#/guess who's back (back again). that's right me | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

drs-fan · 3 days

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LN4 | don't leave me

some pinterest pictures and the middle is jamie chadwick

summary: they were childhood friends. at some point, the relationship takes a toll - because of racing? or because there was something more?

warnings: angst, some fluff maybe, written in 3rd person but name not mentioned, not much of it is proofread

word count: 2.6k

She had been 4 years old when she had first gotten in a kart – which was his. Her father had worked for Lando’s father, and even though they were at different ends of the tax bracket, became close friends.

At the time, she didn’t know that they would become best friends – or more – but she knew she didn’t want to get out of the go-kart. Her father worked overtime to get her first kart that same Christmas. At 10, they were competing for regional karting championships together. This was the first-time karting got between them. Lando had pushed her too far off the track. He watched as she almost flew out of the kart in front of him. He unbuckled himself quickly, calling out her name. “Hey – are you okay?”

She shook her head, trying to get rid of the ringing. “You! Why did you push me off the track?”

He shrugged. “You do what you need to do to win.”

She stood up, red faced, and shoved him – hard. “You did not need to do that to win – you did that to stop me from winning! I can’t believe you!”

“Hey, I was faster, and I was going to win – you swerved into me.”

She snorted angrily, “No, I was 100% faster than you, and you just didn’t want me to get ahead.”

He rolled his eyes. “You were not going to win.”

“I was too.”

“Was not.”

“I was!”

“Was not!” Her father came over to check on both and put a stop to their shouting match.

“Okay guys let’s get back home. It was an accident, it was no one’s fault, okay?”

She glared at Lando, who glared back. “I’m not getting in a car with him. He crashed into me!” with that, she spun round and walked to the car.

“I’m not talking to you.” Lando shouted after her. She made a rude gesture over her shoulder – which would definitely get her in trouble later, “I’m not either!”

Her father had told her on the way home, as she continued to frown out the window, picking at her nail beds until they bled. “You two have to make up to each other. You know it wasn’t on purpose, and he probably feels bad about it now – don’t make racing your whole life. Don’t lose your friends because of a bad result.”

His words were met with silence, because she knew they were right – but also because she didn’t want to admit it.

“Stop doing that please, you’re going to hurt yourself. Also, we need to talk about that hand thing – where did you learn that from?”

She smiles slightly but continues to pick at her nails. “Lando.”

A few days went by with no contact from either end. Usually, they would meet up during the week to go to the park, or just to gossip. Life was boring without talking to him. She wanted him back in her life, but she was too stubborn to say so. Luckily, it was Lando who had come by first with two Capri-Suns and a sheepish look on his face. They sat in for a while before Lando was the first to say, “I’m sorry.”

She nudges him with her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“Promise we’ll never be this upset over a race again? It’s boring not talking to you.”

“I know, I’m your best friend.”

He rolls his eyes at this but laughs, “I guess, yeah.”

“It was pretty boring without you too.”

“I can tell, look at your hands – they look horrible.” He makes a face which makes her look down at her hands, where she had torn up the skin around her fingers, anxious at the upcoming race and at the prospect of losing her best friend.

“It’s not that bad.”

“It is. Please do something about it.”

“Okay, then I also promise to stop biting my nails – if you promise to buy me capri-suns every race weekend.”

“Pinky promise?”

They linked their fingers, grinning at each other. Even though it was Lando who came out first that weekend, she had no problem with it. She knew they were okay now – and because she knew that she would get him the next round. Which she did.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

By the time they went off to middle school, she and Lando were tussling over 1st place every weekend. They would travel together to get to the races and go karting together on the weekends. Even when her father had moved to a different job, they remained close family friends. After each race, they would share Capri-Suns together, laughing about their heated moments on track. Sure, there was still competition between them – they were the two best drivers on track; but after that first crash, they didn’t let it meddle with their friendship.

“That overtake on James was crazy – that shit was risky.”

“Risky good? Risky bad?”

“Obviously risky good.”

When she needed new tires for her kart but felt bad for asking her father for a new set, he would lend her his spare ones.

“I can’t take them, Lan, they’re expensive.”

“I promise, I don’t need them. They don’t fit on my new kart anymore, please just take it.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes! I’m sure. I’ve been telling you I’m sure for 10 minutes now.” “Thank you,” she hugged him tightly, “I’ll pay you back when I get my allowance.”

“Don’t – just get your own drinks from now on.”

But even after that, he would still bring her two juice packets.

It was around this time she became aware of her financial situation. She became aware of her father’s multiple jobs, his tight smile, and his hidden sighs. She became aware of her mother’s worry lines, her teary eyes, her shaking hands. She knew they were short on money – that they probably could never afford going further than this. It pained her whenever she needed new tires. Crashing out of a race hurt her mentally more than physically because she knew it may be the last time doing so. Lando had never had problems financing his driving career. He was moving on to world championships, with the best karts and best teams they could find, while she spent hours writing emails and letters every day, reaching out to sponsors and teams, praying that they would notice her.

Stressing about money was not something Lando was familiar with. He offered to pay for her expenses multiple times, but she always declined. She took to taking part-time jobs, leaving her with little time between school, homework, her job, and her karting.

“You don’t hang out with me anymore.” He groaned when she declined his invitation for a movie night – again. “This is the third time this month. I want my friend back.”

She smiled tightly, feeling bad. “I’m sorry, I miss you too. Life sucks.”

He grabs her hand, spinning her around. “Let’s make it not suck, let’s have a movie night.”

“No Lan, I have an essay due Friday, but have work tomorrow so I need to do this tonight. Stop making those puppy eyes! I’m not looking!”

He pouts, “Please?”

She tries to hold a straight face but gives in. “Alright. But I get to choose.”

“Yes!” He picks her up over his shoulder and she squeals. “Let me down! Lando!” They fall into a pile on the ground as she starts to chase after him. She could be just a girl around Lando. No need to worry about money, work, school, or anything. He was her safe space. She was his.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

At 16, when she knew that it would be the last ever season competing in karts, Red Bull reached out to sponsor her. Red Bull junior team was notorious for being a tough, competitive program, where they were expected to perform week in, week out. But she had no choice but to accept. They were willing to pay for all karting and racing expenses, and she might get a seat in F1. It was a small price to pay.

The following years were harrowing. Moving up from F4 and through Formula Regional, she didn’t get to see Lando much. He had gone through the same steps a year before. They still texted and wrote often; falling asleep on the phone had become a new normal for them. She would tell him about her season, how her car felt, and he would give her advice before telling her about his life in F3 or F2.

More sponsorships followed her ascent through the feeder series. The first female winner, the first female champion. However, most attention directed towards her didn’t shine her in a good light. They discredited her performance, how her presence in the team was only for show and that she didn’t deserve her seat. That there was no room for women in motorsport. She knew that they were wrong, but it felt so unfair. It was unfair that she had to be drug tested every two races because the FIA ‘randomly’ chose her name every time, and it was unfair that she had to have a clause in her contract to ban her dating because ‘being promiscuous’ was not going to help the team. It was unfair she was the one constantly performing but that her seat was the one in danger of losing. She had called Lando, angry tears in her eyes, after the team had told her to break up with her then boyfriend, Dave, because she had to focus on her racing.

“This isn’t fair – I do everything for the team – I’m the best driver – Why do I have to be punished for having a personal life?”

“I know. It’s not fair.”

“You have a girlfriend, why can’t I have one?”

“I – What? I don’t have a girlfriend.”

“You do! The blond pretty girl.”

“She’s the boss’s daughter. I’m not dating her.” He laughs, as if the notion of him dating someone else was hilarious.

“She sure as hell seems interested then.”

“I’m not interested, so that doesn’t matter.”

“Why not? She’s pretty and she seems nice.”

“Well, I’m not into her.”

“Why not?”

“Because I like – Because I’m not interested. And we’re not talking about my dating life, we’re talking about yours.”

“Oh, so you like someone?”

“I’m not talking.”

She remained silent, surprised at how relieved she felt that Lando wasn’t dating anyone, pondering who it might be that had caught Lando’s eye.

“Hey, Are you still there?”

“Yeah. Sorry. Thanks. I – I think someone’s calling for me. I’ll call you back though.”

She hung up before Lando could reply, heart thudding in her chest. Dave – she had to be upset that she was breaking up with her boyfriend – right? But somehow, her thumping heart didn’t seem to be that upset about Dave at all.

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

She pushed her emotions away. Whoever it was that her heart was beating for, it didn’t matter because she couldn’t date anyway; what’s the point?

Through F4 and Formula Regional, she dominated the other boys who had first seen her as a pushover, winning back-to-back championships. As years went by in the Red Bull Driver Development Program, she saw new faces every season and parted with so many of her old friends, being kicked out of the program for ‘under-delivering.’ It was a stressful environment, but she thrived under pressure. She had Lando, Lando had her. They pushed each other to be better, all while being each other’s biggest supporters.

They met again in F3, Lando in his championship winning year. They shared the podium often, and more attention was drawn to the two young and talented drivers who seemed to be more than just friends. They were quick to assure their teams, their fellow drivers, and the media that they were no more than that. A part of her didn’t want to be so decisive about where their relationship might lead, but there was no way she could tell everyone about her confused feelings towards her best friend. Unbeknownst to her, a part of him felt the same. But these feelings would have to wait. To wait, until they both had their futures secured in.

The day Lando cinched the F3 Championship title and announced he would be driving in F2 with Carin next year, he stood on the top step and looked down into her face, shining with pride and clapping the loudest of them all.

They celebrated with two capri-suns, splayed together on his hotel room couch, with her legs crossed comfortably in his lap.

Lando hands her drink over with the straw. “When you win next year, I’ll get you something better than Capri-Suns.”

“Why? I like them.”

“You deserve better than Capri-Suns though.”

“Nah, I like this. It’s our thing, you know?”

“Cheers to that.” Chuckling, they raise their drinks to a toast before taking a sip.

Lando sighs as he lays back, absently drawing circles on her knees. “What do you think comes next?”

“Next what?”

“Formula 2, then what?”

“Formula 1, of course.”

“I don’t know. I don’t think I’m good enough to be… One of them, you know?”

“Dude. You just won the F3 European Championship. I’m sure if there’s someone who’s good enough for this, it’s you. You’re too hard on yourself.” She shakes her Capri-Sun at him. “Stop doubting yourself! I can see it in your face. You’ll be amazing.”

He laughs. “Stop spraying me with orange juice!” She persists, making them both laugh harder. “If you get to F1, which team do you want to drive for?”

“I mean – Red Bull, obviously.” She points to the team logo on her jersey grinning wide, “I’ll be the second Sebastian Vettel. You?”

“McLaren.”

“Fair. You’ll get in, I’m sure.”

“Same to you. What do you think life will be like when you’re in F1?”

“Rich – definitely. Um… Lots more stress, more pressure, but lots of fun I guess. Definitely more dating opportunities there.” She wiggles her eyebrows over at him. “You’ll have some good fun, yeah? Not too much I hope.”

He rolls his eyes. “I told you, I’m really not interested.”

She sits up straighter. “Come on – don’t tell me you’ve never dated anyone.”

“I haven’t. You’ve known me my entire life, I’m sure if I’d had a girlfriend, you would know. My mom would have told you.”

She laughs. “That’s true. But I’m sure there are lots of girls waiting in line, if you’ll take a chance on them.”

He shrugs, “Maybe.”

“What’s your type?”

“What type?”

“You know, girls you like? Blonde? Short? Tall? Skinny? Cute?”

“Why? Are you trying to set me up?”

“If you want, sure.”

His grey eyes look straight into hers as he says, “Fine. My type? Great driver, athletic, nice smile, loud laugh, stubborn and competitive as hell. She likes Capri-Suns. Call me if you find her, will you?”

She doesn’t look away, even when she could hear her heart beating in her ears. In a whisper barely loud enough to hear, she says, “I – will.”

Her eyes flickers to his lips and back. She could tell that he noticed, by the way he licked his lips and a blush started to creep up his neck. She could still feel his fingers tracing her knees. She shivers involuntarily, but not because of the cold.

“You’re shaking.”

“I know.”

The silence stretches, until a knock is heard on the door, and making them jump apart. His mother’s voice carries through the room. “Lando? Your sister came in on the first flight here! Come say hi.”

With a last look, he goes to open the door.

a/n:

clearing out some stuff I had written down, so here's another one for Lando's first win :)

hope u enjoy if u do pls tell me (i am desperate for validation) also pt2?

#f1 fic #LN4 x reader #Lando Norris x reader #Lando fic #LN4 fluff #LN4 angst #f1 imagine #formula one imagines #lando x reader #f1 x reader

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theclairvoyage · 2 days

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Sour Lemonade (One-shot)

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Your nephew's little league baseball games take up many of your summer evenings, and it's not the dust or the concession stand treats that keep you coming back - it's one of the coaches, Joel Miller.

Pairing: Little league coach!Joel Miller x f!reader

Warnings: 18+, MDNI! alternate universe, adult language, alcohol consumption, smut, unprotected p in v, oral (f receiving), fingering (f receiving), fluff, flirting, angst, mentions of physical violence, light choking, baseball talk, mentions of child death, mentions of infidelity

WC: 12k

Divider by @firefly-graphics

Dust flies into your face, obscuring your view of the baseball diamond. “Fuck,” you spit, the sudden inconvenience enraging you. Aggressively, you wipe your lips with the back of your forearm, noticing now how sticky, slimy, and itchy your skin is from all the sweat and dirt. And the pirate bugs are relentless, tiny daggers pricking your pores at every moment. Each swat of your exposed skin produces a tiny black smear, only to be replaced by another miniscule, predatory black dot.

“Does anyone have some goddamn bug spray?” Anger invites itself to the baseball game now, alarming some of the innocent parents watching their 8-year-old sons try to play America’s favorite pastime. Your sister, who dragged you to this hell hole, tugs on your sleeve as she hops up from the bleachers.

“Jesus, can’t go anywhere without you cussing up a storm… no wonder your nephew knows all these colorful words,” she scolds you, your name rolling off her tongue with a sharp bite as she stomps over to the bathrooms. The rage inside you cools a bit, returning to its home in the corner of your stomach. She swings her tote from under her arm to her front, digging in the bottomless pit for some bug spray. She pulls out a pink spray bottle with feminine letters, and you already know it doesn’t have DEET.

“Sorry, Mer—for the cussing. But also, do you have anything containing any carcinogens? Need ultra strength right now,” you say, trying to ease the tension. She snorts and rolls her eyes, exchanging the pink bottle for a familiar green one. OFF! is plastered in big font on the front.

“Ahhhh,” you sigh, spraying the familiar harsh scent on your skin and clothes. She laughs, taking a big step away from the cloud of haze surrounding you. The mist cools your skin, though you know it’ll stick once it’s dried—you don’t care at this point. It’s the third inning, and you can’t handle another hour and a half of being a trained insect assassin.

“Thanks. Also, how d’ya know Noah isn’t learning cuss words at school? Or on YouTube,” you remind her, pointing a DEET-covered finger in her face. She ponders it for a moment, jaw ticking back and forth.

“Well, either way—these parents are going to blacklist you if you don’t put a filter on it.” You wave her off, grimacing.

“Meredith, let me put it bluntly—I don’t give a fuck,” you say, accentuating the last word and sticking your neck out. She laughs loudly and smacks your shoulder.

“Y’know, Noah loves that you come to his games. And I want to keep you around, so… I guess I can tolerate it,” Meredith says with a half-smirk, snatching the green bottle from your sticky fingers. “Let’s go back before the damn game is over.”

“Hey! Language!” you point at her, eyes widening in mock shock. A throaty laugh leaves her lips. The wind picks up again, sending a twister of dirt and dust your way, so hard it stings your legs. You curse yourself for not wearing pants.

Back at the bleachers, you find that your language is the least concern of these parents. It’s the bottom of the fourth inning, and the score is 2-9. Noah’s team looks somber as they take the field. Moms are perched on their bleacher chairs with crossed legs, quietly fanning their faces with paper programs with pursed lips. Dads spit their sunflower seeds and tobacco into the grass aggressively with arms crossed, shaking their heads with each dropped ball and fumbled groundout. A sharp contrast is the cacophony of shrill screams and boisterous laughter from children running around the nearby empty fields, with not a care in the world. They’re just happy to be here.

“Sheesh… tough night,” Meredith says solemnly in your ear. You nod, sucking your lips into your mouth. The pitcher on Noah’s team walks another batter, and a man, presumably one of the coaches, emerges from the dugout and steps onto the field, holding his palm up to the umpire.

“Time!” The umpire calls, waving both hands in the air a few times. You study the man as he approaches the pitcher, surprised at what you see.

He’s taller than average, but not too tall. His trim body is lined with lean muscle, though he’s somewhat soft in the middle. Broad shoulders stretch his gray t-shirt. Graying brunette curls peek under his hat, kissing the top of his strong, tanned neck. Strong legs stride quietly, though confidently, toward the poor boy, who is clearly distraught. The man kneels and puts a hand on the pitcher’s shoulder as he speaks to him. The boy nods, cracking a small smile and sniffling as the man jostles him softly. He told a joke, perhaps—whatever it took to get the kid to smile. You find yourself smiling, too, watching the pair interact. The man has a calming presence that seems to have trickled into the crowd. The tension in the air is less frigid, palpable. He high-fives the boy and stands, returning to the dugout. His gaze sweeps the field, giving his players a thumbs up, before turning to the crowd and locking eyes with you.

Shit. His face takes your breath away, complete with a curved nose, high cheekbones, plush lips crowned with a full mustache, and an angled jawline dotted with brown and gray hairs. His smoldering chocolate eyes, though, are what hypnotize you the most. He’s still staring at you, likely analyzing the structure of your features like you are to him. You notice his stride falters momentarily before catching himself, but his eyes never stray from yours as he returns to the dugout. Heat radiates from your cheeks. Your heart thuds in your chest, pulse racing at this gorgeous stranger checking you out. Meredith nudges you with her elbow.

“I’ve never seen anybody get eye-fucked like that,” she whispers, and you can’t prevent the loud guffaw that escapes from your mouth. You clap a hand over your mouth quickly and whip your head toward her.

“Who is that?!” you squeal, clutching her wrist.

“That’s Joel Miller, one of the coaches,” she whispers, craning her neck to look at him in the dugout. “His nephew is on the team. Brother is that guy sitting behind home plate here,” she points, alerting you to an attractive Latino man with shiny black curls and a similar strong nose. Damn. He’s fine as hell, too. Before you turn to look at him again, Meredith grips your leg.

“He’s staring over here, don’t look,” she whispers. You can’t help but smile and feel giddy, like a sixth grader developing their first crush.

The game ends on a higher note, with Noah’s team lessening the gap and ending 6-10. As parents trickle from the stands to wait for their boys out by the dugout, you try to catch a glimpse of Joel, who is picking up stray baseball bats and gloves, handing them to their rightful owners. Noah ambles over to Meredith and you, grin plastered on his dirt-stained face. He wraps his sweaty arms and hands around your midsection.

“Hey, buddy. You did great,” you beam at him. He sighs heavily and looks up at you, big blue eyes laced with disappointment.

“We didn’t win, though,” he laments, wiping his dirty face off on your shirt.

“S’not all about winning, my dude. Gotta have fun and try to get better every day,” you comfort him, patting the back of his sweaty jersey.

“That’s some good life advice right there,” a deep, sexy, Southern-accented voice interrupts. You snap your head up and see Joel, who’s already looking at you. God, he’s even more attractive up close, and he smells good, like pine and musk. His eyes travel your face before dipping down to your lips, quickly reverting to your eyeline.

“Joel! This is my sister,” Meredith introduces you, pulling Noah from your grasp. Joel holds out a hand. You grab it and shake, relishing the warmth and size of his hand. The two of you stare at each other for a moment before he lets go.

“Nice to meet ya. I think some of the parents are gettin’ drinks later, after puttin’ the Rugrats to bed,” he says, flashing a jaw-dropping smile at you. Meredith chimes in, saving you once again from your own awkward silence.

“That sounds great! We’ll definitely stop by, right?” she asks you, nudging you. You tear your eyes from Joel’s and nod.

“Yes—though I need a shower. I stink,” you admit, scrunching your nose. A deep chuckle emits from Joel, shoulders shaking with laughter. Your heart skips a beat.

“Y’can’t be that bad—at least y’look good,” he says with a grin, pearly whites blinding you. Your heart falters completely at his compliment and you’re frozen, like a mosquito inside a solid block of amber. Meredith, for the umpteenth time today, saves you from looking like an absolute fool.

“Joel, wait ‘til you see her all cleaned up! We gotta go get this kiddo showered and ready for his sleepover, see you in a bit!” she says, clutching your wrist and leading you and Noah toward the parking lot. Peering over your shoulder, you catch Joel’s eyes drifting up and down your figure. His smile fades, expression morphing from excitement, to astonishment, to desire. Oh, fuck.

Two hours later, Meredith and you are arm in arm, walking up to the bar the parents and coaches had chosen for the rendezvous. The summer heat has loosened its grip on the city, with gentle summer gusts and a Starburst-colored sunset replacing it. Your dirty and sweat-ridden clothes are replaced with some jean shorts and a fresh muscle tee, and you remembered to put lotion on your legs for once.

Meredith opens the creaky wooden entrance door, and you spot the baseball group in a corner of the bar. Eight parents and all coaches are here, each sporting a mug of some light and probably domestic beer. All greet you with either a wave or a loud greeting—they must’ve gotten started drinking early. You spot Joel sitting next to his brother, Tommy—both are staring at you as you approach the group.

“Since you’re late, you have to buy shots,” says one of the moms, lifting her empty beer glass.

“Fine, Katy—but it’s gonna be tequila!” Meredith quips, inciting a grimace from Katy and cheers from all the men at the table. “Let’s go up to the bar,” Meredith murmurs in your ear, setting your purses down on two empty chairs the group saved for you. You try not to look at Joel but feel his magnetizing gaze on you, and you make eye contact with him. His eyes are molten dark chocolate, sweeping over your face with a glimmer of want. You crack a small smile and his eyes latch onto your lips immediately. Before your knees buckle, you break eye contact and follow Meredith to the bar.

“So, you gonna fuck him, or what?” She teases once you’re both out of earshot of the group. You land a playful slap on her arm and drop your jaw.

“Mer! I don’t even have his number! Or know how old he is, or if he’s an ex-con, or a child molester, or a serial strangler,” you ramble, pulling a laugh from her.

“He’s not any of those things, but he’s in his fifties, I know that. Doesn’t look like it, though,” she says, eyebrows arching. He’s got some years on you, for sure, but you’ve had an experience or two with an older man—though this one terrifies you. His eyes alone could convince you to do almost anything.

The bartender pours up double-digit tequila shots, garnished with salted rims and limes, and plops them on a serving tray. Meredith hoists it up and you walk back to the table, making sure to put some extra swing in your hips in case Joel’s watching. You can tell from your peripheral that he is, in fact, staring at you. Something fizzes in your chest—warm, wanting.

“Cheers to not getting run-ruled today!” Tommy cheers as everyone clinks their shot glasses together. You down yours quickly, anticipating the spicy aftertaste. And boy, it burns like hell as it glazes down your throat. You suck on the lime and try not to shiver. Whoops and cheers fill the empty bar as everyone finishes their shots.

After a few beers and shots later, you’re feeling loose and giddy. Your end of the table is talking about the godforsaken umpire from tonight’s game, somewhat split from the other half of the table, which is discussing the MLB playoffs. Feeling a familiar pull, you turn and see Joel smiling at you. Once you make eye contact, he winks, which sends you reeling. He’s about to get up from his seat when one of the moms waltzes her way over to him, curling her polished claws around his shoulder.

You wouldn’t be surprised if he preferred her over you—she’s petite, with long blonde hair, tan skin, blue eyes, and perky fake boobs. She looks great, you admit, and she’s closer to his age. Sadness looms in your belly and your smile fades as his attention diverts to her. Oh well, you think. Good thing it didn’t go too far. Resigned, you join the conversation and try to focus on anything but Joel.

The night carries on, and you find yourself unbothered by Joel. Meredith completely let loose, singing along to the music echoing throughout the bar. Everyone at your end of the table is telling jokes, clinking glasses, and enjoying each other’s presence. It’s a fun night, you admit to yourself. You made every effort to not pay attention to the other end of the table but felt Joel’s eyes on you constantly.

What you didn’t realize was how much he wanted you to be the one pressed up against him, with his arm curled around your waist or his rough fingers stroking the smooth skin of your thigh. He needed to get away from this kid’s mom—she was newly divorced and obviously ready for a rebound. Yeah, she was attractive, but nothing about her excited him—if anything, he was irritated by her blatant advancements. The final straw was when she crept her hand up his denim-clad thigh and squeezed close to the apex.

“The hell are you doin’?” he says with a laugh, incredulous. She licks her glossy lips and leans in toward his ear.

“Oh, I think you know, big boy,” she murmurs in her sexiest voice. Joel is turned off. Not wanting to be rude, he lightly grips her wrist and pulls her hand back. You, unfortunately, look over right as he grabs her hand.

“Not interested, dear,” he murmurs back, watching the frustration grow on her face.

