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mv1simp · 6 months ago

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Haunted ♥️ Part 1 of 2

Alpha!Max Verstappen x Reader (Omegaverse AU)

READ PART TWO HERE

it’s where we go, it’s what you see (I know if i’m onto you, you must be onto me)

As Mercedes’ rookie female driver, you garner a lot of media attention, even more when you reveal you haven’t presented. You don’t care about true mates or presenting - all you wanted was the championship. You’d be a lot closer to it, if it wasn’t for the dominating Alpha Max Verstappen. But after your late presentation, you two realize there’s a lot more to your bond than competition.

Content includes: 18+ MDNI, smut, size kink, primal themes, dom!Max, Sub!Reader, enemies to lovers. WC: 5.4k

Triumphantly holding the trophy up in your hands, you beam at the sea of black and white fans who scream their approval. Winning your second race after having fought your way throughout the season as the new Mercedes driver was an unforgettable feeling - sealing in that it was your talent, not luck that got you the first. And no one had given you a harder time and held up your long overdue win than the reigning world champion - Max Verstappen. Turning to your right, you reward him with a smirk as your national anthem finally plays instead of the Dutch one.

He doesn’t hide his frustrated glare at you from his P2 podium that instinctively makes you want to sprint away and hide in your safe garage behind Toto. You’re a bit annoyed he’s still taller than you, even though you’re on the highest step. One of the downsides of being 5 foot compared to Max’s tall 6 foot frame - but that hasn’t stopped you from finally taking the win from him and proving how deserving of your seat you are, you remind yourself.

As the first female driver in decades, you’d sent shock waves through the paddock when Mercedes had pulled you out of the F4 pool and straight into their seat after the loss of their golden boy, Lewis Hamilton, to Ferrari. What had been even more shocking was the fact that you were an Unpresented female in a sport that was almost exclusively dominated by Alpha males.

Like the majority of premier athletes, most of the drivers had presented from a very young age as Alphas. Unsurprising - given the traits of ruthless competitiveness, aggression and passion that came naturally to Alphas. And out of all this group of already highly dominating drivers, Max Verstappen was the alpha, well known for his perfect instincts, the ultimate apex predator. His early career was famous because of how, at 17, his intimidating aura had been enough to make grown men racing on the same track give way to the younger alpha. This automatic submission Max was able to elicit from others was one of the many, many benefits that came with being an Alpha in society - especially for one such a powerful as Max.

So when you - who was not an Alpha, or even a Beta, but rather an Unpresented - showed up to the paddock for your first ever race and then ended up somehow going wheel to wheel with the reigning world champion by Lap 20, jaws dropped and headlines were rapidly printed. Presenting as an Alpha was rare, an Omega even rarer - with the majority of the population being Beta. However a small population also remained Unpresented, spending their whole lives without any sign they belonged to any gender. Essentially, you were like a scentless Beta - but just several rungs below on the social ladder as Alpha commands had minimal effect on you. It could be worse, you had mused when started racing - you could have been born an Omega.

Omegas were a rare breed and highly sought after. With their attributes of being sweetly nurturing and natural carers - they made the perfect match for protective Alphas. Of course, as the world had historically always been ruled by Alphas, in turn Omegas had been stereotyped as the soft, submissive, delicate ones who needed to be closely guarded in society’s eyes.

So it had been suprising to you that there were not one, but two Omega drivers on the paddock this year. Yuki Tsunoda made sense, you supposed, with his slight frame and pretty features giving him away. But he certainly swore so aggressively up and down the track he’d have the commentators asking if maybe he had been assigned the wrong group. Alex Albon had been much more surprising with his very Alpha-like build - but given his quietly confident aura and gentle nature compared to the other drivers who were always aggressively arguing, it made sense looking back. And it had been even more surprising when he announced he’d found his true mate and Alpha, his girlfriend Lily.

Really, you were grateful you didn’t have the drama that came with being assigned a presentation. Even if it meant you would never have a true mate, you could live with it if you could have a shot at being world champion. But goddamn Max Verstappen, with his intense gaze and powerful aura that even you would feel tickling the back of your neck, across the paddock, would keep getting in your way. Your first P1 though, 2 months ago in Japan, you hadn’t let him win and successfully defended him off. It was the only advantage of being Unpresented - unlike the other Alphas and Omegas on the track, you were the least affected by his suffocating presence and used that to your advantage when pulling dangerous manoeuvres that vexed the Dutch driver to no end.

And he’d certainly let you know it after your first win - after a neutral indifference to you when you approached him on your first day to greet him, unlike the majority of the drivers who’d curiously flocked to the first female one. But after you took P1 from him, he claimed angrily, with dirty fucking moves, what was that overtake on the 2nd corner- you’d formed an instant dislike of him. Just because you didn’t bend to his will like everyone else?! Just because you’d won using the same move - you pointed out to him furiously - that he’d used to overtake you on the last race?

The pair of you had become quick rivals, butting heads more and more as each race went on and providing lots of great content for the media which ate it up. Sometimes Max would confuse you into thinking you were friends - occasionally murmuring helpful advice as you watched the post race highlights in the cooldown room, or shutting down sexist questions you’re repeatedly asked in the driver interviews. You’d think this was the warm, caring Max that you’d heard existed off the grid. But then you two would have some racing incident or the other and he’d be back to the fire breathing lion he usually was.

That first P1 in Japan had been bittersweet to you - because after your argument with Max, when you’d gone back to your hotel to admire your new trophy, you’d started to becoming increasingly unwell for a few days and had high fevers. You hadn’t even realised what was going on until your Beta coach banged on the door demanding to be let in, before saying you were finally presenting, 5 years late, as an Omega.

You’d been shocked and upset, of course, leading to a very traumatic first heat in a foreign country where although the desire and lust hadn’t been intense, the longing for an Alpha to comfort and protect you as you cried and whined has been so overwhelming. You had never wanted to feel anything like that again, so disempowered - so you had sworn your manager to secrecy and after a very private meeting with you, your teammate George Russell, your managers and a very concerned Toto Wolff - you’d tearfully told them what had happened. You’d expected to be dropped from the team, but they had taken one look at your distress and instantly calmed you down. Mercedes will most certainly not be dropping their very promising rookie, who had just taken P1 at her 4th ever F1 race, Toto had reassured you firmly, exuding calm confidence as he handed you a tissue. George’s large hand rubbed warm circles on your back and within a few minutes you’re laughing at jokes the two tall Alphas made to cheer you up, unable to resist the urge to protect the small Omega in front of them and using their scents to soothe you.

Regardless of how understanding your team principal had been, the fact was it would be terrible PR for you to publically present as an Omega female and risk the loss of sponsors. Given that the first heat after the presentation was notorious for being especially painful in an effort to attract a fated mate from the very start, Toto had guided you to a discreet specialist doctor to ensure the world continued to believe you were Unpresented. You’re relieved, hating the idea of being stereotyped as something delicate and pretty to be protected when you were anything but. You literally drove like a suicidal madwoman at 300km/hr for a career! So you’d promptly been started on high strength suppressors to avoid any issues with a first heat happening in the middle of a race weekend, and a couple sprays of sweet perfume later no one would be any the wiser if they picked up on any residual Omega scent that the suppressors couldn’t block.

So here you were now, celebrating your second win in Barcelona with a few of the drivers and friends at a 3 story club downtown. Although you’d been enjoying drinking and laughing with your friends, you’d been unable to stop the shivers that ran down your bare spine from your rival’s intense gaze, still simmering with anger, across the dancefloor where he was talking to Lando. You hated the way that you still felt so affected by him, by his scent that always seemed to drift over to you, always smelling more and more heady each time you saw him. And the urge to submit to him was just stupid and desperate, you thought, rolling your eyes and taking another shot. It turns out your “slutty inner omega whore” as you had not-so-fondly dubbed her, seemed more interested in having a strong Alpha’s dick inside her, instead of hating said Alpha for trying to run her off the track. Multiple times.

And tonight, the suppressants were clearly not doing their job because you couldn’t control the way you squeezed your thighs together, panties suddenly damp with the thought of an alpha like Max keeping his eyes on you - instead of the girls who had been throwing themselves at him the second he’s entered the club. You tell your inner slut who delighted in this attention to get it together, because the attention was likely murderous rage from the competitive Dutch champion at losing a race. Forcing yourself to ignore the prickles down your spine, you take another shot instead and head back to the dance floor.

Many, many drunk dances with your girlfriends later, you found yourself safely dropped off at the hotel. Pressing the button, you waited patiently for it to come down, fanning your face because you felt strangely hot in the night chill despite having left the club. And then you feel it - that heady, dominating aura that makes you want to fall to your knees. Spinning around, you see Max standing there, dressed in a rare outfit of a fitted white tee and tight pants, accentuating his broad shoulders and thick thighs. Fuck, you had forgotten Redbull was staying in the same hotel as your team this weekend.

He smirks at you, asking if you’d had a good night celebrating, because it’ll be the last win he’ll let you have this year, Princess. You despised the nickname he’s given you over the Redbull radio one race, and how it had stuck in the media too - the pretty little Mercedes princess. You give him an unimpressed glare and tell him to fuck off, Verstappen as you get in the elevator, staying right by the front with your back purposely to him. As the doors close, you can’t help but notice through the reflective wall how Max’s dark gaze unabashedly wanders down your body, enjoying the sight of your curvy, petite form dressed in a backless halter satin minidress and stiletto heels that accentuated your thick ass. Forbidden delight curls in your abdomen from the thought of an alpha as strong as Max finding you desirable. A deeper part of you - one that you would never admit to anyone - can’t deny that you desperately wanted Max to want you, having always idolised him before you joined F1. That when you’d picked out this dress you wondered if Max was going to be out tonight, if he’d see you in this outfit…and find you pretty.

And you’d never, ever admit that recently you woke up with damp thighs and lingers of a dream of being underneath a dominating blonde Alpha, his voice deep and accented as he whispered for you to take it all for me, prinses…

Again, you promptly tell your inner slut to close her mental legs - just in time as the elevator opens before both your floors to let in a large group heading to the upstairs bar.

