t let go of your hand, so you keep yours there, palms nearly touching. (You make a point not to mention how the parts that do touch become clammy for the rest of the afternoon). 

.

.

.

You start to think that your relationship with Gojo is going somewhere, then he disappears (‘gets sealed’ might be the more proper term). 

His absence is deafening. You’ve all lost so much, and it hurts, but you carry on knowing full well that this is what being a jujutsu sorcerer means. There aren’t many left to fight his fight, so you do what you can to. You stay with Shoko, mostly, if not going back and forth with Utahime. You can’t afford to be crying when the students, the kids—you can’t even bear to think about what they’re going through.

Nights are the hardest, when the world is quiet but your mind is loud, throwing far too many questions you can’t find the answers to.

What will Gojo come back to? Then the scarier thought: Will he even come back? 

You don’t want to doubt him, ever, but your mind continues to play back that day, like a final memory. The unintentional confession; his eyes like the sky. 

You don’t want it to be the last important thing you tell him. 

“I should start looking into retirement plans, like Nanamin.” you raise an eyebrow, questioning. Gojo’s never spoken this far into the future before, most especially his. 

“Work is shit now for you too?” you scoff, leaning back on the wooden ledge. 

Gojo rolls his eyes, skipping the coverage of his blindfold today. 

“Well, after I remove the old geezers and change everything, there won’t be much left to do.” 

You hum in response. He does make a point. 

“Also, Megumi won’t need me anymore,” he pouts, whining, “who else will want me around?” 

You try to hold back your laugh, wanting so badly to tell him that Megumi doesn’t even really like him around to begin with—but you figure breaking Gojo’s heart isn’t really something you want to do if you value your peace. 

“I don’t know,” you reply, shifting your weight, “I think I’ll always want to be with you, Satoru.” 

Even now, especially now. You wish you were with him, too. 

.

.

.

The day you hear of Gojo’s potential return, you drop your breakfast outside the 7-Eleven near Jujutsu Tech. You’re supposed to meet up with Utahime for a weekly check-in but your feet take you to Shoko, and the footsteps in your heart have never echoed louder. 

This is the first good news in a while—especially after finding out about the state of Megumi and what happened to Tsumiki, your sweet girl Tsumiki. 

When Gojo comes back, it’s like he never left. He pops out of the box joking the same way, talking the same way. He proves himself to be the strongest all the same, and when he wins—there are scars, but he wins and that fact stays the same. 

So, when you reach for his hand now and he moves away, you’re stuck wondering what’s changed. 

.

.

.

You let it stay that way for a while, your understanding extending to Gojo the way it always has—you don’t push, and he gives you what he can. It honestly isn’t all that bad, because at least he’s still talking to you like he used to. 

Jujutsu society is still shaken from its core. You and all who have survived bear the task of building everything from the ground up; it’s exhausting, especially since most of you are still mourning. 

Megumi’s been put in an induced coma; you understand why but it still tugs at your heart when Shoko tells you it might take a while. Everyone else has been assigned to sweep through the rest of Japan to ensure that any remaining curses are taken care of. 

You see Yuuji and Yuuta visit Megumi sometimes, along with Maki and Toge when they’re free. Gojo’s there pretty often too, using healing sessions with Shoko as an excuse to see the boy he’s practically raised at 17, with you. 

But while Gojo’s smiles to everyone else remain as charming as ever, you can always tell when they’re untrue. 

.

“Are you okay?” 

You find Gojo a little after midnight on the rooftop of the faculty building. The city always looks pretty from up here—a sea of lights reflected up on the sky. It’s a running joke that rooftops are Gojo’s ‘thing’, but you know he really only comes to places like this to think. You wonder what’s on his mind now, coming here every single night since being unsealed. 

Despite how quiet you try to be, sneaking up on Gojo is almost impossible; he senses you before he hears you, sees the familiar traces of your cursed energy through his Six Eyes. 

“Can’t sleep thinking about me?” he teases, looking straight ahead.

The steps you take towards him are careful, afraid of running him off like you seem to be lately. You sit beside him, leaving a space larger than you usually do, then shrug, “These days, yeah.”

It’s times like this when Gojo forgets how honest you can be, how he takes your word for everything, completely. 

It’s threatening, he thinks, how you can say so much with so little. 

“Well, maybe I can suggest—” 

“Seriously, Satoru,” you grip the ledge tightly, knuckles turning white, “please.” 

You tend to let Gojo dodge your questions a lot of the time, his elusiveness a hallmark of who he is. So you never sound like you do now, serious, pleading. 

Gojo fiddles with his fingers, pondering. He hums lowly before speaking, “Does it matter?” 

It hurts you a little, how that’s even a question. He should know better than to ask that to you. 

“It matters to me, Satoru,” you sigh, “you know it does.”

You barely catch the way his brows furrow at your response, but there are creases on his blindfold that can’t be created by anything else. And Gojo knows—is so painfully aware of the way you care. 

Since coming back, he’s never felt like he’s fully returned. It’s an odd existence of in-between, like he breathes everything and nothing all at the same time. The emotions are even worse, overloading his senses with feelings he can never pinpoint. 

How does he tell you that he must be fucked in the head? That every second in his mind is another step closer to insanity? That he’s lost your tether on Satoru in pursuit of Gojo—of being a god? 

“I’ll tell you,” he starts, “but you have to look away.”

You’ve always treated Gojo tenderly, patiently, and he knows, without a doubt, that no matter what he says you will continue to do the same. But he can’t allow that, not anymore. Not after the way you looked at him that day.

“Okay,” you mutter, turning your head the other way. 

He breathes out and you can almost picture it: half-bitten lips and eyes like low tide. 

“I’m fine,” he says to the back of your head, “you have nothing to worry about.” 

A breeze picks up and brushes past your neck. It’s a lie. He knows it, knows you know it too, but—

it’s easier this way, he thinks, to give you answers when you’re not looking.

Gojo’s never found a weakness he can’t work around, but he might have just found one with you—in your eyes, that read through his every lie. If you turn around now, he’ll want to tell you everything.

“Satoru,” you whisper, letting his name fill the air. You get it—him, and even when you don’t, you try damn hard to because you refuse to let Gojo carry all of it on his own. 

There are crescent indents on your palm from squeezing your knuckles too hard. You think, is this how you form shallow cuts on your heart?

“It’s just me,” you continue, facing him when you say it. 

He takes you all in—your eyes that hold the city lights, your lips, the only vessel that handles his name so delicately. It’s that look on your face again and Gojo’s hit with an ache in his chest—the overwhelming truth that whatever it is, he feels the same. 

.

.

.

There’s a secret Gojo keeps, one he’s certain he’ll never tell you: that when he looks at you upon his return and finds an emotion he refuses to name, he’s never felt so afraid.  

He takes in the shadows under your eyes and the sunkenness of your cheeks—the number of blinks it takes you to reign in tears on the brink of leaking. The way your voice shakes when you say his name.

Shoko tells him about it because she knows you never will—about how you’ve been running yourself dry, speeding through colonies to gather intel for any possible way to break the seal. She tells him about the sleepless nights, how she catches you standing outside his office at 3 a.m. before travelling to Utahime the next morning. 

And he cannot comprehend it at first, cannot understand how he’s caused you to crumble this way. 

If this is all because of him, how you’ve broken yourself all for his sake, he can’t allow it. To see you ruin yourself over him, over anyone ever—you deserve better.

So, when Gojo has love for the taking, he makes no move to reach for it; he cannot possibly take any more from you if this is what is left of you when he does. 

.

.

.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” you catch him by the door of the conference room. 

Rebuilding an entire society requires work and apparently a lot of meetings. Gojo doesn’t usually go to most of them, leaving you and Utahime to carry the chunk of his attendance when he’s not there. In the rare times that he does show up, he makes it a point to be the last one in and the first one out. Utahime hates him for it but you don’t blame him—he isn’t exactly amicable with other figures of authority.

He pauses when he steps out of the door, hands in pockets as he turns to face you. 

You’re not mad or anything, just stating the fact. He’s always known you to speak this way. You lean against the wall next to you, keeping your arms crossed. More people continue to file out of the conference room, some eyeing the two of you curiously as they pass by.

Gojo glances at them, suddenly self-conscious as he clears his throat, “Right, I’ve been avoiding the paperwork you left in my office,” he emphasizes, practically announcing it to everyone in the vicinity, “let’s finish it now.” 

You don’t know whether it’s irritating that Gojo’s so terribly bad at acting, or comforting that he still can’t, for the life of him, successfully lie in front of you. 

He motions for you to follow him as he strolls down the hallway, but you intentionally lag a few steps behind, careful not to encroach on his space lest it make him avoid you any more than he already is.

Stepping into Gojo’s office after so long feels weird, like you belong here but only to a memory of it—as if closing the door behind you feels like activating a muscle you haven’t for a while. It’s been months after all. 

Your eyes skim over the entire room, zeroing in on the stacks of paper lined up on his desk; paperwork has always been Gojo’s least favorite part of the job, often leaving you to do them with him (or alone, when you’re feeling generous). Not much has changed in his space; the mini living area still exists to the left of the room, with little bits of you in its interiors—the pillows, the coffee table books. 

Gojo plops down on the sofa chair and props his feet up on the ottoman, giving four scrolls to his phone before pocketing it. He has the audacity to casually offer you the seat across from him, as if nothing’s wrong—as if he hasn’t been avoiding you for god’s sake. 

Ever since the rooftop, he’s canceled lunch with you six times for reasons that you’re now realizing are less likely to be true. He’s kept a distance of at least one person in between you at all times, and to this day, you still don’t understand why. 

You sigh, taking a seat and leaning back to cross your legs. 

“You’re so bad at acting.” you start.

Being with Gojo for so long, you’ve come to realize that there’s no point being angry with him when your heart can never take it. 

“I technically wasn’t lying.” he replies, sticking his index finger up. 

“Yeah, I can see that,” you snicker, nodding to his desk. 

It’s always like this with Gojo: he pulls you in and you follow. No matter the distance between you, when you sit down together like this, it still always flows so easily. The banter you’ve built together over a decade and more shines through no matter what state your relationship is in. 

Neither of you say anything until Gojo replaces his blindfold for his sunglasses, placing the piece of cloth on the coffee table. 

You break the silence. 

“Why have you been avoiding me?” you ask quietly. Gojo aches at that, how you still choose to regard him so kindly. 

Why has he been avoiding you? It’s a good question, completely valid with how he’s been treating you lately, but he could draw up every answer he has, all one million and one, and still not know what to say.

Gojo’s a pretty bad communicator; for how much he talks, he doesn’t really say much—and maybe that’s the root of all this. There are too many things he wants to say but can’t formulate in the right way. 

“If it’s something I did, can you at least let me know?” you continue. Gojo frowns, how can you be wronged yet still think of yourself as the one to blame? 

“Why do you do that?” he tuts, head tilting sideways as his hands dig deeper into his pockets. 

“Do what?” you furrow your brows, confused. 

“You didn’t do anything wrong, so don’t worry about it.” he says dismissively. 

You arch an eyebrow; he has it all mistaken. 

“Satoru, I’m not worried because I feel guilty,” you sit up, inching towards the edge of your seat, “I’m worried because you’re pushing me away.” your voice is level, but your pupils shake.

Something grips at his chest seeing you this way; together or apart, he seems to be the main contributor to your heartache. 

You wonder if confronting him like this is any good if he’s not going to say anything anyway. 

“If you want space, that’s okay, I get it, but,” you exhale, “at least just tell me why.” 

This entire time avoiding you, Gojo’s had you on his mind—the million and one. He’s come to terms with what he feels when you’re together, and how it amplifies when you’re not. 

It’s shitty of him to practically ghost you, not just in text but in real life too. But he’s thought about it logically, really, that removing himself from your life should be just like ripping off a bandaid—painful but quick. At least that way, you’d get over it fast. 

He’d been resigned to doing that and that was the plan—until now. 

All it takes is seeing that look in your eyes, and his resolve falls apart. 

“I can’t.” he speaks softly. 

What hurts the most is that beneath his sunglasses, his eyes still hold the sky. 

You think you want to cry. 

You take this as your answer and close your eyes, taking a deep breath before getting up to leave. If this is goodbye, you don’t want your last interaction to be an awkward memory of him watching you bawl in his office chair. 

You push yourself up with the armrest only to sit back down—because Gojo is right in front of you, blocking your way. His infinity is up but touching, a tingling sensation sweeping across your knees. 

“Wait,” he swallows, a franticness you’ve never seen before. His head stays down as he bites his lips, sunglasses hanging by his fingertips. You wonder what he wants to say, that even if it comes out messy, it’s okay. You want to tell him that it’s just you—that you’ll always want to hear it all anyway. 

What comes next is unlike any version of Satoru you have ever known—nervous and uncertain, almost like he’s afraid. He lowers himself, slowly coming down to his knees in front of you. A giant of a man so small in your presence. 

“I don’t know how.” he mutters, dropping his sunglasses to the floor. 

You blink once, twice, still surprised by what’s in front of you. Gojo has always towered above you, has always known how to do anything and everything so effortlessly without fail. 

Watching him now, with every inhale and exhale dragging in slow motion, you do your best not to startle him. 

“How to what?” you whisper, the moment so fragile. 

He looks up, eyes locking with yours. A reaction happens in that moment—the split second of all his thoughts collapsing into one. You see a clear sky, blue and bright as day, the Satoru he saves for you—while he sees you, with that look on your face, the one that he knows has always only meant love. 

The sincerity in your gaze overwhelms him—makes him look away before it becomes too much. Red blooms at the tips of his ears as he bites the inner corners of his lips, fingers grabbing at the fabric of his pants. You’re afraid he might run away again, but he doesn’t and stays right where you are. 

“You know…” he looks to the side, pouting, “whatever you do….”

“Like…?” you coax lightly, trying hard to hide the small smile forming on your lips. 

You wonder how many versions of Satoru you’ll meet in your lifetime, and if this one, shy and nervous, will be one you’ll fit into the crevices of your heart just like all the others. 

He grips his pants tighter, fabric bunching under his fingers, “When you hold my hand… those things. You get it.” 

And you do (get it), so you don’t push, taking whatever Gojo has to give you like you always have. 

The tension relieves from you slowly, comforted by the fact that at least he’s given you his reasons now (no matter how vague they still seem to be). That at least there are no non-answers this time. 

You tell yourself that it’s okay, that you’re content as long as Gojo’s in your life even without the possibility of becoming something more. 

“Ok—”

But there’s always one thing you forget about Gojo—

“So show me how.”

—in the moments you least expect it, he speaks the words that matter most. 

.

.

.

You choose to show him slowly, gently, like the trickling introduction of water to a man who is first learning how to drink. 

In the first few weeks of you and Gojo readjusting to one another, he turns on his infinity again—but only when he gets close enough to touch you. Lunches together happen more often, dinners sometimes too. Then he puts his infinity down, indefinitely. 

For the most part, your relationship falls into the usual steps of your dynamic with Gojo; there’s no pressure for anything and he likes that, appreciates the time you’re giving him to learn things at his own pace. 

It grows organically that way: knuckles brushing as you both reach for the stapler, pinkies touching whenever you walk side-by-side during site visits—until you’re able to hold his hand fully again, leaving that little infinity between your palms for him to close (hopefully, one day). 

.

.

.

The faculty room is cold, especially during winter. The heating system is never warm enough to keep your hands from shaking whenever you mix your morning coffee. 

“So loud so early,” Gojo saunters into the kitchen, hands in pockets as he approaches the pantry. 

You stop mixing, ceasing the clinking of the spoon against your mug. “How are you not freezing?” 

He shrugs, grabbing his box of (heavily sugared) cereal. “I guess I’m just hot.” he says, turning to wiggle his eyebrows.

You roll your eyes and set your coffee on the table, Gojo following with a bowl brimming with cereal and milk. 

Mornings usually consist of you and Gojo, with an occasional new hire who has an early class that day. Most of the time, it’s just you two though, with Shoko coming in much closer to lunch time already. 

“Want some?” he asks, holding out his spoon.

It’s routine—Gojo asks and you decline, choosing to save yourself from the cavities that he somehow manages to evade despite having a diet of 80% sugar. 

Today though, you’re feeling a little adventurous. 

You nod, opening your mouth. Gojo’s eyes widen, nearly dropping the spoon at your request. You see the flush of his cheeks and smile, corners of your mouth extending wider. The spoon is shoved to your mouth too quickly, almost like he’s embarrassed to feed you. 

“Too sweet,” you scrunch your face, swallowing down the copious amount of sugar you’ll feel for days. 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about Gojo throughout this whole relationship trial period, he recovers from any state within a nanosecond. There’s no end to how shameless he can be. 

“Like me, right?” he winks.

“Sure,” you drawl sarcastically and Gojo smiles like it’s high praise. 

You sip your coffee slowly, revelling in the heat that flows down your throat.

“Can I have half of that?” you point to his bowl. Gojo looks at you, confused, but slides it over anyway.

What happens next is an abomination to Gojo’s eyes—pure absolute disgust: you pour half of his cereal into your coffee and mix, sipping and crunching on a few pieces every now and then. 

His face contorts into complete distaste, horror and revulsion in the way his mouth hangs open. 

“What are you doing? That’s gross!” he nearly yells, reaching over to bring your mug down. His hand covers yours for a moment, the contact still causing gallops in his heartbeat. 

You laugh, giggling as he processes what you’d wasted his cereal on. It honestly doesn’t taste that bad, you think. 

“You’re weird,” he says to you, the grin on his face uncontained. This morning, he feels fond, like the butterflies in his stomach are warm, tickling him from the inside. “Give me.” he motions to your mug. 

You hold it up for him to take a sip but he keeps his hand over yours when he tastes, sticking his tongue out once the bitterness of your coffee hits. You set the mug down, preparing to reach for your spoon, but he takes your hand in his, long fingers slotting right between yours, interlacing. 

Gojo doesn’t normally reach for your hand, much less interlace them together (a recent evolution to your hand-holding), but this feels nice, how your fingers fit right in the spaces of his. 

You turn to him, a shy smile on your face. The tips of his ears are blush red but he looks at you the same, “Your hands were cold,” he pouts, “is this– is this okay?” 

“Yeah, it’s warm. Thank you, Satoru.” you nod, beaming. And it’s not a competition but he hopes you see the light in his eyes, how it feels to be ignited within him only when he’s spending breakfasts like this with you. 

.

.

.

Shoko asks what you are and you don’t know what to tell her other than you’re happy and it’s good. Gojo’s existence is loud and vibrant, easy to spot from miles away—but he cares for you discreetly, in the hand that gently rests on your lower back while crossing the street, and the seemingly unlimited supply of your favorite coffee when you have no recollection of restocking it ever. 

He gives you a new mug for Christmas, one with little cereals painted all over while you give him his own tube of hand cream that he claims always smells like you. 

During the faculty New Year celebration, you overhear one of the new hires make a move on Gojo. You aren’t bothered by it or anything, simply walking past to sip your sake by the couch. You can hear them talk a bit from the kitchen, but you try not to pry despite how curious you are about his response. 

Until—

“I’m taken,” you hear Gojo say bluntly. 

Everything rings in your ears after that. The countdown music is loud, but your heart beats louder; there are murmurs and footsteps around you, but only one man crouches down to check on you, glass of water in hand. 

You snap out of it and see blue, the sky—a familiar light; you don’t think you can control the smile on your face, the alcohol lowering your inhibitions to paint on something lovesick. 

And when he smiles back, pink lips stretching wide—oh your heart can’t take it. He places one hand on your knee, rubbing gently. You hear it faintly, how he asks if you’re okay, but all you can do is nod, words failing to express how you feel right now.  