“Fine, Miller—there’s plenty more who want it,” she boasts. She snatches her manicured hand away and moves onto your side of the table, picking another innocent victim.

Annoyed, you stand and walk up to the bar, back facing the group. Guess her little routine worked on Joel—he really ate it up, even touched her arm. You chide yourself for letting this unnerve you—you don’t even know the guy, and for all you do know, he might be a sleazeball.

“Need a break from the loudmouths?” the bartender asks, half smiling. You nod, rolling your eyes playfully.

“Too much testosterone over there,” you retort, “I’ll take a Sprite.” She nods and punches a button on the soda gun, filling up a tall glass. Staring at the bubbles fizzing over the ice cubes, you feel a breeze on your side. It’s Joel, finally separated from his bimbo of the night.

“Hey, darlin’, can I get you a drink?” he asks, smooth, sugary voice tickling your eardrums. He sounds sexy as fuck. You hold his gaze but don’t smile, creating an icy wall between the two of you.

“Is your girlfriend okay with that?” you sneer, turning to take a sip of your Sprite. His shoulders sag just slightly, but you see it from the corner of your eye.

“She ain’t my girl, promise. She’s tryna find a rebound,” he murmurs apologetically. You shrug.

“Seems like she was getting close to getting one.” Ouch. It hits low and painful in his belly, though he understands.

“Listen, I know what it looked like. Promise ya, it ain’t nothing. She ain’t my type,” he says, eyes sweeping your face. Guilt pangs you, and you turn to look at him. Fuck. His eyes are solemn, repentant—he’s saying sorry, and he doesn’t even need to. You sigh deeply, feeling that the alcohol is forcing you to be honest with him.

“Joel, look—I’m sorry, I shouldn’t ha—,” you start, but he interrupts you, putting a calloused palm up and shaking his head.

“No need t’apologize, sweetheart. I get it. She was all over me,” he says, end of his sentence filled with a playful tone. You giggle quietly.

“Oh yeah, she was two seconds away from sinking her teeth into you,” you joke, chuckles exchanging between the two of you. Relief fills you, warm and cleansing. He stares at you for a moment before speaking again.

“So, that drink…” he says, a lopsided grin plastered on his rugged face. God, he’s handsome. You can’t hold off much longer.

“I ‘spose,” you tease, “Guess you owe me one, anyway.” His half-grin turns whole, smile sending a zip of desire down your spine. He leans close to your ear, sweeping your hair over your shoulder. The touch of his warm skin on yours and the proximity of him almost makes you jump.

“I’ll make it up t’ya, swear on it,” he says, voice an octave lower and Southern accent dripping with something you’re not quite ready to identify. You clamp your thighs together instinctively, another shiver rippling through you like that of the tequila shot. Joel waves the bartender over and orders your drink of choice and whiskey neat.

“So… you live with Meredith?” Joel inquires, watching you as he sips the amber liquid. You shake your head, twirling the straw around your drink.

“Nope, but I might as well with how much I’m over there, helping with Noah and whatnot.” He nods.

“I had a daughter once. Y’know what they say… it takes a village,” he says, tone laced with melancholy. Once?

“I hate to ask, but… what happened to her?” you ask carefully, hesitant to look at him.

“She passed away when she was little. Car accident. S’alright, though—it was a long time ago,” he says, smiling at you wistfully. You put a hand on his bare forearm, and he almost melts into a puddle.

“I’m sorry, Joel. That’s so awful. I can’t imagine experiencing something like that. Noah’s my nephew, but I wouldn’t be able to go on if something happened to him,” you add, hoping to soothe his pain.

“Enough about me, darlin’, I wanna know more about you,” he says, covering your hand with his. His touch is electric on your skin.

“Nothing exciting, trust me,” you say with a shrug. He scoffs.

“I’d be shocked to hear that you’re single,” he says, winking at you again. You shove him playfully.

“Prepare to be shocked,” you quip. He shakes his head and looks up at one of the TVs.

“S’a damn shame,” he laments. The alcohol sends courage racing through your veins.

“For whom?” you tease, mirroring his wink. His smile fades just slightly as he takes you in, desire washing over him. When he speaks again, his voice is even deeper than before.

“Not for me, that’s for sure.” Your stomach drops at his admission, though your face doesn’t show it.

“Yeah? Why’s that, Miller?” He takes another sip of his whiskey, eyes locked on yours.

“You kiddin’? Look at you,” he says, whistling lowly, eyes traversing your frame. If you weren’t blushing before, you are now. You wave him off and sip your own drink.

“Oh, stop. I bet you get the best of the best coming up to you,” you say, playing it cool. He takes another sip, swallowing with a hmm-mm.

“Darlin’, the best of the best is sittin’ next to me, and I reckon I got some groveling t’do if I wanna see her again,” he admits. He takes his baseball cap off, revealing thick, gorgeous curls, hairline swept with gray locks. He runs a hand through them before sliding the cap back on. Admiring his profile, you watch his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Your gaze travels down to his neck, which might just be your favorite part of him at the moment—thick, tan, jugular vein bulging. You can almost see his pulse pounding at his carotid. Fuck, he makes your pulse pound. Sucking in a deep, calming breath, you avert your gaze to your near-empty drink, swishing the ice cubes around nervously. Joel nudges your arm with his elbow. You look at him, trying your hardest to maintain a straight face, but seeing his smile makes you grin.

“What?” you ask, noticing his eyes dipping down to your lips.

“Was just thinkin’,” he says, finishing the last of his whiskey as he eyes you inquisitively.

“About?” you press, tilting your ear toward him and raising your brows. He laughs at your facial expression and leans in, lips brushing your hair and nearly grazing your ear.

“’Bout what it would be like t’kiss you,” he hums, voice dripping with lust. Your eyes widen briefly, shock quickly morphing into nervousness, then anticipation as your stomach twists.

“Think I need another drink before then,” you say, slowly turning to face him. He’s close, close enough that you feel his breath on your face. He’s half-smiling again, brown eyes spanning your face.

“Nervous?” he taunts lowly. You look up at the TV and nod slowly.

“Darlin’, y’got nothin’ to be nervous about. I ain’t gonna make ya do anything y’ain’t comfortable with,” he says, face still close to your ear. You face him again, staring intently into his eyes.

“Oh, it’s not that. I’m afraid… you’ll be hooked,” you test him, hoping your bravado overshadows your nerves. His nostrils flare just slightly before he clears his throat.

“Reckon I need another drink, too—I might not survive,” he says, catching you off guard. A loud laugh escapes your lips. Joel is delighted at the sound and wonders how you’d sound doing other things, like underneath him or as his tongue unravels you. Suppressing an erection, he waves the bartender over and orders both of you another round.

“Wanna get some air?” he questions you, tipping his head toward the patio area. You nod, chewing on your straw nervously. The idea of being alone with him makes you squirm. You stand and he guides you outside, firm hand on your lower back. His fingertips burn into your back.

“Lemme just tell Mer I’m stepping outside,” you say. He nods. “Meet ya out there?” he offers, and you clink the rim of your glass to his in agreement. You watch him saunter over to the patio doors, salivating at the way his jeans hug his hips and ass. Meredith isn’t worried by your absence at all, still laughing and talking loudly with the group. She’s drunk.

“Mer, I’m stepping out back if you need me,” you say into her ear. She turns to you, holding your chin.

“Y’gonna kiss him, finally? He’s been tryna do it for the last hour!” she spits into your ear. Your lips quirk into a smile.

“Maybe, dunno. We’ll find out shortly,” you reply nonchalantly, shrugging as you turn to leave the table. She pinches your ass as you walk away.

Anticipation bubbles in your chest as you get closer to the patio. With a deep breath, you push the doors open and see Joel leaning up against the railing, hip cocked to one side. The patio is dotted with dim string lights and overlooks a small pond with a fountain, moonlight glimmering on the surface. The trickling of the water is soothing, a nice contrast to the loud music and voices inside the bar. He turns his body toward you, arm leaned against the railing as he watches you.

“Thought maybe I scared ya off,” he teases. You stand next to him, arm brushing his as he turns to face the pond again.

“Not in the slightest. Your girl back there, though? Not going within 20 feet of her,” you tantalize him, and he rolls his eyes as he chuckles.

“She ain’t even a blip on my radar, darlin’,” he says, voice shifting from playful to sensual. You feel his hot gaze on your face. Slowly, he dips his head closer to yours. You turn and lock eyes with him. You want him, though your expression is almost hesitant—his is pliant, asking permission. You look down at his plush lips and lean in while closing your eyes.

When your lips finally meet, a sensation roils through you like you’ve never experienced. You feel like a fishing boat in the North Sea, tossed around, dizzy, and soaked by the icy waves as they threaten to pull you under. You’re completely at the mercy of his lips, his touch. The kiss is slow, yet fiery—unlocking passion in both of you that has either been dormant or never existed. At some point, Joel turned to face you and pulled you flush to him, thick arms wrapped around your torso, squeezing you like he can’t afford to let go. You reach for his hair and knock off his baseball cap, and he laughs against your mouth.

It doesn’t take long for your tongues to tangle and the kiss to reach a new level of hot and heavy. He’s gripping your ass; you’re shoving your hands up his shirt. He’s breaking the kiss to nip at your neck and jawline; you’re moaning softly. He’s groaning into your skin at the sounds you make, telling you how good you are; your nails are carving shapes into the skin of his back.

You pull back, panting, fingers still latched onto his curls. Concerned eyes stare into yours, worried he crossed a line. You shake your head and laugh incredulously, glancing over at the moonlit pond. It’s surreal, the way you’re feeling now—none of your dreams have ever been so enchanting as this moment. Joel strokes your cheek softly, needing to know your thoughts.

“Everything alright?” he murmurs, pressing a gentle kiss to your cheekbone.

“Yes! Oh god, everything’s—amazing, I just didn’t know if—,” you stammer, trying to force the thousand thoughts swirling in your mind into a coherent sentence.

“D’you wanna get outta here, darlin’? I understand f’you say no, but good lord, I want you,” he breathes, searching your eyes for a semblance of hesitation or uncertainty. He doesn’t find either. Your pupils dilate ever so slightly, tongue darting out to lick your lips.

“Fuck yes,” you breathe, sending him over the edge. He smirks and releases you momentarily to pick up his fallen ball cap, tossing the sweaty fabric over his curls before grabbing your hand to guide you back inside. It’s hasty, the way he closes his tab and signs his receipt, tossing the pen back behind the bar with a chuckle.

“Let me tell Mer I’m leaving,” you tell him. He nods.

“I’ll wait here for ya, don’t need ya walkin’ in the dark parkin’ lot alone this time of night.”

“A gentleman, too? Hopefully that doesn’t carry over to the bedroom,” you coo, putting on your sultriest voice. His eyes are black as sin, sweeping over your body slowly.

“Oh, I am—ladies first,” he quips, enjoying the view as you turn to walk toward the table. Meredith is perched on the lap of one of the dads, whispering in his ear.

“Mer—I’m leaving. I’ll call you in the morning, yeah?” You shout over the loud chatter of the group and the music. She winks at you and gives you a languid thumbs up. Still drunk. You narrow your eyes at poor lad she’s sitting on, giving him a silent warning. He throws his palms up in the air in surrender. Meredith rolls her eyes at you before turning back to him.

Joel takes your hand as you walk out of the bar, giving the back a quick kiss. The excitement and thrill of leaving with him has you giddy, springy. Your steps are bouncier than before, confidence buzzing inside you. This fine man wants you, has wanted only you since he laid eyes on you, and is taking you home. Your past one-night stands have never been so exhilarating.

Joel leads you to a big silver truck, opening the passenger door for you and helping you into the plush leather seat. He swats your ass as you hop in, laughing at the yelp that escapes you. Trotting over to the driver’s side, he hops in and wastes no time getting out of there.

“Your place or mine?” He asks as the truck cruises onto a main road.

“Mine,” you reply, starting to feel nervous. Maybe a familiar location will calm your nerves a bit.

“Lead the way, darlin’.” You guide him to your apartment, which is maybe 10 minutes from the bar. He grabs your hand as you both speedwalk into the building, eager to rip your clothes off and finish what you started at the bar.

As soon as you’re inside your apartment, Joel rips his cap off and hoists you up, your back pressed against the door. Your legs encircle his waist and pull, crashing your hips together. His lips devour you hungrily, teeth nibbling your lower lip and hands frantically roaming over you. “Where?” he murmurs in your mouth, and you point to your agape bedroom door. You didn’t make your bed, but you couldn’t give less of a fuck right now, and neither does he. He carries you inside the dark room and lies both of you on the bed, your legs still wrapped around his midsection.

“Need t’see you,” he pants, and you point to the lamp on your bedside table. He twists the knob, filling the room with dim, amber lighting. His mouth latches back onto yours before moving down to your soft neck and collarbone.

“Off,” he says, tugging at the collar of your muscle shirt. You lift your arms up and let him tear the fabric from you, remembering that you didn’t wear a bra once you hear him curse.

“Fuck,” he groans, “look at you.” He squeezes your breasts, taking a nipple into his warm mouth. You inhale sharply, running fingers through his tousled curls as he sucks on one and moves to the other. He kisses down your stomach until he meets denim, sitting up and grasping the waistband of your shorts. He peers at you from poignant, hooded eyes.

“Can I take these off?” he asks softly, surprising you. He’s gentle, obedient, almost submissive to you, though you don’t realize what a treasure you are in his eyes. He wants to savor this, make sure it’s perfect for you. Your chest is heaving, nerves so alight that you almost forget to respond.

“Please,” you affirm, and he doesn’t need to be told twice.

You’re already soaked—you felt it once you sat down in his truck, the damp fabric of your panties pushed up into you. He unbuttons and slides your shorts off, leaving your green thong on and licking his lips as he notices the wet spot.

“Jesus… this for me?” he says, returning his needy mouth to your hot skin. You’re squirming in his grip, breathless.

“Yes, fuck,” you huff, whimpers leaving your mouth as he kisses his way down your left hip and bites your inner thigh. You moan, the painful prick of his incisors heightening your pleasure.

“You like that, baby?” he asks, peeking up at you from down below. Bashfulness washes over you at the sight of him between your legs, worshipping your body. You nod feverishly, lower lip between your teeth. He growls lowly and kisses down your leg, stopping at your instep and watching your response before retracing his path. He stops over your clothed mound and kisses featherlight, pulling a groan from you. You feel his smile curve against your core, but he doesn’t oblige you—he kisses down your other leg. You tug on his hair, needing his mouth on your most sensitive spot.

“Needy, ain’t she?” he teases you, breathing hot air on your clothed, throbbing pussy. Your back arches and you sigh heavily at the sensation.

“I’ma give you just what y’need, darlin’, just hold on for me,” he soothes you, teeth pulling the waistband of your thong back slowly. He needs help from his hands, though, so he loops his fingers in the waistband and rids them from you. His gaze is boring holes in you, looking at you like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever seen.

“Tongue-tied?” you tease him, watching his eyes roam over your naked body.

“Fuckin’ perfect,” he growls. He shifts downward, lower half on the floor before hooking his arms under your thighs and pulling you toward him. He stares at you as he blows softly on your clit. The chill of the air on your wet core drives you mad, your hips circling involuntarily under his grip. At what seems like a glacial pace, he leans in until his lips touch your clit in a featherlight kiss. Though light, the contact feels like the floor has dropped from underneath you, making you dizzy. His teasing has you so riled up; it won’t take much for you to reach the zenith. His tongue slips out and slowly, almost agonizingly, licks from your entrance to your clit.

“Shit, Joel,” you gasp. He smirks against your core, impressed with himself for learning your cues early on. He continues licking you languidly, sensually, changing his approach based on your moans, curses, and sighs, each twitch of your hips and death grip of his hair and arms, relishing all of you.

“Like hearing y’say my name,” he purrs, “Y’taste so good.” White-hot pleasure keeps shooting up your spine, like fireworks on July fourth. Your stomach feels tight, like you might snap any second.

“I’m close,” you whimper, hips rolling on his face. He hums in approval into your pussy. You reach down and grip his hands before he pulls one away to prod at your entrance. He curves two broad fingers into you, groaning at how warm and tight you are. A strangled cry escapes your throat at the stretch, part of you worried about how his cock will fit. He pumps his fingers quickly, and you snap, your orgasm taking over every fiber of your being. He talks you through it, praising you and trying not to come himself at the sight of you trembling, arched in pleasure.

After a beat, he removes his fingers and slots himself between your legs, head dipping down to kiss you, giving you a taste of yourself on his wiry mustache and smooth lips.

“Taste good, don’t you?” he croons into your mouth, pulling a low moan from your throat. Gripping the fabric of his shirt as you kiss him, you realize he’s still fully clothed. You tug the hem of his shirt up and he sits on his heels to pull it off, revealing a strong, toned torso with a softness that makes you melt. He notices you admiring him.

“S’not as good as it used t’be,” he chuckles, smiling at you as he tosses his shirt to some corner of the room.

“Shut up. You’re perfect,” you breathe, hands roaming his chest and stomach before landing in his waistband, pulling him back to you. He resists, only to unbutton his denim and slide it off his legs, leaving only his boxers. You reach out and grab his hard length through the thin fabric, gasping at the girth of him. Your fingers don’t even reach all the way around. His head tips back, breathy sigh escaping his lungs at your gentle but firm touch.

“Off,” you parrot his command from earlier, fingers tugging at the elastic waistband of his boxers. Eyes locked on yours, he stands and pulls them off his figure, cock springing as it releases. A mischievous grin creeps over his features after seeing your reaction to his manhood.

Fuck. He’s big, probably bigger than most you’ve had. The length is up there, but the girth is what worries you—he’s so thick.

“Don’t worry, darlin’, I’ll take care of you,” he soothes you, settling between your legs. Confusion contorts his face, like he forgot something—until frustration sets in.

“I don’t have protection, d’you have anything?” he asks, stroking a slow path from your inner thigh to your hip, making you squirm.

“No, but I’m good—I’m on birth control, and it’s been forever since I’ve had sex with anyone, so I’m clean,” you reply. You can’t even remember the last time you slept with anyone—months, perhaps.

“Me, too,” he adds, “minus the birth control.” His witty response makes you giggle. You sit up and lean forward to kiss him, stopping just before your lips touch.

“I want you inside me. Now,” you whisper, gaze flicking over his face. His eyes flash obsidian before he crashes his lips against yours and lies you both down. He rubs the head of his cock against your soaked folds, the sensation setting your body on fire. Aroused and impatient, you tip him back until your positions are switched, Joel’s head almost hanging off the edge of the bed. He chuckles at you but beams at your confidence. Perched on his lap, you lean back slightly and grind your hips, guiding your lips over his rock-hard length.

“Need a picture of this,” he says, bewildered at the gorgeous woman grinding on his lap, naked and needy for him. His rough palms caress your hips, stomach, breasts, before landing at your shoulders. He pulls you down for a kiss, the new angle pressing your slit flush against his cock, and you shudder.

“Fuck me,” he rumbles, mouth agape, messy salt and pepper curls dipping down to his brow. You sit up, bracing one palm on his chest and using the other to guide him to your dripping entrance. Making sure to watch him, you slowly sink down on him, the stretch splitting you open almost immediately. Your mouth drops and eyebrows arch, the pain and pleasure slowing your movements.

Joel’s face mirrors yours, your tight, soaked cunt squeezing him deliciously. He grits his teeth and grips your ass so hard you’ll have bruises, urging you down further onto him. You slowly take inch by inch until bottoming out, the sudden press of his tip against your cervix making you yelp.

“Okay, baby?” he asks. Your eyes are squeezed shut, breath coming out in heavy pants and hands clawing at his chest as you adjust to the size and thickness of him. A strand of your hair has fallen in your face, moving with each puff of your breath.

“Yes, j-just need a sec,” you whimper. Finally, your inner muscles acclimate to the intrusion of his cock, and you start to move. Each roll of your hips pulls a filthy moan from Joel, whose calloused hands are guiding you up and down his length. You’re whimpering with each thrust, the tip of his cock sending painfully pleasurable shocks up your spine as it slams into the deepest parts of you.

“Just beautiful,” he groans as he watches you bounce on him. It’s a good thing you’re on top, because he would’ve come by now had he been spearing himself into you. “Not gonna last long. Where d’you want me?” he spits.

“Inside me,” you mewl, and before he can react, you take the opportunity to press your chest against his, sweaty foreheads stuck together as you clap your ass against him as hard as you can. Your second orgasm washes over you suddenly, causing you to tuck your head in the crook of his neck as you cry out. Joel takes over, thrusting up into you a few times before grunting your name as he spills into you. Both of your pants and whimpers fill the room as you come down from your high. You’re still on top of him, arms wrapped around his neck, pussy wrapped around his cock still as he softens. He rolls you over and pins your arms above your head before dipping his lips down to meet yours in a messy postcoital kiss. You moan into the kiss, and his cock twitches at the sound inside you—he’s not quite hard, but enough to still stretch you out.

“Wanna do it like this next time,” you pant, cupping his cheek. He turns to kiss your palm and moves down to your wrist before latching his lips onto the slope of your shoulder.

“I’d like that, baby,” he purrs into your sweaty skin, “And I like that there’s gonna be a next time.” He rests against you for a moment before slipping out of you with a grunt and standing to find your bathroom. He returns after a minute with a towel, sitting next to you on the bed and wiping his spend from you.

A pang of disappointment washes over you suddenly, not wanting him to leave. One-night stands really aren’t your thing—you don’t want him to get the idea that this is a frequent habit of yours.

You speak his name softly, quietly. He slides back into bed, propping himself on one elbow and giving you his full attention. He tucks some stray hair behind your ear, your eyes closing at the tenderness of his touch.

“Hmm?” he hums, thumb tracing your eyebrow, forehead, temple, whatever part of your face is closest. You open your eyes and see warm, affectionate amber staring back at you. His eyes are so beautiful, so full of emotion, you find yourself unable to talk for a second. He quirks one eyebrow at you, lips sliding into his cheek as he waits for your response.

“D’you wanna stay?” you ask, hesitant. You really don’t know him, or if this is something he likes to do often, or if it was a spur of the moment decision made during your moment of passion at the bar. He leans down and kisses your forehead before pressing a slow kiss to your lips. Pulling back ever so slightly, his breath fans on your face and gaze flicks between each of your eyes before he opens his mouth to reply.

“Yes, I’d love to,” he says. You can’t help the grin that pulls at your cheeks. He twists the lamp, darkness spilling into the room, and tucks you into his chest before pulling the covers over both of you.

“Goodnight, darlin’,” he whispers into your hair, and before you can reply, you’re sound asleep.

Morning rolls around, and you find yourself pressed against Joel’s warm back, arms wrapped around his torso and moving up and down with his expanding ribcage. He’s still sleeping, or you think—he woke up not too long ago with you curled into his chest, torn between needing to use the bathroom, and not wanting to let go of you. You looked so serene, so beautiful as the sunrise painted your features. When he came back and tucked himself under the covers, you immediately latched yourself onto him, arms wound tightly around his belly.

Now, you find yourself in the same predicament, needing to use the bathroom but not wanting to disturb him. You slowly unfurl yourself from his broad back, stand from the bed and tiptoe to the bathroom connected to your room.

Joel had opened his eyes once he felt you rise from the bed and watched your naked figure travel across the room, the sight stirring his already half-hard cock. Fuck, you were gorgeous, and he wanted desperately to see your body trembling with pleasure again, the memory of your face twisted in euphoria sewn into his brain. When he heard the bathroom door open, he snapped his eyes shut again, wanting you to think he was asleep.

You, on the other hand, didn’t want to wake him and had a primal urge for some fresh coffee. You search the room for your robe, startling when two warm hands grasp your waist and pull you onto the bed. Joel props himself up against your headboard, legs spread as he pulls you into the open space between them. His strong arms loop around your stomach, pulling you tight until your back is flush with his chest. He tucks his face into your neck, pressing gentle kisses behind and beneath your ear, down the column of your neck.

“Where d’you think you’re goin’?” he croons, Southern voice raspy with sleep, igniting something inside you. You moan as his lips and teeth mark spots on the map of your skin.

“Coffee, I swear,” you groan, covering his arms with yours and squirming as his mouth continues adorning you.

“Mm. Not done with you yet,” he murmurs, unwrapping one hand from your stomach to palm your breasts. You arch into him, head tipping back on his shoulder. He growls.

“Feel good, sweetheart?” he presses, rolling one nipple between rough fingertips before moving to the other. You gasp sharply and nod against his shoulder, hips gyrating and ass rubbing against his hard length. He inhales deeply, the scent of your hair invading his space and heightening his arousal for you.

His palm dips lower, spanning your soft stomach before reaching your inner thigh, goosebumps erupting in its path. Lightly, he scratches at your skin there, loving how pliant your body is underneath his touch. He needs to see your face.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, and you turn your head to see him. God, he looks fucking good. His hair is fucked up from slumber, eyes wanton and full of sleepy desire. There are hints of intrigue and mischief sketched on his face.

Then, he kisses you, teeth tugging on your lower lip. It’s hot, the way he needs you in this moment, the way his tongue reaches for yours, the way his grip tightens around you. His hand dips further south, fingers feeling firsthand how much you want him. He moans at it, the wetness trickling from you.

