#1. THE HANDS IN THE FIRST PHOTO (NO TATTOOS???) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daphwritesworld · 1 month ago

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#11 k. mccabe— LUNCH.

content: pussy eating (both receiving), face humping (k receiving) lots of kissing and making out lol, fingering (r receiving), public/beach sex, groping, drinking wine, tattoos, grumpy morning! reader, top!Katie, bottom!reader

warnings: mentions of tattoos, tabloids posting personal info/photos, mentions of a dvd player bc I'm old and still use them

synopsis: A much needed rest day has finally come for you and your girlfriend. She's got everything planned out for you both, from a secret appointment, to a movie date, and finally treating you to a nice lunch on the beach.

requested: yes

word count: 5.6k

!! MINORS DNI!! 18+ CONTENT

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An arm sliding around your waist is what you notice first in your daze of slumber. Your mind still hasn’t caught up yet, too focused on how cozy the bed is. But suddenly you’re being pulled to the middle of the mattress, your back hitting a chest as you snuggle into the warmth. You swear you could pass back out even easier now, the new heat source making you even more comfortable. It had been a long night celebrating your anniversary, especially since you both had a game first. You’d won 4-1 Arsenal, so the girls gladly helped you party the night away…but today is about doing all the things you weren’t free to do alone yesterday.

“Time to get up, my darling.” Katie’s voice is always so thick with her accent first thing in the morning. The raspiness always gets to you, and she knows it, too. She’s often taken full advantage of your weakness for her morning voice. She loves whispering the dirtiest of things into your ears at the crack of dawn and letting her hands roam across your body, teasing you until you’re begging for her touch. Then she’ll flip it on you, clicking her tongue as she scolds you for running you both late to practice. “What am I gonna do with you, pretty girl? Always making us late.”

You turn around in her hold, burying your face into her neck as she starts to rub your back. The early ambiance of the outside world slowly creeps inside, like the birds chirping and cars starting to fill up the streets. You can still smell the body wash she used last night on her skin, taking in a deep breath of it as you exhale in a sleepy sigh, “Five more minutes, please baby.”

“Okay, hun..but only five more. Then we gotta get ready for the day, alright?” She’s met with a small snore from between your lips. Already back to being dead to the world in her arms. Her chest shakes with a silent laugh at that, trying not to disturb you before your times up. Katie slowly pulls your head back, resting it on her pillow so she can examine your face. There have been many days where she’s watched you sleep. Not in a creepy way, but in an endearing way. She’d often wake up before you and just admire how beautiful you look while deep in slumber. You’re like a piece of art lying perfectly in motion, her personal Mona Lisa who stepped out of the painting. Gripping the canvas as you pulled your way to be in the world of the living and took refuge in her heart. You’ve burrowed your way into her soul, carved out a spot there, and made a permanent home…but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

She knew you’d be trouble for her the first day you attended practice after signing with Arsenal. Strolling right in with that perfect smile on your dumb gorgeous face, and effectively distracting her for all of warm-ups. She’d gone pretty hard on you that first day during drills, taking the frustrations of her attraction out on the pitch. And after all the teasing, slide tackles, and pushes she’d sent your way, that still didn’t stop you from coming over in the locker room and telling her she played well that day. A hand extended to shake hers and that stupid smile appeared back on your face, making her heart almost burst out of her chest (for about the tenth time that day). Katie swears to this day that her brain short-circuited at that moment. You were standing in front of her covered in grass and dirt stains, and she had been the cause of them….but you still looked like a goddess standing before her, reaching out an olive branch in the shape of your perfectly painted nails.

For the first time in her life, Katie McCabe was rendered speechless. Blubbering her mouth silently like a fish out of water before jutting her hand out to take yours. As you shook hands all Katie could concentrate on was how soft your skin was, like an invitation to never let go. You giggled while watching her, “You’re cute.”

As you slipped away from her, she stood frozen in place, like a deer caught in headlights. You turned at the door before you left, shooting her that paralyzing smile one last time, “See you on the pitch, McCabe…and close your mouth. Wouldn’t want our star defender catching any flies now would we?” And just like that you were gone out of the room, leaving her to pick up the pieces of her frontal cortex shattered onto the floor below her.

It’s hard to believe it’s been a little over five years since then, and only four months since the proposal. You’re both currently living in your little bubble of love. Deciding together to keep the engagement to yourselves for at least two more months. The secrecy of sharing such an exciting and intimate moment from everyone in your lives has been fueling A LOT of sex between the two of you. In the locker room showers, the club meeting room, and numerous bathrooms or broom closets of whatever establishments the two of you have occupied.

Katie sighs looking back at the clock, she’s already let you sleep an extra 10 minutes now. She knows how you are though, especially first thing in the morning. You’re usually her walking sunshine, radiating light off you everywhere you go. But you’re always her frumpy grump in the morning (as she likes to call you.) A frown and a furrow between your brows settle into your features as your sleepy eyes try to shut at any given moment. You’ve run into many, many walls that way..so Katie came up with a solution a few years back when you started living together: carrying you around like a koala bear until you can walk and function on your own.

Her arms secure you in her grip, hoisting you up as you stay sound asleep in her hold. She starts walking to the bathroom, knowing when she sits you on the counter it’s gonna wake you up. She turns the hot water in the shower on first, letting it warm up as she gets you up enough to hop in with her. The cold marble lights goosebumps across your skin as you jolt alive wakeful, your eyes snapping open to the bright lights above you. Your hips go to lift your thighs off the freezing countertop, but Katie’s hands stop you, pushing you to sit back down. Her hands slip under your shirt as you shiver at the feeling of her ring sliding across your warm skin, leaving a tingly feeling behind in its wake.

A kiss graces the pulse point on your neck, Katie’s lips lingering as you start leaning into her more. The soft sucks and nips from her teeth start warming you up slowly. Like a fire brewing in your belly the more she teases you. She leans back for a second to pull you into a searing kiss, her nails digging into the skin of your waist now. It’s the kind of kiss that takes your breath away, leaves your face red, and panting for some fresh air when you pull apart. Katie pulls back enough to speak against your lips, “Time to get up and shower, sleepyhead.”

Your face drops back into those distinct telltale signs that you’re frustrated. That’s made even more apparent by the way you cross your arms over your chest and let a scoff out into her face. Katie just smiles at you, used to your stink of an attitude in the morning after so many years. Honestly, at this point, if you ever woke up this early with a smile on your face she’d be racing you to the ER for a full workup of your brain. “You did not kiss me like that JUST so I’d get in the shower,” you narrow your eyes at her as you say it. “Are you saying I stink, McBabe?” you push her shoulder lightly with a pout on your lips.

“Only your tude, darling….but your hair is looking a little doolally,” she says with a grimace on her face. The little smirk at the corner of her mouth gives way to her joking nature underneath though. You open your mouth to say something else all prickly, but she cuts you off with her fingers wiggling across your middle. Then she starts attacking you in flurry of kisses, all over your face as you struggle to get away from her.

“K-Kate! Katie s-stop!” Your hands come up to push at her stomach and chest, loud laughs ripping from your mouth as she relentlessly tickles you on the counter. “Pl-Please baby! Ok-Okay! I’ll get in t-the shower!”

She pulls back at that, her infectious grin mirroring your own as she starts taking your clothes off. Leaving little kisses on your body as she concludes stripping you. She reaches for her shorts, but you slap her hand away. “Let me, love. Only fair that I repay the favor.”

Your lips slot onto hers as your hands slip down her toned abdomen and start pulling her sleep shorts down her legs. No time is wasted as you instantly reach back up and take the band of her underwear into your fingertips. You rub the material through your fingers for a second, admiring the softness before they follow the path of her bottoms around her ankles.

Then you’re gasping into her mouth as she’s backing you up into the counter you’d just been plucked off of. The articles of clothing that had taken home around her feet now kicked to the side, ironically right in front of the laundry bin. Her grip on your now bare hips disappears as she pulls away from your makeout. Using her now free hands to pull her sports bra off and toss it somewhere to be picked up later from the floor.

She picks you back up, letting you wrap your legs around her waist as she leads you both to the now steaming shower. “I’m making you drive if all the hot water’s gone.”

Katie lightly slaps your ass as a response. The warm water surrounds you as she closes the door behind you both. She lowers you to stand on your own, hugging your back to her front as you both submerge under the downpour of the showerhead. “I’m always gonna be the one driving anyways darling, we both know that.”

“Oh yeah? Says who?”

“Says you miss pro passenger princess! I can’t remember one time you’ve ever sat in the drivers seat while we’ve been together…unless we’re counting when you’re on my lap while you let me–”

“Okay! I get it, I get it!” You turn around and place a hand over her mouth, laughing as you come to terms with your new title. Deciding to tease her back a bit for causing the blush dusting your cheeks, “Don’t have to do a play-by-play for me. I know you love those, but leave our sex life out of your pregame rituals- EW KATIE!”

She’s the one laughing now, smirking as she flicks her tongue back out at you. “That’s so gross, babe! My poor hand with your morning breath germs all over it!”

“Oh shut up! Acting like that same tongue wasn’t shoved inside your cunt less than 12 hours ago and been in your mouth ever since your pretty little eyes peeled open.”

Your mouth shuts closed at that, the red on your cheeks deepening as you hide your face with your hands. “Okay, I’m not gonna argue with you there,” you breathe out between your fingers. You’re met with a kiss to the forehead as Katie pulls your hands away, chuckling as you reveal a small frown to her.

“Turn around you goober, I’ll wash your hair. We really can’t mess around now or we’re gonna be late for our appointment,” she says while reaching for your shampoo.

It’s always so relaxing when she does your hair for you some days. You used to always laugh at first because it reminded you of Charles from Brooklyn99 so badly. She never understood when you’d just burst out giggling like a madman and when she’d ask you’d just reply, “The most intimate thing you can do for a lover is wash their hair!”

When you finally got her to agree to watch the show about a year after the shower routine started, she almost choked on her popcorn when she heard him say it. Yeah, she definitely chased you around the house before tackling you to the couch and tickling you as a punishment for making fun of her popcorn hazard. She really does love to use it as her weapon of certain surrender…because after five seconds you’re begging for a truce.

The hints of apple and honey fill your nostrils as Katie’s fingers massage the cream into your scalp, pulling soft relieved sighs from your lips. She can physically see your body relax into hers at the act. She’d never admit it to you, but this really is the most intimate act she’s ever done with a lover…and it’s reserved just for you– promised forever now.

“All finished, booger!”

You turn around as she starts loading up her loofa, taking it from her grasp as you start doing it for her. It starts out innocently– it really does, okay! But like most things with Katie, they don’t stay that way for long. You can’t help but fall to your knees as the loofa runs clean water down her body now, the last of the suds swirling down the drain. “What are you doing, doll? I told you we can’t waste any more time messing around,” her hand comes to rest on the top of your head.

“And I told you I’d repay the favor last night, and I think we’ve established I don’t like leaving empty promises, baby.” Your hands run up her legs, stopping to run your nails up her inner thighs. The hand on your head turns into fingers in your hair as she lets a growl out, pulling your head up. “Stick your tongue out, darling.”

You do as she says, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. Her hand moves more towards the back of your head as she pushes your face into her cunt, her shoulders hitting the cold tiles as she guides your head. Her nipples get hard from the contact off the wall, a shiver running down her spine as you start sucking on her clit. Your hands go up to grab her hips, trying to ground yourself as you get lost in the taste of her.

“Just like that, fuck babe.” She’s gritting her teeth now, planting her footing before grinding her pussy down onto your mouth. “Open your– fuck! Open your eyes for me, love.”

And Jesus fuck you had to fight the urge to let them roll into the back of your skull when you do. She’s staring down at you with those alluring eyes, her long wet hair thrown onto one shoulder, and her abs flexing as she grinds down onto your eager mouth. You moan just at the sight, flicking your tongue on her clit as you let one of your hands come down to replace it. Then you push your tongue inside of her, desperate for a true taste of what you know she has to offer.

“Pussy drunk aren’t you, darling?” she laughs out, holding you completely still as she puts a little more pressure onto your face as she humps into your tongue harder. The water running down her perfectly sculpted body is reflecting off the light coming into the bathroom. A sign of the little time you two really have, the rest of the world carrying on as you’re frozen in the spot between her legs. Your knees are aching and your jaws getting sore, but that bleeds into the background noise as Katie lets out a knee-wobbling moan.

Her eyes burn into yours as her legs start to shake around your head, and you start grinding your face back up into her as she comes down. The roll of her hips bumping her clit into your nose in the chaos, more sweet sounds tumbling from her lips. She cums with a groan of your name falling from her lips, the hand in your hair dragging you up her body.

You let your tongue trace its way up her body as she brings you up to meet each other’s lips in a messy kiss. Tasting herself all over your mouth as she walks back under the main stream of water, you squeal from the chill from the now heatless water. She quickly washes you both up before hurrying from the shower, a new skip in her step for the day.

It only takes you both about 15 minutes to get ready, you in a nice flowy sundress that Katie had surprised you with last night in the early a.m. hum of London. You’d stumbled in all tipsy, horny, but determined to swap your gifts before bed, and by god, you got it done, too. Like did you look at them for 5 seconds and then instantly sit them on the coffee table and fuck for three hours straight around on different surfaces of the house?...The answer would be yes. BUT hey you got the prioritized goal done before going at it like animals and that’s all that matters in your book.

Katie walks into the bathroom where you’re finishing up your makeup, and your eyes almost pop out of your head. She’s wearing an outfit that throws you headfirst into ovulation early. There she stood in her tight tan crop top and white flowy pants. The glasses you had gifted her two birthdays ago, a gold necklace with your initial hanging from it, and the gold watch you bought her for your first anniversary to match.

It all comes together to make a delicious sight for your viewing. She comes up behind you, arms bulging as she places her hands beside you on the same countertop you’d made out on earlier. “Stop ogling me, we’re gonna be late you perv!”

You roll your eyes at her before finally zipping up your makeup bag. You put on some lipgloss before tucking it in your purse and moving to go put your shoes on. “Wear comfy ones, I’ve got a surprise for you at lunch!” she calls out across the room as she sees you approaching the shoe rack on your side of the closet. You give her a questioning look, wondering why you’d need comfy shoes for whatever restaurant she’s chosen…but nonetheless, you comply. Slipping on some sandals to match your dress, and to show off your matching nails of course (courtesy of being paid for by your girlfriend).

You arrive at the tattoo parlour right on time, not a moment to spare. You hop out of the car and rush inside hand in hand with Katie. She leans down to press a kiss to the side of your head after she’s talked with the man at the front, “You’re so lucky we weren’t late or you’d be in big trouble, missy.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know.” you whisper back at her, “but we weren’t, so live a little, babe.”

She just shakes her head at you, following behind the heavily inked man in front of you until he pulls the curtains back to an empty room. He leads you inside and pats the freshly cleaned black leather chair, “Alright who’s going first?”

—

When you leave the shop you’ve both got a huge smile on your face, hands intertwined and swinging as you skip to the car. “I can’t believe we really did that, Katie!”

“Best believe we did, darling! Now you’re really stuck with me forever,” she pulls you back into her arms. Stopping on the sidewalk to take this moment in with you.

“And always,” you say barely above a whisper, but it’s enough for just Katie to hear. Your fingertips move as gently as ever as they trace along her ribs, right under her left boob where the fresh ink lays eternally embedded into her skin. You’d both gotten matching ones– a cliche I know– but it was something you’ve both wanted for a while. Hers saying, “go deo” and yours, “i gconai” in the same spot. It’s a promise to each other that’s permanently carved into your persons; a pledge of forever and always. As cheesy as it sounds the words hold dear for you both, and the Gaelic spelling gives a deeper connection as well.

Katie swears she feels her heart stop beating in her chest as the sounds of the city become nothing but white noise, her body leaning into yours as you share a soft, yet passionate kiss in the busy bustle of the city. You almost don’t want to pull apart, but the remembrance of your surprise is what fuels you to break away and start tugging her toward where she parked the car. “Come on, move it McBabe! I heard we’ve got a plan for lunch, and I’m dying to see what you’ve got arranged!”

After a 3-and-a-half-hour ride, you finally reach your destination. She’s brought you to Priory Beach, the place you went to on your second-anniversary trip. She leads you out to a white tent on the side of the beach, out of the way enough for some privacy between you two. As she leads you closer you feel tears gathering in your eyes at the sight. There’s not just a tent, but blankets spread out, too. A mini table is set up full of your favorite picnic foods, a vase with your favorite flowers, two wine glasses, and your favorite red bottle to accompany it. A little fully charged DVD player is under the table, and the movie you two watched on your first date sits right beside it. But the polaroids of you two hanging from the white tull-wrapped arch is what does it for you, and before you know it you’re crying like a baby.

Katie pulls you into her arms as she hugs you, a panicked look on your face as she does. “Oh lord, I’m sorry darling! I didn’t mean to make you upset or anything-”

“No! No! I love it!” you pull back quickly, your shiny eyes meeting her terrified ones. “It’s just..no one’s ever done anything this sweet for me. It’s a lot to take in, okay!”

She throws her head back and cackles at the realization. “Oh yeah? Not even like…oh, I don’t know, say getting a matching tattoo?” She teases as she wipes your tears away with her thumbs, now cradling your face in her hands.

“Shut up! You know what I meant, babe!”

She puts a hand on her chest and acts like she’s just been shot at close range, “Not even McBabe? Oh, see you are mad at me!” She lets out a dramatic sigh, slumping down onto the blanket as she gets on her knees and takes your hands into hers begging for your forgiveness. You quickly do, laughing at her antics before she pulls you down to sit with her. It’s a beautiful view to have as you eat. The waves roll in as a backdrop to the movie as it plays. It’s really all just background music to the endless conversation between you two, the wine keeps flowing, and the hours keep ticking by. But it’s barely been 20 minutes to you both. Too busy drowning out the world around you as you get lost in each other’s eyes and voices, retelling the best moments of your love story as you reflect on how you’ve got to where you are today. “Oh, wow! The lights are a beautiful touch!” you gasp as they flick on, lighting up your space as the sun sets before you. The movie’s long been over and the DVD player dead for a while, too. You take a sip from your last glass of wine and lean your head on Katie’s shoulder, taking in the beauty of the scenery that you’re able to see up close and personal right now. The oranges, pinks, and reds reflect off the water. Ripples of incomprehensible vibrant colors all mashing into one to create an unforgettable memory. “Should we take a picture of the sunse– what are you looking at?” you cut yourself off as you look up at her, the last part of your sentence becoming a whisper. She’s just staring at you, with this unreadable expression on her face, it’s truly one you’ve never seen before (at least not awake).

“You’re just so beautiful. I wake up every day in awe that it’s me you’ve chosen to spend the rest of your life with. I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you, but I thank god every night that I’m holding you to my chest. I get to experience the best parts of life because of you, and I’ll never be able to truly repay you for that, y/n…but thankfully I’ve got the rest of our lifetime together to try.”

You can feel the weight of her words as she speaks them. There’s no smile, laugh, or distraction in her voice. She’s confessing to you, like a sinner in a catholic church. Spilling the contents of her soul out onto the staircase of your heart, and leaving it there for you to either clean it up or let it soak into the deepest parts of you. So you lean up and press your lips against hers. Katie grabs your face, turning you around as she yanks you onto her lap. Your half-empty wine glass goes flying, landing in the sand beside the blanket as the wine leaks into the ground staining it dark.

You want to say something back to her, but your brain is just mush. It’s like she’s stolen all the thoughts out of your head and you’re just floating in this bliss called her. You’re starting to think she was onto something when she said you fried her brain that one day because holy fuck you’re really humping your fiance’s lap on a public beach right now without a care in the world like you two aren’t famous athletes. “Mmm Katie– someone could s-see us,” you can barely get it out as she keeps her lips on yours.

“Then let them,” she says it so casually into your lips that you almost listen to her, but one of you has to be the responsible one. So you pull back and give her your best kicked-puppy look, a pout dancing on your bottom lip, “Please, baby. I don’t want to end up on the front page of some tabloid– at least not till I’m officially Mrs. McBabe.”

She looks at you while biting on her bottom lip, her brows furrowed as she thinks of something deep in thought. You tilt your head at her after a few seconds, placing a hand on her shoulder to check on her. “Baby? Are you ok–OH MY G–” You’re cut off twice. The first time when she manhandles you into the air. The second one is when she continues to manhandle you between her thighs, resting your back on her chest and a hand over your mouth. “Shhh darling! Wouldn’t want to ruin my plan now would you?”

You shake your head no, still not able to use your voice. So she slowly moves her hand away from your mouth, and lets it slide up the inside of your thigh. “Your dress is long enough to hide my hand, and you can hide your face in my neck if you want to, okay? I promise no one will see us” and you nod your head in response.

“I need to hear you say it. Is this okay with you, y/n?” Her voice is suddenly stern, a hint of her softness peaking out to wrap around the words in a thin veil.

“Yes baby, j-just please touch me already! God, I’ve needed you since you kissed my breath away this morning.”

Katie groans into your mouth as she crashes them back together, her fingertips digging into the skin of your upper thighs as they inch up closer to your heat. When they reach your pussy she’s met with instant wetness and a loud breathy moan from you. A laugh rumbles up in her throat and vibrates your mouth as they stay connected, “No panties? Fuck baby you’ve been needing it bad all day, huh?”

You whine out at her teasing, raising your hips up as you search for her touch. Bucking wildly as your body begs for her fingers. “Okay shhh, shhh. I’ve got you now, love. Calm down,” as her digits run up and down your slit. They collect the unfathomable amount of wetness onto her fingers, your pussy leaking like a hydrant for her. She slides a single finger in first, not wanting to overwhelm you before you’re ready.

“Add another one, please,” you say through a small moan.

“Only cause you asked so sweet,” she smirks back at you. “My sunshine girl.”

So she slides her finger out and quickly returns with a second one buried inside your cunt. She’s fucking you a little faster now, the reluctance from your tight walls finally letting up. You’re biting your lip, muffled little cries of pleasure audible to Katie’s ears solely.

Her other hand finds its way into the top of your dress, popping a hand underneath your bra as she starts groping your breasts. She makes sure she gives them both equal attention, switching out every so often to not overstimulate you. Her lips find shelter on your neck, leaving little pecks when and where she wants. But when you start grinding down onto her fingers, she decides to add another one by surprise this time.

It rips a louder moan from your mouth, especially since her thumb is adding to the mix and rubbing circles onto your clit now. Your body wants to squirm away, but you’re stuck between Katie’s legs, being forced into letting the pleasure wreck through your body. “I’m g-gonna cum, baby!”

You feel a smile against your jaw, “You’re my pretty fucking fiancé, yeah? I love you so much. I can’t wait to marry you, darling. Can’t wait to make love to you as my wife– my other half.”

she’s starting to ramble and it’s going to be your downfall. The feeling of her curling them to hit right into her sweet spot draws you even closer to the edge, “Let it all out, darling. Cum on and give it to me!”

And so you do. Your hand comes around to grip her wrist through your sundress, your nails digging into her skin as you flail around in her hold. Your back arches away from her chest and your toes curl as they kick out in front of you. Your walls squeeze her fingers so tight she has to stop moving them as she’s biting love marks into your skin, trying to let this orgasm run its course as long as it can. You swear you’ve never cum this hard– positively boneless in her hold.

You hiss at the slight sting as she pulls them out of you, immediately bringing them up to her mouth for a detailed cleaning with her tongue. Her eyes roll back at the flavor of you that hits her tastebuds, and she’s manhandling you onto your back this time. The soft blankets swallow you up as you lay down submerged in them, “Wh-what are you doing, K-Katie?”

“I just need to clean you up a bit, baby. I’ll be fast, I promise. Can’t have you all messy the whole ride home, now can we?” You should’ve known at the sight of her smirk right then…that it was going to be anything but speedy, but alas you have fallen victim to the tongue game of Katie McCabe once again. Your legs thrown open wide, back arched off the ground, hand on her head as it disappears under your dress, and a brand new tabloid with a picture of that exact scene on the front page the next morning. But one detail does stick out enough to add it to the headline..the shiny diamond ring on your finger, only visible from the light off of the set up she made you.

“You can’t even tell that’s us, darling! It’s too dark, we’re fine. Just gotta deny deny deny,” Katie says like she’s a genius. A proud smirk on her face as she tries to pry you out from underneath your fortress of the duvet.

“THEY HAVE PHOTOS OF US IN THOSE EXACT OUTFITS ALL OVER THE CITY THAT SAME DAY!” it’s shouted from under your mound of protection..not for you– but for Katie. If looks could kill she’d of been dead 10 times before now, all hell breaking loose after you woke up, and not five minutes later you’re getting bombarded with texts of screenshots and links.

“Okay your right…this is serious, baby, I'm sorry…So should we start the onlyfans on our honeymoon? I could retire ear–”

“KATIE!” And if that wasn’t enough to know you didn’t like that joke, then the pillow to the face should definitely get your mood across.

#woso fanfics #woso smut #woso x reader #katie mccabe x reader #katie mccabe smut #k.mccabe 11

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immoral-stranger · 2 months ago

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𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐂𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐊𝐢𝐝 // 𝐋𝐒𝟐

Summary: “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you,” — Or, the one where two people are experiencing the worst year of their lives respectively. Falling in love shouldn't be that difficult on top of it all, right?

Pairing: Logan Sargeant x Fem! Reader (team photographer, skater girl™, has tattoos and is vaguely bilingual)

Word count: 23.3k

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI ❀ Angst: panic attacks, anxiety, self-deprecation, mention of medication, anxiety disorders and ADHD. Reader has a shitty family as well. Smut: penetrative sex, they're needy as hell, otherwise very vanilla. Fluff: she fell first, he fell harder, a bunch of silent crushing on each other, a very sappy and happy ending. Other: inaccurate timeline and race results.

A/N: I'm back! I planned this before Zandvoort and before Logan got dropped and didn't feel like changing it to fit reality, so Logan gets to finish the season in this fictional universe. He also gets to go to Indycar because I'm sad and maybe delusional. Please tell me what you think ♡

Oxfordshire, UK

The rain drizzled down as you cruised around the almost empty parking lot on your board, the drops making little sounds as they hit the brim of your rain hat. February in England wasn’t that great—no snow, just rain and cold weather. Awful, but doable for someone who had a skateboard stuck to their feet ninety percent of the year.

You were early, which was uncommon for you. But Angie had told you to come early, and you didn’t want to screw up on what was technically your first day on the job. Having someone you saw as an older sister as your boss had its pros and cons.

“Should you really be skating in the rain?” Angie called out, standing underneath the awning above the main entrance, shielded from the rain. Her Williams-blue raincoat was pulled up to her chin, and you could see her visibly shiver from the cold.

You had received a similar jacket, amongst a lot of other team gear, in advance for your first day. It wasn’t exactly your style, but you guessed that wasn’t the point of having team gear in the first place. Or any kind of work uniform, really. The coat kept you warm and dry, that was all that you could ask for.

“Can’t you see how slow I’m going?” you protested, laughing at her cautiousness.

You knew what you were doing. It wasn’t advised by anyone to skate when it was raining outside, but casually riding in a flat, empty parking lot at a slow speed, just to not get your shoes wet, wasn’t dangerous. Not for you, at least. You had been skating for close to two decades.

Angie had asked you to take some pictures of the building, and then take pictures of all the team members as they arrived at the factory.

You had held a camera in your hands for almost as long as your feet had stood on a skateboard. The two interests kind of coexisted and fed off each other as you grew older. Only photography was able to make you money, though.

You’d read in an article that the Williams factory was supposed to be modest in comparison to McLaren’s or Red bull’s spaceship-like buildings, but this was still huge to you. And you hadn’t even gotten inside the building yet.

As cars filled the parking lot, you snapped photos of the people going inside. Mechanics, engineers, people on the communications team—it seemed like everyone was present for this pre-season meetup. Maybe it was because it was the last one before the team flew off to Bahrain.

Some smiled at you as they spotted the big DSLR camera in your hands, others walked right past. Angie seemed to know almost everyone as she greeted them by the entrance. Sure, she was some kind of high-up marketing manager, but recognising so many people seemed excessive. Or maybe just impressive.

She’d given you a crash course in Formula 1 as she had hired you. You had heard her talk about her job on many occasions, even catching a race or two when it was on television, but you quickly realised that you didn’t know half as much as you probably needed to.

It was hard for you to even pinpoint who were the Williams’ drivers as they both came walking across the parking lot. Angie’s immediate perked attention and widened smile told you everything you needed to know. You would need to get good photos of them both.

You tried your best to remember who was who, and when you recalled that one raced under the Thai flag and the other for the US, it was quite easy.

Alex was tall, and happy. He walked with quick steps to get away from the light rain, greeting Angie with an effortless hug. He had no problem smiling when he saw you with the camera, raising his eyebrows at your stance on the skateboard.

Logan wasn’t far behind. He looked younger, and less confident in the way he carried himself. His steps were slower as he too made his way under the awning. He reminded you of kids you’d gone to school with, with their boyish charm and cluelessness. He was young, and sweet—maybe even beautiful.

You could see it all as you lifted your camera to spot him from the viewfinder. His smile didn’t form as easily as Alex’s had done, but when it did, and he flashed you his stupidly perfect and pearly white American teeth, you couldn’t help but feel how the corners of your lips turned upward. This was going to be a difficult year if you already were developing a minor crush on the first cute boy you’d seen.

“Who’s Paddington?” Alex asked Angie after he had greeted her.

You could overhear him perfectly fine as you pretended to take some photos of the main building.

“What? Oh, because the red bucket hat?” she chuckled, shaking her head. “That’s our new team photographer.”

Logan too gave Angie a quick hug. After all, she was one of the more tolerable people forcing them to do social media content.

He laughed at the nickname Alex gave you. Logan would’ve gone with Tony Hawk over Paddington, but maybe that was because he found the fictional little bear with a red hat and a blue coat to be a very British reference.

“She looks about twelve,” Alex remarked, watching as you adjusted something on the lens, your movements precise and confident despite your youthful appearance.

Angie laughed again, the sound warm and contagious. “She’s the same age as Logan.”

Logan playfully pouted at his two colleagues joking. He guessed the both of you looked young. Maybe too young to be in such a professional setting.

“She’s my best friend’s little sister. I’m mostly being kind by offering her a chance to work with us,” Angie continued to explain, raising her voice slightly to get your attention.

She didn’t really need to, because you had heard every single word of their conversation.

“That’s her way of secretly telling you that I’m severely underqualified for this job and I’m using it as an excuse to travel the world,” you said under your breath, your gaze still fixated on the viewfinder as you slowly skated towards them.

Same, was what Logan immediately wanted to say, but instead he just laughed, unsure of how well his self-deprecating humour would translate.

You stepped off your board, before popping it up with your foot on the tail end to grab it with your hand. You hadn’t expected them to laugh, because it wasn’t exactly a joke. You guessed it kind of came across as one, though.

You told Alex and Logan your name, gently reaching out your hand to shake theirs, but Angie’s hand pulling down the brim of your hat over your eyes stopped you in your tracks.

“I have a feeling you’re going to be stuck with Paddington around here,” she laughed.

“The Williams hat you gave me can’t stand the rain,” you argued, fixing the hat back into place.

It was true. The cotton of the team hat she had given you would’ve been drenched at this point. But you still appreciated her effort because she thought the hat was more your style than the classic baseball cap that most of the other employees sported.

“You’re such a child, you know that, right?”

That was something you’d heard all your life, because you somehow always turned out to be the youngest one at every family function. You didn’t take it as an insult when Angie said it, though. She had valued what you brought to the table for as long as you could remember. Maybe that was the only child within her showing through.

“That’s kind of on you, Angie,” you pointed out. “If you hadn’t been mostly kind, I wouldn’t be here to annoy you.”

You saw how Angie wanted to argue back, but was interrupted by the sound of your ringtone. Teenagers by My Chemical Romance. You had intention behind it when you initially picked it (something about rebellion and fuck the system), but now it was mostly a running joke that you couldn’t let go of, no matter how many times you swapped phones.

You also loved the embarrassment that flashed over Angie’s face as it interrupted her. Alex and Logan couldn’t help but laugh as you excused yourself to answer.

Logan watched as you slowly cruised over the parking lot, phone up to your ear as you talked to whoever it was over the phone. He heard you raise your voice, speaking in a language he didn’t recognise, or at least didn’t understand.

“Her family sort of… resents her? So, I did what I thought was right.”

Angie felt the need to explain as the three of them heard you start to argue. She knew it had to be your mother calling, because you had given up on arguing with your father already.

“Is she at least a good photographer?” Alex asked with a sigh.

“She’s the best.”

. . .

Melbourne, Australia

. . .

The season started with a whirlwind. You definitely hadn’t mentally prepared for the challenge it would be to travel nonstop, and even if you had some downtime, the anxiety of always being on the move didn’t leave your body. Before you had the chance to experience a new city, you had to be thinking of when you were going to the next one.

And you were rusty. You didn’t yet have the right mindset to be in the position you were in, constantly forgetting things and not getting the perfect photos. You’d done sports photography for a long time, but there was a difference in speed between x-games sports and fucking Formula 1.

That was why you found yourself back at the hotel in Melbourne, riding the lift to your floor to retrieve some equipment you’d forgotten in your room, your body teeming with nerves and embarrassment over what had just transpired. While Formula 1 was a travelling circus with a lot of important and famous people, you hadn’t expected to actually run into anyone that would leave you speechless. You were usually too good at talking.

As you exited the lift, you spotted Logan in the hallway, looking like he was about to enter his own hotel room. Your speedy steps interrupted his actions, and even if you two hadn’t really had a one-on-one conversation before, you had to tell someone about who you just ran into.

“I just made a fool out of myself in front of Keegan Palmer,” you exhaled loudly as your steps came to a stop in front of him.

“Who?” Logan questioned, holding the door to his room open, a little bit taken aback by your boldness.

“Olympic skateboarder,” you clarified. “He’s kind of a big deal, and he’s friends with Lando somehow.”

Logan remembered something about a famous skateboarder in the back of his mind as he let out a short laugh. “So, what did you do? Ask for a selfie?”

“I wish. No, I just ran into them in the lobby and couldn’t form a sentence because I was shocked. I literally froze,” you groaned, rubbing your temples as your emotions started to settle.

As they did, you took in Logan’s expression. While you hadn’t necessarily talked much before, you had taken a lot of photos of him. He always portrayed a certain charm, even when he was focused on racing or unaware of the camera. He didn’t do that now. Something seemed off with him from his blank stare at you. He was there, able to laugh at your awkward interaction, but he wasn’t present.

“Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?” Logan asked after a moment of silence.

“I forgot an SD card in my hotel room,” you explained. “Shouldn’t you be at the paddock?”

His face twisted in disbelief. “You haven’t heard?”

“Heard what?”

“I’m not driving,” he answered plainly, but the words landed heavily. “Alex is taking my car because they don’t have a spare chassis to repair the damage from his crash yesterday.”

You blinked out of confusion as you raised your eyebrows. “Is that even allowed? It’s your car.”

“I don’t know, but it’s probably for the better,” Logan shrugged with a certain nonchalance. “I don’t want to make a big deal out of it.”

“You’re paying for a mistake that he made. It is a big deal,” you argued.

You’d practically ran up to him to talk about your embarrassing moment that you had failed to even acknowledge what kind of mood he was in. That was a bad habit of yours—badly reading people and basically running them over with your talking.