The countdown starts. 3 — and you take his face in your hands, squishing his cheeks to an image of him on your phone from many, many years ago. 2 — you go closer and his eyes go wide, a mixture of panic and surprise, but soft at the same time. 1 — you lean in and his eyelids fall shut, his chest on rampage. Then it lands, there, on the tip of his nose: a delicate peck and the smell of sake mixed with mint (like the lip balm you always carry around in your pocket). 

When you pull away from him, you’re smiling the biggest he’s ever seen, and he can’t feel it from how numb his cheeks have become, but he’s doing the same. 

.

.

.

That kiss to his nose serves as the catalyst to the months that follow: Gojo becomes more comfortable touching you now, and though he blushes every single time, there’s nothing to be ashamed of because you do too. Shoko can’t believe the slow burn this is taking you both, having watched this on the sides since you were both 22, but you think you like it—like the slow drizzle of honey on Gojo’s favorite breakfast waffles. 

“How is it?” you ask, watching as Gojo takes a big bite. 

“D Beft.” he replies, mouth full as he chews. You take the seat beside him and take a spoonful. 

“There’s a secret ingredient.” you say mischievously, wiggling your eyebrows. 

He swallows before he scoffs, “What?” cutting up another piece, “Love?” 

You’re surprised because he says it so casually, and Gojo’s never talked about love, has never even mentioned the word since this shift in your relationship. He realizes a beat late by the expression on your face and gets flustered, thinking immediately of ways to brush past it. 

You had meant to say that you used that infused sugar he buys whenever he goes to Kyoto, but… you suppose love works too. He should know by now, right? 

“If it is?” you whisper, pretending to stir your coffee. 

Gojo doesn’t know how to approach this, really, but he’s come too far to back out now. He clears his throat, mentally running through what he wants to say, then, “Good. ‘Cause that’s what I put in your coffee too.” 

You laugh and the tension dissipates; there are hearts in your eyes for how hard Gojo has tried after denying himself of this for so long. 

He stares at you—at the laugh lines by your eyes and the soft curves of your lips, the moment moving much too slow, stop motion in his mind. He’s drawn in until you’re all too close, a few centimeters from your noses touching. 

Your laughter dies and your cheeks feel like they’re on fire; he’s so close you think he might kiss you. The signs are there—his eyes scaling your face to focus on your lips, his tongue peeping ever so slightly to wet his lips. 

So you wait. 

But he doesn’t, because he moves away after wiping his thumb on the side of your mouth. Even though you know there was nothing there. 

Gojo continues to eat, blabbering about a site visit he’s assigned to next week, but you don’t miss the way his ears are fully red and how he’s biting his lips to death.

.

The tension this time is different; instead of a growing rift, you can’t seem to be close enough. Every time you part ways, he lets go of your hand more reluctantly—as if he wants to say more, do more, but stops himself while he still can. 

When he leaves for missions, you kiss his cheek, pull him in by the hand and linger there, shyly. He gets embarrassingly red but tries to cover it up by telling you not to miss him too much (even though you know you will, and he knows he’ll miss you more). 

Your near-kisses with Gojo happen more frequently, and it comes to a point where he even manages to land one on your forehead, while you fall asleep next to him on his office couch. 

It’s driving you crazy, this tension—the mixed signals of it all. You try to kiss him a few times on the lips, but he evades them each time. You’ve caught Gojo staring at your lips more times than you can count; if that isn’t a sign, you don’t know what is. 

Now that Gojo thinks about it, he’s come so far yet the prospect of kissing you properly still scares him. What if he fucks up? Doesn’t do it right? What if it’s not how he wants you to be kissed? 

There’s that secret Gojo will never tell you, of how seeing that look on you has never gotten him more afraid. And he’s worked through that now, but it’s evolved into something else: how Gojo is now afraid of love, more than anything else, not because of loss but because he might not know how. 

And kissing you, loving you this way—he’s never done it before, doesn’t know how to make you feel love without his lips shaking and heart palpitating; how to do it while letting you know he feels the same. 

.

It happens during an assignment out of town. Curses aren’t as bad as they used to be, but they’re still stronger than what any of the available sorcerers right now can handle. 

You don’t remember the last time you saw Gojo use his technique that way—almost forgotten how powerful and ruthless he can be. Every time since, holding your hand, keeping you close—he’s just been your Satoru. 

Your apartment for the weekend is a two-bedroom unit with one bathroom and a decently sized living area and kitchenette; Gojo always chooses the room in front of the bathroom because he tends to wake up in the middle of the night to pee (information you know from your many other assignments with him before). Still, going as what you are now—it feels different. 

There’s a charged air between you as you move around the unit; you make your nightly tea while Gojo looks through the groceries for some crackers. It’s peaceful and quiet—domestic almost, but there are goosebumps on your skin for reasons you can’t explain. Being around Gojo lately has felt that way.

He brushes past you to throw the finished packet of crackers and the feeling intensifies; it’s not awkward, just tense, like anticipation sitting deep in your bellies, waiting on each other to make the first move. 

He announces that he’ll use the bathroom first, if you don’t mind, and you motion for him to go ahead. Your mind is fuzzy and having Gojo around seems to only make it worse.

When you walk past the bathroom and straight to your room, you hear Gojo humming that soft pop tune from a popular girl group on the radio earlier. You giggle, thinking it’s sweet—how he sings obnoxiously around everyone else but is admittedly pretty good when it’s just him, alone. 

You still have the rest of the weekend in this area, having agreed to monitor the site and any nearby locations for other suspicious activity, but at least the worst of it is over (maybe just to you though; Gojo hates paperwork). 

The sound of running water stops and you hear the bathroom door swing open. You don’t see Gojo when you exit your room but he leaves the door open to release any remaining steam.

There’s a reason why people say showers are good for the mind. You’re happy for those who’ve found it, but that couldn’t be you, because the only thought plaguing your head right now is Gojo—and whether you should greet him goodnight, if you should kiss his cheek or hug him tight. The tension between you now is palpable, an electric current waiting to zap on both ends. 

Your mind is so out of it that you don't realize you’re missing your skincare bag until after you finish brushing your teeth and dressing for bed. You open the bathroom door with the sole intention of going back to your room to get it, but instead, you’re met with a wall of chest.

Gojo’s eyes are wide, bright blue with damp strands of white falling like curtains barely shielding the sky. He’s just as surprised as you are, toothbrush in his hand as you hold up the towel wrapped around your head. 

You’ve seen Gojo in his pajamas many times before—white long sleeves with gray cotton pants, but your eyes trail to his collarbones and the way the bathroom lights cast it under a soft glow. The redness on his cheeks, a visual manifestation of the heat on yours. 

Gojo can’t stop staring at your lips, at how soft they look—at how soft you look fresh out of the shower. The little baby hairs sticking out under your towel are cute, and he leans in without knowing—a pull he can’t seem to resist. For once in his life, Gojo’s mind is still. 

You try to meet him halfway, tiptoeing, but you’re a little out of your element; you don’t know where to put your hands and your heart’s about to explode out of your chest. When your noses touch, you can’t breathe, closing your eyes while you wait for it. 

But it doesn’t come. 

You feel Gojo’s breath stilling before speeding up into little exhales. Something is wrong. You open your eyes and find him staring back at you, a version of Gojo you haven’t seen in a while—that you rarely see ever, except that day during your confrontation in his office. 

Concern laces your features and you move back a little, hands coming up to caress his cheeks. His eyes still look frantic, but they focus on you when you cup his face so gently. 

“Satoru,” you whisper, voice grounding. His breaths slow down a little. 

You realize that it must be true then, what they say, that those who love to be feared, fear to be loved, because you’ve never seen anyone afraid of something so good as Gojo is of this. 

“Satoru,” you repeat, massaging his temples with your thumb, “we don’t have to if you don’t want to.” 

Gojo hates it, how you’ve always had to adjust for him. He hates that he can’t give you this one thing, hates that you’re still so patient, that he’s still so afraid. He swallows, closing his eyes tight before opening them again. 

“I want to,” he chokes out, “I just don’t know—”

You chuckle, without judgment, “I don’t either,” you lean forward, foreheads touching, “but do you want to try together?”

You learn that Gojo sees himself so differently from how you do—and maybe that’s everyone, but Gojo tends to say things while doing the other. He says he can’t bother with kids, but continues to take so many of them under his wing anyway; he calls your cereal concoction disgusting but tastes it regardless; and he says he can’t think about love, doesn’t know how, but proceeds to try so much harder, everyday. 

When you look at Gojo, you see a heart so big, so capable, that he can’t see it himself. 

You nudge his nose with yours and he breathes deeply, closing his eyes once again. If he doesn’t do this now, how much longer ‘till he does? 

Gojo hums before nodding his head slightly. His hands come up to cover yours, toothbrush wedged in the spaces between his fingers; they’re clammy, he’s sure, but he’s kept you waiting long enough. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, everything trembles—his pupils, his lips, the breath he takes. It’s all shaky and nervous, but your lips touch and all you know is that you like it there. He’s a little bit stiff but you don’t mind, pressing closer just for a little bit before pulling away. 

Gojo keeps your hands in place, half-lidded eyes staring at you lazily. His ears are fully red now but he’s giving you a look you’ve never seen before—like lightning crackling in the gaps between his eyelids. 

When you kiss Gojo for the first time, you don’t expect it to be by the bathroom door of a rented apartment, while away on a mission. You don’t expect it to be in your pajamas, towel wrapped around your hair as you’re getting ready for bed. You definitely don’t expect him to guide your hands down his neck while he places his on your lower back, squeezing lightly before pulling you in to kiss you again. 

This time, his lips move more pliantly, parting yours slightly; he tastes mint, mixed with the strawberry candy he had earlier and it’s nothing he could have ever imagined before, but is now everything he’s ever wanted. The push and pull between you is magnetic, soft lips and the intermingling of held breaths. All Gojo can think of now is to take, to devour—to keep you with him, like this, always. 

You wonder if Gojo is lying—that he’s never done this before, because you don’t think you can kiss anyone after this and not think of his lips on yours. 

By the time you part, the air is significantly warmer. Your fingers thread through the hair at the base of his neck and you smile, sighing. Gojo looks warm, with his swollen lips and flushed cheeks. 

“That…” you trail off, nudging his nose. 

Gojo looks at you fondly; to ever even think he could have this now, with you—he doesn’t believe in any higher being but you must be his prayer come true. 

“We can practice a bit more, I think.” he pulls you closer, hands gripping your hips. 

You feel it against you, something solid and firm against your stomach and your eyes go wide at the realization; Gojo does the same. 

“Satoru, you–” he moves back and freezes, untangling himself from you completely. There’s a faint outline on the crotch of his pants and your whole face goes red. 

“Let me use the bathroom real quick.” he panics, rushing past you and closing the bathroom door. 

You stand there stunned for a good minute before you shake out of it, laughing. Gojo yells about how you’re being so mean, making fun of him when he’s like this, but you aren’t—not really. 

It’s been a long time getting to this point with Gojo, but considering all things, you think, this might just be the beginning.

thank you notes: i would also like to shoutout @stellamancer for leaving such lovely comments on dybil that it actually kinda pushed me to write this longer piece connected to it!!

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[theemporium]

“You’re shitting me, right?”

“Nope.”

“Max—”

“What?” 

“You have your own jet. How the fuck are you not a part of the mile high club?”

Max frowned a little before shrugging. “It isn’t exactly my priority when I’m on a plane, schat.”

There were many perks you learnt that existed as a Formula One driver after you found yourself in a relationship with two of the best drivers in the world. From invitations to countless exclusive events to brand deals with high-end designers, from travelling the world for their job to having a comfy paycheck to be the best of the best. It was a whole new world your boyfriends introduced you to, and it never failed to make you head spin no matter how long you had been dating them.

But the materialistic perks were some of the easiest to spot—the prime example being the fact Max had his own jet that he travelled in when he flew around the world for the different races.

It had been another one of those races that you were currently flying out to. It had just been the three of you for the long haul flight and the boys had been trying everything in their power to stay awake for a few more hours so they wouldn’t fall victim to horrendous jet lag by the time they landed.

You had decided to try passing some time with games. But UNO was quickly abandoned when Lando kept trying to wind Max up with ‘+4’ cards. And ‘truth or dare’ was a bit pointless when you were stuck in the sky. You didn’t really want to start a full ass game of Monopoly (or question why in loving fuck one of the boys brought it in the first place), otherwise you’d be fast asleep before either of them. And every round of ‘two truths and a lie’ lasted less than a few seconds because you knew each other well.

You were left with a game of ‘never have I ever’ but it slowly stopped being a game, and somehow became some weird competition between the boys to try to outdo one another. Which, to be fair, was very amusing for you to watch. 

Until Max had dropped the bomb on you and Lando that he had never had sex on a plane. Ever.

“But,” you paused before gesturing to the plane around you. “You have the perfect setting!”

“The setting is always a plane,” Max stated bluntly. 

“Yeah but usually you’re both locked in a little bathroom, trying to be quiet and not break anything because you’re literally fucking in a box,” Lando jumped in.

Max shot him a look.

“Hey, just talking from experience,” Lando said as he lifted his hands. 

“But you have the whole fucking jet to yourself,” you continued. “You could fuck as much as you please! In any position you want!” 

He raised his brows in amusement. “Thought about it a lot?”

“Yes,” you replied without a moment of hesitation. “You don’t think about fucking us on a plane?”

“It isn’t the first place my mind goes to,” Max confessed with a shrug.

Lando’s eyes narrowed slightly, as though he was lost in thought. “Do you wanna fuck us on a plane?”

Max paused. “Like right now?”

“We need to preoccupy ourselves,” he said with a shrug of his shoulders, trying to bite back the grin that was growing on his lips. “I can think of a few things we could do.”

Your grin matched his, a glint of mischief in your eyes. “What do you say, baby? Wanna join the club?”

“We’ll teach you the ropes,” Lando added teasingly. 

Ten minutes. The teasing and the taunting and the goading lasted all of ten minutes before Max had you both wrapped around his finger. Because despite your big mouths and all your talk, it took one glance and a hand tugging your hair back before you were putty in Max’s hands, ready to comply and obey with whatever he wanted because he always seemed to be in control.

“Is this what you wanted, schat?” Max groaned as he gripped your hips, bouncing you back on his dick at the speed he desired. His cock was deep inside you, pressing against the spot that made you squirm and moan—though your mouth was otherwise preoccupied. “Wanted me to fuck you on my private jet? Wanted to show my staff what a fucking slut the two of you are?”

“Shit,” Lando whined, his hands tugging on his curls as his cock hit the back of your throat. “Max—”

“Hold it,” Max gritted out, his hands tightening on your waist as his chest heaved with soft pants. “Did I say you could come?”

“But—” Lando started, only to be cut off by his own moans.

“I said no,” Max huffed out with a shake of his head, his chin tucked into his chest as he watched the way your greedy pussy took his cock with such ease. The debauched noises echoing through the cabin only seemed to egg him on further. “Don’t be a fucking brat.”

“Please,” Lando cried, his hips bucking up into your mouth as you gagged and choked.

“Both of you are so fucking impatient,” Max grumbled as he squeezed the fat of your ass. “So quick to brag and cry. And now look at you. Two fucking whores.”

“Just for you,” Lando muttered out breathlessly. 

“Of course you are. All mine. All fucking mine.” Max groaned, his voice low and rough as he felt a rush of pleasure run down his spine. “And mine to fucking control. You come when I say you come, and I don’t think either of you deserve it yet.”

You whined, the sound muffled and pathetic with Lando’s cock down your throat, but it was enough to warrant a slap to your ass. 

“Careful, schat. Or I won’t let you come until the plane lands.”

.

[roosterforme]

Aim for the Sky Part 7 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: You felt exhausted and unappealing at the start of your third trimester, but according to your husband, you were still perfect. Just as you solve one problem for your friend, you inadvertently cause another one for yourself.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, Bradley eating pussy, swearing, angst, pregnancy

Length: 5400 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

As nice as your second trimester had been, as soon as it ended, you were exhausted all the time. And you were once again starting to feel nauseous every morning. Maybe your mom was right and you needed to eat more than random foods dipped in hot sauce sporadically all day long. Your belly was also starting to change from a cute bump to a tender, oversized monster. When you mentioned it to Bradley, he scoffed. 

"Don't call my Nugget a monster."

"I'm not talking about the baby!" you said as you started to get dressed for work in your maternity tent, gesturing at your body. "But there's a lot going on here."

"Yeah," Bradley grunted as he pulled a clean flight suit from the closet, eyeing you up and down. "There sure is. You look fantastic."

"I feel tired. And gross," you told him as you got dressed.

"That's just the hideous uniform talking. You didn't feel gross last night when we were snuggling. And you certainly didn't look gross."

You wanted to agree with him, but you were in a bad mood. The attic still wasn't finished even though your contractor, Bradley Ross, was at your house so frequently, it felt like he had moved in. And your parents would be here in four days. And your house still wasn't decorated for the holiday. And the only gifts you managed to buy were matching pink tropical shirts for Bradley and the baby to wear next summer. 

Your husband zipped up his flight suit and made his way around the bed to where you were standing. "Would you feel better if I picked up dinner on my way home so you don't have to cook?"

"Probably," you muttered, trying not to smile.

He kissed your forehead and gave you his most innocent looking gaze as his fingers grazed your belly. "And after that, I'll eat your pussy until my jaw locks up and you're in tears from too many orgasms?"

You had to press your lips together for a few seconds before you could say, "Please."

"Then it's a date, Baby Girl," he said before kissing you on the lips, leaving you to chase him for another feel of his rough mustache before you let him leave for his early flight time. "I love you and the Nugget!" he called from the hallway.

"We love you, too!"

Five minutes after he left, you were still getting ready for work. In fact, when your doorbell rang and Tramp went running through the living room, you were still buttoning your tent shirt. "I'm coming," you called out, already knowing it was your contractor. When you pulled the door open, your shirt was buttoned mostly correctly, and you told him, "I'm just about to head out."

"Okay," he replied, taking you in before you stepped aside for him. It didn't matter what your husband said, you were a bit of a hot mess right now. And that reminded you that you needed a little bit of hot sauce before you left for work.

"Do you need anything from me?" you asked Bradley Ross, and his gaze dipped down to your horrible uniform.

"Not at all," he replied, turning toward the stairs. "Enjoy your day."

You parted ways and headed for the kitchen, and you realized your shirt was even worse than you anticipated. You had to unbutton and rebutton the whole thing while your bread was in the toaster. When it came out nice and crunchy, you dipped it into a dish of hot sauce and ate it in four bites.

"It's so fucking good," you moaned at Tramp before scooping him some breakfast. "No hot sauce for you. Just for the human baby," you told him, holding your hand near your belly button as Rose started doing her somersaults. "You're up late this morning," you told her, deciding you better stop in the bathroom one more time before you even attempted the short drive to work with her bouncing on your bladder.

As soon as you were done and walked back through your bedroom, you eyed your bed longingly. "No," you told it, turning away from temptation and walking out to your red Bronco in the driveway. You backed out past the other Bradley's truck and drove to base.

You were already hungry again by the time you got there. When you turned the corner to your office, you found Maria standing next to your door. "Are you waiting for me?" you asked, and her gaze snapped up to yours. "I'm surprised you're here this early with Bob blowing your back out twenty-four hours a day." Tears filled her eyes instantly, and you rushed toward her. "Oh my god, Maria, what's wrong?"

She let you pull her into an awkward hug with your belly in the way, and she sobbed instead of responding with words, so you let her cry. She had been preoccupied at brunch with you and Cam, but she definitely hadn't been like this at all. If anything, she'd seemed like she was lost in a dream world with her French toast the other day.

She sniffed and managed to whisper, "Bob's being deployed for some special mission. He just texted me. He's leaving the day after Christmas."

