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risuola · 30 days ago

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FEELIN' LUCKY || GETO SUGURU

Suguru has a reputation of a playboy — and rightfully so. He likes to change girls, bedding them as he pleases. He thinks he can have them all. He's a player, a red flag and you show him he's wrong. It's a story about a boy who has everything but craves to have you.

contains: frat boy!suguru x nerdy!reader, pining, maybe a little slowburn-ish, flirting, smut (unprotected sex, some body worship, mentions of hooking up, booty calls, sexting), wc. 9420 ⋯ reader discretion is advised

kinktober '24 masterlist || art in the header: @/chu-cho on tumblr

Suguru knows how to navigate around the campus. He’s tried all the shortcuts, been on all the parties, talked (and fought) with all the teachers. He’s known around — troublemaker, a frat boy, a heartbreaker. It’s no news to anyone that Suguru Geto is a red flag personified; a ladies’ man, playing with every beauty he deems worthy of attention. And he’s lucky too, girls tend to love him, all of them. After all, bad girls love bad boys and good girls, unfortunately, do too. He’s a flame that attracts all the moths, a sin that tempts and renders every heart helpless. He’s a siren song luring women towards their doom. The ultimate playboy, reveling in the attention he gets everywhere he shows up, soaking it up like a cat basking in the sun.

It’s unfair, he jokes sometimes, when he aims to add another notch to his bedpost. Unfair how easy it is for him to have what he wants, how all that meets his gaze is heart-eyes and flushed cheeks. But he likes it, he likes to take, he likes to be wanted and pick from the crowd. It boosts his ego. He is, after all, drop dead gorgeous. He is, truly, with his long, raven hair and purple glint to his eyes, all surrounded by an air of sexy danger coming from his piercings, his clothes and the way he acts.

“Who’s that?” He wonders, mind rushing through the extensive catalogue of female students he knows. “She’s new.” Clearly. He doesn’t know you yet.

You’re pretty, too pretty for him to let you go just like that. You came to the party at the frat house, but you don’t seem to fit right in. Maybe you’re a transfer student? Or a friend of someone? It doesn’t look like you’re someone’s girlfriend. A man that’s sane would not let you wander around such place alone. Not in that dress. You’re gorgeous, breathtaking. You make Suguru’s heart beat a little bit faster, his pulse quickening and he can hear it in his ears, a steady thump echoing over the sound of music. It’s excitement — something he has not felt in a long time.

His friends say something. He’s not listening, eyes laser focused on you and only you. You move with grace, your hips sway from side to side like a pendulum as you find your way through the crowded living room. Your cup is empty, it’s clear from the way you tap it with your fingernail every time someone tries to stop you — you’re pointing on it, gesturing your intentions as you try to speak over the loud music and blurring chatter. You seem polite too, the way you smile brightens the area. He likes how it reaches your eyes, how your nose scrunches a little and the skin near your temples crinkle. Everything about you is hypnotizing, you know what you’re doing. You have to know what you’re doing. You’re magnetic and he wouldn’t be able to resist even if he wanted to.

He doesn’t.

You push through the crowd and Suguru follows, a predator stalking its prey. You are, after all, like a sweet little rabbit tonight. His eyes never leave your back, watching the way your hair sways and bounces with each step you take, how the fabric of your dress hugs your delectable curves. You look soft, he’d love to touch you, to squeeze those plush thighs, to feel the pliable flesh of your rear, to have your chest squeezed against the hard planes of his muscular torso. He wonders how soft your skin is under the fabric, if it’s smooth and warm to touch. He wants to find out, to explore every inch of it until he maps out every mole, scar and birthmark. He licks his lips subconsciously, his tongue swiping over the piercing in his lower lip and he wonders if you’d like it — if the cold metal decorating his mouth would be something you’re into.

He catches you in the kitchen. You’re holding a can of strawberry flavored soda and looking around, and he knows what you’re searching for. “Hey there, beautiful,” he greets smoothly, flashing you a smile that’s known for making girls weak in the knees. “Allow me,” he reaches, taking the cold metal from your hands — his fingers brush against yours as your eyes met, the touch lingering a little longer than necessary but he’s content as he swiftly opens the can for you, earning himself a chuckle.

He’s already got you.

“Thank you,” you smile, taking the drink back and filling your cup with the pinkish liquid. It smells sweet, the delicate aroma of artificial fruit breaking through the typical mixture of sweat and alcohol that fills the room. It’s refreshing, the scent, the look of bubbles dancing at the edges of your cup. You take a sip, tasting the flavor on your tongue and he wants to try it too. From your lips, preferably. Those glistening, cherry-colored lips. Oh, you look delectable.

“I’m Suguru,” he grins again, his eyes scanning your breathtaking features and committing the picture to memory. “I don’t think we’ve met before.” He already envisions you below him.

“I doubt that too,” you nod and you know he’s attracted to you. It’s clear from the way he looks at you, eats you with his eyes only. Obvious from how his gaze lingers on your lips a little longer than he should but you allow him. You introduce himself too and he repeats, testing the name on his tongue.

“What brings a gorgeous woman like you to our little shindig?” He extends his hand out to shake yours, his thumb brushing over your delicate skin as his touch lingers.

“I got invited by one of my friends but I can’t seem to find her in this crowd. I’m sure she’s having fun somewhere though, it’s alright,” you explain, briefly looking over the students crowded in the main area of the house. Most of them are drunk already despite the quite early hour but you don’t mind it. A frat party is exactly what you expected it to be. “I wouldn’t honestly dare to call this a little shindig.”

Suguru chuckles lowly, the sound rumbling in his chest. “Well, I suppose ‘little’ was an understatement,” he grins and sips on his own drink. “How do you like it so far? Do you enjoy the mingling masses and blasting music or maybe I could steal you away? My room is just upstairs.” His eyes flick down to your lips once more before meeting your gaze again, a hint of mischief dancing in their violet depths. One step closer and he’s invading your personal space just slightly. “Because I could show you a good time, if you’d like. Just the two of us, away from all that noise and chaos,” he finishes a little quieter, a little lower. His tone is meant to seduce, to tempt you and he knows it always works. In his mind, he’s already alone with you, he imagines tracing your curves as he trails kisses along your jawline. His touch feels electric against your skin and you have to give him that — he sure does know how to get the attention he wants.

“I appreciate the offer, but I came here for the noise and the chaos,” you reply, smiling as your hand finds his wrist in a gentle caress meant to put some distance between his fingertips and your skin. “It’s not every day I get to attend a party such as this one,” that said, you’re ready to retract when his free hand meets the curve of your hip. You hear a hum and he’s suddenly much closer, you feel his breath on your lips, a mixture of mint and something strongly alcoholic. A little sweet too. A coke, maybe. There’s warmth bouncing off of him, one that you feel tingling on your skin when he leans down to meet your height. The tip of his nose teases yours before it moves to the side, running over the lines of your cheekbone.

“Are you sure?” He asks, smirking as he waits for your resolve to crumble. Not a single girl before you had resisted his charms and you surely are not going to be the first. He enjoys the challenge you present. Most girls would have melted under his touch but you remain composed. He likes that. He likes a woman who knows what she wants. “We could make our own noise, create our own chaos.”

“I’m content with all that’s happening here,” you hum, slipping out of his embrace. “Thank you for the company, Suguru. It was nice to meet you,” and you’re gone.

He stands there, dumbfounded. He stands there, once more looking at your back and he cannot believe what happened. A bunny that slipped from the hands of a wolf, girl that rejected Suguru’s charms, A moth that said no to the flames of his lust. A challenge he’s not going to pass on.

He smirks.

Before, he just wanted to have you.

Now, he has to have you.

And he will do whatever it takes.

Over the next weeks, Suguru has not given up. He hasn’t been able to get you out of his head, his interest in you hasn’t diminished; if anything, it’s grown stronger with each passing day. He’s determined to unravel the enigma that is you, to uncover the secrets hidden behind your captivating eyes and sweet smile. There’s something about you that made him desperate. A mystery he cannot quite unravel, a puzzle he can’t solve. And he thinks of you. He finds himself lost in thoughts of you more often than he’d care to admit. He spots you around campus occasionally, always looking effortlessly stunning and each time, he feels that familiar pull, that undeniable attraction that draws him to you.

Maybe it’s him, who’s the moth.

He doesn’t like this. How you always brush his advances off, how sweetly you smile while doing so. Every time he wants to touch you, you slip right through his fingers. You have tainted him with longing he has never felt before, you ruined him. He doesn’t want other women anymore, the line of booty-calls and flings blocked and removed from his phone. The nights he spends thinking of you, fucking his fist and swearing to all gods above and below to change, asking for a chance to sink his teeth into you. Because he doesn’t want anyone else. And he doesn’t know what you have done to him.

“Fancy seeing you there,” he remarks, settling himself beside you on the bench outside the library. The afternoon is particularly sunny, warmth caressing your skin as you sit comfortably, engrossed in a book. “Mind if I join you?” He asks, but he doesn’t wait for the response, as he leans over to glance at the title of your read. “Ah, philosophy. A deep thinker, huh? I like that.”

“Do you?” You ask, nudging a bookmark between the pages. “You don’t strike me as a philosophical type. You seem to me more of a live-in-the-moment kinda guy.”

He chuckles. “You’d be surprised,” he replies, his tone light and teasing, “there’s more to me than just good looks and undeniable charm. Although, I won’t deny that those are pretty great assets,” he winks playfully. Suguru leans back on the bench, stretching his long legs out in front of him. The ripped, black denim exposes a bit of his thigh, the ink of his tattoos peeking through the dark threads, drawing your attention.

“Oh, the confidence. It’s much more valuable trait than the outside looks,” you hum, leaning against the backrest too.

Geto laughs, a rich, warm sound that carries easily in the quiet outdoor setting. Then, he turns to face you fully, his expression turning serious for a moment. “But you’re right, I’m not usually one for heavy books and deep discussions. I prefer to keep things light and fun.” It’s a confession, he admits to it with a hint of vulnerability that’s quickly pushed behind his typical grin. “Besides, a guy can learn a thing or two from a smart, beautiful woman like yourself.” He flirts, but there’s an underlying sincerity to his words. He leans in closer, his voice dropping to a murmur. “Tell me, what’s so captivating about this particular tome? What insights does it hold to have captured your attention so thoroughly?”

“It’s a tale of a man discovering what really matters in modern life, a story of loss and reconciliation. The narrator, whose days are counted due to sudden diagnosis, meets the Devil who offers him an extra day of life in exchange of making one thing in the world disappear,” you explain briefly and he watches your fingers dancing over the front cover of the book, tracing the lines of the simple graphic of a cat. “There comes the question, how do you separate out what you can do without from what you hold dear? I think it’s something we don’t pay much attention to in our lives because we have everything within reach, but what if something just… disappeared? The narrator has to take responsibility for each one of his decisions. There’s no going back, there never will be, once a thing is gone, it’s gone.”

Suguru listens intently, his expression thoughtful as he absorbs your words. “That’s quite… It makes you think, doesn’t it?” He muses, nodding slowly. “It makes you wonder what you’d choose to erase if given a chance to live just a day longer.”

“The question of how to decide what’s okay to remove and what’s not is what makes me think the most,” you look up. The day is beautiful today, fluffy clouds travel sparsely over the azure blue sky, the sun warms your skin with its golden rays and the birds sing, hidden within the crowns of the nearby trees. You hear some chatter, somewhere from the distance where other students pass by, you hear the cars that honk impatiently as they stand in the traffic and you hear a dog barking. There’s a park not far away. “Some things that are insignificant to me might be the entire world to someone else.”

“So you think the burden of consequences might outweigh the price of life itself,” he notes, his eyes studying the lines of your profile. Your eyes, reflecting the blue of the sky, your cheeks flushed from the wind and sunrays. He thinks the color of your scarf makes your complexion looks brighter. “I don’t know if I would be capable of eradicating something from the world permanently. At first, I thought it might be easy, just get rid of something small and simple, but then it made me wonder if things I think are unimportant, truly are so.”

Truth is, Suguru doesn’t think he would dwell much about the topic if not you, but he wonders what if. What if he made a decision that would cause a war? Or someone else’s loss? What if a thing that he picks results in him not meeting you?

“That’s what philosophy does to you,” you chuckle, turning your gaze back to him, just to meet his eyes glued to yourself.

“But maybe that’s what makes life worth living,” he turns to you fully, his eyes wondering as he drops his usual playfulness and mischief. “It’s much easier to pretend we have control over our lives and the world around us rather than confront the harsh truth that we are all just tiny cogs in a vas, unpredictable machine. But maybe it’s the uncertainty, the constant surprises, the knowledge that anything can change in an instant what makes the journey worth the effort.”

“Maybe it is,” you nod, taking a moment to let his words sink in. “I wouldn’t expect you to engage in topics such as this. I apologize,” you offer a smile and he melts.

“You know, most people assume I’m just a pretty face. They don’t expect me to have substance beneath the surface,” he muses, his expression turning thoughtful before he lets out a breathy chuckle. “I guess I do give them the reasons to do so. But I really enjoy talking to you. It’s nice to have conversations that aren’t just surface-level flirting and innuendos. There’s just something about you...” He trails off, reaching out tentatively, brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His fingers linger against your skin for a moment before falling away. “I like how you challenge me, make me think deeper than I usually do. You are a puzzle I can’t wait to solve.” His gaze locks with yours, his expression open and vulnerable in a way you haven’t seen from him before. “Can I see you again? Like this, I mean. Just talking, getting to know each other better.”

The question hangs heavy in the air as you consider it. You will meet him again, one way or another, somewhere around the campus or at another frat party. You will see him again as he targets another girl, flirting his way into another pair of panties. And you exhale, your lips curving upwards slightly as you lean your head on your fist, elbow on your knee.

“Suguru,” you begin, his name slipping over your tongue with ease you enjoy. But you know better than this. You have seen it all too well how he treats women. “I enjoy conversing with you and if it’s just talk that you want from me, then I will find time to meet you again. But I need you to know that I will not allow myself to be another notch on your bedpost. It’s easy to get swayed by your charms, but I know your reputation and I know it for sure that if I had to give up one thing in the world, it would never be self-respect.”

And he knows for sure that if he had to give up romance for the rest of his life just to have you, he wouldn’t think twice about it.

“I don’t want to charm my way between your legs,” he swears, too quickly, too desperate to make himself believable and he groans, annoyed by his own self. He nervously runs his hand through his dark, raven hair. “Just, please, give me a chance. I won’t lie to your face and say that I’m suddenly ready to settle down or that I’m done sowing my wild oats entirely. I know what kind of reputation I have and I can’t deny that I’ve played the field more times than I can count. I’ve earned it fair and square,” he admits, his voice tinged with a hint of bitterness. All of the lustful nights flashed before his eyes, the nameless girls, the empty promises and unanswered calls afterwards. All the nudes, all the sexts, all the quickies in the locker rooms and dingy bathrooms. Suguru would give them all away if only earned a chance to be with you. “I want to change. I already started to change. You don’t have to believe me right away, but you are different. From the moment I laid eyes on you, I knew there was something special about you. And I won’t lie that I’m not attracted to you physically. That would be impossible. But there’s more to it than that. Something worth pursuing beyond just a one-night stand.”

“And what change are you talking about?” You quiz. “Because as far as I am concerned, I’ve seen you flirting with some girls just yesterday.”

And he winces, unable to deny your accusation. “You’re right, I did flirt with them. It’s become a second nature to me, a habit I can’t seem to break easily.” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair once more, frustrated. “But it didn’t go further than talk. I didn’t… I’ve stopped sleeping around. I blocked and removed all the girls’ numbers from my phone, deleted the pictures I had. Fuck, I even declined an invitation for a party with my pals, for the first time since high school. Look,” he leans in, his eyes locked with yours and his hand finds yours. You feel his thumb rubbing soft circles on your knuckles and you wonder if it’s to soothe you or himself. “Being with you, talking to you… it’s opened my eyes to what I have been missing out on. I’ve spent so long chasing meaningless encounters, never allowing myself to form real connections with anyone and now, I’ve tasted something more substantial and realized just how hollow my previous pursuits have been. I want to do better. For you, yes, but also for myself. I want to prove to you that I’m capable of more than just cheap thrills and empty promises.”

It’s true, everything he says. He is ready to drop the player mask, to shed his frat repute just to have a chance at something real, something that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his stomach bubble with butterflies. He is ready to say no to easy sex just to fight for your attention, your touch, your heart.

He is genuine, but you just hum, your expression unreadable as you weigh your next words. You like him desperate. You like how his violet eyes sparkle with puppy-like vulnerability rather than a flirty mischief. And he is beautiful, you cannot deny it — a man of impressive built, clad in ripped jeans and leather, heavy boots and a band tee. He looks like he bites, and you know he does. You take in the sight of his piercings, the large gauges, the snake bites in his lower lip, the piercing across the bridge of his nose, right between his captivating eyes and the one right above his left brow. You wonder what kissing him would feel like. Would the metal come in the way? Or maybe it would add to the experience?

“I’m not sure what to tell you,” you sigh. “I will give you a chance if you think you can change. But you’ll need to prove it. Think about it.”

And he did.

The lonely nights he spends at the frat house, laying in bed instead of partying with his friends, he wonders where the path of his change will lead him. What if it’s him, confronting the devil and having a chance to lose himself just to earn a day with you? He thinks he’d take it. He’s sure he would. He flips on the mattress, his eyes squinting as the lights from his phone blinded him with a new message. An unknown number. He opens it, it’s a picture, a bare body that he recognizes by the butterfly tattoo on the ribcage. A nude from one of his exes. She must have gotten a new number because he remembers vividly how he blocked her. Usually, he wouldn’t think twice about it, he’d reply with something cheeky, possibly send an explicit picture of himself, maybe set up a meeting or invite her over. His fingers typed the message before his brain managed to intervene and once he hit ‘send’, he cursed out loud.

“Fuck, you idiot!”

A pillow flew across the room as he stared at the ceiling. Would it hurt to go once more with no strings attached? It’s been some time since he’s gotten laid and the vision of tension coming off of him was a temptation beyond measure. But what about you? What about a change he had promised?

Is the change even for him?

Suguru stares at his phone screen, the message he sent glowing mockingly back at him, a shameful reminder of his weak self-restraint. The girl already replied, they always reply so fast, and he doesn’t know what to do. He knows he fucked up, he knows he shouldn’t have responded. He shouldn’t have even entertained the idea of hooking up with his ex, or any other girl. It goes against everything he told you, everything he promised.

With a heavy sigh, he tosses his phone aside, despite the notifications flooding his inbox. More pictures, the location, the time — an annoying ding makes his blood boil and he groans, burying his face in his hands. He feels conflicted, torn between his desire for physical release and growing feelings for you. He wants to be better, to be the man you deserve, to be the man that deserves you. He wants to prove to you that he’s serious about changing, but old habits die hard. The temptation is still there, lurking in the shadows of his mind, waiting for a split second of vulnerability.

He tosses and turns in bed. His thoughts race with the pictures of you, his mind replaying every conversation, every shared laugh and stolen touch. He remembers the way your eyes sparkled when you discussed philosophy, the passion in your voice as you told him about the importance of self-respect. He realizes that those moments were more fulfilling than any other fleeting pleasure he’s experienced before.

But he gets up anyway, he pulls up his dark-washed jeans and a hoodie, socks and boots and he’s ready to go. With a jacket grabbed in the hallway and a phone in his hand, he leaves the house. The crisp air of near winter hits him the moment he steps outside, cooling the blood in his veins and clearing his thoughts.

12 unread messages.

He groans again, this time into the nightly silence as he strides through the pavement, legs leading him in the direction of his doom. Suguru slips the earphones in, plays on the music but the melody and lyrics are helpless against the chaos in his mind.

It’s pointless, to resist his own body. He knows it’s pointless, he knows he has control over his legs and deep down he knows he would reject the booty call if he truly wanted. You deserve a better man anyway, not a player that fucks around like it’s a sport. You deserve someone who would worship the ground you walk on, a man of culture and manners with whom you’d engage in long, deep conversations late in the evenings, not a man-boy who cannot control his own dick. But fuck, does he wants you.

He wants you so bad, he wants to be all those things for you. He wants those discussions about philosophy and life, he wants to kiss your knuckles and be the knight in the shining armor, carrying you in his arms and shielding you from the world and assholes such as himself.

He lights up the cigarette, taking a deep breath in and looking up. The night is pretty. Calm. He wonders if you are already sleeping. Or maybe it’s one of those nights that you pull in order to study and secure your grades. The semester just began but he learned it already that you care about your future more than he does about his own. You’re a little nerdy. He thinks it’s cute. He can imagine himself wrapping a blanket around your shoulders when it’s late and carrying you to bed when you’re falling asleep on top of the books and notes. You would fit perfectly in his arms.

“You fucking moron,” he slanders himself quietly, already seeing the motel in front of him. He shouldn’t be there but he moves forward anyway. He knows his ex is already waiting for him, he can tell by the lights in the room they always used to book for the casual encounters. He stops before he enters, giving the smoke few more moments to burn. He can feel it in his lungs, somehow calming as he checks his phone, scrolling through the notifications.

One of the messages is from you.

It’s innocent in the sea of suggestive texts. There’s an apology for the late hour and a book title that you promised to send him a day before. The one you’ve been reading for the last few days and the one that made him rethink his entire life’s choices. There’s not much substance in the message, but it shakes him awake.

The turn he takes is aggressive, it’s resolute. Heavy boots thudding against the concrete panels as he walks away from the motel. ‘Sorry, not coming.’ He sends the message and blocks the number, feeling lighter the second he removes the nude picture and the unwanted contact.

It takes just an hour before he knocks at your door, the dormitory silent in the nightly time so he keeps himself quiet. You open after a long moment, dressed in a make-shift pajama. He likes the way your hair is messy from the pillows, how you smell like vanilla and flowers and coffee. You look so pretty like this, so undone, so unexpecting yet not entirely disappointed to see him. You seem… content?

“Suguru?” His name comes from your mouth and you usher him inside, afraid of someone seeing him. Once the doors shut behind him, your eyes search him for answers.

“Brought you some food, I thought you might need it,” he grinned, showing off the box of pizza and a bottle of soda. “I figured you’re studying tonight and might need some fuel.”

“So thoughtful,” you tease, but the smile that shapes your mouth reaches your eyes, so he knows it’s genuine. He follows you to your bedroom and he’s not surprised seeing the notes all over your bed and scattered on the floor. The papers full of sparsely highlighted knowledge that you want to transfer into your brain take most of the space before you gather them onto a neat pile. He sits right there, on the newly uncovered spot on your mattress. It feels intimate, to be in your room, to rest on your bed, to see you in your pajama. He wonders if you know what the sight of your thighs does to him, the plush, tender flesh begging to be touched, kissed and kneaded. Suguru thinks your skin would look beautiful with bitemarks all over.

“So, pizza,” he clears his throat after letting his eyes linger for way too long on your bare legs. “I took pepperoni, I hope you like it.”

“It’s perfect,” you smile and separate the barely cut pieces for easier access. “I appreciate the thought, really. But there was no need for you to leave the house just to do this.”

“For you, I would do it at every hour,” he says and then sighs deeply. “But truth is, I didn’t plan this.” Suguru feels like he’s inside the confessional. It’s a foreign tension, completely different from the one he felt just hour before. The knot in his stomach has nothing to do with lust and desire and all to do with stress and regret. “I’ve received a booty-call from my ex. That’s why I left the house,” he spats it out quickly, thinking it’ll hurt less if he does it in rush. “I didn’t go there though. I told her I’m not coming, blocked the number and came here instead.”

You stay neutral, chewing on the pizza as your tired eyes size him up. “Old habits die hard, huh?” You mock, slightly amused by his tormented expression. His eyebrow creases before he lets himself drop back onto the mattress, a soft grunt escaping his mouth as he covers his face with his hands.

“I meant it. I want to change and I’m working on it.” He says, his voice quiet and devoid of his usual cheekiness. “I fucked up when I entertained the idea of hooking up with a random person tonight but cut me some slack, I didn’t do it.”

“Good boy,” you mock-praise and he groans again, but then his entire body tenses when you lay next to him. He feels your breath against his cheek, the tip of your nose prodding the flesh. He doesn’t move, too afraid to ruin the moment. “Do you regret it? Not going, I mean. Be honest, don’t say what I want to hear.”

“I don’t,” he replies, his tone resolute. “I don’t regret not meeting my ex and not having sex tonight. I was pent up — fuck me, I still am, and when I replied to her text, I didn’t think much about anything except for my dick. But I don’t regret not going because I didn’t want to go. And I’m grateful that you texted me because you reminded me what really is important. Right now, it’s you.”

It makes you smile. He’s torn inside of his mind but you take it as a win anyway. Before, Suguru wouldn’t second-guess pulling his pants down and now you made him think. Now, you made him reconsider; wonder who he is without the façade of the charismatic ladies’ man. He will have to learn to navigate social situations without relying solely on his charm and wit to get what he wants. But he can do this. For you.

Before he speaks again, you’re asleep already. Sideways on the bed, most likely uncomfortable but right next to him and he doesn’t dare to move a muscle in his body. You’re sleeping, your face just an inch from his own. The soft fragrance of your skin fills in his nostrils and not even the smell of pizza nearby can disturb it. There’s a hair somewhere around his face, he doesn’t know if it’s yours or his own, but it tickles his cheek every time you exhale. It’s fine.

An hour passes and he finally gathers the courage to shift, as carefully as he can, he turns to his side, to face you. You’re a vision he takes in with his eyes wide open, committing the picture of your peaceful expression to memory. He likes everything about you, every hair of your eyebrows, every freckle and beauty mark. He likes the way you look so unbothered, so comfortable next to him. He wants to touch you. Oh, how much he craves to caress your cheek, to thread his fingers through your hair. His heart thumps in his chest, reaching speeds matching those of sprinters. The feeling is foreign. Is this…? It cannot be. Suguru Geto is not about… that. His entire life he believed he’s meant to have fun, no strings attached, no responsibilities. What did you do to him?

You move and he stops breathing. It’s an instinct, he thinks, that you shift closer to him, but he tells himself you want that. And you fit so well against his chest, your head below his chin, your hand around his middle. The room spins and he wraps you in the embrace of his arms.

He feels your heartbeat, the gentle rise and fall of your breathing and suddenly, he calms down. It sinks into his mind that it’s where he wants to be. All the years of empty flings, the mediocre orgasms, the shameless pursuits could never compare to the feeling of you in his arms. That’s what he has been missing on. And he will do everything to be the man deserving of you.

Time passes, and Suguru slowly falls into the rhythm of his newfound resolve. It’s easy to decline hookup invitations when he can spend time with you, but maybe he did feel a little too confident when he decided to attend the big, annual party at the frat house. It’s Halloween, after all, how could he not go there when everyone will come? Quickly he falls into familiar routine of charms and alcohol, nursing a beer from a red plastic cup and chatting playfully with attractive attendees. His friends push him towards temptation, inviting more and more girls to the crowd and Suguru feels drawn to the lively atmosphere, the flirtatious banter comes as easy as breathing.

That is, before a pretty sophomore dressed in a devil costume takes a seat next to him — a seat he has kept for you, because you promised you’ll come, despite the need to study. It’s fine if the girl sits there for a moment or two, he thinks, as he engages in a conversation. He knows, it’s as obvious as day, that the second-year beauty is interested in getting into his pants — her hand on his thigh, the fluttering eyelashes and pouty lips say everything about her intentions. As the night progresses, he finds himself more and more… uncomfortable. Surprisingly.

And so, he feels relieved when he sees you in the crowd, late but looking absolutely adorable in your sweet bunny costume. It’s simple yet makes his pants grow tighter as he takes in the way the plain black dress hugs your curves. The fluffy tail bounces with each step you take through the filled living area and the long, pink-lined ears swing just slightly along with your hair whenever you move your head around, looking for something — for him and his heart skips a beat. In that moment, everything fades away — the raucous laughter, the pulsing music, even the sophomore girl next to him.

Excusing himself from company, he forces a smile as he brushes the invasive hand off his thigh and gets up from the sofa, making his way over to you. “Hey there, cutie,” he greets, pulling you into a hug and you melt into his chest in an instant. “Glad you could make it.” He breathes in your scent, letting it calm his nerves but it does little to calm other things down. Fuck, you look perfect.

“How could I miss my favorite frat boy sporting a vampire costume?” You quiz, backing up a little to take in his attire. He’s wearing all black, a dress shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest, pants that make his legs look even longer than they are. His eyes are smudged with little bit of black eyeliner but it works for him, he looks sexy. “Aren’t you a pretty one. I might consider letting you bite me,” you tease, and he knows you’re joking but it doesn’t stop the blood in his body to travel downwards.

“Careful what you wish for, bunny,” he muses, “I might just take you up on that offer and sink my teeth into that delectable neck of yours.” His fingers intertwine with yours as he lifts your hand to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your knuckles before he leads your arm up onto his shoulder. “God, I missed you,” he murmurs as he lowers his head, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He feels you chuckle, your nails scratching at his scalp as you thread your fingers through his dark locks. Once more you proved him that the change is worth it, because it’s you who’s on the line. “Dance with me?” He asks and you move with him towards the makeshift dancefloor.

Suguru pulls you closer as you enter the rhythm of the music, one hand resting on the small of your back while the other twirls you around gracefully. You’re giggling, amused by the undivided attention he pays you — he’s sweet when he has his eyes on the target, when he has to work for something. He dips you dramatically and your hand tighten on his shoulder, but it’s secure, the way he holds you as if he wished to protect you from all the bad in the world. His eyes lock with yours as he pulls you back up, flush against him. The heat radiating off both your bodies mingles together, creating an intoxicating aura that threatens to consume you whole.

You don’t really listen to what’s playing, a melody mellows in the background as his hands trace patterns along your sides and hips, follow the line of your spine, sometimes teasing the fluffy ball that is your tail. His touch ignites sparks wherever he grazes, leaving trails of fire in its wake. He’s hungry, for you, and you are too. It’s hard to deny it any longer and you think that maybe, just maybe he is ready to commit to something more than just a fleeting romance. It’s been months since he began pursuing you and his attention has been focused solely on you, despite the obstacles and temptations of his life. A reward wouldn’t hurt now, would it?

“I need a drink,” you tell him and he’s quick to react, taking your hand and leading the way towards the kitchen. He knows what you like, snatching a can of strawberry soda from the counter. When you nod in approval, he opens it, too hasty, too eager, that he doesn’t realize the way it bubbles over, spilling over the aluminum container and his fingers. Before he can react, your lips are already on his skin, licking away the sticky trail of pinkish liquid.

Suguru freezes as he feels your tongue glide across his skin, tasting the sweetness of the spilled soda. A shiver runs down his spine at the sensation, his breath hitching in his throat. Desire darkens his eyes, pupils dilate as he watches, transfixed, how you lick the sugary mess from his fingers. The sensation sends jolts of electricity coursing through his veins, pooling in the pit of his stomach. He breathes out your name, but you’re quick to shut him up.

You pull him down, your hand in his hair as you press your lips to his own. He tastes the strawberry sweetness of the soda on your tongue as it dances with his own, the flavor mixing deliciously with the taste of you. The dripping can is soon forgotten on the fake-marble countertop as he scoops you closer, arms wrapping around your waist securely. He can feel the heat of your body through the thin fabric of your costume, the softness of your curves molding perfectly against the hardness of his muscles. He’s eager, he moans lightly into your mouth, the sound vibrating against your lips. You feel the cold metal rubbing against your face, it’s interesting, it’s addicting. You like it.

“Always wanted to try that,” he pants out when for a moment you pull back. He chases your mouth, hungry for more, desperate.

“The soda?” You ask, pressing soft pecks to his pout.

“You.” He lounges forward once again, unsatiated and you don’t stop him. You don’t hear music anymore, all that’s rumbling in your ear is the sound of your heartbeat. You feel the heat in your veins, the flooding of ecstasy filling your cells one by one. There’s no space left between you, but you take a step forward anyway. You feel his hips rolling, a desperate cry for any sort of friction and when you slip your hand down, palming his groin through his pants, he groans into your mouth as his hips buck involuntarily into your touch. “Please,” he begs, eyes locking with yours as he leans his forehead against your own. He can feel himself throbbing beneath the confines of his pants, straining desperately for more of your attention. “You want me too, please tell me you do. I can’t… It hurts, I crave you so much, it hurts.”

“Let’s get out of here,” you murmur. “Your room is upstairs, isn’t it?”

“It is,” he breathes out. “But I won’t take you there. You deserve better than this place and my filthy bed. Let me take you to my apartment.”

He doesn’t wait for an answer and you follow him anyway, your hand incased in his large one, sticky from the spilled soda but none of you seem to care as you saunter through the dancing crowd of young people. Just to get outside.

The walk is a blur, you don’t remember much of it and so does Suguru. The night air is crisp, sending chills down your spine and the boy teases you about it, promising all the warmth he can produce in just few moments. You laugh with him, unbothered by the cool wind that tousles your hair. “It’s just around the corner,” he promises and you hum, matching his pace as he leads you through the neon-lit streets of Tokyo. The world blur into nothing, all you see is the man that holds your hand, the blue-ish hint to his hair whenever the lights fall on it just right, the sticky heat of his palm. You can still smell the faint strawberry aroma; you can definitely feel it on your tongue even though you didn’t manage to truly take a sip of it.

And you laugh again when he fumbles with the keys to his apartment. “Nervous?” You tease him playfully. “You have no idea,” he replies, smiling sheepishly and the entry finally swings open. He ushers you inside, kicking the door shut behind him and flicking the lights on.

Suguru wastes no time, pulling you flush against him once more as he presses you against the nearest wall, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands roam your body greedily, mapping out every dip and curve, learning the shape of you and you do the same. He shrugs the jacket off and you’re quick to explore the broad lines of his shoulders, the hard muscles of his chest and stomach. You feel him everywhere, the hungry touch devouring every inch of your form. He breaks the kiss, trailing his lips down the column of your neck, sucking and biting the sensitive skin and you whimper breathily — the sound undeniably similar to his own name.

Your fingers tangle in his hair, guiding him lower as he reaches your chest. His kisses grow more wet and delicate as he meets the soft mounds of your breasts, tightly confined by the neckline of your dress. He breaths in your scent, an intoxicating mixture of sweet and floral. It makes his head spin, it’s addicting. He wants more.

It’s easy to slip the dress off of you — first the straps and then the garment goes down, inch by inch revealing the smooth expanse of your skin to his starved gaze. He drinks in the sight of you, his eyes roaming hungrily over the newly exposed flesh and in that moment he swears he has never seen a more beautiful woman in his entire life. His fingers skim along the edges of your bra, tracing the lace delicately before he leans in again, kissing your lips with softness that speaks more than any words could. He wants you, but he wants to worship you. He doesn’t want to make it all about lust and desire, he wants to make it about you and him. About whatever is this feeling that bubbles between you.

And so, he moves down slowly, lips mapping out the curve of your collarbone and down the path to your sternum. His hands follow your curves with gentleness he doesn’t recognize in himself. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, his hot breath meeting the skin of your stomach, “just breathtaking,” he lowers himself to his knees — something he has never done in his entire life, used to have women at his feet.

“Suguru,” you breathe out but he doesn’t listen. Not when the skin of your thighs feels so soft against his cheeks, not when it tastes so delicious as he trails wet, open-mouthed kisses along the plush flesh. Your fingernails find a way into his hair and he dives between your legs, encouraging one of them to hook over his shoulder. He savors the scent of you, his nose rubbing against the fabric of your underwear, prodding at the little wet patch. He licks it, his tongue flattening over the cotton, catching a hint of your taste — and that’s enough to make him go crazy for you.

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he breathes out, every exhale that meets the wetness of your panties sends jolts of electricity up your spine and back down to your core. He presses his lips to where he thinks your clit is, you feel him sucking gently and it’s enough friction to feel yourself pulsating. You moan quietly, the sound escaping your parted lips easily as your hold on his hair tightens. There’s no denying that you want him just as much as he wants you. He’s desperate but so are you.

Your knee buckle as he continues the torture and he coos sweetly. “Let’s take you to bed, you sweet thing,” his tone is sugary, a melody dripping with honey as he smiles at you in a way that makes you blush. There’s adoration written all over his face, his cheeks are flushed, lips red and glistening. You want to follow him when he stands up, but he swoops you off your feet, carrying you bridal style towards the bedroom. It makes you giggle.

“Practicing already?” You muse and he just smiles.

“Perhaps.”

Your back meets the cold bedspread as he lays you down delicately. No time is wasted before he’s right above you, right on you — you feel the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress. No complains about it. He feels good, his hips rolling in a way that has his bulging erection grind along your panties. You hate the fabrics between you two, you hate how they make you feel less of him.

So you move your hands, slide them between your bodies, fumble with the buttons of his shirt. “Impatient much?” He teases, but helps you, pulling the shirt over his head, saving you trouble of the bottom fasteners. His lips find yours in a kiss that burns and you whimper into it, feeling the warmth spreading all over your body.

You reach down. Button, zipper. Your hands tremble as you push the fabric off his hips and he kicks it down. He helps himself with a hand and soon, his pants are on the ground, along with his socks and your bra, that you impatiently toss away. Suguru’s heart rumbles against his ribcage as he takes in the sight of your bare chest. It’s perfect, you are perfect and he cannot believe the luck he has — after years of chasing simple pleasures and meaningless peaks, he had finally found someone he wants to call his.

