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fluentmoviequoter · 3 days

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Rook Book to Remember Me By

Part 2 of Rook Book

Pairing: Tim Bradford x fem!Metro!reader

Summary: Tim's delay in transferring to Metro may have cost him everything, and as he and Lucy search Los Angeles for a killer, he only has his memories and a fake rook book to remember you by.

Warnings: ANGST, death, fluff

Word Count: 3.6k+ words

A/N: I know this is a Chenford gif but it fits. :)

Masterlist Directory | Tim Bradford Masterlist | Request Info/Fandom List

“What is that?” Lucy asks as she waits beside Tim’s desk. “A bomb?”

“Lower your voice, boot,” Tim snaps. “We don’t need a stampede.”

“Yes, sir. So, what is it?”

“What does it look like? It’s a book.”

“No, it’s a rook book with a bow on it. And I bet I know who it’s from.”

“50 pushups.”

“But-“

“You want double?”

Lucy frowns as she silences, and she watches Tim lift the book. He opens the front cover and shakes his head before dropping it into one of his drawers. Lucy doesn’t move toward the door, and Tim sighs as he leans against his desk.

“What?” he asks.

“Is that just a book? Or a none-rook-book-rook-book? Like the one somebody’s pretty TO used to carry?”

“Pretty TO?” you ask from behind Lucy.

Tim had been too distracted by the book and Lucy’s prying questions to notice you walk in. Dressed in your Metro uniform, you slide your hands into your pockets and smile.

“I’ll assume you’re talking about Tim,” you add.

“Yeah, right,” Lucy snorts.

“100 pushups it is,” Tim announces.

“Tim,” you chide softly. “You can’t blame her for being excited to see this side of you. It took me your entire probationary period to learn you could smile.”

“Chen, give us a minute,” Tim says.

“Do I have to?” she asks quietly.

“Yes,” you and Tim say together. The difference is that you add, “Please.”

You watch Lucy move toward the equipment room before turning to Tim. He furrows his brows and unconsciously blocks the drawer with your gift in it.

“I’m sorry I didn’t answer your call last night,” you begin. “Metro raided a speakeasy, and it went a little haywire.” “Are you okay?” Tim interrupts. “That’s what I was going to ask you. I know you tolerate me, maybe even like me a little, but you don’t call unless you need something.”

“I, uh, just wanted to hear your voice. But I’m fine, I promise.”

You nod and run your tongue over your bottom lip as you think. “Still have nightmares?”

“I’m fine.”

“Look, Lucy is ready to pass that test, but in the end moving to Metro is a big decision. One you can do; I don’t doubt that. Just… don’t stick around because you think you have some debt to pay or something. Your boot is important, but your career is too.”

“I’ll remember that.”

Your Metro Commander yells your name, and you lay a hand on Tim’s shoulder before whispering a farewell. He watches you go and decides that when he calls you tonight, he’ll ask why you chose the book you did. Hopefully, he thinks, it will allow him to admit some things. He needs more than your voice to calm him in the middle of the night these days.

“Can I just say one thing?” Lucy asks from the passenger seat of the shop.

“Will me saying no stop you?” Tim replies.

“I think you’re really cute together. She’s been waiting for you, and I don’t think you should make her wait just because you’re scared.”

“What makes you think I’m scared? You mean well, Chen, but this is none of your concern.”

“Maybe not. But it’s yours, and you know I’m right.”

Tim wants to keep arguing, maybe threaten Lucy with more pushups to make her leave it alone, but the radio cuts him off.

“Attention all units. Officer down at Wilshire Federal Building. Metro requesting backup. Will advise.”

Tim’s world slows as he pulls the shop to a curb. He and Lucy are too far away to provide backup fast enough, but he can’t move until he knows that you’re okay. Lucy watches him as he stares at the radio, but with each second of silence, she gets more concerned for him.

“She’s going to be okay,” Lucy whispers.

Tim shakes his head. He doesn’t want to think about the alternative but believing that you’re okay without knowing is more dangerous than being wrong and hearing another officer’s name over the radio.

“Bradford, Chen, Harper, Nolan,” Wade radios. “Get back to the station and prepare to assist Metro.”

“Uh, you- you drive, Lucy,” Tim says as he unclips his seatbelt.

“Attention all units,” the dispatch officer begins.

She identifies the downed officer, and when your name is said, Tim’s world stops. He waited too long, and now he can never tell you how he feels. He had a crush on you, he wants to say, but it turned into so much more.

“Tim,” Lucy calls as she opens the driver-side door. “C’mon.”

Tim doesn’t feel any shame as he leans on Lucy. She ushers him into the passenger seat before she drives to the station with lights and sirens on. Tim’s silence is terrifying, and although Lucy is also feeling grief and is heartbroken to hear you’re gone, her concern for Tim outweighs her own emotions.

As Tim exits the shop, his devastation suddenly makes room for anger. He doesn’t blame any of your fellow officers, but if he had moved to Metro sooner, he would have been there with you, and maybe he could have changed the outcome. He slams the door and ignores Lucy as he storms into the bullpen.

Lucy and Tim slow as they see several Metro teams gathered together, but it’s obvious that something is wrong, something is missing. There’s a gap where you should be, and even the elite tactical officers seem lost without you.

“What happened?” Tim asks.

“Officer Bradford, we can’t release any information yet,” Wade answers. “Metro’s going to fill you in on what you need to know. They need as many of us as they can get.”

Tim clenches his jaw to stop the remark that he wants to make. The Metro teams are talking quietly, and he gestures for Lucy to step to his other side as he moves closer.

“You saw the shot?” one of them asks.

“Yeah,” someone answers.

“Then where’d they take her?”

At the realization that you’re not only gone, but they don’t even know where your body is, Tim begins looking around. He sees his Sergeant, Captain, and the Metro commanders huddled in a corner and walks directly to them.

“I want a position in the task force. You need more people, and I’m one of the few patrol officers who knows how to complete a manhunt like this,” he demands.

“I understand where you’re coming from Bradford, but you’re too invested in this to go out alone,” Wade replies.

“Then let me go with him,” Lucy interjects. “Tim knows what he’s doing, and we can patrol and engage in the manhunt at the same time, right?”

Wade looks to the Metro sergeant to his left, who shrugs noncommittedly. He sighs before nodding and tells Tim to get back out on the street and wait for the information about the gunman.

“Wait,” Tim tells Lucy as he stops beside his desk.

He pulls the book from the bottom drawer and tucks it under his arm before continuing to the shop. If this is his last drive where you’re involved, he wants you there. Or as close as he can get.

“Dispatch released a picture,” Lucy says before turning the dash computer toward Tim.

He looks at the picture until the light turns green, and then he begins a grid search surrounding the Wilshire Federal Building. If that man is still nearby, and Tim finds him first, prison will be the least of his worries.

“What’s the book?” Lucy inquires.

“It’s her favorite,” Tim answers.

“You know what her favorite book is. That’s really sweet, Tim.”

“She’s been telling me for years to read it and I keep making excuses not to.”

“And now?”

Tim nods, and Lucy knows that he is going to not only read the book but devour it and everything related to it to feel close to you again.

“7-Adam-19, assault in progress inside Shell gas station at the corner of Santa Monica Boulevard and Greenfield Avenue. 9-1-1 caller requested your presence on scene.”

Tim hits the steering wheel before telling Lucy to accept the call. He doesn’t have time to break up a fight in a gas station, not when your killer is on the loose. The gas station is less than five minutes away, but Tim gets grumpier with every minute. As he and Lucy enter the gas station, he’s prepared to jump in the fight just to finish it faster.

“You called the police, what’s the problem?” Tim asks the cashier.

The young girl looks scared; her face is pale, and her hands shake above the cash register.

“This doesn’t look like an assault in progress,” Tim adds with his arms crossed tightly over his chest.

Lucy steps forward to speak to the girl while Tim looks around. The gas station is empty, but Tim doesn’t make it far before he sees a blood trail on the floor. It rounds the end of the cashier’s counter and disappears under a door. Tim pulls his gun and whispers for Lucy to stay ready as he steps toward the door.

“In there?” Lucy asks.

The woman behind the counter nods, and Lucy gestures for Tim to go ahead. Tim pushes the door open and raises his gun to clear the room while Lucy stays on the other side of the opening. He looks down to follow the blood but freezes when someone speaks.

“Officer Bradford, California Penal Code 217.1 is punishable by what?”

“Chen!” Tim yells as he holsters his gun.

Lucy hits the light switch for the storage closet, and Tim kneels to lift a bloody gun from the floor.

“They said you died,” Tim says as he moves closer to you.

You hear Tim begin asking questions when he enters the gas station and hope that the cashier that you scared by walking in covered in your blood can point him to your hiding spot in the storage closet. Your gun is on the floor beside your feet and your long-sleeve Metro t-shirt is balled against the gunshot wound in your shoulder.

When Tim opens the door, you ask him about a penal code before your head tips forward. Staying conscious while losing blood isn’t as easy as some may think, and you want to make a joke, but Tim jumps to action before you can.

“They said you died,” Tim says quietly.

He lays a hand over your cheek as his other hand applies more pressure to the fabric on your shoulder.

“I think that was the goal,” you mumble.

“Chen, radio for-“

“No!” you interrupt. Your voice raises at the idea of Chen communicating this news over the radio. “The men who we went in there to arrest have radios. They knew we were coming, but if they think I’m dead we can use that.”

“You need help,” Tim argues.

He reaches for his phone, and you lay a bloody hand on his forearm to stop him. You wait for him to look at your face to smile.

“We find another way to get help. But as far as anyone with a police radio knows, I’m still dead.”

“How am I supposed to get you treatment for a GSW without raising any red flags? Any ER nurse will call the police.”

“What about Grace?” Lucy suggests. “Nolan’s friend? If we could talk to her before we take you in, she may be able to keep it quiet.”

“If you think it will work, let’s do it,” you agree.

“No,” Tim interrupts. “We’re not putting your life in the hands of a rookie.”

“Tim, she’s right. This is a good plan and one we need if we want these guys off the street. Please, just trust me and Lucy for a few minutes. You can yell at us and brainstorm new Tim Tests later.”

“Call Grace,” Tim says as he moves his arms around you. “If this starts going wrong, or something happens to you, I will use my radio.”

“Understood.”

You keep your uninjured arm across your chest as Tim lifts you into his arms. Lucy leads the way out and opens the backdoor of the shop before apologizing to the gas station clerk. She leaves her card and scribbles the number of someone who can clean the bloody scene but reminds the girl not to call the police or tell anyone you were here. As Tim drives through traffic and Lucy talks to Grace, you notice a book in the floorboard and chuckle.

“What?” Tim asks quickly.

“You have my rook book.”

“Guess I don’t have to read it now that you’re not dead.”

“If I didn’t know better I would think you’re mad at me, Bradford.” “You know exactly what I’m thinking.”

“Don’t risk your job for revenge, Tim. I know you care about me, and I care about you, too, but this isn’t worth it. We work the case like any other.”

“Easy for you to say,” Tim snaps. “You didn’t think the woman you love was murdered twenty minutes ago.”

Lucy ends the call and looks through the cage at you. It’s not how Tim planned to tell you, but he feels lighter with the admission.

“I’m sorry, Tim,” you whisper.

“Tell me after.”

“I’m not waiting until the end of Lucy’s probation period.”

“Please don’t,” she agrees. “I can only take so much more pining from this one.”

“I don’t pine,” Tim grumbles.

“Yes, you do,” you and Lucy argue together.

“Bradford, status report?” Wade radios.

Tim looks at Lucy, who apologizes quickly for not communicating a code 4.

“Code 4, Grey,” Tim replies. “But don’t ask any questions right now.”

“Okay. As long as you didn’t break any laws, this conversation never happened.”

Tim glances over his shoulder at you, and you state, “I haven’t broken any laws. Have you?”

“Not yet.”

“If there’s blood on this book later, that’s your fault.”

Tim sighs, and it sounds almost like a laugh. You don’t have time to tease him before he pulls into the emergency room drop-off area of Shaw Memorial Hospital. Grace and several nurses run out and wheel you in quickly, promising to help you without asking any questions or reporting anything to the police.

“What now?” Lucy asks as the doors close behind you.

“Now, we find the people who are getting 15 to life for trying to kill an officer for completing her duties,” Tim answers.

“Tim,” Lucy calls.

He stops, and she points to the blood staining his skin. Tim opens the trunk of the shop and retrieves a pack of wipes from one of the war bags. Lucy watches as he harshly scrubs your blood from his skin and gets angrier with every wipe he tosses aside.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” she asks.

“Lucy,” he begins as he slams the trunk closed. “I’m pissed off and I have a feeling in my chest that I’m not used to. But how I feel doesn’t matter. We’re going to get every single one of the people involved in this, and make sure they end up in a hole.”

“By ‘a hole,’ you mean prison, right?” Tim walks around the shop rather than answering, and Lucy rushes to repeat, “You mean prison, right?”

“7-Adam-19, report to Sepulveda and Ohio Avenue.”

“What now?” Tim yells.

He steers the shop into an illegal U-turn and speeds down Sepulveda Boulevard. Lucy gasps as they near the intersection.

“Turn left onto Ohio,” she says.

“Why?”

“Just do it!”

“Second left onto Camden,” she adds after he turns.

Tim slams on the brakes when he sees someone sitting on the curb at the end of Camden Avenue. Lucy exits the shop as soon as it stops and rushes to hug you as you stand.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the hospital?” Tim demands as he joins you.

“Uh, no?” you guess.

“It’s not your fight anymore. You’re dead, remember?”

“Tim-“

“No, you’re going home. You just got out of the hospital.”

“It was just a flesh wound. Lots of blood, a couple of stitches, but no long-term damage. Besides, when’s the last time you got to watch a ghost slap the cuffs on her killer?”

“Look around Tim,” Lucy encourages.

He already know where he is: the sight of his first arrest with you as his TO, it’s a day he’ll never forget. Tim groans before he waves his hand toward the shop. Lucy cheers and offers you her seat. It’s strange being in the passenger seat with Tim again; last time you were here, he was in long sleeves and fresh out of the Army. He was a great rookie, and he’s a great TO, but you want him to be more.

“Tim!” you alert just as Tim slows to a stop.

“I see him,” he agrees.

“Was that too easy?” Lucy asks.

“Well, it’s not over yet,” Tim responds.

“We can do it,” you tell Tim. “You go left, I go right, Lucy splits the middle.”

“This is the coolest thing I’ve ever done,” Lucy whispers from the backseat.

“Alright,” Tim agrees. “Lucy, you do whatever you have to do to get the one in the middle down, okay?”

“3… 2… 1…” you and Tim count down together.

You exit the shop silently and leave the doors open. As Tim goes wide to take down the suspect on the left, you move toward the man who shot you. You, Lucy, and Tim strike at the same time and push the suspects down onto the sidewalk. The man beneath you attempts to elbow you in the face, but you shove his head down against the concrete and warn him against moving.

When you cuff him and pull him up to his knees, the man gets a good luck at your face. His expression changes and he leans away like you’re truly a ghost. He tries to move back, but only tips and rolls into the street.

“Leave him,” Tim says as he reaches for his radio. “Grey, this is Bradford, Chen, and our missing Metro officer. We’ve got good news and three suspects in custody. Send backup to my location.”

“No R/A?” you ask. “Because you seemed really eager to send me back to the hospital earlier.”

“You seem fine,” Tim explains with a shrug.

“Tim,” you call as you exit Wade’s office.

He’s changed into his civvies and is preparing to leave for the night. You can’t let him, though, because there is no more time.

“Can you- do you wanna come over for a bit?” you ask.

The left side of Tim’s lips move up as he nods, and you accept his hand as he leads you to his truck. Tim drives to your home in relative silence, and you use the time to find the right words to say. Once you’re inside, you sit on the couch beside Tim and decide to tell him everything. You’ve let him into your life and your house, now you just have to let him in on how you feel.

“You said you loved me in the shop today,” you say. “But I have been falling for you since the moment you walked into roll call your first day. You’ve always been more than my rookie and I can’t live another day without you in my life, Tim. I want you. Nightmares, embarrassing memories between us, fake rook books, all of it. I need you, Tim.”

Tim leans closer with his arm stretched on the back of the couch behind your shoulders. “This is better than 1001.66,” he murmurs.

“Did you just compare my confession of being in love with you to a penal code about bad checks? Because that is-“

Your words end in a hum as Tim curls his arm around your shoulders and kisses you. He tugs you closer, and you hold his face between your hands as you show him that your words are more than that. Tim has had a crush on you since he started patrolling with you, but now he knows that he loves you and needs you beside him. You push him, and he pushes you, but you do it because you know what you’re capable of.

Tim’s phone rings, but he ignores it as he pulls you closer, so your legs are bracketing his. He leans up to continue kissing you as his phone begins ringing again. You press your hands against his chest and break away to retrieve his phone. He follows your movement and peppers kisses along your jaw, completely uninterested in answering his phone.

You see the name on the caller ID and answer, “Hi, Lucy.”

“Hey!” she replies. “I wanted to ask how you’re doing. And if Tim’s alright after everything that happened.”

“We’re both fine,” you promise breathlessly.

“Wait-“

You assume that Lucy realizes that you answered Tim’s phone, which means you’re still together. She squeals into the phone, and you pull it away from your ear and smile.

“Oh, I have to tell Angela!” she yells.

Tim rolls his eyes and keeps one hand around your waist as he pulls his phone away from you. “Bye,” he says quickly before ending the call.

“Hanging up on your rookie isn’t nice,” you say.

“Like you wouldn’t have hung up on me.”

“You were scared to call because you had a crush on me.”

“Still do.”

“What? Tim-“

Tim cuts you off with another kiss; it’s his answer and a reminder of how he feels. You remember the rook book that was in his truck, but now that you’re a permanent fixture in Tim’s life, you can make sure he reads it.

#tim bradford x reader #hanna writes✯#tim bradford fic #tim bradford imagine #tim bradford #tim bradford the rookie #tim bradford x y/n #tim bradford x you #the rookie abc #fem!reader

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xxgoblin-dumplingxx · 2 days

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got any more empath reader?

Only because there's rampant plot bunnies for it in my brain. I have an abundance of much more polite asks.

"You okay?" Dick asked, careful not to touch you as he got close enough to speak in your ear- to be heard above the din. You were drowning in an oversized hoodie and that usually meant "Do not. I am not real today."

You half shrug and give him a wan smile, "About as okay as it gets after a blow out."

"It was a good one, huh." He rubbed the back of his neck and leaned against the wall. You exuded calm he knew you didn't feel. And it was nice. He felt better, and he appreciated it. That benefit of your odd little empathic quirk.

Bruce had banned you from doing it to the WHOLE manor all at once, but, it was a little difficult for him to stop you from doing it in your immediate vicinity.

"What was Jason like before?" you ask, tucking your knees up under your hoodie and wrapping your arms around yourself. There's no judgement in the question, just curiosity. From someone else that had felt a part of themself die on a filthy floor.

"Annoyingly cheerful," Dick snorted. "Tough though. Street smart. Idealistic and brave to a fault. It's like he was made in a lab to be Robin. I got the job by Tragedy. Jason got the job because Bruce- well frankly I think Bruce was lonely and saw a scrappy kid who stole his tires and just went 'welp guess I'm a dad again'. And we all know Tim just bullied his way in." He broke off and shook his head. "He didn't really mean what he said about-"

"You and Steph call me a Science experiment all the time," you point out.

"Yeah," Dick admitted, wincing. "But it didn't go wrong. What they did to you was wrong. They way they did it was wrong. What you can do is cool as shit... You're not a walking Xanax. That's not what we keep you around for."

When you don't look at him, nodding silently, he wonders what you're picking up. How deep you can dig through a person for their buried feelings. And exactly what it COSTS to know that information all the time. "I think I'm gonna go on a walk for a while."

" 'Kay," Dick said easily, "Planning on comin' back for dinner?" Rambles were good. And not uncommon. They gave you time to clear your head.

"I'm not sure," you admit, "but I should be back before dark."

Dick nodded, "I'll tell Bruce. I don't think he wants you on Patrol for any particular reason. You're probably just on stand by." With any luck, Dick thought, they'd never put you with Jason. That would be catastrophic.

