#I KNEW. I KNEW HE WAS JOKING BUT THE WAY I WAS DRAFTING A MESSAGE TO TELL MAX THE BOLAS LOSS SUICIDE PACT WAS BACK ON

[codecicle]

i hope he knows he's not fucking funny <3

[requiemforthepoets]

i want to be with you everywhere 𖦹 OP81

PAIRINGS: oscar piastri x female!reader

SUMMARY: you, big crowded places, and bad sense of directions are always a never good mix.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: another draft i found lol this was inspired by real events lmfao hope you enjoy this blurb! :)

REMINDER: this is purely fiction, the way how the character is portrayed in my story does not reflect to the person that is portraying my character in real life. always separate fiction from reality, and do not repost or copy my work in any way.

WORD COUNT: 830

WARNINGS: typos and inaccuracies

You and Oscar were the quintessential couple in the paddock. Oscar’s calm demeanor perfectly complemented your vibrant nature. However, there’s one thing about you that makes your life more interesting—your notoriously bad sense of direction. You don’t know how or why you’re bad at directions, at this point, it can be a blessing or a curse, depending on the situation. Your bad sense of direction can also be a good laugh for your friends and had also become a running inside joke in your family.

“Oscar, babe, I swear I thought the media center was this way!” You exclaimed, looking at your phone map, which seemed to be leading you in circles around the paddock.

Oscar chuckled, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “You’re adorable, you know that? But we’ve passed that same coffee stand three times now.” He pointed at the stand, causing you to pout, with cheeks flushing in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, I just…I’m really bad at this.”

“I know, and it’s one of the many things I love about you,” Oscar said, pressing a kiss on your temple. “Which is why I’ve come up with a little solution that can help us.”

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little device. Which you had recognized instantly from the logo that is printed on it—it was an apple airtag, and handing to you with a grin. Grabbing it, you looked up at him, a bit puzzled.

“What’s this for?”

“Every time we go to a race or anywhere unfamiliar, I’m going to clip this onto your bag or slip it into your pocket,” he explained, smiling. “That way, if you get lost, I can always find you easily.” You laughed, eyes twinkling with amusement. A bit touched as well with his little gesture.

“You’re really going to track me like a wayward puppy?”

“Exactly,” Oscar said, his eyes full of affection. “Consider it a modern-day love token.”

The next race was held in Monza, and true to his word, Oscar has managed to discreetly attached the airtag on your bag before you left the hotel. As you both navigated through the bustling crowd, you felt more at ease knowing Oscar had your back, literally.

You began having the itch to venture out, the need for a coffee fix and grab a coffee as well for Oscar. Walking out confidently, you had managed to convince yourself that you perfectly knew the way like the back of hand, but you had spoke to soon. You had found yourself in a maze of unfamiliar trailers and motorhomes, panic was slowly creeping up on you. But you were able to remember the airtag.

Fishing your phone out of your pocket, you quickly open the Find My app, seeing Oscar’s dot not far from you, and sending him a quick message:

osco 🫶🏻 [2:45 PM] : lost again. can you please come find me?

Not a minute later, Oscar appeared around the corner, a wide grin sporting on his face.

“You found a way to use the airtag already, huh?” You sighed in relief, running up to him and wrapping your arms around his waist. “I did. Thank you for this. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Oscar hugged you back, planting a soft kiss on your forehead. “At this rate, you’d probably end up in the Red Bull garage trying to convince them you’re a McLaren fan.” You giggled, swatting his chest playfully. “Hey! I’m not that bad.” You pouted, causing him to coo at your cuteness and pecking your lips softly.

“Oh, really? Remember last week when you ended up in the Ferrari hospitality trying to ‘borrow’ their wifi?” Oscar laughed and your eyes widened. “In my defense, their coffee was fantastic.”

He shook his head, still laughing. “Well, this time, you got lost trying to get coffee from the McLaren team’s designated stand. You were so far off, you almost ended up in the pit lane.” Your eyes immediately sparkled with mischievousness. “It’s not my fault their coffee stations look like they’re in a maze.”

“Well, here’s a pro tip,” Oscar said, guiding you back towards the seats. “Next time you’re lost, just look for the airtag beacon or, you know, follow the scent of freshly brewed coffee works perfectly too.”

As you both made your way back towards the McLaren motorhome, you playfully pretended to get lost again, dramatically scanning the area and calling out, “Oscar! Where are you?” This silly action had made him laugh and grabbed your hand. “I’m right here, love. Even if you did get lost every time, I’d be happy to find you. Besides, it has become my favorite side quest.”

“And I’ll gladly always let you find me.” You smiled, heart swelling with love.

The airtag had pretty much became a staple in your relationship. No matter where the races took you, you knew that you have your personal navigator, and Oscar knew he had someone worth finding every single time

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Hey its the enha request anon and yep that's the one! Thank you soooo much and I can't wait for whatever post you drop next <3

Teheh, this is the first part I hope you like it :) its been in my drafts for so long but I didn't come back around to clean up it until just now so my apologies (tbh my drafts are drowning in things i need to finish or just post but ive been saurrrr distracted)

When They Take a Prank a Bit too Far | Jake

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Jake had been a bit of a prankster since the beginning of your relationship with him. His playful nature was one of the things you loved about him, one of the things that made you fall so madly in love with him. Especially when one of his jokes could pull out the laugh and smile you loved so much.

But he had always been careful when teasing you. He knew you had the tendency to be a bit more sensitive. This time, he decided to take his pranks to a new level by pretending he was talking to someone else. Little did he know that this prank would end up testing your relationship in ways neither of you anticipated.

Jake had been planning the prank for a week, coordinating with his friends to make it as believable as possible. He wanted to see your reaction, thinking it would be fun to reveal the truth with a grand romantic gesture later. He didn’t consider the possibility that you might not confront him about it at all. You always had been slightly insecure, especially whenever you'd see videos of Engenes at fanmeets fawning over him. But you had a quiet confidence that made you pull through those insecurities. It was something he admired a lot. So he thought if you assumed he was talking to someone else you'd simply bring out a pouty face and ask him. And then he could assure you that it was just a joke.

In fact it stemmed from the fact that he had assured the guys you would do such. He swore up and down that he knew you best, and knew that you wouldn't take it to heart.

"My Y/N-ie may seem insecure, but they know I would never cheat on them." He had told the guys.

And it was no surprise that Ni-Ki proposed they should test this idea.

For the past few days, Jake had been unusually secretive with his phone, constantly texting and smiling at the screen. You noticed the change immediately. Usually, he was open with his messages, even asking you to reply to his friends sometimes. But now, he would quickly turn his phone away whenever you walked by, and he seemed to be lost in his own world, smiling at whatever was on the screen.

While you were curious at first- even coming to the conclusion he was pulling your leg, your initial curiosity turned into worry quickly.

Jake wouldn't be the type to pretend to cheat for a prank would he? You couldn't fathom your golden retriever aussie boy pulling a prank as risky as that. He knew how sensitve you were and always shied away from doing things that could unintentionally hurt you.

So while at first you summed it up to be a prank, you convinced yourself your saint of a boyfriend was not a prankster of this caliber.

Which immediaetly brought worry into your mind.

Was he talking to another person? The thought gnawed at you, making you feel insecure and anxious. You tried to brush it off, reminding yourself that Jake loved you and wouldn’t do something like that. But the nagging doubt persisted the more and more you saw his behaviors change.

The first time you had noticed Jake’s unusual behavior was during dinner. His phone buzzed, and he quickly glanced at it, chuckled, and then turned it face down on the table. Usually, he would share funny messages with you, but this time he kept it to himself.

"Who’s that?" you asked casually.

"Oh, just a friend," he replied, his eyes twinkling with a hint of mischief.

You tried to ignore the sinking feeling in your stomach, but it only grew stronger as the days went by. Jake would often excuse himself to take calls in another room, and you could hear him laughing softly.

A laugh you loved so much.

Your heart ached with worry, but you kept silent, not wanting to seem paranoid. And not wanting to risk angering him if you were to ask.

One evening, you found yourself alone in the living room, scrolling mindlessly through your phone while Jake was in the bedroom, supposedly talking to his "friend." You couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy and insecurity as you watched the same reel for the eleventh time.

What if he was going to break up with you and leave you for the other person? Were you desperate enough to overlook infidelity just to keep him by your side? You felt ashamed believeing that you would.

You just loved Jake so much and it hurt to think that he was finding that love in another.

Maybe they kinder than you? Sweeter? Prettier? Funnier? Overall better. The thought made your chest tighten with anxiety. You never felt good enough to Jake. He seemed like a literal angel and you felt extremely lucky to have someone like him when you felt so underserving of him.

Maybe he had found someone who was deserving of him.

You tried to keep your composure, reminding yourself of the trust you had in Jake. He didn't seem like the type of person to cheat. But then again wasn't anyone capable of anything?

You told yourself it was impossible for him. But the more secretive he became, the more your resolve began to crumble. You found yourself lying awake at night, replaying every interaction in your mind, searching for clues or reassurance.

Did you do something to make him stop loving you?

Jake’s behavior didn’t improve; in fact, it seemed to get worse. He was always on his phone, and every time you walked into the room, he would lock it and smile at you with that same mischievous glint in his eyes. It was driving you crazy.

One night, after a particularly long day, you were sitting on the couch, staring blankly at the TV. Jake was next to you, but his attention was entirely focused on his phone. He chuckled softly, his fingers flying across the screen as he typed a message.

Your heart ached with a mix of jealousy and hurt. You felt tears welling up in your eyes, and felt your lip begin to quiver, but you didn’t want to confront him. Instead, you quietly excused yourself and went to the bedroom, shutting the door behind you. You laid on the edge of the bed, burying your face in your arms as silent tears streamed down your cheeks.

You felt a deep sense of betrayal, wondering what you had done wrong. Why was he talking to someone else? Did he not love you anymore? The questions swirled in your mind, each one more painful than the last.

Jake, oblivious to your distress, continued his prank.

He was just sending mindless memes back and forth with Ni-Ki. It wasn’t until he noticed how quiet the living room had become that he realized something was wrong. He looked up from his phone and saw that you were gone. A pang of guilt hit him, and he decided to check on you.

Jake entered the bedroom quietly, expecting to find you reading or maybe even asleep. Instead, he found you laying on the bed, your shoulders shaking as you cried softly into your hands. His heart dropped. He hadn’t expected his prank to affect you this deeply.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” he asked gently, sitting beside you and wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you into him.

You tried to compose yourself, wiping at your eyes, but the tears kept coming. “It’s nothing,” you said, your voice shaky.

Jake’s heart ached at the sight of your tears. “Please, talk to me. What’s bothering you?”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady your emotions. “I just… I feel like you’ve been distant. You’re always on your phone, and I don’t know who you’re talking to. It’s like you’re hiding something from me. Did I do something wrong?" You croaked.

Jake’s guilt intensified. He had never meant for his prank to hurt you like this. “I’m so sorry,” he said, his voice filled with regret. “It was a prank. I wasn’t talking to another lover. I was texting Ni-Ki. We were testing out how you would react to me being secretive. I didn’t realize it would make you feel this way. I thought you would have confronted me by now...” His round eyes were sad as he looked at you, his chin jutting you as he pouted.

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of relief and hurt. “A prank? You promise?”

He nodded, looking genuinely remorseful. “Yes, a prank. I wanted to see your reaction, but I never meant to hurt you. I love you, and I’m so sorry for making you feel pained.”

You took a deep breath, feeling the tension leave your body as you leaned into him. “You promise it was just a prank?”

“I promise,” he whispered, kissing the top of your head. “No more pranks that make you feel like this. I love you too much to see you hurt.”

Jake went out of his way to make it up to you, planning small surprises and showing you how much he cared over the next few days. And even asked Ni-Ki to explain to you that it was just a prank. He couldn't stress it enough.

It pained him even more than it had pained you.

One evening, as you both sat on the couch, he took your hand in his. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened,” he said softly. “I’m really sorry for making you feel like that. I never want you to doubt my love for you.” This had to have been Jake's one hundreth apology and you chuckled.

You squeezed his hand, grateful for his sincerity. “I know. And I’m sorry for not talking to you about it sooner. I just… I didn’t want to seem paranoid. But its okay Jake, I forgive you."

Jake shook his head. “You’re not paranoid. I should have been more considerate. I’ve learned my lesson.” He said snuggling up to you.

You smiled as he peppered kissed all over your head and face.

"Jake!" You giggled as he continued kissing you.

"Hmm?" He said pulling you closer. "Hmm?" He hummed repeatedly, emphasizing each one with yet another kiss.

You squirmed in his arms but he wouldn't let you go.

"I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You." Kiss.

"I know!" You giggled once more.

"I." Kiss. "Love." Kiss. "You."

"I-I knowwwww!" You said trying to squirm out of his ticklish embrace.

"Mmm." He said pulling you back. Kiss.

"Jakeeeee."

"I'm not-" Kiss. "Letting-" Kiss. "You go-" Kiss. "Until-" Kiss. "You-" Kiss. "Say it-" Kiss. "Back." Kiss.

"I-I love you, TOO!" You squealed as his got to the sensitive spot on your neck.

He smiled and placed a chaste kiss on your lips, and pulled you into his side, picking up the remote and scrolling through the TV.

"I thought you said you'd let me go if I said it back." You mumbled in mock annoyance, pushing yourself even more into Jake's side if that was possible.

"Maybe I lied..." Jake said softly, stroking your hair as he settled on a drama you loved. "Because I don't ever want to let you go."

You sighed contentedly in response to his answer.

His few words unknowingly clearing any lingering doubts you had about Jake's immeasurable love for you.

@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

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[nadvs]

OMG, i’ve never written one of these so im nervous lmao. I wanted to say, I am ABSOLUTELY in love with this basketball!rage stories you have going on right now!

Don’t know if i’m getting to ahead of my self, but I can literally imagine reader and rafe when he gets drafted to the NBA. Or even reader sitting courtside on his NBA games, whether only her or with this kids! Also like imagining rafe winning the NBA finals.

I don’t know if you plan on going that far with this series, but just would absolutely love to read about them more!!!! Your writing is so AMAZING!

hi hi aw thank you sm for reading and messaging!! 🥰

based on this fic

AAA I LOVE IT she’d be supporting him as he waits for draft night and he’d be fooling everyone but her that he’s not nervous. in reality, he’s scared as hell that he’s gonna go undrafted.

but then he’s offered a two-year contract for a team states away and that’s when he knows for sure that he loves her because underneath the excitement he feels, he’s scared the distance will ruin things between them.

they do have troubles and they argue a lot when he moves away because their worlds become so different and he gets so busy and wrapped up in his new life. but he doesn’t let it fuck things up. he flies back to see her every single chance he gets. if he’s not playing or training, he’s finding a way to see her. eventually she regains trust in their relationship and uproots her life to move in with him.

the tabloids eat their love story up. she’d be sitting courtside and the camera’s focused on her pre-game while the commentators are talking about how good his season’s been and how interesting it is that he and his girlfriend are college sweethearts from rival schools.

during his first finals season, he injures his shoulder and he goes into a dark place once he gets told he needs to sit out the season. he takes the time off for rest and physical therapy. she’s there for him every day. he’s stronger and better the next time he gets a chance to go to the end with his team. he wins the championship trophy and after celebrating with his teammates into the early hours of the night, he crawls into their bed and he feels like he has to hold her as she sleeps because he cannot believe that this is his life and touching her makes it feel more real.

the next morning, he’s hungover and she tells him he should’ve hydrated (she’s been nagging him about that since their college days).

he has a reputation for being an angry, aggressive player. he becomes a figure people love to hate. he hardly ever agrees to do interviews he doesn’t have to do, but he gets offered to be part of a docu-series on athletes who had almost career-ending injuries but bounced back and he agrees to do the interview with his girl by his side and people all over social media are obsessed with them and how funny their banter is and how obviously in love they are with each other.

it gets to a point where they can’t go anywhere without being recognized and hounded, so he prioritizes booking quiet, private vacations for them every few months so she doesn’t get overwhelmed by it all. she keeps him grounded. she knew him when he was nobody, just a college ball player who bickered with her all the time.

throughout everything, the nature of their relationship never changes. they joke around a lot, but they give it to each other straight when they need to, and it’s what makes them have a strong, happy life together 🥹

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls 14 part 2/2

Masterpost 

Danny had kind of ignored the most important part of that initial message. Crud. Of course the poor bastard wanted to know about the progress on their spiritual separation. Danny cringed. He typed fast to send a new message before Jason could ask again.

It did not come out easily. He wrote and deleted two drafts before he groaned aloud. “I am not prepared to tell him that the options so far are either to marry and divorce me or to get his ass banished from the ghost dimension.” Danny spent a moment pitying himself. “I just have to say the truth.”

Cringe. Cringe so hard. 

I have two possible solutions but they both suck really hard. :/ Suck so hard you’d be shook. The suckage would change your life.

Jason sent back ellipses. It belatedly occurred to Danny that it might have looked like he was making a blowjob joke. He put the phone back on his chest and stared at the ceiling for a while, wondering why he was this way.

“Jason didn’t see that,” Danny told himself. “Jason is a professional. A professional something. I don't know what.” 

He wanted to believe it so badly that he just decided not to be mortified. Danny lifted the burner phone back up and painstakingly assembled a shrug emoji from symbols. 

Honestly they’re such bad options that I don’t even wanna tell you. Can we change the subject? : (

Jason sent back a series of laughing and crying emojis and then, Fine. Let’s talk about all the other stuff we have in common.

Danny pursed his lips. “...Do we have anything in common?” It wasn’t like he knew much about the guy, but he presumed Jason kept himself busy with some boring adult job, building muscle, and biking around looking hot. Danny crossed his legs at the knee and tried not to think of what a twig he looked like in comparison to Jason. He didn’t feel bad about it, honestly. Danny was too busy to make fitness a part of his personality and he had nothing to prove.

I’m illiterate, he settled on as a response. They definitely did not have a love of literature in common. What else did people do? I uh…. Watched a movie two years back.

Any good?

T’was shit, Danny admitted. Hm. He frowned. “I’m not sure where to take this conversation,” he said aloud.

I’m so hungry. Just got off work and I’m trying to decide what to do.

“Oh, I can do something with that.” Danny felt better. Yeah me too, I would kill for an enchilada. He tried to send a ghost emoji and groaned when he remembered that this was a shitty burner phone with no keyboard downloaded and apparently no access to the app store. Jason had already responded by the time that he gave up.

Ghosts eat Mexican food?

They would if they have human zone money, Danny sent back morosely. Oh no, it wasn’t fun anymore. Ya boy can’t pay in the tears of the damned anywhere on this plane of existence smh. His stomach growled with obnoxious timing. He groaned. The last thing he’d eaten had been that sandwich with Jazz. He could cook… He really should cook. 

Ugh. Effort. 

Danny tried to motivate himself up to the kitchen. “It’s four steps,” he said aloud, trying to be encouraging. “I can make it.”

Ah. No. That was actually kind of depressing. He lived in a shoebox with a monthly grocery budget that was just pitiful.

Haha ur broke, Jason sent, because he was a massive bitch. Danny felt a lot better about flipping him off. But then Jason followed it up with an obviously insincere, I’d get you enchiladas if you were in Gotham. Sucks to suck.

Danny sensed weakness to exploit.

“You’re going to regret that,” Danny grimly promised, and hit the call button.

Jason picked up on the second ring, sounding confused and electronic. “Hey?”

“I can be in Gotham for enchiladas,” Danny threatened. His stomach growled again. “You feeling brave? Huh? Huh?” He punched a finger at the air in accusation. “I’m not scared of you or your dank gargoyles, leatherboy.”

There was a weird mechanical sound. Maybe a snort? A laugh? “I’ll send you a GPS point, if you’re there in ten I’ll buy you all you can eat.”

Danny went still like the predator he was. “Bring your life savings.” He hit the end call button and launched himself off the couch to go stuff his feet into his shoes. He let his apartment door slam shut behind him carelessly. He’d made it to the ground level before the pin point landed.

“Fuck, it’s even in my neighborhood.” Danny laughed, flush with petty victory. He looked left, right, and went invisible before he went ghost. There was no one around at this late hour to see him drop off the visible spectrum.