He feels your heart underneath his cheek as he leans down, inhaling the scent of your skin — his nose trails patterns over the soft flesh before he presses his lips to it, kissing his way towards one of your nipples. It pebbles beneath his touch, hardening as he latches onto it, sucking and teasing it with teeth, twirling his tongue all around. He matches his ministrations with his fingers, not letting the twin feel left out. Your taste is of pure heaven and the sounds that leave your mouth are ones of an angel.

There’s a patch of wet on his boxers, right where the throbbing head of his cock strains against the fabric — the precum oozing out as he grinds his hips against yours. It makes him insane how you reply with the roll of your own, to match his moves, to cause more of that delicious friction that sends both of you into a spiral of desire.

Unable to wait any longer, you hook your fingers at the waistband of his underwear, tugging it down and Suguru replies with the same — pulling the soaked cotton off of you. He wants to taste you, and he will, but not now. He reaches down, guiding the tip of his cock between the folds of your pussy, the head sliding with ease as your slick mixes with the pearly beads of semen. He loves the way your thighs tremble every time he glides over your sensitive clit, how your breath hitches and eyes close.

“Ready?” The question falls and you nod fervently, your hands finding his shoulders for balance. “Use your words, beautiful.”

“I’m ready,” you assure and then, your back arches off the mattress. He slides in inch by inch, stretching you, filling you so completely, making you go blind for a moment. The pain burns just faintly, losing its flames to the flooding of endorphins and pleasure. He goes in to the hilt, his body shuddering as he drops his head to the crook of your neck.

The feeling overwhelms him. The way your pussy grips him, like a vice that almost pulls him in more and more. It’s delightful. Ecstatic. It’s something he’s never experienced before. Is that what love feels like? He moves, slowly backing his hips until there’s nothing but a tip nestled inside you before he pushes forward again, knocking the air out of your lungs and his own too.

You paw at his arms, his back and chest. You want him closer, you want to feel all of him. Stars are clouding your vision, the world ceases to exist and there’s nothing else in it but you and the man on top of you. He feels so good, like he’s meant to be right there with you and Suguru feels the same. Like he found home, like he belongs there, in the warmth of your embrace, in the tightness of your walls. He loves the way you cling to him, the way your nails dig into his skin and your heels dig into his ass, urging him to go harder, faster. He complies, his hips snapping against yours as the wet sounds of your bodies colliding echo through the room, alongside your moans and gasps.

He changes the angle, shifting his hips to hit that spot inside you that makes the stars glitter before your eyes. He knows he’s found it when your back arches off the bed, your nails scoring down his back and a scream tears from your throat. He loves the sound, he loves the sight. He loves how you come undone, how beautifully blissed out your expression is, how your eyes lock with his even though you see nothing but haze. He grins, a smile lost against your skin as he continues pounding into you relentlessly, chasing his own high. He can feel it already, it threatens to consume him. His balls draw up tight, his heart races in his chest.

He buries his face in the crook of your neck, muffling his groans and whimpers against your tender flesh as his hand grips your hip tightly. You match him thrust for thrust, nails leaving angry red marks in their wake. You feel the pleasure building inside you, coiling tighter and tighter until you feel you might explode. Your walls start to flutter around him to the rhythm of your heartbeat and the desire coursing through your veins.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” Suguru gasps, his voice strained with exertion. He knows you’re close, it drives him insane. “I’m gonna—” He cuts himself off with a guttural moan as his climax hits him like a freight train. He follows you into the pit of pure delight, headfirst, no thoughts. Just pure, overwhelming bliss.

He collapses on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, as his hips buck forward few more times, riding out your highs with stuttered thrusts. You both lay there, panting and sweating, basking in the afterglow of passion. His softening cock slips out of you, followed by a gush of combined fluids but none of you worries about the mess, too blissed out to care about a thing.

“Wow,” he breathes, nuzzling his face into your neck, finding your pulse with his lips. “That was incredible.”

You giggle softly, carding your fingers through his sweat-dampened locks. They feel like silk, soft and luxurious. “Mm, it certainly was.”

“I don’t deserve you,” he exhales, rolling off of you and pulling you into his arms. He presses a tender kiss to your temple, marveling at the intimacy of the moment. It feels new, like an uncharted territory that he wants to explore further. With you. “I meant what I said earlier,” he murmurs, his voice barely above whisper and sincere. “I want to be better. To be worthy of you.”

You hum, lifting your head to look at him and all you see in his violet eyes is raw honesty and a depth of emotion that takes your breath away. “I believe you,” you tell him, leaning in to capture his lips in a slow, lingering kiss. There’s no more rush, no more lust — just pure, soft affection. “And I want to help you change. Together, yeah?”

Suguru smiles against our mouth, his heart swelling with love he never knew he was capable of.

Together.

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inkskinned · 8 months ago

Text

you found out today that a phrase you have used before was coined by an abusive man. this felt like getting your teeth taken out. it made you sick and sad and tired, but not surprised.

bad people tell you to be careful when you talk badly of bad men, that it could "ruin" a life. you had your life ruined by a bad man, not that it ever matters to them. your real life having real consequences is not valued as highly as the potential of his future.

this has always been a frustrating little mathematics problem for you. you've missed school and had to call out sick at work and had panic attacks that lasted for weeks. it stole sleep and food and friends from you. you cried in public, fucked your relationships up. and the whole time: your present has never mattered so much as the great what if! of his future. like - one life (your life) is already ruined, should we really ruin two?

so you live with the consequences and he doesn't, and that's just like, something you need therapy for. you once discussed this with one of your friends over coffee. she chewed the wooden stirrer, looked off into the distance. "once i became a victim, everything that happens to me afterward is automatically less interesting in the eyes of the general public. it is always about him. he changed my identity. to survivor. to statistic. meanwhile this whole time - i am a person."

you learned in college that three out of five of your favorite artists and authors were actually abusive assholes. these days, you are no longer surprised. oh, is that what was happening behind closed doors? of course it was, he was a "genius," and she was just a girl. you are talking about him in art history, so obviously his career was absolutely ruined, for eternity. that's what happens, right? they strike your name from the record and refuse to remember you? nobody really knows her name, but hey. that's what you get for being close to celebrity.

you got into an argument about it, which was a bad argument, because it made you cry. he said what, you want us to just ignore all the things this man did because he made a few women uncomfortable? and you'd balled your fists up and choked on it. later, in bed, you agonized over the response you'd been trying to articulate but never found the right moment to deploy: you are ignoring what any person could do if they weren't being fucking abused. maybe her talents far exceeded his and she was just never allowed to fucking use them. maybe we only see genius in white men because they purposefully fucking squash and silence any other people with talent.

but you'd cried about it instead of saying that, because you are the cost. you are the talent and potential that he took. you used to be brave and smart and clever and unafraid. like a lich, he stole years of your life.

quiet on set made you sad and sick and tired, but not surprised. unfortunately, one of the things he said was true: an entire network of people allowed it to continue. this is not news to you, because you have seen entire networks of people make the same fucking excuses when the same thing or-worse happened to you. and your particular story isn't even in hollywood. it was just a guy. it was still difficult getting people to stand up for you.

you and your friend wait in line for your coffee. like a standup joke, one man turns to the other and says "can't wait for every bitch to come crawling out of the woodwork complaining about harassment. it's another metoo." and you think - oh, that's the network. your boss tucks her hair back and whispers that while your skirt is cute, you're giving the boys the wrong idea. that's the network. when you'd told your "friend" about what happened, she'd said oh you must have misunderstood, that would never happen. and that's the network.

you woke up this morning panting, because years later you still have panic attacks. oh, it's not a network, actually, it's a web. and you, little moth: are you still surprised you're caught in it?

#warm up #spilled ink #writeblr

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landorris · 1 month ago

Text

melbourne anymore l oscar piatri x ex!reader

summary; where oscar and yn decide break up but they’re not very good at staying friends. part two

fc; madison beer

warnings; english is not my first language, kinda sad but cute, inspired by “kansas anymore” by role model <3

───────── ౨ৎ ─────────

yourusername

liked by redbullracing, maxverstappen and others

yourusername oh f1 you’ve been good to me! thank you to @redbullracing for inviting me for the weekend and congratulations @maxverstappen1 on your win, amazing performance! 🦁🧡🏆

user1 first we don’t hear about yn for months, and then when we hear is f1 related AND about max…… WHAT HAPPEN WITH OSCAR

user2 yall i think they broke up

redbullracing thanks for coming queen! hope to see you again soon! our writing’s on the wall tell us you’ll be back 👀💙💙

yourusername 💙💙💙

user3 that last part is kinda sus

user4 what is yn up to

maxverstappen1 thank you yn!! hope to see you again soon!

yourusername hope to see you again soon to max!

user5 this friendship is amazing

yn’s phone

a month later….

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri thank you australia for this weekend, felt good to be home! 🇦🇺🦘🐨

user1 yn liking oh man…

user2 the friendship bracelets 💞💞💞

user3 yn is in australia, you think she was there?

user4 great race osc!

yn’s phone, first is the night after the race, second is the morning after

a few weeks later…

f1gossip

liked by user1, user2 and others

f1gossip spotted! oscar piastri walking around the paddock with a new girl! we haven’t seen him with a girl since he broke up with yn, seems like he moved on! we love to see him happy😁😁

user1 im pretty sure that’s norris sister

user2 lando would never let this happen

user3 yeah look at his happy face 😑

landossister that’s me! he was just keeping me company cuz my brother abandoned me, i also happen to have a boyfriend so please confirm everything before you post things like this, thanks!🧡

(ps. do you have any ideia how hard it is to find a photo of this man with lily where he isn’t all smiley and giggling????????? this man is IN love)

yn’s phone

moths later…

yourusername story

replies:

user1 oscar???

user2 who’s the musician guy?👀

yourbestfriend FINALLY

yourusername it’s coming out today i can’t belive

yourusername do you think people will like it?

yourusername what if he gets mad

yourbestfriend they’ll like it

yourbestfriend and he’ll be proud just like i am

yourusername i love you

yourbestfriend i love you too

yourusername

liked by yourbestfriend, oscarpiastri and others

yourusername heyy!! so i’ve been working on something for a few months now and i am more than proud to announce that my first album just came out!! i actually loved how this turned out and i hope you do to🫧🫧🫧🪽 melbourne anymore is now ours in all streaming plataforms 🤍🤍

yourbestfriend SO SO SO SO PROUD OF YOU

yourusername I LOVE YOU

user1 i didn’t know you could sing wtf

user2 this is amazing

user3 on repeat

user4 track five omg

user5 this is def about him

user6 mom and dad broke up

user7 a breakup album about oscar was not on my 2024 bingo card

user8 they still in love with each other

user9 superglue is so cute😭😭

user10 OSCAR LIKING😭😭😭😭😭😭

oscarpiastri

liked by yourusername, mclaren and others

oscarpiastri I dreamt of this day as a little kid back in Australia. A trutly unbelivable feeling. Thank you to everyone who helped me and everyone who belived in me. One down too many more to go 🧡🫧🪽

mclaren SHOW THEM HOW IT’S DONE

landonorris proud of you brother

user1 OMG OSCAR WON

user2 NOT HIM WINNING AFTER THE YN ALBUM

user3 the emoji choice😟 '

user4 yn must be so proud

user5 i wonder if he heard the album

yn’s phone

let me know if you liked it, and in case you did vote here to decide the ending, thank you for reading it!💞🪽🫧💘🐨

#formula 1 #f1 #f1 smau #f1 x reader #f1 fic #f1 imagine #oscar piastri #oscar piastri smau #oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri angst #oscar piastri fluff #grand prix #cars #moodboard #aesthetic #oscah

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hoseoksluna · 1 month ago

Text

INFINITY | jjk

pairing: boyfriend!jungkook x f. reader

genre: fluff

word count: 2.7k

summary: your birthdays have never been happy until jungkook became your boyfriend.

note: IT'S MY BIRTHDAYYYYYY. and i wrote this little light fic in just a day for the occasion. no smut, just pure fluff and cuteness. i want you all to go back and read this fic on your own bday and imagine you have such an amazing bf like jk:( enjoy! i love you guys. MWAH.

He was supposed to be here.

Or at least that’s what your brain kept telling you throughout the longest workday of your life as your fingers tapped away on the keyboard and you used your sweet sing-song voice to talk to customers—something you do five, sometimes six days a week, although today was different.

Today was your birthday.

A pitifully miserable day that celebrates the moment you came into this world, only to realize, fifteen years later, that you don’t fit in—that it doesn’t have a place for you, where you belong and where you can be happy. A wretched day that your mom doesn’t want to celebrate because the preparations stress her out and because she thinks your family doesn’t really like you and she doesn’t want you to get sad, when they buy you gifts that are disappointing.

As if that mattered. As if you didn’t love your family enough that the gifts aren’t what’s important about this day.

This year shall be different, though. For the first time in your life you have a serious boyfriend that you’ve been with for a whole year now. A round but tall and muscular boyfriend. A Harley-Davidson driving, gold Marlboro-smoking boyfriend that you met a day after your birthday that should’ve been special but wasn’t. You spent it in tears because your mom made you feel guilty about wanting to celebrate it with your family, so you went out the following night with your girls to get drunk, go forget and met this man outside the bar that smoked alone and smiled at you a bit too often whenever you felt his gaze and turned around, your arm half-bent in the air, the cigarette smoke of your own swirling around your shivering form from the cold and the dull excitement that you caught the attention of someone so attractive and adorable at the same time.

The way his eyes glinted in the yellow lights, starry and tender, as if they had never seen the ugly in this world—or perhaps they have, but they never accepted it.

The way they rounded even more when you met them with your own, and the way his mouth parted because he seemingly couldn’t believe that you would notice him.

Your friends knew something you did, innerly, as well—that this man was special and that he was yours. Your best friend, the mom of the friend group, stubbed her cigarette and leaned inside the waterfall of your hair and instructed you what to do.

Stay here and have another cig. We’re going inside.

You felt that it was the right thing to do, and so you smiled and you nodded. Your best friend patted your head, smirked to herself and left without any other word.

You lit up another cigarette.

And Jungkook… he was a moth, transfixed by the flame, gravitating towards you and sparking up a conversation about the happy birthday headband you were wearing. And you stayed there with him until your fingers were numb with the iciness of the night and until you ran out of cigarettes.

But you didn’t go back to your friends all empty.

Jungkook slid two Marlboros of his own into your pack, infiltrated hope into your heart by talking to you so gently and so purely—a hope in a better life and a better world and a better birthday, and infused your lungs with poetry by the way he looked at you.

Like you were the prettiest girl he’d ever seen.

And a month later, after many dates, you had a taste of infinity on his lips. The infinity of the universe, of the world, of the love that had been brewing in you for him. The infinity of life that likes you, that had mercy on you and gave you someone like him. You had shared that with him on many occasions, but the first time he heard it, he sobbed into your hands. And just like you knew it then that he was yours, you couldn’t doubt it at that moment.

He was engraved into your veins, written on the page that has your name within the Book of Life.

And now, a year later, you ponder the hope that has not left the chambers of your heart since that fateful night as you enter your dark, deserted apartment that carries his scent but not his presence.

You expected him to be here, waiting for you to come home after your afternoon shift. Your manager let you leave a half an hour early, an information you texted your boyfriend as soon as you received it, but now as you click on your messages with him, you perceive that he hasn’t even seen it.

It hasn’t even been delivered. Only sent.

Your heart cracks. The infinity thins out. You throw your brown leather purse onto the ground and try, with all your might, to keep your emotions at bay. The words of your mother flood your brain and your spine rounds at the heft of its innermore truth, your tiredness due to your long workday helping, breaking your back until you walk upon the debris of your own bones.

So much for having hope. So much for believing that you could be loved by those closest to you. Why is this happening to you? Why do you have to be so eternally sad? Having the wholeness of the world against you as if you were nothing, as if you weren’t a human being deserving of love—

The rapid railroad of your thoughts is halted by the three-seconds long beeping of your passcode being accepted and when you turn around, the world you thought was against you turns to face you, ready to immerse you in its kindness.

Jungkook enters. And it’s not a bouquet of flowers, whose petals graze against his sweaty temple. No, it’s a humongous pot of a white orchid that swallows all light of the room, only to spit it back down your throat when Jungkook crosses the distance and kisses you until your mind gets woozy, spinning around and around.

A hard, alarming kiss that contains many, many questions.

The light mends your heart, the softness of his lips, despite the harshness of the long peck, gluing all those broken parts together, and your lungs bloom with new flowers of poetry that he’s more than capable of taking care of in you. His free hand grips your waist, intensifying the questions in the kiss and when he pulls back, they thump in his big, round eyes that are never brown, but endlessly black.

They thump so vivaciously that they plunge out of his mouth almost immediately.

“Where were you? I waited for you outside of your work. I wanted to pick you up,” he says, panting, so out of breath as if he ran all the way here and broke a sweat. A bead of perspiration trickles down his other temple—and there, behind his ear, you notice a singular cigarette with a brown butt.

Gold Marlboro.

The sight is an electricity that drives life into your heart, making it beat as if it was never broken in the first place.

Your lips are dry, your throat parched, and you think you need another one of his kisses. As a matter of fact, that’s all you want. His kisses, his sweat, his warm presence.

Him.

“My manager let me go home half an hour early,” you explain, gripping the hand that holds you, feeling guilty. Jungkook’s eyes pierce you, paying the utmost attention to you, coaxing your words out of you. You can vividly see that he needs them. “I texted you. I thought you’d be here.”

Jungkook sighs, closing his eyes for a split second. A wave of relief washes over him and he purses his lips before he presses them not against your own, but against your cheek, his free hand migrating to the back of your head. And the warmth of his palm slaughters all of your bad thoughts, makes space for happy thoughts and happy emotions—and the act is so severely profound that you have to hold onto him, grip his waist like he gripped yours, and take the transformation as best as you can.

“I was so scared,” he whispers onto your cheekbone, resting his face against yours, sinking his fingers into your hair. “If it weren’t for your coworker who told me that you left early, I would still be standing there.” He withdraws, looking down at you and pointing your face up at him. “My phone died. I didn’t get your message. I’m so sorry I wasn’t here. I wanted to surprise you.”

Your heart enlarges, escaping out of your throat and into the pot he’s still holding. You shake your head, thinking he doesn’t need to be sorry for anything, and pucker your lips to ask for another kiss. Jungkook nearly whimpers at the sight, leaning down and obliging, softening the kiss he’s so willing to give you, melting it into a hundred more kisses that make your tummy flutter. And there, there the hope, which he had suffused you with a year ago, comes to a full circle and you comprehend that as long as you have him, you’ll never spend your birthday in despair.

And because of that, you deepen the kiss.

The tears streaming down your cheeks feel so terribly faint owing to the overwhelmingness of your emotions. It is gladness that clutches your whole being, gratitude second, and your expanding love for him in third place. And all those emotions dissolve into his cheeks in the infinity of your kiss and it is when you press your body against his and wrap your arms around his neck that you realize that the orchid pot isn’t the only gift he has for you. Around the same wrist, belonging to his hand that holds the flower, are hung small gift bags that prevent you from fully dissipating into him—and that is the matter that severs the kiss, which holds the entire universe.

And it’s not the contents of the gift bags that makes it collapse.

It’s the red ring box that he fishes out of his pocket.

Jungkook doesn’t get down on his knee. His hands tremble, very much like your heart, your blood system, your muscles, as he opens the box and allows you to see the gift for your very first special birthday. A diamond ring, held up by a gold lining shaped into an infinity sign. The infinity of his kiss, the infinity of your love for him, the little things you observed that made him cry—all made true in a singular ring that flits in his tattooed, trembling hand. The orchid gets placed on the nearby round table and the foreign emotions, which go beyond the ordinary happy emotions you’ve ever felt, suffocate you. So much that you begin to tremble just the same, sobbing as you turn your gaze away from the magnificent ring to the greater, blurry magnificence of his eyes just to catch the same, identical tears drenching his red, red cheeks.

“Jungkook…” you mewl, sniffling, your constricting lungs not letting you say anything else, and you cup his hands like a flower. Perhaps to still their quivering, perhaps to just simply hold them—feel his warmth, feel the vibrancy of his tattoos—because, truth be told, you have no idea what’s happening.

Jungkook calls you by your name in order to have your full attention and you anticipate finding in him the meaning of this all, stability and groundness. And he doesn’t hesitate. Hell, he doesn’t waste a second.

“My little princess,” he starts but pauses momentarily, his bottom lip quivering as he holds his tears and you fall apart. At the pet name, at the unfolding of his emotions that bear nothing but raw beauty you’d readily die for. “This is my promise to you that I am yours for all infinity. Nothing can break it, nothing can stop it, and that defines our life together. I want to spend it with you until we’re the last two people on this Earth. I know our love will keep us alive.” Tears spurt down onto his cheeks against his strong will and you wipe them away as you feel yourself swelling up with love, with something beyond joy, and with utmost, utmost adrenaline. “I love you with everything in me.” His voice breaks and you break in tandem. Jungkook envelops a buff arm around you, burying you into his chest, and for the last part of his speech, he draws close to your ear. “Happy birthday.”

And he kisses that little seashell, kisses the planes of your cheeks until he finds your lips that he seizes, violently, with his until the infinity bursts at the seams, imbuing you with its eternal, yet different energy that promises that everything from now on shall be joyful and beautiful. His sob entangles with yours and, pulling away with a smack, he grins down at you. No piercings, just the flush of his cheeks and the love for you he radiates adorning him—and you love him.

You love him so awfully devastatingly.

And you tell him. You tell him as he takes your left second-last finger and slides the promise ring down that digit. And you tell him again when you meet his eyes, as if for the first time all over again and jump into his arms. The diamond reflects the light, stealing it, hiding it for you and him, the size of the ring fitting so perfectly that another set of tears gush through.

And then he’s patting your bum, telling you to open your gifts and he kneels with you on the floor and goes through each bag he got you. A red lipstick, a perfume, a black silky dress with matching stilettos—all of which he wants you to wear on a Saturday night with him to celebrate. Then, all your favorite ‘you’ things that you love. Face masks, even lip masks, bath bombs, shower gels and body creams. Fluffy socks, pajamas, granny panties. A bottle of red wine and four packs of grape ice vape.

Jungkook leaves you stunned. And you don’t have time to process all those wonderful things because suddenly you’re up on your feet and you’re led into a rhythm of a song he begins to hum, slow dancing with you in your living room. One hand firm on your waist, the other just as firm clasped around your hand, his eyes fixed on you, mouth in that everlasting pout.

And you fade into him. Don’t think about your mother and the hurtful things she said. They cease to exist in the atmosphere of your shared life with him, more now than ever. You focus on the stability of his grip on you, the smoothness of his hand, the tightness you feel on your waist that grounds you, your feet that get on well with his in this dance and your hips that he loves to see moving. You focus on yourself; you focus on him. On the way he dressed up for you, ironed his black shirt and on the way he still smells so good, even though he broke a sweat.

On the way he just committed his life to you.

And then, he’s dressing you in the pajamas he bought you. Baggy and banana-patterned, beige and yellow colored, sitting you down on your couch and lifting your legs, one by one, to keep your feet warm with your matching socks. He’s taking your make-up off, brushing your teeth and smoothing down a face mask on your forehead, cheeks and chin, pecking you sweetly. And you’re straddling him, putting the same one on the planes of his face, and as you’re focusing, he meditates on something within his heart.

And Jungkook shares it with you, all ruffled, sleepy and puffy.

“I love you, my little princess. For all infinity.”

You breathe it in, believing him.

“I love you, Jungkookie. For all infinity.”

You fall asleep like this—on his bare chest with your face mask still on, one that he peels off after the fifteen minute mark. And you dream about what your infinity with him looks like as your age no longer matters and stops here.

Infinitely young, infinitely loved.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @jjk7k , @tkslovechild , @euphoricmyth , @cinmmongirl , @ririkookiemonster , @perfectiondazesworld , @https-mei , @bangtansonyeondanue , @jungkoock , @cinmmongirl , @hoseokkie-caeks , @kam9404 , @fr0ggieth1nk , @parkinglot-nights

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doomedmoth · 2 months ago

Text

War is Over

Pairing : Reader x Daniel Ricciardo x Max Verstappen | Poly fem!reader

Warnings : use of y/n, smau, polyamory, queer drivers, reader is around 30

Synopsis : You’re just a mechanic at RedBull, not much more to say. Nothing in your contract says you can’t be friends with drivers, right ? The little lines very clearly says you’re not allowed to show it all though. When your chosen “family” fails you, all you can do is hope your loved ones save themselves too.

Moth’s prophecy💡: Hi cryptids, honestly I have no excuses to give, sorry for the randomness of it all, I just needed to get this out to process with the pain of loosing Daniel. I can only hope he finds happiness away from the shit show that RedBull is becoming. Probably going back to hibernation, see ya !

[Messages] Dumber has sent you a text

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yourusername : How it started / how it’s going (swipe for my face when I’m not covered in grease). Hello to everyone new here, I’m Y/N, Chief Engine Power Conformity Mechanician at redbullracing ! Based in the never-sunny town of Milton Keynes, but you might see me around the paddock at most races to make sure no one explodes ✌🏻

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F1mech little miss mini boss 🫡

yourusername be glad to have me around to do the dirty work

F1mech Yes ma’am very grateful ma’am 🫡

redbullracing Your work is so crucial and we are happy the world gets to know you more !

redbullracing Also it was sunny last we came to MK ???

yourusername nobody tell admin we take out the fake blue sky windows when he comes by

user1 lmao I live in Milton Keynes and can attest we haven’t seen the sun in weeeeks

user2 never wanted to be a redbull neon sign so bad

user3 I can see why they hide her in the shithole that is Milton Keynes, the whole paddock would go crazy over her

user4 she would make such a cute wag omg !!

user5 bet every girlie is on their man’s back whenever she’s around

user6 she works for RB soooo… d’you think her and checo…? 😳

user7 she already has someone guys !! Though we have never seen his face, but I think she’s more interested in the cars than the ones inside them

user6 checo is married and still it doesn’t stop him lmao

user8 are you part of the pit crew ?? Never seen you before ! /g

yourusername I’m not !! I mainly work on the cars before and after the races and practices to make sure everything is in place, not faulty, and compliant to both Redbull’s and the FIA’s standards of security 🤗 but 60/70% of my work is at the factory, and the paddock parts happens behind close doors, so no worries

maxverstappen1 she makes sure nobody dies

yourusername and god knows y’all make it hard sometimes

danielricciardo yeah this second pic is so much better

yourusername oh don’t start me boy

danielricciardo hihihi 🤭

user9 hello Daniel ???

user10 How can I work at Redbull too pls I beg you I’ll even make coffee and mop the floors

yourusername check our offers on the website honey !! Most jobs require some experience or diploma but we also offer internships and graduate programs if you want to make your way in

user10 thank u 🥹

user10 that’s how you got in ?

yourusername nope, I’ve worked on cars forever and in motorsports for years before getting to F1, but we have plenty of opportunities in non-technical fields too!

user11 pretty, kind, works in f1, not single, lemme just Google how to be like you

user12 you okay dude ? Throat not hurting too much from gagging on her dick

user13 lmaoooo yeah seeing her looks that’s probably a daddy’s girl who got put in exec and pretends to know what she’s talking about

user14 wouldn’t be shocked if her “work behind closed doors” is ordering actual mechs around like minions

danielricciardo is your little ego so hurt by the fact that you’ll never be talented enough to get to her place that you’ve resorted to running your shitty mouth online ? Breath getting stinky mate, careful 🤢

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yourusername : Everything’s twice as fun with you

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user15 lover boy lover boy lover boy !

user16 I’m more excited for the face reveal than for my best friend’s wedding

user17 pls get checked wtf

user18 wait isn’t he blonde ? who’s the dark haired one in some pics ? With tattoos ?

user19 you might be new but Y/N always post pics of lover boy randomly, so some pics are old, and he often dyes his hair !

user18 wow damn I need his hairdresser coz this is cleaaaaan

yourbff don’t tell me you let him touch your car

yourusername lmaooo never 💀 tried to teach him to change some parts on his

yourbff and…?

yourusername ended up doing it…

yourbff at least he’s cute !!

yourusername Hey ! That must counts for something !

user20 not them bullying him coz he either doesn’t have socials or is not allowed to answer

yourbff what ? us ?

yourusername Never 😇

user21 oh damn she bagged herself a hottie

user22 HE bagged himself a hottie have you seen her ??

user23 couple goals and we ain’t ever seen his face like

user24 ain’t no need for a face with a body like this

user25 kinda looks like Max on the 6th slide no ??

user26 lmao as if

user27 the man can bag any celebrity doubt he cares for a factory girl

user28 the pic with the RB can lol

yourusername trained him well 😇

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[Instagram] maxverstappen1 has added a story

user29 replied to the story :

oh yeah I keep forgetting y’all old money rich rich

user30 replied to the story :

so we all forgetting about Horner’s accusation ?? Truly just RB’s bitch in the end

user31 replied to the story :

Is that y/n ?? Didn’t know the mechs were invited to those events

danielricciardo replied to the story :

man I do take amazing pics when the models look so good

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yourusername : vitamin sea 🌊⛱️🐚 Australia, you never disappoint

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oscarpiastri wish we could have hung out more 🥺

yourusername we hung out at your house bby!!

user32 BBY ?? SOMEONE CALL LILY COZ THIS BITCH IS OVERSTEPPING

oscarpiastri we didn’t hang out you repaired my mom’s car while Lily and I were drinking WARM BEERS ON THE FLOOR

yourusername SORRY YOU CAN’T APPRECIATE MY CRAFT LIKE YOUR MOTHER DOES also hi to lils 💕🌸🎀

oscarpiastri DON’T BRING MY MOM INTO THIS she said she misses u 🤗💕✨

user32 oh

yourusername yeah

oscarpiastri yeah

nicolepiastri yeah

yourbff you need to turn off work like for reeeaaaal

yourusername how can I when those two are literally glued to my hip

danielricciardo shocked sad disappointed

maxverstappen1 Lover boy will hear about this

yourusername Are those threats ? Remember I literally have power over your life

danielricciardo not mine anymore lol Lover boy WILL HEAR about this

user33 oh so that definitely erases the possibility of Max or Daniel being Lover Boy

user34 as if there had ever been any evidence of that

user35 Lover boy in the Redbull cap ??

yourusername Yep ! Max gave it to him

user35 daaaaamn he is ripped

yourusername hihi 🤭

user36 no one questioning why the fuck is a mechanician hanging so much with drivers ??

user37 *chief mechanician

F1mech oh shit buddy thank you, we weren’t aware we couldn’t be friends with people we spend more than half of the year on the road with

maxverstappen1 cancel your ticket rn mate, you can’t vacation with us

F1mech come on user36, see what you’ve done ?? Maybe if you hadn’t questioned it I could have gone, fucker

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user38 has replied to your story :

Not you posting this straight after the checo announcement 💀

yourbff has replied to your story :

just saw the news, is Danny ok ?? Pls call me

maxverstappen1 has replied to your story :

Booked you a table at San Marco at 8, sorry I can’t be there tonight…

it’s okay, I know how it is, I just don’t want him to be alone… thx for the restaurant 💕

[Instagram] yourusername has added a story

user39 has replied to your story :

omg same

user40 has replied to your story :

IS THAT DANIEL ???

user41 has replied to your story :

the tattoos ??? girl we knoooow

redbullracing has replied to your story :

y/n ?

yup yup yup sorry

This story has been deleted.

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user41 has replied to your story :

lmao miss thing is piiiissed

yukitsunoda0511 has replied to your story :

i can’t find my controller d’you have one more ? 🥺

yes bby just come before your food gets cold

user42 has replied to your story :

She supports Max’s rights but mostly Max’s wrongs

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user43 has replied to your story :

preeeaach 🙌🏻

user44 has replied to your story :

all redbull employees protesting the FIA has me going !! Tell Horner to open his mouth too for once

danielricciardo has replied to your story :

I want this pic as my new lockscreen

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danielricciardo : l've loved this sport my whole life. It's wild and wonderful and been a journey. To the teams and individuals that have played their part, thank you. To the fans who love the sport sometimes more than me haha thank you. It'll always have its highs and lows but it's been fun and truth be told I wouldn't change it.

Until the next adventure.

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redbullracing 🫶🏻

user45 SHUT UP

user46 the audacity

user47 you promised you would treat him better !!

user48 Daniel > Perez

user49 DTS fan

lewishamilton legend 🫂

user50 game recognize game

user51 tell Mercedes to give him a seat

maxverstappen1 Head up ! Many more beautiful moments to come, somewhere you’ll be recognized and appreciated 💪🏻 our time together isn’t over, but I’m glad for all the racing, the laughs, the nights, for you ❤️

user52 wow hm Max no need to make all of us cry

user53 I feel like I’ve just walked in on something very personal…

user54 maxiel 😭😭😭

user55 he was the best mate you ever had, never should have left RedBull

yourusername Working with you was an honor, but getting to know and appreciate you made my whole life brighter, and I can’t thank you enough for this 🌞 no contracts can bring us apart, see you around honey bee 💛

user56 the little dig at RB’s contracts lmao

user57 why does honey bee feel much more intimate than honey badger ??

user58 we haven’t seen this level of emotion for De Vries, yet you were already working for the “RedBull family” if I’m not mistaken ??

user59 maybe because no one gives two shits about De Vries ??

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yourusername : Well, there it is. After 15 years of working on cars, the last 10 in motorsports, last five in Formula 1, it’s time for me to take a break. It was just perfect to finish it off in my hometown Austin, and I’m so grateful to my friends and family who made the trip to celebrate together. I remember my first week at Milton Keynes, my whole life in a suitcase. Abu Dhabi 2021, and those stories we’ll keep for our old days. I was so proud to be part of this, the champagne, the fireworks, the love. The day Daniel came back to us. The people I’ve met, the opportunities I’ve had, none would have been possible without you, ‘Bull. It’s been oh so amazing, but oh so tiring. I’ve reached a point in my life where I need my environment to be aligned with what I want, my values and the people I love and care for. So it’s goodbye.

F1, thank you for everything. I’ll miss you, but I gotta go. 💙

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F1mech I solemnly swear to not make anything explode, to always triple check my laces, to never pick Yoshi in Mario Kart because it’s yours, and to forever keep you close to my heart. Thx mini boss, you were amazing 🫡

yourusername Thanks Callum, you’re gonna make me cry now…

user60 US TOO 😭

user61 naaaaah another one leaving RedBull, shit is really going down

user62 where do you think she’s going ? Aston ?

user63 or Ferrari

yourusername Sorry to disappoint but neither ! It’s really a full break, for a while at least, I need to get my head out of the oil and machinery

user64 leaving England then ?? What about lover boy ??

yourusername Lover boy was never British eheh, who told you that ? 🤭

user65 if Lover boy is confirmed to be Daniel I’ll loose my shit

user66 I will always root for Max though…

user67 he has tattoos omg it’s never been Max !!

redbullracing Now it’s pretty sure MK will never see the sun again with you gone 😭

user68 we still hate you

user69 fuck off

yukitsunoda0511 🥺🫶🏻

yourusername 😚🫴🏻💕

yourbff it’ll be hard, but it’ll be good

yourusername thankfully i won’t be alone

yourbff not long to wait

yourusername yeah, soon soon

user70 ???

user71 I have a headache just thinking about everything the soon soon could be about

user72 really doubt Max is staying much longer in RedBull seeing how many engineers are quitting

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user73 has replied to your story :

no yeah we get it this looks much better than the factory lmao

user74 has replied to your story :

Honey bee ?? I’ve heard that one before

oscarpiastri has replied to your story :

Mom said you haven’t gone to see her yet ! Meanie !

user75 has replied to your story :

crazy how Max starts winning again since you’re gone

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F1 : BREAKING : Max Verstappen has announced his retirement after winning his 4th World’s Drivers Championship.

Record breaker.

Late braker.

Legend.

#ThankYouMax

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user76 WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK

user77 when I tell you I fell to my knees

user78 screaming crying throwing up

user79 I refuse to believe this is true

user80 what the hell was this season

user81 DTS is gonna have a field day with this one

user80 doubt 10 episodes are gonna be enough

redbullracing There aren’t enough words to describe the impact you’ve had on our history, Max. You’ll forever be a pillar of the RedBull family, and an icon of the sport. Tudududu 🧡

lewishamilton Thank you for the challenges, you’ve always pushed us to go harder. Never thought I would have to see you leave, but we’ll keep your legacy running 👑

user82 Alonso when ???

user83 Who’s gonna take his seat ? Honey badger comeback ?

user84 doubt it, he said in the only interview he gave that he had some friends to go see a few continents away, bet he was talking bout Danny

user85 April Fools ?

user86 In December ??

user87 I really don’t understand why, everything was going much better with the car lately

user88 I think he’s just done with the sport, he said multiple time he wouldn’t force it if he didn’t feel like it anymore

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user89 has replied to your story :

wait, if that’s lover boy, who’s the guy you were with lately ??

user90 has replied to your story :

Sydney airport !!

user91 has replied to your story :

OMG I KNEW I SAW MAX IN SYDNEY THIS MORNING WTF I RECOGNIZE HIM

yourbff has replied to your story :

you did it bby, it’s time to rest now

ily, we will 💕

user92 has replied to your story :

The timing with Max quitting RB is so odd I’m seriously questioning my sanity rn

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danielricciardo : From sneaking out of restaurants to barricading the doors of our shared hotel rooms, I wish I could have told the world earlier how much I love you. But I’m glad I can now. There’s something magical about finding the one, so when you find the two, you’ll make any radical change necessary to protect them. Think you were right Maxie, the farm life does suit us.