“Joel,” you whine, his calculated touches teasing you. He swirls his fingers around your bud, almost excruciatingly slow.

“You want me this much?” he breathes into your mouth. Your hips are still rolling, ass feeling how much he wants you.

“Yes—please. Need you,” you moan softly, eyes opening to see him. He looks down, watching and moaning at how your slick coats his fingers. He prods his middle finger at your entrance, inserting it lazily into your tight heat with a groan. You gasp at the soreness of his cock from last night and at the stretch—his finger is thick, close to the size of two of your digits.

“Baby—need to stretch you out. So tight.” He pulls his middle finger out and adds his ring finger to the mix. He curls them once they’re fully sheathed inside you, pads stroking your soft walls. He pumps them in and out of you slowly, yet with enough pressure to send you reeling. The pleasure builds inside you, knotting tightly in your belly. You moan as he continues to unravel you, hips circling around his hand, his teeth sinking into your shoulder.

“Come for me, sweet girl,” he coaxes you, mouth moving to graze your earlobe. He holds it there, between his teeth, pulling it as you come apart on his fingers.

Your orgasm rolls through you slowly, vision spotting as the knot untethers inside your stomach. Joel fucks you through it and praises you, spurring you on more. It’s new for you, someone talking you through your orgasm, and something you didn’t realize you needed.

“Good girl, just like that—did so good for me, baby,” he soothes you, removing his soaked fingers from you. He takes the middle one into your mouth, brushing your tongue, and you suck lightly, moaning at the taste of yourself. His cock jumps.

“Need to taste you again,” he hums, placing his ring finger in his mouth. You watch him relish the taste of you, eyebrows arching and a deep groan escaping his throat.

“Can I fuck you now, baby?” he asks, syllables like chords of a sweet cello. You nod, tugging the back of his head down for a passionate kiss. He maneuvers both of you until you’re underneath him and he’s hovering over the cradle of your hips.

“Gonna go slow,” he says, palms cradling your face.

“Want you to fuck me however you like, Joel,” you whisper, searching his eyes. Brown irises flecked with gold, desire-filled pupils threatening to swallow them. He sits up, tugging your thighs toward him and tucks your knees at his sides. He grips himself and breaks eye contact to watch where your bodies are about to join. He looks up at you as he slips the head of his cock inside your warm entrance, jaw dropping as your walls swallow him.

Carefully, he feeds you inch by inch, eyes never leaving yours until he’s at the hilt. He commits to memory the morphing of your facial expressions as he fills you up—wide eyes, mouth dropping slowly, head tilting back and eyes snapping shut once he reaches the end of you. Only then does he look down to see where he has vanished inside you, moaning at the way your pussy stretches around him as he pulls out slowly.

“You feel so good,” you whine, fingernails lightly scratching his chest and stomach. His head tips back as he sets a pace, your muscles squeezing him and coating him in warm slick.

“Best I ever had—fuck,” he curses, fingertips bruising your hipbones. He pulls you up so your hips are propped up on his lap, leaving space between your back and the bed. You arch, head lolled back and hanging off the edge of the bed.

“Beautiful,” he moans, reaching a palm down to lightly squeeze the column of your throat as he continues pounding into you.

Blood rushes to your head, heightening the pleasure of each thrust. Your body is tingling, almost levitating.

With no notice, your second orgasm zips through you like a gasoline fire, flames scorching your neurons. Joel follows suit, lifting you into his lap, arms wrapped around your torso as he cries into your chest. You tug his curls, tipping his head back in a kiss as he finishes emptying inside you.

You pull back and run your fingers through his hair, stopping to cradle his face in your hands. He beams at you.

“Can I make coffee now?” you tease him, pressing a light kiss to his nose. He laughs warmly, squeezing you tightly and picking you up as he stands from the bed.

“I think that’s acceptable,” he replies, squeezing your ass before letting you stand on your own legs.

“So… when can I see you again?” Joel asks as he puts his shoes on. You’d typed your number into his phone per his request just moments ago and sent yourself a text with his name.

“Are you saying… you want to do this again?” you say, winking at him and dropping your mouth open in mock surprise. He rolls his eyes, standing to pull you into a hug.

“Yes, but not just sex. Unless, uh, that ain’t your thing,” he says, hesitation flashing over his features. You shake your head.

“What we just did isn’t usually my thing. I’d love a date. And more sex if that’s okay.” He snorts.

“It’s more than okay. You showing up to the baseball game tomorrow evening?” he asks, absentmindedly stroking the skin in front of your ear. You nod.

“Got a thing for the hot coach. Need to make sure I have my best jean shorts on.” He snorts again, raising an eyebrow at the prospect of seeing you with some short shorts on.

“How about I take you out later this week, then?” You swipe your eyes around the top of the room, lips sliding into your cheek as you try and remember your schedule.

“Friday? I have a busy week at work. Late nights, probably,” you offer. He nods with a big grin.

“It’s a date.”

The next day arrived in blistering fashion. Not a single cloud graced the blue skies, nor the tiniest gust of summer wind. By 5:00 PM, it was still in the lower 90s. You packed a large cooler full of water bottles, Gatorade, various other liquids stashed in your fridge, and snacks for Noah’s baseball game. Excited to see Joel again, you made sure to wear your best jean shorts and threw on a cropped tank top.

You pull up to the baseball field, searching the parked cars for Meredith’s SUV and Joel’s silver truck. You find both, parked at opposite ends of the lot. Your stomach drops slightly when you see his truck. He’s here, obviously—he is one of the coaches. Meredith waits in her SUV for you, hopping out when she sees you strolling up, big cooler in tow.

“Any booze in that?” she winks at you. You nod.

“I had some stray shooters in the fridge. All yours.”

“I believe you have something to tell me, yeah?” she says as both of you walk up to the entrance of the baseball complex. You look over to the field and see Noah’s team warming up in their familiar navy and red uniforms.

Joel is in the grass, hitting pop flies at the outfielders. His broad back is turned to you, the familiar shape sending a pang of anticipation up your spine. The flexing and jumping of his muscles and tendons is getting you hot. Meredith nudges you.

“Hey, I’m talkin’ to you here! Stop reminiscing,” she scolds you.

“I kinda have to if you want my account of the story, yeah?” you add, mocking her tone playfully. She guffaws.

“Spill. The man was obsessing over you since he saw you at the game.”

“Let’s just say he’s very good at what he does. And he’s a gentleman. He’s taking me out later this week,” you gush, cheeks burning at your recollection of yesterday’s events.

“Knew it. Could tell by the way he walks and looks at you. Mans is whipped. My guy on the other hand? Couldn’t even get it up. Passed out before anything meaningful could happen,” she seethes, eyes rolling.

“All old men are not created equal, Mer,” you joke, jostling her with your elbow.

As you two find home in the bleachers, you see Miss Blonde Ambition eyeing you from the concession stand. She looks pissed off, Juvéderm-filled lips contorted in a scowl and lifeless eyes swiping up and down your frame as she sloshes her Stanley cup around aggressively. Meredith notices, too.

“Guess she’s not too happy her usual antics didn’t work,” she gripes. You try not to give too much attention to the woman.

“What’s her name? I don’t even think Joel knows it,” you ask, noticing her return to the bleachers from your peripheral.

“Cassie. Divorced. Her kid is one of Noah’s closest friends on the team, unfortunately. I think he spends most nights with his dad.”

“Can’t imagine why.” Meredith chuckles at your jab.

A cloud of strong, overly floral perfume invades your nostrils, and you turn to see Cassie, manicured hands planted on her hips and face pinched in irritation.

“Hey, Cass,” Meredith says coolly, not looking in her direction.

“Is this your sister?” Cassie spits. Her voice is shrill, accent almost Valley girl. It would make a lot of sense if she was from Southern California. Meredith, having none of this hostility, whips her head at Cassie.

“It is. You got a problem? Because this is not the time nor the place,” she says, eyes narrowing briefly at Cassie.

“Just wanted her to know that she shouldn’t get too excited about her little escapade with Joel. He does that with every young thing that sits on these bleachers,” she boils, face and neck turning red. Ouch. Joel never seemed the type, but then again, you don’t know him. She could be telling the truth.

“Except you, yeah?” Meredith shoots back, unfazed by Cassie’s low blow. You, on the other hand, don’t miss how your stomach sinks and throat dries up at her words. Cassie’s mouth drops open. She cocks her hips to one side and lifts a finger at both of you.

“Oh, don’t worry, I’ve been there, done that. Nothing to ride home about. Enjoy my sloppy seconds,” she hisses. Meredith stands up, hackles raised and blocking you from Cassie’s view.

“S’at why you were all pissed off he didn’t want you last night? ‘Cause it’s ‘nothing to ride home about’?” Meredith fires, neck rolling. Anger boils in your belly, though you find it best if you don’t speak—Meredith has always been the verbal fighter, you the physical one. It’s not a road you plan on traveling any time soon.

Other parents in the bleachers are observing the confrontation, along with some players in the dugout, little claws gripping the chain link fence and wide eyes glued to the scene. You’re glad you have sunglasses on. You notice Joel turn his attention to you, shoulders drooping at what he sees. Embarrassed, you look down at your feet as Cassie continues her tirade.

“Tell your slutty little sister he’ll find a new spectator to fuck very soon—and I think it’s best if our sons don’t hang out anymore!” she screeches. It’s silent at the ball field—both teams have stopped their warmups to tune into the drama. A pin could drop here, and everyone would hear it.

Meredith hops off the bleachers and gets close to Cassie’s face. She points in her face.

“Slutty? That’s rich, coming from the lady who cheated on her husband with half the single dads at the last State Tournament!” Cassie’s mouth drops open in shock, taking a few steps back from Meredith. Some gasps ring out in the bleachers. Tommy walks over, stepping between the two sparring women and putting his hands up.

“That’s enough!” he booms. Meredith, nostrils flared and fists clenched, points a finger at him.

“Tom, you know damn well what she’s trying to do here. I’m not about to let it happen. She chose to do this in front of everyone to embarrass my sister. Ain’t my problem what comes out.” He pinches the bridge of his nose and closes his eyes, shaking his head.

“I get it, Mer. Just didn’t need the kids hearing this stuff.”

Nausea squeezes your stomach and takes hold of your throat. You stand and grab your purse. Meredith turns to you, worried.

“Y’alright?” You shake your head.

“Need t’go sit in my car for a bit,” you reply, voice shaky. You turn and walk to your car, paying no attention to wandering eyes. Joel sees you ambling to the parking lot and sets his bat down, raking a hand through his stubble as he walks toward the dugout and out to the bleachers. He’d heard the entire conversation and knew you were probably hurting from Cassie’s remarks.

“I’ll talk to her, Joel,” Meredith says, stepping in between him and you, though you’re far away by now. He shakes his head.

“She needs to hear it from me. None of that shit is true,” he huffs, frown lines etched into his forehead. He jogs frantically to your car.

Hunched over your steering wheel, a knock at your window interrupts you. You jump and look up to see Joel. He looks worried. Shoulders sagging, you unlock the doors and tilt your head as you wait for him to get in. The door opens and he reaches for your hand. You snap it back involuntarily.

“I just wanna be alone right now, Joel,” you lament.

“Just let me explain, alright? I heard everythin’ she said to you,” he says, voice calm. You refuse to look at him, knowing that if you do, you won’t be able to stand firm.

“Look at me, darlin’,” he pleads, voice quiet. You sigh in defeat and turn to look at him. His amber eyes are filled with sadness and frustration.

“None of that shit she said is true. I’ve never slept with anyone that comes to these games, save for you and my ex-wife. Ain’t she ain’t been to a game in many years. Swear,” he says, voice tight, speech rushed.

You look back and forth between his eyes. Why would he lie to you? What could he possibly gain from fucking you—after all, he is a coach, and it might make him look bad to the parents and players. If anything, it was a risk on his part.

“I believe you, Joel. It just hurt,” you finally speak. He reaches for you again, hesitant from your previous rejection. You give him your hand and he kisses the back of it, eyes locked on your face.

“M’sorry. I knew she wasn’t gonna let it go easy. Promise ya, ya got nothin’ to worry about. I—I really like you,” he says, pained. You lean over the center console and kiss him, almost feeling his relief pouring into you.

“I really like you too… old man,” you tease. He roars in laughter.

“Y’gonna pay for that one, darlin’,” he says, half-grinning at you. He kisses you again before pulling back and checking his watch.

“Game’s gonna start soon, I gotta get goin’. I’ll see you later, alright?” You nod, smiling weakly at him. He gives you a quick peck before exiting the passenger side and trotting back to the field.

Noah’s team played an excellent game, which lifted the moods of all the parents and coaches. Cassie’s ex-husband, Byron, showed up and convinced her to leave, which was a relief for everyone. He apologized to you and Meredith for her behavior. Apparently, he already knew about her cheating escapade before they divorced.

Meredith, feeling badly for you, decided to splurge on concession stand snacks and got you a giant Bavarian pretzel and cotton candy, and supplied hot dogs to all the parents. You had fun, too—apprehension quickly turned to relief as parents took turns sympathizing with you and making you feel welcome. This was not Cassie’s first run-in with another woman in the bleachers, you found out—she made this sort of thing a habit.

Noah hit his first home run of the season, eliciting cheers and whoops from the stands. Joel, who had been working with him on his hitting mechanics, gave him a big hug after he returned to the dugout. The team finished 10-3, a great turnaround from yesterday’s loss.

The parents were eager to return to the bar and close it down again. You opted not to, feeling tired and needing a hot bath from the sticky summer night. You and Meredith chatted with Byron for a long time in the parking lot as families filtered out, discussing how to best keep Cassie away from the boys. They had a strong friendship, and neither Meredith nor Byron wanted anything to affect it. Byron shared that Cassie didn’t even have custody of their son—her cheating and drinking during their marriage put a bad taste in Byron’s mouth, and apparently the judge’s—he was awarded full custody.

After saying goodbyes, you were eager to get home, almost forgetting the most important goodbye. You scan the parking lot and see a familiar handsome shape leaning against the bed of his silver truck, eyeing you as you saunter over to him.

“Good game, Coach Miller,” you say slyly, sticking your hand out for him to shake. He grasps it, glancing down with one eyebrow cocked, before pulling you into his chest.

“Lotta motivation coming from the stands tonight,” he croons, wrapping his hands around your waist.

“For you or the boys?” He chuckles.

“Take your pick.” You shake your head and smile, watching the sun drop the last of its shape underneath the horizon. The sky is a beautiful cotton candy color, not unlike the treat Meredith bought for you earlier tonight. You two stand there for a moment, the only sounds being the quiet buzzing of the cicadas and crunch of cars leaving the gravel parking lot.

“Headin’ to the bar?” Joel asks you, holding your chin with his forefinger and thumb. You shake your head.

“Need a hot bath and some relaxation. You?” He smirks, thinking of your naked body undressing and stepping into a bubbly tub.

“Nah. Need the same.” Your lips twitch as you study his face, painted with a little mischief and a little fatigue.

“Want to join me?” you offer, watching a slow grin creep on his face.

“Hmm, need t’think about that one,” he says, eyes flicking over your face.

“What’s there to think about? You, me, naked in a tub. What could possibly go wrong?” You’re flirting now.

“That’s exactly what I’m thinkin’ ‘bout, darlin’, not whether I wanna go,” he says, pulling a goofy laugh from you.

“Meet you over there, then,” you say, turning to leave. He holds onto one of your fingers, preventing you from walking to your car.

“Y’want somethin’ to eat first?” he says, rubbing the skin of your finger.

“Sure. Something on the way?”

“I’m thinkin’ McDonalds. Text me what you want, and I’ll bring it over.”

“It’s a date.”

Not too long thereafter, you and Joel are sitting in your bathtub, backs at opposite ends. He’s tracing shapes on the skin of your knee, asking you every question that pops into his head.

“Shoe size?”

“Eleven. I have big ass feet,” you say, sticking a foot out of the water. He chuckles.

“D’ya want kids someday?”

“Nope. Noah is good enough for me. Never really wanted to be a mom. Would you have another?” He shakes his head.

“I’m too old to be a new father again. S’a lotta work. I had a good run with Sarah,” he says quietly, hand tiptoeing further up your leg.

He stares into your eyes, slicking his wet curls back from his forehead with his free hand.

“Why are you single?” His gaze bores into your face. You avoid it, focusing on mussing up some bubbles floating by your knee. You shrug.

“Haven’t had time, or the energy,” you finally say after a beat. “Haven’t found anyone worth giving either of those things to,” you add, tilting your head and meeting his gaze. He half-smiles at you.

“Yeah, me neither. ‘Til now,” he says, deep voice echoing throughout your bathroom.

“Oh yeah? Cassie, right?” you tease, and he snorts.

“Y’got me there. Alright, last question,” he says, hand stopping at the seam of your thigh. You tighten your muscles a bit, nervous.

“Shoot, Coach,” you say, flicking a bubble at him.

“Can I touch you, baby?” your eyes widen briefly, aligned with the quickening of your pulse. You’ve been wet since he ran the bath water for you and undressed you, fingertips gently tracing your skin as he removed your damp clothing.

“Yes,” you breathe. His finger grazes your mound, the sharp stubble like sandpaper against his skin. He grips your knees and pulls you into his lap. You look down at him, mesmerized by his face and the way he stares at you.

“One more question,” he says, warm, pruny hands traversing your back, warm water trickling from his fingertips to your skin. You thread your fingers through his wet tendrils, leaning your lips close to his, but not touching.

“I’ll allow it,” you whisper.

“Can I kiss you?” You nod, closing the gap between your mouths with ease. His lips are gentle against yours, somewhat chapped from the dry heat of the summer day and salty from sweat. He tastes like salt and mint, which he must’ve snuck into his mouth after you ate earlier.

The kiss deepens, wet sounds of your mouths and the splashing of water now echoing in the bathroom. He’s rock hard against you, cock only a few inches from your needy hole. He pulls back and stares at you.

“Alright, promise this is the last question,” he coos, rubbing his nose against your jaw and then your neck as you tip your head back to give him access. The stubble of his mustache and chin scratch at your skin.

“Fine. Last one,” you agree.

“Can I fuck you?” You nod.

And he does.

Some months and many bubble baths later, Joel wormed his way into your heart. And your apartment. He’s got a baseball cap or two hanging on your mantle, throws his keys in the dish on the kitchen counter when he walks in.

You spend most nights together during the week, either at his cozy home or your apartment.

He calls you his, you call him yours.

He fills your car up with gas when you’re out and about and your fuel light comes on, holds your hand when you walk into a restaurant, tells you how beautiful you are at least a few times a week—and not just when his cock is sheathed inside you.

He kisses you each morning before he leaves for work. Shares his food with you, even when he’s starving. Washes you in the shower and puts lotion on the spots you can’t reach after he dries you off.

Introduces you to his family, and shows you pictures of his late daughter.

Goes to the movies with you and doesn’t complain that you talk during the. Entire. Movie.

Lets you wear his ratty, baggy tees around the house, and even asks you to keep them on sometimes when he makes love to you.

Makes fun of how you use a hammer and that you can’t name the 31 different types of wrenches but corrects you each time with a warm smile.

Plays catch with you before the boys show up for warmups and lets you set up the dugout, though he’ll redo it later on anyway.

And when he finally tells you how much he loves you, you’re not shocked. Warmth ebbs inside you, like it does most days with him. You knew it all along, even if he never had the courage to say it—it was evident with each kiss, touch, and thrust, each bag of food he brought for you, each time he held the door open for you, each time he guided you somewhere with his strong hand on the small of your back.

You oftentimes wonder if he is your soulmate, though you already know the answer.

He makes lemonade with each lemon you give him, without complaint or judgment. And that’s all you can ask for.

#joel miller x reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller x you #pedro pascal smut

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gallavichsreddie1128 · 2 days

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Pathetic (Art Donaldson)

Description: Y/N loves Art but thinks he’s pathetic for still being in love with Tashi even though she’s using him.

Word Count: 1,327k

Y/N met Art in college along with Tashi, who at the time was dating Patrick. Art was obsessed with Tashi and Y/N was the victim. She had to hear about it all the time and it was annoying. He even went as far to try and ruin Tashi and Patrick’s relationship. Tashi was pissed at Pat but Y/N knew all along that it was Art. I mean he wouldn’t shut up about her. Art was there for Tashi when she had her injury, like a little puppy he bowed down to her. Y/N snorted when Art told her that he was going to help her recover and be there for her. She watched as Art left her room, she shouldn’t but she does care about him.

And maybe that’s why she feels the way she does about the situation. Tashi liked Art but not like that. Which Art couldn’t see but Y/N did. It was crazy that Art and Pat were no longer friends over Tashi. Bros before Hoes was always the saying but it wasn’t that anymore. Y/N watched as Art bent over backwards for Tashi but got nothing in return. She cared about his Tennis career, not him. Tashi would always bitch to Y/N about how Art wasn’t taking anything seriously and that he needed to focus on his career. To which Y/N replied, “He’s in love with you, Tashi.” Tashi laughed at her words and brushed them off but Y/N was right.

10 years later, Art was still in love with Tashi but nothing ever came about it besides sex here and there that Art wore on his sleeve. Y/N had watched him all through his career and lost a lot of respect for him. Every time he lost a game, Tashi would get so mad and make him cry. He cried to Y/N about it and she put on a fake pity smile and comforted him. But not this time, never again will Y/N act like that. She was over it, over all of it.

He came into her room with tears in his eyes, sad that Tashi was mad at him for losing. Y/N rolled her eyes but let the man in. He sat on her bed, “I just don’t understand, I try and do everything for her and I get nothing in return.” He’s saying the words but they aren’t clicking in his head. Y/N just stared at him as he whined. She didn’t hug him like she usually does or coo in his ear. She was annoyed with him. When she hadn’t said anything, he looked up at her, “Why do you look so annoyed?” He asked her. “Cuz you’re pathetic.” She spits at him. He looks at her confused and hurt by her words. “What?” “Yeah, you’re a pathetic little boy that is dying for her love and attention. Well guess what? You’re never gonna get it.” She tells him. He couldn’t believe what she was saying, she never said things like that to him, especially when he’s upset.

“Don’t say that. She loves me.” “Are you that delusional? Art she only cares about your Tennis career because she doesn’t have one anymore!” She yells. He stood up, “Don’t say that about her!” He pointed a finger at her. She scoffed and rolled her eyes, “Get the fuck out!” She told him. He left and didn’t look back. Y/N sighed and sat on her bed, where Art was just sitting. She laid back on the bed and stared at the ceiling. She wished that Art would just see that Tashi didn’t love him and that he needs to let that go.

A week later everything seemed to go back to normal for now. Well besides Art. He didn’t talk to Y/N but maybe that was for the best. Tashi on the other hand begged Y/N to talk to him. “He needs you Y/N. He’s not focusing.” “He’s Pathetic.” Y/N told her. Tashi agreed and told Y/N that’s why she needed her help. But Y/N refused, she was done with Art and his bullshit.

Y/N and saw that Patrick was there as well and that he wasn’t doing the greatest. “Maybe if you were as delusional as Art, life would be better.” She joked. Patrick rolled his eyes at her, “Still in love with Art?” her smile dropped. He looked at her and chuckled, “It’s been obvious since the day you met him.” She shook her head and downed her drink. “Yeah well he’s in love with Tashi.” “Who wouldn’t be?” “I don’t get it. She only cares about his career, not him.” Patrick saw how sad that made Y/N. “Well he’s an idiot for not being in love with you.” She looked at him, a smirk on his lips. She shook her head, “Yeah well that’s never gonna happen.” He shook his head and downed his drink.

“You both are sitting on things that are never going to happen.” She looks at him, thinking about his words. “Art loves Tashi and you love Art, that’s not gonna happen.” “So we’re both pathetic.” She said as she stood up. He stood up as well, “Well I don’t think you’re pathetic.” She shook her head, “No, I am. And it ends here.” “What are you going to do?” “Leave.” She begins walking away but Patrick caught up with her. “Wait, you’re just gonna leave?” She nodded. “Why? He’s not the only thing here.” “Yeah, but I was here for him.” She said. He took her hands, “Stay here for me.” She looked at him with a confused look. “Wait, what?” She took her hands back. “Don’t leave just because of him. Show him what he’s missing.” Y/N thought about his words and realized that it wasn’t worth it. “I tried Patrick. It didn’t work. Goodbye.” She said and walked to the elevators.

He watched her as she walked away but realized how Pathetic Art was for not wanting her. “Y/N.” He called and ran into the elevator. “What?” “Don’t leave. Please.” He begged. “Why do you want me to stay?” She asked, he sighed. “I want you to and not for Art. He’s a dumbass for not wanting you.” She turned to him. “Are you telling me to stay for the reason I think you are?” She asked, he nodded. Truth be told she’s always found Patrick attractive but never looked too much into it thanks to Art. “Art would never forgive us.” She said. “Yeah, but do you really care?” She didn’t, not anymore.

Y/N showed up to all the practices they had. Art saw her and was shocked that she wasn’t cheering for him but for Patrick. Patrick could tell that he was upset and smirked at him when he won and Y/N ran up to hug him. Art stared at them and everything hit him. He was pathetic and he lost a great woman because of it.