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #ask answered #minors dni #reader insert #science experiment! reverse

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wayfayrr · 23 hours

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Toucan play at this game

Part two of Birds without feather flock together!!! this is a direct continuation of the previous fic and it was also commissioned by @lost4pandora <3 this time there's more fluff and just overall softness

[masterlist]

“Pressing in what way? Because I know Wild wouldn’t have been so upset with simple ‘questioning’.”

“I- you remember what you did for me during the war? The um-”

“So you’ve been pushing him about getting prosthetic wings.”

Makes sense why wars has been looking guilty now, if it wasn’t for the fact that they knew it was possible from me helping to repair his back in the war, then they wouldn’t be able to push it so hard. It’s not exactly his fault as long as he wasn’t one of the few that’ve been pressuring him.

“Well, the others have. I backed off after the first time it was talked about because I respect Wild’s decision. Wars however…”

“It - I, I wanted to drop it but the others, well they wouldn’t exactly let me. I-”

“He w’s their shin’n example.”

“Wild’s right, as much as I wanted to let the topic just drop…”

“Wars struggles to tell the others no sometimes.” Not like I needed to be told that, after how much time I’ve spent around him it’s pretty clear he has a hard time saying no to anyone really. Every time I asked him the smallest favour he always did it without question, often times above what I asked for too. His will to please is often his fatal flaw. He still could have stood up more though seeing how much it affected Wild, they were doing it out of concern, no need to flip out at them yet.

“I am aware. He’s shown that off time and time again.”

“Huh? but it’s only to people he’- don’t shove me like that!?”

“I know. I know trust me. It’s something I’m working on.” What was Sky going to say if wars hadn’t interrupted him there? Does it really matter though, what this is supposed to be is learning why this pressing has been so bad for Wild and how to get the rest to drop it. Although the time away from the group seems to be doing him good, his familiar weight pressing into my side as he’s making himself comfortable leaning on me.

“That doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been upsetting him though, does it?”

“Well no it-”

“Yeah it doesn’t, does it.”

They’re both fumbling a little bit now, Wars a considerable amount more than Sky, who’s admittedly keeping a fair amount of this new colder unbothered demeanour of his about him. It’s both oddly comforting and at the same time chilling, without Wild here to help keep the warm in my bones I might have frozen to the touch. I can’t say I wouldn’t want to see more of it.

“So I take it that one of you is going to tell Time and the others to start laying off of him before I take matters into my own hands. Wars preferably? Seeing as you’re the one who’s pretty much the cause of this.”

“Wars should certainly be the one to do it.”

The growl in Sky’s voice was completely new, even to someone who’s been travelling with him for longer; Isn’t a growl usually a sign of a bird being aggressive? Is he getting aggressive for our sake… why does my face feel so warm all of a sudden; and are Wild’s tail feathers poofing up? Huh… Maybe there’s something else to question if we get any privacy from wars later, although… It’s probably better for Wild and I to discuss things first, so that neither of us get hurt.

“I- well, I- yes. I do need to take some responsibility for my part in this after all, don’t I?”

“It’d be the first step to earning both Wild and I’s trust in you back, if you want to do that anyway.”

“Huh - What of course I want to- why wouldn’t I?”

“Why wouldn’t you? Because you’ve shown that you put the pressure of the chain as more valuable than their feelings you fool.”

Wars looked worse than if he were slapped across the face at that; it’s nice not having to be the one to call him out on it either, because Hylia above I know I would have been worse than Sky was. I care for Wars, of course I do, but the fact that he simply went along with this when he saw how much it was affecting my sweet little bird? I would have made him regret it. Which he knows.He’s got the decency to look ashamed though. Standing with his wings drawn close to him, looking smaller than Sky for once even; although with how much he’s puffed out it’s not that hard to look smaller than him.

“Guys.”

With the speed at which both of them turned their heads, I’m surprised that neither of them got whiplash or worse. The silence was more deafening than it should have been too; the whole forest around us seemingly dropping dead.

“I think it’s for the best that Wars goes back now so that we can avoid most of the fallout.”

“They’ll just question you later instead.”

“Yes, but we won’t be there for the Immediate backlash.”

“You’ll only be putting it off though.”

“You should go back now and tell them we’ll stay here for the night.”

It’s good that Wild feels comfortable enough to be speaking again now, and well I can’t say that having him be so assertive isn’t nice either. He’s still just as cuddly though so nothing was lost, except for maybe a little bit more of the captain's self-esteem as his wings droop even lower.

“Sky and I can go back to the main camp then. Throw ourselves to the wolves for you.”

You can hear the nerves in his voice now; letting out a quiet warble with frantic glances in sky’s direction. Why is he so worried about going back alone?

“‘d prefer if Sky stayed here.”

“Oh?”

That was the biggest possible stroke to Sky’s ego that he could have given the man, made immediately clear by how much he puffed himself up and started getting flustered. Even going so far as to let out the softest little trill, competing with Wild for the cutest bird. Wait what am I thinking - why am I even - I don’t - I don’t see sky in that way. Do I?

“Mhm, I wanna be with the people I trust r’ght now.”

“And I’m one of those people!?”

“... you don’t trust me?”

“No… not at the minute.”

That seemed to be the nail in the coffin of the captain’s ego, leaving it shattered on the floor now; now he’s just looking between me and Sky for something is it pity he wants? Whereas Sky walked over with the biggest grin on his face, like the cat that got the cream. Since when did he get so damn pretty?

“Can - Will I be able to earn it back?”

“In time, if you prove you really want to. But not now.”

“That - yeah I can live with that. I’ll prove it to you that I will- that I can.”

And with one final teary-eyed glance between us, he turned and left. Leaving the three of us alone. I can’t say that I’m surprised that Wild trusts Sky but to want him here after the argument, well that is surprising. I can talk to him about it later though, maybe we could get him to collect some firewood while we collect our thoughts.

“So what are we doing now? I guess I’m staying up here for the night. Unless you two would prefer some privacy in a bit?”

“I - I’d like you to stay, please. Just, could you possibly give us a little bit of time, a few minutes even?”

“Yeah, some time to process everything would be lovely.”

“That works well, I’ll just go fly around for a bit and don’t worry I won’t listen in on you.”

Now it’s just Wild and I sitting alone on the plateau like we were back at the start of our journey again.

Waiting till Sky was high enough to the point where we wouldn’t have to be worried about hearing anything as he circled the area lazily before going to perch somewhere. Leaving us to discuss everything. Well after sitting down and getting as comfortable as we both could, which meant sitting with Wild snuggled up against me.

“So them pressing you is why you’ve been so stressed recently? Why didn’t you come to talk to me about it my lil fluffball?”

“Didn’t want you overreacting.”

That- that’s fair, I can see why he thought I could have done that.

“But I wouldn’t have done anything that you wouldn’t have wanted me too.”

“Mhm, I know ‘s just worried about it.”

“Okay that’s understandable love, but please don’t hesitate to tell me if it ever happens again. I don’t want you dealing with it alone.”

“I won’t, I promise. Besides I’ve got sky, wolfie and you now.”

“Oh? Sky’s made it into that list fast hasn’t he?”

“He’s a good friend to me, and I know there’s something going on between the two of you too.”

What? What does he mean by that?

“I’m not blind my beloved, you look at him the same way you looked at me before we were together.”

I could feel my face lighting up now. Between everything he’s saying and the fact that he’s pressing kiss after kiss on my neck. My sly little bird trying to stop me from really being able to focus. Just because he doesn’t want to talk about his own issues. If he thinks I’ll drop it over him trying this he’s dead wrong.

“No, no there isn’t anything there link. And anyway we’re supposed to be talking about you here.”

“I’m not bothered, you know. I think sharing you with him would be nice.”

“Link I’m trying to talk about you being upset, not about whatever you’re imagining right now. Please stop trying to change the topic.”

“He looks at you the same way too, wouldn’t you at least want to try?”

#hehehehehehheeh poly sky x reader x wild my beloved #something I want to use a LOT more than I do #linked universe x reader #link x reader #linked universe #lu wild #lu warriors #lu sky #lu sky x reader #lu wild x reader #bird au #moss✦writes #commission

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impossible-rat-babies · 3 months

Text

me laying in bed like some forlorn Victorian woman thinking about eyrie and estinien

#6.55 spoilers #okay the spoilers are just in the tags #but it’s gonna be so stupid when he shows up in tural #I told some friends that at that point I’m super gluing their hands together so they can’t keep reenacting the whole you’ll come back to me #bit that they have going on rn even just as friends #I’m ignoring their ammicable parting in favor of thinking about their funny thavnair romance that isn’t a romance #it’s like a summer fling that is just gonna turn into *looks at notes* another summer thing #HECK!!#anyway yeah! they have what a lot of people would call a leetle romance #sometime in the 6.x patches I’m not sure when yet #I’m still fussing around with timelines but I think it’s really early #like gap between 6.1 and 6.2 is where most of it happens #bc zero shows up and eyrie’s brain is like. gets shoved in a blender #and it’s a thing of they aren’t in a good place for such things #so they go back to being friends #the brain in a blender is a good thing. they come out better after the blender #zero was just the person who finally asked the right questions #wait I should make another post #oc: eyrie kisne

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kissitbttr · 9 months

Text

miguel putting up with his girl’s princess attitude

“miguel!” you call out from the bathroom as your fingers delicately fix the straps of your bodycon dress. “can you come here for a minute?”

miguel sighs, this is the third time you keep calling him knowing how busy he is at the moment. work has gotten the best of him, and if reinventing new techs back to back isn’t enough to drain him, he has to keep up with your needs daily.

does he has the courage to say no to you, though? nope. as much as he hates to admit it because it’s embarrassing, he’s scared of you. if the spider society think that Miguel is too frightening then they have not seen you get mad or being a brat.

“coming, baby!” he walks out of his office while taking off his glasses, rolling the sleeves of his henley shirt to his elbows.

the bathroom door is left wide open, immediately seeing you standing before the mirror in a long and tight fitting grey dress that falls just around your ankles. and just like that, his annoyance completely washed off,

he takes a good look at you. eyes slowly observing every single detail of your face and down to your body. the way that dress hugs your curves and accentuate your best assets should be a crime,

God, you’re such a perfection.

“shut your mouth before you catch flies, babe” you jokingly say as your fiancee stares at you with his jaw slightly agape. “mind helping me?”

Miguel clears his throat after, slightly smirking as he shrug his shoulders. he leans against the door way with his arms crossed, eyes never leaving yours.

“you look absolutely divine, mi amor.” he comments, taking his lower lip between his teeth. “is that new?” he points at the dress,

rolling your eyes playfully, you try to keep your composure still. even after three years of dating—now engaged— he still manages to make your heart skips and create butterflies in the pit of your stomach,

“I know” you reply in confidence, winking at him which he chuckles in return. “and yes it is! it’s SKIMS! got it yesterday, does it look good on me?”

he frowns, tilting his head to the side. “baby, you already know the answer to that come on now… you make anything look sexy.” he strides closer to you as he stands from behind you, “now, què necesitas?” he questions, resting his hands on his hips

you find it attractive how he towers over you, and it’s one thing that you love about him. it’s not that you’re petite or anything. but compared to how tall and big he is, you’re definitely tiny.

“straighten my hair for me please? I can’t reach it” you pout at him through the mirror, “just this part right here” fingers move to the back to touch part of your hair,

“ay dios mio, woman… you’re lucky i love you” he teases before grabbing the iron from the sink. “going out with the girls, mami? i assume lunch?” he asks as he starts parting your hair with one hand,

your head shakes, straightening the dress. “no, I’m doing cake testing today and wedding dresses … Darla is bringing three more flavors.”

he stops what he’s doing, giving you a confused look. “alone? cariño why didn’t you tell me? you know I’d come with you” he feels a bit disappointed and now guilty that he’s busying himself with work and instead you’re left dealing with your wedding, alone.

his hand rests on your shoulder and you move yours on top of him. “hey, it’s okay, Miggy… you’ve been so stressed lately i do not want to put more pressure… it was last minute anyway, she texted me this morning.”

“you’re my girl, i would never be too busy for you.” he says almost too fast,

giving him a sincere smile, you nod your head. “yes… i know, baby. trust me it’s okay…plus it’s bad luck for the groom to see his bride in a wedding dress” you giggle a bit. “we can go over the seating arrangements again together, yeah? i promise” you plant a soft kiss on his finger,

Miguel exhales a sigh, still feeling tiny bit upset that he won’t be there to keep you company. “okay, fine… tell Darla that keep vegan options open for the cakes.”

“noted, honey.” you tell him as he continues to straighten your hair, “is everything okay with work?”

he nods, eyes too fixated on your long hair, not wanting to mess up a single strand. “just running over a few reports and fixing few minor defects on the techs and my suit…the last guy did quite a number on me.”

“hmm i love it when you speak science to me” you comment, watching him laugh a bit at your flirty remark. “but you still need to be careful. i do not want to see my future husband all bruised up when i walk down that aisle or else I’ll leave your ass.” your tone comes off demanding and firm, but it’s only because you care.

“yes ma’am” he replies, setting down the hot object down on the sink before slowly running his fingers through your hair. “there you go, baby” he moves your hair to the front, kissing your cheek and seeing you smile just makes him happy. knowing he’s done a great job.

turning around to face him, you stand on your toes to kiss his lips. “thank you, miggy… I’ll see you later, okay? we can go grab dinner outside and then movie night at 9?”

his heart warms at that and lips stretches into a large grin. “sounds like a plan.” then he lightly slaps your ass as you walk out of the door,

“let me know if there’s going to be bunch of assholes staring at you today, I’ll hunt them down and fucking kill them on the spot.” he mentions as if it’s nothing

and they say romance is dead.

cake testing with miggy!

#miguel o’hara blurbs #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o'hara

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 7 months

Note

I am not the asshole, and I think this whole thing is stupid, but I was promised that if I sent my side of things to this blog I could pick the hotel for our honeymoon, and I am marrying a man who once tried to take me BACKPACKING of all things, so this ask has become a necessity. In light of that:

AITA (I'm NOT) for planning the seating for our wedding in a logical way?

I got engaged in June, apparently in part because of my partner writing in to this blog (I don't know how to find or link to his posts, but I'm the man who got the cat to bite him, if that rings any bells?). At any rate, for the past ten weeks, I've been in the beginning stages of planning our wedding with my fiance, whom I have been secretly attempting to remove from the planning process as much as possible. I have ALREADY been given a list of his must-haves, and I AM incorporating as many of them as our budget allows. This has NOTHING to do with the emotional side of the event, and EVERYTHING to do with the fact that this is an idiot with no real planning experience or taste who thinks he knows more than me.

For the most part, this has worked very well. I'm the one who's been collating all the contact information for things, so I just replaced all the emails for the tacky companies with false addresses, responded to his inquiries as the companies to say the date was already booked or the price was outside our budget, and let him filter his way to the ones I DO like on his own. I also made a fuss about being "willing to compromise" on the few things he's picked I'm completely fine with in the hopes I can use it to make him compromise later, and have been humming portions of the songs I want on the playlist in the hopes he'll think he came up with the idea to include them himself.

None of this is the real problem. The PROBLEM is that he is deliberately ruining my seating chart, by moving our horrible friend's seat when I'm not looking.

The man in question dated both of us at one point in our VERY early 20s (both ended BADLY), is generally the messiest person we know, and will almost certainly get sloppy drunk and try to make a speech IF he does make an appearance. I'm banking on the fact that he won't, because he's also ridiculously wealthy, and will almost certainly send us some very lavish gift in lieu of coming.

He is SUPPOSED to be sitting beside my fiances aunt, at the same table as his grandmother, his work friend, and her girlfriend, because all four of these women are stone cold terrors who I believe are more than capable of keeping him in line on the slim chance he does come. My fiance INSISTS they won't be able to have any fun if they're running interference all night, and keeps moving him to sit at the head table instead. You know, where WE are. I finally caught him switching the label magnets on my planning board last night, and confronted him.

I tried leveraging how much I've been compromising already, that he's almost certainly going to RSVP no, and that I shouldn't have to deal with him on our big night. My fiance said he knew about all the fake emailing and such, and told me, and I QUOTE: "Look, the mind game shit was hot when it was just about the colour scheme or whatever, but I actually care about this. So you can suffer with everybody else, or you can do the normal thing and not invite a guy you hate to our wedding, you weirdo."

I said that if I did that, it would take out half his groomsmen, he called me an asshole and said I should go explain this to "literally any rational adult" so they could tell me I was in the wrong, and now here we are.

Would you recommend calling my fiance's bluff, since he doesn't want the man sitting near us either? Or should I focus on ensuring he'll turn down the invitation no matter what, so the matter of where he WON'T be sitting can be a moot point?

What are these acronyms?

Original post

The update

#aita #am i the asshole #the saga of proposal anon

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donatellawritings · 2 months

Note

What about instead of rage giving the reader the silent treatment let’s switch the roles and instead the reader gives rage the silent treatmentt plsss

you were being a chatty little princess. you couldn’t help how excited and giddy you were today — the sun was shining bright, the sky a pretty baby blue, the air smelled fresh and sweet, everything just seemed to have been going picture perfect for you. so, when rafe brought you along with him to the country club to catch up with kelce and topper, you were all smiles, to the point where your cherub cheeks and glossy lips ached from being so stretched. you sat prettily on rafe’s lap, even more bubbly than usual thanks to the pomegranate martini you’d been sipping on.

rafe’s hand mindlessly tapped against the side of your thigh as he spoke to topper about this new boat that he’d been eyeing, causing your doe eyes to widen as your lips parted, “oh my god, topper it’s so pretty and i told rafe that he should-” you cut in, oblivious to this being your fourth time interrupting rafe while he spoke to the guys. it wasn’t until rafe had finally corrected you that you realized your silly mistake.

“hey, y’gonna let me finish talkin’ to top, or are y’gonna keep on interrupting me?” rafe scolded, his voice cold and stern as he lightly grabbed your jaw, his bright blue eyes hanging low as he sent you a chilling warning look. a soft exhale left your nose as your eyes glazed over with threatening tears, with an obedient nod. now returning his attention to topper, rafe cleared his throat before continuing, “so, yeah m’probably gonna have it by next week — just waiting on my guy to have it all dolled up for me,” rafe sighed, ignoring the slight pang in his chest as you fiddled with your fingers and kept your gaze trained on your feet.

he could tell that you were trying your very best, not to cry.

you remained silent for the remainder of the day, only allowing yourself to extend a forced courteous smile to topper and kelce, once rafe decided it was time to go home. he didn’t miss the way you simply nodded or shook your head whenever the server asked you a question, or how you quickly wiped your eyes before a stream of tears could flow door your cheeks. could rafe do without your constant interjections? yes, but he had to admit that the conversation just wasn’t as engaging without your light and airy commentary.

so, rafe decided that he’d play all of your favorite songs, once you were comfortably seated in your passenger seat with your seatbelt fastened, his pink lips running dry as you remained blank of any emotion. reaching over the center console, rafe laying his hand right above your knee, squeezing the plush skin of your thigh, to get you to look at him, “hey, mama — y’doing okay?” he questions, quickly glancing over to you as you wordlessly nodded, your dolly eyes fluttering closed as rafe sighed in defeat, before bringing his hand back to the steering wheel. he had to admit that watching you leaning your head against the window to fall asleep, instead of his shoulder, stung him a little.

what gnawed at rafe the most, was that you weren’t being quiet as a punishment, you genuinely believed that rafe wanted you to stop talking, to the point where even he couldn’t get you to say a word to him. it’d been about four hours and he missed hearing you, he missed the way his name fell off of your tongue, the way your accent peaked with certain words, how you’d console him in spanish, but mostly, he missed hearing you call him ‘papi’.

it didn’t take long for you to fall asleep, thanks to the two cocktails you’d drank earlier, leaving rafe overtly excited to take the chance to get you in his arms, the moment he parked his car, rushing to the passenger side as he scooped you into his arms, his forearm resting underneath the soft curve of your ass, while his free hand gently slid over your waist. a low whine left your swollen lips as you kept your head leaned against rafe’s shoulder, sighing sleepily as you allowed your boyfriend to carry you inside of tannyhill.

pressing a kiss to your cheek, rafe was quick to take a seat on the couch with you on his lap, he needed this silence to end, before he flipped the fuck out, “i don’t like that y’not talking to me, mama — m’about to lose my mind, not hearing my pretty girl,” rafe coos sweetly into your ear, pressing another kiss to your cheek as you sigh, leaning your head closer into his shoulder. “y’not in trouble, baby, i just wanted to finish talking to topper and i know you’re excited about the boat,” rafe squeezed your waist, beckoning for you to look at him — he needed to make sure that you knew that he still saw you as his sweet girl.

compliantly, you lifted your head, your sleepy doe eyes bright as met rafe’s unwavering gaze, a small huff leaving you as you parted your now barely-glossed lips, “i just didn’t want to annoy you, papi —” you began, rafe’s eyes softening as your sweet voice ran like warm honey in his ears. you innocently shifted yourself on his lap, your swollen lips just aching to be kissed by rafe’s, “i know i was just being too excited,” you sighed, ending your small ramble as rafe simply stared at you blankly, licking over his lips as he shamelessly ogled yours.

the second you cocked your head to the side in confusion, rafe’s mouth was on yours, enveloping you in a disgustingly sloppy, but needy kiss. a throaty moan left rafe’s throat as his hand slid up to the back of your neck, securely holding your face against his as he messily licked into your mouth, spit smearing across your chin as you struggled to catch your breath, “papi, wait — i can’t breathe,” you giggled, your words instantly swallowed by rafe’s mouth as his tongue mushed slush against yours, the two of you whimpering with greed as rafe leaned forward, with you still clinging onto his lap, his shiny, spit-covered lips trailing down to your prettily pushed-up breasts.