They’re a drunk, rowdy bunch of businessmen and you’re in no mood to be felt up - and you find yourself moving beside the protective aura of Max. You scowl at how you couldn’t seem to control yourself around the taller man then find yourself surprised when he moves to cover you from their curious gazes. His wide shoulders block out their view of how enticing you look as he crowds you into one corner, his back to them. You nervously make sure you don’t stare anywhere else but straight ahead at his toned chest, your heart beating at 200bpm as the desire that’s pulsing through you being this close to him. Especially when he’s decided to look so fucking hot tonight, that intoxicating deep scent making you light headed, like luxurious velvet running down your skin, like burnt amber, smoky and woody from the embers of a winter's night fire. That wicked inner omega of yours can’t stop purring at how your scandalous choice of dress gives Max a generous view down your cleavage.

The elevator comes to a stop with a sharp jolt on the businessmen’s floor, startling you out of your thoughts and you find you’ve placed a manicured hand on Max’s toned abs to steady yourself. And as soon as you touch him - the first time you’ve ever laid hands on him, you realise later - electricity crackles in between you both. His scent becomes all the much headier to you - as if all the same flavours had suddenly become 10 times amplified. It makes you whimper and again, your body betrays you with the fresh wetness that suddenly drenches your panties.

The change in the air is instant, tension clearly palpable as you nervously peek under Max’s arm and realise the group of businessmen aren’t leaving the lift - and instead all their eyes are turned in your direction with lustful gazes. You shiver but don’t hesitate to glare at them as you tell them to get out. They don’t move, looking entranced at you, when a low, threatening rumble from Max’s chest makes it very clear that you are not to be messed with - unless they wanted to go against the strongest Alpha in a 100 mile radius. Slightly tilting his head to look back at the group, Max’s narrowed eyes and threatening aura makes them run off with their figurative tail between their legs.

The elevator closed with neat ding, moving back up, and suddenly you realised you were in a very compromising position with your rival - who had definitely noticed the very Omega-like addictive, sweet smell you were giving off as a supposed “Unpresented” female.

Verstappen- you say anxiously, frantically thinking of what to say to convince him to keep your secret. But all thoughts are cut off when Max unexpectedly leans down and buries his face into your neck, making you gasp. Your hands grab his shoulders to push him away, to ask what the fuck he thought he was doing. But the words don’t even make it out of your mouth because your head is spinning from his lips now pressing kisses against your delicate collarbones. Somehow, you’re finding yourself winding your fingers in his blonde locks, which were just as soft as they looked.

By the time the elevator reaches your floor, you’re almost falling to the ground from the sensation but Max easily supports your weight against him. He’s guiding you out of the lift and trapping you against the nearest wall - and following immediately with his hard body pressed right up against your soft one. You’re whining that he needs to stop, what is he doing, you’re in a hallway for anyone to see, but he cuts you off again with his husky voice as he breathes out that this scent, your scent, princess…fuck, I’d thought it was perfume or something but it’s all you, isn’t it? I can’t get enough of how intoxicating you are.

Tilting your head back with his strong hands, he bends down to the opposite side now and shuts up your half hearted protests by licking a line straight up the column of your throat. Oh my god, your inner omega was having the time of her life right now. Max, you murmur weakly, and he sharply inhales as your gazes meet. The dark hunger in his eyes is clear when he tells you to say that again.

And when you sweetly call his name again, he’s kissing you, still leaning against the wall in the dimly lit hallway, and you automatically moan into the passionate kiss because it feels so good, so right as his lips moved against yours with a gentleness you hadn’t expected.

But when the lift dings, signalling another arrival to your floor, Max turns to look with narrowed eyes at the potential threat and you’re reminded of how wrong wrong wrong this is and how you’d lose all your sponsors if the media found out about this scandal. So you use his second of distraction to use your small frame and slip under his arms, hastily swiping your card and slamming the door behind you when you enter.

Heart beating, you lean back against the door as your replay what just happened over and over, your hands running over your tingling lips where Max’s - your rival - has just been a second ago. Across the other side, Max leans against your door just the same. He’d let you escape his hold - for now - but he wouldn’t next time, because he knew what it meant to smell a scent so divine it made him want to destroy anything that so much as glanced in your direction. That made him lose all inhibition and pin you against a wall as he desperately resisted the urge to bury his fangs in you right there. You were his fated mate, he thinks with relief, pure joy and warmth spreading across him with the idea of having you as his mate. The one who he’d not thought he’d find at age 26 after meeting countless women. And yet here you’d been the whole time, right in front of him, the only driver who drove him so wild on the track. He'd never thought about why the pretty little Unpresented driver was able to generate such strong responses from his Alpha unusually quickly. With a backwards glance to your room where you safely hid, Max wandered away, contemplating how he was going to claim his Omega who hated him.

Meanwhile, the kiss has sent you into an absolute flurry of panic, trying to come up with ways of convincing your rival to keep your secret, having no idea why he suddenly found your scent irresistible. Your half baked plans came to an end when Max texted you the next day to meet him in the hotel lobby to talk. No fucking way, you texted back furiously, so you can get me alone and kiss me again without my permission?

You’d flown back to Monaco an hour later, ignoring Max’s replies. Clearly, he seemed as troubled by this…situation as you were, and judging by the fact you hadn’t woken up to headlines about you secretly being an Omega, it seems Max was keeping your secret - for now, at least. And you were terribly confused by how good his kiss had made you feel, even though you were furious with how he’d done it without asking, as if you belonged to him.

So you decide to ignore Max for the whole week, but when he shows up at your apartment door unexpectedly, you couldn’t hold him off. We need to talk, he’d said tersely, and that’s how you found yourself on the apartment rooftop - surprised that Max hadn’t barged his way into your apartment. In fact, he stood well away from you, leaning against the railing and looking out towards the setting Monaco sun over the pristine Mediterranean waters as you watched his back uncertainly. Just when you were going to ask him what he wanted, he began telling you the story of how his Alpha father, Jos, had claimed his Omega mother, Sophie before she had been ready. You tilted your head, confused. You were very familiar with that particular media scandal - where Jos had deliberately performed the claiming, the ancient ritualistic tradition of an Alpha marking an Omega as theirs - in the peak of Sophie’s career, and had illegally used their mating bond to manipulate her into early retirement and focus on the family instead. It left a bitter taste in your mouth, of how no court or laws could protect an Omega fully from the abuse of a controlling Alpha.

I- I know about your parent’s story, it was quite…anyways, why are you bringing it up now? Max didn’t answer your question, turning around instead to face you. You felt that same fluttering beating of your heart as his intense blue gaze locked in on your doe eyed brown one. After she was able to get the divorce, he continued, she finally found her true mate. And she told me about the difference she’d felt, in how my father and her mate had treated her, how one had made her into the wife he wanted and the other had protected her as she chose to life she wanted for herself.

You’re truly confused now about why he’s still on this topic, and tell him that you’d even spoken with his mother when you began racing about her advice as a female on the track, and you’d expressed your sympathies for how hard it must have been to have her career tarnished so early by an abusive Alpha. Being her son was one of the few things you actually respected about him. Thinking he was foreshadowing what he was going to ask of you, your scent became sour with anger. So, out with it, Verstappen, you demanded, what’s your blackmail plan, I know you know about me being an Omega, are you going to make me promise not to try for P1 because you can forget it-

Max cut you off then, stepping forward and making you tilt your head back to look up at him. You wanted to step back so desperately, knowing what happened last time he was so close - but that inner omega vixen of yours was far too satisfied with the reassuring, soft spicy scent Max was now gently emitting. You hadn’t even known he was capable of anything other than the intense scent he used to dominate on the track.

No, schat, Max says softly. I’m not going to tell anyone anything you don’t want shared. Or use it against you. I wanted to tell you my parents story…to show you my father is the kind of Alpha I don’t want to become. I don’t want anyone to go through what my mother did. You can literally feel your body relaxing from his reassuring words, with the way he had called you darling in Dutch for the first time, from his soft look and scent. And it pisses you off to no end, that he can use his biology to make you feel like this - you’d had no idea the effect from an Alpha could be this strong on you. You realize you’ve involuntarily said that out loud when he tells you it isn’t normal for you to react this intensely to an Alpha, but it’s because it’s him that you’re reacting to. At your perplexed look, he’s reminded that your parents are both Betas and you had very limited knowledge of presentations, compared to his own family which were exclusively Alpha-Omega mates for generations.

Because…because we’re rivals? You ask, those sweet doe eyes of yours blinking up at him and making the urge to protect you bloom deep in his chest. Unfortunately for his inner alpha, he was about to cause you a lot of distress with his next words.

Because - Max swallowed, because, schat, we’re true mates. I’m your Alpha, if you’ll have me.

The distress that comes off you is instant and makes Max want to jump off the balcony railing, if it means ending your despair. You’re stammering out your shock, confusion, and then just straight denial at his claim, insisting it can’t be true - but he watches you with an apologetic expression, only speaking after a long time once you’ve let out all your conflicting emotions. He softly explains why it was true, that you might not know because your own parents weren’t a true match but what happened in the elevator, the reaction to each other’s scents - it was the first step to prime you two for the claiming.

He can see the colour drain from your face, flushed caramel skin now going pale as your distress turns to pure rage, steeped with fear - of him, Max realises. So that's why you're pretending to be so nice, isn't it? you question hotly, so that I say yes to your claiming just for you to use it order me to leave racing? And you'll act like its so different to your parents-

Max can't bear this foreign pain in his chest any longer, each furious word from you twisting a knife into his heart. His inner alpha is screaming at him to comfort and console you, so he does just that by stepping forward again and taking your small form into his large arms, forming a secure hold around you. Your annoyed shriek is muffled against his toned chest, but after a few seconds you calm down once he says, sounding so unusually desperate, he will never do the claiming until you ask him too, even if that's well after your racing career finishes. You pause, hearing the genuine sincerity in his words, and somehow deep within you a sense tells you that Max is telling the truth. As his warm, large hands soothingly rub circles on your back, you find yourself closing your eyes and lean into him, your french manicured hands pressing against his firm muscles and hearing his strong heartbeat through his chest.