“Y/N, wait up.” Art called as he saw Y/N in the lobby. She turned towards him as he came running up to her. “What do you want?” He caught his breath and looked at her. “I’m sorry for what I've been doing all these years.” “Oh now you see me with Patrick and you realize?” “Wait, you're with Patrick?” She rolled her eyes, “Maybe.” He sighed. “Y/N please i’m sorry. You’re right I am pathetic. Tashi doesn’t love me and she never will. I know that now. I can’t let you walk away with him.” She sighed and looked down. He needed to be taught a lesson. She needs to walk away and be with Patrick, Art deserves that. But she loves him and no matter how many times he’s made her mad, she can’t bring herself to leave. She looked at him and pulled him in for a kiss. A kiss that he gladly returned. I guess we’re both pathetic, she thinks as they make out in the hotel lobby.

#challengers #challengers movie #mike faist #zendaya #josh o'connor #art donaldson #art donaldson x reader #art donaldson imagine #art donaldson x you #patrick zweig #patrick zweig x reader #patrick zweig x you #Patrick Zweig imagine #tashi duncan

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momowritings · 2 days

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K i l l i n g M e S o f t l y

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to compete with a ghost. Especially when that ghost was Toji Fushiguro's wife.

Wrd Ct: 20k

tags: angstyyy, established relationship, complicated relationships, non curse au, vaginal sex, missionary, wall sex (?), oral sex (f receiving), breeding kink, DILF Toji, grief/mourning, Toji is trying to be a good dad to Megumi, Toji has a praise kink, mentions of mamagumi, open ending

Part One, Part Two

Part Two

You managed to speak a grand total of five words from the time you got into bed with Toji to the moment you all sat in the car to watch Megumi board the train. Good night, good morning, and thanks. He wasn’t going to take more than he was given, but the way you even avoided his gaze was really getting under his skin. Both of his hands were glued to the steering wheel as he drove, and the music playing from the radio was the only thing to break the heavy silence in the car.

When you all arrived at the station, you held Megumi in your arms, giving him a tight hug. “Don’t be a stranger, alright? Please take care of yourself. And take your vitamins!”

Megumi laughed. “I’m still going to visit on the weekends.”

“I guess that’s true. I’m impressed that you go to a top school but it sucks that you have to live there. I was hoping to push off this experience until you got to college,” you sniffed. Megumi gave you one of his signature soft smiles.

“I’ll call you, I promise.”

“Thanks, Megs, but also, have fun. I’m not trying to smother you.”

Behind you and Megumi was Toji who watched you talk. Megumi caught his gaze over your shoulder. Toji gave you both enough space that you weren’t within earshot so Megumi could speak freely.

“I know it’s not really my place to talk about it…. but my dad really likes you. And I like having you around too. Please don’t give up on him yet.”

Megumi eyed his father again who was fiddling with the handle of his suitcase, trying his best to look unbothered. Toji has a lot of faults, yes, but Megumi could tell that he was trying. Megumi hated to think that a good thing for his dad was going to end so soon.

“I’m trying to be more understanding,” you said honestly. You turned your head to the side, looking at Toji out of the corner of your eye. “And I love your dad. You don’t have to worry about us, okay?”

You patted Megumi’s head and Toji finally came up behind you, giving his son an awkward pat down that was supposed to be a hug.

“Study hard. Remember how I taught you how to hold a knife and how to use it. Don’t stay out too late.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

You snorted at the short exchange, and you and Toji both watched Megumi get on board. You waved until the boy was too small to see through the window, then stood quietly together.

“I need to visit my friend later today. I’ll probably stay over there tonight.”

Toji raised his brow at you. You were really determined to stay away from him.

“This is the first time you mentioned this.”

You shrugged your shoulders and started to make your way back to the car. “I can’t predict when her ain’t-shit boyfriend is going to break her heart.”

Toji frowned. It didn’t have to be a double meaning, but he felt like it was. “Do you want me to drop you off?”

“Hmm, no thanks. If anything happens while I’m over there I’d like to have my own car.”

“Right… Anything else?”

You stood in front of the car door he opened for you. With your eyebrows drawn together you shook your head. “Are you expecting anything else?”

“No. Let’s go.”

Halfway back home you took Toji’s hand just to hold. You didn’t say anything, and he didn’t ask any questions, but when you laced each of your fingers in between his heart calmed down. He brought the back of your hand up to give it a kiss. Toji was getting into his own head. Maybe you weren’t trying to avoid him. He still had the chance to fix this.

When you got home you went right to packing your bag for your overnight stay. Toji watched you at the doorway, his arms crossed and his frown deepening. Not that he didn’t care for your friend but fuck did she have the worst timing. You folded over one of his hoodies to put in a duffle bag and he walked up behind you, carefully holding your waist to not break the delicate beads that you wore, and rested his head on your shoulder. You took a shower in the morning but he could still smell the shea butter scents on your skin. He took a deep breath in and sighed. You continued to fold clothes into your bag, trying to ignore his wandering hands that had your breath catching.

“What am I going to do with you gone?”

“I’m sure you’ll find some home project that needs improving,” you snorted.

“I’ll miss you. I mean it.”

You turned around to meet Toji’s eyes and wrapped your arms behind his neck. He gripped you even tighter, your back curving to his touch. He wondered if you could hear how fast his heart was beating in his chest. The idea of you staying mad at him before you left was eating him up and he needed the reassurance that you two were okay.

“Want me to cook something for you before I leave? I can make your favorite.”

Instead of answering, Toji hovered his mouth over yours. The tip of his nose brushed your cheeks, deciding on which side he should tilt his head. With parted lips you both shared the same air, silently waiting for the other to take the first step.

“Can I kiss you?”

You released a breathy laugh. “Since when did you start asking?” He held your chin with his thumb, and he dipped your head back to cover your lips with his. With a familiar hunger he gently pushed you on the bed, fumbling to get your bag on the floor without spilling all the contents inside.

“Toji–” you mumbled into his mouth, trying to clear the fog that was in your head. You weren’t mad, not as much as you were in the morning at least, but this still wasn’t the best idea. Not without having a serious conversation.

However, talking could wait after he was done working his tongue on you.

Toji left red hot trails down your body, littering your neck and chest until he got disrupted by your clothes. He took off your top with ease, taking time to admire your bronzy skin before resuming his worship. He lapped at one nipple and rolled the other with his thumb and forefinger until you were squirming beneath him, just to switch off and continue the tortuous process. Toji didn’t stop until you were panting. You grabbed a handful of his hair to pull him off your breast to smash your lips on his mouth.

You directed his hand to cup your sex, grinding shamelessly to get him to move on. Toji grinned in the middle of the kiss. He loved it when you dropped your reservations and started to want him in the same fashion. Your fingers scraped his scalp and he groaned, resuming his path down the hills and valleys of your body, stopping once he reached your navel to slowly slip off your shorts. He swirled his tongue over your belly button while removing your shorts and it sent a shock up your spine.

“You’re always into weird shit,” you groaned. Toji couldn’t do anything other than chuckle. He’s still on the tip of the iceberg of all the things he wanted to do to you, but he would get you there someday. With your legs bared he could finally see how you were dripping wet for him. Ever the tease he sucked on his two middle fingers, taking them out with an obnoxious pop to drag them over your folds. You arched your back to his touch, breathlessly urging him to give you more.

“I thought you always say that I rush it,” he smirked. His fingers glided over your sex, rubbing circles on your clit before dipping inside of your heat. You mewled, twisting underneath him, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “You could always stay home so it could last longer.”

“Je- ah! -Jess needs me,” you whimpered when his fingers curled against your spot that brought tears to your eyes while putting his thumb on your clit. Tears brimmed your eyes, a look that Toji enjoyed looking at and he climbed up again to kiss them away. He licked the salty liquid off of his lips, straying from your eyes so he could reach the junction of your neck. Toji continued to stimulate both spots, his fingers reaching deep inside of you and his thumb drawing out moans from you until you were kicking the sheets on the bed.

“I need you,” Toji murmured in your skin. He was unsure if you heard him. You gazed at him with watery eyes but you were too overcome with your speeding climax to catch what he said. He dropped to his knees, dragging you to the edge of the bed and threw your legs over his shoulders. He left butterfly soft kisses on the inside of your thighs, his fingers grazing over your quivering thighs until you gripped his hair.

“Don’t you wanna make it up to me?” You asked in a husky voice. The edges of your sentence trembled with anticipation and a challenge. His eyes widened then darkened at your words. He couldn’t really tell what you were thinking. He hated that; being left in the dark and completely at your mercy. This was his chance to have you only focus on him and how good he could make you feel.

Toji buried himself nose deep in between your legs, lapping up your arousal and you thrashed around in his tight grip, drenching his tongue with your come. Your thighs threatened to crush his head between your thighs. Toji didn’t mind it, only continuing his onslaught against your sanity. Your hips drew back away from him, looking for a break only for his mouth to follow incessantly. It wasn’t until you dragged his head out from your cunt that you got relief, but as soon as you did you still wanted more.

You could taste yourself on his tongue when you pulled him up, the remnants of your orgasm evident, shiny on his lips and down his chin. You were on your knees on the bed, making you the same height as him, and with your mouths welded together you worked your hands to get him out of his pants. Toji stood painfully hard. The moment you started to stroke his hot length a guttural groan escaped his lips. You kissed his jaw and neck until you got to his shirt.

“Take this off,” you ordered in a thick voice, and within the next second his shirt was flung to some obscure corner of the room. You harshly bit his shoulder once you had access to his pale skin, then ran your tongue over the area to soothe it.

“You know how to take care of me, baby,” you whispered in his ear, telling him exactly what he needed to hear. Over time you learned that Toji enjoyed the praise that fell from your lips, craved for it. His ears would take a fiery shade when you complimented him outside of the bedroom, so naturally it carried on inside of it as well. You took only a moment to break away to spit in your hand, mixing the saliva and precum that gathered to glide over him. You bumped noses with Toji to get him to focus on your face. He looked at you through his dark lashes and you focused more on his frenulum, making a tight circle right below his tip and his eyes rolled back into his head. His hand that rested on your hip had nails that dug into your skin. You thumbed his slit and spoke in his ear again.

“You’ve always been good to me,” you murmured. “Just take me like you mean it.”

You were on your back once again, pressed deep in the sheets with Toji deep in you. Every attempt to say his name was lost by his movements. Toji fucked you just as you asked, leaving no room for you to doubt him. He was rough, pushing you into different positions that made his length reach the end of you, his mouth sloppily covering yours until you were gasping for air. When he flipped you on your stomach, Toji’s unabashed moans went directly in your ear, fucking you through another orgasm out of you with his hand squeezing the front of your neck. He twisted, bit, and sucked your nipples so much prior that the collapsed position on the bed made them hypersensitive against the sheets. The tears rolling down your face attested to it. Your hands were clawing at the sheets from the overwhelming sensations.

Toji wondered if you could feel the desperation coursing through him. The apologies he wasn’t good at, the sincerity, the need he has for you, his love. He hoped it all translated well with every touch even if it was rough around the edges. It wasn’t until you were shaking again, your cunt messy from another climax that his strokes shortened. Toji threaded his fingers through your hand that was outstretched above your head, and you latched onto him like a lifeline. You cried out when he slammed into you one last time, painting your insides white.

He was resting in you, barely holding himself up to keep from crushing your frame completely. You shook off his hand that was holding him to snake it up to the back of his neck, pulling him down to your side for one last kiss. It was salty from sweat and tears yet sweet, clumsy, and reassuring. You were clearly tired, and he was still inside of you, but you were no longer in a rush to leave. You deflated back into the bed and Toji got up to get a wet cloth to wipe you down. Once you were clean he laid beside you and you gave him a sleepy smile, your eyelids half open.

“You win, for now. I’m too tired to go anywhere right now. Wake me up in an hour,” you murmured, already falling asleep by the end of your sentence. You looked so peaceful when sleeping, like all was well and there were no problems between the two of you. Toji wished that he could sleep untroubled in the same manner, but all he could do was watch you drift away with his arms around you.

~*~

Toji stared at his empty phone after he got off of a call with you. You had just let him know that you were at your friend’s house, and Megumi was away doing school stuff, so he was alone on a weekend, something that hasn’t happened in a very long time.

He poked at the device, his mind wandering. There were things to do, he would find something to do, but instead he typed in “therapists near me” in the search engine. It couldn’t be that bad. You were right, he never officially went through a grieving process, whatever the hell that meant. His wife died and the next ten years were a blur. He happened to run into his son and Megumi didn’t even know who he was. He never knew how much he looked like his mother and it snapped something back into place in Toji’s brain. All he knew is that he had to fix what he ruined all those years ago.

The fixing was still in process, and Megumi lets him off the hook way more than he fucking should, but maybe that’s why the mistakes and dreams were happening so often. Toji got his son back, he found you, and his life was… normal. It was something that he wanted since he was a child, but it came only after her death. His stormy life has finally become calm and now he has to sift through the broken pieces left behind.

Toji turned off his phone after reading reviews of a counselor. They all seemed full of shit. Clients talked about their feelings for a month and suddenly they were doing a lot better? Right. The feelings he had will pass, they always do. He didn’t need someone to tell him that what happened all those years ago fucked with his mind. The gap in his memory was a clear indicator already. He didn’t want to go poking around there either.

After long deliberation Toji decided to go to a bar he used to frequent in the beginning of the relationship. The both of you became homebodies the longer you dated, but after he brought you there the first time it was the one place he found that the two of you could agree on going first and letting the night play out after when you weren’t to sure on what else do to for date nights but wanted to get out of the house. Upon entering and taking his section on the counter the familiar face of one of the bartenders came to serve him. With a smile without words she immediately started to prepare a cosmo for him out of habit, because it was something you ordered. Toji had to stop the bartender once he realized what she was doing.

“She’s not with me tonight.”

Her eyes went wide with surprise. The only woman Toji continually had around him was suddenly no longer here. Toji could see the stories building up in her head and immediately put a stop to it.

“She’s out with her friend. Girl’s night.”

“Ah, that makes sense. I was worried there for a second,” the bartender giggled. “Just water for you still?”

“Actually, I’ll have a glass of whisky. Neat.”

Once again the eyebrows on the bartender almost touched her hairline. He has never taken a sip of alcohol no matter how many times he stepped foot inside of the bar, no matter what sugary concoction you ordered, so she never thought she’d see the day. She snapped out of her astonishment when Toji gave her an annoyed stare and quickly made his glass. She slid it over to him and he drank it in a flash.

“Another one,” he ordered, and gingerly she took the glass.

Toji eyed the TV overhead, half listening to the program playing when he heard a familiar voice come from beside him. The bartender handed him his second glass when the guest guffawed at Toji.

“I didn’t think I would ever see you again.” A sharply dressed Korean man slipped into the seat next to Toji at the bar and it made him gawk for a second. As always, a cigarette hung from the other man’s lips, unlit and carefully balanced. His tie that he usually wore was nowhere around his neck, and the top buttons of his shirt were undone.

“Well you did say the only time you ever want to see me again is in hell,” Toji remarked after the moment of unexpectedness passed.

“That I did say. Almost thought I died for a second.” Toji gave the man a side eye, then they both let out wry laughs.

“What are you doing here, Shiu?”

“Nothing you’re interested in. I heard you retired.”

“Heard right,” Toji grunted. He stared down his glass and downed the rest of the ambery liquid. It stung on the way down, but he was on the third glass and still didn’t feel any buzz like he had hoped. Drinking never did much for Toji. He didn’t know why he thought tonight would be any different.

“Never thought I’d live to see the day.” Shiu shook his head in disbelief. He worked with Toji when he was at his lowest for years doing unsavory business. He knew that he was dealing with a broken man, someone who would take anything that was given to him because it would be better than working with his blood relatives, so when the news finally got around to him he couldn’t believe that Toji finally decided to stop working underground. He had a hard time imagining what Toji could do anywhere else. Seeing him in the flesh, alive and relatively well was a sight to behold.

“Usually I wouldn’t pry because it’s none of my goddamn business, but I’m feeling a little loose tonight. What made you leave? What do you do now?”

Toji waved down the bartender to fill his glass once again, and he gulped the drink down with a sigh before answering. “I got my kid back and I teach other spineless fuckers how to defend themselves for a living.”

Shiu gave him an incredulous look. “Megumi lives with you? And you just help people now?”

“Yeah. Why do you look like that’s impossible for me to do or something?”

“The last time I asked you about your kid you didn’t even remember his name and you used to blow people’s brains out for cash. Sorry if I find it hard to believe,” Shiu chuckled.

“Better believe it.”

“So what’s the problem? I find you here after all this time, drinking when you told me before that it has no effect on you. The only other thing that made you this way was lady issues.”

Toji ran his finger over the edge of his glass silently. If Shiu wasn’t being annoying before, he was now.

“Seriously? You? You married again? Third time’s the charm,” Shiu winked.

“I’m not married.”

“If she’s not your wife then why the hell are you moping around like this?”

“Fucking hell, Shiu. I like you better when you don’t talk.”

“Suck it up. You’ve piqued my interest.”

Shiu finally lit the cigarette that he held in his lips and called the bartender over for his drink. After a long drag, Shiu released the smoke. It billowed up in front of both of the men, its tendrils grazing Toji’s face that made his nose itch.

“So you got a woman. She’s not your wife but what, you’re thinking about marrying her? Being nervous about that kind of thing is not something I believe would bother you so no, that’s not it. But maybe it is. Maybe marriage isn’t the problem right now, but it will be pretty soon. And seeing how you suddenly got soft, a fight that you guys had is shaking you up. You’ve always been pretty attentive to the few women in your life that you actually liked outside of a place to sleep.”

“Shut the fuck up,” Toji gritted.

“Right on the money,” Shiu smirked. “I happen to like you more when you don’t take yourself as seriously. So what is it? She must be terrible and won’t let you do anything or you guys are fighting all the time and you’re starting to think it’s not worth it.”

“Neither. Believe it or not, I’m the problem.”

“I figured. I was just trying to be on your side for a little bit.”

Toji stared down at the empty cup as he spoke. The words were moving faster than the ability he had to actually process what he was admitting to. It seems like all the drinks were finally catching up to him. He confessed everything before he could bring himself to shut up.

“We’ll be doing great, her and I, and then Megumi’s mom starts showing up again. She lurks in my mind, haunts my dreams, creeps into our lives. I'm calling my late wife’s name instead of her and it’s breaking her down. She doesn’t even want to be around me right now.”

It was so silent between them that Toji had to look up to Shiu. He had the stick between his fingers, the ember smoldering and Shiu’s eyebrows were raised for the umpteenth time.

“Of all the things you could have said, I wasn’t expecting that. Could you blame the girl?” “Why do you think I’m here?”

“Give her some time to cool off but you fucked up.”

Toji tried to wave the bartender over once again but Shiu stopped him. Toji gave him a hard stare, one that could kill a man if the man wasn’t Shiu.

“I know you don’t do this often but you will be shit faced if you keep that up. Leave now while you can still walk in a straight line.”

“Yeah right.” Toji shrugged him off. He didn’t feel that much different, but he took Shiu’s advice. He left a hefty tip in his place and left the bar, getting in his car and driving on autopilot until he suddenly was in front of a graveyard. Toji hasn’t been here before, even the day that they buried her. He was just told the location and avoided it at all costs.

Your voice rings in his ear again, telling him that he could talk to you about his wife if it made it easier. It still baffled him how he managed to find someone as understanding as you when he didn’t even have the balls to attend the funeral. Her grave was, as expected, large, gray, and cold. He stood in front of it, not saying anything, dusting off the leaves that piled on the top of the stone.

“I met someone new,” he started, shocking himself but he kept going. “I think you’d like her. She’s like you in some things, completely different in others.”

Wind blew through Toji’s hair and he realized that he left his jacket in the car. Or maybe at the bar. He hoped that wherever you were you had a jacket. You got cold so easily, your fingers turning to icicles at the slightest temperature drop.

“I’m taking care of Megumi the best way I can. I fucked up in the beginning, almost ruined everything, but he’s a great kid. All his best qualities are from you.” Toji sighed and looked up at the starless sky. There was no moon either, just an expanse of darkness that stretched in all directions. A helicopter with blinking lights passed through his vision, breaking the sea of black.

“I love her. You’d probably say some shit like you want me to be happy, and I’m trying to be. It’s harder than it looks,” Toji huffed out a dry laugh. He looked back at the grave.

“Thank you.”

~*~

When you showed up to Jess' place she was exactly how you expected her to be; angry. She had heavy metal music blaring through her speaker so loud you worried for her neighbors. She was actually in a much better mood than you expected. Before when she had first broken up with her boyfriend (along with the second and third time), you were welcomed to big, soppy tears running down her face and a handful of tissues clenched tight in her fist. You guessed that with each breakup Jess hardened her heart more until there were no more tears left to give and only anger remained.

You let her get her emotions out, tidying up the place while she told you every shitty thing her boyfriend did, things that you had said that he was going to do because you already knew that he was bad news, until she was out of breath from screaming and talking and finally sat down on the couch with you.

“Feeling better now, babe?”

Jess held a pillow in front of her and her face was obscured by it, her answer coming out muffled. “No.”

“But you will be. He was only holding you back,” you reassured.

“Yeah. Sure. Whatever. I hope he falls in a ditch somewhere.”

“Me too,” you said, handing her a wine glass and you both sat in silence for a few beats. You were lost in your thoughts full of Toji when Jess called out your name.

“Your boyfriend– his last name is Fushiguro, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“I was talking to a client today. More like listening in on his conversation. Real sick fucker, kept calling all the girls sluts and whores, and not in a cute way. Unfortunately, he wanted me to dance for him in the booth, and I heard him talk about Toji. I mean, I don't know about you, but I don’t think that there’s that many Toji's out there. Anyway, this blond motherfucker keeps talking about trying to find a way to bring Toji back into the family. Whether he means that literally or it’s some yakuza shit, I don’t know. What I do know is that he said that he wished he knew if Toji was with anybody so that they can use them to bring him in. Obviously your Toji’s girlfriend now, and you mentioned that he used to have a wife. I just thought it was strange. This guy’s last name was Zen’in though. He mentioned it like, 50 times. I think he’s supposed to be important.”

“It’s gotta be some type of coincidence.”

“Yeah, I fucking hope so. Do you really know Toji? I mean blondie was a bitchboy but the other guys he was surrounded with… I don’t know. If it is your Toji, he’s dangerous.”

“… Toji isn’t like that.”

Jess gave you a hard stare. Neither of you believed the lie you were trying to convince yourself of. You knew that Toji must be a lot more dangerous than he let on, but it seemed to be in the past.

“Anymore! Whatever he did before he met me is none of my concern. He has a kid that he’s very devoted to and he’s been… well he says that he loves me. I just have to trust him.”

“Right, until he gets you killed.”

“Jess!”

“Don’t shoot the messenger! I’m not wishing any harm on you, just be careful.”

“Oh wow thanks for putting that thought in my head,” you sarcastically grumbled. You huddled yourself in a small ball on her couch and didn’t notice Jess studying you intensely.

“So what’s up with you?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean you barely talked about Toji since you came in.”

You gave you a pointed look. “You called me on the phone crying that you're finally over your boyfriend and I’m supposed to talk about mine?”

“True… but this feels different. You didn’t even bring him up in passing. You’ve said nothing about Toji.”

“Right now it is about you, love.” It was a dodgy answer, both you and Jess knew it, and she stared you down until you cracked and told her what had happened the night before and everything preceding it. She winced at the mention of Toji’s late wife the same time you did and went into deep thought.

“So how are you feeling?”

“Like an asshole. I know it’s really not his fault.”

“You have been dating for how long now?”

“Gonna be six months pretty soon.”

“Six months? You’re better than me,” Jess side-eyed you.

“He was married. That’s a big deal.” You didn’t even know why you were getting defense for Toji. It’s been bothering you too, a lot more than you let out to him. Now you felt like you actually had a reason to pull back instead of it all being in your head.

“Married yeah, but been with you for a while now. You’d think he’d try not to mix you up. What if… what if you’re a replacement? Like he doesn’t actually see you. ”

The thought has crossed your mind before and you fell into a deep silence. If you had been asked this just a few weeks ago you would’ve confidently been able to say no. However, now… now it seemed totally plausible.

“You could remind him of his wife so much and that’s why he likes you.”

“Stop,” you muttered, but Jess didn’t hear you.

“I know you don’t know anybody who was close to her but what if you two look alike? What if—“

“Shut up! What is wrong with you?”

“I was just saying—“

“It’s his late wife, and I’m not anything like her.” Your voice was cold and heavy, settling in the air with a deadly finality. Jess was stunned, but then she gave you a saddened smile.

“You don’t know that, but you’re right, I'm meddling again. You know what we should do? Go out. I’m tired of being the entertainer, I want to be entertained.”

You were grateful for the change of sec energy after the conversation, even if you had to get ready in a whirlwind. Jess put you in one of her dresses and you were glad that you two were similar sizes and styles. You choses a simple silk dress that went down just past your knees with a high collar but an open back. Jess, who never gave up the chance to show off her legs, donned a plum dress with a halter neck and a skirt that flared and stopped mid thigh . Low yet stylish black heels were clad to both of your feet, as you decided that you would take a taxi and walk to the club instead of trying to find parking with your car. To your surprise Jess chose a jazz club, and music poured from the open door down the street, soothing and flowing like honey that calmed your soul. Immediately you thought of how you would love to go here again with Toji and you shook the thought out of your head.