“missed hearing y’fuckin’ voice, mama,” rafe mumbled, his voice broken and hoarse as you smiled cheesily, beaming with the fact that rafe missed you.

#anon #asks #rafe cameron prompt #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron #obx imagine #obx #sweetheart!reader

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yesimwriting · 3 months

Text

something about bestfriend!felix who's so used to the world bending over backwards to please him that he seems entirely separated from the concept of boundaries.

it's one of the few things about him that remains unspoken because it reminds those in his social circle that no matter how much influence or money they might have, someone has more. and that someone is felix catton.

he's never weird about it, there's just this rule that everyone learns to pick up on and never mention. if felix wants to go out for the night or do anything socially with someone, it's customary for that person to cancel any other plans.

it might be more of an issue if felix's proximity didn't feel like sunbathing on an early summer day, but it does. so he's used to not having to work to get someone where he wants them.

until you.

despite your friendship still being relatively new, the two of you have bonded enough for you to accept his presence instantly.

felix didn't call before coming over. you answered the door after two knocks, grinning as soon as you saw him standing there. you didn't even think to ask about the lack of notice, you just invited him in and made some comment about how you were just studying.

he told you he didn't mind if you wanted to keep studying, that he brought over his own textbooks just in case. even though you were set up at your desk, you moved your supplies over to your bed so that you could sit with him.

it started off as separated as the two of you ever are, just your bent knee pressing gently into his lower thigh. your shared restraint dissolved quickly.

you're practically laying down, back partially supported by a wall and two pillows, felix's head resting on your stomach as you comb your fingers through his hair. he's holding up a textbook for you with one arm, fingertips absentmindedly brushing against your bare leg.

he breaks the silence with a sigh. when you don't respond, he turns his head and presses his lips against your thigh. your nails freeze against his scalp. "felix."

"lovie," he replies, tone as scandalized as yours. you sigh, and he can practically feel your eye roll.

felix grins, turning his head look up at you. he knows he should be good about this, about you, but he's not accustomed to practicing this kind of restraint. he's preoccupied with terribly soft thoughts of closer when he blurts out the question, "come out with me tonight?"

it's only a question by technicality, his eyes bright as if you've already agreed.

you press your lips together, and the hesitance in the look jabs at him. he brushes his knuckles against the side of your leg like that might tip the decision. "i have an econ test on monday."

the excuse deflates him. it's only friday, and even if it wasn't, you don't need to worry about your grades. there's a naturalness to your schooling, you grasp everything almost immediately. any personal selfishness aside, you don't need a weekend of studying. it's objective fact.

you're still watching him, expression unsure. "y'know too much studying's bad for you." your lips part, but before you can say anything, felix is shutting the book he'd been holding up for you.

he extends his arm, his palm covering the upper half of your face with the palm of his hand. you laugh out his name. "what? your eyes need the rest." you shift, still giggling as you halfheartedly try to push him off. "you'll get a headache."

your fingers wrap around his wrist. "you're my headache."

he lets out a mock gasp before pulling away entirely. felix doesn't miss your slight pout as he sits up. "actually?"

you're chasing after him, sitting up and attempting to grab his arm. felix lets you. "no." you squeeze his arm to you. "i meant it in a you're my best friend way."

"that so?" you nod innocently, all wide eyes as if to say see? i have no intentions of being anything other than a perfect angel.

felix pretends to contemplate forgiveness, then, with no warning lays down. you're not given a chance to deliberate what that means before he's tugging on your arm. he mumbles a brief, explanatory, "c'mere," as he pulls you into his chest.

you listen, moving to rest your chin against the side of his chest. your arm's across him. felix's shirt has ridden up right where your fingertips naturally rest. the bare contact makes goosebumps break out across your arms.

"go out with me tonight," he tries, voice soft. you have to drop your gaze to keep from immediately melting and agreeing to whatever he wants. "c'mon, think it's good for you to take a break every now and then."

you lift your head up just enough to glare at him. felix shifts his leg, pressing it against yours. you push back gently, just enough to reciprocate the gesture. "so you're saying i'm a friendless loser that only ever goes out when you make me?"

"i'm saying," he extends the syllables to buy himself some time to think, "i have to go, and i won't have any fun without you."

you find it hard to imagine that felix catton ever has to do anything he doesn't want to. you're also confident in his ability to find fun at a party. "you have farleigh, and oliver, and annabel--you'll be fine without me."

his hand is on your back, fingers tracing lazy patterns against the fabric of your t-shirt. "i don't want anyone else." the soft whine in his tone paired with his slight pout makes him seem smaller, like a little kid that just needs to be wrapped up. "i want you."

"you have me."

felix frowns, "doesn't feel like it."

you're losing. "do you really want me to go that badly?"

he smiles, feeling the crack in your resolve. "we'll just go for a little. have a drink or two, then y'can sleepover if you want." you do like sleeping over in felix's dorm. "and then tomorrow we can do whatever you want--study, watch a movie, dinner."

a sleepover and a saturday. this no longer feels like a loss. you smile, "deal."

felix's available hand finds your hip. "that's my girl."

the comment makes your face feel warm, you drop your head to rest on his stomach to hide any potential signs of being flustered. he'd tease you to no end about it. "i should get up, start getting ready."

he runs his hand down your back, "it's not until later." he moves his hand back up slowly. his thumb starts traces circles against your shoulder. "we've got time."

----

omg bestfriend!felix blurbs are everything to me,, if you have any thoughts about bestfriend-verse pls lmk,,

also?? might have to write a full fic for bestfriend-verse

taglist; @vader-is-hot @spiritofbuddha @getosangie @freyafriggafrey

#saltburn x reader #saltburn imagine #felix catton x reader #felix catton #bestfriend!felix #jacob elordi #jacob elordi x reader

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yourgothiccqueen · 19 days

Text

LN4 - “Formula One Sucks”

Summary: A grumpy reader meets her match.

Parings : Lando Norris x Female Reader

Warnings: none except swearing - fluff and silliness!

PART 1 PART 2 PART 3

Masterlist

*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

“I think just don’t give a shit about it!”

“That’s because you’re a boring cow!”

Y/N sat crossed legged on the grass outside her tent, sun beating down on her face as she half heartedly sipped on a capri sun. Spending the night lying on the floor had left her aching and exhausted, and she feared spending the day watching ‘cars go round in circles’ would truly tip her over the edge.

“I just don’t get why I had to come.” Y/N groaned. “You know loads of other people.”

“None of whom were free at short notice on a Sunday!” Y/N’s friend Annie exclaimed.

Y/N groaned dramatically. She was already hating the fact that she was going to be spending the day trying to shelter from the heat whilst pushing her way through crowds of obsessive fans.

“It’s the three things I hate the most - cars, people and outside.”

“Oh shush, you had to come because you’re such a joyous, positive influence in my life who I knew would jump at the opportunity!” Annie said, sarcastically. “Now stop being so bloody miserable.”

Y/N scowled and playfully swatted Annie on the leg.

“You’re a bitch, you know that?”

“I know. Now drink your capri sun and cheer the fuck up.”

—————————————————————-

By 12pm Y/N had not, in fact, cheered the fuck up. She was truly finished with the world of formula one. So far she had queued for the loo, listened to some very loud music and spent an extortionate amount of money on a relatively small (and cold) hot dog.

Annie had long disappeared, claiming to have spotted some guy called ‘Fernando’ before rushing off into the crowd with a squeal, promising to meet Y/N at their seats later on.

It was beginning to get all too much for little Y/N L/N (😉) as she made her way throughout the bustle of people, eager to finally find someplace quiet to eat.

Eventually she found herself going through a set of doors (which definitely did not say staff only) as she found herself a quiet corner.

“Perfect.”

Before she could even take a bite, she heard a cough from behind her.

“Ermmm, what are you doing?”

Turning around, Y/N found herself faced with a relatively young man, wearing an orange cap with curls of brown peeking out the bottom. He looked strangely familiar, but Y/N couldn’t put her finger on it, and quite frankly she was too hangry to care.

“I’m eating my hot dog.”

The man smirked and let out a small laugh.

“Yeah, I can see that.”

Y/N shrugged and said “ask stupid questions, get stupid answers” before taking a bite.

The man raised an eyebrow slightly, intrigued by the passive aggressive woman in front of him, who seemingly didn’t know who he was.

“Are you here for the race? Or do you work here?” He questioned.

“I’m here for the race. Are you?”

The curly haired man smirked slightly, letting out a little laugh.

“Yeah, I suppose you could say that.”

Y/N crammed another bite of hot dog into her mouth “Well, enjoy. It’s all a load of crap if you ask me though.”

A look of intrigue on his face, he asked “what makes you say that?”

“It’s just boring!” Y/N exclaimed. “Car goes zoom, someone wins, hurrah - so bloody what?! What’s the point?”

The man looked back at her, a look of mild bewilderment and irration written across his face.

“Well yeah, the car is one aspect of it, sure. But it’s the drivers that bring that passion, that excitement every week. They’re the ones who shake things up and keep things fresh. They’re the ones who make it worth watching.” The man let out a small cough. “I mean, that’s my opinion anyway.”

“Hmm. So which driver should I look out for today then?” Y/N queried.

The curly haired man shot her a questionable look.

“Don’t you know the names of any of the drivers?”

Y/N shrugged “I know Lewis Hamilton.”

He let out a laugh and another smirk again “well, that’s a start I suppose.”

Y/N was getting sick of this man smirking at her. But then again, it was a very nice smirk. And he did seem like a very nice man.

“So, what are you doing here if you hate formula one?” The man queried, arms folded against his chest.

“My friend’s a big fan, and her boyfriend who was was meant to be coming has got the flu.” Y/N sighed. “As much as I hate being here, I’d feel even shitter if she came on her own.”

The man let out a small smile “Well, that’s nice of you to do that for your friend.”

He suddenly glanced down at Y/N’s lips, and appeared to take a step closer.

Was this mysterious, attractive stranger about to kiss her?

His thumb reached up to her chin and she couldn’t help but look up into his eyes.

God he had beautiful eyes.

She felt his thumb touch her skin with the gentlest of touches, and her eyes fluttered shut.

He smelt *heavenly*. What aftershave was he wearing?

“Sorry, you had some ketchup on your chin.” He let out a soft giggle.

Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she felt herself return to reality.

“Oh!”

The mystery man let out a giggle as his thumb brushed against her chin - “all gone.”

She laughed. “Thank you. It’s not everyday a stranger wipes ketchup off your face. Did we just get to second base?”

The man let out a laugh (it’s a very nice laugh).

“Sure. I’ll count it if you do.”

An urgent shout sounded from a door behind them.

“I’ve got to go. It was nice chatting to you though.” The man stated. “And to answer your question, look out for Lando Norris today. I’ve heard he’s one to watch!”

“Will do.” Y/N called, still slightly stunned from the interaction.

A few moments passed before a security clad gentlemen rounded the corner.

“Oi, you shouldn’t be back here! Get back out the front!”

“Relax - I’ve finished my hot dog, I’m going!”

———————————————————

The rest of the afternoon was a blur, as Y/N sat close to Annie, eyes fixated on a certain McLaren as he reached his final lap of the race.

“And Lando Norris has finished in P2!”

Cheers erupted from around Y/N and she found herself joining it. Turned out that ‘cars, and people and outside’ could be pretty exciting - who knew?!

“Fuck yeah!” Annie shouted, jumping up and down.

The McLaren driver removed his helmet before waving up to the crowds, a grin plastered on his face.

Y/N’s own grin left her face.

“Oh shit. That’s the guy I met earlier!”

“What?” Annie exclaimed. “You met Lando Norris?”

“Yes! Is he a big deal?” Y/N stated, panic rising.

Annie glanced around them, signalling to the cheering crowds - “Duh! What did you say to him?”

Y/N gulped - “I shoved a hot dog in my mouth and told him formula one is crap.”

Annie stared. No words left her mouth.

Y/N could feel her face turning red. “I then proceeded to ask him if he was going to the race.”

A quick, sharp laugh left Annie’s mouth, before she fell into floods of hysterics.

“Holy shit! What is wrong with you?!”

Y/N could feel herself cringing.

“Oh god, I don’t know! Lots apparently!”

She glanced down to Lando again, to find him smirking up at her. He winked, before turning back towards his team.

“Oh my god, I’m never going outside again.” Y/N cringed. “This is all your fault!”

“My fault?” Annie laughed. “I didn’t tell an F1 driver that his sport is crap!”

Before Y/N could respond, she felt a tap on her shoulder. A uniformed worker pressed a piece of paper into her hand.

“I’ve been asked to give this to you.” The woman smiled, before walking away.

“What is it?” Annie questioned, eyeing the paper.

Y/N unwrapped it, finding quickly scrawled words,

Hello Grumpy,

I hope the race was enough to change your mind about formula one. Here’s my number if you ever fancy a hot dog or a debate over ‘cars going zoom’.

LN xx

“What. The. Fuck.” Annie’s eyes widened.

Y/N grinned.

“Maybe I do like F1 after all!”

#lando norris #landonorris #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #lando Norris x reader #lando norris one shot #lando Norris oneshot #lando Norris imagine #lando Norris fanfic #FYP #lando Norris x female reader #f1 imagine #lando Norris x you #f1 smut #lando Norris fluff

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strawberrysturniolo · 4 months

Note

SMUT WITH DEALER!CHRIS!!! YUHHH

hot and bothered // dealer!chris

veryyyyyy smutty summary: smoking with your dealer, chris, which turns into car sex

“Three grams should be fine.”

I don’t know shit about weed, yet here I am trying to negotiate the only cash I have with a random guy my friend knows. If I could look ahead of time and see myself standing here with my hands tucked in my sweatshirt pockets, kicking my feet around nervously as I wait for the dealer’s response, I would jump through the time warp and punch myself in the face.

“We’ve never met,” he notices, and I nod. “Do you smoke, or are you trying to start?”

I rub my lips together, trying to think. I never smoked before this. Well, a few times, but it was never something I did regularly. I didn’t have a reason not to, I just didn’t really care about it. My reason for starting now is pathetic. Even I know that.

Chris raises his eyebrows at me, eliciting a response to the question I never answered.

“You’re supposed to say deal and take my money. I’m keeping your business alive. Why do you care what I need the weed for?”

I realize the snippy tone I had shoved in his face, and I take a small step back, accepting defeat. This is getting ridiculous. I just want some fucking weed.

Chris scoffs, shifting the bag of weed from one hand to his other. “I was asking because I don’t want to fucking sell some lightweight girl weed that’s gonna make her spiral, so forgive me for asking. I don’t have to give you anything, you know? I have no problem turning down a deal.”

I watch as he shoves his hands with what I thought were going to be my belongings back into his pocket. My eyes widen, and I shake my head, trying to stop him.

“I’m just stressed out,” I confess, part of the truth. “I don’t like drinking, and I wanted to see if smoking would help.”

Chris pulls his hands back from his pockets, taking my cash and tucking it in his pants. “Wanna talk about it?”

I shake my head, my eyes following his hands, wondering if he just scammed me. He never hands me my purchase, he just watches me.

“You sure?”

A sigh leaves my throat, and before I even realize, my lips are moving and I’m spilling details about myself to him.

“I’m just dealing with a lot of stuff and–”

“It’s an extra 20 bucks for therapy.”

I roll my eyes. “Fuck off and give me my weed.”

He steps back before I can snatch anything from him. “I will gladly give your money back if I decide I shouldn’t give you anything because of why you want drugs. I’m only keeping the cash and the weed while we talk because you’re so desperate to spark up that I’m sure I could throw the bag and you’d run after it like a dog playing fetch.” He pats his hands on his thighs and widens his eyes at me, using a sort of baby voice as he says, “Who’s a good girl?” like I’m a fucking puppy.

“My boyfriend dumped me and I’m fucking depressed. My friend said weed would help take the edge off so I’m not a mess all the time, not that it’s any of your business.” The words start spewing out of my mouth. “Also, it’s weed, not heroin.”

He nods slowly, bringing his hand out of his pocket with a ziploc bag of weed. “Here.” I take the bag before he can retract his arm. “If you wanna talk at all, you can. Maybe I’ll lower my therapy price for you.”

I roll my eyes and start walking back to my car before turning around and calling out, “I never asked why you deal, so why do you care what I do with weed?”

He grins before he spins around on his feet and heads in the opposite direction. “Touche!”

–

I’ve been buying from Chris for weeks now. We meet up every so often, and when I run out of money, he suggests we smoke together so I can get the high I’m chasing without spending money.

The last few hours have been spent aimlessly scrolling through my phone, trying to distract myself from everything. I had completely forgotten about my plans for tonight until a message dropped from the top of my screen.

Hot dealer: Outside

“Shit,” I mutter to myself, pulling on a sweatshirt and shoes as I stumble out the door. I like his message as I make my way down so he knows I’m coming, and I nod my head to my roommate, silently saying goodbye while she watches a movie.

It’s not too cold in California tonight, but the shift of staying in my room all day under my covers sends chills down my layered body when I step outside. Even though Chris can see me, he tosses his hands up and lays his hand on the horn a few times.

“I’m right here, dickhead!”

He reaches over the center console and shoves my door open. “Well, I’m fucking hungry! Hurry the fuck up.”

I sit in the passenger seat and kick my shoes off immediately, and I watch Chris shake his head in disapproval as he throws the car into drive and peels off my street.

“Why do you do that shit?” he asks in an annoyed tone. I turn to him to argue back, but he beats me to it. “You get your smelly ass feet in here and lift them on the dash and the air blows right on them and then it fucking smells.”

“You’re dramatic as fuck. That’s not even true.”

He ignores me. “What do you want to eat?”

“Taco Bell.”

He nods. “Who’s buying?”

What a gentleman.

“I am,” I tell him. He grins. “I’m buying if it means you let me smoke your weed.”

He looks over his shoulder as he jerks the wheel to the left. “You’re just using me.”

“We use each other,” I remind him. “We do drugs and then we fuck. I get high, and you get laid. Everyone wins.”

This has been a fair trade since the start. I ran out of money and Chris made a move on me, one that I couldn’t turn down. I wanted him bad. I needed him. I can’t explain what we have. Maybe it’s friends with benefits. We don’t even feel like friends. It’s more of a business transaction.

Sometimes I wonder what my feelings for Chris really are. He’s a really good looking guy. I’ve never denied that. The last thing I want right now is a relationship. The very last thing would be to be with someone who isn’t my ex. Me and Chris will only ever fuck. I have no interest in having my heart broken, and he has no interest in committing to one girl.

My mind is everywhere else when he orders us food. I don’t even realize we’ve left Taco Bell until the sound of the bag hitting my lap snaps me out of my trance.

“Come on, eat,” he says like an instruction. “I know you haven’t left that bed, and if I ask you if you’ve eaten in the past day, I’m scared for the answer.”

I take a bite of a taco to shut him up.