And here he was, feeling like shit over a decision that no one thought was possible. He probably had no will to talk about some skateboarder with you.

You noticed the way his hands trembled slightly, holding a tight grip on the door to the point where his knuckles whitened. The realisation hit you at the same time his expression shifted, his bravado cracking under the weight of something much deeper, his breath coming quicker than normal.

“Mate, are you okay?” you asked him softly.

“I’m fine,” he muttered, but his wavering voice betrayed him.

Logan wasn’t angry at the team, or at Alex. He knew that it was the right decision because Alex would have a better chance to score points. He probably would’ve made the same decision if he were team principal.

He knew he wasn’t good enough to deserve a chance.

He knew he wasn’t good enough to argue his case.

He knew he wasn’t good enough.

It was killing him inside. Logan wanted to flee the scene. He wished he could rewind time five minutes and just walk into his hotel room instead of stopping when he heard your steps. He wouldn’t have had to explain this to you. He wouldn’t have had to feel this way in front of another person. It had been bad enough when he got the news in a conference room filled with team members.

This was different, though—you two alone in a hotel corridor.

He felt like he was choking, like the feelings inside of him wanted to come out but he had no idea how to let them out. He couldn’t get enough air in his lungs, no matter how heavily he breathed. He’d never felt like this before.

“You’re having a panic attack, dipshit,” you stated.

It sounded like you were joking, but in reality you were fighting concern with humour. You could see exactly what was happening to him, all too familiar yourself with the overwhelming feeling of when anxiety finally catches up with you.

Logan looked at you, eyes wide. “N-no, I’m not. I’ve never—” he stammered, shaking his head.

“You haven’t had one before? Oh, fuck.”

It hadn’t even crossed your mind that people in their twenties could’ve gone their entire lives without experiencing an anxiety attack. You could handle them quite well after years of being a miserable child and teen, but Logan didn’t look like he knew what was even going on. The first one wouldn’t always be the worst one, but right now, this would be hard on him.

You took a step closer, your heart suddenly racing. You didn’t know if he wanted you to touch him, so you acted hesitantly at first. But by his shocked expression and shaking hands, you knew that he needed help calming down. He looked lost, like the ground had suddenly shifted beneath his feet and he didn’t know how to steady himself.

“God, here—” you reached out, grabbing his hand, your fingers firm but gentle. “Just hold my hand.”

You dragged him into his room, to get privacy if someone entered the floor. He collapsed against the door as soon as it shut, sliding down it to sit on the floor. You crouched in front of him, now holding both of his hands to stop their shaking and to centre his focus.

“Mimic my breathing, look at my chest,” you instructed, guiding him as you took deep and steady breaths, making sure that he could see the tempo in which they rose and fell.

Logan couldn’t get any words out, but he tried his best to calm down. He was slowly able to sync his breathing with yours, the tightness in his chest and the pounding in his head easing as he got enough oxygen in his system again. The feeling inside was still foreign to him, like it wasn’t palpable at all.

He realised he was crying when he felt a cold tear slide down his cheek. He wasn’t sure when was the last time he had cried in front of someone, but he was past the point of embarrassment.

You didn’t seem to care about it anyway. You had a kindness in your eyes that was unexplainable to him, and he wondered how you knew how to deal with this so well.

“See?” you whispered after a moment. “You’re okay. Just keep breathing with me.”

Logan closed his eyes for a second, feeling his wet eyelashes hit his cheeks. Your voice grounded him and he couldn’t think of anything else in the moment. He couldn’t think of racing. He couldn’t think of Alex.

He thought of your unwavering grip on both his hands, sending a calm feeling through his body. He thought of the sound of your steady breathing, making it easy for him to follow.

He slowly opened his eyes to look down at your intertwined fingers, your thumb rubbing soothing circles on the back of his hand. Logan had seen that you had tattoos before, but now was the first time he was close enough to distinguish them.

Like patchwork, they lined both of your arms, getting cut off by the hem of your Williams t-shirt right before your shoulder. They looked like doodles. There was a disco ball, and flowers, and a stamp from your home country. As his eyes trailed further, he could see a few on your legs as well, revealed because you were wearing shorts. You had a tattooed band-aid on your knee and a ghost on skateboard on your lower thigh. He assumed they had a connection.

“I like your tattoos,” Logan heard himself say, voice thick from the tears.

You glanced at him, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips. The tenseness of your body softened, relieved that he seemed to be coming back to himself. “You do? You don’t seem like the type.”

Logan shook his head, wiping his face with the back of his hand. “Oh, I’m not—but I like them on you.”

He grabbed your hand again afterwards, unsure of why but relieved that you just continued rubbing absentminded circles. You flexed your arm slightly, turning it so that Logan could get a better look of the inked designs.

“What are the paw prints for?” he asked, genuinely curious now that his mind had space for other thoughts. You had four little black paw prints on the inside of your arm.

“My parents dog,” you said, warmth filling your voice. “A golden retriever named Tater Tot.”

He chuckled, a sound that felt foreign after the weight of his emotions. “They have tater tots outside of America?”

“Barely,” you replied. “Which is a shame because I love them. We went to Florida on vacation when I was a kid, and I think I ate about a thousand tater tots from the hotel buffet.”

“Florida?” Logan dared to look at your face fully now, intrigued. “I’m from Florida.

“I know, Logan.”

You laughed gently. His Americanness didn’t go unnoticed by anyone in a place like this, where most of the team members were European. It was also one of the few things that had stuck with you from Angie’s rambling about her job—that she had to work with an actual Florida man, like they were mythological creatures.

“We went to Orlando. Disney World and all that, y’know?”

“Yeah, the classic American pilgrimage,” he smiled, then hesitated. “Have you been back? To America, I mean.”

You shrugged, your expression shifting to something more neutral, as if you were weighing the pros and cons in your mind. “No, it’s not really… something I want to do? With war criminals as presidents, and guns at grocery stores—oh, and no butter on your sandwiches?” You shook your head dramatically. “That’s my personal hell.”

Logan laughed again, feeling a slight stinging pain in his chest that he decided to disregard. If he kept on breathing deeper, he knew that it would go away on its own.

You watched as he winced, even if he tried to hide it from you. You took a moment to breathe with him again before continuing. “I have a friend who moved to San Francisco, though. She lives with this skateboarding collective and uh, it seems really nice.”

That was maybe the only reason you would go to the US, for more than the American grands prix of course. It was an old university friend who skated competitively. Even if you weren’t on the same level, you still felt like a month or two on the west coast could do your head and mental health a favour.

“That might be a bucket list thing for me,” you explained, at which Logan smiled.

You observed his face, glossy blue eyes from tears and messy blond hair from the chaos he had just experienced. A certain hopelessness lingering in the air that you tried to not think about too much. It was still too early to tell how the season would end.

“I feel a lot calmer now, uh… so thank you for all that,” he said, showing gratitude. He didn’t know how you’d known exactly what to say, but you had pulled him back from the edge, and that mattered more than anything.

“Yeah, distraction tends to work quite well,” you replied, giving him a knowing look. “You should maybe talk to someone if this becomes a reoccurring thing.”

His smile faded, but he nodded. Logan didn’t know now what this could lead to, but maybe he needed to prepare himself for feeling like this. He kind of wanted to talk to you about it, making a mental reminder to ask if panic attacks were common for you.

“We should probably get back to the paddock,” he murmured as realisation hit him.

He would have to face a lot of questions, and he was destined to put on a brave face, showing that this wasn’t something that had bothered him.

“Only if you feel like it. I don’t care if we get in trouble,” you said, reassuring him.

He shook his head, dropping the hold he had of your hands as he stood up and smoothed out his shorts.

“I’ll be alright, I think.”

. . .

Miami, USA

. . .

It became a thing for you to calm Logan down.

You'd said it yourself: It was too early to tell how the season would play out. But race after race, you grew more certain—this Williams car might just be the worst on the grid. And while you knew close to nothing about the engineering and mechanical side of things, you realised that neither did most of the audience. That was why people started to blame the drivers instead.

It didn’t really get to you—until Miami. That was when you felt anger over racing for the first time in your life, but absolutely not the last.

The Miami sun had been relentless, casting a hot haze over the track and the bustling energy of the crowd. The faint smell of burnt rubber lingered in the air as you clutched your camera, squinting through the lens, trying to spot the cars as they zoomed by in a blur of colour and speed. The piercing sound of engines roaring filled your ears, but it was a sudden crash that made your heart drop.

You hadn’t been too far away from the exact barrier when the crash happened. And when you realised that it was Logan, getting pushed off the track by Magnussen for a measly 18th position, you felt rage inside. He didn’t even get to finish his home race because of someone else’s carelessness.

By the time you made your way to the garage, the race had ended. The sound of people cheering for Lando’s first win was still deafening. Logan was checked by the medics but had been released soon after. When you found him, he was sitting in his driver’s room, still in his racing suit with his helmet beside him, his face flushed red and tense. His eyes met yours through the open door and you hesitated going to talk to him at first, but with a slight nod, he showed that it was okay.

“Sooo… Magnussen is a cunt,” you blurted out, leaning in the doorway, the words escaping before you had a chance to filter them.

Logan couldn’t help but huff out a laugh in frustration. It was an empty laugh, the kind that didn’t quite reach up to sparkle his eyes with any genuine effect of your humorous words. Instead, the only thing adding light to his eyes were the tears threatening to fall. You’d seen it before.

You felt heat rise to your cheeks as you realised what you had said. “I’m sorry, I don’t actually know him, that was really harsh.”

“Well, I’m glad you said it because I’m not allowed to,” he muttered in response, looking down at his hands, pulling at loose skin from his cuticles.

He sighed loudly, leaning to rest his head on the wall behind him. You moved his helmet to sit beside him, knowing now that you weren’t pushing any boundaries. You wouldn’t exactly call yourselves friends—you didn’t really know anything about each other—but having travelled and worked so closely together for two months now, you were starting to learn how his post-race emotions functioned.

“I think I might be the living embodiment of it could be worse,” Logan stated.

“Yeah, you could be in that series where they race electric scooters,” you joked.

The corners of his mouth turned upward for a split second, then he thought about how the people racing scooters probably were having more fun than him this season.

A silence settled between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You watched him for a moment, noticing the tension still visible in the tight set of his jaw. The weight of the season was bearing down on him—the constant pressure, the unfair expectations.

“You don’t have to stay,” he said softly, eyes downcast.

“I want to,” you replied without hesitation.

He looked up at you, fully taking in your appearance. Miami made everyone hot and bothered, and not in the good way. A sheen of sweat coated your forehead, and your skin had gotten more golden from being under the sun. Just as he spotted a fresh scratch on your elbow that he assumed was from skating, he also acknowledged the shirt you were wearing.

It wasn’t the William’s kit. It had his face on it, with the American flag and a bald eagle behind him. Perfectly oversized in your street-style-skater way. The text on it said wtf is a kilometer.

He snorted out loud, getting your attention. “I like your shirt.”

“It’s cool, right?” you replied, tugging at the hem. “A little girl from the fan zone gave me this friendship bracelet too.”

You reached out your wrist for him to see, baby blue beads rattling together. He carefully moved his fingers to twist it, showing him how white alphabet beads spelled out his surname, right there on your wrist. You were fully decked out to support him today… and he hadn’t even managed to finish the race.

As his hands moved, you saw how they were practically shaking, something his nerves caused him to do. It was an uncontrollable response to the adrenaline and pent-up frustration.

“You’re not alright, are you?” you asked gently.

He didn’t answer at first. Instead, he stared ahead, eyes glassy. Then, after a moment, he let out a shaky breath. “Can you say something to distract me? Tell me something about you that I don’t know.”

You realised why he asked that. Like with the tattoos in Melbourne, distraction had worked on his anxiety before. You didn’t know if he had experienced more panic attacks or if he had tried to talk to someone about what had happened, but if you could help even a little bit by just yapping, you would do it whenever he asked.

You thought for a second, thinking of something light-hearted to tell him. An idea popped into your head as you pulled out your phone from your pocket. “Oh, I started this instagram diary thing to get some use out of all the photos and videos I take. That should tell you everything about me.”

The screen showed a grid of colourful photos, and Logan immediately scooted closer to get a better look. They were themed and edited to match together with long captions to actually mimic a diary. Your account was relatively small, mostly followed by old friends and members of the Williams team.

You didn’t really have anything to hide, so you handed him the phone to let him scroll freely. There were weekly posts, one from every country you had visited thus far and also ones from when you were back in England. He’d learnt by now that you weren’t English, but lived with Angie and her fiancé Matthew during this season, only because employees needed to be based in the UK.

“You really get out there and explore every time we’re in a new city?” he asked, slightly amazed after stopping at the post from Australia. It was a photo dump with everything from the beach, to a skatepark, to you enjoying the nightlife.

“Yeah, but my schedule is not as busy as yours,” you replied, your lips curving into a small smile. “You should join sometime, maybe not to a skatepark, but for dinner or karaoke.”

“You got to do karaoke in Japan?” Logan wondered, scrolling back up to see the post you had made from there.

Cherry blossoms, sushi, a skate shop with custom decks. Logan had seen that you had gotten a new board with The Great Wave off Kanawaga on it to match your blue Williams clothes, but he didn’t know from where. The last picture of the post was from a bar lit in neon lights, something written with Japanese characters. He assumed that was where the karaoke had taken place.

“Yeah,” you grinned, thinking back to the night. “Angie does a mean Michael Jackson impression.”

Logan had a hard time envisioning Angie singing in front of people. She was in her early thirties, and while she was lovely, she was also kind of stiff. Maybe it helped being on the other side of the world.

He shook his head, an amused scoff escaping him, but then his eyes drifted to an older post, further down your feed. It was multiple posts actually, all aligning together in an explosion of colours. It was collages of pictures, that, when zoomed out, depicted a picture in and of itself. They were all of a girl with bright pink hair.

“What’s all that?” he asked, tilting the phone for you to see better.

“It’s a project I did for university, like a mixed media thing where we had to turn photos into an art piece of a different kind,” you explained.

You said it simply, but Logan was beyond impressed at how much time and precision it must’ve taken. First to take and develop what seemed like a million photographs of the same person, and then to make a collage out of them, basically using the pictures as building blocks to make a much larger version of said person.

“Did you go to art school?”

“Oh no,” you laughed softly. “I did political science with a minor in photography. My entire family is made up of lawyers, so that was always my plan A.”

He looked at you curiously. “So why aren’t you in law school now?”

“Because I got rejected by every single one I applied to,” you dead-panned, tinged with a kind of self-deprecating humor. “I’m not that smart, Logan. Angie practically saved my life by letting me join her.”

There was a brief pause, a moment of vulnerability hanging in the air.

It was ridiculous really, how it all had happened—how you had been shaped your entire life for one future and then achieving nothing of it.

You were the youngest of three siblings. Your brother was fifteen and your sister was ten when you were born. It was obvious to everyone except your parents that you were an accidental pregnancy.

Being that much younger, you always felt behind because you were never on the same intellectual level as the rest of your family. Then, when you finally caught up in age and was supposed to be seen as an adult, you still couldn’t succeed in the things your siblings had succeeded in. You never got into a nice university, and while you just narrowly managed to graduate, it would have never been enough to get into law school no matter how hard you tried.

School was never your thing. You found joy in art and sports, but you never had the concentration to sit down with your nose in a book to learn things. It took your parents a long time to realise this, because your siblings had never had any problems. Your brother was the youngest chairman ever at your father’s law firm, and your sister worked for the World Court in The Hague.

You never stood a chance, but no one saw that.

Angie was your sister’s childhood friend, and when she found out about your failed attempt at law school, she was the one to arrange this job for you. She knew that it was never your dream to do as the rest of your family. Your parents still didn’t see that.

Everyone said that all they wanted for their children was for them to be happy and healthy, but that wasn’t really what they wanted. They wanted them to be like themselves, or even better—they wanted them to be better than themselves. And when the first two children actually managed to be better, who wouldn’t be a little disappointed in the third one?

Logan’s voice brought you out of your spiralling thoughts. You watched as his eyes softened, and he said with pure honesty, “I think what you’re doing now is way cooler.”

“Yeah, but my parents, and grandparents, and siblings do not,” you shrugged, the compliment washing over you but not quite sinking in.

“What would you have been doing if their opinion didn’t matter to you?” he asked, his voice suddenly louder.

You contemplated for a moment, startled by his question and change of mood.

“I would have skated a lot more, maybe even competitively. Or started with sports photography earlier. Not done political science, that’s for sure,” you said. “What about you?”

“I think I’m already supposed to be living my dream,” he answered, but his voice lacked conviction. “I shouldn’t feel this… sad, I should be enjoying what I have right now because Sainz is taking my seat next year.”

“Carlos? Jesus, that’s the downgrade of the century,” you blurted out without thinking, and Logan’s head snapped towards you, surprise in his eyes.

“What? Do we think the Williams car will magically compete with Ferrari next season?” you chuckled. “No, it will be hilarious to hear him complain over the radio.”

You hadn’t given him the time to answer, but he would’ve said something similar to what you did. He was reluctant to laugh, but he knew it was true.

As he let the laugh out, he was immediately stuck by how freely he did it. He’d felt the same kind of weight over his chest like he had in Melbourne earlier. With the medics, and with the engineers, and with James. He didn’t feel that now, he could laugh without thinking of it. Without thinking of how his future was still very much undecided. You’d done it again—distracted him out of total anxious paralysis.

“Do you know what you’re gonna do?” you asked.

“I’ve got absolutely nothing figured out,” he admitted.

“Then I think we should use Lando’s win as an excuse to get absolutely wasted.”

. . .

Montréal, Canada

. . .

Canada was cold, like actually freezing. And it wouldn’t stop raining. You tried to do your job the best you could, but when your shoes were soaked through and raindrops had started to trickle down the inside of your coat, getting good photos was impossible. So, you had to give up with capturing the track and the crowd and opted on finding something content-worthy in the garage instead.

Logan found you on the floor of the garage, sat on your skateboard, using it to slide across to capture the car in some sort of panoramic view he assumed. He didn’t say much, leaving you to work in peace as he went on to focus on his own things. He could spot you in his periphery every now and then. You still wore your red bucket hat because of the rain, and your worn-out Nikes squeaked against the slick flooring.

He heard Alex enter his side of the garage with a ringing laughter, patting his shoulder as a way of greeting him.

“Might I ask why Paddy is on the floor?” he asked, voice laced with amusement at the girl in front of them, basically folded in half to get the perfect photograph.

You looked up at Alex from your position, the camera still held up like a shield between you. The flash went off as you sneakily took a picture of the two drivers. “Angles, baby. Angles,” you grinned.

Alex tilted his head, crossing his arms over his chest. “What angle is that exactly? My double chin?”

“Don’t worry, you look great,” you reassured, standing up again.

Logan could see how your eyes searched for something, and when he spotted your lens cap laying on a nearby table, he reached out to give it to you. You nodded slightly as a silent thank you, surprised at how observant he’d been.

He would’ve never admitted it at the time, but how easy the word baby left your lips definitely lingered on his mind. It didn’t exactly help that it was Alex you’d said it too, even if it was in a jokingly manner.

You continued working, changing cameras from digital to film, capturing the team as they prepared for the race to start. You only stopped to go outside to photograph when a hailstorm hit the paddock.

Logan saw you enter the hospitality, drenched from head to toe, your blue coat having turned navy from the rain. Your eyes watched the hail in miraculous awe. He spotted you shivering from the weather, your hands having a hard time holding the camera as the cold gnawed at your fingers.

You felt him before you saw him, his quiet energy sneaking up on you, standing behind you as hail and raindrops hit the glass panes of the Williams hospitality building.

“Here,” he said, holding out a steaming mug.

You blinked, momentarily confused by the gesture. “I don’t drink coffee,” you reminded him. “Everyone says I’m hyper enough without caffeine.”

Logan’s lips curled into a small, knowing smile. “I know that,” he replied. “It’s mine, but you can use the mug to warm your hands.”

“Oh…” Your voice trailed off as you reached for the mug, the warmth radiating from the ceramic a stark contrast to the cold that had settled in your bones. Your fingers touched his as you grabbed it, almost igniting a hotter fire than the boiling hot coffee warming you. “Thank you.”

Logan watched you in that silent way of his, the hailstorm outside temporarily forgotten as the world seemed to shrink down to just the two of you.

You glanced up at him, your heart doing a ridiculous fluttering thing it had started doing whenever he was close. His gaze was steady, searching yours with a familiar, unspoken understanding that had developed over months of working together. A soft chuckle escaped your lips, the sound surprising even you, thinking back on how he had handed you your lens cap earlier. And now this, too.

“Why do you always seem to know what I need before I do?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” he said, voice low enough for you to just about hear him.

It took you a while to understand what he meant. Then it hit you, that your comfort—your distraction—was what he needed. And you did it without him asking. Ever since tears had fallen from his blue eyes on that hotel room floor somewhere in Melbourne.

. . .

Later, the race began and came to an end.

The rain had stopped and the streets had dried up, leaving an eerily quiet race tack left under glimmering city lights. As you skated the paddock, weaving through the lingering crowd, the adrenaline of the race still pulsed through you, but it was dulled by the quiet aftermath.

You hadn’t really had any time to talk with anyone, being out by the track all race. While the race was disappointing, the cars had at least been a pleasure to photograph as they sprayed water around them.

You spotted a group of team members ahead, their heads low, conversations muted. Among them, Logan’s familiar figure stood out. You pushed off your skateboard with a quiet flick, coasting toward him. His ears perked up at the sound of the wheels against the concrete. As you got closer, you set your foot down, slowing to match his pace.

“Soo… uhm,” you started, voice unsure.

“Yeah, we don’t have to talk about it,” he said quickly, his gaze locked on the asphalt in front of him as he continued to walk slowly, you riding beside him.

You both knew what it meant. A double DNF, a race weekend that spiralled out of control, and hours of work undone in seconds.

“We can, if you want to,” you offered.

You glanced at him then, really looking at him for the first time since before the race. He looked tired, but more than that—defeated. And yet, he was trying to be strong. You offered him a chance to vent, even though you both knew it wouldn’t necessarily help. Not when you couldn’t pinpoint a defining factor as to why the weekend had gone to shit. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Alex’s fault. It was just a mess to race in this much rain.

Logan let out a deep breath, rubbing the back of his neck. “I’m not sure anyone on the team would want to talk about today,” he admitted.

You could only nod, completely understanding that it was probably best to be quiet about the race. You were better off distracting him, like you usually did.

“You wanna have dinner? A little pick-me-up? Maybe Alex and Lily will want to join.”

Logan huffed a dry laugh. “They’re having what Alex calls DNF therapy.”

“Do I wanna know what that means?” you questioned, acting intrigued.

You didn’t need to ask. You understood what it meant. But you asked anyway, to see if Logan would explain it to you.

“No, you don’t,” he replied short, shaking his head.

“How about room service and a shitty movie instead?” you suggested.

“You’re starting to know me so well,” he said. He then paused, the realisation settling in as he glanced sideways at you. “I guess you’re my DNF therapy, huh.”

You tried to stop yourself from making the conversation take a turn. You really did. But the joke was there, right in front of your eyes, looking so damn tempting.

“I’m not having sex with you, Sargeant,” you said sternly.

Logan blinked, his eyes wide for a second before he burst out laughing. He raised his hands in mock surrender. “Noted. Loud and clear.”

For a brief moment, a tension so thick formed between you that you could almost feel it taking up space in the cold, still slightly rainy air. It was quickly replaced by the laughter—the easy banter you usually had with Logan.

But the thought lingered in your mind longer than it should have. In reality, you probably would’ve done it. If he asked you, that is. Sex with Logan, huh. The heat that rose to your cheeks was almost painful. Your infatuation had been visible, right there on your face, if only Logan had been confident enough to see it.

You had to push these thoughts away. You didn’t need things to be complicated between the two of you. Even if this stupid crush you had on him was starting to become harder to ignore.

Instead, you nudged his arm playfully before pushing with your foot to skate in front of him, glancing back over your shoulder with a grin. “Come on. Let’s go order some overpriced food and find the worst movie possible.”

. . .

Baku, Azerbaijan

. . .

Azerbaijan was hot, like actually blazing. You could feel sweat running down your face and back every time you were out of the air-conditioned garage to photograph. By the time race day came around, you already had blisters on the inside of your thighs from chafing, and your skin was warm to the touch from being burnt.

The moment you had now, on the Sunday morning, to sit inside and edit some photos was therefore sacred. It was the first calm and, more importantly, cool moment you’d had in days. The torment the heat had on your body had still left its mark. You couldn’t get comfortable. You couldn’t get your heart to stop racing. You wouldn’t have called it anxiety, but since this morning, you were now sure that heat exhaustion wasn’t the only thing you were feeling.

Your mind was enough of a twisty place. Now, when it wouldn’t shut the fuck up, it was like a constant stream of emotions just overwhelming you.

At least, the photos you had taken during practice and qualifying turned out sick. You’d tried out a new long exposure technique that really captured the speed even in static form. And you had definitely gotten better at candid portrait photography, which was a huge part of your job. Editing was usually the simplest part for you, but when the photos were so close that you could count the subject’s individual eyelashes, it was easy to get flustered.

You finished the editing and decided on asking both Alex and Logan for their favourites before sending the content to the media team. It wasn’t something that was required from you, but you also knew that having your photo taken could be difficult.

With your laptop in your hand, you walked to their driver rooms, rounding the corner to be met with a wide open door into Logan’s.

“Logan, I—” you started, your breath catching in your throat at the sight in front of you.

There he was, in workout shorts but no shirt, lounging in his room before changing into his race gear. He didn’t even have time to look up from his phone before you were rambling out an apology, ready to run out of the room—hell, maybe even the garage.

“Oh fuck, shit, I’m sorry,” you hurried to say, feeling your pulse quicken. You hoped he didn’t notice how your mouth hung open or the way your eyes darted everywhere but his torso.

“What’s up?” he said, straightening his back and running a hand through his hair.

His casual confidence made everything about your reaction feel even worse. He didn’t mind you seeing him shirtless, so why the fuck did you have to care so much?

“I just…” you stammered, losing all sense of vocabulary as your eyes deceived you, glancing at his chest. “Forgot how to English.”

Logan let out a gentle laugh, and you mentally told yourself to get your shit together.

“I have some photos for you to look at,” you said, holding up your laptop that had been your reason to barge into his room in the first place.

“Right, right,” Logan nodded. “Let me put a shirt on first.”

Your mouth moved before your brain could stop it. The moment the words left your mouth, you wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear.

“No, I get it. I’d be shirtless too if it was socially acceptable.”

He froze mid-step, his head slowly turning back to you with a raised brow.

You’d said no. In milliseconds. Like you were opposed to him putting a shirt on. Like that was a totally normal thing. Then, you just had to mention yourself being shirtless. So, you were forced to wonder if he was thinking about you without a shirt on as much as you were thinking about him without one.

Well… you didn’t necessarily have to think. He was already standing in front of you shirtless. That was a known fact.

The moment you thought he might actually flirt back with you, it was like you could see how the tension washed away from his face.

“It’s hot, right?” he asked, moving some things out of the way so that you could place your laptop on the table in his room. A part of you thought he wasn’t actually talking about the temperature.

“Way too fucking hot,” you mumbled as your fingers shakily hovered over the mousepad. Your heart was racing and your body was overheating. You didn’t dare look up from the screen, afraid of what you might see in his eyes—or worse, what he might see in yours.

He overviewed the photos, pointing out some of his favourites. You’d gathered quite quickly that Logan had an amateur interest in photography. He didn’t shy away from complimenting your work or from asking questions about certain shots he found special. That didn’t make the rushing heat flowing to your face any better.

“You alright?” you heard him ask as you closed the laptop shut, your photo viewing session done for now. You couldn’t really focus, a ringing sound hitting your ears.

You swallowed hard, nodding. “Yeah, just a lot to do. I’ll see you after the race.”

With that, you dashed out of his room, on your way to find Alex instead. You couldn’t keep doing this to yourself, but that didn’t exactly matter. Either way, you were in too deep, and you knew it.

. . .

The Williams car was decent in Baku—fast on the straights, as expected. Alex got points and Logan wasn’t far from archiving it too. Still, it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t the most depressing result—he would manage this weekend without once collapsing like an anxious mess. That was a win in his book nowadays.

Logan walked with Alex from the media pen, adrenaline in his steps, talking freely about whatever came to mind.

“Did she show you the photos she took during practice yesterday? She used some kind of long exposure. I don’t know what it’s called or how she did it but it looked so cool—”

“Logan,” Alex stopped him.

“What?”

“Take a breath, you’ve been talking about Paddy for like five whole minutes,” Alex teased, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “I get that you like her photography, but this is borderline obsessive.”

“I’m not obsessed,” Logan defended. “You were the one who brought her up in the first place anyway.”

“Mate, all I did was ask if you’d seen her. She didn’t take any photos as we exited the cars,” Alex explained.

Logan shrugged. “I haven’t seen her since before the race.”

“Me neither, that’s why I asked.”

Realisation dawned upon Logan that something wasn’t alright. You’d seemed sort of unbalanced earlier in the day, but he assumed that was the heat and a massive workload. It wasn’t something he hadn’t seen before, and you seemed to quietly get through every hurdle in your way anyway. He would be blind if he didn’t see your embarrassment to barging in on him shirtless, but he had explained that reaction away too in his head. He mostly found you cute, but that didn’t have to mean anything.

He couldn’t find an explanation for this, though. Even after shit races, he looked forward to seeing you with your camera held high every time he exited the car, got weighed, or was walking to the media pen. But you hadn’t been there today…

His emotional support photographer hadn’t been there. Sure, today’s race wasn’t that bad, and he didn’t necessarily need you as a distraction for his anxiety. But you didn’t know that. That had to mean that something had happened to you.

“Angie, where’s Paddy?” Alex asked as they entered back into the Williams garage, practically running into the obviously stressed-out marketing manager.

“Uhh…” Angie hesitated, not lifting her eyes from her phone. “Still with the medical team, I think. She passed out during the race. Heatstroke, most likely.”

Logan froze. He didn’t understand why he cared so much, but for some reason he did. He cared about you, and he cared so much that he was about to act irrationally.

“She passed out? How are you so calm?” he questioned.

Angie shrugged, far too nonchalantly for his liking. “It’s a million degrees outside, heatstrokes are bound to happen—”

Logan didn’t wait for another word. He was already moving, cutting through the garage with purpose.

Alex shouted after him, “Logan, where are you going? We have debrief soon!”

“Tell them I’m not coming!” was all that he yelled as a reply.

. . .

The air in the small, sterile room seemed to hum with the tension that had followed you since you woke up.

“Miss, how are you feeling?”

You blinked, still trying to find your bearings. It took you a second to even see the medic that was talking to you. The heat clouded your vision like a mirage. Your mouth was dry, your skin sticky from sweat, but at least you were conscious. They’d placed you in a secluded room in the makeshift medical area, lying on a stiff and temporary cot.

“It’s a lot better now,” you replied hoarsely, managing a weak smile. “Still have a slight headache, but I guess that’s normal.”

You didn’t know if it was the bright fluorescent lighting or the heat still affecting you, but your eyes burned and your head pounded. You felt the instinct to rub your temples, but was hindered when you felt an IV-needle inserted in your arm.

You didn’t know how long you’d been out. You weren’t even sure what had happened really. One second you were in the garage, trying to get a perfect shot of Alex making his pit stop. The next one, you have a vague memory of being moved into the medical area and multiple people’s voices buzzing above you.

“Yes, it is. Do you know what happened?” the medic asked. His voice was kind as he stood by your bedside, an iPad in hand with information.

“Uh, I… passed out? Did I hit my head?”

“No, no, you didn’t. You should be lucky that garage was filled with people to catch a falling lady,” he joked lightly.

You smiled, albeit a bit forced. You looked at the medic’s name tag, trying to make out the letters with your clouded vision. Amir. That was a pretty name. At least your brain was working somewhat.

“We just want to observe you for a little longer to make sure you’re no longer dehydrated, otherwise you should be completely fine. Are you on any medication now?” Amir continued by saying.

You thought for a second. “Yeah, wait… I can never remember the names.”

Looking around you, you were thankful to see your camera bag with your phone inside placed neatly on a table next to the cot. You moved carefully to reach it, opening your notes app to show Amir the prescriptions you had written down.

“I take those daily for ADHD, and uh… those for anxiety when I feel like I need it,” you explained, pointing at the screen even though it hurt your head to look at it.

Amir nodded and tapped something down on his iPad. “Did you take one today?”

“Yeah, one of each.”

“Good to know. I’ll go get you something for that headache,” he reassured you before leaving, letting his hand gently squeeze your arm as an act of thoughtfulness.

You closed your tired eyes for a moment, a feverish cold sweat catching up to you, making you realise just how uncomfortable your Williams kit was, practically glueing your warm body to the cot.

The door clicked shut softly behind the medic as he left, but it wasn’t long before you heard it creak open again. You looked up, expecting Amir, but instead, it was… Logan.

You blinked, a little confused. His blond hair was slightly damp, still sporting what was obviously helmet-hair. He looked tired, maybe as exhausted as you felt, yet he stood there, hesitant for only a moment before stepping inside.

He shouldn't be here. He should be debriefing with the team, or doing interviews, or—

“What the hell did you do?” Logan asked, only half-teasing as real concern bled through in his voice.

“Apparently I passed out,” you answered, trying to downplay it with a weak smile.

Logan sighed, the tension visibly draining from his body as if seeing you alright, even in this condition, was enough to ease the worry that had been weighing on him. You were sure you looked like a complete mess—sweaty, shivering, barely able to keep your eyes open.

He moved inside the room, sitting down on a stool next to your cot. You turned to look at him, feeling his intense eyes on you already. You didn’t know what to do, or what to feel. Your system was already cooked, fried up completely from feeling bad all day to passing out in front of a crowded garage.

“So, uhm… you’re just as anxious as I am?” he asked nervously, tilting his head.

Your stomach twisted. It didn’t take you long to realise that he had overheard your conversation with Amir—about the medication, about your diagnoses. It wasn’t a secret in any way, you just hadn’t planned to tell him about it unless he asked. Your magical cure to dealing with his anxiety was… two decades of dealing with your own.

“Not that it’s a competition, but I’m way worse,” you joked.

Not fitting in at school, not fitting in at home—it would make anyone anxious out of their skin. And younger you were surrounded by people who didn’t know how to deal with it—to deal with you. Your family labelled you as a sad child, or god forbid sensitive, and sort of just accepted your anxious responses to every minor thing. Doctors and therapists called you emotionally intelligent, but you never found that to be a compliment, like it was a positive thing to be so aware of your own problems.

Logan stared at you plainly. “Do the meds help?”

You scoffed. “Yeah, they do. Just not against heat exhaustion.”

You saw how Logan’s expression stayed the same, slightly emotionless, slightly annoyed at how you just couldn’t help yourself from joking about the situation. You’d experienced it before—how people disliked you for it.

“You don’t have to be here, Logan. I’m fine,” you added, shying away from looking at him.

That broke his demeanor. He was quick to grab your hand, careful with the IV-port connected to your inner elbow. His grip was firm but tender, grounding you in a way you hadn’t expected.

“I want to be here,” he shortly replied. There was no room for debate.

You wanted to protest, to tell him that he didn’t need to babysit you, that he had more important things to do. But the truth was… you weren’t fine. Not really.