You stay like that for a long time, slowly processing everything he's told you, until the sunset disappears over the Monaco horizon and the bright city lights emerge. At some point his arms have wrapped around your soft waist, one hand firmly on your hip and the other cradling your head against him, softly stroking your dark curls. If anyone had told you a month ago that you'd find yourself in this position with goddamn Max Verstappen you'd have laughed them off the track. But here you are, your inner omega purring with satisfaction at the secure embrace of your strong Alpha. You find yourself returning his comforting embrace by tentatively moving your small palms up over his pecs and across his ridiculously broad shoulders, looping around his wide neck. You hear Max's breathing hitch as he feels your shy touch, and then he’s hit with your delicious scent as your new position exposes your neck. It's the same as in the lift - so sweet, like exotic Indian jasmine on a hot summer night, like burnt sticky vanilla in the stroopwafels he adored as a kid, on the rare days he was allowed to go to the park instead of karting. But this time, your scent is even more inviting as your desire for him is stronger, and he doesn't fight his instincts and buries his face into your delicate neck again. He inhales deeply and leaves you gasping when he starts leaving lazy, soft kisses in the hollow of your throat. This time, you can't bring yourself to pull away, your fingers gently threading into his hair as you tentatively call out V-Verstappen, this is-

That's not my name, prinses he rumbles lowly, Dutch accent slipping through as he continues moving up your neck, leaving hickeys with flicks of his tongue and gentle, teasing nips of his sharp fangs - teasing, but not puncturing your tantalising caramel skin. And when you sweetly moan Max for him, looking up at him with those wide brown doe eyes, heady with desire, and a pretty red flush across your full cheeks, he meets your plush lips with his own. There's no hesitation this time, your fingers tangling into his messy blonde locks as you kiss deeply. His large hands running across your body make you feel like you're on fire. And when he grabs a hold of your thick ass, squeezing it like he owned it and and pulling you even closer to him, you're gasping and moaning sweetly into his mouth. He doesn't hesitate to slide inside your parted lips, completely dominating the kiss as he easily takes control over your tongue despite your efforts to battle against his.

Max, this is so wrong you say breathlessly, eyes fluttering closed in pleasure as his large thigh parts yours, your skirt sliding up as thick muscles come into contact with your aching core. You're certain he's going to be able to feel the wetness rapidly pooling between your own legs. Then why does it feel so right, prinses? He cockily responds, squeezing your ass greedily again and moaning himself when you start grinding against his leg, your wetness dripping past your soaked panties and ruining his pants. Fuck, he was never going to take these off, so he would always have the intoxicating scent of how sweet you smelled when you were so desperate for him, hmm?

The harsh ringing of your phone you'd set on a nearby table startles you. Max ignores it, flexing his thighs up against you to tempt your self control again as your inner Omega begs you to let the Alpha - your Alpha - claim you right here, right now, for all the world to see. But through the haze you see your boss's face flash on the screen and suddenly you're reminded of what's at stake. Snapping to your senses, you stumble away from Max's strong hold, making him growl in annoyance as he reluctantly releases you from his arms. This is why I didn't want to talk, you hiss at him, but he can tell from your scent you’re more conflicted than angry. Because you- you cutely flush, -we can't control ourselves for more than 5 minutes without something like this happening. You gesture to the space between you two as he watches you inquisitively, taking in every small movement with a tilt of his head like he was a lion stalking a deer. Stay away from me from now on, Verstappen you say with a scowl on your pretty face, pointing right at him, his sharp blue eyes not missing the slight tremor that gives away how affected you feel by him. I need to focus on winning this championship and not your…slutty Alpha seduction techniques.

He lets you go, smirking as you practically sprint away down the stairs to avoid any further temptation, enjoying the view of your generous ass from behind. Using his thumb to brush the dampness you left on his pants, he licks it away, chest lowly rumbling in approval as he confirms you’ll taste just as sweet as you looked, as you smelled. Next time, he promises his disgruntled inner Alpha.

After all, it was only a matter of time before he claimed you - it was a question of when, not if. The dark, controlling parts of him wanted to lay his claim on you right now, knowing that you desired him and would be unable to resist if he wanted to have his way with you. But you’d be so much sweeter, more pliable, more eager for him if he waited until you came begging.

He’d have his fun in the meantime.

READ PART TWO HERE

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kamiversee · 1 month ago

Text

𓆩 Crown of Sin 𓆪

Segment I Chapter: Four

❀ ~ Synopsis > In which you’re a princess who's given a total of six months to converge & inaugurate a solid plan secure enough to rid you of your fated marriage arrangements to Naoya Zenin.

❀ ~ Content > language, dry humping, thigh riding, dirty talk, pet names, sexual tension, flirting, (slight) fluff, etc.

❀ ~ Word Count > 5.6k

❀ ~ Pairings > jjk men & women x f!reader.

{ chapters m!list }

——Spending seven days in a carriage is not for the weak. It’s a bumpy journey to the northern nation and takes quite a toll on all those traveling. It brings about stress and even a faint sense of dread after a while. At some point, you’d find yourself staring out the carriage window for what seemed like hours, merely watching as you passed by similar-looking trees over and over and over again.

Nightfall didn’t fare much better for you either. Or at least, it didn’t for the first few days. You’d gone on long trips like this before in your lifetime but this still felt different in some ways. So, on about the fifth night of your travels, you wanted to relieve yourself of the stress the road had brought you.

It was late and the carriages were still on a steady roll toward your destination, having taken a decent break earlier in the day. Nothing much had changed since your original departure. You still rode with Higuruma, occupying the same carriage as you whilst Yuki and the driver remained outside. Or at least, that’s what you did on most nights—not this one though.

No, instead, Higuruma ended up sharing a carriage with Utahime for the night per your request since you wanted Yuki to ride inside with you. Only two days of travel remained before you would set your eyes on that world-renowned blue-eyed prince again. But before you could even make it near the damn castle, you just had to rub one out.

Every day of travel was far too stuffy and cramped inside the carriage, despite it being rather roomy—it was more of a metaphorical kinda stuffy. Every day you found yourself near boredom just from watching the moving and ever-changing terrain outside the window, a boredom which only worsened at night given the dim lighting.

Combining that with the one or two wheel mishaps your crew ran into during the journey, you were definitely feeling anxious. Typically, when such anxieties settle upon you, you make sure to find time for yourself but when you’re traveling, it’s rather difficult to do so. Hell, everyone basically told you no straight up when you asked to ride alone for a while.

Which is more or less how you ended up with Yuki inside the carriage now. Someone just had to have their eyes on you so… have her eyes on you she did. But it wasn’t only her eyes that were on you currently. Those gorgeous hands of hers were latched to your hips as you moderately began indulging in your ‘harem duties’.

Yuki’s entire expression was focused upon you, a mix of anxiousness and lust dripping from her eyes alone. “This is… torture, princess.” Her voice left her throat in a mere whisper given your predicament.

With a hand on her shoulder, your lips parted by her ear, thighs spread out over one of her own, and panty-clad cunt grinding in a delicious friction over her tensed leg—perhaps you truly were torturing the poor woman. “Just a few more minutes, please?” You uttered against her skin, voice sweet enough to make yet another chill sliver down her spine, “I’m… close.”

The hands hoisted onto your hips tightened in grip and Yuki found her teeth gritting slightly, “You could’ve finished by now if you’d let me—”

A jerk of your heat against her thigh causes her sentence to fall short. “We can’t,” You practically whine to the woman.

Yuki rolls her eyes and she can feel the tips of her fingers just itching to move against you. She knows she could make you feel so good if you’d just let her. “Who would know?” She asks you, angling her head toward you so that her gaze can fall on yours.

As you two meet one another in a mutual low-lidded stare, a small frown tugs at your lower lip and you sigh. “I would. The first night is—”

“Important, yes yes I know,” She cuts off in a huffed exhale, “We can’t have sex because that may make other (future) members of your harem feel bad or whatever.”

Your hips slow to a stop and you find your lashes bat at the woman before you. “It’s more than that. The person that I spend the first night with is important. Choosing this person is something I’ll do once I return home with the full harem.”

Yuki’s face tenses slightly, her brow twitching upward in faint irritation, “You already chose me first to join your harem, so what’s the difference?”

“I chose you first out of convenience more than anything.” You tell her. She flashes you a pointed look and you’re quick to make up for what you’d just said. “N-Not to say I wouldn’t have asked you to join if you lived far from me but… well, you are always quite close to me. It was only natural that I chose you first.”

She nods off, her head turning elsewhere, “So, does my being your first member mean almost nothing?”

You shrug a little and debate telling her a white lie but the truth leaves you before anything else, “Essentially, yes.”

“I see—”

“Though,” You cut off as you lean toward her line of vision again, “It doesn’t make you any less special to me. Whether you were my first or last, I would desire you all the same.”

At that, you can feel the way the muscles in her thigh tense up and it makes your breath hitch. Pressing right up against your slick folds, you’re suddenly aware of the situation you’re in with the woman all over again.

Her hands shift up to hold your waist and her hips roll slightly as she adjusts herself against the carriage seating, leaning her torso towards you and tilting her head as if she were about to kiss you. “If what you say is true then let me reciprocate this desire of yours,” Yuki whispers.

Everything about this woman makes it so very difficult for you to restrain yourself. Your eyes can’t help but fall down onto those pretty pinkened lips of hers. One push forward is all it would take for you to melt into her entirely and yet, you lean yourself back.

Whispering, “Yuki,” As she tightens her grip on your waist and tugs you toward her once more.

“One kiss won’t kill you.” She practically grits out as she eyes down each pant and every gasp that’s elicited from your throat.

It takes you a moment of self-deprecation not to give in to her right then and there. The tension that lies between what little space remains between her body and your own is thick and heavy with lust. Yuki looks like a second longer without having her head in between your legs and your taste dripping off her chin will be the death of her. You don’t think your body has ever felt so hot beneath someone else’s gaze before.

You can feel every ounce of pure want that exudes from her, the desperation lying in her fingertips to get them soaked with you, and the restrain on her body she holds not to flip you over against these damn seats and—

“It isn’t fair to the others.” You eventually whisper out, your voice carrying an unnoticeable waver to it.

“How so?” Yuki asks immediately without giving you time to even answer. Instead, her tongue swipes over her lips and she sighs, “Does that mean the harem member you kiss first will be of greater importance than the rest?”

Your thighs involuntarily squeeze around her, “No.”

“Then what is it?” She presses, flicking her sights up to your greedy gaze.

You take a deep breath. “I am not good at… holding myself back. If I let you kiss me,” You pause again and your eyes dance back and forth between her left and right. Even amid the dark of the night, you’ll never figure out what it is about those deep pools of chocolate brown that cause your head to spin in the way it does, “I will only long for more.”

“So long for more,” She sears. Yuki narrows her eyes at you and her lips brush up against your own, “Long for all of me in the same way the rest of your body is right now.”

A whine exits the back of your throat, “We cannot.”

Yuki groans. “You say that but I know how badly you want to,” She then pushes up on her toes a bit, causing her leg to grind up against your cunt, “...I can feel you throbbing every time I open my mouth.”

All in one breath, “Then stop talking.” You practically choke out as your fingertips dig into her shoulders.