"Oh," you gasped, rubbing her back as she cried. This would be the first time her boyfriend was deployed since they started hooking up a few months ago. They would be fine. You knew they would. But you recalled all too easily what it was like when Bradley was gone when you and he were first dating. It made you feel sick to recall the feelings of self doubt and uncertainty, especially now that your daughter would be arriving in three months.

You were about to tell Maria that Bob's deployment would feel terrible but wouldn't last forever when she said, "I have to break up with him."

"Pardon?" you asked, completely thrown by what she said. "I thought you were in love with him."

"I am," she cried as you finally unlocked your door with her clinging to you and managed to get her inside. "But I can't tell him that now. We've been taking things a little slower after taking things really fast right after he moved in."

You were trying your best to piece everything together, but it just wasn't all fitting in your mind. "That's good," you said gently. "So why would you have to dump him? You love him, and he'd be coming back to you and the apartment when he gets home?"

She looked at you and shook her head. "I can't expect him to go months and months without having sex. We do it like at least once a day," she whispered as tears flowed down her cheeks. "Maybe he'd agree to take a break? I don't know. But I can't get upset when he wants to hook up with someone else on the aircraft carrier."

You felt like your eyes were going to bug out. "Maria, I really don't think you should be hasty here."

She just shrugged in your arms before pulling away from you and wiping at her tears. "You're so lucky you have Bradley." She left you standing there, unsure what to say.

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

All of the holiday decorations had Bradley a little stressed out. Some of his neighbors had lights on the palm trees in their yards, and there was even a tree inside the guard house. He could remember very little about his dad, but Bradley could remember everything his mom did until he died. For the life of him, the one thing that escaped him was how she made even the most basic things feel magical.

She must have done it effortlessly, because he never took the time to look behind the proverbial curtain to see how it was done. There were always presents under their little Christmas tree even though he realized after she was gone that it must have been a struggle. And now Bradley wasn't sure how he was going to do the same when it all just seemed so stressful.

He snorted as he made his way across the tarmac to the tower. All you said you wanted for Christmas was a babymoon trip and a million orgasms. But you could have asked him for either of those on any day, and he would have given them to you. He needed to find something else for you, too.

"Are you having a baby shower?"

Bradley looked up to find his best friend was looking at him as soon as he walked into the rec room to get a drink. "Good morning to you, too," he said, reaching past her into the refrigerator. 

"You need to have one, okay?" she said. "Your wife will like it."

Bradley felt a little more anxious, because he was going to have to admit he was clueless when it came to this topic as well. "Isn't that something her mom should do?"

Nat rolled her eyes. "That's a lot for her mom to handle when she lives on the other side of the country."

He cleared his throat. "Well, what do you even know about baby showers?"

"More than you," she said easily. "Which is why I'll take care of it."

Bradley sighed in relief. "You're not going to give me a hard time about this?"

"Of course not. When have I ever done that sort of thing?"

"Literally since the first time I met you," he muttered as she walked away. But he knew he had nothing to worry about; Nat would make sure you had exactly what you wanted or needed in any scenario.

A minute later, when he got called out to the tarmac, he found his best friend wrapping Bob up in a hug. While he wasn't invited into the conversation, he could hear the dreaded word 'deployment' as he walked past on his way to his jet, leaving him to assume Bob got a notification this morning. Poor Bob, but at least it wasn't him for once.

When he took to the air, Bradley immediately felt a bit calmer. He would figure out how to take care of everything with you by his side. He would make things special for Rosie in his own way. He could share all the things with her that he loved about his mom.

But the thing that calmed Bradley down most of all was arriving in the cafeteria for lunch in time to see you. "Sweetheart!" he called out, cutting in front of Jake and Javy to get to you faster. You had a burrito bowl in one hand and a bunch of little packets of hot sauce in the other, and you still looked cute in your tent uniform. Your face lit up when you saw him, and even though he reeked of jet fuel, you let him give you a hug.

"Do you know where Bob is?" you asked after you kissed him on the cheek. "He and I need to have a conversation."

Bradley ran his hand along your belly, hoping to feel a little thump from the Nugget. "I think he's been notified about a deployment," Bradley muttered.

"I know he has," you replied with strong annoyance in your tone. "Oh, there he is," you said, looking past Bradley. "Excuse me, Roo." You kissed him and added, "I love you, but I need to take care of this. I'll see you at home later when you're going down on me?"

Bradley nearly choked as he muttered, "Okay," while Jake and Javy clearly tried to hide their surprised and amused laughter.

You hurried off in Bob's direction as Javy said, "Nobody better try to call Rooster tonight."

"Silence your cell phone," Jake said, clapping Bradley on the back while he blushed. "Eat your lunch but save room for dinner."

"Fuck," Bradley grumbled, walking away from them as they laughed. Just for that, he'd make sure he was on his A game at home. He'd also have to remind you that your voice tends to carry when you're annoyed.

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

You set your lunch down across from Bob at one of the small tables with only two seats. He smiled as you slid into the chair opposite him, and he greeted you by name. Then he cleared his throat and asked, "You're not sitting with Bradley today?"

You followed his gaze to where your husband��was sitting with Nat and Mickey. "Nope. I wanted to sit with you."

"Okay," he replied, still smiling. "But I'm actually waiting for Maria?"

"She's not coming."

His smile started to fade. "She's not?"

"She's not," you confirmed. "She told me you're getting deployed soon." When he nodded, you asked, "Do you like having a girlfriend?"

His smile was back. "I like having Maria as my girlfriend."

You were shaking your head as you started emptying packet after packet of green hot sauce onto your lunch. "And are you planning on sleeping around while you're gone?"

"No." His voice sounded hoarse, and his face went pale.

"Glad to hear that," you told him as you rammed your fork into your burrito bowl.

"Why would you think I'd want to do that?" he asked, leaning a little closer to you, his brow creased in concern.

"I'm not the one thinking it. You better ask yourself why Maria might think you'd want to do that."

Bob's eyes went wide even as he blushed bright pink. "I don't know... I thought she knew how happy I am. I told her she makes me crazy... I said... I s-said I want to go at it all the time now. I've never been with someone like her." You shoved a bite of food into your mouth and chewed it up while he processed his words. "Wait... does she think I'm like obsessed with getting laid? Because I'm certain I'm just obsessed with her."

You nodded as you swallowed, proud of him for piecing it together so quickly. "Seems that way. You have about a week to put in some legwork if you don't want her to break up with you." In an instant, you were left with Bob's abandoned tray as your only lunch companion, and when he didn't return, you ate his breadsticks and baked pasta.

This was turning out to be the longest day imaginable, and when you finally climbed into your Bronco to head home, you were yawning. Then when you pulled into the driveway, not only was your Bradley not home yet, the other Bradley was still working. You grumbled as you made your way inside, where he was hammering something upstairs; you couldn't even start taking your horrible uniform off in the living room after you opted to wear it home today to get here faster.

When you let Tramp out of the laundry room and sent him to the backyard, you were fighting the urge to take your shirt off and walk through the house topless with every fiber of your being. You made it to your bedroom before tearing it from your body along with your uniform pants. You eyed the bed. You were tired enough to get in and stay there, but you wanted your reward for making it through the day.

"Takeout and head," you whispered, nodding in the mirror with a grin. You turned from side to side, examining your belly and your breasts. Rose was moving a lot today, so much so that you almost noticed it more when she took a break. And your boobs did look pretty nice. You took your bra off and added it to the laundry pile, and that's when your husband walked in.

"I brought pizza, Sweetheart," he said before his lips parted in soft surprise. "You trying to get started without me?" he groaned, reaching for his belt.

You bit your lip, and shook your head. "Do you think we should wait until the other Bradley leaves?" you asked, earning a devilish smirk from your husband.

"Didn't stop us last week when we had sex in the laundry room while he was working. And it didn't stop you from sucking my cock while he was here the week before." You squeaked as he smacked you on the butt and whispered, "You promised me I could have your pussy the second I got home."

"Did I?" you asked, climbing onto the bed, and he was right there with you, hovering over your body as you stretched out. When he nodded, you said, "Then I guess it's all yours, Roo."

But that wasn't even where he stopped first, and you shouldn't have been surprised. His lips met the valley between your very perky breasts while he unzipped his pants. Then you watched him rut gently into the bed as he licked and sucked on you. He had some particular fascination with your chest right now, and he was almost reverent in the way he touched you. 

The sounds of hammering and soft music playing from upstairs were really doing it for you. Getting nasty while you weren't quite alone was always enough to get you going, but on top of that, your husband was so turned on by your weird pregnant body. You felt like a queen as he plucked at one nipple and then the other with his lips, leaving your skin damp to the cool air. Your nipples were furled into tight peaks as he whimpered your name. 

"I can't get enough," he murmured, letting his mustache scrape along your sensitive skin. Your hips bucked from the bed as he let his teeth graze your nipple. "Where do you want my mouth?" he asked, meeting your eyes even as his tongue darted out to trace the undersides of your breasts.

"On my pussy," you gasped.

"I can't hear you."

"On my pussy!" you cried out, and he smiled that wicked smile again.

"Now everyone knows," he growled, leaning on his forearms and treating you to the flex of his biceps as he pushed your thighs apart and settled in.

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

Bradley had one perfect tit in each hand and his face buried in your soaking pussy. Each time he thought you were getting close, he lazily kissed along your dainty rooster tattoo and up to your belly. Once he even paused to say hello to his daughter while you dug your heel into his back and begged him incoherently to put his mouth back on your clit. And he did so with a smile. 

Was he rock hard? Yes. Would he love to cum right now? Absolutely. Was he enjoying every second of the way your body felt and tasted? Definitely. Could he wait until he got you off to let himself unload? For sure.

Your tits were getting bigger and more enticing by the day. And your swollen belly was clearly all his doing. He was grinding his cock into the bed as he slid his hands down to your thighs, spreading you a little wider as he licked all around both of your holes until you were whining his name.

"Fuck," he grunted. Bradley Ross had just turned off his radio. That meant he was getting ready to head out for the day, which also meant the hammering had stopped. You were getting loud as hell as Bradley pressed his nose to your clit and lapped up your wetness. He was only concerned for a split second about your volume before he decided to just carry on. It wasn't like the contractor hadn't seen how hot you were with his own two eyes. Nobody could blame a man for getting at his own wife as much as possible, especially one with massive, pregnant tits and the prettiest face imaginable.

"Roo!" you moaned when he wrapped his lips around your clit. "Let me come, Daddy."

You were tired. He could hear it in your voice. The bedding was a little damp from the mess you and he were making, and his jaw truly was starting to ache. When you released the bedding with your left hand, Bradley could see the sparkle of your engagement ring before you dragged your fingers through his hair. 

Okay, now he needed to get off pretty badly, so he slipped two fingers inside you, and as soon as he did, you came. "Damn," he grunted against your clit before circling you with his flat tongue as you rode his hand and yanked his hair. You were riding him as he pushed on the back of your thigh until he couldn't take it any longer.

He barked out your name as he got to his knees and thrust his cock inside your overstimulated pussy as you were coming down from your orgasm, and that just made you come for him a little more as you shook your head back and forth on the pillow. One more deep thrust, and he came too, with his hands on your tits and sweat dripping down the back of his neck.

When you opened your eyes, you had the most serene look on your face. Bradley kissed the tip of your nose as he pulled his cock free and grunted. "You know, the guys heard your little pussy eating comment at lunch today."

"Oops," you giggled, running your fingers softly over your tits as he stood up and started fixing his clothing. 

"I got roasted for it all afternoon." But he was all smiles, because he really wouldn't have it any other way. "Come out and get some cold pizza when you're ready. I'm going to see how it's coming along upstairs."

You just nodded, and Bradley took one more look at the messy creampie he gave you before vanishing out into the hallway and closing the door behind him. The Craftsman smelled like sawdust and fresh paint, and he was really hoping the project would be completed in the next few days so your parents could sleep up there during their stay. Otherwise he might have to gag you during sexual activities, and he was only half joking in his mind.

Bradley Ross was carrying a paint can and some rollers down the stairs, heading right for the front door. "Have a good night," he called out, barely pausing to get through the door. Perhaps he'd heard your beautiful chorus of moaning. Didn't matter, but Bradley had hoped to ask him how much longer he thought the project would be. Instead he climbed the stairs to investigate for himself.

It looked incredible, and it seemed like a lot had been accomplished today. Two bedrooms of identical size were both primed and ready for paint. The hardwood flooring looked perfect, and the new windows were letting so much natural light in. The bathroom wasn't large, but it did have a tub and a single sink vanity, and the tiles you picked out looked pretty.

He shut all the lights off and headed back down to the kitchen where you were wearing a pair of his underwear with a maternity tank top, dunking a slice of pizza in some hot sauce. "How's it looking?" you asked. He knew you were talking about the attic, but he couldn't help himself as he grabbed a slice from the box.

"It's looking sexy and pregnant and like it just had an orgasm." You burst into laughter as he added, "The project upstairs looks good, too."

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

Later that week, you got a vague text from Bradley letting you know that he'd be late getting home from work. You were expecting maybe he'd be home around six or seven, just in time to help you wrap the presents you ordered for your parents, but he didn't get home until almost eight, long after Bradley Ross left for the day. 

He was quiet and looked contemplative when he walked in. "Hi," you called out from where you were sitting on the couch, and he finally met your gaze. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." He made his way over to you. "Mav just wanted to chat. Is there any pizza left?"

He kissed you before heading to the kitchen, and you stared after him. "Of course there's no pizza left. I'm pregnant. And are you being weird on purpose? Why are you three hours late getting home?"

You watched as he started to pour a bowl of cereal in silence, and you weren't sure if he was even listening to you. When you made your way into the kitchen, he finally said, "There's a potential job opportunity. Remember when I filled in for a few days here and there as an instructor?" When you nodded he took a bite of cereal before continuing. "Mav seems to think I could do more of that type of shit."

Your eyes went wide at the prospect of fewer deployments for him. "That might be a good opportunity," you told him, still unsure exactly where he stood on the topic.

He just shrugged and said, "It's certainly something to think about, Sweetheart. Wouldn't really be happening until a few months from now, but I'm going to keep the conversation going with Mav."

It was then that you realized he looked exhausted. "Want to take a shower with me? I could wash your hair."

Your husband moaned softly and set his empty bowl in the sink. "Hell yes. Absolutely."

Within three minutes, you had your hands coated in shampoo, and you were working them through his thick hair while he felt around your belly, hoping to feel the baby kick. "I feel like I barely got to spend any time with her this week," he whispered with a pout. "Where's my Nugget?"

You felt her give a little thump, as if she knew he was right there waiting for her. You quickly placed his hand a little higher, and he sighed in contentment. "Hey, Rose. Daddy's tired. Can we all snuggle in bed soon?" She seemed to squirm in response. "Your grandparents are coming to visit tomorrow."

"And the attic conversion should be done tomorrow, too," you told him. "That's what the other Bradley said when he was leaving today."

"Amazing. Merry Christmas to us."

You practically tucked him into bed as soon as he was dried off, but he kept reaching for you to join him. "I need to let Tramp out. I'll be right back." You walked through the kitchen and past the refrigerator which was covered in ultrasound photos. Then you straightened up a little bit while Tramp ran around the yard. By the time you got back to the bedroom, Bradley had fallen asleep with the Nugget Notebook open on his chest and a pen in his hand. You took a peek to see what he had written.

Hey, Rosie. It's almost Christmas. I'm not really good at celebrating holidays, but your mom is. Her parents are, too. I'm hoping I'll kind of figure this whole thing out once you get here. I'm thinking you'll make everything more fresh and fun for your old man. We can get better at things together.

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

You were more than ready for a few days off. When you left work on December twenty-first, you reminded Cat that you planned on dropping off some gifts for Jeremiah over the weekend. When you got to the parking garage, you saw Maria and Bob making out next to his truck. He had her hands pinned above her head, and she was all smiles. You felt immediately better.

You knew the plan for the evening, and so did Bradley. Your parents were landing in San Diego at 6:15, and you assured them that you'd be there to pick them up. When you got home from work, Bradley Ross was finishing some details upstairs, and you were delighted by what you saw when you went to have a look.

"It's perfect," you gushed, looking around the space. The one bedroom was almost ready for your mom and dad. Someone would just need to make the bed later. The bathroom was shiny and bright and lovely, ready to be used. The second bedroom still had some wet paint, but you planned on just closing that door for a few days. "Let me write you a check for the balance," you told your contractor when he was about ready to leave. "I'll meet you in the kitchen."

After you wrote out the check, you waited for both Bradleys while you dipped some grapes in hot sauce. It was almost time to leave for the airport, and you still needed to change out of your uniform tent. You undid the top few buttons and played with your necklace charms, and as soon as Bradley Ross walked downstairs with the rest of his supplies, you rushed his way.

"Here's what we owe you. Thanks again for squeezing us into your schedule so close to the holidays."

"I hope you are happy with the outcome for many years to come," he told you with a smile.

"It looks so good, I'll definitely refer my friends to you for any projects in the future."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bradshaw."

You didn't bother correcting him when he didn't use your hyphenated last name, because as soon as he walked outside, you had your shirt off and you were rushing toward your bedroom. But as soon as you passed your mirror on your bra on the way to the closet, you paused and smiled. Your husband would love a little treat in his text messages; it had been ages since you sent him something dirty.

You snapped a photo of your boobs as they were hugged by the black lace. Then you took your bra off, covering your nipples with your hand and forearm before snapping another. Then you removed your arm and took one last picture of your breasts complete with tightly furled nipples. You expected that your husband would run into the house begging for a quickie before heading to the airport. The thought of his flushed cheeks and raspy voice made you giggle as you attached the photos and texted them away.

His hyperfixation was so fun for you right now, and you started to wonder if he was going to be as excited by your boobs after the baby was born. Would he be interested in the breastfeeding process?

"Hey, Baby Girl."

You turned toward the doorway as you straightened your sports bra and pulled an oversized shirt on. "Hi," you said, trying to play coy, but just grinning wildly instead.

"You ready to go get your mom and dad?"

"Yeah... almost. You looked down at his gym shorts where you could see the outline of his phone in his pocket. You pouted a bit when you had to ask, "Did you like the photos I texted to you?"

His brow furrowed as he patted his pocket. "What photos?"

You sighed. "The ones I sent like five minutes ago."

You watched as he unlocked his phone and started to shake his head. "I don't have any messages from you since lunchtime. What was it?"

"Thee pictures of my massive tits," you told him as you reached for his phone. But when you checked, they definitely weren't there. "Maybe I didn't tap send?" you murmured picking your phone up from the bed.

Bradley's arms wrapped around you from behind, and you could hear the smile in his voice when he whispered, "Can't wait to see them for myself." But you froze and tried to shake him off as your stomach lurched.

"Oh no. No no no no no!"

"What's wrong, Sweetheart?"

You handed him your phone and covered your eyes as you started to panic. Apparently you hadn't tapped on Bradley Rooster Bradshaw <3 <3 <3 in your contacts. After you started typing his name, you must have accidentally selected Bradley Ross as the recipient. "Bradley! I sent them to the other Bradley!"

His eyes bugged out as he saw the photos in the message for himself. "You sent our contractor pictures of your tits!"

"I didn't do it on purpose!" you shrieked. "They were for you! What are we supposed to do now?!"

He pocketed both phones, heaved a deep, exhausted sigh and muttered, "I'm going to have nothing but fucking gray hair after this, I swear to god." Then he rushed from the room and you followed him long enough to watch him grab his keys and run out to his Bronco.

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

Checking in with Maria and Bob was dramatic. Like damn. At least BG got to eat his lunch. And now we have the great Bradley mix-up to contend with. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 8

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[devilander]

rain falls in love

homelander x gn reader. fluff, hurt/comfort, mentions of past abuse

Cozy Corner Domaystic: Thunderstorm

You were a light sleeper. Even minor disturbances would wake you instantly; your cat meowing, a neighborhood’s TV turned on, cars passing through the street. Whenever Homelander and you slept together you couldn't help but be slightly envious of how he could turn off the whole world—he slept like a stone, slept like the dead. 