This was the Honey Badger, peace ✌🏻

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maxverstappen1 : Turning off comments coz those two are mine and you can only admire them from afar. I know they’re pretty. They’re mine. And I’ll say it as many times as I want now. Mine mine mine mine mine

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yourusername : Oh, I’m sorry, did I say Lover Boy ? I meant Boys 🤭

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user93 WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK WHAT THE FUCK

user94 mother is finally letting us out of the cage and none of us can take it

user95 the first pic

user96 I could die

user97 who the fuck even took it

user98 she said “y’all won’t let me post their faces ? I’ll give you the whole sextape”

user99 I knew it I fucking knew it Maxiel nation we won

oscarpiastri so happy for you guys, go be free with the little goats 🥹

yourusername pls try to survive

maxverstappen1 and if RB tries to buy you RUN BACK HOME

user100 oh shit it’s time for no filter Max era

yourusername you’ve had a taste this year, be prepared for the real deal

yukitsunoda0511 finally i can stop pretending to not speak English when asked about you

danielricciardo you were pretending very well if I may say

yukitsunoda0511 thanks !

user101 oh yuki sweet summer child…

user102 don’t tell me in Japan already ??

yourusername you really took a good look at this pic and thought “yeah, those two are straight” ? It’s a you issue honestly

user102 yeah okay fair

user103 7th pic ???

maxverstappen1 Abu Dhabi ‘21

maxverstappen1 tasted better than champagne tbh

user104 oh so y’all are just leaking EVERYTHING now, no fucks given

danielricciardo I had to pay a lot for those pics to not get out back then so yeah kinda

danielricciardo which is a shame when we look so good

user105 sooooo… about the high performance athlete….?

maxverstappen1 yes.

yourusername yes.

danielricciardo 💕

*****

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ilycosy · 10 months ago

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❝ YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL ❞ | LUKE CASTELLAN

pairing : luke castellan x reader (no parent mentioned)

summary — being the partner of luke castellan was a blessing and a curse, mostly a blessing— you had the best swordsman at camp and he was extremely loyal. a blessing really, but everyone always wanted him too. sometimes you forget that he could feel insecure too.

warnings : insecurities (relationship + scar) , petnames (baby, sweetheart, love) , hurt/comfort , luke is standoffish and implied to be mentally ill but reader loves him anyways , mentions of other ppl flirting w luke !!

aﾉn — i want to smother this man in the biggest kisses ever ... he didn't deserve anything that happened to him & he's innocent !!!! it's never said who readers parent is but they don't reside in hermes cabin :) ,,, also i made the scar worse !!!! i wish it was bigger & more gnarly everyday . enjoy !!!!

you felt burned by the sun everytime he was around, even with his stoic nature and go with the flow personality— he always seemed to burn so bright when you're around. his palms melted you everytime he pulled you into a kiss, his lips hot and slick with spit from his chewing.

his constant even tone (he'll deny when the sass slips through) never bothered you, in fact you quite enjoyed it whenever he spoke. his raspy voice telling you briefly about his day, or talking about a race him and chris had that day, even when he told you not to worry about him.

other people sure seemed to enjoy him too, boys and girls gathered around him like a moth to a flame. his glow always too bright for others not to be drawn, you always saw it— the way girls would giggle and fawn over him, whenever boys lingered around him during activities.

you never told him how it bothered you, because it wasn't really his fault— he was just too perfect.

which is why it shocked you when you began noticing the way he liked keeping the helmet on even after capture the flag, hiding his face until it was deemed inappropriate. the way he favored resting his scarred side in your neck compared to his other, even though he complained of neck pains the day before.

you can't recall when he began doing these little habits, maybe ever since he got the scar, maybe when a younger camper said it made him look scary. you didn't know, but you knew that it wasn't good for him— the way he allowed himself to ache just to hide it.

luke is a great boyfriend, he recognizes when people want something more from him— he's not afraid to distance himself from others when he notices the flirting. it doesn't make him feel good to have that spotlight when you were so much better than him, in every sense of the word.

he never knew how to tell you that he knew. how he knew that the obnoxious flirting hurt you, or how you always backed away when his friends came over.

he would always come in the morning to pick you up from your cabin, hoping that his searing kisses and warm arms could show you that he's yours— even with a disgusting face.

the scar taking up the side of his face made him curl away in disgust whenever he saw it, he completely avoided bathroom mirrors because of it. he hid away from your soft eyes at any chance he could, fearing that you'd realize just how scary it is to date something like him.

the praises eased in slowly, but surely, he almost felt winded the first time he heard it ("baby get your pretty face over here!" you had said, trying to wave him over to your table. he felt lightheaded and nauseous when he walked over.) he didn't know how to handle it.

whenever he tried to ask why you began getting so verbally affectionate, he was waved off with a small wave and shrug. "can't i compliment my boyfriend?" you had asked him with a teasing tone, he hid away under your shirt the rest of the night while he got teased.

you knew that he was confused, but you didn't really care to explain— he'd just shut down and ignore the problem if you did. and you liked complimenting him, especially when he gets flustered like he does.

calling him pretty made his cheeks go red, and he always seemed more spacey after. calling him handsome always got him smiling and hiding his face. cute? he was looking away and blushing. adorable? he scoffed and smiled. gorgeous, he rolled his eyes and flicked you with red ears.

you hadn't called him beautiful yet, waiting for the perfect moment— you'd think you were planning on proposing with how calculated you were with this.

luke hadn't been sleeping well for a while, mumbling in his sleep about nonsense you couldn't understand. stress had clearly taken its toll, and he's chewing again— his lips raw and almost always bloody from his teeth snagging at the skin.

you snuck into hermes' cabin during the night, hoping that he would be up to sneaking out or even finally getting a full night's rest. your boots made him shoot up, sweaty and eyes wide before he realizes its you.

"what're you doing here, love?" he asks in a hushed tone, not yet a whisper but close. you move closer, gently lacing your hand together with his sweaty one. "wanna sneak out?"

the question was whispered, barely audible even. but it made him stand up all the same, sweatpants and cream colored long-sleeved shirt bunched up at the arms, making him look ethereal.

"are you that needy, sweetheart?" he asks as a joke when you've successfully escaped the cabin without waking people. his eyebrows wiggling slightly, his usual stoic facade melting off him like you were a candle and he was wax.

you rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you told him no. tugging him along the camp grounds until you found the picnic blanket, the basket of food right next to it all neatly set up— it took you a whole week to convince people to help you find this stuff, a demeter kid had to weave the basket.

"ta-da!" you said, doing jazz hands as you showed him the comfortable blanket. he didn't say anything, only smiling wide as he laid down on it— he patiently waited for you to get the food out, not feeling any sort of rush as he allowed himself to relax.

you hand fed him strawberries, flicking his nose every time he tried to stick your fingers in his mouth. you admired him in the moonlight, he always looked the best at night. his radiating self was enough light for you anyways.

your fingertips gently brushed his face while he was eating, chewing a piece of cake when he felt them. your fingers making their way to his big scar, tracing the jagged edges of it along with the smooth, raised middle.

"what're you doing?" he says, his voice tight in his throat as he tried to ignore the building pit of fear in his stomach.

you hummed, caressing his face as you looked at him. his eyes focused on your nose to avoid eye contact, "you're beautiful," you whisper.

"extremely beautiful." and his face goes red, his eyes watery as his chest rises up and down in deep breaths. his hands are shaky and pulling you closer, desperate for you and your touch.

it makes you really wonder, how could he ever feel insecure when you're convinced he could be cursed by aphrodite herself, and you'd still see his face when camp visits the gods?

#cosywriting #luke castellan #castellanswrld #luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x you #luke castellan fanfiction #luke castellan fic #luke castellan fluff

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inknopewetrust · 2 months ago

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𝐒𝐞𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐃𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐞

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐀𝐟𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐧𝐤𝐞𝐫, 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐠𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞. [𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐖𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐱 𝐅𝐞𝐦!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫] [𝐰𝐜: 𝟕𝐤]

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝟏𝟖+, 𝐌𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐃𝐍𝐈, 𝐌𝐢𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐫 𝐒𝐞𝐱. 𝐒𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥 [𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠], 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐩 𝐢𝐧 𝐯 𝐢𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟-𝐝𝐨𝐮𝐛𝐭, 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚+ 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐃𝐞𝐚𝐧.

𝐐𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐋𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬: 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐊𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒

You weren’t sure when you started to feel this way.

It ate at you—the sensation. Nipping at the bits of yourself that were far too obvious in a mirror. They rushed through you like you were a lamb for slaughter. It was often you wondered if all of those creatures you sought could feel it too, this vulnerability underneath a tough skin.

And you could see it too. In the mirror, passing a reflecting door or window, in the sunglasses of a friend. Every time your image reflected back to you, a wave of self-doubt washed over you.

It was debilitating and something you never voiced aloud. The thoughts simply ate away at you as the days passed on and the world unraveled with it.

Little help came when your daily return to safety came in the form of a mismatched bunker. In it, the glamorous common sections provided a bit of beauty while the corridors were bland and the rooms much more so. There was nothing there to make you feel pretty—let alone beautiful in such an ugly world.

When the bunker was quiet, those thoughts came alive.

Everyone had gone off for the day. It was one of those strange, sitting duck kind of days where there wasn’t a story to chase or evil lurking around the corner to seize a moment. It was quiet, content with whatever lull had formed for the time being. You were alone in your room flipping through an old book on werewolves that was quickly losing your interest.

For once, you just wanted a break to be normal. To feel normal and be normal without a fear of cosmic retribution for wanting to be someone other than what you had become. This… monster-hunting sidekick chick who feels a bit down and out about the cards life dealt her.

Dean and Sam weren’t on the same wavelength as you, you had imagined. They played off their content with this life as perfectly as anyone could.

A knock at your door interrupted your thoughts abruptly. It startled you. Shaking a little jump from your skin, you approached the door with caution as your knowledge had led you to believe you were alone.

But as you cracked open the door, it was painfully obvious you weren’t.

“Dean?”

He gave a small smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“I thought you’d be—“

“I told Sam to go on his own,” he clarified. Sam went down to Wichita early that morning and with the roar of Baby, you had assumed Dean had tagged along.

“Oh.”

There was something more stirring in the air around your room. The internal self-loathing was misting and Dean’s presence was billowing. For you, all it took was one glance into his green eyes to fall into an abyss of him. Dean Winchester had girls falling to their knees, praying for a miracle that he’d notice them and fall in love with them and end up with them forever.

He never did but it was too notable to ignore.

He made your heart thump louder. The blood stirring the cauldron of doom inside, building a pool of sweat in your palms and your pupils to grow wider. He was a beautiful man—it was almost embarrassing to think that he’d pay more attention to you than he did.

And there was a scorned inside for the scattered moments he did make you feel something more.

It was on days like this: when everyone was gone and fate had found you alone together when something clicked into place, drawing you together like moths to a flame and touch was a burning relief.

Having sex with Dean was an action that lit up the pitting feelings of doubt.

Every time your shirt came off—hideous.

Every time your pants came undone—ugly.

Every time he gave himself—unworthy.

And every time you let go—pathetic.

You took your bottom lip between your teeth and gnawed at it. Dean leaned against the frame but didn’t push. He never did.

“Why didn’t you go?”

He shrugged his shoulders. In his own bashful way, he looked down at his shoes.

“Didn’t want to, I guess,” he said. “Got better things to do than go see a city I’ve seen a hundred times before.”

There was more to do there. There were more girls there to choose from.

“Well it’s not anymore exciting here,” your eyes gave an unfortunate admission. “Just me.”

“You’re plenty exciting,” Dean lifted his head with a scoff. “I figured if you stayed behind then at least it be worth staying behind for.”

When he said phrases like that, it was so casual. It made you roll your eyes in a shallow disbelief he was flagrant with saying your worth anything. Wichita had more than you could ever offer.

You rested the side of your body on the door and clung to the doorknob on the other side tightly.

“I’m afraid you might be wrong on that one.”

Dean’s eyes flinched in curiosity. They searched your face unabashedly for answers it was unwilling to give.

“Why?” He asked. “We never get any time to ourselves. It’s… nice for a change, yeah?”

“Sure,” you agreed. “I just don’t think I’m worth staying behind for.”

He let out a laugh. No smile, just an amused laugh at the suggestion. You weren’t sure if you should feel miffed or reassured.

“Spend five hours in the car with Sam on a Saturday or spend the day with you? I’d much rather be here.”

His honesty was endearing. It was far different from the man you met so many years ago. He had grown comfortable, willing, in that time and if you thought hard on it, it was generally only around you.

For Dean, being vulnerable was cracking his soul open. It was as debilitating as your inability to see yourself as valuable was. But he was comfortable here, alone, and he was content in letting it bleed from every part of him.

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Is there a plan I am unaware of?”

Your day was to be spent flipping through books and taking notes of what resolutions could help you all the most.

Dean shrugged again and kicked his foot out slightly. You knew what he wanted, hell, you wanted it too but you couldn’t feel that inside of you.

“I don’t know,” he played. “That’s really up to you.”

Ball, court.

“There’s no one here,” Dean reassured you. You could be loud. You could do what you wanted. You could take your time.

“I know,” you nodded your head. You twisted the knob on the other side of the door.

“We don’t have to,” he backed up with words. The last thing Dean wanted you to feel for him is resentment for propositioning you. “It’s alright. I can… I can,” he cleared his throat, “take care of myself.”

“No,” you said quicker than you meant to. “No.”

“No?”

“You don’t have to take care of it, Dean.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded at him as the tone shifted. In your hearts, the beating anticipating was in your throats. You could feel it in the jittering movement of your fingers and toes and the insatiable appetite that manifested inside.

The door you were holding on to opened slightly to gain him entry. He took the signal, brushing past you and not feeling cautious when his hand came to rest on your side as he pushed by.

It dawned on you as he entered that you’d never had sex in your room. It was always Dean’s and the one, singular occasion he caught you in the library on a day like this one and ate you out between the bookshelves.

You shut the door behind you as he stepped into the room and took it in differently than before. He’s been in it, sure, but when the circumstances change, everything changes too.

“You remodel?” He joked, pointing around the room that looked identical to all the others. “Looks nice.”

“Thanks,” you smiled. Leaning against the door, you folded your hands behind your back. “It was a real task, you know? All the painting and laying the wood.”

He nodded with a hum. He patrolled the space before shrugging off his flannel that rested atop a t-shirt.

You weren’t sure what he wanted exactly but you were hesitant to approach him.

Sitting, facing your bed from its place on the floor was a mirror. And you’d be fucking damned if you watched yourself fuck Dean Winchester through your reflection.

It might be the death of you.

And you didn’t want to curse Dean with that memory.

He kicked off his shoes without instruction. Pieces of himself began to unshed before you. First the shirt, then the shoes. His hands went to his belt, flicking it open and unraveling itself in swift motions that your own hands had learned to do before.

Dean didn’t look at you, he didn’t ask you to join him.

His hands went to the bottom of his shirt and as he lifted it up and over his head, you weren’t shameful to ogle him. That was why he was here—for you to feel him, touch him, worship him in ways he wouldn’t get elsewhere.

There were plenty of other girls in Wichita.

He tossed his shirt to join the flannel before looking at you. Dean held out his hand to you, beckoning you.

“Come here,” he said softly. It could have been enough for you at one time, but it wasn’t today.

You shook your head.

“You come to me.”

If you knew Dean correctly, he would, and he did.

Even in your doubts, having Dean near you was comfort. His eyes drank you in. Completely encapsulated by you and only you and he felt free in that space. He was giving and grateful.

So, he stood toe to toe with you. One of his hands creeped up your slides and slotted into the space where your hands created an opening to the back of you. He silently begged for you to untangle your hands, taking one of them in his own as he allowed the position to draw himself closer.

He held on to you in two ways: against you, pressing you into the door as his nose knocked your own, and his and your intertwined hands pressing into your back. You used your free one to cup his face. You hummed in agreement. Dean tilted his head, breathing in deeply as the skin of your face grazed his own. He could play a long time. The hand you let linger on his cheek brushed along the sides of his neck, folding itself around his back and gripping onto his opposite shoulder. His skin was hot to the touch. Dean let his fingers detached from yours and he cupped at your ass to pull you closer. There was nowhere closer than him. Flush against his body, feeling everything but the blood rushing through him and he soaked in the staggered breaths of anticipation.

You tipped your head away from his to look in his eyes.

His short stubble was tough under your palm. Nothing, however, could detract you from the way his eyes bore into you. He had lovely lashes, fluttering and romantic compared to his outward appearance of “tough man.” They complimented the way his eyes changed from welcome to conversation to lust.

Maybe it wasn’t love, but it was enough for now.

“How’s this gonna work?” You asked him, breath fanning his face.

“I’ve got a few ideas,” he mumbled. Eyes hooded, trapped on your lips as they wet themselves. “But we’ve got time. We can go slow.

You nodded like he read your mind. Slow, steady, different from other times.

“I don’t need slow,” you murmured. He gripped your ass harder than before, pushing you against him before letting go and running his hand smoothly over the rump.

“But I’ve got too many clothes on.”

“You’re damn right about that, sweetheart.”

Dean needs no true instructions.

Even in your wallowing pitiful despair of self-destruction, as long as you truly couldn’t see yourself everything would be fine. It would be fine. Dean’s hands roamed your body freely with the invitation. Hands large and free, they begged to grip and squeeze what they could but settled on unraveling the fruits of the goal. With every piece of clothes that came undone and piled themselves onto the floor at your feet, you spied Dean’s eyes grow shades of green. Each deeper than before—tantalizing from opportunity and wolfish in a hunt.

His hands met the tops of your bottoms, trading the top of it with his fingers as they grazed the skin of your stomach. You laid your head back against the door, admiring the way he had the smallest sign of a smile on his lips as he looked at you. Something glimmered, something gleamed in his eyes when he looked back. Dean leaned in, planting a light kiss on the edge of your lip but not on them before falling to his knees.

Clad yet in his beltless jeans, Dean ran his hands over the curve of your waist and down your legs. The agony of time made your heart thump. Thump, thump, thump against your ribcage and into your mind and into the place where his head was mere inches from. You loved the way Dean made you feel—you just hated how you felt on your own.

The muscles of his shoulders worked elegantly as he removed your bottoms and re-ran his hands upwards along your skin. Light goosebumps formed along his trail and he smiled, letting out the lightest laugh in admiration.

Dean’s thumbs found themselves on the edges of your underwear and he paused.

“Like I said,” he was gruff, “we’ve got all the time in the world. So, how do you want me?”

There were few men in the world who would offer themselves to a woman. Be freely tasked with whatever she wanted, not he.

But again, you hated decision making. From dinners to motels to books to people, you hated being the shot caller.

“Use your imagination.” You settled on. “I’m all yours, Dean.”

And since he was already on his knees, he supposed he’d start there.

Dean bent an index finger and rested it at the top of your underwear before dragging it downward, slowly watching your eyes and chest as he inched closer and closer to your core. He didn’t stagger as he crossed a threshold of your covered clit and continued further as he wrist turned and his palm rested against the front of you, his fingers pressing into you from above you panties.

He rubbed his hand back and forth, arching his fingers to press inwards but not moving the Fabric away but caressing it into you. Dean shifted his hand upwards and outstretched a finger on your clothed clit to massage small circles on the bundle of nerves. His opposite shoulder knocked into your leg, opening the space for him as on of your hands shot to a dresser top beside the door and the other rested on his head.

He could feel your hand falling with every ministration. He turned his head in the direction of your hand, the heat of your hand on his face pulsing as the blood was rushing.

“Are you gonna keep fingering me like a middle school boy or really make me feel something, Winchester?” You looked down at him.

He stopped moving his finger.

“Well you told me to use my imagination, sweetheart. You gotta be more specific than that.”

“I want you to eat me out,” you clarified. “I want you to use your fingers and then I want you to fuck me before everyone else comes home.”

Dean’s eyes lit up. A smirk, followed by a “yes ma’am” gave him the orders he needed.

In your imagination, you thought it’d be here by the door. He’d eat you out from the floor and then fuck you against the door but for some, god-fucking-awful reason you can’t place, Dean got up from the floor and walked toward the bed.

His reflection of his back toward the bed reminded you of what you didn’t want to see in it—you.

Dean took a second to undo his jeans and remove himself from them. He was strained already against his briefs but didn’t care to take care of himself first or make it the “problem” needing to be fixed.

And like before, he extended his hand out to you.

“Come on,” he called out and it was hard to ignore the order itself.

A wave of nerves washed over you and made you cold. The sudden realization that you were nearly nude, he too, and your brash words of sex were all that was on the table became too much of a reality. His outstretched hand remained cold.

If you hadn’t known better, you could have assumed a poltergeist had appeared in the room. The sudden chill, the bucket of water dropping on reality bursting a bubble of pretend before it was too late. You were self-conscious and it began to leak like a sieve through the floorboards and walls and all it took was for Dean to truly, really look at you to see that something had changed drastically in the minutes it took for him to move, remove his pants, and hold out his hand.

The romance, the lust, or the sex had died in the moment.

Your hand grasped the edge of the dresser tightly and you couldn’t bare to look at Dean. A shameful, whimpering dog-like mentality was embarrassing and you didn’t fathom it would take on this large of a life. It encapsulated your wants and your needs and was now preventing you from finishing a job that you’d become all too familiar with and it should have been easy.

The mirror reflected those thoughts.

“Hey,” Dean closed his hand and his brows furrowed. “Hey.”

He received no response, just a near frozen you. You shook your head no.

“W-what’s wrong?” He questioned in a state of confusion. Things had changed so quickly. You clicked your tongue, shutting your eyes tightly before opening them again and looking anywhere but him and to the left.

“It’s…” you staggered your words. “It’s, I just, I thought that… well…”

You laughed incredulously at yourself. The hand once gripping the dresser flew to your face in embarrassment and over your eyes.

“Fuck,” you muttered.

Dean could only reiterate his “hey” over and over as he approached you calmly. He shushed in reassurance as he tried to remove the hand that covered your eyes.

“No, no, Dean—I’m fine, really, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Dean said quietly. “What’s going on, hm? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” you let him move the hand from your eyes yet you couldn’t look at him. “Nothings wrong I just… I just needed a second, that’s all.”

He didn’t believe you.

He never did when times like these flared up. Whether it be about what he knew or didn’t, any time where you, Sam, or anyone else had a sliver of doubt or injury or sadness, Dean would stop his world to help even if it hurt his own.

“Sweetheart, I think we both know that isn’t true.”

“I’m good. Really.”

He studied you for a time. Just looking, watching the way the muscles in your face twitched, the lack of contact you gave back to him. Dean was far from stupid even if he had his moments; he could see through the veil.

“Then come on,” he proposed. “Let’s just sit down and we don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to.” You knew he wouldn’t force you to.

Dean made the slightest move to step backwards and your eyes flashed in the direction of the mirror.

“It’s ok!” Goddamn. How many times were you going to say it?

You wrapped your arms around his neck and brought him back. “It’s alright!”

Dean shook his head.

“No, it’s not.”

“We can just do it here,” you suggested. It wasn’t exactly the romantic afternoon he had planned out in his head. “Right here.”

“Against the door?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. Your gaze popped again in the direction of the mirror.

Dean caught it this time.

“The doors fine with me,” you restated assuredly. Dean nodded but didn’t make a move to finish what he started before.

Instead, he lifted one of his hands and cupped your face gently. His green eyes bore into you like lasers, prodding for answers he wasn’t sure he’d get but attempting to discover them nonetheless. There was a slice of pity, a lingering disappointment he couldn’t mask but above all else, Dean wanted you to be truthful to him.

He’d spent forever being lied to. Being told that there was only one path to getting what people needed out of life and listening to the directions of people who didn’t truly care what happened to him nor what he wanted. In a small corner of his own personal heaven, he wanted it to be nothing short of perfect even if perfection could never be attained.

And lies were always the cause of its destruction.

“What’s wrong with the bed, Sweetheart?”

You shook your head.

“This ain’t like a… monster-under-the-bed kind of situation, is it?” Dean joked. You scoffed, a smile cracking itself on your face and he could feel the way it grew underneath his hand.

“No,” you laughed. “There’s nothing in here except you and me.”

“Good,” he said lowly. “Then what’s wrong with that mirror on the wall?”

The smile on your face fell.

“Th-the mirror?”

Dean turned his body slightly to open the pathway to the mirror. Floor length and bolted into the wall sat a mirror across from the bed. It was there when you all arrived at this destination and you had never bothered to move it, only growing to hate its location when you got up, got dressed, and when you met the reflection on accident when you were halfway to self pleasure.

“You keep looking at it like it might come alive.”

“There’s nothing in the mirror.”

No real demons, at least.

“Then come to the bed,” Dean offered again. “I’m not twenty-five anymore.”

The ground was too hard even if the idea enticed him. He’d work you to your orgasm and then need help getting up—one too many throw downs with evil and the world catches up with you.

“We could always go to your room,” you suggested.

Dean’s hand caressed your face. You knew he knew you were avoiding something larger than just a room.

“What’s wrong with the mirror, baby?”

Ah shit. Baby.

“Dean—“ you started in argument against him but he wouldn’t let you. He wasn’t letting this go until it was like all other mysteries in his life and it was solved.

“No,” he argued back. “No, and you know you’re not telling the truth. What’s wrong with the mirror?”

“Nothings wrong with the mirror!”

“Yes there is,” his voice was getting tougher, rough around the edges in frustration with not you, but the thoughts swirling within you.

“No—“

“Yes!”

He let go of your face and grabbed your hand.

“Dean—“

Dean took one step toward the mirror and you broke the façade.

“Fine!” You grunted, tugging your hand out of his grasp. “Fine! It’s the fucking mirror, okay?”

“Well—“

“I don’t like it! It’s at the end of my fucking bed and I can’t stand looking in it.”

Dean’s eyes shifted again to a slight sadness and you wanted to throw a brick at the glass.

“Sw-“

You cut him off. “All I see when I look in that reflection is someone who’s… disgusting. I just… I can’t look at myself anymore and I certainly don’t want to watch myself doing something I don’t deserve to do.”

“Woah, woah, woah,” Dean wanted to reset the day. “You’re not disgusting, sweetheart. Why did you say that, wh—“

“You could have gone with Sam and had someone else for the day, Dean. Someone pretty and sexy and fits all the right boxes for you. I don’t know why you didn’t go.”

“I don’t want them” he said your name firmly. “I stayed because I want you. I don’t want them. They don’t know me or what I like and I chose to be here.”

“Because it’s easy or because it’s convenient?”

“Because it’s perfect.”

“It’s not perfect, Dean.”

Dean stood there aloof in his briefs. Across from him, you were the most vulnerable he’d ever seen you and you were beautiful. There was nothing that caused him to feel repulsed or rejected. He was encapsulated by a glow he’d grown fond of and wanted to be held in. You were gorgeous, underwear and all, and nothing you’d say was going to change his mind.

“To me it is.”

Dean’s head tipped to the side in observance again. “I don’t know what you see—I won’t know what you see. But to me, I see someone who checks all my boxes and it takes nothing else.”

“I can’t look at myself.”

“What if I showed you someone else?”

It didn’t sound right to you. Dean could see it on your face as the confusion fizzled the upset and he wanted to walk it back to clarify yet didn’t.

“You’re not ask-“

“No one else is here,” he shook his head as he reproached you. He grasped one of your hands and hesitantly brought you to the mirror.

“But I want to show you someone else.”

You wanted to protest against him so loudly but when he stopped you in front of the mirror and stood behind you, the words died on your lips. You saw the same person.

The vision in front of you was lumpy and frumpy and the choice of underwear was quickly becoming something to regret.

“Who do you see?” Dean asked you. One of his hands rested on your shoulder, digging into the spot where your neck and shoulder met. The other held onto your own and intertwined your fingers gently.

“I have a feeling you won’t like what I say.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I see… an unfortunate woman. She’s not a supermodel and she’s not a celebrity. So… she’s not the standard of beauty. Her hair’s not done and her makeup is well… not ready for the magazines and she chose the wrong day to wear this color bra.”

“Anything else?” Dean listened.

“The man behind her is too handsome for her. He deserve someone who matches what he gives and that’s not the person in the mirror.”

Dean let that sit in the air for a moment. The seconds felt heavy and you wanted to look away from yourself and crawl under the covers and never see the light of day again.

“Can I tell you what I see?” Dean asked you and you shrugged.

“I can’t imagine it’d be any different than me.”

Dean cleared his throat and from his reflection, his eyes crawled along every inch of you that was exposed to him. You were under a microscope and he the scientist.

“I see my best friend,” he started and you knew you were quickly sinking. “I see a woman who is so strong and capable and caring and good. I see pretty hair and pretty eyes and maybe… maybe…the best lips in this bunker. But I may have to take that back when I look at myself.”

You squeezed his hand.

“I see a woman who has the most beautiful body.” He took the hand from your shoulder and slowly ran the backs of his fingers along your spine. “Every part of her distracts me. I catch myself starting at her when she’s not looking and I have to look away before she notices. Every color looks good on her and she looks the prettiest like this.”

“Anything else?” You said quietly.

Dean looked you in the eyes from the reflection. There were a million things he could say.

“How long do we have?” He laughed. The sound bounced off you; his chest vibrating against your back.

“I haven’t always been the best… anything… when it comes to women. But goddamn do you make me want to be someone else, sweetheart. Like maybe I could be a rock star and you can be the most devoted groupie or… or maybe I could be a firefighter and you can be a school teacher who can’t wait for me to get home.”

“I think you’re projecting, Dean,” you chuckled and he wrapped his arms around your shoulders, holding you tight against his bare chest.

“The woman I see in this mirror is perfect to me.”

“I wish she could see that for herself,” you said dejectedly.

“Then let me show her how,” he prompted. His mouth at the base of your ear, his breath was hot on the side of your face. “Let me show you how.”

“I do—“

He said your name strongly. “If you don’t face it, you won’t overcome it.”

A half a second you thought he might have read that from his Dad’s journal back in the day. Perhaps it was a statement he had grown up with but no matter that root, he sought the end to the cause.

“What were you thinking?”

“Nothing different from what you had said before,” Dean’s hands began to shift. They curved over your back and to the front of your body. You watched in the mirror was they traced along your sides and over your hips. The slow agony of his glide caught the fabric of your underwear and begged for them to be pulled away, but he let them remain.

“I’m going to eat you out, like you asked,” you caught his eyes in the mirror and blood rushed to your face. Cheeks hot and flustered, you can’t believe how blatant you had been before. “And then I’m going to fuck you like it’s our last night on this fucking earth, alright?”

“And what of the mirror?”

“You’re gonna watch yourself, us, through it from the bed.”

“I don’t know if I can do that, Dean.”

You panicked a little inside. But his hands kept roaming and his eyes were changing their shades again, and in it all, all you could feel was him. His hard body, his rough hands, the breath on your face, and words he spoke overtook the insecurities that plagued you.

“You can,” he assured. His long fingers played at the strap of your bra, inching it away from your shoulder and letting it slip down your arm.

“I know you can because you always listen to me,” he whispered in your ear. “So? What do you say?”

The same fingers that let the strap fall moved under your arm and around to the nearly exposed breast. His hand snaked around your body and up to cup the one breast before squeezing the flesh tightly. You shuddered a breath and he knew he had you.

Dean took your earlobe between his teeth and let go with a small ‘pop.’ His hand squeezed and soothed, the other sitting patiently at your hip. Fingers tugged at the exposed nipple and you watched it harden like magic in the mirror.

“I’m not doing anything until you tell me, baby.”

You met his eyes again.

“Fuck me, Dean.”

And he smiled into your neck.

There was something unexpectedly titillating watching Dean go down on you.

It was daunting at first. Dean had led you to the bed, sitting you on the end and crept up onto the mattress behind you. Your reflection stared back hauntingly—dreading yet curious as to what it may appear as in front of you. It was strange, watching Dean and feeling his touch but not truly looking into his eyes. His hands caressed your body and the seriousness of his need to prove your mind wrong was enough to challenge yourself.

He wanted to prove you wrong. Dean wanted to show you how beautiful you were in the throes of ultimate vulnerability and passion.

“Look,” he positioned your head to look in the mirror across the bed.

“I want you to keep looking, alright? Even when we move or I move you, I need you to keep looking.”

“What if I wa—“ You turned your head to the side to look at him but he took his hand and repositioned your head.

“What if I want to look at you?”

“I’m right here,” Dean looked at himself in the mirror. He puffed out his chest slightly, you biting your lip in his boyish confidence that never seemed to leave him.

You knew, however, how much Dean gave to everyone else. One day, you promised, you’d give Dean something he needed too.

“Now,” he rubbed the sides of your arms before moving out of the way and off the bed. “Lay down.”

“But—“

“I’ll tell you how to do it,” he dismissed.

You shimmed up the bed slightly and leaned back. Your back hit the mattress with the thud and you weren’t sure what to do with your hands, so you just folded them across your stomach. Dean scoffed and looked down at you to which your brows furrowed.

“What?” You questioned.

“You’re acting like you’ve never done this before.”

“Well,” you countered. “In a way I haven’t.”

“Yeah but we’ve done this before,” he made a gesture between the two of you with his finger. “Relax.”

You nodded your head and breathed in deeply. You had done this before. You had. He’s done it a hundred times and if you were counting, he actually liked doing it so it was more than a hundred times over the last few years.

Dean knocked his knee against yours, tipping his head in silent order to open them which you complied obediently with. Now, spread before him, your heart was racing.

“Sit up on your elbows.”

You did.

“When I get down,” Dean warned. “You’re gonna see yourself. And if you get too overwhelmed, you tell me and we stop.”

God, you loved him. You really did.

“Okay,” you said in a quiet nod.

Before you could back down, before he went down, he leaned across to you and kissed you gently on the lips.

“I mean it, yeah?”

You agreed. “Yeah.”

Dean hummed and kneeled on the floor against his better judgement. His hands that rested on your thighs went to your hips, catching the fabric between his palms and slowly, he pulled down your panties and helped remove them from your legs. Above his head, you could see yourself in the mirror—the most private part of you wholly covered by Dean’s head and the expanse of his back took up the rest of the space.

He lifted on your legs off the bed and onto his shoulder. He peppered a few scattered kisses on the inside of your thighs as he repositioned himself for the taking. You were right there, waiting. Dean’s own want was growing by the second and all he wanted to do was taste you.

He hooked his arm around your leg and brought his hand to your core, thumb pressing into you with a jolt. And then he pulled his head inwards. Painting a stripe with his tongue, that was all it took to let the fear escape your body.

Dean was at the alter of you; the reflection emboldened your acceptance of yourself and his actions that formed a deeper well within you. He kept going. His head moving, bobbing for every motion he made. His fingers pulled you open as his tongue painted pictures inside of you.

Each stoke of his tongue, of his fingers along the sides and his thumb pressing into your clit made the blood rush down. You throbbed, burning for something more as you watched nothing but the back of his head and the muscles of his back constrict with his ambition.

Dean watched you watch yourself. He was proud of you—how you didn’t truly watch him or fall to your back instead. You mewled, gasping with a jolt as he prompted himself to use his fingers more. He took it as a sign. Instead of palming himself on the outset of his briefs, he took his other hand and brought it to your pussy that beckoned it.

“You good baby?”

He moved the hand that was already there to your thigh and groped it. You split for a moment from the mirror to look at him. His cheeks were flush, chest laboring with a breathlessness he welcomed.

“Perfect. I’m perfect.”

He ran his tongue over his lips as he smiled and your heart skipped a beat.

“Damn right,” he encouraged.

You anticipated him to continue on with his mouth but he sat back on his knees on the floor. Straining in his briefs, Dean just looked at you before rising with a grunt and kneeling next to you on the bed.

“Sit up,” he pointed to the end of the bed and you did as told again.

“Wha-“

“Shh,” he hushed. He sat sideways next to you with one of his legs tucked under him. Dean’s hand reached out and rested on the space between your stomach and cunt and when you looked up, he clicked his tongue at you.

“Mirror,” he redirect you and suddenly, his fingers were inching lower and lower until they were meeting the wet remnants of his mouths product.

Your mouth fell open in the slightest; a rewarding breath escaped your lips as his finger, then two breeched you and met your warmth in an eager welcome. As he pumped his fingers in and out of you and gathered the wetness that built quickly, Dean’s forehead fell onto the top of your head and his body leaned into you.

With every staggered breath he was more rewarded. His fingers relished the sounds your pussy made as he sped up his wrist faster.

“Oh,” you barely mumbled out. “Fuck, Dean.”

Dean hummed and the rumble went through you. He kept his pace and you wanted to close your eyes, stall the feelings building inside of you but didn’t. You didn’t disobey his wants and efforts of helping you get over this self deprecation that was sealing fate before there was a chance to solve it.

“Dean,” you said again but not worried. He didn’t stop at his name.