Yuki merely pouts to mock you, “Oh, but she does the same thing when I look at you too.” Teasingly, her head then weighs down a bit and she kisses the tip of your chin, gaze still locked onto you.

This time you groan a little and your head falls back, “Avert your eyes.”

She seizes the opportunity right then to latch her lips onto the center of your throat, kissing you in a hungered manner whilst her teeth graze over your sensitive skin. “Or touch you..” She continues, talking right against you.

The kiss alone not only sends a spiral of chills down your spine but it also earns a grind of your hips and an unintentional moan of her name, “Yuki..”

“Fuck,” She smiles against your neck, trailing down with her hot kisses, “Don’t say my name like that.”

A hand of yours leaves her shoulder and sinks up into her hair as you too crack a smile, “I can’t help it.”

You hear this throaty noise leave her lips just as she meets your collarbones and her hands begin to snake around your waist, gliding down, “I know, I know—slips off your tongue so easily, doesn’t it?”

She shouldn’t be touching you in the way that she is but all thoughts of protesting against it nearly fly out the window as she grabs a greedy handful of your ass. To which your body arches against her touch and your steady dry humping picks up in pace.

Lost in it, and just barely finding it in you to respond to that question of hers, you end up murmuring to the woman so faintly that it almost misses her ears, “M-Mhm..”

Her breathy chuckle can be felt slipping down along the exposure of your skin, tickling you in indescribable ways. Trying to hide the sudden cockiness that just gave her, she snickers, “Aw, what’s this? We’re mumbling now?”

You try to snap back into yourself but when her hands return to your hips and she begins to guide them against her thigh, all hope is lost. “No, I-I just…”

Yuki lifts her head and watches as your eyes flicker due to the addictive friction her guidance is stimulating you with, “Just what?”

Your words fall so heavily from your mouth, as if unintentional. “I didn’t know you could say such crude things.”

“Princess,” She purrs, clearly mocking your title now in contrast to her usual tone of respect. “If you thought that was crude then you should allow me to have a long ‘n deep conversation with this sweet thing down here,” Every breath she takes is softer than the last but it slaps against your already fiery skin and only has your mind dizzying more and more by the second.

To emphasize that little comment of hers, Yuki angles her hand elsewhere, resulting in a firm press of her thumb against your clothed clit. Your entire body reacts all at once and your head drops forward as a restrained moan exits your lips, just barely, “Hah… Yuki, please.”

She grins and her thumb rolls over your sensitive bud, causing your legs to clench around her again, “Oh? You like this, huh?” Her voice hits your ear this time and it feels as though that entire side of your face, along with the rest of your body, was burning up in a flustered array of heat.

You don’t dare to part your lips and even attempt to speak as her gentle touch continues. So, instead, you give her a hum and a lazy nod, “Mhmm..”

“Mumbling again? C’mon, don’t get all shy on me,” Yuki scoffs. She then takes her other hand and redirects it to your face, forcing your head up so that she can see your expression again. It’s almost in slow motion the way she presses the pad of her thumb against your bottom lip, staring right into your mouth and then whispering, “Here, open f’me.”

You’re inclined to follow her every command, almost as if the roles between the two of you had changed. Your eyes have the sheerest gloss of pleasure husking over them and you appear way more desperate than you realize. Just as you obediently comply with her request and find your mouth opened into a small ‘o’ shape, Yuki flashes you a proud smile.

“Thereee we go,” She praises lightly, “Now don’t hold back. If you’re gonna moan then moan, I wanna hear you.”

Just then, your hips can’t help but rut further against her leg, your knee steadily drawing closer and closer to her crotch. It makes you wonder if she’s just as aroused by this as you are right now, especially considering you’re busy leaving quite the slick mess on her thigh.

Batting your lashes as the sound she’s listening so intently for nearly escapes your throat, you whisper, “I can’t be loud, what if Shiu hears?”

The corner of her lips twitched smugly, “I’m sure he wouldn’t complain.”

“But—”

“Don’t think about him right now though, only me.” She cuts off, swiping that thumb still latched to your clit downwards a bit as you roll your hips forward. You again suppress the sound that tries to leave you, despite your mouth being open, and she frowns. “When I tell you to moan, I’m telling you to do so for me. If you’re gonna get off on my thigh like this then it’s the least you can do, no?”

Whining instead, you just pout. “Y-You’re cruel.”

Yuki’s eyes dilate at the sound of that, knowing she could be so much ‘crueler’ to you right now if she really wanted to. “Aww, now you’re just sayin’ things.” She teases.

“Shut up,” You fire back with quickness.

To your surprise, she actually does. You’re not sure if that helps you right now though, given the situation you’re in… Her silence only works to her benefit because the fewer words she spouts, the more attention she can give to that twitching clit of yours that her thumb soon only stimulates more and more and more.

One finger and you’re a sopping mess against her within minutes. From all those bratty complaints of yours to burying your head into the crook of her neck as you moan her name against her skin, Yuki finds that it’s in her lack of speech that she can truly do what she’d wished to from the very beginning.

When you earlier first proposed the idea of getting yourself off, she immediately offered herself to you—all of her, right then and there without stutter. Of course, you turned that down and told her something about first nights being important blah blah blah… yeah, none of that seems to matter much now when you’re humping her thigh and blindly sucking on her neck out of desperation to reciprocate the pleasure you’re feeling.

That first suck catches her entirely off guard and your ears don’t fail to catch the heightened gasp she lets out. To which you only grow greedier and greedier. You let Yuki continue using that thumb of hers as your body melts entirely into her own, pussy leaving a slicked mess against the fabric of her uniform, and before you even realize what you’re doing—there are hickies forming all along that surprisingly sensitive neck of hers.

The first moan she lets out is when you kiss the area where her neck and shoulder meet, the sensation another surprise to her. Then, another leaves her lips when your body presses up against hers and your knee meets her crotch fully and firmly. Her thumb stammers in its roll against you and the moan she chokes out is loud enough for you to lift your head and look at her face.

Now she’s flushed. Her cheeks are the reddest you’ve ever seen and yet, that dominating look in her eyes has yet to soften. The sound of pleasure she let out was embarrassing, sure, but that didn’t stop her from keeping the rest of her composure (for the most part, anyway).

You’d never wanted to kiss someone more in that moment. Your orgasm was approaching and Yuki was right there, less than a hair’s length away from her lips being mashed into yours. And then came the eye contact. Bold and unwavering, as if she were silently telling you to go ahead and let go—to which you do a mere few seconds later.

Yuki smiles at you and coaxes you through your orgasm as cries of sweet sweet pleasure fly out your throat. You won’t let her kiss you and she knows it but she leans in and trails kisses from the corner of your mouth to the tip of your ear just to whisper, “That’s my girl,” You think your eyes cross a little with how much that drives you farther off the edge. “You look so pretty when you cum, did y’know that?”

A hand of yours meets somewhere near her chest as you clench onto her uniform, unable to form words at the moment.

She lets out a gentle giggle. “Too vulgar for you?”

Your head shakes. Truth be told, you’ve heard words of filth before, you’re no stranger to it. But hearing it from Yuki is… it’s so wildly different and new for you. Her voice is usually so stern and protective around you but this side of hers is a whole new world.

Not that any of that is meant to be a complaint or anything, you quite like this side of her. It truly excites you to think of the day you return home with her and the rest of your harem, hopefully, and you’ll be able to experience all of which that mouth of hers has to offer.

So, with all that said and done, the two of you eventually work around the carriage to clean yourselves up. Yuki ends up having to ask Shiu to stop so she can visit another carriage for a change of clothes but, luckily for her and all else involved, no one questioned anything.

And thus, that fifth night of traveling ended both smoothly and satisfactorily—leaving you on cloud nine and you grew closer and closer to the Northern Kingdom.

· · ──────── ·𖥸· ──────── · ·

Less than a day later each view you took of the scenery outside your classy carriage window consisted only of snowy plains that stretched on for miles and miles beyond the oath the carriages rode through. The weather had changed so much within only a few days. The temperature had been steadily declining as you’d traveled but despite the few layers of extra clothing you had to put on every now and then, you were truly surprised to see snow.

By now it was your seventh day of being in a carriage and you were so ready to get out of it for longer than a few hours of rest. Your crew was escorted throughout the city and another thing that caught you off guard was the crowds of people you saw gathered outside their homes and shops, all pointing at the royal vehicle you occupied.

You made sure to flash a few smiles and waves from your curtain-parted window, cheers and excited chatter heard even from the warm interior you rode so highly by in. You also took a mental note of how different the towns you rode through in the Northern kingdom were in comparison to the towns you not-so-sneakily visit so often back at home.

Mixes of gray and brown mesh in with the clumps of snow gathered on each side of the paved road ahead, something so small yet so different in comparison to where you live. You don’t get snow so it’s truly a natural phenomenon you can’t seem to tear your eyes away from.

In the towns, the snow was a mushy mess seemingly discarded to the roadsides. While up in the mountains or even deep into the forests, the snow remained mostly untouched by the hands of man—laying so sparklingly perfect in between tall trees completely void of leaves.

When you finally started to approach the massive palace of destination, your eyes nearly tripled in size. Maybe it was because you’d been on the road for so long, or perhaps it was how long it’d been since you’d laid your eyes on a castle that’s not your own but… The Gojo Palace was absolutely massive. It had to be twice the size of your own, constructed into just a glorious piece of architecture that your eyes can hardly figure out where to focus.

Oh, and just in case it wasn’t obvious by now, yes, this was your first time visiting the Gojo Estate. Even though you’ve done your research on just about every other nation out there and know the palace was built many many years ago, it damn there shines and glimmers beneath the distant glow of the sun that casts its warmth down on it.

You feel like a kid in a candy store as the carriage pulls along past the absurdly large gates, parted open just for your arrival. Oh, it was so beautiful. If the palace itself paired with the clean spreads of snow wasn’t enough for you, then surely it was the arrangement of blue roses laid out along the courtyard path that caused your heart to thump in an even purer excitement.

As the wheels below and the hooves of horses ahead finally came to a stop, you were shuffling out of your seat faster than ever to race to the door. Luckily to you, your carriageman was popping your door wide open for you just as you readied to do so yourself. A gust of frosty cold air came bristling into the warm confines of the vehicle and you shivered a bit before taking Shiu’s offered hand and stepping out.