Today, though, you doubted many could sleep through the thunderstorm that split New York’s sky. Each thunder louder than the other, sequences of lightning turning the apartment clear as day. And, courtesy of your boyfriend's gigantic windows, you felt enclosed in the roar of the night. 

For some, it could be an entertaining spectacle; nature's power a soothing balm, a way to make you contemplate how much of your worries were small and ephemeral—in the end, there was only the earth and the rain. 

You could, in theory, see the poetry of it. But all you felt was an overwhelming fear. The loud noises reminded you of your father's booming voice, the cracking of electricity too similar to his heavy hands landing on you. 

John was away, having left a week ago in some undisclosed mission. Undisclosed to the public, of course, because he told you in detail how, actually, he was going to take part in a non-authorized invasion of a terrorist cell. Or so he called it. 

You were alone. Only you and the storm and Popsicle purring in your lap, indifferent to his surroundings. 

After another furious thunder nearly frightening you to death, you decided to call John. Tears streamed down your face and you felt ridiculous—it’s only rain. And yet. 

He probably wouldn't pick up. If he did, he'd be too busy, what could he do?

In the first ring, however, he answered. “Hello, sweet face. Awake at this hour?”

“Oh, it's nothing.” You tried to disguise your sniffles, suddenly beyond embarrassed. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

Silence, and then—

“Is it the storm, sweetheart?”

“Yes, yeah. I can't sleep, it keeps reminding me of… you know. I'm sorry for bothering you.”

“Don't you ever apologize to me for that, ever,” he retorted, voice tinged with anger, though you knew it wasn't aimed at you. 

“Can we—” Another thunder, and this time you yelped, scaring Popsicle so that he ran to hide under the bed. “God, I hate this,” you whimpered. “I just want you here. I miss you so much.”

“I miss you too, you precious thing. Fuck, this is bullshit. A fucking week here and we accomplished shit. They sent me the most incompetent team of motherfuckers, I'm up my ass with their whining and ‘but sir, mister Edgar said we should be cautious’.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a trifle.”

“Ugh, fucking tell me about it. A week without you for this bullshit. Y’know what, I'm out. Hold on there, honey, I'll be with you in a moment.” 

And he hung up. And the storm raged on, but you felt a giddy warmness settling on you. 

Not before long, he barged in, completely wet, but you couldn't care less. You ran to his arms, letting the raindrops seep through your clothes as tangible proof of his devotion. 

“You didn't need to come.”

“Ah, but I promised, didn't I? I'll be with you anytime you need me, and you need me now, don't you?”

You giggled, forgetting all about the fears. It was washed over. “I do. And you need a hot bath.”

“Hmph. You too, little baby. C’mon, join me.”

You sat behind him in the tub, washing his hair, enjoying every second of this quiet moment. He moaned at the contact and squeezed your thigh as it circled his waist. 

If the storm was a demonstration of nature's power, John was both its likeness and antithesis—he himself was a force to be reckoned with, an amalgamation of sheer strength and might. Created by men, but a victim of them. You could understand that, quite intimately.

He gave you security in his power, and you gave him peace in your tenderness—the value of a whisper to a snowbank. 

“John,” you whispered. “I love you. I'll keep you forever, because you belong to me and I to you. Will you let me?”

You felt, more than you saw, his deep breath, swallowing back tears you knew were spilling down his cheeks. You didn't care what they said, what he did looking back in anger, because this was the only truth. 

“Yeah…” He choked up, but soldiered on. “Yeah, my love. I'm never letting you go. I fucking love you to pieces.”

As you lay in bed together you decided—in the end, there was only he and you. 

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

never not mine, m | jjk | "... in your eyes."

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

You'll find that you were never not mine. Wandering sometimes leads to finding. Finding sometimes leads to the truth. The truth sometimes leads to pinning someone to the wall and kissing them. But only if it feels right.

part i | part ii | this is part iii

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; sloooow burn; exes-to-lovers / second chance romance; angst and fluff and feels; your POV; smut (nipple play, scratching / marking, handjob, cum-eating / feeding, fingering, penetrative sex - missionary, doggy)

non-idol!AU; fashion model!Jungkook — ft fellow model/actor!Kim Taehyung and model/businessman!Kim Seokjin; reader is not part of the entertainment industry

--

“What is the most important lesson in your life you’ve learned so far?”

The most important lesson I’ve learned, huh… I think I would say that even though this world is difficult, tough, downright unbearable at times, it is okay to be comforted by the small things. I think a lot of people ignore those small things when they’re upset since they seem frivolous or out-of-touch to appreciate when you are having a hard time. But those are the most important times to enjoy them. We should not feel guilty about a small happiness. A taste of a favorite sweet. The sunset sky when you look up. Laughing with a friend even though everything around you feels dark. These moments will become the stars that will light up your universe in this black world.

For such a friendly, unassuming young man in a suit, he had been such a poet.

At first, you wondered if this was something you could apply on to your life. You had asked, it works in reverse too, doesn’t it?

He had tilted his head, inquisitive. What do you mean?

Small, painful things can slowly but surely break a reverie too, if you don’t take notice of them.

Ah. You’re right.

Each conversation had been insightful in its own way. The woman in the white dress. The most important lesson I’ve learned is loyalty. You might not make as much money or be as famous as you would if you turned your back on someone, but money and fame are fleeting. If you nurture those around you well, you will live a fulfilled life. The man with the silvery-blonde hair and white dress shirt. What an odd question. For me… to be proud of doing what I want to do, even if I may not measure up to the success of others. When I was younger, I thought it was more important to reach a massive audience, to have many people see my color. But now... I don’t think that’s what I want. I want to be an important part of someone’s life, short-term or long-term. I want my time to count to those who count. The woman in a tight denim number and lots of colorful bracelets. It’s important to be yourself. No one walks the same path. You might be too much for some but you might be just right for others, and those people will end up understand you best. The last one, a man with a bright smile and black dress shirt that seemed to barely contain his energy. An important lesson, huh? I guess I would say, go for it. Sometimes I’m uneasy or not confident in a new situation, and I have to remember to just go for it. Yeah, I think I’ve learned a lot from just doing rather than thinking too long about it. The only thing holding me back was being scared. But, being scared doesn’t mean you can’t take action. It means you can, because you have the strength to acknowledge your fear.

Yes, well.

Going for it sort of ended in smashing over a million won worth of liquor into the ground.

You couldn’t blame the advice though. Honestly, you were glad for it. You were glad for each and every connection you made tonight with those strangers. You weren’t sure if Kim Seokjin had set it all up or if each one had approached from their own curiosity. A mixture of both, maybe. Before, they had all been only pretty faces. A shallow judgement for each individual’s hopes, dreams, and realities. You were sure that was Seokjin’s plan – for you to see for yourself what kind of world you were in.

Maybe not so vapid after all.

A little silly, perhaps.

“Hmph, well, at least I can thank you for not letting me walk into a porn scene.”

You winced as Kim Seokjin folded his arms. You both had stopped at the end of the hallway with Seokjin waving the guards away to speak to you directly. Your feet were mildly hurting from standing up for so long. It could have also been due to the emotionally draining past hour.

“I had no intentions of that,” you protested.

Those perfect brows furrowed in disbelief. “Uh huh.”

You made a face. “Nothing was happening back there.”

“Uh huh,” Seokjin tittered again.

You couldn’t keep looking up at him anymore. He held a hand up as you shifted your eyes to the wall, crossing your arms too. Mostly to keep warm. And to hide a bit.

“Nu uh, I don’t want to know what dirty things you two were talking about.”

You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “It’s not like that–”

Seokjin cut you off abruptly. “Did it help?” he inquired pointedly. “Did smashing one of my most expensive bottles of alcohol provide the catharsis you were looking for?”

You felt your cheeks heat. “S-Sorry, I’ll pay for it–”

“Hmph!” He sounded and looked offended. “I don’t need money. I have plenty of that. What I don’t have plenty of is somewhat sane people in my life. I watched you destroy public property and slap one of my security guys as if it was a normal Friday night for you.”

You cowered a bit. “Ah… I’ll apologize to him too.”

Seokjin sighed. He was a refined man with a hint of childishness that gave him eternal youth.

“I was glad to see it.”

He laughed slightly, shaking his head. You stared at him.

“I was nearly afraid that dating Jeon Jungkook had broken you.”

Wait.

“Broken me?”

His large shoulders slumped a little. “Ah, it was… It was so obvious. With Jungkook, too. It was as if the light had been sucked out of him. And you. There was a coldness about you that formed. I worried if you could hear all the whispers behind hands. Hoped Jungkook-ah had shielded you from them or, I don’t know, made you impervious somehow. But you could feel it too, couldn’t you? The ostracization. And he had contributed to it, in time.”

He had noticed.

That was enough to touch your heart.

You faltered. “It’s none of your fault. Or his circle of friends.”

Seokjin waved his hand. “Of course not. But it was still there. Hearing mindless droning all day is still a minor annoyance that builds up to a hornet’s nest over time. And I – no, we – spoke up too late.” He lowered his arms, defeated. “There isn’t much I can do, I know. But I wanted you to know that not everyone among us feels that way. Not everyone has their head in the clouds. Not just my circle of friends, but lots of people in this industry are good people with good intentions who are much better at comforting words than I am.”

You felt a surge of gratitude. Maybe for the first time tonight, you felt like crying. You lifted your head to soft, black brown eyes that were the windows to a big heart.

“Thank you.”

He seemed taken aback. “Ah… Right. Yes, you’re welcome,” he mumbled awkwardly.

You bowed to him.

“S-Stop that!” He smacked your shoulder with a mix of panic and defiance. “Don’t be ridiculous. And, anyway, I didn’t even succeed! You still ended up in an altercation with that big-nosed dongsaeng of mine. Hah…”

You laughed a little. “Ah, I’m sorry about that too. It was my fault he was so riled up.”

Seokjin gave you a contemptuous look that would put even the most disapproving aunt to shame. “No, really?”

You tried not to laugh. He was making it very difficult. It was probably the designer suit and corporately-parted hair mixed with his cartoonish reaction. “Please don’t be too hard on him.”

He made a disgruntled face as if he had to deal with an obnoxious puppy. “You should be worried about me. I’m sure he’s back there stomping his feet and being a stubborn little shit. Hah, well. I’ll have security escort you to your car waiting outside. Don’t slap anybody.”

You pouted. His youthfulness was infectious. “Aish, I won’t. I know my limits.”

“If only your other half did.” Seokjin threw up his hands in exasperation. “Go before I change my mind.”

He wouldn’t.

You backed off anyway, letting Seokjin saunter off, and was greeted halfway to the door by a kind security guard who didn’t ask if you were going to slap him. He did seem amused though. He was professional enough to keep it to himself, leading you to a side entrance where a black car was waiting to take you home after a very long and enlightening night.

-

Night felt different now.

Days felt different too, but the change wasn’t as obvious due to the hours consumed by work. There was plenty of distraction during the day, although you became strangely aware to how the world seemed different. How the sunlight seemed brighter. How there seemed to be a rhythm to the birds’ wings as they flapped away. How you occasionally caught yourself scanning the faces on streets, looking for something.

Someone.

But the sunset is when you noticed the shadows dancing around you. As the day died, you watched people slip from their responsibilities to their desires. A warm meal. A visit to the store to pick up a visual treat or a world within pages. A chance to see a familiar face, ending in a hug or, if lucky, a kiss. Stories within bodies.

You, too.

You found yourself at the movie theater again. You spent a moment, scanning the titles, picking an action movie you had never heard of. Even splurged for the popcorn, shaking it up in the bag with the salty, garlicky powder getting on your fingertips. You spotted a few clusters of friends. Couples. But also a few single individuals that were busy getting comfortable in their seats, placing their belongings just so, as if they did this all the time.

So, you too, sat down and placed your black bow purse beside you, adjusting your popcorn bag to the perfect snacking distance. It was exciting as the lights dimmed to black, enjoying the music score in surround sound, sucked into another world of imaginary action that you could safely enjoy despite all the bullets.

With popcorn, of course.

It felt different now.

It was only after you made your way home that you realized why.

And you smiled.

Another night, you decided to stop by the mall. Not to buy anything really, but to listen to the music at each of the stores. In this day and age of everything online, it was rare for you to make the effort. It was different now though, somehow. Honestly, not so bad. You purchased an overpriced drink and pretended to look at all the clothes as you listened to what was popular right now. Occasionally, you heard something interesting and pulled out your phone to search for the title of the song vis one of the lyrics, the usual way you used to do it. There were definitely apps for identifying songs instantly now, you thought, but there was something hands on and extra satisfying of replicating an old process.

You found yourself in front of a wall of skirts.

You looked up at the colors, the patterns, and saw nothing of what was currently in your wardrobe.

At work, you were required to dress semi-professionally. A lot of single-color blouses, long black skirts, simple silhouette dresses. A cardigan was your idea of spicing it up. In fact, today you were in a maroon button-up blouse with a high neck and billowy sleeves, and your signature long black skirt. Black heels with a cross strap detail, nothing special. Before, while you were dating Jungkook, you had borrowed a lot of clothes, as they had been required for specific events. Transactions. Nothing you personally owned, nor needed to. Even the small, tight dresses that you had purchased for dates you didn’t own anymore. You had donated them all. They had been purchased with the intent to look like a model’s girlfriend. Not to look like, well.

Yourself.

A pink gingham miniskirt with small red strawberries stitched onto it caught your eye.

You left the store with a brown bag with a few parcels wrapped in pink tissue paper and a lighter bank account. Did you know where you were going to wear these clothes? Nope. It was different, buying without a purpose, and yet.

It was an excuse to find an occasion.

You settled on a bench with a smile.

You held your drink and lifted your head, watching people walk past. Seeing glimpses of their stories through the windows of shops. A surprised face at seeing something they wanted. A look of bliss once they took a sniff of a scented candle. A wringing of hands in front of a gift shop, running out of time and paralyzed by decision. You took a sip, wondering if they would be successful. Your thoughts wandered, as they always did. I have someone. Individual realities parallel to yours, with the occasional interaction a demonstration of interaction. Moments that required moving against the natural course for a purpose. Sometimes a brief purpose, and sometimes entangled because they wanted to be.

The question was, did you want to be?

You had become aware of how your line had been. Dulled by distraction, lacking intersections, moving the lonely course without remorse. All the small things becoming a blur of monotony. The roses had become colorless from the coldness that you had inadvertently held onto.

Bit by bit, you were finding color once more.

You stood up with your empty cup, hurrying to find the appropriate trash can to dispose it in.

“Hey, excuse me!”

You started.

A mother with her arm around a small child’s shoulders waved at you. “Your shopping.”

“Oh, sh–sorry!”

You went back, bowing repeatedly as you picked up the brown bag, startled that you had forgotten your quite expensive purchases. The child shook their head at you. You sheepishly laughed, letting yourself be scolded by the kid. “An adult shouldn’t be so careless!” Well, that was a bit harsh, but you thanked them anyway, waving as you parted.

You turned around, returning to your escape route.

Careless, huh?

Maybe the kid was right.

Someone in black was walking down the path. A man. He was walking fast. An oversized grey beanie with dark hair poking out. Body drowning in a slashed black hoodie and ripped jeans. Black boots. Black face mask. It was a bit odd because he was wearing sunglasses inside. Still, there was no reason for you to look twice. He looked up.

Somehow you knew your eyes had met.

You slowed down.

Jeon Jungkook slowed down, reaching up to remove his glasses.

Would your eyes have met if you hadn’t had to double back to retrieve your shopping bag?

If you weren’t careless?

You saw him catch his breath as soon as he knew it was you. You weren’t sure how he knew. Then again, how did you know? This entire adventure had been on a whim. He stopped at a reasonable distance from you, and half-lowered his face mask, as if to greet you. But neither of you could utter a word. You held your small black purse that you haven’t changed in several years. It was a simple design with the designer embossed in very small font above a leather bow sewed flush to the front. Unremarkable, really, unless you knew.

And he knew, because Jungkook had brought it for you.

The first gift at the very beginning. He looked from the bag to you. Wondering if he should comment on it. He hesitated, and you understood why. Two parallel lines. No interaction would occur unless one moved against the natural course and doing so would be, well.

Careless.

“I hope,” you started, cautiously. Something flickered in those big brown orbs. “I hope Kim Seokjin didn’t scold you too much.”

He lowered his head a bit, half-laughing and half-scowling. “I did get a scolding for causing a commotion.”

“It was my fault,” you acknowledged once again.

He shook his head. “No, it was mine.”

You half-smiled. “Wanna fight about it?”

Jungkook raised his head, still holding onto the bottom of his face mask. You could see the mirth in his stance. It was almost as if there wasn’t a weighing limbo trapped between you and him.

“Actually, yeah.”

Almost immediately, you saw him falter, as if he knew he shouldn’t say something like that. You felt a sting witnessing it. He opened his mouth, and you almost heard it, his casual, just kidding, and this wasn’t like him at all.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

You interrupted him before he could add, just kidding. He stiffened, exposing hints of the printed white t-shirt under the tears of his hoodie. You were both occupying space on the walkway. People needed to walk around, some unbothered, some slighted by the inconvenience. His name on your tongue felt foreign and familiar at the same time. An end and a beginning all at once.

I have someone.

So did you.

You smiled.

“It’s really good to see you out and about.”

His eyes widened. You hoped he could tell that you meant it. “Yeah.” He cleared his throat a bit, trying to eliminate the sudden croak. “Yeah. You too. I’m…” His eyes shifted a bit. He was always focused on you, regardless. “I’m glad I ran into you today.”

And maybe that was it.

You were okay with that, though. That might have previously been a lie, but not now. It was probably unnecessary to say. Perhaps you had spoken up for some sort of closure, for both you and him. A chapter ended in some way.

He rubbed the back of his neck, ticking his head to the brown bag by your side. “You came to shop today?”

You held it up halfway with a chuckle. “Ah, well… It wasn’t the plan. Ended up that way.” You noticed the way he intently observed your actions. Couldn’t avoid it, really. You lowered the bag, not hiding even though it was maybe the better thing to do. “What about you?”

He paused. Had he forgotten already? You watched him gain his bearings with bemused patience.

“Ah, I…”

Jungkook looked and sounded embarrassed.

“What the hell,” he muttered, shaking his head. “Actually, I cancelled a shoot last minute.”

Your head tilted. “I’m surprised. That’s not like you.”

His pink lips upturned. You could spot that tiny mole underneath them, right at the center. “Yeah…” He trailed off, unable to meet your gaze. Ashamed, almost.

“It’s okay, though,” you offered. You hated to see that expression on his face. “You did what you felt was right. These things happen.”

He scoffed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “I haven’t cancelled a shoot since…” He stopped.

You waited.

Jungkook glanced at you. You saw a pink twinge dust across his cheekbones.

“Since I first asked you out.”

You blinked at him. “What are you talking about?” You frowned. “I don’t remember anything like that.”

He winced and looked up at the ceiling, rocking on his heels a bit. “Actually, I… I lied. I pretended I wasn’t getting any bookings. Just to spend time with you in the beginning. But, uh, then I felt guilty. I wasn’t the man I thought I needed to be. The man you deserved.” He sighed, yanking one of his hands out to scratch his eyebrow absentmindedly. “But maybe I never was, because then I got swept up in all that bullshit.”

Jungkook looked down.

“I know it’s too late to say such things now.”

He seemed to collapse a little bit despite his tall frame.

“Now, it’s…” He sighed. “I can’t concentrate at all. I keep asking myself what I’m doing. For a while there I kept working in hopes that you would…” He grimaced again, but chose to ramble on anyway. “So you would still see me everywhere. Stupid, huh? And now it’s just…” He shook his head. “I think I should give up.”