You were used to keeping to yourself, even in busy places like the paddock. You were used to the chaos and noise of your family, where attention was either forced or withheld, never calmly showed. Silence was your refuge. You were talkative, sure, but you had learnt early on that asking for help meant admitting weakness—something that wasn’t welcome in the household you grew up in. As a kid, you would shut down when you felt this overwhelmed. Even now, sat in a medical room after collapsing for heat exhaustion, that old instinct was there, tugging at you to shut down.

Logan, however, was still there, unfazed, waiting.

Maybe he wanted to tell you how it was slightly reckless to feel this bad and not inform anyone, but he also understood more than anybody—that admitting a weakness while doing a job people questioned your talent for—wasn’t something easily done, or something that would even help your cause in the end.

But he didn’t say anything. He just held your hand, breathing steadily. His fingertips traced upward to one of the floral tattoos you had on your forearm. His touch felt… gentle. Intimate, even, your clouded mind envisioned. It sent a shiver through you—not from the feverish cold sweat, but from something else entirely.

“How did the race go?” you asked, swallowing down emotions, more to change the subject than anything.

“Not important.” Logan shook his head. “What? I mean it. I’m focused on you now.”

You tried to roll your eyes, but the effort was too much. You could feel yourself unravelling, the exhaustion too heavy to ignore anymore. He noticed it too.

“My father called me this morning,” you blurted out after a moment of silence, surprising even yourself. “I think that’s why I was feeling so off today.”

Logan, again, didn’t say anything, just waited, his gaze steady, patient. He wasn’t rushing you, wasn’t pushing you to say more. He was just… there. He’d learnt from you, you slowly realised—to let anxious people talk when they wanted to talk and to distract them when talking would only make things worse.

“We haven’t talked in months,” you admitted, biting your lip. “So, I thought… I thought he was finally going to be the bigger person and actually show some interest in my life and the job I’m doing.”

Logan nodded slowly, sensing the conclusion before you even voiced it. “I’m guessing he didn’t?”

“He called to offer me a job at his firm because one of their legal assistants is going on maternity leave.” You let out a bitter laugh, the sound hollow. “I’ve been working and travelling the world for half a year, making a name for myself, and he still doesn’t believe that I can do it.”

It was funny, how the first man to ever break your heart was your own father. And he hadn’t done it with malicious intent, but because he was just too blind to get to know his own daughter.

Your breath hitched, and before you could stop them, the tears spilled over, silent but insistent. You wiped your face with the back of your hand, embarrassed by the vulnerability, the rawness. “I’m sorry, I don’t know why I’m crying.”

“Don’t apologise. You’ve seen me cry enough times to know that it’s okay.”

Logan’s grip on your hand tightened just a fraction, a quiet reassurance. You didn’t have to suck up the tears and build up a façade to prove that you were unbothered.

“He doesn’t need to believe in you for you to succeed,” Logan said quietly, his words like an anchor to your focus. “You can do it, actually, you are doing it.”

And the first time in your life, you allowed yourself to believe that maybe, just maybe, he was right.

. . .

Austin, USA

. . .

Austin was… disappointing.

That was the word of this season. Disappointing. Because no matter how hard it looked like Alex and Logan were pushing themselves and the cars—they got nothing out of it. Now, Logan knew for certain that he wasn’t coming back to Formula One next season. As much as Logan had wanted to go out on a high note, to leave with his head held high, reality didn’t allow it.

The only moments that really brought him any sort of joy nowadays were the ones off track. Especially the ones with you. He didn’t like to overthink it because it was complicated, and God knows he wasn’t in the right state of mind for anything complicated. But calling it platonic? That would be a lie. It wasn’t necessarily love either, just a deep understanding of each other.

Like now, on the Sunday evening after the disappointing race, when you and him spent time in his hotel room, watching a movie that was so bad and eating room service food that was so tasteless. You were there, for him, as a distraction, as a constant. You laughed at the ridiculousness of the plot, made sarcastic comments about the actors, and occasionally hummed along to the cheesy soundtrack. You showed him attention and affection when he quite literally felt like the worst person in the world.

“I should probably go to my own room,” you said, trying to hide a yawn as you spoke. The food finished a long time ago and the end credits rolling on the TV-screen at the end of the bed.

Logan looked at you over his shoulder from his position on the bed, the one he’d been sinking into from exhaustion since you’d both entered his room. He was laid on his side, back turned to you. You were sat against the plush headboard, your hair looked a mess as you leant your head. He’d been quiet for a long time, barely even laughed during the movie’s funnier parts. But now, he slowly shook his head as he looked at you.

He didn’t want you to leave.

You silently agreed to stay for a little longer by just a look from your eyes. He turned his back to you again and you reached for the remote to turn off the TV. A static and quiet sound of air-conditioning the only thing audible in the hotel room. You shuffled behind him carefully, letting yourself lie down with your front facing his back. You didn’t dare to move under the covers like he had, only his blond hair and shirtless shoulders peeking out.

“They should’ve just sacked me off before the summer break,” he finally muttered. You saw how a breath left his lungs, weighing him further down into the mattress. “Or after the crash at Zandvoort. Y’know? Just done something to get rid of me so that I didn’t have to feel this way.”

He hadn’t talked like this in a while. You’d heard it a lot earlier during the season, when there were talks of him getting replaced after every race he didn’t score points. The talking never stopped, but Logan’s attitude definitely changed. He was indifferent to it, and that was scary to see—someone so young, kicked to the ground repeatedly, that his dreams lost their importance even to himself.

He’d been more careful with you since Baku. You thought maybe that had an influence on him too. He didn’t want to crowd you with emotions and anxiety when he now knew that you didn’t have it easy either. You didn’t think that was fair. You had never once felt like he added on to your anxiety. He only made it better.

“You’re not saying much,” he added quietly, as your silence became too much for him.

“For once in my life, I thought I’d try out what it’s like to be quiet,” you responded, but there was no bite in your voice. It was gentle, sympathetic—not joking like you used to do. “No, I’m sorry. I was letting you vent. It sounded like you needed it.”

Logan's body slumped further as he exhaled, realising that you were right.

“Logan, listen,” you said. “It would make no sense to sack you off. No possible replacement would be able to adjust in time for a better chance at points. Williams is doomed this season no matter what if they can’t give both cars equal machinery.”

Your words hung in the air, not offering a solution, but trying to relieve him of some of the guilt he had piled on him.

Without thinking, your fingers began tracing a pattern on his back, just by his exposed shoulder blade. Small, mindless circles—something to occupy the space between words. You weren’t even aware you were doing it until Logan spoke again.

“Are you doing one of those children’s rhymes?” Logan asked with a slight amusement as he recognised the pattern your finger was moving in.

“Who says they’re just for children?” you joked.

“X marks the spot, a circle and a dot…” he started, trailing off with a soft laugh. His voice was muffled by the pillow he was lying on, but you could hear the faint hint of a smile in it.

“Wait…I don’t know the right order in English,” you admitted, a little embarrassed as you lifted your finger from his skin.

“Do it in your language,” he suggested in a heartbeat.

“But you won’t understand it?”

“I just like listening to you speak,” Logan said softly, sincerely.

“Really? I’ve been told that I sound like a muppet before by English speakers,” you questioned, feeling a flush rise in your cheeks despite yourself.

That wasn’t a lie. Muppet. Cartoon character. Or just any national stereotype people could think of. You’d heard it all.

Logan chuckled, the sound vibrating through his chest. “Is that why you try to not have an accent?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” you shrugged. “It was either a borderline offensive British accent or sounding like I’m one of the Kardashians.”

He felt a short breath fall on his naked shoulder, something between a giggle and a huff. He could imagine the look on your face—smiling, trying to not be too loud for the room’s sombre atmosphere.

You did as he asked, tracing the rhyme onto his back in the way you remembered your mother doing it to you as a child when you couldn’t sleep. His skin was tan and slightly freckled, feeling smooth under your fingertip. You whispered the words quietly in the language you knew best.

“I love how you sound when you don’t care,” Logan said after a moment. “And in your native language.”

You raised an eyebrow in confusion. Not that he would be able to see your expression anyway. You had no idea that he’d even heard you speak in your native tongue before.

“When you’re on the phone with your family and so on,” he continued. “Your tone changes, it’s more melodic.”

You’d always been self-conscious about your accent, always trying to blend in, to sound like everyone else. Again, it was one of those things that had always made you feel just a little bit inadequate. A little bit less than the older people around you. But here he was, appreciating the very thing you tried to hide. Loving it, even.

“Thank you,” you whispered, voice barely audible as you let your head fall forward, your forehead resting gently against his shoulder blade.

You stayed like that for a moment, tracing his back, savouring the quiet, intimacy of the moment without needing to explain or define it. You could’ve told him that you liked him. Your lips were only centimetres away from kissing the bare skin of his shoulder. You sensed that it was not the best time to try messing with his head and digging up your emotions to the surface, so you squashed them down all over again.

Logan fell asleep first, but you weren’t long after. Right there, behind him. That was never your plan, but a tired mind did whatever the tired mind wanted to, you supposed. Now that it had happened, you couldn’t bring yourself to regret it. It didn’t end up being an issue until morning came around.

It was early—earlier than what it needed to be—when the sun broke through the curtains and filled the room with light, evidently waking you. The daily alarm you had set on your phone wouldn’t be ringing for another hour or two.

You had slept fine. Nothing disrupting you. Nothing waking you. You didn’t even dream. When you woke up, however, you thought you might be dreaming.

During the night, your positions had changed. Somehow, you weren’t behind Logan anymore, with a safe distance. No, he was spooning you. An arm lazily draped over your stomach and his warm breath tickled the skin of your neck every time he exhaled.

Nope, you definitely weren’t dreaming.

You laid as still as you possibly could, tensing your entire body, gathering that he was fast asleep. But, you had to move at some point. Your body would go into rigor mortis if you didn’t. And you were scalding hot. Falling asleep in a sweatshirt, Logan’s arm hugging your waist. It was all too much for you.

That was when you felt it. You accidentally shifted your legs, moving further back. You felt him, poking the back of your thigh. Hard, frustrated, large. A warmness spread through your body as you realised it, making the climate even more unbearable in that bed. You knew that it was involuntary. It was just how the male body worked sometimes. You knew that this wasn’t some indication that he reciprocated the feelings you harboured for him.

Somehow, that wasn’t even the worst part about it. You could feel his heartbeat racing, as his chest was so close to your back. That was the worst part. Like this was exciting him, or making him nervous—even in his sleep, even involuntary.

You were going to die. This was about to kill you. And you’d let it happen. You wanted it to kill you.

You had to get out of here, and that was now.

You sure looked comedic, trying to get out of that bed quickly while also not waking him. Like a newborn giraffe, attempting to stand up for the first time as a heavy comforter clung to its body.

But you did it, shutting the heavy hotel room door behind you, eyes darting around the hallway of rooms, looking to see if you’d been caught by anyone. Just as you started to walk to your own room, a voice from down the hallway stopped you.

“Why were you in Logan’s room at the ass crack of dawn?”

You spun to meet Angie’s gaze, and she came up to you, just having left her own room, dressed and ready for the day. You were in yesterday’s clothes and makeup, looking positively frazzled. She read your expression in a second.

“Oh my god,” Angie gasped, her hands flying to her mouth. “You slept with him!”

“No, no, I promise I did not!” you defended quickly, voice laced with panic. “Or, I mean—” you fumbled over your words as you watched Angie try to not burst into laughter. “We fell asleep next to each other, but we did not have sex.”

“I don’t really care what you did or did not do with him, because I trust you to still be good at your job. I just—” she paused, her face softening as she looked at you, the big sister mentality coming into place even though you shared no ties of blood. “I want you to know your worth, and that race car drivers are notorious for being—”

You cut her off, voice steadier than before. “I know my worth,” you said, before adding with a dramatic sigh, “I just happen to be on sale for a certain sad and anxious American.”

“I get it, it happens to the best of us,” Angie nodded, her lips curling into a smirk. “You think you know what rock bottom feels like and then all of a sudden you want to fuck the blond guy.”

You could only laugh at her unusually crude words. Maybe it hit too close to home for her.

“You’re engaged to a blond guy, Angie,” you pointed out.

Matthew’s hair was almost white, that’s how blond he was. He most certainly had some Scandinavian in him. Logan would be considered brunet in comparison.

“Like I said, it just happens,” she shrugged, draping an arm around your shoulder. Back to comfortable camaraderie. “Let’s go get breakfast, lover girl.”

. . .

On the other side of the door, Logan had woken up by the sound of it slamming shut. It took him a moment to piece together what had happened. His increased heart rate. His throbbing morning wood. You, running out of his hotel room before he could wake up. What the fuck did this mean? God, he felt like dying. Or maybe just taking a really long, cold shower.

. . .

Mexico City, Mexico

. . .

“This is a waste of your time,” you called out from across the park, feeling the warm wind sweep through your hair as you carved the side of the bowl. You pushed your weight into the deck, the skateboard responding to your every shift, gliding along the concrete.

While you’d gotten to skate in some impressive parks around the world this year—this one in Mexico might take the price for being the best. It was gorgeous, in an area that you could tell flourished with graffiti and street artists. The concrete was smooth, the bowl was deep and large enough. The local skaters were talented and ranged from kids with their fathers to groups of teenagers.

“It’s not wasted time if it’s with you,” Logan said from his seat by the edge of the bowl, his eyesight focused through the little viewfinder on a vintage polaroid camera.

You’d both been asked to go to dinner with some team members after the Mexican Grand Prix, but you had answered honestly with how you’d much rather go explore this skatepark that you had heard amazing things about. Logan had answered with less honesty that he was too tired. With one look, you could tell that he silently asked to join you instead.

He was happy to just sit in the evening sun, looking out over the people skating, and stealing a camera from you to take some photos. You’d given him a polaroid camera that was only for your personal use. The film was getting expensive and your case of developed pictures was getting full, but you knew the memories would be worth it.

Logan wasn’t sure that he was very good at photography at first. He was too impatient to wait at the film developing, thinking he’d ruined most of the shots before colour even started showing on the little squares of film.

But he hadn’t ruined them. He just had to wait. And after he had waited, he was pretty damn proud of the outcome. There were gorgeous murals, a lot of the setting sun, some of kids skating around—but most of them were of you. The sun kissed your skin, and the sweat from your ride clung to you, but still, there was something about the way Logan saw you through that camera lens. Young, sweet—maybe even beautiful.

You rolled your eyes at his cliché words, pushing the tail of your board to get a bit more speed as you curved around the deep end of the bowl. Your body had memorized the movements of skating so deeply that you no longer thought about them; you just moved, instinct guiding you. It was moments like this when everything else fell away, and you were simply alive.

Logan snapped another picture, the click of the shutter audible even over the distant chatter of the park. You could tell he was smiling, even though the camera obscured half his face.

“You’re such a shutterbug!” you teased, your board coming to a stop just below him in the bowl.

“And you’re very photogenic,” he shot back without missing a beat, the sound of the shutter following swiftly after.

He could only imagine what the picture would look like without it having fully developed yet. Your high pitched laugh materialising in a wide smile with crooked teeth. You looked like a little train conductor in your striped denim boiler suit, worn-out to the point of tearing, showing off banged-up knees and elbows from never enough wearing protective gear.

After what felt like hours of skating, you finally called it a night, and the two of you began to walk back to the hotel. The buildings around you, old and worn, were painted in soft pastel shades that had faded with age. Mexico City had that effect—beautifully chaotic, with stories hidden in every crack and corner.

You were still buzzing with the adrenaline from skating, unable to stop yourself from laughing every few minutes. It was a lightness that came from doing something you loved, and being with someone who, in his own way, seemed to love it just as much.

Out of nowhere, you pointed up, a giggle bubbling over. “Look!”

Logan followed your gaze, his eyes landing on a pair of old, beat-up Converse dangling from a power line overhead.

“I’ve always wanted to do that,” you said, half to yourself.

“Isn’t that used to mark a spot for drug dealers?” Logan asked, brow raised in amusement.

“Maybe. But it’s also used to commemorate things. Graduation, marriages, all sorts of stuff.” You gave him a playful smirk. “You know, to mark a memory.”

“You should do it, to commemorate this year.”

“Actually…” You trailed off, biting your lip. “I’ve been thinking about getting a tattoo to commemorate this year.”

His eyebrows shot up, clearly interested. “Really? What of?”

“Not sure yet. Something small, meaningful. I’ll figure it out.”

Logan hummed in approval, then looked pointedly at your shoes. “You know, you could commemorate this moment by tossing those sneakers up there. God knows they’ve seen better days.”

You glanced down at your well-worn Nikes, the soles starting to peel, the laces frayed. The cobalt swooshes had practically turned a faded navy-brown shade instead. Thinking about it, your suitcase was filled with other sneakers too.

“I mean, you’re not wrong. But how am I supposed to walk back to the hotel?”

Without hesitation, Logan smiled. “I’ll carry you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “No, you won’t.”

His response was swift. He knelt in front of you, leaning down to untie your shoes with an easy, confident motion.

“Logan,” you protested softy, when you really had nothing against it.

“Come on, just do it,” he coaxed, glancing up at you.

Who were you to say no to a man on his knees? You decided on listening to him. Stepping out of your shoes, you felt the warm ground beneath you, hurting slightly from tiny rocks and dirt digging into the soles of your sock-clad feet.

You tied the shoes together by the laces and with a pathetic first attempt, you launched them high up into the air, no way near the power line. Logan let out a little laugh in utter disbelief because he found the action so endearing.

“It’s harder than it looks!” you defended.

“That’s what he said,” he joked under his breath as you tried again… and again.

Thankfully you were decent at other things, because throwing was not your forte. You were about to give up as you tossed one single last throw, groaning out of frustration as you tried your best. With eyes closed, you hoped for the best. A slow applause from Logan made you dare to look. And surely, there were your blue Nikes, dangling on the power line above you.

“Oh my God, I did it!” you exclaimed, throwing your arms up in triumph. “Logan, take a picture, please!”

He chuckled, snapping a quick shot with the polaroid as you stood under the shoes, grinning like an idiot.

Before you knew it, Logan had swept you off your feet, literally, hoisting you onto his back. You kicked your legs weakly in protest, though your laugher told him you weren’t actually mad. Graciously, he even picked your skateboard up, sticking it between his arm and ribs.

“No, no, put me down. This is not working,” you squealed, feeling like you were about to fall off, your arms instinctively wrapping around his neck for balance.

“I’m not putting you down,” Logan retorted as he started walking with ease down the sidewalk with you on his back. “You’ll hurt your feet.”

He shuffled you higher up on his back, his hands grasping tightly around your legs. You were scared he was going to drop you, or worse, fall over because of the weight.

“Put me down.” You tried your best to sound serious, but it did nothing, he just kept on walking. The hotel was only minutes away and he didn’t show any signs of slowing down.

“You’re enjoying this,” Logan accused. “I know you are.”

You leaned your chin on his shoulder, finally giving in. “You've carried me this far, you might as well take me home.”

As you approached the luxurious hotel the team stayed at, Logan didn’t set you down until you were in the lift, earning looks from both guests and workers. Neither of you cared. He set you down gently, your sock-covered feet making a soft thud against the lift’s marbled flooring.

He gave you your skateboard back, shifting uncomfortably in his spot as the lift started moving upward. “I had fun tonight,” he whispered to you.

You leant against the wall, a loud exhale escaping you. “So did I.”

As you watched Logan, the laughter that had filled the air moments ago now gave way to something quieter, something more charged.

He took a small step towards you before you could even think, his face soft but his eyes intense, searching yours as if waiting for permission. There were a million things you wanted to tell him, to interrupt him, just to make sure—but the weight of the unspoken pulled you both together, speechless.

Your heart pounded in your chest as his gaze flickered down to your lips, then back to your eyes. You could feel the heat radiating from his skin, your heart racing in sync with his as your lips hovered inches apart. He was just as nervous as you were.

You both closed your eyes, anticipation tingling through you, waiting for that inevitable spark—

“Hey!” Alex’s voice cut through the moment like a knife as the lift doors opened with a ding. He blinked at you both, stumbling away from each other, a curious smirk tugging at his lips. “Where are your shoes, Paddy?”

You stared at him, dumbfounded, and then down at your sock-clad feet. “Uhh… on a power line?”

Logan laughed, shaking his head. His cheeks were burning from what had almost happened, and from getting caught by Alex. It was so obvious. If only your rooms had been on a higher floor.

. . .

Las Vegas, USA

. . .

You changed after Mexico, and Logan took notice. You worked longer hours—a lot more than you needed to. You didn’t find the time to go exploring. Or if you did, you didn’t post it to your instagram diary. You also drifted apart from Logan. Your conversations were shorter, your movie nights extinct, and you being a distraction for him was exchanged with you saying that you had more work to do. You became a ghost in his world, present but not truly there.

It didn’t matter how many times Logan tried to talk to you about it. The message was clear. You’d shut him out. And he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.

Your evening in Mexico City had been magical; at least that was what he felt. And even though Alex had interrupted at the worst possible moment, Logan still naively thought you’d be able to go back to that magic if you got a chance alone together.

But you were busy in Brazil, and the promotional aspect of the Las Vegas Grad Prix was nothing short of crazy. Some might even have called it torturous. He just didn’t find the right time, and you didn’t even make the time for him to try.

The stumbling, awkward times he had tried—Logan couldn’t even form a sentence. He’d interrupt you when you were working, or catch you just as you were about to go to bed. It was never good enough. His emotions had shifted insanely fast, or maybe they had moved at a slow pace for such a long time that they now felt like a tidal wave hitting him straight in the heart.

He liked you.

Your obsession with tater tots, your inability to sit still, your love for shitty movies, your ability to always match the colour of your sneakers to your work clothes. It was all the little things. Your way of treating him like he wasn’t wasted potential or fragile like fine china. That you knew how to deal with him, like this season wasn’t the end of the world.

And the worst thing was that he was pretty damn sure that you liked him back. Yet, you were running.

. . .

You weren’t there to bother him when he finished the race in Las Vegas. You didn’t stand there with your camera, ready to get an unflattering picture of him dripping with sweat. And it wasn’t like in Baku, where he had sensed something was wrong immediately. This was calmer, and Angie just told him that you were back at the hotel when he asked.

He got a point in Vegas, but you weren’t there to capture it. He got to look happy in pictures for other photographers and he got to finally express some happiness in the post-race interviews. And while a part of him was over the moon, he couldn’t stop thinking about how it seemed like you hadn’t even seen him accomplish it.

That was why he now stood outside of your hotel room, freshly showered and changed but still buzzing with adrenaline, a shaking fist knocking lightly on the door.

He shifted his weight, unsure if he was meant to be here, but he needed to see you. He needed to talk to you. He needed to actually kiss you, without interruptions. The both of you needed to celebrate, to feel a night of joy after this nightmare of a season.

The girl who opened the door looked tired, clad in sweatpants and a hoodie draped over her head. Your makeup-less face showed dark circles under your eyes—something that had gotten worse in the last couple of weeks. You looked like you were on the move, already with your shoes on and your suitcase packed, standing right in the doorway.

Logan saw it, but in his excited state—he didn’t immediately connect the dots.

“I got points—,” Logan started, his voice brimming with pride before he corrected himself, the enthusiasm in his tone softening slightly. “Well, one point, but still.”

“I know, Logan,” you replied gently. “I’m proud of you.”

Even if you hadn’t been at the paddock tonight, you hadn’t kept your eyes off the livestream for even a second. You may even have shed a tear as he crossed the finish line.

Logan beamed for a second, the glow of the accomplishment still warming his chest. “You weren’t there after the race, so I thought I’d come see you now,” he continued, a hint of nervousness as he paced uncomfortably in place. “A bunch of us are going out to dinner—”

But then his attention drifted. His brow furrowed, his attention drawn to the luggage again as realisation dawned.

“Why is your bag packed already?”

You looked at the suitcase, the same realisation flashing across your face as if you'd forgotten it was there, or perhaps hoped he wouldn't notice, and then back up at Logan with a visible uncertainty. You shook your head as you knew you had to explain it to him.

“They’ve agreed on an exemption from my contract,” you said quietly. “I’m not working the last two races.”

“B-but why?” Logan stammered.

“Because I asked for it,” you shrugged with an audible sigh. “I have a flight to catch tonight.”

Logan felt his stomach drop as he took in your words. “Wait, you’re going home?”

“No,” you scoffed. “I’m not sure I’m welcome there.”

The weight of those words settled heavy between you both. Logan was unsure of what to say. He felt like he knew more about your family than you let on, but he hadn’t expected you to be this lost. He thought you were still figuring it out, like him.

He swallowed hard. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments of the conversation, but nothing added up. “Then where—?”

“I’m starting out in San Francisco,” you said, cutting him off before he could finish. “And then I’ll see from there on.”

San Francisco. You’d mentioned it numerous times before. You had friends there. Professional skateboarders. It made sense that was where you were running to. It made sense that you had been distant these last weeks. Because this couldn’t have been an easy decision for you.

“I know we’ve talked a lot about your future, but mine is just as uncertain, and I need to do something about it. I can’t go home to a place where I don’t belong. I need to find my own ground.”

You were almost desperate as you spoke.

Logan took a step closer, still having a hard time grasping what was even going on. “Wasn’t that what this year was all about?”

“It was always a fixed-term contract, you know that. Angie just bought me some time to figure things out,” you explained.

“So, running away is you figuring things out?” His words came out sharper than intended, and regret instantly washed over him.

“Logan,” you said, almost pleading now, as if asking him not to push any further.

Maybe you weren’t running away now. Maybe you had already ran, the start of this season being your first stop.

“I’m sorry, I just—” Logan paused, his hands gesturing toward you as if he wanted to hold on to something, anything, to keep you from slipping away. “I have something to say to you.”

“I know you do,” you replied instantly, not letting him speak any further. Your voice creaked as you felt a cry clogging up your throat. “Trust me, I do too. But it’s not the right time for either of us. It will only complicate things.”

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but shut it just as quickly. The words he longed to say hung heavy in his throat, unsaid and unacknowledged. He knew you were right. He knew it. But the words felt hollow in the face of you leaving. The question hung in his throat, unspoken. Would you stay if I asked?

You both knew that the answer to that question would be yes, in a heartbeat. He couldn’t ask that from you. He would never be the one to hold you back. You had enough people against you. He needed to be with you, even if that meant oceans apart.

“Is this goodbye, then?” His voice cracked as he asked it.

You shook your head slowly, reaching into your carry-on bag. “I have this for you.” From the depths of the small bag, you pulled out a simple, leather-bound photo album, perfectly pristine, and handed it to him.

Logan looked down, fingers tracing the edges before opening it. Revealed was a collection of photos you had taken over the past year—candid shots, moments of him between races, behind the scenes. His chest tightened as he looked at the first one, an image of him laughing, helmet in hand, caught mid-conversation with his team. You had always seen him differently, and now, looking at these photos, he could see how much it meant to you.

There was a mixture of digital, film, and polaroid pictures, all signed with the corresponding city and date. You’d started this collection when you were simply work acquaintances. The best photos were the ones that had nothing to do with racing. Sightseeing, views from hotel room balconies, and restaurants with the local cuisine.

His ultimate favourite that you had included was the one he had taken of you in Mexico, barefoot with your sneakers hanging over you on a power line.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” you said, the guilt clear in your voice. “I didn’t know until this morning—”

“You don’t owe anyone an explanation,” he cut you off gently, his eyes still focused on the photos.

You bit your lip, still on the verge of tears. Seeing him so captivated by your year together in photos made it much harder.

He looked up, gently closing the album, and with a quick motion, he had embraced your body, wrapping his arms around you with a loud sigh. His t-shirt was soft against your skin as you felt it grow wet from your tears that had finally fallen. You could feel his heartbeat, ticking impatiently.

“Do you think I’m making a mistake by leaving?”

Again, if he said yes… You would rethink everything.

“No, I think you’re doing what you need to do.”

Logan was determined.

“I really have to go now,” you said softly, but you didn’t make any effort to move away from his embrace. You leaned into him instead, your head resting against his chest. You felt his trembling breaths, almost like a stuttering, keeping him from crying out loud.

“Just a couple more seconds,” Logan whispered into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I hope you find what you’re looking for,” he added, a slight tone of hope noticeable.

“I know we both will.”

Finally, you pulled back, but you left the goodbye unsaid. You reached to squeeze his hand as a last gesture. You’d never been good at goodbyes, so you left it to the lights. The soft glow of the Las Vegas skyline was the only thing illuminating the hotel hallway as you flipped the switch and slipped out the door, making a beeline for the lift.

It was the end of an era. Logan knew it before the year had even started. He just hadn’t imagined it to feel this important—to feel this uncertain. He hadn’t imagined you. And when he started to imagine you, it was already too late. It had always been too late.

He tried to tell himself that he hadn’t lost you. But it felt strangely like it.

Logan stood still in that hotel corridor for way too long, staring at the spot where you had been. This was the way it had to be, but he wasn’t sure that made it any easier.

. . .

Fort Lauderdale, USA

. . .

Logan went home after the season ended. He stayed for the prize giving ceremony. He stayed long enough to say goodbye to the people that it mattered to. Then he went home, and he wasn’t sure how he would look back at his past experiences. Now it mostly hurt, but still—he had made it there in the first place.

Home meant Florida this time. England, or Europe in general, had been his home for most of his conscious life, yet he never felt homesick for it. That was until now, when it wasn’t his home anymore. Florida was nice, it was always just nice. The weather was warm and the beaches were pretty, but when he was sunburnt to the point of peeling and had sand in his shoes, he missed the bleak English mornings with rain pattering against the windows.

He signed for Indycar in the end, and when the season started in March, Logan found it refreshing. He loved racing, and he loved that he got a chance to do it again. He didn’t love the pressure put on him, mostly by strangers on the internet. He didn’t love the rookie title because he wasn’t treated like a rookie. He’d raced in the pinnacle of motorsport, he should know better. He should be better. Logan tried to not let it get to him, because in the end—he was the one that had made it to the pinnacle. Not a lot of other drivers could say that, especially other Americans.

You liked every single one of his Instagram posts. Commented when he did well in races. That was the closest thing you two had to communication. Logan understood you, though—that you needed to leave when you had the chance to. He couldn’t have changed that. He wouldn’t have changed that.

He thought of messaging you, but he had a hard time figuring out what to say. Writing down something long in his notes app, only to cringe at himself seconds later. Nothing seemed right and nothing seemed fair, like he was guilt-tripping you into reminiscing the last year. He knew what he felt for you, but he could never force you to be closer to him, to give up your chance at exploring and finding yourself. It was better to just let you live, but he knew what you felt for him too, that was why it was so hard for him to stay away.

Stuck between a rock and a hard place.

Logan liked every single one of your Instagram posts as well. You kept up with the diary, even if the travelling wasn’t as rapid as under the racing season.

He saw pictures of you all over the American west coast. You were on cable cars and steep streets in San Fransisco. You were skating in Venice Beach, surfing in Santa Cruz, and hiking in Yosemite. You went on road trips up north to go to concerts in Portland and Seattle for bands that Logan had never heard of.

You hadn’t been kidding when you said you had friends there. The skateboarding collective you lived with in Cole Valley was a never ending stream of eclectic people coming and leaving.

Your closest friend was the girl with bright pink hair that he had spotted on your Instagram before from your numerous university art projects. She skated on a competitive level and you would join to take photos of her.

Another one of your friends was a boy who looked strangely like Timothée Chalamet. He was a tattoo artist who would go skating with you at night to spot pretty sunsets. He tried not to be jealous. He should have confessed his feelings for you to even have a reason to be jealous.

Your posts became more scarce during the early summer. When you posted a slideshow of pictures of Tater Tot with a long caption about his passing, Logan understood why. He felt tears forming in his eyes as he watched the pictures of you and the golden retriever, the fur around his face having faded and his nose all pink from old age.

He felt like reaching out to you even more after that, especially since you were back home with your family and he could only imagine how that felt for you. When you posted a picture of a new family dog not too long after, with a normal boring dog name that he could tell you hadn’t chosen, he felt a slight anger inside.

You went skating around Europe after that, the girl with pink hair by your side. You posted a video of Angie trying to skate while in Barcelona, and Logan connected the dots that you had gone to the Spanish Grand Prix. He liked that you were still welcomed by the team, but he was unsure if he would’ve gotten a similar treatment.

On a weekend without racing, Logan was back home in Fort Lauderdale. He spent the evening with his brother and some friends in their backyard. He was there, but he didn’t feel present. Something you had taught him stemmed from anxiety. It wasn’t as bad as it was during his last F1 season, but he still liked to look at your pictures as a distraction when he felt anxious. The stories they told were still better than what was going on in his actual life.

“Since when are you interested in skateboarding?” his brother's voice broke through his focus. Logan barely had time to register him hovering over his shoulder before he took a seat across from him, sinking into a deck chair with a teasing grin.

Logan didn’t realise that he had a video of yours on repeat. It was you in a skatepark in Copenhagen, landing a trick you’d never done before.

“Oh, I’m not—” he started, his tongue suddenly feeling clumsy in his mouth as he fumbled for an excuse. “It’s the old Williams photographer, she’s travelling to all these places to skate. It’s quite cool to see.”

His brother raised an eyebrow, clearly not buying it. Logan flushed under the scrutiny, knowing full well that his brother could read him like an open book. He didn’t just think it was quite cool. He was invested—and not just in the skateboarding.

“A girl, you say?” his brother pressed.

“It’s not like that, she’s on the other side of the world,” Logan protested quickly, slipping his phone back in his pocket as if to hide any evidence of his admiration.

His brother could only laugh at his poor attempt of conviction. “Would it be like that if she was closer?”

Logan froze, unable to answer. His brother was able to read his expression all too well again, his smile softening as he watched Logan carefully.

“I am taking that as a yes.”

. . .

Oxfordshire, UK

. . .

Angela and Matthew Thompson, read the sign outside of the rented out manor house. Somewhere in the English countryside, as the evening sun cast a golden glow over the courtyard. You’d snapped photos of the garden and the exterior, but the sign stopped you for a moment.

You found it odd, firstly seeing Angie be called by her actual first name and then secondly, not by her maiden surname. You guessed that was what it was like—getting married. The formal side of it all, at least.

Click.

You got a quick photo of the sign before you entered back into the manor. The big ballroom was filled with the soft murmur of guests and the rustling of chiffon dresses.

The ceremony had been earlier during the day, a small gathering with only immediate family around. You’d only been there because of your duty to photograph the entire thing. Otherwise you probably wouldn’t have. Angie’s cousin was her only bridesmaid and Matthew had his closest childhood friend as his only groomsman. Both their parents were present as well, and Angie’s grandmother had been ring bearer. Adorable, that was the only way to describe it. Quaint and quite literally perfect, in the manor’s rose garden with birds chirping and a violin player.

Click.

You stood in the doorway to the ballroom, adjusting your camera, scanning the scene for the perfect shot. You found it in two of the party’s younger guests, looking at the wedding cake with temptation in their eyes. The was just something about kid’s in formal clothes. A little crooked bowtie and sparkly silver ballerina shoes.

The reception was bigger, with friends, distant relatives and work colleagues invited. Your family was included in that, but you had gotten good at keeping a distance and they had gotten better at ignoring you instead of arguing with you. That was some sort of improvement. Having the excuse that you were technically working was also in your favour, even if Angie probably wanted to drink you under the table and get you dancing with one of Matthew’s rich colleagues.