Yuki had been riding inside with you ever since that… night. But, she exited shortly after you, given how ecstatic you were to breathe some fresh air for the first time in hours. By the time she steps out and gets a chance to look at you, you’re rushing toward the nearest bed of roses available to you and inspecting them up close.

Your knight shudders beneath the cold air but warmth finds her internally as she, along with just about everyone else, watches you joyously run your fingers over the vibrant blue petals laid below. The ends of your dress and the short cloak-like jacket you have on are furred in white softness that keeps your body protected from the blaring cold that surrounds you.

But then again, you were too distracted with roses in a shade you’d never seen them in to notice the wind gusting over your face. The petals of each flower were as smooth as velvet to the touch and slipped so elegantly over your gloved fingers.

Consumed by your admiration, you hardly notice as a pair of feet approach you until shoes meet your line of vision and you chuckle. “I suppose this is rather unladylike of me, huh?” You utter to who you assume is Higuruma based on the footwear.

“Unladylike isn’t the word I would use for it, Your Highness.” The man responds. Then the feet shift against the floor and you begin to lift your head to meet eyes with this person because that voice didn’t sound quite like Higuruma at all.

With your head lifted slightly, the man beside you comes to a crouch, mirroring how close you are to the ground. “Surprising, perhaps,” He continues, not quite yet placing his eyes on yours but instead looking down to the same plant you’d most recently touched. “But unladylike? Nah.”

When your gaze is met with a head of frosty-white hair, a side profile gorgeous enough to lead any woman to swoon on the spot, a tailored darkened navy-colored suit that’s embroidered with mixes of golds and light pastel blues, and the overwhelmingly familiar presence of Satoru Gojo, you nearly fall over.

Your jaw falls open as you rush to speak but he cuts you off with a curt turn of his head, dazzling azure eyes settling onto your features and leaving you completely speechless. “If I’d known you traveled all this way just to get distracted by some pretty flowers, I would’ve had them removed,” Gojo says to you lightly.

Batting your lashes at him, words still failing to leave your lips, you find yourself in awe. He has the face of an angel, every feature sculpted to perfection. Each and every detail was so clear—eyes deeper than any ocean you’ve ever seen, decorated by lashes prettier than any flower, delicate too, and the rest of his face was just…

You exhale so heavily that perspiration forms in the air. Gojo doesn’t fail to look down at your steadily parted lips and he smiles before averting his eyes. “That was a joke, by the way.” He hums, the tips of his ears a faint shade of pink. “I’m actually quite pleased to see you adore these roses so.”

“They’re gorgeous,” You manage out, earning his sharp gaze on you. “The roses, I mean. They are a delicacy to the eye, I haven’t been this twitterpated by flowers in a while.”

The corners of his lips curve and before you know it, he’s smiling at you. Gojo then nods his head to you slightly and his arm jerks a bit. You look down and notice he’s plucked the rose that bloomed the most, its petals laid out in pristine fashion. He then breaks a bit of the stem off and tucks it back into the bed below and then lifts his hand to you.

Your head pulls away as he nears you, “Are you seriously…”

“If you’ll allow me to,” Gojo hushes before sinking what's left of the rose’s stem into your hair. “I know it’s cliche but please, this shade of blue looks absolutely stunning on you.”

When his hand leaves your hair, you grin. “Does it?”

The prince in front of your scoffs, cocking his head back a bit, “Have you ever known me to lie?”

“A lot can change in two years, Satoru.” As soon as his name leaves you, you notice his entire expression shift.

Gojo hums to acknowledge your spoken words and then he pushes himself to stand up straight. His hand shoots down seconds later to help you to your feet, to which you accept and allow yourself to be tugged upright. Still holding your hand, he tips his head to the side and narrows his eyes at you.

“Damn right,” He murmurs beneath his breath. You feel it before you notice it but his gaze rakes over all of you. From your cloaked head to the ends of your fur-brimmed gown, Gojo takes in every bit of you just as you had him. Once finished, he leans forward and lifts your hand to his face.

Your eyes light up in a mix of surprise and amusement—watching as he pinches the fabric of your glove between two fingers and slips it right off of you just to press his chilly lips onto your bare skin.

What’s one peck becomes two or three dangerous kisses that trail to your wrist before he shoots his eyes up to you and smirks, “You’ve changed quite a bit since I last saw you.”

A lighthearted scoff escapes you. “Is it safe to assume you mean that kindly?”

He straightens himself up and pulls your hand along with himself, causing your body to lull in closer to him. “Why of course, my lady.” Gojo winks, “I only mean to say that you’ve…”

You weigh nearer, “I’ve…?”

Shaking himself out of his stupor, “Grown even more stunning than I uh, remember.” Gojo finishes off,

Your brows shoot up questionably and a sly smirk preys upon your face, “Oh. Were my looks not memorable before—“

“No, no,” Gojo interjects, his eyes widening, “Y’know that’s not what I meant.”

“Then what—“

“Sweetheart,” He sighs, “Can we just drop our formalities for a moment and will you please embrace me like you used to?”

You snort at how long it took him to ask you that. “You desire a hug?”

The prince nods, “I do.”

“Then initiate it—“ Before any more smugness can leave your mouth, he’s pulling you into his arms and his staggering frame is engulfing you.

Toned arms wrap around your waist and his head pretty much buries itself into your neck as your arms wrap up around his and you both share a hug that has man onlookers gasping. Your relationship with Gojo has always treaded so very carefully along the borders of something scandalous and something completely harmless—something of which many, including yourselves, struggle to identify the truth beneath it all.

“I’ve quite missed this,” Gojo murmurs in between the most sensitive crevices of your neck, causing you to be a bit jumpy within his arms.

In an honest attempt to distract him from your sensitivity, you squeeze him a bit tighter, “‘Missed what? Hugging me or simply me?”

He inhales strongly and exhales through his mouth, “Both.” Gojo whispers in a dream-like sigh. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell like heaven on earth?” The man asks while prying his face away from your skin.

Both of you continue to hold one another as you get lost in casual conversation. “Something of the sort, yes. You,” Your hands slip from around his neck and down to his chest. Peering forward, you smile radiantly in the face of your old-time friend, “Prince Satoru, smell like the beach. Which is so peculiar considering…” You look around, “Where you live.”

Gojo picks up on the playfulness you display and instantly matches your energy, “You think we don’t have beaches?” He replies with a dramatic gasp.

As he does so, his hands leave your waist and return to your gloveless hand, motioning to glide the accessory back onto you.

Your eyes fall to his actions and something about this conversation is making your smile refuse to fade, “Do you?”

He’s quiet for a moment while working your glove back on and you can’t help but cling onto every lingering touch of his fingertips to your bare skin. Something so subtle and yet… It was like ever since that night with Yuki, you’ve been overly aware of every touch upon your skin. Or, hey, perhaps it was just him.

You’ve always known Gojo to be quite touchy, after all.

“...No.” He eventually mumbles out in response to your question prior.

Your smile widens in triumph, “I didn’t think so.”

“Whatever,” He keeps your hand cupped in his own and scoffs. Then, he lifts your fingers to his lips again and kisses your clothed knuckles, “But seriously, I did miss you.”

You eye down his kiss and unintentionally soften your gaze, “It wouldn’t have hurt to send a letter or two, y’know.”

Running his thumb across the curves of your knuckles, Gojo gives you a toothy smile along with another wink, “True but uh, that goes both ways, beautiful.”

Now, while your banter with Gojo carries on in ways concerning to few, your knight and royal advisor stood idly by—merely watching the scene unfold in front of them.

They find themselves standing at a distance, having backed away from you the moment they saw Gojo rushing out to be the first to greet you. Even his guards and knights stood at a distance, giving the two of you nothing but your own little bubble of security and privacy for as long as either of you willed it so.

“Have they always been this close?” Yuki asks the man standing to her left.

Higuruma shrugs. “I am not sure. I know little about their relationship, believe it or not.”

Yuki scoffs, “Can’t you advise against all that uh…” Her eyes narrow in on the way Gojo’s yet to remove his hand from you—seemingly always having this need to touch you. “Contact.”

“It is not my place to do so, Lady Tsukumo.” Higuruma huffs casually, turning to her shortly after, “Though, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you sound rather jealo—”

“They’re walking away.” She cuts off.

Higuruma, along with a nearby and also idle Utahime, looks over to you and Gojo only to spot your arm looped and locked with one of his as he talks your ear off and walks with you toward the palace.

Utahime is the first to start pacing toward them, “Seems like someone forgot about us rather quickly…” She frowns to herself whilst carrying a few of your necessary items in her arms.

Yuki and Higuruma are frozen where they stand for reasons unknown but after you and Gojo are about halfway to the palace entry doors, their feet remember how to operate and they move to follow.

The sound of you laughing at something inaudible from Gojo can be heard and Higuruma’s shoulders slump, “This is going to be a loong day, Lady Tsukumo.”

“Tell me about it.” She scoffs.

m!list | last chapter | next chapter |

tags 1/2;

@angellliqua @celestial-lunar @withcheese @itoshi-r @silvarys @everything-red @fishosezo @haesify @sassybananaweaselpsychic @orange-juice-is-ass

@notjustagirlinthisworld @sushiimara @larkson0 @di-in-al @sxnkuna @hanuh @cayla0000 @helloxkittylo @idkmanshrugg @chocolatecheer

@michelintopic @cinaminroll @french3xit @valleydoli @broimherebcsimboredok @sleepisforpuzzies @cuti3patooti8 @sukunadckrider @f0r7una @ventila98

@vixionix @levislug @mauve-gojo @chosomi @semi-lover @bee3l0v3r @noooo-onee @r4sh3li @yenayaps @chososbestgirl

@smutyturtle @simp-plague @pnkblueberry @stargirl-mayaa @kunareads @tojisdollx @gojoslefttoenail @forbiddenblog @glittercherry777 @samm1e13

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raamitsu · 6 months ago

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Kusakabe really struck a nerve with me when all he did was yapping sarcastically while watching the battle between Gojo vs. Sukuna, then he minimized Yuji's effort by saying his power and strength were thanks to Sukuna's, and AGAIN today, he blamed Gojo for the fact that he rejected the idea of child execution and eventually brought the chaos that could wipe off the nation because of that sole reason.

YOU KNOW WHAT? I think we need to start questioning what the FUCK was he doing ALL THIS TIME to save the young sorcerers from the torture of the sorcery world while we have Satoru and Yuki who were up against the Jujutsu higher ups + Tengen, finding a way to develop a curse-free world, and even sacrificed themselves for the sake of others' freedom.

let's start there.