His fingers curled inside of you, hitting the spot you ached for him to find without cause. The muscle in your leg jolted and your hand went to his arm, tightly holding on as the other dug into the sheets of your bed and formed new wrinkles in its wake.

The heat was fast in its approach. Screeching from an abyss of darkness to only be awakened by the light of him, your end was near. It was greedy to want it all the time yet Dean was more than willing to give forever if it meant he’d feel this way.

“Come on,” he egged you on as you clenched the two fingers. “Baby come on, I’ve got you.”

“F-fuck, Dean, I-Christ,” you writhed in pleasure. He was leaning against you and his eyes closed let the reflection before you come alive in more ways than one. He was all yours—not a single word or person or thing could change it. Completely and utterly devoted to you and for once, when you looked in the mirror, you felt beautiful.

Your breath hitched in your throat and there was little else you could say as the room was filled with nothing but your heavy breaths and the sick sounds of your pleasure.

Those sounds, the mirror, and Dean’s words were all it would take to send you over a ledge. The burning, bright light of relief was striking. It was blistering in its blaze and entirely too much to send words tumbling out of your lips. All you could do was dig your fingertips into his arm and watch your body twitch at the intensity.

It shook your legs; shoulders twitching with the muscles in your stomach convulsing. Dean slowed his fingers to a stop. He held them inside of you for a second before removing them as carefully as he could and he rested the hand above your knee. Your finish on his fingers wet your skin and brought a coolness that hadn’t been there before.

Dean pushed his head against yours. He opened his eyes and met yours face to face, not in the mirror.

As he hoped, there was something inside of yours that changed. There was no regret and the cruelty of your mind was the past for now—even if the evil crept in the shadows around the gleam that surrounded you now.

You were beautiful. You were perfect.

And if you couldn’t vocalize those words yourself, at least he knew you could see them.

“Did you see what I see?” He asked lowly. He wasn’t done with you yet.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I see it.”

“Good.”

“But I don’t want to look at me anymore.” Your eyes weren’t tortured. “I just want to look at you.”

When he fucked you into the mattress, you did. You took in him and only him and when everyone returned when the sun had long gone down, you felt anew when Dean glanced at you from across the table and that glow of renewal hadn’t left you.

As always, comments and reblogs encourage writers the most! I thank you for reading and I am so thankful you took the time out of your day to read what I’ve put out here. Thank you!

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester x female!reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural x you #x reader #fanfic #fanfiction #supernatural #kinktober 2024 #kinktober

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lostfracturess · 4 months ago

Text

─── games and matches | ch. 03

pairing — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

summary — after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

word count — 12.5 k (chapter 3/3)

warnings — 18+ ONLY. contains explicit sexual content, light angst, age difference, unprotected sex, public sex, sad sex?, masturbation, penetration, oral (female receiving), in need of heavy daddy issues to enjoy this.

author's note — hello again !! we've reached the final chapter of our story. brace yourselves for a bit of angst and emotion, but don't worry, a happy ending is on the horizon. so, get comfy, grab your fave snack, and let's jump into this last chapter & happy reading <3

masterlist + ao3 + wattpad

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

In the days following the party, your father had been livid.

He'd ranted and raved, furious at what he saw as Satoru's betrayal and your reckless naivety. He'd had a long, serious talk with you, demanding that you end things with Satoru immediately and return to college to focus on your studies.

But the truth was, there hadn't been anything to end with Satoru.

Not really.

You'd tried to reason with him, to make him understand that Satoru was not using you and you wanted it too. But he'd been unmovable, insisting that he knew what was best for you, that Satoru was too old, too experienced, too much of a player to ever take you seriously.

Your dad was usually a gentle man at heart.

But you'd never seen him so angry.

But despite his anger towards Satoru, your dad couldn't find it in himself to be truly angry with you. Still, you could see the disappointment in his eyes, so you'd had no choice but to capitulate, agreeing to return to college and focus on your studies, putting some distance between yourself and Satoru.

But somehow, you couldn't stop thinking about him.

You went through the motions of college life, attending classes and studying late into the night, all the while your thoughts wander back to the man that changed your whole world in mere days.

You counted the days until break, until you could see him again, touch him again, lose yourself in the heat of him again.

It was stupid, really.

You've known him your entire life, but this thing between you, it's new.

And it's irrational, illogical, and yet, you can't help but be drawn to him like a moth to a flame, craving his presence, his touch, as if you'd never realized what you were missing until now.

It doesn't make sense.

And then, one night as you lay in your dorm room, your roommate out at some party or another — your phone rang. Your heart leapt into your throat when you saw Satoru's name on the screen, your pulse picking up speed as you fumbled to answer.

"Well, if it isn't my favorite lawyer," you drawled, a smile already on your lips. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this late-night call?"

"What, a man can't just call his favorite girl?"

"Aw, you're making me blush. But seriously, what's up?"

"Just wanted to hear your voice, check in on you. That's all."

Your smile softened, your free hand absently playing with the hem of your shirt.

Oh, his voice.

There was something about his voice that always managed to put you at ease, no matter how stressed you were feeling. It was like a soothing balm, washing over you and melting away all your worries.

You could listen to him talk for hours, getting lost in the rich timbre of his voice, the way it seemed to wrap around you like a warm embrace.

Again.

It was stupid, really.

"I'm okay. I mean, Dad's still not thrilled about...us, but he's coming around. He could never stay mad at me for long. You, on the other hand...you might want to steer clear of him for a while,” you said after a pause.

“Yeah, I figured as much. My jaw still hurts like hell. Can't say I blame him though. If I had a daughter, I'd probably want to throttle any man who looked at her twice, too."

“Flatterer. You're just trying to butter me up so I'll send you dirty pictures or something."

"Love, I don't need to butter you up for that. I've got a whole album on my phone that says you're more than happy to oblige me without any sweet talking necessary."

You could hear the grin in his voice, and you huffed out a laugh. "Shut up. I still can't believe I let you talk me into that."

"Oh, I didn't have to do much talking, if I recall. In fact, I'm pretty sure it was your idea to—"

"Anyway," you interrupted. "Other than missing my revealing pictures, how have you been? How's work?"

Are you seriously asking him about work right now?

Stupid, really.

But somehow you genuinely wanted to know, wanted to know what's happening in his life.

Satoru hummed, and you could picture him stretching out on his bed, one arm tucked behind his head. "Work is work. Busy, stressful, the usual. But I'd rather hear about you. How are classes? How's tennis? Any campus heartthrobs I need to come beat up for sniffing around my girl?"

You smiled, your heart warming at the fond possessiveness in his voice, the easy way he called you 'his girl'. Like it was a foregone conclusion, like there could never be anyone else for either of you.

You laid back more on the bed, starring up the ceiling. “Things are fine. Classes are kicking my ass, but I'm surviving. And tennis is... tennis. Lots of training and sore muscles. The usual."

"Sore muscles huh, there's an image," Satoru purred, his voice dipping low, taking on that gravelly edge that never failed to raise goosebumps on your skin. "You know, if you ever need help with that, I'm more than happy to volunteer my ser—"

"Like what?"

"Oh, you know what I mean."

"You're stupid."

"You love it."

"Mm. Debatable."

"Liar." But he was laughing as he said it, bright and boyish, and the ache in your chest eased a bit.

God, you'd missed this.

Missed him?

No. That can’t be.

He’s just an affair, right?

A beat of comfortable silence settled over the line, broken only by the soft sounds of your matched breathing. You closed your eyes, letting yourself pretend, just for a moment, that he was there with you. That if you rolled over, you'd find him sprawled out beside you, all tousled hair and sleepy eyes.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, breaking you out of your reverie.

Your heart clenched, your throat going tight.

For what felt like an eternity, you held your breath.

“You miss fucking me,” you say eventually, needing to break the intensity with a quip, a tease. "That's what this is really about. You're hard up and looking for a steamy bedtime story."

"Oh, I definitely want to fuck you," he agreed readily, his voice pitching lower, darker. "It makes me lose my mind, if I'm being honest. But love, if that was all this was, I'd be watching porn and taking matters into my own hands, so to speak. When I say I miss you... I mean you. Your mind, your heart, your ridiculous snort-laugh that makes you sound like a drunken piglet."

"Rude."

"The point is," he continued, barreling past your interruption, "I miss all of you. The sex is just a very, very nice bonus."

You were glad he couldn't see your face in that moment, because you were fairly certain you were grinning like an idiot. "Wow. I think you missed your calling. You should have been a poet, not a lawyer."

"But then I wouldn't get to argue for a living. Where's the fun in that?"

"Yeah, true. The courtroom would be way too quiet without you there to stir things up."

"Exactly. Plus, I look quite good in a suit."

"Wow, so humble, aren't you?"

"Just spitting facts. But you know, I bet I'd look even better with you by my side."

"Is that so?"

"Definitely. We'd be the ultimate power couple. Me, the godly lawyer, and you, the brilliant and smoking hot...wait, what was it you were studying again?"

You rolled your eyes, even though he couldn't see you. "Nice try, Satoru. You know damn well what I'm studying."

"Mmm, it's not coming to me. Guess you'll have to refresh my memory...preferably in person."

"You're such a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"Yeah, but you love me just the way I am."

His words echoed in your mind, 'you love me', and suddenly it felt like the air had been sucked out of the room. Your throat went tight, your chest constricting as the weight of those words sank in.

He’s just an affair.

You had to remind yourself of it, because otherwise—

No. It could never possibly be.

For a long moment, you just listened to each other breathe, the silence comfortable and charged all at once. It felt like something was building, some inevitable tide that would sweep you both away if you let it.

"Are you alone?" Satoru asked abruptly.

You blinked, snapping back to reality as you glanced around your empty dorm room, taking in the half-cracked textbooks and rumpled bedding, the scatter of discarded clothing littering every surface. You knew your roommate was with her boyfriend tonight, likely wouldn't be home until morning, if at all.

"Yeah," you confirmed. "Just me and a truly alarming amount of dirty laundry."

"Perfect. Put me on speaker."

You paused for a second, but then anticipation rose in your blood, a thrilling shiver running down your spine at the low, suggestive tone of his voice. You did as instructed, placed the phone on your pillow and lay back on the soft bed.

"Take off your pants for me, love.”

You shivered, fingers already working at the tie of your sleep shorts. "You too. I want to hear your voice."

The rustle of fabric and the clank of a belt buckle echoed through the phone, followed by Satoru's drawn-out sigh of relief. "Fuck, that's better," he groaned, sounding almost pained. "I've been hard since the second I heard your voice, just aching to get a hand on myself. You drive me so crazy, you know that? Make me throb and leak, desperate to bury myself in you."

"God, Satoru," you whimpered, heat pulsing between your thighs. Your own pants were long gone, kicked somewhere off the bed. "Don't say things like that. I can't stand how much I need you. I'm already so wet just thinking about you."

"Fuck, such a needy little thing," he groaned. "Put your fingers in that pretty mouth for me. Get them nice and wet for me, love. Pretend it's my cock you're sucking on, my cum you're tasting on your tongue."

You hastened to obey, sliding two fingers past your parted lips. You swirled your tongue around the digits, hollowing your cheeks as you sucked, picturing Satoru's thick length sliding over your tongue, heavy and hard and leaking at the tip.

"God, you’re such a good girl," Satoru breathed, the slick sound of flesh on flesh suggesting his hand had found its destination. "Now trail those wet fingers down your throat, over your chest. Pluck and roll your nipples for me, let me hear those moans."

You did as told, your back arching off the bed as you circled and tugged at the aching peaks. Satoru's labored breathing and low curses spilled from the speaker, causing your core to clench.

"Satoru," you mewled, pinching harder, hips starting to circle restlessly against the empty air.

"Slide that hand lower, love. Drag your fingertips through your slick folds, feel how wet you are for me. Circle your clit, get it nice and hot and ready for my tongue."

A broken moan tumbled from your lips as you touched yourself as directed, your hips bucking up to chase more of the pressure. Your clit throbbed under the pads of your fingers, aching and needy.

"Wish it was my mouth on you," Satoru panted, the slick, rhythmic glide of his hand over his cock filling the air. "Wish I could bury my face between your thighs and lick up every drop of you. Fuck, the way you taste, the sounds you make—”

"Satoru, please," you whined, two fingers dipping lower to circle your entrance, thighs fallen open. "I want to feel you inside me, want you to fuck me so bad."

"Do it," he commanded breathlessly. "Fuck yourself on your fingers, nice and deep. Picture me there, hovering over you, my cock sinking into you inch by inch. Feel me stretching you wide, filling you up, making you mine."

You obeyed, plunging your fingers knuckle-deep, your free hand flying to your mouth to muffle your cry. You started up a desperate rhythm, hips rolling into every thrust, the wet sounds of your own penetration mixing with Satoru's heavy breathing and latching groans.

"Good girl. Ride those fingers like you'd ride my dick. Fast and hard and greedy, taking every inch. Fuck, if you could see what you're doing to me right now.” His voice was absolutely wrecked, cracking and catching like he was barely hanging on to his control. “I'm so hard it hurts, leaking all over my fist. I'm fucking close already.”

You whimpered, your hips bucking into your hand as his words made your core clench harder. "Tell me, Satoru. Tell me what you're doing, how you're stroking yourself. I want to hear it, want to picture it so clearly it's like I'm there with you."

Satoru groaned. "I've got my cock in a tight grip, love. Squeezing the base hard to stave off my orgasm, because I'll be damned if I come before you do. Want to time it just right, want to hear you fall apart and know it's my voice that pushed you over the edge."

You moaned brokenly, thighs starting to tremble as your climax approached. "Close," you managed to gasp out, your free hand fisting in your sweat-dampened sheets. "Satoru, fuck, I'm so fucking close—"

"Come with me, love," he encouraged, voice breaking on a moan. "Rub your clit just how I know you like, just how I would with my tongue. Fuck, I can practically taste you, can feel you clenching around my fingers, my cock—"

And then his low, throaty groan cut through the air, and the sound — so intimate, so hot, so fucking reminiscent of all the times he'd spilled inside you — shoved you violently over the edge.

With a wordless cry, you shattered, your core rippling and gushing around your buried fingers. Distantly, you heard Satoru praising you through his own desperate grunts and moans, heard the rhythmic slap of his hand as it pumped his twitching cock through the aftershocks.

For long, panting moments, you just trembled and gasped in the aftermath, boneless and buzzing, your heart pounding against your ribs. Your skin felt too tight, your body alive and electric in a way only Satoru could cause — even from miles away.

"Fuck, what you do to me, woman," Satoru said after a moment, his words hitching a bit like he'd just stretched out real good. "You should see the mess I made over here. I'm covered in my own cum, it's all over my stomach and chest. Fuck, I haven't come that hard from just my hand in years."

"I wish I could see that.” You slipped your fingers out of your core and reached for a tissue before collapsing back onto the bed. “Wish I could watch you come, see every drop spill onto your skin. God, I'd lick it all up, every fucking drop, nice and slow."

"Fuck," Satoru choked out, and you could practically hear him trembling through the phone. "You're killing me here, you know that? I'm too old to get it up again this fast, but fuck if you aren't making me want to try."

You laughed. "Sorry, sorry. I'll behave. For now."

"You, behave?" Satoru scoffed, but you could hear the smile in his voice. "I'll believe that when I see it."

"Guess you'll just have to keep me in line then, won't you?"

"Careful what you wish for. Next time I get my hands on you, I might not let you go for days."

"Hm. I’m scared,” you teased.

"Oh, love. You have no idea what you're in for. I'm gonna fuck you so hard and so long that we're gonna break that tiny dorm bed of yours, just you wait."

"Promises, promises, counselor,” you said even as a smile tugged at the corners of your mouth. God, you couldn't wait to have him in your bed, in your body, surrounding you with his heat and scent.

Suddenly, your phone chimed with a message notification. You pulled it away from your ear to check the screen and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

It was a picture from Satoru — or rather his lap.

His sculpted abs and muscular thighs framed the shot and in the center a very familiar thick, generously proportioned cock, red and swollen and covered in milky cum, a pearly bead of liquid welling from the slit.

Damn.

He really had made a mess.

"Fuck, Satoru. Warn a girl before you go sending porn of yourself, would you?”

"What, you don't like your presents? And here I put so much effort into the lighting and angles."

You huffed out a laugh, your cheeks flushing hot as you continued to stare at the picture. "Oh, I didn't say that. Trust me, this is going in the top tier spank bank folder. Might even make it my new background, so I can stare at your dick all day during boring lectures."

"Don't you dare. My cock is for your eyes only, got it? No sharing with the class."

"Aww, you're no fun.”

"Oh, I'll show you fun.”

“You know—” You rolled onto your side and hugged a pillow to your chest. "You should come visit me sometime."

There was a beat of surprised silence, then a sharp inhale. "You want me to come to your college?"

You shrugged even though he couldn't see it. "I mean... yeah. Why not?”

"But what about Suguru? I thought he made it pretty clear he didn't want me within a hundred miles of you.”

"My dad's not here though, is he? He can't exactly stalk our every move when I'm hours away at school. And besides, I'm a grown woman. He doesn't get to tell me who I can and can't see."

"You're really trying to give your old man a heart attack, huh?"

"To be fair, I think we both are," you said with a chuckle. "So, is that a promise? You'll come see me?"

"Sure. I'll drive up this weekend. We can grab dinner, take a walk around campus, whatever you want."

"And then barricade ourselves in my dorm room and not come up for air until Sunday night, right?"

A low, strangled groan echoed over the line. "God, I can't wait to get my hands on you. My mouth on you. Wanna make you scream so loud, the whole damn dorm knows exactly how well you're being taken care of.”

Your face hurt from how hard you were smiling. "Looks like we both have our work cut out for us then. Good thing we've got all weekend to cross some things off the to-do list, because I've already got a few ideas."

"Oh, really? What ideas?”

"Mm, that would be telling.”

"You goddamn tease," he laughed, the sound warm and rich and god, you'd never tire of hearing it.

A beat of comfortable silence fell between you, filled only with the soft sounds of your matched breathing over the line. It was intimate in its own way, just existing together in this quiet moment.

"I miss you," Satoru said quietly, “really miss you.”

You inhaled shakily, your heart racing in your chest. "I miss you too.”

Another pause, heavy with unspoken emotion.

"Sleep well, love," Satoru murmured finally, a soft smile in his voice. "Dream of me."

"Yeah, you too, counselor," you whispered back. "See you soon."

And then he was gone, the line clicking off, leaving you alone with the pounding of your heart and the swirling mess of your thoughts.

You rolled onto your back and stared up at the ceiling, trying to make sense of the emotions churning in your gut. This thing with Satoru—it was supposed to be casual. Fun. Just a hot little affair between two consenting adults, no strings or expectations.

Just really good sex.

Mind-blowingly good sex, sure, but still just sex.

But the way he'd sounded just now, so soft and earnest, the way your pulse raced and your skin tingled at just the thought of seeing him, being near him—

God, what was this feeling?

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to block out the tiny, traitorous voice whispering that it was so much more than that.

It couldn't be.

You couldn't let it be.

Because you were married to tennis. And Satoru, with his high-powered career, was always jetting off to handle cases abroad.

This, whatever this was between you, it had an expiration date.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

The sun beat down on the back of your neck as you bounced lightly on the balls of your feet, racket at the ready. Your hair was pulled back in a high ponytail, a few sticky strands clinging to your sweaty face.

You'd been out on the court for over an hour, serving balls and perfecting your moves. It was tough as hell, but damn did it feel good to push yourself, to feel the satisfying burn in your muscles.

Tennis was your escape, your passion.

When you were on the court, nothing else mattered. Not school, not picking a major, not deciding if you should chase your pro athlete dreams.

Out here, it was just you, your racket, and the ball.

Pure and simple.

You were so focused on your practice, so absorbed in the steady back and forth of the ball, that you completely missed the fact that you had an audience. At least, until a very familiar voice called out, cutting through the regular court sounds.

"Hey there, superstar."

You turned around, to see Satoru walking towards you, a rakish grin on his unfairly handsome face. He was dressed casually in dark slacks and a light sage button down, the sleeves rolled up to reveal his muscular forearms.

"Satoru?" you gasped, your heart racing. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming 'til tomorrow."

He shrugged, tucking his hands in his pockets as he got closer. "Couldn't wait that long. Kept picturing you out here, all alone, in that little skirt..." His eyes raked over you, hot and heavy, lingering on your bare legs. "Let's just say it was a bit too much for my poor imagination to handle."

You flushed, a thrill chasing down your spine at the blatant appreciation in his gaze. Suddenly, you were acutely aware of your skimpy tennis dress, of the way the thin, sweat-soaked fabric clung to your curves.

"So what, you just decided to drive all night and ambush me on the court in broad daylight?" You crossed your arms, trying to look stern even though you were fighting back a smile.

"Ambush? I prefer 'surprise’, or maybe 'make your whole day’, given the way you're looking at me right now."

You scoffed, but couldn't stop the grin that broke free. "Awful sure of yourself, aren't you counselor?"

"With good reason." He reached out and cupped your face in one big, warm hand, his thumb stroking over your cheek so tenderly it made your breath hitch. "After all, I have it on very good authority that you've been pining for me. Yearning, even."

"Oh, is that so?" You leaned into his touch, your skin sparking at even this simple contact.

God, you'd missed him.

Missed this easy back and forth, the simmering tension that always stretched between you.

"Mhm." He dipped his head, his nose brushing against yours, his breath fanning hot over your parted lips. "A little birdie might have mentioned something about you sighing wistfully and doodling my name in hearts all over your notes. Very high school of you, by the way."

You huffed, giving his chest a playful shove even as you felt your face heat up. "In your dreams."

"Mm, always." His other hand found your hip, fingers slipping under the hem of your skirt to stroke over the smooth, sweaty skin there. "But looks like reality's even better this time around."

Your breath hitched, need spiking through you sudden and sharp. Your hands fisted in his shirt, tugging him closer, wanting to feel more of his heat. "Satoru," you warned, but it came out breathy, wanting. "We're in public. Anyone could see..."

"Fuck it, let them," he said, his grip tightening on your hip, his eyes going dark and intense in a way that made your knees weak. "Let the whole damn world know who you belong to. How fucking gone I am for you."

You nearly moaned, your fingers tangling in his hair, torn between dragging him closer and pushing him away. "But I can't suck you off in public now, can I?"

"Fuckin' tease. You're going to pay for that.”

"Mm, can't wait. But for now, I've still got practice to finish up."

"Look at you, being all responsible." His lips trailed down your neck, making you shiver.

"I mean, if I'm gonna go pro, I can't slack off, right?"

He pulled back a little to look you in the eye, his smile going soft. "You're really serious about that, huh? Going pro?"

You shrugged, feeling suddenly shy under the warmth of his gaze. "Yeah, I mean...it's not like, a totally crazy dream, right?"

"Not even a little bit, love. You can do anything you set your mind to. And I'll be right there in the front row, cheering you on every step of the way."

God, the sincerity in his voice, the absolute faith shining in his eyes. It made your throat go tight and your heart feel like it was ten sizes too big for your chest.

"Satoru, you..."

"—are incredible? I know," he cut in with a cheeky grin.

You just smiled, a soft, tender thing that felt too big for your face.

Yeah, he really was incredible.

He smiled in return, leaning in to press a quick, sweet kiss to the tip of your nose. "Now, what do you say, we see if I remember how to swing a racket, hm? I'll even let you beat me, since you've been practicing so hard and all."

"Oh, you'll let me beat you? That's adorable. Try to keep up, old man. I remember you playing real bad.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“Pretty bad, yeah.” You grinned, giving his chest a little shove with your racket. "Bring it, counselor. First to five wins and the loser owes the winner any favor of their choosing."

Satoru's smile was slow, wicked. "Any favor, huh? Dangerous words, love. You sure you wanna give me that kind of power? I might make you regret it later."

"Or maybe I'll make you eat those words," you teased, already backing towards your side of the court, adrenaline buzzing through your veins. "Guess we'll just have to see how it plays out."

"Brat.” He shook his head, huffing out a laugh as he moved into position. "Alright, challenge accepted. Just remember—" His grin turned downright feral. "When I win? And I will win, I'm gonna collect on that favor so hard, you won't be able to walk straight for a week."

A shiver chased down your spine, your core clenching at the blatant heat in his gaze. But you just smiled, slow and sure, adrenaline already thrumming through your veins.

This.

Him.

The push and pull, the electric charge that always crackled between you — god, it was everything. Invigorating and addictive and so, so right.

"Oh, I'm counting on it, counselor.” You bounced lightly on your toes as you readied your first serve. With a wide smile, you tossed the ball skyward. And then the sharp thwack of the ball as it met your strings, the satisfying smack as it hit the court on his side.

Game fucking on.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You did win, of course.

And Satoru wasted no time in making good on his forfeit.

"Fuck, don’t stop," you panted, your hips rolling shamelessly against his face, "feels so fucking good."

Satoru’s hands were firmly on your hips as you rode his face. Your core gliding over his lips and tongue, painting his face with your arousal. The obscene wet sounds of him licking and suckling filled the room, mingling with your breathy moans and sighs.

Satoru licked and sucked and nibbled at your clit, alternating between broad, flat strokes of his tongue and delicate flicks over your throbbing nub. He explored every inch, delving into your tight core and fucking you with the slick muscle until you were keening and thrashing above him.

Your hands moved from the headboard to his hair, tangling in the soft white strands, holding him in place as you started to move faster, grinding your clit against his nose, his chin, his lips.

"Satoru," you chanted mindlessly. "God, yes, just like that. Don't stop, don't fucking stop, I can’t—ah."

He groaned long and low, the sound muffled against your core, and doubled his efforts. His tongue delved deep, curling inside you in a maddening motion that made your vision blur at the edges. His nose rubbed your clit with every rock and grind of your hips, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

Without warning, he pressed two thick fingers into your clenching heat, curling forward to rub over that spot just how you liked it. At the same time, Satoru sealed his lips around your clit and sucked.

It was too much, too intense.

Your orgasm that had been building at the base of your spine, in the quivering pit of your stomach, exploded outwards. You bucked and writhed on his face, practically screaming as pure bliss crashed through you, pulsing out from your core in searing waves. Your core spasmed around his fingers, gushing release over his chin and his nose.

Through it all, Satoru worked you mercilessly, his mouth and hand never faltering, wringing out every last shudder until you collapsed forward, clinging weakly to the headboard. Your thighs trembled on either side of his head, shiny and sticky with your spend, the occasional residual clench making you whimper.

"Holy shit," you managed, still panting. "I'm so fucking glad you suck at tennis."

"Ouch," he said with a laugh. "I'd say I scored at least one point there."

"Yeah, because I let you.”

"Double ouch.”

Slowly, carefully, he eased you off his face and back onto the bed, shifting to hover over you on his elbows. His cheeks and chin were drenched, glistening with your release.

You reached out to swipe a thumb over his slick skin, wiping away some of the mess you'd made. "You've got a little something there.”

"Oh, do I?" He turned his head to nip playfully at your finger, his tongue darting out to lick your arousal from the digit. "Hmm, wonder what that could be. Certainly not the evidence of you coming apart on my tongue. Multiple times, even. But who's counting?"

"Smug doesn't suit you, Satoru.”

He chuckled, low and warm, then sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed. You watched as he stood and stretched, the lean muscles of his back rippling under perfect skin. He was completely unselfconscious in his nudity, utterly at ease with your heated gaze tracing over every inch of him.

Satoru padded across your dorm room, his footsteps silent on the thin carpet. He came to a stop in front of your bookshelf, his head tilting as he examined the various trophies and medals displayed there.

"Impressive collection you've got here.” He reached out to pick up a particularly shiny trophy, turning it over in his hands. "This from the championship last year?"

You sat up, hugging the sheet to your chest. “Yeah, that was a hell of a match. Went to three sets, thought my lungs were going to give out on me by the end of it."

He hummed, setting the trophy back in its place with care. "I remember. I was stuck in a conference room, listening to some blowhard drone on about market fluctuations, but all I could think about was you. Must've refreshed the score update page a hundred times, nearly wore out my phone battery."

Your heart stumbled in your chest, your breath catching. "You...you kept up with my matches? Even when you were abroad?"

Satoru glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes warm and bright in the golden afternoon light filtering through your blinds. “Of course I did. I've always admired your determination and drive, ever since you started college and made it clear tennis was your dream. You think I could focus on anything else when I knew you were out there absolutely crushing it on the court?"

Your heart raced. The idea of him, thousands of miles away, still cheering you on, still invested in your passion, your success—

It meant more than you could ever put into words.

"You know, it was strange for me, seeing you again after so long," Satoru admitted, trailing his fingers absently over a polaroid photo that lay beside your trophies — you, sweaty and beaming, holding a massive trophy aloft. "You'd grown into this incredible, self-assured athlete.” He turned to look at you. “Who would have thought we'd end up like this one day?"

"Not me, that's for sure. But just to be clear, I was always an incredible, self-assured athlete. You've just gotten old, Satoru. I mean, is your hair even more white than before or is it just me?"

"And here I thought I was being sweet."

You smiled slowly. "You are. Kinda."

He raised an eyebrow. "Kinda? Just kinda? Damn, tough crowd."

You grinned, stretching languorously against the pillows. "Can't let that ego get too big, or your head won't fit through the door."

"Oh, I think we both know it's not my head you need to worry about fitting, love.”

"You're ridiculous. Why do I put up with you again?"

Satoru walked back over to the bed, leaning down until he was hovering over you, his face mere inches from yours. "Don't even try to pretend you don't love it.”

"In your dreams.”

He cupped your face in his large, calloused hand, his thumb stroking tenderly over your cheekbone before he dipped his head to press a soft kiss to your mouth and you immediately melted into him.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, your body arching up to meet his, before you tugged him down onto the mattress.

The kiss deepened, growing wetter, hotter, more urgent. Satoru's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance, and when you parted for him, it was with a low, needy moan that made his lips move even greedier against yours.

His hand slid from your face to tangle in your hair, his fingers twisting in the strands as he tilted your head just right to deepen the kiss. His body pressed closer, heavier, his knees pushing your thighs apart as he settled between your legs.

"Not so fast," you breathed against his lips, your hands splayed across his firm chest. With a deft twist of your hips, you rolled him beneath you in one swift motion, straddling his waist.

Satoru blinked up at you, momentarily stunned. Then, slowly, his lips curled into a knowing smirk, his large hands coming to rest on your bare thighs, his thumbs stroking circles over your skin.

"Oh, so you wanna take control now, huh? Be the boss?"

"Please, you know you love it when I'm on top." Your hips began a slow, teasing grind against the rigid length of him nestled between your thighs.

Satoru's breath hitched, his fingers digging into your thighs as you circled your hips just right, the slick drag of your wet core sliding over his aching cock. "You flatter me, love, because I lose my mind in any position with you. But you know, two can play this game."

His hands suddenly shot to your hips, gripping bruisingly tight. With a sharp jerk and a low, purposeful grind, he rocked you against him hard, the pressure on your clit just shy of painful in the most delicious way.

You gasped, your back arching, your nails raking down his sweat-slicked chest. "Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered, your hips moving of their own accord, chasing the delicious friction. "Don't stop."

"What happened to being in control, hm?"

"Oh, shut up”

Every drag of your slick folds over his thick length made you shiver and gasp, lit you up from the inside. You could see the desperation in his eyes, the way his jaw clenched and his chest heaved with each teasing glide of your hips.

He looked so needy beneath you, his hands gripping your thighs painfully tight, his hips moving against yours, seeking more of your friction.

"So, when do you want to end this torture?" he asked.

"What, can't you take a little teasing?"

"Oh, I can, but right now, I'm losing my mind here. If you don't let me fuck you already—"

"Then do it," you say breathlessly, your own need reaching a fever pitch.

He didn’t need to hear more.

One broad palm abandoned your hip to notch underneath your thigh, spreading you wider as the other hand delved between your rocking bodies to grasp his shaft, lining the thick head up with your entrance.

With a moan, you sank down onto him, your body accepting the slow invasion inch by thick inch. When he bottomed out, when the coarse brush of his pelvis met your clit, you both groaned low and long, lost to the connection, the perfect completeness of your bodies finally joined.

"God, you feel so incredible," Satoru gritted out, his fingers digging into your hips as he fought the urge to simply buck up into you, to set a bruising pace and chase his pleasure selfishly. "So damn tight and hot and perfect. Never gonna get over how good you take my cock."

"Fuck, Satoru," you panted. "You're so deep like this—"

Your babbling dissolved into a whimpering keen as he moved his hips, grinding the thick root of him against your G-spot. You braced your hands on his sweat-slick chest and started to move, rising up until just the tip of him kissed your entrance before slamming back down, a scream catching in your throat at the maddening stretch of him.

"Just like that," Satoru urged breathlessly, his neck corded with strain, his teeth sunk into his lower lip as he watched you bounce on his cock through a haze of desperate lust. "Ride me, love. Take this dick, milk me fucking dry. Wanna feel you come on me, soak my cock in it, fucking ruin me."

Your movements grew faster, more desperate, your cries becoming higher pitched and broken as you chased your rapidly approaching climax.

Suddenly, Satoru sat up, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against his chest. The shift in angle made you gasp, your hands gripping his shoulders tightly for balance as he sank even deeper inside you.

"Fuck, Satoru," you whimpered. “Feel so good—"

"Shhh, I've got you." One large hand splayed across your lower back, the other tenderly cupping your cheek, his touch unexpectedly gentle. "I'll always have you, love. No matter what."

Then his hips started moving in a slow, rolling rhythm again, each thrust sending heat straight to your core, making you temporarily forget his sincere words. You clung to him, your foreheads pressed together, your breaths mingling in the narrow space between your lips.

"You're everything to me, you know that?" Satoru murmured softly.

Your heart skipped a beat at his confession.

But before you could fully process it, his hands slid down to grab your ass, grinding you harder against him. A gasp escaped your throat at the sudden increase in pace as you rolled your hips faster to meet his thrusts, your clit rubbing maddingly against him with every downward motion.

In one smooth move, Satoru rolled you both onto your sides, your back flush against his solid chest, still intimately joined. The new position made you moan out, the angle allowing him to sink even further into you.

"Please tell me we'll never stop doing this," he moaned, his lips on your ear.

“No, never, Satoru. God, please never stop.”

One muscular arm banded across your waist, holding you firmly against him as he started to move. His free hand reached up your sweat-slicked body to tighten around your throat, arching your head back to rest against his shoulder.

"Satoru," you panted, reaching back to thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him close as he trailed open-mouthed kisses along the column of your neck. "God, please never stop fucking me.”

"Never, love," he murmured against your skin, his hand drifting lower, fingertips ghosting over your quivering stomach. "I’m never gonna stop fucking you, wanna feel you come apart on my cock again and again until you can't take it anymore."

He rolled his hips just right, hitting that perfect spot inside you that made your core clench. At the same time, his clever fingers found your aching center. A broken moan tore from your throat, your head falling back against his shoulder.

You were close, so fucking close.

But Satoru, god, he knew your body so well, knew exactly how to keep you riding that sweet, torturous edge without letting you fall. Every time you thought you couldn't possibly handle any more, he would change his angle or vary his rhythm, keeping you suspended in an endless loop of blissful torture that had you shaking and gasping his name.

“God, you take me so fucking good.” His teeth sank into the curve of your shoulder as the thick head of his cock slammed into you at that perfect angle. "You feel so amazing, so perfect around me, fuck, gonna fill you up so fuckin' full—"

His words were your undoing.

With a sharp cry, your release crashed over you, your body clenching and pulsing around him as wave after wave consumed you. Your inner muscles clamped down on him, rippling and fluttering and milking his cock for all you were worth.

Satoru fucked you through it relentlessly, prolonging your pleasure until it bordered on pain, all while he chased his own release.

Without warning, Satoru flipped you over onto your stomach, his body covering yours as he pushed back inside you with a deep, almost desperate thrust. One of his hands snaked around to grip your throat lightly, his chest molding to your back as he set a punishing pace, driving into you with abandon.

"Oh fuck, love, I'm gonna—shit, you feel so fucking good—" His words dissolved into incoherent moans, his hips starting to lose their steady rhythm as his climax approached.

He pounded into you harder, faster, the force of his thrusts pushing you up the bed, your hands scrabbling for purchase on the sheets. And then, with a guttural groan, he let go, his release flooding you, painting your walls with his seed.

You could feel every twitch and throb of his cock as he emptied himself deep inside you, your own clenching core greedily milking him for every last drop.

For long, blissful moments, you simply shook and shuddered together, his cock still buried to the hilt, hearts pounding in sync. Satoru's arms tightened around you, his face buried between your shoulder blades, his ragged breaths gusting over your sweat-dampened skin.

"I swear it gets better every goddamn time,” he mused against your lips. “Never gonna get enough of you, never gonna stop craving the way you feel around me.”

You huffed, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the sudden tightness in your chest. "Yeah, you've really ruined me for all other dicks, just so you know." You turned your head to catch his eyes.

A slow smile spread across his face. He straightened up, his hands wandering over the curve of your ass before delivering a light, playful spank.

“Hey!" you yelped.

Grinning unrepentantly, he leaned down and playfully bit one of your buttocks. "God, I can't wait to see this ass in your little tennis skirts again," he growled, soothing the sting with a kiss.

"What, that gets you all hot and bothered?"