There hadn’t been a dress code beyond formal, but somehow a lot of the guests seemed to match, making the photography blend together in perfect hues. You couldn’t wait to edit and put them together. Sage green, baby pink and light yellow. The men and their suits in tones of beige and blue. You guessed that was the English summer in colours.

You were never really one to dress up nicely. You preferred something practical, but even you felt a little whimsical tonight. A periwinkle dress and white heels—a complete juxtaposition of your usual streetwear and sneakers.

Click.

You managed to get a picture of the happy couple from far way. Candid, when they thought no one was watching. Those were usually the ones that turned out the best. No posing, no fixed smiles. Angie showed a wide and almost painfully happy grin as Matthew whispered something in her ear, sneaking in a kiss on her cheek. Only they would know what had been said when they, years down the line, flipped through the photo album from their special day.

That was the beauty of photos. The secret stories they held.

You smiled to yourself, getting lost in the scene that showed through the viewfinder, shifting to find something new and equally magical in the movements of the ballroom.

Suddenly, all you could see was one singular familiar face.

You blinked, not believing your eyes before you zoomed in. Tall, blond, blue eyes catching the light—talking to a man you recognised as a Williams engineer. It couldn’t be… but it totally was.

In a navy tailored suit, his tie slightly loosened, he raised a champagne coupe to his lips. He smiled at something the engineer said, flashing his teeth. You took a picture, and then one more—it was achingly familiar, yet so different.

It was like he knew he had a camera pointed towards him with how quick he reacted. He hadn’t even seen you when you took the first one, but by the time you were about to take a third one, his face was turned completely towards you—looking at your lens, looking at you.

And of course, he waved. He smiled and he waved.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

He quickly excused himself to the engineer and was then set on only you. He crossed the room with easy confidence, threading through the crowd. Since when was he so smooth?

You lowered your camera as your breath got caught in your throat, finally looking at him not through the viewfinder.

“Logan,” you whispered, voice softer than expected.

He said your name with an easy familiarity, one you’d almost forgotten. It pulled you back six months in time in mere seconds, as if nothing had changed.

“Uhm, H-how did you get here?” you stammered, cursing yourself for sounding so surprised. You should’ve known he’d be here. Angie’s wedding had been a big talking point even back when he was driving for Williams.

“There’s these things called airplanes,” he teased, the corners of his mouth quirking up. “Ever heard of them?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile was impossible to suppress. Silence fell over the two of you as you struggled to find ways to continue the conversation. The tension was palpable, stretching thin as if either of you could snap it with the wrong word. Logan looked lost too, like the confidence he thought he had washed away when he finally got close to you.

You’d thought about it—what it would be like to talk to him again if you ever got the chance. Being speechless was never in those thoughts.

“You’re hair has gotten long,” you blurted out, desperate to fill the silence and because it was honestly the first thing you noticed to be different about him. His blond hair had grown longer, with a slight wave to it, almost curling at the ends.

“Is that a compliment?” Logan mused.

“Yes,” you were too quick to reply. “Or, I think so. It’s different.”

Logan chuckled softly as you winced at how clumsy you sounded.

“So… you work weddings too?” he asked, glancing at the camera still in your hands.

Great. He was shit at small talk too.

“Only when it’s Angie,” you answered, trying to sound at ease. “I promised to make her look gorgeous even before she met Matthew.”

You did not remember the first time she asked you. It was a decade ago at this point. But every time you had taken a photo of her—professionally and privately—she liked to remind you of how she felt like no one else ever had captured her fairly, or flatteringly. She was always your biggest fan, even when you were just taking grainy pictures of your friends at the local skatepark.

“Can I see?” Logan asked and you handed him the camera without a doubt.

There was something so familiar in the gesture, like muscle memory kicking in. You used to share everything with him. You were happy to know that even through it all, he at least still cared about your photography.

Before you could even react, he raised the camera and snapped a picture of you, completely unprepared. The flash was too bright, and you squealed in surprise.

“Dude, what the fuck?” you exclaimed, blinking away the aftershock of the flash.

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Dude? You’ve turned American!”

You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped you. “I have not turned American.”

Logan joined your laughter, but only for a second—something on the camera catching his attention instead. He looked at it intensely, only for you to realise that it was the photo he’d taken of you. Overexposed and blurry. Not perfect in any way, but candidly capturing a moment.

“My god, you look lovely.”

He said it softly, like an afterthought, like he didn’t mean for you to hear it.

Heat crept up to your cheeks as he handed you the camera back to you. You couldn’t look too long at the photo he’d taken of you, so you pressed the button to show the one taken prior. It was him, of course—smiling as he had clocked you from across the room.

“So do you,” you said, showing him the picture of himself. “Happiness suits you.”

Logan’s smile faltered for a moment as you surprised even yourself with your honesty. You realised how he could overthink what you had just said—like happiness was something new for him to express. And maybe that was true. But it was a sad realisation, and a mortifying thing for someone else to have discovered about oneself.

Before an uncomfortable silence fell between the two of you, a familiar voice broke through the moment.

“There you are!” Alex’s voice was bright, his cheeks tinted pink from champagne and dancing. “I’ve been looking for you!”

You turned, grateful for the distraction, as he came up and enveloped you in a hug. You smiled, hugging him back, telling him how you’d missed him.

“Logan!” he exclaimed as he turned his attention to him. “It’s so good to see you.”

They did one of those awkward side-hugs that men insisted on giving each other. Logan said something similar in response, his voice warm but his eyes still flicked to you. You gathered from just that little interaction that their departure must’ve been stretched and difficult. They were good friends, for christ sake, but Williams had made everything toxic.

Alex beamed. “Well, come on! It’s my turn to pester Paddy with a camera. Scoot together.”

Before either of you could protest, Alex grabbed your camera, leaving you both standing there, shoulder to shoulder. A fire burning through the fabric where your bare shoulder touched his blazer.

Click.

. . .

After long speeches, and first dances, and consuming too much wedding cake, you found yourself on a balcony, taking a breather, looking out over the garden. You heard the door open behind you, and it was like you could feel that it was his presence. You let out a small laugh as you kept your eyes focused on the view.

“What are we looking at?” Logan’s voice came soft and steady beside you, making you turn your head.

“My sister sharing a cigarette with a Williams mechanic,” you scoffed, nodding towards two figures below the balcony.

Your sister, known as an overly ambitious goody two shoes, wasn’t only sharing the cigarette—she was shotgunning it. Your past self would’ve wanted to go tattle to your parents, but now you were kind of glad to see a human, imperfect side of your sister, acting promiscuous with a greasy mechanic.

There was a brief silence as the evening air wrapped around you. Logan slipped his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight slightly.

“How’s it been? With your family and all?” he slowly asked, trying to make it sound casual.

“They still treat me like a toddler, if that’s what you’re wondering. But we don’t argue anymore—just pretend each other doesn’t exist,” you scoffed.

He glanced at you, the hint of a frown on his face, but didn’t press further. Instead, he pulled out his phone from his suit pocket as it vibrated, the faint sound breaking the quiet between you.

You let your eyes linger on him for a moment. The small gesture shouldn’t have meant anything, but something about the way his fingers moved so delicately over the screen made you pause. Then you saw it—the photo behind his clear phone case.

“That’s from Mexico,” you said without thinking.

Logan glanced at you, then back at his phone, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah. My favourite from the album you gave me.”

You blinked, remembering the moment instantly—tossing shoes over a power line, him carrying you home, Alex doing what he did best—interrupting.

“I know it’s slightly pathetic, but that was one of the best days of my life,” Logan admitted, shying away from looking at you.

It had been one of the few peaceful moments amidst the storm of races, pressure, and long, chaotic nights. It was supposed to be just another moment, but it had become more. You both knew it meant so much more.

“It’s not pathetic, Logan. At least, I don’t think so,” you reassured him. Your heart clenched at his honesty, but you felt it all the same as him.

Logan let out a small breath of laughter, but the smile that accompanied it didn’t reach his eyes. He slid his phone back into his pocket, but the photo lingered in your mind. Logan glanced back at the ballroom, then back at you, his gaze lingering as if he was working up the courage to say something else.

But then his eyes dropped, right to where your arm touched against your ribs, a small glint of ink peeking out, darker than any of your other tattoos. Logan froze.

“That’s my number…” he said, his voice soft with disbelief.

You felt your breath hitch as he stared at it. You instinctively rubbed your fingers over the tattoo, tracing the outline of the small F1 car inked delicately with his racing number on the nose. You suddenly felt very exposed, but not in a bad way. You moved your arm to give him a better view.

“What other number could I possibly have picked?” you wondered, tilting your head. “I did tell you that I was planning to get one.”

His hand nervously reached for yours, his thumb brushing over the tattoo with tenderness, touching you in a way he hadn’t before. The new ink sat just centimetres above the tiny paw prints you had in memory of Tater Tot. Logan could’ve cried on the spot.

“I really like it,” he whispered.

He dared to meet your gaze. You stood there in silence for a moment, the weight of everything between you suddenly heavier than ever. His thumb continued to caress the tattoo.

“Are we okay, Logan?”

He exhaled as you asked it, out of relief it seemed.

“I thought everything would be different, seeing you again,” Logan explained. “But I strangely feel like nothing has changed since Vegas.”

You nodded, a smile creeping up on your face, as you could only agree with him. The distance, the time apart, hadn’t dulled anything between you. If anything, it had only clarified what had always been there.

In the background, you could still hear the music play loudly from inside the ballroom. Your sister and her mechanic were long gone from the garden. You had nothing to worry about and everything to win.

“So… how do you feel about dancing at weddings, Sargeant?”

. . .

The manor had rooms for all the guests to stay overnight. You stumbled into yours in the small hours of the night—tipsy from champagne, tired from dancing. Logan was right behind you, laughing at you almost falling over from trying to unclasp your heels.

“Need some help there?” Logan teased.

“I’ve got it,” you mumbled, finally getting them off to feel the carpet against your bare feet.

Logan took a stance by the window, hands shoved into the pockets of his navy suit pants, looking out onto the moonlit garden. His jaw was tense, a sign that he was thinking—no, overthinking.

You watched him for a moment, how his fingers flexed slightly in his pockets, how his shoulders rose and fell with a breath, before you went into the en suite bathroom, desperate to get your makeup off after wearing it all day. It was an oddly familiar feeling, being alone with him in a hotel room.

The rest of the wedding had been so lovely. It hadn’t mattered much about what had been left unsaid, but instead what mattered was the way you acted towards each other now. You had been bracing yourself for the moment it all would break loose the entire night, ever since your eyes met his across the reception hall, but you had no idea how to start.

It turned out, you didn’t have to.

“You wanna know something?” Logan’s voice was slow, his back still turned against you, as he spoke. He waited for you to say something, but all you did was mumble a huh from the bathroom, clearly more focused on your makeup than on him.

He took a breath, slowly turning to you. He felt himself melt at the sight of you—in your pretty dress and a squeaky clean bare face. His gaze held yours, and in that quiet second, the world shifted.

“I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”

The words slipped from his lips easily, almost like they had always been there, waiting for this moment to escape.

You froze in your movement, putting your skincare back in your makeup bag, not sure that you had heard him correctly. “What?”

“I said,” Logan repeated, a touch firmer, “I’m tired of acting like I’m not in love with you.”

You stepped away from the sink, opting to stand in the doorway instead as you watched him—how emotions washed over his face like colours melting together in a sunset. You had a hard time hiding the smile that began to form on your face. “You’re in love with me?”

Logan shifted, looking almost sheepish as he rubbed the back of his neck. “Don’t look so smug,” he muttered, though a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’re gonna make me regret saying anything.”

But you didn’t feel smug—not in the slightest. Your chest instead filled with warmth, something dangerously close to… well, love.

“Well, excuse me for being a little happy about the fact that you love me back,” you said, almost argumentatively, crossing your arms.

“Back? You love me too?” Logan walked closer, almost stumbling as he passed the corner of the bed.

“Yeah, dumbass.” You rolled your eyes at his oblivion. “I’ve had a crush on you since before you even knew I existed.”

“A crush?” Logan chuckled, a sound full of disbelief and a little wonder. “How long have you—”

“Since Baku,” you interrupted, your voice quieter now, more serious. “I think I’ve loved you since you stayed with me in Baku.”

That admission hung in the air, heavy with memories of long flights, foreign cities, whispered conversations in crowded spaces, and the closeness that had grown between you. Logan stared at you like he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing.

Maybe the two of you hadn’t exactly known what the other wanted to say, that last night in Vegas. Or maybe, neither of you could’ve expected the intensity of emotions that would come to the surface when you finally did get to say what you had wanted to.

“Why are you still standing so far away?” Logan took a deep breath, his heart pounding against his ribs. “Come take what’s yours,” he then whispered, his voice a soft command that sent shivers down your spine.

You didn’t need to be told twice.

Without another thought, you exited the bathroom and crossed the room in a few quick strides. You felt your pulse thrumming in your ears as you reached him, and without hesitation, you slid your hands up his chest, feeling a steady heartbeat beneath your palms.

Logan’s arms closed around you, his warm hands brushing the skin of your back, exposed by the low hem of your dress. He pulled you closer, until there was no space left between you.

His lips found yours, soft and sure. You melted into the kiss, into him. This time, there was no one to interrupt you. Months of longing and unspoken feelings poured into one single moment.

As soon as Logan felt you smile against his lips, he was sure world peace was achievable. With more confidence, he kissed you with a feverish intent, slipping his tongue in your mouth, falling backwards onto the mattress with you on top of him.

Moving your legs, you straddled his lap, sinking down comfortably on top of him while you put your arms around him. He rested against the bed frame, hair getting messed up as your fingers played at the nape of his neck. You continued to kiss, his hands rushing to touch your body—one on your cheek and the other on your waist. Your dress bunched up around your thighs as you pressed closer to him, feeling the heat of his body through layers of fabric.

You pulled apart after a moment, but only far enough to inhale, your noses still touching. The room was dead quiet, save for the panting sound of your breathing.

“You have no idea the things I’ve wanted to say to you,” Logan murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “The things I’ve held back…” he added softly, his thumb now gently stroking the side of your face.

“You could tell them to me now,” you teased, sneaking in a small peck.

A smirk tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips. “My brain can’t really focus when you’re sat on me like this,” he said, his fingers tracing slow circles along the exposed skin of your upper thigh.

You bit your bottom lip, brain filled with lust and sudden bravery. “Unzip me, please?”

“Should we— I just don’t want to rush anything,” Logan mumbled out of nervousness.

“You don’t think a year worth of tension is enough?” you whispered, smiling.

Logan swallowed, his hand daring to move behind you. The sound of your zipper easily sliding open filled the silence between you as his fingers delicately touched your exposed back. His eyes never left your body as the thin straps fell off your shoulders, the top half of your dress pooling around your waist. With a soft tug, you were all exposed. The white lace of your bra doing almost nothing to conceal your chest.

You were privy to his persistent stare at your body. You couldn’t pretend you weren’t, and your satisfaction was hard to withhold, a devious smile forming on your lips. His hands moved under your skirt, gently lifting it over your head, revealing delicate white lace panties that matched your bra.

“Did you plan this?” Logan had to fight himself to not let his jaw physically drop at the sight of you.

He held a certain emotion in the way he looked at you. You’d seen desire before in a lover’s eyes. This was softer. This was different. Devotion, maybe. Love, most definitely.

“Better safe than sorry,” you shrugged.

With a soft exhale, he chuckled in utter disbelief. Dipping his head, he couldn’t help but kiss the valley between your breasts, nipping and sucking at the soft skin. His hair tickled against your neck as his mouth explored, surely leaving a mark or two.

With a quick movement, he unclasped your bra, discarding it as he continued to kiss your skin. Your breasts, your collarbones, your neck and jaw. He even moved to kiss a spot on your arm, making sure you took notice at how his lips gently pressed against your tattoo of his racing number.

You both took a moment, letting your eyes linger on each other’s. It was hard to find things to say, but you guessed the silence, panting breaths and growing humidity were enough to express what you both wanted.

Your fingers diligently started to unbutton his shirt, leaving kisses on his neck and sternum as each inch of his skin was revealed for you. When you reached the last button, your hands dangerously close to his lower stomach, Logan moved swiftly to remove his shirt in one go, tossing it on the floor to land next to your dress.

Immediately, you sunk your fingers back into his blond waves, tugging lightly as you kissed his swollen lips. He matched your ferocity, sliding his hands from your waist down to your ass, squeezing over the soft lace. Both of you groaned at the feeling of your hips grinding down onto the fabric covering his growing hardness, almost a surprised feeling at how quickly it all had evolved.

“I’m starting to think you might like me or something,” you giggled, like an angel.

Logan wanted to argue. He wanted to say something witty. But he had no choice. With your wandering hands, all he could do was bite down on his lip to drown a pathetic moan trying to escape. With your wandering hands, you pulled his zipper open, helping him out of the rest of his clothes.

His cock sat hard in the space between your bodies, and as you tentatively touched him, feeling hot and heavy in your hand, he whined out a sting of curses. His stomach flexed as he ached for real friction, your hand only lazily stroking him. He groaned, head falling back to hit the headboard. The loveliest of pinks suffused his cheeks, a trail of rose-coloured blotches lingering all the way down his chest.

He tried to drag you closer to him with a firm grip on your hips, desperately searching for more. His hand found its way down between your legs, gently touching over a wet patch that had formed on your panties.

You hummed at the sensation, kissing his jawline, feeling him tense at your touch. “Can I ride you?”

“Mhm, yeah… you want that?” Logan panted, gentle little breaths pushing past his lips.

Nodding enthusiastically, you placed your bottom lip between your teeth as you looked at him, eyes darkened. “I have condoms in the bathroom,” you said getting off of his lap, walking over. At the loss of touch, Logan couldn’t help but audibly whine.

You made a point to shake your hips as you walked. You knew you had his eyes on you. After fetching the little foil packet from your makeup bag, you stopped in the doorway to pull your underwear off, dragging the flimsy lace agonisingly slowly down your legs as Logan could only watch.

“You look heavenly,” he whispered as you towered over him to kiss him, before straddling his lap again, your naked body finally touching his without anything in between.

Logan swallowed his moans as you carefully tore open the condom packet and rolled it over his sensitive length. He helped you lift you up on your knees, enough to align himself with your soaking entrance. A year of tension really was enough foreplay. Fluttering around him, you adjusted to all of him, carefully and slowly moving into a perfect rhythm.

You couldn’t be held responsible for the words and sounds leaving your mouth as you rocked against him. His hands gripped your waist and then your ass, kneading the soft flesh, spilling out between his fingers. You heard him suck in a breath as your fingers got entangled in his hair, gently pulling at the ends.

“Logan,” his name left your mouth with a delicate whine.

“Hm?”

You needed him to look at you. Logan’s hand found home on your cheeks, keeping his eyes tightly locked with yours as you connected in the most primal way. “Tell me I’m yours,” he whispered gently, feeling himself bottom out inside of you.

“You’re mine, all mine, baby,” you reassured, finding his lips for a messy kiss.

Slowly, you started bouncing faster, Logan’s hands guided you, helping you with every move, rise and fall. You were both stuttering out moans at the almost overwhelming feeling—the wetness, the squeezing, the friction.

It didn’t take long before you were both panting, flushed messes, the movement slowing down as the desperate feeling of release grew stronger.

“Are your legs getting tired?” Logan asked, voice hoarse. “F-fuck, let me help.”

He tilted you, shifting to a more horizontal position, as he wrapped his arms around your waist, letting you bury your face in the crook of his neck, sucking and kissing wherever you could reach. With forceful thrusts, he up fucked into you, digging his fingers into the fat of your hips to pull you even closer.

He took care of you. Your tits bounced against him as you moved together. The tension inside of you only growing and spiralling. Logan reached between your bodies, moving his limber fingers to circle your puffy clit.

You repeated his name through broken moans, all choked and caught in your throat, as he continued his mission. Through deep breaths, you got lost in the scent of him. Cologne, musky and warm. It was almost distracting, until he reached a soft spot, thrusting inside of you.

“I’ve got you,” he reassured. “I’m right here, let it all out.”

Logan brought you over the edge. You bit down on his shoulder as the feeling washed over you, a white fire lighting from inside of you. His writhing against you told you he wasn’t long after, filling the condom as he rode out both of your highs. He rested still inside of you for a while as you both caught your breaths.

You needed help to get off him, your legs still shaking. With a tired moan, he slipped out and you collapsed on the bed next to him, feeling the sheets ruffle around you. Logan glimmered under the moonlight seeping in through the windows, as sweat stuck to his flushed skin. His outgrown hair falling over his forehead.

You faced each other on the bed, your voices barely above whispers, not necessarily thanking each other, but more just mumbles about how special this felt. Logan’s hand found your arm, delicately tracing the car tattooed on your bicep. It tickled, so you let out a breathy laugh as you placed your hand on top of his.

Logan’s lips curled into a lazy smile as he felt your reaction. “Did you get any other tattoos?”

“Nope,” you replied, shaking your head lightly. “I think you’ve seen them all now.”

There was a softness in his expression that made you feel safer than ever before. It was the kind of comfort that came with time, with knowing someone deeply and being known in return.

“When did you know that you liked me?” you asked suddenly, thinking back to your own admission about falling for the sight of him through your lens before you had even had a conversation together.

“In Australia,” he said after a beat, his voice gentle. “You were talking so fondly about tater tots.”

“Tater tots?” you echoed with a grin. “That’s when you knew?”

You had a feeling it wasn’t only about your love for fried potatoes, thinking about what had happened just moments before that conversation. He had started to like you because you cared about him in a moment where he felt his weakest.

“I was quietly observing you before that, but I think that was our first actual conversation,” Logan said, reminiscing. “And then,” he continued, his tone growing softer, “I just kept falling for you. Every city, every race, every little thing you did.”

Your heart warmed in your chest as his words washed over you. You felt the pull of the past, the shared experiences, the way your lives had intertwined across the globe.

“Seeing you throw your sneakers over the power line in Mexico made me realise that I love you,” Logan finally whispered.

“I love you too,” you mumbled against his lips, reaching to gently kiss him again… and again.

Afterward, you left the bed to take a moment for yourself in the bathroom. Discarding the condom, peeing to prevent a UTI, staring at yourself in the mirror for an undisclosed amount of time. You looked like a mess, but a beautiful mess—with splotchy love bites and scratches.

You turned the shower on, knowing that you wouldn’t be able to sleep if you didn’t get the clinging feeling of sweat off your body.

“Are you getting in with me?” you asked Logan, peeping out behind the bathroom door to hide your naked body, spotting him still sat on the bed, the sheets covering him.

Logan lifted his gaze from the floor, meeting yours with a slow smile. He didn’t move; he only tilted his head in thought. “Why does that feel more intimate than what we just did?”

“Because it is,” you hesitantly answered, fidgeting with your fingers as your nails tapped on the door.

It didn’t take long for you both to be drenched and humid in the warm water of the shower, not having any hurry of getting out, steam fogging up the bathroom. You were just enjoying the closeness for now. Body against body. Your hands massaged his scalp as you washed shampoo out of it.

“Soo…” Logan began, dragging out the word, droplets were falling from his hair over his face. “What happens now?”

“Round two?” you teased, buying yourself a moment to think about the actual implication of his question.

Logan chuckled, but waited for a true answer. Round two was inevitable. He was asking something deeper.

“I’ve got nothing to do and a newfound love for racing and the US,” you finally said, easy as pie. “You should take advantage of that.”

“I think I might,” he smiled. “Life is a lot better with you close.”

You reached up to cup his cheeks, the pads of your thumbs gently rubbing over his pink cheekbones. His eyes looked onto yours, pulling you closer as his hands found the curve of your waist, the water still falling on you like an outburst of rain from a stormy sky, electricity unloading.

“We’ll be alright, I think,” you mumbled, gracefully placing a kiss on his wet lips.

Logan’s voice echoed softly in the bathroom, words leaving with an unusual certainty.

“I’m starting to think so too.”

Thank you for reading! ♡ Please comment, reblog, like or send me a messenger pigeon.

I'm calling this beast my best attempt at a fix-it fic. This was a nightmare and tumblr's paragraph limit is my mortal enemy. I had to remove like three scenes to even fit all of this which messed up the timeline like crazy. The title is from Worst Case Kid by Tommy Lefroy!

#my writing 🪐#f1 x reader #f1 smut #logan sargeant #logan sargeant x reader #f1 #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 fanfiction #logan sargeant smut #ls2 #f1 fanfic #logan sargeant imagine #logan sargeant x you

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loud-sturniolos · 8 months ago

Text

Babysit

A Chris Sturniolo one-shot

Summary: Having to run an errand, and not being able to find a last minute babysitter you message your last resort; your boyfriend, Chris.

Warnings: Not much, just fluff, slight dad!Chris vibes?, reader still lives with parents, baby sister is 1 years old, very short bc I just want to write something😭

A/N: I’ve had so much baby fever recently😭 They’re js so cute hehe

Chris got out of the uber and headed up your driveway, unlocking the door with the spare key he has. He walks into your parents house, finding you, already dressed and ready, and your baby sister, Ayla, sat at the kitchen counter. You turned around and smiled, setting Ayla on your lap as you stood up and walked over to him.

“Hi, baby,” Chris said, kissing your forehead before taking Ayla from your arms and kissing the little girls forehead too, earning a soft giggle from her. “Hi, I really need to go run this errand, so I will see you later, okay?” You say quickly, pressing your lips to the boys cheek before grabbing your bag and leaving the house.

Now alone, Christopher decides to go sit on the sofa and play Fortnite on your xbox, he settles himself into the sofa and places Ayla on his lap, her back against his stomach. He grabs the controller and starts playing, but as he keeps getting distracted by the little girl on his lap who cant seem to stop giggling, so after the first round he switches off the xbox and just decides to stay on his phone with SpongeBob playing on the TV in the background.

As he scrolls through Instagram on his phone, he decides to snap a quick pic of Ayla on his lap and send it too you.

(ignore the tattoos on the hand💀)

Looking at your phone as you got back into your car, now finished with your errand and about to head home, you smile at the cute photo and save it before putting your phone down and starting the drive back home.

You parked your car in the driveway, then got out and locked it before heading into the house. As you walked towards the living room, the voices of SpongeBob and Squidward filled your ears from the TV, and just as you walked in to greet Chris, you found him and Ayla fast asleep. Ayla resting peacefully on his lap, his fingers still in the grasp of her little hand, Chris’s head is on the back of the sofa, lips parted in peaceful slumber.

Slowly making your way over and standing behind the sofa you looked at Chris’s upside down face, listening to his soft breaths and taking in every detail about him, before leaning down and pressing your lips to his in a quick, soft kiss to wake him up. His eyes slowly opened, looking confused for a second, before he smiled and leaned up to get another kiss.

“Good nap?” you teased, trying not to laugh at his sleepy expression as you walked around the sofa to pick up the still fast asleep Ayla from his lap. “Yeah,” Chris groaned out as he stretches his arms up above his head, “Really good nap actually.”

#loudsturniolos #chris sturniolo #nick sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolos #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #chris sturniolo x y/n #chris sturniolo x you #chris sturniolo smut #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #chris sturniolo fluff #chris sturniolo imagine #christopher sturniolo x reader #christopher owen sturniolo #Spotify #baby fever

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tastesousweet · 11 months ago

Text

⭒ the girl with the tattoo (ii) - pt 1 here!!

matt sturniolo x fem!oc / reader

summary : matt is still a grumpy ass but y/n can't seem to get him off of her mind.

warnings : idk uhhh matt’s rude but in a love hate kinda way 😋! also alcohol/drinking (i headcannon everyone 21+!)

mickey speaks : shes finally hereeeee and shes kinda long. im hoping to post more consistently!! luv u guys enjoy <3 ignore the fact that the pic above has a yt girl in it this story is for everyone i promise !!!! i just liked the little green vibe ok? ok.

THIS IS PART TWO GO READ PART ONE FIRST DUH!!!!

AND of course you see matt again.

only a month ago, you were introduced and forced to spend an hour of your time in close proximity to him, no matter his disinterest. yet, also, only a month ago, were you gifted with the cutest tiny tattoo that continues to surprise you a little whenever you lift your shirt before a warm shower.

it hasn’t bothered you nearly as much as you'd assumed - only disrupting your life with the caution you now take to avoid irritating the skin at your lower stomach. though some nights you grow lazy, you’ve maintained a very disciplined attitude of incorporating time in your morning and nightly rituals to ensure the tiny hello kitty inked on you is properly cared for.

contrary, your interactions with matt bothered you far more than you assumed. your sub-concious must've held onto your attempts to break past his careless attitude (that greatly opposed your own people-pleasing nature) just to pettily haunt you. but you've you forced yourself to get over it at this point. you just had to after one night, the week following your tattoo appointment (and after a long day of rude professors and pretentious customers blaming you for their own mistakes), you broke down to andrea:

you sniffle before your voice breaks again, "everyone's just mean. and- and i was so fucking annoying last saturday. it keeps playing over in my head. i'm so embarrassed and i just know he hated me, but i dont know why?! i thought i was nice enough. he could've just smiled or maybe just- i-"

andrea pauses from petting your head, "honey, you're not still talking about the guy who tatted you, right?" you look up at her from your head's soft spot in her lap with glossy eyes and a quivering lip.

"dre-" you choke.

"oh my god! no! y/n, you can't take shit like that personal. not everyone enjoys talking or happiness for that matter, you can't hold on to something like that. i promise he's not too hung up on it himself." she wipes away one of your pitiful tears.

and here he is, standing across the room from you at a party.

you definitely did not expect to see matt (who’s mild attitude was clearly fueled by socializing) in this scene but you guess that la parties are just like that. as long as you know someone who knows someone you’re easily in, that's how you tend to get into these events at least. though an insta stalk would tell you matt has enough clout to get himself in, he and his brothers have built quite the brand for themselves among la socialites.

once your eyes spot him over the shoulder of some guy who just introduced himself to you, they can’t seem to move. you watch as matt smiles for a photo with a few others. matt. smiles. okay, so maybe it was a you problem. he doesn’t hate everyone maybe just you.

though, your thoughts are denied as quickly as his face drops. he doesn’t even care to look at how the image may have turned out like the rest of the group. instead, his eyes opt to watching the people around him as he sips his weak drink.

great, now you’ve become the weirdo watching him watch other people.

until his eyes catch your cautious yet curious stare from across the room. your cheeks heat and you’re immediately shifting your eyes back to the man in front of you.

matt almost smirks at his luck. no fucking way the scared sweetheart he’d tattooed just a few weeks ago is here. he looks away when someone lays a hand on his shoulder to bring him back into the conversation. you're surprised that he continues to look back over to you after adding his input.

the guy finally acknowledges your disengagement with the story about his new motorcycle and turns to see what exactly you’re staring at. he sees matt and turns back to you, “you know him?”

“yeah. well not like know-know we only met once, he gave me a tattoo.”

“oh, cool,” he looks back over to matt and turns back to you once again, “is he bothering you?”

your face scrunches initially, “no, it’s fine.” you smile at him, not wanting to give him the impression that matt did anything but exist (which apparently is enough to capture your attention).

“good. wanna go grab another drink and tell me more about this tattoo?” a charming smile morphs on face and you nod your head easily, taking his hand and leading him towards the bar outside of this large home. and away from matt.

“two-” you look over to the man beside you, “wait is this an open bar?” you ask him genuinely and he laughs a little at your aloofness.

“yeah,” he nods.

“perfect, we’ll take two kamikaze shots pretty please!” you smile at the bartender who seems to be enjoying her night quite a bit and squeeze his hand when you realize it’s still in your own. he looks down at your attached hands then back to you.

you turn your body to face him more directly and lean up to his ear, cupping your hand and whispering, “i’m so sorry, i think i forgot your name.” you were starting to feel bad and just had to confess.

you lean back and bite your lip to hide an awkward smile, and he somehow smiles harder than he already was, “it’s-”

“ashton!” you hear a voice yell hurriedly and now some dark haired guy is pulling him away from you and repeatedly saying “code red!” in his face. and suddenly, without any indication he’d enjoyed your short lived time together, he’s gone.

you try not to sulk but he was an attractive guy with easy conversation, so you at least hoped to get his number by the end of the night.

instead, you’re left leaning against the bar hoping those shots come around soon. you decide to update your friends on your night:

Y/N

cute guy lefttttt :(

REMI

noooooo he was so cute 😫

Y/N

don’t remind me

ANDREA

where r you now???

Y/N

outside bar, im waiting on shots

Y/N

come find me💔💔

your head shoots up from your phone when three guys practically ram themselves into the bar near you, a few people around them laughing obnoxiously.

"god damnit, chris! we said we were going slowly!"

"shhhh. you are so loud, matt!"

“excuse me, can we get some water? none of the sparkles or bubbles and shit, just water, please.”

“next time i'm speaking for myself! what if i wanted the bubbles?”

you lean your head a little to get a full view of the three recognizable faces. chris, with his arms dangled over his two brothers’ shoulders clearly obliterated and slurring his words (but excited to be there nonetheless). a blonde one, you haven’t gotten the chance to meet yet, with two nose piercings and a commanding voice. and matt, with his signature pout, even poutier now that chris’ weight is causing him to hunch over slightly. you guess you were bound to run into them.

you wonder if andrea was right in saying matt hadn’t held onto your exchange. you wonder if when he saw you earlier he remembered you for your friendly smile rather than your annoying nagging. or did he even remember you at all? did he only look at you because you were staring him down first? okay, where the fuck are those shots?!

“no way!" you hear chris’ voice screech upon recognizing you from across the bar, "y/n!?”

you look over and see him shockingly excited to see your face again. you smile in an attempt to not allow your nerves about matt get to you. you are never one to deny a conversation after all.

“oh my god! hi!” you reply as chris unwraps himself from his brothers and moves closer to you.

“how’s your tat treatin’ you?” his eyes express so much excitement he reminds you of a little kid. you’re very flattered to see someone feel so much emotion due to your mere presence.

“oh, it’s still so cute, no regrets so far. i love it.” you smile and he nods while you’re speaking.

he turns around and sees his brothers and a few friends remaining in the other side of the bar talking amongst themselves. “yo, get the fuck over here! why are you guys so far?” he encourages them with a hand wave.

you wave as well, trying not to be a total stranger- even if you are.

the blonde guy leads them over and hands chris a glass of water that must’ve been waiting on him.

“cheers,” chris smirks and takes a sip before a disgusted look takes over his face, “gross. my god! why do they make this shit so bland?”

the blonde boy rolls his eyes in amusement, mumbling, "just drink it," before approaching you kindly. "hey, i’m nick by the way."

“y/n, nice to meet you! i met chris and matt when i got my tattoo done at your shop a while ago.” you explain kindly.

before nick can get another word in a female voice is squealing, “you’re y/n?! hi, i’m asha, i don't know if your remember but we talked on the phone that one time!” a tanned girl with soft cheeks and dark loose curls moves herself in front of the boys.

“of course i remember, how could i forget that insane frog story? it's so nice seeing you in person finally!” you gush.

suddenly chris is beaming, “aww wait guys this is so cute! i’m feeling like we should all hug!” he nods to his brothers who are quick to shake their heads no.

“i don’t think..” nick starts.