#IM SORRY BUT IM PISSED OFF SO BAD RN GEGE YOU HAD A NERVE TO LET THIS BITCH LIVES #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jjk leaks #jjk spoilers #jjk 269 #mela just texted

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just-jordie-things · 1 year ago

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national anthem - gojo satoru

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 12.2k warnings: mentions of drinking and smoking (cigarettes + weed) summary: you're a special grade? with no life experience? someone like you sure is lucky gojo satoru wants to take you under his wing and show you how to enjoy life. gojo satoru sure is lucky that someone like you teaches him how to love. more info: set in 2006, friends to lovers, gojo sort of wants to corrupt reader but he's too soft on her, he's an overconfident coward in this idk you figure it out

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ i’m your national anthem, god you’re so handsome, take me to the hamptons, bugatti, veyron // he loves to romance ‘em reckless abandon, holding me for ransom, upper echelon // he says to be cool but, i don’t know how yet // wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck ]

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Two Special Grade Sorcerers in one place was already a fight for territory and ego- at least to Gojo Satoru. Geto Suguru never really felt a push to prove himself, but his white haired counterpart seemed to enjoy a good ol’ fashion pissing competition, so when Satoru felt like being competitive, he often just went along with it. Besides, there was a certain entertainment in watching him lose. Satoru would tell anyone that he didn’t feel threatened around Suguru- or Yuki, when she was around- but there was an undeniable flicker of excitement in his eye when an opportunity came along to show off.

A show off, that was the perfect description for the first impression (y/n) got when she first met the infamous Six Eyes. She wasn’t sure what to expect arriving at Jujutsu Tech on that sunny afternoon in 2006. The mixture of giddiness and unease from picking everything up and starting life over at the ripe age of eighteen had her insides all fluttery, but she was fairly certain her excitement outweighed all else.

The manager who’d picked her up from the train station and drove her to her new home had given her a short introduction to the other sorcerers her age, but nothing could’ve prepared her for the whirlwind of their first official meeting.

“So you’re the new Special Grade meat!”

She’s startled as soon as she approaches the group of three. She’d been all smiles, ready to hold out her hand and introduce herself properly, but it appeared they’d already known all about her.

“Shut up Satoru, you sound like a douchebag,” The dark haired sorcerer beside the loud one shouldered past, reaching out to be the first to shake her hand. (y/n) still has a bewildered look on her face as she reciprocates, confusedly glancing between the two. “Don’t mind him, he’s always like that. I’m Geto, but everyone calls me Suguru anyways, so you can too”

“Alright,” She says through an airy laugh. “Then I’m (y/n)... the Special Grade meat”

Suguru shares the laugh as he drops his hand, and suddenly the white haired one is darting forward, pushing him aside just as he’d done to him moments ago, and grabbing (y/n’s) hand before she could fully lower it. Her eyes are wide, every instinct telling her to take three steps back, but she lets him shake it at a wild pace.

The cursed energy that comes off of him in waves hits her like a truck, solid, undeniable, strength. Reason tells her that he could end her life with his handshake alone. The goofy, shit eating grin on his face tells her otherwise.

“Gojo Satoru!” He introduces, still shaking her hand. “But you already knew that, right?”

Wordlessly, she shakes her head at him, curiosity striking her the longer she took him in. A show off for sure, with the volume of his voice despite being right in front of her, with the performance in his ongoing handshake, with that stupid smile he hadn’t wiped off his face yet, with all that cursed energy- Gojo Satoru was a sight to behold and he knew it, too.

Back home it would’ve ticked her off, but for some reason, there’s a compulsion to her amusement in him. Slowly, her bewildered expression morphs into one of pleasant surprise.

“Can’t say I had the slightest idea,” She replies, and that seems to do the trick to get his smile to falter, even momentarily. Technically, she knew of him, only because of the manager’s due diligence in giving her the names of her new colleagues, but she wasn’t about to treat him to that information. “But I do now,” Her smile brightens, “You’re the guy with the white hair”

He scoffs at first, not out of disgust or annoyance, but pure surprise at the genuine response. The two behind him, Suguru, and the girl she hadn’t met quite yet, Ieiri Shoko, were nearly doubled over in laughter. Loud cackles that echoed across the courtyard they stood in. (y/n) merely held her polite smile as she waited for Gojo Satoru’s full reaction.

His shit eating grin softened into a more authentic smile, amusement casted over his features as he gazed down at her through his lenses. He didn’t need his Six Eyes to tell him she was strong, her own cursed energy seemed to buzz and crackle right off of her like electricity. As if she’d been gathering up static for so long and it was dying to leap right out of her. It would be overwhelming, if he wasn’t the sorcerer he was.

“Always noticed for my looks first,” He sighs dramatically, and (y/n) raises a brow at him, slightly amused, slightly intrigued. “But I guess we’ll have that in common, huh, Special Grade?”

Before she’s given any real time to react, or even process what he’s said, he’s interrupted.

“Alright, that’s enough of you, you’re making us all look bad now,”

The third sorcerer with the lab coat and an unlit cigarette in her hands is the next to leap forward, grabbing Gojo Satoru by the elbow and forcibly yanking until he gives in and drags his feet back to Suguru. (y/n) watches as he mutters under his breath and makes wild hand gestures to Suguru- who seems to roll his eyes and remain otherwise unresponsive.

“You won’t get used to him, so get used to knowing that now,” The girl says, capturing (y/n’s) attention. “I’m Shoko, I’ll be your best friend here, alright? Don’t let him get too comfortable”

(y/n) giggles, introducing herself yet again with a shy fit of laughter.

“Seems like he gets comfortable pretty quick,” She muses, casting a glance over to where Suguru was trying to drag his friend away. He didn’t seem to be winning that fight, and it wasn’t long before Gojo was going boneless against him. “So, small class size, huh?”

“Yeah, well, not a lot of jujutsu sorcerers out there,” Shoko shrugs. “And… we had a few transfers to Kyoto. Which were totally not due to that idiot” She adds the second part under her breath, but when (y/n) laughs, she does too.

“Well, I’ll try not to transfer, then”

Shoko brightens, just a little bit, but enough to be noticed.

(y/n’s) sure she’ll stay true to her word. Besides, it had seemed like her time at Jujustu Tech would prove to be interesting… maybe even fun.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

The smell of tobacco wasn’t pleasant, but she tries to put up with it for the sake of Suguru and Shoko. It appeared that the most exciting part of their night was sharing a smoke by Shoko’s window, as they’d visibly relaxed once they’d sparked up.

It didn't matter that (y/n) didn’t voice her discomfort, because Gojo Satoru could see it written all over her. The way her eyes widened when Shoko had pulled out the pack, the way her nose crinkled when Suguru lit the first cig, and even now, how she can’t stop anxiously glancing over to the two of them as they smoked.

“You’re not a smoker, huh?”

She’d been sitting against the wall, a mostly forgotten magazine in her lap when Gojo had approached her, crouching down to her level to properly gain her attention.

“Huh?” She’s lost at first, but it only takes a short nod of his head towards the window for her mind to catch up. “Oh, um, I guess I’ve never really smoked before, but, no, I’m not a smoker”

It’s unexplainable, the way she stammers over her explanation like it’s a lie. Because it’s the complete truth. She’d never smoked a cigarette in her life, and she’d never been around anyone who did. The smell was only familiar because of how often it wafted amongst the streets, but it was always unpleasant. Trying it for herself had never really crossed her mind.

“You’ve never tried it?” Gojo tilts his head curiously, and for a moment she thinks he resembles a cat, but before she could tell him the connection, he’s standing up again and striding over to the window.

She can only watch as he swipes the pack of cigarettes from between the two, scowling when he pops open the box.

“Did you buy this yesterday?” He scoffs, plucking out one of the sticks before tossing it back at Suguru, who catches it with ease, but frowns back at the white haired sorcerer. “Jeez, addicts much?”

“Relax, Satoru” Suguru rolls his eyes just as Gojo snatches the lighter off the windowsill as well. It earns him another glare, but neither Suguru or Shoko comment on it, instead returning to whatever conversation they’d been having before Gojo had so rudely interrupted them.

It’s not until he’s returning to her spot on the floor and taking a seat beside her that she realizes why he’s done this.

“Here ya are,” He grins, holding the items out to her in both hands. (y/n’s) eyes wander between the two, the cancer stick in his left hand, the hot pink lighter in his right, before looking up at him and shaking her head. “What, you don’t wanna try it?”

“I just… I mean…” She struggles to give him a proper reason. She doesn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, because she couldn’t care less what other people chose to do, but she wasn’t about to lie to him and say she was ecstatic to get a taste of the thing she knows is bad for her. “I don’t think I’d like it…”

“Well, that’s alright,” Gojo chuckles as he shrugs his shoulders. “I hate it. It’s nasty,”

He goes so far as to stick his tongue out towards the window, where Shoko had clearly overheard his less-than-quiet comment. She returns the favor, but Gojo’s already turned back to (y/n).

“It reeks. And it burns a bit. And honestly? I’d rather spend the money on mochi,” He tells her honestly, and it earns him a giggle, so he smiles a little wider. “But you deserve to at least try it, right?” He asks, wiggling the lighter at her. “Just to say you did it?”

“I’m not really wired that way,” She admits, her laughter turning nervous, but nonetheless, she finds herself plucking the lighter from his fingers. “Why try something I know I’ll hate?” She asks, and generally, it’s a rhetorical question, but Gojo’s answer does have her curious.

“Because,” He shrugs again. “Trying new things is the fun part,” He suggests, before adding, “And just because you can”

Her eyes drift down to the pink lighter in her hand. She rolls it over between her fingers a few times, fiddling with it as the idea settles in her mind. She gets lost enough in thought that she doesn’t even realize how fluidly she’s twirling the small object between her fingers like it was a trick of misdirection, but Gojo finds amusement in how easily and quickly she’s able to maneuver it about the back of her knuckles.

“I can’t say I have an argument for that,” She tells him finally, turning to him with a small smile, and her hand outstretched. “But when I hate it, you can’t be mad”

He doesn’t place the cigarette in her palm like she’s expecting, instead raising it towards her lips, flicking it slightly to prompt her to open her mouth.

“Don’t bite down too hard, you’ll ruin it,” He instructs. She blinks at him in surprise, but follows along anyways and parts his lips so he could set it between them. She keeps her hold on it as light as possible. “And the taste of tobacco is awful,” He adds in a quieter voice.