"Yeah, totally. I'm hard the second you shimmy into one of those tiny things."

"Well, good thing you'll be seeing me in them a lot more often then.”

"I’m counting on it. Can’t wait to see you in those skirts winning matches all over the world.”

You bit your lip, a sudden wave of uncertainty crashing over you. "Dad wants me to have a backup plan, you know? In case the whole tennis thing doesn't pan out."

"And since when do you give a fuck what he thinks?" Satoru challenged, his fingers trailing up your spine, making you shiver.

"Fair point," you conceded, your lips twitching. But the smile faded quickly, replaced by a frown. "I mean, It's a nice dream, but...what are the odds, really? It's not exactly a realistic goal."

Slowly, gently, he slipped out of you, both of you moaning at the loss of contact. He pulled you close, tucking you into the curve of his body like you belonged there.

"Says who?" he demanded, his voice fierce, almost angry. "You're incredible. You have just as much chance as anyone else, if not more so. You shouldn't give up on your dreams just because the path isn't easy."

Your heart clenched, your throat suddenly tight. "You really think I could do it?" you whispered, hating how small, how uncertain you sounded.

"I know you could." He cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your bottom lip with a tenderness that made your breath catch. "You're so strong, love. On the court and off. When you set your mind to something, nothing can stand in your way. It's one of the things I lo—" He caught himself, clearing his throat roughly. "One of the things I admire most about you."

Your heart stuttered at his little slip, at the unspoken four-letter-word lingering in the air between you. But you pushed it aside, convinced you must have misheard him. There was no way he was about to say what you thought he was—right?

No, it couldn't be.

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a bit of fun, a way to blow off steam. You needed to remember that, needed to cling to that truth like a lifeline.

You swallowed hard.

"I mean it, love," Satoru continued softly, his hand coming up to tuck a stray lock of hair behind your ear. "You should look at schools with top tennis programs. Places with the right coaches, the right resources to help you improve your skills and get noticed by the pros.”

"Yeah, I should," you said slowly.

"Wherever you want to go, I'm with you. But please, just choose a university with a remotely decent law firm nearby. Otherwise, I'm gonna be bored as fuck.”

Your heart stopped.

You pushed back from him slightly, needing space, needing air. "What? Why?" you croaked, certain you'd misheard, misunderstood. Because surely he couldn't mean—

God, he couldn't—he didn't really—

Did he?

Conflicting emotions crashed through you, painful in their intensity. Disbelief and wonder, longing and panic, hope and fear, and a strange, bubbling rush that felt dangerously close to—

No.

No, it was too soon, too much.

This thing between you, it was just physical. Just a casual affair, a temporary outlet for the attraction that crackled between you.

Wasn't it?

"I thought this was casual between us," you said.

As his words hung in the air between you, a flicker of something raw and vulnerable passed over Satoru’s features before he could mask it with casual nonchalance. For a moment, he looked almost — wounded.

As if your dismissal of this thing between you had struck a physical blow, knocking the air from his lungs and the hope from his heart.

But you couldn't let yourself dwell on it, couldn't let the ache in your chest sway you from your chosen path. Because this—tennis, your future, your dreams—it was everything. The driving force that had gotten you through countless early mornings and grueling practices, through blisters and bruises and the bone-deep exhaustion that came with pushing your body to its limits day after day.

It was your passion, your purpose.

The one thing in your life that made sense, that gave you direction and drive.

You had to choose.

And as much as it killed you, as much as it felt like ripping your own heart out with your bare hands—

You knew which choice you had to make. Which path you had to take, no matter how steep and lonely it might be. Because tennis was your future. Your purpose, your calling, the one thing you'd built your entire identity around.

And Satoru — god, Satoru was a beautiful dream.

But he was only a dream.

And you can’t chase two dreams.

God, this was so fucking unfair. So cruel and confusing and utterly, devastatingly unfair.

Because you wanted him. Wanted him so badly it felt like a physical ache, a hollow void in the center of your chest that only his touch, his kiss, his love could fill.

But you wanted tennis too.

Wanted tennis more.

And you couldn't risk it.

Because falling for him, letting yourself want more than stolen moments and secret meetings — it was a distraction. A beautiful, tempting, utterly destructive distraction.

"I need to focus on my training, you know? I can't afford any...complications right now,” you said quietly.

Satoru's eyes closed for a second, his jaw clenching as if he were physically biting back the words that wanted to spill out. When he opened them again, his gaze was shuttered, unreadable.

"Yeah, you're right. You should focus on your career, on getting everything you want out of life.” Satoru cleared his throat, his hand sliding down to grip your hip, his thumb tracing idle patterns on your sweat-cooled skin. "Well then, Now that we've got that settled...what do you say we move on to more pressing matters?"

"Pressing...matters?"

Satoru's smile sharpened. "Mhm. Like round three...or is it four now? I've lost count."

Your breath caught in your throat as he settled between your parted thighs, the thick, heavy weight of his length pressing against your entrance.

"Satoru," you managed, your hands coming up to grip his shoulders, your nails digging into his skin. "I think we—"

"Shh," he interrupted, his gaze so intense that any reply died on your lips. "Don't speak. Just feel."

And then he was pushing forward, the broad head of his cock breaching your entrance, splitting you open inch by maddening inch until he bottomed out.

For a suspended moment, he held himself still, his forehead pressed to yours, his breath mingling with your own. And in that pause, that infinite stretch of time, something shifted between you.

When he started to move, it was with a desperate urgency, a possessive edge that bordered on rough. His kisses turned bruising, almost punishing, his fingers digging into your hips hard enough to leave marks, to brand you as his own.

It was hot and messy, frantic and almost frightening in its intensity.

He fucked you like he was trying to imprint himself on every inch of your skin, to make you his in a way that went far beyond the physical. Like he knew, with a brutal, aching certainty, that he would never have the chance to touch you like this again.

Never feel your heat, your softness, the perfect give of your body beneath his own.

And despite yourself, despite the sickening knowledge that this would only make things harder in the end — you wanted it.

Wanted him, all of him, in a way that defied logic and reason.

Even if it was selfish, even if it would hurt him more in the long run, you couldn't bring yourself to stop. Couldn't deny yourself this one last taste of paradise, this fleeting glimpse of a future you knew you could never have.

So you clung to him, your hands scrabbling over the sweat-slick expanse of his back, your legs winding around his waist to pull him deeper, harder.

You let him take you apart with ruthless precision, let him wring cry after broken cry from your lips as he pounded into you again and again, chasing oblivion, chasing connection, chasing the impossible dream of forever.

Even if it was just for one night.

Later, as you lay tangled together in the sheets, your body aching and spent. He gathered you close and held you like he never wanted to let go. Like he could keep you there, in the circle of his arms, in the warmth of his bed, if he just held on tight enough.

He stayed the night, his face buried in the crook of your neck as you drifted off to sleep.

But when you woke the next morning, he was gone.

The sheets were cold beside you, the indentation of his head on the pillow the only sign he'd ever been there at all.

A note on the nightstand said something had come up at work.

He was a terrible liar.

And could you blame him, really? After all, you'd been the one to set the terms, to draw the lines. You'd been the one to put your career, your ambition, your lifelong dream ahead of your heart. Ahead of him.

So what right did you have to feel betrayed, to feel abandoned, when he was just following your lead?

No right at all.

But that didn't stop the ache in your chest.

But it was too late now.

You'd made your choice.

And it wasn't him.

No matter how badly you wished it could be.

Game. Set.

Goodbye.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

In the weeks that followed, life returned to its usual rhythms.

Classes, practice, the endless cycle of drills and conditioning that made up your days. You threw yourself into your training with a single-minded focus, determined to chase your dreams, to reach the pinnacle of your sport.

But even as you went through the motions, even as you pushed your body to its limits and lost yourself in the familiar burn of exertion — something felt off.

Different, in a way you couldn't quite put your finger on.

It was like a constant itch beneath your skin, a restless energy that had you tossing and turning at night, your mind churning with thoughts you couldn't seem to quiet. Thoughts of him, of the way he'd touched you, tasted you, the way he'd looked at you.

You couldn't seem to shake the memory of his hands on your skin, his lips on your neck. The way he'd held you, like you were something precious, something cherished.

Like you were his everything.

And god, how you ached for it. How you longed for his touch, his presence. For the easy banter and the heated glances, the way he could make you laugh even as he set your blood on fire.

For the way he made you feel seen, known. Understood, in a way no one else ever had. Like he could look into your eyes and see straight to your soul, to the heart of you. Like he knew you, inside and out.

But he was busy, consumed by his work.

At least, that's what he told you.

Not that you had a right to complain.

You’d made your choice, and now you had to live with it. Tennis was your dream, your passion, and you couldn't let anything or anyone distract you from that.

Not even him.

You buried yourself in your training, in the familiar rhythms of the court. In the thwack of the ball against your racket, the burn of your muscles as you pushed yourself harder, faster.

As you chased the high of victory, the rush of dominance. The sweet satisfaction of a point well-played, a match well-won.

But even as you poured your heart out on the court, even as you fought for every point, every game, every set — you couldn't escape your own head. The doubts, the second-guesses, the nagging sense that maybe, just maybe, you had made a terrible mistake.

That in choosing your dream, you had lost something far more precious. And slowly, inevitably, you began to realize.

But god, there were so many reasons why you shouldn't.

He was so much older than you.

He was your father's best friend.

And then there was your career, your dream.

The goal you'd been chasing since you first picked up a racket, the future you'd sacrificed so much for. Could you really risk it all, put it all on the line for a man you'd only just begun to really know, to love?

Your head said no.

Said it was too reckless.

That you had worked too hard, come too far, to throw it all away now.

But your heart—

Oh your treacherous heart, whispered a different story. Whispered that maybe, just maybe, he was worth the risk. Worth the sacrifice.

And so, torn between your head and your heart, you found yourself at a crossroads. Caught between the dream you had always chased and the love you had never expected to find.

So with a deep breath and a racing heart, you made your decision.

Heart over head.

For the very first time in your life.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

You stood outside Satoru's office, heart pounding in your chest as you raised your hand to knock on the door. The seconds seemed to drag on forever before you finally heard his voice, muffled but unmistakable, calling out, "Yeah, come on in."

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the door and stepped inside. Satoru glanced up from his desk, his eyes widening. "Wha—What are you doing here?"

You held up a small, prettily wrapped box. "I brought you macarons.”

"Oh, uh...thanks, that's really sweet. But I've got a meeting coming up soon, and I'm not sure now's the best time, you know?"

You walked further into the room, letting the door swing shut behind you with a soft click. "Yeah, I know. I checked with your secretary about your schedule."

"You did?”

“Yeah.” You walked towards him, setting the box of macarons down on his desk. "I wanted to talk to you."

He leaned back in his leather chair, his eyes searching your face, like he was trying to read between the lines. "You know your dad's got an office here too, right? If he sees us together, he's gonna be—"

"I know," you interrupted. "That's why I asked for his schedule too. Looks like we’ve got at least 30 minutes to ourselves, give or take."

Silence fell over the room like a heavy blanket, as you stared at each other across the expanse of his desk. Your heart was a wild thing in your chest, your palms clammy with nerves and anticipation.

"I'm going to Stanford," you blurted out.

Satoru blinked. "I thought you were set on Princeton."

"But Stanford's got better law firms.”

His brow furrowed, confusion written all over his unfairly handsome face. "But what's that got to do with—"

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage, your resolve. And then you stepped around the desk, coming to stand before him, so close you could feel the heat of his body, the whisper of his breath against your skin.

"Move there with me," you said.

His brows furrowed. "What are you saying?"

"I'm saying...I want you. Want this, want us. Together, for real. Not just for sex, but...but a real relationship.”

His eyes went wide, his mouth falling open in shock. For a second, he just stared at you, like he couldn't quite believe what he was hearing. Like he thought maybe he was dreaming, or hallucinating, or—

"Are you serious? You really want that? Want...us?"

“Yes.”

"Are you sure?" he asked again, as if he's genuinely not able to believe it, hesitant even as his hands came up to settle on your hips, to tug you closer. "Because if we do this, if we go down this road...there's no going back.”

You nodded, your fingers sliding into his hair, anchoring him to you. "I'm sure. I'm all in, Satoru.”

He let out a shaky breath, his hands tightening on your hips. And then he was surging up, his mouth finding yours in a kiss that seared your very soul, that branded you as his own.

You melted into him, into the heat and strength of his body, the desperate clutch of his hands on your waist. Into the slick slide of his tongue against yours, the nip of his teeth on your bottom lip. Into the sheer, overwhelming rightness of being in his arms, of being wholly and completely his.

Body, heart, and soul.

And as you lost yourself in him, in the taste and feel and perfect inevitability of loving him — you knew.

Knew that this was where you belonged, where you were always meant to be.

In his arms, in his heart.

You kissed him back just as fiercely, your arms winding around his neck, your fingers tangling in his hair. Tugging him closer, ever closer, until there was no space left between your bodies. Until you were pressed against him from chest to hip.

He walked you backwards, never breaking the kiss, until you felt the edge of his desk digging into your backside. Without breaking the kiss, he lifted you effortlessly, settling you on the edge of his desk.

Papers scattered, pens clattered to the floor, but neither of you paid any mind.

You gasped into his mouth, your legs parting instinctively to make room for him between them. He stepped into the cradle of your hips like he belonged there, like he'd finally found his way home.

Like you were his missing piece, his perfect fit.

Frantic hands tugged at clothing, desperate for the feel of skin on skin. Your fingers made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, pushing the fabric off his shoulders and letting it fall to the floor, baring the smooth expanse of his chest to your touch.

Satoru's own hands were just as busy, slipping beneath the hem of your top and skimming up your sides, leaving trails of fire in their wake. You lifted your arms, allowing him to strip the fabric over your head and toss it aside.

"God, you're beautiful," he rasped, one hand coming up to trace the curve of your cheek, to tangle in your hair. "So fucking beautiful, it hurts to look at you sometimes."

Your heart stuttered, emotion welling up thick and fast in your throat. "Satoru," you whispered, your own hands sliding up his arms, over the strong, solid breadth of his shoulders. "You know we don’t have much time, remember?."

“Yeah, you’re right.”

He claimed your mouth again, his kiss hot and deep and filled with barely restrained need. Hasty hands fumbled with the fastenings of pants, shoving fabric down and out of the way with an almost frantic urgency.

And then he was stepping between your spread thighs, the hot, heavy weight of his erection pressing against your core, parting you, teasing you. You wrapped your legs around him, hooking your ankles at the small of his back to urge him closer.

“You know, family dinners are going to be really awkward from now on."

"God, Satoru, don't say that now—" you began, but your words cut off on a sharp gasp as he surged forward, his hard length sliding home in one smooth, powerful thrust.

As Satoru thrust into you, each deep stroke hitting that perfect spot inside you, it struck you just how right this felt. Despite the age difference, despite how unconventional your relationship was, being with him like this — it was like coming home.

Like your bodies were made to fit together, two halves of a whole.

It wasn't just the physical pleasure, though god knows there was plenty of that. It was the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like you were the most precious thing in his world. The way he made you feel cherished, adored, safe and wanted and so incredibly loved.

He was your home, your heart, your everything.

"Satoru," you suddenly gasped out. "I love you."

His rhythm faltered, his eyes flying to yours. For a second you panicked, thinking you'd scared him off, ruined the moment. But then a slow, beautiful smile spread across his face, his gaze so full of tenderness it took your breath away.

"I love you too," he rasped. "God, you have no idea how much. I'm so fucking in love with you."

He leaned down to kiss you, messy and desperate, pouring all his love and longing into the press of his lips. You kissed him back just as fiercely, and soon you were both moving again, chasing that peak together.

It wasn't going to be easy, you knew that.

There would be plenty of people who wouldn't understand, who would judge and condemn. But wrapped up in his arms, lost in the bliss of his body moving with yours, none of that seemed to matter.

This was right.

This was real.

This love you shared, it was the kind that could weather any storm, overcome any obstacle. As long as you had each other, you could face anything.

It wouldn't be a conventional life, by any means. But it would be yours. Yours and his, together. And really, that's all that mattered.

Because in the end, love was worth fighting for. And this love? This crazy, complicated, wonderful, once-in-a-lifetime love?

It was everything.

── ࣪˖ ࣪ ⊹ ࣪ ˖ ──

"You nervous?"

Satoru's voice pulled you back from your thoughts, his sky blue eyes framed by snowy lashes capturing your attention. For a moment, you forgot how to breathe, lost in his gaze, but then you inhaled deeply, centering yourself.

Nervous?

You considered the question, searching within for the telltale flutter of butterflies, the icy clench of anxiety. But there was only calm, a steely determination, and a quiet confidence in your abilities.

"No," you replied, a hint of surprise in your voice. "I'm not, actually."

Your eyes wandered back to the court, where the final preparations were underway. The electric atmosphere enveloped you, the excitement of the crowd palpable in the air. This was it — the Wimbledon final, the culmination of years of blood, sweat, and tears.

Turning back to Satoru, you shook your head. "I should be though, right? I mean, it's the Wimbledon final. Feel like I should be nervous."

Satoru's smile was warm and proud, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek. "You don't have to be anything you don't want to be. If you're not nervous, then that's okay. Trust your instincts, trust all the work you've put in. You've got this."

"Thank you," you whispered, leaning into his touch. "For being here, for always believing in me. I couldn't have done this without you."

"Yes, you could have. You're the strongest, most resilient person I know. But I'm damn lucky I get to be here to watch you shine."

Your lips twitched into a faint smile.

Footsteps approached, and you turned to see your dad, a water bottle in hand and a slightly anxious furrow between his brows. "Hey, champ," he said, handing you the water. "How you holding up? Nerves kicking in yet?"

Before you could answer, Satoru chimed in, a playful grin on his face. "She hasn't decided yet. But either way, she's got this. Our girl's a champion, through and through."

You shot him a look, cursing him a little for his choice of words.

Your dad's gaze flickered between you, and for a moment, you braced yourself for the inevitable awkwardness, the unspoken judgment. But then he smiled, warm and genuine, and clapped Satoru on the shoulder.

"Damn right she is," he agreed, his voice filled with pride. "And we're here to support her every step of the way."

And in that exact moment, looking into their eyes, filled with unwavering belief, you knew one thing for sure — even if you lost today, you'd already won in all the ways that truly mattered.

And really, what could be better than that?

Then, the announcement came for the players to take their positions.

Satoru turned to you. "Alright, love, this is it. Time to show the world what you're made of. Get out there and crush it, yeah? You've got this."

You nodded. "Yeah, let's do this."

Satoru's answering smile was proud and just a little wicked. He pulled you close, his arms wrapping around your waist as he captured your lips in a searing kiss. Melting into him, your mouth opened under his as the kiss deepened, turning hot and hungry.

His tongue swept into your mouth, tangling with yours in a dance that set your blood on fire, nearly making you moan into his mouth, forgetting, for just a moment, where you were and what you were about to do.

A pointed cough from your dad broke the spell. Satoru pulled back with a roguish grin, wholly unrepentant.

You were breathing hard, your lips tingling and your heart racing, but there was no nervousness, no uncertainty. Only the bone-deep knowledge that you were exactly where you were meant to be, doing exactly what you were born to do.

Satoru's hands slid down to your hips, his touch lingering, electric. "Go get them, love."

You flashed him a final smile, then turned to make your way onto the court. Satoru's hand found your ass one last time to give you a playful, proprietary slap as you walked away. You didn't see it, but you were sure your dad gave him a death glare for that.

The sun peeked through the clouds as you strode forward, the place buzzing with energy.

It was the finale, and you'd be lying if you said it didn't feel like a dream come true. People screaming your name, the realization that you were really here, in this moment, living your passion.

As you took your place on the baseline, racket in hand, stretching one last time, adrenaline singing through your veins, you risked a final glance over to the sidelines.

Satoru was watching you, his gaze intense and full of so much love and pride it took your breath away. When he caught your eye, he winked.

Your dad rolled his eyes and let out a long-suffering sigh. "Will I ever get used to seeing you two like this?" he asked, the question directed at his lifelong best friend, but also, perhaps, at himself.

Satoru chuckled, his eyes still trained on you. "You're getting better. I remember the first few months, you constantly looked like you were about to lose your shit and murder me in my sleep. But you're managing okay now."

"Yeah, I still can't quite believe it. My best friend and my daughter… I'm not sure I'll ever fully come to terms with it."

"I know it's unconventional. I know it's not what you would have chosen for her. But I swear to you, I love that girl with everything I have. I'd do anything for her, be anything she needs me to be. She's it for me. The one."

Your dad was silent for a long moment, his gaze tracking your progress across the court. "I know you do. And that's the only reason I haven't killed you yet."

Satoru barked out a laugh. "Well, thank you for your restraint.”

"Seriously though," your dad continued. "She's happy. Happier than I've ever seen her. And that's all that matters to me."

They both watched as you stepped onto the court, your head held high. You began your pre-match routine, circling your wrists to loosen up. Your eyes were already locked on your opponent across the net.

As you moved through your stretches, reaching down to touch your toes, twisting at the waist, rolling your shoulders, Satoru's gaze never wavered from your form. A slow smile spread across his face as he watched you.

"Will you accept the offer they gave you?"

"Huh?" Satoru responded distractedly, his focus still on you.

"The offer to lecture at Stanford.”

"Oh, right," Satoru said, finally tearing his gaze away from you to look at Suguru. He shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know, maybe. I haven't really decided yet."

Your dad huffed out a laugh. "You're probably the only person in the world who would even consider turning down an honor like that."

Satoru chuckled, his attention drifting back to you as you took your position on the court. "Ah, you know I never cared about prestige. And to be honest, I'm currently enjoying being a tennis husband. There's still so many places we haven't explored together, you know?"

"You're not a husband yet, though," your dad pointed out.

"Am I not?" Satoru grinned, fumbling with the back pocket of his pants. He pulled out a small case and held it up for Suguru to see, flipping it open.

Suguru's eyes widened. "You serious?"

Satoru's smile only grew wider, his gaze drifting back to you on the court. "I'm gonna ask her after she wins."

"And what if she doesn't win?"

A laugh escaped Satoru's lips. "C'mon, we both know she's got this in the bag."

Your dad was quiet for a long moment, his gaze distant and thoughtful as he watched the shiny ring in the case. When he finally spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. "I'm damn glad she has you, Satoru. I really am. Even if you are a pain in the ass sometimes."

Satoru blinked rapidly. "Wow. That's maybe the nicest thing you've ever said to me. I'm touched, truly."

"Yeah, well, don't let it go to your head," Suguru grumbled. "You know I'll still kill you if you hurt her."

"Yeah, figured," Satoru grinned, slipping the ring box back into his pocket. "But trust me, that's never gonna happen."

"Good."

Satoru watched you for a moment, then turned to Suguru once more. "By the way, should I've asked you for permission or something? You know, since you're her dad and all."

Suguru rolled his eyes. "Don't make this any weirder than it already is."

"I can start calling you dad from now on, right? Or maybe pops? What do you think?"

"Absolutely not. Don't even think about it."

"Aw, come on," Satoru pushed, his grin growing wider. "We're practically family now, right? I mean, I'm going to be your son-in-law soon."

"Satoru..." Suguru warned, his tone dangerous.

"Ooh, I know! How about father-in-law dearest? That's got a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"I swear to god, Satoru, if you don't stop right now—"

"Okay, okay, fine," Satoru relented, holding up his hands in surrender. "I'll stop. But just so you know, I expect you to give a heartfelt speech at the wedding. Something about how you always knew I was the one for your little girl, even when we were kids."

Suguru stared at him for a long moment, his expression unreadable. Then, slowly, he reached out and clapped a hand on Satoru's shoulder, his grip just a little too tight for comfort.

"Satoru," he said, his voice deceptively calm. "If you don't shut up right now, there will be no wedding because you'll be six feet under."

"Jeez, no need to get violent," Satoru said, wincing under Suguru's iron grip.

"Then not another word about being my son-in-law, got it?" Suguru smirked, releasing his hold on Satoru's shoulder. "Just promise me you'll make her happy."

"Always," Satoru said, rubbing his shoulder. "I swear it."

"Great. Now, let's watch the match, shall we?" Suguru said, returning to his composed self in a split second.

"Please," Satoru agreed, still massaging his shoulder as he turned his attention back to the court, back to you, ready to cheer you on to victory.

Because you both knew that no matter what challenges the future might bring, no matter where this crazy, beautiful life might take you—

As long as you had each other, you could handle anything.

And that? That was a pretty damn beautiful thing.

Game, set, love.

Forever.

<- prev chapter | completed ✓

author's note: wooooaaa here it is, the happy ever after for these two adorable idiots !! hope you enjoyed this fun short little story as much as i enjoyed writing it. so thank you for sticking with me and leaving all those lovely comments and messages, they always bring the biggest smile to my face !!

and please ignore any inaccuracies regarding american universities. i have no clue and just widly came up with things haha.

once again, thank you for reading, and i hope our paths cross again in another story. have the most wonderful day !! <3

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#games and matches #satoru gojo #satoru gojo fanfiction #satoru gojo fanfic #satoru gojo x reader #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo smut #gojo fanfiction #gojo fanfic #gojo x reader #gojo smut #jjk #jjk fanfic #jjk x reader #jjk smut

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etherealising · 4 months ago

Text

flew like a moth to you

read part one here

pairing: richie jerimovich x fem!reader

summary: thoughts of a certain infuriating older man seem to keep racing through your mind and as the two of you continue crossing paths, you’re bound to be drawn to the flame you ignite in one another.

wc: 16k (i’m sorry y’all i just wanna be their third real bad)

The summer breeze drifted through your open bedroom window as you sat on your bed while Xiomara rooted through your closet looking for something to wear for her date the following night. You weren’t sure what was so special about your closet considering you knew Xio’s taste in clothing was more expensive than yours but the both of you treated each other’s apartment like a thrift store whenever you visited.

You scrolled through the calendar on your laptop organizing the upcoming tutoring dates for the next few weeks making sure they didn’t interfere with the days you were working with the summer reading program at the library. You were beyond grateful you didn’t have to sign up for a session of summer school this year, even though you were still doing academic-centric jobs it felt nice to do something you enjoyed without being trapped inside a classroom.

Summer break was treating you exceptionally well even after it only being a few weeks. You’d been recruited by a family friend of one of your students to help tutor their middle school-aged child, and while they could be a pain in the ass at times, the pay was too good to pass up, pair that with the summer reading program through the local libraries you were working at and you were set until the next school year began. Although you were working you still had time to yourself, finally not too tired to miss a night out, even falling back in love with your hobbies because you weren’t dead on your feet from chasing around sticky six-year-olds.

“Ohh wow, this is actually so cute I love the fit of it. Did you thrift it?” Xio’s words drew your attention, your eyes still focused on the digital screen before you finally looked up to see what she was talking about.

You frowned trying to ignore the irritation that crawled through you at the sight of the suit jacket hanging off of Xio’s shoulders. “No, it’s uh not mine.”

Xio’s eyes lit up at the crumbs you’d given her in just those five words, a large grin lined her lips as she slipped out of the jacket holding it up to the light streaming through the room to examine it. “Girl who’s fucking jacket is this? And why the fuck does it smell like a forest?”

A chuckle left your lips eyes rolling as you shut down your laptop before setting it on your nightstand and folded your legs to your chest doing your best to keep a neutral expression. “Just some guy I met.” You shrugged your shoulders hoping you sounded nonchalant.

“Mhm,” Xio’s hum was punctuated by her throwing the jacket at you. “Was it that guy you went on a date with? The boring finance guy?” Her eyebrows raised as she looked at you in question, she had that smile on her face like she already knew the truth.

You played with the sleeve of the jacket, finger tracing around the cuff link. “Okay, so there was another guy.” You bit your lip to hide your smile as Xio squealed before bouncing onto your bed, her hands clapping in excitement.

“When was this?” You didn’t even get a chance to respond before a dramatic gasp ripped through her. The sound seemed to fill up the whole room. “You sneaky girl you got wined and dined by finance bro and then ended your night with mystery jacket guy?” You weren’t sure how she did it but it was like Xio knew things without having to be told it was a superpower of hers.

“I wouldn’t call it wining and dining if I paid for my meal.” The two of you scoffed in disgust at the same time before divulging into a fit of laughter, you’d completely forgotten the way you left out the moment you shared with Richie when you first debriefed your friends on the date.

Maybe it was selfish but you had a strong urge to keep what happened between you and Richie to yourself, sure that another opportunity like that wouldn’t present itself again, not that you even wanted it to. The following school week he hadn’t dropped off or picked up Eva and instead of taking it as a personal slight against you, you took it as a sign from the universe that whatever happened between the two of you was just an outcome of the passion brought on by your arguing, a moment of lust filled weakness.

Xiomara laid on her stomach propping her head in her hands as she looked up at you, “So, any reason you haven’t returned his jacket?”

You shrugged looking down at the fabric in your hands before standing to hang it back up, “I chickened out.” It wasn’t a lie you had every intention to stop by the restaurant and drop it off but every time you worked up even the littlest bit of courage you always talked yourself out of it. “And I don’t even think he cares about it.”

“You are so full of shit!” You didn’t have to turn around to see Xio’s eyes rolling or the knowing look she often wore. “You like him!”

The scoff you let out wasn’t even believable to your ears as you exited the room, Xio’s feet eagerly padding behind you as she caught up before plopping down on the stool at your island while you grabbed the takeout menus from your kitchen drawer and tossed them onto the island.

“Absolutely not, if anything I tolerated him. He’s actually fucking insufferable.” You eyed the menus trying not to catch Xio’s eye.

“Oh, so you knew him prior to that night then?” If you thought Richie was insufferable Xio was being even more insufferable as she gave you the third degree in your apartment. You couldn’t be upset though, you knew you’d be doing the same thing if the roles were reversed.

You were just glad that the whole friend group wasn’t here to gang up on you. You hesitated before speaking, pondering the best way to go about the situation, not particularly in the mood to hear the wild fantasies Xio would come up with. “He’s the father of a student I had this year.”

Xiomara’s scream of excitement was exactly last thing you wanted to hear at that moment as she shot out of her chair and ran around the island to jump up and down in excitement with you, your energy far from matching hers. “Wait till everyone hears you bagged a dilf! They’re gonna fre-,”

“What? Xio, no!” You placed your hands atop her shoulders, halting her excitement before it could get too out of hand. Eyes watching as she folded in on herself lips turning into a full-on pout, “I didn’t bag anybody, I almost fucked him in a parking lot and I haven’t seen him since, that’s it, end of story. Now can we please choose what to order?”

It was beneath you but you gave her the puppy dog eyes, feeling victorious as you watched her completely deflate before nodding and pulling you into a hug, “A parking lot?” She looked at you with mirth in her eyes before you swatted her on the arm with the takeout menus.

The two of you divulged into less Richie-centric conversation, your mind sometimes wandering to the mystery man. Did he think of you as much as you thought about him?

You knew the universe could be cruel, but at this point, you felt like whatever higher power was in control of the timeline of your life found joy in putting you in the most awkward and unexpected positions you could imagine. Case in point being the small blonde child soundly asleep in the backseat of your car, as you stared up at the daunting building facade of a restaurant you had zero intentions of ever visiting again.

You could have easily said no, apologized to Ms. Gattina over the phone, and let her know it wasn’t your job to shuttle kids to and fro once your shift with the library reading program finished for the day, that once the clock struck 2 p.m. the children in the reading program were no longer your responsibility. But then you found Eva sitting all alone at the library help desk long after all the other kids were picked up sitting and listening as the librarian spoke to her mother over the phone to explain the situation and while you wanted to help in any way, you’re not sure what made you agree to dropping off the forgotten child with her father.

A feeling of unease rose inside you the longer you sat there. While you knew you were putting yourself in an awkward position by involving yourself in the middle of a familial dispute, hearing Ms. Gattina’s stressed pleas as she divulged probably more than you deserved to know about the stress she felt with the possibility of Eva being left alone along with said stress brought on by her ex-husband, you found yourself agreeing to her request out of some misplaced feeling of guilt.

And now all you had left to do was drop Eva off with her father, hope that he was aware his ex-wife enlisted your help, and be on your merry way and hope this doesn’t become routine. Sighing one last time you gathered your belongings along with Eva’s bag full of goodies given out before stepping out of the car and hurrying around to the back seat to get the still-sleeping child.

“Eva, sweetie,” your voice was quiet as you gently shook her shoulder trying to wake her. “I need you to wake up.” You stopped as the little girl let out a quiet whine obviously not ready to be roused from her sleep, another sigh left you as you carefully undid her seatbelt and reached in to lift her out of the car hefting her onto your hip and checking the back seat for anything she may have left behind before closing the door and locking your car as you headed to the entrance.

You were surprised at how easily the door swung open, positive it would be locked considering the restaurant wasn’t open to business at this time but you gave it little thought as you stepped into the air-conditioned establishment. It was odd seeing the restaurant like this, quiet not filled with the hustle and bustle of nightlife, the ambiance much more different than the one you experienced when being a paying customer. It was an eerie feeling but it also wasn’t the reason you were there.

The small voice emanating from your neck made you jump, eyes shooting down to Eva’s bleary blues as your eyebrows raised in confusion unsure of what she said. You watched as her small hand lifted, tiny finger pointing in the direction of the kitchen before she spoke once more.

“S’uncle Carmy.” Your eyes moved from the tip of her small finger to look through the small sliver of window that offered a peek into the kitchen, surprised to find a group of people all talking over each other, you weren’t sure how you hadn’t heard the raised voices before but as you continued staring the ongoing argument was made more obvious.

The one person you needed to notice you was nowhere to be found and you couldn’t help the sense of worry that filled you, because if Eva’s father wasn’t here what the hell were you supposed to do with her? Hopefully whoever the hell Uncle Carmy was could take her off your hands, before you could even think about your next course of action you locked eyes with one of the women standing in the group, her own eyes dropping to the child in your arms in recognition.

You breathed a sigh of relief as she excused herself from the conversation, not that anyone paid her words much attention as she moved out of the kitchen and began making her way to you.

“Hi, sorry to just show up but Ms. Gattina asked me to drop Eva off with her father. I messaged him but he didn’t respond.” You gave the woman a forced smile trying not to stare at her heavily swollen belly before realizing she deserved a more thorough explanation. “I was Eva’s second-grade teacher this past school year and I work with the summer reading program through one of the libraries and Eva’s…” You trailed off as the woman raised her eyebrows in amusement at the frantic way you were speaking.

The woman sent you a gentle smile before moving closer, “It's okay, Tiff told me to be on the lookout for you two.” Her hand raised as she gently caressed Eva’s head causing the little girl’s head to poke out from its place resting in your neck, her eyes brightened as much as they could in her tired state as she smiled at the woman in front of you. “Just a bit of friendly advice Richie’s back there on the phone with her now and he did not sound happy.”

You gave a nod of appreciation her underlying tone telling you it was best to get the hell out of dodge, you sent her one last smile before craning your neck to look down at Eva, “Alright sweetie I’m gonna leave you here with…” you trailed off unsure who this woman was to the young girl.

“Aunt Nat…by association at least.” Your eyebrows raised at her words, the sound of them not providing you with any more confidence to leave Eva in her care.

But before either of you could speak another word his tall figure emerged in your peripheral vision, the glare he was sending your way not what you expected. You watched as his expression changed when his gaze dropped to the small girl in your arms, it was almost instantaneous the way his eyes lit up mouth settling into a gentle smile as his hand reached to softly rub up and down her back, his hand bumping into yours before he carefully extracted her from your arms.

“Hey, little monster.” His voice rang through your ears as Eva let out a small giggle before throwing her arms around his neck, the two of them squeezing each other las though their lives depended on it. You tore your eyes away from them as he began whispering to her eyes finding the only other person in the room only to find her already looking at you curiously as you offered a small smile. “Nat could you uh, take Eva for a bit the two of us need to speak.” His words were punctuated by his hand gesturing between you and him.

The woman you now knew to be Nat stood there for a moment before nodding her head as Richie set Eva down so she could walk. You let out a small laugh as Eva moved to wrap her arms around your legs in a goodbye hug before you squatted to her level passing off her goody bag, the small child wrapped her arms around your neck in one last goodbye hug before moving to follow her aunt. “C’mon Eva, why don’t you show me all your goodies in the office.” Nat sent you one last smile before spiriting the two of them away.

You stood to your full height next to Richie both of you watching as they disappeared through the kitchen before the older man rounded on you, hand shooting out with lighting speed as he gripped your bicep and pulled you further from any prying ears in the kitchen finding a perfectly good corner to berate you in.

“Who in the fuck do you think you are?” Richie’s lips curled into a sneer as he looked at you awaiting your answer, the anger he felt translating his iron grip on your bicep.

Frowning, you shook your head confused as to why you were the object of his ire before he spoke over any words you’d thought about spewing. “Waltzing in like some fucking hero carrying my daughter and shit like you just did me the biggest favor in the world.”

Your anger was beginning to peak at the hostile attitude you were receiving, the confusion quickly replaced by how irate you were beginning to feel as your hand came up to shove his arm off of you watching in satisfaction at the look of surprise with how much force was behind it.