“nooo! let’s hug!” chris argues and opens his arms wide gesturing for everyone to hug him.

౨ৎ

after sharing a very drunk and messy group hug you all continue to talk until chris finally blurts, "i gotta go pee so bad guys, " he laughs, "but i need people with me because if i walk in on someone puking, then what? i'll die from my severe" (its not severe at all) "emetophobia and no one will ever know?"

you and asha (who you've found is actually so similar to you) both laugh at his crisis.

matt just breathes a laugh.

"chris, there’s no reason to go further with the fear factor when no one said they wouldn't come with you. i’m coming, so you're not gonna die, let's go." nick shakes his head.

“you don’t understand, nick i would be dead and covered in- i can’t even say it, dude,” chris’ voice fades as they walk away.

"wait, i'll walk with you guys inside! 'm... getting cold out here!" asha suddenly says removing herself from your side and waving goodbye with a drunk smile.

"it's not cold at all, she's trippin'" matt speaks watching her run and practically jump onto nick, causing the three laugh while leaving the crowded yard.

you just shrug and lean onto the bar again, making eye contact with the bartender who looks as if she only just remembered your existence but also seems to mentally question where the other guy went and how you managed to replace him that quickly.

"are you always so nice about everything?" matt questions, leaning his forearms on the bar, still looking at you.

"what?" you look over to him now, feeling almost sick at his proximity.

he mocks you with a high tone in his voice, "'it's soooo nice to meet you! it's soooo nice seeing you!' it sounds exhausting, to be honest."

"didn't realize having manners got you jail time," you breathe.

"and i never said it did."

"well, i don't have to be nice to you if it bothers you so much," you shrug.

"aw, sunshine, you'd do that for me? you're too sweet." he almost laughs at his own sarcastic comment.

you lick your bottom lip out of habit, "why are you still here? don't you have friends you should be ignoring?" you hope he can't tell just how frustrated he's making you.

“you must think you know me.”

“i know you don’t like me.”

“wrong, again.” he smiles and points his finger at you.

“oh, you just don’t like anyone then?”

he glances away before responding, “what's the fun in telling you?”

you huff in defeat, wanting nothing more than those shots right now. though your subconcious hopes the bartender continues to prioritize her flirting customers over you just so you can continue this addicting back and forth with matt.

"you know, that’s the thing with people like you. you think everyone owes you everything." he shakes his head.

"people like me?” you scoff under your breath, “matt, why are you still here?"

he can pick out the offense in your tone, "oh shit, that was true? i was fucking with you, sunny!"

"you don't know anything about me," you laugh and shake your head.

"alright there are those kamikaze shots for you! so sorry about that major delay, honey!" the bartender sets the shots in front of the both of you and smiles at you apologetically.

"don't worry about it, thank you!" you hand her a spare five dollar bill from your back pocket.

when she's gone you finally notice matt's widened eyes.

"what's up with your face, now?"

"you gave her a tip for pouring you some rankydank, fuckin' low level shots after you've waited long enough for her to apologize?" he seems genuinely shocked.

"she only makes money off of tips," you roll your eyes, picking the shot up and gesturing towards the second shot for him to take.

"that's all you," he raises his hands towards his chest.

"oh my god, do it, matt."

he shakes his head and points to you, "you take your shot, sweetheart."

"i knew you wouldn't, pussy," you say under your breath before smirking as you down the alcohol you've been craving since you first saw his face.

upon your insult matt is immediately taking the shot along side you. and just as both of your faces adjust to the taste, matt's phone begins to vibrate.

he grabs it and you attempt to hide your own curiosity by asking the bartender for a lime to suck on (not daring to ask for alcohol again because you simply don't want to be hung up at this bar for any longer).

"yeah, yeah still here," matt plays with his bottom lip and looks down at you with your mouth full of lime. he thinks you look pretty adorable, especially under the blush pink fairy lights hanging above the bar. "'kay, i'll be quick. alright, nick. i will. bye."

he puts his phone away and wipes his mouth, "that shit was fucking vile, by the way."

"okay, drama queen."

"mhm," his face falters back into his usual pout, "well i gotta go, but, um, nick wanted me to invite you to this get together thing we host at the warehouse, it's in like a month but, you know, come if you want." he shrugs.

"tell him of course i will, but only because he asked." you smile sarcastically.

౨ৎ

ANDREA - 12:39 AM

y/n where are you we are both so confused rn help

ANDREA - 12:45 AM

hellooo????

ANDREA - 12:47 AM

GIRL WE'RE OUTSIDE AND WE DONT SEE YOU TF

Y/N - 1:06 AM

WHERE ARE U GUYS RN I JSUT SAW TATTOO GUY AGASSN IM LOSUNG MY MIND JUST A LUTTLE BIT

Y/N - 1:06 AM

I WAS AT THE OTHER OITSIDE BAR IN THE FRONT(?) YARD!!!!! but its ok im gonba find u guys

౨ৎ

a few days later matt comes across your instagram story, forgetting he had followed you in the first place. it was a picture of you and your friends from the same night he had seen you again. it's a simple mirror photo where you're all smiling but besides your soft skin and cute outfit, matt's attention focuses on frank ocean's pyramids playing over the story.

you see the notification later that day when you finally get time on your phone:

matthew.sturniolo liked your story

꩜⋆ ˚｡⋆🎱˚

#SORRY THIS TOOK SO LONG #sturniolo triplets #matt sturniolo #sturniolo triplets fan fiction #sturniolo triplets smut #sturniolo #matthew sturniolo #matt sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x you #matt sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo fanfic #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #tattoo matt n yn

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cinnnamongrl · 1 year ago

Text

sorority secrets- ellie williams (part 1)

pairing: college!ellie williams x fem!reader

summary: ellie williams has never been the 'sorority type'. but when she meets you, she realises maybe spending college as a part of eta alpha rho isn't so bad.

warnings: [18+ MDNI] explicit language, suggestive themes/language, mentions of dating men, alcohol, small mentions of homophobia. [this series will contain smut later on- warnings will be listed accordingly]

author’s note: i’m really excited for this series hehe it’s gonna be a few parts. hold on tight bc there is drama and hot lesbian sex to come (my two favourite things).

ellie williams doesn’t like sororities.

she likes savage starlight comics, she likes video games, she likes getting high and watching space videos, she likes when cats do that slow blink to show they’re comfy with you.

she does not like sororities.

and yet here she stands, in the main room of the eta alpha rho house, 5 minutes from meeting the other girls who had been accepted into the campus’s most well known sorority. dread was resting heavy in ellie’s stomach. she didn’t want to fucking be here. what even was a sorority anyway? forced friendship with a bunch of prissy straight girls? no thanks. she’ll pass. she had only one person to thank for this bullshit; ellie’s step-sister brittney. perfect brittney. tall, blonde, president of eta alpha rho brittney. if brittney wasn’t so… brittney, then ellie’s step-mom wouldn’t be blackmailing her into a college sorority, threatening to cut her off if she couldn’t show willingness to follow in your family’s footsteps and become a respectable eta alpha rho lady.

“can you try not to look like you’d rather be drowning in a pool of piss than be standing here?” brittney’s shrill voice broke ellie’s flow of thought. “no can do i’m afraid” brittney scoffed dramatically. “i don’t want you here either, you know. it was my mom’s idea, not mine. i think you’re perfectly suited to staying in your dorm all year with your weird stoner friends” she spat. “well then, we can agree on one thing” ellie shot her a sarcastic smile.

brittney strode towards the eta house door as the first few girls arrived. ellie looked down at her feet and then looked to her right. she walked over to the sofa, deciding she’d feel less awkward if she was sitting. less aware of her body now, she was able to form her (shallow, but oftentimes correct) initial thoughts on the girls she was going to be ‘sisters’ with for however long she survived this little group.

cute…

won’t last 2 weeks with brittney…

definitely films herself shotgunning white claw…

woah.

you walked into the room and a nervous tingle rested at your fingertips. the sound of excited giggles and shy greetings settled in the background and you allowed your eyes to scan where you stood; pink wallpaper, a framed photo of an older but still glamorous blonde woman, grand staircase, white sofa, girl sitting on said sofa. is she… part of the sorority too? didn’t see her during rush week. beat up converse, white vest and a short sleeved grey shirt, large tattoo covering her right forearm… pretty freckles. you still weren’t sure if this girl was even part of eta but something in you was pushing you to go and sit next to her.

“hey” you offered a smile as you sat beside the girl. “what’s your name?”

ellie sat up a little straighter and cleared her voice. “ellie.” be cool ellie. “what’s yours?”

you told her your name and she nodded. something about the way she was looking at you put you on edge a bit; it made your stomach feel fluttery and hands slightly damp.

“are you… in eta alpha rho too?” you asked. she chuckled “why, do i not look like i am?” you shook your head defensively “no no i just- you-“ “it’s fine. yeah i am. my sister is the president of the sorority, ‘s why i’m here”. you nodded in understanding.

you talked for a little while longer and to her frustration, ellie couldn’t figure you out. past ‘woah’ she couldn’t make many initial judgements. sure, you looked the part; pretty, smiley, white dress short enough to show off your body but not too short that grandma would disapprove. but from the short conversation ellie could not see why you’d be interested in eta alpha rho.

truthfully, you didn’t really know either. your friends back home had gushed about the concept of being a sorority sister, and your parents were… traditional. their daughter in a good college with good grades in a respectable sorority, dating a nice young man from the college’s fraternity was their dream. just like they had done. to be honest you weren’t really interested in sororities and frat boys, you wanted to stay focused on keeping up your perfect grades and securing your future; that’s what college was about after all. however if being part of eta meant getting into fun parties and having a group of girls who always have your back then why not?

“AHHH there you are!” a girls voice interrupted yours and ellie’s conversation and you looked up to see a girl standing over you with a wide smile. “brittney just told me I’m your sorority big sister! my name’s emilia. welcome to eta alpha rho” she put a gentle hand on your shoulder and then averted her gaze to ellie “ellie, good to see you again!” ellie gave her a smile back. “i want you to meet some of the other girls, c’mon” emilia took your hand and pulled you from the sofa into a crowd of girls.

a flash of annoyance shot through ellie at brittney’s friend taking you away. she didn’t really know why, you were probably going to end up becoming one of brittney’s bitchy friends who all pretend to like each other but fuck each others boyfriends behind their backs. she relaxed her body back into the sofa, and watched you. watched the lines appear around your eyes as you smiled, let her gaze travel down to your thighs, noticed your nails. red and short. gay? she promptly pushed the thought away. she let her eyes run back up to your face, your lips and oh fuck she’s looking at me- ellie averted her gaze to the vase on the table in front of her and mentally slapped herself. don’t be a perv, jeez. acting like you’ve never seen a fuckin pretty girl before.

~~~~

you laid on your dorm bed trying desperately to focus on the episode of yellowjackets playing from your laptop and keep your eyes from closing. the eta meet had drained you and although it wasn’t late you felt ready to call it a day. your phone buzzed and after a few seconds of debate you decided to pick it up.

you sat up straight and pushed your laptop away from your lap.

you locked your phone and the black screen revealed the somewhat silly image of you smiling in your reflection.

~~~~~~~~~~

“truth.”

the game had been going on for maybe 10 minutes, and ellie was losing the will to live. you hadn’t showed yet and ellie was 1 “i dare you to text your ex” away from getting up and leaving.

“where’s the craziest place you’ve ever done it?” a red haired girl asked the girl beside her. after a moment of pause, “denny’s parking lot”. a fit of giggles erupted but were quickly drowned out in ellie’s ears when you walked into the room and took a seat next to her.

emilia gave you a quick wave and smile and you returned it.

“late to your first eta social. that could get you kicked out you know” ellie spoke in a hushed voice. she saw the way your eyebrows raised in worry and instantly felt bad, “i’m joking”. “don’t do that” emphasising the ‘do’ with a playful nudge to her arm. “you missed loads. sasha had to show everyone her most recent text AND you’ll never guess what? chloe has a crush on brandon!” ellie waved her hands in faux excitement. you tried not to laugh at her mocking your new sorority sisters. “you’re an asshole”. she tilted her head slightly with a smirk, “yeah?” you managed back a small “mhm”.

“ellie! truth or dare?” a brunette girl spoke suddenly, bringing your attention back to the group. ellie leaned back, adjusting her position so she was manspreading slightly, and let out a small huff. that same fluttery feeling in your stomach made itself known again and you looked away from ellie. “uh. truth i guess?” the girl pondered for a few seconds. “what’s your favourite thing in a guy?” ellie raised her eyebrows for a moment before a little smirk you were sure only you caught appeared on her mouth. “his sister.” the room went silent. ellie didn’t seem to notice. “gross” brittney muttered. you looked up and caught her eye “not in like… a homophobic way.” she clarified. you lowered your head and subtly looked through your eyelashes at ellie, who was absentmindedly taking a sip of her beer. emilia, who was smiling, got up from her seat and gestured for you to follow her to the drinks table.

“sooo, having fun?” she asked you, grabbing a beer for herself. “yeah!” you offered back and looked around the table for something sweeter than beer and stronger than hard seltzer. “i know truth or dare is a bit juvenile but it’s an eta alpha rho tradition” she chuckled. “nothing wrong with a bit of childish fun” you smiled and she nodded back before squeezing your arm and going back to her seat. you stood before the drinks table feeling slightly awkward. ok let’s see… tequila? barf. maybe vodka? hm but what with. oh they have cranber- “you know, there’s capri-suns in the fridge if you’re not a liquor girl” ellie’s playful mocking broke your train of thought and made you jump slightly. you faced her with one hand on your hip and one resting on the table and narrowed your eyes in mock annoyance. while your brain tried to think of a witty response you noticed ellie’s eyes were taking in your body and it made your face heat up. you opened your mouth to respond and her eyes landed there and stayed on your lips. was she aware she was this unsubtle? “your beers with a 5% alcohol content aren’t too far off capri-suns” you retorted. she laughed and it made something leap in your chest. you turned back around to pour yourself a drink as ellie watched you.

after a few hours the games had died down and the scene in front of you showed most of the girls chatting or dancing to the dua lipa song that was playing from the tv. you’d been stuck in a conversation with a girl called alice for the past 40 minutes about her boyfriend who’s cheating on her but still loves her (she feels it in her heart), you were searching for a lull in the conversation to excuse yourself to the bathroom but so far alice hadn’t come up for air. that’s until an angel sent from heaven (who’s name escapes you) swoops in and sparks up a conversation with alice, leaving you with a clear exit plan. thank you nameless angel. unnoticed by alice or her friend you make your way to the bathroom across the hall, ‘you want me, i want you baby, my sugarboo…’ becoming quieter and quieter and your head ever so slightly fuzzy from the two drinks you’d been nursing throughout the evening. you reached the bathroom door and lifted your arm up higher than sober-you would find necessary to check it wasn’t occupied, and at the same time the door flew open making you lose your balance slightly and fall like an idiot into the poor person who’d just used the bathroom. “oh my god i am so so sorr-“ you looked up and saw ellie, looking down at you with an expression of amusement. you stepped back a little and she lifted her arm to rest against the door frame. you blamed the drink on the way that little display made you feel. “time to switch to capri-suns, sweetheart?” you pushed past her body into the bathroom “shut up about the capri-suns” she laughed and turned her body to face you as you checked your appearance in the sink mirror. “i’m serious. wouldn’t want you stumbling over like that and spilling something on that pretty dress of yours” she stepped forward a few inches and your heart rate picked up and you suddenly felt warm all over. even something about the way she indirectly complimented your outfit made you feel all weird and shy in a pathetically girlish way. what the fuck was wrong with you. keep. it. together. you could tell she’d had a little to drink from her lightly flushed cheeks.

“i won’t. ‘m not drunk” your eyes locked onto hers through her reflection in front of you. “yeah? then show me your eyes”. “what?” you questioned. she placed her hands on your hips and turned your body around to face her, your back now leaning against the sink. she was close. “you can always tell from the eyes,” she spoke low and her words took their time on her tongue “drunk people always get this hazy look,” her own eyes darted between each of yours “you know… heavy..” you swallowed, head swirling from definitely not the vodka and fuck since when was this bathroom so hot “.. sleepy” you opened your mouth and the breath you didn’t realise you were holding came out and her eyes were on your lips again. she brought her tatted arm out to hold the sink, caging in the left side of your body.

“oh!” both yours and ellie’s heads shot to the door, revealing emilia standing there. “sorry! was just coming to look for you,” she told you “wasn’t sure where you were.” she half-giggled. ellie cleared her throat and gave emilia a tight lipped smile and exited the bathroom. “glad you’re safe, i’ll uh- let you pee now.” she tittered and followed ellie back to the room, closing the bathroom door behind her. right, yeah. i came here to pee. the past few minutes left you with a little disorientation; you sat down and replayed your moment with ellie. moment? can you call it a moment? why does it even matter. what the fuck were you doing getting all woozy because a girl you only just met flirted with you for 3 seconds. you physically shook your head pretending that could rid you of the feelings you were experiencing. ellie was in your head and it scared you. that’s the thing about the guys you’d dated; sure it was fun to go on dates with them, sex could be… pretty enjoyable, and you could laugh and joke with the majority of them. but they never interrupted your focus. they never took up space in your brain when you weren’t in their presence, and they didn’t have the power to distract you from college or your grades. they were safe.

as you entered the room again emilia noticed you and spoke up “hey! i was just thinking: you came in late so you never got to play the game! soooo.. truth or dare?” she asked with a big smile. the moment had passed surely you thought, but you humoured her anyway. “dare?” “ok,” she put her finger to her bottom lip and looked up “, i dare you to tell us who you have a crush on” grown adults. we are grown adults. “isn’t that a truth?” you questioned. “oh shush. just answer” you thought of ellie. you were sure she was looking at you but didn’t dare to check. then you thought of college, your sorority sisters, your parents.

“chad.” there was a chad in your college right? emilia gasped “chad peters?” sure “yep” “AHH he is SO cute. head of the football team AND kappa upsilon sigma fraternity president as well, someone has standards” emilia jibed. you gave her a false smile. you could see brittney out of the corner of your eye frowning.

you were a fucking idiot. chad? you could almost feel ellie’s eyes on you, but you still couldn’t manage to turn around and look at her. now who was the asshole.

part 2

#ellie tlou 2 #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams smut #ellie x reader #ellie tlou

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namelessdumbass · 7 months ago

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Ultimate Nameless Ghouls guide

Nobody asked for it, but why the hell not?! Warning: looooong text, silly descriptions, shit ton of links and silly collages (sorry, tumblr only allows 30 pictures per post)

Happy reading!

4 Papas, 5 eras, different cool looks. There were a lot of changes, loooooots of Ghouls, but it's not as compicated as it may seem. There are many ways to tell them apart: -by the way they are placed on stage -their alchemic symbols (check out my Meliora guide where i shed more light on this topic) -their height and body types -body language -their instruments -jewellery -date of the photo/video (mhm) Let's start from the very beginning!

Opus Eponymous era (October 23, 2010 - december 15, 2012)

(from left to right: Omega, Earth #1, Lake/Water #2, Alpha/Fire #1 in front and Air #1) There were only 5 Ghouls: Fire/Alpha, Quintessence/Omega, Chain/Water (later Lake), Earth #1 and Air #1. Since 2011, Ghouls were placed in certain areas on stage: Quintessence and Earth on Papa's right, Water in the middle, Air and Fire - on Papa's left.

Alpha aka Fire Ghoul #1

Lead guitar. Had fire sticker on his white-n-black Gibson RD. Skilled motherfucker. Taller than Papas, looked bigger in first 2 eras. Was a bit reserved in era 1, but became quite active and naughty in era 2. Has blue eyes, started to wear a ring in era 2 and got tattoos in era 3. If you see a ghoul who often shows a peace sign - that's Alpha :) Hangs out with Omega, River, Delta, Pebble and Mist on stage. Enjoys attention, quite popular among fans. Can speak Italian, has strong accent. Joined in october 2010, left in november 2016.

Omega aka Ether/Quintessence Ghoul #1

Rhythm guitar, black Gibson RD with Omega sticker. Tall, stompy, was quite confident from the very beginning, graceful hand movements (trust me, you won't confuse him with any other ghoul). Has cutest laugh. The Perfect Ghoul™. Has beautiful eyes, chunky silver rings, is the reason the Ghouls got their alchemic symbols. Papa III's favorite Ghoul, that's why he was always praised and his butt was always touched/smacked during Year Zero solo by Terzo :) Did interviews in era 2 (sometimes together with Alpha or Special Ghoul) and 3. Joined in october 2010, left in july 2016 :(

Chain aka Water Ghoul#1

Bass. Mysterious and metal AF, wore a chain as a belt and painted black bones on his hands, had Grucifix on metal necklace (which was later worn by Omega after Chain left). Was quite active and actually the shortest ghoul of era 1. Joined in october 2010, left in early 2011.

Earth Ghoul #1

Drums. Had no other specific name. Tall (same height as Omega), slim, has blue eyes. Despite being in Ghost for like 4 years, is soooo underrated. There's not much we know about him. The only earth ghoul of Ghost who did an interview (together with Alpha). Was simply amazing! Joined in october 2010, left in 2014.

Air Ghoul #1

Also had no specific name. Synthesizer, keyboard and keytar. The tallest ghoul (a bit taller than Omega), dark eyes. Modest, very calm, didn't move much. Loved showing horns and stared at fans sometimes. Had badass Mummy Dust solo . Joined in 2011, left in november 2016 Lake aka Water Ghoul #2

Bass. Joined in 2011 after Chain left. Middle height, dark eyes. Quite calm. Played two different guitars in era 1. Had cool black lenses in era 2, wore a ring sometimes. Also quite underrated. Fun fact: Remember Year Zero mv when Secondo flashes us? Well, it was this Water in Papa's chasuble, not Tobias :) Joined in 2011, left in 2014.

Infestissumam era (december 15th 2012 - June 3, 2015)

(from left to right: Earth #1, Omega, River, Air #1, Alpha) How are Ghouls placed on stage? Same way as in Opus era. Same Ghouls, different outfits and masks. Their alchemic symbols became more visible and ghouls opened up more on stage. There was only one change of the lineup: Lake left in 2014 and was replaced by River. River aka Water #3

Bass. Middle height, dark blue eyes. Was quite chaotic and weird onstage. Held his bass in a suggestive way, humped it sometimes. Interacted with Alpha a lot, was a bad influence. Definitely had fun on stage, enjoyed attention. See a ghoul with wide-legs-stance? Yeah, that's him! The tallest of the Water Ghouls. Joined in 2014, left in 2015 (before Meliora era began).

Meliora era (june 3, 2015 - september 30, 2017)

(from left to right: Omega, Pebble/Earth #2 behind him, Delta/Water #4, Air #1, Alpha) Placed on stage? Same way as in previous two eras. This is when a lot of changes happened. In 2015, Fire, Quintessence and Air Ghouls were the same, but Earth#1 and River left and Delta and Pebble were introduced.

Delta aka Water#4

Bass. A bit shorter than Papa III, cute, has blue eyes. No visible tattoos or rings. Skilled, filled in for Apha and Omega (and also played his guitar!) couple times for a few rituals and acoustic shows. Loved interacting with Alpha and Pebble on stage. Became Quintessence Ghoul in july 2016 when Omega left, played rhythm guitar. Joined in June 2015, left in november 2016.

Pebble aka Earth#2

Drums. Despite being the shortest and smolest in the band, played the shit out of drums. Was the most active Earth ghoul of Ghost. A show off. Loved interacting with fans. Played a brief solo before Stand by Him. Had a ring, his mask looked a little bit too big for him. Slim, light green eyes. Loved interacting with Alpha and Water. Joined in June 2015, left in november 2016.

In july 2016 Omega left Ghost, Delta took his place and Mist, the first Ghoulette of Ghost, played bass. Mist aka Water #5

Bass. Tiny, has blue eyes, a tattoo and ring on her finger. Cute as hell. Was quite calm and modest. Loved by fans. Her mask looked too big for her. Same could be said about the bass. Joined in september 2016, left a the end of Popestar tour in november 2016.

In 2017 all of the former ghouls and Mist left and the new pack of Ghouls was introduced. All of them (except for Mountain) were +- same heigh as Terzo, so identifying them isn't hard.

Ifrit aka Fire Ghoul #2

Lead guitar. Hyperactive, full of energy, jumps, spins and moves a lot on stage. Papa III's hype man. Loved interacting with fans, gestures a lot. The ghoul that can't stand still. Has blue eyes, no visible tattoos or rings. Ray of sunshine (no really, he's very sweet). Quite popular among fans. Loved interacting with Zephyr, Aether and Dewdrop. Joined in march 2017, left in september 2017

Aether aka Quintessence #3 aka Banana ghoul

Rhythm guitar. A bit taller than Ifrit and Papa III. Loves bananas. Has dark eyes, bracelets and a ring. No QE sticker on his guitar. Beefy, friendly. Also spins, dances and jumps a lot on stage. Was present in Terzo, Cardinal and Papa IV eras. Interacted with all of the Ghouls on stage. Was Cardinal's favorite Ghoul. Was bullied by Sodo, but also annoyed him too sometimes. He and Sodo had pre Cirice guitar battles. Did backing vocals in Prequelle and Impera (in 2022) era. Joined in march 2017, left in may 2023.

Dewdrop aka Sodo aka Water #6 aka Fire #3

Bass and lead guitar. Present in Papa III, Cardinal and Papa VI eras. A bit shorter than Papas and the rest of the ghouls. Slim. Very popular among fans. Stompy, was naughty in era 3, but became muuuuuuch worse later. Horny i would say and even more aggressive. Ghoul equivalent of chihuahua. Shows middle finger, throws picks when he's angry or annoyed by Aether. Was a Water ghoul in 2017, became a Fire Ghoul #3 in 2018 after Ifrit left. This is also a year when his fire Ghoul nature started to come out: Licked his guitar, picks, tried to lick Rain, Aether and bullied Cardinal. HORNY during Mummy Dust. Vapes on stage, interacts with fans, loves choking Rain. Once hurt his finger, didn't give a damn and continued playing guitar smearing blood all over it. Can also be a gentleman. Joined in march 2017 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024).

Zephyr aka chAir Ghoul #2

Keyboard, synthesizer, keytar. Same height as Papa III, blue eyes. Quite active on stage, but can also be calm. Sits on chair a lot, but starts moving when he's feeling it. Interacts with Ifrit and Aether. Keytar solo - [X]. Cutie. Joined in march 2017, left in september 2017.

Ivy aka Earth #3

Drums. Dark eyes, wears bracelets. Same heigh as Ifrit. Even though he had been in the band only few monhs, he did an amazing job. Joined in march 2017, left in june 2017.

Mountain aka Earth #4

Drums. Tall, slim, has grey eyes and a tattoo on his finger. Hates shoes. Quite popular among fans. Pretty calm, especially comparing to Pebble. Nice fella. Was present in Papa III, Cardinal and Papa IV era. Joined in june 2017 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Prequelle era (april 6, 2018 - march 3, 2020)

The number of ghouls on stage has increased. Instead of 5 there were 7 ghouls. And this is the year when we got not one, but two Ghoulettes! How are they placed on stage? Like this:

(from left to right: Aether/Quintessence #3, Swiss behing him, Mountain/Earth #4, Rain/Water #7 in front, Cirrus/Multi, Cumulus/Multi, Dewdrop/Sodo/Fire #3) New ghouls of this era:

Rain aka Water #7

Bass. A bit taller than Dewdrop and Cardinal/Papa VI. Has dark eyes, beautiful hands, slim. Quite calm comparing to the others. Opened up a bit more in Impera era. The only adult on stage, beside Ghoulettes and Mountain. Has to step in when Sodo becomes a pain in the ass, also allows him to choke him during Year Zero. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Swiss aka Multi Ghoul

Baritone and acoustic guitar, tambourine, backing vocals. Tall, slim, has dark eyes and biiiiiiiiiiiiig smile. Dances on his platform, tries to seduce other ghouls, acts possessed. Is in your walls. A manace to society. Vapes on stage. Loves interacting with fans and other ghouls. Known for his powerful shimmies. The horniest Ghoul of Ghost. Annoying the shit out of Sodo aka jerking him off was his main hobby in 2023. Also went to Aurora's (see below) and Cumulus' platforms. The most chaotic ghoul. Popular among Ghesties. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024).

Cumulus aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals, synthesizer, tamboutine. Short, curvy, has amazing voice. No visible tattoos. Loves interacting with fans and other Ghouls/Ghoulettes. Dances, slays. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Cirrus aka Multi Ghoulette

Keyboard, synthesizer, tambourine, keytar, backing vocals. Tall, slim. No tattoos. Active on stage. Keytar solo - [X]. Loves sticking out her tongue. Comes to the center of the stage in Impera era. Literal queen. Joined in january 2018 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2014)

Impera era (january 25 th, 2022 - october 7th, 2023)

(Front row from left to right: Aether/Quintessence #3, Rain/Water #7, Sodo/Dewdrop/Fire #3. Behind them from left to right: Swiss, Cirrus, Mountain/Earth #4, Cumulus, Sunshine/Multi)

There were a few changes in this era: new Ghouls and slight changes in the stage setting. In 2022 one more Ghoulette joined the Prequlle pack.

Sunshine aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals and tambourine. A bit taller than Cumulus, but shorter than Cirrus. No tattoos and rings/bracelets. Cutie. Dances and acts funny on her platform. Stood on Papa's left. Joined in 2022, left in may 2023.

2023: Sunshine and Aether left and were replaced by Aurora and Phantom. The rest of the Ghouls/Ghoulettes remained the same.

Phantom aka Quintessence #4

Rhythm guitar. Tall, slim, dark eyes. Loves interacting with fans and loves bats. A show off and a little bit chaotic. Quite confident despite being a newbie. Joins Rain and Sodo for epic into of Square Hammer and outro of Rats. Loves annoying Papa IV during Year Zero outro. almost No visible tattoos, wears a ring. Interacts with every ghoul/ghoulettes on stage. Joined in may 2023 and is still in Ghost (as of may 2024)

Aurora aka Multi Ghoulette

Backing vocals, tambourine. Full of energy. The shortest Ghoulette. Loves dancing next to Rain during Miasma. Cute. Despite being smol, brought Swiss to his knees ;) Joined in may 2023, is still in Ghost (as of may 2024) Honorable mentions: Special Ghoul aka Phil aka Tobias

Showed up for interviews and to grab some awards. Talked about albums, meanings of songs and Papas. Worships cats, loves Abba. Slim, has green eyes. Wore Alpha's uniform. Was present in Primo, Secondo and Terzo eras. Makes a lot of silly sounds. Hasn't been active since 2017. Cowbell Ghoul

Plays cowbell in "Ritual" and "If you have Ghosts". A freaking legend. Tall, has a posture of a shrimp. Always got shooed by Papa III. Only showed at the end of Popestar tour in 2016. Brought many people joy with his presence.

And that was it....for now. The movie and new era are coming soon. I'm excited about what's going to happen next. If there are going to be any changes of the lineup i'll make sure to update this guide :)

Thanks for reading 🖤

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Used to be Young || CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x singer!reader Summary: Being the life of the party isn't all it's cracked up to be but you manage to turn over a new leaf and start afresh after being dumped by your first love. Warnings: 18+ only, NSFW, mentions of drugs and alcohol, angst, hurt/comfort WC: 2.5k

A few years earlier… You barely registered the words coming out of Charles’ mouth, the arrogance of youth numbing you to what you were about to lose. You had a career that had exploded overnight, an album in the top charts, more money than you knew what to do with. How could you lose anything after everything you had achieved? You were invincible.

“It’s over, I can’t do this anymore,” Charles repeated over the loud music filling the open bar. He cast his eyes over you from the skimpy dress that left little to the imagination to your red eyes from the joint you had shared with your back up dancers. “I don’t even recognise you.”

“Where are you going?” You grabbed his hand and pulled him to a stop as you pressed your lips to his cheek. You kissed your way across his jaw before nipping his ear and laughing. “We’re just having fun! Lighten up, Charles.”

“No, you’re having fun,” he said as he peeled your fingers off his shirt. “If you want to go wild, then go wild, but I’m not going to stick around to watch this shit.”

You let him go. You watched him leave as the healing skin behind your ear began to itch with your latest tattoo. You turned away before the crowd swallowed him whole, your fingers already reaching for another shot of liquor.

Winter Break - Music Award Show Charles would recognise your voice anywhere, no matter how much time passed he could still locate it in a crowd. It was as if the frequency of your voice was one he was attuned to and it called to him when he was meant to be focusing on the interviewer before him.

It had been a year since you last toured, a year since you last released a song. Charles knew, because he still listened to your albums and watched every music video- much like how you still followed his Formula 1 career. He waited for any news about you, but the last year had been silent. Your social media was deleted, paparazzi photos few and far between but what he had seen had made his heart ache. You had changed, no longer the carefree spirit he fell in love with in a whirlwind romance swimming in alcohol and snapshot decisions.

Charles couldn’t help but wonder what you had been doing in your absence. Had you met someone like he had? Had you fallen in love and then fallen out of love like he had? He wanted to know if you were happy.

Charles was in a daze as he took his seat. His invitation to the award show had come thanks to the rising popularity of his sport mixed with his music and he scanned the crowd hoping to catch a glimpse of you. He knew you were there, he knew it with every fibre of his being, he just needed to see you.

The lights dimmed and goosebumps prickled beneath the suit he wore as your voice caressed his ear. He could have sworn you were sitting behind him, serenading him and only him, but there you were - right where you belonged.

The truth is bulletproof, there's no foolin' you I don't dress the same Me and who you say I was yesterday Have gone our separate ways

Charles could barely breathe as the soft lighting warmed your skin, setting you in a glow that was somehow both powerful and ethereal. There was no need for any theatrics when your voice was emotive enough to outperform any dancers or pyrotechnics. All you needed was a stage and a microphone.

Left my livin' fast somewhere in the past 'Cause that's for racin' cars Turns out open bars lead to broken hearts And goin' way too far

Your eyes were closed, brows pinched, as if the memory of that night hurt even now. The huge screens around the room were filled with the image and Charles swallowed the lump in his throat as regret filled him for his role in it all.

I know I used to be crazy I know I used to be fun You say I used to be wild I say I used to be young

Charles closed his eyes as they began to burn, but still your voice infiltrated his soul and reverberated with the truth.

You tell me time has done changed me That's fine, I've had a good run I know I used to be crazy That's 'causе I used to be young

Charles forced himself to watch the stranger he loved flourish before his eyes. He had seen you grow from a teenager into a young adult, thinking the flower that blossomed was the final product. Like the dandelions you had blown to the breeze and wished upon with him years ago, you had shed the petals of immaturity and become a woman commanding the wind to carry her higher.

You hated how the spotlight burned your skin and you told yourself it was the lamp that made your eyes water as you screwed them shut.

The words you had penned on the back of a scrap of paper had come to you on a Sunday afternoon. You weren’t the religious type, but Sunday was a holy day in your house and your worship began at lights out. Words had failed you when the partying stopped. You wondered who you were without the late nights and endless faces that enabled you to lose your values, your friends, your love. You thought your music had died with your younger self.

But on that Sunday, something had changed. On that Sunday, you saw a man at his lowest and heard the heartache in his voice. On that Sunday, you watched a man carry more burden than any shoulders could bear and somehow, somehow, he smiled. Thousands of miles away in Brazil, Charles had taught you a lesson in letting go, of hope and resilience and maturity.