He smiles and pushes the hair out of my face. “Atta girl.”

Once I finish my first taco, while he watches to make sure I don’t spit it out, he hands me a rolled joint like it’s a dessert.

I let out a sigh of relief. “Thank god.”

He pulls a lighter out of his pocket, waiting for me to put the joint in my mouth before he leans over and lights it for me. “Don’t think you’re smoking that by yourself. I want it back when it’s halfway. You shouldn’t smoke all that by yourself.”

I’m tired of him fucking me and then trying to give me instructions like he’s my guardian. One second I’m bent over the car with his dick leaving an imprint on my insides, and the next he’s telling me I need to be eating three meals a day and drinking water.

The first thought in my head when the burning sensation hits my throat is how pleased I am with this feeling. Everything is washing away. Everything feels right again.

“Why did you start dealing?”

Chris looks at me with furrowed brows, muffling a, “huh?” against the taco in his mouth. The question caught him completely off guard. He chews, swallows, then says, “Um, I needed the money, and I liked smoking. It’s literally as simple as that.”

There’s a point to all of this that I never really thought of or cared about until now.

“Why did you try to stop me from buying from you when I said I was sad and wanted an escape.”

He finishes his taco off, then looks straight ahead, avoiding me while he answers my burning question.

“I guess I was just dealing with a lot when I tried weed, and yeah it’s not a hard drug but, I couldn’t get the escape that I was looking for, so I just started trying all kinds of shit until it fucked me over,” he confesses. “You just looked so shy and scared and vulnerable, and I didn’t want to do the same thing to you just for a few extra dollars.”

“So you care about people?”

He grimaces and lets out a displeased groan. “God don’t put it like that.”

“Admit it!” I push a little further, removing the joint from between my lips and holding it with my pointer finger and my thumb. “You cared about me.”

He yanks the joint from me and lays it between his own lips. “I still do, dipshit.”

There’s a weird feeling of warmth that takes over my body. I definitely care about Chris. I just wouldn’t go as far as saying we’re anything more than acquaintances who smoke a lot and engage in other activities together while we’re high. We’ve never hooked up sober. We both know it’s a stupid idea. We only want each other when there are other elements involved, and we plan to keep it that way because it’s the only way that we make sense.

Even though I know all of this, I can’t help but stare at him like he’s the most fascinating person I’ve ever met.

“What are you thinking about?” he presses. I shake my head, embarrassed to think that there is any possibility I could have any sort of interest in Chris above what we have right now. “Tell me, baby.”

The nickname sends chills down my arms. I remember the first time he said that. He gave me an edible to try, and when I downed three, he said, “Okayyyyyy baby,” in a worried tone, then followed it with, “You’re staying here tonight. No way am I letting you drive home after you just dogged that shit.”

His eyes meet mine, and he chuckles. “Fuck, I love being high.” His free hand reaches for my chin, holding it between two of his fingers. “It’s like everything else just poof… vanishes. Nothing matters anymore.”

I nod, finding myself distracted with the pounding of my heart against my ribcage as his thumb strokes my cheek.

“What’s crazy is,” he continues. “Even when I’m not high, I am because I’m with you. You know?”

And I’m back.

“What?”

He doesn’t say anything else. He places the softest kiss to my lips, then takes another hit of the joint before he lets it out, turning his head back around and kissing me harder with both hands on my face.

My mind is racing, but my hands are desperately trying to hold onto him in any way. They find the back of his neck, toying with the curls at the base of his neck. He groans against my mouth, letting me know over and over again that he loves where I am. He grows needier with his mouth, fighting his tongue against mine until our teeth are clashing. He sucks on my bottom lip, sliding the driver's seat backwards before lifting me over the center console and resting me in his lap.

I gasp at the impact of his hard dick pressing my throbbing clit when I sit down on him. Without missing a beat, he yanks my sweatshirt off and presses his mouth on my neck, sliding the straps of my tank top down so he can kiss my collarbone with as much freedom as he desires.

“How is every part of you so perfect?” he asks in a whisper as if I could answer that question. I would do anything to see myself in his eyes.

“It’s not–”

“Hush.”

I can’t keep myself from rocking my hips lazily on his. Everything is so messy and done without any care other than us getting each other off. Chris’ head tips back when I slow down over his tip, finding it with ease even though we’re both clothed.

“Ohhhh god baby,” he purrs, his eyes feathering shut as he drops his head back into my neck, nipping at my collarbone. His hands slide up my tank top, pinching my nipples.

“Fuck, Chris,” I whine. Between his hands on me and his dick rubbing against my pussy, I’ll be a goner soon.

“Yeah? What do you want?” he teases, gripping my hips tighter and rocking me with more force.

At this point, I only grind on him harder. The friction gives me so much, yet not enough at the same time.

When I don’t answer him, he grips my jaw. “Answer me.”

I stop moving, breathing heavier as I try to catch up with myself. “Just like this. Want you to fuck me.”

Chris' smile grows like this is all he’s waited for, but it quickly falls to a pout as he rubs his hand over my cheek. I take the chance when his thumb is poking at my lip to suck it into my mouth, letting my tongue twirl around it.

“You know you don’t make the rules,” he reminds me. “If I fuck you in here, it’s in the backseat.”

I nod, agreeing to anything he wants if it means his dick is stretching me out. “That’s fine, just please.”

His hand gives my ass a tap in agreement as he lightly bucks his hips up into mine. “Get in the back.” I obey, stepping out of the car and opening the back door. “Ass up,” he adds.

As soon as I’m on my hands and knees with my butt up, I hear the other back door close, and Chris’ hands on my waist follow immediately after. “Yeahhhh good girl.” He yanks my sweatpants down, leaving them around my knees. He presses wet kisses on my ass cheek before slapping over the same spot. “You’re so good for me baby, listening so well, hmm?”

“Uh huh,” I moan out as his hand strikes the spot again.

He peels off my underwear at a painfully slow rate. I hear Chris gasp behind me, a cocky smirk so obviously on his face even though I can’t see him. His thumb rubs over my slit, spreading my arousal around. “Fuckkk, you little slut.”

“Chris, please,” I plead desperately. His thumb continues to rub over me until he pushes it inside, moving it in circular motions and waiting to hear my moans of approval. “More.”

“So greedy, aren’t you?”

I can’t stop my hips from following the motion of his hand. Every time he slides his thumb out, my ass is trying to make sure his finger doesn’t have the chance to leave my pussy.

He replaces his thumb with two fingers, making my body go still as I get used to the feeling. A whimper leaves my lips as he starts pumping slowly, and I become a complete mess when his tongue is added.

“Chris,” I pant his name. Any and all vocabulary has been stripped from me. I’m unable to form full sentences.

His tongue flattens over my pussy before he curls the tip of it, slipping between me. He uses one hand to finger me and the other to hold my legs apart and keep them from clenching together when it becomes too much.

“You can take it baby, I know you can,” he assures me, sounding so sweet until he adds, “If you can’t take my fingers, how are you going to take my cock in your tight pussy?”

We stay in that position for a few minutes. My knees buckle over time as the pleasure becomes too much, a ball of fire growing in my stomach.

My hand reaches behind me and grips his wrist. “Chris–”

“Don’t you dare fucking cum,” he warns. I fall silent, hearing only the sound of the fabric covering his lower half being pushed down. I look over my shoulder, watching him stroke his hard cock. His chin is pressed to his chest, his eyes flickering between my pussy and his dick. “You’re gonna sit there and take it like a fucking good girl and wait for me, right?”

“Uh huh,” I nod breathlessly, forcing myself to keep it together despite noticing the feeling of me dripping down my own legs already.

Seconds later, his tip is teasing my entrance, and he gives me no warning before pushing himself in. I don’t need time to adjust anymore. His body fits perfectly with mine, and before he starts thrusting at a steady pace, he leans over and rests his chest on my back, moving my hair out of the way before gently kissing the back of my neck.

“You look so good, baby.”

I hum in response, struggling to speak when his dick buries itself deeper. He takes that sound as a sign to start thrusting into me, holding his hands at my hips and pulling me back into him, meeting him halfway.

“Fuck, that’s it. Take my cock like that,” he mutters. There’s nothing shy about Chris, especially during sex. He’s the most out there kind of guy, always suggesting something new to keep things fun, introducing me to more things than drugs.

I struggle to make any sound other than staggered moans and broken cries of pleasure. I need him in every way. I crave him more than any drug I’ve tried.

I lift my ass higher as I drop my head into the seat. His hand slaps my ass, thrusting harder afterwards.

Everything about this moment is perfect. The high I had been chasing, this with Chris, the way his dick fills me perfectly like it was made for me.

A gasp leaves my mouth before I even realize I’m making a sound. “I’m gonna cum.”

He doesn’t respond. He picks up the pace and fills me deeper, and I grip onto the door for support. My moans are uncontrollable at this point.

“Gonna cum in your pussy,” he mumbles. “Watch it all pour out of you.” He groans as I clench around him, my orgasm flying out of me and leading him to his. He groans as his pace slows, his thrusts becoming messier and desperate. He fills me in seconds, pulling out and jerking off so the rest lays on my ass. He moans at the sight of his cum dripping out of my pussy before he uses his tongue to clean up the mess we made. “You okay?”

I nod. He dresses himself and gets a napkin to clean the rest of our cum with. After placing one kiss to my ass cheek, he pulls my sweatpants back up.

“I’ll buy you plan B before I drop you off,” he assures me. I’ve heard this sentence far too many times from him. He notices my silence and asks. “You sure you’re good?”

“Yeah,” I lie. “Just need to smoke some more.”

He laughs a bit then leans to the front of the car to fish out another joint.

I know exactly what the issue is.

I’m falling for my dealer.

#chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo fanfic #sturniolo smut #sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader

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lnlightning81 · 10 days

Text

The Drivers - Part 1

Series Title : Younger Sister (TBC)

Summary: Being Lando Norris' sister made it surprising that it was one of your only visits to the paddock. Ollie made sure to introduce you to all the drivers and show you about.

Pairing/s: Oliver Bearman x Norris!Reader, Lando Norris x Sister!reader , Grid x Norris!Reader

Word Count : 1.2k

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Oliver Bearman Masterlist

Lando Norris Masterlist

It wasn’t exactly hard being Lando’s sister, especially when you hardly went to races. Silverstone just never matched up with when you could take holidays from your part time job and the break from school but now you were close to finishing high school and had left your part time job to travel with Lando -with him paying for literally everything because what else should brother’s do?-

The last couple of days of school and you finally decided it was time for you to change your phone wallpaper back to your favourite picture of yourself and Lando. When Lando got moved into F1, you changed your phone wallpaper back to a less obvious picture of yourself and Lando, so you didn’t get people wanting to be your friend just because of Lando.

Now you were at the first race you had been to in a long while -Silverstone- sat in the Mclaren garage just wanting to annoy Lando as a little sister should do but he was interviewing and you didn’t want to be in front of the camera. That’s when you saw Max walk past the garage alone. Max was basically a brother he’d been about since as long as you could remember.

“Max” you called before jumping on his back

“Missing LN, are we?” He asked, and you nodded

“Lan left me in the garage alone” you pouted, and he chuckled

“What are you going to do when you’re the only one with him?” He asked, starting to walk again.

“Where are you going?” You asked him, resting your head on his shoulder

“Going to find your brother to return his property” He joked, and you slapped his arm. Max laughed as he walked to the media pen, stopping next to Lando and dropping you onto the floor

“Your property, I believe” Max tapped your head before walking away

“Lan I’m bored” You whine, and his PR manager laughed

“You didn’t bring anything to keep her entertained?” His PR manager asked

“I thought she’d find some random F2 driver’s girlfriend to talk to, but obviously not” I pouted, shoving him away

“I don’t know if they’re just random people or girlfriends and family” You shrugged, and he nodded

“Fair point, I guess. Come on I’ll introduce you to Ollie he’s over there” You nodded, following behind him as he walked away, gripping onto his wrist

“Y/N no one’s gonna kidnap you” He laughed, and you gripped his wrist tighter

“But it’s so busy, and I don’t know where I’m going” You whine as he comes to a sudden stop, causing you to bump into his back.

“Ollie” the older sibling smiled at the younger boy, who was just happily sipping on his drink

“Oh hey Lando. Y/N” He smiled, looking up

“Hey” You smiled back at him

“You already know Ollie?” Lando questioned, and you nodded

“I’ve not been avoiding Formula racing all together or living under a rock” You shrugged

“And he knows you?” Lando looked between the two of you.

“Ollie follows me on instagram. I became quite the popular girl at school” You giggle thinking back to prom when you were being questioned on how you were now followed by not only Lando but Oliver Bearman. What Lando didn’t need to know is that you two were secretly texting and had plans to go for ice cream after his sprint race while Lando was doing whatever practice.

“Okay well bye. I’ll see you in an hour” Lando walked away, and that’s when it became awkward

“You’ve definitely not been to a race in a while” Ollie chuckled, taking your smaller hand in his larger hand and moving you out of the media pen.

“They’re scary. There’s always so many people here, and I never know who I’m allowed to be talking to” you pouted

“Come on I’ll introduce you to the drivers, some of them anyway” Ollie led you back into the paddock and in between all the different motorhomes starting with Ferrari as he was meant to be in there anyway.

“We’ll start with Ferrari because at least if you get lost, you can’t miss the bright red” He grinned, leading you inside and over to a couple of people talking. Charles and Carlos. You obviously knew who the drivers were. They just didn’t know who you were.

“Done with your interviews?” Charles asked, and Ollie nodded

“Yeah, I finished those. Now I’m showing Y/N about the place” He smiled as both the Ferrari drivers looked at you.

“Girlfriend?” Carlos asked, and Ollie shook his head as you laughed

“Lando’s sister. I don’t know how I ended up with her” Ollie replied, and you looked up at him slightly offended

“Lando’s sister?” Charles repeated, and you nodded

“Lando has another sister?” Carlos asked.

“We didn’t meet while you were teammates. I was still quite busy with school. It’s been my first race for a while. I don’t know many people here” you replied as he nodded slowly

“You look like Lando, to be honest” Charles tilted his head

“It’s the curls” You shrugged as Ollie took your hand again

“Next garage” He cheered, pulling you out. You gave a polite wave to the Ferrari drivers as Ollie pulled you to the Red Bull garage. You knew Max. When you stayed with Lando during holidays or lockdown, he would stream with Max.

“Hey Y/N” Max smiled, wrapping you in a hug

“Finally! A familiar face” You hummed hugging him back

“What happened to me introducing you to everyone?” Ollie asked, and you smiled, turning to look at him as you pulled back from the hug

“Max and Lando are like best friends. Lando has a thing about people called Max” You joked as Max Fewtrell walked up behind you

“What about us Max’s?” He asked, causing you to jump and let out a scream

“Bog off Max” you replied

“Ohh not the Tracy Beaker line” He joked, and you rolled your eyes. Both Lando and Max still had a thing about you swearing, not like you were legally an adult, so you resorted to saying ‘Bog off’

“Are you lost? Do I need to carry you back to Lando”? He asked, and you shook your head

“Ollie is showing me about and introducing me to different people” You smiled, and he nodded, ruffling your hair

“Well P is lost, so I’m gonna go find her. Be safe” Max walked off as Checo joined

“Ah Checo this is Lando’s youngest sister Y/N” The Dutch man introduced you, and you smiled at Checo

“Nice to meet you” you hummed, looking at Ollie for help. Checo and Lando weren’t exactly the best of friends.

Ollie continued to introduce you to different drivers until it was time for him to return you to Lando - that was Lando’s words - so now you were following Ollie back to the Mclaren garage. He stopped outside, and you smiled at him

“Thank you for showing me about” You thanked him, and he nodded

“Are we still up for ice cream tomorrow?” He asked, and you nodded

“We are. But you’re coming to me. I still don’t know where I’m going” you replied

“Then I’ll meet you outside here?” You smiled with a nod as Lando walked out the garage

“Home time” He cheered, and you laughed, waving bye to Ollie as Lando walked you out of the paddock as he talked to Oscar.

Next Part

Tag List

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@molten-m122

@thewannabewriter

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@barcelonaloverf1life

@hiireadstuff

@mxdi0

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@ellen3101

@via-ferns

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@hwalllllllelujah

@vicurious28

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@taronyuhunter

@llando4norris

@sbrn0905

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ew-selfish-art · 8 months

Text

Dp x Dc AU: Danny's final Interview with Tim Drake for the Wayne Enterprise's Space Program Operation Janus Crew... Demon Twin AU.

Danny had been waiting for his offer letter from WE to be officially part of the Janus Crew. He'd done all the standard rigorous testing and passed with flying colors. He'd talked to every single head engineer and interviewed at all levels to prove that he was the man for this mission. It was as good as gold, so Danny was surprised when he got a call from the PA to Tim Drake, the CEO himself, to come in for a final interview. Just a formality and mostly just to meet the man who was going to be the poster boy for their program. Makes sense, but is unnerving, nonetheless.

The second he walks into the office space, Tam Fox seemingly does a double take, blinking a few times when he explains that he's there for a final interview. She nods and he proceeds as if nothing about that was weird.

Tim Drake has four laptops in front of him and a scattering of papers, but looking up to see Danny, he closes them all and the image of a scattered young man trying to run a Fortune 500 company is replaced with some one of deadly capability.

"Danny Fenton. Great to meet you, I appreciate you coming by today." Tim says, but Danny can see the sharks fin in the water.

"Of course, I'm excited to be part of the Crew." Danny throws back, making it clear right away that Tim needs to cut to the chase if Danny's not going to be an astronaut with WE. NASA will take him back in a heartbeat if WE is going to try and play games.

"We're excited to have you, everyone speaks of you like the next Armstrong or Aldrin. I just had a few questions, as an informality, that I wanted answered."

"I feel like I've answered every question there could be about me, but go ahead. I'm an open book."

"Great. I suppose I'll start with asking about your adoptive family, the Fentons. Were they good to you when you transitioned to their home?"

"...It's not common knowledge that I'm adopted. Mom and Dad are fine. We have a strained relationship now because of my teenage rebellion but I still go home for most holidays." Danny is on edge, but also a bit excited? How did Tim find this out?

"I see. I'm an adopted child myself, you can understand maybe why I asked. Do you have any relationship with your birth family?" Tim asks, but its clear he's asking something else. Danny calls it how he sees it.

"What are you trying to find out? I mean really, you're very polite but this doesn't have to do with my job."

"I'll cut to the chase then. Do you hold any allegiance to Ra's al Ghul or the League of Assassins?"

"Woah." Danny blinks.

"Woah as in you're surprised I found out, or Woah in surprise that you've been found out?"

"Woah as in, what the fuck, I haven't thought of his name in decades. I escaped pretty young after being abused from birth."

"That's what I needed to know. You have a sister through the Fentons, and a cousin that I suspect is a clone, any other siblings?" Tim asks, his to the point question making Danny's head spin. How the fuck did this guy know about Dani?

"How do you-"

"Any other siblings, Danny?" Tim repeats, cutting him off.

"...Yeah. I should have a twin running around out there. But if this has to do with whatever crazy bullshit he might be up to, I swear i'm not in contact with him or his family. I haven't been since I freed myself."

Tim looks like he's contemplating something, his eyes are still evaluating Danny as though he were a frog in freshman year Bio.

"I have a little brother, Danny, and it's interesting. He's not particularly fascinated by space but he likes to keep up with all the astronauts. I took it upon myself to research you once you came on the roster two years ago for this position. I know you're capable and I had no doubt that you'd be the man for the job. Then I saw your picture."

"You... saw my picture?"

"My brother watches out for Astronauts because he holds onto the hope that someone from his past might be one some day. That it might lead to their reconciliation." Tim clarifies.

Danny can't do anything but stare. No. No way.

"I told Damian not to look into the astronauts for the Janus Crew. Want to guess why?" For the first time, Tim's eyes look soft around the edges. Danny stays silent for a while, head reeling from this information.

"...Is he. Is he free?" Danny finally asks.

"He's left the league and burned all allegiance he held for them, if that's what you're asking. Came to join his dad, my adoptive father, when he was about ten. So just a few years after you made your own way out without him."

"That's... That's good. I'm glad. He's healthy?" Danny can't help himself but inquire. He'd loved his brother until it literally broke him.

"Most days. He runs an animal sanctuary, has a girlfriend and a best friend, gets along with our large family."