“I don’t know what the fuck your problem is Mr. Jerimovich, but you’re not going to stand here and berate me like I deserve it.” Your brows pinched in irritation as you took a step closer into his space, the man's huffs of breath hitting your face. “And for the record, I didn’t do this for you, because while Eva may have been happy to see you a moment ago, you don’t know how distraught she was sitting all alone at the library thinking you’d forgotten about her.” It wasn’t necessary but your last few words were followed by your fingers poking harshly into his chest as you tried to get your point across.

Richie clenched his jaw as your words rang in his ears as he took that last step closer to you closing whatever distance was left between the two of you, your chest brushing against his every time you breathed. “Don’t you ever fucking speak on me as a parent ever again? You fucking hear me?”

The timbre of his voice dropped exceptionally low, his words having taken on a warning tone as they ghosted across your lips. The anger he was stewing in basically emanated off of him, you knew you should have taken his warning, should’ve nodded your head and been on your way and washed your hands of the whole situation but against your better judgment, you just had to have the last words.

“Maybe next time, don’t put the responsibility of parenting your child on me.” You should’ve expected the blow-up, it was written all over his face the moment he saw you upon exiting the kitchen, but for some odd reason when it came to him you just weren’t satisfied until he looked like he hated you.

You let out the breath you’d been holding as he turned to walk away from you, only to be surprised when he spun back around just as fast, finger-pointing in your face as he backed you further into the corner.

“Fuck you!” His voice boomed across the restaurant, your eyebrows raised at just how loud he was, eyes darting behind his imposing figure as you hoped his outburst wasn’t loud enough to draw attention. “You think you’re so much fucking better than me huh? Well, guess what sweetheart, if I’m such a shitty fucking parent what does that make you then huh? Letting me spread you out in pub-.”

His words cut off as you placed your hand on his chest before shoving him back remembering that regardless of how he felt about you, you didn’t have to sit there and take it not getting much further as he quickly moved around you to stand right back in front of you, “No, I’m not fucking done with you.”

“You think because you put on a suit and tie it makes you important?” You paused waiting for him to digest the words, watching on as the anger that once marred his face gave way to confusion. “You’re a 40-year-old fucking nobody.” You watched the hurt flash across his face, a sick feeling of satisfaction coursed through you at just how much you could hurt him with just your words as you tried to ignore the small inkling of guilt you could feel rolling around inside.

Richie’s jaw clenched and unclenched several times, you followed the movement, eyes lingering longer than necessary at the peak of his Adam’s apple over the collar of his shirt before watching as he opened his mouth to speak only for you to beat him to it.

“Tell me this Richie, are you the type of man you would want Eva surrounding herself with?” The question wasn’t meant to rile him up anymore, it was a genuine question you thought he deserved to sit with. And as you stepped around him you tried not to let the embarrassment take over you at the sight of the audience that had since gathered listening to your spat.

Only offering them a small apologetic smile followed by a nod of your head as you took your leave, vowing that you wouldn’t ever give Richie another moment of your time willingly.

Richie did his best to listen intently as the woman across from him spoke passionately about her accounting job, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the circle of condensation that dripped off his glass of water. Dating was still weird to him, the idea that he was no longer loyal to the one person he planned on spending the rest of his life with would sometimes creep up on him when he least expected it, reminding him of how much of a failure he was in this life after already spending four decades on this earth.

The woman across from him wasn’t boring by any means, she was a great conversationalist and while her topic of conversation wasn’t anything to write home about, he appreciated the obvious love she had for her work. Since he decided to move forward with his life Richie’s dating history was mediocre at best, dates were few and far between and that was mostly due to his lack of trying and busy schedule with the restaurant, but on the nights that he did secure a date he was at least somewhat interested in it never felt like that interest was returned; as though he’d never met the level of expectations his dates held him to.

Familiar laughter made Richie sit up straighter in his chair, the restaurant wasn’t particularly quiet in any way but the fact that his ears latched onto that specific noise forced him to pay better attention to his surroundings. Richie’s eyes quickly found the source that caused the ringing in his ears; his hand unconsciously moved to adjust his tie and suit jacket as though doing so would catch the culprit's attention.

There you were tucked into one of the few darkened corner booths in the establishment, eyes locked on the person whose arm you were tucked under, whatever they were whispering in your ear was funny enough to deserve your laughter. Richie found himself watching you, unsure as to why he felt as though he couldn’t look away, the two of you weren’t on good terms by any means but for some reason he always found himself drawn back to you no matter how much you and your attitude pissed him off. He wasn’t even sure how he knew it was your laughter having only heard it a handful of times and never because of him, but it wasn’t like he could just un-notice you no matter how upset your words and observations from weeks ago made him.

If Richie was sure about anything in his life at the moment it was that you were avoiding him, or maybe it was the other way around. Whatever the case was neither of you had contact with the other since you both spewed such scathing words to each other at The Bear, whenever it was his day to pick up Eva from the reading program it was like you were nowhere to be found even though he knew Eva preferred being by your side while she waited. Richie hadn’t realized just how much the whole ordeal frustrated him until hearing Eva make a passing comment about how she thought Frank was funny because you thought he was funny. His frustrations seemed to reach such a point that Syd even brought the argument up to him doing prep one day helping him to see the error of his ways in taking his frustration out on you when you were only doing what his ex-wife asked of you and putting Eva’s safety first when you could’ve easily left his daughter all alone because of his mistake.

He was pulled from his train of thought by his date across from him, the furrow of her brows had him rushing to assure her that he wasn’t ignoring her, using some excuse about how life at The Bear made him scatterbrained and while it definitely wasn’t the reason his mind wandered, with all the new shit Carmy was implementing it also wasn’t a lie. And that’s how the rest of his date went making idle conversation with a woman he was almost positive wasn’t interested in a second date with him as he let his eyes subtly drift to your corner every so often trying to ignore the way watching you radiate in your happiness made him feel a bit better about the whole night. Although seeing you tucked so snuggly into that corner against a man that wasn’t him made him envious.

Richie would be lying if he said he wasn’t relieved when his night ended and even more so relieved at the amicable decision to not take whatever this was or could’ve been any further. But he was less than relieved to find you standing on the sidewalk waving off who he assumed to be your date for the night as you stood all on your lonesome, no ride in sight. He tried to tell himself it was none of his business, that it wasn’t his responsibility that you made it home safe, but he also couldn’t allow himself to return to the safety of his own home only to wonder if you’d ever made it home at all. Maybe offering you a ride could extend an olive branch, he could even offer up the apology you deserved during the drive. But more than that, any chance you got you put the care and safety of his daughter first, he told himself it was only right to return the favor.

One of his hands reached to loosen his tie before he forced himself to put his pride aside and take the few steps he needed to get to you. Unsure of how to breach the topic of conversation he gave himself a few minutes watching as you scrolled absentmindedly on your phone, his irritation not only growing at the fact that you were left here alone but also the fact you weren’t paying attention to your surroundings.

Richie cleared his throat before speaking, “Did they just leave you here with no way home?” It was a straightforward question and maybe he should have approached you differently as he watched you jump and clasp your phone in surprise at the sound of his voice.

The silence lingered between the two of you as Richie watched your eyes land on him in recognition, your eyes ran over his attire before looking from him to the restaurant. He took the time to let his own eyes roam trying to ignore the way your chest rose and fell as you tried to calm down from the fright before his eyes moved further down your figure, silently and respectfully drinking in the way the fabric of your outfit hugged your figure.

Richie tugged at his tie as he awaited your answer, eyes latching onto the bare skin of your shoulder where the strap of your outfit had fallen from when he scared you. He cleared his throat before looking into your eyes once more.

The noise seemed to rouse you from your stupor as you blinked away your surprise before opening and closing your mouth until you landed on the best response. “Why? Gonna critique my choice of date again?”

Richie bit his tongue ready to do exactly that, he decided to forego the eye roll and scoff he felt was necessary before stuffing his hands in the pockets of his slacks rocking back and forth where he stood trying to decide if it was even worth offering you a ride with how comfortable you seemed to just stand there waiting.

“How was your date?” The curiosity was obvious in your voice but Richie didn’t allow himself to think anything of it as he raised his eyebrows in your direction.

A chuckle escaped him as he watched you look anywhere but his eyes, maybe this was your way of trying to keep the conversation cordial and make up for your snarky question. “What makes you think it was a date?”

“I…walked past your table when I got here.” He followed the motion of your head as you nodded to the restaurant, your eyes falling to his dress shoes afterward. “Seemed like you were having a good time.”

Richie shrugged his shoulder kicking a small pebble on the sidewalk, “Not as good as you and your date seemed to have.” He knew it wasn’t the answer you were expecting as he watched your eyebrows raise as you finally looked at him, but he hoped his curiosity would pay off.

As another silence settled between the two of you, Richie was sure that was his sign to leave. While the two of you could engage in conversations that lacked substance, maybe it was best not to push this moment between the two of you into hostile territory and just cut his losses when he could.

The sound of your voice made Richie’s brows raise as he listened to the timber of your voice dance through his eardrums. “What makes you think it was a date?” The slight uptick of the right side of your mouth had Richie biting back a smile of his own, a smile that he wasn’t interested in giving a second thought at that moment.

“The two of you seemed real chummy in that dimly lit corner. But you’re here and he isn’t so I’m not sure what to think anymore.” Richie wasn’t sure what forced the words out of him, but he couldn’t deny the enjoyment these less-than hostile borderline flirty moments between the two of you brought him.

His eyes tracked the way you began chewing on your bottom lip, a part of him hoped you were just as confused as him in the feelings department. “Now, what kind of person would I be if I made him choose between me and the surgery he was called into?”

A fucking surgeon of course. Richie couldn’t help but let his mind drift to your words in the restaurant about how he was four decades into life with nothing to show for it. The ice-cold claws of reality sank further into him as he stared at the small smirk that painted your lips clueless to the inner turmoil raging through him.

Richie shrugged, settling back into the cocky facade he always wore, “Seems to me like he didn’t make the right choice.”

The surprised laughter that forced its way out of your lips caused a genuine smile to grace Richie’s lips while he stood only feet from you watching you indulge in his stupid words as Chicago’s nightlife painted you in a cacophony of colorful light imprinting a most memorable image of your joy into his mind.

There were two options for Richie at that moment, end the conversation with you here and be on his merry way. Or he could offer you the ride he’d planned upon first walking over here and make sure you made it home safely; he decided on doing the latter.

Richie eyed you for a moment longer hyping himself up as his eyes landed on the naked skin of your shoulder one more time. His long legs closed the distance between the two of you before he reached his hand out, fingers tracing up your skin as he adjusted the strap in its rightful place, the appendages lingering longer than needed before he dropped his hand back to his side.

“You uh…want a ride home?”

Silence wasn’t ever something that bothered you much, sometimes it was just nice to appreciate the moment without a bit of sound passing, but sitting in Richie Jerimovich’s car with nothing but the quiet sound of the radio station to fill the void of silence as he drove to your apartment bothered you more than you’d liked to admit.

And if the awkward car ride wasn’t enough here the two of you stood just outside your apartment door as you searched through your clutch for your keys. You couldn’t be sure what compelled you to invite him up or what even compelled him to accept the invitation but it felt too late to rescind the offer as you slipped your key into the lock, standing in the quiet hallway as the door knob gave way before moving to the next lock.

You could feel the heat of him against your back as you worked the lock, trying to ignore the involuntary goosebumps rising on your skin rushing to push through to your apartment before turning to him with a tight smile and gesturing him inside. You watched as he hesitated, probably as apprehensive as you considering your track record with each other before he stepped over the threshold into your abode allowing you to close and lock the door.

A quiet deep breath filled your lungs as you hyped yourself up for what you were about to do. In the short amount of time you’d known him, Richie Jerimovich was a consistent pain in your ass but you also couldn’t deny the sensual touches and hungry kisses the two of you shared in the parking lot all those nights ago, or the way you oftentimes found yourself thinking about the older man. And if you were being honest with yourself, you felt guilty for the scathing words you left him with when dropping Eva off.

Turning from the door your eyes landed on the back of his suit jacket watching as he stood in your living room with a framed picture in his hand. It wasn’t surprising that he would look around your home, but the sight of him in your space didn’t make you as uncomfortable as you first thought it would.

“Can I get you anything to drink?” You leaned against the island to take off your shoes as you let your question linger in the air, looking up to already find him staring at you, hands clutching the picture frame.

He cleared his throat before turning to place the frame back where he found it, “Just a water…please.”

You nodded, moving to the sink and washing your hands before grabbing two glasses out of the cabinet and filling them up with the filtered water from the fridge. You turned to find Richie standing opposite you on the other side of the island as you held out the glass to him ignoring the way his fingers brushed yours as he took hold of the glass.

“Thank you for driving me home tonight.” you paused as he shrugged off your words like they were no big deal. “I really appreciate it.”

This whole ordeal felt awkward, him sitting here in your home, the two of you playing at being cordial or whatever the hell this was, especially considering the few words he’d spoken since stepping in were curt with no room to continue the conversation.

“Don’t mention it,” he raised the glass of water to his lips taking a sip. “Should probably drive yourself if you plan on going on any more dates.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your lips as you chuckled, knuckles drumming against the counter as Richie’s words of warning rang through your ear, an obvious shot at the fact he’d found you alone outside the restaurant waiting for the car that was sent for you.

“Why? You not gonna be there next time to take me home?” You raised your eyebrows letting him know his words weren’t as subtle as he might have thought they were.

“I dunno, you gonna invite me in if I do?” Richie’s lips pulled into a smirk as he watched the visible surprise encapsulate your face at the fact he was willingly bantering with you after all of the harsh words previously shared between the two of you.

Snatching the glass out of his hand you turned to refill his half-empty cup needing a moment to compose yourself before you allowed your interest in him to get the best of you and make a mistake you’d be sure to regret. Reminding yourself of the initial reason you invited him up with you, and it wasn’t for the two of you to go tit for tat with flirty words.

“I…uh,” you cleared your throat as you spun around to hand him the glass back. “I want to apologize for what I said to you…about you all those weeks ago.”

You watched as his lips settled into a grim line, eyes falling to your hands that sat between the two of you flat against the surface of the island. “It wasn’t fair of me to call your parenting into question. It’s really none of my business-”

“No uh, you were right,” you stopped mid-sentence as Richie’s voice interrupted you, confusion marred your features as he spoke once again. “I fuckin’ forgot about her.” The admission seemed to weigh heavy on him as you watched Richie sink in on himself, his shoulders losing the tenseness they usually held as he moved to sit on the stool at his side plopping down on it unceremoniously.

“That night she uh…Eva just started crying about how scared she was, how she thought she wouldn’t see me again. And it sounds ridiculous as I say it, but she’s a fuckin’ kid ya know everything is the end of the world to her.”

You didn’t interrupt him, allowing the man to speak about a situation that took up a lot of space in his mind. It wasn’t your place to listen and comfort the man across from you, but the two of you were already so messily entangled with each other that you couldn’t bring yourself to stop his venting.

“You uh…you didn’t deserve all that shit I gave you at the restaurant, I was just blaming you for my fuck up, using you as a fuckin’ punching bag. So I uh…I want to apologize 'cause I was being a fuckin’ jagoff disrepectin’ you and shit by bringing up the parking lot.” He’d finally looked up at you, his cheeks tinged pink in embarrassment looking as though he’d just been scolded for his transgressions against you.

“I’m sorry for speakin’ to you like that, it wasn’t right and you didn’t deserve it.” The intensity of his gaze froze you in your spot as he bestowed you with a proper apology. “And thank you for looking out for Eva the way you do.”

You nodded, sending him a tight smile as you let his words soak in appreciating the fact that he was aware of just how uncouth trying to shame you about the moment you shared with him in the parking lot was. If you were a worse person you would’ve allowed him to take the brunt of the blame, and as much as you hated admitting you were at fault for something, the least you could do was match his vulnerability with a sincere apology of your own.

“Thank you Mr. Jerimo-,” you paused as his index finger gently tapped the center of your palm, eyes landing on yours as he shook his head with a slight frown, the understanding washed over you immediately. “Richie…thank you for apologizing. But you should know that I only said those things out of anger, and I know that’s no excuse…I just lashed out intending to hurt you. And I’m sorry for using your insecurities against you.”

It felt immature as the words left your lips, finally speaking aloud your reasoning for even insinuating that he was a bad parent. And maybe it was just wishful thinking but it felt as though the two of you understood each other just a bit more, not that the conversation was deep enough for anything of the sort but through all your run-ins with him you’d gathered that he didn’t respond well to his parenting being called into question.

Your eyes fell to your palm where the pad of his finger remained, the lightest bit of pressure still there. The organ in your chest picked up speed as you watched the appendage slowly begin moving further across your palm skating closer and closer to your pulse point all you could do was watch, the feeling of yearning you felt just a few short months ago returning more intensely than the last time.

“Eva has a bracelet similar to this.” His whisper was accompanied by his thumb swiping across the skin of your wrist just under the material of the bracelet. You felt frozen as his eyes looked up to meet yours, thumb grazing back and forth as he waited for an answer.

You gave a slight nod trying to ignore how touch-starved you felt, the calloused pad of his thumb provided you with such a small comfort you weren’t aware you were yearning for. “I know,” your eyes bounced between his eyes. “It was the last day of school activity I did with the kids.”

Richie’s thumb caressed the vein on your wrist once more, a gentle back-and-forth guiding motion. You watched as a tiny grin curved the side of his mouth, and his eyes fell back to the accessory snuggly wrapped around your wrist.

He thought it was cute the way you wore something you made with your students long after they moved on from you. His heart warming at the thought of Eva being taught by someone as thoughtful and as kind as you, well at least when it comes to children. A stray thought raced through his mind wondering if life would ever offer him the chance of surrounding himself with someone like you. As his thumb continued to absentmindedly trace back and forth across your pulse point he came to the harrowing realization that what he longed for wasn’t someone like you; it was you.

You watched in real-time as the small smile dropped from Richie’s lips and his thumb stilled on your wrist before snatching his arm away as though he’d been burned. Your eyebrows creased in confusion at the visceral reaction making you question if you did something to unknowingly cause it.

Richie’s tall figure rising from the barstool guided your eyes, “Thanks for the water, but I should head out.” His words sent a wave of dismay through you as you quickly schooled your features, nodding along to his words as you tried to put on a neutral front watching as he walked around the island towards the front door.

You followed after him, mind straying to the article of clothing that hung in your closet. He hadn’t asked for it back but you intended to return it to him all this time and the longer you stood there thinking about it the harder it felt to willingly part with the jacket. Was it weird of you to want to keep it for just a little longer? The thought left as easily as it came when Richie began unlocking your door and another more pressing matter came to the forefront of your mind.

“Richie,” his slender form turned around faster than you expected and you looked into his eyes unsure of how to word your next sentence, the fleeting idea of asking him to stay crossed your mind before you wrangled your thoughts and settled back on your initial inquisition. “I uh know it’s been a few months but I just wanted to make sure…no one knows about that night, right?”

You felt vulnerable under his stare as you watched his eyes flash in recognition slowly roving over your figure, drinking you in like you were the last bit of water on earth before he cleared his throat looking into your eyes once more, a slight dusting of pink atop his cheeks. You held his gaze trying to ignore the tension-filled air as you were more than positive both of you were silently remembering the short-lived affair of that night.

A quiet intake of breath filled the living area of your apartment as you allowed Richie to close the distance between the two of you, his fingers slowly reaching out entangling with yours, the two of you enraptured by the other’s stare. A moment of silence passed between the two of you before his unoccupied hand hesitantly reached up nimble digits softly ghosting the side of your neck, eyebrows raising in question as you offered him a small nod of approval before his hand came to gently grip your neck, his gaze never once leaving yours.

“I told you that night nothing was gonna happen didn’t I?” The way the rough pad of his thumb stroked back and forth against the side of your neck had your eyes fluttering shut as you leaned further into his body head slowly nodding along to his words. “No one saw us. I promised you that…and I wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you even if someone did.”

Your eyes fluttered open as you felt the breath of his sentence against your lips. The hand entangled with your fingers slowly traced a path up your arm guiding over the bracelet on your wrist and ghosting over your pulse point before settling on your tricep, his thumb massaged gentle circles into the muscle in tandem with his other thumb moving from caressing the side of your neck to your jawline.

The two of you easily could’ve stayed in that position all night just basking in each other’s gaze, the both of you teetering dangerously on the edge of this will they won’t they game you both seemed adamant to indulge in. You found yourself standing in his embrace imagining what things would be like between the two of you if that night went further than it did, maybe you wouldn’t be standing here in your apartment wishing that one of you was brave enough to make the next move and send the two of you spiraling into whatever kept drawing you back to the other.

It was almost imperceptible and if it wasn’t for his nose gently bumping against yours as he breathed you wouldn’t have realized he leaned in. You wanted more than a lean in, you wanted to feel his kiss against your lips, to allow his work-weathered hands to map out your body. But as you searched his eyes you realized his uncertainty matched yours, you could meet him halfway easily and maybe that’s all you needed to do. To let Richie know you were just as unsure as he was, but you were willing to test the waters as long as he was.

A moment of hesitation passed before your eyes fluttered shut once more as an insurmountable amount of want swelled in you as you allowed yourself to take what you wanted, what was willfully being offered to you. Your free hand reached up to press into Richie’s chest just before you leaned in softly slotting your lips against his, pressing a gentle apprehensive kiss onto his lips appreciating the way his hand just under your jaw gave a slight squeeze when you moved to pull away, carefully keeping you in place increasing the tenderness of the kiss, the hairs of his mustache tickling the tip of your nose.

Pushing off his chest caused your lips to slowly detach from his, your eyes not daring to open as his forehead pressed into yours, lips ghosting together with each breath you shared. You could feel his hand flexing against your neck, your hand burning as you felt his heartbeat against it. A gasp escaped your lips as his hand left your bicep to grip the other side of your neck tilting your head back just slightly, your eyes shot open to quietly watch as one of his thumbs glided across the seam of your lips with a sense of awe.

Richie’s pupil seemed to swallow the blue of his irises as you looked into his eyes watching in wait as his eyes darted around your face cataloging whatever features he could get his eyes on before finding yours once more. On instinct your hand that wasn’t on his chest moved to grip his left wrist, fingers delicately tracing the veins on his hand before subtly turning your face into his wrist and placing a lingering kiss to his pulse point relishing in the quiet groan that rumbled through his chest.

Having Richie in your apartment like this was dangerous, but as the shrill ringtone of an incoming call rang through your apartment you couldn’t help but feel disappointed that another moment with the man was interrupted, maybe for the best. You weren’t sure if the deep breath he let loose was in disappointment or relief as the heat of his forehead moved from yours followed by the roughness of his palms and he stepped out of your space before reaching into his pocket to pull out his phone.

“Hey little monster what’s going on?” You watched Richie’s back as he spoke into the phone shame filling you at the thought of telling him not to answer when the phone initially rang now that you knew it was Eva on the other line.

You tried to calm your racing heart hoping it wasn’t visibly obvious just how much the man affected you in such little time. You weren’t sure what to do with yourself having never felt awkward and out of place in your apartment before, knowing that you looked ridiculous just standing where the older man left you as you tuned out his conversation, instead moving to the frame he picked up earlier and adjusting it to its rightful place so you at least didn’t look like you were just waiting for him to finish his conversation.

The clearing of Richie’s throat from where you left him had you spinning around to face him trying to keep your eyes locked on his face even though seeing him stand there with his tie loosened and hands in his slacks made your mind race with dozens of scenarios.

“I should be getting home.” Richie’s rough voice reached your ears and the earlier disappointment returned tenfold.

You nodded, sending a forced understanding smile his way, moving to once again close the distance between you two only stopping just before you invaded his personal space folding your hands in front of yourself and trying to appear as unaffected as possible. “Thank you for the ride, I'll uh pay you back.”

“You think I helped you today 'cause I wanted somethin’ from you?” His voice dropped an octave as he straightened up eyes moving all across your face as he awaited your response.

You hesitantly shook your head at his words unsure if you could string a coherent sentence together with the way just his look heated you. You stood silent as he took a step forward invading your personal space once more, not that you minded as you allowed his hands to grip your waist lazily holding you in place as though he knew you had zero urge to be rid of him or his touch.

No words were spoken as you allowed his hand to slowly glide from its place on your hip up the curve of your torso biting your lip at the touch before once more finding purchase cupping the underside of your jaw and forcing you to hold his stare.

“I helped you because I wanted to.” His hand slowly began its descent down your neck before skating across the bare skin of your clavicle and landing atop the strap of your dress, fingers gently playing with the fabric. “Don’t think you owe me anything for it okay?”

Richie’s eyebrows raised as several seconds ticked by without a response from you, hand giving a soft squeeze to your shoulder in a bid for you to show him you understood.

“Okay.” Your voice was nothing more than a whisper as you gently nodded enraptured with the trance he seemed to put you in.

“Good,” the timber of his voice was punctuated by his thumb and forefinger slowly pushing the strap of your dress off your shoulder, leaving the skin fully exposed to the cool air of your apartment, his eyes burning into you as he caressed the space your strap once sat. “You should get out of these clothes and get some sleep.”

You stood still as he leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead before removing himself and leaning in to brush an opened mouth kiss against the skin of your shoulder. He pulled back before you could even ask for more, you watched as he gave you one more longing look before turning his back to you and taking his leave.

Quiet music drifted through your apartment as you sat in your living room. A relaxing glass of wine sat on the coffee table next to the puzzle you started working on not long after Xiomara left, your nighttime shower and skincare routine having already been knocked out. You usually didn’t stay up this late, but your weekly dinner with Xio ended later than usual as the two of you filled each other in on anything interesting that happened in your lives, including your little back-and-forth with a certain older man.

The sound of knocking drew your attention, you brushed it off as your neighbor. They were always up doing random shit at this time. Another round of knocks led your eyes to your door. You realized there in fact was someone knocking on your door at almost midnight. You were happy to just ignore it as it seemed whoever the culprit was gave up due to the silence but the sound of quiet cursing raised your curiosity so you rose from your position on the floor deciding to check the peephole.

As you gazed through the peephole you were surprised to see Richie’s figure turning to head back down the hallway presumably to the elevator. Confusion swept through you as you tried to think of any reason he would be at your door so late at night only to come up empty. In a split second without much thought, you were undoing the locks on your door before swinging it open.

“Richie?” Your quiet call of his name stopped him in his tracks, eyes burning into his back as you waited for him to face you curious about his presence. “It’s almost midnight, is everything okay?”

You tried to think of any reasons he would be in the hallway leading to your apartment at this time, surprised to see that he even remembered where you lived. He spun on his heel to face you, your eyes darted around his figure to make sure there wasn’t anything physically wrong with him but found he seemed to be unscathed dressed in what you were still getting used to being his usual attire; a dress shirt and tie with slacks sans a jacket.

His lack of speaking was worrying you, and you were sure a few nosy neighbors would quickly poke their heads out if you continued speaking out into the hallway any longer.

“Did you want to…come in?” The confusion was evident in your voice but you felt relieved as he gave a slight nod before making his way back to your door and stepping into your apartment. He walked past you as you closed and locked your door trying to figure out what the next steps were in this situation.

You moved to walk around him, sending a small smile his way as his eyes followed you, “Are you sure you’re okay? Do you need me to call anyone?”

It was like Richie realized just how weird he was being showing up on your doorstep late at night, offering you no words or explanation. Maybe it was the worry in your voice that finally got through to him. “No sorry I uh,” he paused, clearing his throat before settling into the man you were used to interacting with, taking a small step forward into your space. “I wanted to see you.”

The sincerity in his words took you by surprise, and a flurry of emotions swam through you, relief that nothing was seriously wrong with the man followed by a fluttering in your chest at the idea of him randomly showing up on your doorstep just to see you.

“Oh.” The lackluster reply was the best you could do as you tried to reign in the way a simple sentence made you feel.

Richie’s chuckle drew you from the thoughts racing in your mind eyes meeting his as he watched you, almost like he could see your thought process, “You uh look pretty busy though sorry for interruptin’ you.”

You followed as his eyes looked to the coffee table over your shoulder, a smile lining your lips as you turned to look back at him, a false sense of confidence radiating through you. You reached out for one of his hands taking a step forward to close the minuscule distance separating the two of you and gazing into his eyes as your chest brushed against his with every breath.

“Did you want to help?” You couldn’t help the way your eyes trailed from his eyes to his lips then to his Adam’s apple as he swallowed. Your mind envisioned a myriad of sinful ideas about his beard before you cleared your throat to find his gaze once more.

A more serious look settled across his face as his own eyes were preoccupied with something else before he gave a small nod in agreement.

“Yo no! There’s no fuckin’ rules to puzzles.” Richie’s voice boomed through your apartment as he pointed at the puzzle pieces in front of each of you.

Laughter bubbled out of you at how passionate his argument was becoming, you weren’t sure if it was the wine getting to you or if the lack of animosity between the two of you was finally allowing you to relax in Richie’s presence.

The pounding on your kitchen wall made you jump in your seat surprised by the noise but unsurprised by the yelling that followed, “Shut the fuck up over there!”

“Oh fuck you!”

You raised a finger to your lips trying to get Richie to quiet down as you fought to control your laughter, not wanting to wake up with a noise complaint taped to your door. You watched as the frown on Richie’s face smoothed out before a smile grew on his face and his laughter emerged.

A small smile remained on your face as you replied to Richie’s earlier grievance, “Everyone knows you build the border of the puzzle first.” You pointed down to the border you’d barely added to since Richie’s arrival, instead allowing him to regale you with what his night consisted of, surprised to find that he’d been just a floor below you for most of the night with friends and you never would’ve known if he hadn’t decided to visit you.

Richie sucked his teeth before looking at the puzzle pieces you pointed at, shaking his head as though they offended him, “No, you leave the border for last cause it’s the easiest. Brings the whole picture together.”

You didn’t want to admit that his point was valid so you shook your head in disagreement, “Come on, building the border is like building the foundation of the puzzle.” Your hand traced the bit you’d put together so far before motioning to the irregular-shaped pieces. “Then you just keep building it up piece by piece, the fun is in realizing that even if certain pieces don’t fit together everything has its rightful place and once you’ve done all the building you get to see all your work pay off.

The weight of Richie’s gaze felt heavy on you as he allowed your words to sink in, having no initial comeback wasn’t something you were used to. You gave him a small smile the longer he stared at you before fingering through the puzzle pieces and deciding to continue it.

“You always spew weirdly poetic shit at 1 a.m.?” The smile in Richie’s voice was apparent before you even looked up, his lips upturned softly as he stared at your hands idly messing with the pieces on his side of the coffee table.

You shrugged your eyes shooting at his pile of pieces before reaching over to grab a piece that looked like it might fit, “I’m usually not entertaining guests past midnight.”

Richie gave a noncommittal hum of acknowledgment as his focus landed back on the puzzle pieces scattered around the table, the two of you basking in each other's calming presence as you worked to finish the puzzle, quiet words exchanged regarding which pieces fit where.

With a quarter of the puzzle left to complete you found your eyes straying to Richie more often than probably necessary, watching the concentration on his face as he aligned pieces where they fit. It was odd seeing him so calm in your presence considering how rocky your relationship started with him, you didn’t think you’d ever willingly let him into your safe space let alone enjoy having him there.

“How’s that doctor of yours?” Richie’s words pulled you from your study of him.

Confusion marred your features at the tightness of his voice, he showed up on your doorstep at one in the morning and that’s what he was fucking asking you about?

He caught your eye as he looked up eyebrows raised in question, “I can give you his number if you’re that interested in him.”

The loud scoff from across the table made you smile, “What about you? Any luck with the dating apps?”

Richie’s knee knocked against yours and you weren’t sure if it was on purpose or accident, but as you looked up you realized he’d been watching you for some time, “Decided I’m done with all that shit.”

A chill raced down your spine at how sure he sounded, and maybe it was wishful thinking or you were just being full of yourself, but you couldn’t help but think you were the reason for that decision. You cleared your throat unsure of what to say as you let your attention fall back to the puzzle on the table, it was comical the ease with which you could argue with the older man. But these polite flirtatious conversations just felt different, the underlying tension in them felt different and you weren’t sure how to go about dealing with it. The quiet clearing of Richie’s throat and the slight removal of his knee from the space your legs were internally made you cringe. He was expecting a much different reaction from his statement.

Quiet descended upon the two of you once more as you tried to keep your focus on finishing the puzzle, only for your mind to constantly drift with all the things you wanted to admit to Richie in that moment. You remembered clearly the day when he told you all those months ago that you were a constant in his mind and now all you could do was wonder if this is what it felt like for him. The way your mind latched onto him after the parking lot didn’t feel healthy but you couldn’t pretend you didn’t want more of his time, more of his presence even when he pissed you off to no end.

You smiled to yourself at the thought of it all, once more looking up from the puzzle to find Richie so engrossed with the pieces he was putting together. You couldn’t be sure but outside of Eva being around, this felt like the calmest you’d seen him in your presence. The tension in his shoulders seemed almost nonexistent, his face was relaxed and not at all filled with whatever stress the day brought him. It was like a different person was sitting in your living room, no animosity filled the air between the two of you and the longer you let your eyes rove his face the more confident you were that you liked this version of Richie best.

Hesitantly your hand reached across the table before gently landing atop Richie’s, watching as his eyes moved from the puzzle pieces to your hand on his then to your face. You bit your bottom lip before speaking, “If I asked you to stay the night only because I was worried about you getting home safely what would you say to that?”

The thudding of your heart made you sure it was trying to beat out of your chest the longer Richie sat there staring at you without saying anything. A part of you wished you could take it back, it was a lame excuse, but you could never be too sure with the older man and this option seemed to offer less teasing than if you asked him to spend the night with you outright.

“I would say,” His words were followed by his hand turning over so his palm was just under yours, the roughness of his fingertips brushing against your wrist as he held your gaze. “It’d be rude of me to disregard your hospitality, leave you here all alone late at night worried about me. So I’d stay to ease your worries.”

“Good.” A small knowing smile lined your lips before you removed your hand from under his, making sure to grab your empty wine glass and standing.

As you made it to the sink and began washing out the glass, you felt like you were too far out of your depth. Maybe you overestimated whatever false confidence being around Richie gave you, but didn’t you deserve to go after something you wanted? Richie was an adult and you were sure if he had no interest he would’ve left whenever he was ready, hell he wouldn’t have even shown up in the first place. You rinsed out the glass before setting it on the drying mat.

You turned to find Richie sitting on your couch with the book from the side table in his hands. Smiling as you walked towards him stopping to stand in front of him as he looked up at you, the desire to touch him had your hands pushing his legs apart giving you enough space to stand in between them as he leaned back further into the couch manspreading gently placing your book down next to him.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed up and down the fabric over his thighs as you stood as close to him as the couch would allow, your right hand slowly traced up his thigh following the anatomy of his body up his torso before your hand landed on his slightly loosened tie.

“You know for a while, I couldn’t stop thinking about that night…thinking about you,” you paused as your fingers nimbly began to undo his tie. “And then you drove me home last week and for a moment I thought I’d finally be able to have you in the way I wanted.”

The warmth of his hand reaching out to cup the back of your thigh raised your confidence even higher, carefully climbing atop his lap as he tugged you closer caging him in between your legs. Your hands landed on his shoulder before caressing down his chest and landing on the top button of his dress shirt. Richie’s hands landed upon your own, your lust-filled eyes taking in the apprehensive look on his face. You paused, unsure of yourself before you moved to get up only to stop when his hand fell to your waist keeping you in place.

“Did I do something wrong?” Your brows furrowed in confusion and you couldn’t help how small and insecure your voice sounded.

You moved your hands back to his shoulders trying to create a bit of space between you two looking at a spot over his head instead of at him.

“No, hey look at me,” one of Richie’s hands moved up to cup your chin, gently turning you to face him.“All of this shit…it’s just new to me you know I don’t know how to do this casual shit.” His thumb lightly rubbed across your chin, the vulnerability in his eyes and words keeping you locked in.

“I haven’t done shit like this in years, never thought I’d be divorced trying this shit again. Believe me, I want tonight with you, but what happens after that? Am I supposed to just fuck off and act like I don’t want more with you?”

Slowly your hand moved across his shoulder before softly cupping the side of his neck. It wasn’t the time to mention it but you couldn’t help but feel even more attracted to the man in front of you as he shared the insecurities he was feeling about the growing attraction between the two of you.

“You enjoy tonight,” your thumb traced a path up the side of his neck eliciting a shiver. “We indulge in each other, in our desires and then we go from there. Maybe breakfast in the morning.” You smiled at him watching the tense line of his silhouette relax. “I don’t know what’s going to come from this…but I know I don’t want this to just be one night.”

Your words lingered in the air as the two of you stared at each other, Richie’s smile growing to match yours as the two of you kept your hands on each other's skin. The way Richie stared at you brought back that familiar warmth he always seemed to elicit within you, his pupils slowly dilated as they roved over your face.

The previous tension between the two of you before the turn of conversation ignited once more, your eyes locked on the others as though in a trance. The feeling of his fingertips tracing the skin of your bottom lip made you feel dizzy at the thought of how easy it would be for him to touch you however he wanted, sent a surge of desire coursing through you. You could see the realization flash across his face his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as his fingers that once pressed into your hip began a featherlight trail under your shirt and up the skin of your back, your teeth latching onto your bottom lip at the delicate touches your eyes fluttered as he traced his way along your spine your shirt rising the higher his hand moved his fingers ghosted across the space between your shoulder blades pushing you further into his chest.