You didn’t know what to say.

He took a deep breath and straightened. “Ah, my bad. I went on for nothing.” Bowing slightly, backing away. “I have a lot on my mind. I didn’t expect to run into you and now I’ve run my mouth like a madman.”

“Jungkook.”

His name came out of your mouth before you registered it. He stopped moving, looking back at you, halfway between pulling up his face mask. You struggled to find the words, clutching your unexpected purchases and your racing heart, his first present to you against your ribs.

“Don’t give up.”

You made sure not to break eye contact.

“It’s not like you to give up, you know. It’s my… my favorite thing about you.”

He seemed stunned.

“R… Really?”

You couldn’t help but smile. Nervously albeit fiercely determined.

“One of many.” You relaxed a bit, relieved that you were able to say so. You laughed a little at the absurdity of it all. “Although perhaps we need to stop doing these kinds of things in public.”

Jungkook jumped, seemingly realizing all the people around too. “Ah… Whoops.”

You bowed as you spoke. “Then, I’ll…”

The way he said your name, so soft and dreamlike, made you freeze mid-movement. He seemed flustered, stepping a little closer to you. It was the correct moment to pull back, replace some respective distance between you and him to keep a measure of strangers, and yet.

You let your eyes meet his under wisps of black hair sticking out of his beanie.

“Can we spend a little more time together? If it’s not too much trouble?”

It was. You had work tomorrow. You needed to get home and put away your things. Wash up. Do your nightly routine to unwind. Get back to being a responsible adult with responsibilities living a responsible life.

Your lips curved into a mischievous smile.

“Sure.”

-

“Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere.”

You were standing by his motorbike now. His pride and joy, yet you knew it was rarely used in his day-to-day life. For the best, probably, considering the risk. You weren’t surprised to see it today though. He always rode when he felt frustrated or out of it. The walk here had been silent, which you had expected. Jungkook was the king of speaking without a plan. You didn’t mind it, though. It reminded you of good times.

He awkwardly shuffled, obviously realizing that himself now.

“Hey.”

“Uh?” he answered distractedly.

“Why did you ask me out back then?”

He fumbled with his hands a bit. “Ah, that’s…”

You tilted your head, patiently waiting.

“I…” He stuttered a bit. Cleared his throat again. “I just couldn’t help but look twice. I thought you were hot as hell.”

You almost snorted. “Don’t you encounter enough of that at work?” you chuckled.

He shook his head. “No, it’s more like… Um, even if they’re attractive, everyone knows it is pretty for a purpose. They’re all taking care of themselves. Looks are the selling point, after all.” He poked at his own chest. “Me too.” He raised his head to you. “But you’re different. You don’t have to think about how you look will reflect in a paycheck. You take care of yourself for yourself.”

You thought about it. It didn’t seem that extraordinary. “Well, anybody can do that.”

He smirked.

“If anybody could do it, why could I only see you?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. You raised a hand to smack him and stopped short. Instead, you let your hand fall and half-rolled your eyes. “Ehhh, don’t try to pull that stuff on me.”

He laughed behind his hand. “Have to try.”

You frowned with feigned annoyance. Jungkook had always been taller than you, even in heels, assuming you weren’t opting for miniature stilts. Still, you always had the impression he was never looking down at you, but up, even when his eyes were downcast.

“Yeah, that.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What?”

“That look you’re giving me right now,” he chuckled sheepishly. “I knew you’d be able to balance me out and set me straight.”

You squinted at him. You let out a puff of air and looked away, tumbled into memories where maybe you could have been the one to change the course of these parallel lines. “Yeah, and look where that got us,” you muttered.

Sigh.

Somewhere behind you, a car honked loudly.

“Standing next to each other?” Jungkook quietly asked.

Two cars were having trouble at an intersection at the end of the row.

Standing next to each other.

Your gaze drifted back and locked with his. He didn’t try to hide the emotions his eyes. You were quite sure he could see through you too. The impasse remained, not because a bridge couldn’t be built, but because it couldn’t bear to be burned once more. Once more meant it would crumble to ash and disappear forever. You had thought it already had, until tonight.

You tried to reason with the unreasonable. “You cannot believe you skipping work and me deciding to spend a good chunk of my paycheck to mean some serendipitous shit, can you?” you scoffed.

He gave you that brilliant smile that had tamed you from the very beginning.

“You–”

You poked him hard in the chest.

“Ahh!”

Jungkook must not have expected that at all.

He almost fell over.

Your hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of his hoodie, dragging him back. His body lurched, slightly off balance, and your elbow swung forward, bracing onto his abs, leaving your faces close enough together for bystanders to get the wrong idea. For him to get the wrong idea. For you, too. You were close enough to count his eyelashes.

Enough time elapsed that you might as well have.

“What… What is with you?” you muttered, gripping his clothes. “You’re so… dramatic.”

He had another piercing on the side of his right lip now. Huh. How come you didn’t notice? Probably too busy being mad at him. Or not staring at his lips in fear of indecent thoughts. This current proximity and shared heat were not helping. His hands were somehow on your shoulders. Probably to steady himself. Or something else. You weren’t sure.

Jungkook stared at your lips.

You didn’t back away.

He leaned down and kissed you.

He must be an idiot to put you both in this position again. You must be an idiot too, because you kissed him back. Fuck it. Your hand on his chest relaxed, fingers spreading out, pressing your lips to his, breathing him in. He still used the same cologne you had complimented on back then. It made you smile into his lips. His tense hands on your shoulders fluttered, one slipping down to your upper arm, the other grazing your neck. His thumb brushing the side of your cheek. His other fingers weaving into your hair, tilting his head slightly. No promises, but.

A dream made.

You tapped his chest, forcing him to break the connection.

“W… What?” Jungkook gasped, his short breath mixing into yours.

“Not… Not here,” you chuckled, feeling your racing pulse in your throat. “I think we’ve done enough public reconciliation. Adding public indecency is not it. Someone is going to recognize you soon.”

Those shadowed eyes watching you were telling you he was ready to risk it.

“No,” you gritted, punching his chest lightly. Surprisingly, Jungkook did not budge and held on very strongly to your arm. “Stop that. Stop it with the sex eyes.”

He grinned. You could tell from the way his eyes crinkled. “Is it working?”

You pried yourself from him with some effort.

“All you’re telling me is that you really like handcuffs.”

“Promise?”

You straightened your clothes and answered absentmindedly. “Promise what?” You looked up to give him an indignant expression. He took your purchases to place them in the back of his motorcycle, giving you no verbal response.

Just a sneaky smirk in return.

-

“What did you think was gonna happen?”

“Uh…”

Before he could make another sound, you grabbed Jeon Jungkook by the collar and dragged him to you.

It was different.

Just not in the way you thought it would be.

Part of you thought to hold back. Build a solid foundation to see if this would work. Talk for a long while, move slow, step by recommended step. Then again, if you actually believed that, you would have instructed him to take you back to your apartment. Maybe send him off with a kiss and a pat on the head. You know. The complete opposite of shoving him up against his living room wall and tracing your tongue over his moaning lips with his hands gripping your waist. If this was going to work, it was always going to work. It didn’t matter if it was the wrong way or the right way.

This love was either going down in a blaze of glory or start an everlasting fire.

Might as well get on the ride.

You let him kiss down your neck, your hands sliding down to his. Interlocking fingers. Shivering at the sensation of his lips in your skin, familiar and new. Body-to-body. You pulled up his hands to force him to lose the top layers, including the beanie, exposing his toned chest and gleaming tattoos going from his right hand to his shoulder. His hoodie and t-shirt fell to the floor in a soft thump. His hair was different than when you had last seen him. Sides shaven, the top still long, messy black waves due to being crammed into the beanie. He flicked his head back, sending black strands all over his half-moon eyes, glistening pink lips parted in a soundless gasp.

You took his wrists and pinned Jungkook to the wall.

Panting, watching him under you despite looking upwards.

“W… What?” he breathed, locked in your transfixed stare.

It was different, yet it was the same. You could feel it. There could have been many others between the last time and right now. You knew there wasn’t. It was both sad and validating, because you knew how much he hated being alone, but now you knew there was truth to those promises he had said to you between sheets and pillows.

You leaned down and licked a wet, fat stripe over his chest, dripping saliva all over him.

Jungkook moaned, leaning his head against the wall.

“You belong to me,” you whispered over his heart. Raised your head and he was looking back at you.

Only you.

“I belong to you,” he whispered back.

You skimmed your lips over his skin.

“Prove it to me.”

He surrendered.

To your tongue, tracing patterns over his collarbones. To your lips, dotting kisses and making him flinch, whining for more. To your hands, holding him down and at your mercy, exploring him with sight, touch, and taste. You let go of one of his wrists to trail your nails over his abdomen, observing the way his body rippled, lifting towards you as sensitivity increased. You let your fingers wander, around his waist and into shaded territory, running your nails down his spine, watching his reaction. His head tilted back, hair in wisps around his temples, dark eyes clouded in lust.

Your name slipped from his lips.

You dug your nails into his lower back and pulled yourself up, unable to keep the side of your lips from curving upwards at his delicious whines.

“Take off my blouse.”

His fingertips slid across the slinky maroon fabric. Button by button, the fabric began to unravel in his hands, your forehead to his as he did so. You took his breath, tracing his muscles, murmuring his name just to feel him shiver as he heard it.

“I never had anyone else after you,” he mumbled, circling one of the buttons with his thumb. “I couldn’t.”

“You could have,” you hummed. “You were a free man.”

Jungkook undid the last button and stared into your eyes.

“No, I’m not.”

You half-smiled. “I wouldn’t take it personally.”

He leaned in again, brushing your lips with his.

“I belong to you.”

His touch, his kiss, the dance of mesmerizing senses. You stepped back. He followed. Tangled in each other, your blouse slipping off and dropping to the floor. Your bra unclasped, tumbling, his hands all over, places he had been a million times and desiring forevermore, squeezing your breasts with his hands, almost tripping over your skirt as you stepped out of it. His pants joined the trail of passion, and then his tongue was on you, lifting you in his arms and tasting your hard nipples with your hands in his hair, clutching his head for support with your legs around his waist.

“I’m going to fall,” you gasped, breathless.

“Over my dead body,” was the muffled answer with his face buried into your breasts. “Fuck, I love your ass.”

Perhaps to avoid death getting two for the price of one, Jungkook let you down, devouring you with kisses with your taste lingering on his lips, sinking his fingers into the soft curves. You curled your tongue against his, making him moan, hips grinding against hips, feeling his insistent hardness against your softness, trapping himself between your legs. You were still in your panties and he was still in his boxer briefs, although the thin fabrics were merely a nuisance to the inevitable.

“Jungkook…”

He was thrusting into you and jamming his cock in between your thighs, his strong arms wrapped around you and his teeth on your shoulder. You hummed, torn between telling him off and enjoying the feeling of his arousal swelling between your legs, but it was he who gasped and threw his head back, his hard length twitching against your clothed pussy.

“You ready to include me in this?” you questioned, amused.

“S-Sorry… Can’t help myself…”

Somehow, by instinct and minor effort, you were both in his bedroom now. The familiar bed you had once called yours, remembering the future dreamed upon those white sheets. Jungkook pulled you to them, calling you to the paradise that could only be created between two. Don’t, was your meek protest as he pulled down your panties and kneaded your thighs, shaking his head, I don’t care, and his tongue slid over your heat. Wet, dripping, your sweet taste and his saliva. He moaned between your legs, decorating you with kisses before sliding his tongue over you, drinking you desperately, you taste so fucking good, fuck, and your fingers buried into the sheets. He remembered everything you liked. Steady, soft licks, then harder when your legs tensed, tipping his head to bring his lips around your clit, drenching his chin with your wetness.

His hands turned and slipped under your legs, dragging you to his face by your ass.

“F-Fuck, Jungkook…”

You reached down and gripped his hair as you came on his face, his muffled gasp of surprise drowned out by the moan produced through your arched back and prolonged euphoria. Fuck. Fuck, it hadn’t been evident how much you missed this, no, him, your knuckles against the crown of his head, his hot tongue all over, his fingers locked onto your ass, even the way his nose brushed against your oversensitive clit as he thrust his tongue into your pussy, triggering another wave of pleasure, sparking electricity that burned through your veins.

His.

He pulled himself up with a groan, his mouth all over your body. Leaving bites, kisses, licks in his lustful wake. Your nails dug into his shoulder and he made that whimper you loved, obviously wanting more, and so you clawed his upper back as he pretended to resist you, refusing to move higher as he sucked on your nipples, gazing at you under half-lidded eyes, rubbing your other nipple between his fingers.

“Take it,” you growled under your breath.

He did, rubbing his hard, neglected cock against your thigh, denying himself longer.

Over time, you had hesitated to do such things. Jungkook had gotten in trouble before for being marked up. After all, his body was his selling point, and booking back-to-back shoots with poor choices in between ended up in humiliation. Unjustly so, perhaps, but you never did it again. Maybe you should have been more considerate this time too, but, no, that wasn’t what he was asking for.

He wanted the consequences of you.

He brought his face close to yours, your orgasm still on his breath.

“Mark me,” Jungkook demanded, his voice low and deep and gravelly. “I’m yours.”

So you did.

Hickeys on his perfect neck, sharp nails over his ass as you pushed down his underwear, adorning him with fierce, vicious passion that bruised him. He kissed your forehead, buried his fingers in your hair, and pinned you to him, pre-cum dripping onto your hip as he kicked off his restraints, pressing his hardness to you.

“You’ll get in trouble,” you warned even though the damage was already done.

“I don’t care,” he retorted, his thigh rubbing against your still-wet pussy. “I don’t care if I have to cancel the rest of the week. I don’t care if I never work in the modeling industry again. The only thing I care about is making sure you always know how much I love you.”

You froze, your lips above the inked floral mandala on his right shoulder.

“I should have made time.”

His arms drew up and encircled your head, his lips against the crown.

“I’m so, so sorry for not realizing how disrespectful I was to you. And I won’t do it again,” he murmured, leaving kisses intertwined with your hair. “I promise.”

“I…”

You reached up and held his shoulders, anchored despite the turbulence of an emotional sea.

“I missed being by your side, Jungkook.”

If his hard dick wasn’t literally throbbing against your hip, you might have cried.

You reached down and touched him.

“Ah!”

“Woah.” Your arm hooked around his waist as your hand enclosed around his girth. “I’m just making sure he’s keeping interest even during this emotional breakthrough.”

His cheeks flushed as he realized he had chosen his moment with possibly suboptimal timing. He didn’t have to worry. His body seemed to recognize your hand right away. You could feel the way his cock eagerly twitched on your palm. You cocked an eyebrow. He gave you a the-fuck-you-expect look, and you curled two fingers around his balls, lightly massaging with the pads of your fingers, simulating your tongue. He gasped, gripping your shoulders.

You leaned down and spit in your hand.

“F-Fuck!”

You backed up and slowly, leisurely, spread the slippery saliva all over his cock, letting him adjust his knees to give you a better positioning. Your other arm had moved behind you, lifting your torso up as you jacked him off. He seemed to not know what to do with his hands, foreign objects in his possession before his eye line drifted down. Down. His fingers trailed over your breasts, squeezing them and playing with your nipples as you increased the pace.

“Handcuffs could come in handy right now,” you commented.

He glared at you.

“S… Shut up.”

His cock had throbbed at the suggestion though.

You tilted your head, watching his breathing quicken as you applied the pressure where he liked it, the same pulse every time, not too fast and not too slow, building the frustration with a smile.

His face tensed.

Faster. A little tighter. Your thumb rubbed just under the base of the head with every ascent. He placed his palms against your hard nipples and you felt the familiar snap of his hips, leaning into your hand, his eyelashes fluttering, and for a brief moment you considered stopping.

Then again, these weren’t your sheets.

He gasped out your name and shot all over your stomach and thigh.

Hot, thick cum splattered onto your skin, making you suck in a breath as you felt it, saw it, smelled it, intense and strong and all over you. You were lucky it was on the thicker side, white streaks sticking to your body rather than running off. A painting of perverse proportions. Jungkook stared at his work, still semi-hard in your hand, clearly turned on by the sight. You sent him a questioning look.

“What now?”

Then he shocked you, and probably himself, by diving down and running his warm tongue over your cum-covered skin.

“Oh, what–”

Instant burning tingles spread throughout your nerves at the contact, vibrating through to your core, dripping as you witnessed the milky white coat his tongue. Your hand touched his shoulder, drawing him up, and he was tamed by your gesture, rising, his lips smeared with his release, and you drew closer to the heavy scent, to him. Lips to lips. Drank it from his mouth, swallowing the mixture of saliva and orgasm. Your tongue tangled in his, his fingers in between your legs again, thrusting two fingers into you, following the pull you had on him. Deep, slow, faster as the kiss grew more intense, breath to consumed breath, rolling your hips up into his hand, tightening around him, and Jungkook moaned, getting harder in your hand as your slick arousal drenched his.

“Condom?”

They spilled over the bed in his haste.

You were pleased to see it was the same brand you usually enjoyed. There wasn’t much to be read into that, though, because they had become his favorite as well per your introduction. You wondered if there would be a second first-time awkwardness and you were immediately proven wrong from the desperate and experienced way Jungkook dragged your ass to line up his dick. There was no time to be anxious, it seemed.

“You’ve acting like you’ve never had me before,” you teased.

Those dark eyes narrowed. “Don’t act like you don’t have the tightest, most perfect pussy I’ve ever been in.”

You half-shrugged. “Things could change.”

He slid in and clenched his jaw.

“You liar.”

You smirked and closed in around his length.

“F-Fuuuuuuuck me…”

You could have probably kept it up if it wasn’t for how fucking good he felt inside you. Just the right girth, and he lifted your legs, deeper, gasping, reaching the depth you liked. Your thighs against his chest. You locked eyes. Jungkook cocked an eyebrow with a familiar smirk. The corner of your lips ticked upward, and the rough, powerful pace began, your hand gripping his tattooed forearm and the other the sheets, losing yourself to the pleasure, pressed between the mattress and his hard body. His eyes closed, your lashes fluttering, witnessing glimpses of bliss, whispers of sweet nonsense lost between moans, leaning your head back onto his pillows, sinking into his scent.

Belonging to him.

His hair flicked sweat onto your chest. Your hand on the bed bent back and shoved the pillows down, using the leverage to lift your hips to his thrust, moaning at the visceral sound of slapping hips, wet and loud and vibrating throughout the room.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he panted out between gasps. “Fuck, you’re so fucking beautiful.”

You tried to deliver a compliment back but it was getting harder and harder to breathe. Your orgasm abruptly interrupted any coherent though, forcing you to bury your head back and endure the vice-grip of wanton delirium, barely able to gasp out his name as the hot wave dragged you under, your inner walls viciously pulsing all around his length. You heard Jungkook groan and attempt to say something, probably how much he enjoyed feeling your orgasm, he had done so before, however he seemed to be in his own dilemma as well, clenching his jaw and snapping his head down, the muscles of his chest taut and tense, and, in your intoxicated haze, you realized he was attempting not to follow, but.

“Fuck!”

He slammed his cock into you and cursed, throwing his head back as you felt the jerk of his cock spilling into the condom, trapped in your tightness, dragged into the kind of fever that couldn’t be sweat out, sinking down, down.

You stilled, suspended in bliss.

It was a little easier to breathe now. You missed this. Him, specifically. The sex you had together, carnal and intense and unparalleled. Closed your eyes, breathing hard, feeling the familiarity of Jungkook on top of you, spent, sweaty, frantic for round two. He didn’t like stopping if he could help it. It was one of his best traits. You felt him lower your legs carefully, backing out of you with a hiss.

