#I'd say ''when I'm with you'' as well but I'm kinda lost on what to compare it to

[vimbry-moved]

random sparks recs for tmbg fans who want to get into them (based on general lyricism/instrumental energy):

wonder girl (if you like: unreleased dial-a-song demos, pink)

fletcher honorama (if you like: unreleased dial-a-song demos, then/misc T, pink, factory showroom, the else, nanobots)

B.C. (if you like: then/misc T, flood, apollo 18)

talent is an asset (if you like: then/misc T, pink)

those mysteries (if you like: lincoln, factory showroom, long tall weekend, join us)

goofing off (if you like: lincoln, factory showroom, join us)

beat the clock (if you like: then/misc T, pink, mink car)

angst in my pants (if you like: then/misc T, pink)

eaten by the monster of love (if you like: then/misc T, lincoln, flood, the spine)

funny face (if you like: pink, mink car)

national crime awareness week (if you like: mink car, indestructible object)

dick around (if you like: john henry, factory showroom, long tall weekend, the else, glean)

lighten up, morrissey (if you like: john henry, the spine, the else, glean)

strange animal (if you like: the spine, the else, join us, nanobots, BOOK)

[ddejavvu]

MEI i have severe top gun maverick brain rot and all i can think about is reader being the admirals daughter and everyone assumes rooster or hangman is gonna go after her but it turns out she’s been hooking up with bob for AGES and they’re all like ??? how did you do that???? bob gets kinda flustered but readers just like idk he was really nice and he’s really good in bed

"Check it out," Phoenix elbows Bob where the man is engrossed in reading the back of the bar napkins Penny had handed them so that they didn't stain her tables again, "There's Mav's daughter. 'Think she's got that Hawaiian shirt on to seduce Rooster?"

Bob's eyes dart to where you're chatting with Penny, his shoulders stiffening as his friends turn to watch you.

"Nah, Rooster doesn't like orange. But those cowboy boots she's got on are probably for Hangman- didn't he say he'd teach her how to square dance?"

Penny reaches over the bar to tug affectionately at one of your braids and Bob tries to no avail to break the conversation.

"Actually, she's-"

"I'd say she was here to meet Fanboy, but she doesn't date losers," Phoenix's eyes are narrowed dangerously, and she hides a smirk against the rim of her bottle.

"Hey! Hangman's a bigger loser than I am!" He protests, but before the taller man can trap him in a headlock, Penny points towards the dagger squad where they're lounged in a corner of the bar, and your eyes shine as you rush over.

"Bob!" You shriek, throwing your arms around his neck and letting your legs bend when he hoists you off of the ground for a hearty hug. His muscles are well hidden beneath his regulation khakis, but he's built for much heavier loads than you, and he lets you hover a few inches off of the ground while he hugs you.

Your face is buried in his neck but you press a kiss against his cheek, catching the bewildered blinking of the rest of his squadron over his shoulder.

"Oh. I forgot you didn't know." You supply, your feet back on the ground as Bob keeps one arm slung loosely around your waist, "Sorry, we- uh, we've been hooking up for a while, it's just... I haven't seen him since you guys got shipped out."

"You've been hooking up with her?" Coyote stares down his nose at Bob who shifts subtly closer to you, nodding once, stiffly in the face of his teammate's scrutiny.

"Damn. And he was good enough in bed to keep you waiting 'til he got back?"

Bob flushes - you feel his skin warm where it's pressed against your own, and you fill the awkward silence.

"Oh, please. I'm sure you've seen it in the locker room; I'd wait a lifetime."

Bob scoffs over your shoulder, now even more flustered, but Phoenix is happy to save the situation.

"Does your dad know?" She tilts her chin towards you, remembering how viscerally uncomfortable their Captain had been whenever someone had suggested you get together with one of his aviators.

"Of course he knows," You laugh, "He's the one that set us up! 'Said Bob had to get his hands on me before Texas over there tried to Hold 'Em."

Bob wraps an arm protectively over your chest, leaning over your shoulder from behind to return a kiss against your own cheek.

Hangman whistles lowly, shaking his head with a dazed look, "Well, shit. I didn't know the offer to hold 'em was on the table, but-shit!"

Bob's face darkens but Rooster levels the toe of his boot with Hangman's lower thigh, striking him at the back of the knee and subsequently spilling beer over his khakis. Hangman grunts as his knees knock against the beer-sticky floor, but he seems to know he deserved what he'd gotten because he doesn't retaliate.

"We'll wrangle him." Rooster promises, "You two go have fun, Bob you gotta quarter for the jukebox?"

"Yes'sir," Bob nods, tugging you towards a lesser populated area- perfect for slow dancing even if the bar isn't, "Let's make up for lost time, honey."

[tgcg]

hey guys. this is smth i have been thinking abt doing for a while but tonight i decided 4reel. i'm gonna put the blog on a kinda indefinite hiatus.

things have rlly changed for me & my life, & i need other things to change as well. i dont wanna divulge like... all my shit ere. but i just wanna say thanx to everyone who ever left a reply, kind message, fun ask, even just a like.

the kind of reception this blog got was totally beyond anything i coulda expected. i am still rly floored by it, u guys kindness & generosity. i'm rlly glad i could entertain you all and do right by these 2 guys.

i had so much fun here. making scripts & drawing them out. it's smth i have truly never experienced before & doubt i ever will anywhere else except this here blog. that was truly down to you guys & your enthusiasm and it'll never leave me. like, shit, getting dubs of my comix? fucking insane.

dk has been rly important to me for a rly long time. i became a fan of it over a decade ago. ive talked on da blog before about why i like em so much... so i'll just say here that i also don't rlly think these guys will ever leave me either. i think they were kinda a permanent mark on my development as a person. u can put me so so far away from hs & i'd still express that fondness for em deep down. they're a rlly great duo & i can't say at all that this decision is due to a lack of interest. love u dk <3.

for now i'm just gonna leave the blog as is, but in the future it may become p-word protected, who know... i'm not a fan of creating lost media since archiving obscure shit is a hobby of mine, so... we will "C"...

i'll still be hovering around over at @cgtg. i rlly like doing pwyw requests over there so i can flex my mspaint muscles and give u guys fun stuff. currently those are closed, but yea if ur interested you can drop a follow there & i'll say when they're open. no pressure to run over there tho. i understand that plenty were here for the dk's and i get that.

i might not be leaving this blog alone for good, & i think that's worth stating. who knows what will happen in da future? we're here right now & i'm very glad to have been here *until* now.

pls always have fun, do what you want forever, be kind, & take care. remember above all that youtube is where the poop is.

thanks for hanging out with me. love u all.

-randy tgcg 🙂

[theeroins]

If I say that I'm not used to people misinterpreting my favorite characters, I'd be lying. But the way they get so many things wrong about Inho's character is kinda pissing me off because you KNOW that most of them do it to cancel out the possibility of InHun being *something* more than what's shown so far. You don't ship them, that's fair, frankly I don't care. Everyone's entitled to their own opinion UNTIL your opinion is wrong.

Let's talk about a couple of things I've seen being talked about on tiktok (🙄)

“Inho joined the games because ilnam said that it'd basically be more fun to play than to watch so he followed his example." loud incorrect buzzer ! Inho has joined the games before, and not only that, he's also a previous winner, so therefore he's very much aware of what it's like to be a part of it, he's experienced them first hand, just like he's experienced the atrocities of it. they've changed him for the worst and possibly caused him a huge trauma —they're the reason he's lost faith in humanity after all— so, why would he crave to relive it just for the thrill of it? i, personally doubt he even enjoys watching the game.

“Inho didn't look at Gihun with love, he likes to watch him suffer” Short answer is no. He doesn't like to watch him suffer, neither he looked at him with love, not the pure kind of love at least. Two things can be true at once. Inho spent half the season staring at Gihun because everything about the man intrigued him; His determination, his stubbornness, his kindness, his hope, his heart that's full of love despite the pain he suffered, even the pain in his eyes every time someone got eliminated in front of him as if it was the first time it had happened, as if the cruelty of it all surprised him every damn time. How can someone, who's been through the same things Inho has been through, be the polar opposite of him?

now, the reason(s) that I think Inho actually joined the games for..

(yes I am an Inhun shipper, does that make my opinion a little biased? maybe. do i still believe I'm right? absofuckinglutely.)

Let me clarify this: Inho is NOT a good man, no matter the redemption arc he might get in s3, he'll continue to be a terrible person because nothing will ever erase the blood he's spilled and the evil men he's worked for. BUT at the same time, he's not ALL bad, not like the VIPS and ilnam. See, Inhun are the average "yin-yang" trope in fictional romance, (which I eat up every time and I find it very interesting when it's done the right way, don't get me wrong) Inho is bad but there's some goodness somewhere deep inside him. And the only person who's brought it to the surface is Gihun. Sure, he does think Gihun is naive, but he's also the only person who's actually challenged him, who's "forced" him to get his stupid head out of the dirt and look around him, even for a short while and Inho definitely liked what he saw. Honestly, it wasn't even that hard for Gihun to do so because the goodness in Inho wanted and waited for someone to pull him out of the dirt, he wished for someone, something to give him hope for humanity or.. anything. Anything that'll help him escape from his misery.

You can definitely argue that he joined the games to befriend Gihun, to gain his trust and stop his plans when the time comes, which is half true. But keep in mind that he needed to justify his choice to join the games. He's not a VIP nor the mastermind to simply get to do that without consequences. He's the frontman, the one who controls and manages everything. He's needed for the games to work and go by smoothly and successfully without unnecessary losses and problems. Gihun would only cause problems, Inho knew that very well and yet he chose to put him in it once again. He recklessly made that choice, risking pretty much everything because of his inner conflict. A part of him wanted Gihun to prove himself to him, that there's indeed good that'll save the world and the rest of him wanted to prove to Gihun that everything he so strongly believes in is merely a fantasy.

Joining the games and befriending Gihun was the only way for Inho to see the real him, without the heroic mask he puts on every time he faces the frontman. I think he believed that someone as extraordinary as Gihun will either break in front of him and he will end up disappointed by the human kind once again, or Gihun will change everything about the way he thinks for the better. But the problem is that Inho hopes for both of those things at the same time.

And that was Inho's arc in season 2. His inner conflict and how it will affect him, the game and Gihun later on.

[saeist]

"see? i was being honest with you. i told you i'd make it"

there was that smug look on his face again. the look you know all too well

you give him a questionable look before you roll your eyes. he was late again.. six times now

"you're late!" you exasperate, hands thrown up in the air, "for the sixth time to be exact!" you add, now glaring up at the taller man

nagumo smiles lazily, putting his hands on the back of his head

"but i still made it. that's what matters, right?" he says a little too jolly for your liking at this time. this was no smiling nor laughing matter if you were being honest

this isn't a laughing matter

you thought for once that he'd show up on time and not make you look like a fool waiting til god knows how long at some fan y restaurant he booked weeks prior

sure, you understand his profession being an assassin for a top organization that his overall presence is quite literally needed at all times at any given time and you accepted his constant busyness when you two had started dating

nagumo had always made it clear that despite his fucked up occupation, if you need him, he will be there. no matter what

but this was getting a bit too much

"hello? earth to y/n?" nagumo waves a hand over your face, seeing that you were silent

you ignore him and turning on your heels to walk away from him.

"where are you going?" he calls out, running after you. "the restaurant is closing in 5 minutes!"

you ignore his calls and walked further away but curse his incredible speed that of course he just catches up to you by a second

he grabs your wrist, gently tugging you to face him

"hey-"

"nagumo, stop. i'm going home" you push his chest

okay, ouch. that kinda hurt nagumo in a way he didn't expect

what's wrong?

"but our reservation! we can still have-"

"do you even know what time is it?" you ask, cutting him off

nagumo hesitates for a second, he fishes his phone out of his pocket and reads the screen. 10:43 PM. he was 2 hours and 43 minutes late to your dinner reservation

"you said we'd meet at 7 PM but it's way too late for that now" you muttered, feeling the exhaustion creeping up your veins. the constant tardiness made you feel like you were the second option and never the priority no matter how many times you keep reminding yourself that his job will always come first

but somehow tonight, just felt like you were done with this set up

"shit, i'm sorry babe. i didn't realize–"

"exactly. you never do" you shot back, cutting him off again

nagumo freezes, watching you intently. he instantly picked up at the way your shoulders were slumped, the way you were avoiding to meet his gaze. it's starting to scare him. it scares him that for the first time in a long while, he's not sure what's you'd say next

his heart is pounding loudly against his chest as he waits. he's hoping and praying it's not what he thinks it is

"i'm tire-"

"no" nagumo interrupts. he takes a step closer to you with his hands balled into fists. so tight that his knuckles are turning white, "don't say what i think you're going to say"

he cups your cheeks when you turn your face away. his eyes search for yours, desperately looking for any sign that there was still some spark left in your eyes. that this isn't the end of this heaven sent fairytale he calls a relationship with you

but what's looking right back at him were empty eyes.

"do you know what it feels, nagumo?" you start, voice quiet but sharp that nagumo visibly flinches. "to sit there like a fool, waiting for you to show up? to get my hopes up every time those damn doors open that this time maybe it was you who walked in only to see that it isn't?"

nagumo opens his mouth to say something but you beat him to it

"i keep telling myself that it's fine. that it's okay! maybe work was a little hectic again and that you'll make up for the lost time but if this.." you pause, taking a deep breath, "keeps going on then i don't think i can keep waiting for you" you finish

nagumo inhales sharply. his chest tightens hearing your words. he hears loud and clear what you reallly mean. he's not stupid. he can read between the lines

yeah, he admits that there were a lot of things he lacks at especially with your relationship given his profession involves taking other people's lives almost everyday. his line of work isn't for the weakhearted and it's a surprise to everyone (that knows of your relationship, mainly shishiba and osaragi) that he's able to hold a relationship this long despite how busy he is, is impressive

"i'm tired, nagumo. i'm tired feeling like you don't care about me or about our relationship" you mumbled lowly. though nagumo hears it loud and clear

hearing all this come out of your mouth hurt him more than any blade that pierces his flesh. how long have you felt this way?