"Woah." Danny's near speechless again.

"I'm telling you this because... He's going to find out Friday with the press release of you being our Crew Leader. He'll see you and no doubt try to contact you. I want you to have the choice of reaching out to him before that, or at least make your peace with what you have to say to him if you don't want a relationship."

"Why?"

"Because I don't care to see my siblings hurt. Here, it's my personal line, below it is Damian's. Reach out to me if you'd like for me to plan a meeting spot, reach out to him if you'd prefer I stay out of it. I understand completely if my questions have led you to not trust me." Tim offers him a piece of paper with two phone numbers on it, Danny takes it with shaking hands.

"I... See. Okay." and then after a moment, Danny added numbly "Thanks."

Tim stands and Danny follows, they're both walking towards the door and Danny can't help but feel like he's waiting for another shoe to drop. Tim has a look in his eye like Jazz might on his birthday.

"One last thing before you go and you're officially listed as our star Astronaut: I took care of those pesky case files and lab reports for you. The white ones. It is quite literally impossible for that heinous shit to every bother you again."

"Wait, What? Why would you do that for me? You couldn't have known-"

"It's what family is for. Have a good day, Janus Crew Lead Danny."

#dcxdp #dpxdc #dc x dp #dp x dc #dc crossover #dp crossover #danny phantom #tim drake #long post #dc x dp fic #eheheehe tim is always in the know #nothing can be buried from him. he will find every record #i like to think that Danny joins for a wayne family sunday brunch after his mission in the stars #demon twin au #damian and danny are twins #danny and damian are twins #astronaut danny au

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gorejo · 7 months

Text

▸ I'LL MEET YOU FOREVER IN THIS MEMORY. - GOJO SATORU. forbes30!gojo

synopsis: he'll argue it's fate — a divine moment — that he's always in your proximity, and you call it bullshit. he says his class was in the same building, panting with a sweat pebbling on his forehead, yet you've seen him run across campus just couple minutes prior as he awkwardly stood in front of you. he's a man on a mission, determined to succeed. to have you finally fall for him.

content: wc: 6.6 k (sigh), fluff, light cursing, uses of she/her to align with the original au but the fic can be read without it. reader lovingly calls him stupid for one part and is shorter than him because the man is canonically tall af. petnames (babe, sweetheart, angel). slight nsfw towards the end, Gojo calls himself daddy in one scene just for jokes. college forbes30!gojo !!

There was nothing but the sound of chalk hitting the board, the frustrated sighs of students trying to keep up, and the monotonous tone of Takashi sensei talking that filled the lecture hall.

Students hastily typed on their electronics, while others chose to go old-fashioned with simple pen and paper.

But for Gojo Satoru, none of that mattered, really.

11:47.

Impatiently shaking his legs, his body just barely fitting in the cramped seat, uncaring if the attendant in front of him sent multiple glares for his crude manner of bumping his knees against the back — why the hell were these spaces always so damn cramped?

Satoru released another long sigh as he clicked open his phone to check the time, again.

Infuriatingly, it was still fucking 11:47.

It'll take me about six minutes to get to the quad, and another five to make it to the east building...

“Dammit,” Satoru cursed, his supposed whisper radiating a bit too loudly throughout the silent hall as he slumped further into his seat groaning as his impatience imbued his mind with thoughts.

One more minute and it’ll be just enough time to make it over —

“Gojo-kun,” releasing an annoyed sigh, “would you mind sharing with the class what could’ve gotten you so possibly worked up today?” his professor questioned without even turning his back to look at who just so rudely interrupted his class — again.

What excuse should I make today? Maybe I can leave now and act as if —

“Gojo-kun?” The professor's voice laced with irritation as he put the chalk down, the click of the powder hitting the rail echoed throughout the auditorium — no one dared to speak a word — not especially when the semester was so close to ending.

“Can you answer this question because you seem to be awfully more interested in something else rather than studying for your exam tomorrow?”

maybe I can ask her to study for finals? Oh, that’s good… I can show how studious and dependable I am, and then maybe she’ll fall for me. Goddamn call me a genius! But wait — fuck, I can’t use that because —

“Satoru, uh… sensei's coming,” Gojo felt a nudge on his side, his colleague nervously squirming in his seat, whispering to get his attention but yet it went unacknowledged — far over Satoru’s head — surely, the man currently had other priorities than to be rotting in business calculus.

Business calculus… the bane of his existence, his utter torture of attending every session, a complete fifty minutes wasted three times a week just for him to sit there and ponder about something else — most of the time, it was him getting antsy to get to you.

It was much to everyone’s surprise that he even went to all his lectures — the one student no one ever expects to have perfect attendance for a class he gives two shits about — well, he does give a shit because it’s all for his plan.

….

“So tell me why you’re trying to take this class?” His best friend glanced over Satoru’s shoulder.

“Don’t bother me, I can’t multi-task,” Gojo murmured, ignoring his raven hair friend as he lightly bit his lips, furiously typing up his course number into the system, his back hunched as he anxiously stared at his loading computer screen, “never thought getting a class would be so stressful," Satoru groaned.

“Why are you so stressed, it’s unlike you,” Geto’s voice was serene, “and what other dumb shit are you up to?” he chuckled while taking a sip of his coffee.

“It’s not dumb,” Satoru shot back.

“You tested out of calculus, Satoru.”

“So what?” he grumbled — just a couple seconds more…

Geto didn’t quite understand why Gojo had to go to such lengths, completely acting out of his character as he pitifully waited for his screen to load.

He’d never seen his friend so riled up about something so simple. The last time Satoru got like this was a couple of years back when a small pastry shop he searched online closed an hour before they got there. His defeat and whines were understandable since the trip took three hours by train.

But this… yea, Suguru couldn’t quite put a finger on it… well not until a very minor dialogue he had with a certain someone, such small talk that even he forgot that it occurred a semester prior.

“Are you by chance doing this because —”

Cutting him off, “fuck…” was all Suguru heard as his best friend rested his forehead on his arm, body slumping from the adrenal fatigue.

In bold, a message read:

Congrats! You have successfully registered for all your classes

Perhaps, it wouldn't hurt to learn a bit more about limits and infinities, Satoru thought before taking a nap in the library.

….

Or I can ask if she can help me study. because she’s good at that, right? she’s always at the library, always ignoring my texts because of her goddamn exams…

Gojo pondered, crossing his arms with his index and thumb rubbing against his chin, his cheeks squeezed while furrowing his brows.

but fuck, that means I won’t be able to talk to her because last time — I mean, it’s been a month since then, maybe it’ll be different now, I figure we got closer. she's smiling a bit more and we’ve gone on a couple of dates… I suppose —

…

“Psst,” Gojo harshly whispered from across the table, “psst!”

Glaring at him over your laptop, eyes sparkling and round, face needy for attention, “what do you want?” You spat out.

“Just wondering,” Gojo chirped, his ears perked in your direction with his elbows resting on the table, body leaning towards your direction, “Have you fallen for me yet?”

“No, you’re not my type.” you retorted emotionless.

“What’s your type then?” Gojo countered, unfazed, smiling as he challenged your words.

“Someone, not Gojo Satoru.”

“Well, aren’t you spicy?” He stretched out his legs while leaning back on his chair, boyishly smiling with his arms thrown behind his neck, the lean physique of his body outlined in this position — he looked hot, no doubt about that, and… he knew that.

“but i’m just going to tell you now,” cocking his head to the side, licking his soft lips that shined a pretty pink, confidently proclaiming,

“there will come a day when your words will bite you in the ass.”

“Did your parents ever teach you about having some class —“

“Can you guys lower it down, or move someplace else?” a student hushed, stating through gritted teeth as he witnessed the tortuous and unforgivable sight of you both, love, bantering in the library of all places.

“Sorry,” you mumbled, apologetically smiling at them before facing forward to meet your stalker — you swore he was stalking you because there was no way he and you could have this many “random” encounters, that would work out so perfectly with him just magically appearing wherever you go — it's bullshit you thought, especially when his acting skills weren’t necessarily that great…

“Hey babe,” Gojo cheekily whispered,

“I’m not your babe,” you hissed back.

“Ooo, so you like the sweet pet names huh? Noted,” he nodded, the curve of his lips turned upward, humming a tune while he typed something on his phone.

you couldn’t tell what annoyed you more, his devilishly handsome smile, or the fact that your heart was beating in unrhythmic patterns the more you talked with him.

A facade maybe, but you’ve come to undeniably enjoy his rambunctious company despite him getting on your nerves.

“Then, sweetheart, do you wanna —“

“No.” you numbly stated while typing away at your report.

“But I didn’t even get to —“

“Still, no.”

“Fine…” for a moment Satoru slumped into his chair, before quickly asking again, “how about —”

“No.”

Smiling as he rests his elbows on the table, leaning forward as he pushes down your laptop, his long, pretty fingers lightly tapping the case, “Do you hate Gojo Satoru?” His words slyly spewed out of his lips, anticipating your shy face when he catches you slipping for saying ‘no’ without much thought.

“Yes.”

“Boo,” Satoru pouted while retreating to his side, slumping his back to rest his cheeks on his textbook as he closed his eyes.

With your screen down it was easier to take notice of his features. Not that you were blatantly indifferent about his looks — everyone knew Gojo Satoru was handsome — but you rarely got to see him for who he was underneath all the layers of superficial worth people praised him for.

There was a lot on his shoulders from the brief mentions about his family and childhood that you could sense. It was easy to tell that behind all the crazy and loud was a little boy hiding his loneliness and pain under a mask and careless demeanor.

You noticed his lips were mildly protruding out, his brows slightly furrowed and his white hair gently frayed down on his forehead with his lashes long and occasionally fluttering. His skin was unblemished and his jaw was sharp yet his face still held the youth of his age.

He’ll soon prepare to work for his family business, learning about the intricacies of the business and possibly becoming one of those cutthroat bosses you’ve seen in the dramas.

He’ll probably grow a bit more — he’s been working out a lot Gojo would say, proven by the multiple thirst traps he’ll post. His arms were getting a lot more defined, and his abs… oh, you didn’t mean to take a peak. But guess you did have a front-row seat to his almost topless torso when he mindlessly pulled up his shirt while he took off his sweatshirt.

can't say you disliked the view.

You remember feeling warm that day — stomach fluttering with something, while your back felt gently embraced with his scent and clothing.

“You checking me out?” Gojo muttered without taking a glance at you, pulling you back into reality.

“N-no!” you quickly looked away, opening up your laptop as you grimaced at the harsh stares you got from those around you for the noise, “j-just wondering if you were going to study or not?” you murmured, hiding your face behind your laptop and your cheeks starting to feel hot.

“For someone so smart you ask dumb questions,” Gojo chuckled as he stretched out his legs, his feet purposefully tapping against yours, “what does it look like I’m doing, sweetheart?” he quietly mumbled before his voice started to fade out, “you know,” silently yawning as his body curled inward — all 6’3’’ of him on the small desk that barely housed his long legs — the tapping of his foot now softly, soothingly, rubbing against yours, “you gotta work smarter, not hard…er…”

You weren’t sure if the man before you was a complete idiot or a genius. but for unknown reasons, this guy surprisingly scores the top grade in his classes when his only method of “studying” is sleeping with his head on top of his textbook — surely, the world isn’t fair.

Despite the little snore you heard in front of you, with the light grunts he made from the uncomfortable position, you couldn’t help but fondly look at the guy in front of you.

Smiling — yea, you’ve been doing that a lot these days.

You decided — maybe, opening up wouldn’t be so bad…

For you, you remembered it was the first time you felt odd in the stomach. A bit like butterflies as you watched him doze off to sleep, trying your absolute best to restrain your hands from moving a piece of hair that covered his face as he slightly drooled while you studied. You’ve been catching yourself stalling time to meet him where he supposedly just ran into you — he was nice and the epitome of warmth, and you liked that in your dull world.

But for Satoru, it was another failed attempt to get closer to you.

He remembered waking up in an empty library — alone. he swore he rested his head for no more than thirty minutes, but how the hell was the time three hours past that?

Stretching as he released a low groan, his gaze foggy as he squinted his eyes to look for you, only to frown when he realized you were nowhere to be seen.

“dammit” Satoru grumbled while quickly packing his bags, “I wanted to buy dinner —”

A neon post it leafed its way down to the table, planting face down as Gojo slowly blinked in confusion while touching his forehead.

Picking up the piece of paper, it read:

Hey loser, you were mumbling about some food while you slept, so I got you dinner and placed it next to your backpack. go home and eat ( :

p.s. also, stop bothering me, weirdo.

p.p.s. you know you drool while sleeping?

Dumbfoundedly wiping his lips with the back of his hand, Gojo wasn’t sure if he was blushing from embarrassment or the fact that you were the first girl to buy him dinner — well, it wasn’t in the typical romantic sense… but who the fuck cares, it’s the fact that you bought him dinner; therefore, a step a closer to his goal. So he wins.

Carefully folding the note and placing it into the safeguard of his wallet, Gojo quickly strapped on his bag as he gently held onto his dinner, cradling it like a prized possession, mentally noting what to use for his excuse tomorrow while he made his way down the stairs to the exit.

The air felt oddly cold for the summer. the slight breeze brushed against his face, the ends of his hair tickling his cheeks as he breathed in the damp air.

Everything felt good — right almost despite his lost chances of getting dinner with you. Perhaps he can save that for another day.

“Just you wait,” beaming up at the moon lighting up the campus, his blue eyes sparkling as Gojo declared, “you will be mine.”

…

“ — Gojo-kun,” his professor called out. His impatience ran thin as he tapped his foot against the floor, “if you don’t answer, I will fail you —”

“Sensei, the limit just simply doesn’t exist — it’s limitless.” Satoru nonchalantly responded, cooly peaking at his watch now — maybe the time would read faster with that — but the second hand still stayed the same, seconds excruciatingly feeling long.

“No matter how difficult you propose this function, if the derivative doesn’t exist, nor will its limit.” Gojo continued to calmly iterated his reasoning.

“But doesn’t this point here,” pointing at the board, the chalk panging against the surface, “exist?” his professor challenged, “it’s a point on the graph.”

“Well, no matter how far you stretch this graph within the axes, going as far as trying to touch the asymptotes, it will never. because the limit will always be limitless since the function at those points won’t exist. So, no, that point isn’t on the graph.”

“And what about here?,” pointing to the chalkboard,“what is your answer, Gojo-kun?”

“Assuming you only have one x to one y, then the answer is simple. By definition, the limit will exist if the points on both sides of that graph approach the same point. To find that point, well that depends on the graph given. And looking at this graph, no. there are two points that are open.”

It should be about damn time.

Gojo felt his blood rushing through his body, heart anxiously pumping with each heavy thud drumming to his ears, the only sound audible that his brain could decipher instead of the pointless questions his professor was asking — why was he making it so goddamn difficult.

His urgency spiked up as adrenaline pumped through his body, anxiously shaking his leg, Gojo clicked his phone open again, his large hand covering the device as he peeped down.

11:48 — shit.

“Well, what about when —”

“Shit, I'm late,” Gojo cursed, frantically packing up his bag and zipping it up.

“Excuse me?” His professor frowned, obviously taken aback by his student’s daring use of profanity in his lecture.

But paying no mind, Gojo quickly stood up and paved his way out, harshly whispering past with a light smile as he hugged onto his bag, “Psst, sorry, going through!” doing his best to swiftly move through the cramped isles while his giant, uncaring if his lanky build caused a nuisance in the middle of the lecture, unbothered if his professor was done talking to him or not,

“Gojo-kun?” His professor was flabbergasted at his student’s rude ignorance.

“excuse me, sorry!” Satoru cheekily exclaimed while finally making his way out.

“I haven’t dismissed —”

“Sensei sorry!” Gojo exclaimed while opening the lecture door, ready to sprint out, “I promise, I’ll pass your exam tomorrow!” he blurted, voice fading off into the distance and Gojo now nowhere to be seen.

“... at least don’t sit in the middle if you’re always going to barge out like that,” his professor murmured to himself, massaging the bridge of his nose as he sighed.

Yet the only response he got was silence, the awkward creaking of the door closing, and the clock striking the end of his lecture.

“Fuck,” he panted while brushing his fingers through his hair, a little damp from his sweat, his chest huffing from the sprint across campus as he looked at his watch, brows furrowed as his eyes searched everywhere for a glimpse of you.

“Not there,” he mumbled, gazing to his side, “no, not here,” frustratingly turning around as he scanned the area just in case you slipped out the back door, his eyes loosely looking past a couple of figures, “damn it, not here too.”

“What’s not here?” he heard a soft voice from behind him.

“Just looking for someone,” without processing, Satoru blurted out, “uhm… sorry just talking to myself —” Gojo mumbled as he slowly turned around, impatient that someone was taking away his precious time to find you.

Call him a dreamer but he was still hopeful that you possibly didn’t just leave — I mean how could you, when he made it a point to always see you after class, you couldn’t be that clueless.

“You’re late,” you stated, trying to stifle your laugh, his busy eyes quickly changed to ones of nervousness as he registered who was exactly in front of him. His clear, azul eyes were imbued in sheer panic as his expression dwindled to eventual ease as a droplet of sweat ran down from his temple.

“Oh god, uhm,” scratching his head as he awkwardly looked off to the side, whispering under his breath, “I- I ended class a little late, but great to see you again,” he tried composing himself while smiling — the one that made his lips twitch from nervousness.

“I see,” you hummed, “you seem out of breath, Gojo,” you teased, remembering just how frantic he looked minutes prior while running over.

You ended class a bit earlier, wondering if he’d be waiting outside like he normally did, pacing back and forth to make it seem like he simply ran into you — how utterly stupid was he?

But it was you that would giggle, feeling the type of happiness that made your heart full and cheeks hurting — guess you were the stupid one for falling for such an act.

So you decided to wait today, standing off in the corner to witness how he would stage his act — you just didn’t expect him to be in such a panic rush trying to get here.

“Yea, y-you know those stairs, it gets me all the time,” Gojo stiffly laughed as he fisted his hand behind his back, trying to steady his breath and nose from embarrassingly flaring.

“Satoru,” giggling as you peeped up, noticing just how much taller he was compared to you while his hands nervously twitched and cheeks rosy despite his firm stance that his class was only but a few steps away from yours, you couldn’t help but smile at his innocence, “there are no stairs in this building.”

“Satoru, huh… that’s a change… sounds so nice rolling off your tongue,” he pondered while staring at your lips. It was cute and just perfect as you said every letter, every syllable of his name —

“Earth to Gojo Sa-to-ru,” waving your hands, tip-toeing to get his attention.

“Ah, right…. Sorry,” he mumbled, shyly looking away only to take a quick glance at you looking up at him.

“So…” cocking your head to the side, eyes doe-like while looking up through your lashes, “ what’s the plan for today? You softly chirped.

“uhm,” eyes widen, shocked at your response, “what?” his voice was unexpectedly sharp.

“I asked what are we doing today….” Rolling on your heels, “I-isn’t that why you’re here?” you nervously asked.

“Just like that?” Gojo glanced at you, eyes full of suspicion.

“What do you mean?” you questioned, lips starting to form a pout as you awaited his answer.

“Sorry,” he sighed, stretching his legs out to match his height with yours, “didn’t mean to sound harsh,” he apologetically whispered while gazing into your eyes.

“It’s just that you always reject me… I - I mean,” holding his hands up, shaking in defense to not offend you, “don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it,” furrowing his brows as he shook his head, “no, no, let’s retract back. I’m thrilled that you’re asking me. It's just that…” his voice slowly fading as if embarrassment finally caught up to his head.

“It's just what?” you softly mumbled.

“Well,” sighing, “I had all these excuses planned out just in case you said no,” he confessed as he pulled his phone from his pocket, “It’s all in my notes app.”

“Notes app huh?” your lips twitched from trying to contain your laugh.

“So what was the excuse for today? or… ” you teased, gently hitting your elbow against his arm, “should I say no, so your efforts don’t go to waste?”

“Thought we could go for coffee after I uncoincidentally bumped into you after your class,” Satoru shrugged.

“Coffee sounds nice,” you hummed, “you’re buying?”

“Here gimme,” he softly encouraged, quickly taking your bag and swinging it over his shoulder, “I mean, I do owe you one for bumping into you that one day.”