[smooth-perceval]

Angsty lando pleaseeeeee

This is my first rq omg, sorry it was rushed I have like 7 drafts and I’m trying to clear them out 🥲🫶🏼❤️

Surrender

Lando Norris x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader was only trying to console Lando, Lando throws a hissy fit- and some truths are spilled. The ‘argument’ being quickly extinguished.

Warnings: Angst, swearing, very annoyed reader+Lando, fluff ending

Key: Y/N (Your Name) Y/L/N (your last name)

Word count: 1,397

A/N: I cannot see Lando being mean- so it was kinda weird to write 😂 Sarcastic asf? Yes! Mean- it seems so odd but I hope I done okay ❤️

Wether Lando was annoyed or not- I shouldn’t have recieved the back end of it.

I only asked a simple “you okay?” And I got back. “Just leave me the fuck alone.” Before storming back over to the car hopping back in and out on track.

Debating wether to go back to the drivers room or stay - I finally decided that going back to the drivers room was my best option. I felt embarrassed- after 4 people asked me if I was okay, I felt to upset and awkward to be around them.

My face was Ferrari red- no joke, shuffling my way back to the drivers room, I sat in pure silence. Did I really say anything bad? Did I actually annoy him and it wasn’t the car? Questioning my intentions for the next 10 minutes or so is all I did. Before I came to the perfect idea and decided to just leave in general, go back to the hotel and dwell on it all there.

While I had the chance to run I did. Straight back to our hotel and straight into the shower, a day washed away once again. I made quick effort to change into a simple shorts pyjama set, lounging out on the small sofa they had in the room.

—

My phone re-woke me. Grabbing ahold and answering, only to realise who it was when the angry voice spoke down the line.

“Where the hell are you?!”

“Back at the hotel?”

“I’ve looked everywhere for you! Nobody knew! You didn’t tell me!!” Rubbing my eyes, a yawn escaping me. I tutted at him climbing off the sofa and into the bed.

“I fell asleep and forgot to message sorry-”

“I’m nearly at the hotel.” And with that he hung up, here I anxiously sat. I get the annoyance but he was the reason I left in the first place.

Sighing I mentally prepared myself for the lecture I was about to withstand. And truthfully I couldn’t be asked for it.

“Y/N.” The door unlocked and he barged in.

“Seriously- what the hell is going on with you? I needed you at the pits today.” Frowning he stormed off into the bathroom.

“Errr- No, you told me to ‘leave you the fuck alone’ so I did.” Leaning over the bed I put my phone on charge.

“Just cause I said it, didn’t mean I meant it.” Tutting I hear him switch on the shower waiting around for it to warm up, he walked back out facing me.

“Wether you meant it or not Lando. I didn’t deserve it.”

“Well who else am I supposed to let my anger out on.” Throwing his hands up in the air like it’s the most problematic thing in his life at the moment.

“You can vent to me any day- you know that. But I won’t take rudeness.”

“I wasn’t fucking rude!” Shaking his head laughing to himself he went back into the bathroom slamming the door.

“There you go again. Just because your cars shit! Don’t take it out on me.” Laying back on the bed with a groan I stared up at the ceiling.

What a dick.

“My car is not shit-” glancing over at him now standing back outside the bathroom door, he looked so pissed off- but why is it okay for him to say stuff and not me.

“Did I touch a nerve?”

“What made you even bring that up? We wasn’t talking about that.”

“The whole reason for your sour mood is that car.”

“Can’t a guy just have a bad day.” Pulling his hoodie off throwing it on the floor.

“There’s a bad day and then a bad weekend. And you’ve been an asshole to me this whole weekend. If it’s not the car then what? Is it me?” Raising my eyebrows at him I sat on the edge of the bed.

“Your talking stupid again.” And once again he stormed into the bathroom, stripping down to his underwear.

“Then what is it?- I’m not a mind-reader Lando! I can’t help unless you tell me what’s pissed you off.”

“Your not listening! Nothing has pissed me off, fucking hell.” I could’ve got whiplash the amount of times he has stormed in and out that bathroom.

The hot and cold was pissing me off- and before I knew it, all the calmness washed away from me- and all the built up annoyance and anger reeled out.

“You are so frustrating- do you understand that.” Furrowing my brows I stood up, gesturing my hands in front of me.

“One minute it’s ‘can’t a guy have a bad day’ then it’s ‘I’m not pissed off’ or it’s ‘I needed you in the garage today’ but your not pissed off right? So why did you need me. Do you understand how fucking childish your being.” Chest rising and falling, we both stared at each other in silence.

“And while I’m getting everything off my chest for once- your car is shit! Man up and tell the team, don’t drive a shit car and then get annoyed at me for asking a simple question. I didn’t build the stupid car, I don’t drive it- I have no involvement!” Turning around grabbing a pillow off the bed I stomped towards the sofa. “Stupid fucking thing it is.” Mumbling to myself while shaking my head.

“Because I have human decency, I’ll sleep on the sofa. But don’t you dare speak to me unless your going to apologise for being a absolute prick.” Throwing the pillow down on the sofa, I went to the wardrobe pulling out the spare duvet, throwing that on the sofa also.

“What- why you sleeping on the sofa…”

“That doesn’t sound like an apology.” With a loud huff he disappeared once again.

When I turned around Lando had retreated back to the bathroom. It’s strange, lecturing someone tires you out, I flopped back onto the sofa, sighing to myself. Was I too harsh…? Yeah- maybe I should apologise…

Before I even thought about what to say I had dozed back off again, not even wanting to face Lando truthfully right now, I’ll only say more things I don’t mean.

—

“Baby…” rocking me gently, I was woken from my slumber. It was pitch black, I just about made out Lando’s face.

“You awake���?” Even though it was just us two, he still whispered. Humming in response, I rolled over facing the back of the sofa.

“I’m sorry…” pressing a delicate kiss to my shoulder, rubbing it gently, he then leant his head against my back. “I’m sorry for taking my anger out on you… your right about absolutely everything.” Followed by another soft kiss to my shoulder.

“Even about the car being shit??…” smiling to myself, I turned back over slowly, wrapping an arm around his neck, playing with the back of his hair.

“That’s the reason I’m so annoyed-” slowly he squeezed himself on the sofa, pulling me half on-top of him. “Your right- I should man up and tell them, not just keep allowing them to fuck up…” brushing my hand over his cheek, I laid my head on his shoulder listening to him vent.

“I just have had enough… I’ve had enough of feeling like a failure every race- because the cars so terrible…” sighing, he fiddled with my hand. “I love you- and that scares me…” smiling wide, I moved his head turning it towards me.

“You love me?”

“So fucking much.” Pulling him in slowly, I placed a gentle kiss to his lips. “Your not a failure, your absolutely wonderful…” a small smile crept on his face at my compliment.

“Your going to tell them what you really think about that car, your also going to give it your all the rest of this season, because you don’t give up.”

“Your also going to start understanding, I’m on your side always… no matter what, I’m battling from your corner. Because I love you, always have and always will.”

Smiling at me, he pulled me down slowly brushing his lips against mine, “does this mean I get some lovin’?” Laughing, I smacked his chest climbing over him standing up.

“You really are lucky I love you.”

“I know I bless myself everyday.” Standing up he placed his hands on my waist kissing me again.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

Masterlist

[chrrychills]

heya! do u think u could write about the sbg characters confessing to reader and how you think theyd do it?

i'll never love anyone the same .

main six « confessing!

ashlyn banner:

•she acts nonchalant, but she's internally freaking out.

•she's spent days weighing the pros and cons of confessing, and it got the point taylor had to beg ashlyn to just tell you already. her crush on you was so obvious (at least to your friends) that it hurt.

•you two will spend at least five minutes sitting in complete silence until ashlyn starts talking.

•she's not great with words– we know this. but she's spent a lot of time figuring out what to say, how to convey just how she feels about you.

•ashlyn's a realistic person, she knows rejection is in the realm of possibilities and dreads the scenario of it happening.

•she's a naturally blunt person, and that doesn't change while she confesses. it's charming, in a way.

•eventually, she'll just come out and say it because the overthinking is starting to frustrate her.

•"...i like you. i have for a while."

aiden clark:

•he's either super cryptic or really forward, it just depends on how he's feeling that day.

•it's most likely a spontaneous confession– he listens to his impulsive thoughts way too much.

•if he's nervous, he doesn't show it. he's staring at you with that stupid smile like he didn't just confess to you.

•unless you're a little brain dead, you probably noticed he had a crush on you. he didn't make it super obvious, but his eyes always found yours after he made a joke, and he was basically always by your side, regardless of where you were.

•aiden's observant. if you liked him back, he knew. he didn't comment on it, but he knew.

•it wouldn't be surprising if he confessed in the middle of a conversation, which there's a 99% chance that's what'll happen.

•if you were talking, he'd cut you off with "will you be my girlfriend?"

•if he's talking, he'll absentmindedly slip it into conversation and not realize what he said until you react to it.

•"that bio homework kicked my ass... hey, will you be my girlfriend?"

ben clark:

•he's so nervous and it's so sweet. he'll plan everything out because he's a sweetheart and wants it to be perfect.

•when he invites you to hang out, he seems a bit on edge and can't look you in the eye because you're so gorgeous and he will freeze up.

•100% gets you flowers. will also get you your favorite food– better yet, he'll make it. yes, his hands are trembling when he gives them to you.

•he'll spend the entire night before drafting up the most heartwarming message you've ever read. he feels kinda bad that he can't tell you directly, so he makes sure to communicate how he feels the best he can.

•blushing the entire time you read what he wrote. starts internally freaking out while you read because he's so scared you're not gonna like it.

•is literally giddy when you accept his confession. he gives the best hugs ever, so expect one of those.

•goes into detail explaining what he likes about you (pretty much everything) and how he feels about you. if you cry easily (me) there's a good chance you'll get misty-eyed.

tyler hernandez:

•it took him a while to accept that he had feelings for you, so it'll probably take him months to even think about confessing.

•honestly, you'll probably end up confessing before he does. if you don't, though, there's gonna be a lot of unspoken tension.

•he'll end up confessing for a couple reasons. one, taylor will not stop pestering him until he does because it's so obvious you two like each other. two, he gets so fed up with all the uncertainty and tension. he hates it.

•during the actual confession, he's a mess. his face is pink and he's obviously flustered but he'll get so defensive if you point it out.

•he's lowkey fumbling over his words until eventually he just blurts it out. he thinks it's the most embarrassing thing he's ever done– you think it's sweet.

•"i'm in love with you, okay?!"

•"...shut up– stop laughing!"

•he'll be so butthurt until you assure him that you feel the same way. he's still gonna be butthurt after, but he'll be too distracted to really care.

taylor hernandez:

•taylor's really in tune with her emotions, so she'll know pretty quickly when she develops feelings for you.

•she'll give it a month or so until she confesses, just because she's nervous and she really doesn't wanna mess anything up.

•her confession would be really thought out. she'd have your favorite movie, snacks and drinks laid on her bed.

•she'll try to keep it short and sweet, but taylor has a tendency to ramble. there's a good chance she'll go off topic and you'll just sit there, smiling and listening to her talk until she realizes.

•just like her brother, her face will be pink the entire time. she won't get defensive if you point it out, since you most likely look the exact same way.

•"i've liked you for a while now, but i just didn't wanna say anything. y'know, in case i messed something up between us or you didn't wanna be friends anymore- you still wanna be friends, right?"

•you'll have to tell her you wanna be more than friends. she doesn't wanna accidentally overstep by asking.

logan fields:

•he's the type of person that will go through every possible scenario before making a decision. that's why it took him so long to confess to you– he was nervous you'd reject him.

•when he does decide to confess, the first thing he's doing is hand making a bouquet from his grandparents greenhouse. taylor helps him by asking what your favorite flowers are.

•he's also a rambler, but he doesn't go off topic. he tries to keep it simple because he doesn't want to overwhelm you, and it works! he has to physically stop himself from rambling from nerves, though.

•when you accept his confession, he's smiling from ear to ear for a good week.

•his heart melts when he sees that you've put the bouquet he made in a vase, sitting proudly on your kitchen counter.

•audibly sighs from relief when he realized you didn't reject him– and gets embarrassed when he realizes that you heard him.

lacey's notes: guys i've actually never confessed to anyone before so idk...

i'm also running on a 20 oz redbull and two hrs of sleep ignore any spelling/grammar mistakes.

...maybe i'll edit this later (no i wont)

also thank you all for 100 followers yall are crazy ilyilyily

[kingdumkum]

WHERE THE RIVER MEETS THE SEA

this has been a long, long time coming. hopefully it’ll live up to the obscenely high expectations i’ve set. agree or disagree, please reblog/comment/send an anon with your thoughts--but make sure you read the RULES of interaction first.

summary: your date stood you up… again. Don’t worry, though, Baji will be there to pick up the pieces, like he always is. The only question… what will you do when you find out his secret? wc: 15k (we don't talk about it)

cw: virgin fem afab!reader x virgin!Baji, a lil itty bitty baby bit of blood, somewhat public (initially), bc why not, marking, creampie, Confessions galore, somewhat gendered pet names (princess, babe, sweetheart), actually gendered pet names (one handful of "good girl," "pretty girl," and "my girl"), subtle yandere themes but not to the extent a DC label is needed—correct me if I’m wrong though—be nice if I missed something, this is my first time :) way too many words but c’est la vie such is the way.

dedication: Storm, my friend, your support and advice has made me a better writer. Without you, this would probably still be sitting in my drafts, collecting dust and every hateful thought I’ve ever had about my writing. Thank you for being you and all of your aid in getting this to where it is. 💛

Your coffee’s cold when you give up. Well—second coffee, to be precise; the first you’d ordered after Tadashi said he was a few minutes away. That one had grown cold too, but the barista, taking pity, had given you a piping hot refill—for free.

It feels like an insult when she offers you a third.

An hour and a half has passed since Tadashi said he’d be there, and… well, you were still kinda hoping he might show up. But when the manager approaches with a tight-lipped smile, not-so-kindly pointing at their hours plastered ever so neatly on the glass door and indicating they’re just a few minutes to closing, your hope ebbs entirely.

The heat in your cheeks could’ve rewarmed your cup—but not one to cause a scene, you offer a tight-lip smile of your own and apologize. You don’t explain that you were waiting for someone; the pitying look in the barista’s eye as she mouths sorry and slides the unwanted third cup your way says they know.

You slip into the bathroom, wondering how in the world you could be so stupid— again. This was your third first date in three months… and the third time in three months that you’ve been stood up. 

It hurts more when you check your phone. Two new messages from Emma, asking how it’s going and if you want to grab dinner to dish; one from Draken, asking if you can bring back a vanilla frappe and a triple dark roast espresso with two pumps of caramel; one from Baji, saying he might be late to pick you up, but he’d be there, and could you get him an order of whatever you’re having?

Nothing from Tadashi.

You don’t respond, instead letting your phone rest against the mirror while you stare at your reflection and try, desperately, to convince yourself it isn’t your fault.

Everything had been going great—you thought. You thought he really liked you, that he was excited to get to know you, and that this one, this one for sure would show up. You made jokes that he found funny, you were just the right amount of flirty, and you knew—thought—hoped—the picture you’d sent of your outfit (a simple sundress that accentuated your best features and wedges that made your legs seem endless) was enticing enough that he’d want to see it in person.

But here you are. Crying in the bathroom of a cafe you’ll never be able to return to, wondering how you’re going to explain to your friends that you got stood up.

Again.

Your phone starts to buzz. With a deep breath, you wipe off your dripping mascara. You force yourself to smile at the hollow reflection staring back at you, then answer with an overly-cheerful, “what’s up?”

“Kenny’s worried.” Baji’s familiar drawl echos, making the space seem even smaller. “I said he was being too overprotective, but—well, you know how he is. Said it’s his duty or some shit to make sure you’re okay. He tried to come down here himself, wanted to meet the guy trying to woo you—can you believe that? He actually said woo—“

“What do you want?” you interrupt. Too harsh, you realize when Baji doesn’t answer. “It’s just—I’m kinda in the middle of something, you know?” 

Baji takes a moment, then forces a laugh. “Yeah, yeah, the little princess’s got a date, we know. God, they wouldn’t let it go. You should be thanking me, ya know, I’m the only reason they’re not all crashing—”

“Baji.”

The line falls quiet. Then, softly, “where are you, y/n?”

You frown and start searching for your mascara. “At the coffee shop. Why, where are you?”

Another pause. This one heavier. With the phone tucked to one ear, you slowly swipe the wand over your lashes. It’s clumpier than you usually like, but it’s better than nothing—

“I’m outside.”

Fuck.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” he echoes. You mouth another fuck, heart plummeting, then start reapplying your mascara. More carefully, now that you’re out of time. “I, uh—I’ve been here. A while.”

“Oh… yeah?” you question, teeth starting to grind. “How long’s a while?”

Baji clears his throat. “Long enough. You gonna come out, or are ya gonna make me come in?”

Mascara gets tossed in your purse, gloss comes out. “You’re not exactly welcome in the ladies room, Baji.”

You can picture the dangerous curl in his smile when he replies, “not without an invitation, babe—why, you asking?”

Your laugh isn’t completely real, but not unnatural, either. You hover the gloss over your lips, and for a moment, you imagine what it’d be like. To sneak someone into the bathroom, kissing until your lips start to bruise, his hands playing with the hem of your dress, his lips marking your skin, his voice whispering your name…

You shake the thought away. There’s no point in getting your heart broken twice in one day.

“Three’s a bit of a crowd for a single stall,” you deflect. “Be out in a minute.”

Baji hums. Your gloss feels too thick, but you don’t take it off. You fluff your hair again, placing it the way you like, turning your necklace so the clasp faces the right way, lips smacking together once, twice, three times—

By the time you run out of things to do, you think you’re ready. You pick up your purse and give yourself a final once-over. Pretty, you think. Doesn’t look like you spent the last seven minutes sobbing in a public restroom.

When you exit, Baji’s still on the line, but he doesn’t hang up. You know, because the teasing, “well shit, babe, if I had known you’d worn that, I would’ve come two hours ago,” echoes; once from your phone, and the other from the man himself, standing right in front of you.

You laugh, and this one isn’t forced at all.

Baji’s smile gleams in the evening sun. A low wolf-whistle causes your face to warm pleasantly—the way it should have, when you met Tadashi. You take Baji’s extended hand, not flinching when his callouses rub against your soft palms. 

You’re used to their roughness. Much like the others, Baji’s always been a hands-on friend (and fighter), so over the years, you’ve gotten used to the various bumps, cuts, and jagged edges, to the extent that the only hands that’ve ever felt comfortable have been those rough ones, soft only for you. 

Baji spins you, over-exaggerating the way he checks you out. “Sweetheart, you’re going to stop traffic looking like that.”

“Oh, please,” you deny, but your smile hasn’t been this genuine all day. “Laying it on a little thick, Baj.”

“Only the realest truth for the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” is his sly reply, accompanied by a slyer wink. It’s his usual charm, but you’re oblivious to his sincerity, the way you always are. Baji pulls you into a tight hug and closes his eyes, and for a moment, he allows himself to pretend this was your intention all along; to wind up in his arms, with his compliments, by his side—the way it always seems to go after every failed date.

But you never say as much, and you always seem so genuinely excited for the next one that he’s never going to ask. Instead, he’ll take these moments. The ones where you turn to him for comfort, where he gets to hold you, your knight-in-shining-armor, and do all that he can to make everything better.

He’s so close that you almost miss his muffled whisper of, “fucking—stupid bastard. Doesn’t know what he’s missed.”

Your smile slips. Your thumb rubs against the back of his knuckles, familiarly cracked with scabs that never seem to heal. These are fresh, though; you can tell by how his hand darts to the back of his neck, preventing you from looking too closely. 

“Been up to no good?” you question with a raised brow.

“‘Course I have,” he responds easily, “you’ve been busy.”

Baji won’t meet your gaze. ‘If only you knew,’ he thinks—but he’ll never say it. Not that. Not to you. He shrugs off his black leather jacket and drapes it over your shoulders, fingertips lingering as he straightens the collar. His dark eyes flick to yours, a coy smirk almost hiding his guilt as he hopes beyond all hope you don’t see through him.

You almost do.

Not enough to call him out on it, though, so instead, you roll your eyes—but you can’t deny how this—him—is making everything better. He picks up the helmet he only brings when he’s driving you and puts it on for you, visor up so he can brush the hair out of your eyes. Baji offers a comforting smile, then juts his chin to his bike. “Wanna ride?”