"i do care" nagumo finally finds it in himself to answer. "i care about you– about us, more than you think" nagumo heaves a heavy sigh, racking his brain to use the right words to explain himself

nagumo clicks his tongue in annoyance when he can't find the right words, running a hand through his hair

"do you honestly think i wanted to be late? that i don't beat myself up seeing your disappointed face when i finally show up to our dates?"

he pauses a bit, biting his lip as he tries to find the right words to say,

"i'm an assassin, y/n. you know that. i don't know how i'll be able to live with myself if anything or someone touches you because of me"

you can feel the weight of the sincerity in his words but it wasn't enough yet

"nagumo, it's not about that. i know what you do for a living and i'm fine with it. i don't care what you do but sometimes, all i'm asking is you. call me greedy and selfish but can't i just have one night when it's just us? no jaa, no organizations, nothing. just me and you"

his eyes widened. nagumo slowly moves his hand from your face to the back of your head, pulling you close to his chest

"i'm sorry" he murmurs, "i'm sorry for every time i let you down. for every time i showed up late. for making you feel like i don't care about you when i abso-fucking-lutely do"

you swallow hard, melting into his touch. the initial irritation with the situation gradually going away.

nagumo pulls away to look at you in the eye

"i promised you, didn't i?" he grabs both of your hands, intertwining them tightly with his. "that i'll never lie to you and i'm not lying when i say that i love you. so fucking much"

his voice is raw. he had never looked more desperate in his life. you can literally feel the sincerity of it all that it eased your uncertainties with your relationship with just a few words

it's silent for a moment. just the two of you standing under the glow of a street lamp

"... i'm still mad at you" you croak, wiping a stray tear

nagumo sighs in relief. he cups your cheeks again, wiping your tears. it pains him to see you cry especially if it's because of him (again)

"i'll be more worried if you weren't" he giggles, leaning in to kiss your forehead

you let out a little grumble but you eventually wrap your arms around his torso. you really can't stay mad at him when he reassures you like this (even if you still wanted to stay mad)

"you must be hungry waiting for me" nagumo says softly, pulling away slightly to brush some hair away from your face, "and lucky for you, i know a place that's open 24 hours nearby. you'll love it there, i know the owner"

"of course you know the owner" you muttered, rolling your eyes

nagumo's signature shit eating grin is now proudly evident on his face. "what can i say? i got connections" he says smugly, wrapping an arm around your shoulder

you let out a small laugh as you lean onto him "you're insufferable sometimes, you know that?"

nagumo cackles, "and yet, here you are dating the famed assassin nagumo yoichi" he teases

"for now" you blurt out causing the taller male to stop laughing

"hey that's kinda mean.." he pouts, "that hurt my heart" he sighs dramatically

you couldn't help but burst out laughing. you tug on his collar, pulling him down so he could be eye level with you before you crash your lips against his

nagumo hums against the kiss, hands flying to your neck

"never mind. i'm not hurt anymore" he says, in a daze when you pull away

you poke your tongue at him, "there's more to that if you finally show the way to this 24 hour place. i'm starving"

"yes ma'am" he says with a stupid smile on his face, leading the way, "you'll love it. i promise you that"

[ifangirlalot]

if ur still taking requests i would love to see submissive miles fairchild or sal fisher, the thought of either writhing under u, whiny and needy is just too good

˗ˏˋ 𝐓𝐎𝐏!𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐱 𝐒𝐔𝐁!𝐁𝐎𝐘𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 ˎˊ˗ | starring miles fairchild & sal fisher

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

*~smut!~* [𝖜𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌𝖘]: sub boyfriend, dom reader, tip rubbing, edging, degradition, orgasm denial, dick riding, face sitting

OMG! FINALLY I WAS HOPING I'D GET A SAL REQUEST! nnnnyahhh

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

┊ ˚➶ ｡Miles Fairchild ˚ ☁️

Miles is sputtering beneath me, his eyelids fluttering almost helplessly as he babbles incoherently with every up and down motion of my body. Despite how controlling and demanding he is, how intimidating he is, it surprisingly wasn't very hard to turn into a whimpering, stuttering mess. Turns out, it's a lot easier to do so when he isn't actually in the house. Quint's influence can't touch him if he's not on the property.

Now, don't get me wrong. I love Miles fucking me into submission and degrading me to the fullest, but it's so amazing that I could reduce a headstrong, controlling, dominant force into nothing more than a pile of whimpering, begging filth.

Slowly, I reach my hand down and wrap it around his throbbing cock, pressing my thumb against his clothed tip. In response, Miles let out a surprisingly high pitched whine, his back arching slightly. "A-ah.. oh no, Mistress.. n-no, not there, I don't wanna cum yet.. n-no please.." he begs softly, eyes still squeezed shut as though he's afraid of he looks at me his cock will explode with cum.

"Hush." I say gently, yet firmly. I've quickly discovered that Miles prefers to be praised, which fits well with the person that he is. Miles normally doesn't like to be told he's doing something wrong. It wounds his otherwise enormous ego. Which is what I want. Ignoring him, I go back to rubbing his leaking tip through his boxers.

"No, Miss! P-pleaseeeee..! Oh please, I'll do anything just please don't make me cum.. I want your pussy, I want your boobs, please.. oh GOD please!" Miles continues to beg. I roll my eyes like it's a chore for me and slowly pull his boxers down to his knees, allowing his fully erect dick to bounce out, almost hitting his stomach. For such a skinny guy, Miles is packing some heat down there. If Miles were in charge, he'd be making me tell him how big it is. Except now, I'm the one in charge, and that brings a smirk to my face.

Miles let out another tiny whimper, and I can feel him watching my face, trying to gauge my reaction to his cock, so hard and ready for me. But I keep my face blank and impassive on purpose, just to beat his ego a little.

"I-it's big.. right Mistress?.." Miles finally asks, tentatively.

It is big. It's really big, actually. But the point of this whole scenario is to humble him, so I shrug, which damn near brings Miles to tears, based on his hurt look. But he very noticeably doesn't use the safe word I gave him, so... Maybe he kinda likes being put in his place?

"Size doesn't matter, my love. Now shut up and I'm gonna ride you, okay?" I smirk and reach for the pack of condoms in Miles's nightstand. Miles doesn't like to use condoms, he says he doesn't like the feel of latex on his cock. But, just tonight, I'm going to make him wear a condom. In all seriousness, if he's going to accidentally knock me up, I'd rather it be on one of the nights he's railing me straight into his bed.

When he sees where my hand is going, he whines in protest and starts to squirm. "Oh no.. n-no, ma'am, please no condom, y-you know I don't like them, please.."

"You'll wear it and you'll fucking like it or you'll have to use your hand." I say firmly, my jaw set.

Miles whimpers and squirms more, begging a little more feebly now. "B-but.. you like t-to.. f-feel my.. my cum.." He gulps as I pull out a single packet and rip it open. He whimpers again, knowing that he's lost.

"Shut up, or I'll stuff my underwear into your mouth to shut you up myself." I say, my voice low and commanding.

Miles's face goes bright red and he moans lowly, a shudder ripping through his body.

Oh, this is going to be fun.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

┊ ˚➶ ｡Sal Fisher ˚ ☁️

"Pleasepleaseplease, just.. just let me.. please I want to, I-I want.." Sal's words are coated with a whimper. Drool pooling out of his heavily scarred mouth. His prosthetic lays on the bedside table, the straps hanging limply over the edge. Without his mask, he can't stop drooling, due to the hole torn into the side of his cheek. Most people would think his face is grotesque, but to me it's weirdly beautiful.

Sal's hands are tied together to the bedframe, his lean body squirming underneath mine.

"Shh.. shh.. not right now, we're only just starting, baby.." I say softly, cupping his cheek as my thumb caresses his cheek. My affection makes him whine quietly as he pushes his face against my hand, seeking more. I smile and slowly pull my hand away. I put my hands on his sides to hold him steady as I slowly start to ride him a little harder. He writhes under me and moans out loudly, pushing his hips quickly against mine.

"Mommy.. mommy.. pleasepleasepleasepleaseee.. Gonna.. gonna cum.. m-mm.. I g-gotta.." Sal's adorably pathetic whines almost make me want to give in... but no. That would be too kind. I can see his hands struggling against the restraints, trying to reach out to touch me. His one real eye is glazed over with tears, like he's trying to coax me into untying his hands so he can grab me and hold me against him while he fucks himself into me.

I wrap my hand around his wrists and hold them tight while I bounce my hips quickly. "Don't you cum, Sally. If you cum we'll have to keep going until I want to stop."

He moans loudly and shakes his head in a somewhat lazy way. "N-nuh.. nuh.. oh please no, c-can't take it.."

Eventually, I slowly pull myself off him. His cock is so coated with fluids, both his and mine, that it's shiny with it. I smirk and grab a handful of his electric blue hair and hold his head down as I slowly sink onto his face.

Sal is really good at having his face ridden.

His tongue immediately gets to work swirling around. I moan quietly and tilt my head back, my mouth dropping open in pleasure. "Oh yeah.. that's my good boy.."

His tongue is coated with moisture and it's cold, which makes it all the more better. I rock my hips quicker, clutching his hair harder, causing him to whimper muffledly against my pussy.

Oh, this is going to be an incredibly fun night for me.

[mywritersmind]

ONE YEAR PRIOR - LN4

summary : a lovely request and kinda another part/a year prior to WE’RE LIVE!! some bits and bobs of how lando and y/n came to be.

listen up : friends to lovers! drinking! swearing! MUAHH

words : 2753

⋆｡‧˚⋆

bahrain.

Of fucking course.

It’s my first day, my very first grand prix, ten minutes until my first interview, and I'm fucking lost! Jesus, Why is this paddock so huge!?

Oh my god. Oh my god. I start freaking out more and more as the minutes tick down. I tried calling my boss but she declined it! All I can think about is how embarrassing of a first day this is.

I’m pacing the hallway I found and don’t even realize that someone is staring at me until I look up. I’m met with a head of curls and a british accent. “Are you alright?” Holy fuck.

Lando Norris is standing at the end of the hallway, his face suit unzipped and water in hand. His face looks worried which makes me stand up straighter and remember that he’s looking for an answer.

“Yup!” Is all I can say. What the hell is wrong with me?

He clearly doesn’t believe me because he walks closer, “Are you sure? You’re in the McLaren hospitality and i’m guessing-” he looks down at my paddock pass that says MEDIA on it, then up to me, “That you’re not supposed to be.”

“Okay i’m so lost.” I cringe and fiddle with my necklace.

“Good to know you’re not here to spy.” He laughs a bit and nods to the door, “Where you headed, I can help.”

I thank him just about a million times by the time we get to where i’m supposed to be, five minutes early. “I really appreciate it, it’s my first day and all the nerves got the better of me I guess…”

He listens to everything I yap about with a smile on his face. “First day? That’s big.” I thank him again once I see Carlos Sainz walking in, my subject for this evening. Just when i’m about to walk away, he stops me, “You know, you could thank me by going out with me tonight.”

I’m so shocked that it’s hard to hide my wide eyes, “Um…”

“Y/n!” my boss calls me, when I look over at her, Carlos Sainz is smiling at me.

“I gotta-” So I got to my interview on time, but definitely didn’t stop myself from getting embarrassed.

⋆༺

saudi arabia

My first Grand Prix might have been saved by a curly headed brunette, but my second is all me. I’m feeling much more comfortable in the environment and have made many friends!

I thank my younger self everyday for working so hard because this is the best job ever.

“Y/n!” I know the voice all too well now. My boss walks up to me in red bottoms and a smile, “Schedule change! You’re with Norris in five.”

So the man may have tried to talk to me multiple times in passing, but I was honestly so shook at his date offer that I convinced myself it was a joke.

And ignoring anything I'm not sure about is definitely in my playbook.

The interview goes fine, he’s polite and maybe a little teasing, but it’s the way he looks at me that throws me. I’m honestly too scared to even look at the footage because fuck his eyes are insane.

The second the interview is finished and the camera is flipped off, he steps closer to me, “What are you doing tonight?”

I raise a brow, “Going to dinner with some friends.”

“I still want to take you out.” God he’s cute.

“You don’t even know me.” I can’t help but laugh.

“That’s what dates are for. And I know enough. I followed your instagram.” I roll my eyes at the piece of information I'd forgotten. “Come on.”

“Do you always get everything you want?” I cross my arms.

“That depends if you say yes or not.”

I hum and pat his shoulder, “Well this is a perfect opportunity to have a new experience!”

He looks at my hand as if it betrayed him, “You’re saying no?”

“I’m saying all I know about you is gossip magazines and your previous seasons on track. Plus I'm not dating a driver.”

“You wouldn’t be dating a driver, you’d be dating a nice man who likes photography and his company and who thinks you're completely gorgeous.”

Maybe I blushed a bit, “I- I still don’t know you well enough.”

He sticks out his hand, “I’m Lando Norris. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

I sigh and shake it, “Y/n.”

“You got a last name?”

“Are you really pretending like you don’t know it?” He smirks and shrugs, “Y/n L/n.”

“I would like you to know that you’re right, I like to get what I want because i’m extremely determined and very competitive.” I laugh at this.

“Who are you competing with?”

“I guarantee that if I don’t take you out, someone else will.”

I shake my head and close my bag, “I don’t date drivers.”

⋆༺

australia

One of my favorite people to interview might surprise some but he makes me laugh in a dry sort of humor that I understand. Oscar Piastri smiles at me as he crosses the busy paddock, sighing a hat and snapping a selfie with a fan.

While one McLaren boy is trying to date me, the other is befriending me. “How’s your day goin?” He starts walking with me and signing things until we get into a closed off area.

“It’s hot and I'm tired, but otherwise good!” I’ve been here for about a week and am sporting a nice tan around the paddock.

“Are you free tonight? No matter how today goes I need a drink.”

I laugh, “You asking me out too, Piastri?”

He smiles and shakes his head, “Some people are coming back to my house, you can leave with Lily if you want!”

And that is how I ended up at Oscar Piastris family home with half of his family, friends, and of course, Lando Norris.

I start downing my drink faster when I see Lando approach me. Not because I want to be inebriated while talking to him, but because I might need to be. He looks good. Like jaw dropping tear jerkingly attractive.

I know he’s hot, I'm not stupid. The media is all over him about it and multiple of my friends have asked if I've met him and Carlos. Yet still, he’s different when he’s not in front of cameras.

“Heard you made Max cry, nice.” He’s in jeans and some band tee, looking quite relaxed with a beer in his hand.

“I did not!” Sort of wish I did though, “Nice racing today, i’m surprised you’re not celebrating with Carlos.”

He shrugs, “Gotta support Osc.” I smile at the nickname, “Plus I love his family. Have you met Lily?”

I nod eagerly, “She’s so sweet! We drove together here.”

“Shame I didn’t know you were coming, could have given you a ride.” I look away from him with a smile on my face. Oscar's backyard is huge. I often forget that all of these men grew up with money and then just made more of it.

There’s a pool, jacuzzi, and two little dogs running around on the grass. Oscar calls both of our names, “Tacos are ready!”

I sit with Lily in the kitchen until we’re both done eating. The sun is set now and I'm completely wiped. While she goes to find Oscar, I wander back outside and find Lando on the grass with the dogs around him.

He’s flat on his back with the little white one licking his face. I sit down silently across from him as the other climbs into my lap and when I laugh, Lando practically gets whiplash.

“Y/n.” He wipes his face as the dog continues trying to bite his arm. “Are you willingly sitting with me?”

“I will get up.”

He shuts his mouth.

We talked for two hours that night and didn’t realize until Oscar came and told us to get out.

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japan

I find myself around Lando a suspicious amount. One could say it’s because we work in the same environment! I would say that it’s because he takes every free moment to find me.

I think we’ve come to an understanding of true friends. He’s honestly hilarious and isn’t harassing me by asking me out. Though he still finds ways to sneak in the fact that he fancies me, It doesn’t bother me and I feel like he’s doing it for laughs now.

We walk together while Lando goes on and on about random shit, probably on track drama that I'm too tired to listen to. All the traveling is starting to catch up to me.

“No.” Is the one thing that I understand from Lando at this moment. That and the fact that he’s dragging me backwards, “Fuck.”

“What!?” I squeal as I turn to walk the same way as him, his hand still on my arm as he looks forward.

“My ex.” Is all he has to say to make me follow him.

“Give me the dirt now!” I laugh and practically run after him.

“Shut up.” His face is red.

“Oh my god you’re actually blushing!” he eyes me, “What’d she do to you?”

He shakes his head and turns into the McLaren garage, pulling me with, “Why is she here!?”

I laugh as he tugs me up the stairs and into his driver room, “Or what did you do to her?” I stay in the doorway as he paces.

“No fuck!” He groans and does not answer my question.

“She cheated?” He shakes his head, “You cheated?” he looks offended. “Christ what is it that’s got you so shaken up-”

He stops finally, turning towards me and ends up far too close, “She broke my heart.”

Oh.

He sighs and leans against the door frame, his forearm braced against the top as he zones out. “Hey.” I put my hand on his other arm, “Fuck her then.”

He looks at me curiously, then at my hand on him, I don’t move it. “Right…”

“I’m serious. All ex’s suck and they show up at the worst moments but one thing will always fix it.” He raises a brow, “Doughnuts.”

A smile creeps onto his face, “I think I love you.”

I push him away but he keeps his hand on the doorframe, smiling wide now. “Everyone does.”

⋆༺

china

I’m out with Lando, Oscar, Carlos, Max, Alex, and their girlfriends, and am crying laughing from how drunk Max is.

Maybe I'm a little drunk myself, just enough where I'm leaning into Lando’s side. He’s a few drinks in but only tipsy, I'm pretty sure he’s looking over our group tonight.