Then you heard a wet, dirty sound.

You opened one eye.

He was staring at your body.

Running his fingers over his still-hard cock, bringing it back to full hardness.

“Let me look at you.”

You hummed. “You’re only seeing one side.”

His dark eyes shifted up to yours.

“Okay. Turn over.”

Desire turned his voice deeper, huskier.

With a sly smile, you rolled over, and scooted onto your knees, spreading your ass for him. You heard him suck in a breath, that’s so fucking sexy, and you flexed, letting him watch, entrancing him with the visual and the obvious sound of your wetness.

“Every part of you is perfect.” You could hear him jacking himself off, hard and fast. “Fucking perfect.”

“I feel that your judgement is clouded right now,” you answered back, muffled by his pillows in your face.

You heard the ripping sound and then a groan as he rolled down the condom. Then his strong hands grabbed your hips, prompting you to let go, and he sank into you.

“Fuck no, it’s not,” he gasped, picking you up by the hips to fully sheath himself. You managed to pull a pillow to your chest to allow ample breathing room. “I don’t want anyone else. No one else can satisfy me.”

You made your pussy tighten around him and he moaned again, his hot breath washing down your spine.

“Then let me satisfy you,” you purred, leaning back into him.

Your ass met his crotch in a loud, gratifying smack, easily locking into a rhythm you both enjoyed. Hard, aggressive, powerful, not holding back, you lifting a hand to extend back, and he caught your forearm, thrusting deeply as he held onto you. All of his power was directed below, the grip on your arm simply a symbol of possession, forcing you to lift your head and arch your back, adjusting to that more fruitful angle, sending heat all throughout your blood and nerves, the tension building, louder, harder, more.

He let you go, and you bucked back against him.

Moaned your name, delicious and desperate, begging you.

It was hard to count your orgasms. They seemed to blend into one another, entangled with the passion and the beat, not wanting to stop even as you struggled to breathe, clutching the pillow so hard that you could still feel your nails digging into your palm. The lust searing and yet not enough, chasing more, wanting more, wanting him, only him, your only, the one that belonged to you.

Your head tipped back, seeing only fragments of your surroundings, your hair a mess over your face.

“Jungkook, I love you,” you gasped.

You felt his hips flinch and he moaned your name, long and drawn-out, his hard cock jolting inside you, gripping your hips so tightly you probably had imprints of his fingertips. There was a flurry of expletives and panting. The haze of inexplicable euphoria settling, unavoidable and desired. You closed your eyes, savoring his release, feeling the radiating vibrations of his high pour into you as he slid down, his hot hands over your back, his shuddering exhales warming your shoulder blades.

Sweat, in small shivering droplets, sprinkled onto your skin.

“I love you too.”

He pressed his fingertips into your rising and falling body, touching you all over, confessing to your racing heart beneath his lips.

“I love you so fucking much.”

-

“Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah, totally.”

You turned your head to see Jungkook staring at your tits. You tucked a knuckle under his chin and forced it up. He gave you the big-peepers-in-headlights look.

“Huh?”

“Are you sure about this?” you repeated once more.

He gave you a confused look. “Yeah. I thought we talked about it?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Pardon me, but I’m not sure how much I can trust a discussion we were having with you balls deep inside me.”

“Eh?” His lower lip upturned. “Why not?”

You rubbed your temple with two fingers. “Why not, hah…”

“I meant it.”

You pulled one of his pillows over your naked chest so he could focus. You weren’t even sure why he had these. Jungkook slept on one of those stiff cylindrical pillows that was supposedly more comfortable. You weren’t too sure about how good that was for his neck, but sometimes you just have to accept the strangeness of your significant other. He must have kept these for the look of a nicely made bed. Or for moments like this. His eyes went back to your face again, reluctantly. He seemed a little disappointed.

“You don’t think I meant it?”

You saw his eyes were drifting to your thighs now. “It’s not really that…” You considered it. “It’s more… Well, we’ve tried already, you know. Aren’t you afraid it’ll happen again?”

His gaze shifted. You waited, letting him collect his thoughts.

“Afraid?” You saw him reflect the past and the mistakes. “Yeah. Yeah, I guess I am. I’m definitely going to change from how I was before. I can see how my work-life balance was shit, as both a friend and boyfriend. I don’t want to go back to that either,” Jungkook mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck. “I get it now. I can’t get time back. I was stupid, thinking me overworking myself wouldn’t drive you away, you know, we would have so much more time later… I went about it the worst way. I didn’t even discuss it with you. That was just me being selfish, and that selfishness made me insecure… I don’t want that anymore. I promise you that.” He shook his head and looked up at you guiltily. “Still… I can’t promise I won’t fuck up in some other way. And that scares me. But I have to act, even if I’m scared. Even if your final answer is, let’s not see each other anymore, at least I will have honestly given you my all this time, because you are it for me.”

You shook your head too. “There could be someone out there for you that is a lot more suitable than me. The world is the big place.”

He frowned, exasperated. “No. No, you don’t get it.” He placed a hand on your knee and looked into your eyes. “You are it for me. The world is big place, but my world is right here.” He poked you and you laughed, startled at the suddenness. A smile burst onto his face, holding your knee down, trying to drive his point home over your mirth. “Hey! Hey. I really meant it. All of it.”

You stopped laughing.

Somehow one of your hands was covering his now, feeling his warmth and hard knuckles in your palm.

“I belong to you,” Jungkook repeated, his own I love you. “I can’t love anyone else like how I love you. I don’t care if you believe me or not. Even if you leave me, sure, I might find someone to not be lonely with, but I will only belong to you.”

You held onto his hand, curling your fingers into his palm. “You…” This man was crazy, saying things like this. He affectionately squeezed your knee, flashing that killer smile of his.

“So… Yeah, I’m sure.”

He pulled his hand from under yours and touched your cheek, his knuckles against your skin.

“I’ll go along with whatever you choose.”

Truth was, you had already chosen.

“I’ll do my best too,” you murmured quietly, holding the pillow tightly. “I won’t let myself be complacent anymore.”

From the look in his eyes, you saw that Jungkook recognized that it had become an unintentional consequence of his actions. He smiled, still stroking your cheek.

“Yeah. Let’s be a team this time.”

You nodded, smiling back.

An extended silence of staring into each other’s eyes.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“Are you just imagining rubbing your dick on my cheek?”

His rough fingertips grazed over your jaw. “Yeah,” he replied dreamily.

You smacked his hand.

“Ow!”

“Pay attention!”

“W-Wha, what?” He pouted. “What am I supposed to do!”

You grimaced, feigning annoyance but also not really. This guy. “No wonder we could only have serious talks in public or incarcerated…” you muttered.

“Ah, yeah, that reminds me.”

You raised an eyebrow at him as he twisted around and reached over to his phone, watching the ripple of his back muscles as he moved. Damn. This guy. He bounced back, messing about on the screen. You were too busy admiring the definition of his arms to notice, until.

“What kind of handcuffs should we buy?” Jungkook chirped, turning his phone to showing you the screen display of a sex goods webstore.

You blinked at him.

“What.”

And thus begun round two.

-

epilogue

“Hey- oh, wow.”

You stilled, surprised.

‘Oh, I thought you were going to meet me there?”

In your hand was your well-loved small black purse with a bow. Your other hand held the door open, seeing the tall form of Jeon Jungkook gawking at you in his matching denim jacket and jeans. Calvin Klein, the same brand as his white t-shirt under the jacket. That same brand was holding a lunch event today, except one of their attendees was blocking your path, open-mouthed at your hips wrapped in a tight, pink gingham miniskirt with embroidered red strawberries. Then his stare went to your chest, to the emerald-green satin blouse that complimented the little green accents of the mini strawberries, although you suspected his interest was less in the color and more in the way the seams accentuated the curve of your breasts.

You raised your eyebrows.

“I… I left early. I wanted to pick you up,” he was saying absentmindedly.

You gestured to the black car waiting at the front. “I already ordered a car, though. I can’t ride with you on your bike in this skirt.”

“We can get in the car.” Jungkook’s eyes went back down. You knew he wasn’t admiring the delicate crisscross straps of your black velvet pumps. “Damn, your legs,” he mumbled.

The driver of the car was about to watch a live-action porno if you didn’t take action. You set the alarm and lock before stepping out. Immediately, Jungkook’s hand raised, as did his gaze. You looked from the tattooed hand to his face. He grinned, creating sparkles in his big dark brown eyes.

“I ran off, hehe. I just wanted to personally accompany my darling,” he admitted. “Hopefully no one noticed.”

You fitted your hand in his, letting him lead you. “You’re too handsome not to notice. What a troublemaker,” you joked, pleased at his rebellion.

“Your troublemaker now. Where are we eating?”

“There’s a French themed café near some shops. After, could we stop by the tea shop? My dad has a request I need to fulfill.”

“Ooo, I love adventures with my future wife.”

You gave him a curious smirk. His mischievous grin just kept getting bigger, that underlip mole suddenly visible like a secret wink. He had been dropping such hints lately. You pretended to gloss over it even though the discussion of dream rings had already happened months ago. You reached out to open the car door and Jungkook impatiently nudged your hand away, doing it for you so you could enter easily in your heels. It was a very nice thing to do.

Taehyung probably grilled such behaviors into him. Not that you were complaining, of course.

You confirmed the destination with the driver as Jungkook got in the car from the other side, taking care to hook his sunglasses on the front of his shirt. You heard his phone vibrate. You turned your head to see him snickering at it.

“Taehyungie’s mad that I left him alone.”

“Whoops.” You did feel a little bad.

He waved a hand, tongue in cheek. “He’ll get over it.”

Your eyes met.

He had such beautiful, expressive eyes that held the stars every time he saw you.

“You sure?” you asked quietly.

Jungkook reached over and stroked your cheek with a smile.

“I’m sure I want to eat lunch with my future wife, yup. Then I’ll buy tea for her dad so I can get on his good side.”

You laughed. “Sounds like a sweet master plan.”

His black hair loosely styled over his forehead made him look younger. You knew better. Perhaps grown was not the word for it, but you could tell he was becoming more and more of the man he wanted to be every day. Attending events with Jungkook was different these days; he checked on you throughout the night, actively included you in conversations, and even introduced you to people he thought you might enjoy talking to, now to the point that familiar faces would come up to you first before they recognized him. But what was more important was this – arranging quality time to spend together, more communication, and obvious commitment. The pleasant surprise not being flowers or sweets or other material things, and instead his presence earlier than expected.

His laugh at night.

His forehead kiss in the morning, even if you were half-awake in bed.

His silly photos of fogging up a makeup artist’s mirror with his breath and drawing a heart with your name inside it.

He still had a hectic schedule, but now you and him knew when enough was enough. You could finally talk about it before either of you became too stressed out or lonely by it. That improvement was worth that entire roller coaster to get here.

You smiled.

He smiled back, his knee touching yours.

He was still stroking your cheek.

“Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

“What are you thinking right now?”

He didn’t respond right away. He just adjusted his legs suspiciously and gave you his most innocent look that indicated he was most certainly guilty.

“Eh?”

You took him by the wrist and slowly lowered it before the driver could notice your partner-in-crime’s suspicious behavior. He pouted at you. The tent in his pants twitched. You cocked an eyebrow. Then you remembered something.

“Oh, by the way.”

He perked up. “What is it?”

You unzipped your purse a little bit and flashed the edge of shiny silver metal and chain.

“I borrowed something from a friend.”

Jungkook looked down.

Odd that it took him more than a moment to recognize handcuffs, considering that he – and you – had so much prior experience with them. His eyes went wide once it clicked. His cheeks flushed red. You smirked and rezipped your bag.

“What the fu–”

fin.

-

i hear... | ... the whispers... | ... in your eyes.

inspired by taylor swift's imgonnagetyouback :)

--

masterpost

[just-my-latest-hyperfixation]

Put it in your mouth

Written for @steddiesmuttyseptember, week 1

Prompts: Make-Up Sex & Pillow Princess

Words: 1,191

Tags: Friends to lovers; Idiots to lovers; Anal Fingering; Oral Sex; Anal Sex; Power Bottom Steve; Service Top Eddie

Notes: Eddie "Foot in Mouth" Munson strikes again. He's putting so many things in his mouth in this one. Get it? (God, I'm hilarious.) 🤭

The sky is turning bright when Eddie crunches to a brake in Steve's driveway. He swings open his door and is halfway up the front porch when he stops.

He shouldn't be here, the nagging voice at the back of his mind says. Between the jitters before the tv gig and interview and everything that happened after, he hasn't slept in close to forty-eight hours. He can't exactly be trusted to make rational decisions, and even if he could, who's saying Steve wants to see him?

Eddie curses, replaying the memory that has been plaguing him the entire way here. He called Steve the second he returned to the hotel, grinning from ear to ear like the idiot that he is.

“Did you watch it?” he blurted the moment the call connected. 

“Yeah,” Steve said. The curt answer could've clued Eddie in, but he was still high on adrenaline and applause, so it didn't. 

“I dunno about you,” he sing-songed, flopping down on the bed and twirling the phone cord. “But I'd say that went pretty fucking fantastic.” 

“Fantastic?” Steve repeated dryly. “Yeah, right. Glad you think so, you fucking asshole.” 

Eddie stopped playing with the cord. 

“Stevie?” he croaked. “What's wrong?” 

Steve laughed. “If you don't know that, you're dumber than I thought.” 

Then he hung up. Eddie was left in his hotel room, staring dumbly at the receiver. When he tried to call back, Steve didn't pick up. 

Eddie wasted the better part of an hour lying on his bed and staring at the ceiling. Why was Steve mad at him? Ever since the beginnings of their unlikely, Upside Down forged friendship, he'd been fervently supportive of Eddie’s music. Showing up to his gigs, listening until late into the night while Eddie worked on new songs. Hell, he'd probably been more nervous about this whole thing than Eddie, seeing him off with a lingering hug and a promise to talk to him later. 

It must’ve been something he said at the interview, but what? Eddie scowled as he rehashed every single question and answer.

Where did he get the inspiration for his songs? He’d spouted some bullshit about ostracization and alienation and smalltown conventions, because the truth would’ve meant breaking about a million NDAs. 

Was he excited about the upcoming tour and album? Yes, obviously, he couldn’t wait to see all those different places, play in front of all sorts of people. 

Was there somebody at home rooting for him? A special girl maybe? Nope, nobody, he was happily single and planning on staying that- … wait. 

Eddie shot up from the bed so suddenly he gave himself vertigo, letting out a very loud and very colorful string of swear words. In the room next to his, someone banged on the wall, asking if he had any clue what time it was. Eddie didn't. He also didn't pause to find out. 

Now, a hasty check-out and one speed-limit-defying drive later, he’s staring at Steve’s front door, all previous courage slowly seeping out of him. 

Maybe he got this all wrong. Maybe he's imagining this. He has experience with imagining things - has spent countless nights fantasizing about what it would feel like, touching Steve as more than a friend. The feel of Steve’s lips, the taste of Steve’s skin. Maybe he should leave, come back with a clear head tomorrow, so that they can talk this over like the sensible adults they-

“Shit, Eddie?” 

The door is open, spilling light onto the porch. At the center of it, nail bat in one hand, disheveled hair back-lit in caramel and gold, is Steve. He's in his sleep clothes - checkered boxers and one of Eddie’s old band shirts that he stole months ago. Those pretty eyes are large with surprise, but when Eddie takes a hesitant step towards him, Steve’s expression closes off. 

“I don't believe you,” he mutters, and makes to close the door. Eddie acts on impulse alone, bridging the distance and wedging his foot into the crack. Steve glowers at him. “What the fuck do you want?” 

“You,” Eddie breathes , and closes the gap. 

From one second to the next, all of his doubts evaporate, because this right here? This is all he's ever wanted. They crash into the wall of the foyer, nail bat clattering to the floor, and Eddie spends a glorious few minutes reveling in the heady rush of Steve’s lips on his, Steve's mouth opening for his tongue, Steve’s nails clawing into his back. 

When they part, Steve is deliciously flushed, lips shiny and slightly parted, ragged puffs of breath tickling Eddie’s skin. 

“Want you,” Eddie repeats. “Fuck, Stevie, I've wanted you for so long. I'm such an idiot, I never-” 

“Prove it then,” Steve says. His arms loop around Eddie’s neck, slotting them further together, and Eddie gasps as his cock presses against his thigh - a long, hard weight through the thin fabric of his shorts. “If you want me so much, show me just how desperate you are.” 

*

“More. Deeper. C'mon, or are you tired already?” 

Eddie moans around an aching jaw. He isn't tired, he's in heaven. There's drool running down his chin, his tongue and neck and shoulders are on fire, but Steve is here with him, sprawled against the headboard like a king, spread out for him like a feast. 

Steve fists one hand into the curls at the back of his head, shoving him back down on his cock, and Eddie swallows him down in one greedy gulp, eager to show his devotion. Looking up at Steve through tear-clouded eyes, he pushes his fingers deeper inside, curling them to hit that sweet spot. Steve gasps and clenches around him, eyes fluttering shut, head tipping back to reveal that long neck. The taste of precum floods Eddie’s tongue, salty and delicious, and he moans around the cock lodged in his throat. Lust coils painfully in his stomach, shooting up his spine like red-hot sparks, and his naked cock throbs with it. 

“Please,” he says, pulling off with an obscene, wet sound. Steve looks down at him, brows raised, eyes bright and glassy with arousal. “Please, Stevie, I need-” 

“Huh,” Steve says, and Eddie can tell he's trying to sound unimpressed, even with the way it comes out around a shaky moan. “You think you've earned it?” 

Eddie smiles. 

“Me?” he says. He swirls his tongue around Steve’s leaking tip, reveling in the whine he gets when he pulls his fingers out. “Oh, honey, this isn't about me. This is all about you.” 

He licks and bites his way up Steve's hip bones, his stomach, that glorious chest and neck, drinking in every little gasp, every shuddering breath. 

“All that time you spent waiting for me to finally get it? I think you've earned it. You deserve to be spoiled rotten. You deserve to feel so good. Please, baby, let me make you feel good.”

“Asshole,” Steve says, but this time, it's full of fondness. “You always know what to say, huh?” 

“Not always,” Eddie murmurs against his mouth, greedily swallowing Steve’s moan as he pushes in. “Only when it matters most.” 

More smutty September

[eureka-its-zico]

Happy Birthday, Zoro

Synopsis: Zoro wasn't much for birthday's until he met you.

Pairing: Roronoa Zoro x Reader

Genre: fluffy, friends to lovers, (Zoro and Doc)

Words: 2.5K

A/N: I had to write something for the birthday boy before the day is over. It is probably the shortest thing I've written in a hot minute, but I hope it is still enjoyable. Much love, Jenn.

He’d let it slip one night while you’d all been celebrating Nami’s birthday. Of course, she’d asked for fireworks and pretty gifts. She’d also asked to play poker, but that was something you and the rest of the crew weren’t willing to talk about. 

There was no way someone won every single time. 

Cheating aside, the one thing that Zoro could agree on was the booze. You’d both been sent out to pick it up. Who better than the resident alcoholic on the ship to know what a good brand was? 

What you hadn’t expected was for him to basically pull you out of your reading nook in the galley. You could still feel the way his fingers had snaked around to grip the inside of your arm. Two seconds later, he was lifting you up and out of your spot with your book almost fumbling to the floor. 

“Zoro-“

“Come on, Doc, you're coming with me.”

“You could’ve asked!” You huffed. 

You were well aware that Zoro was still holding onto your arm. You were also well aware that he was much closer than usual making it hard for you to remember that you were mad at him. Big mad because you were just getting to the good part in your book. 

“I am asking.”

Gods. He said it like a fact. His face was as smooth as stone and unblinking.

This was your Zoro. Master of having zero tact. 

“Asking is with words, you ass.”