“I'm here with Jess,” you muttered to yourself.

Jess turned around and cocked her head to the side. “Did you say something?”

“No. Nothing. Let’s head inside.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

The night was supposed to be about Jess, and you weren’t going to let her focus on you like this. You dragged her inside of the establishment, your eyes adjusting to the dimly lit space covered in a thin veil of smoke. You couldn’t hear it from the sidewalk, but now inside here was a woman singing on the stage. The embodiment of old Hollywood, a silver sequined dress glittered on her smooth, caramel skin as she sang romantically into the mic. Her body swayed side to side, getting lost in the music, drowning in it, and you wished that you could be absorbed by the melody like she was.

It was Jess’s turn to drag you around since you fell into the trance of the singer, and she chose a booth tucked away on the wall. You still had a great view of the stage, but close enough to the bar.

Jess went to do her thing, standing at the bar and sitting pretty and batting her eyes to the people around her. It didn’t take long for a drink to be offered to her, and it worked like a charm every single time. You had thought that was the case for you as well when a strawberry margarita was brought to you at the table by a waiter, but when they pointed in a direction opposite of Jess you were more inclined to search for the sender.

A familiar face, or rather faces, gazed back at you. White tufts of icy hair, crystalline blue eyes peering about black circular shaded, and a million watt smile flashed at you while the other face had dark pupils and sharper eyes, but a comforting grin you knew well.

You waved for Satoru Gojo and Suguru Geto to come over to your section with a wide smile.

“Satoru? Suguru? What are you guys doing here?”

You stood up to hug the both of them and inspected their faces. It has only been a few years since you last saw them in college. Gojo’s hands remained on your back while Surugu gave you a recap of the last few years without you. Just then, Jess came back with two drinks in her hand and a confused look. You quickly introduced her to your old friends.

“Jess! This is Suguru and Satoru… I met them back in college,” you explained. As soon as Suguru’s name left your mouth Jess zeroed in on him with a seductive stare.

“So you're one of her friends. I was afraid that I was the only one she got,” Jess purred. She didn't even bother with Satoru, only giving him a quick nod of acknowledgement before giving her undivided attention back to Suguru.

“It looks like you’ve been taking good care of her,” Suguru praised, returning the interest with his own heavy gaze. When he took Jess’s hand you couldn’t believe your eyes. You lost your friend to Suguru the moment he opened his mouth. Turning to Toru instead, you pulled him down to sit next to you.

“While they do that over there,” you said, “Tell me what’s been going on with you! Are you still drinking straight sugar for the hell of it?” “Ha-ha,” Satoru laughed dryly. A bright smile was still plastered on his face. You took him in full, his casual black t-shirt and thighs clad with dark washed jeans, and his signature black frames pushing up his hair and framing his face. He wore a fresh and sweet smelling cologne that even you would get. On the outside, Satoru seemed great. However, you’ve known him for a long time, managed to become someone who he cared enough about to call a friend and you took the title seriously. You knew how well he hides his emotions because he’d rather keep things light. He did it extremely well that sometimes it was hard to tell what exactly could be wrong.

“Stop psychoanalyzing me before you burn holes through my head.

“That’s my line, high beams.” you shoved him with your shoulder. “I just feel like we never talk anymore. I’ve missed you.”

A sly smile crept over his face. “Told you that America wasn’t all that. You just had to learn it the hard way.” “Yeah, you’re right there.” You took large gulps of your drink until it was finished and sighed. Gojo raised his brow.

“What’s that about?”

“Ask me after my third drink,” you said, calling the waiter over.

“Drinking away your woes has never worked for you. In fact, I remember when you drank so much you got confused and said that I was kidnapping you.”

You threw your head in your hands. “That was one time!” Heat started to creep up your face as Gojo recounted all your embarrassing drinking moments.

“One time? Maybe the kidnapper thing, sure, but then there was the time that you broke down sobbing, and I mean big fat tears rolling down your face, at a deer just crossing the road. You tried to take it home with you.”

You groaned but there was humor in it. You’ve seen the videos of how you act around animals, and Gojo was never too far, oftentimes scooping you up to take you home since you could barely walk. He kept good care of you whenever you went out.

“Suddenly you think that every animal is the most beautiful creature in the world and you get sad that they don’t know that.” “It’s true. There’s only eight species that can identify themselves in the mirror.” “Of course you know that. Nerd.”

“Shut up,” you laugh. “I’m the nerd while you have an electrical engineering degree?”

“Would geek fit better? You’re the one who becomes a hyper vigilant Snow White when you get drunk, spewing animal and space facts just cause.”

“I’m not gonna stop drinking and I'm not apologizing. I give you valuable information whether you know it or not,” you shrug. Your next drink was brought to you, and you tried to drink it a little slower through the straw. It didn’t work, as you were suckling on it faster than expected as Gojo caught you up on his personal life. He always amazed you with all the projects he had going on simultaneously. It made your head spin, but you held deep respect for him. For the care free act he put on he was incredibly considerate of those who were younger than him, and always ready to challenge those above him if he thought they were out of line. You envied Satoru’s assertiveness, and when you finally got to your third drink, he asked you what was wrong once again.

“Just silly relationship stuff. I’ll get over myself soon enough,” you tried to wave him off. Your tolerance was nothing like it was during college, and your words were starting to slow and crash into each other. You nursed the drink close to your chest and Satoru sighed. He pulled it out of your hand, resting the glass on the table while you whined.

“Toruuuu, stop.”

“Tell me what’s really wrong. You get everybody to talk about their feelings and shit but you want people to overlook yours.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” you mumbled. “I came out tonight to forget about the whole thing.”

On the floor Suguru and Jess swayed in each other’s arms, whispering in each other’s ear and giggling. He looked at her with such adoring eyes, something much deeper than the lust you first saw. Jess was a bubbly mess in his arms but she was enjoying herself. When his back was facing you she gave you an ecstatic look, mouthing a “thank you” that made you smirk.

You could never get Toji to dance with you. Said it wasn't his thing, and after a couple times of asking and being rejected you dropped the matter altogether. It didn’t make you want to dance any less, it hurts all the same. Gojo saw you looking at all the couples circling around and slid out of the booth. He offered you his hand, and you raised your brow suspiciously.

“What? You don’t like dancing anymore?”

Gojo wasn’t Toji, and you have never compared them in your mind ever before, but in that moment you had wished that Toji would be a little bit like him. You took Toru’s hand and he took you to the small dance floor, twirling you around to the song. You barely caught the lyrics, but it was a sweet melody about first love. You rested your cheek on Gojo’s chest and he carried the tempo of your dance.

“Thank you, Satoru,” you muttered, sure that he didn’t hear you. But he did, and he leaned back to look down at you with concerned eyes.

“I haven't done anything yet. What did your boyfriend do to you?”

Your bottom lip wavered to answer, ready to spill your troubled heart’s concerns when the slow song ended and an upbeat instrumental song started to play. Trumpets were introduced, charging the air with electricity and everybody on the floor started to dance more vigorously. Your face lit up, already forgetting what you were about to say and you twisted and spun around with Gojo, matching the beat, flowing to the rhythm, laughing just as happily as the music sounded. You only went back once to finish off your drink, and you danced until your feet were throbbing. Before Jess left the dancefloor she winked at you and told you that she would be leaving with Surguru, giving you a sly smile. Gojo offered to take you home, and drunkenly you agreed.

You sang badly to the radio on the drive back to your place, basically yelling songs into Satoru’s ear but he joined in with you, singing right back to you. He matched your energy until you were dissolving into a fit of giggles from singing lyrics entirely backwards. When reached your home Gojo held your heels and bag in his hands while you tiptoed across the stones to get to the front door.

“Bag please!”

“Still have manners even when you're drunk,” Gojo laughed. He held your purse open for you to rummage through. You were both looming over the purse and accidentally bumped heads. Gojo’s hand immediately went to rub your forehead instead of his own and you nervously giggled.

“Careful. You could’ve given me a concussion with that hard head of yours,” he teased.

“Oh fuck you,” you laughed. Your eyes were trapped by his until his lips became the prettier picture. Always pink and plush, you started to drift closer to his face until you finally got some sense.

“God Satoru, why did you have to come back now?” You tore your eyes away from his lips and shoved your face in his shoulder. Gojo wasn’t going to stop you from kissing him. He should have if he was a better man. However, he has always wanted to be with you, and you never gave him the chance, so he would’ve taken anything you gave him. Now that he has settled down, he would have been your boyfriend.

He spoke first to break the silence. “Do you have a headache?”

“No… I should get my keys now. I’m cold,” you mumbled.

You couldn’t find your keys in the bag, and you patted yourself down as if you had them in your pockets but you were wearing a very pocketless dress. He could already see the tears forming on your lash line and wanted to soothe you.

“What if they're at Jess’ place?” Satoru said to calm you down.

“Why would Jess steal my keys? I thought we were friends?” You were about to start crying. Just then, the front door opened, and Gojo was greeted by a face he never thought he’d see again.

“Fushiguro?”

“Toji!”

You jumped in Toji’s arms and he caught you with ease. He came to the front door because of all the noise he was hearing. Never would he had thought that it was Sataru fucking Gojo and his woman bickering outside.

“Toji I missed you so much. I sent pictures. Did you see them?”

“Yeah. I saw them. You’re gorgeous.” Each word came out with daggers thrown in Gojo's direction.

Toji’s grip on your waist got tighter as you peppered his face with kisses, his stare unbroken from Gojo’s. The first and last target that he wasn’t able to kill all those years ago came back to bite him in the ass. Of course you of all people knew who Gojo was. Gojo looked at the scene like he walked into an alternate universe. You were with Toji. Toji was with you. This was the man that had you moping at the club.

“Thank you, Sa–Satoru,” you hiccuped. “Don’t be a stranger.”

“You do the same. And let me know if you have any other relationship issues you want to talk about,” he smirked to Toji, and the other man scowled.

“I told you, it’s nothing,” you said in a sing-song voice. “I’m really sleepy now.”

“I bet you are,” Toji said in your ear. Toji gave Gojo one last look. There was no real emotion on his face anymore. Satoru was only able to thinly veil the annoyance in his voice when Toji dismissed him. “Let’s go to bed.”

Once inside you led Toji to the bathroom, stripping down naked and stepping straight into the shower. You beckoned him to join you, and he grabbed your shower cap that you forgot so you don’t get your hair wet. Toji took the washcloth from your hands, wanting to wash you himself. This was routine to him, something that made him feel calm. You had the faint smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke lingering on your skin, yet there was still your natural scent of you underneath. He kissed your shoulder, turning you back into the spray of the water, and you peered up at him. You brushed his hair out of his forehead to see him clearly.

“Did I mention how I missed you?” You giggled.

“I missed you too, doll.”

Toji lifted your chin up to look at him. His thumb rubbed the flat surface right below your lip and he kissed you softly once. It wasn’t even a whole day since you were gone and he had missed this feeling more than you could know. The touch of your lips was enough to get him hard, and it was starting to show.

“I’m never gonna drink again,” you groaned, dropping your head into his chest. “Thank god I don’t have work tomorrow.” “You’re really lucky,” he mumbled. “How do you… who was that guy?”

You took your washcloth out of his hand and grabbed his own. After lathering it with soap you started to scrub him down, admiring his body in the lowlight.“What guy?”

“That guy that brought you home,” Toji said through clenched teeth.

“Toru? He’s just a friend.”

You even had a nickname for him.

“Just friends? Since when?” Toji hated the way he sounded. It was needy, prying, totally unlike him. He shouldn’t give a damn, you were back in his arms, going to sleep in his bed. Why couldn’t he just let it go?

“Since uni. We weren’t in the same college but our friend groups overlapped.”

“That’s it?”

You slowed the way you washed him. The questions started to feel more loaded, and you were sobering up. Your eyebrows were drawn together when you answered.

“I mean, yeah? I never dated him, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.”

“I thought you went out with Jess.” Not a question this time, yet the air felt heavier. You were aware of how cold the water was when you usually like to take hot showers.

“I was with her. She wanted to go to this jazz club and we met up with friends. Jess left with a guy and Toru took me home.”

“Isn’t he such a great guy,” Toji said through clenched teeth. “So instead of calling me you climbed into some bastard’s car, drunk , at one in the morning.”

“He’s not just some guy, Toji. I’m sorry, I should’ve called you but I know him.”

“That’s what you think,” Toji scoffed.

You scoffed right back at him, now crossing your arms over your chest. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Toji was getting too emotional. He tried to grab the washcloth out of your hand but you stopped him. You both gave each other hard stares with anger seeping into both of your expressions. Toji already spoke too much, ready to let it go, but you were just getting started.

“You can’t just move past that. What’s the problem this time?”

Toji rolled his eyes. “You make it sound like I always have a problem.”

“I wouldn’t know, you never tell me anything,” you fired back.

“There’s no problem. We’re wasting water.”

You turned the faucet so the shower stopped then stood your ground. This was a side of you that Toji didn’t see often. The stubborn one, the immovable object against his usually unstoppable force. He would be on the sidelines when this happened, watching you deal with family members or other people outside with this unwavering spirit that wouldn’t back down, but now it was turned on him.

“There. Water’s not wasting. You want to get something off your chest? Say it.”

“I just didn’t think I’d have to tell you to call for me if you wanted to come home. I know your phone wasn’t broken because you sent me pictures. I expect you to tell me where you’re going and call me when you want to leave. I think that’s the least you can fucking do,” he said through gritted teeth.

You pinched your eyebrows together. “I was drunk Toji, and it was a quick decision that really doesn’t mean anything.” In the back of your head you knew that you sounded like a hypocrite. What he was asking wasn’t a hard request. In fact, it was the very same thing you had asked of Toji when you first started to date. Toji would just up and disappear for hours. Granted, you could always find him at his dojo or in his garage, but he never told you that. You didn’t want to know every little thing that he was doing but a general “I’m okay” would suffice. You knew this, yet you still couldn’t stop the malice crawling up your throat.

“The least you could do is call me by the right name but I guess we’re both having problems with simple tasks.”

Your words rang in the air for a long while. You wanted to regret them coming out of your mouth but you didn’t. It’s been eating you up since you heard her name. She must’ve been a gorgeous lady with a name like that. You couldn’t find any information on her, and it’s not like Toji kept pictures around, yet Toji’s late wife haunted you. Somebody that you have never met had permanent residence in your head. It made you sick.

You took things to hell and Toji didn’t push back. He didn’t know how else to comfort you, to convince you that he was in love with you, now, and always has been. Flashes of Toji going to see her grave earlier popped into his mind. Even though he was there, all he could think about was you. Toji thought he couldn’t explain himself that well, so he settled for something else.

“You’re not her and I don’t want you to be .”

Hot tears ran down your face before you even knew that they were there. Toji cupped your face and used his thumb to wipe away your tears. “I thought I could let go of this. I thought I would be mature enough about this whole situation but I’m not. I can see it in your eyes, Toji,” you sobbed. “It only happened one time but if another slip up like that happened I won’t be able to handle it. I think– I think I need a break.”

Toji froze. You held his wrists and pried them off of his face, putting them back to his side and wiped your nose with the back of your hands. The cold was starting to settle in his bone, a chill that he was familiar with but alway unprepared for. He waited for you to explain yourself and you sucked in a deep breath.

“We did this whole thing pretty fast, don’t you think? I mean– it’s just–”

“A break. You want to leave.”

You tried to clear up the confusion. “I want to have some time to think. That’s all. Stay at my place for a little while. I need to think everything through.”

“Think what through? So what, I’ve been keeping you hostage? Forcing you to be with me the whole time? Fine, go ahead.”

Blood was rushing in Toji’s ears; he could barely hear his own voice. He left you behind in the shower stumbling over your own words to calm him down. Take a break. What a stupid fucking concept. If you want to leave, just say that. Why would he hold hope for you to come back to him?

“Toji, wait. Listen to me!” You hastily wrapped a towel around your body, calling behind him but he was not stopping.

“You already said everything. Go pack your stuff already. I won’t be holding you back anymore.”

“I didn’t mean it like that–”

“What the hell could you have meant?” He growled. He regretted it the second you shrank away from him. It was never Toji’s intention to make you feel small. He sighed and rubbed his hand down his face.

“You don’t get to talk to me like that,” you whispered. The glassiness in your eyes was not lost to him. You stomped back into the bathroom, coming out with your toiletries in a basket and putting them on the floor. From the closet you brought out your suitcase you had bought the time you had flown to Malaysia with Toji. You started to open the dressers, throwing your clothes haphazardly inside. You put on your clothes to ditch the towel and grabbed everything that was yours on top of the dresser.

“Stop,” Toji said in a low voice. If you genuinely didn’t hear him or ignored him, he couldn’t tell. You continued to move like a whirlwind around the room.

“Stop. Just stop,” he repeated, grabbing your arm and you reeled away like he was a red hot iron rod.

“I just wanted you to be better, Toji. That’s all I ever wanted. You’re not the only one who’s dealt with loss, you know? There are steps you can take and you refused them all and I am tired . I love you but clearly that’s not enough anymore. If you love me, let me go.”

The white in your eyes and the tip of your nose was tinged red. The tiredness that you spoke of physically manifested itself, and Toji saw just how much of a toll it was taking on your body. He didn’t want to hurt you anymore.

“It’s not safe to leave right now. Wait until the morning. Please.”

The “please” was your undoing. Not only was he right, but you also didn’t have your keys. They were still at Jess’ place and getting a ride this early in the morning would be impossible. You gave him a curt nod.

“You sleep here. I’ll sleep in the living room.”

You didn’t say anything to him when he left the room. Toji sat on the couch plunged in darkness, listening to you shuffle around in the shared bedroom until the light went out. He sat there until the sun rose from the horizon and he didn’t remember when he actually fell asleep. He didn’t dream of anything. All he knew is that when he finally came to you were gone, your stuff cleared out as much as it could be with a note to throw everything else out.

~*~

Toji’s finger hovered over your name on his phone. He shouldn’t call you. He’s the one who pushed you away, told you to leave if that’s what you wanted to do. But after seeing you tonight for the first time in weeks, at the bar that you used to go to together, with with that white haired fucker you looked happy. You were as gorgeous as always, and Toji could almost taste the lip gloss that you were wearing, knew the exact shade it was as it left a mark on the glass you drank. You hung off Gojo’s body, hooking your arms with his, resting your head on his shoulder, giggling and holding his face the whole night. Toji was sure that neither of you saw him, and watching the both of you felt like he was intruding. Jealousy reared its nasty head on Toji, making his chest tight. He wondered how long you’ve known him for. You never brought Gojo up before, not once, but his past always had a funny way of sneaking up on him. Toji left before he did something reckless.

He couldn’t be mad at anyone other than himself. Now he sat in his car after spending hours driving around the city to clear his head, time slipping through his fingers. Toji’s phone dimmed, a sign of inactivity from his inability to make a decision. He hasn’t been able to reach you in weeks. Every call went to voicemail, but lately they’ve been ringing through with no answer. You must’ve blocked him, but he’s unblocked now, right? The worst that could happen is that you don’t pick up, again, or he could call and call like he’s been doing and you do pick up, but only to tell him to never speak to you again. It would be deserved, but at least he’ll get to hear your voice one last time.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, pressing the call button and waits. The first ring goes though, then the second, then the third. “Come on,” he urged. You always have your phone on you. He imagined you sitting down somewhere, just watching his call vibrate your phone. Finally, on the last ring the screen changed, the time starting to show that you had picked up.

“Hello?” It didn’t sound like you were in the middle of anything, but it was hard to tell. You could’ve been laid right up underneath Gojo for all Toji knows. You didn’t sound angry either. There was surprise in your voice, but nothing else.

“Hello? Toji, are you alright?”

He spent so much time analyzing your voice he forgot to actually respond. He cleared his voice before answering. “I’m good. How are you?”

“I’m fine. Tired.” You shifted, the sound of sheets settling around you and Toji tried to imagine where you were. Hopefully in your own bed with no one else in it. “Is– Is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“Nothing happened. Megumi’s okay too,” he said before you could ask. “I just wanted to hear your voice.”

It was a truthful admission, even if it stirred from jealousy. Nothing could be heard from your line besides your soft breathing. Toji’s finger impatiently tapped on the steering wheel. Usually when he says that he likes the sound of your voice you would turn your face away from him to hide the lopsided grin that would grow on your face. He wondered if you were fighting back the same reaction now.

“Oh,” is all you said. Oh . Oh well? Oh no? Oh what?

“I’m going to come over. Is that alright?”

“Right now?”

“Yes. Now.”

“Why?”

Toji already started to drive in your direction. He needed to have more than just your voice. He didn’t want to end things with you like this. He didn’t want it to end at all.

“What, are you busy or something? Got somebody over there?”

“No. I just wasn’t expecting a visit so soon. And I’m surprised that you even asked. Usually you just show up at my place like it's yours too,” you laughed. Music to his ears, that what your laugh was to him.

“I thought I would use those manners you’re always talking about. I’ll be there in twenty.”

You sighed heavily. “Bab– Toji. I don’t think this is a good–”

“I just want to talk.”

“Just talk?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“Don’t flip this on me. I tried talking to you and that didn’t work. It never does. I’m not sure if I should even let you in.” There it was. The hardness in your voice that had finality like you were truly done with him.

“I’m not gonna force you to.” There was nothing left he could say that he thought would convince you. You hated being told what to do, so this was Toji’s last chance to give you the final say. If you told him no, he would turn his car around and lick his wounds later. Explaining to Megumi what happened between the two of you would be a pain in the ass, and getting used to you not being by his side would be hard to get over, but he could do it… at least he thought so. He would try his hardest to avoid that outcome.

“Fine. See you in twenty minutes. To talk ,” you acquiesced.

“Right. See you.”

He was one lucky son of a bitch.

Toji might’ve been speeding since he made it to your apartment in 10 minutes instead. It’s been months since he’s been in there, the last time being when he helped you pack up a few boxes to put in his house. When he climbed up to your floor and knocked on your door, you cracked the entrance open to look at him. You didn’t open the door all the way, instead using your body to block the rest of your space.

“Aren’t you going to let me in? You said that I could come,” he said.

You rubbed your forehead. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

You looked exactly how he imagined. A satin bonnet covering your head, a big, loose t-shirt from an old rock band, bare legs, and fuzzy socks. It was your nighttime uniform that he’s seen a thousand times before. He just wished it was his shirt instead. “Want anything to drink?”

You . “No,” Toji grunted, following into your space and closing the door.

Your apartment looked like you had never left. It’s like he didn’t even make a dent in your life like you did his. You walked over to the kitchen, pulling out some health drink you were obsessed with. He bought that exact flavor when he saw it at the store just to see if it had grown on him. It didn’t, but he drank it down. He stared at your fingers and hands, then your neck as the liquid moved through you. His favorite place to leave a mark on your skin was bare.

“Aren’t you gonna say something?” You questioned after licking your lips clean. Toji cleared his throat.

“I’m going to therapy now,” he announced with no preamble. Your eyebrows raised up in an instant. You had no idea what he was going to say, but it definitely wasn’t this.

“Th–that’s good. Really good, Toji. How is it going?”

“It’s not the condescending bullshit I thought it was going to be.”

You gave him a small smile. “So it's not that bad. I’m really proud of you. I could’ve recommended it till I was blue in the face but actually going and being consistent is where all the hard work lies.”

“It’s not that hard. Should’ve gone sooner.” Toji cuffed the back of his neck that was heating up from your praise. He couldn’t even look at your face, instead focusing on your fuzzy socks moving around. “I didn’t know how much I was bottling up.”

You reached for his hand to hold it. It was a simple gesture, something that you have done a million times before, yet Toji’s heart hammered in his chest like it wanted to jump out. “I’m glad you're having a great experience. I mean it. I also went back to therapy myself to work some things out internally.”

You tried to return your hand back to your side but Toji wrapped around your wrist, pulling you till you laid flush on his body and you used your other hand to prop yourself up on his chest. Your legs slotted between his and he trapped you there, holding you tighter.

“Toji,” you gasped. Your nose was full of him, you were so close you could count his lashes. He was too close, too soon, but you didn’t push him away.

“You’ve always been better when it comes to voicing your emotions. You’re perfect.”

“You are the only person in the world that thinks that,” you laughed. “I was a major hothead before we met.” Your giggles died out when Toji’s lips ghosted over yours. It made your lips twitch with how near he was with no contact.

“Toji… You came to just talk, remember?”

“Tell me how proud you of me are again, ” he stated unashamedly. You sucked a sharp breath in when his free hand slipped under your t-shirt, starting at the middle of your thigh, grazing up to your waist. Warm hands that could lull you to sleep now set your body ablaze. You should’ve told him to stop when his fingers went south, brushing past your pubic hair before dipping into your sex. You should’ve told him to stop when he used two fingers to stretch you out, hissing at how tight you because you haven't done it in a while. Hell, you should’ve told him no when he called you to come over because you knew how it would end up. Instead you locked lips with him, hiking your leg up to his waist so he had better access, giving him the praise he wanted to hear.