The answer, of course, is yes; for him, it will always be yes.

Silently, you climb on and wrap your hands around him, chin tucking into his shoulder as if you were made to be there. He revs and pulls off, seamlessly weaving in and out of traffic. Your eyes close. The wind whips in your hair, and the familiar scent of nicotine, mint, and Baji’s crisp aftershave envelopes you. For a moment, you feel like everything’ll be okay. Your heart might hurt now, but after an evening with him, it’ll all be okay.

That’s the power of Keisuke Baji, though; the sense of embarking on your greatest adventure but feeling like being home, all at once.

It’s nearly sunset when he stops. Pulls up to the river, kicks the bike stand, then grabs your waist to lift you off the seat.

“I can do that,” you say, even as you let him lift you.

“More fun when I do,” he replies with an easy grin. Your feet hit the ground, but Baji keeps one hand around your waist. He takes off the helmet with the other and laughs when your hair flops out. Hurriedly you go to smooth it, but Baji catches your wrist after setting the helmet down. “You don’t have to do that. Not with me.”

He cages you between the bike and his hips with just a few inches of space—and suddenly, your heart starts to race. When did he get this close? How hadn’t you noticed the way his leg slid between yours? Why isn’t he taking his hand away? Why can’t you breathe?

Baji’s dark eyes dart between yours, then down to your lips, and for a second, for a split second, you think he’s about to kiss you—

“Not like anything can make it better now,” he smirks, and if it weren’t for how his fingers were locked in yours, you would’ve slapped him.

“Asshole.” 

Baji laughs, and you swear the moon shines a little brighter. You’re grateful that he turns to check out the area before he can see just how much of an impact his laugh has on you—though you don’t doubt that he knows. He’s Baji, after all, and you’re not blind (or deaf). He’s handsome, witty, flirty with anything that moves—and that laugh of his could bring even the tides to a standstill.

“Coast’s clear,” he says, looking back at you, a lazy smirk curling his features. It shouldn’t be a surprise, hardly any ever comes this far south of the city—but a few weeks ago, you’d accidentally stumbled upon a couple who were… not expecting company, to put it delicately, and ever since, Baji had been extra cautious to make sure it was just the two of you before getting settled.

He takes a few steps backwards, leading you to your spot; a grassy knoll that overlooks the river as it feeds into the darkened sea. The moon slowly rises over rolling waves while the sun, more a memory, sets over the river’s bend. It’s a secret, sacred place for the two of you, where heartache and daydreams don’t exist; only the moon, the tides, and each other.

Your stomach flips but you can’t tell why; this is exactly what happens every time you come here, from the way he helps you off the bike to how he stops you from picking at your appearance. The only difference is the way his hand is still wrapped in yours. 

You wonder if Tadashi’s would have been this warm. 

But Tadashi isn’t here—Baji is, and it’s Baji’s warm hands that always make things better. So you let him keep his hand in yours, even though you’re not sure you should, and you let him gently tug you along when you don’t move fast enough. Let him take his time in taking his jacket back, in spreading it on the grass before waiting for you to sit. You even let him settle next to you, instinctively leaning into the familiar comfort of his body and for a minute, you wonder how you ever could’ve wanted your day to end different.

Then Baji meets your gaze, smiles that sweet, genuinely kind half smile that he only shares with you, and you remember: Baji is your friend—and no matter how many heartaches he heals, that’s all he’ll ever be.

You can’t remember when things got so complicated.

When it was just you and Kenny, you’d sneak up to the roof of the brothel and watch the sun dip behind the buildings and talk about how one day, you’d get a house that was that color pink, and it’d be on the far side of Japan where you could watch the sunset from your porch and life would be good. The sunset was the only dream you’d ever need, and it would be good.

Then Mikey started coming. More often than not he’d fall asleep before the sun did, and on the days he didn’t—the roof felt too… small. The dreams, too… little. They evolved, from a porch where you could watch the sunset to a skyline that never sleeps.

Dreams change, and that’s okay… but a part of you aches for the time when the sunset felt like enough—when the family you had, the brothers you’d found and the friends you’d made—was enough. You still had the sunset, but rarely. More often than not, you were by yourself up there, or stuck to Kenny’s side somewhere out there, or brushing against Baji’s shoulder down here.

So these days, you prefer to watch the moon rise. There’s more comfort in a light to guide you through the night, rather than watching your dreams disappear with the day.

And you do, the way you do every time you’re stood up or don’t feel—enough. You sit beside Baji with the full moon crawling towards you, staring at the conjunction of the river and the sea, and focus on how you’re going to get through this.

Baji cut his hair since the last date—the last time you’d been stood up, you correct. Still long, but now only to the edge of his jaw, not mid-back like you were used to. The light is bright behind him, bringing out the warm undertones in his onyx hair. You can make out the scab on his cheek from a bar fight a few weeks ago; the scar on his nose from when Mikey split it the first time they fought; the tender bruise along his jaw that looks too new to have told you the story yet.

Instinctively, you reach for it… then chicken out, instead teasing the edge of his hair. You’re left wondering if an angel’s wings would be as soft.

Baji glances at you from the corner of his eye. “You don’t like it?”

“What? I didn’t say that.” Your hand falls back to your lap, eyes quick to follow. The light behind him is too bright—too blinding. Too much like a halo. It’s impossible to hide the truth from an angel, and you know you don’t have the right words to convey just how beautiful you find him. “Just… gonna take some getting used to. I don’t think you’ve ever had it this short.”

He scoffs. “Maybe at birth.”

The idea of baby Baji flashes through your mind; sweet, chubby cheeks, little fists flailing at the world. A tuft of hair, dark as his and long already, but when he opens his eyes, they’re yours—

“Why’d you cut it?” your voice is steadier than you expect. It does nothing to change your thoughts, especially when Baji’s slender fingers start pulling at grass, just the way a baby grasps what's in front of him.

He stares straight ahead, letting one hand splay by your lower back as he watches the green blades dance in the wind. “Figured it was time for a change.”

You hmm in acknowledgement, brain too traitorous to come up with anything other than, ‘I bet you were a cute baby’ or ‘you look handsome either way’ or, worst of all, ‘why would you ever want to change?’

He probably meant nothing by it. Baji’s as flexible as they come; sets his own hours at the shop, varies what time he wakes or goes to bed, never eats the same thing too many times in a row… there’s not much permanency in his life as it is, so it sticks with you that he still wants something different.

If he thinks you’re being weird, he doesn’t say so. He waits for you to speak, like always, and like always, you find yourself loving him a little more for it. Baji’s so—quick; to judge, to speak, to fight… but in these moments, when it’s the two of you and the moon and no one else, he’s not. He’s slow; slow to speak, slow to touch, slow to pull away…

Slow to make you wonder why you keep wasting time with boys who don’t deserve it when he might be enough.

The silence becomes too much; too easy to drown in. Too tempting to fill with all the wrong things.

“What happened to your jaw?” is the best you come up with.

It’s no surprise when he answers, “got into a fight,” but how he says it… how he immediately ducks his head and covers the darkening bruise with a broad palm, as if he’d forgotten all about it and wished you would, too… that makes you pause.

One tenet of your relationship is that you don’t lie to each other. There are often times you wish he would, like when Chifuyu teases him about the pretty girl at the pet shop who came back and asked for the number of the flirty hunk who sold her a dog collar and Baji admits she was pretty cute and he’ll take her to drinks tomorrow night, or when Kazutora reminds Baji that he promised to go on a double date with the twins they met clubbing so no, he can’t take a look at that leaky pipe in your bathroom—but you’d never say that. Not when he could, so easily, call you out for keeping your own.

So when he goes out of his way to not have to tell you the truth, you know better than to push.

“Did it hurt?”

Baji looks to you with a cocky smile. “You should see the other guy.” You snort. Baji knocks his shoulder into yours. “I’m good, really. Just… had some business, s’all.”

It’s supposed to be comforting, but it’s not. It only flares your curiosity… and honestly? Your annoyance. “I hadn’t realized a pet shop needed such security.”

Baji barks out a laugh. “I mean, you’ve seen how crazy some people get about their pets, ‘specially when they think Dr. Google is a better resource than Chifuyu’s degree… but nah, this was… off the books.” He catches your inquisitive gaze and offers a smile, but it’s more like a grimace in the lowlight. His hand creeps closer, fingers pressing into your back, and for a moment, you’re willing to let it go. He gently grazes the middle of your spine. “It’s done, alright? Finished. Won’t happen again.”

You know he’s lying because he holds you close, the way he only does when he thinks you’re about to leave.

But you don’t leave; you never leave. You just give him a withering glare you know he can’t see, then turn back to the ocean.

You hate this feeling. The one where the world becomes unsteady, and everything you’d been trying to keep buried since you were thirteen sneaks up on you. That horrid, awful, destructive fascination and jealousy and yearning that’s plagued you since Baji first bragged about stealing a kiss from the pretty girl that lived three floors above him and only gets worse every time he mentions someone new.

Going on dates was supposed to squash this. Meeting a nice guy, having a good time, and getting a kiss or two of your own was supposed to end this. This—obsession—you’ve had since the first time Baji said he hopes that one day, you meet the right guy and you accidentally thought, ‘maybe it’s you.’ Because at the end of the day, he’s the one who’s there. Not Tadashi, who couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Not Draken, who recently started putting Emma above all else (even you). It’s been Baji, your Baji, whose mere existence makes everything better, that’s been the last one standing.

You can’t ruin that. You can’t risk pushing away the only companion who still puts you first for something you’re positive you can find somewhere else.

At least, that’s what you have to tell yourself, as yet another date fails and Baji is here, again, picking up the pieces and making you feel more whole than when the day started.

The sky is nearly dark when you finally ask the question that’s been on your mind since the barista gave you that pity cup—the one that’s probably still sitting in the bathroom, the last witness to your heartbreak. Just as alone and unwanted as you. 

“What’s… wrong with me?”

Baji’s sharp. He alway has been, from the stern angle of his nose to the feral way his teeth carve like a predator’s. He watches everything—the road, the fighters, you—with a scrutiny that’s often clouded behind cheshire grins and snide quips.

But there’s nothing sharp about him tonight; only soft. Soft hands that gently grab your chin and force you to look at him. Soft breathes as he pulls you close. Soft words as he makes sure you hear him whisper, “nothing.” 

Baji’s eyes, dark and teeming with something you can’t place, move from one eye to the other; to the fingers on your cheek; to your tongue, wetting your lips. He leans in, forehead resting against yours as his hand slides back, gripping your hair like you're his lifeline and not the other way around, and you’re back to thinking okay, this is it, he’s going to kiss me, he’s finally going to kiss me—

But all he does is repeat, “absolutely—fuckin’ nothing, alright? And—‘n fuck whoever makes you feel otherwise,” before resuming his seat like nothing happened.

You let go of a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. It’s stale and hot and full of fury, your fury, and suddenly, you can’t take it anymore.

“Fuck you, Keisuke.”

“What?” Baji scrambles for your arm as you abruptly stand, too furious to even look at him. You rip away but don’t stop, trying to will the stupidness of—whatever this is—to go away, to release you so you can go back to feeling better and right and whole. “Wait—come on, I didn’t—what did I say? Did I do something? Where the hell are you going?”

“Forget it!” you snap. His every question—the fact he wants to make it right even though he’s the reason it hurts—just makes it worse. “Just—leave it alone, alright? It obviously doesn’t matter—” 

This time when he grabs your arm, he doesn’t let you leave. He pulls you in to him, nearly crashing you into his chest as he holds you in place.

“Damnit, y/n, what the hell? What did—why are you being like this?” For the first time tonight, he meets your eyes without falter. He tucks a hand under your chin, all but pries your eyes open himself to search for what you're hiding. You try shrugging out of his iron grip, but he’s too strong. “What did I do?”

“Nothing—” You’re horrified at the way your voice cracks. “Fucking—nothing, Baji, you did nothing—“

“Then why’re you so fucking mad, hunh? Why’re you acting like I’m the bad guy here?” His fingers tighten. It would’ve hurt, if you weren’t so angry. “I’m not the asshole who stood ya up—I’m not the one who’s been dickin’ everyone around, pretending like everything’s fine when I know, Draken knows—even fuckin’—Pah-chin—can tell that something’s wrong—“

“You’re calling me an asshole?” you gasp incredulously. “Are you fucking serious?” 

“Yes!” he retorts hotly—then, upon realizing how horribly angry you’re growing, quickly backtracks, “I mean—no! Actually, no, you know what, I did mean yeah, because guess what, princess? You are acting like an ass! You’ve got—all these people who wanna be here for you, I want to be here for you, and all you’re doing is getting mad at me for it—”

“What do you want me to say, Baji?” It’s useless, trying to get free, but that doesn’t stop you from trying. “That I’m—heartbroken—at being stood up—again? That I’m done with dating, that I’m giving up, that everyone fucking sucks but I must suck worse—”

“They don’t deserve you—”

“Like hell!” Your tone is scalding. It must burn him just as bad, because a single lapse in his grip lets you rip your arm away. “That’s the whole goddamn point of dating, jackass, to figure out who’s worth what—and all this has shown is that I’m not worth it, to anyone.” You slam your hands against his chest, tears stinging your lash line. If you weren’t so angry, you might not have missed how his face falters when you push him away. “And you just—sitting there, and—and holding me like that, and—and telling me that I’m not the problem when I’m the only common denominator—you’re such a fucking liar—”

“You think it’s any easier for me?” he’s quick to yell, frustration making him bare his teeth like fangs. Anyone else would’ve cowered—but you stand your ground. Place two hands on his chest and shove, hard, forcing him back as he continues, “you think it’s any easier to see you gettin’ your hopes up, to freak out over what to text, what to wear, what to do—all for those fuckin’ dickweeds? Hunh? Guys who can’t even—spell your name right, or remember what your favorite flower is, or fucking—show up? You think it’s any fucking easier seeing you so goddamn upset over someone who doesn’t even deserve to breathe the same air as you, let alone spend time with you–be with you? Because it’s not, sweetheart!”

The sweet pet name that usually makes your heart skip a beat only aggravates you further. Your hands go from shoving to slamming, open palms against the hard muscle of his chest—but he doesn’t even flinch. Just catches your wrists before you can do it again and stares, like you’ve started speaking in tongues. “Oh, poor Baji, must be hard, hunh, thinking no one’s good enough, thinking everyone’s so lucky as to have people throwing themselves at them left and right—but newsflash, Keisuke, not all of us are like you! Not all of us have the ability to pick whoever we want, some of us actually have to work at it—“

“Stop working on the wrong guys then!”

“You’ve never even met them, how would you know—“

“Because they let me stand in the way!”

The world stills. 

You can’t place why; why this feels like a sucker punch, why your heart is suddenly skipping beats–why you can’t tell if this hurts. Not until Baji’s grip tightens, then his eyes widen, and you have a sneaking suspicion you know where this is going—but still, you ask, “what?”

He doesn’t respond. He can’t.

He lets go of you, though every fiber in his being begs him to stay. He takes a step back, though his heart pleads for him to wrap you in his arms and hold you close and tell you the truth, about what he did, why he did it, why he can’t bring himself to regret it…

He has to turn his back to you, to stare at the waves crashing along the sand as he tries to process just how badly he’s fucked this up and if there’s any possibility for redemption. It’s too late to lie. Too late to try and salvage this.

He’s made his bed; it’s time to lie in it.

Baji sighs–or something close. Something choked, not quite a laugh but also not quite a sob. Something is stuck in him, and even with the ice in your veins, you piece it together. Somehow, this—the failed dates, the heartache, the loneliness—it's all his fault.

Still, you have to ask. “What the hell are you talking about?”

You try making the venom in your voice match that in your blood, but you can’t. Not when he looks so—defeated. He runs his hands through his hair, doing a miserable job of either pretending he can’t hear you or attempting to buy enough time to come up with a plausible lie—though you don’t need him to. Not when his actions say enough.

It’s your turn to reach for him. Your turn to grab his arm, to keep him in place. You want to hold on to your anger, but the way his hands are shaking makes it impossible.

You draw him close, voice gentle as you say his name. You reach for his cheek, keeping his hands still with one of yours, and you tilt his head; he lets you tilt his head so that he has no choice but to look at you. 

When your gazes meet, you wait.

“I had to,” he eventually says. His voice is steady, but his hands aren’t. His fingers wrap around your wrists tightly, as if he’s afraid you might try leaving—but your grip on him is equally tight. “They weren’t good for you. They were jerks, and they were only going to break your heart, and I couldn’t let that happen. Not to you. I had to—I had to.”

“Had to… what?” He doesn’t answer, not until you prompt, “had to what, Baji?”

“Don’t—” he breathes. “Don’t… call me that.” His eyes close, and he leans into the palm on his cheek. For a moment, you pretend that he’s memorizing the feel of you, as if he’s scared to lose you—but that can’t be it. Keisuke Baji isn’t afraid of anything.

You’re not sure what’s more painful: the knots in your stomach or the hope in your heart. “Tell me what you did,” you muster up. “Keisuke, tell me what you did.”

When his eyes finally open, all of his anger is gone. In its place is something you’ve rarely seen, and even rarer directed at you: desperation.

“I stopped them.”

For a moment, all you hear is your own heart… then the waves of truth come crashing down.

“I—I found them, and I swear on my life, on your life—I only meant to talk to them, to figure out if—if they had good intentions, if they were gonna treat you right—but they all sucked, y/n, they were awful—going on and on about how they were—how they wanted to—to fuck you, just to say they could—or they weren’t—serious about how they felt and I couldn’t—I couldn’t let them do that, I couldn’t let them hurt you like that, so I… I hurt them first. Not—not much, just enough so they’d—get the idea. Leave you alone. Stay away from my girl—”

He cuts himself off, and for a moment, you’re frozen. You don’t know what to do, what to think—is this real? Is he saying what you think he’s saying? Does he really mean it?

Baji’s voice cracks when he says your name.

“Y/n, listen—listen to me,” he pleads. His forehead presses against yours. Your cheeks grow wet, though you can’t tell if that’s because of you or him. “You are—the most amazing person in this whole freaking world. You get that? You’re—smart, and pretty, and so fucking funny and—and anyone who can’t see that is an idiot. And it fucking—kills me—that you’ve got it in your head that what these—stupid pricks think is the only thing that matters, because it’s not. It’s never mattered. The only thing—the only thing that has ever mattered… is you. Okay? You.”

Your throat closes. Your hands reach for his, catching only wrists as he cradles your face, trying to ground yourself in this moment. In all the things he says and all the things he doesn’t; in the silent, desperate dream that refused—refuses—to die, taking over you once more.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I’m not.” His lips are so close, they brush your nose. “I’d say I regret it, but I don’t, because— you deserve better. You deserve the world, if you want, or—or the moon and all the stars, and—and unless they’d get it for you, they don’t deserve you. Okay? None of them deserved you.”

You’re just a hair away from kissing him, from caving to the impulses you thought were dead and gone and hopeless all these years, and the worst possible sentence sinks out: “you’re an idiot, Kei.”

Then you lean forward and kiss him.

In an instant—you feel whole. You feel right, in a way you haven’t since you decided you never had a chance with him; in a way you’ve been searching for in the words of all the others who’d let you down, who’d broken your heart and always, always, always led you back to moonrise with Baji, back home—

Baji jolts. He pulls away and stares at you with a wild mixture of shock and confusion. His fingers ghost his lips, only to draw back as he stares at them, then at you, then back at them, like he can’t quite comprehend this hand is attached to his body—like you were. Like you want to be, like you thought he wanted to be, like you thought he was asking you to be—

Your heart plummets as he just—stands, no witty quip or teasing remark at the ready. No lines to read between; no phrasing to draw false confessions from; nothing other than the stillness of the night, and the pounding of your heart.

“Wait—” you shrink as you realize just how hoarse a single stolen kiss has left you. “I thought—please, Kei—”

A flicker of… something dances in his eyes, and then—he watches you. Studies you, with the same scrutiny he holds before a fight or when picking apart a bike to see what parts are broke and what can be saved.

“Say it again.”

It’s your turn to blink; your turn to have wide eyes and parted lips, to study him like you’re not sure how to fix it. “I don’t—“

“My name,” he says, and your heart starts to leap. “Say my name, sweetheart.”

“I say your name all the time, Keisuke.” You’re barely above a whisper. Barely above the fear that this time, he’ll break your heart and there’ll be no one to pick up the pieces because—you ruined this.