“Yeah, I don’t do that.”

“I’ve noticed.”

And with that, he took it as you conceded to go with him into town. In part, it was probably for the best. Zoro’s people skills were nonexistent and you and Sanji frequently had to apologize for him. 

While the trip to town was enjoyable, what made it the best was the way Zoro changed around you. It wasn’t an astronomical change. He didn’t talk a whole lot more or say fewer things that reminded you he was an asshole (but he was your asshole so…) or be less broody. What he did was smile more. 

They ranged from the small smirks he did when you were talking. Your animated hand movements with every other word as you weave a deep story for him or an excessive explanation on why using chopsticks for hair pins was an ingenious idea. You wondered if Zoro himself even realized he was doing it. But your all-time favorite? 

It was when he smiled brighter than any star in the sky. His entire face lit up and chased back all the broody darkness he usually wore like armor. So, while you were upset to be torn from your book, you knew you would much rather be here in town with him. 

When you arrived at the store Zoro immediately asked for samples. Two of everything. You thought he meant for himself, but felt complete terror widen your eyes when he slid one over to your place beside him at the bar. The only response you got was a raised brow and a smirk he quickly covered with the edge of his glass. 

“What? Can steal a man’s glass from a dinner table but not an offered one?”

“Excuse me. I only did that because I knew you wanted it.”

“Hmmm. So, if I vocally say I don’t want you to drink with me, you’ll drink?”

You took a sniff of the amber liquid poured into the glass and felt your eyebrows curl up in retreat. 

“This smells like regret,” you informed him with your eyes looking over the rim of the glass at his very striking figure. 

This man was insane if he thought you were going to drink with him. You had no control over your mouth once you had one glass too many and you weren’t sure you could take responsibility for whatever your hands may, or may not, do. Especially since he was wearing another one of his gi’s, which suspiciously looked more untucked in the chest area than usual. 

You were going to have to ask Nami if she might have spilled some secrets from a girls' night. 

“There is no such thing as regret. Just a learning experience.”

“Yeah, no. That sounds like regret.”

He let out an annoyed sigh as he kicked back what was left inside the glass. The man didn’t even pull a face. He just casually swallowed it and placed the glass rim down first on the bar. 

“That’s going to be a no.” He hummed to himself before he turned to look at you. “Look, Doc, I just want a second opinion on the booze. It’s for Nami’s special day or whatever.”

He had a point. You didn’t want Zoro picking something that was strong enough to melt the hair off a man’s chest, but you also didn’t want it growing any hair on anyone’s chest, either. 

“Fair point.” 

You took one last look at your glass before grabbing it and slamming back its contents. The regret was instant as it burned its way down your throat and boiled molten in your belly. You couldn’t keep from coughing as you tried to shoot daggers in his direction. 

“You know what you learned there?” Zoro asked.

You were scared to ask but felt yourself coughing, “What?” regardless. 

“You don’t like that one.”

Your hand lightly smacked him in the arm on a whim. You waited for him to turn and give you a death glare from the tap, but you were given a soft smile instead and was that- did Zoro just laugh? 

He was already on his fifth glass and maybe that was why he was being so damn cute. Yeah, that was it. Zoro instantly became a lightweight. 

You knocked back the second one in record time. This time, it didn’t burn as much as the first, but it still didn’t taste much better. 

“I never understood the big deal about birthdays.” Zoro’s voice was deep in thought, his eyes roaming the inside of the empty glass of his sixth drink. “It’s just a day.”

A “Tsk,” pushed past your lips as you leaned over towards him. Your cheek rested on his arm as you looked up at him. It felt like it was taking forever for him to even glance down at you. You were about to poke him in his side to finally make him move when dark eyes fell down on your face.

Gods, you really needed to remember to breathe. 

“It’s not just a day! It’s the day you were born. It’s not just to celebrate but to be grateful that you’re here. I’m grateful you’re here.”

You watched his Adam’s Apple bob in his throat. The way his eyes flashed with something you weren’t used to seeing made a question form on your tongue but before you could ask it, Zoro looked away and back at the table. His hand wrapped around a new glass and quickly emptied its contents. 

“Come on, we still have a lot of booze to get through.”

It wasn’t until the two of you were squeezed into a booth, all of the booze gone, and your head resting on his shoulder, with Zoro’s head resting on yours, that he mentioned it again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever celebrated my birthday before,” he hummed. His fingers were playing with the hem of the pocket on your cargo pants. “But if I did. I want it to be with you.” 

It felt silly that just a few words could make your heart race like it did. It was the booze, you’d reminded yourself. You’d both drunk enough to tranquilize a sea beast. Zoro would never just mumble things like this to you, resting his head on yours like he did. 

That day Zoro didn’t say more than that and you didn’t press him. Not that you could, anyways. You couldn’t even remember the walk back to the Merry. The night of Nami’s birthday, in the middle of the fireworks, you’d both been sitting on the deck. Your eyes cast up to the explosion of color that painted the sky. 

“November.”

“What?”

A finger stroked the neck of the bottle he’d been nursing. His wrist found a comfortable spot on his knee as he leaned back on his palm. It was enough to look natural - enough to not bring attention to the fact this position easily put him shoulder-to-shoulder beside you. 

“My birthday it’s…it’s in November. If you are curious.”

July came and went. August and September. You practically counted each day in each month and hated how it seemed to go so fast, but not fast enough. You’d planned and had every idea of how you were going to give him one of the best birthdays ever.

You’d already bought his favorite whiskey and gave it a cute little bow. You’d even asked Sanji to show you how to make a cake. You practiced tirelessly with Sanji watching you every step of the way. So, you couldn’t understand how or why your cake looked like a deflated balloon. 

“Did you overbeat the flour?”

Sanji was leaning back against the counter. A hand covering his mouth because you knew he was either smiling or frowning or a mixture of both. The towel he’d used to clean up your earlier spill rested over his shoulder. 

“I don’t know,” you groaned into your hands. 

“It’s alright. It’s not the time to panic-“

“It is the perfect time to panic! I don’t have time to try and redo the cake, Sanji.”

The day was almost over. Zoro had spent the majority of it out with Luffy. You’d been waiting for them both to come back and when they did, it was night. You weren’t sure how many hours were left in the day for you to do this, but you knew you didn’t have a lot of time left. 

“Can you hand me a cookie cutter?”

“What are you going to do?”

“I’m gonna improvise.”

You used the cookie cutter to find the best part of the cake and cut out a piece. You slammed on maybe too much frosting and quickly went and grabbed your present from your room. It might have been a good idea to change since you were practically wearing most of the cake ingredients on your clothes. 

It was too late to change anything. You were already in front of his door and with the tip of your boot knocked as gently as you could. You could hear the slightest sounds of Zoro moving around inside—a groan and what sounded like a few choice words grumbled right after. 

You weren’t ready for what greeted you. 

Zoro swung open the door and all your brain functions ceased. He was shirtless. The scars Mihawk had given him were fully on display along with every ridiculous muscle definition known to man. His hair was haphazard from sleep, eyes still struggling to focus, with pants hung low at his hips. You weren’t sure if you should be thankful or happy. One thing was for sure. You almost dropped your cake. 

“Oh, hey Doc. What’s up?”

Fuck. Was his voice always so unnecessarily rich like this when he woke up? You weren’t sure why, but you panicked and practically shoved the items towards his face. 

“Surprise!”

He looked from your would-be birthday cake and the bottle of whiskey with a bow and back to you. 

“What is this for?”

“Your birthday, silly.”

That seemed to wake him up and not in a good way. He quickly reached out and pulled you inside. He shut the door behind you and if it weren’t for the bit of moonlight that showed through his window, you both would’ve been consumed by darkness. 

Zoro moved forward and you remembered you were in a dimly lit room with him. With a tight smile on your face, you lifted the cake and repeated, “Surprise!”

“You said that already.”

“True but this time it didn’t result in you pulling me anywhere. I brought matches too so you could blow out the candle on your cake.”

Zoro took one look at your cake and all that grumpy energy he held from being woken up disappeared. It was replaced with a soft grin as he looked from the cake to you. 

“Why is it in the shape of a Christmas tree?”

“Let's not focus on the details. Oh, and this is for you too!”

Yes, you were nervous. Yes, this was the first time you’d been inside his room like this, but everything was fine. It was fine. So, there wasn’t any real reason why you almost slammed the bottle into his chest. Zoro didn’t seem to mind the small impact as his eyes landed on the label. 

“It’s my favorite one.”

“I know. It took me a while to find it. Come on. Come sit.” 

You moved to sit on the edge of his bed. Your fingers went to dig the matchbox out of your pocket, and as soon as you got it out, strike one to light up the candle. You carefully lifted the plate back up in your hands as Zoro sat down beside you. The soft glow of the candle made all the hardness of his jaw and cheeks appear softer and the plushness of his lips more inviting. Everything about Zoro appeared different in the soft illumination of the candle and you wished you could draw it to memory. 

A smile that was big and genuine lifted the corners of your mouth. Your hands held up the plate at the best angle between you as you softly said, “Happy Birthday, Zoro. Make a wish.”

Zoro tried to shake away the smirk that started to form before he leaned forward and blew out his candle. You turned to place the plate on the barrel beside the bed. 

“Are you going to ask me what I wished for?”

You froze in place. Your heart suddenly beat wildly against your chest as you struggled to swallow past your racing pulse. You hoped when you turned back around to face him you didn’t look terrified. 

“It’s usually bad luck to ask,” you replied.

“Ask.”

“What did you wish for, Zoro?”

“You.”

You weren’t prepared for Zoro to close the last few inches between you. For his hand to weave his fingers into your hair while his other gripped your waist. Those last few moments of sanity you had before he pressed his lips against yours evaporated the minute he touched you. 

Maybe you’d been his true present all along. 

-----------

As always, thank you for reading. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always appreciated.

__________

[goldenroutledge]

never say goodbye

pairing: daniel ricciardo x reader

word count: 2.3k

summary: you remind daniel of who he is when he needs it most.

warnings: angst, hurt/comfort, swearing but a happy ending (i tried)

a/n: self-indulgent to unbreak my heart a little bit. if he really leaves for good, the void will never be filled. there will never be another danny ric :,)

i listened to michael giacchino’s bundle of joy from inside out while writing this. if i could put my feelings into music, it would be this <3

Your heart aches seeing the expression on Daniel’s face; painstakingly bittersweet in showing his signature smile even when it kills him. It gives you at least a little comfort knowing that no matter what happens, nobody will take that away from him. As he recounts his time in Formula 1 in the interview, it is clear that his journey here has not only been a mere time in his life but it is a part of his being. The ebbs and flows, the triumphs and defeats he’s experienced over the last decade condensed into a few short yet symbolic sentences.

This might be the least talkative anyone has ever seen Daniel Ricciardo, who's otherwise radiating relentless positivity to a point that is undeniable. You know that’s still alive in him somewhere underneath it all. Maybe that’s part of why it hurts so much, he is someone so undeserving of such treatment, to be dismissed this way. Everyone can feel it, and even under the night sky of Singapore, the paddock is enclosed in its own bubble. When the bright lights go down and the noise turns to silence, you can only imagine how he’ll be when it’s just the two of you again, knowing that those with the brightest smiles hold in the heaviest tears.

It’s impossible to miss the solemn glances toward him or the way the interviewer’s eyes match the look in Daniel’s, searching in the dark for an end to this nightmare. Even from afar you can see the way he’s holding back tears, choosing his words carefully to keep the dam from breaking just a little bit longer. He musters a smile and a nod at the end of his interview trying to convey that it's going to be okay, he is going to be okay.

Before you know it he’s making his way back to the team’s hospitality. Claps and cheers interrupt your thoughts, and you glance around to see his team members and friends now surrounding you near the entrance. It’s hard for everyone to see him this way but they also can’t help but be astounded at the way his head is still held high. He thanks each and every one of them with gratitude, before locking eyes with you at the very end.

Unexpectedly, your eyes are filled with tears at the sight of him. A quiet sob leaves your lips as he scoops you into his arms, swaying you both soothingly. “I’m sorry.” You whisper, barely loud enough for him to hear and for reasons you can’t quite explain. I’m sorry I can’t keep it together. I’m sorry you have to be so strong. I’m sorry this is happening to you.

Daniel knows everything you mean by that, and feels his throat swell up, pressing a long kiss to your cheek instead. You squeeze your eyes shut, letting yourself take in his embrace for a few moments before it’s over. A few tears fall down your cheek and you’re not sure who they belong to.

After a deep breath you pull away from him, returning a kiss to his cheek along with a proper smile of reassurance. As deeply as you feel for him right now, you feel just as much of a responsibility to make sure he’s taken care of.

“Meet you at the hotel after your debriefs?”

Daniel nods, eyes solemn as they drift behind you into the hospitality suite. He sighs, knowing what’s ahead of him. You figure it would be nice to give him a little time to himself, to stitch up his remaining wounds and take in what could be his last moments as a Formula 1 driver. To say a sudden goodbye to this paddock, his second home for the last 13 years, and to say goodbye to all of those that have been beside him, who have become a second family over those 13 years.

“Yeah, I’ll see you soon.”

Daniel gives you one last smile of reassurance, knowing that no matter how many times he tells you he’s okay, you won’t believe him. He pecks your lips softly, walking inside and waving to you from behind the glass door. You wave back, still struck with emotion, feeling like a parent sending their child into their first day of school. Instead of the moment being a new beginning that’s filled with hope and joy, it’s a moment of bittersweet ending filled with sorrow and sadness.

You can only hope that whatever’s waiting for him on the other side of this, he’s happy. You make a promise to yourself that you’ll be there through all of the grief and the restlessness it will take for him to get there.

-

Back at the hotel, you sit quietly for a while, gathering your thoughts. It certainly wouldn’t be in your best interest to scroll through the endless articles and videos of a heartbroken Daniel giving interviews. Though seeing him secure both the fastest lap and driver of the day makes you smile. P1 or P18, he is beloved by everyone inside of the paddock and out. He infects others with a unique energy that can’t be replicated. One could only dream to help him truly understand that.

The unzipped suitcases in your hotel room were taunting, as if they could know how badly you didn’t want this to be the last time you both have to pack up and leave a race weekend. But the thought of Daniel coming back and having to do all of this himself was even more painful. Begrudgingly, you began to organize the contents of your luggage.

Underneath one of Daniel’s hoodies were a collection of bracelets and trinkets from fans given to him over the last two weeks. Yet another reminder of something he’d be saying goodbye to. These gifts weren’t simply material things. They were symbols of the love and adoration people had for Daniel. They were a representation of the inspiration he gave to so many around the world. And not only to them, but to his friends, his family members, and to you.

This moment felt like deja vu as you vividly witnessed him say goodbye once before when his time ended at McLaren. And then the spark of hope began to glow brighter once again when he was welcomed back to Red Bull as a reserve driver, and then as a driver for RB.

It was a journey you’d been capturing for quite some time now on your own camera, moments that you weren’t ready for Daniel to see just yet. Of course the end of his career was bound to come, but you believed you’d have more time and you’d have more experiences turned memories for him to look back on. You find the camera in your handbag before gathering your laptop and USB. If now wasn’t the right time, you didn’t know when it would be. The clock tells you that you only have a couple hours, maybe more depending on how long he spends at the track. Thanks to the extra surge of emotions you’d been feeling tonight, the memories from your camera and a video production class you took in school many years ago, you’re able to pour it all into a little gift for him.

-

After watching it once through, you uploaded it onto a spare flashdrive. Luckily you had one that would’ve otherwise been used to store photos for daniel3.jpg.

You barely noticed that hours had gone by, the clock now reading 1:46am. Your heart breaks for Daniel. Despite being apart from him you know how he must be feeling. Yet above it all, you knew he’d be leaving with a smile.

-

The door clicks open.

Exhausted, Daniel drags his feet inside. He’s relieved to see you stayed awake for him. There’s nobody he’d rather be alone with right now. Without a word, he relaxes into your arms that are open and waiting for him, and his for you.

Unsure of how to start the conversation, you decide that you should let the video you made for him speak for itself. You hold him for as long as he needs, feeling his breathing steady into a calm rhythm.

“I have a surprise for you.”

“Is it underneath this hoodie?” He teases suggestively, lips curling into a smile. He tugs at the bottom of the fabric to emphasize his point.

“Later.” You quip, taking his arm and patting a spot for him to sit next to you.

He looks utterly confused yet intrigued when you hand him a flashdrive, but puts it into the laptop anyway. “What is this?”

“You’ll see.”

Daniel clicks the play button on the black screen. The sounds of soft piano music is the first thing he hears before a picture of himself as a child illuminates the screen.

The voice of an interviewer plays over it, asking: “What would you tell your younger self?”

“Enjoy the butterflies, enjoy being naive, enjoy the nerves, the pressure, people not knowing your name… all that stuff. Enjoy the process of making a name for yourself, getting faster and faster with each lap, and meeting some great people along the way. Embrace the good ones, stay focused.”

A collection of pictures plays in sync with the audio of Daniel from his youth to now, edited in a perfect sequence. The clips show his best moments; his podiums, his shoeys, his radio messages, his laughs shared with fellow drivers, him riding into the Austin Grand Prix on Horsey McHorse, his fans cheering as he walks through Albert Park, hugging his niece before a race.

“You got to the dance in the first place doing what you do so don’t change too much. Don’t forget what got you here. Earn the parties, earn the drinks. Bring friends along, bring family along, don’t assume they’ll be a distraction, they might be something to take the weight off your shoulders on a race weekend, they’re also people to enjoy the moment with and to celebrate with, so don’t be afraid to surround yourself with people you care about and love.” The clips showed moments in the paddock with his fans, friends, family, and with you, always cheering for him.

The video shows him again, smiling wide as he reflects on some of the best lessons this life has shown him. “So, yeah. Get after it.”

Soft piano notes play once again, detailing ambivalent sounds that are yearning and wishful but also bring solace. Daniel is focused on the screen, so much so that he doesn’t pay attention to the tears that have started streaming down his face. In his eyes is love and gratitude for the journey he’s been on, and to you for reminding him of it in such a meaningful way. Your head rests on his shoulder carefully and you’re anxious to know what he’s thinking.

“You made that for me?”

“Mhm. I’ve been wanting to do something like this for you, I just didn’t know when it would be a good time to show you.”

“I guess there’s no better time than now, right?” Daniel mumbles, looking at you with admiration.

“I know you’ve been unsure of yourself for a while. And as much as I want to, there’s nothing I can do to change that. I don't always know what to say, so I thought, there’s no one better to tell you who you are than you.”

You take his face in your hands, gently brushing away any spare tears.

“But what I can tell you Daniel, is that I love you. I know you don’t want to be sad because you think you’ll be letting everyone down, but you could never let me down. You can be happy or sad or angry, you can shatter these lamps on the floor if you need to and I won’t be disappointed. If you let me, I’ll help you pick up the pieces. Whenever you feel alone, just remember you have me.”

Daniel can’t deny the way his heart warms at your words, an abundance of love and sincerity behind them. He tilts his head, pressing kisses to each of your wrists. “I love you, too. Even if I don’t deserve you.”

You scoff, harmlessly nudging him in response. “Shut up, they don’t deserve you. Fuck them all. That’s why I did that, to show you that there’s actually no one more deserving than you.”

“Yeah. Fuck ‘em all.” Daniel chuckles, looking down to hide the blush on his cheeks. You both sit there in a comforting silence, happy to be hidden away from the outside world for the night. With both of your busy schedules keeping you apart, times like these are especially important. There’s nobody you’d rather come home to, there’s nobody else that feels like a safe haven away from the cruel world that’s now turned its back on him.