I danced with both Lily’s for so long that I had to take off my heels and the second the clock struck 1am, I was done.

I end up back at the hotel with Lando, my heels in his hand as we walk to the elevator. “I’m really happy.” I say, smiling wide as Lando presses the up button.

He raises his brows, smiling down at me, “Yeah? You look it.”

“I’m also fucking cold.” Without another word, Lando strips his jacket off and puts it around my shoulders. I’m wearing a tight black dress which I know is the reason why Lando’s been hanging around me all night, but I feel much better with his jacket on me.

We get into the elevator, it’s huge and cold against my feet, with mirrored walls that I immediately check my hair in.

Once the doors close, Lando tugs my hair from behind. I eye him in the mirror, “Prick.”

He just smiles.

I’ve become accustomed to his smile. It only makes my heart beat really fast sometimes.

This is one of those times.

I stand next to him and follow his eyes, they’re watching the floor numbers go up. I smile softly to myself, realizing why i’m so happy right now.

I look up at his side profile, his jaw straight and a curl falling into his face. He’s so unexpected and someone I know so well at the same time. I don’t usually become so close with someone so fast, yet here we are.

Four months ago I would never let him walk me back to my room after any alcohol was consumed, and now he’s holding my heels and I'm wearing his jacket.

“Hey Lan?” I blink, my heart beating faster at the closer my floor gets.

He looks at me, his eyes so soft and maybe a little distracted, “Yeah?” I don’t know how I mustered up the courage to kiss him. I just did it.

I grabbed his face and pulled him down to me and the next thing I knew, the doors were opening and I was bolting out.

I only looked back once. All I saw was the doors closing in front of Lando, his eyes wide and his jaw dropped.

⋆༺

miami

He hasn’t texted me. I haven’t texted him. We haven’t talked. I haven’t interviewed him or even seen him in the paddock.

I think i’ve utterly and fully fucked myself.

I kissed him because I couldn’t think of another way to explain how I felt, but now I'm regretting it because I've lost my new friend.

Tomorrow is media day and as hard as I've tried to get an early sleep, I’m still awake at midnight. I’m suddenly even more awake when a knocking comes from my door.

I pull on a hoodie since I wasn’t wearing any top, and tiptoe to the door. The second I look through the peephole, my heart rate goes up.

I swing the door open in confusion and worry. Lando Norris has his hands braced against the door frame, one on each side, and a droopy look on his face. “Y/n!” He brightens when he sees me.

“The fuck are you doing, Norris?”

“Whad am I doin? What are you doin!?” He groans and I realize he’s drunk, “You’re so confuse me!”

He pushes past me and stomps around my room like a child, “I thought we were friends but you hate me!”

I shut the door behind me, “I- I don’t hate you…”

“You do. You fuck with my head.” He whines then points to his chest, “And my heart.”

“Lan…”

“Don’t ‘Lan’ me, fuck! I love your voice.” I have never been more confused, “I like you!”

I cross my arms, “Why are you drunk Lando?”

“You! You did this. You fucker.” He mumbles the last part which I raise a brow at. What the hell? “Stop distracting me!” He’s still slurring his words but is now focusing on my face, “I like you! A wholeeeee lot and you play and play and kiss me! You kissed me.”

I tighten my arms around myself, “I’m sorry..?”

“Fuck don’t apologize!” He walks closer, “You’re just so- lalalala to everyone and I want you to be like tadaaaa with just me. But you hate me.”

“Lan I don’t have you! Why would you think that?”

“Because you kissed me and left! You regret it.”

“No!” I say quick, “Lan I don’t.”

“So then why won’t you say yes to me? I wanted to be right and gentle man like but you had to go and fucking kiss me and make me boom!” I can’t help but laugh at his sound effects.

“Lando…” I walk closer, taking his hand and walking him to my bed. He sits with a huff. “I didn’t mean to leave so fast. I was just scared.”

“You were scared? I thought I might die on that elevator.” He holds my hand tight in his, examining it. “You’re so pretty.”

I smile, “Ask me again, Lando.”

He frowns, “Huh?”

“Ask me out again.”

“Oh! Is this a trick?” He whispers. I shake my head, “Will you go out with me?”

“I would love to.”

He sits up and leans in closer, “I thought you don’t date drivers…”

I kiss his cheek softly, “I’ll make an exception.”

He smiles at the kiss and leans his head against my shoulder, “I’ll kiss you on Tv some time… when it’s live.”

I laugh out loud, “God, Lando, please don’t. You’ll get me fired!”

“I’ll get you views.”

I shake my head and run my hand through his hair, “For the record, I think you’re really beautiful too.”

[snailpebbles]

teach me kisses? - OP81

summary: oscar teaches you to kiss ig. gone right.

wc: 2k

tags: fluff, tooth rotting, maybe suggestive, uhh kinda sad but not for them lmao, not proofread

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It was safe to say Oscar was a little more than concerned to receive a text from you in the middle of a relatively chill day, asking for him to come over. Of course he does seeing as it's impossible to deny you, his best friend of six years. He rushed around his flat unsure of what to grab, so he settles on a multitude of items: Advil, Tylenol (for variety, you tend to get picky), a hoodie with his cologne, and another hoodie (once again, variety).

While making the drive to your flat, he stops by a corner store to grab a few more items on the rare chance you might be upset with him. The bell dings as he steps into the family-owned shop, most definitely older than him if the kind old lady behind the counter was anything to go by. It's mostly empty, the short aisles containing various items, but he knows what he wants. Settling on a nice bouquet of pink tulips alongside your favorite soda, Oscar makes his way to the counter.

The cashier smiles at his items and makes idle conversation with the young man, feeling some sort of interest within him.

"She the lucky girl, or are you a lucky man?" She asks, chuckling softly as she fixes up the flowers to look more presentable. Oscar's face tints pink, an awkward side smile pulling on his lips.

"Oh shes- well-" He stumbles for his words, suddenly seeing you in a new light he'd previously pushed down in the fear of losing you. "lucky man." Is the answer he settles on, giving a slight huff of laughter to ease his own nerves that the old woman doesn't share. She hands him the flowers and soda, patting his left hand as she does.

"My Willis and I have been together since the fifties, so listen to me when I tell you...cherish each other." A nostalgic smile lights up her face, previous youth shining through. Pictures hang on the corkboard behind her, all featuring that youth beside a young man.

"He was lost in the war, but those few years were the best of my life." She sighs softly, a shaking hand tracing along a picture of Willis. "You keep that girl close, or my umbrella and I just might have to find you." Oscar nods at her comment, taking it to heart.

"I'd never hurt her, Gods help me if I did." He mutters, placing his credit card back in his wallet, a picture of you beaming at the camera greeting him momentarily further softening his heart.

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Your doorbell startles you even through you'd been pacing in front of it for the past ten minutes, debating every choice that has led you here. Trembling hands brush invisible dust off your pajamas and regret fills you for not looking more presentable. Peering through the peephole, you are greeted by Oscar rocking on his heels in the hall, your favorite flowers in hand.

The door flinging open surprises him, as does your hand tugging him inside. Within a flurry of motion the tulips are put in a vase, the soda is already half chugged, and multiple thank yous meet his ears. You're a tornado of movement and he has to catch you by the shoulders, stilling you in front of him with a worried gaze.

"Did something happen? Are you alright?" He asks, eyes scanning you and definitely not lingering.

Definitely.

"No I'm fine Osc, no need to act like a worried mother." You wave his concerns off, moving to set on your comfy sofa, soda still in hand. He settles down beside you, placing his stuffed to the brim backpack by his feet. He unzips it and a hoodie half falls out, one that he places in your lap. "Why..are you cold?" He smiles awkwardly at your question, now feeling like an idiot.

"No uhm, well I was worried so I might have...over prepared." Before he can hide his backpack you're already rifling through it, awing at each thoughtful item.

"You brought me drugs! How kind." You snicker, holding up the Advil and Tylenol. Oscars already red face only turns a darker shade and he snatches them away from you.

"I didn't bring you drugs- well technically I did- but I thought you were sick or something!" He defends, placing the bottles back in his bag. An apologetic smile forms on your face and your hand falls to his shoulder, appreciation only rising for the sweet man before you. What country did you save in a past life to warrant such blessing?

"Not sick, but I do have a bit of a request for you." Your hands twist nervously in your lap, the inside of your bottom lip chewed raw at this point. Oscar dips his head to meet your gaze, making you feel warm all over from his attentiveness. "You need to promise me that you won't laugh, okay?" Oscar nods, shifting closer to you.

"I promise I won't laugh." He murmurs, worry internally taking him over as thoughts rush through his mind. Did you take your ex back? Are you sick and lying to him? Oh God do you have a new boyfriend?? This one truly makes him sick, but he refuses to dwell on his reaction.

Inhaling deeply, exhaling through your mouth, you blurt out what you want with your eyes squeezed shut.

"I need you to kiss me."

Oscars heart stops briefly, then kicks back up into overdrive. Is this what a heart attack feels like? Kiss you? You? His lips on yours? Oh God.

His silence makes you nervous so you peek, and the air is punched out of your lungs as a result.

His face is red and he's stone-still, lips parted and eyes ever so slightly widened. Is it bad to say you enjoy seeing him like this?

"Okay." The words finally leave his lips in the form of a breathless whisper, tongue darting out to wet them subconsciously. Surprise smacks you in the face, never once having anticipated a yes so simply. An urge to explain fills you; to justify such a request.

"See I just- well I have a date tomorrow and it's been a long time since I've ever kissed someone, so I figured you could help me relearn." You explain, hands waving around in the air to further your point. As you speak, you don't notice the way Oscar steels back up, shutting back down. How could he ever think you'd be into him when you're so amazing? All of those emotions are forced back into an old box, edges worn out from his mind picking at it on late nights.

"Right. Yeah." He nods, swallowing the bile wanting to rise. He should be happy for you, for taking such a step after the shit-storm of your last relationship. Jealousy edges into his mind, seeping into the cracks and his ego, protectiveness shifting into possessiveness for a split second. You're his, not some random guy who can't even qualify as a man. He's always been there, not this- this idiot.

"So uh, do we just..?" You bring your legs up onto the sofa, sitting criss cross and shifting to face him. The nerves teeter on uncomfortable, but excitement balances it all out for you. His lips are so kissable, it has honestly pained you for years that you may never feel them against your own. Oscar takes the lead of course and his slender yet strong hands cup your jaw, pointer finger drawing circles just in front of your ear. You feel frozen in time, hands useless in your lap as you can't seem to draw your attention anywhere but those lips and the light stubble surrounding the area.

"..You need to close your eyes." He reminds you, his voice sounding a whole lot more gravelly, if not hoarse. Why would it be? What would cause such a-

Warmth. His lips, a delicacy you knew internally you craved, bring a warmth you'd forgotten the embrace of long ago. Oscar sharply inhales at the first contact and struggles to restrain himself, your hesitancy in the kiss the only reminder that you need slow and gentle. He abides by this and tries to stay focused while you lose any thought except the need to keep him as close as possible, right on you where he belongs.

Your eyes had fallen shut awhile ago, but who can say? Time feels meaningless when Oscars hands are trailing down to your hips, the kiss at some point having deepened into an intimacy you weren't sure even existed. He lifts you into his lap with an ease that sets you on fire, scorching a path up to your heart and burning up the oxygen in your lungs. Not that you mind. You'd happily give him your air if it'll make him stay attached like this. Oscar memorizes all of you as you do him, burning your skin with his touch and peeling away layers of lies you'd both put up for a false pretense of simple friendship.

Maybe you've fallen into wonderland because you certainly feel mad. He's tearing out your soul with how gentle yet compassionate his kisses are, soft gasps and sighs filling the otherwise quiet flat, only to mingle with birdsong outside the window. Would you let him kiss you on that balcony for everyone to see? A Juliet he'd most certainly keep. He tugs you closer, chest to chest and heart to heart, both fluttering wildly as if in a cage. Every touch he gets is full of you, any late night dream far surpassed as you give up any control to him, bending under gentle actions like putty. God and your taste, one in the same as it is for you. Closer and closer you become, the outside world ceasing to exist just like any false boundaries you'd both foolishly believed like it'd save you from the damnation of love.

"Osc.. Oscar.." You mumble breathlessly as you part, both panting for air and refusing to give the other space with the way your foreheads stay pressed together. "I lied. There's no date." The white lie is finally revealed, one you'd said out of fear for rejection.

"...Thank fuck." He mutters, laughing under his breath as his lips meet yours once more. He can barely kiss you though, not when he's smiling so widely. You giggle, so he does too and suddenly you're both laughing heavily, falling into one another.

"Be mine?" The question leaves you without consequence, your heart and head airy with love. Oscar nods into your collarbone, still placing kisses there with reverence.

"I've always been yours." He says simply.

"Me too."

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"C'mon! We're gonna get soaked!" Your laugh fills up the corner store, rain hammering down on the two of you. Oscar trails in behind you, hand tightly linked with yours as a bright smile stays firm on his face.

"Thought you liked when we were-" He starts but you slap his shoulder, covering your grin with your free hand as you scoff. He grins back, leading you through the short aisles to wait out the storm and maybe get a few (a lot) of cheat snacks. Oscar grabs Snickers, you grab Hersheys. He takes a Sprite, you take a Dr. Pepper. (You'll later end up forgetting that chocolate melts and get a whole pizza instead, walking in the park while eating out of the waterlogged box.)

"That everything?" The old lady behind the counter asks as Oscar goes to pay, just barely beating you to it while ignoring your protests. He thinks for a moment and then grabs a bouquet of pink tulips, grinning like he'd just won a race. Your heart warms and you peck his cheek as thanks, his pale skin going an identical shade of pink to the petals. Maybe one day he'll realize that that's why pink tulips are your favorite.

She checks you out and waves goodbye since the rain has since cleared up, watching as you walk out swinging each other's hand. Her gaze falls to the corkboard behind her, a small smile on her lips as she traces her lost loves face.

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hello I haven't written in forever and I also don't know why I gave the old lady a backstory ????

[zomb-rabbit]

full nsfw alphabet for toby??

posting this from the glue trap i'm stuck in

🪓 Toby Rogers NSFW alphabet!

A = Aftercare, what they’re like after sex

checks in with you a WHOLE BUNCH- he wants to make sure you know he loves you and cares about you no matter how hard y'all were going not even 5 minutes ago

B = Body part, their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s

on him, i think it's a tie between his arms and his hair if that counts lolz. he likes how strong his arms are and likes to try n show off in front of you- he likes both how his hair looks, and he thinks his happy trail suits him

in you, i'd say your chest- in both a romantic and sexual sense :) he loves laying on you, listening and feeling your heartbeat, the closeness, all of it. he also loves leaving hickies all across it, little mindless bites and kisses decorating you from him getting lost on the feeling of you.

C = Cum, anything to do with cum, basically

he's a sucker for cumming inside, he just can't get over how you squeeze him and how fucked out you look

D = Dirty secret, pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs

he jerked off to the thought of you WAAYYYY before y'all were dating- he was too embarrassed to tell you when you first started dating and he's too scared now. probably.

E = Experience, how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?

love him to the ends of the earth, he has nothing. nada. zilch. you're his first everything, be patient with him cus he's gonna be nervous !! that does NOT mean he has shame though. he is not at all embarrassed to tell you when he wants you.

F = Favorite position, this goes without saying

anything with you on top- as i said he's a boobs/chest kinda guy, he wants to watch

G = Goofy, are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.

he's more serious, but it's mostly because he's concentrated. he wants to do his best to make you feel good and he wants to focus!!

H = Hair, how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.

i think he trims, but he doesn't wanna shave unless you ask him to (mostly because he has a tendency to accidentally nick himself with the razor)

he gets some facial hair on his chin, but it's nothing super serious. he'll jokingly ask you to help him with it sometimes, if you say yes you'll be rewarded with a very flustered boyfriend that keeps letting out shaky breaths every time you put your hand on his chest to keep him still

I = Intimacy, how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect

it really depends on his mood, but most of the time he's romantic about everything; telling you how much he loves you, all the noises you make, how fucking good you feel. if he's in a mood though, expect most of the words flowing out of his mouth to be about how bad he needs you, and reminding you that you're all for him.