“Not like that,” he breathes. You forget how to. “Say it like it means something. Like—you don’t hate me. Like—”

“Kei,” you interrupt, hands coming to cradle his cheeks as you read between the lines, “I forgive y—”

He doesn’t even let the final word form before his lips are on yours. Hard, aggressively melding like he’s worried you might change your mind and wants to milk every second out of this as he can—but you reciprocate just as desperately. Keisuke’s hands wrap around you, one gripping the base of your neck and the other resting on the small of your back, pulling you impossibly close, as if he couldn’t get enough of you. His mouth opens, teasing your lips apart as you trade air, fingers digging into your soft skin like it’s the last thing he’ll ever touch.

You pull away first, and that’s only because your lungs are aching—not that you mind. The pain helps make this feel real. 

For once, Keisuke’s grin doesn’t seem mocking. He moves a hand to cradle your face, thumb rubbing against your cheek. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that, sweetheart.”

“Not as long as I have,” you admit with a breathy laugh. Your hands lock around his neck, fingers playing with his hair, and you realize you’re smiling.

You kissed. Keisuke kissed you, you kissed him—everything makes sense. Everything is right, and with the moon and tides as your witness, everything is good again.

“Can I…” Keisuke starts, eyes flicking to your lips in an unspoken question. You finish his sentence with a kiss.

“You can always kiss me, Kei,” you say. “You don’t even have to ask.”

There’s the grin you recognize; the scheming, teasing grin that always makes your stomach flip in a way you thought meant he’s up to no good, but now realize as a sign you’d fallen for him long ago. 

“Oh, yeah?” he questions, brushing his lips against yours. “Only here? Or can I kiss… here?” He moves to the corner of your lips, then to the hollow of your cheek as he continues, “and… here? And maybe…”

He trails off, and he trails down, letting his lips drag against your cheek while his hand keeps you firmly in place, lips going done to your chin, down the column of your throat and back up. Your breathy yes would be pathetic—if it ever made it out. All that escapes is a breathy groan of displeasure when he stops, teasing lips hovering just above your own. “What’s that, babe? Want me t’stop?”

“You’re such an asshole.”

Your hands tangle in his hair, lips melding as your make-out turns heated. He slides his tongue along the seam of your lips, silently asking you to open—and you do. His hands curl around you, bringing you closer until there’s no space left between you.

Something digs into your leg. Something hard and unmistakable, and it leaves you grinning deeper than Kei.

You break away, laughing at his whine of protest and briefly glance down. Keisuke follows your eyes and is quick to splutter a nervous chuckle, hands dropping as he tries to step away with a short apology—though the way you catch his belt loops stops him. “Shit—sorry, I didn’t—I just—it’s your fault, y’know—“

“Shut up,” you giggle and drag him back. Now, you kiss him; once, twice, then a third before trailing your lips along the sharp ridge of his cheekbone, along his temple, to his ear. “How about you take me home, Kei?”

Keisuke’s whiplash nearly hurts you. His eyes, big and brown and wide, stare like you’ve grown an extra head. His hands shakily splay against your back, as if he wants to keep you close but he’s not sure he’s allowed to. His voice wavers slightly when he asks, “but I thought… aren’t… I mean, isn’t this… what you wanted?”

Slowly, you nod. Even slower, you pointedly look at the space between you, bridged only by the tent of his black pants. You smile at the sweet way a blush covers his cheeks, and risk slowly trailing your hand along his belt until your fingertips are hovering over that stupid, shiny, obnoxiously big belt buckle you always tease him for.

“I want you, Keisuke, and I want you to take me home.”

He doesn’t need more encouragement. 

Keisuke’s kisses grow fiercer. He devours you, never once breaking contact as his hands slide to find firm purchase on the back of your thighs. With ease, he lifts you atop his bike, setting you in front of him and stepping between your spread legs. The hem of your dress slides up with his calloused palms, collecting in a bunch then pooling down to protect your modesty as he finds two handfuls of ass. He gives a squeeze, eliciting a delighted gasp from you, then pulls back with a toothy smile.

“Then have me, sweetheart. Always been yours, anyways.” 

Your stomach twists, the way it always does when he looks at you like that, and you like it. It makes sense, it feels right—and you don’t have to pretend to justify why it makes your panties wet.

“Gotta—gotta get home—“ you try saying, but Keisuke’s hands have a mind of their own. They’re the only reason you’re still upright as he starts kissing along your neck, carefully grazing his sharp teeth but never once digging in. Your arms lop around him, digging into his scalp and shoulders as he finds this one spot that makes you moan, and you almost curse him for what that smile has done to you.

“Fuckin’—insane—if you think I'ma make it,” he mumbles into your skin, and you think you finally understand how some people can climax from someone’s voice alone.

You laugh and intend to push him away and demand that he do, that you have to, that you need to, because this—isn’t like you, you’re not one to get hot and heavy like this, certainly not in public—

But you can’t think straight. Not when Keisuke’s hands are kneading your ass, pinching and releasing like he can’t decide if he wants to hold on forever or explore somewhere new. Not when his teeth nibble your neck, and you shudder at the unbelievably primal sensation running through you.

Not when the unmistakable hardness of Keisuke’s boner finds home between your thighs, and he starts bucking his hips. It’s subtle, and he doesn’t tease you for the pathetic way you start whimpering. He focuses on continuing to explore the expanse of your otherwise untouched skin, while all you can do is revel in the way your high starts building.

You’ve been kissed before, on the lips and neck and once a little lower, but no one’s ever done this to you; pressed against your collarbone. Moved your neckline aside to suck on the fat of your breast. Left a mark that’ll last longer than a minute. For a moment, you wonder if you should tell him he’s the first, but when the zipper of his pants starts catching your clit, the only thing you’re able to do is moan his name.

Loudly.

Breathy and passionate and different than before, and he pauses. Lifts his head from your collarbone, a thin tendril of salvia keeping his lips still attached to the sensitive skin you know will bruise. He lets one hand trail up your side and cup your face, staring like this might be the last time he ever sees you, all while his hips continue to rut against you.

“Say it again,” he breathes, thumb catching your bottom lip. “Just—just like that.”

“Kei,” you repeat, giggling at the way he brightens and starts kissing you, “we need to go home—now.” For good measure, you boldly let your fingers slide to the edge of his belt buckle, in case he needs some more convincing. His free hand darts to yours, but he doesn’t stop you. He laces his fingers in yours and guides you, letting you palm at his thick hard-on. He lets out a low groan and drops his head from your lips to rest at your chest, just above the collar of your dress. You card one hand through his hair, the other applying light pressure to the (you assume) very painful ache between his legs—and not at all because you know, if he kept bucking into your core the way he just was, the way he keeps doing against your palm—you wouldn’t be able to make it home, either. “Take—take me home, Kei—”

“Not—” he huffs. His grip on your ass tightens, but you can barely feel it. Not when Keisuke whines, low and needy, teeth coming out to nip at your breast, and all you can focus on is the ache between your own legs, getting even worse as his hips start moving faster, forcing the back of your hand against your cunt as you continue to palm him. His hips don’t stop; they push against you so fiercely, so desperately, that you cave, taking away your hand so there’s nothing between you but your clothes. 

You’re on the precipice in minutes; hands digging into his shoulders as you choke on a sob, pleading with him to go faster, to not stop, to keep making you feel good—and it’s made all the worse when he does, pressing his throbbing erection even harder against your soaked panties, all the while pleading into your skin, “can’t—can’t—fuck, baby, I can’t—y/n—“

You gasp when his teeth break skin.

Keisuke’s hips still. Warm air saturates your chest as he groans into it, and for a moment you’re frozen. Your whole body aches, and you want to scream at the cruel way your orgasm was stolen—but you’re too in shock that he got you there that fast, that easily. Something warm trickles down your cheeks, between your breasts—blood? saliva? tears?—he doesn’t move. You don’t move. You’re not even sure he’s breathing, until his shoulders heave and your skin is warmed once more. A slight burn starts to spread across your chest, and when you open your mouth to ask him why the hell he stopped—all that comes out is his name.

You say it softly, then a little louder, but it’s not until you grab his face and force him to look up that he speaks—but his eyes are fixed firmly on the reddening bite mark forming atop your breast.

“M’sorry…”

A mean part of you wants to tell him he owes you a lot more than sorry, but the way his lower lip disappears as he nervously chews on it has you choosing otherwise. “It’s okay,” you comfort instead, “it didn’t hurt that bad.”

Keisuke grimaces. “No, I—” 

He sighs, head dropping back to your chest. Both arms wrap around your waist, and he presses a light kiss to the place he’d just bitten; the only way he probably figures he can keep close without meeting your gaze. He mumbles something, but you only know because you feel his lips moving.

“Can’t hear you…” you try prompting, but it only makes him snuggle deeper. He sighs again, loud and warm and in a way you’re familiar with—the way that really means, I can’t believe I have to do this… “C’mon, Kei, don’t you want to take me home?”

“Ididntmakeit.”

You have never, ever, in your life ever seen Keisuke embarrassed. Not when he told you about needing Chifuyu to tutor him post-juvie; not when he failed his college entry exams; not even when you accidentally walked in on him showering (in hindsight, he was probably a little too comfortable with how long it might’ve taken you to leave).

This was the man who went skinny dipping for fun. He’ll order fruity drinks for his friends who are too embarrassed to do it themselves. His approach to a lost fight is to get a rematch, not pretend it didn’t exist, and even in mundane moments that have you at a loss for words, like mistaking someone’s name or forgetting a face, Kei’s always quick for a retort or defense or a smile that makes everything better.

Keisuke Baji doesn’t get embarrassed—but that’s the only word that fits. His cheeks are redder than you’ve ever seen, his breathing faster than his pulse. His eyes refuse to meet yours, and his fingers knead into clumsy, nervous patterns along the side of your thighs.

Then he takes a deep breath, and with one shaking hand, he slowly brings your palm to the crotch of his pants… that are now sticky.

Your eyes widen, and you’re almost too late to choke down a gasp. Kei’s eyes close, and he ducks his head in shame. “I didn’t—I mean, I haven’t—you're just—I’m so sorry—”

“Why?” It sounds curt, and you don’t intend it to. Better than laughing, you reason—although you will absolutely get him for this later… when it stops feeling like the most humiliating thing in the world.

Keisuke swallows. “I haven’t ever… you know.”

“What, cum early?” It’s cruel to tease, you know that, but you can’t stop the slight satisfaction that you—you—are able to bring a man like Keisuke Baji to his knees.

“No! I mean—no, I…” Kei looks out to the ocean, fingers still anxiously kneading into your thighs. The temperature drops, though you’re not sure if it actually does or you’re just feeling like it as you try to understand what’s happened, what’s happening—what you’re to do next. His jaw clenches and he tries to pull away from you, but you don’t let him. You wrap your legs around the backs of his thighs, keeping him in place.

“Kei…” you say softly. You don’t force him to look at you. Instead, you let your fingers trail up his abs, curling around his neck so you can rest your forehead against his temple and kiss his cheek. “I don’t care. Just means you gotta make it up to me—”

“I’ve never had sex before.”

You’re grateful he doesn’t look at you, because you’re not able to control the utter shock coloring your face. How is that possible? You’ve heard the whispers when you go out; you’ve seen the looks. At parties or bars or clubs, he’d find a pretty thing and disappear, and you assumed you knew what happened behind those closed doors—because why, why, why would you want to ask about that? 

The others didn’t dispel it, either; in fact, they’d constantly rip on him for his… gift, and Keisuke never fought back. He’d just smirk and wink and say, “it’s never disappointed,” and by the time you’d turned red, thinking about when you caught him in the shower and knew what they were saying was true, they’d moved on to taunting someone else.

So how the hell is it possible that Keisuke’s a virgin—and, more importantly, how didn’t you know?

You’re not sure how long it takes you to recover. If he were to ask, you’d say you were just waiting for him—because when you do speak, it’s only when Keisuke turns to you with narrowed eyes, an apprehensive blush clear on his face. 

“Wanna know a secret?” you ask, forcing a teasing lilt to your voice—though your stomach twists. This isn’t exactly the way you wanted to tell him, and for a flash, you think of how disappointed he might be to learn the truth. 

But when he meets your gaze, eyes wide and focused entirely on you, somewhere between hopeful and nervous, you know it’s for the best. Your smile is sweet, but not as sweet as your lips when you kiss the crinkle between his eyes. He immediately relaxes, hands stilling as he leans into you. “Neither have I.”

He straightens and pulls far enough away so he can examine you. For a minute, your confession hangs between the two of you, then Kei starts floundering, “but I thought… you said… but he… what about your ex?”

You shrug, your own cheeks starting to flush. “It never felt right.”

Keisuke blinks. His mouth parts, eyes darting between yours like he’s waiting for the gotcha!, but all he receives is the embarrassed way you can’t meet his gaze, feeling as if you’ve somehow let him down. You squirm, his warm hands still atop your thighs sending butterflies to your stomach, and shrug again. “I dunno, I just—didn’t think it was fair. Doing that with someone, when all I could think about…” you swallow, lips twisting as you debate whether or not to tell him the truth. 

He catches your chin, forcing you to meet his eyes. “Think about what, sweetheart?”

The way he asks tells you he already knows; but like earlier, when you knew and had to hear it anyway, he needs you to say it, too.

So you take a steadying breath. You gently trail a finger down the side of his jaw, and you make yourself smile as you say, “you, Kei. It didn’t seem right if it wasn’t you.”

This time when he kisses you, it’s slow. He takes his time in tasting you, in savoring the moment. He lets you guide where his lips go, how his hands wander, and he waits for you to pull back before he suggests, “how about I take you home now?”

Your stomach flutters. Fingers knot at the base of his skull, and slowly, a smile spreads on your face. 

“I’d like that.”

He presses a chaste kiss to your temple. You can feel the joy in it, one that doesn’t fade for either of you as he unhooks your legs so you can properly straddle the bike, then tucks the helmet on you and pops on himself.

“Hold on,” he calls as he revs the engine, “might be goin’ a bit faster than usual.”

“Don’t worry,” you laugh, and even though you know he probably can’t hear you, you add, “I’m never letting go.”

You make it to Keisuke’s apartment in seven minutes flat—which, normally, would leave you terrified, given his place is twenty minutes from your spot, but you doubt that’s what’s got your heart racing. He barely gives you enough time to take the helmet off before his hands are back on you, easily scooping you up and carrying you up the stairs. You bump into a few walls, and the way you’ve got a loose grasp on his helmet sends it craning into his back just as often, but neither of you care. Between fits of giggles and cautious glances to make sure he’s not about to walk you through a glass door (or down a stairwell), you kiss like it’ll be the last time you ever get the chance to.

“Anyone home?” you mumble into his lips. He slams you against the front door of his shared three-bedroom apartment, using his hips to keep you up while he tries to find the lock by memory.

“Nope,” he replies, lips busy with your skin, fingers fumbling uselessly behind you. “Stupid—fucking lock—told Tora to leave it—never fuckin’ listens—”

“Relax,” you laugh, although that’s rich coming from you. Your legs tighten around him as you break free from his kiss, instead sucking along the column of his throat. Freeing his face is supposed to give him enough room to actually look for the lock, so the two of you can stop dry-humping in the hall and finally get the privacy you need—but like always, Keisuke does the unexpected.

He throws his head back and moans, giving you more access to leave a matching hickey—and you’re not strong enough to resist the temptation. A whine starts in his throat, from where you’re sucking on his pale skin. The keys clatter to the ground.

“Keisuke,” you scold—but before you can tease him for being in a rush, his lips are back on yours.

“Never gonna make it,” is his only defense.

“Gonna—gonna have to,” you reply, but every time you try pulling away or reach for the keys yourself, he grabs you. Wraps your wrists in his rough hands, pins them to the door beside your head, and leans so far forward that, even with your limp legs, he’s able to keep you up himself. “Kei—“

“So help me sweetheart,” he warns, hips rolling against yours with a sense of urgency only outmatched by his kiss, “if you keep saying my name like that, I swear to the gods I’m gonna fuck you right here.”

“So help me, sweetheart,” you shoot back, breathy and hot as you try to avoid the way his lips chase yours, “if you don’t get me inside right now, I might let you.”

He freezes. Pulls away from the delightful bruise he’d just been leaving below your ear and stares at you with a mixture of awe and utter delight. “Really?”

You swat the back of his head. “No, dumbass, open the fucking door.”

Keisuke’s lips, pink and bruising slightly, twist in a pretend pout as he squats. He keeps one thick palm under your thigh, keeping your leg wrapped around him as he snags his keys. “You’re such a fucking tease.”

“Says the guy who does—that,” you try scoffing, but you’re cut off with a moan when Kei stands and bounces you against his hips. His boner is back and harder than before, pressing into your core, the messy, wet mix of your drenched panties and his earlier cum making a lewd sound in the otherwise silent hallway. 

“Does… what, babe?” he teases. “C’mon, finish that sentence.” 

You don’t know how he finds the focus to actually find the lock this time, but you thank every deity in the world that he does—because it takes just a second, a single, solitary second for him to jimmy it in, slam the door open, and you’re finally alone.

The door frame rattles. Something falls, but you can’t tell if it’s the mirror you insisted he hang above the entry table you insisted he get or if it’s the rickety old coat rack Chifuyu said would ‘class up the joint’; all you know is that as soon as the key is in, Baji’s hands are back to cradling your thighs for support as he crosses the threshold. 

You reach for the door, but he catches it with his ankle and slams it shut, quickly spinning to pin you against it.

“Really—” you pant, “really got the place—to ourselves?”

“Mhm,” Keisuke confirms. He leans into you, palms rubbing along your thighs until they get to your knees, silently asking you to wrap tighter around him. You do, and the moment he feels your ankles cross at the small of his back, his hands move to your waist. “Told ‘em—needed space.”

“Oh?” you question, your hands reaching for the hem of his shirt and tug, tug, tugging—“And when’d you do that?”

He reaches behind his head and yanks his tee off, tossing it carelessly into the darkness of the apartment. You hadn’t even paused to turn on the lights.

“After I saw Tadashi.” You can tell he’s grinning, especially as you drag your nails along the chiseled plane of his abs. His hands slide up your torso, thumb rubbing your stomach through the thin cotton of your dress, grazing the underwire of your bra. “Told Tora this one wasn’t gonna work, either, ’n he said I should just tell ya the truth, 'cause he couldn’t watch me mope around all night again—”

“Mope?” you tease. Kei’s fingers dig in. “Kazutora accused you of moping?”

“Well—shut up!” he whines. “You try watching the person you’re in love with go out with guys who don’t deserve them and tell me you wouldn’t start moping either—y/n? Why… are you looking at me like that?”

Your eyes are wide. Your hands go limp, the helmet falling to the floor with a loud clatter. Your lips part to say… something, but you’re not sure what.

Keisuke’s told you he’s loves you a thousand times; the brief ‘kay love ya! before he hangs up; the gentle love you, see ya tomorrow whenever he’d bring you home; the drawn out gods I love you after you’ve surprised him with his favorite meal—but none like this.

None so… blatant. So unmistakable.

Kei stares at you curiously, as if he isn’t even aware of what he’s just said. He repeats your name, hands leaving your waist to catch your chin.

“You’re… in love with me?” 

Keisuke blinks.

For a moment, you think you must’ve misheard, he must’ve misspoke, you must have misunderstood—but a brilliant smile breaks his face, and he nuzzles his nose against yours. “‘Course I’m in love with you, sweetheart. I’ve been in love with you, and I ain’t ever gonna stop loving you—”

You kiss him.

The gentlest one yet. The way you always dreamed your first one would be; soft, sweet, lips pressing together while your hands held him close. Heartbeats synching. The world falling away as it’s just the two of you, in this moment, endless and forever.

There’s only one thing to say when you pause: “I love you too, Keisuke.”

Your teeth knock together as Keisuke can’t contain his smile, either. Hands move, one around the small of your back and the other under a single thigh. Your lips never part as he carries you to his room.

He sets you at the foot of his bed and stands above you. His chest heaves, bare and flushed with need. Your hands slip from his neck to his bed to keep yourself propped up, legs still wrapped tightly around his waist. Keisuke’s hands travel to your knees, and he just—stares.