“Ah, so you do admit, that was your fault,” you jokingly glared, “the headache you put me through because of your stupid five hundred dollar shirt,” you grumbled.

“Well technically it was a bit more,” he grinned, “but not really, I believe in fate,” he winked, “it was a divine moment.”

“You’re ridiculous,” rolling your eyes, “but I need to study.”

“I have an excuse for that too.”

“And what could that be?”

“I got an exam tomorrow, so you can watch me be handsomely studious,” Satoru smiled.

“For what class?” stunned to hear Gojo Satoru and studying be spoken in a sentence together.

“Business calc,” he frowned.

“Oh my god! Who’s your professor?” you beamed.

“The one and only Takashi sensei,” Satoru chuckled, softly patting your head as he couldn’t resist your cute enthusiasm.

“What?” your voice suspicious, yet you had no resolve to remove it — it felt nice, his hands were big… you realized.

“Nothing,” biting his lip to contain his laugh,” it’s just… that’s the most you’ve shown interest in me.”

“Whatever…” you huffed to flush out the embarassment, “I have him next semester —”

“I know,” he softly responded, his words going unnoticed.

“— and I’m worried because math isn’t really my forte,” you honestly confessed.

“That’s why you have me!” he stood with his chest tall, his thumb pointing at himself, “I’ll be your dependable, hot tutor that you fall in love with.”

“You’re ridiculous…”

Winking, “I don’t charge pretty girls like you —”

“So you’re telling me, you tutored other girls by being their hot and dependable tutor?” you raised a brow, standing to one side as you crossed your arms.

“What? N-no, that’s not it!”

“mhm, yea… playboy,” shaking your head,” so why are you taking business calculus? Thought you tested out of it, no?”

“Well… a man has his reasons,” he cheekily stated.

“And how does that help me to study?” raising one brow as you questioned his logic, “ I thought your method of studying was sleeping on your textbook.”

“Okay wow, I was not prepared for that. You’re making it difficult for me again, but you know what?” pulling his sleeves up as he stood tall in front of you, “I’m prepared for your rejections. And in answer to that, then we can study together.”

“But you talk too much, and snore when you fall asleep.”

“Not true,” Satoru murmured, “Suguru said I was generally a peaceful and quiet sleeper.”

“Explain generally,” you eyed him suspiciously, “and I didn’t know you both were like that,” giggling, your heart slowly expanding in adoration the more you talked with him, “... sleeping together and such.”

“We just had one too many nights where we would pass out a little drunk after a party,” scratching the back of his head, “and m-my body runs a little hot… so…”

“So…?”

“So, Shoko may or may not have some photos of us,” Gojo’s face started to contort in disgust, “cuddling…”

“But aside from that,” he tried defending himself, “I’m very great to sleep with!”

“Sure…” you gave him a teasing glance, “I’ll ask Geto the next time I see him about that.”

“Hey…” suddenly stepping closer to you, his voice serious yet soft. He was careful to not overstep any boundaries you might have placed, slowly reaching down to grasp hold of your fingers,

“just give me a chance yea? I’ll be good, I- I won’t snore, I won't drool, and I’ll only talk when I need to, hmm?” he reassured

You can almost feel the sore desperation in his voice as you feel the feathery grazes of his fingers against yours; his breath held as he anxiously awaited your answer.

“Okay,” you softly mumbled.

“Great,” releasing his breath, “you won’t regret it, I promise,” Gojo whispered while smiling.

“Hey Satoru,” you lightly called out, his name perfectly rolling off your tongue — so delicate, so pretty.

“Mhm,” he invited you to continue.

“Did you run here?” You questioned, playing with your foot as you rolled a rock on your shoe, “you’re normally not so out of breath.”

“Pssh, no,” he awkwardly laughed, “I told you my class is in this building as well —“

“Stupid, come here,” you murmured, pulling him slightly down, taking a piece of your sleeve as you tiptoed to reach his face. Gently dabbing the small droplets of sweat under his soft white bangs, “next time don’t run. And finish your class, Sensei’s going to hate you,” you softly told him.

“I- I told you,” blushing because your face was way too close — dangerous even — examining your features, ‘pretty’ he thought as he watched you concentrate on him,

“I just happened to have class —“

“I’ll be waiting next time, so take your time coming,” you smiled, looking into his eyes before quickly flattening your feet, “it’s quite far to come here from across campus, no?”

Satoru just gives in, like the hundred different times where he willingly lost to you, “Not as hard as scoring a date with you,” he smiled while spreading his feet out to make it easier for you to continue.

“It’s not a date,” you mumbled, your cheeks feeling hot as his soft eyes gazed at you, his two hands lightly placed on your hips to draw you closer.

“It is so definitely a date,” Satoru professed, “and I can just tell,” his voice feathery and light, “that we’ll have many more.”

10 years later —

The light scratching on his pen against the document loomed in his office. Ijichi, his most trusted secretary anxiously waited for his boss to finish signing his papers, watching guard just in case he didn’t go running off before finishing all his duties — again.

“You don’t need to stand there hovering,” Gojo nonchalantly stated, his wrist gently peeking through his cuffs, his watch shining with every stroke of his name.

“Well, these reports are important that you have them signed by today,” Ijichi nervously answered.

“Do you have it ready?” Gojo responded without removing his gaze from the file he was reading just before signing.

“I-I do, the flower shop did say it was difficult to find the specific color, but they made it work. I’ll bring it over when you’re done… and reservations have been made, sir.”

“Perfect, because…” his voice calm and emotionless, his hair once perfectly set in the morning, now just a little frazzled from his busy day, his tie now loose from his stress, “this should be the last one I do,” Satoru smiled while giving his secretary the folder.

“Sir, uhm you still have —”

“I’ll do them tomorrow,” Gojo stood up, reaching over to grab his coat, quickly throwing it over his broad shoulder.

“B-but!” Ijichi was frantic, his eyes shaking at the visible stack of papers Satoru had yet to sign — and oh, god, he didn’t even get to read over the file for tomorrow’s presentation.

“Satoru-sachou, the Chairman will be there for tomorrow—“

“And the flowers are beautiful, she’ll love them, thank you,” Gojo warmly smiled while taking a whiff of its scent, walking past the frazzled man to a mirror to quickly freshen up his white hair and clothes, reapply your favorite cologne and spray some mint into his mouth.

“Satoru-sach —”

“Relax, when have I ever worried you?”

'always,' Ijichi thought.

Nonchalant and unbothered as he fixed his tie, “It’ll be fine, I’ll be fine, and you’ll be fine,” Satoru stated as he took one look at the mirror, his sharp cerulean eyes looking at his secretary, “go take the night off, you look exhausted.”

You! You are the source of my stress and mental breakdowns! Ijichi wanted to scream.

While making his way to the door, Satoru quickly noted, “I’ll be here in the morning with all of it finished,” he stated before leaving his office.

At a loss for words, helpless in front of his careless boss, Ijichi just stood frozen, mind racing at all the changes and accommodations, the phone calls and e-mails he’d have to make to fit into Gojo’s schedule because he knew for sure… Gojo Satoru will not be here bright and early in the morning to finish his work — especially when it is date night.

“I should just quit,” falling to his knees, defeated by his boss’s carelessness to simply skadoodle off on a date when he was one impacted by the brunt repercussions of his actions, “surely he wants to kill me with all this— ”

Disrupting his internal monologue, “Ah, I almost forgot,” Ijichi’s mortal enemy spoke while opening the door and holding onto the knob, “I booked a small vacation for you and your wife for this weekend, it should be in my drawer,” the man simply blinked in response, “and don’t call me until I text you, I got important business for tonight,” Gojo warned before his voice quickly changed to that of pity, “yea… you definitely need that break,” he stated as he shook his head and closed the door again.

Registering what just occurred, Ijichi grunted as he lifted himself up, brushing his knees as he walked towards Satoru’s desk, lightly skipping as the scales of his exhaustion flaked off from the caring act of his boss, “Well, guess I gotta start sending those emails now…” Ijichi hummed.

…

“Traffic doesn’t seem too bad,” Gojo muttered while looking at his phone’s navigation, his steps pacing as the clicks of his heels echoed through the halls of the empty parking garage.

Sliding his hand behind the handle, the car automatically turned on as he opened the door. Lowly grunting as he entered his Bentley, his eyes quickly scanned his back seat from the rearview mirror, his mind recalling a moment a couple of days prior that left you rather speechless in his arms — hot and sticky as he reconfirmed once again his love for you in a rather lustfully carnal matter.

He could do that with you — boyfriend privileges.

It’s not like he picked out this specific car, testing out the back specifically for its… spacious seating and tinted window. Totally didn’t bring this car to work today because he wanted to test those specifications out again… but only if you were up for it.

And stepping on the gas pedal, Gojo drove out, the light screeches of his car heard from inside.

“Daddy’s coming, sweetheart,” Gojo chuckled while firmly placing a grip on his wheel, his vacant arm resting on the side.

Though a decade has gone by, Satoru still feels the same giddiness that he did when he was eighteen. He’s gotten taller, bulkier in his frame, and styled his clothes better from the god-awful sweats he always wore — though you still seem to always complain if he wasn’t wearing his specific gray ones, he doesn’t blame you. It makes his dick look nice.

He kisses you a lot better than the sloppy ones he gave you in his teen years. He gets to wake up with you — face cutely bloated, tummy peaking through his loose shirt, legs entangled with his as he takes in your beauty. He likes that, all of it.

He reads and understands your quirks before you even tell him. And strangely so, when you have a headache, well god be damned, he had one too.

He’s become more influential and held power to his name, leading a multi-billion company, but in the privacy of his home, he was still silly, honest, and vulnerable. Contrary to the changes throughout the years, Satoru was still the same — a lovesick man.

Despite your harsh decision to break up with him from a simple misunderstanding, Gojo never held it against you. He’s grown to understand and works to amend the loss — together. It was his time to grow, his time to expand his horizons and his time to explore his options. But guess fate was really on his side because he walked back to where it all started with a fresh start — finding you two years ago at a college reunion.

Life was good for Satoru — better when you came back into his world. Mornings weren’t so tough and nights didn’t feel so lonely. His mundane days of meeting and mediocre dates were of the past. Now, even the simplest days felt refreshing.

Looking out as he drove through the highway, a couple minutes from your workplace, he watched the city’s skyline sparkle in the dark. He recalled the days when he looked out the night sky, thinking if you were happy, wishing he could just understand why you decided to leave him — only for him to make some regrettable choices of relying on alcohol and texting quick fucks, slipping into weakness during the quietest of times.

It’s often when everything was quiet that felt the loudest — the most difficult to bear for him.

But now, when he sees the night sky he can’t help but feel warm with a slight tingling resonating from his core because even if it's quiet, he isn’t alone — you’ve nestled into a portion of his heart that he could never forsake, nor did he want to.

She’ll like that, Gojo thought while looking up, making a mental note to mention it to you later.

He felt his heart beating fast as he imagined what face you would make when you would see him today — happy, relieved, excited? Or did you happen to have a bad day, the exhaustion dripping from your slumped shoulders simply needing a hug with light kisses as he expressed his love?

And parking his car, carefully grabbing the bouquet as he took another whiff — he doesn’t remember flowers smelling so beautifully fragrant when you weren’t in his life, but strangely now… it does.

“Yellow tulips are my favorite,” you mentioned once while Satoru dropped you off at your dorm.

“Why,” he asked. Repeating ‘yellow tulips’ in his head multiple times just so he can type it into his notes app later when he was alone.

“Just cause… they’re beautiful and they symbolize hope and happiness,” you softly said, “I like to think there’s something out there I can be hopeful for… and maybe find the answer to finding true happiness, if that even exists, ” you shyly confessed with a gentle laugh.

And grabbing hold of your hand, gently bringing it up to his lips for a soft kiss, specific to a finger on your left hand, Satoru marked a promise, “I’ll buy you all the yellow tulips in the world, till you find that answer.”

Obviously, no flower could come abysmally close to your natural scent when he held you tightly in his arms, naked bodies touching as he breathed into your skin.

And he hoped the time he spent with you was a step closer to finding your true happiness because, to him, you meant the world.

“She’ll be out in a few, so...” he murmured while taking a look at his watch, briefly scanning the entrance to find a good spot to wait.

“There should be perfect,” he whispered to himself as he made his way to the corner — a place difficult to see through from the dangling tree leaves and vines.

Satoru couldn’t help but pleasingly reminiscence the times when he would run from his lecture to pick you up. Who can blame him, he was a man on a mission to find his princess — just so happens that she broke his heart eight years ago — but who the fuck cares about setbacks, things were good now.

He feels his heart beating, the familiar thumping in his chest as he waits for you. The usual sweating of his palms as he checked his phone for the time again, mentally groaning as time seemed to be infinitely fixed. Good thing there was no sensei asking him useless questions as he nervously waited.

“I’ll see you next week, have a great weekend Tanaka-san.”

Gojo could realize that voice anywhere.

There you were, waving goodbye to a fellow male coworker that he had never liked — the lovely Tanaka-san, you always had so many great things to say about. He should just have you transferred to his company, you’ll thrive, and even have a chance to expand your talents … but you’ll give him an earful if he does.

But that’ll be a conversation for another day when he’s more willing to put up a friendly fight with you.

Because right now, he had a mission — one he’s been striving for since eighteen.

“Ah, fancy I see you here,” Satoru voiced out, coming out from the dark with a hand behind his back, “must’ve been fate that we meet,” he stated with a wink.

Rolling your eyes with a chuckle, turning around to see your boyfriend walking over, “did you run here? Or…” you hummed while looking over to find his Bentley parked on the right, “are you gonna tell me you work here too?”

“Neither,” he shrugged while walking, “just came here to ask a pretty girl out on a date, that’s all,” his voice soft yet enticing as he now stood so closely in front of you.

“Oh, I’m sorry but I’m actually waiting for my boyfriend,” you looked around, your knees feeling weak when you caught his confident smirk, the sweet scent of his cologne hypnotizing your senses, “have you seen him? He’s really handsome, you know?” you played on.

“You do?” Satoru warmly stated as he gave you the bouquet he was hiding behind his back, his fingers gently resting on your hips as he pulled you in, your dainty heels standing in between his larger dress shoes while he pressed a warm kiss to your cheek, “Bet your handsome boyfriend doesn’t have flowers for you like this, no?”

“He gets them for me all the time,” you took a whiff of the rose and caught sight of the yellow incarnation of hope, “and always picks me up from work even though it drives his secretary insane.”

“Pssh, what a bad boyfriend,” he whispered with his gaze traveling to your lips, “you should totally dump him for me,” he pitched while cupping your face, lips teasing to touch, the slight minty breeze of his breath warming your cheeks, as he slowly closed the impending gap between you two,

“what do you say, sweetheart? Give me a chance and I’ll treat you to more than just coffee for our date tonight.”

note: hope you all enjoyed! it was rather difficult to pull out this piece because I was heartbroken from the last jjk chapter... but all is well now because gojo is healthy and well in the forbes30! universe. this was a headcanon that spiraled into a 6k fic... and hopefully i'll be able to expand on the other hc's i have for him, without breaking the word count rip

#ae.writes #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo satoru x reader #forbes30!gojo

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awearywritersworld · 3 months

Text

the day of my execution

sukuna x reader summary: gojo, yuuji, and sukuna discuss what happened at the store. sukuna begins to consider your mortality like never before and takes care of you when you're sick. w/c: 2.7k tags/warnings: fluff. mentions of attempted kidnapping. banter. reader has the flu. aged up!yuuji. not canon compliant. fem!reader. no use of y/n. a/n: sorry for disappearing for so long, but here is the long awaited next chapter. i've put a second a/n at the end, so i hope you'll read it. please excuse me talking out of my ass trying to rationalize my application of jujutsu, but if gege does it, so can i. i hope it kind of makes sense though. series masterlist // masterlist

truthfully, yuuji expects his wednesday morning to be as uneventful as any other, but when he stands in front of the bathroom sink to brush his teeth, his eyes are not the only ones staring back at him.

"what d'ya want?" he groans. "it's too early for this."

"we need to talk."

sukuna doesn't give his vessel a chance to respond before he begins recounting the events of the previous night, a story which has yuuji's face cycling between surprise, worry, and dismay. "the man claimed someone sent him?"

"that's what i said," sukuna responds impatiently.

"why would anyone be after her? i don't understand."

"would it kill you to use your brain for once?" sukuna questions, having had the entirety of the night to ponder the situation. "think, idiot. who would be interested in using her in some ploy? against you. against... us."

yuuji's eyes widen. "the higher ups?

"no one else would be so brazen."

it strikes sukuna as ironic that just days after he relayed the cruelness he endured at the hands of jujutsu society's higher ups a millenia ago, you too almost became one of their victims. it's a reality that he despises.

"i should call gojo—"

"that is out of the question."

"do you want to keep her safe or not?"

sukuna scoffs. "this is how we keep her safe. if the higher ups are after her, we can't trust other sorcerers."

yuuji almost seems offended on gojo's behalf. after all, he's known him for the better part of a decade. "i'd trust gojo with my life."

"well this isn't your life we're talking about. this is much more important."

yuuji chuckles. "i know. that's exactly why we need help."

before sukuna can protest, yuuji's dialing his old sensei and asking to meet somewhere they can speak privately.

that's how they end up at a small bakery on the outskirts of tokyo, sukuna relaying the story for the second time that morning.

once he finishes, gojo leans back in his chair and folds his hands behind his head. "well, i don't think you're wrong about the higher ups being involved."

"so what are we supposed to do?" yuuji asks. "they might use her to get to me, but you don't think the higher ups would actually put her life in danger, do you?"

though yuuji's question is directed toward gojo, it isn't him that answers.

"you're as naive as ever," sukuna scoffs. "they'll stop at nothing to achieve their own ends."

gojo grimaces, a silent agreement with the assertion. "i can do some poking around, see who ordered it to be done."

"and what exactly is that going to do? there's no reasoning with them."

"a fact i am well aware of," the white haired man narrows his eyes at the king of curses. "but there is leverage in power, something i happen to have more of than anybody—"

"almost anybody—"

"so as the strongest, i'll take care of this as soon as i can."

"hey, um, so as productive as all the dick measuring is," yuuji interrupts. "it doesn't keep her safe in the meantime."

"i have an idea in that regard," sukuna says. "it's an ancient practice, and while it doesn't offer any protective measures, it will allow me to find her if they make another attempt like last night."

gojo leans forward, clearly interested to hear more.

"i can imbue a talisman with a part of myself and if she wears it, it will act as a beacon for her location."

"with part of yourself? as in, your cursed energy?" yuuji speculates. "wouldn't that do more harm than good? attract cursed spirits and whatever?"

"no, i'm not a fool. it's not cursed energy."

sukuna is hesitant to clarify further. he'd done something similar when creating his fingers, but it was different then. it was a selfish endeavor to preserve his life long after it was his time to die. it was a dark sort of jujutsu, one meant only to bring destruction.

but intention is important in sorcery. it can change the very essence of the practice.

for the first time in his life, sukuna is acting selflessly, concerned only with your protection. it's a pure sort of jujutsu this time around, one that allows him to impart a piece of himself that isn't tainted by cursed energy.

and because of that, that part of him would be unprotected. it'd leave him uniquely vulnerable. it's a steep and dangerous measure. that's why the practice had been forgotten long before the modern age.

"then what could it possibly be?" it's quiet for a moment as yuuji's question hangs in the air.

"it's your soul, isn't it?" the disbelief lacing gojo's voice is quite plain, but he's heard whispers of such techniques. "you'd give her a piece of your soul."

sukuna's never been one for unfinished business, so it's no surprise when he finds himself on the couch, intent on finishing the stranger. besides, it had become clear he'd been focusing on the wrong aspects of the book when he first began reading it.

he's three chapters from the end when he hears a loud shatter from the kitchen, followed by a sharp gasp. the broken glass hasn't even finished sliding across the floor before he's at your side.

"what happened?" the alarm in his voice doesn't go unnoticed by you.

"nothing, nothing," you assure him. "i just dropped my cup."

crouching down, you reach for one of the bigger pieces before your hand is swiftly smacked away. "don't."

"it's fine. it's only a little glass."

when you reach for it again, he grabs your wrist. "you troublesome little thing. do you ever listen?"

"i don't make a habit of it."