J = Jack off, masturbation headcanon

it's. a lot. and it's mostly because he thought too hard about you- whether it was a small thing you did earlier that day that he thought was hot or his mind drifted to certain memories of you

K = Kink, one or more of their kinks

Toby praise kink truthers in this house !!!!!!!! lean over into his ear while you're riding him and tell him how pretty he looks when he's close, tell him you feel so full when he fucks you; he's putty in your hands

L = Location, favorite places to do they do

anywhere private- not big on getting caught by other people (catching you on the other hand is something else)

M = Motivation, what turns them on, gets them going

dead serious anything. you stretching in front of him, bending over to grab something, you smiling into a kiss- you get him hot and bothered by doing nothing and everything. (he does also really like it when you take any kinda control over him- even if it's just telling him in any kinda stern tone to go do something)

N = No, something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs

nothing that would seriously hurt you, and nothing to do with a daddy kink, sorry shawtys

O = Oral, preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.

he definitely prefers giving. loves how your thighs squeeze around his head, the feeling of you tugging at his hair, getting fistfuls of your ass as he pulls himself further into you.

he's such a mess receiving though, he's so sensitive and you look so pretty when you look up at him while he's halfway down your throat. he likes it when you take control when you're giving him head

P = Pace, are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.

tends to get lost in the feeling of you and ends up fucking you at a rough and fast pace, no matter how slow he started off. of course you can tell him to slow down if you really need him to, but his rough grip on your thighs and the whimpers and pants in your ear tell you just how bad he needs you.

Q = Quickie, their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.

they're not his favorite, but there have definitely been a few times where he just could not keep his hands off of you when the two of you were out and he pulled you aside. prefers to be able to take him time with you and draw things out a bit, but he'd never say no to you

R = Risk, are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.

he'll experiment with you !! it just has to be thoroughly talked about first

S = Stamina, how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?

UNTIL HIS BODY GIVES OUT BABES- he does not care how tired his body gets, if you're down to keep going, he is too.

T = Toys, do they own toys or use them on a partner or themselves?

doesn't own any himself, and might be a lil shy using them on you, but he's a crying mess when you use them on him. he gets so overwhelmed so fast- make sure you tell him how good he's being <3

U = Unfair, how much they like to tease

he had no idea how to tease you for the first little bit- but as soon as he figured out how he could draw out little whines and begs for him to keep going, he could not get enough. can't do it for too long, though, he gets impatient

V = Volume, how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.

he is LOUD, panting, whimpering, whining- the whole nine yards. you feel fucking heavenly to him and he just can't help it :(( poor boy's sensitive

W = Wild card, a random headcanon for the character

he likes to have music in the back when y'all are going at it- he doesn't need it and it wouldn't be super loud, but it is nice to have background noise. some she wants revenge or somethin

X = X-ray, let’s see what’s going on under those clothes

~6.5, skinnier with such a sensitive tip

Y = Yearning, how high is their sex drive?

VERY this boy is down for anything 24/7 if you mention it. will wrap his arms around you from behind and whine into your neck if he's feeling needy.

Z = Zzz, how quickly do they fall asleep afterward?

if he was more rough or dominant with you, he doesn't wanna fall asleep until you do. if you were the one to take more charge, he'll certainly try to stay up !! but he's usually pretty spent and ends up asleep on your chest, gently holding your hand

[simping-for-joe]

I'd Wait For You

Vendetta Leon X Reader

You wake one day to find Leon missing from bed, you spend weeks for him only for him to show right back up at your doorstep with an injured arm.

A/N: I've had this idea for awhile. Vendetta Leon is kinda mentally unstable, and I'm sure this would be a difficult time. So Leon just disappears during the events of Vendetta just to reappear home afterwards, feels like it would fit for this era of Leon. I just love the idea of Leon coming home with a guilt and some therapy from Chris.

You wake to the feeling of sunlight on your face, making your nose crinkle with annoyance. You expect to hear your husband's chuckles as he usually did when you made faces. It was silent.

You opened your eyes to find the man missing from your side.

"Leon?" You call softly as his half of the bed is cold. You manage to drag yourself from bed, and head over to the bathroom. Only to find the door left wide open. "Leon?" You tried again, this time your voice started to sound panicked. You rushed around the house opening every room calling for your husband. "Leon!?" You shout, and rush back to your shared bedroom. Finding your phone and dialing his number. The sound of a phone ringing tips you off, and you rush to find his phone on the dinning room table. That's when you notice his keys are gone and his car is gone. Everything thing else was in the same spot, he was just gone.

You didn't know what to do, it seems he left but he wouldn't just leave without telling. Even if he's been a lot more drunk lately. You check your phone contacts and remember you have Hunnigan's number, hopefully maybe he was just sent on a mission and didn't tell you.

However, when you called she explained he was on vacation. Leaving you even more lost as he hadn't told you that. You decided the next best thing was to drive around town and try to find him. You couldn't really report him as missing as it seems like he just disappeared, but you didn't want to let that idea go. After spending almost the entire day looking everywhere you can think of for your husband. You try the police station.

"Look... we can report him as missing but there's no guarantee that'll do anything especially if..." The officer hesitates looking to you.

"He wouldn't just leave me." You try to argue, your eyebrows furrowing. Still, the horrible thought had entered your mind several times.

"Right... well, we'll see what we can do." He tries to assure you, but you leave without much hope. Just left wondering where in the world your husband could be.

You enter an empty home, feeling utterly exhausted and your footsteps sound like thunder in the empty home. You sit on the couch numbly, your thoughts rushing and bouncing around in your head.

"Where are you Leon..?" You asked the wall, feeling your chest get tighter. Your throat clenching, as your vision blurs. You didn't move from the couch too destroyed by your own worries.

The next morning, you refused to leave your phone anywhere in case of getting a call. From the police, or even Leon if he finally decided to call you. You've never so desperately wanted to hear his voice.

At work it was like you were on autopilot focused on getting through the day so you can drive around town to try and get a glimpse of Leon again. Someone had asked about something going on in New York, but you weren't really listening.

Another day without Leon, but you had managed to crawl into bed that time.

It was around 7 in the morning when the doorbell rang, confused but strangely hopeful your rushed to the door. Immediately you are greeted with the sight of your exhausted husband and his arm in a sling. A look of guilt heavy on his features. He gives you a nervous smile.

"I'm home..." He says with a nervous chuckle. You're debating if you should choke him or hug him. You open your mouth, trying to think of what to say. However, you feel it all fail as tears just immediately come from you. Shocking him, and his guilt just becomes more obvious on his face when he sees your tears. "H-Hey..." He approaches you slowly, unsure if you would want his embrace.

"Don't ever do that again!" You shout before hugging him tightly, being careful of his arm in a sling. "Please..." You add on sniffling softly.

"I'm sorry... I shouldn't have done that to you..." He says gently, running his hand through your hair. "I... I've been awful recently... but I promise I'll be better..." He promises you gently.

"I just don't know why you didn't talk to me... you don't have to be strong all the time." You point out moving away to brush away the tears on your cheeks. "I'm here support you too... I'm not asking for you to just do it." Your eyes scan his face, as his eyebrows pinch together before he nods.

"I... I know... but I love you so much... I'm just..." He huffs softly, clearly done with having emotional revelations for the day. But for his partner he can have one more. "Scared..." He says in a soft voice.

"I'm scared too... but we have each other..." You remind him, looking to him. It's quiet for a moment before you speak up again. "Now... you need a shower."

"Or... we could have a bath." He suggests with a smirk on his lips.

"I'll think about it..." His smirk wides at that idea. "No promises!" You say sternly, and he can only laugh. Thankful to be back home.

[pomefioredove]

HIYYYAAAA

JUST SAW THE FLRITY PROMPTS EVENT!

What do you say about Lilia with "Don't bite your lip, I want to do that."

I would say hgghh💕💖❤️

summary: "don't bite your lip, I want to do that" type of post: short fic characters: lilia additional info: romantic, reader is gender neutral, reader is kinda implied to be yuu but doesn't have to be, not proofread, Lilia is shamelessly flirty thank u a part of this event

There are very few things that still manage to catch Lilia by surprise.

At his age, he's simply running out of new experiences; school, politics, even the wonderful world of the internet have started becoming monotonous and boring, leaving him in a slump.

Perhaps, then, that's why he's taken such an interest in you.

Such an intriguing little creature, he thinks, watching you from the shadows of the Diasomnia lounge.

You'd come by to drop something off for Malleus, the sweet thing that you are, and, once again, Lilia finds himself shamelessly staring.

He knows he shouldn't, but, oh, he truly can't help himself!

He inches closer. Lilia can't help but wonder what sort of noise you'll make when he startles you this time. A gasp? A shout, perhaps? Maybe even a cute little squeak... the thought of that is strangely exciting to him.

Only one way to find out.

He drops out of the shadows, blocking you from the exit just as you turn towards it. "Hello!"

And... Nothing.

You smile. "Ah... hello again, Lilia. Did Malleus tell you I was coming?"

His arms fall to his sides with a pout. Nothing? Nothing at all? You look at him like he has something stuck in his teeth.

"He may have mentioned," Lilia sighs. "You're impossible to tease these days. It's quite disappointing, really."

You smile slightly, much to his bemusement. He hates letting you have the upper hand... "Maybe I've started anticipating your pranks. You'll just need to find some new material,"

New material...? He scoffs. You're not even the least bit concerned about him!

"It used to be so easy to get a rise out of you. Humans change far too fast," he laments.

"Now I'll never get to see that flustered look on your face ever again! Or I'll have to come up with something new to tease you with..."

"Orrrr... you could just not tease me at all?"

He chuckles, shaking his head as if you had just said something ridiculous. "With your precious reactions? Impossible!"

You sigh.

Lilia tuts, tapping his chin as if lost in deep thought. He circles you once, twice, then stops in front of you.

"I can't think of anything," he sighs dramatically. "It'll come to me later... Is that uniform new?"

"Oh, uh..." you mutter, caught off guard by the sudden change in topic. You turn around yourself in a circle. How cute.

"Well, it's the same uniform, but I got my measurements taken at Pomefiore, and they they got me a better fitting one."

"I can tell,"

He hums pleasantly, dragging his eyes over your body. "They did a wonderful job accentuating your features,"

You huff and look away, much to his delight, clearly taken by surprise by his change in tone.

"...Thank you,"

"Fufufu. Don't mention it," Lilia says, eyes narrowing. "You don't get complimented very much, do you?"

"Not regularly,"

"I could surmise as much. Why, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you're almost flustered by little old me. Is that right?"

Hook, line, and sinker. Your eyes widen as you realize that you've walked right into his trap. "Oh, no, no. I'm not. I'm fine!"

"Really? Don't get shy on me, now. I'm beginning to like this even more than scaring you,"

He takes a step forward, drinking in the sight of you, your body's nervous reactions to his teasing. "How cute,"

"Tease," you say, biting the corner of your lip.

You back yourself against the wall of the lounge, to his absolute delight, and he takes that as an invitation to get closer.

"That I am," Lilia admits without a hint of shame. "But don't bite your lip... I want to do that."

That long sought-after squeak finally escapes you, music to his ears, and he leans closer. For a moment, it seems like he's about to close the distance between you... then, at the last second, he pulls back.

He chuckles. "Oh, what fun! I haven't felt so young in ages. But I do have other business to attend to,"

And so, Lilia leaves you stunned, trembling against the wall as he merrily walks off before you seem to come to your senses.

"Vanrouge, you little shit! Get back here!"

A slight giggle escapes him as he starts off running, with you not far behind. He was right; this is much, much more rewarding than scaring you.

Maybe, if you make another one of those cute noises, he'll even let you catch him.

[nanamiskentos]

DITTO — Gojo Satoru a rewrite of this post.

prologue. → brave, lucky, courageous. these are the words that people bestow upon you when the dust has cleared, and the king of curses is no more. you disagree, for if you were lucky, gojo satoru would still be standing at your side. instead you've been left to stare at the ocean shoreline on your own, without your best friend (the love of your life) by your side.

pairing. gojo satoru x afab!reader

warnings+. unfulfilled/unresolved love. angst, hurt, comfort, fluff. your usual shenanigans. sfw! implied, minor satosugu (mb because geto is my beautiful sad princess and i love him so he has to be a part of everything). pining, idiots in love. grief, and what you do after you've lost what you treasure the most etc u get it. reader is from an unnamed clan, has a younger brother. reader also wears skirts, dresses sometimes, character death + injury

word count. 11k! 😭 song inspiration. ditto — newjeans / 뉴진스 (2022) a/n. i wrote rough headcanons and posted them yesterday but i woke up thinking dang i should actually write something better about that lmao. update: i thought i'd finish this in a few hours, why did this take me like 2 days? update #2: dawg this is long as fuck...this kinda depressed me to write CROSSPOSTED ON AO3 <3 💙

mp3. do you think about me now, yeah. all the time...

✉️ — 1995. 💬 — gojo.

these meeting rooms were hushed, grand, and the kind of place that simply swallowed up any sound and echo; where the wood-panelled walls were lined with the tapestries and polished symbols of his clan.

and in the hush, gojo had sat cross-legged on the tatami mat, trying to listen to the conversation of the adults, with their low and steady voices that droned on. this was so boring. they were always speaking of things that he just couldn't understand, but his parents said these meetings were important, and so he was dragged along - much to his eternal chagrin. still, he shifted in place, glancing around at the detailed screens painting around the corners of the room, in varying shades of blue.

across the room, there was another kid. one who sat beside her father, fidgeting just as he was. and gojo could tell by the way that you kept glancing towards the door that you, too, longed to escape. your gaze caught his, and there was that flicker of mutual boredom that sparked between you two. you had scrunched up her nose, as if to say 'this is so boring, isn't it?'

gojo grinned, stifling a giggle. he had leaned back, just a little, surveying the adults who paid no heed to him, before letting himself inch across the rough texture of the mat towards the door.

"do you want to see the garden?" he mouthed silently, his words exaggerated and slow, so you would understand.

your eyes had lit up, and you nodded, just as your father (well, he assumed it was her father) leaned down to whisper something in your ear, his voice a low rumble that was far too quiet for gojo to catch. you were nodding obediently, but your eyes were now fixed with the glimmer of excitement, and he quickly held the door open for you as you scrambled out the door, following him quietly as they creaked down the long hallway.

and soon, they reached the back of the estate, where the garden stretched out like a hidden oasis, filled with the flowering bushes, the winding stone paths, and the pond that glistened in the morning light. suddenly, he stopped by the edge of the pond, brushing pale hair out of his stinging eyes, "i'm satoru, by the way."

you had sat down quickly, as though the long walk had winded her (gojo had barely needed to stop to catch is breath), and your robes dipped into the pond, letting the water seep up slowly, "i've heard of you. my parents say you're an only child."

gojo shrugged, trying to think of something important he could tell you, "it's not so bad. one day, i'm going to be the head of my clan," puffing up his chest a little.

you had nodded, "i would like to be too, but my younger brother would get it. because...you know."

gojo didn't quite know but he nodded like he understood, and he tried to think of something smarter to say, "well the job isn't that fun anyway. it's just sitting around reading papers, and telling people what to do."

you had pouted, frowning, "i want to tell people what to do all day. and i would get the nicest robes too as clan head."

and you had looked so unhappy at the prospect that you were being robbed of a stellar wardrobe that gojo made up his mind, right then and there, "tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?"

your face had lit up, holding your little pinky up to his, "promise?"

gojo linked his finger with hers, sealing this silly vow and laughing, "why not?"