He loves you. How could he not, with the way that pretty dress puddles on his mattress, exposing nearly all of your leg but hiding what he’s been waiting for his whole adult life? How could he not, with the way his spit makes your collar glistens in the moonlight, filtering in from behind those sheer curtains you insisted he get? How could he not love the way you say his name, reaching towards him, fingers catching on his belt buckle as you ask him if he’s ready?

“Not yet,” he whispers. The hoarseness of his voice, the way it’s dropped several octaves from merely seeing you on his bed, sends a jolt of electricity through you. You’re about to ask why, but the reverence in how he’s looking at you makes you not want to break this spell.

He trails his fingers along your calves. Gently, he unhooks your legs from his waist. His fingers shake as he struggles with the straps of your heels, but when you go to help, he catches your wrist. 

“No,” he repeats, “not yet.”

You keep quiet and merely watch as your best friend, the man of your dreams, takes his time in undressing you. One wedge, then the other, falling off your feet with a dull clank! on the carpet. Keisuke kisses your ankles, then starts kissing up your calves, then your knees, then your thighs—

The anticipation has you dripping. Your thighs instinctively clench when he gets to your hem, hands curling into fists by your sides. Your panties are uncomfortably glued to your cunt, sticky in a way you’ve never been before, and he’s not even lifted your dress to see yet.

Keisuke rests his chin atop your thigh. “Please,” he pleads—pleads—“Let me—baby, let me. I wanna taste you.”

Today is not the day you learn to refuse him.

Your muscles shake from anticipation as you slowly spread your legs, but that’s not enough for him. “Baby, no, I—I wanna hear you say it.” His voice is soft, shaky. A little hesitant, as if he’s not sure if this’ll ruin the moment but he knows he has to be sure—he has to hear you say it… if only to revel in the desperate way you say his name. 

“Keisuke, please… whatever you want, have it. Just—touch me, Kei, please, I need you—“

“Need you too, sweetheart,” he praises, running his lips along your thigh. “Gonna—gonna have you now, okay?”

His fingers still shake when he lifts your dress, exposing the black lace of your panties to him. At first glance, he can’t tell that they’re absolutely soaked—but that doesn’t stop the way you start to squirm in embarrassment as he just… stares. His thumbs dig into the fat of your hips, broad palms keeping your thighs spread and pinned to the bed.

It takes you a moment to realize he’s not breathing.

“Kei?”

He doesn’t look up. 

His grip gets tighter. His eyes narrow. Before you get the chance to ask him what’s wrong, he growls, “you wore these for him?”

You blink. That is not what you were expecting, but before you can defend with they’re my lucky pair, or I wanted to feel sexy, or it doesn’t matter, I’m here with you—Keisuke’s ripped them off.

You yelp when the fabric bites your skin, failing to wriggling away as Keisuke strips them off your ankle. “What the fuck—“

“I’ll get you a new pair,” he mutters. “Shit—I’ll get you a hundred pairs, but you get rid of every single set someone else has seen. Got it?”

Your lips purse. He’s being unreasonable, you think, and totally ridiculous… but no matter how much your brain tries to reason he’s out of line, your fluttering pussy doesn’t get the message. Your slick is evident now, exposed and iridescent in the moonlight, dripping down your hole and slowly saturating the sheets.

Usually, Keisuke wouldn’t let it go. Usually, he’d keep picking at it until you cave, or at least recognize you heard him—but usually, he’s not staring at your cunt. 

Right now, he can’t focus on anything but how desperate he is to be inside you.

“Yeah, think ya got it… fuck, babe… seems like you like it when I say shit like that, hunh?” 

You whimper slightly, having to bite your lip to keep it together. Slowly, he drags the tip of his finger from the sheet beneath you up along your wet folds. He barely touches you, but when he pulls his finger away, it’s covered in a layer of you. 

He brings it to his face with a cocky grin, watching how the pad shines in the moonlight. “You always this wet, or am I special?”

“Shut up,” you shoot back, preparing to bring up how special he found you earlier—only to immediately throw your head back and moan as Keisuke buries his face between your legs.

There is no preamble. There are no more teasing quips or pauses; Keisuke dives in like a man starved, and the only thing that can sate his appetite is you.

He starts with broad strokes, gathering as much of your slick as he can. He’s messy, messier than you, and soon there’s more of his spit than your wetness between your legs. His arms wrap around your thighs, keeping them pinned and spread on his shoulders as he continues to feast, thumbs spreading your lips open so he can truly devour you.

When Keisuke starts suckling on your clit, your fingers knot in his hair. You moan, loud and whiney and plead for him to keep going as your orgasm starts to boil—faster than before, more powerful too, with greater ease than you’ve ever managed to pull from yourself.

Keisuke brings a hand to your clit, quickly swiping the puffy bud with the pad of his thumb as he focuses his tongue on your fluttering hole. In and out, up and down, the warm muscle drives you insane. Your grip on his hair must hurt, but he says nothing; he focuses on making you feel as good as humanly possible, never once letting up, not even when you start to choke, “Kei—I’m—I’m gonna—“

“Cum for me, sweetheart,” he commands. “C’mon, pretty girl, make a mess on my face, wanna feel how you clench, wanna make ya cry—”

It sends you over the edge.

With a scream of his name, your back arches. Your thighs try closing around him but still, he doesn’t let up. He keeps pace, tongue-fucking you, lapping up all the juice that spills out as his thumb continues caressing your clit until you do start crying and you do have to plead, “no—no more, Kei, can’t—“

“Can,” he corrects—but he stops. His hand stills, moving so that the warmth of his palm covers that sensitive bundle of nerves, and only then does he stop lapping at your hole. He presses a gentle kiss to your sex, then to your inner thigh. “But I’ll be nice tonight, sweetheart. Only ‘cause I love you, though.”

You stare at the ceiling as you catch your breath. The paint is peeling in the corner. The glow-in-the-dark stars you helped him put up when he first moved in are dim. The walls are covered in motorcycle posters. A calendar set to the wrong month hangs above a salvaged desk, covered with various veterinary textbooks, barely legible notebooks, a handful of empty beer cans, and a handful of DVD cases, one of which you know is Dyslexia; How to Read When Even Your Brain Doesn’t Want You To. A neon sign advertising Margaritaville is unlit beside his closet. A pile of clothes that didn’t make it to the hamper rests beneath it.

 The room is so—Keisuke , you feel at peace, even as your limbs turn to jelly.

Your heart is racing faster than if you’d just run a marathon. “Thought—thought you said you hadn’t—“ you try panting, but it’s too much effort, too soon. You end up collapsing back on the bed, head swimming with euphoria.

“Said I hadn’t had sex,” Keisuke corrects as he stands, your limp thighs falling to the either side of his waist, “not that I’ve never eaten pussy.” He scoffs, as if that should’ve been obvious. “I’m not an idiot, babe. I respect women enough to know where the clit is.”

A little laugh escapes you. The fan motor is the only other sound. It’s cool, your nipples perk beneath your bra, but you’re still hot. Still hyper aware that Keisuke is just a few inches away, watching your bare cunt flutter and beg him for more.

Keisuke does love you. You know he does, because he gives you time to catch your breathe before he starts up again, only pressing soft kisses to the inside of your legs and quiet offerings of, “so fuckin’ pretty” and “can’t believe you’re here” and, your favorite, the only one you respond to: “so in love with you.” 

“I love you too, Kei.”

He runs his hands along your sides, slowly taking more and more of your dress up with it until the entire thing is resting by your neck. He makes quick work of your bra, not even needing you to sit up as he unhooks it and lifts the cups away.

He says nothing; just stares at your naked body with the same adoration and awe he held when taking off your shoes.

“You’re—so beautiful,” he whispers. “Y’know that? So—so fuckin’ beautiful.”

He bends down and takes a pert nipple in his mouth. You whine, hate yourself for doing so, then whine again as his free hand starts tweaking your other nipple. He runs his tongue over every inch of your chest, making sure you’re covered with his spit and hands, traversing as much of you as he can.

When he gets to your face, he smiles. “You’re mine, yeah? All mine?”

Your fingers run over his jaw, over the bruise that’s barely discernible in the moonlight. No one’s touched you like him; no one’s even kissed you like him, either, and you’re not sure if it’s the “Keisuke” of it all making you feel like this, or if this is how it’s supposed to have felt all along. 

The answer comes easily.

“Yeah,” you agree with a smile of your own, “yeah, m’all yours, Keisuke. Pretty sure I always have been.”

“Always, hunh?” He holds you gently now; a stark contrast to the hungry way he’d just devoured you. “That mean you’ve always loved me, too?”

Your breathy yes is lost in a gasp when his hand slides between your legs. Gently, he prods a single thick finger into your virgin hole, shallowly dipping in and out. “Never had someone else in here, hunh? M’gonna be your first?”

“Y-yes,” you repeat, voice cracking. Your eyes flutter close as he keeps fingering you. You’d had fingers in there before, but none like this. Your own couldn’t compare, two of yours barely able to stretch the way one of his does… and he’s not even going all the way. Not even knuckle deep as he explores only the shallows, letting you adjust.

Your face scrunches when he adds a second.

“This okay?” he asks. You look at him, hand wrapping around his neck as you bring his forehead down to meet yours.

You nod, then remember what he said earlier, how you could feel his cock jumping when you were sweet and needy for him. “Yeah, Keisuke. Yes—yes, I want this. I want you.”

He cups your face and trails soft kisses from corner to corner, breaking apart only to lift your dress and bra over your head. They’re carelessly thrown to the floor, you have half a mind to scold him that it’ll wrinkle—but when he goes back to your cunt, two fingers halfway in, all you’re able to say is the harsh inhale of his name.

They’re shallow, never pushing in deep enough to hurt, slowly stretching your rim to its max. He goes a little deeper, then starts scissoring them, and it becomes nearly impossible to believe he hasn’t done this before.

“No—no way you’re a virgin,” you hiss when Keisuke’s lips travel to your breast. He alternates between sucking hickeys and kneading them while staring at the way your cunt sucks him in, never stopping his ministrations.

Keisuke lets out a short scoff and shifts. “You literally made me cum my pants like a teenager.”

“Then how—“

“I told ya, babe, I respect women,” is his only reply. The only one he’s willing to give, at least, because he starts paying more attention to your tits than what questions are spilling his way.

You feel like you’ve got to be ready when he adds a third, and you say as much—only for Keisuke to meet your gaze with a cocky grin. “Trust me, sweetheart. You’re gonna thank me for this.” 

It can’t be much longer until he deems you ready, but it feels like forever, even if he keeps you distracted from the slight burn between your legs by playing with your breasts, sucking on your throat, praising you.

“Taking m’fingers so well, pretty thing. You’re such a good girl f’me, can’t believe you made me wait this long…”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you scold. He curls his fingers mid-way through your sentence, rubbing against a sensitive spot you’ve never been able to find on your own. You keen his name, hand snapping down to catch his forearm. He pauses.

“Too much?”

Slowly, you shake your head, eyes watering. “Please, Kei, I—I want you to fuck me.”

Keisuke presses a chaste kiss to your forehead. “Never could say no to you, sweetheart.”

If you could think clearly, you’d start listing all the times he has denied you, starting with just a few seconds ago—but him withdrawing his fingers leaves you feeling too empty to do much but pout.

When he pulls away, you chase after him, only for him to shake his head with a fond grin. “How am I supposed to fuck you if you won’t let me take my pants off?”

With hot cheeks, your lips twist. “You were the one who wanted to fuck on your bike, and then in the hall—what, were you planning on stripping naked then, too?”

You’re rewarded with a very rare, very endearing blush. He sits back on his knees and rubs his neck, eyes dropping from yours—then his lip curls in a smirk. “With how wet you got, seems like you wanted me to. What—you like the idea of that? Getting fucked in public? Don’t worry, sweetheart, maybe we’ll try that one day…” He laughs at the way you squirm, but he’s not wrong; your cunt clenches at the thought.

“You’re such a dick.” Your hands reach for his belt, fumbling slightly as you try to undo it. Keisuke’s hands take over, getting rid of the black leather in seconds.

“Your dick,” he corrects, hands back on you, gently laying you back against his pillows, trailing over your now completely naked body, leaving gooseflesh in their wake. You roll your eyes but say nothing, heart in your throat, pussy pulsing in anticipation.

He straightens, taking in the display in front of him. Taking in you.

You sit up slightly, chewing your lower lip. He’s beautiful, but even more so in the moonlight. It illuminates his pale skin, almost making him glow in the darkness of the rest of his room. Obsidian hair falls in a straight sheet around his flushed cheeks, his lower lip caught between his teeth. Violet and red marks adorn his neck and chest. His abs flex when he watches the way your eyes trail down; down the inlet between them, down the stern jut of his prominent v-line, over the faint trail of dark hair that disappears into the band of his jeans.

His fingers—the ones just inside you—hover on the button. They’re covered in your slick, resting just above a bulge that looks absolutely delicious, one that you know he can’t wait to bury inside you—but still, he hesitates.

“I love you, Keisuke,” you say. He smiles. It’s the only further confirmation he needs before he’s pushing off the bed and pulling down his jeans and underwear in one go.

The others have lied about a lot—like Baji’s lack of virginity—but the size of Keisuke is not one of them.

Your jaw drops as you push to your knees, staring at Keisuke’s cock like it’s the first you’ve ever seen. It’s not, and technically speaking, it’s not even the first time you’ve seen his—but that time in the shower, when it was hanging heavily between his legs and you only caught a glimpse… apparently, that was him soft.

Keisuke hard is more impressive than any porn you’ve seen. So heavy that it can barely support its own weight, even with all the blood rushing through it, and so wide around even Keisuke, with his broad palms and lanky fingers, doesn’t dwarf it. 

A thick bead of pre slips out the tip, trailing along the bulging vein that disappears under Keisuke’s hand as he starts to stroke it.

“This… is where the others tapped out,” he says slowly, taking in the way you watch. “I mean—not that I’m thinking about them—but I just—“

“You’re big.”

Keisuke chokes on a laugh. “So I’ve heard. Pretty virgin like you wouldn’t know any better though, would you?”

You give him a withering glare. “I’ve sucked dick before, asshole. You’re big.”

Keisuke’s jaw clenches. “Yeah? Go on, then. Show me how you’ve sucked dick.”

Later, you’ll tease him for how jealous he got, and later, you’ll revel in the possessive way he determines to erase every other touch from your memory—but now, you obediently crawl towards him, one of your smaller hands overlapping his, and you take control.

You press a soft kiss to his flushed tip. It’s larger than your lips, his pre a salty gloss as you kiss again and again—Keisuke grips your hair. “Suck.”

It’s as much a plea as it is a command, one you can’t ignore. You take him,—just the tip—in your mouth, tongue swirling over his warm head as your hand replaces his on the rest of his dick. Your fingers barely touch, and no matter how you adjust, how you lay your palm or spread your fingers… there’s still at least an inch of him exposed.

He hisses, nearly drowning out the lewd, wet sound your pussy makes as it clenches around nothing.

“This—turning you on?” he says, as if his cock isn’t twitching obscenely against your tongue. “Fuckin—sucking on a big cock making you wet?”

You let go with a wet pop! and bat your eyelashes at him. You know exactly what you’re doing when you say, “No, Kei. I’m this wet ‘cause of you.”

With a groan, Keisuke pulls your head back to his dick and thrusts in, sliding as far as you’ll let him before you start to gag. “That’s—that’s it, sweetheart, get it nice and wet.”

He holds you there for a moment, waiting until you tap on his thigh before sliding out. Your eyes are teary, saliva dripping down the corner of your mouth. Deftly, you twist your wrist while catching your breath. His fingers go from knotting in your hair to petting the back of your head.

“You keep doing that, I’m gonna bust,” he warns, but his fond smile gives him away.

You merely smile. “Telling me you’ve never had your cock sucked, Kei?” 

His lip curls in a snarl, which disappears with a groan when you take him in your throat once more. Slowly, lips pursing around him, tongue flicking along the sensitive underside of his cockhead as you try going as far as you can. Your jaw is already starting to ache, but you’re determined to prove yourself.

“Not—like this,” he moans, pushing your head a little further down. Your lips split in a smile, and you raise your hand to start fondling his balls—a trick that’s always gotten you success before—but before you make contact, Keisuke is sliding out and grabbing your jaw. He’s breathing heavily, pupils blown out with lust. He stares at your lips then leans forward, not flinching at the taste of himself on you.

“Wanna fuck you now,” he mumbles. You wrap your arms around his neck and start to lean back, nodding.

“Want you to fuck me too,” you agree. One of Keisuke’s muscular thighs slides between your legs, easing them apart. He keeps kissing you, letting you fall softly against his pillows while he keeps stroking his member, slick with your spit.

He taps the tip of his cock against your clit. You hiss in surprise, eyes closing shut at the sudden sensation of pleasure that rushes through you. “Let me know if it hurts,” he says quietly. He grips his cock right beneath the head, guiding it through your slick folds, getting as much of your fluids on him as he can. 

He’s torn between needing to see the way you suck him in, and the need to squeeze his eyes shut. The sight of you alone, legs spread on either side, pussy gushing because of him, covering in marks because of him, mewling his name as you beg him to fuck you—it’s almost enough for him to cum on the spot. 

Faintly, honks echo from the street below. It’s amazing that in this instant, as your world is about to change forever and for the better, everyone else is going about their business like nothing’s happening. They’re catching a late-dinner with their partner; walking home from a late-night meeting that could’ve been an email; swinging by the grocer’s to pick up snacks and drinks to share with their friends… The whole world is continuing on, just beyond that window, but for you and Keisuke… it’s as if time’s stopped. 

The world is only real for the two of you.

He bends down to kiss you, making sure to pour every ounce of love and care he has into this one. You respond just as sweetly, reveling in the power of this moment, this one decision that will irrevocably tie you together forever, the way you were always meant to be.

He loves you, you love him, and there’s nothing else that matters.

“Ready?” he asks. You nod, then echo, “ready,” and he puts it in; just the tip, spearing past your tight hole. The two of you let out a synchronous gasp.

It’s even more than three of his fingers; warm, too, and thick, softer but also harder and full—you’re so, so, so full as he slowly edges in. It hurts—it feels good—it burns—you need more—

“Baby,” Keisuke pants. He’s let go of his cock, letting just the first inch or so rest comfortably within your walls. You feel him twitch, feel how tight his fingers dig into the sheets on either side of you so he doesn’t add more bruises to your ever-growing collection. “Baby, talk to me. Tell me—are you—are you okay?”

You whimper slightly when he sinks a little further. Eyes scrunching, your fingers digging into his thighs as you try to even your breath. “It—it’s so—“ you try saying, but it’s like you can feel him in your stomach, the pressure tightening all the way up your throat and cutting you off.

“So—good,” Keisuke gasps. He does the best he can, really, but you—you’re so—warm, and wet, and inviting—the place you’re joined might be the best thing he’s ever felt–ever seen. He slides a little further, presses a kiss to wherever he can reach as he waits until your chest stops heaving as horribly. He tries telling you he loves you, he really tries telling you how amazing you are, how perfect you are, how good you feel—but all that comes out are choked, half-sentences that fade into groans.

Tears prick at your lash line by the time he’s securely sheathed in you. Your fingers dig into his back, trying to pull him flush to your chest and bury his head in your neck so he can’t see. You know how he’ll feel; he’ll pull out and say he’s sorry, that he never meant to hurt you and it’s not worth it and he won’t try again–and that’s not what you want. You just need some time to adjust, that’s all. 

You never realized how empty you were.

Keisuke lifts up from the crook of your neck when the first tear slides against his cheek. “M’sorry,” he breathes, kissing one eye, then the other, licking the tear tracks and kissing you again. “M’sorry, I don’t wanna hurt—“ His arms shake on either side of you. The urge to start shifting his hips is sinful, but he doesn’t. He can’t, not until you're okay, not until you tell him it’s okay.

“It’s—okay,” you breathe. Your face says otherwise, but really… it’s okay. You play with the hair at the nape of his neck, offering him a little smile as you shift your hips ever-so-slightly against his. “I’m—I’m okay, baby, really. Just—just go slow.”

Keisuke kisses you. Slowly, deeply, spreading your lips with his as he gently pulls out and slides back in, heeding your directive to go slow. It hurts, it still hurts, is it supposed to hurt like this—but right when you’re about to give up, right when you’re about to tell him it's too much and maybe you should stop… it starts to feel good.

Not just full, but satisfying, bumping against the back of your messy cunt with every stroke. The ridge of his cockhead catches your insides in a way that makes your toes curl, and before long, your legs are wrapping around his waist, pulling him closer.