Richie’s hand gently grazed down your back leaving goosebumps in its wake as it found your hip once more pulling you down against him your quiet moan being drowned out by his unabashed groan as you settled atop him relishing in the way the hardness in his pants pressed up against you. His mouth fell open as his blunt nails dug into the skin of your hip before his hand skirted down the side of your hip traveling further and further before it met the skin of your leg below the hem of your sleep shorts, his calloused hand running just under the cut of your ass before cupping the back of your thigh, the heat from the palm of his hand warmed your thigh before he gripped your skin his thumb located near your groin slipping under the fabric of your shorts to caress the junction of your hip so close to where you wanted to feel him most a wanton moan escaping you as you unconsciously trapped his hand between your bodies and began rubbing yourself against him needing any bit of reprieve you could get.

His labored breathing hit your face as you allowed yourself to grind against him without consequence, your eyes fluttering in pleasure at not only the feeling but the way he was allowing you to use him to make yourself feel every bit of pleasure you deserved to feel. A high pitched keen left your lips as his free hand tugged the collar of your shirt before attaching his lips to your neck sucking and biting any piece of skin he could get his mouth on.

“R-Richie.” Your moan of his name was followed by his hips rutting up into you, his mouth falling open against your collarbone as he spewed out soft curses against your skin. It was all too much and not enough at once a part of you having no problem dry-humping your way to an orgasm but selfishly you wanted him in every way he was willing to give himself to you. You wanted to know how his body would feel against yours, what he looked like under all the layers of clothing separating the two of you, what he felt like. You needed to know what he would look like atop you and what expressions would he make as he fucked himself into you, in and out in and out. Or maybe missionary wasn’t his thing, what would it feel like if he took you from behind his body crowding you in would he be gentle or would he fuck you in the way he thought you deserved harsh thrusts and bruising slaps to your ass as he punished you for all the attitude you gave him.

The thoughts racing through your mind had you grinding down faster and harder than you previously were. The tension building inside of you on the cusps of shattering through you, just a little more, and you’d be convulsing against the man below you who brought out so many emotions in you. The rough feeling of his lips finding yours startled you not realizing that your equilibrium was off until your back pressed into the carpet below a muffled whine ringing through you at the loss of contact you were once grinding against.

“Quit your fuckin’ whining and let me take care of you,” you felt like you were going insane as his hands slowly slipped under the waistband of your shorts dragging them down your hips and legs at a painstakingly slow pace. “Been wanting you like this ever since that night in the fucking parking lot.” His words were so quiet you weren’t sure you would’ve heard them otherwise, your body clenching against nothing as the cool air of the living room met the slickness spread between your legs.

You sat up on your elbows watching from your position on the floor in a daze as Richie stood above you eyes glued to your cunt as he hastily unbuttoned his shirt shrugging out of it before pulling the white tank top beneath it over his head. You let out an appreciative moan at the sight of the softness of his body wanting to run your hands over the planes of his torso, lavish him with the attention he deserved. You pushed off your elbows on instinct fingers wrapping into the belt loops of his dress pants catching him off guard as your lips met the softness of his tummy leaving eager kisses to whatever spots you could reach as he towered over your sitting form. Your hands moved eagerly from their position, one fiddling with his belt buckle wanting him to feel half of the pleasure he brought you in such little time as the other palmed his bulge through the material.

A surprised gasp ripped through your lips as his hand found the back of his neck pulling you off of him, the desire swimming in his eyes heating you even more. His hand moved from the back of your neck before cupping your jaw and tilting your head further up, you were surprised by the softness of his kiss your eyes closing on instinct as you relaxed into him, his hand on your jaw squeezing as he snuck his tongue into your mouth the appendage running across your own several times over as you followed his lead the passion in which he kissed something you never experienced before. You began maneuvering around trying to raise yourself wanting to feel more of him against you, until he pulled away your shared saliva connecting the two of you as he looked down on you. There was only a moment’s reprieve before his mouth was on yours again his lips moving so slow and sensually, this kiss was different from the very few you shared with him both of his hands now cupping your jaw as he lavished you with everything he had his lips wrapping around your much smaller tongue his head bobbing back and forth as he slowly sucked on your tongue before reluctantly pulling himself away, your eyes finally opening at the feel of his thumb caressing your cheek as he stared down at you with a look you couldn’t quite place.

“Lay back f’me.” Richie’s words were whispered against your lips as you mindlessly obeyed lifting your shirt from under your bottom before leaning back on your elbows and then flat on your back.

You could hear his breath hitching as you found the confidence to spread your legs open so every bit of you was on full display. You waited in anticipation listening as he undid his belt before his pants landed somewhere away from the two of you, he gripped your ankle first, fingers skating up the skin of your leg in a slow almost teasing way as he traced a path up to your hip hand gliding across the skin of your stomach before stopping at the hem of your shirt and gently pushing it over the curve of your breast.

There wasn’t any time for nervousness to grip you as he settled between your legs, his head bending as he placed a soft kiss into the center of your chest. You could feel your heartbeat speed up as one of the hands he was using to hold himself up cupped the weight of your breast, the heat of his calloused palm drew a moan from you. A quiet gasp filled the living room as Richie kissed his way down your chest stopping to lavish your pebbled nipples in kisses before sucking one into his mouth.

The urge to cry out at finally being laid bare for him as he worked you up sat heavily in you. Your eyes fluttered shut as he rose from your breast with a pop. The cool air making it even harder as he moved to show your other nipple the same appreciation. The feel of his teeth grazing across the nerve jolted you a quiet whine followed the movement as you gave in to just how good he was making you feel. You enjoyed the last few moments of pleasure his mouth gave your chest before he began to leave wet kisses down your torso as your legs squeezed around him in search of friction.

Richie’s quiet laughter vibrated against the bottom of your stomach before he moved to scoot back dropping kisses to your hip as he settled himself at eye level between your thighs. His groan reached your ears as he stared at all of your bare to him a whispered “fuck” followed before his lips were attached to the inside of your thigh earning him a guttural moan.

A gasp rang through the air as you felt Richie’s finger slowly trace the circle of your anatomy, you strained to look down your body just as the tip of his finger ever so slightly stretched you out, your hooded gaze finding his blue eyes already staring at you a flush blooming across his face. He held your gaze as he followed the same circular motion this time pushing his finger into the second knuckle as you bit your lip knowing it was way too late in the night for the noises you wanted to make.

Richie’s finger slowly moved inside you experimentally before finding the pattern that made you clench around him and crooked his finger inside your expertly eyes never leaving yours. “You gonna let me hear those pretty noises while I eat you out?”

The rough timber of Richie’s voice had you clenching around his finger, his tongue poked out to lick his lips as he patiently awaited your response maneuvering his finger slower with each second that passed. Your head moved up and down rapidly, sure you’d begin crying if he teased you anymore. “Y-yes Richie, please.”

You were thankful for the care he took when removing his long finger, the feel of every inch of it reverberated through you. He gave you one last small smile before his head disappeared, arms moving to snake around your thighs as his hands landed atop of them wearing your legs over his shoulders as though they were roller coaster restraints.

The first lick of his tongue from your hole to your clit had your head thudding back against the floor ignoring the pain of it as you moaned. Richie’s teeth sinking into your inner thigh caused a delicious hiss of pain to race through you, “Be careful.” You hummed in acquiescence, anything to keep him pleasuring you.

Richie’s tongue pressed flatly against you licking several languid stripes through your folds, each stroke of his thick warm wet appendage mingled erotically with your slickness as the mixture of fluids slowly dripped down you. At the feel of his tongue dipping in and out of you your stomach constricted in pleasure before your hands found purchase on the back of his head trying to anchor yourself to this moment with him. Vibrations from his moans traveled through you adding to the building pleasure along with the way his nose caught your clit just right as he dined on you like a man starved.

You couldn’t help the way you began grinding against his face chasing your release. You’d never been catered to like this before and as his arms moved to hold you down, mouth traveling through your folds before suctioning to your clit you were sure you were seeing stars. The muscles in your stomach tightened the longer and harder he sucked on you, your head grew fuzzy as the knot in your stomach grew tighter, incoherent babbling falling from your lips with each moment.

A loud whine rang through the quiet of your apartment as you finally gave in to your orgasm, you convulsed against Richie’s mouth as the waves of pleasure flowed through you. The aftershocks of it all caused you to jolt against him as you rode through your orgasm, overstimulation brought you back down to earth as you struggled to sit up finding Richie still attached to you.

“R-Richie,” a moan cut off your plea as you found yourself struggling not to succumb to the wickedness of his tongue. “Too much, i-its too much.”

Slowly Richie released himself from your placing a gentle kiss against your clit that jolted you before he leaned back on his haunches eyeing how debauched you looked. Your eyes traced the wetness that decorated his chin following the trail of your slickness into his now shiny beard before landing on the wet spot on his chest as it rose and fell.

Seeing him like this had you clenching around nothing as your hooded eyes fell to his happy trail, wanting nothing more than to return the pleasure. A silent conversation passed between the two of you before Richie stood up causing you to eagerly rise to your knees as you shuffled over to him before hungrily pulling down his boxers.

You stared up at him in appreciation, allowing your eyes to take in every line of him. The softness of his body was a welcomed surprise, he was strong you could see it in his arms and legs, there was no denying that. But you could tell he enjoyed life, indulged in what he liked, no rigid routine of diet or exercise. As you drank him in you couldn’t help but let your eyes fall to the tuft of light brown hair between his legs home to the part of him you’d been waiting to experience.

Unconsciously you licked your lips before shuffling closer on your knees, one hand moving to grip his hip as you steadied yourself before holding the weight of him in your hand, marveling at his impressive erection. The feel of your hand softly caressing up and down his length drew a throaty groan from him as you watched pre-cum drip from his tip in pleasure.

You leaned forward tongue darting out instantly to swirl around the head of his cock needing to hear the noises he would elicit. You were rewarded with a softer moan looking up to see his head thrown back. Opening wide you took the weight of him in your mouth taking in what you could without gagging, moaning around him as the tuft of hairs gently touched your face. Richie’s moans of approval egged you on small back-and-forth movements were your starting point bobbing slowly against him with your eyes closed as sucking him off increased your pleasure.

As you bobbed faster against him your nails dug into the flesh of his hip, your tongue swirling around him as you listened to his mumbled curses. Richie’s hand moved to settle against your neck anticipation growing in you as you waited for him to fuck your face only to be disappointed when he gently pulled you off of him spittle on your lip the only thing connecting you to his cock.

You looked up in confusion, chest rising and falling rapidly as you fought to steady your breathing. Before you could question him he was leaning down to meet you the softness of his kiss not matching your previously voracious ministrations. You leaned into the kiss not at all minding how slowly his lips moved against you passion radiating through both ends of the kiss both of you getting a taste of the other.

Richie’s lips chased yours as you pulled away his eyes slowly opened to find you already staring at him, he cupped your jaw pressing a kiss into your forehead before helping you to stand. Once you were steady on your feet you placed your hand on his chest guiding him back into the loveseat in the corner of your living room watching as his body unceremoniously plopped down, his legs spread wide as his erection bounced off the surface of his stomach.

You moved to kneel in front of him once more, stopping as a hand gripped the front of your sleep shirt pulling on it to get you to climb atop him, resuming your earlier position. You sat above him on your knees, hands resting against his shoulders to hold yourself up doing your best to ignore just how close he was to being inside you.

“What’re you poutin’ for?” Richie’s voice was quiet as his fingers tapped against your lips.

You hadn’t meant to showcase your discontent but now that he brought it up you felt comfortable in voicing what bothered you. “Why’d you stop me?” You realized how immature your ire was as you spoke the words, annoyance growing towards yourself as you were sure you ruined the night.

“It’s nothin’ against you I promise,” his free hand moved to your side skating under your shirt to caress the bare skin of your hip. “Just not sure I’d be able to give you more if I let you do that.”

It was like every little thing about this man kept turning you on, understanding washed over your face as you pulled your lip between your teeth having to stop yourself from sinking onto him. The wheels turn in your head at just how starved of intimacy he must be.

“Has it been that long?” You weren’t sure why you asked, you had zero desire to hear about the intimacy he shared with anyone else but his explanation made you curious.

Your hands unconsciously rubbed into his shoulders helping him to release any tension this intermission might have brought forth.

“Too long,” you bit back a moan as both of his hands skated along the naked skin of your hips, dipping so close to where you wanted him. “I take care of myself though.”

His answer intrigued you, just thinking about him alone in his home late at night using his hand to pleasure himself. You hummed in interest as you looked down on him, your right hand on his shoulder traced a path down his chest appreciating the fact you were finally able to touch the softness of him. Your hand continued traveling down running through his happy trail before finally gripping him in your hand finding him still semi-heard as he moaned at the feeling of your hand wrapped around him.

You languidly stroked him a few times watching the motion as you did so before looking back up at him to find his head tossed back against the loveseat, your free hand moving to grip his chin and force him to focus on you.

“What do you think about when you touch yourself,” you lowered yourself just enough to run the tip of his cock through your wetness choking down a moan. “Because I think about you.”

Richie let out a quiet curse before speaking. “Yeah?” His voice was breathy as he forced himself to hold your stare, his hands pressed into your hips with a vice-like grip as he helped to rock you back and forth against him.

“Mhmm,” you nodded your head trying to pretend you were unfazed by how delicious it felt every time his head caught your clit. “After you left my apartment the other night…I spread out right where you're sitting and played with myself wishing it was you.”

Richie let out a guttural groan as he thrusted up into your hand surging forward to attach his lips to your neck surprising you with the vigor alternating between open mouth kisses and sucking just hard enough for you to know where his lips decorated your neck through feeling alone, but not harsh enough to leave any evidence.

“You’re gonna fuckin’ kill me if you keep talking like this and don’t let me fuck you.” Richie’s hands raced over any inch of skin he could find just needing to touch you in any way possible.

You lined yourself up with him, drunk on the obvious need he was exhibiting and it was all because of you. Slowly you lowered yourself, relishing in the tip of his cock as it burrowed inside of you, the movement earned the older man's full attention.

“Who said you were fucking me?”

Richie looked at you, mouth slightly agape at the feel of you slowly sliding down onto him, twin moans filling the apartment. He groaned, hands sliding around your hips to grip the curve of your ass to help you start moving.

It started slow, far too slow for two people who weren’t even sure they meant anything to each other but neither of you mentioned that, eyes locked on each other as you placed your hands on his shoulders using them to help steady yourself. Up, down…up, down.

“Arms up pretty girl,” Richie’s command was almost so quiet you didn’t hear it stopping as he held you down against him, moaning at the way he brushed that spot inside you just so. His hands moved from their place on your backside before gently tugging the hem of your shirt over your head whispering his approval at having you naked atop him.

Your hands found his shoulders once more as you began to ride him again. Speeding up as his lips found the curve of your breast and kissed across them. Richie filled you so well the length of him hitting just where you needed every time.

“That’s it, keep ridin’ me just like that. Fuck!” You threw your head back moaning at Richie’s words clenching around him at the idea of being coached through an orgasm he gave you.

A sharp gasp escaped you as he grabbed your backside once more, anchoring himself so he could thrust up into you helping add to your pleasure. You hadn’t been riding him for long but everything about this man drove you crazy, your up-and-down motions growing more restless the harder he thrust into you.

You arched against him, hands finding the back of his thighs as you rode him like your life depended on it chasing the high your last orgasm brought you.

“You look so pretty like this, you know that right? Look so pretty ridin’ me f-fuckin’ usin’ me to get off.” Richie’s hoarse voice was going straight to your clit encouraging you to keep going even though your quads burned. “Say it.”

A quiet hum of agreement left your lips as you continued your ministrations the pleasure you searched for not far away. Richie’s hand roughly gripped your jaw pulling you from the world you were in, forcing you to look into his eyes the pupils having swallowed the blue of his irises. “Let me hear you say it?”

“W-what?”

The grinding of your hips slowed down once more as Richie held you there, his hips undulating at a slower pace as well. “Tell me h-how pretty you look r-ridin’ me.” He choked on his words as the two of you moved in sync taking in equal what you were giving back to each other.

You clenched around him, mouth falling open at his command unsure if you could get the words out before cumming. You moved atop him as he gave you a lazy nod encouraging you, you nodded along with him trying to work up the courage as your hand moved from his thigh to rest above his heart the thumping rhythm of it imprinted on your palm.

“I…” your words cut off as his hips languidly rolled into you, the hand on your jaw moving to the back of your neck to pull your face closer, your forehead pressing into his. “I look s-so pretty riding you…l-like this.”

It was a struggle to get the words out but the way you clenched around him told the both of you just how aroused you were by the simple words. Richie let go of your neck allowing you to move back if you chose to but enjoying the way you stayed close to him, lips brushing against his with each move of your hips. One of his hands slipped between your bodies pressing into your clit as he simultaneously bucked into you with a fierce pace fucking you just how you wanted.

You wrapped your arms around his neck messily following his thrust chasing the pressure that built up in your stomach. Your nails raked down his shoulders as you babbled incoherent pleas into his ear essentially begging him to let you come.

No sooner were the words out of your lips did you cry out in ecstasy, tears escaped the corner of your eyes at how forceful your orgasm was your teeth sunk into Richie’s shoulder as you tried to silence your sobs of bliss body convulsing against him for the second time that night as he helped you ride out your orgasm.

You collapsed against him in bliss boneless feeling your equilibrium shift once more, Richie gently laid you on the love seat, one leg kneeling atop the cushion while his other leg held him up never once disconnecting the two of you.

Richie’s hips pistoned into you at a punishing pace, his grip on your hips bordering on painful as he held your body in place from his harsh thrust. You struggled to keep your eyes open wanting to watch him come. Richie’s loud grunts drowned out your quieter moans, both noises combining as you watched in awe as Richie chased his orgasm, desire rising within you once more just watching Richie use you in the way you used him only moments ago.

You watched in anticipation as Richie’s face scrunched up in concentration, his thrust becoming sloppier by the minute. You wanted to reach out to touch him but felt too blissed out to get your motor skills working instead enjoying the show being put on for you. Richie gave you two more harsh thrusts before quickly pulling out of you causing you to hiss at the suddenness and watch hungrily as his hand pumped himself one final time before he spilled all over your stomach and cunt, the sight of Richie riding out his orgasm burned into your brain.

Richie collapsed atop you uncaring that his cum was getting all over him. His forehead rested against your upper chest, his panting breaths cooling your heated skin. The two of you lay there in silence for a while, your hand coming up to run through his hair as exhaustion settled into you. The feeling of lips pressing into your sternum forced your eyes to flutter open.

A lazy smile lined your lips as you tilted your head to find Richie’s forehead pressed into your chest as he pressed gentle kisses across your sternum. A soft giggle escaped you at the ticklish feeling his facial hair left behind watching as he looked up at you his exhaustion matched yours.

“We gotta get you cleaned up.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke to you with his cheek pressed into your skin.

You gave a noncommittal hum in agreement moving to sit up as Richie stood hands out to help you up. You pulled him behind you as you headed to the shower ignoring the way Richie perked up as the two of you entered your bedroom before reaching the bathroom, moving to turn the shower on and waiting for the water to heat up.

Richie helped you step into the shower before willfully following after you. You stood under the water with your head resting on Richie’s chest letting the warmth relax your muscles as Richie wrapped his arms around you pressing a kiss into the crown of your head.

The end of your night was spent pressed against the shower wall as Richie sensually fucked into you from behind, both of you indulging in everything the other had to offer. Before you both finally showered and got into bed, the softness of Richie’s fingers tracing patterns into your skin lulled you into a peaceful sleep engulfed in his warmth.

a/n: ayee yo they fuckin’ over here!!! i swear i’m so funny anyway here’s part 2 finally its long but worth it i promise. i hope anyone that dedicated their time to this tome of a fic enjoyed it and your days are forever filled with joy. also talk to me about it i love shootin the shit about the unhinged fics i write. anyway love y’all besties!!! 🫶🏽💕

#richie jerimovich x fem!reader #richie jerimovich x reader #richie jerimovich x you #richie jerimovich fanfiction #richie jerimovich smut #richie jerimovich angst #the bear x you #the bear x reader #the bear fic

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theostrophywife · 1 year ago

Text

the crush theory.

pairing: lorenzo berkshire x reader.

song inspiration: london boy by taylor swift.

author’s note: this is just a cute indulgent coffee shop! au with my sweetheart enzo. majorly inspired by all the boyfriend vibes louis has been serving with miss olivia lately. let’s not even talk about the ass grab with his big hands and rings…🫣

Enzo Berkshire never quite managed to master the language of love.

Despite being a polyglot and a linguistics major, romance remained a complete mystery to him. It wasn't like he could craft a conjugation chart to help him not make a fool of himself in front of the girl of his dreams. When it came to matters of the heart, Enzo often found himself at a loss for words. Perhaps that was the reason why he never mustered up the courage to speak to you.

Until that one fateful fall morning.

The kiss of autumn arrived on campus a few weeks into the semester, freeing the city from the grips of the summer heat and bringing with it the changing of leaves and the distinct scent of cinnamon and apples. Enzo shoved his hands into the pockets of his burnt orange corduroy trousers and savored the sound of the jewel toned leaves crunching underneath his loafers. As the wind picked up, he wrapped his chunky knit cardigan tighter around himself to shield against the chilly breeze.

The ivy covered brick buildings and cobblestone streets faded into the background as he walked past the quad. Deja Brew, the little hole in the wall cafe that Enzo frequented, greeted him like an old friend. The coffee shop was located on the outskirts of campus and was only a short walk from his dorm, which made it the ideal place to conduct his tutoring sessions. Not only was it convenient, but the cozy and quiet ambience provided the perfect setting for Enzo to teach his fellow struggling students.

As time went on, the choice of location became less about convenience and more about catching a glimpse of you—the surly barista that worked the morning shift. For the past few months, Enzo developed a rather embarrassing crush on you. There was something about your scowl and no bullshit attitude that drew him to you like a moth to a flame. Though in his case, Enzo was perfectly content to hover a safe distance from the proverbial light of your fancy French cigarette lest he get burned.

Upon first glance, anyone would have been intimidated by you. With your faded band tees, ripped jeans, and scuffed leather boots, Enzo was well aware that a girl like you would never be interested in a bloke who's wardrobe consisted of sweaters with elbow patches, floral print button downs, and neatly pressed pleated trousers. Needless to say, you were way too cool for him.

Enzo was resigned to merely admiring you from afar, but fate seemed to have other ideas. The bell above the door tinkled softly as he made his way into Deja Brew only to stop dead in his tracks when he spotted you at the register. Usually, you were behind the bar manning the espresso machine during the early morning rush, but not today.

Today, you were front and center.

Part of him considered walking out the door, but given the fact that the shop was nearly empty, a hasty exit would definitely not go unnoticed. Enzo had no choice but to suck it up and approach the register with resignation. The minute he opened his mouth, he was sure he’d muck things up.

Enzo swallowed thickly and pushed his round framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose; a nervous habit he developed when he was younger. The erratic beat of his heart echoed in Enzo’s ears as his gaze flickered up to your face, expecting to be greeted with a frown. To his surprise, your lips curved into a small smile once you spotted him.

“Lemon balm tea with two pumps of peach syrup and a dollop of honey, right?”

Enzo blinked at the melodious sound of your voice, nearly missing the fact that you’d recited his exact order, which shouldn’t have been surprising given the fact that you’ve been making it for him for months. Still, he couldn’t help but feel a little warm inside as you looked at him expectantly. He stared in stunned silence for a moment.

You furrowed your brow in doubt. “Did I get that wrong?”

“No, no, it’s right. It’s great. It’s perfect—“ Enzo cleared his throat, mentally kicking himself for rambling. “I’m just surprised that you remembered it.”

“Of course I remember it, you’re one of my regulars. I’d be a pretty shit barista if I forgot your order.” You cocked your head, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “Speaking of which, do you want your croissant warmed up, Lorenzo?”

“You know my name?”

Enzo hadn’t meant to sound so starstruck, but hearing his name come out of your mouth made his heart skip a beat.

“And your social security number too,” you deadpanned. Enzo’s eyes widened, which made you chuckle. “I’m just having a laugh. I promise I won’t commit identity theft against you. Unless you piss me off.”

You accompanied the statement with a cheeky wink, which only made Enzo even more nervous.

"Don't look so nervous, peach. I swear I don't bite."

“Right. Sure. Of course,” he stammered. “The tea and the croissant sounds good, Y/N.” The realization that you’ve never told him your name came a beat too late. “It’s on your chest. The name tag, I mean. I wasn’t just staring at your chest. Though I’m sure it’s very nice. Bloody hell, I’ll stop talking now.”

Enzo cringed at himself, but eased when you laughed. “You’re a strange bloke, Lorenzo.” You said as you began making his drink. “But I’ve got to admit, it’s oddly charming.”

He chuckled, trying to hide the flush coloring his cheeks. “That seems to be my sweet spot.”

"As sweet as peaches," you retorted as you added two pumps of peach syrup into his tea. "You'll have to excuse the fruit references. Before I knew your name, I referred to you solely as the peach guy."

"Is that good or bad?"

Enzo hiked his backpack over his shoulder and meandered down the end of the counter where you were topping off his tea with a dollop of honey. You swirled it into a heart pattern before sliding the warm cup into a sleeve.

"Well, I've never met anyone who's preferred drink could constitute as a dessert, so it's certainly something. You're an enigma, Lorenzo," you said thoughtfully. "Though I think I like peach better. You don't really strike me as a Lorenzo."

“You can call me Enzo. I prefer it over my full name. It sounds so stuffy.”

“We certainly can’t have that,” you said with a smirk. “Enzo. I like it. It’s rather becoming. Not stuffy at all.” He chuckled as you handed him a brown bag. "I might still call you peach from time to time. Force of habit. You understand, right?"

"Of course," Enzo replied. "El loro viejo no aprende a hablar."

"You kiss your mum with that mouth, peach?"

Enzo flushed. "It's Spanish for the old parrot does not learn to talk. Basically their equivalent of you can't teach an old dog new tricks." He shifted his weight onto his other foot. "What I'm trying to say is, I don't mind if you call me peach or Enzo or whatever else you'd like."

"You're giving me way too much freedom, Enzo. I intend on taking full advantage." You winked as you slid his drink over to him. “Enjoy your croissant. I put a little something extra in there for you.”

Enzo peered into the bag and saw an extra pastry wrapped in black cellophane next to his croissant. The brownie didn’t look like any of the ones behind the counter, which meant that it was probably homemade. Strange, he wouldn’t have pegged you for a baker.

“Oh, you really don’t have to—”

“Nonsense,” you countered, waving off his protests. “Really, you’d be doing me a favor. It’s an experimental recipe of mine, which makes you my guinea pig. As payment, I expect a full report on the brownie tomorrow morning. Don’t hold back either, peach. I want a brutally honest review.”

“I’m sure it’ll be great,” Enzo said in reassurance. “In any case, your guinea pig will take ample notes.”

“That would be much appreciated,” you said with a serious nod. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Enzo-not-Lorenzo.”

Enzo couldn’t help but grin. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Y/N.”

Enzo rubbed his temples, willing the headache forming behind his eyes to vanish. Unfortunately for him, his last tutoring session with Flint seemed to have left a permanent mark. While Enzo usually enjoyed teaching French, Marcus was proving to be a rather difficult case. Not only was Flint unwilling to do the work, the knobhead also spent the entire session leering at you instead of studying the conjugation chart that Enzo poured his blood, sweat, and tears on.

“Merlin, I have no idea how you deal with rich, smarmy arseholes all day.”

Enzo looked up to find you seated across the table, sliding a sandwich, a fruit cup, and a bag of crisps towards him without missing a beat. He hadn’t even realized it was already an hour past lunch until his stomach grumbled at the sight of food.

“One could argue that I’m also a rich, smarmy arsehole,” Enzo countered, picking up a grape and popping it into his mouth with a slight smile. “Yet you seem to have no problems dealing with me.”

“Yes, well, everyone knows I’m just using you for your body. Specifically, your taste buds.” Enzo shook his head in amusement before taking a bite out of the sandwich. Peanut butter and jelly, his favorite. “Besides, how else am I supposed to learn new insults in different languages if I hadn’t met you? Speaking of which, I believe I’m completely justified in saying that Flint is a total gehirnverweigerer.”

“Marcus isn’t so bad. He just needs a bit of a push,” Enzo replied rather unconvincingly.

“If by a push you mean my boot against his arse, then I wholeheartedly agree.”

“The French have this saying, petit à petit, l’oiseau fait son nid. In English, it roughly translates to: little by little, the bird builds its nest.”

“Except Flint isn’t a bird, he’s a twat,” you deadpanned. “The bloke was too busy staring at my arse to even pick up a lick of French. To think, you even made this cute little chart and everything. You have the patience of a saint, Enz.”

“One of us has to,” Enzo replied as he tore open the bag of wotsits. “Given your proclivity to violence.”

“Don’t make me take your crisps away, Lorenzo.”

Shielding his wotsits from your vengeful wrath, Enzo flashed you a saccharine smile. For good measure, he even batted his pretty honey eyes at you. The audacity. “Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite person in the whole entire world?”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Berkshire. Now finish your lunch or else I’ll be very cross with you.”

Enzo smiled to himself, wondering at the fact you were complete strangers until a few weeks ago. Ever since you gifted him with the best brownie he’s ever tasted in his entire life, he became your designated taste tester. Every morning, Enzo would start his day off with his usual lemon tea and whatever new pastry recipe you had chosen to tackle that week. Between the scones and muffins, Enzo learned that you intended on opening your own bakery after uni. Hence, his very important role of reviewing your recipes.

Granted, Enzo didn’t know how much of a help he actually was given the fact that he thought everything you made was amazing. Still, the novelty of finding a fresh pastry in his bag with a handwritten note from you never failed to brighten his morning. Especially since you signed each one with a crimson kiss print that made him blush every time he laid his eyes upon it. It was safe to say his crush had only gotten worse the more he got to know you.

As you settled behind the counter to help with the afternoon rush, Enzo attempted to get some work done before classes started for the day. With finals fast approaching, he was caught up on making sure he had everything in order. It wasn’t until Enzo heard a familiar voice when he finally tore his gaze away from his laptop screen.

Enzo froze as he watched one of his best mates saunter up to the counter. Even from his seat by the window, he could tell that Mattheo was flirting with you. In hindsight, his friend seemed exactly like the type of guy you would go for. The broody bad boy who probably listened to all the obscure bands that you often talked to him about. As Mattheo directed his smoldering gaze at you, Enzo thought he might be violently ill.

Squinting across the coffee shop, Enzo angrily shoved his hands into the pockets of his trousers in an attempt to keep himself from strangling his curly headed friend.

In a tone that was at least an octave deeper than his regular voice, Mattheo drawled a question at you. “What’s good here?”

You stared at him pointedly before waving a hand towards the menu. “There’s coffee, there’s pastries. It’s really not rocket science.”

The deadpan delivery combined with the utterly unenthused expression on your face nearly made Enzo snort out loud. It might’ve been an arsehole move to rejoice at Mattheo’s fumble, but he found it immensely satisfying that you seemed to be immune to the infamous Riddle charm.

“A bit feisty today aren’t we, love? I just wanted to see what the pretty lady behind the counter recommends.”

Enzo watched in amusement as you slipped on your signature scowl, the one that made him fall for you in the first place. “The pretty lady recommends that you stop holding up the line so she can get to the other customers who actually know what they want.”

Hiding his smirk, Enzo feigned surprise as a dejected Mattheo plopped down across from him. “Merlin, that was brutal. Is the barista always this mean? I complimented her pins and she stared at me like I’d grown an extra head.”

“Y/N isn’t really a people person,” Enzo supplied.

“No shit, Berkshire.” Mattheo tapped his fingers on the counter. “Let’s just get to class before I embarrass myself any further.”

“That’s probably for the best,” replied Enzo.

Ignoring Mattheo’s glare, Enzo packed up his laptop and put his tray away. He followed his mate through the throng of people, which had thinned out once more. They were a few steps away from the door when you called out his name. With a raised brow, you held out a pink box. Enzo smiled sheepishly in return. He couldn’t believe he’d almost forgotten the dessert of the day.

“One lemon berry scone. Less tart, per your critique last week.” He took the box from your hands, blushing furiously when your fingers brushed against his. “Have a good class, peach.”

“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll have your full report ready tomorrow.”

“You better.” Enzo nearly dropped the box when you winked at him. “Later, Berkshire.”

Smiling to himself, Enzo came face to face with a gaping Mattheo. “For Salazar’s sake, it’s like I don’t even exist.” He muttered before breaking out into a grin. “No wonder my moves had no effect. Mate, she obviously fancies you.”

Enzo’s cheeks immediately heated as he pushed out into the quad. “What? No. Y/N and I are just really good friends.”

“Now I understand why you come here so often,” Mattheo remarked. “If the mean hot barista plied me with baked goods and called me peach, I’d be coming here every day.”

“It's an inside joke about my drink order..." Enzo tried to explain. "The point is, Y/N isn’t mean. She’s actually really nice.”

“Yeah, because she likes you.”

“No, she doesn’t.”

“Does too.” Mattheo countered. “Why else would she bake you a scone?”

“She wants to own a bakery someday. Obviously, that means she needs someone to test her recipes out on,” Enzo explained. “It’s how we became friends.”

“Right,” Mattheo said with a shit eating grin. “Friends.”

Enzo rolled his eyes. “Can we just please get to class?”

“Whatever you say, peach.”

“I have a theory,” Mattheo announced.

Enzo sighed, rubbing his eyes. “Not this again, mate.”

The rest of their friends perked up, abandoning their laptop screens and textbooks in favor of the newest piece of gossip. The little corner of the library that their group had claimed was fairly quiet, which was supposed to be optimal for revising, but Mattheo couldn’t seem to let his conspiracy theory go. He'd been badgering Enzo about it for a week.

“Berkshire here refuses to believe me, but I have it on good authority that Y/N has a crush on him.

“Y/N,” Theo started, “You mean his mean barista friend? She’s proper fit.”

“Don’t call her fit,” Enzo replied rather defensively.

“A little touchy there, Berkshire.” Regulus said with a chuckle. “Is that jealousy I sense?”

“For the millionth time, Y/N and I are just friends.”

“Is that the same friend that makes all those tasty pastries for you?” Draco asked with a raised brow. “I’ve seen the cute little notes she leaves for you posted all around your dorm. With the adorable kiss prints and hearts. Seems to me like Mattheo’s right. Y/N’s sweet on you, cousin.”

“Do me a favour and stop being a snooping twat, cousin.” Enzo retorted with a frown. “Y/N’s just being nice. It’s what friends do.”

“None of my mates have ever gone out of their way to bake me a bloody thing,” Blaise declared in feigned offense as he wrapped an arm around Pansy.

“Yes, well, none of your mates even know where the oven is located, let alone how to operate it,” replied his girlfriend. Pansy smiled at Enzo. “Besides, I think their friendship is sweet.”

“Thanks, Pans.”

“So you don’t fancy Y/N?” Theo asked. Enzo opened his mouth then closed it. He was well aware that his friend was baiting him, but he refused to fall into Theo’s trap.

“Like I said, we’re friends.”

“In that case, you wouldn’t mind if I asked for her number, right?”

As a matter of fact, Enzo did fucking mind. He minded very much. Too much, probably. But he couldn’t very well say that out loud. Instead, he masked his scowl and returned his attention to revising.

“Knock yourself out, mate.”

Theo smirked. “Alright then, let’s go.”

“Go where?” Enzo asked disinterestedly, flipping through his study sheet for Latin.

“To Deja Brew,” Theo replied smugly. “We all need a study break, anyways.”

“You want to go there? Right now?” With each question, Enzo’s death grip tightened on his notes. “To ask for Y/N’s number?”

“That shouldn’t be a problem, right? In fact, maybe you could introduce us.”

Enzo would rather walk on hot coals. “I think I'll pass. I've already seen her turn Mattheo down and that was brutal enough as it is. I don’t need an encore.”

“Riddle’s probably not her type.”

Mattheo frowned, crossing his arms. “I’m everyone’s type.”

Theo chuckled. “Apparently not hers. Perhaps she’d prefer a handsome Italian, no?”

Mattheo rolled his eyes. “In your dreams, Nott.”

“Now I’m intrigued,” exclaimed Blaise. “I’d never miss an opportunity to witness Theodore get humbled. Are you sure you’re ready for a woman like Y/N, Nott?”

“Please,” Theo scoffed. “I was born ready.”

Against his will, Enzo found himself at Deja Brew ten minutes later. In his usual corner by the window, he brooded like a petulant child. This was a horrible, terrible, and idiotic idea. All he wanted to do was revise and now his study session had been hijacked just so he could watch Theo flirt with the girl he fancied.

“You know, you can put a stop to this any time you’d like,” Mattheo said in a sing-songy voice. “Just admit that my theory is right. Y/N has a crush on you and I’m willing to bet that the feeling is mutual. Isn’t it, Berkshire?”

Enzo crossed his arms, rolling his eyes. Instead of giving into Mattheo’s childish pursuits, he opened his laptop and pretended to be immersed with Russian translations.

“Have it your way, Enzo.” Regulus declared, nodding towards the register. “Nott’s about to give us a show.”