“I’m proud of you,” you whispered in his ear before licking the shell of it. You combed his nape and started to grind into his hand, using his palm to rub on your swollen clit while he curled around the spot that made you bend to him.

“You’re doing so well Toji, just like that.”

“Fuck,” he groaned. He wanted to taste you, he wanted to fuck you. You already had that glazed look in your eyes, about to reach your climax soon. Tonight you were extremely sensitive, shivering to every touch, gripping him like a vice. His fingers were drenched, and when he put his thumb over the silky mess covering your clit you tipped over the edge, your legs shaking so hard he held you up under your knee to keep you from falling over.

You only caught your breath for a moment before you went to his pants, fumbling over his belt and pulling him out of pants. Toji pressed you up against the nearest wall, giving you just enough time to throw your shirt off before he smashed his lips on yours. You cupped his face, afraid that he would pull away as he lined himself up with your entrance. Breathy moans filled the quiet apartment when he finally fit himself inside of you. Toji has missed this feeling of you around him more than he had thought. No amount of jerking off with a clothing article of yours that you left behind would have satisfied him. The sounds that you made, the soft gasps and mewling couldn’t be replicated. He fucked you up the wall, holding one of your legs up so he could snap into you over and over again, the toes of your second leg barely touching the floor anymore.

“Faster, faster,” you begged. You hugged around his neck tightly, and when you pulled away to look at him you were met with his pupils dilated. There was a rosy flush on his cheeks that was lovely to see. You were worried that if you saw Toji again he would not be interested in you anymore. It has never felt so good to be so wrong. You brushed his hair out of his eyes to look at him more clearly and traced his lips with your thumb. Pushing your thumb past his lips, you ran it over his bottom teeth and he held it gently with the top one. You pulled your thumb out, then used your index and middle finger to push down on his tongue, watching the pink muscle move around in his mouth. He did well without gagging, and for that you murmured a “good boy” to him. All the blood in Toji’s body went straight to his dick after hearing those words. If he went any harder he would’ve broken through the wall.

“Open your mouth,” you ordered. You really didn’t need to, as your fingers were still down his throat but you took them out slightly so he could widen his lips. You spat in his mouth and closed it immediately with a harsh kiss, your teeth bumping each other. You hugged him tightly once once, wrapping your arms around the top of his shoulders and tried your best to match his strokes in the position. Never have you been fucked on a vertical surface, and for a fleeting moment you felt bad for your next door neighbor. Toji’s teeth teasing the skin on your collarbone quickly made it a secondary thought.

“I’m gonna come,” you warned. “Come with me?”

Toji nodded, his nose bumping yours. The place where you were connected was a mess, your essence staining the front of his pants. The tinkle of his belt loop added a musical quality to the claps of your bodies meeting each other.

Just like you had hoped you came at the same time. Soft yet heavy pants replaced the other sounds crescendo you just made. You could feel Toji softening inside of you, and he slowly slid himself out of your cunt with a sigh that you second. There was no way for him or you to comfortably stay connected while standing up, fucking was already hard enough. You cupped your sex, catching the come that was starting to drip out of you when Toji brought damp paper towels to clean you up. You wanted to collapse on the floor at the end of it.

Toji carried you to your couch per your request. You admitted that you still had some of his clothes, and there were his sweats in your closet if he wanted to change his pants when he put you down. You laid on your stomach, stretching your legs as far out as you can, praying that you wouldn’t catch a cramp. When you gained some feeling in your legs that wasn’t static you took a peek at Toji when he walked back in. He was staring down at you, waiting for your reaction. He wasn’t a fool that would believe that sex would fix everything, but it wouldn’t hurt if it reconciled something between the two of you.

“I want to preface this by saying I do not regret what we did,” you started. You wanted to address the elephant in the room before it crushed you. Toji got down on one knee to be at your level when you spoke and you smiled. Unknowingly he was such a gentleman but he didn’t see himself that way.

“I don’t regret it either,” Toji agreed. If it was up to him he’d fuck you again and stay the night. He knew that would be asking for too much but a man can dream.

“Right… but I don’t think we should get back together. Not yet.” You nervously bit your lip. You dared a glance at him and his face was unreadable.

“We’re working on ourselves, trying to get better. I really do think we’re benefitting from the intimate time apart. I swear I’m not trying to be an asshole when I say this, but I think we should be friends first.”

Toji was silent for a few minutes. You were so worried that you poked his arm to get some kind of response. “I still get to see you?”

“Yes,” said slowly, as if you were afraid he would change his mind suddenly.

“And we can eat meals together?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Are you still going to drag me to see movies during the daytime?”

You scoffed. “It’s cheaper and has less people!”

Toji gave you a shy grin. It slowly melted off of his face, making you ask what’s wrong.

“You’re not in love with me anymore.”

You sat up from the couch, putting your hand over Toji’s that rested on the brown leather. It wasn’t a simple answer. The love you had for Toji could not be given to anybody else. You only had room for him in your heart. Trying to pretend that you didn’t, moving on before you were ready backfired, and Gojo got the worst of it. Not that Toji needed to know, but when Toru kissed you, you realized that you never had romantic feelings for him. All you could think about was what Toji was doing, but you were the one who left. It was unfair to Gojo.

“I still love you, and I do think we can make this work if we do it the right way. We are in fragile states right now, and if we mix a relationship in it we might blow up like we did before. What I'm saying is; let’s take this slow. There’s no rush, right?”

“You’re right.” You were asking for a fresh start and Toji could do that. You were trying so hard for him, and he was willing to do the same. He would earn you back eventually. However long it takes.

Thank you so so so much for reading!! Any interactions are appreciated!!

Part One

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southerngothicchic · 2 days

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Do You Think I'm a Nasty Girl

Hi! So this is my attempt at getting back into the groove of writing again, and what better way than with a lovers to enemies to lovers again fic?

On a summer night in '84, while your parents are away, you decide to test out their new hot tub and wind up getting an unexpected visit from your annoyingly hot neighbor.

After setting up your radio with your favorite mix tape, you slip out of a dainty, pink kimono, revealing a low-cut black bathing suit. It's cut high, on the sides, showing off more skin than you would ever dare to at the local pool. It was your latest scandalous mall purchase, and you knew your parents would freak if they saw you wearing it. Luckily, you had the house and hot tub to yourself for the weekend and could wear or do whatever you wanted.

You press play, on the tape deck, before easing into the warm water. You wince a little, and check the temperature gage, on the side, worrying you had it set too high. It was previously set at 104 degrees and you immediately lower it to 100. You then sit on the edge of the tub, waiting for the water to cool slightly. Turning your head, your eyes scan the empty backyard as an odd feeling comes over you, making you wonder if you're truly alone.

Shaking your head, you tell yourself to stop being so paranoid before lowering yourself into the water.

The whirring of the jets almost drowns out your music, so you scramble over to the side and lean over to adjust the volume.

Laura Branigan's Self Control fills the night air as you settle back into your spot, nestling your head against the plush headrest behind you. A sigh of relaxation then leaves your lips as you close your eyes, enjoying the warmth of the swirling water.

You drift into a sort of meditative state, as all the sounds around you fade into a low hum. You're so completely absorbed in your own world that you're oblivious to the sound of someone entering your backyard.

The usually distinct creaking of the wooden gate doesn't reach your ears, as it's slowly opened then quickly shut.

Careful footfalls on the manicured grass also go unnoticed as the visitor walks up to the back patio. They stand, in front of you, smirk on their lips as they admire the serene state you're in. They debate whether or not they should disturb you but ultimately decide to make their presence known.

"And here I thought you were having a party and didn't invite me..." they say, causing your eyes to instantly open.

"What the fuck, Harrington?" You ask, with a glare, trying to keep your composure, as your heart feels like it's going to pound right out of your chest. "How'd you get back here?"

"The gate was unlocked," he casually replies, gesturing to it with his thumb. "And like I said, I thought there was a party, given the music and all."

Rolling your eyes, you sit up slightly and lean over to turn down the music.

"Sorry to disappoint you, but it's just me," you remark, glancing up at him.

"Who said I was disappointed?" He smiles, his eyes meeting yours before traveling lower to your partially obscured cleavage.

"This song's a bit scandalous for you, don't you think?" He then asks, with one hand resting on his hip, while the other points to your radio.

You haven't been paying attention to the song that's playing, and when you realize it's Nasty Girl by Vanity 6, you sigh dramatically.

"Are you, of all people, offended by it?" You challenge, getting up to move closer to him.

He scoffs. "Of course not, but I didn't think you listened to stuff like this."

"Why? Because it's too risqué? Too obscene?"

You lean over the edge of the tub while he opens his mouth ready to respond. The sight of your glistening body causes him to freeze up.

"Kinda, yeah..." he mumbles, while you lean back into the water.

"I guess there's a lot you still don't know about me," you say with a smile.

He licks his lips before taking a step closer. "Why don't we fix that? Can I join you, or is this just a party for one?"

Deciding to up the brattiness, you roll your eyes and sigh.

"I guess you can, as long as you keep your opinions on my taste in music to yourself."

A grin spreads across his lips. "I can do that."

He then kicks off his Nikes before pulling his white t-shirt over his head. You watch a little too intently as he peels off his tight Levi's, leaving a pair of tiny green shorts underneath.

He sits on the edge of the tub before swinging his legs around and lowering himself into the water.

"Ooh, this is nice," he breathes, as he sits across from you. "I wish my parents would get one of these."

"You should tell Daddy you want one. I know the girls would love it," you snark as he shakes his head.

"Is that all you think of me?" He asks, defeatedly.

"You've never given me the opportunity to have a different perception of you," you explain, averting your eyes from his.

He sighs. "I know, but I'm not that guy anymore. At least, I'm trying not to be."

"And you expect me to just take that at face value?" You counter, unable to keep the hostility out of your voice.

"I guess not..." he begins, as he shifts in his seat.

Your eyes widen as he moves to sit next to you. He's suddenly so close, with his thigh pressing against yours as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

His gaze cuts through the steamy air as he leans in, so close the tip of his nose grazes yours as he finally continues, "I'll have to prove it to you, then."

You're struggling to speak, let alone breathe, as it's all too much. His thumb gently caresses your skin as he waits for some sarcastic retort that never comes.

Your mind's then flooded with memories of the first time he held you like this, the first time you felt his breath on your skin, of so many firsts, its overwhelming.

You manage to whisper his name, causing him to whisper yours in return.

"You can pretend to hate me all you want, but I know you missed this," he breathes, as he ghosts his lips over yours.

You resist the urge to lift your arms out of the water and wrap them around him.

"You're already off to a rough start, Harrington," you reply, relishing in his annoyance at your continued use of his last name.

"But am I wrong? Don't you miss me at least a little bit?" He asks, brushing his lips against yours, teasingly.

You sigh as you feel yourself weakening for him all over again. You wish more than anything that you could hate him, but no matter how much you want to, you just... can't. It's what lured you into his bed, his backseat, anywhere he could get his hands on you.

He made you feel so pretty and wanted and possibly loved... until someone else caught his eye. He'd then treat you as an afterthought, especially at school, practically staring you down as you walked by, with his arm around another girl.

That's the closest you got to hating him, and for the rest of the school year, you believed you did. You tried everything you could to make yourself forget the smug allure of Steve Harrington.

And it worked, until tonight.

Your hand grips the slippery bench underneath you, as he nuzzles his nose against yours, content with teasing you all night, if he has to, just to finally hear what he wants.

"Yes," you quietly reply, your voice barely audible over the sound of water swirling around your bodies. "I missed you."

He pulls away, only to look into your eyes, and smiles.

"I missed you, too, honey."

You immediately bristle at his pet name, as all your hurt feelings come rushing back.

"Don't..." you warn, raising your hand and pressing it against his chest, stopping him as he goes to lean in again. "Don't say it if you don't mean it."

"I do, though," he quickly defends, placing his hand over yours. "I haven't been able to stop thinking about you and how I'm so stupid to have lost what we had."

"Really?" You ask, allowing yourself to gaze into his eyes.

"Yeah," he nods. "You're the last person I ever wanted to hurt and I'm sorry for being such a dumbass."

His apology makes you crack a smile and he thinks you've never looked prettier.

"It was always you," he breathily continues as you cradle his face. "I'm just sorry it took me so long to realize it."

"I just... don't want you to ever hate me..." he quietly admits, as you slowly pull him towards you.

"I could never hate you," you softly reassure, right before your lips touch.

"Promise?" He whispers, almost muffled, against your lips.

"I promise."

You each then melt into an overdue kiss. His perfect nose presses against your cheek while your fingers curl in the ends of his damp hair.

"Fuck, honey, I've missed you so much," he breathes, between kisses.

You sigh his name, needing to feel more of him. You break the kiss, leaving him dazed and panting, while you carefully maneuver yourself onto his lap. Your knees press against the hard plastic of the bench underneath him, but you don't mind how it feels when Steve's hands are immediately on your hips, helping to guide your movements.

You lean in to kiss him again, and he's already moaning into your mouth with every grind of your hips. You smile, against his cheek, as you press kisses across it, kissing your way to his jawline.

You feel his wet fingertips glide up your back before his nails dig into your skin when he feels you lightly nibble on his neck.

"Did you miss this too, Stevie?" You coo, glancing up at him.

He nods before his eyes roll back from another grind of your hips.

"No one else ever really took the time to find out what you liked, did they? So many selfish lovers... though I thought that's what you wanted?" You ask, your voice sickeningly sweet.

He groans when he feels your lips at his ear.

"Someone as selfish as you," you whisper, before softly biting his earlobe.

You feel him shudder underneath you, so painfully hard and desperate for either some friction or release.

"You're never gonna let me live that down, are you?" He then shakily asks, as you pull away to look into his eyes.

You shift slightly, freeing up both hands so you can place them on each side of his pretty face. You lean in again, lips just close enough to tease when you reply, "Nope."

"I'm sorry, honey, alright? I'll apologize all night if I have to..." he rasps, sounding as if he's on the verge of tears.

"I just might make you," you smile, enjoying your newfound power over Steve Harrington.

"Let me make it up to you," he pleads, lowering his hands back down to your hips. "I'll spend the night with you... the whole weekend if that's what it takes for you to forgive me."

"You really care about me that much?" You ask, combing your fingers through his hair.

He nods. "Let's go inside and I'll show you just how much."

You're both then scrambling into your house. Little droplets of water fall from your bodies as you hurry up the stairs. The towels around your shoulders doing little to prevent water from dripping everywhere.

The house is also quite chilly, as you had the A/C cranked up all day, so you're shivering as you enter your bedroom. You stand next to your bed, clutching your towel around you, while Steve stands in front of you. He wraps his arm around your waist, pulling you to him.

"Oh no, honey, are you cold?" He asks, cupping your cheek, with his other hand.

You nod, timidly, your earlier attitude seemingly nonexistent.

"I'll have to warm you up then," he replies, before pressing his lips to yours.

He pushes your towel from your shoulders, and it joins his on the floor. You whimper into the kiss when you feel his large palm flat against your back before his hand ventures lower. He gives your ass a good squeeze, earning another whimper from you.

You then feel him grinning as his hands continue to roam your body.

"You're so fuckin' sexy in this, it's driving me crazy," he breathes, after temporarily breaking the kiss. "I kinda want you to leave it on while I fuck you..."

You sigh his name before pulling him into another kiss. It's messy and desperate as you lay back on your bed, with him on top of you.

He nestles himself perfectly between your legs, and now it's his turn to tease you. He grinds himself against you, the thin material you're both wearing making it more tortuous until you feel him move the crotch of your bathing suit to the side.

You're already squirming under him as you raise your hips, chasing the movement of his fingers.

He's smiling again, unable to hide how smug he feels as he just glides his fingers over you.

"Not so tough now, are you?" He purrs, against your cheek, while your hands are already twisting in his hair.

You try to speak, but he stops you.

"Its okay. I deserved it, and like I said, I'm gonna spend all night making it up to you."

He presses a couple wet kisses to your cheek, before slipping two of his long fingers inside you. You're already moaning at the stretch and the way he's suckling on your neck.

"Shit, honey, you're tighter than I remember..." he pants, sounding as ragged as you feel. "Guess no one else fucked you like I did, huh?"

You shake your head. "N-No, just you, Steve..." Your voice trails off into a series of moans as he adds another finger.

"Didn't think so," he says, glancing up at you.

"Look at me, honey," he softly commands, and once you open your eyes you see how he's gazing at you with complete adoration.

"So fuckin' pretty," he breathes, before crashing his lips to yours.

Your nails claw at his biceps as he mouths at your jaw. He buries his face in your neck, then flicks his tongue over a newly formed hickie. He plans to leave several more all over your body, wanting to cover you in little reminders that you're his girl again, and always will be.

You moan his name, your hand gripping his wrist when you feel the familiar waves of pleasure building.

"This is all for you, honey, remember?" He reminds, breathless. "I have to earn your forgiveness, even if it takes all night..."

You throw your head back, against your pretty, pink pillow as the most intense orgasm you've ever had washes over you.

Steve's lips are at your ear, talking you through it, praising you for how good you are for him.

His words have you biting your lip and squirming all over again. You gaze at him dreamily as he places his fingers between his lips. A soft moan escapes him as he tastes you.

"Just as sweet as I remember," he grins, before you grab his smug face and pull him in for a kiss.

You're moaning for him all over again when you taste yourself on his tongue.

"So, how am I doing so far? Want me to still spend the night?" He quietly asks, still breathless.

"What do you think, Harrington?" You snarkily reply, running your fingers through his tousled hair, before pulling slightly.

With a groan, he kisses you again, knowing you're both in for a long night.

#steve harrington #steve harrington smut #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x fem!reader

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satorisoup · 10 hours

Text

“ 𝓐𝓝 𝓐𝓟𝓟𝓛𝓔 𝓐 𝓓𝓐𝓨 ! ”

ft. satoru gojo

cw : fluff. confessions. surprise smooch. writers block hit me like a bus i fear… </3

wc : 614

“ satoru, you’re gonna knock down the whole tree doing that ! ”

you tried to warn him, you really did. but satoru has his own way of doing things, and if apple picking meant shaking the entire tree by the log, then so be it.

the rustle of the leaves and hard thump is followed by a loud “ ow ! ”, and you can only guess that satoru had been bonked in the head by an apple as he rubs the pain away.

“ that’s what you get for trying to man handle mother nature. ”

the pout that takes over his face at your words is humoring, priceless even, as he scoffs at you, or the tree, who really knows.

“ i thought an apple a day was supposed to keep the doctor away ! ” satoru remarks, whine in his voice and squint in his eye has he stares at the culprit, a big red apple on the hayish ground.

“ yeah well, you’re about to be sent to the doctor by one if you do it like that. ”

satoru lets out a dramatic, long sigh, expressing his defeat as he moves to pick up the bruised red apple from it’s place.

“ also, that saying isn’t totally untrue y’know. apples are healthy. ”

in retrospect, satoru agrees. they are healthy. but the one thing that betrays him, disagreeing to his demise, is his mouth and the words that expel from it like a nonstop waterfall.

“ hm, well apples are dumb. all i know is, if we were dating, i’d keep you healthy. you wouldn’t have to rely on some stupid fruit. ”

a pause, before an obvious question to make sure you heard him right.

“ what ? ”

“ huh ? ”

“ satoru. ”

“ that’s me. ”

there was no winning with satoru, stubborn as ever. you’re almost sure you heard him correctly, but you wanted him to say it again so your conclusion would arrive faster.

his face is turned away from you, probably embarrassed at the fact that he most definitely said that out loud, and you were not going to give up on getting your answer any time soon.

satoru wants to say it, loud and proud, right to your face. he feels his body tingling with a foreign feeling of nervousness, mustering up the courage to do so—

but you’re giggling before the words can even escape his big, loud mouth.

“ ts’ not funny ! ”

“ t-that apple must’ve bonked you rea-real hard toru’ ! ”

“ m’ not joking ! ”

“ o-oh really ? prove it then ! ”

oh, screw it.

in a flurry of impulse, satoru is grabbing the hand thats covering your giggles. a quick, deep hitch in his breath before he’s leaning down and doing exactly what you asked of him, proving it to you.

his lips connect with yours at the speed of light, your eyes widening in shock before the surprise dissipates into a tingle that rises from your feet to your spine.

your lips are soft, so soft. the taste of your strawberry chapstick is clouding his senses before he’s pulling back to look at you.

“ i bet an apple couldn’t do that. ” of course, you would expect nothing less from the infamous satoru gojo than to spoil a moment with one of his stupid jokes.

“ quit saying corny stuff or i might just have to kiss you again, toru’. ”

“ ooo you wanna kiss me again so bad— ”

“ you— shut your mouth ! ”

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melobin · 2 days

Text

behind the screen 𐙚 sungchan smau #30

✧ camgirl reader x roommate sungchan

✧ synopsis. in which sungchan discovers his favorite camgirl also happens to be his roommate

✧ wc. 2412

✧ warnings. half written, half smau, minor angst.

behind the screen masterlist

it took everything in you to not complain to wonbin about bringing someone else with him, you weren’t entirely sure if you could deal with the countless old, snobby, rich couples you’d be greeted by at the party let alone being stuck with one of wonbin’s friends all night. you let it go though, not wanting to cause anymore stress for yourself during the night.

you sighed as you opened the door to wonbin’s car, sliding into the passenger seat before looking at him, smiling weakly at the boy beside you.

“you changed your hair again?” you admired the shorter hair he adorned “what? like a month of blonde hair? are you trying to damage it?”

“ha ha” he pulled off of the curb before settling with a steady pace, his tone was gentle as he spoke to you “do you wanna talk about it?” you laughed slightly, keeping your eyes on the road in front of you.

“there's nothing to talk about” wonbin sighed.

“my friend is meeting us there, we won’t get chance to talk about anything when we meet up with him” it was your turn to sigh, you leaned your head against the door window before speaking.

“we’re not together, i shouldn’t be upset but i just can’t believe he lied to me” wonbin hummed at your words, encouraging you to continue “and the worst part about it is that he lied to me about seeing somi like, he can do what he wants he doesn’t have to tell me but there’s something so fucking off about him lying to me about working late and then going out with her”

“you’re hurt”

“i don’t care” wonbin laughed to himself, you looked over at him with slight glare in your eyes “is this funny to you?”

“you said you don’t care but you just ranted about being upset at it, it’s okay to admit it hurt you. he lied to you and went out with his ex who hates you y/n, he acted like a prick” you sighed and looked down, fingers playing with one another as you listened to wonbin.

“did chaewon say anything to you about it?” your voice was quiet as you asked your question.

“just that she wasn’t sure if it was him at first until he got out of the car to open the door for her, she said they both seemed a little dressed up too” you felt sick as he spoke, only humming in response to his words.

as wonbin pulled into the car park of the venue, you found yourself not wanting to go in and see people. once he cut the engine of the car off he undone his seat belt so he could look at you. “i know it doesn’t seem like it, but i’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation for this. sungchan wouldn’t go out of his way to lie to you and hurt you, he’s never done it before so why would he do it now?” you shrugged and sank back into the seat of his car.

“change of heart maybe?”

“i doubt that, he’s obsessed with you” you looked at him before shifting your eyes over to the door of the venue, a boy with soft brown hair stood outside of it looking seemingly lost.

“is that your friend?” wonbin nodded “he looks lost”

“he’s never been here before”

“you made him travel alone?”

“he just moved here, he needs to learn the city himself” you shook your head and laughed, following wonbin as he got out of his car and walked over to his friend.

“taro!” there was a smile on wonbin’s face as he greeted his friend with a hug, his friend reciprocated his actions before turning to you.

“i’m guessing this is y/n?”

“this is shotaro, he moved down here not long ago from japan”

“it’s nice to meet you” you stuck your hand out and shotaro took it in his, something about his smile warmed your heart.

“shall we?” wonbin nodded to the door and shotaro walked toward it, before you could follow him wonbin nudged your with his elbow “cute right?” he spoke quietly, giggling as you looked at him. you shook your head and laughed “don’t worry, he’s al yours if you want him” was his final words to you before he jogged ahead of you, catching up to his friend and swinging his arm over his shoulder as they walked into the building with you trailing behind.

“i feel underdressed” you looked around at the people surrounding you, the middle aged women filled with heavy botox and adorned in black and red cocktail dresses. by the way they were fluttering their eyes at each other, you were almost beginning to thing this event was planned for another reason.

“i feel like i’m interrupting a swingers party” you giggled as you heard wonbin talked, shotaro’s laugh echoing a little throughout out the room as wonbin took the words out of your mouth.

“oh my god no wonder they planned it in a hotel” you giggled again as shotaro added on, you enjoyed watching the dynamic between the two boys.

“i’m pretty sure some of the women are given wonbin the eyes”

“hey at least there’s a young couple over there, we aren’t surrounded by old, horny wrinkly people” you and wonbin turned your head to where shotaro was, you felt your heart drop instantly as you locked eyes with somi, only feeling worse when your eyes trailed to the man standing beside her. sungchan. “you know them don’t you, i shouldn’t have said anything i’m sorry” you shook your head and looked at shotaro, giving him a small smile.