✉️ — 1996. 💬 — you.

when you're seven years old, you’ve resigned yourself to trailing behind gojo, watching as your friend takes on the world with the same reckless, eager energy that he seems to pour into everything that he does.

his voice has picked up a confidence that you haven't felt yet, and there's a permanent, flashy grin on his face that says he doesn't care what anyone thinks about him, not his parents, nor his clan.

and today, gojo's decided that the old shrine on the edge of your family estate needs exploring. you're a little less certain, especially since your father had told you that this shrine was haunted, but you find yourself following the boy anyway, and there's that silent agreement in place: he leads, you follow. you're alright with that, that's just the way it's always been.

he's dressed, as usual, in a loose grey hoodie that's two sizes too big for him, and his jeans have a hole in the knee; some small rebellion against his clan's strict sense of tradition. even his hair is awfully emssy, tousled and getting a little too long, and you know he hates it when his mother tries to comb it down, and you easily suspect that gojo just ruffles it on purpose to get a reaction out of those around him. he probably does everything on purpose for a round of reactions, honestly.

you, on the other hand, have your nicest lilac skirt on, and there's a small bow in your hair that the maidservants had pinned themselves (your mother had been too deep in her cups all morning). but you had fluttered around, feeling quite pretty in your skirt; like you were a fairy that would sprout wings and live in the clouds.

gojo glances back at you, and rolls his eyes, "you know, you look like you're going to one of the clan meetings," he mutters, but there's a playful glint in his eye. he's pulled a twig from the ground, and he's waving it around like a sword, slicing through imaginary enemies as he marches forward like an idiot.

you just shrug, quietly watching him cut through the tall grass ahead, "i like looking nice," you mumble, a little embarrassed. you can feel the careful way the sweet, old servant (she turned seventy last week!) had arranged your hair, and the press of the bow keeping it every lock in place.

"well, if you ever decide to look like you're not on your way to sit for a court painting, let me know," gojo says, smirking (he thinks he's funny) as he waves his 'sword' around, battling on the false frontlines.

but despite yourself, you laugh, and quicken your pace to keep up with him, and so, gojo slows just a bit, enough that you're walking side by side now, and his arm brushes against yours.

"did you know that they say that this shrine is spooked?" he asks, his voice falling to a dramatic whisper.

"i live here, satoru. obviously, duh," and the shrine comes into view, and it's small, weathered with age, but to you, it looks grand and mysterious, even magical, "do you believe it's haunted?"

gojo shrugs, unfazed, "nah, probably just an old rock. but it would be cool if it was. maybe, we'll see a ghost."

now you've taken a hesitant step back, but gojo just grins, grabbing your wrist and pulling you forward, and his hand is warm and steady in yours.

"c'mon, don't be a chicken," he teases, laughing as he drags you closer, and you plant your feet firmly in the ground, watching as clouds begin to roll over the sky, ominous and gloomy.

oh, this place is definitely haunted. your father was right, it's so over for you now. a massive, ugly curse is going to pop out and eat you alive, and steal your pretty hair bow. you mutter a small prayer under your breath. gojo satoru, you will pay for this.

✉️ — 2000. 💬 — you.

you'd always heard whispers about yourself from the other kids, how you were too quiet, or you tried far too hard to be perfect — unwilling to roughhouse the way they did. perhaps they were right, and it was true that you preferred to sit alone. you think it was the feeling of order you enjoyed, of a world you could control, even if it was just through lines on a piece of paper.

but today, their voices were louder than usual. a small group had gathered near the cherry blossom tree where you'd settle yourself, and they circled around like hungry wolves sniffing out something they could tear apart.

one girl wrinkled her nose and called you prissy (well, okay) and another boy had snickered and muttered that you were so boring, and it was a wonder that you even had a friend like gojo.

ouch.

their words felt like small, precise cuts, sharper than expected. you had heard these things before. after all, everyone had reached the age where they were aware of their abilities, their techniques as jujutsu sorcerers.

you didn't mind your own technique, making sure to channel time and energy to learn so you could grow up and be as good as your father one day (a well established sorcerer in his own right, if a bit out of shape).

but you didn't have to be very smart to know that gojo's abilities stood out entirely in a different way, and you heard your parents whisper in hushed tones at how lucky his clan was to have a child like that. with the right training and moulding, he could be the most powerful man to walk the earth.

how silly. gojo was all laughs, and smiles, and stupid jokes and bright, clever eyes. you thought it was dumb how they all spoke about an eleven year old boy like he was a weapon, kept in its sheath until it was ready to be drawn.

but of course, all the kids wanted to be friends with him instead. and today, these barbs hurt more — and you kept your eyes down, clutching your books a bit tighter, willing for these supposed 'friends' of yours to go away.

but before you could say anything, you heard his stomps.

"hey!"

gojo's voice was unmistakable, sharp and sudden as he clamoured over, all brashness and bravado. he had gotten a bad haircut recently (entirely his own fault for thinking he could put scissors to his own hair, but you had laughed so hard as he swore curses) so white tufts stuck out all over his head, making him look like he got stuck in a wall socket, even crazier than usual.

but gojo didn't look at you, just planted himself between you and the group, bruised fists clenched (they trained him too hard), and shoulders set, "what's your problem?"

the other kids stammered, clearly surprised, but that didn't stop him, he who looked like a small, lanky and angry polar bear.

"you think you're so funny? talking like that? say it again, and i'll knock your teeth out."

"ah, satoru -" you ran your tongue behind your teeth, the last thing everyone needed was another fight of bruised pride, and yanked hair, rolling around in the dust.

but one of the boys had muttered something under his breath, taking a half-step back. the others followed, shuffling, rolling their eyes and looking anywhere but at you and gojo.

and your best friend didn't move until they had scattered completely, leaving behind only the faint echos of their derision as they fled. and then he turned to you, his scowl fading into something kinder (good, you didn't like seeing him so upset) as he dropped onto the bench, beside you, pulling his knee up onto the bench so he could rest his chin against it casually.

"they're just idiots," he said, rolling his eyes, and his voice was softer, playful again, "don't listen to them."

you gave him a small smile, nodding, as the knot in chest loosened a little, "i wasn't really listening to them," you murmured, even though you probably knew that was a bold-faced lie.

gojo released a loud laugh, much too loud and forced, as he nudged you with his elbow, and he must have known it too, but he was smiling, "good, that's the spirit."

You managed a small smile, nodding, the knot in your chest loosening a little.

the world was quiet again as you both sat in silence, the soft breeze ruffling the grass and the cherry blossoms overhead. and then, with a shyer glance, you managed to look over at your friend, watching as messy tufts of his snowy hair moved ever so slightly in the breeze.

"thanks, 'toru," you said, quietly, but he just shrugged it off, brushing it away as though it was nothing.

"hey, what am i here for?"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — you.

gojo was sprawled across your wide bed, looking at you as if you were the most ridiculous person in the entire world. his own suitcase sat beside him, already paced with the very few things he needed, and now he watched you with that eager, restless gleam in his blue eyes, like he could barely sit still.

"you're so overthinking this," he said, bright voice full of impatience, "just throw some stuff in a bag, and we're good to go. it's just tokyo, not the end of the world."

you scowled at the boy, holding up two sweaters; one sensible in a shade of pale blue, and the other thick, deep red and woollen, "but what if it gets cold? or rains?"

gojo rolled his eyes, throwing his head back dramatically onto your pillow, hands behind his head as he sprawled around like a snooty prince with all the time in the world.

"it's summer, it's tokyo, and it's not like we're moving to america," he smiled, "besides, if you pack any slower, we'll miss our first year."

you tried to brush it off, and something about his easy confidence made you feel a sharp twinge of nerve. this was really happening, you were truly leaving the bounds of your family estates, stepping out into the world, to attend jujutsu tech, a school in tokyo that you had heard so much about. well, there was another school here, in kyoto, but god, it would just be nice to get out of these ancient walls.

and yet -

gojo simply looked like he couldn't wait to shake the dust of his home off his sneakers, you felt something pull at you, like a sudden-appearing string that tied you to your home city, and it wouldn't let you go.

your best friend had caught the look on your face, and softened — just a bit, as he twiddled with a brand new pair of sunglasses, and he sat up closer, watching you carefully, "you're really going to miss it here, aren't you?"

and you shrugged, fidgeting with the sleeves of the red sweater, "i don't know. maybe, i suppose. don't you feel that way at all, satoru?"

he shook his head, resolute, "not even a little," but he saw your uncertainty, "listen, you'll be fine. you'll love tokyo. and hey," he nudged you gently with his knee, "i'll be right there with you anyway."

you appreciated that his confidence felt like a promise, something that you could at least hold onto, even in the big capital, and with a big, exaggerated sigh you tossed both sweaters into the suitcase.

"finally!"

✉️ — 2003. 💬 — gojo.

the both of you had arrived, bright-eyed and tired, as he clambered off the tall bus that had parked on the outskirts of tokyo, where jujutsu high was located.

gojo stood beside you, hands stuffed in his denim pockets, plastering a disinterested expression on his face. but he couldn't help how his eyes flittered to the sid,e underneath the dark shades of his glasses, watching you fawn over another new student, another boy who had arrived from some small town, who-knows-where, from a non-sorcerer family.

geto suguru.

well it was no lie that gojo liked him a lot too. there was no denying that he seemed polite, clever, maybe a bit shy. and effortlessly cool.

gojo had grown up in the stifling, grand estates of the big clans, constantly fussed over, and robed in fine silks printed with his clan motifs. all of those stuffy rules would sit, push around and make space in one's head, like a constant mantra from the elders.

he didn't need to look at you too closely to see what was going on, and he could tell right away, just from how you reacted. your smile stretched wider, and your eyes lit up like you were meeting someone who you really wanted to talk to.

geto who hadn't even changed into his uniform yet, with his stray strands of dark hair falling out of the knot on the back of his head, looking politely aloof, but cheerful, in worn black jeans and converse, and some baggy band t-shirt that would get gojo scolded by his mother for even wearing that inside the estate.

gojo noticed everything, especially the way your fingers slipped up to tuck your hair behind your ear when geto grinned at you (all because you’d recognised the band on his t-shirt, so what?) he saw how your eyes brightened, like geto suguru had unlocked some hidden code only you could decipher.

it annoyed him to realise that geto's calm, quiet charm was exactly the kind of thing you’d be drawn to. that’s what you liked, wasn’t it? the understated, thoughtful types who let the world come to them. not the loudmouth who cracked jokes at every opportunity, hoping to pull a laugh from his best friend.

well, fuck, he had to be a part of this too now.

✉️ — 2005. 💬 — both.

gojo's new obsession had a sleek, silver body and an olympus logo stamped on it in black, a camera that he'd been itching to buy; refusing to settle for anything less than the latest model. suddenly, he was determined to capture tokyo through his own eyes, and you and your friends had quickly become his reluctant muses on an impromptu day trip to the ameya-yokocho market.

"stop! stay right there, don't move! fuck, no! a little to the left!"

he waved his hands around, motioning for everyone to gather just as he wanted. you all exchanged amused glances, with shoko huffing around dramatically, as gojo crouched down on his long legs, then stood back up, and then crouched down again, as one of jujutsu high's most powerful sorcerers struggled to bring a camera into focus.

eventually, geto had laughed — raven hair falling over his beautiful face, and had gotten up to help gojo, fiddling with the lens as the rest of you milled around.

and then, suddenly gojo turned the camera directly on you. he pointed his finger your way, wide grin half-hidden but unmistakably earnest, 'c'mon, turn that frown upside down!'

he needn't have said a word, just seeing your best friend there, with his hair tousled and carefree grin, with the camera strap hanging off his neck, was enough to make you laugh, the kind that felt as bright as it sounded.

and so, you found yourself standing in the middle of the bustling market street, surrounded by friends and fellow students, and the lively hum of the weekend crowds, as you looked directly into the lens, with your smile softening under his gaze, as though the rest of the world had blurred into the background.

afterwards, gojo had taken a good look at the photo, and he didn't say much, but the look on his face lingered, almost like he was seeing something that he wasn't sure he was allowed to hold onto. you had shyly asked him later, coming up beside his shoulder, whether he had printed a spare copy of the photo, but he shook his head with the lie rolling off his tongue.

love was a selfish endeavour, to its core. he wasn’t about to tell you that he wanted to keep that photo for himself. and later, when no-one was looking, he slipped the small print into his wallet, right between his train pass and some spare change.

✉️ — 2006. 💬 — you.

your best friend, your dear satoru, had always been resilient; the kind of guy who threw himself at life with reckless energy, shrugging off injuries like they were just a part of the ride. he'd laugh off a scraped knee or a bloodied lip, flashing that cocky grin and a shrug as if pain was something for other people.

life for you went on, with your own routines and small moments. you learnt long ago that you didn't quite possess the natural, raw sheer jujutsu power that gojo had (or geto for that matter) but you could certainly hold your own in a scuffle. regardless, you had chosen to turn to academics, flitting between classes and study sessions, arm in arm with sweet shoko.

there was joy in sneaking off campus with friends, or scrolling through lists of new albums to download onto your mp3 player (you had been partial to the south korean boyband, tvxq!).

and so, life seemed both incredibly mundane and slightly electric, with days marked by shy smiles and inside jokes, with walks home on the streets wet from the spring rain.

but it had been late summer when gojo had returned from that last mission, when the days were still long and hot and the afternoons were bathed in a thick, heavy amber. and he had come back...different.

he moved carefully, as though each step was suspicious and took more effort than he'd let on, and his usual bright glimmer was dimmed, his laughter quiet, and his smiles withheld like a rare currency. he'd sit through the long evenings with you, in silence more often than not, hands stuffed into his wide pockets as he stared at a place that you just couldn't reach.

when you'd catch him alone in the courtyard after class, he'd be training hard, working through his cursed techniques with a relentless focus, perfecting each hand gesture as if he could shake off whatever shadow lingered behind him. and sometimes, he'd stay for hours after school, practicing beneath the dying and dusty light of the last days of summer, as if he could not afford to stop, to rest.

“gojo?” you called, hesitating as he finished a strike to some poor unsuspecting pile of soda cans, leaving them obliterated in the heat. “what's going on with you?”

he paused mid-motion, glancing at you, his face carefully blank. and you hated that, you hated how the flicker of distress would pass from his face before being schooled into that carefully constructed mask of 'the strongest.'

i love you, idiot. i love you, i love you, tell me what's bothering you and i will help, you're my best friend.

but these words never saw the light of day, always curling up and choking up in your throat, and instead being twisted into feigned, casual interest. losing the cloak of deep devotion that you held for a friend of ten years.

"oh - hey! nothing," gojo replied, too quickly, with that half-cocked smile that painted over his pink lips, "nothing that deep."

lately, this repeated lie had been hanging in the air between you, clear as the last streaks of summer sunlight that would soon give way to fall.

you crossed your arms over your uniform, dark fabric crinkling, "you're not fooling anyone, you know. geto told me about the mission, he said that you —," you swallowed, with the words just as heavy as the steadfast beat of your heart that you kept under lock and key, "he said you shouldn't have come back. what does that even mean?"

gojo's face flickered again, just for a second, before he barked out that irritating, false chuckle, "guess it's a good thing you weren't sent on tengen's fuckin' mission then," before reaching out and snatching your strawberry milk carton from your hands with a grin.

after a few punctuated slurps and lip-smacking (just to watch your face redden in fury, gojo would admit) he spoke again, voice strained, "you'd probably be crying about it still."

"hey!" you protested, grabbing for the carton again, prying his slender fingers off your sweet treat, "i don't cry that easily."

"could've fooled me. you cried during that american movie about zoo animals."

"madagascar was a sad movie about displacement and the loss of home! i know animal rights activists hate to see your ass coming to the zoo."

gojo snickered, drawing out the words, "fuck that zebra," but now, he was looking off into the golden haze of a beautiful sunset, with that frayed grin, "seriously, though. it's fine, it's all in the past."

over time, gojo never spoke many a word about what happened to the star plasma vessel, but he just seemed to move forward, like he always had. his resolve somehow sharper, tighter, and his laughter more intense when it finally did return. there were moments when you'd catch him staring into the great expanse of nothing, haunted (but beautiful), though he'd just shrug and smile when you prodded him about.