As irritated as he was with his friends, Enzo couldn’t tear his gaze away. Theo marched up to the counter with swagger and confidence, slipping on his signature smirk. You looked up from your phone screen, giving the tall and lanky boy a sweeping gaze. The unenthused expression on your face screamed that you weren’t at all impressed.

“Y/N, is it?” Theo drawled, squinting at the nametag pinned to your apron. “A pretty name for a pretty lady.”

“Thanks,” you deadpanned. “My parents gave it to me. Now what can I get started for you?”

“Aren’t you going to ask me for my name?”

“I know who you are,” you replied dismissively. “One of Enzo’s friends, right? I heard about your little stunt in the fountain. You know, December’s not really a smart time to go skinny dipping.” Theo flushed as your eyes trailed down to his crotch. “Certain parts shrivel in the cold, Nott.”

“I assure you, my parts were perfectly intact.”

“That’s not what Katie Bell said,” you countered, tapping your lips thoughtfully. “I believe I heard something about shrinkage.” Theo opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water. “I’ll tell you what, Theodore. Why don’t I fix you up a cappuccino? It’ll help keep you and your parts warm and cozy.”

Enzo bit his lip to keep himself from bursting into laughter. The rest of his friends snickered as they watched a dejected Theo return to the table.

Regulus snorted as he sat back down in defeat. “Merlin, that was hard to watch. Absolutely brutal, really.”

Theo glared at Regulus in response. “I’d like to see you do better, Black.”

Regulus winked. “Watch and learn, boys.”

The older boy had about as much luck as Theo. Though the attempts had put him in a foul mood at first, Enzo was absolutely elated as he watched you turn down his friends. Regulus received an eye roll while Draco reeled from the head to toe once-over that humbled the absolute hell out of him.

“It’s useless,” his cousin mumbled. “She hates everyone.”

“Or maybe Y/N just doesn’t appreciate random blokes chatting her up while she’s trying to do her job,” Pansy said with an eye roll.

“Oh bloody hell, here she comes.” Regulus muttered under his breath. “I don’t think my ego can take another hit.”

The boys cowered as you came closer, but you didn’t pay them any mind. Instead, you set a fresh mug of tea and a lemon scone down in front of Enzo.

“Last one, I promise. It’s finally perfect this time.”

“You said that the last three times,” Enzo said with a chuckle. “They were all brilliant, by the way. Not that you listen to my well crafted reviews.”

“You say that about everything I make, Enz. Honestly, a girl bakes you a couple of treats and suddenly I’m the best thing since sliced bread.”

“I’m just being honest,” he replied with a shrug. “You couldn’t bake a single bad pastry if you tried.”

“I’d like to try a pastry,” Mattheo interjected.

You tore your attention away from Enzo. The smile that you reserved for him transformed into a scowl, your entire body language turning stern. “I’m sorry. Who are you again?”

“Riddle,” Mattheo supplied. “Mattheo Riddle.”

“Right,” you said slowly, as if speaking to a small child. “My pastries aren’t for sale. You’re more than welcome to try the day-old brownie behind the counter though. If you can manage to chew through it.”

Mattheo sputtered, but you paid no mind to his aghast expression. Enzo fought the urge to kiss you right then and there.

“Closing again tonight?” he asked, ignoring the blatant stares from the rest of his friends.

“Unfortunately. Diggory bailed again. Probably too busy snogging Cho to come in for his shift,” you said with an eye roll.

“Leave those lovebirds alone,” Enzo quipped back. “They’re in their honeymoon phase.”

“I can’t for the life of me understand how they aren’t sick of each other by now.”

“That’s because you’re a mean old grump.” You glared at him, which only made Enzo smile. “Luckily for you, that doesn’t deter me. I’ll come keep you company if you want. I promise to be way more entertaining than Cedric.”

“It’s not a hard task to accomplish, but I’ll take you up on it nonetheless.”

“I thought you might say that,” he said with a small smile. “I’ll meet you back here after my last class. Pad Thai tonight?”

You nodded and grinned back. “This is why you’re my favorite, peach.”

The boys gaped as you ruffled his hair in parting. They waited until you were out of earshot before launching into a tirade.

“What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just friends my arse.”

“I can’t believe she actually smiled at you!”

“It’s strange how treating Y/N like an actual human being instead of pestering her while she’s trying to work yields such positive results,” Pansy retorted. “I think you all need to start following Enzo’s example. Clearly he’s had more success than you lot.”

Blaise patted Enzo on the back. “Mate, you might be the most oblivious bloke in all of Britain, but you’d have to be an absolute knobhead not to see what’s right in front of you.”

He hummed in response, glancing up at the exact same time that your gaze met his from across the room. You winked, making him blush furiously. Merlin, you were pretty. It was honestly unfair. Maybe Zabini was onto something.

When it came to you, even Enzo had to agree that he was a total and absolute knobhead.

Later that night, Enzo helped you clear the plates and mugs as the last customers trickled out of Deja Brew. The soft sounds of your perfectly curated playlist trickled over the speakers as you flipped the sign to closed. He watched with a small smile as you hopped up onto the counter and beckoned him over. The fairy lights twinkled above the ceiling, illuminating your smile as Enzo took his place next to you.

The sight of you grinning up at him tugged at his heartstrings. There were coffee stains on your jeans and apron, your thick hair was falling out of its braid, and a cold bowl of Pad Thai awaited in your lap and yet he’d never seen anything more beautiful in his life.

“Aren’t you glad Cedric bailed?” Enzo teased, knocking his shoulder with yours. “Now you get to enjoy cold noodles with your favorite person.”

You chuckled, nudging him back. “I suppose this is nicer than listening to Diggory ramble on about Quidditch. It’s always bludger this, bludger that. I honestly considered bludgeoning him myself.”

“To be fair, the man could merely breathe and you’d still find a way to be annoyed by it.”

“No one needs to inhale that much oxygen.”

“I rest my case, you mean old grump.”

You rolled your eyes affectionately. “You know, if anyone else called me that I’d poke their eye out with a fork.” Enzo chuckled as you stabbed into your bowl of noodles. “Besides, I have every right to be grumpy. It’s been a long day. Thanks to your incessant little friends.”

“I’m sorry about the guys,” he said earnestly. “I tried to talk them out of flirting with you, but they’ve got this crazy theory.”

“Oh?” You asked, raising a brow. “What’s the theory, then?”

Enzo flushed, avoiding your gaze. “They uh…” He cleared his throat and stared at his shoes. “They think you fancy me.”

“Hmm,” you hummed thoughtfully. “Maybe they’re not idiots after all. Your friends are right. I do fancy you.”

White noise rushed through his ears. Enzo’s mouth fell open as he met your gaze. Surely, he hadn’t heard you correctly.

“You alright there, peach?”

“You…” Enzo trailed off, his voice tinged with disbelief. “You like me?”

You chuckled. “I have for a bit. Thanks for finally noticing.”

“How?” Enzo muttered. “What?” He cocked his head, trying to search for the proper words. “Why?”

At the moment, it appeared that one syllable words were the full extent of his vocabulary. All those languages in his head and yet he couldn’t form a single coherent sentence.

“Enz, I know your drink order by heart,” you explained softly. “I make you cupcakes and muffins. I write you notes every day. I thought I made myself pretty obvious.”

“Gods,” he breathed, silently reprimanding himself. “I really am the most oblivious bloke in Britain.” Enzo licked his lips, turning over to look at you. “I just thought you were being nice.”

“Lorenzo, when have I ever been nice to anyone?”

“I am a bloody idiot.”

“You never made a move, so I just thought you didn’t see me that way. Which is fine, by the way. I don’t mind being friends.”

Enzo turned so fast he nearly smacked into the register. “Are you kidding? I’ve had a crush on you for months. You’re the best part of my day. Waking up and knowing that I get to see you every morning is the only thing that gets me out of bed.”

“Why didn’t you ever say anything?”

“Because,” he stated matter-of-factly. “You’re out of my league. You’re smart and funny and not to mention way too cool. Honestly, I thought you’d go for someone like Mattheo or Theo or literally anyone else but me. Someone a little more…” he trailed off, waving a hand over you.

“Scary?”

“No! Well, yes. Someone more confident and intimidating.”

“Bad boys aren’t really my type.”

He scrunched his eyebrows together in confusion. “They’re not?”

“No,” you said, setting down your food and turning over to face him. “My type is a nerdy linguistics major who teaches me how to curse in six different languages and who makes cute little conjugation charts and orders drinks that should quite frankly classify as a dessert.”

Enzo’s smile grew wider. "I like you too, you know. A lot. Like, embarrassingly so. With your grumpy little scowl and all black wardrobe and dry humor. I like all of it."

You beamed as Enzo leaned closer, tracing your lips like he was trying to commit the curves of your smile to his memory. His heart pounded in his chest as your eyes flickered up to meet his.

"Then kiss me like you mean it, Enzo."

Despite your confidence, the air left your lungs as soon as Enzo cradled your face in his hands. The twinkling lights made his brown eyes shimmer like pools of honey in the dark. The tension stretched between you as he leaned in closer, his lips brushing yours ever so gently. They briefly closed around yours—tasting, testing, taunting. Then the dam broke free.

Enzo pressed you closer and kissed you like his life depended on it. You smiled against his lips, melting into his touch as he tilted your head back for more. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as Enzo sighed into your mouth, his lips molding perfectly against yours. The once shy and experimental kisses turned needy and passionate, making you feel slightly lightheaded. Enzo savored your soft sighs, kissing you over and over again to elicit more.

It wasn't until you felt like the air had been depleted from your lungs when he finally relented. He pressed his forehead against yours, noses brushing as you both grinned at each other. It felt right to be this close. It felt like you were made to do this all along. Enzo brushed his thumb over your cheek, looking dazed as he pulled back to look at you.

“It’s about time, Berkshire.”

“Hey,” Enzo grumbled, pecking at your lips. “You can’t blame me. I couldn’t even look at you without blushing and making a fool of myself. You’re so intimidating.”

“Not so scary now, am I?”

“Oh no, I’m still terrified of you. But I’ve also seen you cry during the Notebook, so I know that deep down inside, you’re just a big softie.”

You started to protest, but Enzo just leaned in and kissed you again. With his lips pressed against yours, you couldn’t even remember what you were about to say. As he pulled you into his lap, you heard cheers coming from outside. Behind the glass window, his friends were cheering and wolf-whistling rather obnoxiously on the street.

Enzo responded by flicking them off and kissing you even harder, pressing your bodies together as you giggled. He hauled you to your feet, his arms circling around your waist as he dipped you for a better angle. Your back hit the counter as you raised to your tiptoes, winding your arms around his neck and mussing up his hair as you arched for more. The hollering only grew more incessant when Enzo grabbed your ass and squeezed. The groan that escaped from his mouth made you dizzy with desire.

If one kiss could elicit such a response out of you, it was almost scary to think what else Enzo had in his arsenal. A cheeky little smile curved against his lips as though he knew exactly what you were thinking. You basked under the warmth of his gaze, feeling flushed and flustered. That pretty face had you entirely fooled. Enzo was far from innocent.

“Gods, I really fucking fancy you.”

With a smile, you kissed the tip of his nose. “I really fucking fancy you too, peach.”

Despite the many languages in Enzo's arsenal, no phrase or saying could convey how he felt better than his lips against yours. Maybe he hadn't quite mastered the language of love, but he had a feeling that you'd be more than willing to teach him.

#my pretty boy give me coffee shop shy enzo #lorenzo berkshire #enzo berkshire #enzo berkshire x reader #enzo berkshire x you #enzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x reader #lorenzo berkshire imagine #lorenzo berkshire x you #lorenzo berkshire smut #lorenzo berkshire fluff

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slashersidewhore · 1 year ago

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Slashers! HC how you first meet them pt.2

Slashers x f!reader

Includes Bubba Sawyer, Bo Sinclair, Art The Clown, Stu Macher

Warnings: mentions of murder/violence, some stalking/harassment (not by slashers), ill intentions, pre-relationships, reader is a bit self deprecating, shitty friends

Bubba Sawyer

Of course you’d been dragged on a girls trip, and of course the minute the engine blew in you were shoved from the back seat onto the side of the dusty, gravel road, laughed at and told, “go find a mechanic”

God forbid your so called friends, which now you were rethinking the decision to even be here and with them, chose somewhere to travel where there was actual cell service

So here you now were, standing on an old porch that you weren’t even sure was properly attached to the house barely kept upright and covered in chipped paint

“Hello?”

A few more knocks on the creaky front door echoed out before your patience ran out, turning the handle and finding it to be unlocked

“Uh, hello? If I’m breaking and entering just let me know but this place seems abandoned”

You cupped your mouth and spoke, just to cover all your bases in case you were actually entering someone’s home, although the cobwebbed walls and moth bitten carpet spoke otherwise

“This isn’t creepy at all…”

Wandering aimlessly through the houses threshold, you searched for something that you help back on the road where all your friends were waiting

Or maybe you were just hoping this would buy you time before you had to walk 4 miles back to tell them you came up with nothing, no mechanic, no help

Your eyes glanced across the room, taking in all the items scattered about, some miscellaneous and some meticulously placed

Then your curious gaze landed on an ash tray sitting beside a moldy plate of what looked like some kind of meat

Although the fluffy possibly-poultry wasn’t what alarmed you, the smoke filtering from the end of a half smoked cigarette resting on it did

“Boys, we’ve got a fresh one”

A deep voice hollered, a rough palmed and smelly hand slapping over your mouth to muffle the hale scream that had popped from your lungs due to shock

Before you could even think to fight against the obviously strong body pinned to yours, you were being dragged towards an open basement door and thrown down the narrow, wooden staircase like a rag doll

“Take care of er’ will ya?”

The voice of your captor yelled down from the top step, slamming the door behind himself and surely locking it in the process

Disoriented and nurses a now slight headache, you mustered the energy to prop yourself up, hazy eyes bouncing about the room before they landed on what could only be described as a large, terrifying figure standing a few yards away

He wore a stained and tattered apron, brown stains you were hoping were dirt and not dried old blood

One hand gripped a cleaver, whatever he was chopping up before you entered the basement sat mutilated on a work bench, the stench of iron heavy in the air

Despite all that, the man seemed frozen, staring back at you through the eye holes in a poorly sew together mask

“I didn’t even wanna be here,”

You started before you I could stop yourself

“My so called friends dragged me out of my room a few days ago for a last minute road trip, and of course when one of them decided to bring their fuck ass car without checking it out first, it literally gave up on itself and then I get sent out to look for help but guess what! We’re in the middle of nowhere so I found this house and well it’s your house so that’s just my luck”

The man only blinked, body language clearly taken aback that you weren’t screaming bloody murder

“Just, if you’re gonna kill me, can you at least knock me out first so it doesn’t hurt?”

A loud knock at the door startled the two of you, followed by the man from earlier noisily coming down the stairs

“Why haven’t you taken care of er’ yet bubba?”

The man didn’t yell but he definitely sounded upset by this turn of events

The other man, who you now knew was called Bubba, shuffled awkwardly in his spot, rubbing the back of his head before robotically motioning to you, still sat on the floor

“You like er’ huh?

You watched the exchange quietly, although unable to contain the confusion set on you’d features

“Fine, but she’s yours to deal with, you remember what happened last time we took in a stray”

At that you pointedly turned around, staring up at the man that regarded you in terms like you were a dog

“Well I’m not a stray, technically you kidnapped me-“

Bo Sinclair

You weren’t entirely sure how you ended up in this seemingly abandoned town, one minute you were checking the map for your exit and then you missed it

Now you were here, coming to a stop as you realized you needed gas and weren’t anywhere near the hotel you had booked for the night

You definitely weren’t getting the rooms deposit back

Pulling into an empty parking lot, you pulled your phone from the passenger seat only to come up dry when the cell service was next to nothing

Then, before you could warn your heart not to jump out of your chest, a knock on your side window pulled a startled yelp from your throat

A man, not too old but not young either, stood on the other side of the car door, neutral expression morphing into a cheesy smile when your gaze met his and exchanged a few seconds of awkward, panicked staring

Brows raising in realization that the stranger, while sketchy and probably holstering a gun, could maybe help you figure out where you were and where to go

Opening the creaking door to your vehicle you pocketed your pepper spray just in case before hoping out of your seat and into the chilly night air

“You lost?”

“No, I intentionally ran out of gas in the middle of nowhere”

The man chuckled, albeit seeming taken aback by the brash sarcasm about your current situation

“Well good thing you ran into me, little lady”

The man who still carried about like this predicament was the most normal in the world smiled wider when your face pinched up in confusion, placing an open palm out to you

“I’m Bo, and you are, darlin?”

“Someone who knows not to shake hands with a complete stranger”

“Feisty”

“Oh, I’m getting there”

Despite the night breeze tickling the hairs on the back of your neck, you couldn’t help but enjoy the slight banter you were getting into

Although probably dangerous and wildly crazy to be out so late just walking around, this Bo character as charming, and something about his stare was growing increasingly comforting

“You know people don’t usually show up here, especially at night, all alone”

“But do they at least have gas in their tank? Because that’s already one up on me”

Bo threw his head back, whipping his hat off to push back the hair that fell towards his forehead in the fit of deep chuckles

“I’m normally not too inclined towards outsiders, but if you’d like a room for the night, I’d be happy to oblige little lady”

Art the clown

You strode through an alleyway, hands in your jacket pockets as you made your way back home

It was just your luck that the last night plans your friends picked for Halloween happened to be a party at the house of a guy you don’t even know

Especially your luck when only 20 minutes in you were all already abandoned, you’d ride gone and with it your phone charger

Thus, you nursed a bruised ego in a pirate costume, clutching your phone with one hand even though the battery was lost past dead

“Hey you!”

A distinctly male baritone called out from behind, you sped up not bothering to turn and face whatever stranger wanted a late night chat in the middle of an empty, dark alley

“Well that’s not very nice!”

The man responded to himself, deep chuckle furrowing worry lines between your brows

Just your luck, just your damn luck

Turning the corner to what could be described as more favorable to due the abundance of street lights and open space, the lack of people still has your nerves on overdrive

That was until you nearly ran smack into a body around the corner

Although expecting a gasp in surprise or shout in anger, all you received was a shocked expression, one such as a mime would use

Whoever this man was, was clearly wearing a very intricate costume, clown makeup done to the 9’s and a fully tailored suit to match, with a hefty, tan bag slung over one shoulder

All of your courage of wanting to leave this awful situation, and fear of what would happen if you didn’t took hold, before you knew it you were panicked and leaning forward, watching with just as much curiosity as the clown eyed you

“Listen you don’t know me, but there’s this guy following me and if you could just pretend to be, I don’t know, a friend, I would appreciate it”

The clown seemed to understand immediately, bright grin tossed on his features as the stranger that had previously had your full attention came to a stuttering halt

“Lady, I was talking to you back there”

“Oh! Sorry I just was meeting with someone and well, here they are!”

You laughed nervously, awkwardly leaning into the clown and patting at his shoulder, gazing at the stranger, you saw a look of terror cross his face right as he stumbled back a bit

“Yeah, got it”

And then he was high tailing it back the way he came

Glancing back at the costumed man you stood alone with, you caught how his face held a look of something utterly terrifying before he caught your eye, cheesy grin returning

“Thanks..”

You questioned for his name, grinning softly at the way realization of your ask spread across his face

Hand motions went left and up, down and right, then he paused, pulling the bag from his shoulder to rummage through it, pulling out what could only be described as junk, metal and rusty and junk none the less

Although the way he motioned to the item, placed it in your open palms and played a scene before you, you took to guessing

“Metal?”

“Sculpture…?”

He moved his fingers like a painter would stroke a canvas

“Art?”

That single word had the clown clapping his hands, tucking his body with a faux bow like you’d discovered something only a genius could

Laughing something genuine for the first time that night, you pondered if you should just take your chances and leave for home, or stick around a bit more with this concerning but most definitely interesting person

“So.. what else do you have in that bag?”

Stu Macher

Being the new student in a town where everyone already had friends, or at least those they only socialized with, was difficult

You’d only been here a week or so and you already wanted to move again, alas, that wasn’t exactly up to you

All you could do was hold your head high, and suck up the annoying situation you’d been tossed into

Now, a new school was bad enough, imagine your surprise would you found out there had recently been a string of grisly murders, unsolved and rampaging

Which is why you’d been an outcast since you’d appeared, like they all assumed it must be you, the murders starting, you arriving, it all was too much of a coincidence, despite the fact that it was

“Look at her, I’m telling you that girl gives off crazy”

Off handed comments like those weren’t unusual, yet today, after switching to a new class because of this exact issue, you’d had enough

“I bet she’s the killer”

“Oh yeah? And what’s your evidence?”

The girl gossiping with her friend abruptly stopped her ‘private’ conversation when she heard your quip

“Excuse me?”

You stood, in fact you stood so fast it made the chair screech across the floor, catching the attention of the rest of class

Luckily the teacher had stepped out and you could finally say what you needed without worry of authority looming over

“You know, if I’m supposedly killing students, like you say I am, why so proudly speak about it around me?”

You strode up to her desk, arms crossed with a look of disdain

She seemed taken aback, lips moving like a fish and head bobbing as she glanced between you and her friend

“Well, I-“

“If you really think I’m doing all this, why would you piss me off?”

The girl was at a loss, face paling as you simply said what you needed, before turning and grabbing your bag right as the bell went off, students funneling out behind you

Opening your locker, you startled when a body came crashing into the locker beside yours, arms crossed and looking at you with squinted eyes yet a wide grin

“So you’re the new girl?”

He wasn’t half bad looking, in fact, you found yourself heating up the longer he gazed down at you

He had this odd air about him, like someone holding too many secrets and hiding them far too out in the open, something that only seemed to allure you further

“And a murderer, haven’t you heard?”

You joked, taking out your next classes books before shutting the locker, the look on this guys face was utter curiosity, something you hadn’t received yet while being here

“Of course, just let me know what days you spree so I can avoid staying in”

Not gonna lie to y’all, I was so focused on getting this posted I haven’t spell checked or done a once over, there will and most likely are errors!

#slasher #slasher x reader #art the clown #art the clown x reader #stu macher #stu macher x reader #bubba sawyer #bubba sawyer x reader #Bo sinclair #bo sinclair x reader #slasher x y/n #slasher x you #slashersidewhore #slashersidewhore fics

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dickgraysonsbitch · 6 months ago

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MOTH TO A FLAME — DICK GRAYSON X JOURNALIST!READER

3.3k words | divider by @cafekitsune | requests open !

summary: your relationship with dick grayson was history two years ago. as of yesterday, you were (not so) happily engaged to another man, and your relationship with him was swoon-worthy, but it seems like it could crumble like a house of cards. so when your perfect ex comes back into your life for help on a case, will you go back to him like a moth to a flame?

you’re just a moth to a flame.

you were engaged. you knew this, this wasn’t new fucking information, and you were supposed to feel elated, on top of the world, like you were on cloud nine or some other shit people in love said—wait, no. you were in love with your fiancé, or at least you tried to be. he was sweet, and he looked good, with his fluffy blonde hair, deep brown eyes, and lean figure. nerd hot. just your type, but why did it seem like as every day went on, you kept trying to convince yourself that this was what you wanted?

you stretched your arms before lugging yourself out of bed, grabbing your phone to check your messages, which you assumed were the reason that your phone was buzzing so much that it was about to fall off your dresser.

PHOTOS NOTIFICATION: november, 2021, AMUSEMENT MILE THEME PARK. do you want to share this memory with DICKIEBIRD 💙?

you pressed your mouth into a line, reminiscing. that was probably the best time you’d ever had in your entire life. you, dick, wally and artemis, eating cotton candy and popcorn at an amusement park.

“one more bite of food and you’re going into carnival crime territory, wally,” you sing, your voice carrying its signature teasing lilt. “then i’m going to win, and you’ll have to pay for everything.”

“just make your stupid boyfriend pay, he’s the billionaire!” wally's disgruntled groan came from a foot behind you, were he was still struggling on his second milkshake. sucker.

dick threw an arm around your shoulder, spreading a hint of warmth over your torso. he was, as you liked to call him, your personal space heater. “hey, it’s the son of a billionaire. and i’d much rather see my super sexy girlfriend beat my best friend’s ass.”

artemis grinned, her phone ready to snap a picture of when wally would undisputedly hurl like a toddler who had eaten too many gerber puffs. “me too, so hurry up, wally.”

the memory of dick throwing up because of the amount of sugar he had consumed in the short span of three hours almost had you laughing out loud, with your fiancé in the bed right next to you. god, you were so pathetic.

“something funny?” his low voice was next to your ear, and you could almost feel his breath on your neck, but for some reason, you wanted to push him away.

your breath hitched, and the guilt crept into your heart again. you were in bed with your fiancé, and you were daydreaming about your ex-boyfriend, who probably forgot your existence. dick was charming, but even you knew that he had a steady stream of people on call to fuck. one of the plus sides to being the hottest person in blüdhaven, you guessed.

“uh, just checking the group chat. girl stuff, matt, you can’t see it.” your mouth twisted into a mischievous smirk, and you quickly stood up and walked towards the shower, rapidly checking the group chat that you opened up your phone for. curse dick grayson and his beautiful blue eyes, which were obviously the only reason you stared that that picture for so long. not the lovesick look he had on his face when looking at you, and definitely not his flirty smile when you made eye contact with him. that would be crazy, right?

maybe you should finally open the group chat.

rue: so how’d your night go?? 😉

annie: i bet she’s so tired that she can’t even walkkk

charlie: ofc she can’t, it’s matt myers!! he’s so fine 😩😩

the conversation then devolved into a discussion of which of matt’s photoshoots was the ‘hottest’, which should’ve made any other, self respecting friend group shy away from the conversation, but never rue, annie and charlie. no, they said that matt was too ‘sexy’ to be quiet about, and it was like they were waiting for you to mess up just to take your place. the sad part was that you wouldn’t mind letting them.

you had met matt, ironically, at a wayne gala that you were covering post breakup with dick, which was the only way that you measured time nowadays. he was hot enough to be… a rebound, and you were okay with that, until he started hounding you for a date. one date, two dates, and suddenly, a year and a half later, you were engaged. the next step, obviously (in matt's words), was the whole white picket fence, 2.5 kids, and living the rest of your days in your dream house. if it was so obvious, why did it make your stomach curdle like you had a flu? why did the idea of kids with matt, being bonded to him for life, make you want to toss your stupid ring at his face, pack your bags, and run? did he even know why your favorite color was dark blue? did matt myers know that the reason that the sapphire stone on your ring was because of dick grayson?

you glanced at your fiancé before looking at your phone and sighing. “matt, i'm going out for some fresh air.” your heart panged. maybe you should give matt some slack, because after all, he picked up the pieces of you after dick so abruptly left. maybe he was better than what you gave him credit for. maybe the two of you would work long term, and you could go the white picket fence with him. it couldn’t hurt. “wanna come with?”

“nah. get me some seaweed chips though, from erewhon. we ran out.” matt shot you a badly timed wink, which made you grimace, and in that moment, you realized a very disturbing fact. nobody could make your blood pump like dick grayson, and no matter who you were with, there would only be one man on your mind.

sighing, you quickly changed into a ratty hoodie and leggings, making sure you weren’t in some sort of nightmare dream that you weren’t able to get out of. because that was your dream, right? being engaged to an incredibly attractive, talented and kind person, and spending the rest of your life with him? you gave yourself a short pep talk in the mirror—“you are hot! everyone wants you! you are engaged!”—before slipping on your shoes and calculating the distance to blüdhaven’s nearest erewhon, which was an easy twenty minute walk away. maybe you could thank matt for the exercise that he was always hounding you to do.

step. step. step. your walk turned into the same banal rotation of the past year and a half of your life, always the same thing over and over, and the thought of what your life might have been like if you had just stayed clung in your mind like cobwebs. unwanted, unnecessary, but it made your heart ache just a little bit to get rid of them.

erewhon came faster than you expected it to, and you stepped inside, the chilly air hitting your face like a wall of ice, and you grabbed a basket, picking up those chips matt loved. he was safe. safe and comfortable, but why did safe and comfortable suddenly feel like boring and predictable?

you caught a glimpse of yourself in the reflective glass of the door, yearning to see the bright eyed, excitable girl that existed only a few years ago, but all you saw was… you. drained, unhappy, a permanent frown on your face. you attempted a smile, pulling your mouth from both sides, but the result was only a mix of a grimace and a clown’s toothy grin. you couldn’t smile right either.

your phone pinged, and a blue heart showed up on your screen. you hadn’t texted him in two years, but the icon still made your heart flutter with anticipation, before your squashed it like a bug under a boot.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: hey smartie pants! i need to talk to u about something important. let’s meet at 0900 at lux?

you bit your lip. the pros of this: you could finally get closure. dick grayson was hard to get ahold of, but maybe this was your chance to ask him—why did the two of you not work? was it you? was it him? or was it his true first love, nightwing?

you: hey. does 0930 work? i’m out running errands right now.

a beat.

DICKIEBIRD 💙: yeah! miss u lots, btw. see you then!

two hours later, after you had dropped off matt’s life-sustaining seaweed chips for a disgruntled “thanks, babe” in return, you walked into lux, your favorite sweater and skirt combo clinging onto you like a second skin. you’d worn a different, light blue dress on instinct, but you quickly realized that the dress you had picked out was dick’s favorite, so it immediately out of the question. shame, it was a damn hot dress.

“hey!” you heard a cheery voice from behind you. he said your name like it came off easy, like you hadn’t been each other’s confidants once upon a time. he said your name the way you wished that you could say his, with no meaning attached behind it. “it’s been so long, and you look great!” his eyes flicked to the stone on your left hand ring finger, and you could swear that his face fell the smallest amount, but if he felt anything, he didn’t tell you.

you didn’t have the same self control that he did. his name fluttered off of your tongue like a prayer, like he was a god and your only chance at salvation. “dick… um… hi. yeah, you look great too, but i guess enough people tell you that on a daily basis.”

“well, i hope you’re getting complemented just as much. what, your fiancé not doing it for you anymore, or is that just a pretty rock?” he grinned, his dimples highlighted by the dim light in the club. you suddenly kicked yourself for even showing up. how could he read you like a book by only looking at you for a minute or two, max?

your eyes widened, heart beating out of your chest. “uh, i mean… i’m engaged. matt. that’s his name. matt myers.”

as if reading your mind, dick’s smile fell, and he placed a comforting hand on your forearm. “hey, i didn’t mean anything by the pretty rock comment, okay? don’t stress, i’m not here to seduce you.” oh, dick. what you’d give for him to say the opposite. “i’m actually here about a case. not bruce related, by the way. my usual case partner on this one is having a little trouble, so i thought…” he shrugged, because telling you that you were a backup didn’t break his heart, not like being on the receiving end broke yours. it wasn’t a shatter, just a tiny crack to the ones that he’d been adding all this time.

“yeah, i can help you out. what’s up?” you tried to seem nonchalant, but maybe the pain seeped through your voice. you wouldn’t count it against your terrible emotional regulation skills, but a small part of you was itching to help—to get back into the routine that truly sparked fire in you, instead of the rabbit food conversations that had matt jumping around like it was Christmas.

dick pulled out a variety of manila folders, labeled with a variety of female names on them, and a type of flower. he pinched three different photos of the victims, you were assuming, who were mauled and then arranged into neat shapes, with their hands crossed over their chest like mummies, and a clean, crisp white flower placed on top of them. the flowers were all different species’, you noted, with some including a white rose, a white poppy, and a white petunia.

“what do you have so far?” your voice came off far too eager, far too fast and far too interested. no, this was a favor he was coming to you for, so why did it feel like you were a caged bird that could finally sing, stretch it’s wings and soar into the sky without inhibitions? dick pressed his lips together, running a hand though his tousled, raven hair. god, what you’d give to have the chance to do that one more time. maybe dick was right when he broke up with you, because if you couldn’t even control yourself when you had a fiancé, how did he know that you could handle being with him?

he hesitated—it was evident in the way that he froze before trying to say something again. perhaps he was also thinking about the other times that you helped him with his cases, spending late nights poring over pictures and elaborate pictures, only to end up watching the real housewives of beverly hills instead. or maybe he was rethinking, questioning, even, why he had even involved you in the first place. you wouldn’t hold it against him; you’d always been too interested for your own good.

“close to nothing. no prints, no dna, just these flowers, whatever they mean. i wanted to know if you could reach out to shy of your sources—see if they know anything. they’ve been helpful before.” his voice sounded tired, not the usual, cheery voice he pasted onto himself. it made you feel a bit better, if you could call it that, that he didn’t feel the need to pretend to be the golden wayne child in front of you. or maybe you were delusional in your belief that he’d even let his facade drop.

you bit your lip, and twisted the dark blue engagement ring on your finger absentmindedly. “is this a nightwing problem, or an officer grayson problem? because that makes a difference in which sources i use.”

dick grinned, and you were mostly sure that it was genuine, with a flash of teeth distracting you from the issue at hand (which was more like the issue on your left hand ring finger) but dick had always had that effect on you. “thinking about breaking the law, future mrs gr—future pulitzer prize winner? to answer your question, if you think about it,” he started, “it’s a both problem.” his face fell, and the wide smile that was there moments ago disappeared so fast that you almost thought that you imagined it. “they’ve started personally targeting people in my family. cass and damian both noticed a tail when they were walking out in the city, and i would be worried if they weren’t, you know, the deadliest people in gotham, but if anything happened to them, i don’t know if i'd be able to forgive myself. or worse, alfred…”

the look on his face is anguished, as if he’s imagining a lifetime of pain being inflicted on his family, and you know that he’s rather take it himself than let anything happen to them. “dick, don’t worry, okay? alfred is probably more dangerous than anyone in your family combined, and i say that after i've met cass and steph. nothing’s going to happen to them. we’re going to find this psycho, then we’re going to get justice for the victims and their families.” you reach out to touch his arm, but the moment your skin makes contact with his, you pull back like his forearm was on fire.

nodding, he looks back up at you, his eyes filled with an admiration you haven’t seen in quite a while. “yeah, i’m overreacting, right? and it’s not like they won’t be able to defend themselves. cass could probably kick my ass on one of her bad days.” he shudders. “she’s awesome and all, but scary as hell.”

you laugh, finally at ease, not on edge about what you’re saying or about to do. “yeah, well, clearly you’ve never seen her in the same room as a full english breakfast. i remember this one time that she came over to our apartment after patrol, and this was at three o’clock in the morning, okay? she walks in, starts getting the eggs out of our fridge…” your eyes catch a glimpse at dick’s face. he’s smiling, his face satiated and truly… happy. how long has it been since you looked like that? the earlier morning comes into your mind, and you stammer, recollecting how you looked in the glass of the fridge at the store. like a broken woman rather than the girl that you used to be.

now it’s dick’s turn to take your hand into his, and rub it gently, the way that he always used to do when you were nervous before taking one of your tests in university, or when you utterly messed up cooking dinner. it meant that he was here for you, that he would be there no matter what, but a small part of your brain wanted to question him nonetheless; if he had left you before, he would leave you again. that was the rule, the past precedent that he had kept for himself, and if he had wanted to stay, he would’ve.

his thumb brushes over your engagement ring, the one that you and forgotten even existed and now felt heavier on your finger than a ton of bricks, the one that your fiancé had given to you as a token of trust. you couldn’t break the one promise you had left, but clearly, dick must have been thinking the same thing. he pulled his hand away the moment he touched the ring, and looked at you with a guilty expression. “so… how long have you guys been…”

“last night.” you said, not an ounce of warmth in your voice. there never was, when it came to matt. it was more like a dry tone of obligation than anything else.

dick’s eyes widened, shame seeping into his expression. “i'm so sorry, sw—i mean, you shouldn’t be here on your engagement day. we can talk some other time, or i can send you—”

“if i didn’t want to be here, dick, i wouldn’t be.”

“good to know.” he smiled, before turning his attention back to the folder in his hands. “hey, i have to go. we’ll keep in touch, alright?” he stands up, about to lean in for a hug, but you stick your arm out, ready to shake his hand. cold and impersonal, but it wasn’t like you were doing a good job of that in the first place.

the two of you settle for a half hug-half handshake combination, somehow making the situation more awkward than it already was. he send you a crooked grin, and it cements itself in your brain, another blip of dick grayson in your grey life. maybe… maybe this isn’t a bad idea after all, and maybe you could rein in your emotions just to see a little more of him, his dark blue eyes haunting your dreams like an apparition. you could sacrifice that and so much more just to have his eyes in your life.

“see you later, right?” you smiled, the muscles in your face contracting in that direction for the first time in a few weeks, perhaps. oh, the things that he did to your poor heart. he waved, mouthing a quick bye to you before picking up a call on his phone, and you could hear a stern ‘jason’ before he vanished, out of earshot, out of sight, but not out of your mind.

you started on your path back home, deciding against taking a taxi when the fares would be the highest. maybe it was just an eerie coincidence on your part, but you swore that there was something behind you, a pair of eyes tracking your every move. you would have cast it aside as paranoia, but it was sending a creeping shiver up your spine, terrifying you to your very bones. perhaps that is what happens when one works on a murder case.

you brushed it off, but the feeling of eyes on your back did not dissipate.

ooh spooky right? does anyone fancy a part two for this one or nah?

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