The words had come easily after that.

Take onе, pour it out, it's not worth cryin' 'bout The things you can't erase Like tattoos and regrets, words I never meant And ones that got away

You didn’t plan to open your eyes until the song was over, you didn’t want to see what the audience thought of the performance that was so unlike how you used to sound, but you did it anyway. The spotlight blinded you for a moment before your eyes adjusted and time seemed to freeze when you found Charles staring back.

Time had changed him too, his jawline had sharpened and the suit fitted his filled out body so much better than they ever did. A pair of glasses rested on the bridge of his nose and changed his entire face so that he could never be mistaken as anything but a man who was comfortable in his own skin.

He used to say you completed him but now you knew you had only filled the piece of his heart that was missing after his father died. You couldn’t complete a boy who was still growing into a man, it was impossible when you were both too young to know what complete even meant. Complete didn’t mean whole, it was just the acceptance of who you are and forgiving who you were.

You weren’t in some grandiose ballgown or shock-inspiring barely-there outfit, you wore what you felt comfortable in. Charles smiled, his dimple appearing as you slipped the microphone from the stand and walked to the edge of the stage. His eyes never left yours as you took a seat facing him and swung your feet in the open air, returning the smile.

I know I used to be crazy Messed up, but, God, was it fun I know I used to be wild That's 'cause I used to be young

You may have been the one singing but you heard him loud and clear when his hand rose up above his head.

Those wasted nights are not wasted I remember every one I know I used to be crazy That's 'cause I used to be young

You heard him loud and clear when he made no move to wipe the tears on his cheeks.

You tell me time has done changed me That's fine, I've had a good run I know I used to be crazy That's 'cause I used to be young

There were no words that passed between you as you left the stage, but when he rose to his feet you heard him loud and clear.

The loud knock on your door echoed around the temporary dressing room but the voice that followed was softer. Your fingers rested on the door handle until you took a deep breath and turned it. The air left your lungs as you were struck by the image of him standing in your doorway, one hand in his trouser pocket, the other in his hair as he wondered if he was making a mistake.

Up close, he looked even more handsome but it was his cologne that took you deep into the past. The intensity of the CK bottle used to be overpowering on the senses when he would douse himself in the stuff, but now he wore a complex, rich scent that invited you to lean closer and inhale. His finer tastes had matured along with the rest of him.

“Hey,” he said as he looked into your room, taking in the details from the water bottles to the ambient sounds you relaxed to. A smile transformed his face and he stepped inside when you opened the door wider in invitation. “Is this my music?”

“It helps me to relax,” you admitted as you closed the door behind him.

“Your song is…” he shook his head as he trailed off, like he was struggling to articulate what he wanted to say and he had to settle for something less because he couldn’t quite grasp the word, “beautiful.”

“Thank you.” You smiled shyly at your feet and fiddled with your hair that had been styled up for the red carpet walk.

Charles’ eyes followed your hand and widened before he grabbed it. The warmth of his skin on yours was something you had never been able to replicate, there was no man or woman whose touch could come close to his. You knew because you had tried and tried before resigning yourself the hard fact that you had lost the best thing you had.

“Is that…my number?” His fingertips turned your head to see the tattoo tucked behind your ear.

You laughed as you remembered how you were going to surprise him once it healed, but he had already gone by then. “Yeah, it is. And I don’t regret it, before you ask.”

“I’m glad.” The corners of his lips curled up as he dropped his hand back to his side. “I have so many questions, but I think they would take all night. How have you…what have you…god, I don’t even know where to start.”

“As it happens, I have no plans,” you said as you took a seat on the couch and patted the space beside you.

“No after party?”

You shook your head as he sat down and you grabbed your bottle of water from the coffee table. “That’s not my scene anymore.”

Charles draped his arm across the couch as he tucked one leg up and settled so he could face you. “What were you going to do after the show tonight then?”

“Honestly?” You chuckled at the question and picked at the label on the bottle. “I was going to go home, order a pizza and watch the new season of Drive to Survive.”

Charles bit his lip as he tried not to laugh. “Really?”

“Don’t laugh,” you feigned annoyance as you slapped his hand. “I’m missing the races so it will have to do until next month. Are you excited?”

He caught your hand before you could take it back and he traced his fingers over the splatterings of new tattoos you had collected throughout the years. “Hmm, I’m optimistic.”

“Always were,” you murmured as you let your hand relax in his. “But what about the car?”

“Why don’t you come to testing and find out?” He seemed to come to his senses as he dropped your hand. “You’re probably busy and we’re practically strangers now. Shit, you probably have a boyfriend. Do you have a boyfriend?”

“Charles, shut up,” you laughed as you caught his face in your palms and felt the texture of the short beard he now sported. “I know you too well that we could never really be strangers.”

“We’ve both changed.” His head lowered into your hands and you watched his green eyes search your face for the wild child he used to know.

“We’ve grown up, there’s a difference.”

His breath whispered across your wrists as he looked down at the distance closing between your bodies. “So do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Have a boyfriend.”

You smiled sadly. “I could never have a boyfriend. It wouldn’t be fair when my heart always belonged to someone else.”

Charles started to lean towards you, his eyes on your lips as if he could already taste him, but you pulled away. Hurt flashed in those eyes and you wanted to erase it immediately, it took every ounce of control you had not to pull him back into a kiss.

“We’re not strangers, Charles,” you said softly as you took his hand and tried to get him to look at you again, “but we aren’t those people any more.”

“Okay,” he nodded as he understood what went unsaid, “then we’ll get to know each other again. When did you become the sensible one?”

“After my stupidity cost me you, I suppose.”

The rest of the award show didn’t hold any interest after the conversation in your dressing room so you had both disappeared. The evening had been mild with the worst of the winter weather already passing, so you had enjoyed the quieter streets that had been closed for the night. Charles had kept you company and you both went unrecognised as you walked arm in arm to the pizzeria you promised was the best around. For a man who worked a lot of the time in Italy that was going to be tested when you got home.

It was midnight by the time you reached your apartment, the tower clock across the street tolling for the start of a new day. You would look back on that moment and realise it was then that the slate was cleaned. Whatever conversations that happened or didn’t happen were obsolete, whatever mistakes made before that moment were gone.

In the early hours on a Sunday of all days, you stepped inside your home with Charles at your side. Neither of you knew what the future held but by the same token neither of you were ready for this to be the end. After all, this was a new beginning.

#charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction #f1 rpf

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hwaflms · 7 months ago

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𐙚˙⋆.˚ nct 127 as 1d songs!

‧₊˚ 💭 ✩彡 , , 0.69k, fluff + slight suggestive + slight angst, just lil snippets of you and 127 with one direction songs, not my usual writing style, TELL ME UR FAV 1D TRACKS

♡ taeil . . . last first kiss

rainy days, soft smiles and soft kisses, nicknames, casual dates, putting away groceries, taking photos of things to show each other later, promises, painting dates, secret handshakes, prolonged stares, drawing each other, approving photos to post, kisses on the top of your head, karaoke nights, trying street food together, song recommendations, deep questions, laughing over some soju, denial and hesitation, splashing each other with wet hands

♡ taeyong . . . little things

LONG showers, buying clothes for you, matching jewellery, folders in your galleries for each other, perfume, long talks over tea, words of affirmation, flowers, crying in front of each other, wine nights, slow dancing, sending you reminders to eat, falling asleep over call, learning ukulele together, staying-in days, holding hands 99.99999% of the time, corny jokes, bike rides, playing video games, cutting fruit for each other, naps while it's raining outside

♡ johnny . . . she's not afraid

secret movie dates, drive-thru mcdonald’s, tight dresses, tousled hair, long video calls, subtle lock screens, orange-scented soap, sneaking out at night, drunken confessions, the two of you together in the background of every photo, watching scary shows, kissing in the dark, running, texting while in the same room, lying in his arms, windy nights, knowing each others favourite songs, screenshots, hushed whispers, road trips, dancing in the kitchen

♡ yuta . . . perfect

parties at 1 am, hailing taxis, long sloppy kisses, tucking hair behind each others ears, red bull cans, blasting music in the car, ice cream runs, eye contact, skinny dipping, cheap hotels, playing pool, texting late at night, beach walks, wind blowing in your face, meeting in secret, italian restaurants, thin cigarettes, messy sheets and hair, windows all the way down, knowing smiles, wearing his shirt at home, soft gasps, motel pools, cherry lip balm, getting tattoos together, getting kicked out of parties

♡ doyoung . . . half a heart

soft sweaters, missed calls, buying his detergent, matching rings, soft wispy clouds, two different kinds of juices in your fridge, puddles, picnic dates, mixed up socks, never deleting photos, the first text after an argument, books with notes in them, walks by the river, watching a show together, conversations in the dark, spontaneous coffee meet-ups, naming plants, museum visits, drives in the rain, saving memes about each other, empty lockets

♡ jaehyun . . . no control

stargazing, drinking on rooftops, meeting at parties, red cups, pool nights, lipstick stains, the smell of his perfume, oversized clothing, driving fast when the roads are empty, voice messages, morning kisses, private playlists, tinted taxis, looking for each other in a room, holding your hair back, strong coffee, silk pillowcases, clothes on the floor, selfies on each others phones, muffled moans, drunk tattoos, pinching his cheeks

♡ jungwoo . . . 18

amusement park dates, walks at night, letters on beige paper, photo booth pictures, ugly keychains, playing on the seesaw when the playgrounds empty, passing notes, keeping said notes, bracelets, having each other as your lock screen, messy beds, lists of baby names, knowing each other's favourite songs, extra toothbrushes, shampoo bottles, yearbook cutouts, shoebox filled with letters and trinkets, holding pinkies, random texts throughout the day, talking to his mom on the phone, long calls

♡ mark . . . i want to write you a song

pure innocent love, cafe dates, warm hugs, board games and hot chocolate, writing songs for you, sharing clothes, pecks while smiling, cookie recipes, said cookies ending up burnt, karaoke nights, acoustic guitars, writing desks, cheek kisses, grocery shopping, badly taken polaroids, long walks, late night conversations, photo albums, beanies when it's cold, holding hands under the table, wearing his glasses, breakfast in bed, bouquets, scarfs, walks along the sand

♡ haechan . . . temporary fix

stolen glances, smokey rooms, making out in the back of a taxi, moonlight, hair flying in the wind, playing footsie under the table, jealousy, talking on the phone late at night, eyes meeting across the room, drunken kisses, sitting on his lap, lots of 'are you awake?' texts, vodka sours, mirrored lense sunglasses, dyeing each other's hair, locking doors, lips on your neck, avoiding questions, stupid contact names, waking up in his clothes, empty wine bottles, bright sunsets, 10+ tiktoks and memes every morning, voice notes of him singing

366 notes · View notes

cherryxkush · 6 months ago

Text

risky business | pjm, jjk (m) | 1

synopsis: you’re a successful entrepreneur in the beauty industry and after your assistant/best friend sees the spread in Korea GQ magazine of a popular k-pop artist, she gets him on the first flight to California to start a sponsorship deal, and it was none other than the world-renowned fuckboy you met at a product launch party for Gucci two years ago.

pairing: jimin x female reader x jungkook

rating: mature (18+)

genre: enemies to lovers, love triangle, angst, fluff, smut

warnings/content: swearing, employer/client relationship, past situationship, fuckboy!jimin, celebrity!jimin, love triangle, tattoo artist!jungkook, jin is reader’s lawyer best friend

explicit content: varies between chapters, this one is reader x jungkook, protected sex (good job jk), oral sex (female receiving, but mentions of wanting to give a bj), slight hand/veins kink, multiple orgasms, missionary, doggy style, spanking, jk has a daddy kink, jk calls reader babygirl/princess

disclaimer: this is entirely a work of fiction, and in no way does it reflect thoughts or acts of bts in the real world (:

𝗇𝗈𝗍𝖾: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝗂𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗑 𝗃𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗄𝗈𝗈𝗄 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒, 𝗃𝗂𝗆𝗂𝗇 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝖺𝗋 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋. 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒 𝗅𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗌 ♡

Next chapter

��Please make sure you actually take off the lens filter before shooting this time,” you told your assistant and best friend, Naiya. You were already behind on shooting and editing the photos for your product line, and you couldn’t afford any more mishaps — otherwise the new launch would be late, and it wouldn’t just be your pay that you had to worry about.

“It was one time!” She rolled her eyes before double-checking that the lens filter actually was off, and then she started taking some photos of the models that were standing against the backdrop. Between each shot, she looked down at the electronic viewfinder on the camera, assessing what could be tweaked and what needed to stay.

She smiled at the models, telling them to take a 10 minute break before walking back over to you. “So, here are the shots so far,” The both of you looked at the screen as she pressed the button to proceed to the next photo, and you were genuinely impressed. “Some of these we can use. They’re great, aside from just a few things to edit. I can do that in post, of course — but, I do think we could use a high-profile male model.”

Your eyebrow rose in question, “High profile? You don’t think we have enough models already?”

“We have a good amount, sure, but finding someone famous will bring more exposure to the brand. Which leads to more inclusivity, more press, more deals — and more coin. Plus, you sell men’s skincare products too, so it’ll look even better for the optics,”

You were actually speechless. Partly because you hadn’t thought of it before (not even the head of your advertising department did, which is a shame), and partly because she was absolutely right. Getting someone with a lot of recognition to model for your beauty brand would create a massive amount of exposure for your business, and could finally land you a spot working with a brand you’ve dreamed of collaborating with since your teenage years.

You were successful in your industry, yes, and it took you a long time and a lot of hard work to get where you are, but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t strive to be even better within the industry. Following your passion came with sacrifices, and you weren’t about to let those dark times be for nothing.

But at the same time, this product line that you were about to put out was going to be the bread and butter of your business, so you needed it to be great. Almost perfect, even, and you didn’t know how long it would take to find someone to fit the bill, for the deal to work in both of your favors. It seemed like it was too risky.

You sighed, “Yeah, you’re right. It would really help and we could get tons of publicity from it, but it’s just cutting it too close, Nai. We can’t have this product launch be anything less than damn near perfect.” You walked over to a work desk that was in the studio, pulling out the chair and sitting down before stressfully running a hand through your hair. “I mean, who would I even reach out to? Would we have to do model calls again? The launch is in less than two months now,”

“Girl, look at these,” Naiya said as she walked over to you before plopping down on top of the desk and reaching over to grab her laptop. She took a sip of her drink, opening up the Adobe Photoshop application before turning her laptop towards you. “These are some of the finished shots from the other day. We didn’t even think we’d be able to finish editing these in time, and look how amazing they turned out,” She wasn’t lying — they were stunning.

“They’re beautiful,” you agreed and she beamed, proud of herself. She was your go-to for everything photo and video and she’d wanted to get into that scene long before she actually started, so she had a lot of knowledge and skin in the game in regard to what would look the best for the vision you were going for. She definitely had your back, but there were still some things you were unsure about business-wise, that neither of you were really familiar with. “You’re great at what you do, but what about the other stuff? Making a deal and all the legal things that go along with it? We’re not just talking about influencers that get a commission from sales here, you know?”

“You let me handle finding the person and closing the deal, you go talk to Jin about starting a contract and all the legal shit that goes with it.”

“Absolutely the fuck not.” Jin eyed you with a blank expression as he sat comfortably with his hands folded, judging you.

“What the hell do you mean?!” You exclaimed before turning to examine yourself in the mirror again. “This is cute!”

“You got asked out to dinner after being dry for like 2 years and you can’t do better than leggings and a sweater?”

You rolled your eyes. “First of all, this sweater was expensive,” You walked over to the rack inside your closet, grimacing at the idea of having to wear a dress or skirt. “Second of all, you just want your women to be as high maintenance as you.”

Jin laughed, “This is true, but you would definitely increase your chances of getting laid if you put in more effort,”

“Who says I’m trying to get laid?”

“Your attitude and the fact that you used one of my charging cables for your vibrator.” You felt your face heat up at Jin’s comment, and you wanted to proceed to crawl into a hole, lie in the fetal position, and stay there for eternity.

“I hate you,” you frowned and Jin smirked.

“I love you, too, and wear the black dress. It’ll suit you.”

You spotted the dress at the end of the rack. It was made of a sleek material, smooth silken fabric with mesh, tulle-like sleeves. You’d bought it about 2 years ago after an event in Los Angeles. It was nighttime and on the way back to the hotel, you walked passed the prettiest little boutique and fell in love with the dress immediately — but you never wore it.

You frowned, silently questioning if you could pull it off. It was a different time back then, one where you felt on top of the world and you thought you’d found someone that would sweep you off of your feet and you’d beam at seeing his glimmering eyes rake upon your beauty in the dress. But it didn’t happen that way. In fact, it didn’t happen at all.

In an effort to distract yourself from your thoughts, you decided to ask Jin about the modeling contract.

“Okay, fine, but there’s something I need to talk to you about first.”

“And what’s that?” He raised his eyebrow in question.

“So, you know how I’m releasing a new product line soon?”

He scoffed, “About damn time! Of course I’m already handsome, we all know this, but men need good skincare too,”

You rolled your eyes, “Hence the reason I’m putting out this line, Jin. Anyways, Naiya proposed the idea that we should have a high-profile male model, preferably someone really famous who can bring us a lot of publicity,”

“Okay, and did you find this person yet?”

“Naiya’s working on that. But I do need your help with creating a contract and all the legal shit that’s included,” You grabbed the dress off of the rack hesitantly.

He brought a hand up to his chin as if he were thinking before meeting your gaze. “Alright, say I do it. What do I get out of it?”

“Um...my love and support as your best friend?”

“Will love and support pay my bills?”

You glared at him, “No, but you sure do eat a lot of my food to not pay my grocery bill.”

He laughed nervously, bringing up a finger to rub at his temple, “Well played,”

“Will a full-size bottle of that serum you like be good enough?”

“Throw in those little eye patches too, I don’t care what anyone says about me for using them — my bags are horrendous these days.”

You laughed and Jin cracked a smile. “Deal.”

jungkook [8:31pm]: i’m outside pretty, buzz me up?

you hearted a message from jungkook

You happened to meet Jungkook about 2 months ago when you decided to get a tattoo for the first time. You were really excited about the journey you were on with your business and the woman you were becoming, so you decided to get a self love tattoo that really resonated with you, and Jungkook was your artist.

During your session you couldn’t stop ogling at him due to his good looks and his many, many tattoos — he boldly asked for your number afterwards and you gladly but shyly gave it to him. After talking for a couple months and your busy schedules finally coinciding, Jungkook had been adamant about taking you on a date.

You walked over to the buzzer next to the door of your luxury condo and pressed the button to let Jungkook through the downstairs entrance. Your heart fluttered at the fact that he chose to come all the way to the fifth floor of your building to come get you instead of asking you to meet him downstairs.

You heard a gentle knock before opening the door, meeting Jungkook’s gaze as he presented you with a bouquet of flowers.

You grinned with rosy cheeks, “Aren’t you the gentleman?”

“I try,” He smiled smugly.

“You definitely succeeded,” You walked over to put the flowers in a vase with some water before leaving out. “You really didn’t have to do all this, Jungkook. This is beyond sweet,”

“I meant it when I said I wanted to take you out and show you a good time,” He grabbed your hand as he met your eyes, just as you finished putting away the flowers. “Come on, we don’t wanna be late for our reservation.”

You blushed even harder. “Y-you made a reservation?”

“Of course, you’re too pretty for me not to,” He flashed you a grin before grabbing your hand and interlacing his fingers with yours, and you felt like your heart was going to beat out of your chest.

The date went well. Jungkook had taken you to a restaurant that had really good food even though it was overpriced, and you liked the vibe of it. It was fancy, with the wait staff dressed in black-tie attire and you were happy that you went with the dress Seokjin suggested. Jungkook took every opportunity to compliment you and he didn’t just compliment your looks, but your conversation as well.

He’d also told you about his career as a tattoo artist and how he’d loved it, having opened up his own shop about a year prior, and you shared details about your journey into the beauty industry. It was almost endearing, the way that he talked about his job, and you felt the same way about yours. Although it could be really stressful, you couldn’t see yourself doing anything else, and you could tell Jungkook shared that with you. It was a connection beyond the physical attraction; it was mental, too, the way it seemed you both complimented each other.

Although, the physical attraction was definitely there.

He’d absentmindedly roll up his sleeves a bit showing his veiny arms as he focused on talking with you, his lip ring glinting in the moody lightning. It made you want to bite your lip, and you shuffled a bit in your seat, growing flustered at the sight of the man before you.

He was fully dressed, engaging in conversation, and you found yourself enamored with him, in awe even though he hadn’t even touched you. Seeing his dimples when he smirked made you want to whimper. Clock it to maybe the fact that you hadn’t been laid in a couple years, and Seokjin’s words had started to creep into your mind, but Jungkook had you hot and bothered without even trying.

“You okay there?” He smirked, not missing the pinkish tint to your cheeks.

Slightly startled because you’d been caught, you replied sheepishly before clearing your throat, “Y-yeah, I’m fine,”

He wiped the corner of his mouth with a napkin after taking the last bite of his food and seeing that you were done with yours, suggested you both do something to wind down, but not end your date so soon.

“Do you wanna take a little walk in the city for a bit? I remembered you saying you hadn’t been to this part of town in a while,”

There go the stupid butterflies again.

You arrived outside of your apartment building, Jungkook skillfully parking his sleek car as close as he could to shorten the walk.

He turned off the engine, the both of you relaxing in each other’s presence before either of you decided to leave. He was mesmerizing, lax in nature yet attractively attentive and his scent drove you crazy; it was an earthy, musky scent, one that made your mouth water and your thighs instinctively rub together.

His eye contact sent a delicious chill down your spine, and you missed the burn that his lips left on your hand after giving it a gentle kiss.

Instead of kissing your hand you wanted him to kiss other places, and suddenly his spacious car became too cramped and stuffy for your liking.

To put it plainly, you wanted him out of the car and in your bed. And even though you were shy as hell, this was one opportunity you definitely didn’t want to let pass you by.

You blinked at him, trying to steady your breath before speaking, but it still came out a little bit more breathy than you’d like, and unbeknownst to you, made Jungkook’s dick jump in his pants. “Would you want to come up?”

His eyes went wide with surprise before he tried to shake it off. He cleared his throat, not expecting you to ask, but he took you up on the offer.

In usual Jungkook fashion, he smirked. “Lead the way, Princess.”

You took the elevator up to your condo, hastily putting in your key once you got to your door. You stepped in, taking off your jacket and offering to hang up Jungkook’s.

He closed the door quietly before pinning you against it, his face dangerously close to yours.

His voice was just above a whisper, thick and gravelly. His gaze switched back and forth from your eyes to your lips, and he absentmindedly brought his tongue out to wet his own. “Let me make this clear, do you want this? Because I do,”

You swallowed thickly, already feeling desire pooling in the pit of your stomach at the hold that Jungkook had on you right now. You couldn’t help but nod to answer him, not finding the strength to use your voice. Jungkook wasn’t too happy about that.

“Use your words, baby,” He moved to your ear before dipping just below it to leave a kiss there, a kiss that added to the fuel that was already him hovering over you like this.

“Y-Yes,” you croaked. “I want it,”

“Want what?” He probed, chuckling softly as he continued to pepper kisses along your skin, slowly moving from your ear and down your neck. He could feel you shifting, your thighs squeezing together to give yourself some relief. “If you want more, you gotta use that pretty mouth of yours and tell me,”

He kissed a particular spot that made you gasp softly and offer more of your neck to him. He sucked on the spot, making you whimper and flutter your eyes closed before he pulled away entirely.

You frowned out of disappointment and opened your eyes to see his smug face, lips curled into an amused smirk. There was a glint in his eyes that made your mouth run dry.

“If you don’t want to use your words, I can’t help you, and by the looks of it, I think you want me to,” He bit his lip as he surveyed you, looking you up and down and your tongue came out to wet your lips, “But consent is important, and I need to know if you want it too, and that I’m not reading this wrong,”

You struggled to meet his eyes, simultaneously wanting to crawl into a hole and crawl under him, having him hover over you with his silver chain dangling in your face. You managed to find the courage, though, and the butterflies turned into searing-hot sparks.

“Y-you’re not reading it wrong, I want you, Jungkook. I want you to touch me,”

He cockily grinned at you before closing the gap between the two of you, “Thought you’d never ask.”

He brought his lips to yours, sending all of your nerve endings on fire and creating a heat that pooled in the pit of your stomach. He grabbed the back of your neck roughly before his fingers found themselves in your hair and he tugged slightly on the strands, causing you to moan.

“Oh, she likes that, huh?” He slid his hand down your body before toying with the hem of your dress. “You look so pretty with this on,”

“It would look prettier off,” You quipped, bothered that he wasn’t where you needed him to be.

“Someone’s eager,” he chuckled deeply before dragging his fingers upwards, letting you feel the rough pads of his fingertips on the skin of your thighs. He lightly grabbed the bottom of your dress before pulling it up to your hips. He traced the fabric of your thong with his finger, “Cute,” he said, distracting you a bit from his hands before he firmly pressed a thumb on your clit over your underwear, rubbing in small circles.

“Fuck,” you whispered, throwing your head back against the door, relishing in his touch. You started grinding against his hand, desperate for relief, and he didn’t hesitate to call you out on it.

“So fucking needy,” he growled, and you felt an electrifying jolt run through your body again. He rubbed harder and you gasped, rolling your eyes back. “I barely touched you and you’re already soaking through your panties.”

You brought your hand up to rake your manicured nails along his scalp before pulling, earning a grunt of approval from him. You smashed your lips onto his in fervor and he grunted, opening his mouth to allow you entrance and your tongues battled for dominance. He held you closer, cupping your scantily clad ass in his big, veiny hands before slapping your ass hard. You let out a small, surprised yelp before relishing and moaning at the sting.

He did it again but harder, and you were positive you were in fact dripping down your legs at this point.

You pecked him a couple of times before grabbing his hand and leading him after you. “Room. Now.”

Once you got to your room, Jungkook proceeded to turn you around to face him and continued kissing you, bringing up a hand to cup your face.

He walked you backwards and when the backs of your heels reached the frame, he pushed you onto the bed.

He stood over you, skilled hands working at undoing his belt and you could see how hard he was. Throwing your head back, your hands reached your clothed breasts and began to fondle them, fingertips enclosing and twisting your nipples, and Jungkook’s mouth watered at the sight.

His belt flew to the floor somewhere and he grabbed the back of your calves to pull you closer to him at the edge of the bed. Your dress was covering too much, he decided.

“Take your dress off, babygirl, unless you want me to rip it.”

You almost moaned at his words. The dress flew somewhere too, and you lie in front of him, clothed in nothing but your thong, tits on full display.

He licked his lips and as you saw his face coming toward you, you could’ve sworn it would’ve been to take one of your tits in his mouth, but he placed a kiss above your belly button. And you shivered as you saw that he kept going lower.

He peppered soft, slow pecks along your skin until he was face to face with the source of your wetness, and Jungkook leaned in to lick a strip on the material of your panties. Your hands fisted the blanket as he teased you at an agonizingly slow pace, moving his tongue anywhere but the place you actually needed him, making you squirm.

He hooked his fingers underneath your underwear before ripping it off of you, the frail piece of lace no match for his strength as it tore.

“Will just have to buy you another pair.” He winked before kissing you again, but this time right above your clit, his breath warm and his touch sending you into overdrive.

You spread your legs for him eagerly and his long fingers spread your lips, stopping to admire you. You self-consciously had half a mind to close them as he gazed upon your lower half, but he held them open and finally licked a strip from your hole to your clit.

“S-shit,” you moaned as he held you open, his tongue meeting your clit as he swirled it in tight circles before giving it a hard suck. “Fuck!”

“Mmm,” He moaned against you, causing you to shiver again, hips bucking into his mouth. “You taste good, gonna make you cum on my tongue first.”

He lapped at you like you were the dessert he craved but never had, as if you were the best thing he’d ever taste. He licked at you, flattening his tongue before circling your clit again, and you had to try your best not to scream.

And you didn’t scream, until he started sucking on your clit again.

“Fucking shit, ‘Kook,” You moaned loudly and he hummed at the nickname. You had never been eaten out this good before, and you were so close to cumming on his tongue in so short of a time that you were almost embarrassed.

One of his fingers teased against your hole before diving in, and your toes curled before he added another. “Gotta stretch you out,” He mumbled against your pussy before swirling his tongue again. He curled his fingers expertly, reaching the spongey part within you that made tears prick your eyes from the pleasure.

You arched your back, hips leading away from his mouth before he tightened his grip around them with his other hand and held you so close you were worried you’d suffocate him.

He made eye contact with you and it had you feeling like you were going to combust. You reached down to tangle your fingers into his hair and he created a faster pace with his digits, darting in and out of you so quickly that you were sure you’d cum in 5 minutes flat.

His let go of your hip to rub your clit as his tongue took a break, and the coil in your stomach tightened even more, tears rolling down your face at how good he was making you feel.

“Look at how well that pussy takes my fingers,” he mused, “Fuck, you’re so pretty,”

Your pussy tightened around his fingers and he slapped your clit lightly, “Fuck, yes!” you were shouting, and it made his heart swell at the pleasure he was giving you. He wanted to make you cum hard, and fuck if he wasn’t gonna taste it. He wanted all of you.

“I’m so close,” you said all breathy, your vocal cords nearly strained, and you had so much more to go. Jungkook’s goal was to make sure you couldn’t walk the next day.

“Cum for me, pretty,” He rasped, before sucking on your clit hard, and watching you come undone on his tongue.

“I-I’m gonna cum, I’m — Jungkook!”

He hummed as he lapped up your juices, tasting you as he let you ride out your high and when you came down from it, you thought he’d give you a break. But he wasn’t done.

He stood up and brought his fingers up to his mouth, sucking them to get every last bit of you off of them. He leaned in to hover over you and kiss you, your tongue colliding with his as you tasted yourself. To your surprise, it only seemed to make you wetter.

He took off his boxers, cock springing up to slap against his stomach. It was leaky, the tip oozing precum and you wanted so badly to have him in your mouth but when you’d suggested it, he declined and you pouted.

He grabbed a condom from you don’t even know where and ripped it with his teeth before rolling it on. “Uh-uh, tonight’s about you. You can take care of me another time, babygirl,” He said before winking at you and pumping himself a couple times before lining himself up with your entrance.

He grabbed your legs by your ankles and put them over his shoulder, pushing into you and you mewled at the stretch. He stopped to let you get acclimated to the size and waited until you gave him a nod to continue before backing out of you and snapping his hips in a pace that was so rough and so fast it damn near knocked the wind out of you.

You screamed so loud that were sure your neighbors would hate you, but you didn’t care, not one bit.

“S-Shit, your cock is so good,” He groaned as he continued his pace while you were clutching the blanket so hard your knuckles were turning white. “Do it again,”

He snapped his hips into you again, hitting your cervix. “Babygirl likes that, huh? You like when I slam my cock into you?”

“F-fuck, yeah, I l-love it,”

“How is your pussy still so tight after fucking you with my fingers like that,” He was gritting his teeth, trying not to empty his load into you already. He can usually hold out but your pussy was too good, so slick and tight and sucking him in.

You clenched purposefully and giggled and he groaned, damn near having to stop to pace himself because of you. Nonetheless he kept going, and he was determined to wreck your pussy and make you crave him afterwards.

He grabbed your legs and pushed so you were bent at the knees and you were holding them in place. Then he started speeding up again, snapping his hips into you and you were seeing stars.

“Fuuuuck, J-“

“Say my name baby, who’s fucking you this good?”

“You are, J-Jungkook, fuck,” you threw your head back into the pillows, eyes rolling back and toes curling.

He was holding onto you so tight, thrusting into you so hard he was going to leave pretty little bruises for you to remember the night by.

“Your pussy is s-so good,” He reached down to rub your clit, and you arched your back again, clenching around him and he moaned. “W-wanna fuck you in doggy before I make you cum again,”

He slid out of you, leaving you feeling empty and missing his warmth before he helped you turn over, positioning you face down, ass up.

He smacked your ass with force and you whimpered at the sting before wiggling your bum and teasing him so he’d do it again.

He did it harder this time and the pain had you gritting your teeth, but it sent a delicious chill along your veins that was intoxicating, and you wanted more.

He lined himself up at your entrance again and as you felt him lined up perfectly, his head peaking at your hole, you slammed back against him, ass meeting his pelvis as he bottomed out. You moaned into the blanket, grabbing fistfuls of it.

“Fuck!” He yelled, eyes rolling back and you felt the coil winding up again at him being vocal. “Babygirl wants back shots from Daddy, yeah? If you wanted me to drill you, Princess, all you had to do was ask.”

Oh shit.

Ohhhh shit.

He pulled almost all the way out of you before snapping his hips again, bottoming out and hitting your cervix so good your toes curled and your back arched so much you knew you’d be sore afterwards.

He continued his relentless pace and you met his thrusts, his balls slapping delectably against your clit and you moaned pornographically in response.

He reached forward to grab your hair and pull you up so that your back met his chest, and the burn made fire ignite in your belly, so much so that the coil was going to snap any second now.

It was too much and not enough all at once. You wanted more and more of whatever he was willing to give you, you wanted to be so drunk on his dick that you forgot your own name.

He reached down to rub circles on your clit and that’s when you lost it.

“J-Jungkook, I’m cumming!” You creamed on his cock with a cry and a shake, quaking from the sheer amount of pleasure of your orgasm. He coaxed you through it as you rode out your high, his fingers still playing with your clit as he rubbed it just the way you liked.

He led you down to the bed, gently as he slowed his pace inside you. “I’m almost there, Princess. Daddy’s gonna cum for you,”

You moaned loudly, leaking even more at the name. You loved how vocal he was and how sexy he made you feel. It was addicting.

And to try to repay him for how good he made you feel, you managed to have the strength to throw your ass onto him, hard, to get him to cum. You wanted his load in you.

“F-fuck baby, I really will cum if you keep doing that,” He bit his lip, toying with the ring and you were glad you had turned around slightly in time to see it. When you faced back forward, Jungkook was in for a treat.

You pushed back with force, arching your back so well that he hit the right spots all while clenching your pussy like you wanted to milk him and he loved it.

“S-Shit, baby, I’m gonna cum,”

“Cum for me Daddy,” you said with a sensual tone, one that had his eyes rolling back into his head as your ass met his hips one last time before spilling his load into the condom.

He came with a hiss and holding onto your hips for dear life. You were sure to have marks tomorrow, and neither of you were mad about it.

After coming down from his post-orgasm high, he gently pulled out of you before proceeding to take off the condom and tie a knot before throwing it away in the bathroom connected to your room.

He was rummaging in there for what seemed like a tad bit too long, and you were puzzled although you were too tired to see what he was doing. You heard the sink run for a few seconds before being turned off, and then you saw him come out of the bathroom, damp towel in hand.

“Sorry about that,” He smiled sheepishly. “I wanted to get something to clean you up,” He gently wiped your juices from your body. It was relaxing and gentle, soothing you. You smiled in appreciation before thanking him, grinning as you met his eyes.

“Still the gentleman,” He winked, sending butterflies roaming around your stomach again. It was becoming a regular thing with Jungkook, and you liked it.

“I try,” He laughed and you threw a pillow at him while laughing too.