"i know. the question was rhetorical."

sukuna's already noticed the shards of glass surrounding your bare feet, so he wastes no time in picking you up and placing you on the countertop.

"don't move." he says it in such a way that, for once, you don't even think about disobeying him.

he all but stomps out of the room, returning moments later with a broom and dust pan. there's a small smile playing on your lips as you watch him gather the larger pieces before sweeping up the rest.

and you know, it's really not fair. sukuna could even call it a cosmic injustice, the way he has to worry about broken glass and fragile fingertips.

but he likes you and he likes the pads of your fingers, particularly the way they feel against his skin and run through his hair, so he swallows his pride.

it's been consuming him lately— the fact that you are just as easily broken as the glass that littered the kitchen tile. he never considered just how many ways there are for a human to die until you were nearly taken from him.

so once he's done, he rests the broom and dustpan against the wall and stands in front of you, his hips situated between your knees.

reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a necklace and your mouth falls open in shock. a delicate chain is threaded around his fingers, while its ruby pendant dangles in the air. "i want you to have this."

"what.. what is it?"

he snorts. "you don't know what a necklace is?"

you let out a breath of a laugh. "of course i do. i'm just surprised."

you hold up your palm and he places the necklace there gently. inspecting the gem, you notice it bears a striking resemblance to the color of his eyes.

strangely, it's almost as if it's heavier than it should be— like it's weighed down by some importance beyond your comprehension.

"it's beautiful," you tell him honestly. "are you sure?"

"sure of what?"

"that i should have it."

he pauses before responding, taking in the way you're so gingerly holding it. he's scared you've realized what he's actually giving you. that you're repulsed by it.

he's hesitant when he asks, "why would you think otherwise?"

"i didn't do anything to deserve something like this."

sukuna breathes a sigh of relief. "you are ever the fool."

his hands find your hips, pulling you off the counter and onto your feet. he plucks the necklace from your hand, then shifts to stand behind you.

moving your hair to the side, his fingers brush lightly against your skin. "the necklace is undeserving of adorning your neck. not the other way around."

and he knows it's the truth. a piece of him, attached to a creature so lovely she should be out of his reach... well, that's just unseemly, isn't it?

"but promise me something anyway."

"anything," you say without delay.

he situates the chain around your neck, the pendant lying in the space where your collarbones meet, and fastens the clasp. when you turn to face him, you're met with an alarmingly grave expression.

"promise you won't ever take it off."

you fiddle with the ruby somewhat nervously, feeling as if you're missing some important piece of the puzzle.

you nod in response to his request, but it isn't enough for him.

"say it."

"i promise."

he can see that you're biting back questions, so he explains, "if you're wearing that, i'll always know where to find you."

it finally dawns on you, for the first time, how much the incident at the store truly affected him. it's not the way he ended those men that clued you in, nor is it the way he pleaded with you to forgive him.

it happens in this moment. it's the gentleness of his voice, despite his underlying desperation. it's the way he's watching you carefully, as if you're likely to disappear. it's the fact he wouldn't let you clean up a mess of your own making, because he can't stand the thought of seeing you bleed.

"i... i don't know what to say."

"well, that's a first."

"shut up," you punch his shoulder. "you're ruining the moment."

"right, my bad," he chuckles and glances down at the gemstone. "do you like it?"

you let out a breath. "of course. i love it."

he smiles at your words— soft and genuine— truly a rare sight. "good."

you notice that he's looking at you. really looking at you. his eyes shift away from yours and over to each of your temples. then down to your nose. your mouth. even your chin.

he takes in every detail and he feels like he's in your debt simply for gazing at your countenance.

you almost regret it when your hands curl around the collar of his shirt and pull his lips to yours. you should have savored his smile, spent time committing it to memory.

although, that's soon forgotten as you feel the curve of his mouth deepen while his lips move against yours.

it isn't until day three of your ceaseless coughing and sneezing that sukuna adds them to his list— broken glass, fragile fingertips, coughs, and sniffles.

his concern is clear from the way he dotes on you. he brings you cold cloths, makes you tea, massages your neck, runs you baths.

now he's on his way to a twenty four hour pharmacy to pick up more medicine to reduce your fever, and while it's only a block away, he's still doing it alone.

but not even for a moment does he consider running off to burn the world's largest city to the ground. the streets are crawling with people, but he finds himself avoiding them more than anything.

he has to get back to you after all.

the only thought on his mind other than you is the ending of the stranger. the main character, while awaiting his beheading from his prison cell, conveys his final words to readers:

for the first time, in that night alive with signs and stars, i opened myself to the gentle indifference of the world. finding it so much like myself— so like a brother, really— i felt that i had been happy and that i was happy again. for everything to be consummated, for me to feel less alone, i had only to wish that there be a large crowd of spectators on the day of my execution and that they greet me with cries of hate.

in sukuna's first life, perhaps this line would have resonated with him. it was a life where he had resolved himself to the idea that nothing really mattered, because the alternative was too painful. it didn't matter that jujutsu society betrayed him. it didn't matter that he stole people's lives out from under them. it didn't matter that he was alone.

and while he would have never surrendered himself to execution, if that had been his fate, he would have preferred to go out surrounded by living reminders of all he had accomplished. surrounded by all the people he had ruined.

however, when he imagines such an occurrence happening in his present life, there is only one face throughout the entire crowd and it belongs to you.

the very thought makes him sick with grief.

looking up, he realizes that there are no stars in tokyo anymore, that there is no feeling of indifference when it comes to you, and that there is no happiness to be had when you are not by his side.

he knows he'll never shed another drop of innocent blood if it means you'll always have that look of adoration in your eyes when your gaze falls on him.

so his trip to the pharmacy is short and hurried.

opening your apartment door, he's careful to be quiet in case you're sleeping, but he finds you peering at him from the couch.

your hair is disheveled. there's a sheen of sweat across your forehead. your eyes are beyond tired. your shirt is wrinkled.

you're still the most pleasing thing he's ever laid eyes on.

"you're back," you rasp.

"i'm back," he affirms, slipping off his shoes.

you sit up and quickly regret it, your hand coming to rest against your stomach. "god, i feel like i'm gonna puke."

"charming."

you use all your strength to throw a pillow at him, which he easily catches before tossing something small in your direction— a ginger chew to help with the nausea.

you unwrap it and pop it in your mouth. "thanks."

he hums in response, settling down in the spot beside you. once he pulls the medicine from the bag, it's followed by two bottles. "got you these, too."

recognizing them as your favorite drink, your exhausted and delirious brain makes your eyes well up with grateful tears. "you're so sweet."

"yeah, whatever. don't get used to it."

"but you are. you're sweet and kind, except i'm the only one who knows it," you pause before continuing, your head falling onto his shoulder. "why is that?"

he contemplates denying that he possesses any such quality, but decides against it. "you're the only one who's ever cared to know."

he can feel the heat of your temple through his shirt, so he opens the box of fever reducers and pops out two tablets before handing them to you. "take these. you're burning up."

you do as he says without protest. standing up and stretching your arms above your head, sukuna's eyes wander to where your shirt rides up and reveals your stomach.

"c'mon, let's go to bed," you yawn.

he follows after you wordlessly, carelessly pulling off his shirt and climbing into bed beside you. curling up against his side, your head comes to rest on his chest and it's quiet for a few passing moments.

"you can't see the stars from tokyo anymore."

"what?" you ask sleepily.

"the stars. there's too much light to see them from here."

"oh, yeah. we can take a trip to the mountains soon. you can see them pretty well from there."

"i'll hold you to that."

and so with the promise of a beautiful night sky, with the company of someone who means the world to him, and with the feeling of your body pressed against his— sukuna feels that he had been happy and that he was happy again.

a/n 2: hey! so i'm sorry again for stopping updates without really saying anything. i think i just needed to step away from tumblr and writing for a while because i was getting a bit overwhelmed. i was also a little unsure about the direction of this chapter. i was struggling to incorporate the necklace part without it seeming cheesy or weird. that being said, thanks as always to everyone for your support of this series. it's really heartwarming and much appreciated. if you have any feedback, i'd love to hear! i'm not sure when the next update will be, but i'll do my best to keep you guys posted. all my love - m<3

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#m!writes #sukuna #sukuna x reader #sukuna imagines #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jjk #jjk x reader #jjk imagines #ryomen sukuna #ryomen sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna imagines #sukuna fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk fluff #ryomen sukuna fluff

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freedomfireflies · 1 year

Text

Show Me*

Summary: The second part to Teach Me*

Class is in session, and this time, Harry needs a little help exploring his favorite kinks. Like...how to get somebody off underneath a table.

And you're more than happy to lend a helping...hand.

Word Count: 6k

“So…how did she like it?”

Harry laughs as he slips out of his car. “Wow, I think that’s a new record. Waited a whole thirty seconds to ask me.”

“Bite me,” you retort as he makes his way toward where you’re waiting on the sidewalk. “Well?”

He shrugs, hands shoving into his pockets. “Dunno. We never got to it.”

“So, just straight to the fucking, then, huh?” you question. “No foreplay at all? I mean, hey…if that’s what she’s into…great. But, personally, I think the foreplay is the best—”

“All right,” he interjects with a wicked yet amused grin. “That’s not what I meant. She got called into work before we could.”

“Oh.” You offer him a pitiful frown. “Sorry, bud.”

“Bite me,” he mimics as he brushes past you. “S’fine. It’ll happen when it happens.”

“That’s the spirit,” you encourage as you fall in-line beside him. “Gives you more time to find your nerve.”

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly, glancing down at the concrete. “Or more time to practice…other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he says again, one brow raising as he looks back over. “You know, like…how to eat ass.”

Finally catching onto his joke, you groan and reach out to shove him away from you, watching as he stumbles with a laugh. “Fucking hilarious.”

“Listen, I was actually looking forward to it,” he continues, hand over his heart as if disappointed. “I bet you really know how to eat some ass.”

“Ha…ha.”

“What? You do, don’t you? Cause of…Eric?”

The familiar but dreaded name sends a shiver down your spine as you recoil away and scrunch your nose in horror. “Ew.”

He looks proud. “Well? Am I wrong?”

“Yes,” you huff before sighing. “…no. But he wasn’t that great of a teacher, anyhow.”

“No fucking kidding,” Harry snorts with a smile. “You’re much better.”

“Thank you.”

“Of course,” he beams, reaching out for the door of the restaurant to swing it open. “After you.”

“As it should be,” you tease, winking to hint at the double entendre, and his eyes roll.

You find your large group of friends already gathered around a table near the back of the room, and quickly make your way over.

For the next few minutes, you all exchange pleasantries, catch-up, and tease Harry about his failed attempt at mating.

He’s a good sport about it, flipping everyone off with a smile before changing the subject.

Because, despite the jokes, all of you know that Harry could have anybody he wanted. Maybe his experience in the bedroom is lacking but that’s only because it was a personal choice that he made. And everybody knows it. As far as charm and seduction go? Harry Styles is a king.

Perhaps even a God.

…no, that’s giving him too much credit.

You shake your head, clearing the thought away as you listen to your friends gossip about the newest celebrity drama and reality TV scandals.

And you try to care. Really, you do.

But your mind keeps…drifting.

To Eric.

God, you could just kill Harry for re-planting that seed in your subconscious and reminding you of the worst mistake you’ve ever made.

Because there was a time when Eric was everything to you. When you were closer to him than you were to Harry. When you trusted him—completely—with your mind, soul, and body.

And of course, he just had to shit all over the self-growth and progress you’d made.

You feel your phone vibrate from its place on your thigh, and you glance down to see Harry’s name flashing across the screen.

Sneaking a curious sideways peek his way, you swipe up to read his text.

So…Pete Davidson is Kim Kardashian’s stepfather now? Am I hearing that right?

Confused, your brows pull together as you look over at him.

His explanation is to nod at your friends across the table with a smirk, and you laugh.

I don’t know, you type. I wasn’t listening.

Oh? Why not? This is fascinating stuff.

Idk. Just wasn’t.

Harry’s expression seems to fall as he studies you before his fingers are flying across the screen. You were thinking about Eric, weren’t you?

…nooooooo.

His eyes narrow.

So what if I was?

Bee…you can do better than that. Even in your head.

See, you say that, and yet…here I am.

Because you’re not doing better. You can…you just aren’t.

Yeah? And how exactly would I do better?

You catch the way his lips pull back into a Cheshire-like grin as he begins to type.

Well, you kind of already did do better. With me. The other day.

Swallowing a scoff, you type, That was only because I felt bad for you.

Think you felt a lot of things that day, Bee. But bad wasn’t one of them.

You toss him a playful glare. Are you ever gonna let that go?

Not likely. After all, you did promise me another lesson.

You don’t need another lesson, you just need to stop being so goddamn annoying.

Come on, you can’t deprive me now. Not when I know I have so much to learn.

Google it.

Ouch.

You’ll live.

It’s not living if it’s not with you.

This time, you do groan, and reach over to swat his arm. “Stop,” you hiss. “You really are fucking annoying.”

“Learned from the best,” he retorts, leaning closer to you in an attempt to conceal the conversation. “Learned a lot of things from you, actually.”

“Harry,” you huff again, but you’re smirking. “My god, you don’t really wanna learn how to eat ass do you?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t really know what I wanna learn. That’s why I need a teacher. To teach me what I want.”

You know he’s fucking with you. You can see it all over his face and yet, for some reason…your interest is piqued. “Thought that was a one-time deal.”

“It was,” he agrees. “But…the door to knowledge is never closed.”

He follows this up with a devious chuckle to let you know he’s teasing, and you nudge him again. “See? Annoying.”

For a moment, you both put the topic to bed and return to the conversation happening across the table.

But again, your mind wanders.

Wanders all the way back to your bedroom and the image of Harry’s curls wound around your knuckles.

You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t thought about that afternoon quite a few times since it happened. After all, you’re only human. And Harry had done a rather excellent job. Sure, you’ve had a tad better. But for his first time…it wasn’t half bad.

And you’d waited to feel weird about it after the fact…but you never did. Which was strange. The two of you returned to your normal routine as if it had never happened.

And you were certainly glad for that. So why is it that now, as the opportunity for a relapse is placed so obviously in your lap, are you not repulsed by it?

Why is it that you haven’t immediately shut the idea down? Laughed it off? Why is it that you’re…considering it?

Again?

You almost want to shudder at the very thought, but as you look over to the chair beside you and take in Harry’s relaxed smile as he listens to your friends talk…something seems to shift.

You will admit, since your little…experiment…you’ve begun to equate those kinds of memories and feelings with Harry instead of Eric.

And that’s another thing you wouldn’t dare complain about. You like the idea of being able to associate pleasure with someone that makes you feel safe. Secure instead of unhinged.

And perhaps this is a huge mistake…but suddenly, you can’t seem to see the harm?

He gets to learn how to make a woman feel good and you get to erase Eric from your past permanently.

What could possibly be so wrong with that?

Subtly, you clear your throat as you turn your head to him, calling his attention away as he raises a brow.

“Okay, so…if I were to agree to another lesson…” you begin hesitantly as his eyes grow wide. “I’d need a little…information.”

He angles his body toward you as well, murmuring, “Yeah? Like what?”

You think for a moment. “I don’t know…what kinds of kinks do you have?”

“I don’t know,” he repeats smugly, nodding his chin at you. “Isn’t that what you’re supposed to help me find out?”

You quickly glance across the table to make sure nobody is listening as you lean in and whisper, “Well…I don’t even know where to start with you. You’re a virgin, it’s hard.”

“I’m not a virgin,” he corrects with a scoff. “I just…haven’t done it a lot since the first time.”

“Mhm,” you snort. “Doesn’t change the fact that if you don’t know what you like, there’s no way I’ll know.”

He studies you for a second, seeming to think. “Well…why don’t you tell me what you like? Maybe I’ll get some ideas.”

You hesitate. What do you like? “Uh…okay. I mean, I like pretty much everything, I guess.”

“Yeah? Like what? Name something.”

Well…shit. “Um…I don’t know. Have you ever heard of…exhibitionism?”

He runs his tongue over his teeth in thought, brows lifting up with intrigue. “I’m 27, I’m not dead.”

“Hilarious.”

“Why? S’that something you’re into?”

You swallow but force a relaxed and nonchalant demeanor. “Kind of, yeah. Fun to play with what’s mine when anybody could see.”

He almost seems impressed, leaning back as he looks at you. Really looks at you. “You don’t fucking say.”

“Okay, don’t make it a whole thing,” you whisper urgently, already swatting at him in warning. “It was just an idea. We can always think of something—”

“Show me.”

You pause. “Show you…what?”

He nods his chin at you. “Show me how you’d play with what’s yours when anybody could see.”

Your expression falls. “Seriously?”

“Seriously.” He nods. “I’m a vessel. Show me. Teach me.”

And maybe it’s the glass of wine offering you an extra ounce of courage, or maybe it’s the fact that you’ve already done this once before, or maybe it’s the fact that it’s Harry…

But whatever it is, you reach out, and smooth your palm along his upper thigh, just to watch his breath catch. “Are you sure?” you ask softly, careful to keep beneath the suspicion of the group across the table. “Because I need to know if you can…handle it.”

You feel him tense, his fingers flexing across the tablecloth as he regards you. “I’ll handle anything you want me to.”

Your hand drifts a little higher. “And you’ll sit here? And be a good student?”

He shoots you a coy smile. “The best.”

A little higher. “And you know your safe word?”

“‘Stop,’” he answers, teeth tugging on his bottom lip. “Don’t think I’ll need it, though.”

“You might.”

“Won’t.”

“Maybe.”

“No fucking way.”

You slow to a stop, centimeters away from the rather obvious dip in his pants. “Don’t say that. Just use it. If you need to.”

His expression softens. “I know, Bee. I will. Promise.”

“Good.” So, with that and a deep breath, you take the plunge, ghosting your touch over his covered cock.

And it’s different this time because it’s you touching him. It’s his body in your hands and this far exceeds your usual high-five.

You aren’t sure what you expected. You kind of already know he’s big from the few times you guys have gone swimming together. And he’s accidently brushed up against you before when scooting past you and worn sweatpants that did absolutely nothing to help him hide an erection (another reason why you’re never watching a Margot Robbie movie with him again).

But feeling it now…knowing exactly what this man is in possession of…feels forbidden.

You keep your expression stoic, refusing to give him the satisfaction of your awe as you watch the way his lashes flutter.

“Easy,” you warn in a delicate whisper. “Rule number one…make a sound and I stop.”

His teeth grit as he leans back against his seat. “Fine.”

“Good.” You bring your fingers together until you can cup your palm around him, adding just the slightest amount of pressure before glancing back at your friends.

They’re laughing about something, you don’t really know what, but you smile and nod along as if absolutely enthralled.

And as the seconds pass, you feel Harry grow harder in your hand. Needier. He shifts at least three times a minute, clearly struggling to keep from bucking up into your touch.

You’re being as easy on him as you can. A few squeezes, a bit of palming, and some light brushing just to tease him.

He’s gripping onto the edge of the table so tight, you’re surprised it’s not shaking. But he’s restraining himself, as best he can, and you feel oddly…proud.

You maneuver a little closer, head dipping until your lips are close to his ear. To anyone else, it might look like you're merely trying to be heard over the loud music.

But Harry knows better.

"This...is where the fun is," you tell him. "Knowing it would be so easy to have you coming in your pants. Right here, right now. In front of everybody."

You add a bit more pressure and watch the way the veins in his arms begin to strain against his skin. The way the muscles in his jaw constrict and the way his Adam's apple bobs when he swallows.

“You feel it, don’t you?” you murmur as his fingers begin to scratch down the table, desperate to grab onto something. “Feel what it does to you…to be played with. Just like this…exactly like you wanted.”

He sucks in a quiet gasp for air as his head threatens to drop back, little curls falling across his forehead.

He’s not stopping you. And you know he won’t. He’ll happily let himself go right into his trousers, in front of the whole goddamn resturant. Right here, right now.

But that wasn’t apart of the lesson.

So, just when you can feel his resolve begin to crumble…you stop.

He exhales a long, deep breath, slumping into the chair as if completely drained of all energy, and you almost want to laugh.

“So…what did you learn?” you ask softly as you lean back in.

“That Eric’s a fucking ass,” he replies instantly, shooting you a lazy grin. “And that we’re definitely not kids in a tree house anymore.”