She tries not to think about how close he sits to her, or how his fingers brush over her bottom lip and then her chin as he places the cigarette between her lips, but the harder she tries not to think about it, the more he thinks about it.

“Want me to light it for you?” He asks, and now he’s the one to hold his palm out to her.

Too nervous to speak with the cig in her mouth, she gives him a small nod, and places the lighter back in his hand. He grins when her fingers drag over his before she pulls her hand away.

“Alright, don’t overthink it,” He says, leaning forward a little closer with the lighter in hand. “I’ll light it, and all you gotta do is breathe in. Not too harsh, just a little inhale, got it?”

She shrugs and nods, certain she could understand the complexities of smoking a cigarette, but she had a feeling that Gojo Satoru liked knowing what to do, and showing her what to do, so she let him. It couldn’t hurt, right? If she fed his ego just a little bit?

With a flick of his thumb a small flame erupts, and soon the end of the cigarette is burning. Just as he said, she takes in a short breath, just enough to feel the smoke touch her lungs.

Her eyes meet his when he pulls the lighter away, but he stays sitting closely in front of her. Even through the dark lenses he always kept perched on his nose she could tell that he was eager to watch her reaction.

She rips the stick from her mouth and coughs, and even once all the smoke is expelled, she sticks her tongue out with the desire to rid her mouth of the terrible flavor.

Gojo chuckles quietly, taking the cigarette from between her fingers as he stands up for a moment. He’s sitting again just a second later, passing her a bottle of water that she takes and chugs down greedily. He’s still laughing when he passes the cigarette to the window dwellers.

“So you were right, huh?” He asks her after she’s got half the water down.

She nods back at him, taking a few more gulps to soothe the ache in her chest from her own coughing.

“But at least you tried it?”

Finally pulling the bottle away, she turns to face him again. Her brows are pinched together with annoyance, but there’s a flicker of a smile on her lips that Satoru can’t ignore. It makes his heart beat at a disastrously wild pace. It makes him grin.

“Oh, I’ll be telling everyone you peer pressured me,” She tells him assuredly, to which he scoffs, but before he could argue, she continues. “But… at least I tried it”

The momentary defensive stature he’d taken relaxes just as quickly, and he even laughs a bit.

“Atta girl, Special Grade,” He teases. “That’s the spirit”

She rolls her eyes, but she’s smiling as she picks up her magazine and settles back against the wall in a comfortable position. Gojo doesn’t have much interest in fashion, but he sits beside her and follows along as she flips through it anyways.

She supposes it’s because he has no interest in smoking with the others, that this was the better option. He supposes it’s just because her shampoo smelled so light and fruity that he wouldn’t mind lingering around just a bit longer.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[gojo s.] are you up?? 1:46 a.m.

[y/n] it’s almost 2. 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] fast response! so ur wide awake! :D 1:47 a.m.

[gojo s.] put on something warm and come to the window 1:48 a.m.

Gawking at her phone, (y/n’s) sure this is just some kind of stupid joke. There was no way if she peeked out her window now that Gojo Satoru would be standing out there. This late at night? On a Tuesday? They had training tomorrow bright and early- and wasn’t there a curfew?

She’s not sure what comes over her when she actually shuffles out of her warm covers and tiptoes over to the window. Peeking through the curtain just to be sure wouldn’t hurt, right?

Sure enough, when she pulls the curtain aside just enough to look outside, Gojo Satoru is standing out there. He must’ve been expecting her to check, because he’s looking straight at her, grinning from ear to ear before he waves.

(y/n) shuts the curtain and snatches her phone off the bed. Just as she begins to furiously type, she’s getting an incoming call. With a huff, she answers it and brings the phone to her ear.

“Gojo Satoru, what the hell are you doing outside my-”

“I knew you’d be down!” He’s shouting before she could finish her scolding, and (y/n) winces as she tilts the speaker of her phone away from her ear to relieve the ringing he’d caused. “Get dressed and hop on out!”

“Hop on out-? What are you talking about?”

“Don’t you wanna go do something fun?”

“Right now?” She lets out a humorless laugh. “Gojo, it’s the middle of the night, I’ve been trying to sleep”

“I can’t sleep either,” He replies, completely missing the point, but it’s only then that she starts to hear him out. “I need a midnight snack,” He adds, this time his voice filled with it’s usual syrupy level of glee. “I’m sure it’d help you, too!”

It’s a ridiculous idea. She had training in about five hours from now, and so far tonight she hadn’t gotten a wink of sleep. Gojo Satoru might’ve been all powerful, but that didn’t mean he had power over her, he couldn’t just make her go because he wanted a snack and company to go along with it. It would be incredibly easy to tell him no and hang up the phone, and it would keep her out of trouble, too. A double win.

Yet, she’s at her dresser and pulling off her pajamas before she’s even given him a verbal response.

“I hear movement, are you getting dressed?” He asked her, full of hope and excitement.

“Yes,” She huffs as she gets into her uniform slacks. They were the only pants she owned that weren’t pajamas- and there was no way she was going out in the middle of the night with Gojo Satoru in hello kitty pajamas.

After throwing her jacket over her tee shirt and buttoning it up enough, she crept back over to her window, pulling open the curtains properly, her phone still in her hand.

“Oh good-!”

Before he could finish whatever he was saying, she snaps her phone shut and slides it into her back pocket. She needed both hands to slide the window open, at least if she wanted to do it carefully enough that it didn’t creak and squeak when she did so.

Even from a story below, she can tell that Gojo is pouting at his own phone before he puts it away. He seems to get over it once she’s got her window open and she’s swinging a leg out, though.

“Come on down, Juliet, I’ll catch you!” He hollers, louder than he should have.

(y/n) swings her other leg out, sitting on the window sill almost completely leaning out of the building.

“Move out of the way, Gojo” She hisses down at him, but he only extends his arms, waving his fingers at her to prompt her to come down already.

He’d been pacing around out here for the last forty-five minutes debating on texting her, so he was antsy to finally get going.

Giving up, (y/n) pushed off the window sill, and landed on her feet with ease and perfect balance seconds later. She certainly didn’t need him to catch her, but he’s right in front of her anyways, hands settling on her shoulders as if she wasn’t standing before him in perfect condition.

“Good?” He asks, and he’s still grinning ear to ear, but it’s a little different.

She’s not sure how she didn’t notice before, but he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses. She could see the crinkles at the corners of his bright blue eyes when he smiled. For a half a second, she could’ve gotten lost in the cerulean waves swirling in his irises. His eyes were bright even in the dark, they practically gave the illusion of glowing.

“Yeah- yeah,” She chokes on her answer, and quickly averts her gaze before he could tease her for staring at him so blatantly. “Let’s just get going, I don’t want to get caught”

“I’d never get us caught,” Gojo scoffs, apparently offended that she could even think such a thing. “Besides, you’ve got a clean track record, you’d probably get off easy anyways”

She rolls her eyes at him as they start their trek off campus, but she can’t help the small smile of amusement on her face. Gojo wasn’t wrong, she did have a squeaky clean record, which she’d proudly maintained since transferring here, but now…

It wasn’t that she was aiming to rebel, she didn’t need to do anything crazy, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t live a little… right? And what was one trip to a twenty-four hour convenience store in the grand scheme of things?

“Has anyone ever told you you’re obnoxious?” She asks, but her voice betrays her with soft fondness, and it’s obvious that Gojo notices with the way he looks over at her with the largest, stupidest grin on his face.

“Never with a straight face,” He replies, only to laugh when he catches her smiling at him as soon as he looks at her. She wants to roll her eyes again, but she doesn’t. She just laughs with him and doesn’t argue. “You can admit you like my company, I won’t tell anyone,” He adds, only partially teasing. “”Promise”

“You better keep that promise,” (y/n) mutters back. “For whatever her odd reason, Shoko thinks I’m cool, and I’d like to keep that status”

“That’s because you perform your twisted little cursed technique on her every time she asks,” Gojo says. “Shoko’s got an obsession with the occult, and you are certainly all things occult”

The corner of her lips tilt into a smirk. She wouldn’t necessarily agree, but he wasn’t wrong about her cursed technique. With the ability to access anyone’s thread of fate- that little string hidden in their soul that keeps them alive as long as it’s intact- her cursed technique was a bit more involved than the other Special Grades’ she’d met thus far.

It was gruesome when executed on an assignment, Gojo had seen it first hand only once. With a plunge of her hand into a curse’s body she’d retrieve the thread, and rip it apart with both fists. The curse was exorcized immediately and they called it a day sooner than expected.

Shoko, however, enjoyed seeing it the way anyone liked a party trick. She’d clasp her hands together and beg for (y/n) to open up her soul for her. All of her hours spent in the morgue and the lab might’ve been warping her curiosity, but she was always delighted when cursed energy would encase (y/n’s) hand and she’d reach right into her body as if she phased right through the skin and bones, before retrieving that solid black thread.

“Are you saying that I’m not cool?” (y/n) asks Gojo suddenly, and she’s only messing with him, but he backtracks instantly.

“I never said that!” He shouts, his voice echoing over the empty path they walked into town. “You’re easily the coolest person I’ve ever met, (y/l/n) (y/n). You put the special in Special Grade for sure!”

That has her rolling her eyes again, even though she’s laughing at the stupid line.

“There are more interesting qualities about you than a cursed technique, that’s all,”

The sudden genuine comment has her laughter fading and a look of quiet surprise overtaking her features when she looks back at him. He’s already staring at her, with that stupid grin and his prying eyes that seemed a little softer now. He had these moments often, where in the midst of his teasing and nonsense, he’d say something so deeply real, and she knew it, that it would practically knock the wind out of her. Like right now, where all she can do is stare at him and wait for him to say something else.

“Like, yeah, I have the Six Eyes and I’m mastering Infinity and sure, I suppose I am the strongest being on this earth, maybe ever,” He starts to ramble, and (y/n) can practically feel the idiot comment making it’s way out. “But I’m more than that. I’m also… really handsome,”

She snorts, before a short burst of giggles follows and she shakes her head. Just as expected, Gojo Satoru will always bury the real feelings under the perfectly tailored facade.

“What? It’s true!” He barks in offense when she laughs. “I’m ridiculously handsome- it’s almost too much hotness for one man to carry alone!”

“Uh-huh”

“So you agree? I’m ridiculously handsome?” He grins like he actually caught her in something, and she laughs again.