“Gods—fuck, Kei, fuck—“ you hiss, burying your head in his shoulder, biting his collarbone to keep yourself from screaming. “Just—there, like that, don’t—fuck—“

“Thought you said you were a virgin,” he hisses. Your broken pleas of, I am, I am, I am—go unrecognized as he slowly picks up speed. “Virgin pussy—heh—always feel this—fuckin’ good?”

You moan, loud and unreserved, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. Your stomach burns. Your pussy clenches, but for the first time, there’s finally something to hold on to, finally something to fill you up—you’ve never been so full, never felt so good. The coil tightens in your stomach, made all the more tense by the fact there’s something inside— “Gonna— gonna cum, Kei, don’t—don’t stop, please—“

“Yeah, sweetheart? You gonna—gonna cum for me? Go on, cum f’me. Cum on my cock, baby, show me what we’ve been—been waitin’ for—“

You cry when your orgasm finally washes over you.

You’ve never climaxed this powerfully before, to the point that you’ve felt like—this. The world is empty besides the two of you. Bells ring in your ear as you struggle to keep your eyes open, your whole body floating. You feel everything and nothing; like you’re weightless but have never been so heavy in your life.

You gasp for air, fingers digging into Keisuke’s shoulders as his hips stutter a few more times then still. His moans into your ear as his own orgasms consumes him, painting your insides white, shooting so much it drips out of your spent pussy and starts to puddle between you.

He stays there for a moment. Lets his lips trace lazy patterns beneath your ear, still half-hard inside you, one hand gripping the back of your neck and the other holding your breast. Even though you’re spent, your hands delicately trail up and down his spine. Your breathing is heavy and your smile bright and you think you could stay right here forever.

The plastic stars one his ceiling smile down at you, and you imagine the ones outside are doing the same. ‘About time!’ they seem to say. After all these years, about time. There’s a shrill whistle of bus brakes, screeching to a halt; a muffled shout from one pedestrian to another. The fan creaks slightly, the cool air washing over you and helping calm the raging fire on your skin. The clock on Keisuke’s lopsided nightstand, made even with a stack of textbooks he never got to put to use, beeps at midnight: the end of one day, the start of forever.

Kei takes a deep breath and slides off, hissing as his sensitive cock is exposed to the cool air of his bedroom. He lays on his back, taking a hand and placing it over his eyes as he tries to calm his racing heart.

Your legs are sticky. They’re already getting sore. Your hips ache, your spine stretches, your chest burns—but you relish it. Kei’s breathing evens beside you. 

Glancing, you check if he’s asleep—but with the way his forearm covers his eyes, you can’t tell. He looks even more like an angel now. Light, from a city just waking up, creeps past the curtains, illuminating slivers of his pale and flushed skin. He looks–relaxed. Content, even with the blush still coloring his high cheeks bones. His lips are parted, shallow gasps of air being sucked through them, but the longer you look, the more it looks like they’re curling in a smile.

His chest rises and falls steadily, and just when you start to think he might actually be asleep, the hand beneath your neck starts playing with your hair.

“Think it’s—always this good?” he asks breathlessly, pulling you in a little closer.

You pretend to think. He tilts his head, cracking an eye to look down at you curiously. You smile. “I don’t know. Think we better try again—y’know, just to be sure.”

Kei barks out a laugh and pulls you to his chest, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. And right now, with the gentle light filtering through his open window, sweaty and smiling and with his cum dripping from between your legs to make a mess of his thigh, you are.

You play with the edges of his hair, sprawled lazily across his sweaty forehead. With a soft smile, he reaches for your fingers and pulls them to his lips. “Do you actually like it? My haircut, I mean. Pretty sure you liked the other stuff.”

You answer with a laugh, pressing a kiss to where the edges fall. “I love it.”

He grins and rolls over, pinning you to the mattress. The short locks make a curtain, hiding the two of you from anything but each other. “Good. Did it f’you.”

“For me?”

He hums and buries his face in your neck, delicately kissing the bruising skin. “Noticed your type. None of them had long hair, ’n I thought…”

With a pealing laugh, you grab his cheeks and bring his face to yours, smothering him with kisses. “Keisuke, you are such an idiot.”

He pretends to frown, but kisses you all the same. “Weren’t calling me that when I was making you scream earlier.”

“Kei,” you say, forcing him back so you can really meet his eyes, “short hair, long hair. No hair. The only kind of guy I’ve ever truly wanted has been you.”

Keisuke blinks. Short, thick lashes bat against those endlessly high cheekbones of his, and then he smiles. He lowers his lips to yours once more and gifts you a kiss; deep, slow. A kiss that’s been years in the making, that says all that your words have and then some.

“I love you,” he says, and you barely have time to say the same before he’s kissing you, hardening cock easily gliding back through your sticky folds, and you go for round two.

So... happy adventuring :) thank you for reading! if you made it this far… pls reblog, drop a comment, or leave an ask if you enjoyed!! I worked really, really hard on this, and it would mean the absolute world to me that, if y’all enjoyed it, you told me why. if you hated it, tell me why. if i made you cry or scream or fall in love or fierce fiercely full of disappointed rage, tell me why!! i won’t bite (unless you ask)!

hopefully the next adventure gets even better. thanks for reading!

[sunsetsimon]

simon 'ghost' riley x reader

finished up a draft that's been sitting forever yayyy

angst with no happy ending </3

─────── ⋆⋅☼⋅⋆ ───────

"how can you be so cold, simon? after everything?" you ask with hurt laced throughout your voice. a tinge of disbelief in your tone, not used to the man you've grown to love being so... distant. unattached. hurtful.

the simon you knew would crack stupid jokes with you, check in after a mission, hold you until you fell asleep. you looked into his eyes, seeing nothing. his body was unmoving, as still as a statue. he stared back, "t'was nothin'. i don't have feelings for you." the sharpness of his tone cuts you like a knife, leaving a deep wound that would scar for a long time.

his gloved hands are shaking, shoving them into his pockets so you don't notice. your lip trembles, attempting to hold back your hot tears but they betray you, steadily streaming down your face. "did- did i do something wrong? i just don't understand..."

simon feels as if he's been punched in the gut, his insides twisting in pain, a feeling all too familiar for him. he felt this way too many times before, but not in the way it hurt now. he gulps down the lump in his throat, clearing it of any tightness before he spoke. "we had an agreement. purely physical, no strings attached and you broke that," simon snaps, forcing the blame on you to defect from his mutual errors.

"but you felt it too, don't say you didn't," you argue, eyebrows furrowing together, flinching in disbelief. your eyes are puffy and red, cheeks flushed with tears dripping from your chin. he's never seen you so upset before.

and of course he felt it too. he knew when he was constantly checking for your messages, hearing phantom vibrations and huffing when his notifications are empty. he knew when he was stroking your hair, pushing a stray strand to the side as you slept, adoring the way your nose scrunches at the ghost of his touch. he's always known he loves you.

"i didn't. i don't love you, 've never loved you.”

he lies.

[ultralightpoe]

Music To My Ears - Steve Rogers

Authors Note: A draft from July 2023 -Enjoy!

Warnings: None?

Word Count: 4880

Requests: OPEN

Description: In which you and Steve are connected through music.

Main Master List -

(Thank you for the gif @prettyboy-parker )

x Enjoy! x

Songbirds: When soulmates can hear each others music.

It had always been a bit of a sore wound for Steve growing up, the lack of music in his head. It concerned him and tore him up inside whenever the conversation was brought up, which it so often was. 

His mother asked him about it everyday, excitement sparking in her eyes whenever Steve lied and said he heard a song. She would make sure to put it in the record player if they owned the vinyl, if not she would turn up the radio whenever it played. She always smiled and giggled at him, it gutted Steve to know he was lying to her. 

The doctor always said that soulmates often try to communicate through music, and tried to work with him to recognize a message, but Steve did not need it since he knew the person didn’t exist. 

He didn’t have a soulmate. The thought crushed him. 

Bucky often joked about it when Steve finally came clean, saying that his soulmate was probably deaf and that Steve had to have one. This made him feel a little better and a new image emerged, maybe if they were deaf the only way they can listen to music was through him. 

How could he deny his soulmate the taste of music?  

So he listened to anything and everything he could. 

He wore down vinyl after vinyl and when he wasn’t blaring the music he was humming it until he fell asleep. 

He hummed to himself before he lost Bucky, he hummed to himself the day the ship he was flying crashed. 

“If you’re real or you’re out there then I am so sorry for this.” He whispers, right as a loud crash sounds out and he is submerged within the depths of the water.

He would not be found for another 70 years, it would take 60 hours to dethaw him properly and stabilize his vitals. He would be asleep for another 6 days after that as doctors and nurses poured over his file over and over and over. 

But that wasn’t the weirdest thing, no. The weirdest thing happened the day a nurse ran through the halls, her face red and splotchy as she summoned the doctor who followed closely. She tried explaining as much as she could as the doctor read through his file once more. 

“This doesn’t make sense… it says he had a soulmate. He had confirmed it years ago.” The doctor mutters, reading the paragraph again. 

“Tests were different then, right. They weren’t as advanced as ours.” The nurse tries, moving closer to the man unfrozen. 

“I don’t get how this is possible….” The doctor mutters one more time as he blinks at the soldier. 

Because Steve Rogers, still asleep from his time in the ice, was humming the tune to a song that had come out that very year. 

(It’s 2012. I was imagining want u back by cher Lloyd but your music your choice birdies). 

- 

Growing up without any sound in your head while other kids were constantly bragging about theirs made you a bit angry growing up. The song time that your schools enforced, that you knew would never be sent to anyone else out there and made you grind your teeth in anger. 

The tests you submitted to monthly, as everyone did, always just made it worse. When they put the metal sticks on your forehead, typing away at their computer as the sound waves to your brain showed up on the screen. They would play music on your end to make sure that it was working, your side always lighting up a light blue color flowers blooming and spreading across the screen. Well they looked like flowers but you knew they weren’t. 

But when they turned off the music and did the ringing sound to try and signal your soulmate to answer back nothing came. Not a single thing came. 

The screen always remained blank. Each. Time. 

You learned to get used to it growing up, at some point the pain and anger ebbed into a phantom limb and you learned to move past. When your friends all found their mates you smiled and attended their weddings, always clapping when they danced to their first song that they found eachother with and sometimes if you were a little too into the drinks you let yourself imagine a life of your own. If you would have a deep song that you could slow dance to on your special night. 

But when reality came crashing down it was right back to misery and you always hated the sickening feeling of realization so you tried to fight off those little daydreams. The ups were not worth the downs. 

You listened to your own music, branched into hundreds of different genres and played the music so loud you could ignore the rest of the world. 

But you were still subjected to the tests, every single month. 

Like right now, with the metal readers strapped to your forehead as you sat back in the chair trying not to get agitated by the doctors pitying glance. 

“It is good to see you again dear.” He smiles, sliding his stool over to his computer and typing something in. “I look forward to your fun jokes every month.” 

“You mean my sarcastic wit that my mother says protects my feelings?” You bite out with a roll of your eyes, looking around the room. 

“Ah. Yes. That.” He chuckles. “Alright, you know the process. We’re going to play some music on your end, to make sure the system is working. Then we’ll play the ringing at a frequency to try and rouse your soulmate into playing something back.” 

“Just do it.” You snap, letting him press play on the music and turning to see the blue engulf the screen just as it always does. Then it stops and he plays a ringing, it makes your ears hurt as you close your eyes. 

Even when he turns it off you can still hear them, like a fire alarm. 

But once again. Nothing. 

“Alright. Thank you for coming in today. It was wonderful to see you.” Your doctor smiles, and you leave once again feeling that dreaded disappointment. 

But you don’t let it get to you, instead you head home and blast the loudest song you can when you make dinner in attempt to ignore the emptiness in your mind. 

Maybe if you had kept the music down you might have heard the smallest humming in the back of your mind, an old tune answering the ringing. 

- 

A week after they first hear humming they decide they would do the updated soulmate test on the captain with dozens of people that were alive back then strapped to their own testing machines to see if any answered back. 

“Alright. It’s all set up. Let’s take a step back and read the vitals.” Doctor Chen orders, making everyone step back as she heads to her computer. After typing a couple codes his brain waves fill the screen, and a moment later she starts playing music to make sure it works. 

Blue clouds fill the screen, blossoming quickly at the sound before she shuts the music down, and then a second later ringing sounds and his brain waves crash in displeasure, sliding down and a black filling the screen as they watch slowly. 

“Good reaction time for someone who had been frozen last week.” She murmurs which makes he nurse next to her laugh, but then after a moment it happens. 

The screen that had gone blank at the silence blossoms with blues and greens as whoever is on the other end plays him something back, everyone staring slack jawed at the screen. 

“Holy shit.” Someone murmurs. 

“His soulmate is still alive.” Chen smiles, watching the screen. 

- 

It happened during work, while you were sorting through files needed for the next meeting, Stark tower empty in this section. It would fill up soon, officials and your bosses would file in within the next 30 minutes and you would be thrown into the chaos of the day. 

So for now you were excited for the quiet of the building, breathing in as you set of the conference room with the correct lighting, water, pens and - 

The music was so faint you almost didn’t hear it, like a staticky connection that was close to breaking at the slightest notch. You drop everything you had been holding and nearly fall to the ground on shaky knees. Your breath falling into ragged pants. 

It takes a moment then it’s gone and you try to relax. It was just you. You’re tricking yourself. 

And so you pick yourself up, shaky hands and shaky knees as you wipe the tears that had somehow began falling, moving to pick up your mess before the ringing began and you fall once more. 

It’s the first time you had ever heard the ringing from their end and it hurt even more than you would have thought. 

It travels down your spine as it traps itself in your head, ringing and ringing and ringing. 

“Oh my god are you okay?” Someone calls, hands on your shoulders dragging your attention to the other assistant that worked alongside you. 

“Ringing.” You gasp, hands clenched into fists as it finally stops, black spots filling your vision. “It’s so loud.” 

“Yeah. It’s uncomfortable on the other end…. Have you never heard it before?” She laughs, moving to grab your phone, her face blanching when you shake your head. “Oh my god. You’ve never heard the ringing! That’s insane!” 

You’re confused when she hands you the phone, giving her an incredulous look before she explains. “You have to play music back. The ringing is a call.” 

“Right,” you nod, shaking as you grab your phone and pulling it close to pick a song, pressing anything random just to get it over with. You were too confused to process anything. You had never heard this, why now? How old was your soulmate? Oh my god was your soulmate super young? Were you a nasty cougar?

You were gonna vomit.

“I’m sorry, did you play Bee Gees back?” She laughs and you can’t stop a laugh from tearing from your own throat. 

Good luck to whoever was on the other end of that. 

- 

It was a one off, something you couldn’t explain. 

The doctors didn’t know how to explain it either, no one knew what to say about it. 

They all gave you pitying glances and odd looks that just made you hate it so much more. You hated the fact that it happened in the first place. 

A branch of hope on a dead tree, it didn’t belong there and you were desperate to tear it down. 

So, as punishment for yourself, you stopped listening to music entirely. Your headphones stayed on your desk collecting dust and your office at work played no music at all. You refused it. 

“Have you heard the new album?” Your friend calls out from her kitchen, you sat glumly on her couch clutching a glass of wine tightly in annoyance. 

“No. You already know I’m not-“ 

“Listening to music blah blah blah.” She laughs, carrying in a tray of food. “That’s so silly. Come on. You love this band and what happened was weird. But it hasn’t happened since. You’ve heard no other music. Just give in and listen to something.” 

“No. Stop pressuring me.”  You snap back, shaking your head. 

That night when you went to bed you grew more and more frustrated by the old music playing through your head, staticky and driving you nuts. After all this time you were finally going crazy. 

You stressed about a soulmate so much that you couldn’t help it. 

- 

Steve couldn’t hear the music and it was killing him. He could barely register his own limbs, his body cold and numb, itching to move his fingers. He just wanted to hear the voice that started waking him up in the first place. 

The wonderful, alluring voice, he was desperate for them to sing again. Hum. Anything. 

Give me something. Anything. Please. 

His fingers prick, the needle feeling passing through him as he tries his hardest to move them. Please please please please. 

“His vitals are peaking. He might be waking up.” A voice whispers. “Let’s get the room ready.” 

Please sing. Or hum. Or play something. Give me a reason to wake up. Please. 

Before he knows it there is a radio playing on his side, a game by the sounds of it, and he can’t seem to open his eyes. 

Then, louder than it normally was without the static sound, he hears the music in his mind. A soft violin sound, followed by a piano. It takes him a second to recognize the nutcracker, a smile breaking out as he did his best to open his eyes. For the person on the other end he would do this. 

His soulmate. He would wake up for his soulmate. 

-

“You can try to send messages.” Doctor Payne smiles, an actual excited smile for you. “Through the music. How long have you been hearing music now?” 

“3 weeks.” You answer, nodding numbly. “And it’s like full now, if that makes sense. It’s not staticky. I can actually hear it now.” 

“What have they been playing?” 

“Old music. Really old music.” You smile. “I’m hoping to god it’s not a kid. The older music is a good sign right?” 

You were back for your monthly visit, but this time you were excited. 

“Okay. Do you recognize any of the songs?” 

“Some. Not enough to get a message from it.” 

“Okay. Let’s see.” He moves to type in the codes and your brain waves fill the screen. This time you chose the music, something old, and you get a little nervous. 

“D-do we have to do the ringing? It’s louder on their end.” You mumble, body heating. “It hurts.” 

“It was your first time experiencing it. That probably made it worse.” 

“Yeah; but what about them? Won’t it hurt them as well?” 

“Let’s see.” He smiles softly, the music stops. One breath, followed by another, and then the ringing starts and you close your eyes feeling a little guilty. 

When it stops it’s silent, and you wait with shaky hands. And just when you think you’ve gone nuts and imagined it all, getting ready to bolt before Dr. Payne sends you to the loony bin. 

But the sounds of the nutcracker start playing, and a wide smile spreads across your face. 

The very song that you had played a while ago, the first song you listened to after your self inflicted punishment. 

“I hear it.” You smile, and your doctor laughs. 

“I can tell.” It’s then you look at the screen, seeing a mix of colors blooming along with the blue. Joy sparking in your chest at the new world. 

-

He had rooms in the tower, and a tutor to try and teach him all the updated tech. But the furthest he could get was a flip phone, and that already confused him enough, but he has a radio that plays all the classics for him. 

And he had whoever is on the other end of his mind, giving him enough music to listen to while he works out in the gym. 

Right now, his wonderful soulmate, was playing something he didn’t recognize but didn’t mind. His blood thrumming as he fixed his leather jacket while trying to figure out his way through the halls. 

“Dr. Chen!” He calls when he sees her, making the woman stare at him with wide eyes. “I was told you had done my soulmate testing? You were searching or something?” 

He tried to maintain eye contact and be as respectful as he could, but all he could do was nod his head to the music and tap his hand as Dr. Chen smiles smugly at him. 

“They playing music right now?” She asks, nodding her head for him to follow her as she makes her way through the halls. “What are they playing?” 

“S-something about… living on a prayer?” He smiles, following her into her office as she turns back with a wave of recognition. “You know it?” 

“Bon Jovi.” She nods, searching on her computer before turning to him. “The results from the nursing homes came back inconclusive. We tried reaching out to other clinics to see if anyone answered the call. They usually report it to their own doctors for a chance to narrow down the search so whoever you called definitely did not know what to do.” 

A wave of guilt fills him at that, making him fidget a bit in his seat as the song changes to another upbeat song. 

“Due to the progression of the music we do believe that you are connected to someone in their 20s to 30s.” A breath of relief falls from his lips that makes him feel even worse. He was just happy that his soulmate wasn’t waiting for him for 70 years. “The Taylor swift and Motley Crue mix clued us in on that one.” 

“Who?” 

“And the nickel back. There is no grandma out there listening to nickel back.” She laughs are her own joke, stopping short when she realizes he’s not laughing. 

“Should I be listening to them? Who are they? Is it one person? Nickel?” He rushes out, feeling a little nervous. “Do you think they hate my old style music?” 

“I have no idea on that one.” She laughs. “Take a breath. It will all be fine.” 

He goes to ask another question before a ringing breaks his concentration, his eyes drifting to the phone on her desk. She rushes to pick it up, mumbling out a response before hanging up. 