✉️ — 2007. 💬 — gojo.

gojo thought he was astoundingly self-aware, in his own humble opinion. he never let anything get to him, that was the trick, you see. to take life as it came at you, to carry that fire and stubbornness and throw it back in the face of the trouble.

and so he wanted to be angry, to be furious. why had suguru done this? why?

he had known that geto, one of his dearest friends (one who always been so sure of himself) had fallen into disquiet lately, and even gojo had prodded him on whether he had lost weight through sleepless nights. but suguru would have just turned his head back to his book, lost in thought, with his dark hair loose around his face.

had he been blind? how had suguru's silence been covered by what gojo (privately) considered his own loud, defiant return? no, he knew of ghosts. he knew that some spirits and spectres could not be shaken, and sometimes when gojo himself closed his eyes, he could feel the sharp sting of an assassin's blade ramming through his throat, leaving him for dead.

but to murder over a hundred innocent people...

you had found him alone that evening, where he had sprawled over the stairs as the sunset blazed, painting them aglow in dusky hues. but gojo could barely notice any of this beauty, and so he just stared, lost in his thoughts that wouldn't settle.

(are you the strongest because you're satoru gojo? or are you satoru gojo because you're the strongest?)

he didn't hear you approach, until you placed a gentle hand on his shoulders, causing him to flinch, surprised out of his sorrowful reverie.

the warmth of your touch steadied him, and he glanced at you out of the corner of his eye, and he wondered how you could always seem to know exactly when he needed you most.

but the thought twisted, sharp and bitter, for what if you would follow suguru the same way? had you not often looked at geto with light in your eyes? and you had never looked at him like that.

what if, someday, you left him the same way? what if you turned around and saw someone else worth following? he couldn't help his fists from clenching, tension rippling down his shoulders and painfully gripping his head.

"suguru..." his voice came out quieter than he meant, with a crack that he couldn't quite hide, and he heard you sharply inhale, "i can't believe he's gone. i don't know if...if i'll ever see him again. why would he -?"

you still didn't say anything, just tightening your hand on his shoulder. and satoru hated it. hated that he wanted to lean into the weight of your touch, hated that this is what being the strongest now entailed. that now he was plagued by fear, of losing you, of watching you slip through his fingers into another's orbit.

i'm only seventeen. what happened to my youth?

the thoughts are acidic, cynical and they leave him angry (with the world, with the higher ups, with himself, with his parents) and he can't help himself from blurting out the next question.

"did you like him?"

gojo tries to keep his tone light and casual, but he loathes how he sounds pleading, heavier. he feels the embarrassment of vulnerability shroud him as you meet his eyes, and he hates how your eyes are teary too.

you shouldn't cry. ever.

"like? as in like?"

"as in love," gojo mutters, "shoko said you did."

you sniff, and now your head is leaning on his shoulder and he can inhale the scent of your shampoo (apples? caramel?) and despite the crick in his neck, he lowers his shoulder further down so you are more comfortable.

"shoko talks too much sometimes," you laugh weakly, "but probably. i think i did."

gojo tries to tamper down the acrid lurch in his stomach, but you continue, "i think i did love him. but so did shoko. so did nanami, and haibara back when, -" you sigh, "and so did you. we all loved him. he was our friend."

his fingers had been hovering close to your hand for a while, almost as if he couldn't help himself, the pull. finally, he slid his smallest finger to let it curl around yours, drawing out a memory from over a decade ago.

"tell you what, when i become my clan head, i'll make sure you get the nicest robes, how's that?" "promise?" "why not?"

how silly that the hardest things in life had once been a bored child, and his new friend who fretted about her future wardrobe.

and when you clasped in hand entirely in its return, gojo's breath caught, his throat tightening. the words that he wanted to say, to spill from his throat, hovered in his mind but there was no infinite word strong enough to bring them out.

he wasn't an idiot, he wasn't daft and unobservant, he knew exactly what he wanted to say to you, to tell you from his lips to yours. but the way his heart laid itself bare in that moment unsettled him deeply, not the yearning itself, but how fierce it was. it disgusted him, the rawness of his desire, exposed right there in the open, where anyone could see it, including you. especially you.

with a realisation that was long coming, beneath the golden wash of the setting sun, he sighed deeply. if he ever lost you, if you ever looked at him with the same betrayal that he'd seen in suguru's eyes, he didn't know if he could survive it. it would cut deeper than his infinity could bear.

he tried speaking again, "if you ever -" but he doesn't get the chance to speak before you're leaning further into him, a quiet sniffle punctuating the silence.

"i won't."

✉️ — the next decade... 💬 — you.

"sweetheart, honey, my precious pumpkin pie."

you shot gojo a death glare, his attempt at flamboyant charm bouncing right off you, "i hate you. never speak to me again."

and your gaze dropped to what was left of your beautiful hermès scarf, once a beautiful concoction of cream-white silk, now reduced to tatters that fluttered pitifully in your hands, stained with some suspicious green goop.

you had cherished this pricey product, but gojo, in his infinite wisdom had decided to pick it up as a perfect blindfold right before a gnarly mission. and so, it got tangled with a nasty curse, and met its tragic, shredded end.

gojo raised his brows, feigning the innocence of a cherub, blinking his long lashes, "i'm sorry, i'll get you a new one, baby."

he drew out the pet name with exaggerated gusto that made you snarl, "enough with the pet names. you are a grown ass man."

and you gave him a first shove in the ribs that made the strongest sorcerer in the world stagger dramatically, only to catch himself with that easy grin still plastered on his face.

but before you could storm off and mourn whatever was left of your one-million yen possession, gojo darted in front of you, blocking your path with his ridiculously long arms. "come on, let me make it up to you, what if i had died on that mission?" he pleaded, looking at you with mock sincerity.

"i wouldn't have even come to the funeral," you sniffed, sticking your nose in the air, ignoring the fake choking sounds that came from the man as he clutched his chest.

months had turned into years, where you and gojo had grown up and graduated jujutsu tech together, carrying triumphs (you won valedictorian, out of a grand total of eight students), losses (gojo was a notoriously bad driver and almost crashed the car that the two of you were in) and countless moments in between.

the two of you had returned to your alma mater as teachers, and mentors, guiding younger sorcerers who were much like you'd once been; eager, impatient, and a little rough around the edges.

gojo took to teaching like he did most things, with his own reckless charm and devil-may-care attitude. he'd joke about skipping staff meetings, but he'd be there anyway, leaning back in his chair with his legs sprawled underneath him, mouthing snarky comments that only you could hear.

you'd like to think you'd grown more confident, no longer the uncertain teenager who used to glance at herself twice in the mirror. time had given you the chance to learn your strengths, and exorcising curses had left you all the more enduring.

gojo had noticed, though he'd never say it outright. he'd make some teasing comment about the way you would boss around a room, and you'd roll your eyes as you nudged him telling him that you had learnt from the biggest ego in tokyo. but sometimes, he'd watch you a little longer than he should, with that flicker in his gaze that he thought you hadn't noticed.

some things hadn't changed at all, and he still came back to you after every mission, every right. you'd hear him shuffling in from down the hall, his paper bags of desserts swinging as he tried to balance it along with his jacket, and whatever ridiculous trinket he'd picked up for you that week (you kept every single one).

and there the two of you would be, sitting cross-legged on your apartment floor, sharing sweets straight out of the boxes. he'd pass you a slice of cheesecake that he insisted that you simply must try, nudging your hand until your fingers enveloped his.

wouldn't it be a lie to claim that you didn't bask in the warmth of your best friend's gaze, even as he feigned interest in some story that he had overhead from the students on his way over from the school, with his low laughter filling the quiet around you.

sometimes, in the silence that would fall after the conversation ebbed, he’d reach over and trace circles absentmindedly on the back of your hand with his thumb, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. neither of you would move or speak. gojo would be looking anywhere but at you, yet his hand wouldn’t let go, tethering you to him in a way that made the apartment feel smaller — almost as if you’d already crossed some line neither of you dared to talk about.

what a pain to be haunted by someone who was already living and breathing right in front of you. sometimes, it left you nauseous, ill, and even screaming into your pillow after he left, and dialing shoko's number so she could give you an earful.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

your car idled at the curb, the sounds of the city filtering in through the barely open window, with the faint chill of the october night brushing against your skin.

gojo looked up from his phone, tapping his fingers on the screen, and there was a sober look on his face that made your stomach twist. you watched as he ran his head through his white hair, and sighed, his eyes still on the screen.

"apparently i was summoned by name," he said quietly, "to shibuya. whatever curtain's been set up is only allowing sorcerers through."

you kept one hand on the wheel, "ijichi reached out to me too, but he wants me covering the perimeter on the other side, away from the metro. but who would summon you by name?"

"i know. do you think it's...?"

"the traitor everyone's guessing about? who else?"

gojo scoffed a little, "fuckin' surprise," he muttered, casting you a glance that spoke volumes of protectiveness, one that made you lurch ever so slightly. his eyes met yours, an unspoken worry passing between you. you bit the inside of your lip to keep yourself from blurting out the words that lived in the forefront of your mind.

and so, gojo reached for the door handle, and you saw him hesitate as his fingers drummed against the door, before pulling his blindfold up, "well, stay safe, yeah?"

you swallowed, trying to find some false platitude to offer back, "hey, i will if you will."

he gave a short laugh that must have not fully reached his eyes, but it softened the rest of his beautiful face in that way that you loved, "y'know, we could have been going trick-or-treating. dressed like idiots, stuffing our face with candy."

"tweedledee and tweedledum?"

gojo snorted, "next year then."

you hummed, "i'll keep that idea then, tweedledumb."

the bow of his lips quirked, and he looked away again before pushing himself out of the car, stepping out onto the suddenly cold, quiet sidewalk (too quiet, where was everyone?)

he paused, turning back to you through the window, as he lifted his hand up in a small wave, and you could tell he wanted to say something else — but the moment passed, and he closed his mouth, smiling instead in that way of his that said everything without a single word. and he pushed his hands back into his pocket, strolling away as you sat there, suddenly ever so lonely in your silent car, as chills went down your spine.

✉️ — october, 2018 💬 — you.

"gojo satoru has been sealed."

what the fuck?

the world has slowed down, every sound muffled as if you'd been submerged underwater. shibuya had left gojo sealed in the prison realm by...no. it couldn't be.

suguru geto was dead. dead, executed. had it not been almost a year? you had mourned, gojo had grieved. and yet, the impossible had clawed its way into reality, leaving you feeling like you were teetering on the edge of something dark and unknowable.

soon the shock twisted into dread, an icy grip that clenched tight around your chest, left the blood draining from your face. god, your hair must just turn as white as his from the stress alone. your best friend, the one who had been beside you in sickness and health.

it was cruel, you thought, to not even be allowed the time to fall apart, now now. there was little space for it in the chaos that had erupted the next day, when waves of curses crashed through the city like nothing you had ever seen. what fresh hell was this, you wondered as you nursed a nasty set of wounds, trailing after (tormented, sweet, far too young) itadori yuji, and his supposed older brother, some blood manipulation user that had done his fair share of damage throughout the night.

the culling games.

the brutality of it shocked you, and several times during the upcoming days, you had to blink back hot tears as sorcerers were summoned, drafted, and thrown into what was quickly a gladiator spectacle, some devilry concocted from geto's, no, kenjaku's mind. and the stakes were not just your own survival, but the students you had mentored — the young souls who had grown under your watch, and needed you now more than ever.

it quickly cost you an eye. a clash with a fierce, blood-thirsty wayward sorcerer had left you bloody and bruised with a clean gash that ran through your right eye, and you had screamed, taken a life even. only the baritone, dulcet tone of the yuji's half-curse brother (choso? a member of the kamo clan? since when did half-curses even exist?) had pulled you away from launching the contents of your stomach over the pavement, as you stared at the crimson dripping off your hands. were you supposed to be grateful that you had survived this, when so many others had not? yuji's tears had kept you awake in the night, his sobs when he thought that no-one could hear him.

gojo's absence had become a wound, raw, with a side of constant ache that you could feel with every waking heartbeat. and so you tried to fight hard with his voice echoing in your ears, remembering the half-smile he'd flash when you'd land a difficult hit, or the grateful look in his eyes knowing that his students were safe.

days blurred together, and nights bled into ceaseless combat, of the terror of being on the run, and still gojo was with you. the thought of finding him, the thought of him being unsealed from the prison realm almost had you blurting false, desparate promises to the sky that you would tell him exactly what you felt for him, bare your heart out in its entirety for him to hold in his hands.

like it had always been.

✉️ — november, 2018 💬 — you.

it was surreal seeing him again, unsealed and standing there against the burnt umber of the sky, rough around the edges but undeniably gojo. nineteen days of living with the ache of his absence, of waking every morning with a hollow flower blooming in your chest, he was here — alive, breathing, real.

but god, it had been so beautiful to meet his blue gaze once more, and that fleeting smile cross his face before he rushed to pull you into his arms, closing the distance and pulling you into his arms with a new strength that almost lifted you off your feet. and if you closed your eye, you could pretend that nothing had happened, nothing at all. that it was just you pressed against the warm, beating heart in gojo's chest, unrestrained and fierce as thick arms pulled you close, filling your senses with smoke, and earth, and long-spilt blood.

"don't you look eye catching?"

you huffed and leaned away from him, slamming your fist on hard muscle in exasperation, but if you hadn't turned your gaze away, you would have seen gojo's eyes twitch as he took in your battle-worn appearance, the scar that ran underneath bandages where an eye would have once been. if you had paid more attention, you would have heard his intake of breath as he ran his tongue behind his teeth, with a vow, a promise.

"guess who's going to kick sukuna's ass so far back to the heian era," gojo murmured, and you let out a shaky laugh that echoes all the way down to the marrows of your bones.

"yeah, i thought you were just all talk."

"i'm still alive, aren't i?" he shot back, cocky and boyish once more, and your eyes traced over him, drinking in every small change, the sharper clench in his jaw, the tautness in his frame, the way his shoulders seemed broader, like he had been carved up in the prison realm anew. and it leaves you melancholic.

in another universe, the two of you were still young, hand in hand underneath the blue sky as the cool breeze ran through your hair. but battles had turned to war, and the night had no time for what ifs.

"hey, don't go worrying about me," gojo murmured, almost as though he had caught the shadow in your heart, and he plastered a grin on his face, stretching his toned arms in some show of nonchalance, but his gaze lingered on the ruins too long, on the mottled group of assembled sorcerers who seemed to brim with new-found confidence at his return.

and when he finally looked back at you with a new dullness in your eyes, a heaviness you hadn't seen in a long time. it left a dead weight in your chest, but you forced yourself to return his own bland smile, playing along with the front he was trying to maintain, "well, i guess i'll have to keep you out of trouble from now on."

✉️ — november-december, 2018 💬 — you.

the month began to stretch and pass in a blur on the endless horizon, complete with the aching and unbearable waiting where you knew something was going to happen, and yet you did not know when and where. shoko had forgone her own exhausation to see to the rest of the wounds, the ones that had festered under bandages and grimes, leaving faint trails over your skin but she had shaken her head sadly when it came to the socket on your face, even she could not restore an eye.

gojo had swapped his suits and jackets for loose martial pants, and a tight black top that had clung to the muscular frame that he'd honed over the years, laughing off your concerns like they were nothing more than passing clouds.