“don’t be, it’s nothing serious” the two boys went to speak at the same time but you stopped them, hooking your arms through both of them and pointing them in the direction of the bar “want a drink? it’s on me”.

on the other side of the room, painfully unaware of your presence, sungchan stood behind somi she spoke to her father. he struggled to focus on what the man was saying, his mind distracted. he thought about you, he felt guilty for lying to you about what he was doing but he had convinced himself it was for the greater good, all sungchan wanted to do was protect you from getting hurt but he feared what he was doing would end up hurting you more in the long run. the only thing that broke his thoughts was the feeling of somi’s elbow digging into his side as her father spoke to him.

“it’s great to see you back around sungchan, it’s been so long” sungchan nodded and smiled at him, holding his hands behind his back.

“i’ve been busy with work sir, me and my partner have been assisting your son in his new line of work. he’s doing very well, he’ll be a great trainer in no time”

“there’s no need to be so formal son” sungchan nodded again and laughed awkwardly, feeling relief as he turned back to somi “wonbin should be around here somewhere, go and give him some company, he’ll need saving from some of the women here”

“yes father” somi bowed her head gently as her father walked away “he’s by the bar i saw him walk in” she commented, sungchan missed the slight amused tone in her voice as he looked back toward the bar.

sungchan was sure everyone around him could hear his heart drop to the floor as he looked at wonbin, his eyes instantly shifting to you standing next to him. he wasn’t sure what got to him more, seeing you there or seeing the unknown man that was stood beside you, laughing at something you had said.

“oh would you look at that, guess i was right about her jumping between men”

“you don’t know anything” somi laughed at sungchan’s defensive tone, finding his annoyance amusing.

“she’s doing it right in front of your eyes sungchan, you told her you were busy so she found someone else to spend the night with like i told you she would”

“you need to stop” she shrugged and looked away, laughing to herself before hooking her arm through his.

“daddy told me to go and talk to wonbin so let’s go” the last thing sungchan wanted was to end up near you, especially with somi there.

there was panic in the air as wonbin whispered to you that they were walking towards where you were, you had no time to escape the moment so you stood there, face blank as they stood in front of you. from the slight glance you gave to him, you could tell sungchan felt uncomfortable but you gave it no mind, not wanting to dwell on any emotion the boy may be feeling.

“y/n, fancy seeing you here, i didn’t know wonbin was bringing a guest”

“you knew i was allowed to, why wouldn’t i?” there was a slight attitude in wonbin’s voice, it almost made you laugh “i brought two guests actually” he nodded towards shotaro “shotaro, he’s an old friend, shotaro this is somi my bosses daughter and” both of the boys eyes shifted toward sungchan whilst you stood there awkwardly, looking down at your fingers “this is sungchan” shotaro stuck his hand out to greet the taller boy, for a moment sungchan debated on ignoring his greeting but he felt too bad. his hand joined with shotaro’s before pulling back immediately. you knew shotaro could sense the awkwardness in the air as he cleared his throat, deciding to try and break the ice.

“having a good night?” he look at the people standing around him but barely got a reply, somi chimed in to say she was having a lovely time before shotaro spoke again “good good, i’ve just been keeping y/n company while wonbin gets catcalled by middle aged women” sungchan’s heart hurt as he heard you laugh for the first time that night, you finally lifted your head to look at the boy who was speaking. he was sure he saw a subtle dampness in your eyes and that only made him feel worse, he wanted to come clean about everything here and now but he was second guessing himself. he didn’t want somi to tell everyone what you’ve been doing but he also began to slightly question if she was right about what she said, if there were men waiting for you to click your fingers so they could run to you. he quickly rid the thought out of his mind, not ever wanting to think you were someone who would use people for their own needs before dropping them for someone else. even if you were like that, he was sure you’d never do it to him.

“shall we get a drink, sungie?” shinchan shivered as somi spoke to him, he was quick to shake his head and take his arm away from hers.

“i’m gonna go to the bathroom” sungchan left before she could say anything. he was thankful that the bathrooms were single rooms instead of stalls, the moment he was in there he was pulling out his phone and pulling up your contact info, wanting nothing more than to settle the sore heart he knew you had right now.

sungchan was stressed as he waited for you to knock on the door, the few minutes that he waited for you felt like the longest moments of his life. panic ran through him once you did knock on the door, it took him a few seconds to compose himself before he turned the handle, shooting you a weak smile as you slowly entered the bathroom, letting the door close behind you.

“you wanted to see me?” your voice was a gentle as ever to sungchan’s ears, despite the severity of the current situation, you still calmed him. he was in a daze as he looked at you, unable to find the right words to say “sungchan?”

“right sorry” you nodded, rocking back and forth on your tiptoes as you waited for him to talk. yet still, he looked at you with nothing to say.

“look if you have nothing to say i should get back to wonbin before he starts wondering where i am”

“wait” you looked at him “please”

“sungchan can you tell me what’s going on please” he sighed

“i cant” you titled your head to the side, narrowing your eyes as you looked at him again.

“why would you bring me here just to tell me you can’t tell me what’s going on” he went to speak but you interrupted him, he was quick to seal his lips and let you speak “i would have been bothered with you going out with her but it wouldn’t feel half as shitty as it does knowing you lied to me to do so” he could hear the tone of hurt that laced your voice, he knew he had made the wrong decision.

“i never meant to hurt you, i promise there’s a good reason for this”

“then what is it?”

“i can’t tell you” you laughed, crossing your arms across your chest. he looked desperate and if you weren’t in this situation with him then perhaps you would have pitied him.

“you’re joking right?”

“i’m sorry” he placed his hands on the edge of the counter that was in the room, briefly making eye contact with himself in the mirror before sighing “she said somethings and then we saw you with that guy wonbin brought and she was trying to get into my head about you just using me because you were bored and then i just panicked”

“you really think i’d do that?” sungchan turned to you, the hurt in your voice told him he had fucked up. you spoke quietly, the noise from the other room was louder than you were.

“no no no i promise i’d never think that of you” he tried to hold your hand but you stepped back, sighing.

“i should go”

you watched him for a moment, feeling your eyes dampen before turning away and placing your hand on the door handle, before you turned it sungchan spoke one last time.

“you look beautiful by the way” you closed your eyes and gulped before turning the handle and leaving the bathroom, leaving sungchan in the there alone.

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#✧ melody posts #✧ behind the screen #riize smau #sungchan smau #riize smut #sungchan smut #riize sungchan smau #riize sungchan smut

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shoyudon · 23 hours

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𝐁𝐈𝐆 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍, 𝐒𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐒𝐏𝐎𝐎𝐍 .ᐟ

starring. toji fushiguro x fem! reader

heads up. cursing, toji being soft as hell, let's just say he's not an assassin and he lives a (fairly) good life with you.

note. toji's shown too much of a cold, hard, and stern guy in the few times he's been on screen. i feel like he's privately clingy — and he likes being the small spoon. just a thought.

"hey, baby," you sighed out in exhaustion — dropping your bag onto the bed where toji was laid on, "i feel like 'm going to pass out soon."

toji grunted, but he sat up straight, eyeing your every move, "your boss is shit. that's why you need to quit and just sit still here at home," he mutters out, stretching his limbs.

"and who's going to pay for my stuff?" you ask, taking off your socks and throwing them inside the laundry basket just by the bathroom door — you unbuttoned your light blue flannel shirt, slipping it off in a rush before throwing the fabric inside the same basket.

"me. i work too." he scoffs.

"i know, i just don't feel great knowing my stuff was bought from the money coming out of my boyfriend's pocket," toji shifted on the bed, kicking the covers off of him.

he blew his bangs in annoyance, "so? 'ts not like 'm complaining, i want to do it."

smiling, you gave him a knowing look, "i know— 'ts just . . . i know i can buy my own stuff, you can save your money, for your own stuff. i don't want everything i have to come from your money, i feel awful," mumbling whilst swiping a wet cotton over the skin of your face, letting the make up seep in.

"your stuff is mine too," he steps behind you, taking a good look at what you're doing, "so stop thinking of shit like that."

"like what?" you nonchalantly asked.

toji rolled his eyes, grabbing your waist and proceeded to toss you onto the bed. with a soft thud, you landed — staring at him oddly, "why did you do that?"

"no reason." he mutters, crawling towards you before placing himself in front of you sideways; your chest pressing onto his back, "quit the damn work. you have a shit boss, shit co-workers, and shit work." small spoon.

slinging an arm around his neck and a leg draped over his torso, you chuckled softly, burying your nose into his hair, "you know i can't do that, right?" big spoon.

his body vibrated, signaling a groan out, "why the hell not?"

"come on, where else am i going to get my money from?" toji laced his fingers with your own, squeezing your hand tightly and then loosening his grip before tightening it back again — on repeat, "i know, baby. but what else am i going to do at home without you, hm?"

"i could care less about my shit work too." he spat out, bringing your hand to his lips.

"and then where are we going to live? pay rent? eat food?" you asked, voice lacing with amusement, "or how are we going to eat in our go-to without money, huh?"

toji huffs out softly, "as long as i'm homeless with you, i guess."

"you're silly, you know?" you squeezed his hand this time, although not as tightly as he did before, "but it all comes back to my first answer, 'm still not quitting my work."

toji shifted a bit, pressing his back onto your chest more, "can't stop ya', can i?"

"nope," he sighs out softly in response to the curt answer — which he expected, by the way.

"you're stubborn."

"right back at you," you murmur out into his hair, patting his chest a few times before consistently rubbing up and down; toji breathing out in content, "toji, can you move now?"

" . . . why?" he asks, voice hoarse and slow like he had just woken up.

"i need to shower. i stink," toji didn't budge at all upon hearing your answer. he was one of those people who believed that showers are a bit pointless — which is extra stupid (you think).

"do it tomorrow," he mutters out lazily.

"i wanna do it now, i feel sweaty," and there he goes pretending nothing was ever said; this always happens, especially when you were coddling him, "toji, move."

"no."

"move or you're getting the small spoon ban," toji scoots over a bit in response, letting you move freely as you like; somehow his no talk, action only made you stifle back a laugh, "you're a big baby."

"'m not, the position didn't feel nice or shit." he lies (not so) smoothly.

"right, i'll be back after the shower then we can cuddle again," you stood up, ready to leave when you hear him mumble incoherently under his breath, "what was that?"

"fuck, nevermind."

"right," you narrowed your eyes at him, "i'm going to go then."

just a few steps out of the bedroom door, you turned your heels and peeked your head into the room, "and by the way, yes, you still get to be the small spoon, don't worry."

"i still get to be the small spoon or whatever the fuck you call it, right?" loud and clear.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #fluff #toji fushiguro #toji #toji fluff #toji x reader #toji fushiguro fluff #toji x you #toji x female reader #jjk toji #toji oneshot

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forest-hashira · 3 days

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Cool Touch

hello hello everyone!!! i know i just updated Noble Blood a few days ago, but the mental image of this one wouldn't leave me alone, so i went ahead and wrote it. this is the first of my entries for @threadbaresweater's "summertime (and the livin' is easy)" collab event! my chosen prompt for this was gojo + sunburns. not much happens here, but nonetheless i hope you enjoy it! also as usual this is not proofread at all so please forgive any mistakes haha

read on ao3 | wc: ~1.9k | cw: gender neutral reader, ambiguous relationship (can be read as romantic or platonic!), kinda implied autistic gojo (mentions of sensory issues & such), sunburns (obviously), that's pretty much it!

“Wow, you really weren’t kidding.”

Your words earned you a glare from Satoru as he stood in the doorway. His sunglasses had slipped down his nose as he looked at you, and for once, the dark lenses stood out less against his skin than the stark blue of his eyes.

“Do I look like a liar?” he retorted, opening the door a bit wider so you could come inside.

“More like a lobster,” you said as you stepped around him, before you could even really think about the words. “Sorry! Too soon, I guess,” you added quickly, dancing away from him as he reached out, probably to pinch you in retaliation for your comment on his appearance.

“Yeah, too soon,” he grumbled, shutting the door. “I don’t think I slept at all last night, I was so uncomfortable.”

“That’s what you get for not reapplying sunscreen like we told you to.”

“‘We’?” Satoru asked indignantly, dropping down to sit in one of his dining table chairs as he looked up at you with wide eyes. “Who else told me to reapply?”

“Me, for starters.” As you spoke, you set the shopping bag down on the table in front of you and began to pull out the things Satoru had asked for: multiple bottles of aloe vera gel, four flavors of ice cream, a box of popsicles, ice packs to be stuck in the freezer for later, and a few large bottles of water – your own addition, not something Satoru had requested. “And Suguru, Shoko, Kento—”

“Nanamin??”

“Yes,” you confirmed. “He does actually kind of like you, you know. And we’ve talked about the interrupting thing.”

“Right,” he sighed. “Sorry. I’ll put the money in the jar later.”

“Good,” you hummed. You tried to hand him the receipt from the drug store then, but he waved you off.

“Just leave it on the kitchen counter when you grab spoons,” he told you, leaning against the back of his chair, though h e quickly sat up straight again with a hiss when his skin made contact with the wood. “Hurryyyy,” he whined as you walked off. “I’m literally going to die if you’re not slathering me in gel in the next five seconds.”

“First of all, why the fuck did you have to phrase it like that?” You opened the silverware drawer, grabbing two spoons for the various ice creams you had gotten. Before you left the room, you stuck the receipt to the fridge with one of Satoru’s kitschy little magnets – you were pretty sure the one you grabbed was some sort of fish, but it was a little chipped and faded, and you didn’t bother to look at it for too long before you were walking away again. “Second of all, you are not going to die, you’re just uncomfortable.”

“And itchy. Soooooo fucking itchy.” Satoru was quick to snatch one of the spoons from you, already having the pint of cotton candy flavored ice cream in his lap.

You wrinkled your nose at the sight, never quite able to understand how he was able to enjoy the flavor, but you said nothing as you came to stand behind his chair. Setting your own spoon on the table, you picked up one of the bottles of aloe gel.

“This might be cold on your skin,” you warned, though he barely acknowledged your words with a hum, his mouth too full of pink and blue ice cream for him to be thinking about much of anything. With a shrug, you squeezed some of the gel out into the palm of your hand, then set the bottle aside. You took a moment to rub the gel between your hands to warm it up a bit, then placed your hands on his tomato red shoulders.

Immediately, Satoru jumped, making an almost hilarious squawking sound as he moved away from your touch. “What the hell?” he demanded, ice cream and spoon still clutched in his hands. His eyes were open wide and his sunglasses had slipped all the way down his nose, seeming to cling to his face for dear life. “Warn a guy next time!”

More than a little shocked by his reaction, you blinked dumbly at him for a moment. “But… I did warn you?” Your brows furrowed as you spoke, and you cocked your head a bit as you looked at him, more confused than anything else.

“You definitely did not,” Satoru argued, now scowling at you.

“I said ‘this might be cold’,” you reminded him. “That counts as a warning.”

“But you didn’t say it would sting!”

Though part of you wanted to roll your eyes at Satoru for his dramatic reaction to the feeling of the aloe gel on his skin, you managed not to; you were well aware of how jumpy and antsy he could be in moments of vulnerability – physically or emotionally – and that generally he didn’t take well to perceived judgment during vulnerable times. Instead, you took a deep breath before apologizing.

“I’m sorry for not warning you about that part, too, Toru. If you’d like to come and sit back down I’ll put the gel on your sunburn. It’ll help you feel more comfortable in your skin, for at least a little bit.”

He eyed you for a moment longer, and you were certain if he had cat ears, they’d be in airplane mode as he decided whether to trust you again or not. Eventually, he let out a somewhat exaggerated sigh, then walked back over to the chair you still stood behind. “I appreciate and accept your apology,” he said quietly, settling down and taking another bite of his cotton candy ice cream.

A small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched him, glad that he was comfortable enough with you to be vulnerable, and that he trusted you to take care of him this way. He’d come a long way since you’d first met; he’d never been standoffish, really – he was the life of every room he walked into, party or not – but he’d kept anything he deemed “too personal” close to his chest, not wanting to give anyone a reason to dislike him. He’d been slow to open up to you, but once he’d realized you could be trusted? He’d become your closest friend, constantly in your space whenever you were in the same place. It had surprised you, the sheer amount of love he was capable of, when he deemed someone worthy – and trustworthy – enough to show that side of himself, but you felt honored to have his love directed at you.

Even if he was dramatic and difficult sometimes.

“Thank you,” you told him. “Now, I’m about to touch your back and shoulders again, alright? It might be cold and it might sting again, but hopefully not much.”

“‘Kay,” he replied around a mouthful of his frozen pink and blue treat, and you shook your head at him, a small chuckle escaping you.

Doing just as you’d said, you placed your hands on Satoru’s shoulders again, spreading the gel over as much of his skin as you could reach from your current angle: across the tops of his shoulders and down around to his collarbones; up his neck to his undercut; back down below his shoulder blades, rubbing it all in and doing your best to make sure it wasn’t layered on too thick, knowing that would aggravate his sensory issues.

Satoru tensed and shuddered for a fraction of a second when your hands came in contact with his fried skin, but he quickly relaxed again, letting you do all the work for him, since the worst of his burn was on his back and shoulders, where he couldn’t get a great angle to rub the gel on himself.

Grabbing the bottle of gel, you squeezed a bit more of it out into your palm. “I need to get the rest of your back,” you told him. “Could you lean forward a little more so I can reach it better?”

“Sure.” He did as you asked without complaint, even setting aside the now empty pint of ice cream and reaching for one of the water bottles you’d bought, twisting off the cap and taking a large sip of it.

“Someone’s thirsty,” you couldn’t help but tease. It was so rare to see Satoru drink anything that wouldn’t give anyone else a cavity just from looking at it that you had to make note of it any time it happened.

He grumbled at your words, but if he blushed, it was impossible to distinguish from the red that already tinted his cheeks. “I am thirsty.”

“I know,” you soothed. “That’s why I bought those. I always get really thirsty when I get a sunburn.” You uttered another warning before placing your gelled up hands further down his back than before, once again working the substance into his skin as well as you could. From the new angle, you could tell the burn ended where the waistband of his swim trunks had been, so you didn’t let your hands wander any places they weren’t needed. Though you didn’t need another reason to keep your hands to yourself (so to speak), the way Satoru shivered when your fingers dipped the tiniest bit below the waist of the current shorts he wore was reason enough.

“I’m done with your back,” you told him after a bit, stepping out from behind the chair to better look at the snowy haired man you had just thoroughly aloe-d. “Do you need help with getting the gel anywhere else?” The smile he shot you struck you right in the heart.

“No, I think I can do the rest of it. Thank you.”

Keeping eye contact with him suddenly felt too intense, so you looked away. Your gaze landed on the open water bottle on the table, and you were pleased to see that he’d nearly emptied the bottle; the sight made you smile.

“You’re welcome,” you said back quietly. Then you remembered the ice packs and popsicles, so you picked them all up and walked back into his kitchen, sticking them all in wherever you could them, in between all his boxes of frozen chicken nuggets and other microwave meals – his kitchen skills were minimal, and the man knew what he liked, so you couldn’t really fault him for sticking with the ease of frozen food.

When you returned from the kitchen, you saw Satoru beginning to rub the aloe gel along his arms, so you were satisfied that you had completed the job you’d come here to do. You pulled your keys out of your pocket, making sure you had your phone before you made for the door.

“Wait!” Satoru called after you, and you stopped, turning back to look at him. His brows were furrowed, and his expression was some combination of confused and… dejected? “Where are you going?”

“You said you didn’t need any more help with the aloe, so I was gonna leave you to it.”

“Oh.” His face fell at your words, but he spoke again anyways. “Do you have somewhere you need to be?”

You tilted your head slightly. “Not really, no. Why?”

Satoru perked up so quickly it was enough to give you secondhand emotional whiplash. “Oh, good! I was hoping you’d stay, maybe watch a movie or something?”

You couldn’t help but smile at him, with his sunglasses hanging crooked on his nose, his frosty white hair falling into his eyes, his boyish grin aimed full force at you.

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “I’ll stay. What movie were you thinking?”

taglist: @mitsuristoleme @kentohours @peachdues @ghost-1-y @witchbybirth

@marinnnnnnnnn @dr-runs-with-scissors @enchantedforest-network

divider by @/saradika

#fallon's fics #gojo #gojo satoru x reader #gojou satoru x reader #gojo jjk #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk fanfiction #jjk fluff

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izvmimi · 16 hours

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cw: yandere. female noun for reader used once.

“Baby, did you hear a word I just said?”

You look up from your phone with a start, realizing you’ve been distracted for the past minute. Izuku is uncommonly sensitive these days, and the edge in his voice is sharper than usual as his emerald eyes flit from your phone screen back to your face. There’s a dull shine to them, matching with the very faint bags circling his eyes, and he lets out a sigh as he sets his dinner utensils down and runs his right hand through his messy hair before shaking his head.

“I’m sorry,” you say reflexively. Ever since your last argument, there have been new rules imposed - you mean, agreed upon - and one of these includes avoiding using your cell phone at dinner. After all, dinnertime is sacred between two loved ones, it’s the only recourse you both have from the demands of the day where you are face to face and replenishing with the fruits of your own labor. Man works so that they can eat. Man shares food with the people they love.

Izuku’s meal is untouched. Yours has been picked at slightly, and your chopsticks are no longer neatly placed against your bowl but stuck nearly straight up in your rice. An affront, he’s already reminded you multiple times, but again you’re being careless, texting instead of talking to him, disregarding him, disregarding the sanctity of a meal, disregarding the fact that his jaw is clenched and he’s trying his best to remain calm, deep exhale through pursed lips.

He doesn’t tell you it’s okay, although you remember a time when you first started dating where every misstep you made could be assuaged by a mere pout and batting your eyelashes at him, because you were terribly cute to him no matter how much and often you disrespected him. Now, the corners of his lips perk up in a mirthless smile and he asks, tilting his head:

“Who’s that?”

You blink, and he exhales under his breath. “Who are you talking to?” he repeats, still smiling, trying very hard to be oh so patient with you, the corner of his lips hiked up higher than before.

You had perhaps smiled a little too much when receiving that text message. It was nothing really, just a group chat with your friends where you’d alerted them you’d be slow to reply, and the conversation still went on without you, with the intention for you to come back and get up to speed. A picture of a cat in a ridiculous situation of its own making had been posted and it’d drawn a chuckle out of you - even though you’re having dinner with your partner, the only person on this earth that should matter and does matter.

“My friend. You know her, remember?” you remind him. It shouldn’t be a big deal. Grabbing your chopsticks in your right hand again, you try to redirect him, indulging him in conversation.

“So as you were saying…-”

“Hey, can I see?”

Izuku has moved on from whatever he was trying to communicate and is already reaching his hand out in demand for you to give up your phone. He’s steady and stubborn like an ox, and you know he can stay in this position for as long as possible.

“It’s just a group chat, it’s not that interesting. Hold on, let me unlock it for you,” you start, but he insists.

“Just hand it over.”

The edge is sharper still, practically bleeding as though it were already pressed against the soft skin of your neck.

Your throat dries, but you hand it over hastily, practically slapping it into his palm.

“Good girl.”

Before you can guess what his next move is, he’s closed his fingers around the phone the wrong way around and it’s so small in his hand, just as vulnerable as you are.

It snaps.

Izuku doesn’t make a dramatic scene of it; he stares at you, unwaveringly, the entire time, as the glass and metal and whatever else of the phone crumples and gives way in his hand like wet toilet paper, and he looks practically bored doing it, as if he were doing a necessary chore like taking out the trash when his roommate forgot to do it. Once he’s done, it’s set aside, nonchalantly at the edge of the table, in an irregular, far too neat clump.

“Focus on your meal,” he says.

Bile rises in your throat quickly, then subsides as he picks up his chopsticks again.

“Yes.”

Three seconds pass, and he picks up speech again.

“So as I was saying, Kacchan’s been really struggling with making sure his paperwork is in on time and it’s causing stress for everyone else and-”

“They’ll ask, you know,” you pipe up, suddenly. It’s in a small voice, smaller than you want it to be, but it’s enough for him to know that he’s been interrupted and that you have something to say. Izuku’s eyes narrow as he looks at you for a moment, then picks up the metal ball that comprises the remains of your cell phone and rolls it in his other hand.

“Who’s they?” he asks, softly. His feigned ignorance seems to mock you.

“The phone company. That’s the fourth one this month, Izuku.”

He tilts his head, pondering for a moment. “Really?”

You prevent yourself from gritting your teeth, and reply sweetly, “Really.”

“They won’t ask. We can afford it.”

The word ‘we’ both aggravates and mollifies you. We means him and you, you and him. You are equals. You are not possessed, even if he could very much do so, own you, if he wanted to.

Allowing yourself to wrap yourself up tightly, safe and warm, in this understanding, you aim to take a bite of food in your chopsticks but decide instead to let your chopsticks dip over to his plate to pick a piece of roasted meat off of his plate before slipping it into your mouth coyly.

“If you say so,” you add between bites. He smiles, glad that despite all this hassle, you’re still very much, and inevitably so, his.