You got up to go pee before changing into some underwear and a loosely fitted t-shirt. You glanced at the clock and saw that it said 3 am before turning off the lights and climbing into bed, Jungkook cuddling up next to you and you laid your head on his chest.

The light coming from your phone was bright as it flashed and you heard the familiar tone of an incoming iMessage, but you chose to ignore it, as Jungkook was too warm and this was the best you’d felt in a long time.

You were in for a big surprise tomorrow, but for now, as comfy and giddy as you were, maybe you could get used to having Jungkook around.

2 unread messages

naiyaaa [3:02am]: srry i know it’s hella late, i fell asleep at like 7 while watching my show lmao

naiyaaa [3:02am]: just wanted to tell u i got somebody to model for u!! it’s park jimin, he’s super famous in south korea bitch. we going worldwideee

author’s note: 𝖺𝗁𝗁𝗁!! 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝖿𝗂𝗋𝗌𝗍 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗂 𝗌𝗍𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖼𝖺𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾𝗅𝗂𝖾𝗏𝖾 𝗂𝗍 𝗅𝗈𝗅. 𝗂 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗉𝗅𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 & 𝗋𝖾𝖻𝗅𝗈𝗀 𝗂𝖿 𝗌𝗈, 𝖿𝖾𝖾𝖽𝖻𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗌 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 <3 𝗆𝗈𝗋𝖾 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗌𝗈𝗈𝗇 ♡

if you’d like to join my taglist, you can do so here!

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fandomfucker · 8 months ago

Note

💳 💥💳💥💳💥💳 Rhea Ripley social media posts / talking bout her girlie in interviews part 2 pleaseeeeeeeee 🥵🙏

I mean, if yall are insisting…🤷‍♀️

For the purposes of this, you're not a wrestler

Part 1: https://www.tumblr.com/fandomfucker/745782885181734913/do-you-think-you-could-do-one-for-rhea-were-its?source=share

Also, currently getting my first tattoo as I write this so please ignore any possible grammatical errors

With the ass video going around, you’d repost it with a “😋🍽️” caption and she would immediately repost it with a “🙇🏻‍♀️🍑🍽️” or sum shit to rile up the fans

You don't have a hug social media following yourself, but they do often ask for more content. Specifically outfit of the day(s)

You make Rhea do them with you because she makes you feel more confident and in every video you can see her just staring at you in the mirror the whole time

I've already said Rhea will bully people off the internet for being me to you. But you? Oh my god you’re worse than Rhea is

If one of her co-workers says something even slightly unkind about her in an interview (Becky👀) you will go with Rhea to her next show and find them backstage

You don't even wrestle or fight but Rhea has had to pull you away from multiple people now because you will fight anybody and everybody for her

One of said fights happened to go viral online, no punches were actually thrown as Rhea had dragged you back first though

People online either loved the love between you two as a couple, or wished they had a partner absolutely willing to throw hands will someone over them

Rhea would do your makeup for videos and she'd always do her makeup on you to see what it would look like

She also does voiceovers on your own makeup videos, or a day in the life, or something

The fans always eat it up too cause Rhea's commentary is hilarious

Whenever you're backstage and Rheas going to take photos, she’ll ask you to do the shoot with her so that her fans, and yours, can get sexy pictures of you both to thirst over

Totally not because she loves seeing you both look like that and wants a picture for her lock screen

Rhea started a war of bad facetime screenshots between the two of you on Instagram and you're determined to win

To the point that you have called people to interfere in the background while Rheas at work to get a bad reaction photo out of her

She's too proud to admit it, but it's worked several times

Your tiktok has pretty much become a house reno account

You build all the furniture and shit, make the cool decorations and put them up, paint, do everything yard-eorl related while Rhea picks out what's pretty and the pretty colors

She'll also help you carry heavy stuff around cause she's jacked and you like watching her work but she mainly kinda just like, flounces around

The fans are dying for the two of you to have a show on HGTV together

Which may or may not be in the works

SCARY DOG TREND

It went VIRAL

that's how most mosherz were introduced to you as Rhea’s partner

You started vlogging, though not very often, just so that you could have the permanent memories of all the different experiences between you and Rhea

You only post like once a week but people eat it UP

You have your own merch now

Most of its the two of you but there is a shirt or two thats just one of you

There are mercy plushies of both Barry and Luna that you always have to put up for pre-order cause they sell out in seconds

Clothes for said plushies are in the works

She posts little video clips of you on her story the same way she does her dogs

And it's always the embarrassing ones where you're completely cuddled into her and shit

She got Saints of the Undead (the people who make her leather jackets) to make you a personalized one as well even though you don't wrestle

It's your favorite thing in the world and you wear it more than you should

Like it matches with nothing that you're wearing it with

But, it says “Mami’s” on the back of it so you make sure to wear it especially when you go with her to Raw, Smackdown, any povs, etc so that people know you belong to her

#rhea ripley #the judgement day #wwe raw #wwe #rhea ripley x reader #the judgment day #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day wwe #the judgment day x reader

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obsessedfics · 1 year ago

Text

Soft Rain: Gojo Satoru x Reader (SMUT! Mature/Explicit) Part 2

I want to first say I usually try to find a photo that fits the aesthetic of the story but this one was way too good to walk away from. Everyone enjoys this gem <3. Also, this fic because it's too damn long is split up into two parts. Part 1 is already up and is linked here. Highly recommend reading it first before this one so you don't get confused.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Rating:Mature/Explicit (Sexual scenes)

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Summary: You are in a coffee shop one rainy day when a sad beautiful stranger enters. Slowly, you open up to each other in the warm confinement of the cafe. Little did you know that you would fall in love with this man, and he with you.

I wrote this from the perspective of seeing Satoru with his barriers down. No masks, no facades, just him when he's alone with his haunting thoughts. I wanted to give him a more human perspective and touch on some of the things that plague his mind. I know I have been MIA for quite some time, if you were someone who was waiting for this I am sorry! Life has been a rollercoaster recently but I am finally back to being in a place of stability. This is certainly a longer fic, so I hope you all enjoy it. As always feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments below!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*Word Count: 25k+

October: Halloween, Shibuya

I know it’s Halloween, but does there have to be so many people outside?!

You began pushing your way through the crowds of people, ignoring the press of anxiety in your chest. All you needed to do was make it to the train station so you could go home, but it seemed as you got closer to the Shibuya Hikarie Building the throng of bodies got tighter.

Ugh, maybe I should just find a hotel for the night.

With a huff of air passing your lips, you make to turn around, but you hear something strange through your headphones.

Doubting yourself, you pull out one bud.

“ Bring Satoru Gojo. ”

Satoru… Gojo?

People chanted these words over and over again, stretching down to the train tracks.

What the fuck is going on?

Swallowing your anxiety, you begin pushing your way inside the building. The clusters of bodies became thicker. Their skin brushed yours as you continued to the center. You ignored the foreign touch, pushing your intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind.

Is it who I think it is? Or am I just being delusional?

Once inside, you couldn’t believe your eyes.

There he was, hands in his pockets, hovering right in the middle of the building, staring straight down to the train tracks.

“I can fly!”

Your eyes widened. Running to the edge while elbowing through sweaty bodies. You needed to be closer; to confirm what you are seeing.

Is it him? Am I hallucinating right now?

As soon as you’re at the edge, you call out his name, but the crowd drowns out your voice. You shout as loud as you can, but you might as well be whispering. The crowd's anxious chatter washes out your voice, rendering your desperate shouts useless.

Then he descends to the basement, a murderous aura following in his wake.

An article from 2006 pops into your head.

Satoru Gojo, head of the Gojo Clan, pinnacle of the Jujutsu world.

Without a second thought, you break out in a sprint to the stairs. People stare at you in confusion, but you ignore them, shoving your way through their bodies. His words play in your mind, puzzle pieces falling into place.

“I am the strongest sorcerer of this generation.” “…my role is incredibly isolating.”

Something is wrong.

You run, taking two steps at a time, hand ghosting over the railing for support. You knew you were useless, and if he was in any trouble you wouldn’t be able to do anything. But you also couldn’t do nothing . Not when he was right in front of you, not when you spent weeks thinking about him.

He lingered on your heart like a tattoo – permanent and painfully hard to get rid of. If you loved him, you didn’t know. But you do know your soul yearns to be with him.

Please be safe. I don’t give a shit how strong you are, don’t be stupid.

Bursting through the doors of the basement floor, you’re met with a sea of bodies. You couldn’t see anything other than people dressed in Halloween costumes for miles.

Cursing inwardly, you push past them, elbows out to your sides. Their bodies brush your skin, and you ignore your itching flesh. The only thing on your mind was getting to him, was seeing him.

Sweat coated you from head to toe, you could hear a commotion up ahead, but you were still too far away.

Your heart raced against your chest so hard, you were afraid it was going to burst. Faint screams filled your ears, but you ignored them. It was like you were possessed, the burn in your legs didn’t matter, the thin air in your lungs didn’t bother you, you just wanted him.

People started pushing their way into the tracks as the screams became clearer and clearer. Then suddenly, they stopped.

Dead silence rang out.

Huh?

Bodies stop moving in an instant, but you don’t. You see Satoru move at a blinding speed. Blood splatters all around you, coating your skin in its warm, sticky substance. You don’t even have time to process anything. The world seems to be fast-forwarded, and you can’t comprehend the sight before you.

Then the area clears.

He stops, breath heavy with blood on his cheek as he takes in the carnage along with a small box in front of him.

“Satoru–”

“Gate open,”

The cube box opens, revealing its fleshy body with an eye that stares right at Satoru. He makes to move away but a man with long black hair and a stitched scar across his head steps into view, calling out warmly to him.

You watch as Satoru freezes, disbelief in his wide blue eyes.

He asks the theatrically dressed man who he is, anger and confusion dancing in his tone.

The moment the answer leaves the black-haired male's mouth, all air evaporates. The eye sticks to Satoru’s body, rendering him helpless.

Suguru Geto?

Satoru’s words flash in your mind.

“I haven’t talked to anyone about Suguru since it happened…” “No, but you could see it that way. He… Was like the other half of me. Someone I could trust. I knew with him, I could let go and be myself. I could breathe…” “He’s dead. It’s been a year,”

There’s no way. This is fucked. I need to do something, maybe a distraction–

Satoru’s eyes flash to you, only meeting yours for a second, but he makes it count by mouthing:

RUN.

You stagger back a step, foot catching on the rail as Satoru starts shouting at the other male – his dead best friend, asking who he is.

Turning around, you move your leadened legs, each step feeling as if you were pulling a freight train.

“My six eyes tell me… That you’re Suguru Geto. But my soul knows otherwise! Hurry up and answer!! WHO THE HELL ARE YOU?!”

The anger and pain in his voice was so guttural, that it rattled your soul.

What the fuck is going on?!

You cry silently, forcing your body to run away, even though everything in you told you to turn around. You knew you’d die if you did, so you kept moving through the tears.

Dead deformed bodies were littered all around you with blood staining the tracks red. You had to force your eyes to the sky, afraid you’d vomit.

He’s only subdued, sealed. Not dead. Not dead.

Despite yourself, you return your eyes to the floor to search the dead bodies' faces, fearful that one of them will be his.

You were panting when you reached the stairs, but you continued pressing on, only repeating one thing to yourself;

Not dead.

—

Shibuya was pandemonium.

People, who you assumed were curse users, are fighting everywhere. You couldn’t see what exactly they were fighting, but you could feel it. The wrongness.

Your mind was racing, you didn’t know what to do. Anxiety and bile crawled up your throat, as your body felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Your legs were numb and your heart was beating erratically.

I need to get out of here.

Eyes scanning your surroundings, you move, aiming for downtown, away from the central fighting point. But when the edge becomes clearer, you see that people are frantically pressing against an invisible wall.

A barrier of some sort–

“NANAMIIIII!”

This name is being shouted from the top of a tall building seemingly in the middle of the sector.

Whoever is yelling has some lungs on them… I can’t get distracted, I have to move.

Panic began bubbling up in your chest you ran as fast as you could, ducking into a small department store, immediately pulling down the metal guard gate and locking it.

You pressed your back to the glass doors, head tilted to the ceiling, breaths heavy and uneven.

Am I going to die here?

You look down at your body.

Blood covered you, staining your khakis and shirt. It clung to your skin and matted your hair. The feeling is disgustingly sticky and the smell of iron assaults your senses, nearly making you gag.

Moving away from the doors, you explore the department store while your body shakes. You needed to move, otherwise countless strangers' dead faces would flash in your mind, making your only thought about their mixed blood covering you.

It seemed as if you were the only person in the building, so you located the seat behind the front desk and sat down.

So many people died, and Satoru… He’s in a box.

You felt so incredibly numb.

You came to Shibuya to buy a few things from your favorite thrift store, but then this happened. Nothing made sense and you couldn’t wrap your head around why so many people passed out and you didn’t.

Leaning back in your chair, you loosed a shuddering breath.

“What the fuck.”

Then the world shook.

—

Megumi was on duty for the evacuation team after the Shibuya Incident. Gojo was sentenced to death and so was Principal Yaga, along with the reinstatement of Yuji’s execution.

This is troublesome.

He entered a department store on the edge of town, fully expecting no one to be present due to having to break the locked gate.

“Hello, is anyone here?” He calls out, voice tired and raw from the night prior. His eyes disinterestedly scan the aisles, until something moves.

A woman, covered in dried blood from head to toe, steps out behind an aisle, hammer poised to attack him. Immediately he puts up his hands, summoning his cursed technique for protection.

“I am not here to hurt you, just here to help you out of the disaster area,” Megumi spoke slowly, but the woman only tightened her hands around the handle of the weapon.

“The name Satoru Gojo, what does it mean to you?” Her voice, soft and calm, asks him. There was no edge to it, despite the murderous intent of her body language.

“He’s my teacher.”

What is wrong with this lady? Is she asking because she was forced to ask for him last night? But all that blood… There’s no way she was at the tracks, she wouldn’t be here if she were.

The woman nodded once, then set down the hammer, approaching him with caution.

“I am… I know him, in a way.”

Oh no, not another one.

“Last night, I followed him down to the basement. I am a normal person, so if he was fighting curses, I don’t know. But I saw him get put in this ancient box covered with eyes. The person who did it is Suguru Geto, but… I think someone is inhabiting his body. That’s all I know, I hope it helps.”

The woman spoke clearly without any fear, but Megumi only became more confused.

“There’s no way you would be here though. We’re still removing the unconscious bodies of civilians from the station. Why were you not affected?”

She simply shrugged her shoulders.

“I don’t know, don’t ask me. The rest of Japan, is it safe?”

The way she spoke caught him off guard. So matter-of-fact and clear, but her body shook. Clearly, she was disturbed but trying not to show it.

She’s not a sorcerer, but she knows about Gojo’s significance. Were they close? Did he tell her everything?

Megumi tried to remember if his teacher mentioned any non-sorcerer woman he was interested in, but nothing came to mind.

“For now, but the situation is unstable. There’s no telling what’s going to happen with that guy gone. We’re going to do everything we can to save him, but I am not sure if it’s possible.” He spoke honestly and the woman nodded, grabbing a piece of paper and writing something down on it.

“This is my number. I’ll do my independent research. In a week, call me and we’ll check bases.”

With that, she gave him a warm smile and left.

Who is she?

November:19 Days After the Incident

You were sitting on your couch, petting Noir anxiously when you got the call.

Did it work?

Sliding the green answer button, you shakily pressed the device to your ear.

“Miss L/N? This is Yuji Itadori. He’s free.”

Thank god.

“Thank you.”

The weight on your shoulders lifted and the anxiousness died.

Not dead.

“I’ll let him know you helped us.”

“Don’t worry about it, he’s out. That’s all that matters. Be safe.”

Hanging up the phone, you press your nose into Noir’s fur. Her soft warmth seeped into your chest as her purs tickled your skin, relaxing you.

You cry softly, hugging her body close to yours. Knowing that this changed nothing, he still had so many painful troubles. But he is free, he is alive , and that’s all that matters to you.

Regardless of what your place in his world is.

—

“You said a civilian helped you guys expedite my release?”

Is she safe? Was I distracting enough for them not to notice her presence?

“Yes. Fushiguro found her and she relayed what she saw on the tracks during your fight.” Yuji explained brightly, even though his friend was now Sukuna’s vessel.

There’s no way anyone saw what happened. No one except…

He shot out of his seat, surprising Yuji.

“What’s her name?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s Miss L/N? She said she knows you.”

Satoru scrunched his brows.

She never told me her last name.

“Her first name, what is it?”

Yuji looked at him as if he lost it but he didn’t care.

“Y/n, I think?”

He was already moving.

“Eh? Where are you going?!”

“I’ll be back!”

—

Rain fell heavily from the gray sky, but not a drop touched him.

She’s dead. You killed her, just like you did to Suguru. Your strength is a curse – not a gift. You’re cursed to be alone.

I am not my past. It does not define me.

Running as fast as he could, he ignored the thoughts invading his mind, pushing them away with her shared mantra. Images of her body, bloodied and disfigured threatened his vision, but he blinked it away; refusing to let his fear control him.

Soon he reached the familiar home that is tucked away from the noise of the city – a sanctuary. He hesitated, the familiar feeling of dread washing over him, making his legs leadened.

Confirm her safety then leave.

Taking a deep breath in, he forced himself to move, mentally putting in the effort to place one foot in front of the other, until he reached the door.

Satoru raised a shaky hand and knocked, but there was no answer.

Fear crawled up his throat, making it hard to breathe.

Please.

Swallowing his dry saliva, he twisted the door handle, surprised to find it unlocked.

He closed his eyes and held his breath. If she wasn’t here, he would search all of Japan until he found her.

He had until December…

Stepping inside the house, the familiar scent of her flooded his senses, making his legs feel hollow.

Be here, be safe .

Slowly, he opened his eyes.

There she was as if nothing happened.

She had fallen asleep on the couch, the soft glow of golden lights kissing her skin as Noir curled against her body. They looked peaceful enough to make him sigh in relief.

However, when he stepped closer, he saw the tear streaks on her cheeks.

That peaceful image shattered.

Satoru moved closer, not trusting his eyes to tell him the truth.

Noir woke first, big blue eyes recognizing him as she moved out of her owner's arms, careful to not wake her. The feline came up to him, nudging his shaking legs as if telling him to go to her.

Why are you crying?

Holding his breath, he approached her sleeping figure. Anxiety swirled in his chest as he tried to make sense of his feelings.

Should I turn around now? You’d be happier without me, right?

Noir nudged him again, pulling him from his thoughts.

Biting his inner cheek, he crouched down so he was now eye level with her body. For a moment, he allowed himself to take in the sight in front of him.

Soft even breaths kissed his cheeks and he watched the steady rise and fall of her chest. It deafened his thoughts, replacing them with overwhelming relief.

She’s alive. This isn’t a dream.

“Y/n,” he called and she stirred.

Satoru watched as she blinked away her sleep, eyes adjusting to her surroundings, confusion on her face until finally she looked his way.

Her lovely eyes met his, soft and kind – the eyes that made him feel seen .

“Satoru?” she breathed, taking his face in her hands, eyes searching his as if confirming he was real.

You’re alive. They seemed to whisper, relief swimming in her irises.

He nodded, wrapping his hands around her wrists, and leaning into her warmth. His blood sang from the contact, tension ebbing out of his body.

Her presence alone was enough to calm his soul.

“You followed me, even though you knew it was dangerous.”

He wasn’t sure if was breathing. His eyes scanned every inch of her body, checking for injury, any sign of pain, thankfully finding nothing. But it didn’t quell the anxiety in his chest. The uneasiness still pressed at his throat, stealing his breath, making it hard for him to think let alone speak.

His only worry when he was in the damned box was that she was alive. That she wasn’t split apart into a thousand unrecognizable pieces. Ash consumed by Sukuna's fire, or buried under the rubble, or worse…

The woman smiled sadly as if she could read his every thought. Sitting up so she could fully face him, she gently rubbed the pads of her thumbs along his cheeks – an attempt to soothe him. He let himself fall to his knees, strength leaving his body. Her hair softly fell in a curtain around them as lightly calloused fingers played with the tips of his ears anxiously.

Running his thumbs along the soft skin of her wrists, he took in her features. The serene allure was still there, but it was now mixed with something else – and it was far more beautiful. It’s something that existed only when she looked at him.

“How could I not when you were all I could think about?” her answer finally came, cutting through the silence.

She traced his face in wonder and he shuddered under her touch.

“You could’ve died,” he whispered, fingers digging into the flesh of her wrists.

He’s seen people he’s cared about die. He killed his only best friend with his bare hands. However, it was different with her. All those people knew that they could die with every mission. But this woman, who had eyes that whispered soft serenity, and a smile that made his heart melt, if she died – he didn’t know if he could come back from it.

“I know.” her words, a broken croak, pulled at his deep-rooted fear.

He saw his reflection in her eyes. He looked like a desperate man praying to his God; wonder, awe, and disbelief tracing his features.

“I wouldn’t have been able to protect you.”

Satoru hated those words. Admitting that he was helpless, noticing her presence too late to save her from the sight of countless dead bodies. He let himself get consumed by his emotions, by the thrill of a good fight, to the point it rendered him useless.

I’m useless. She could’ve died, and it would’ve been all my fault. It would have happened all over aga–

With fingers sinking into his skin, she forced him to meet her glass eyes.

“But you did, Satoru. I got away. I am alive because of you.”

What?

“While you were powerless, you saved me.”

His eyes widened as her tears flowed down her cheeks onto his. Wet rain kissing his flesh, just like when they met.

“I… Saved you? I don’t understand, I only told you to run.”

She shook her head, taking his hand and placing it over her beating heart. Her warmth, raw and real beneath his fingertips, chased away his fear. With each beat of the muscle grounding him to reality, to her.

Alive, breathing, real.

“I was frozen. If you hadn’t told me to run, I would’ve rushed to your side out of desperation. You saved me.”

Her fingers tangled into his hair. The pads of her fingertips lovingly pressed into his scalp, easing his anxiety.

“You. Saved. Me.”

“When it mattered the most, I was unable to save those who I deeply cared for.”

I saved her?

The truth of her words clanged in his chest, stitching an old wound on his heart, stealing his breath away.

Blinking, he met her eyes fully.

Run away. His mind whispered.

Let go of your fear. His heart screamed.

And like a man possessed, he grabbed her face, closing the gap between their bodies.

Desperately, he pressed his lips to hers. Salty tears coated his tongue and her hands fisted into his hair. The soft, warm press of her lips against his drove him mad, making him grab her body, pulling her closer to him. She fell to his lap, legs lightly wrapping around his waist as he deepened the kiss. He allowed his fingers to tangle in the strands of her silken hair, tongue pushing past her lips, drowning in everything that is her .

Soft rose and sandalwood flooded his nose, the taste of bitter-sweet coffee caressed his mouth, muffled moans teased his ears, as her warmth, tranquil and serene, eased his body. Her tears continued to coat their flesh, and he was sure he was crying, too.

For the first time in years, his heart felt light. At this moment, in her arms, he is just Satoru Gojo, nothing else.

It was then, it hit him.

Pulling away from her, he breathed heavily. Saliva coated her swollen lips as she stared into him with eyes hazy and half-lidded. Soft, uneven breaths heated his skin as he ran his thumbs along the flesh of her cheeks.

“I love you,” his voice came out as a quivering whisper. Because he knew this changed nothing between them.

Foreign tears fell from his eyes, pooling at his chin. Y/n only smiled softly, thumbs lovingly wiping away his tears as he did the same to hers.

“How long do we have?”

Sweet lips kissed away his pain, cracking his heart.

“The end of December,”

He traced her features, warm rain coating his skin as he began committing every detail of her to memory.

A small whimper left her lips as she wrapped her arms around his neck, still pressing soothing kisses to his heated cheeks.

Allowing that last iron barrier around his heart to crumble, he buried his face into her neck, arms enclosing her torso, hugging her like a child. He cried into her, clinging onto her small body desperately as years of bottled-up emotions began washing over him.

After Suguru, he never let anyone in, convinced that his strength would always push people away. That he would always be envied, seen as the strongest, never as himself. He drew a line without even knowing it. There was him, and there was everyone else. The touch of others had become so foreign to him, that he forgot what it was like to be embraced – to be loved without expectations.

Here he was, in the arms of a woman who saw the ugliness of his world, the truth of his power, and still looked at him with the same amount of kindness that she did the first day they met. She didn’t falter or become enamored with him. Instead, she just saw him and accepted it without hesitation.

She disregarded her well-being and did everything in her power to help him. The woman, who couldn’t stand the touch of others, pushed her way through hundreds of people for a chance to save him. It wasn’t to gain anything from him, it was purely to ensure he was alive, so her restless soul could be calmed. She didn’t broadcast her efforts, instead, she cried, silently and alone, relieved by the sole fact he was breathing.

That’s all she wanted from him; she wanted him to live .

“Thank you,” he croaked, words incoherent and muffled against her soft flesh.

One hand rubbed his back, as her other stroked his hair. She pressed light kisses to his temple, whispering comforting safety. He wasn’t breathing, his breaths came out in heaves as his chest felt like it was caving in. He became putty in her hands, molding his body to her, needing all barriers between them to cease to exist.

Overwhelming complex emotions continued rushing through him; relief, regret, jubilance, despondence, hope, fear, love…

He allowed these emotions to spill out of him, knowing that he was safe. He knew that with her, it was okay to be human.

To be normal .

—

Satoru’s body, for all its power, trembles beneath your fingertips. He’s on his knees, silently crying into your arms as you soothe his mind.

“It’s okay.”

Soft whispers against his skin as your lips pepper his temple.

Your tears, though feeling like an endless well, slowly stop as his scent comforts you. Fresh summer rain, bright and soothing, coaxes your soul; calming your heart.

I love you.

His broken confession swirled in your mind, making your heart sing in both joy and despair. You wanted to return his feelings, but they got stuck in your throat, refusing to spill from your lips.

Taking his face in your hands, you met his beautiful eyes. Like the clearest sapphires, they peered at you, almost sparkling as his tears coated his long eyelashes.

Ever-so-gently, you wipe away his pain. He smiled sadly at you, turning his cheek to kiss your palm.

“I need you to listen to me,” you whisper and he nods, hands finding your waist, rubbing soft circles into the fabric of your shirt.

Closing your eyes, you let yourself breathe, focusing solely on the rhythmic motion of his fingers and the feeling of his blush-kissed cheeks in your palms.

Taking a deep breath in, you open your eyes, finding your resolve.

“I am not delusional enough to think that I could ever live comfortably in your world. I am also not clueless. I know whatever is going on, you play an important enough role in it that they tried to take you out of the fight.”

His eyes searched yours as you tried to formulate a sentence under his raw, naked gaze.

“But?”

It’s really unfair how beautiful you are.

Inhaling sharply you continue.

“But, I would also be stupid to let you go. I don’t care if it’s selfish, and whatever time I am granted to be with you, so be it…”

Pausing, you place a hand on his chest, feeling the steady thrum of his heartbeat – reminding yourself that he is alive. That this is real.

You’re alive. I won’t let you walk away a second time.

“It’s worth it, you’re worth it. And you can try to hide behind the strong nonchalant exterior, but I see right through it. I see you, Satoru. I accept you, invisible scars and all. Let’s heal our hearts together.”

Satoru smiled. A real smile. One that is unpracticed, and it is just for you.

“I could get hurt, you know that don’t you?” some confidence returned to his wavering voice as his hands slowly traveled up your waist, distracting you from his words.

“Of course. But if I can handle watching you get put into a fleshy eyeball box by the source of your trauma, I can handle you getting hurt.”

Scoffing lightly, you run your fingers through his hair, pushing the strands back from his face, fully taking in his lovely features.

“What if I lose my ability to walk?” he asks sweetly, nuzzling his nose against yours as his hands travel to your bare arms. They ghost over your skin, causing goosebumps to follow in his wake.

“Apparently, you can fly. I suppose if you’re too lazy I can push you around in a wheelchair.”

You run your hands along the length of his chest to his shoulders, feeling the muscle beneath the fitted black t-shirt.

“Hmm, and what if my handsome face gets ruined?” the man mused, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

You were wearing a shirt, but the contact made you jump. You felt him chuckle against you as his hands found your back, fingers dancing up your spine.

“Well, I recall you telling me that you got stabbed square in that pretty face of yours. As it turns out, you’re still very handsome. So while I think the likelihood of someone harming you to the point you are forever maimed is low, I will still love you regardless.”

Running your hands down the length of his arms, you watched as your words settled over him. Then realization sparkled in his eyes as he searched your face for answers, almost as if he didn’t believe the words he just heard.

“Sorry, could you repeat that last part for me? I was a bit distracted.”

Familiar playfulness kissed his tone as his hands cupped your neck, forcing you to hold his stare.

“Which part? The one where I said I think someone scarring you is not very likely?” batting your eyelashes innocently, you smile.

“No no, the good part. Where you said you’re in love with me.”

One hand came to caress your cheek. Long fingers tangled themselves into the strands of your hair, tickling your scalp as your pores drank in his warmth.

“Hm, did I say that? I don’t think that’s what I said.” making a show of biting your bottom lip, you looked elsewhere, pretending to think.

Satoru’s thumb tugged your bottom lip from your teeth, causing you to quickly snap your eyes to his. His lips are pursed into a soft pout as he looks at you expectantly.

“Just once, let me hear you say it.” his words are a soft plea as his fingers dug further into your skin.

Not fair.

Smiling, you bring your knees to the carpet, raising your body so you can take his face in your hands. You feel him shudder under your touch as his eyes never leave yours, desperation consuming his features.

“I love you, Satoru Gojo.”

With those words, the last dark wisp of fear that clutched your heart disappeared in his light.

His lips met yours, hard and fast, all desperation pressing into your body. Your surprised gasp gets swallowed by him as his tongue reclaimed your mouth, filling you with the taste of him; sweet with the undertone of green tea.

His tongue danced with yours, swirling and teasing, relaxing you further into the intoxicating taunt of his muscle. Warm, calloused hands pressed into your cheeks, angling your head so he could further capture your lips. His kiss is passionate and smooth, making your stomach flutter with butterflies as anticipation travels down your spine.

Satoru pulls your tongue deeper into his mouth, sucking on the flesh. You gasp lightly, taking his upper lip between your teeth, slowly running them down the plump skin. He lets out a heavy sigh, and you take the opportunity to return his gift, sucking diligently on his swollen muscle.

Feeling him smile into the kiss, he runs his hands down your arms, to your waist, making you shiver. Fire slowly starts to coat your veins, turning the kiss hungrier – there was a need that wasn’t there previously.

The tips of his fingers dipped under the hem of your shirt, brushing against the bare skin of your back. The light touch made you whimper, body tingling where he made contact with your flesh.

Losing yourself in him, you take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting playfully as you run your hands over his muscled chest. The feeling of him, perfectly soft and firm, beneath your fingers felt heavenly. Satoru let a satisfied groan escape his lips, which you hungrily swallowed, kissing him harder.

Desire replaced innocence as you sank your hips, pleased to find his hardened length brushing your growing need. Satoru sharply bit your lower lip, a shaky breath escaping him as you let your full weight settle on him, enjoying the slightest bit of release it gave you.

Pulling away from the lull of his lips, you meet his heated stare. You both were breathing heavily and Satoru looked too good.

His eyes, though normally bright and alive with brilliant blue, were nearly black due to his dilated pupils. They gazed at you, hazy and half-lidded as his eyelashes fluttered softly against his deeply flushed cheeks. His lips are red and swollen, glistening with your mixed saliva.

The sight alone made your core throb, sending a delicious chill throughout your body.

Satoru removed his hand from your waist to grip your face, squeezing lightly as his thumb traced your lower lip. The way he was looking at you made your knees weak. No man had ever looked at you this way. Not only was it blatant desire, but there was a predatory feel to it, with the undertone of unwavering need .

“If you keep kissing me like that, I won’t be able to stop,” he warned, voice low and gravelly. The words traveled straight to the apex of your thighs as he pressed his thumb harder against your swollen lip.

“Who said I want you to stop?”

Holding his stare, you take that thumb between your lips, pressing your teeth down on the pad, swirling your tongue on the bit of flesh. Satoru inhales sharply as the hand holding your waist tightens – a clear attempt to control himself.

You see your reflection in his eyes, the same primal desire looks back at you.

“Are you sure?” though he asks, his hand is already moving to the hem of your shirt, waiting for you to confirm what he already knows.

“You getting cold feet?” you tease, dipping your hand between your bodies, ghosting your fingers over his abdomen.

You were itching to touch him, to taste him, but you were also going to have fun.

He smirks, slipping his fingers under your shirt, and swirling a gentle finger around your navel. The feeling makes your muscles jerk as fire trails where he touches you. You refuse to let any of that show, only returning his smirk, dragging a nail over his muscled stomach, and taking his tiny little black shirt with you.

“With you,” he pauses, voice a hushed whisper while he splays his palm flat on your stomach, fingertips just barely pressing under the lining of your bra.

“I would never. Besides ,” dragging out the last word dangerously slow, he pushes his length up into you, placing the hand that held your face on the back of your thigh, making you moan. The quick relief jolts through you, but disappears quickly, leaving you wanting more.

Bringing his lips so close to your ear that his hot breath tickles your skin, he whispers,

“ You’re the one who’s trembling. ”

Cocky bastard.

Smiling, you slowly run your lips over the expanse of his neck, lightly licking it with the very tip of your tongue. You feel him shudder beneath you as he breathes heavily in your ear. Licking the shell of his ear, you take the lobe between your teeth as you wrap your hand around the hem of his shirt.

“Hm, I must be cold. Why don’t you warm me up ?”

Giving your ear an appreciative nip, Satoru sighs satisfactorily. The deep sound traveled south, making you place your lips to his neck to hide your noise.

“ Gladly .”

He began pressing slow, hot, wet kisses to the supple flesh of your neck. He trailed his way down to your collarbone as his hands, re-finding the hem of your shirt, tugged at the fabric playfully. The tips of his soft hair tickled your cheek, heightening your sensitivity to his touch.

“You know,” his words are a soft murmur against your skin, but you catch them, humming in response as you run your fingers over the dips of his well-sculpted back.

“I read that the fastest way to warm the body up is when two people are naked. Why don’t we test it out, hm?”

Pressing a kiss between the juncture of his neck and shoulder, you smile into his skin.

“I could learn a survival tactic,”

Wrapping your legs around his waist, you press another kiss to his neck.

“Or two,”

Licking your way to his ear, you whisper.

“ Or three. ”

At your words, Satoru swiftly captures your lips as his hands go to grip the backs of your thighs. Before you knew it he was on his feet, kissing you feverishly while making his way to your room. He shuts the door with one foot, making you laugh against his lips.

Your body comes in contact with your mattress, but you hardly register it as Satoru grinds his erection into you, greedily swallowing the moan he stole from your throat. Your hands find the hem of his shirt, and you tug as your signal. Satoru groans into you, but pulls back at your command, removing his hungry lips to allow you to expose him.

“This is too tiny, I think I should remove it, don’t you?”

Satoru held your smile, spreading his arms wide as you came up to your knees, pulling the thin fabric off his body, revealing the masterpiece beneath.

Sinewy muscle covered the entire length of his torso. His skin, pale and kissed a soft pink, covered various dips and ripples that you wanted to rake your nails down. You drank him in, from the power of his biceps to the dip of his defined adonis belt, mouth growing dry as you thought about what lurks beneath his concealing white pants.