"don't fret," he'd say, "how bad could this be? you know i told yuji once that even if sukuna was at his full power, i'd still wipe the floor with him. you believe me right?"

you weren't sure if his question was cocky, or a plea, and the fatigue had caused you to snap, "and now, yuji flinches when he hears loud sounds, and he's just another kid who can't fuckin' stop wringing his hands in blood! look what you've done to him!"

gojo's eyes had twitched afterwards, the corner of his mouth pulling down, but he hadn't gotten angry. and you hated it. you hated it all.

but you had wanted to believe in him, in his optimism. you wanted to let his smooth words settle into your bones like the warm comfort they should have been. but how could you feel at ease when everyone was now playing a role? each sorcerer in this building was feigning whatever mask or persona that they had painted and drawn across their face, just as you had. just as gojo did.

but nothing was the same anymore.

and neither were you.

the loss of your eye, the streaks of scars on your skin haunted you. it felt cowardly to say, but this was not the life you should have lived. you simply just didn't see yourself as strong enough, and your eyes watered thinking about the days when you dallied under a clear sky, skirts swaying along the grass as you trailed after your best friend, catching fireflies, exploring shrines, falling to the earth in child-like innocence.

the hollow space on your face, the empty socket served as a reminder of what you had survived, of the world that had fallen into pieces. was there anyone here who would recognise themselves in the mirror anymore?

some nights, the world felt impossibly still, and you would sit at the window and press your hands to the cold of the glass as you watched a scarred city sprawl ahead of you.

you didn't turn at the sound of footsteps at first, and you sat there, with your fingers still dancing on the edge of the window. you closed your eyes as you felt him approach, close, but not enough — you wished he would sit by you, press his soft head to your own, close enough for you to hold him in your hands, curl into his skin.

"satoru, can you make another promise?"

gojo's steps had paused, just a breath but it was enough to know that you had his attention. but when he spoke, "please tell me we're not doing theatrics right now," his voice was laced with that same dismissive edge that he always used when he was trying to push the truth far away.

"can't you shut up, just once? promise me you won't let sukuna kill you, i can't even imagine -" and how irritating, and how melancholic (fuck, this was like a bad soap opera) that your throat was already tightening, your voice wavering with tears that you had been holding back for weeks.

for a moment, gojo didn't respond, and he just stood there and you needn't have turned around to know that there was no trace of laughter nor joy on his face. no easy smirk to deflect the gravity of your well-founded fears. and the silence left you cold.

for the first time, you were suddenly hoping that he might say something blasé, to tell you to stop worrying, to brush it off and just reassure you. but he didn't, he was quiet.

and so you turned to face him, and you felt almost villainous for verbalising your future grief like this, to one who must already have carried such an eternal, heavy burden.

no longer did the blue of his eyes shine like a spring sky, with feather-like clouds that danced in his iris. now, there was only a fractured storm. and god, you loathed that for the first time in what must have been years, his own face was reddening, his eyes suddenly teary, clouds gathering torrential rain.

you knew he hated being seen like this. over a decade of holding him close to your heart had made you privy to his ways, to the way that he'd furiously rub at his face when upset, as if he could will the distress away and hide his tears.

gojo had outstretched his little finger towards you now, hooking it with your own, and your heart stuttered as he brought your finger to his lips, so quick that a ghost may have brushed your skin, with the seal of a promise.

"i will try. god, i swear, i...i promise, i will try." and you knew that gojo satoru was scared, terrified even of what december 24th would bring.

"i -"

you wanted to say it all, wanted to tell him everything. but the words stuck in your throat, love and want and need and ferocious, capricious grief all sat lodged within your beating heart that was so tightly bound in iron chains.

it was a shameful thing. you should have sat there, and comforted him instead. should have told him that it was alright, and you did not know a more powerful and capable sorcerer than he, that he'd leave sukuna in ashes. should have laid your hand on his brow to soothe the lines away from his pale, streaked face.

but you had always been selfish, held onto your heart like a being of folklore, guarded and self-assuming. you wept heart-aching tears, feeling them pool in your sleeves, and run hot salt trails over your lips. maybe it was a testament to how much gojo satoru loved you too, that he could not bear to see you in such grief, and he hesitated.

then he turned to leave you by the window.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

the turn of the year felt cold, far too chilly, even though the night was still young. the city lights twinkled in solitary clumps outside, but they were just as dim as the heavy weight in your chest. the walls seemed to close in as gojo prepared to leave, to face sukuna — the king of curses. and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was slipping through your fingers, something that you would never be able to grasp again, no matter how tightly you gripped.

everyone had wished him luck, calling your their bravest words of encouragement as he walked past them, their voices echoing through the hall, as they slapped him on the back.

they all cheered the same platitudes.

"go fuck sukuna up!"

"language!"

"sorry, choso."

"show him what you're made of!"

"prove that you're not just a pretty face, gojo!"

and so you had plastered the same smile on your face, hoping that it would reach your eyes as gojo winked at you, "hey, before you start telling me off, now it's your turn to promise me something."

you had cocked your head up at him, ignoring shoko's narrowed, tired eyes, "yeah?"

"mhm," satoru nodded, pulling his arms around you, "after this, after all this bullshit, we get to take a vacation."

a barked laugh escaped you, before it collapsed into a giggle, "you want paid leave? that's all it is?"

your best friend's large hands gripped you, flat against your back, "yeah, that's all there is. we're gonna go take a holiday, sit by the beach, watch the ocean. keep it simple."

"a picnic too, eh?"

gojo nodded, humming, "we'll plan everything. about time we got to take a break. i'll be back before you even know it."

you felt his voice hitch against your ear, and your heart twisted painfully in response, he wasn't saying it but you both knew the cold truth, there was a real chance that he may never come back. before your vision could blur, you pressed his lips to his cheek, letting them linger for a moment on smooth skin (and you felt his arms tighten around you) and hoped that whatever you hoped to say, whatever spine you lacked, could be expressed so swiftly.

"come back then, please. i'll be ready." you whispered between his skin and your lips, the tremble leaving no space for air in your lungs.

for a moment, he didn't answer, just held you, and you tried to focus on the feeling of his chest rising and falling in slow, measured breaths. then, just as you were about to pull away, he spoke, the words falling from his mouth, so familiar and so effortless.

"of course i will. i always do."

there was a flicker of something raw there in his eyes, and you had seen it both before and after shibuya. his lips parted as if he were about to say something, but whatever it was, it never came. instead, he just nodded, a silent promise — unspoken, but felt deep in your bones.

without another word, he turned toward the door. and just before stepping out, he looked back one last time. that smile, that arrogant, confident smile that always made your heart race —i t was there, but it wasn’t the same. it was stretched thin, fragile. his blue eyes were tired, haunted, and for a moment, you saw the truth — the part of him he always kept hidden. the fear. the doubt.

"i'll be back," he repeated, but this time, it didn’t sound like a joke. it sounded like a prayer. a desperate, half-broken promise from the closest thing that the world had to a god.

you couldn’t speak. your heart was lodged in your throat, and the words that you needed to say just wouldn’t come. you wanted to tell him that you loved him, that you always had, that you were scared to lose him, that the world without him in it felt like a hollow echo of what it could be. but you couldn’t.

instead, you just nodded, your face a mask of emotions you couldn’t express.

and then, with one final look, a look that held everything neither of you had the courage to say — he stepped out into the cold, his footsteps fading into the distance.

✉️ — december 24, 2018 💬 — you.

gojo satoru was dead.

dead. killed.

for a moment, you stood frozen in the doorway of shoko's office, numbness seeping into your bones with a furious grief as you stared at the cold, unmoving form that was once satoru.

fuck, there was bile in your throat as a once lively boy now lay in four pieces, cleanly sliced by sukuna's unforgiving technique, and the sight was a nightmare made so real, something that you just couldn't reconcile with the man who had once been so vibrantly alive.

the warmth that had always clung to him had vanished, leaving his skin pale in the grasp of rigor mortis, and his lips were still flecked with dried blood that had painted a stark contrast against his stiff skin.

and his eyes, those striking blue eyes that used to glint with love and hope and dreams, were now dull, and still open. you had not the heart to close them, for once your hand pulled his eyelids down, you would never see them again, never look into his eyes until it was your time to pass from the circles of the world.

the last thing you’d seen of him had been that cocky grin, that wink that seemed so unbreakable, that laugh that lingered even as he left your embrace. he’d held you, promised you that he would come back, but now, as you stood there, that promise felt like a cruel lie, something that should’ve warned you but instead gave you nothing but hope.

you choked on a breath, your hand coming up to your mouth as you felt the weight of your unspoken words sink down like lead. i should have told him. you’d wanted to say it all, to let him know how much he meant to you, to tell him that he was your everything. but the words had died in your throat, held back by fear, by the delusion that there’d always be another chance, that he’d always come back.

you’d believed him. you’d believed, with every part of yourself, that he’d make it out alive.

but here he was, torn apart, the last shreds of life stolen from him by the king of curses. you had seen him being cut down, like a sheaf of wheat under a god's sickle, how sudden and gut wrenching it had been, and for the second time in a month, you had been on the edge of hurling onto the stone. but this time, the half-curse beside you, choso, hadn't stopped you from losing the contents of your stomach, as instead he had pressed his younger brother's cries to his broad chest, the grief swallowing the entire room.

gojo hadn’t been given the chance to fight back, hadn’t even been able to draw a breath before he’d been torn apart. and that final thought — that he’d been caught off guard, helpless, alone in his last moments — left you feeling shattered, grief clawing at you with merciless hands.

your knees felt weak as you moved toward him, your trembling fingers reaching out to touch his face, cold and unyielding beneath your hand. you traced the lines of his face, memorising every detail, as if somehow, through touch alone, you could keep a piece of him with you. a tear slipped down your cheek, landing on his lips, lips that had once murmured promises, had brushed against your skin in fleeting, unspoken moments. the tear brought moisture once more to the blood that splattered his face, but quickly, it disappeared, drying and taking away any life.

"i should’ve told you,” you whispered, your voice broken, raw, laced with the pain of regret, "i don't know if you ever knew how much i loved you."

you closed your eyes, the silence thickening around you, pressing down until it felt like you couldn’t breathe. your mind replayed every smile, every laugh, every word he’d ever spoken to you, each memory twisting the knife of grief deeper into your chest. the emptiness of the room swallowed you whole, and all that was left was the aching, unbearable reality that he was gone — that the man who had been your best friend, your confidant, your everything, was nothing more than a memory now.

you stayed there, your hand resting on his cold cheek, as if the warmth of your touch could somehow reach him, bring him back. but he was gone, and with him, he’d taken the words you’d never been able to say, the love you’d never been able to give.

and as the silence closed in around you, suffocating and absolute, you knew that part of you had died with him.

✉️ — not so long later. 💬 — you. it could only be you now, for you are the only one left.

the sun was beginning to set as you reached the shore, casting an amber glow over the ocean. the waves lapped quietly against the sand, as a gentle roll becoming a reminder that the world was still moving, even when the battles were done.

even though everything within you felt like it had come to a standstill. you clutched a folded piece of glossy card, and a box. two things that shoko said she found on him, things that she thought you should keep, she added quietly.

and so, you sat down on the sand, letting the evening wind sweep over you as you gazed out at the endless stretch of water. the ocean had always been something you had dreamed of seeing together, an endless horizon that was wild and untameable, just like gojo satoru had been. but he was gone, gone, and that promise would forever remain unkept.

you opened the folded glossy card, wincing as you tried not to press the faded creases further, brushing over the faded edges. it was dated to the fall of 2005, and you bit your lip as you saw your own image stare back at you. when the world had felt endless, and you had two wide eyes to see it with. there you were, that day in the market, laughing in the photo with your head thrown back sweetly, and you wetly laughed as you saw geto suguru's confused expression in the background, clearly exasperated with gojo's photography skills.

a choked sob escaped you as you traced your smile in the photo, so oblivious to what would come. you’d been so happy then, wrapped in a moment that had felt simple and whole. gojo had teased you relentlessly that day, snapping photos every chance he got, and you’d thought he was just being his usual, silly self. you’d never realised he’d kept this one one, never knew it meant enough for him to carry it all this time.

with a shaking hand, you opened the box, revealing the ring nestled inside. fuck.

it was beautiful, impossibly beautiful, as if he’d carefully chosen each detail with you in mind. the diamond glistened in the fading light, flecked with small blue stones that reminded you of his eyes, the eyes that used to light up every time he looked at you. this ring was supposed to be a promise, just as the ones you made when you locked little fingers — a promise he never got the chance to make, a life together that you’d both been too afraid to admit you wanted.

the first tear fell, splashing onto the sand below, followed by another, and then another, until you were trembling, the grief tearing out of you in waves, raw and unstoppable. you held the ring to your chest, clutching it as if somehow, by holding it close, you could feel him, hear his laughter, feel the warmth of his arms around you.

you could almost hear his voice on the wind, that playful edge mixed with tenderness as he called you by one of his ridiculous pet names. sweetheart, honey, my pumpkin pie, followed by your irritated huff telling him to drop those names.

but truly, here was nothing. just the sound of the waves, relentless and indifferent, echoing the hollow ache in your chest.

the what-ifs clawed at you, memories replaying over and over in your mind: moments when you’d almost reached for him, almost whispered the words, almost let your heart break free. but each time, you’d held back, too afraid to disrupt the delicate balance between you, too certain there’d be another day. but now, those moments were gone, scattered like dust in the wind, and the weight of those unsaid words felt unbearable.

you pressed the photograph to your lips, closing your eyes as if you could summon him back, if only for a moment. but when you opened your eyes, all that greeted you was the empty horizon, stretching out into nothingness.

"i love you,” you murmured, voice broken, barely more than a whisper. "i love you. i always loved you."

the words hung in the air, unheard, unanswered. it was too late, too late for confessions, too late for promises. the life you’d wanted with him, the life he’d carried in his pocket with a ring and a photograph, was gone, lost to the cruel twist of fate that had taken him from you.

you stayed there on the sand as the sky darkened, the weight of his absence pressing down on you like a storm. the wind whipped around you, cold and biting, and you shivered, clutching his ring, his memory, as if that alone could keep you grounded.

as night fell, the stars began to appear, dotting the sky with fragile points of light, distant and unreachable. and you sat there, letting the grief wash over you, lost in the silent, aching expanse of the ocean and the memories of a love that would remain forever unspoken, forever unfulfilled.

wasn't love the greatest curse of them all?

[silkenwinger]

would do crazy, unspeakable things to get TA Gaz's attention. he's just so nice. never playing favourites, necessarily: his attention is always divided evenly. after all, he is a tutor figure for an hard class, and all of you need help. and while you're scared shitless of price, you know you can count on gaz's calm tone to tell you what you wrote wrong. never judging. understanding. encouraging.

it's not just his behavior, of course. have you looked at him? he's top 10 most handsome men you've ever talked to. wait, more like top 5. okay realistically he's the best looking one. and you're not the only one to get lost in his eyes, either. you hear hushed whispers of fuck me behind you when he stretches mid hour. you telepathically send whoever said that a strong mental message of stay away from my man.

as for your relationship... well. you've been working really hard on building a particular rapport. by that you mean you sit in the first row, greet him immediately, and try to come up with at least one question per session. looking hard for things to ask him has led you to a vast amount of knowledge you really don't need to pass this class, to the point you know you're getting glares from the other students. it's hard to be more forthright: you wish you could, but you're still somewhat inhibited by everything about him. for christmas, you brought him some homemade cookies, saying you made them for all TAs (absolutely false). gaz had smiled that absolutely devastating smile that made you weak in the knees. your five attempts and hours wasted had given you something back!

you've convinced yourself what you've going on is special. gaz (and oh my god, the day he told you (aka the class) you could call him that instead of mr garrick was the highlight of the month) knows your name and asks how you're doing frequently, which has completely revolutioned your world. you spend two hours getting ready every time you have to see him. when you saw him in the distance while you were talking with another classmate from another course, you almost threw the poor guy from the corridor balcony to not be seen with him.

of course, your friends call you fucking delusional, short of telling you you have absolutely no chances with him, but hope never flees true warriors' hearts.

eventually, all good things come to an end. price's class ends, you submit your long ass essay, and you don't see gaz as frequently anymore. you almost cried the last session, with him telling you all that he was kinda sad to let you go and that he was sure your final would go well. he'd even touched your shoulder! it would have been hard not to hug him if you hadn't been paralyzed by his touch in the first place.

one day, checking your results, you see that alongside price's grade there is a considerably longer email. the professor is telling you that he's seriously impressed with your essay, and that his TA, recommending you, wants to work with you on a project related to the class.

a project.

with gaz.

alone!