#izuku x reader #izuku midoriya x reader #daydreams: bnha #cw yandere #mimi's notes

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strangemaleswaps · 22 hours

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Strange Funeral Swap

People chatted with each other around the various rooms at the funeral home, though I couldn't help but feel left out a bit. I was at the funeral of Clarence, my friend Brian's grandpa. I didn't know him too well, besides the occasional visit when I hung out with Brian. He convinced me to come, saying that funerals are a celebration of life, and I was in Clarence's life, even if it was just a bit. I couldn't argue with that, so I did it for him. Clarence would always do little magic tricks involving cards and whatnot, and he seemed like such a nice man. But still, the people surrounding me knew him alot longer, some their whole lives, so I felt like an awkward weirdo standing around while Brian talked to the rest of his family.

After a while the ceremony started and I felt like even more of an outcast when people started crying. After what seemed like forever, it was finally over and Brian thanked me for coming. He said that they were doing the burial the next day, but I didn't have to come. I couldn't anyway, as I had to work.

As I walked out with Brian, I noticed a man sitting on the bench in the hallway outside. He was an old guy that had a pretty big gut and looked like he was missing a finger. I think I saw him a bit earlier but I wasn't sure. I couldn't help but feel his eyes burn into me as I moved by.

Just then I realized that I had forgotten my car keys on the table inside so I ran back into the main area to grab them. The whole place was empty so I quickly made my way into the other room where I found my keys, and back out. But I nearly had a heart attack when the man from before had snuck in while my back was turned. I didn't even hear the door open!

“Hello,” he said. Creepy.

“Uh hi,”

“Shame that Clarence is no longer with us.” I started to get uncomfortable so I slowly began walking away.

“Yeah it's sad.”

“How did you know him?”

“I uh. My friend's grandpa-”

“So you're not related to him?” He interrupted.

“No”

“Good” He then gave an evil grin. I had my hand on the doorknob when suddenly he reached his hand out and a bolt of purple lightning struck me in the face. I think I blacked out but I wasn't so sure.

“Sir. Sir. Sir!”

I woke up to the sound of a man's voice. When I opened my eyes, I realized he was the mortician who arranged Clarence’s funeral. The way he was looking at me, I could tell he was angry but was trying to hide it. I was sitting on a bench in the hallway. How did I end up here?

“Oh, what?” I said in confusion. What was even more confusing was the fact that my voice sounded so gravelly.

“Sir, there is another funeral starting soon. I'm going to have to ask you to leave,” he explained hastily.

“Ok sure.” There it was again! Why did my voice sound like it's dying?”

“Wonderful. Now please hurry up. I have a few more things to set up.” With that he quickly turned around and walked into another room.

The last thing I remembered was that old guy talking to me in the room. He hit me with lightning or something. That must've been a dream but why did I black out in the first place? I guess it didn't really matter. I started getting up, only to find doing so was a lot more difficult than normal. What’s worse was that I noticed I was wearing a completely different suit than I was before…and I gained a lot of weight! My belly was huge, so much that I noticed the buttons on my shirt were starting to give way. I looked at my hands. My fingers were huge! They were like sausages, only wrinklier. I also found that my right index finger was missing. Amputated. God what happened to me?! I searched around for a clue and found a piece of paper in my jacket pocket. It looked like a letter of some sort.

Dear Ron, sorry I had to do this to you but it is what it is. I'm sure you've noticed by now but you're not in your own body anymore. You're in the body of me…well at least the body I was in when I met you!

What? That old guy. Oh no. He's right! These are the clothes he was wearing when I saw him! I continued reading.

You see, Clarence isn't dead. But that body that was in the casket sure was. How is that possible you ask? Well it's simple really. I am Clarence. Like anyone my age, I craved youth. But unlike the others, I actually did something about it. With a simple spell, I swapped my body with someone else's. I desired a young, fit stud, but unfortunately the spell backfired and I ended up in that old guy you're in now. But fret not. The spell could be used one more time! When I first saw you, I knew you'd be my new target. I'm loving your body though, you're a hunk! Too bad for you though. You must've aged at least 40 years! Not to mention gained at least 200 pounds. Well good luck on your new life!

No way! I was stuck like this? I couldn't get up by my legs alone, so I had to use my arms to force myself off the bench. When I got up, I nearly fell right over as the weight of the new body made me lose my balance. I tried walking around like I used to, but found the gut kept hitting my arms so I had to stretch them out a bit further. My knees were killing me under all the weight, making the trek to the nearest bathroom a difficult one. I walked inside and sure enough, the mirror revealed that I was now in the body of an old man. I grazed my hands along the unrecognizable face, feeling the wrinkles that weren't there before. At first I was relieved that I still had hair despite the receding hairline, but then I touched the back of my head, revealing a large smooth bald patch.

I can't believe just like that, I was 40 years older. I glanced down at my pants, realizing that I needed to know what my dick looked like. Expecting the worst, I unzipped my pants to find I couldn't couldn't actually see it past my gut. But I reached my hand down there anyway to find I was incredibly hung! My new buddy started growing, even though I should've been turned off by a gross old man's body. But my dick didn't lie; it actually grew so far out that I could see the tip past my enormous belly. I quickly took my jacket off, and unbuttoned my shirt, to find a fleshy pair of man tits and the now revealed gut. I started jerking, and watched the tits and gut swing around like they were made of jello. I walked over to the mirror and stared at myself as I jerked some more. I came all over the bathroom mirror, and as I cleaned it off, I realized that I didn't know where this guy even lived. I reached into his jacket pocket to find a pair of keys and a wallet with an address on it. I guess this was my life now. At least I can jerk off with a huge dick anytime I want…

#strangemaleswaps #male body swap #male tf #weight gain #body swap

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lilasamaaa · 4 hours

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Missed chances | Max Verstappen x Reader.

Genre | Angst, Hurt, Fluff.

Word count | 4.1K

Warnings | Mentions of heartbreak, alcohol consumption, Max being an asshole.

Summary | It's been years since you've had a crush on your best friend's brother. But him too, right? Or is kissing you every chance he gets just a game for him?

Author's note | Angsty Queen is back at it! This piece is the result of this poll. Thank you so much for all the feedback on the previous pieces, I'm so glad you like them. Enjoy this one! (Not proofread yet, sorry!)

You and Victoria are thirteen when you cross paths for the first time. The shy blonde girl stands upright, nervously nibbling her lip. It's the first day of school, and you're both waiting to find out which class you'll be in, hoping to be with friends. Her gaze meets yours, and she offers a timid smile. You're not friends. Not yet. You just have mutual friends. Your names are called almost simultaneously, indicating that you're in the same class. Instinctively, you head towards her, giving her a big smile. You don't know anyone else in the class, so you'll have to get to know each other. Stick together.

A few months later, as your father drops you off in front of Victoria's house before rushing off to your little brother's soccer practice, you take a moment to observe the pale blue house from the outside. Upstairs, a curtain moves, catching your attention. You don't see anybody, though. You knock on the door, and Victoria opens it, immediately throwing herself into your arms.

"I'm so glad your parents agreed to this," she says, excited. "This is gonna be so cool. My parents aren't home so Max is supposed to look after us, but he'll probably lock himself in his room. Boys, you know..." she finishes, leading you into the hallway.

Max? For months, you've been sharing your lives between classes, but you've never heard this name before.

"Who's Max?" you ask, curious.

"My older brother," she replies, rolling her eyes. "We don't get along so well these days. He thinks he's all grown up... Barely even acknowledge me," Victoria says, frustration evident in her voice.

"I can relate," you reply sarcastically. "Well, mine's younger, but not that interested in me either."

You spend the afternoon in her room painting your nails, braiding each other's hair, and sharing your secrets (you're starting to run out, after all this time), until night falls. You're deep in conversation when someone knocks on the door. That must be Max, you think, waiting for the door to open.

And it is Max, indeed. His face appears, and your heart skips a beat. He's cute. He seems a bit grumpy. Not in the best mood, that's true. But there's something immediately touching about his big, wide eyes and annoyed expression.

"Diner's ready," Max says before closing the door.

"I bet he made fish sticks again," Victoria grumbles, getting up. "That's the only thing he knows how to cook."

Sitting at the table, cutting a fish stick in half with your fork, your gaze shifts from Victoria to Max, who sit across from each other, not exchanging a word.

"So..." you start shyly. "What's your favorite subject, Max?" you ask, immediately regretting your words as the boy glances in your direction, brows furrowed.

Of course, your only topic of conversation is school. You've always been one of the top students. A real bookworm, as they say. Plus, you're not exactly comfortable around boys, especially those around your age. Victoria shoots you a desperate look, eyes wide open. But right now, anything seems better than this uncomfortable, excruciating silence.

"Erm," Max says, grabbing a green bean with his fork. "Geography, I guess. I don't know."

Silence falls once again, lingering until each of you finishes your meal, and then Victoria and you retreat to her room.

"Don't even bother trying to talk to him," the blonde says as she slips into her pajamas. "Nothing interests him except go-karting."

The next time you encounter Max, you're fourteen, and he's sixteen. Victoria and you are participating in an endurance race to raise funds for a charity, and your families have been invited to attend the event. Your parents, who have crossed paths several times at school meetings and other events, find each other in the stands and share enthusiastic greetings before sitting down. Already on the track, you watch the reunion with a smile when your eyes fall on him. Max is here? you think. He never attends these things.

The race begins, and Victoria and you take off along the lake, completing lap after lap. On one of them, as you pass by the stands, particularly the one where your parents are seated, you turn your head, hoping to catch a glimpse of them. You don't see your father or your mother. Your eyes only see him. Max. And he's looking at you, too. Your eyes don't leave each other until your foot slips on a stone, and your ankle twists violently. You fall to the ground, letting out a cry of pain as your father rises, rushing to your aid.

A little less than an hour later, as Victoria finishes her run and joins you at the infirmary, the blonde gives you a worried yet disapproving look. "You're too distracted," she says, hand on her hip. "What was it this time? Did you see a cute boy or something? Was it Jan?". You don't respond, giving a sheepish smile to your friend. A cute boy, yeah...

As the years go by, you see Max less and less. At the beginning of your friendship with Victoria, you often ran into the young man when you spent afternoons or nights at the Verstappen's, but the aspiring driver has started to become increasingly scarce in his own home. One evening, though, as you're racking your brains over a philosophy essay, your phone vibrates, signaling a message from the person who's become your best friend.

"Max is throwing a fucking rager at home. Please come, I beg you. I'll shoot myself if I have to deal with his drunk friends all alone."

Thirty minutes later, you're on your bike, covering the five kilometers that separate your house from Victoria's. Summer has begun, with only a few days of classes left, which certainly explains Max's sudden urge to throw a party. On your bike, you're anxious, your stomach tying itself in knots. Despite your daily visits to Victoria, it's been almost a year since you've last seen her older brother. You try to convince yourself that the fact you applied a bit of mascara to your lashes or straightened your hair has nothing to do with his presence. You just wanted to tidy up a bit, that's all. Nothing else to it.

When you arrive at the blue house, your first instinct is to anxiously glance at the surrounding houses. How has no one called the cops yet, you think, impressed by the decibels pouring out of the open windows, and the number of people you can already see inside the house. Leaving your bike in the grass, you venture into the house, passing by the wide open front door. On the way to the living room, drunk bodies cling to you, spilling beer on your shoes, shouting incomprehensible words in your ears. Wow. Victoria wasn't kidding. This thing is a huge mess.

Spotting your friend in the middle of the kitchen, you make your way to her.

"What the fuck is happening here?" you ask, casting a glance over the room.

"Can you believe this asshole?" Victoria replies, fuming. "Mom has been gone for five hours. Five! And I haven't even finished my fucking essay," she says, despair filling her eyes.

"Forget about it," you reply, stifling a laugh. "That's not happening tonight."

Victoria launches into another tirade about how much her brother annoys her when you catch sight of him in the middle of the living room. He's wearing a shirt that looks slightly too big for him. Maybe borrowed from his dad. He's holding a beer in one hand. A girl in the other. The sight twists your heart and brings a bitter taste to your mouth. Clinging to his arm, the blonde —who you recognize as Sanne, a girl from his class— can't seem to tear her gaze from Max, looking at him as if he belonged in a museum.

"Hey, are you listening?" Victoria says, bringing you back to reality.

"What?"

"They want to play a game," Victoria repeats. "Seven minutes in heaven."

"Seven minutes in heaven?" you repeat, eyes wide.

"Yeah. Sanne suggested it."

Of course she did, you think, biting your lip. Of course Sanne, who clearly has a big crush on Max, would suggest a game where the goal is to get locked in a narrow closet with someone for seven minutes.

"Listen to me," Victoria says, suddenly serious. "If Max has to be locked in a closet with anyone, I want it to be you. We'll figure it out. We'll cheat at the draw," she continues. "I hate Sanne. At least with you, I know nothing will happen."

You swallow loudly, completely at a loss for words. Getting locked in a closet with Max? The Max who's never really noticed you? Who's always seen you as nothing but a kid because you're a year and a half younger and his sister's friend? You don't have much time to think about it because already, you're sitting in a circle in the middle of the living room with a dozen other people, a bottle in the center.

Johannes, a friend of Max's, spins the bottle, which lands on Sanne. The girl's eyes sparkle with excitement, her gaze fixed on Max. Johannes spins the bottle again, and this time, it stops in front of another girl you don't know. You glance at Victoria, who seems particularly amused by the situation. Sanne looks absolutely gutted.

"Rules are rules, girls," Johannes says, laughing.

A boy from your class escorts the girls to the closet by the entrance before locking them in and starting a timer. The seven minutes pass, filled by various discussions. When the alarm goes off and the girls are freed, Sanne sits back in the circle, her face closed off.

"It's my turn to spin the bottle," she announces, seizing the plastic object.

She's quite skilled, as the bottle spins twice before landing directly in front of Max. Sanne grabs the bottle again, sending it spinning, and it rotates for a while before stopping right in front of you. Sanne seems beside herself, but your attention is focused on Victoria, who gives you a discreet thumbs-up. Your eyes meet Max's, and it's safe to say the young man doesn't look too pleased. But as Johannes said, rules are rules, and the two of you get up before walking towards the closet.

The space is ridiculously tiny. Max ventures in first, one foot behind the vacuum cleaner, the other squeezed between two shoe shelves. There's barely enough room for two people to fit, and as Johannes pushes you inside unceremoniously and you hear the lock click behind you, you realize you're standing between Max's legs, your hands on his chest.

"Sorry," you say, trying to get away, your back hitting the door.

A heavy silence settles between you as outside, you hear the lively conversations resume in the living room.

"I'm sure you would have preferred to be locked in with Sanne," you say, trying to fill the silence that's slowly eating away at you.

"Not really," Max responds, evasive.

"Aren't you two together?" you ask, curious.

He scoffs against you, sending vibrations to your chest.

"She would like to, yeah," Max says, as you feel his breath against your face despite him being twenty centimeters taller than you.

"And you don't?" you ask, trying to appear nonchalant even though you fear his answer.

"I don't have time for her."

"Oh. I didn't realize your time was so precious," you reply, stunned.

"Depends on who it's spent with," Max replies, his voice deeper.

You're suddenly incredibly grateful to be plunged into darkness because your cheeks are definitely burning red. Is Max Verstappen flirting with you?

"You've changed since the last time I saw you," he continues, as you feel like the temperature in the closet has risen several degrees.

"Changed how?" you ask, seeking his gaze despite the darkness.

"You're taller. Your hair seems longer. It's lightened up a bit, it's nice," he says. "Sixteen suits you. You're not a kid anymore."

You're going to suffocate. Die in a closet.

"We're only a year and a half apart," you reply, breathless.

"I know," he replies, as you feel his hand caress your cheek. "I'm not a kid anymore either."

His lips crash onto yours before you even have time to comprehend what's happening. You melt into him, closing your eyes, savoring the contact you've dreamed of for years. His hand rests on the back of your head, bringing you closer to him, as your hands find their way back to his chest. You bite his lip, and he lets out a groan before wrapping his arms around your waist. You thank the loud music from the living room for drowning out the sounds you're making in this closet, pressed against one another. Your hands find his neck, and his crawl to your ass, squeezing it as you let out a moan against his open mouth.

You thought you couldn't get any closer, but one of Max's hands slips under your right knee, lifting your leg. You've never kissed anyone. Never touched anyone. Yet, as your two groins press against each other, everything feels so easy, so natural. You could stay here for hours, exploring his mouth, his face, his body, but already, footsteps echo in the hallway, and you pull away from each other as if you'd been burned.

"Time's up, lovers!" Johannes says opening the door, prompting laughter from the living room.

"As if," Max says, getting out first. "That's disgusting, bro. She's like my sister."

You stay in the closet for a few seconds, watching the two boys go back to the living room, catching your breath. Several hours later, lying in Victoria's bed as the music has stopped and most of the guests have left the house, you stare at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep, despite your best friend softly snoring by your side. Getting up to get a glass of water, you walk blindly through the dark hallway, passing by Max's room.

"Can we talk?" a voice suddenly rises, making you jump, your hand finding your heart which threatens to leap out of your chest.

You remain silent. Not quite sure if you want to talk, let alone with Max. And certainly not to talk about earlier, in the closet, and be rejected by the boy who stole your heart.

"Come here," he says, pulling you into his room before closing the door behind him. "I don't want Victoria to hear."

You're about to pour your heart out, tell Max how much he hurt you, when he pulls you towards him and presses his lips to yours. Again. Everything you had planned to say escapes your mind as your tongues meet and the hands of your best friend's brother slide under your shirt, stroking your back. Max pulls back, sitting on his bed, pulling you onto his lap, one leg on each side of him. The kisses intensify, your noses brushing, your hands getting lost in each other's hair. Your lips speaking without sound, your hearts opening up without words.

"I don't understand you," you admit between kisses.

"Don't try," he replies, biting your lip.

Max grabs your butt, pressing you against him, and a flash of panic grips you when you feel him against you. Hard. You moan, and suddenly, all the reason seems to come back to him. It's you. His sister's best friend. He pulls back, avoiding your gaze.

"I..." he starts, breathless. "You should go," Max says before pushing you off his lap. You stand here, facing him awkwardly for a few seconds. Waiting for him to say something. Anything. When nothing comes, his head still low, you turn on your heels. Back in Victoria's room, slipping under the covers of your best friend's bed, you let out a tear, feeling a sadly familiar ache tugging at your heart.

Max and you cross paths again a year later, at your high school graduation ceremony. You and Victoria are among the top students in your class, and you're invited to go on stage to give a speech with eight other people. One of these people is Niels. Your boyfriend. You've been together for a few months now. He welcomes you on stage, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek before holding you close. In the audience, your eyes meet those of your parents, proud. Those of Victoria's parents, proud. And those of Max. Icy.

The speeches go by quickly, and just before the buffet begins, you apologize to Niels and your parents, saying you need to make a quick stop at the restroom. In the deserted corridors of your high school, your heels click against the floor, soon joined by the sound of another pair of shoes. You turn around, surprised, seeing Max approaching in the distance.

"Niels Harmen?" you hear the boy say. "Really?"

"What do you want?" you reply, eyes cold.

"That guy was still picking his nose last year."

"It's good that he stopped, then," you respond, annoyed.

"Why are you dating him?"

The question makes you laugh. Not a sincere laugh. A laugh that says "mind your own business" and "screw you" at the same time. An ironic, ugly laugh that you don't even recognize.

"When we kiss, I'm not afraid that he'll reject me the next second," you reply, even though you know it's hitting below the belt.

Max scoffs, crossing his arms.

"Is it what it is? Some sort of revenge?"

"I'm not seeking revenge on anyone. My life doesn't revolve around you," you spit before turning on your heels.

You haven't taken a step before a hand grabs your wrist. You already know what's going to happen. So you try to resist. You know you shouldn't turn around. That if your eyes meet his, you'll fall back in. Start another round of false hopes. Disillusionments. Heartaches.

Yet, you do. You turn around, and, of course, his lips find yours. It's almost routine now, mechanical. You close your eyes, your heart torn between the joy of feeling his touch again, and the anticipation of the pain that will undoubtedly assail you in a few hours. When he'll reject you, again.

You're lost in each other when the sound of applause brings you crashing back to earth. The two of you quickly pull away before turning towards the source of the noise. Sanne.

"Don't you have a boyfriend waiting for you?" the girl asks with a fake smile.

"Get out of here, Sanne," Max says like a warning.

"What happened to "I'm not interested in her", Max?" Sanne asks, one hand on her hip. "Or to "She's just a kid, and not even my type"? Or, wait, what was it, the last time?" Sanne continues, stroking her chin. "Oh, yeah. "She was just there, and I was bored"."

You look at him, mouth agape, but Max carefully avoids meeting your gaze. Sanne's words tear at your heart. In a way, it's even worse than being rejected by him. You turn on your heels for good this time, passing by Sanne who's looking at you like you're the most despicable thing on earth. You're vaguely aware of Max saying... no, screaming your name, but you keep on walking, not looking back once. For a second, you thought you were gonna cry, break down in tears in the middle of the hallway. But nothing comes. You don't feel anything. Your heart has given up, surrendered. Returning to the ceremony, you smile at your parents before grabbing a flute of champagne, toasting with Victoria.

"Have you seen Max?" your best friend asks, and you don't miss how the mention of his name doesn't make your heart flutter, for the first time in years.

"Nope," you reply, smiling at her.

Three years later, you're in Victoria's car, on your way to the Zandvoort Grand Prix. You don't even know why you agreed to come with your best friend. You don't watch F1. You have no interest in the sport. Curiosity, your inner voice whispers. You wanted to see him again. You shake your head to dispel those intrusive thoughts when Victoria turns to you.

"I'm so glad you agreed to come. Max is so happy, too."

"What?" you ask, turning to her.

"He told me over the phone. Is that so surprising?"

Well, it is. Max and you haven't exchanged a word since the last ones thrown in the hallway of your high school. But Victoria, of course, doesn't know that. Victoria thinks you're friendly. Like two people who grew up together, gravitating in the same universe without ever colliding.

"He got us VIP passes", your best friend continues. "We'll be able to go everywhere, even see the pit stops!"

"How kind of him," you mumble.

"Look," she says, looking over at you. "I know Max wasn't the kindest... or the warmest, growing up. But he's changed, so much. You'd be surprised!"

"Oh, I bet," you say, smiling at her.

Victoria parks her small car in the VIP space, and a RedBull staff member greets you, handing you two passes before guiding you through the paddock. A stress you haven't felt in three years creeps into your head, into your body. Your thoughts collide, your hands are sweaty. You're beginning to wonder if coming here was a good idea after all when you spot him. At the end of the aisle, in his racing suit. Helmet in hand. Victoria's phone suddenly rings, and she apologizes, gesturing for you to continue without her.

You take the few steps that separate you from the driver. He's changed. So much. His teenage roundness has vanished, replaced by sharp features. His hair is longer, his eyes darker. He gives you a warm smile that twists your insides. It's impossible, you think. After all these years. Having so much power, so much hold over me.

"You came," he says, still smiling.

"For her," you reply curtly.

"Well..." he says, laughing softly. "She's not the one racing."

The silence falls again. Cold. Heavy. You turn your head, spotting Victoria a little further away, hoping she hangs up soon.

"You look beautiful," he says, and you know he means it despite you wearing the blankest blue jeans and white shirt ever made.

Silence, again.

"I'd hoped you'd no longer be mad at me." Max says, and you scoff.

"I'm not mad at you."

"You're cold."

"You broke my heart."

The driver winces, looking away.

"I should have called," he says, softly.

"I wouldn't have answered," you reply.

"I should have come to see you," Max starts again.

"I wouldn't have opened the door."

Your eyes meet his. Fire and ice.

"Well, I should have done something. Fight for you," he continues.

"Fight for who?" you ask. "The girl who was just there?"

Max runs his hand through his hair, embarrassed.

"You were never just that to me. You were so much more. I was just too young, too stupid to realize it. I have. Now."

You hadn't planned on getting into deep explanations with Max today. Not here. Not now. You're about to respond when Victoria returns, linking her arm with yours.

"Maxie!" she says, kissing his cheek. "Are you catching up on lost time? Did she tell you she's still dating Niels? Rumor has it that he's going to propose soon!"

Max's eyes glance down at your hand, and something in his demeanor shifts. It might be the breath he holds, or the way his shoulders seem to slump, defeated.

"She hasn't," he says, smiling faintly at his sister.

"We should go," Victoria says. "The race is about to start. Can we go to the stands?"

"Yes, no problem," Max replies as Victoria begins to head towards the garage, leaving you face to face once again.

"Congrats on your future engagement, I guess," he says.

"Thank you. I'm going to break up with him," you reply, crossing your arms.

"What?" Max says, astonished.

"It doesn't feel right. Him and I."

"If it has anything to do with me, please, tell me," Max breathes, as you avoid his gaze. "I was so focused on my career these past few years that I never wrote to you. I knew I didn't have the time to make it work. I knew it'd be selfish. Unfair to you," Max admits.

"Here you are, once again, thinking that my life revolves around you", you say, smirking at him. "I'm not waiting for you, Max. I haven't been for a while now."

The driver nods, swallowing hard.

"Of course," he says. "I'm sorry for assuming."

"I'm not against the idea of grabbing a drink with you sometime, though," you say, winking at him. "Just text me when you're free."

"I will," he says quickly, blue eyes boring into yours.

"See you around," you say, running to catch up with Victoria.

Watching you leave, Max stands there, grinning like an idiot, before unlocking his phone.

"What about tonight?"

Sent.