“They are sending someone down with some papers, but you can ask questions before she gets here.” 

“That would be great. What is Nickelback?” 

- 

You had been playing music in your office all day, with no response from your soulmate unfortunately. That didn’t matter though, because you were still high and giddy at the fact that you had a soulmate. 

But your little concert in your office was cut short when you were sent to hand off ‘top secret’ files to Dr. Chen. You found that everything in this place was top secret. 

Right now everyone was freaking out over some science project that you had heard a couple whispers about. Something with ice and a man. Not much to figure out but it’s not like you cared. 

You got this job by minding your own business.

And what did it matter anyways? You have a soulmate. 

The halls to Stark tower were easy to navigate, and you still were so out of it that you got a little lost towards the end before you found her office, knocking lightly. 

“Come in.” She answers and you swing the door, surprised to see a blonde haired man turning to you with big eyes. 

The blue of them makes you stop short, a blush crossing your body as you blink before a wave of guilt crashes over you. You had a soulmate and you’re here ogling at this guy? 

Come on. 

“Sorry to interrupt. You requested these?” You look away, turning to her instead and passing over the files. “Have a good one.” 

“Wait! Mr. Rogers here needs to go to the main levels but he might need help getting there. Think you can show him?” 

“No problem.” You shrug, nodding at him without making eye contact and waiting for him to get up before leading the way. 

- 

Steve follows you through the halls after you introduce yourself, feeling a little guilty at the blush that crosses him when you look at him. 

He had been so upset about not having a soulmate for the longest time, and now that he does he is getting flustered over the first beautiful gal he sees? Talk about shooting yourself in the foot. 

“So you’re new here?” You ask after a moment of silence, pulling your badge out to get clearance for the elevator. 

“Relatively.” He responds, trying not to make eye contact and keeping his voice short. He could not waste time flirting with everyone else when he had a soulmate out there. 

“Right.” You mumble, obviously a little put off by the shortness in his tone as the elevator opens and you are both enveloped in with the weird music. 

He wonders if his soulmate could hear it, feeling a little silly that they might think he was actually listening to this as you fiddle with your badge awkwardly. 

After a moment he breaks the silence, pointing to the speaker. “You think your soulmate hears this music?” 

Your eyes light up instantly, and you stand a little straighter. “Maybe. I hope they respond if they can. I love hearing their music back.” 

“Me too.” He agrees, feeling something loosen in his chest at the mention of soulmates. “I can only hope they like my music too.” 

“I’m sure they do. I’m always so desperate to hear them that I never really care about the music itself more of the fact that it’s playing.” You respond, nodding a bit when the elevator rings. “This is your stop,” 

He thanks you, moving to leave quickly. But the further his steps make from you he still hears the elevator music playing, confusion lacing him as his soulmates humming begins to the same elevator tune. 

He turns, down the hall, watching as the doors close with you humming inside. Recognition and sparks fly through him as he tries calling out, dashing to the door but it was too late and they were already closed. He tried to press the buttons but without an access badge it was useless. 

And in his lame attempt of morality he completely missed your name. 

Just his luck. 

- 

“You cannot be serious,” you laugh, rubbing your head in frustration as you try to sleep in a little longer. But it was no use, your soulmate was on a mission. 

For the past 3 days over the weekend all that had been playing in your head was elevator music, over and over and over. 

You assumed that whoever was on the other end took meal breaks because you got at least an hour each day of silence before they were back to it, the sound of it beginning to grate at your nerves. What had you done to deserve this abuse? This was truly incomprehensible. 

Anger fills you as you launch from bed, stressed from the lack of sleep and snatch your headphones, digging through your playlist until you find the heaviest rock music you can. Two can play that game soulmate. 

-

“Oh, good morning Mr. Rogers.” Dr. Chen smiles, her eyes bright with shock as she takes in his appearance. This reaction didn’t surprise him, it was the way everyone had been reacting as more and more people found out that Captain America was living in the building. 

But this reaction from Dr. Chen was a bit odd considering she knew him by now. “I’m a bit shocked that you are up this early.” 

“I usually spend time in the gym.” He rushes out, shrugging. “Can’t shake the military time- hey that person that dropped off the file the other day? Do you remember her- oh my.” 

Before he can finish his sentence loud music blasts in his ears, making him cringe a bit. “Oh.” 

“Are you okay?” She asks, reaching out to touch his shoulder. 

“Yeah. Just my soulmate playing music I’ve never heard. But enough about that, that girl that came in with the files? You know her?” 

“Yes! She’s worked here for awhile. Very nice. You liked her?” 

“Well I think she’s my soulmate.” He blushes before launching into the tale. 

She looks shocked and like she’s fighting off laughter when he stops. “You’ve been standing in the elevator all weekend? Listening to this music?” 

“Yes?” 

She laughs loudly before pulling him out of the elevator and walking him to her office. “I can guarantee you are about to have a very cranky soulmate.” 

- 

You were aggravated, thoroughly aggravated. At least the elevator music stopped but you had gotten no sleep. 

So as you marched to your office just to see multiple messages requesting you to Chens office immediately and you groan loudly, snatching the headphones out of your ears. 

Something had to have gone wrong with those files, and you were in no mood to get into trouble over it. Whatever stupid science project they had was beginning to grate on everyone and they were getting angry about it. You can pick up the tension easily. 

Your pass allows access to the halls, spine tense as you make your way to her office, knocking lightly before it opens and you see her and the man from the other day standing awkwardly. 

“Thank you for coming. It seems we’ve had a change of… situation.” She smiles before his hand shoots out to you and both of you jump back at the force of it. 

“Sorry. Sorry. I’m Steve.” He blushes, easing himself a bit and relaxing his hand for you to shake once more. 

“Rogers…. Your name is Steve Rogers.” You laugh. “How many times do you get asked about Captain America?” 

He blinks at you and Chen snorts. 

“I actually kind of know a Steven Grant. I haven’t met him in person but he works at a museum that we contact a lot and he’s actually so sweet.” You hush before stopping when you realize they are both staring at you. “Off topic. What’d you call me down here for?” 

“I think I’m your soulmate.” He blurts. 

“And this is actually Captain America.” 

Holy. Shit. 

- 

For lack of better words you scram. 

After years of begging the universe for a soulmate when you finally come face to face with the possibility of meeting your soulmate, what more was there to do but run? 

Steve Rogers. Steve Rogers thought he was your soulmate. 

You had so many questions. You had no clue where to run, so you stop short and turn back quickly, dashing back down the hall to run back to the office and you somehow run into him chest to chest sending you sprawling back on the ground. 

“Jesus! You brick wall!” You shriek, standing up quickly as he blinks at you with his own panicked look. 

“I’m sorry! I didn’t expect you to run back!” He rushes out, hands shooting out grab your shoulders in an effort to stabilize you. “I… I have so many questions.” 

“Me too.” You blink, a moment of silence passing before you both blurt out a question at the same time. 

“What was with the elevator music?” 

“What music were you blasting this morning?” 

-

“Nope. No.” Steve calls from somewhere else in the house, pulling your attention to the stairs and waiting to hear him rush for you. 

Three years of marriage and you were still finding music he hated, right now that ended up being Cardi B. 

You hear his feet on the steps and wait patiently until he comes into the door with a scowl. “Why do you do this?” 

His eyebrows are pulled together in frustration as he shuffles closer to turn off the radio, looking around the room in his normal attempt to make sure everything is all safe. Just as he always had, checking every window and exit as a precaution before coming up to you and wrapping his arms around your waist and picking you up to kiss your lips. 

“I liked that song.” You muffle against his lips, smiling cheekily which makes him sigh and pull back from the kiss. 

“I could have gone my whole life without knowing what WAP was.” He groans, setting you down with a quick kiss on your forehead before moving to your computer to change the song. You watch closely, moving closer to his desk as he glares down at yours, typing slowly before he hums at his choice. 

Even the smallest hum still sounds out in your mind, sending shivers down your spine before the sounds of cheesy elevator music sound out making you laugh. 

“No! Please no!” You call, rolling your eyes as he dances closer until he gets to you and lifts you onto his desk so he can slot himself between your thighs. 

“It was a great plan!” 

“No it wasn’t!” 

“I hoped you could recognize the music! I didn’t know your name and I had no access to the building!” He blushes. “I had to beg someone to let me onto the elevator every morning just to do it.” 

“You know how long I heard people whispering about you before I actually met you.” You laugh, rubbing at his shoulders. “Now I love you, but if I have to hear one more track of elevator music I will burn this building down.” 

He laughs, leaning to kiss you deeply before turning off the music and hauling you to your shared room. 

After so many years of waiting for your soulmate it all ended up being with it in the end.

[hugheses]

10-6-20: Teams, agents and players: How the first-overall pick changes everything

In the spring of 2019, U.S. netminder Cory Schneider and teenaged star Jack Hughes were at the world championships in Slovakia when a big plan began as a joke.

Schneider, who was 33 at the time, teased that Hughes had better prepare for life in the Schneider basement in Short Hills, New Jersey. Schneider’s wife, Jill, joined in the fun, suggesting that Hughes start calling her “mom.”

A few weeks later, the New Jersey Devils selected Hughes with the first-overall pick in the 2019 draft — setting the stage for a text message from Schneider to GM Ray Shero at training camp in September.

“Pretty sure this kid’s making the team. We’re ready if you want.”

And so Hughes, closer in age to Schneider’s 4-year-old son Wyatt than to the veteran NHL netminder, found his way to the Schneider basement where he and Wyatt would sometimes engage in some spirited knee hockey.

Hughes soaked up knowledge from living with an experienced NHLer. But it was also an educational experience for Schneider, who learned about a thing called TikTok and another thing called Instagram. Hughes, it turns out, is a star on both.

[...]

The Devils communication staff, for instance, was in contact with Hughes’ representatives about outside demands on the young player’s time. There are staff whose responsibility is to maintain communication with players’ families to help with things like tickets, travel and merchandise requests.

Immediately after the 2017 draft, the Devils’ No. 1 pick, Nico Hischier, and his family came to New Jersey and were shown the lay of the land.

Schneider and his wife had actually discussed at the time whether Hischier should live with them, but Jill was eight-months pregnant with the couple’s second child, so it wasn’t the best solution.

“I don’t think one size fits all,” Shero noted.

Defenseman Mirco Mueller had been acquired by the Devils that summer and was living, along with a number of other younger Devils, in a complex near Jersey City.

Hischier and his family, with input from the Devils, decided that he would live on his own near those players.

“That first year having Mirco around was huge for me,” Hischier said. “He’d been around. He knew what was going on.”

The fact the two were countrymen and had a familial connection involving Hischier’s older brother was also a natural gateway to feeling comfortable.

Quickly, Hischier found a rhythm with the help of Mueller, Jesper Bratt and Blake Coleman, among others, sharing rides to and from the rink and learning what an E-ZPass was.

“I wasn’t worried about anything,” Hischier said. “I felt really comfortable with New Jersey. I felt really welcome there. They took really good care of me and really good care of my whole family.”

Hischier said his mother was especially impressed with how the Devils handled things and helped get Hischier settled in. On the other side of the equation, the fact the Hischier family often made visits to New Jersey with generous supplies of Swiss chocolates for the staff was a welcome bonus to the relationship between player and team.

Hischier also had help with other things that can affect any young person living on their own for the first time: doubt, worries about bills, shopping and cooking.

Hischier settled into the NHL life almost seamlessly, scoring 20 times as a rookie.

“There was a 100 percent focus on hockey,” he said.

“The whole organization stood behind me and helped me in any aspect off the ice — and obviously on the ice, too — but off the ice more importantly. So I have less stuff to worry about.”

It is a sign of how young the NHL has become that, in an almost impossibly short period, Hischier has gone from the rookie to a veteran voice that was able to help guide Hughes through a similar landscape.

“I obviously could feel exactly what he is feeling,” Hischier said. “It’s not easy to come to the big show at that age, handle all that stuff, what’s going on outside.”

Support is key. Even after Hughes moved into his own place near Jersey City, part of the plan mapped out before the season, Jill Schneider would sometimes order a cleaning service for Hughes or drop by and fill his fridge with food.

It was all the more important in a year of tumult in New Jersey

By the end of Hughes’ first NHL season, he had seen former Hart Trophy winner Taylor Hall dealt to Arizona and his first NHL coach, John Hynes, fired. Then the man who selected him with the first pick, Shero, was also fired. Even his landlord, Schneider, was at one point sent to the American Hockey League.

“You couldn’t have scripted it any more chaotically for an 18-year-old kid in his first year in the league,” Schneider said. “It was one thing after another.”

Hughes struggled to find a groove, scoring just seven times and finishing with 21 points.

There were times when it was clear that losing and his lack of production were weighing on him.

“Look, he’s used to being the best player on the ice and scoring three points a night,” Schneider said. “He’s done it his whole career.”

“I would be like, ‘hey man, it’s your twelfth game in the league. It’s going to come.’ I think he understands that.”

The point? A career is not a straight line, no matter how talented you are.

Great advice for any No. 1 pick.

[nicohischierz]

i can see you: nico hischier x player!reader

tani speaks: so i’ve had this in my drafts for a while and i’ve finally finished it lmao

also do send in ideas for anything!!

tagging: @ivy-34, @hzstry8, @francesfarhadi, @cixrosie, @heartz4hisch, @trevs-swiftie, text me or fill the form if you want to join the taglist!!

you admired nico for the man he was. he had offered to take you under his wing and had even allowed you to stay with him for the next season. and whilst your relationship was strictly being friends, there was just something else about it.  

occasionally, he would brush past you in the hallway. his fingers lingering on your skin if you were blocking the way. 

it was wrong to feel this way about your captain but you couldn’t help it. 

when you were at home, you saw him for who he truly was. 

it was october when you made the biggest mistake of your life. 

you slept with your captain. the person you shared a house with.

of course, the two of you repaired your relationship after many weeks of ignoring each other. 

 however, you weren’t sure if you preferred the now or the before. 

when you and nico were at team events he would whisper in your ear “what would you do if I went to touch you now?” 

but as the two of you laid in his bed, tangled in each others presence you would ask “what would you do if they never found us out?

nico never gave you a proper answer for that. 

instead he would lean down and give you a kiss. in all honesty, he didn’t know the answer himself.

after every game, nico would wait for you to finish wrapping up with media before heading to the car. he leans against the wall on his phone answering messages from his family.

and when you arrived he would incase you against the wall, leaving kisses all over your face before pulling you towards the car.

of course, the two of you kept a very professional relationship when around the team. you’d make jokes like friends and never once mention what goes on behind closed doors.

there were members of the team who were suspicious of yours and nico’s relationship. and i’m doing so they all kept a close eye on the two of you which led to you guys moving quickly to one another’s rooms and keeping quiet

there were moments where you’d push the boundaries of being teammates in public.

nico would be whispering in your ear, his fingers ghosting your arms as you lay on his shoulders.

the two of you would taunt each other when you were out with the team before rushing back to your apartment and paying the price for your actions,

another thing no one knew about were the secret getaways and the “coincidental” meetings.

it wasn’t until you’d made it to playoffs that the team found out.

everyone was headed out to celebrate and nico had wrapped you in his arms kissing you softly in front of your teammates.

you blushed, hiding your face in nico’s chest as you watched a couple of the guys hand $50 bills to each other muttering under their breath.

without the need to keep your relationship a secret, the meeting down empty hallways stopped and so did the quick kisses before heading to team events.

now as you exhausted in your hospital bed, your boyfriend holding onto your daughter with tears in his eyes you knew three things.

nico was your addiction.

you were his.

and he could see you for who you really were.

[bachiras-toaster]

The videos : ̗̀➛

GETO SUGURU x f!reader (x GOJO SATORU)

cw: filming, voyeurism, m!masturbation

wc: 1.3k

an: connected to something i wrote for kinktober. as i finished writing one of the drafts i literally had an epiphany and needed to write this story for geto’s perspective too. you’ll get gojo’s perspective on day 23 c;

link to the kinktober fic

That video was not in Geto’s list of things that he expected to see that night, especially not after the wonderful evening that you had just shared with him. The entire evening out you spent with Suguru was full of laughs, jokes, flirting, and much more. Hell, he even walked you to the apartment of his best friend for convenience.

Despite being extremely close with Gojo, Geto could never help but feel a tinge of jealousy whenever he remembered that being best friends with Satoru meant that he got to spend more time with you. Of course, you knew Gojo first, and that’s how you had even come to meet Geto, but ever since knowing you, Geto has never once been able to get his mind off of you.

He spoke about you endlessly to Gojo, to which he would just encourage his words and implored him to talk more about what he did with you. Whenever hs spoke to his best friend about the time he spent with you, he spared no details. Not only because Gojo was his best friend and he, quite literally, told him everything, but also because whenever he started talking about you, he just couldn’t stop. It was like your name rolled off his tongue in such an easy way that he was like an open faucet of memories he shared with you.

Even when it came down to the private stuff, he left nothing out. In fact, he felt himself go into such extreme detail when he described his intimate moments with you. You had never actually had his dick inside of you, but he did give you head on occasion. And whenever he told Gojo about the night where he did, he would talk about it in such immense detail that it was like Gojo was practically seeing the moment unfold as he told him. He described the curve of your ass, the way you tasted, how you sounded- Everything.

And despite all that Geto had told, Gojo swore from the bottom of his heart that he had zero interest in you— Sexually or romantically. You and Gojo were best friends and he could never see you the way Geto did, ever.

Gojo wasn’t exactly the master of deception, but maybe he just believed him because of how close the two of them were. A part of Geto had always known that Gojo must’ve been lying because there was no way that he couldn’t harbour any feelings for you, but he chose to believe Gojo’s words every time anyway.

So when Geto returned back home from his date with you to see a single video message in his phone from Gojo, he stood still for a whole minute or two in his bedroom just rewatching the fifteen-second clip that Gojo had sent him.

“Don't be a brat, (Y/n).” The heavy pants from the video groaned- The voice clearly belonged to Satoru. "Tell Suguru who's fucking you good."

The sounds of your moans, as well as the endless cries for Satoru’s name filled Geto’s ears. He had to seat himself down because of the shock, but his eyes were still widened at the screen, replaying the video for what felt like the ninth time now.

However, he wasn’t as angry or irritated as one would expect— Which is probably why Gojo had even sent the video of him fucking you to him in the first place. He wasn’t jealous or annoyed, he was actually feeling quite aroused. Maybe if it was some other random guy pounding his dick into the girl that he liked, he would’ve felt murderous. But it was Gojo. Hell, he had even sent a nice, high-quality video to his best friend so that they could share the moment together.

He just couldn’t look away. It was such perfect angle. Your parted legs making way for Gojo’s heavy dick inside of you, Satoru’s large arms laying on your hips as he pounded away like you were just a little fuck toy, and the way he could see your slick line his dick in such high quality just made his mouth water even more. There was a clear erection growing in his pants, and he had been involuntarily inching towards it as he kept replaying the video again and again.

He had already allowed his veiny cock to spring free as he swiped his thumb over his slit, gathering his precum so that he could prepare fucking into his fist at the video. He had already screen recorded the message the second time the video replayed, so the moment was already perfectly preserved in his camera roll, but he continued watching the clip from him and Satoru’s text messages anyway.

With the video still playing in the background, Geto frantically typed away with his left hand, sending the messages in such a hurried and desperate pace as he continued to get off to your filthy moans.

“fuckimg hell”

“shes takinf yoy so well”

“god sje looks so wet”

He panted as the text messages went through amat a quick rate. He didn’t cease typing. In fact, he was already preparing himself to send another load of desperate text messages, hoping that they would get through to Satoru in time. They were just another load of short texts, this time asking for requests, begging Satoru to make her scream his name next.

Likewise, in the same manner in which Gojo had done, Geto opened the camera and aimed the lens towards his thick dick, his hand already stroking it harshly with the sound of wer squelching being hard as his hands ran down his length. Though, in contrast to the video that Gojo had sent him, instead of being just a few seconds long, Geto had decided to film right until he was able to catch his high.

There were times he sped up, and times he slowed down, but the things he said were all the same. His low grunts were accompanied by the sound of your name heavy on his tongue, as well as short babbles about how pretty you looked getting fucked dumb by his best friend. His tip was practically glowing red as his palm sped up, the though of your wet pussy being pounded keeping him going.