(part 2 here)

a/n: for both mine and your peace of mind, please tell me if this is wildly inaccurate for british universities! i'm basing the TA role as it exists in my country: someone (usually freshly graduate or about to be) who leads a secondary course for a major class, that can deal with redoing what has been done in class, solving students' doubts, in depth discussion, etc. i think this blurb will stay this way anyway, but if i ever want to write something longer on the topic 👀, i'd like to know how stuff actually works in the country it is set in lol

[hopleii]

how they act when they're drunk. . .

content: jean x gn!reader, eren x gn!reader, armin x gn!reader, erwin x gn!reader (seperate), fluff, not proofread, tiny bit ooc (first time writing for these characters), alcohol mention, slightly suggestive on erwin's part, lowercase intentional

a/n: OMGOMGOMGOMG first time writing for aot kinda scaredddd, did u guys know I binge watched aot for 3 weeks because the movie is coming out and i never finished it in s1 back in 2021? omg. i forgot just how much i loved jean and armin. RAHHHH

JEAN KIRSTEIN

jean would be the clingy type of drunk. whether its just you two or with other people, he needs to have you in arms reach 24/7. going to the bathroom? okay, he's going with you. need a glass of water? he'll walk you to the cupboard. want to talk with your friends? he'll talk with them too!

when its just the two of you, he's not afraid to be clingy and openly hugs you or touches you. its just you two, right?

when its with other people, he's more careful, but it's still painfully obvious and embarrassing. he tries to brush it off with excuses like "i just don't want them to be alone", "what if they get lost?"

"jean, i have to go to the bathroom."

he groans dramatically, rolling his eyes and pouting petulantly. "but what if you get lost? you never know what could happen!"

you roll your eyes at his slurred words, but deep down, you find his intoxicated state adorable. when you finally give in (he totally started throwing a tantrum) he follows you to the bathroom and he just lingers outside, pacing around and checking up on you every millisecond.

"are you done?"

"i'm fixing my hair, jean."

"is it fixed now?"

"patience, my dear."

"damn it..."

EREN YEAGER

eren would be the talkative type of drunk. when he's intoxicated, he mostly starts to open up about random things. how he feels about the dish you cooked weeks ago, how he hates how he styled his hair that night, etc.

but as time goes on and he drinks a few more bottles, he starts opening up about deeper topics: how he misses his mom, how he thinks the world is a rotten place, how much you mean to him and more!

he'll play it off with his usual bravado, though. but he is literally the definition of "drunk words are sober thoughts."

you and eren are at a small gathering with friends, and the alcohol has started to loosen him up a little, becoming more talkative and loud than usual. after too many drinks, he's on the couch, words slurred and eyes too heavy to even look at you. he pulls you aside, arm slung around your shoulders.

"you know," he starts, his voice quieter than when he was ranting earlier. "i don't think I've ever told you how much you mean to me." his words slur slightly, but you recognize the sincerity in his voice.

you chuckle lightly, "you've told me before, eren, a lot, actually."

he shakes his head, cupping your face with his calloused hands, "i did? well, you just mean a lot to me. i don't know what i'd do without you, you know?"

you blink at his sincerity, surprised by his openness, but when he sees this, he grins. "i just wanted you to know, okay? 'cause you keep forgetting."

ARMIN ARLERT

armin gets shy and giddy (or "kilig) when intoxicated. occasionally getting bashful but constantly expressing his admiration for you. he has the biggest crush on you whenever he's drunk! he's the type to act like a highschool boy in love when he's drunk with you, all puppy love-ish and giddy. he gets giggly and tends to ramble, sometimes too much.

it's a quiet evening, and after a few drinks, armin's smile gets a little wider as the alcohol starts kicking in. he looks over at you, leaning in with a slight blush on his face.

"you know," he says slowly, his words mixing with his giggles, "I've always thought you were really amazing. I mean, super amazing, but now that I've had a few drinks, you're, like...the most amaaazingg person who ever lived."

you couldn't help but laugh, taking away the wine glass from his hand. "you've had too much to drink, armin."

armin shakes his head insistently, "no, no! it's just...you're so smart and so pretty, and you're so kind too..."

he stands up, moving his chair beside yours, leaning on your shoulder. "you're amazing..."

ERWIN SMITH

erwin, the level-headed and composed commander, is the type of person to get extremely relaxed. too relaxed. of course, everyone wants their hard-working commander to let loose a little bit, but when alcohol gets mixed in his system, all responsibility seems to slide off his shoulders.

he starts to crack lighthearted jokes, telling all sorts of silly stories, and starts to flirt a bit more with you.

the survey corps had just wrapped up a long day of strategizing and reviewing reports, and everyone decided a victory celebration should be held. during this celebration, however, erwin had downed too many drinks, and his usual composure and stern attitude was slowly slipping away. you and the rest of the squad were gathered around the briefing table, preparing to discuss tomorrow's agenda and finishing any leftover work.

the room was filled with serious chatter, discussing and planning, until erwin stood up, swaying slightly. "erwin...?" you tilt your head, thinking you or the squad suggested something wrong.

"you all," he began, his words slightly slurred, "all you do is talk about work...we've all worked hard, haven't we?" his voice was a bit louder than usual, more booming and firm. the room stopped what they were doing, exchanging confused glances and looking at you.

you shrug your shoulders, also perplexed by your lover's behavior. he waved a lazy hand in the air, sitting back down on his chair, "forget all of this...just do it tomorrow."

and that was enough for you to know that erwin smith was completely and utterly drunk. “but erwin, we still have important reports to finalize and the logistics for the supply run tomorrow…”

"we've been doing that all week, my love! you're all telling me a few more hours of paperwork is more important than a peaceful night’s rest?"

you watched your lover with growing disbelief, this was a side of erwin that even you haven't seen. laid-back, relaxed, and...lazy?

"erwin, are you seriously drunk...?"

"maybe it's time to stop being so serious, hm? i happen to like it when you're happy and having fun, my love." he whispers into your ear, dismissing the others afterwards.

© — hopleii

[verycoolusername1]

You Laugh Exactly The Same

Summary: Everyone is back home for the holidays. It feels nothing has changed(if you take away the years)

Platonic!hughes brothers x reader, one mention of Nico Hischier x reader(jokingly) and mention of Quinn hughes x reader(once again a joke)

Bonus Track of the fruitcake masterlist - Holidays

A/N: My first platonic fic, how we feeling?? And why is this song lowkey kinda sad

Also, I didn't know how to end it, so sorry if the endings weird!!!

You were an honorary sibling in the hughes household. You practically grew up with them. They were your chosen family.

You shut your car door, suitcase in hand. As you smiled at the sight in front of you. The lake house, you've been coming here since your college days. Time flies when you're having fun it seems.

You were about to open the door when it opened for you, Luke, on the other side with the biggest grin on his face.

"Y/N's here!" He called out to his family before capturing you in a bone crushing hug.

Jack ran to the door, Quinn following behind.

"Dude, get off. You're crushing them." Jack tried to pull Luke off of you.

"Both of you are gonna crush them if you keep acting like that." Quinn smiled at the scene in front of him.

"Quinn's right. Off both of you." Ellen ordered.

Their arms were off you instantly at her words. You chuckled slightly.

"Barely got through the door, and you're already trying to kill me." You grinned as you moved towards your room.

The boys minus Quinn(for the moment) went after you.

"Are you two just gonna follow me around like a lost puppy the whole time?" You asked, turning around.

"We missed you in Jersey. Quinn got you all to himself this season." Luke grumbled.

"I was only there for work." You rolled your eyes.

"Well, it still doesn't make me feel better." Jack groaned as he flopped on the bed.

"Yeah, like, who knows what you could have done together!" Luke's face scrunched up in disgust. "Actually, don't think about that... ew."

"I'm choosing to ignore that because we're all friends here, and well, you know... Quinn's not my type." You put your clothes in the closet.

"Thank god!" Luke sighed.

Jack immediately perked up. "That's not true! Remember when we were fourteen and your baby crush on him?"

Your face flushed in embarrassment. "That was a long time ago!"

"Seems like the baby crush didn't go away." Luke mumbles.

"Alright, both of you, out right now." You dismissed them.

Jack and Luke laughed at your reaction before leaving the room, proud with themselves.

You continue to get settled in, satisfied with the progress.

"I thought I told you guys to leave me alone." You said, not bothering to look up.

Quinn chuckled. "You haven't told me anything at all, actually."

"Shit, sorry." You apologized. "Thought you were Jack and Luke."

Quinn leaned on the wall in amusement. "Well, I'm sure whatever they did can be redeemed."

You laughed at his words. "Yeah, I'm sure they'll just gladly accept doing everything for me the whole break."

"Well, I'd be glad to do that." Quinn immediately responds in a mumble.

You looked at him. "What did you say?"

"Oh uh nothing just you know gonna be lots of work for that." Quinn lied. "Maybe try the next best thing?"

"Oo hmm definitely letting me hookup with their captain, kinda hot don't you think?" You asked.

Quinn rolled his eyes. "Well, I'm not into guys, so I can't give you an exact opinion, but... he looks nice for his age. I don't know."

"You guys are literally the same age!" You chuckled.

Quinn chuckled alongside you. "Yeah, yeah, whatever... Are you coming down for the bonfire tonight or going to bed early?"

"Wouldn't miss seeing Jack getting caught on fire for the world." You yawned slightly as you nodded your head.

Quinn grinned at your words as he held out his hand for you to take. You did, of course.

The two of you went downstairs to the porch where Jack and Luke sat, Jim and Ellen leaving early with promises to come back early tomorrow.

"There you two are, we were dying out here." Jack exaggerates.

Luke nods in agreement. "You left us unsupervised!"

You shook your head as you sat down. "You both are adults and are or past 21."

"Let's be real. You and Quinn are the adults here." Luke said, Jack heavily agreeing.

Quinn merely shrugged. "It's the older sibling in us."

"You're only a couple months older than me, Y/n, not much to go off of." Jack nudged you.

You nudged him back. "I still think it's quite far."

Jack rolled his eyes as Luke and Quinn laughed at the interaction.

"Honestly, I'm surprised you two kept the fire alive." Quinn spoke up.

You chuckled slightly. "It's uh, you know, a survival instinct. Jack knows a lot about that."

Jack groaned. "That was one time!"

You burst out laughing at his words. "Probably the best day of my life."

Luke chuckled slightly before his eyes widened.

"We should make smores." Luke says. Quinn hummed in agreement.

It was moments like this with the boys that you loved the most, seeing them not having a care in the world and just enjoying themselves... even if it's at your own expense but nonetheless you loved them.

Many more laughs and smores were shared throughout the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

[saltylemontears]

try again || ln4

summary: you and lando meet after many years with lots to talk about... warnings: none? i think? a/n: my first lando fic got over 650 notes (INSANE), so here's another, longer, as a thank you!

you weren't a big fan of racing. in fact, you had no clue what it was really about, until your brother brought you here.

the paddock is loud, way too loud for your liking, and you don't really understand. you see people wearing merch, carrying around signs and cutouts with big smiles on their faces, and it's actually kind of cute.

your brother gets into a passionate conversation about a championship with a fellow fan and decides to completely ignore your existence. how typical of him. your eyes wander to the big screen on your left.

names and pictures flash before your eyes, but none of them sound familiar. max verstappen, charlec leclerc, oscar piastri, lando norris.

lando norris.

lando norris?

lando norris, your highschool sweetheart? no, that can't be. surely, it's just a guy with the same name. and the same face. and the same fucking curls. just a coincidence.

your thoughts begin to wander, and suddenly you're in highschool again, anxiously waiting for lando in the park, on your bench. but lando's not in sight. not a single trace of him, he didn't even text you that he's busy like he usually does. you left the park two hours later, tears streaming down your face, betrayal stinging inside your chest.

and it starts stinging again. your first ever love, your first ever heartbreak.

you never thought you'd feel like this on a random sunday in miami, and it's overwhelming, it's all too much and you need to go.

your brother turns back to you. "hey, where are you going?"

it feels stupid to tell him about lando and whatever feelings you're feeling right now, so you just sit back down. "nothing, nothing,"

you manage to zone out for a while, only coming back to your senses when the lights go out, the race starts and your brother screams in excitement.

the crowd goes insane every time a car passes them, making the whole place even louder, and to be completely honest, it's actually kinda fun to watch those cars go ridiculously fast.

as the race comes to an end, the fans get louder, specifically the ones dressed in orange and your brother stands up, cheering passionately.

"and lando norris wins the miami grand prix, for the first time in formula on-"

jesus christ. you just witnessed your first love win a fucking formula one race with your own eyes.

you watch the screen, seeing lando on the podium, looking so happy and relieved, and all of a sudden, you see the same kid you loved those years ago and it's way too much to fucking handle. you get up again.

"i'm gonna go pee," you tell your brother, attempting to leave as quietly as possible, making your way through the crowd.

hell, you don't even know where the toilets are. you just need to get out of there real quick.

and you run, you run until you don't know where you are, but you're standing next to a bunch of guys in orange, breathing heavily.

you feel tears streaming down your cheeks and you hide your face, trying to find a bathroom. those orange guys definitely have a bathroom there, right?

and now, you're completely lost, messy and lando norris is in front of your eyes, chatting with someone. you need to get out.

you wait for a while until everyone turns around and run out of there as quickly as you can and-

something taps on your shoulder, and when you turn around, it's him. you're not sure whether you should cry or laugh.

your eyes meet and it's awkward as hell, just like back in highschool.

"didn't think i'd see you again," he says quietly after a minute of just staring. his voice is a little wobbly.

"i wish you didn't," you reply softly, turning back around to make your way back, but he stops you again. he stays quiet.

"congratulations," you say when he doesn't reply, and you mean it. no bad feelings, just like your mum always told you. "you did well,"

lando's hand on your shoulder tightens and he bites his lip, as if he was trying to find the right words.

"i'm sorry." he eventually whispers, voice breaking in the middle, and your heart fucking breaks at the sight, as angry as you are. "i-i'm gonna explain, alright? i'll tell you everything, please,"

you nod in agreement. today just can't get crazier.

he gently leads you somewhere, and you feel your survival instinct kick in, but it's lando. it's always been him.

he closes the door behind you when you sit on the couch in his driver's room. your hands shake.

"go on then," you begin, "explain,"

he takes a deep breath. "listen, i didn't really have a choice. i had to leave, you know? to move up the ladder, and i dropped out, because i wanted to chase this dream," he says, eyes wandering over your face. "and then - then it started being more than a dream, and i left everyone behind, not just you, and i'm so fucking sorry,"

you tense. "you could've at least texted me,"

"and what was i supposed to text you? that i'm leaving the country to become a racing driver and that i'm gonna be living in monaco and flying around the world and might never see you again?"

"anything. you don't even know how i felt after you ditched me," you reply, bitterness coating the sentence.

"i didn't want to ditch you,"

"but you did, lando, and it fucking hurt!" you raise your voice a little, but it's shaky and unstable. lando reaches for your hand.

"i'm sorry, i really am," he whispers, "i thought about you every day, how you're doing, because i loved you. i loved you so fucking much, i wanted you to just forget my dumb ass,"

"i didn't forget," you say, hand brushing against his. "i thought you didn't want me anymore,"

the room goes silent and you can hear each other's breathing.

"i still love you. i never really stopped," you blurt out, not even realizing what you've just said until he pulls you into a much needed hug, whispering a "me too," in your ear.

you pull away, looking into his eyes. he smiles, and it's the most beautiful thing you've ever seen.

"you think we could try again?"