Selfishly, you ran your hands along his body. Starting from his chest you worked your way down to his navel, relishing in the warm feeling of his soft, smooth skin. Satoru tilted his head back, sighing as you continued to marvel at his beauty, tracing every outline of his hard work, memorizing each detail of him as he trembled beneath your touch.

“You really are like a painting, you know,” you murmur in awe and wonder.

It baffled you that you could even remotely hold this man’s interest, let alone be the one on the receiving end of his love. The thought made your heart squeeze, encouraging you to place a kiss to his bare chest, right above his pounding heart.

His hand ran down the length of your hair, as his other came to cup your face. He lovingly stared into your eyes, all the desire of earlier there, but they now gazed at you softly.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n.”

The sincerity of his words makes you smile like an idiot. You bury your face in his chest, listening to the sound of his low laugh. Lovely butterflies tickle your stomach as you lace your hands around his neck.

Slowly, he makes you meet his eyes. You’re both grinning like children, but he had a devilish hint to his.

“Why hide that smile from me?” pouting, he brings his face close to yours, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

Laughing lightly while leaning into his sweet gesture, you nuzzle your nose into his soft hair.

“Because you make me happy.” the answer is honest and you press a kiss on his head.

He hums into you as his hands find your shirt, playfully pulling it up to your neck, but not over your head. He blocks the fabric from leaving your skin as he trails feather-light kisses along your jaw.

“Do I? Why’s that?”

His words are soft against your skin, tickling you, making it hard to think.

“I–”

Pulling back from his lips, you meet his eyes.

“I used to think that people who fell in love quickly were idiots blinded by rose-colored glasses.” biting your lip, you consider if you should continue. Satoru catches your hesitation and lightly rubs your lower back, silently encouraging you.

Let go of your fear.

“But now I know, there is never a ‘right time’ to fall in love. It happens accidentally, in a heartbeat, in a single moment. You make me happy because you could’ve had anyone else in this world, and you chose me. The average girl who you met in a coffee shop on a rainy day. You make me feel seen Satoru. I don’t have to pretend with you.”

Satoru smiles, bright and alive. His hands come up to your cheeks, cupping them gently as he holds your gaze.

“Before you, I was convinced that I would live my life alone. That I would never find someone who would ever make me feel whole again. But… You are my sunlight, which I stand in, warmed and seen.”

With your heart feeling like it’s going to burst out of your chest, you press your lips to his.

“You see me so poetically,” those words, which he had once said to you, leave your lips in a soft murmur.

His laugh tickles your lips as he lightly shakes his head, thumbs rubbing your heated cheeks. Satoru deepens the kiss, tongue sweeping past your barriers, sweetly dancing with your own. You melt into him, leaving every worry behind you.

Slowly, he guides your body to the mattress. You feel his warm stomach press against yours as he settles himself between your clothed hips. He doesn’t do anything except kiss you.

It’s a slow, passionate kiss. One full of love and appreciation, conveying emotions that words fail to capture. Your whole body felt alive, attuned with every breath, moving with each rise and fall of his chest, reacting flawlessly to the press of his lips. Your blood sang, electrified by his touch, eager to desperately drink him in.

Satoru’s hands move from your face to the crumpled fabric of your shirt, removing his lips from yours momentarily to rid your neck of the cloth. The music of the kiss changes – now singing a more sensuous tune.

You feel his thick member throb against your thigh as his hands run down the lengths of your arms, fingers enclosing your wrists. He moves his lips from yours to your cheek, kissing his way to your sensitive ear. Then he licks behind the shell, making you audibly gasp as he brings your hands over your head, holding them down with one hand as his other trails the side of your waist.

Shivering beneath his explorative touch, you clench and unclench your hands, trying to ground yourself to reality. With each brush of his fingers, your muscles flinch, pure excitement and anticipation coursing through your touch-starved veins.

“You’re so responsive~” he coos hotly into your ear. You shift under him, hoping to find relief in the friction, but he removes his lower body from yours. The movement makes you pout, but it opens the space for his hand to ghost over your bare stomach.

Wet lips kiss their way down your neck down to the length of your collarbone. You bite your lower lip when he runs his teeth lightly against the bone. Your body jumps at the new feeling, earning yourself his chuckle as his hand dips under the band of your bra, brushing your left breast ever-so-lightly.

Long fingers slowly make their way behind your back, easily unclasping the concealing material to only partially remove it from your breasts. He pushes the fabric up to your chest as his lips trail your sternum. His hair brushes against your breasts, and you clench your hands, nails biting into the flesh of your palms. The sensation not only tickles you, but it shocks your hyper-sensitive nerves.

You meet Satoru’s eyes. He’s drinking in your every reaction, a smirk on his lips as he watches you squirm beneath him. Readying to say a smart remark, you begin to push back on his hand, but he trails his tongue to your nipple – effectively replacing the words in your throat with a shaky sigh.

Satoru swirls his tongue around your rosey bud, slowly and expertly warming your breast with his mouth. He takes more of the plump flesh into his mouth, sucking diligently as he lets his teeth graze the sensitive peak. You gasp at the feeling, and he groans in response. Each of his intoxicating movements goes straight to that firey pit in your stomach, which only grows hungrier at his touch.

“Mm, Satoru,” you moan breathlessly as he takes your nipple between his teeth, applying the right amount of pressure to the bud as his free hand comes to work your unattended breast.

He hums into your skin, sending delicious shivers down your spine as you close your eyes, losing yourself to the lull of his lips. Long nimble fingers work your breast harmonously with his mouth. They roll, pinch, and tease you as his tongue flicks and swirls. You mewl lightly as he switches breasts, giving the same treatment to your other that he gave the first.

“So beautiful,” he murmurs into your skin, biting into the flesh of your breast, causing you to yelp in surprise.

You open your eyes, meeting his intense blue. He’s smiling against your skin as he ghosts his lips over your ribs, tongue trailing the outline of your tattoo. Your body shivers under him, eager for more as his head dips lower, closer to where you want him the most.

“You’re the beautiful one,” the words come out as a sigh as he presses a kiss to your hip, right above the band of your sweatpants.

“Hm,” he hums, trailing an elegant finger from your sternum to your navel, dipping the digit under the band.

Satoru makes a show of kissing his way across your stomach, from one hip to the other, soft strands of his hair tickling you along the way.

You squirm under him, wishing desperately to touch his hair. Longing to run your fingers through it, to ground yourself to this reality. He senses it, too. Because he gives you a knowing smile as he dips his hand under your pants, just barely brushing the top of your pelvis.

“Getting impatient, Y/n?” he asks playfully as he takes his finger, lightly tugging a corner of your pants, exposing more of your hip to his tempting mouth.

“I want to touch you,” finding some confidence, you push against his restraining hand, silently cursing his immeasurable strength.

“Let’s see,” Satoru pauses, places his head on your thigh softly, then looks up at you innocently. The pressure is dizzying. So you count your breaths to stay alert, to not close your eyes and lose yourself in his presence.

“I’ll release your hands as long as you stay still, can you do that for me, baby?”

There was a mischievous look in his eyes, one that made your throat dry and had you clenching your thigh muscles.

“Y-Yes?”

You couldn’t hide your confusion, but he only smiled at the sight. His hand released your wrists and you immediately moved to shake out the numbness of your arms.

“May I?”

His fingers dance around the edge of your sweats, eyes patiently awaiting your response.

Eagerly, you nod your head.

Satoru, still with his devilish smile, removed your sweatpants from your body. He then slid off the bed, dropping to his knees as he dragged your body to the edge. You rose yourself up on your elbows, not hiding your want from him. But also, you took in the sight – Satoru Gojo, half naked, and on his knees for you.

His hands spread your knees for him, opening your legs wide. You, though still clothed in only your underwear, feel the air hit your heat. It was then you noticed how wet you were, and you know he noticed it too.

Gently placing your legs over his shoulders, Satoru places a slow kiss on your calf. You watch as he drags his wet lips up your leg, pressing kisses to your tender skin. The higher he goes, the more sensitive you become, finding it increasingly difficult to not shift as muscle-jerking tingles hit you.

Your hands find the soft strands of his hair as he reaches your inner thigh, now dangerously close to your need. You feel his breath kiss your heated skin, forcing you to clench his hair so you don’t move. Smiling, he presses his lips to the crease between your thigh and pussy making you sharply inhale. You cross your toes as the shiver runs through you, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“You’re already so wet for me,” Satoru hums appreciatively, then he places a kiss on your clothed mound.

You barely have time to register the feeling, because he licks a zig-zag stripe up your heat, stopping just before meeting your clit. He moans into you as your taste lightly coats his tongue. The vibration makes you squeeze your eyes shut as you moan softly, bringing your hand up to your mouth, and biting down on your pointer finger.

“Mmph!”

Your yelp gets muffled into your skin as Satoru lays his tongue flat against your entrance, pressing his hot mouth against you, then drags it up .

The brief pleasure of him brushing your clit has you trembling. He doesn’t stop till he reaches your navel, tongue dipping into the crevice, swirling around the sensitive skin only to retrace its path down, stopping just above your throbbing clit. His tongue moves left and right lazily, and his saliva coats the cloth of your underwear, intensifying the feeling, but it’s incomplete.

“Ah, Toru’ – please.” your desperate plea fumbles out of your mouth as saliva begins traveling down your chin. You want – no, you need him on you, without any barriers.

“Use your words for me pretty girl~” his words are hot and heavy against you, making you moan. And just for emphasis, he gives your needy clit a light flick of his tongue, making you bite your finger harder.

He knows what you want, but he wants to hear you beg for it.

“Please,” you breathe, unable to think.

His hands join the party now. One goes to remove your finger from your mouth as his other presses his thumb to your entrance, goading you as his tongue continues to just barely flick your bundle of nerves.

“Please what?” he encourages, intertwining his fingers with yours.

“I-I want you,”

You weren’t sure what you wanted exactly. Part of you wanted him to make you see stars with that dangerous tongue of his, but the other half wanted to know exactly how full you’d feel with him in you.

He laughs lightly against you, planting a kiss on your clit as his thumb pushes past your panties, entering your dripping entrance. All air leaves your lungs as he wraps his mouth against your clothed clit, licking while sucking you as his thumb gently pumps your walls.

A broken string of curses leaves your lips as pleasurable fire dances down your legs. The sudden relief leaves your thoughts tangled and incomplete. It’s sweet and taunting, but you’re stuck, muscle taunt, and breath uneven as you try to keep your body still, unable to fully lose yourself to the pleasure.

“S-Satoru,” you throatily moan his name. He groans into you, fingers gripping yours harder as he replaces his thumb with two long fingers, curling them up into you.

Oh fuck.

“Ah, shit just like that,”

You tilt your head back, enjoying the way his calloused fingers feel against your velvet walls. Again and again, his digits just barely brush against that spongey spot in you, heightening the feeling of his ministrations against your clit.

“Deeper,” you plead, needing him to hit your spot.

Slowly, you open your eyes to see him smirk at you. Then, at your request, he pushes his fingers further into you while curling them up. Your eyes roll back as the new feeling courses through you.

“Like that baby?” he asks, though he knows the answer.

“Mm, yes, fuck just like that,” you answer, barely able to think straight. Your feet start to become unbearably hot as your stomach tightens. Your whole body trembles from both pleasure and restraint, and your leash on yourself is slowly slipping. Your back arches as he continues working you, eliciting obscene noises from you.

“You’re so fucking hot,” he praises and you bite your throaty moan back.

Pressing your palm flat against his scalp, you push his head further into you. Taking your silent plea, he releases your hand to push your soaked panties to the side, tongue finally coming into contact with your bare skin. The intense feeling crashes upon you and you lose control of your limbs. You lock his head into place as you dig your fingers into his hair, grinding yourself against his tongue. His fingers match your unhinged pace and he moans into you, sending sweet vibrations down your clit to that growing bomb in your stomach.

You feel your walls tightening as your high threatens to crash over you. Your moans are now strangled and incoherent as everything now feels so good . Finally, you open your eyes, daring to see the sight in front of you.

Satoru’s lovely eyes burn right through you, heated desire evident on his features. The sight of him, on his knees, between your legs, giving you his devout attention, has you shaking uncontrollably.

“Be a good girl and come for me, Y/n.”

His words are your undoing.

You come violently around his fingers, moaning his name like a prayer, walls clenching and unclenching as your body trembles sweetly. Satoru smiles up at you, removing his fingers from you only to replace them with his tongue.

Bringing those two glistening fingers to your mouth he commands:

“Suck,” then his tongue is back into your entrance, fucking you with the stiff muscle.

And so you do, wrapping your mouth around his fingers, whimpering as you suck diligently all while your orgasm rips through you.

He swipes his nose against your hyper-sensitive bud as he laps you up, tongue swirling and curling inside you. You cry out helplessly, fisting your hands in the sheets as your stomach jerks. The pleasure is numbingly good, but it’s too much.

“S-Satoru– Ah sto– Jesus fucking Christ,” The last part of your broken sentence comes out in English, which grabs the man's attention. Amused blue eyes peer up at you, taking in the sight of the mess he created. His lips glisten with you and they’re pulled into that familiar smirk. You couldn’t help but think he was beautiful, like that of a fallen angel.

He removes himself from your heat, finally taking your ruined panties off your body as you close your eyes, breathing hard and unevenly. You try to collect yourself, but the after-effects of your orgasm still linger in your veins, stealing your attention.

But you are far from satiated, if anything, it left you wanting more .

Blindly, you reach out for his body. Your fingers find his biceps and you tentatively run your hands down his smooth skin, despite the tingle in your fingertips. Satoru plants a sweet kiss on your cheek, then your temple, then your forehead, until he’s placed kisses around your entire face, leaving you with light giggles. His weight returns to your body, and you’re happy to feel his bare legs brush against your own.

“Feel good, baby?” he mumbles dreamily into your skin, still placing soft kisses on your sensitive skin.

Smiling as you trace the outline of his tricep, you open your eyes to find him looking at you sweetly. The sight makes your heart lurch. So you return his kisses, pressing your lips to his heated skin, tasting yourself on his flesh.

“I think,” whispering, you bring a shaky hand to his chin, wiping away some of your desire.

“This speaks for itself. But,”

Kissing the corner of his mouth, you run your other hand down his abdomen, nails lightly digging into every dip and ridge of his defined muscles.

“But?” he hums, and you feel his lips pull into a smile.

Your hand travels south till it reaches his length. You take the girthy member in your hand and pump him once, relishing in the way it jumps in your palm as Satoru inhales sharply.

“I want to taste you, too.”

With your hand that held his chin, you turn his face to you, capturing his lips. Your desire coats your tongue as his muscle dances with yours. You slowly pump his throbbing member, thumb swiping over the tip, coating his soft skin with a bead of precum. Satoru steals your tongue, sucking on your muscle while groaning.

Hooking your legs around his, you flip your bodies so you are now on top of him. You pull back from the kiss to admire the sight. Soft white eyelashes flutter against his red cheeks as you continue pumping his cock.

You watch as his throat bobs up and down and he licks his lips. The image added fuel to your growing fire, filling you with determination to not only please the man before you, but to make him as much of a whimpering mess as he made you.

A playful smirk tugs at your lips as you place a kiss on his neck. You continue working his shaft, focusing mostly on the head, but with only enough pressure to move his skin, but not to truly stimulate him. Your lips travel south, your tongue joining the mix as you admire his body, ensuring to greedily trace the skin where your mouth doesn’t explore. Satoru shifts under you, slowly growing more impatient as lick your way down the line that separates his abs.

You hold his stare, watching as his eyebrows knit together the closer you get to his cock.

Giving the male a knowing smile, you pull his shaft back, allowing yourself the space to flatten your tongue on his pelvis. You feel the light prickle of his growing pubic hair as you drag your muscle to his hip bone, tracing the outline of it with the tip, enjoying the way his body shivers under you.

Goosebumps pepper Satoru’s skin as his hands find your arms, rubbing them lightly. Smiling, you press your lips to the crease of his thigh, then lick the skin beneath. You feel Satoru’s thigh muscle tense and you chuckle, applying more pressure to the tip, earning yourself a low groan.

“So responsive~” you tease him with his own words, pressing your thumb to his tip, admiring the way his desire coats your skin.

Bringing your face close to his need, you breathe lightly onto his heated skin, knowing full well what the light sensation did to him. You watch as his eyes roll back slightly, his large hands now wrapping around your biceps as he shudders.

“Say,”

Pausing, you swirl your tongue around him once, then flick the head lightly. Satoru half moans, half chokes from the sudden sensation. But you pull back completely, returning to your taunting hand movement.

“Tell me what you want,” you whisper seductively, licking your way up from his base to the tip, this time allowing yourself to taste him. The salty yet sweet taste coats the very tip of your tongue, and you moan appreciatively.

Satoru tilts his head back and bites his lip. You feel his hands tremble, noticing his restraint.

“Your mouth. Now .”

You click your tongue.

“Here?”

Pressing a kiss to his thigh, you feel his cock jump in your hand. You knew you were playing a dangerous game, but you were also drunk off of the sheer power you held over this man. Who’s body is sculpted like that of a Greek god and holds the title of the strongest, yet yields to you.

“Y/n,” he warns, voice low and strained. His hands now move to your hair, tangling themselves in your strands, pulling lightly.

I like it when you say my name.

“Ah, you’re right. Here?”

Pushing his skin up so that his precum leaks out, you press a slow open-mouthed kiss to the tip, licking your way across the bulk of the head. You continue this exact motion, pumping him just as slowly as you were kissing him. Satoru watches you intently, hands shaking in your hair as you hold his gaze.

“More,” he urges desperately, bucking his hips up to go deeper into your mouth. You relent, but only for an inch.

Removing your hand entirely, you rub the sides of his thighs as you slowly suck that inch of his cock, swirling your tongue at the tip with every motion. You watch Satoru go mad, both hating and loving your tease. There was desperation in his eyes along with restraint, and you took advantage of that.

As soon as he knew exactly how well you could take it, well, the game would be over.

“As much of me as you can Y/n,” Satoru is breathing heavily, hands still in your hair but he doesn’t force himself in your mouth. Instead, he holds fast, letting you continue your slow torture.

You hum around him, allowing half of his cock into your mouth, the tip now reaching the back of your throat. His eyes roll back as you suck a little harder, but not any faster. You bring one hand to cup his balls, gently massaging them as you work his shaft. A soft moan leaves Satoru’s lips as it goes to your core, urging you to forget your game and give him your all. But he’s not near the point where you were when he finally gave in, and that alone makes you hold out.

Continuing to softly hum into him, you start to add slurping noises to your song. Satoru’s eyes roll shut and a small whimper leaves him.

“Can you take more of me, baby?” his fingers massage your scalp, feeling the slow bob of your head.

Oh, you think you're too big, do you?

With an inward smile, you let your thickened saliva dribble down to his base, then you quickly take all of him in. You hollow out your cheeks and relax your throat, letting his impressive length travel down your esophagus till your nose is touching his stomach.

“S-Shit–” Satoru curses, strong hands holding your head in place for a moment. Once he releases his grip, you return to your previous position on his shaft, sucking his member slowly.

His eyes shoot open, looking at you with both shock and confusion. You flutter your eyelashes sweetly as you continue your torturing pace. Satoru sucks in the air between his teeth, the realization of you not being as innocent as he may have thought settling over him.

“Please,” he breathes heavily, eyes transfixed on the base of his cock where your mouth was just moments before. You could hear the desperation in his voice, and it was delicious .

Taking him out of your mouth with a satisfying ‘ pop ’ , you stick out your tongue, slapping his cock against it. His eyes turn dark at the sight as his mouth falls slightly open, a satisfied smirk pulled on his wet lips.

“Please what, baby? What do you want? Don’t be shy.”

You trace the outline of his red tip with your lips, eyes never leaving his. His throat bobs as he considers his words, clearly, he still views you as fragile, and you have every intention of breaking that image.

“Please let me fuck that dirty little mouth of yours,”

You smirk, planting a kiss on his head, and then you hop off the bed, taking him with you. Satoru silently follows your lead, eyes raking your frame as yours watch the way his member stands proudly against his stomach. Angry red and glistening with your saliva.

Sending your confused lover a wink, you get back on the bed, laying on your back, hanging your head over the edge.

You now have a full good view of his perfect body. You hungrily look at his length, happy to find that it has a light curve. You clench your legs together at the thought of him in you, and Satoru smiles. He spreads your clenched legs while his other grabs his shaft, giving it a pump before he slaps it against your lips.

“Open up baby,”

At his command, you open your lips, making a show of stretching your neck and sticking out your tongue. Satoru leans forward, bracing himself with one hand as his other guides his cock into your mouth. He slowly pushes himself down your throat, giving you a moment to adjust to his thickness. At this angle, your throat is tighter and it's harder to breathe, but that’s what you wanted.

He begins moving his hips. His start is slow, allowing your saliva to coat him. You take the time to find the right position, hands going to cup his ass for the support you knew you were going to need. Then, just like you thought, Satoru moves. His hips snap forward with just enough force to push himself down your restricted throat, but not enough to crush your nose. You moan into his skin, happily hollowing out your cheeks, slurping and choking on him.

“God you’re so fucking perfect,” he moans while his free hand goes to massage your clit.

Rough fingers work your sensitive bundle of nerves, moving the soft skin with each thrust of his skillfully controlled hips. Your tongue moves with him, licking and wrapping around what it can. You begin to lose yourself in his soft moans, enjoying them as the air in your lungs becomes thinner and thinner.

It gets increasingly hard to breathe and you love it, sucking down what bit of air you can in between each of his thrusts. Your mouth pools with your thick saliva and it trails down your chin, spilling onto your neck, but you pay it no mind. You simply angle your head further, digging your fingers into his ass to give him better access to your abused throat.

His hand moves to your entrance, two fingers plunging into you, fucking you at his relentless pace. Satoru's palm rubs against your harden clit and tears prick your eyes. Strangled moans fight to come out of your throat between his movements as abrupt pleasure courses through you, motivating you to please him further.

Satoru’s thrusts become more erratic and you begin to feel the base of his cock twitch in your mouth, prompting you to moan around him. You send sweet vibrations down his cock, and he curses under his breath, fingers in your pussy delving deeper, brushing that spot, making your stomach tighten.

“Fuck,” groaning, Satoru thrusts himself deep into your throat, pausing entirely as thick ribbons of his seed shoot down your pipe. His fingers that pleased you move to your throat as he feels himself come in you. You hold still, licking him with your tongue until he readies himself to slowly pull out of your mouth.

Turning so your belly is flat against the mattress, you start to swallow his seed, ensuring your gulp is audible so he hears you. He watches you with a smile on his face, hand coming to cup your cheek, thumb sweeping over your near-bruised lips.

You take note of his cock, still very erect against his chiseled stomach.

“You’re full of surprises, Y/n.”

Your name left his lips in a breathless pant, and it was enough to make your walls clench.

Satoru smiles down at you, dropping to his knees so he can capture your lips. The kiss is tender and soft, and it sends butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

“You hurtin’ at all?” he asks between each press of his lips. You smile into the kiss, playfully nibbling his lower lip.

“Not at all, I could do that again.”

He chuckles, shaking his head as his hands run down the length of your spine. The touch is light with no intention other than feeling your skin. Satoru pulls back from the kiss to press his soft lips to your forehead.

“We can stop here if you want.” his voice is full of practiced calm.

His hand runs down your hair, soothing your mind all while your body is still burning with desire.

It had been so long since you had shared a kiss, let alone your bed with someone. The touch of others felt so invasive until Satoru. You would be damned if you let him go now.

“Satoru, you’re not going to hurt me.”

Nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck, you sigh. You knew he had insecurities, and you know it’s only amplified by you being entirely, well, human. But you want to ease his worries, in every way you possibly could.

“You don’t know that, Y/n.”

Pulling back, you force him to hold your stare.

“Our time is short. I don’t want to live my life with regrets. I want you, Satoru, in all senses of the word.”

You lovingly hold his face, thumbs gently sweeping over your cheeks like he had done for you. The quiet tender gesture lingers between you as your breaths intertwine. You see him considering your words in those knowing blue eyes, ever-calculating and so full of thought.

“Promise me you’ll tell me if I hurt you.”

A laugh almost escaped your lips. The serious look on his face would make anyone stop cold, but it only made you smile.

“I promise. But you won’t hurt me, I trust you.”

At those words, Satoru captures your lips, tongue sweetly passing through your lips, immediately claiming yours for his own. Tentative hands explore your body, fingers lightly brushing over your sensitive skin, making you shiver. Moving to tangle your fingers in his hair, you run your teeth along the expanse of his tongue, smiling at the groan that leaves his lips.

Satoru’s hands guide your body up as he stands, his lips never leaving yours even as he presses your back to the mattress. Gentle hands spread your legs for him and you hiss. The feeling of cool air hits your wet need followed by the feeling of Satoru’s still slick member rubbing up against you. His warmth shocks you and he smiles at the gasp that escapes your lips. He pulls back from the kiss to meet your eyes.

Primal desire stares back at you.

You can’t help but let your eyes travel south, watching as he rubs himself against your slickness, hand on the base of his cock. His tip just barely brushes your clit and you moan, feeling your walls immediately clench at the swift pleasure.

“You want this dick, Y/n?” Satoru’s gravelly voice asks as he slaps his cock against your clit.

Dear lord help me.

“Y-Yes,” you half breathe, half moan out.

“Look at me,”

You do as commanded, tearing your eyes away from his impressive length to find his heated gaze.

“Use your words,”

He rewards you with another slap to your clit and you moan, the brief relief making your toes curl. Mindlessly, you run your hands down his arms, raking your nails down his triceps as you try to formulate words.

“Please fuck me,” you watch his face, eyes full of hope, but he only clicks his tongue and shakes his head, prodding your entrance. His taunt is maddening, and you try to shift your hips down, but a strong hand holds you in place.

“You can do better princess. Tell me exactly how you want me,” he smirks down at you, tip still just barely pushing at your entrance, all promise of everything you want.

Biting your lip, you swallow your pride.

“I want you to fuck me so hard that every time I sit down I can only think of you.”

A small breath leaves his lips and he smiles, shaking his head. Clearly, he wasn’t expecting that answer.

“So full of surprises,”

“Surprised are you–”

Before you could finish your sentence he pushes himself into you, stealing all the air from your lungs.

His thick length pushes past the first ring, and the feeling is so sickeningly sweet. Relief floods your veins as he fills you, your walls stretching to accommodate and hug his member, pulling him further into you.

“Holy shit,” you sigh, digging your nails into his arms as you spread your legs wider, giving him all of you.

“God, Y/n, you’re so fucking tight even after all that.” his voice is strained as he grabs your right thigh, fingers digging into the plush of your skin as he bottoms out in your pussy, holding completely still, allowing you to adjust.

You feel your walls clench and unclench happily, he stretches and fills you so well it is dizzying. You press kisses to his sculpted chest, a silent plea for him to move. He picks up on your hint well, slowly pulling his hips back to only push them back into you. Even a heartbeat of him not being in you made you feel so incomplete, the way his body fit with yours was almost too perfect.

“Fuck Satoru,” you moan closing your eyes, letting your head fall back, focusing solely on the blissful feeling of him.

His hips keep a steady slow pace, allowing your bodies the chance to adjust to one another. Satoru shifts your leg to prop it over his shoulder, making him go just a little bit deeper into you, pulling a throaty moan from you.

“Hold onto something baby,” he warns and you barely register his words, hands enclosing his wrists as he picks up his pace, pulling his cock out of you to the tip to snap it back into you.

“Oh my fucking God,” your eyes snap open as you watch Satoru rail your pussy. Your breasts bounce at his pace and you moan loudly, unable to hold back your noises.

“Your pussy feels so fucking good, Y/n.” he praises breathily and you moan, happy for the praise.

“Mmph– Fuck so do yo– ahh” your sentence is broken, unable to speak due to the dizzying speed of his powerful thrusts.

Each snap of his hips is expertly controlled. He angles himself up so he doesn’t hit your cervix as he ensures not to fully crush your body. One hand holds your thigh in a fixed position as his other holds your hip, moving your body with his seamlessly. Heavy breasts bounce against your chest as your body feels electric, alive, and taught; like you’re walking on a live wire. Pleasure kisses your nerves, promising new, but terrifying heights.

“Open your mouth,” Satoru’s strained voice commands, and your pussy pulses in response.

Swallowing thickly you open your mouth, sticking your tongue out for dramatic flare, trying desperately to keep your eyes open. Satoru smiles at the sight, leaning over you further, then spits in your mouth. Your mixed taste coats your tongue and you whimper as his thumb goes to circle your clit.

“Hold it in your mouth till I tell you to swallow princess. Can you do that for me?” your stomach tightens at the sensation of his thumb, but it’s almost faint due to the overwhelming pleasure his cock brings you.

Feeling entirely submissive and breedable you nod your head, your saliva already beginning to build in your mouth.

“Good girl. Now, on your knees.”

Satoru completely releases your body, allowing you to flip over and get on all fours. A whimper leaves your lips due to the loss of him, but you shake your ass for him. The action earns you a slap to your ass, his fingers dig into your plump skin as he shakes the flesh for himself, and you curse, feeling your desire drip down your inner thighs.

You feel his nimble finger trail your wet slit, and he whistles. Then, his mouth is on your ass, tongue circling your tight ring. Strong hands shake your ass as he continues to lick and probe your hole, making your legs shake. The feeling is entirely new, and it feels good. Not as good as when he eats your pussy, but it's enough to have your walls clenching and clit throbbing.

The spit in your mouth begins to push out of the corners of your lips as you try to hold your moans back. Your hands are fisted in the sheets as Satoru trails his way to your dripping entrance, tongue dragging down till his licking your sensitive clit. As if it wasn’t enough, his thumb pushes into your tight asshole, pumping the well-lubricated hole.

I am not going to survive this man.

“Swallow baby, let me hear you.”

You gratefully swallow your combined spit, moaning loudly as your first breath leaves your lips.

“Satoru fuck me please,” you plead, feeling so empty it’s maddening. Now that you’ve gotten a taste, you were certain your body wouldn’t grant you release unless he was in you.

You feel his head pull away from your pussy as his fingers enter you, just barely scratching your itch. It was laughable to compare the feeling of his fingers to his cock – it wasn’t nearly enough.

“Like this baby?” his thumb still plays with your asshole as he curls and pumps his fingers in you. Your thoughts are tangled, and words are hard to push out of your throat, getting caught in the thick layer of saliva coating your mouth.

“I want… Your cock. Please, please, please, I–” tears pricked your eyes, you were overstimulated.

Closing your eyes you took deep breaths, feeling as he pulled his fingers out of you to only wrap his hand around your hair, pulling your neck up. His tip pokes your throbbing entrance as his heavy breath kisses your ear.

“You want me, Y/n?” the heavy seductive words makes your spine tingle.

“I want all of you, Satoru.” though you tried to force your voice to sound normal, the words came out in a quiver.

“Good,”

Then he was in you, cock plunging deep within your velvet walls, stoking the burning fire in your stomach. You arch your back, mewling harshly at the abrupt feeling of him filling you.

“You feel so good, fuck.” Satoru kisses your shoulder, pulling his hips back to then fill you back up, thick member stretching you too fucking good.

With his hand still wrapped around your hair, he pushes your neck down so your face is pressed against the mattress. You open your eyes, face rubbing against the bed, and watch the man above you. His head is tilted back, bottom lip between his teeth as he works to make you both feel good – hips rolling into yours, enjoying the feeling of your walls sucking him back in.

“You’re so beautiful,” you moan softly, completely entranced.

Satoru smiles, eyes opening and he pushes strands of your hair away from your sticky forehead.

“All you baby girl,” he pushes himself further into you, angling himself up, completely hitting that spot.

“Oh fuck!” you curse, letting the brief pulse of intense pleasure run through you.

“You like that baby?” knowing full well what he’s doing, Satoru grabs your hips, hitting your spot again, making your muscles jerk.

“Ah– Yes!” words were lost to you as white-hot pleasurable fire ran through your veins, making your entire body shake.

“Who’s pussy is this?” Satoru grunts, thrusts becoming more erratic.

“I– Mmph, yours!” with eyes rolling to the back of your head, you focus on your core, feeling your high threaten to crash over you.

“That’s right, Y/n.” fingers dig into the flesh of your ass “You’re. Mine.” he declares between powerful thrusts, still ensuring to hit that spongey spot, making your vision blot with white.

“I– I am so fucking close, Satoru,” the words are a cry and you feel your whole body become taught, preparing itself for its inevitable crash to earth.

“Come on my cock baby. Let me make you feel good.”

And as if the word was law, your body did as he asked.

Your second orgasm ripped through you, pulling a scream from your throat. It’s dizzying, disorienting, and far too intense. Your body spasms uncontrollably as electrifying pleasure coursed through you, making your toes curl. You try to run away, but you are locked into place by Satoru's strong hands. With each pulse of your orgasm, your walls clench and grip Satrou’s cock, dragging him to earth with you. He ensures to thrust harmoniously to the rhythm of your pulses as thick ribbons of his cum mix with your own, filling up your belly.

With breath heavy and uneven, you both fall to your mattress. Sartoru's sweaty body presses against your back as he rubs your arms all while pressing kisses to your temple. Your body shook as you came down from your high, thighs jerking with each breath and light movement from the male still plunged within you.

“You feeling okay, beautiful?” his words are a soft whisper against your skin.

Eyes still close, you nod. The intense pleasure left you light-headed and unable to speak. So instead, you angle your head and capture your lover’s lips. Soft and sweet, and entirely loving. Satoru smiles against your lips, hands lightly rubbing your sides.

“Let's turn over so I can hold you, yeah?" his words tickle your lips, making you smile. You let him move your body with effortless ease.

The male holds you close to his chest as he wraps his arms around your small frame, enveloping you in his radiating warmth. His strong heartbeat sounds in his chest, and you listen to it in earnest, thankful for the fact that he is alive.

You stay like that for a moment, listening to the sound of him while he kisses your skin, both being silently thankful for the other.

“I love you, Y/n,” Satoru whispers into your hair, lips still pressed to your scalp.

With a child-like smile, you peer up at him. Brillant blue peers into your soul, calling to you, to your bond, and your heart sings in response.

“And I love you, Satoru. My heart is yours.” his eyes fold kindly, just like that first night in your kitchen.

“And mine is yours. You’ve healed me.”

—

You spent what little time you had left with Satoru, soaking up every minute, second, and hour. You both decided it was pointless to dwell on the unknown, so instead you enjoyed each moment that you were allotted. Sharing stories of your adventures, travels, and struggles. You healed each other, in ways that one would think impossible. You renewed each other's souls, in turn binding yourselves together.

“You know, that day we met, I think my heart knew before I did that I needed you.”

“What do you mean?”

“I didn’t even know you, but seeing you was enough to wash away every ounce of my pain. My body moved before I could think. So I dropped the lamest pick-up line ever known to mankind.”

“Haha, yeah. But it worked out didn’t it?”

“That it did. You are my greatest treasure, Y/n. I love you.”

“I love you too, please come back to me safely.”

Satoru smirked, all of his bravado pulled into every atom of his existence.

“Don’t worry, I am the strongest. I can’t leave my fiance all alone now can I?”

“No, you can’t.”

“See? So don’t worry about me, baby.”

With that, the lovely male plants a passionate kiss on your lips, and then walks away.

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