“I can’t thank you enough, honey. I love you. I don’t know what the future holds… but I promise I’ll never take you for granted. How you always stick beside me, I’ll never know. It might be the end of an era in my career but I could never forget that I have you. You have me, too. When it comes to this,” Daniel gestures between the two of you, “I wouldn’t even know how to say goodbye.”

“And you won’t have to. We’ll never say goodbye.”

Your eyes twinkle and you press your lips to his, kissing him with a passion that can’t be put into words. Perhaps he didn’t get the fairytale ending he wanted and deserved in his career, but what he has here with you could easily pass as a fairytale of its own kind. It's what allows you both to sleep peacefully, knowing that whatever lies ahead, the only goodbye you won’t have to make is to each other.

a/n: comments, reblogs, and feedback is greatly appreciated! stay strong dr3 nation 💌

[dirtytomatoedwrites]

HIS GIRL - PART 2

Summary: You were always Topper’s girl—until Rafe decided you were no longer his.

PART 1 can be read here

Paring: Rafe Cameron x Fem!Reader

Strictly 18+ No Minors to Interact

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Rafe/Reader, Topper/Reader, Dub-Con/Non-Con, Coercive Behaviour, Fingering, Oral (w receiving) Drinking, Graphic Scenes / Smut.  

Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Please don’t steal or copy bits of my writing or any writing from other writers cause karma will get ya.

The night air is cool against your skin, a sharp contrast to the heat of the house, and you shiver slightly, not noticing Rafe's hand resting against the small of your back. The beach stretches out ahead, dark and quiet, the waves whispering secrets in the distance.

You’re tipsy, your laughter loose and soft, and he likes the sound of it, the way it fills the dark spaces between his thoughts. He guides you along, each step closer to where he wants you, each step carefully calculated.

“I never figured you for the ‘walk on the beach’ type of guy,” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Rafe raises a brow, glancing sideways at you.

“I dunno…” You laugh lightly, your voice soft and carefree. “You’re just so… serious all the time.” The words spill out easily, weightless from the alcohol. You’re too distracted, too lost in the rhythm of the waves, to notice how far you’ve wandered from the house—how isolated the two of you have become.

“Serious, huh?” He lets out a soft chuckle, though there’s an edge to it. “Is that how you see me?”

You nod without a second thought, swaying as you walk, oblivious to the way his eyes trace every curve of your body, his lips parting slightly as if savoring the thought. You don’t notice. You never do.

“Topper says I should set you up with one of my friends…”

Rafe's jaw tenses. “Does he now?"

"He just means—well, you know—he thinks you need someone who could get you to loosen up, smile more—”

"Someone like you?” The words leave his mouth before he can stop them.

You laugh, stumbling slightly. “I don’t know about that. I have my off days like everyone else. But Topper just wants you to be happy. You know, to have what we have—”

“Right,” Rafe drawls, stretching the word, his eyes narrowing as he processes.

Happy. And yet here you are. Alone with him. Laughing, trusting him. Maybe that’s what truly pushed him over the edge. To prove Topper wrong, to show him that the girl who supposedly "makes him happy" can be taken with a mere glance, a touch, a few choice words.

And now, because of Topper's self-righteous superiority Rafe wasn't going to stop until he turned his world completely upside down.

“But you know… maybe I don’t need to set you up after all,” you tease, still unaware, your smile soft and innocent. “I mean, here we are, walking on the beach. I guess you do have a soft side after all. Any girl would be lucky—”

“Careful,” Rafe cuts in, his arm tightening around you as you stumble again. His hand hovers just above your hip, fingers itching to move lower, to grab a handful of your ass through that little summer dress. But he won’t. Not yet. He can wait a little longer.

"God, that would be so embarrassing, knowing my luck I'd faceplant in the sand," you laugh, your head resting briefly against his shoulder. Rafe inhales, taking in the scent of your hair, his eyes rolling back for a second. Fuck, you smell good. You probably taste better.

“Where… where are we going?” you ask suddenly, your words slurring now, the alcohol making your legs unsteady.

“Just down here,” he says smoothly, his voice dipping low, calm, soothing. Like he’s been here before. Like he’s done this a hundred times. He leads you across the sand, his feet sinking slightly with every step, but he doesn’t waver, doesn’t falter.

The pier looms ahead, dark and skeletal against the night sky. Its wooden beams stretch out over the water, a perfect place to disappear, to be alone. The shadows underneath are thick, the sound of the waves crashing against the posts is a constant rhythm—drowning out everything else.

You hesitate, your steps slowing, a flicker of uncertainty crossing your face. “Maybe we—maybe we should head back…” you whisper, your voice a little shaky now.

“Come on,” Rafe coaxes softly, his voice a smooth, dangerous whisper. “Don’t be like that. Have you ever been to the pier at night?" he asks, and you shake your head 'no.'

“Well, you’re gonna like it. Trust me.”

He guides you under the pier, into the darkness where the world seems to fade away. The crashing waves create a steady, rhythmic beat that syncs with the pounding in his chest. Any second now. Any second now.

“Here,” Rafe says, finally stopping near one of the weathered wooden posts staked in dry sand. His hand grips your waist firmly as he gently leans you back against it. The rough wood scrapes against your skin, but you barely notice, too absorbed in the sudden shift in atmosphere.

“We can chill here for a bit. Just you and me.” His words are spoken with a menacing calm as he looms over you. His hand remains firmly on your waist, fingers pressing in just enough to make it clear he’s not letting go. He’s not going anywhere.

His eyes lock onto yours, and he sees it— eyes wide with confusion, the sudden fear mingling with it. It only fuels him more. Fuck, he loves the way your body tenses, the way your breath catches in your throat, that delicious mix of fear and innocence that makes him want to devour you whole.

“What… what are you doing, Rafe—” Your whisper, barely cutting through the relentless crash of the waves. It’s a question he has no intention of answering.

He’s on you in a heartbeat, lips crashing against yours with full force. Demanding rather than pleading, and he revels in the surge of power as he claims your mouth. His tongue darts past your lips, exploring with a possessive hunger, licking and sucking. Utterly Relentless. Ravenous.

He feels your hands pressing weakly against his chest, your fingers trembling in a futile attempt to push him away. It’s almost comical, the lack of resistance you offer. Your touch is barely there, too weak from the alcohol.

“Rafe, no,” you moan as he kisses down your neck and buries his face in your chest inhaling your scent. His hands sliding all over you grabbing  and squeezing, making up for all those months, all those month of pinning and watching and fantasying.

"Rafe—stop—" Your voice is so small, so unsure and hollow, and he fucking loves it. Those tiny, breathless moans, those fleeting flickers of desire in your words even as you say no—it’s all he needs. It’s the crack he’s been waiting for, the opening that lets him slide in just a little deeper, into your mind, under your skin.

“Don’t move,” he says, his voice low and deadly. A promise. A threat, even as he holds your face and kisses you again, his tongue lashing hungrily against yours.

“Do you hear me? Huh? Don’t you dare fucking move,” he whispers against your lips, just as he gets down on his knees in front of you.

Naturally, you thrash, trying to push him away. But you’re no match for him, not in your inebriated state. He shoves your back against the post, hard enough to stun you. Hard enough to make you freeze, stock still and shaking.

His hands push up your flimsy dress, desperate to touch and taste what's underneath and he groans when he comes face to face with your pink panties.

His fingers curl around the fabric, pulling them aside at first, exposing you to the cool night air and his ravenous gaze. Your plump pussy lips press against the taut fabric just begging to be kissed. Without hesitation, he leans in, his tongue on you with ruthless hunger.

He groans at your taste—so fucking sweet, of course you're fucking sweet, just like everything else about you—but the fabric of your underwear is in the way and it's pissing him off. He doesn’t have time to fuck around. He knows Topper is probably looking for you, asking where you've gone and who you’re with. In one sharp motion, he yanks them down, guiding your legs out of them and shoving the damp fabric into his pocket.

His hand immediately hooks around one of your thighs and throws it over his shoulder as he yanks you closer. His tongue plunging inside you with brutal force, the shock of it leaving you gasping.

Rafe watches you closely, sees the way your body tenses, the sharp breath you suck in, the fear that flashes in your eyes. It makes his heart race, adrenaline spiking as he grips you harder, forcing you to stay exactly where he wants you while his mouth gorges on your sweet pussy.

His fingers dig into the globes of your ass, squeezing hard as he works you over, tongue fucking you like a man possessed. There’s no tenderness here, no hesitation—just raw, invasive, primal need. He pushes and pulls you as if he owns you, every thrust of his tongue deep in your cunt, every lick of your clit is a reminder that there’s no escape. Not now. Not when he’s so fucking close to breaking you.

Suddenly, he replaces his tongue with two thick fingers, driving them deep into you with brutal precision, curling them just in time to see your eyes rolling back, tears kissing your cheeks as a silent scream rips from your throat.

“Don't fight it- Just let it out—Let it all out… no one's gonna hear you... It’s just you and me... just you and me...”

He can feel the heat building inside you, the way your breath comes in ragged gasps, your body betraying you as he takes what he wants, what he knows he deserves. He buries his face again, gluttonous, head thrashing from side to side like a dog with its favorite toy—determined to break you.

"No Rafe- no, please-- don't make me-- don't make me--" you whine.  Your hands clutch at his head, fingers scratching his scalp, trying desperately to push him off, but it only makes him double down, dragging you over the edge.

“Oh God— Oh please-- oh no, no- I’m—I'm—” you gasp as your body bucks against him, but he holds you firm, and when you scream, when you finally  scream the sound is ripped from the depths of you, piercing over the waves.

Rafe knows it’s not from relief—but fucking devastation when you cum, and he loves it. Loves the way you desperately gasp for air, loves the way your body crumples, the way you can barely stay upright, how he’s the source of both your pleasure and despair.

He clings to you, groaning at the feel of your pussy throbbing against his tongue, the soft squelch of your clit pressed against his nose. You’re cumming so fucking hard that your sweet nectar overflows, running down his chin as if he’s savoring the juiciest of fruits. He greedily follows your every movement, keeping pace with your squirming, taking every last drop, leaving nothing to waste as your sobs of pleasure and anguish drift into the night sky.

His eyes flick up to you, and he could have cum right then and there. You were grinding your delicious pussy against his face, eyes rolled back and mouth open. No longer pushing him away, your fingers held onto the back of his head, pulling him closer, guiding him exactly where you needed him, while tears trailed down your cheeks.

You looked like you’d seen the face of God—reverent, awe-inspired. It was such a beautiful sight that a part of him wished Topper were there to see.

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A/N: Stay tuned for Part 3 which will be up tomorrow. x If liking the story so far feel free to spread the love by liking/commenting/reblogging.. Lots of love to you all ❤️

[kisses4reid]

not our scene | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,, - part 2

summary - an undercover mission causes realisations that otherwise would be squashed in denial

genre - fem!shy!reader x spencer, forced/wanted proximity, fake relationship -> real relationship, awkward idiots, fluff

warnings - awkwardness, mentions of trafficking and manipulation, realisations of love

w/c - 1.9k

a/n - second part!!! sorry for the cliffhanger that’s my favourite thing to do NOBODY COME AT ME. maybe third part/epilogue?? who knows. love y’all

The instrumental music that poured from the live band on the elevated stage came to a close, you and Spencer hovering on the opposite side of the expansive floors, discreetly keeping an eye on two large kitchen doors. The room erupted in applause, which you joined into, for the band, the man you assumed to be the main musician stood and bent at the hips with a sly smile - he knew he was good. The room quieted down to a small chatter from the abundance of people that filled the room. Women with large hats, velvet gloves, and bright lips cornered tall men in grey suits (or the other way around) and laughed like they’d known each other for many years. Men with peppering beards whispered to each other before letting out howls and pointing towards women who were not their wives. The wives stood silent. 

Spencer cleared his throat, breaking you out of your trance, “He’s been in there for around 10 minutes now. I’m gonna call it in, in case they’ve already got the tracker on him.” You nodded with a tight lipped smile, still recovering from the rollercoaster of emotions that dancing with Spencer had put you through. He glanced at you once more before holding down a button on his cuff and speaking out loud. You nodded along, in case anyone was watching - and also as a kind of self-soothing motion. 

You didn’t drink - well, not often. So when a different waiter came up to you both every 10 minutes asking if you’d like a variety of alcohol, you had to kindly decline each time. And each time you became more irritated. People laughed loudly, people danced in quick blurs, people came up to you both and stared at your dress for a little too long. Thankfully, Spencer took your hand (you’re still in love after all) and nodded with a smile that almost made you forget you were on a mission. 

The two of you escaped onto a balcony with a cold breeze accompanying the faster music that both of you wanted to avoid. Your night was already over, just as it started. One dance. You scolded yourself for wanting more, a longer night, for Webley to continue manipulating people. But you’ve done your job, you’ve completed your mission, and now you have to go home and act like all of it never happened.

“Great job, the officers have been notified and we’ve got a tracker on him now. You two can leave whenever-“

“I think we’ll stay for a bit.” Spencer spoke up, and it shocked you. It must’ve shocked Morgan too as the line went dead quiet. “Right, Y/n?” He gulped and eyed you with pleads. His tie was slightly askew, the wind flapping his jacket lightly, his eyes reflecting the stars that now hung high in the sky. 

“Y-yeah. This party’s actually…” You looked over the over-crowded floor, to your red and sore feet, to the bad alcohol standing on the waiter's trays. But then you looked over to Spencer. His eyes, his hair, his small smile, his red tie. “The party’s actually not that bad.” You say with a smile.

“Okay… don’t stay for too long. We don’t want everyone to be hung over for a flight home tomorrow.”

The balcony was made of white concrete pillars and marble floors, sconces of warm lights and vines of ivy that wrapped around the pillars and balcony like waves of seaweed. It was beautiful, just like the rest of the establishment, it was unfortunate its main use was to take advantage of innocent people. But you weren’t out there to think about that - at least that’s what you assumed. Spencer wouldn’t want to stay to talk about trafficking or crimes surely. 

In that moment, even after watching his small smile of excitement that you agreed to stay with him, all you wanted to do was kick off your shoes and take a goddamn breath. 

You walked over to the parapet of the balcony and was glad to see the top was a flat slab of concrete, just wide enough for you to pull yourself up and sit down. 

You sighed in relief, taking off your heels and letting them fall onto the shiny marble. 

Spencer followed your movements, standing next to you and looking out onto the view. City lights and stars blended in with each other from this angle. 

“Are you okay?” He asked gently. You smile, “That’s the third time you’ve asked me tonight. Do I look troubled?” He stood for a moment before turning his head towards you, his hair sweeping across his eyebrows in the breeze. “You look like you’d rather be anywhere else.” “Was it really that obvious?” “To me, yes… I think that if I didn’t pretend to enjoy tonight people would’ve been suspicious of us.” You frown slightly, “You didn’t enjoy the night?” “I didn’t enjoy the reason, nor the location. I enjoyed the people though.” He sends you a smile that makes your heart flutter and your cheeks redden. You hope he doesn’t see it in the dim lighting. 

Inside, the dance finishes and people clap, and you do too. Spencer glances at your hands and smirks slightly. “You don’t think they’re suspicious now? We danced once, and now we’re out here watching them like weirdos.” 

Spencer turned to lean on the balcony and look into the ballroom, shrugging. “We’re two young people in love,” he turned to look at you, eyes warm and deep, “alone time is what we need.” 

You bit the inside of your lip and stared at Spencer. His suit, his matching (skewed) tie, his hair and his eyes. He did the same to you, before gulping and looking down at the floor. He bent and picked up your shoes, turning them in his hands and observing. “These are too small for you.” You laugh at the obvious fact, “They’re JJ’s. She’s got the tiniest feet I’ve ever seen.” “You’re only one size above her.” “She wears high heels much more often than I do.” “You swap between sneakers and converse. You’ve only bought new shoes two times since I’ve known you. This is the second time I’ve seen you wear heels, and even then they were practically ballet shoes.” He smiled to himself like it was an inside joke. “Oh…” You looked down at your feet and realised he was exactly right, “I’m surprised you’re not wearing your black converse right now.” “Morgan didn’t let me. He said he was pressured to make me look good by all the girls.” He lifted a finger and turned fully towards you, “Did you know that sleeve buttons on suits were created to help doctors who worked in the war keep their sleeves up? Now, they’re a sign of intelligence and wealth. Also, a few weeks ago, you called me a grabologist because of my collection of ties, but did you know that the largest collection of suit ties is owned by a New Zealander woman called Irene Sparks. Now, I think I’d like to oppose that not with my own collection, but with Morgans.”

You smile at the memories of the girls dressing you up, fueling the sisterhood that the childhood version of you missed out on. You thought about Morgan, Hotch and maybe Rossi, and how they were probably dressing him up as well. It was truly a found family, something that you felt you belonged to. They knew your habits, they knew when you were lying, they knew a good portion of your past. And you knew all the same for the rest of them. But Spencer? 

Mentally, without realising, you had been creating essays for him since the day you met him. You made journal entries for everyone else, but for Spencer it was books on books of mental notes and facts and aspects of him and his life that you kept in the back of your mind, ready at any point to bring out and use. Why he wears mismatched socks, why he likes purple, why he can’t handle too many people talking at once, why he feels uncomfortable at hospitals, why he hasn’t contacted his father in years. And he knew no doubt even more about you. He had a talent for knowing your emotions and feelings like no one else could, and it made your heart palpitate every time he did it.

“I mean, you’ve seen my collection of ties but jeez, you’d think a guy who mainly wears t-shirts would keep his collection small. You’d like one of his, it's a green that matches that bedside table you painted once. Like those socks you got me last Christmas. But anyways, he somehow had a perfect red to match your… dress. Which by the way, I noticed a lot of people looking at you - and I don’t blame them. I think you look, um, I think you look incredible.” His rambling quietened down for a moment as he tried to avoid eye-contact with you, before he cleared his throat and continued on with his rambling (which mixed with compliments every second sentence). 

And suddenly, you realised this was all an excuse. You were in denial, so badly, that you thought of him as a subject of your devotion without stepping back and seeing the real picture. 

“Spencer…” You cut him off and he looked up with big eyes, surprised you spoke up. You were the only person that let him ramble, it may have been the only time you stopped him. “Wh- You wanna go home?” He saw your eyes, you looked in pain, in shock, in… “No, Spencer, I… Um.” You pressed your lips together and looked down - were you really going to say this? Were you really going to admit you loved the man in front of you without any evidence that he felt the same way? He was your coworker, your best friend. Everything could be ruined in just a few words. Suddenly, you wanted to take your train of thoughts back, to let him continue on with his rambling - it always calmed you down anyways.

Suddenly, his palm was held out in front of you with a small mint in the middle. You looked up at him and his worried but genuine smile. “Here,” he said softly. You took the mint in your hand and simply stared at it. To be loved, is to be known. “Um, Spencer. I…” His eyes were wanting, curious, they were so goddamn beautiful, “I… I love you.” 

His mouth gaped slightly and his cheeks reddened. Spencer gulped and fiddled with his fingers before chuckling nervously, “I was supposed to say it first.” “What?” “I was supposed to say I love you first.” You hopped down from the concrete railing, dress falling to cover your shins again. “I can take it back if you want.” You responded quickly. “No, no don’t take it back, even if you did I don’t think I could mentally accept that you had taken it back.” You covered your mouth with your hand and looked up at him in shock, “So you-” “I love you, too.” He nodded and took your hands from your mouth, holding them in his, “I have since the third week you’ve worked with the BAU.” 

“Oh, that’s great um…” You looked down at your intertwined hands and furrowed your eyebrows, “What do we do now?” “We could go to the McDonalds that’s a 10 minutes walk away or, I could kiss you.” He stared into your glistening eyes and wanted to pinch himself to see if this was actually happening. “I don’t-”

“You don’t like McDonalds, sorry, my brain is-”

“Just kiss me.” You replied exasperated.

“Okay.” He nodded and placed his hands on your waist.

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