“God, (Y/n), this is all for you.” He groaned out, the sound of his lip smacking along with his low moans was heard in the background of him jacking off. “You looked so fucking beautiful getting fucked by Satoru… I wanna have my turn with you next…”

He felt himself chuckle as he sped himself up even more, his back arching for better access as his stomach began to knot with the sensation.

“M’gonna be so fucking mean with you the next time I see you… Gonna make you take my dick instead of my tongue… And m’gonna make you take it until you pass out…” He grunted heavily, hoping that the video was catching every single filthy threat that he was allowing to escape his lips.

Not before long, he had released himself all over his palms, letting out a loud groan, along with tour name, as he did so.

Five minutes and seventeen seconds, the video time read. And without a second thought, he sent it straight back.

[sc0tters]

What’s Best For You | Adam Fantilli

summary: with the draft hanging over Adam’s head and the view of you getting on with another man brings the end of your relationship, but what happens when you two see each other again?

request: yes/no

warnings: none

prompt: “if you leave don’t come back.”

word count: 2.21k

authors note: I wasn’t planning on writing this one but Adam got the hatty yesterday and I figured we should celebrate him. This isn’t like my normal writing as I got the whole idea for the prompt at like 2 in the morning and just went with it. If you want to see more from the 500 celly you can do so here!

The topic of the draft hung over you both like a bad smell that you couldn’t shake.

Each time one of you brought it up the other would change the subject usually muttering on about how “fate would take its course” or “it’s out of our control so let’s not worry.” But tonight Adam seemed like he was on a mission.

You two had left a party early after Adam saw JJ flirting with you. Now the Fantilli boy wasn’t jealous, he knew you would never cross that line with another man because you loved Adam.

But there was something about that image that he couldn’t stop thinking about. From the way the blonde laughed at your jokes or how your eyes lit up when you saw him.

At first Adam thought you were just friends who had a few classes together, yet that was exactly how you met Adam.

And after nights of staying up wondering what he was meant to do about leaving you, it seemed that tonight he finally had his answer “why are you saying this?” You asked pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration.

Adam had tried to explain it to you for the fifth time but you still refused to hear his message “I can’t love you the way some guys here can if I’m on the west coast.” Adam sighed as he was predicted to go second to the Ducks all the way in Anaheim.

Whilst the boy loved you with all of his heart, to the point where you were the only thing his mind thought of when he woke up and when he went to sleep. Adam came to the conclusion that evening, that it wasn’t fair to expect you to do that long distance relationship.

Tears formed in your eyes “that’s meant to be something I decide, not you Adam!” Your voice broke as you finally realised what was going on here.

Adam was about to break up with you.

It felt like a slap in the face, the man you loved more than you ever thought you could love anyone was telling you that the last six months was all for nothing.

As much as he wanted to hug you and kiss those tears away the hockey player knew that he couldn’t, instead he had to watch them roll down your cheeks “I should go y/n.” Adam’s words had your feet dragging your body towards him.

There was no baby, darling, love, princess that fell from his lips. No, now you were simply just y/n the name you had your entire life now felt bland and boring.

You shook your head “tell me you love me.” You mumbled feeling the sadness replaced by this sense of hurt “tell me that this is all just a dream and that when I wake up you’ll be by my side.” As sobs got stuck in your throat you cut yourself off “I can’t lose you Adam.” You cried finally letting go as his silence seemed to serve as the stark reminder of the reality that was hitting you with the same strength as the cold Michigan winter air when you walk outside in the morning.

The boy shook his head “it’s for the best,” he repeated cupping your cheeks with his hands as he titled your head up so that he could kiss your forehead.

A tear from his eyes landed on your hair soaking the soft strands as his hands dropped to his sides “goodbye sweets,” Adam forced the words from his lips digging his nails into his palms as he stared at you for one final time.

Acting like he didn’t have your face memorised, each scar, each spot, each dimple, he could pinpoint them all. But this time he just wanted to see you, even if it had to be with tears streaming down your face.

As you watched Adam turn around and head back to your dorm door, the pain you were feeling morphed into anger. You were angry at how easily he was willing to give up on you two without giving you a proper reason why, how he made you feel like the only girl in the world to only go and pull the plug on it all when you least expected it. What pissed you off the most was that he had all of these opportunities to break up with you and decided that the last party of the school year was the best option “if you leave now, you better not come back.” The warning in your tone came through as Adam stopped in his tracks.

Not a single coherent thought went through his brain as all he wanted to do was turn around and kiss you whilst he told you just how stupid he was. But instead Adam simply shook his head before he walked out of your room leaving you confused, drunk and upset.

That was two months ago and Adam wanted to call you every minute of every day but he didn’t. Every time he did something he only wanted to tell you about it, but he couldn’t.

Not even you were posting things from your families lake house with none other that JJ McCarthy.

Adam knew that your lake houses were at the same lake literally two minutes away from each other because the day you learnt about it you went and told Adam all about it.

A giggle left your lips as JJ placed his hand on your shoulder “I’ve got to get to practice,” he groaned seeing the clock on the dining hall wall.

You nodded sending him a smile “I’ll see you later J,” you waved watching him nod “bye y/n.” JJ sent you a salute before he walked off.

Adam was quick to walk over to you when he realised you were now alone “what was all that about baby?” He asked leaning down to peck your lips.

Again Adam wasn’t jealous, he felt like you could be friends with anyone that your heart could dream of. But the way JJ looked at you was what made his skin crawl “JJ lives down the road from the lake house in the summer!” You explained locking your hand with his as you began walking back the boys table.

“Funny that right?” You added totally unaware of how Adam was.

To him it had to take an idiot to see that JJ liked you, and part of Adam couldn’t even blame JJ for it, you were a total catch that any guy would be lucky to get.

You stared at the picture of Adam and Luca in their suits that the older Fantilli had uploaded to his close friends story “look we don’t have to watch this if you don’t want to.” JJ sighed seeing you frown.

The draft was one thing you always watched with your grandad who now wasn’t here, so as much as you didn’t want to see Adam you weren’t doing this for him “no I’m good.” You forced a smile onto your lips.

JJ decided to not question you further as he let the volume of the tv go louder as you two watched the third pick. The boy suggested that you only started watching then to avoid seeing Adam “the Columbus Blue Jackets are proud to announce from the University of Michigan Adam Fantilli!” Your eyes went wide seeing your ex get up “what about Anaheim?” You croaked feeling yourself grow sick.

Before the boy had the chance to check on you your body pushed off the couch as you ran to the bathroom.

It had been over eight months since you had been into the Yost and the place you grew to love in your freshman year now felt foreign “if you want to leave let me know.” You felt guilty with how good JJ had been to you since the school year started.

The boy had been good to you as he always made sure you were okay. Whether it was being your company at a party or simply just checking in on you, JJ had grown to hold a special place in your heart but that didn’t make you feel any sense of comfort.

Truth was that you longed for Adam, your roommate had to go as far as delete Adam’s number from your phone after you tried calling him drunk one evening.

You sent JJ a nod as he wrapped his arm around your shoulders giving you a comforting squeeze “he isn’t here anyways.” You pointed out assuming that Adam was with his team celebrating the win against the Redwings in Detroit.

But of course the universe had to prove you wrong as the jumbotron picked up your conversation with JJ flashing your faces on the big screen. You let out a laugh pointing at it “you okay Adam?” Julia asked her son seeing the frown on his face.

Adam nodded forcing a smile on his face “she looks happy,” he shrugged trying to ignore the painful feeling that shot through his chest.

The games end came fast as the wolverines shut out Minnesota. You wanted to drag JJ out of there as you heard the rumours that Adam was there but the football star seemed to have other plans as he forced the excuse that Dylan had something for the boy.

You practically hid behind him as you didn’t know what you were going to do if you saw Adam, your brain couldn’t decide if you preferred the idea of hugging him or cursing him for putting you through the pain that he had done so.

But before you could think about it any further JJ dropped a bombshell on you “I’m going to give you guys a moment.” He mumbled moving to the side so you could lock eyes with Adam and Luca who seemed to be having a similar conversation.

Before you knew it Adam was awkwardly stood in front of you “hey,” you mumbled shoving your hands into the Michigan hoodie to hat was undeniably something you stole from Adam all those months ago.

The Fantilli boy just took the moment to stare at you and your feature as he took in how beautiful you looked “hi.” The hockey player smiled fiddling with the watch on his wrist.

It irritated you how Adam didn’t seem to feel the pain you felt, you had concealer caked beneath your eyes to avoid revealing your dark circles from that lack of sleep “how is your boyfriend?” That comment only aggravated you further as you furrowed your eyebrows.

“JJ is just my friend you dickhead.” You spat causing the boy’s eyes to go wide.

He had to say that he was surprised to hear that you were still single as that little part of him selfishly hoped that you were still in love with him “some of us find it harder to move on when we get dumped out of the blue than others.” You knew it was low but you sent the blow anyways as you had seen all of the rumours and all of the TikTok’s about Adam’s new lovers as he was seen as the dream boy of Columbus.

Adam let out a laugh causing you to cross your arms “this isn’t funny Adam.” You grumbled frowning as your now upset look was clearly highlighted.

Just like how he used to Adam cupped your cheeks forcing you to look at him “all those girls try and I can’t seem to shut up about you.” Adam’s confession had your eyebrows raising in surprise.

In all honesty you truly thought that he broke up with you so he could pursue other things when he left, or at least that was how you liked to think about it because it was easier to try to hate him for leaving you.

Your lips formed a pout “really?” It weirdly warmed your heart to hear that news. Adam nodded as he smiled “thought it was for the best ending it but the truth is I’m still crazy about you.” Adam mumbled tucking your hair behind your ear.

If anyone could see how you were feeling on the inside they’d call you pathetic as you were grinning from ear to ear “I’m sorry for leaving you baby.” Adam sighed wrapping his arms around you as he pulled you into a hug.

You let his familiar cologne invade your nostrils as you melted into his arms “I just want you back.” Most people would have been ashamed to be that open with the guy that dumped them, but for you this was simply just what your heart needed to be brought to ease after all of those late nights crying yourself to sleep.

Adams hands went back to your chin tilting your head up to see his face eyes “you never lost me.” With those words he brought his lips down to yours.

As you felt your body grow warm at that familiar feeling of his lips on yours, you both knew that your were right back where you needed to be. With him in your arms and you in his even if it was under the lights of the Yost arena, you were both home.

[bradshawshawaiianshirt]

Stuck on the Past | Part 4

Bradley 'Rooster' Bradshaw x Ex-girlfriend!Reader

Summary: You never thought you'd see Bradley Bradshaw again, especially the way things ended between the two of you. So what happens when he's suddenly back for a special mission and is determined to win you back too?

Warnings: Angst (ish), adult language, drinking

Length: 1.5k

Stuck on the Past masterlist

You and Bradley spent the next few days messaging back and forth, telling each other about your day among other things. Every time you asked him about the mission he seemed to deflect, making some sort of joke or sarcastic comment.

You were sat at you desk, looking at the paragraph you had written. The only thing you had so far was that Maverick was training Top Gun graduates. It wasn't enough, especially not for Mark.

When you sat down in his office later that afternoon, you could tell he was getting impatient as he read your first draft. He threw it onto the desk in front of you, "So, in other words, you've got nothing."

You sunk into the chair slightly, "I'm trying, I just.. none of them are going to give me any details."

Mark huffed, standing up and beginning to pace behind his desk, "I told you how big this is right? I thought this was something you could handle."

"It's not that I can't handle it, I-"

"It sure seems that way." he stopped, placing both of his hands on the desk and towering over you slightly, "If I don't have any details I can sink my teeth into by the end of next week, it won't be good for you. Believe me."

You quickly nodded, "I'll get you something. I promise."

-

"April, I don't know what I'm doing." You called her as soon as you left work, "Bradley and I went to dinner, and we're messaging, but my boss wants to know all about his mission and-"

"Girl, breathe." She said, interrupting your rambling, "your job is important to you right?"

"Yes."

"You and Bradley didn't work. It's blunt but it's the truth. You've just got back into contact with him. You need to think about what's more important."

You sighed, she was right to an extent. "I don't want to hurt him April."

April scoffed on the other side of the phone, "Hurt him? You mean like he hurt you right?"

"He did but..."

"Only you know what you want. If you don't want to hurt him that badly, then just tell him the truth."

You nodded, said goodbye and hung up. You checked your phone to see Bradley had messaged you.

You free tonight?

You typed back quickly.

Maybe.

You walked into your apartment, feeling your phone buzz in your hand as you threw your bag onto the couch.

Ah, she's in a mysterious mood

Up for a movie night?

And so that's how you found yourself throwing a blanket onto your couch, fluffing up the pillows and waiting for Bradley to arrive. Once he did, the conversation flowed easily. If you closed your eyes, you could almost pretend that you two had never separated.

You were both sat on the couch, a big bowl of popcorn between you, watching Dirty Dancing, at Bradley's suggestion. You'd mostly chatted all the way through it, right up until it got to the final scene.

"This is the best part." Bradley said, his mouth half full of popcorn, he turned to you, putting on his most serious face, "Nobody puts Baby in a corner." He said in time with the movie.

You burst into a fit of giggles, at his impression, and the fact he had popcorn hanging off the corner of his mouth. Bradley laughed along with you, as you pointed to his face, and he used the back of his hand to wipe it away, his cheeks tinged red. As the movie's final song I've Had the Time of My Life began to play, Bradley stood up, holding out his hand to you.

You just stared at him, "Come on." He said, "Dance with me."

"No way." you laughed, looking up at him, you knew you couldn't get out of this. So, you rolled your eyes and took his hand, and he pulled you in close to him. His other hand gently held your waist, and you let yours rest on his chest. He swayed you to the slow beginning of the song. You faces were so close, you thought that if you leaned forward anymore your noses would be touching.

His eyes were so intense as they searched yours, the air felt heavy between you, "Bradley," you whispered, "There's something I really need to tell you."

"It'll have to wait a minute, sweetheart." He said quickly, as the song picked up its pace and he span you around, immediately pulling you straight back into him. You couldn't help but laugh. That was the great thing about Bradley, most of the time he was so laid-back and carefree. Sure, shitty things had happened to him, but when he was around you, he felt like he lit up. He could be himself, be goofy and giggly, or maybe he just liked making you laugh. That was more likely.

The two of you danced around your living room together to the end of the movie. You were both laughing so hard by the time the song ended that you felt like you'd just finished a workout.

He didn't want to let go of you when the movie finished, but he slowly let go of your hand and waist anyways, and you both sat back onto the couch. You looked in between you, the popcorn bowl empty and on the coffee table now. You were much closer than before.

"Hey." he said, and you tore you gaze away from the couch to look at him, "What did you wanna tell me?"

Your chest felt heavy as he looked at you, you shook your head, "Nothing." your voice was soft and quiet, "Nothing important."

He nodded, accepting your answer even though you were sure your face was hiding nothing. That was another great thing about Bradley, he never pushed, although a little part of you wished he had. His hand slowly made its way to your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, you smiled, "I thought you didn't want to rush things,"

Your face was so close to his as you took him in, his eyes were dark and his breathing uneven as he replied, "I'm trying really hard not to."

-

A few days later, you sat at your desk at work when your phone buzzed in your pocket, you picked it up, "Hello?"

"Hey!" Bradley's voice chimed down the phone, "You had lunch yet?"

You chuckled, looking down at you desk covered in loose papers and a mug full of cold coffee, "Nope, why?"

"I'm stood outside your building. Finished early today, thought I'd bring you something to eat."

Your eyes widened and you glanced around your office. If Mark saw Bradley, in his work uniform, coming to see you, you'd never hear the end of it. You cleared your throat, "You know, I could use some fresh air. I'll come down and meet you."

You hurried away from your desk, grabbing your bag and heading downstairs. When you got to the front of your building, Bradley was stood grinning at you, "Hey! I brought you sandwiches."

You stood in front of him, "Thanks." You smiled, "We can sit for a bit if you like, there's a bench down the street."

The two of you walked a few minutes to find the old bench where you'd have lunch when you were an intern. You both sat down and began to eat the sandwiches Bradley had packed, which you had to admit was really sweet.

"I was thinking," Bradley started, chewing on his sandwich, "Next movie night, you can pick."

"Oh really?" you quirked your eyebrow at him playfully, "How nice of you."

Bradley chuckled, "Hey, I'm serious. Any movie you want."

You smirked, taking a bite of your sandwich, "I'll keep that in mind. I'm thinking something really cheesy."

He scoffed, "You're not gonna put me off with that sweetheart, you know I love cheesy."

You both chuckled, finishing off the lunch he'd packed. You turned and glanced at your building, dreading going back inside. Bradley must have noticed your face fall because his hand fell to your shoulder, rubbing it gently. "Work giving you shit?" he asked.

You swallowed the lump in your throat, "Yeah, you could say that."

You turned to face him as he smiled, "Why don't you take the afternoon off?"

"I can't do that." You scoffed.

"Why not?" He shrugged, "I bet you're like, top writer there or something. I'm sure your boss loves you."

Not right now he doesn't.

You thought over his suggestion. You could always tell Mark you were interviewing people for the article.

"I guess I could take the afternoon off. Maybe."

"Perfect." Bradley smiled, "Because right now all I wanna do is spend the night watching cheesy movies with you."

So that's exactly what the two of you did. It was the most romantic thing you'd ever done that didn't lead to the bedroom. When he left later that night, you found yourself wishing he had made a move.

Even though you still hadn't told him anything about the article.

[reallifetangent]

Realization 1.0 (Cat King x Edwin)

I really tried writing something, this is one of the two attempts. English is not my main language, and I also have to translate Ir(me) → Spanish → English → Making Sense in English. I didn't actually finish this one, so, have this draft. Sorry if it disappoints.

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Based on the idea of How did Cat King react when he got back the bracelet. Technically is a One Sided Catwin, happens in the events of the series.

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"Hm?" A surprise sound between a purr and a question got stuck in his lips, seeing how in his characteristical flames, a cat shaped bracelet appeared in front of his bed. Just waking from the heartbreak of the last night, tired after scan the forest and each tree, Cat King (or Thomas for friends or Fandom) looked at the metallic enchanted piece. Didn't have to get closer, but yet he did. He could recognized that ghostly faded smell, and he was shocked and out of his mind when finally picked it up. Tried to think it was just an illusion, a bad taste joke about it.

"How did he do that?" He was both amazed and hurt. How come a ghost, a simple yet fascinating ghost boy hexed his handcuff, his attachment to this town, to his kingdom. Maybe he counted all the cats. "No. The spell only works if I undo it. That's the charm of this charm." Edwin was resourceful, but he couldn't find anything at Tragic Mick's. His cats around town and his own knowledge knew that no trinket from that haunted store could help them. Otherwise, Edwin, his aggressive pal and that psychic girl would've left the country as soon as they got out of his Majesty's Deck.

His small game of cat and mouse was gone, and he didn't even say goodbye. That was hurting. A well mannered gentleman like Edwin could never leave without a word, even if they didn't like it, his manners and old fashioned ways were stronger than his pride sometimes. That was attractive. He liked that correct and straight up part of him (not the straight part. Edwin has none.) The way Edwin fancily rejected and asked to take it off the first time, the panics and educated rejects at his touch. Maybe last night he was a bit rough telling him that they were only there because of that bracelet, nothing else. But Gods from heaven and hell, that was so ho-

"Heaven and hell." His sliced eyes opened wider, seeing every little part of the handcuff, the hits and tries of forcing the lock. The faded particles of a burnt wall. Thomas knew he was powerful, but not above any of the Primordial Gods, The Endless, Lilith. Even with his 9 lives, he wasn't above Death. And thought that those Dead Boy Detectives couldn't get struggling with her. Sneaky, one step ahead, 30 years running from her. Thomas liked that. Defying. But back to his thoughts, he finally felt that sting.

Edwin Payne had been claimed back to hell. Some cats told there was a creepy woman looking for them, about to "Get them back where they belong". Edwin's cleverness wasn't enough to escape her? Well, now was late to help him.

"Sir, we are... Troubled to inform you-" a grey old cat approached their king.

"I know, I know. That little dead boy has been departed to another jurisdiction. I... Got the message." He sighed, spinning in his fingers the metal piece.

"Worse, my Lord. The crazy nurse woman was there, yes. But something worse." Even the cat got goosebumps, their back hairs bristly. "She wasn't even aware. A demonic... thing... took him and dragged him to hell."