“No kidding,” you agree. “Anything else?”

He mulls this over, eyeing you closely. “That I think I’m more of a…hands-on learner.”

Your brow raises. “What does that mean?”

His answer comes in the form of his touch, hand outstretching for your leg, long fingers brushing across the hem of your dress. “It means…I need to see for myself.”

He pauses down by your knee in order to allow you the time to understand and either accept him or reject him.

But you simply blink, focus falling from his face down to your lap. “Ah…I suppose that makes sense.”

His lips roll into his mouth. “Mhm…what do you say, Teach?”

Your nose scrunches at the nickname but you smile. “I say practice makes perfect.”

And he wastes no more time in slipping beneath the fabric to travel up your thigh and toward your hips.

Now, you’re the one forced into restraint, a gasp immediately hitching in your throat as he brushes his thumb down the front of your underwear.

It instantly brings you back to the last time, and his touch, while familiar and oddly reassuring, makes your head spin.

You slowly look over at him, taking note of the way he’s so goddamn proud of your reaction, and the way he returns his attention to your friends.

Exactly like you had.

Because this is the lesson after all. The concept of teasing and torture and watching somebody come undone so easily.

The idea of getting caught.

You could tell from the moment you reached for him that this was something he was into. But even when he was trying not to thrust up into your hand, it was obvious that his interest lied with you and your pleasure.

With the idea of putting you under this sort of duress.

He really is a sadist.

Good to know.

"How's this for practice?" you hear him murmur as you become vaguely aware of the way he's scooted his chair closer to you.

You open your mouth, lips parted and ready to respond, but you can feel the beginning of a whimper threatening its escape.

So you swallow—thickly—and nod your head once.

"Good, then?" he asks, and you have to fight the urge to cross your legs over his hand. "Bee...I need you to speak."

But you can't fucking speak. The pressure of his touch has increased, and it feels so...so fucking good. "It's....yeah. Fine. It's fi—"

Suddenly, you gasp, and thankfully, it's lost beneath the jazz music still loudly playing through the restaurant.

But it's not lost on Harry, and you watch his smug smile expand as his teasing begins to slow. "Uh-uh," he tuts softly. "You know the rules. Make a sound...and I stop."

You exhale the singular word, "Har," and he hums.

"I'm sorry, I didn't catch that. What?"

You have to physically fight the urge to whimper with desperation. Truth be told, he’s hardly even doing anything, but his hands…

You’d fucked up by sneaking a glance down at the tattooed skin disappearing beneath your dress. Because it’s sinful to feel the cold, metal of his rings brush against your warm thighs. Sinful to know he’s pressing his thumb into you just to feel the way you’ve begun to soak the material he’s so effortlessly playing with.

He…is sinful.

And then suddenly…his touch disappears. Retreats from between your legs as your mouth just about drops open.

And you could cry at the loss of contact because it felt so safe and so exciting. Teasing or not, it was so fucking good, and you hate him for making you go without.

But then…you learn why.

His fingers move to wrap around the edge of your seat, getting a good grip on it…before he yanks.

Your chair is forced closer to his, squeaking against the floor as he begins to smirk victoriously.

“There,” he declares quietly before his hand is returning to your lap. “Much better, don’t you think?”

And it is better because now he’s so much closer, and has so much more room, and you’re so fucking close to just throwing in the towel and hurling yourself at him. Friends be damned.

“Speak, Bee,” he repriminds after a minute of your silence, and instantly, you begin to squirm.

“Har,” you whisper, both begging him for his mercy and for his cruelty.

“What?” he replies evenly. “What do you need, hm?”

You, you think. “Can’t…s’just…”

“Come on,” he tsks. “Think you can do better than that, can’t you?”

But you can’t.

“Please,” you try again, a faint request.

“Please…what?”

“Har…”

“Uh-uh. Tell me. What?”

Again, you swallow, willing yourself to stay silent. "Har—”

“No.”

“Harry—"

"...Harry?"

This time, it's Charlie calling his name, and immediately, you go deathly still as you turn back toward your friends.

However, Harry is calm as he raises a brow. "Yeah?"

For a moment, the three across from you simply stare, rather curiously before Charlie says, "Oh, I was just asking how Tina is?"

You could almost moan with relief.

“She’s good, yeah,” Harry answers cooly, pointer finger hooking around the edge of the material on your thighs to pull it aside. “Yeah, real good. Been working a lot, so I haven’t seen her much.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Jackie offers with a pout. “Is she nice? Will we like her?”

Harry laughs, head shaking with amusement as if he’s not dragging his thumb down your clit while you swallow a rather desperate whine. “She’s nice. I don’t know if we’ll ever make it that far, though.”

Caleb’s head tilts. “What do you mean?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. We’ve hung out, like…twice. S’not really that serious yet.”

And you almost snort, because to you…he seemed pretty serious about her.

But you suppose eating pussy doesn’t exactly require an engagement ring, and maybe he just wants a fuck buddy.

“Well…she still needs to pass the approval test,” Jackie argues with a wink. “And the fact that she strung you along for two months is not doing her any favors.”

“She was just making him work for it,” Charlie teases. “And he needs to be humbled, so I say good for her.”

“Please. Look at him,” she snorts. “He’s too pretty to be this dumb. Okay, he can do better than Tammy—”

“Tina,” Harry corrects before slowly easing the tip of his finger in, and your entire body goes rigid.

“—yeah, whatever. The point is…you can do better,” Jackie finishes proudly, shooting a pointed look toward Charlie.

Harry begins to smirk, slowly stealing a glance at you. “Yeah. Maybe we can all do better.”

Now curious, Caleb nods at you, and you do your best to control your reactions as he says, “Yeah, speaking of which…have you heard from…him?”

You shake your head quickly, mentally damning Harry to hell as he pushes in a bit further just to make it harder for you to reply. “Uh…no. Nope. Not since that night.”

“I’ll kill him,” Jackie tells you. “No, really. I will. I’ll hit him with my car and drag his dead body out to the woods, and watch the bears eat him.”

You breathe out a laugh, but it’s outrageously forced, and Harry can tell. “It’s…it’s fine. He’s…you know, we all move on. I’m fine.”

“Sure,” Harry says with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Yeah, you seem fine.”

“Oh, I am,” you murmur through a tight-lipped smile. “Fucking fantastic.”

“Good,” he hums before you can feel him curl upward. “Hope it stays that way.”

Your hands drop to the chair beneath you, and you grip onto the sides for dear life in an attempt to keep from reeling. “Thanks for your…concern.”

“Anytime,” he beams as you feel him slip out. “Just want you to…do and feel the best that you can.”

The wet pad of his finger then returns to your clit as he presses into it just to push it in a teasing circle.

Your eyes just about roll back as you quickly turn your face toward your shoulder and fake a cough. “Fuck…sorry,” you apologize hoarsely as your friends look on.

“Are you all right?” Jackie asks softly. “Sorry, we shouldn’t have brought him up. We can change the subject.”

“No, it’s…it’s fine,” you sigh, hoping to sound casual, despite the fact that you’re teetering on the edge of a wail. “Really, he’s just…a guy. Just some…stupid…sadistic…evil fucking…guy.”

And while the group across the table snorts their agreement, you see that Harry knows that jab was aimed directly at him.

He winks.

“I, uh…I need to go to the bathroom,” you suddenly declare, grabbing onto his wrist to forcefully shove it away before standing to your feet. “Be right back.”

“Feeling all right?” Harry asks innocently as he watches you push your chair in.

“Just delightful,” you reply before brushing your hands down the front of your dress. “Seriously, keep eating. I won’t be long.”

You leave the table before Harry can make another quippy remark, quickly making your way for the extravagant restroom in the back of the restaurant.

Honestly, you thought you had a little more self-control. You thought it wouldn’t be so easy to get you so on edge, and yet here Harry is, making you clench so hard in your chair, you nearly burst a blood vessel.

You lock the door behind you and make a beeline for the sink. You flip on the cool water and gently trail it down your arms and chest to cool yourself down as you will the ache between your legs to subside.

It’ll be easy to take care of once you get home, but you’re rather impressed with Harry’s commitment to…education.

And something about looking your friends in the eye as he played with your cunt like a toy was oddly invigorating.

Far more invigorating than it ever had been with…Eric.

You’ve no sooner smirked at this thought when your phone begins to buzz from its place on the counter.

Glancing down, you aren’t surprised to see a text from Harry, but it does make you laugh.

How’s it going?

Good. Just getting myself off before I come back, you answer.

Yeah? Texting me while you touch yourself? Hot.

Well, it’s not the first time.

A good minute passes before he responds, and you can easily imagine the way his eyes went wide.

Seriously?

Seriously. Why, is that weird?

Are you fucking kidding? No, it’s…I mean, it’s hot. Very, very hot.

Your brow raises. Yeah?

Kind of rude you never told me, though. Clearly I would have been of great help.

In my defense, I was a little…busy. It’s already hard enough to type with one hand.

And even if you aren’t exactly touching yourself right now…you aren’t lying about having done it before. Not on purpose, of course. He just happened to text you right in the middle of your alone time and needed an answer ASAP.

So…you’d answered.

Yeah? Do you need an extra hand? he replies next, and you chuckle under your breath as you lean against the sink.

Why, do you know someone?

Funny.

Thank you, I thought so.

Is that a yes, then?

I think I’m managing just fine.

Yeah? So you’re pinching your clit nice and tight for me?

You feel your breath hitch. This certainly isn’t helping. Obviously.

And you’re clenching around your fingers for me? How many you using? One? Two? Maybe three? Know you like to feel stretched.

“Fucking hell,” you whisper to yourself as you glance off into the bathroom. He’s trying to kill you.

Can’t really clench around anything when I have to keep answering these texts. Go eat your food and leave me to it.

And what kind of student would I be if I did that?

An obedient one.

And does that sound like me?

“Nope,” you respond aloud, but type, You have been so far.

Think I’d be more obedient if I finished what I started.

I mean…maybe if you knew how.

You wait to watch the bubbles roll across your screen, but when they don’t come, your heart sinks.

And then…there’s a knock.

A rather fervent and determined knock that makes you jump as you look toward the door.

“Bee…let me in.”

Shit. “I…uh, I’m a little busy.”

“I know,” comes the deep, sultry reply. “So, let me in.”

“Har—”

“Open the goddamn door, Bee, before I break it down.”

Clearing your throat, you put your phone aside and cautiously tiptoe toward the door.

After sliding the lock over, you pull it back just a hair, and peek through the crack. “Uh, hi. Sorry, this bathroom is a little occupied at the moment—”

His large hand comes out to press against the wood as he forces it open and steps inside. “Are you okay?”

You blink at him before scrambling to push it closed and relock it. “Uh…yeah? Why?”

He strides a bit further into the bathroom before turning around to look at you, almost as if suspicious. “Honestly? I kind of thought you came in here to hide from me.”

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know.” His arms cross over his chest. “I know you didn’t actually come in here to fuck yourself, so I thought…maybe you just felt uncomfortable.”

“Oh, yeah? And how do you know I didn’t come in here to do that?” you retort.

He smirks. “’Cause you always use both hands. And if you were texting me…you weren’t fucking yourself.”

“And how do you know I use both hands?”

He shrugs. “You told me once.”

Oh…right. “Well…maybe I was multi-tasking.”

“You weren’t,” he rejects immediately. “No, I think you either came in here to hide from me…or because you were upset about what they said. You know, about…him.”

An invisible fist snaps closed around your heart as you stare at the man across from you. The devious intentions and teasing from before are long gone as the man you’ve known for years, your best friend…stands before you.

The concern is evident on his face as you take a step closer. “Har…honestly, I’m fine. I wasn’t hiding from you, and I really don’t care about Eric. I came in here to keep myself from coming all over your fucking hand.”

The corner of his mouth twitches with the temptation to smile, but his gaze remains skeptical. “Are you sure?”

“Positive.” You nod, taking another step. “Come on, I think it’s a little late to start questioning me now, don’t you?”

He sucks on his teeth. “Well…I can never tell with you.”

“I feel like I made my enjoyment quite clear.”

“I thought so, too. Until you made me stop.”

Now, only inches away from him, you come to a halt. “Yeah, well, I didn’t exactly feel like explaining why I moaned to our friends, you know?”

His thumb rubs across the skin of his arm as he peers down at you. “Thought that was the whole point of exhibitionism.”

You shrug, eyes falling across his features. “Yeah…or maybe I just wanted to keep you to myself.”

His brow cocks up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know…like a secret.”

Instantly, he grins, exhaling a laugh at the reminder of the pact you two made when you were younger. “We are good at secrets.”

“The best,” you agree giddily before the laughter dies out, and something seems to shift within his expression.

“Then I think it’s only fair we finish the lesson,” he says quietly, leaning a bit closer as you begin to still. “After all…I still need to show my work.”

Your lashes flutter, the smell of his cologne beginning to overwhelm you. God, why does he always smell so good? “Guess…guess that’s only fair,” you agree faintly, and he seems pleased.

His head dips, nose brushing yours as he works to catch you off guard. “Then tell me what to do, Bee. And I’ll do it.”

It comes out before you can stop it. “Kiss me.”

He’s surprised by this request, going momentarily quiet but you don’t miss the way his focus falls to your lips, as if pondering.

“Kiss me,” you repeat, fingers itching to latch onto the back of his neck. “And this time…do it right.”

He seems impressed as he fights an arrogant smirk. “Right, huh?”

“Yeah.” You straighten up, bringing your mouths a tad closer, but still without contact. “Know you can. Know you know how to be gentle, don’t you?”

And almost as if in retaliation, his hands find your hips, squeezing rather harshly as he begins to back you up toward the wall.

When you collide with it, he grins. “Dunno about that.”

“Try,” you whisper, hands dancing up his chest. “Trust me, you’ll get a lot more points that way. The right kiss can do everything, and I promise…she’ll love it.”

He considers this for a moment, studying you closely before you feel his palm delicately cup your cheek.

He tilts your head back as he moves in, deliberately slow. “Everything, huh?”

You smile, nodding once. “Yeah,” you breathe. “Everything.”

He kisses you.

Soft, and careful, and sadistically tame. He kisses around your mouth, peppers kisses to your bottom lip, to your cheek, to the line of your jaw.

He keeps his tongue from you, and you almost huff because after everything, you think you at least deserve a taste.

And finally, once you’re moments away from wilting in his hands, he takes that taste for himself.

Your head spins and your mind goes blank and everything makes sense.

Because kissing him is fun, and it makes you want to laugh, and kiss him forever, and never leave this one spot.

And you’re so enchanted by this revelation that you don’t notice his hand traveling between your bodies to return to its home between your thighs.

But he slips underneath your dress without a moment's delay, fingers returning to their work of pulling your panties aside to finish what he started. And when you gasp into the kiss…he swallows the sound with ease.

“Is that right, hm?” he teases as he slides in. “That good?”

Your lashes flutter closed as he presses his forehead to yours, and you don’t offer a response because he already knows.

His precision just about kills you. In, out, in, curl, twist, pinch, pull. You can feel the drip down your thighs, can hear the sounds he’s making, can taste his desperation in each kiss he gives you.

And when you suddenly whine and squirm in his hold, he smiles. “There it is, yeah? Right there…s’what you needed, isn’t it?”

It is. It’s exactly what you’d needed, and he strokes the spot with fervor and just a touch of wonder.

It’s cruel and it’s wonderful and it feels so fucking good, and nothing else makes sense to you except him.

Just him and the way you’re about to come undone by his hand for a second time.

You nuzzle your face into his neck, lazily kissing under his ear, and he seems to sigh with contentment as he braces you both against the wall to continue.

“Come on, Bee…know it’s gotta hurt, doesn’t it?” he coos, but his voice is thick. “Know it hurts, so give it to me, yeah? Just give it to me. Let me make it better.”

And it overwhelms you, consumes you, controls you. His smell, his touch, his words. The past, the present, him. Just him. Only him. Right now. Everything.

The sound that rips from your throat feels foreign to you. It’s loud and desperate and eager, and he presses his lips to yours to be a part of it.

It goes for what feels like hours, but time doesn’t have a place here. It could have been ten seconds; it could have been ten minutes. You don’t know, you don’t care.

You just…let it.

And you don’t realize the way you’ve slumped into his embrace as he holds you up, keeps you steady.

You don’t realize he’s speaking to you, murmuring words of encouragement with just a hint of teasing.

You don’t realize he’s refusing to let go.

But once you do, you realize something else, too:

You don’t want him to let go.

"Think we might have a problem," he whispers after a moment, lips following the curve of your shoulder as he offers a few parting kisses.

Your head falls back against the wall and you take a few deep breaths. "Yeah? And what's that?"

"Well...you kind of fucked up," he begins as he moves to the other side of your neck, sucking on the vein just below your ear. "You gave me a taste, showed me what I've been missing."

You can feel yourself smile through the haze as his hands continue to grope at your waist.

"I mean, just knowing..." he continues, nosing under your jaw, "...you've been keeping so much knowledge from me...this whole time."

Your laugh is airy as you reach up to comb through his curls. "Is that right?"

He hums as he nods, the palm of his hand slowly smoothing up your stomach, pushing the hem of your dress along with it. "And now I don't know if I can go without. Feel so fucking insatiable...just thinking about what else you might be hiding from me."

With this, his fingers delicately ghost under the curve of your tit, forcing you to arch into his touch as he smirks.

"And what is it...you want to know?" you manage to reply, voice soft and nearly inaudible.

He pulls back and meets your eye.

"Everything."

Shit.

"Everything?" you murmur, subtly tugging him closer.

"Everything," he repeats. "Anything. All of it. You. Me. Us. Every fucking second, every fucking way."

You know what he's proposing. Know exactly what this means, but you don't know if a friendship would survive.

And you don't know which is more important.

"So...what do you expect me to do?" you ask breathlessly, still squirming beneath his hold.

He smiles. "I expect you...to show me."

"Show you," you repeat, as if in a trance.

"Show me," he whispers, moving back in to lick at your bottom lip. "Teach me. How to be better. How to be right. How take care of you. Wanna give you everything you need."

"Everything," you breathe.

"Everything." His other hand gently comes up to cradle the back of your neck. "Whatever you want, whatever you need. Tell me and I'll give it to you. Promise."

But what do you need?

"Are you sure?" you ask, softly pushing on his chest to garner his attention. "It's not like teaching you to play pool, Har. Exploring kinks is...delicate. Sacred. It's not a game."

"I know," he replies, sobering ever-so-slightly. "That's why it can't be anybody else. It has to be you."

It has to be you.

"Why?" you challenge.

He simply offers you a knowing look. "Why wouldn't it be?"

You chew on the inside of your cheek, looking for a reason to say no. Looking for the strength to know better.

But maybe you don't know better.

Maybe you just know him.

"Teach me," he says again, thumb stroking your jaw as those familiar eyes bleed right through to your heart. "Make me better."

Better.

Everything.

Nothing else makes sense. Nothing else feels right.

Just him.

"Okay," you agree quietly, and his entire face lights up. "For science."

"For science," he repeats, dipping down to press his lips to your cheek in thanks. "But only if you're sure. I'd never want you to agree just because of me. You know that, right?"

"Yeah, I know."

He leans back. Frowns. He's unconvinced. "I mean it, Bee. I'm not asking just because I can. I’m asking because…it feels like something we both want. But if it's not—"

You kiss him again, stealing the rest of his argument. "I know how to say no to you, Harry. Think you should know that by now."

He smiles against your mouth. "Guess so."

For the next minute or so, you don't speak. He simply takes hold of your face with both hands and paints his gratitude across your tongue.

"So...where do you wanna start?" you ask when he finally allows you a second of reprieve.

"You tell me," he reminds you, and you feel yourself smirk.

"All right," you agree before slipping your fingers through the loops on his pants.

His eyes go wide.

Then, you tug.

"Let's start...with everything."

You bet your ass there’s gonna be a part 3, because now that they’ve opened the door…there’s no closing it 😗 and Harry’s got a long list of new kinks to discover! And I’m strangely excited about it?? This is concerning?? Pray for me???

Next Part:

~ Hurt Me* (Pt. 3)

Previous Part:

~ Teach Me* (Pt. 1)

~ Full Teach Me Masterlist

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Tags:

@tiaamberxx @harrystylesfan2686

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