“I didn’t say that,” But she didn’t exactly deny it either, did she? “But more importantly, you’re ridiculously rich, and you’re buying me mochi, too”

And just like him, she’ll bury the budding sparks of feelings she doesn’t want to admit she has in order to preserve something more long lasting. Friendship. She’d never had friends like this before, people who understood her so deeply, people who took an interest in her even when their interests didn’t align. Gojo Satoru especially took an interest, and she had a feeling he enjoyed making her push her limits, because she enjoyed letting him do it.

“Pfft, fine,” Satoru mutters in mock annoyance. “Was jus’ gonna buy it anyways”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

After that, Gojo Satoru has a knack for getting (y/n) to sneak out of her dorm past curfew. He wasn’t always dragging her off campus, oftentimes they’d just sit on the roof, or wander the courtyards, but there was the occasional midnight snack run that he’d insist on taking her on. One time he insisted on showing her how he’d refined his technique, so she sat around for a good two hours while he just showed off. This wasn’t necessarily out of character for him, so she sat and gave him her attention even though her time would’ve been much better spent sleeping.

Unfortunately, and unknown to him, the feelings that she was developing for him had started to accelerate. It seemed that with every night he came to her window to pester her, her heart simply couldn’t feel irritation towards him. Not that he couldn’t get under skin, it’s just that he managed to settle in there. To the point where when she was away from him, she found herself counting down the time until she’d get to be near him again.

It was almost pathetic, when she really thought about it. Missing the boisterous presence of Gojo Satoru was laughable. At first she buried the idea, but she wasn’t one to live a life of denial, and no sooner than he could next drag her out in the middle of the night did she accept that she was actually falling for the Six Eyes user. Their friends would poke fun at her if they knew- which they did, but this wasn’t due to her actually telling them.

But it was unable to be helped. He always found a way to make her heart skip a beat before it picks up in pace.

“I think Nanami is a worthy sorcerer, I don’t have any problem with his company” She shrugs with her words, before leaning back on her elbows.

The tiles of the roof weren’t the most comfortable to sit on, but they often found themselves lounging around there anyways. Maybe it was because it was the perfect place to view the stars, or maybe conversation just seemed to come so much easier up there.

“It’s nothing to do with that,” Satoru mutters, a bitterness to his words that she didn’t often hear from him. He was always overbearingly sweet or chipper with his speech. Maybe it was the roof that brought on a sudden change in tone, or maybe it was because they were something he couldn’t hold back. “You’re more than capable of taking that assignment alone. You’re Special Grade. You don’t need some first year- or anyone- to partner up with you,”

Just as she’s about to open her mouth to come to Nanami Kento’s defense, she seals her lips tight. It wasn’t about Nanami’s ability at all, she realized, as Gojo set his gaze firmly on the horizon. It was about hers.

“The higher ups never want to admit when someone is stronger than them, probably ‘cause they’re scared we’ll overthrow them, or something,” He mumbles the last part, but (y/n) has a feeling there’s more feelings brewing beneath the surface of his bitterness. “They want to morph into this strong… thing… but then as soon as you actually achieve their ridiculous expectations they’ll spend the rest of your life doing everything they can to remind you that you’re not…” He trails off for a moment, and even though he’s refusing to look at her, she can see emotion flickering in the corner of his eye. He lets out a sigh before finishing his thought, “... good enough”

(y/n’s) quiet as she lets it sink in. She doesn’t want to speak too soon and lead him to assume she’d brushed off all he said, but before she could accurately voice her thoughts, he turns to her and releases an airy laugh.

His lips are curved into a smile, but it doesn’t reach his eyes, and (y/n) can’t help but frown before he even says anything.

“I don’t think that came out right-”

“No, it did,” She interrupts him gently. She gives him a small nod of her head, understanding perfectly what he was saying. It was a warning, but it was also a compliment to her abilities, and she wanted him to know that she appreciated it in it’s entirety. Surprisingly, Satoru shuts his mouth. “If taking on partnered assignments is what gets me through the rest of my time here, I’ll do it,” She explains, and she watches as his forced smile begins to crumple with disappointment. “Besides, it’s good for Nanami to get the experience too, yeah?” She muses, but Satoru’s expression doesn’t flinch. He doesn’t even blink. “I have to fall somewhere in between being a good sorcerer and being a good upperclassman, too”

“You’re already doing that,” He points out, almost rudely, but his adamance makes her heart stutter. “You’re a Special Grade, and you already train and tutor the others, what more could possibly be asked of you?”

His upset is evident in his features, but the creases of his frown and pinched brows only deepen when (y/n) lets out a soft laugh. It’s quiet, but genuine nonetheless. She couldn’t help but find comfort and amusement in his determination.

“Sorry,” She murmurs when she realizes her laughter only fueled his irritation. “I’m just amazed that Gojo Satoru is so worried about my reputation”

“I’m not- (y/n), it’s about more than- ugh,” He huffs after he stumbles too much and loses sight of what he was really trying to say. This time, (y/n) stifles her laughter behind sealed lips, but the slight movement in her shoulders still gives her away. Satoru turns away again, his face growing warm as he finally mumbles in defeat, “I just don’t want them taking advantage of you, too”

(y/n’s) smiling at him, although he can only sort of tell with his peripheral vision. She leans forward and tilts her head, trying to get him to turn towards her again, but he refuses. He can’t have her seeing the creeping blush on his face, after all.

“Thank you, Satoru” She tells him, and it’s the first time she’s called him by his forename alone- she tended to call him Gojo Satoru just to spite him- but hearing it now, spoken in such a small but genuine voice, it has him giving in and looking over at her so quickly it’s almost embarrassing to give her such a noticeable reaction. His eyes are wide and his mouth is snapped shut, worried it’d go completely dry if he left it open.

Gojo Satoru is fairly certain he’s never experienced what falling in love felt like, but he’d never tried to seek it out, either. He was content with his life, he felt as though he checked all the right boxes, with being born the strongest sorcerer, having the greatest friends in the world, he’d never really considered what having more would look like.

Right now, it looked like (y/e/c) eyes and a shy smile.

As suspected, his mouth goes dry when he opens it.

“You’re… welcome” He answers slowly, and it’s a bit awkward but (y/n) doesn’t point it out. She simply leans back on her arms again and turns her attention back towards the stars.

In a few minutes she’d strike up conversation again and they’d spend the rest of their night chatting aimlessly about nothing special in particular, but neither one wanted to be the first to alert the other of the time. So they’d sit there until the sunrise would peek over the horizon, and slowly, but eventually, they’d sneak back into the building with tired goodbyes and plans to meet up with their friends during lunch like they always did.

Everything was exactly as it always was. But it was undeniably different.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru scoffs when Shoko tells him about a party she’d been invited to by a non-sorcerer she and (y/n) ran into while in town. A non-sorcerer party sounds like the perfect way to waste an evening. Although he won’t admit he feels relief that neither one of them actually planned on going, and he knows that (y/n) already tucked herself in her room for the night.

She’s probably studying, he thinks to himself fondly. It was a friday night, sure, she should be doing something fun with her evening, but he’d much rather have her here than out doing who knows what at some lame party.

“He was cute too, can’t believe she turned him down,”

That little comment had him snapping back into conversation- he might’ve tuned Shoko out a bit when she started going on about the cashier giving her a hard time over her less-than-authentic ID for her smokes- but now all of his senses were tuned back into what she was saying.

Shoko rolls her eyes when his head swivels at super human speed. She’s not offended that he’d so clearly been ignoring her, not when it’s so amusing that she brought him back to earth the only way she knew how- by praying on his jealousy and pride. Oldest trick in the book, she smirked to herself. She and Suguru had mastered this trick ages ago.

“Wonder why she’d do such a thing” She mutters in mock curiosity, before pulling out her new pack of cigarettes and sticking one between her lips. Satoru narrows his eyes at her, picking up on the lack of subtlety. It wasn’t often that he did so.

“You’re blaming me for (y/n) not being interested in some random non-sorcerer?” He laughs humorlessly at the notion, and Shoko mirrors it with a laugh of absolute humor.

“She’s your most favorite Special Grade, isn’t she?” She muses, plucking the cigarette from her lips to exhale the smoke in her lungs before she presses him again. “If it weren’t for you, she’d be out living her life for once”

“You’re acting like I keep her from doing anything-”

“I’m not,” Shoko shrugs, her expression turning bored. “I was actually trying to insinuate that she’d rather hang around here getting in trouble with you than doing, I don’t know, normal things. Like parties. And… other things that happen at parties” She finishes with a smirk before she sticks the cigarette back in her mouth to puff some more.

Satoru flusters, not having a quick witted comment to come back at her with. His silence is just as damning, however, and Shoko begins to laugh again, plumes of smoke puffing out as she does so.

“She’s probably never even been to a party,” She says, as if talking to herself, but Satoru’s well aware that she’s just luring him into her trap.

Now, he’s not completely sure what that trap is, some sort of admission of guilt he assumes, but for what?

“She’d probably love the scene. Dancing, mingling. Non-sorcerers would love her for sure. She could do her whole ‘there is no god, only I control your fate’ thing, they’d eat that up”

“She said that one time-”

“Yeah, and it was badass,” Shoko cuts him off. “I got chills and I wasn’t even there,” She pulls up the sleeve of her jacket then, chuckling when she finds the little hairs on her arms standing up. “See? Chills”

Satoru swats her arm out of his face when she shoves it in front of him.

“What are you getting at? Are you asking me to take her? I don’t want to go to a party with a bunch of strangers whose collective idea of a good time is alcohol poisoning and shitty music”

“Harsh, Satoru, who’s got your panties in a bunch?”

He could teleport away right now, before Suguru even completely approaches the two of them, but isn’t it all the more damning if he turns and runs? He doesn’t make a decision before Suguru has joined them at their usual table in the courtyard. Shoko’s passing him a cigarette without any words exchanged.

“Guess” She speaks in monotone as she hands him her lighter.

“I’m leaving” Satoru finally decides, stuffing his hands in his pockets, surely about to stomp away. The other two snicker between one another.

“Awe c’mon, don’t be like that, Satoru” Suguru calls, but he doesn’t try to chase down his sulking friend.

“When ya get to (y/n’s) can you remind her she still has my spare jacket?” Shoko hollers, which is followed by the sound of her and Suguru bursting into a fit of laughter.

Satoru warps with a huff before they could continue obnoxiously yelling at his back. He barely wipes the scowl off his face before he’s knocking on the door he reappears at.

“It’s open!” Is called from inside, but he’s still cautious when he slides it open.

(y/n’s) at her desk, one earbud in her ear and one hanging in front of her. She’s surrounded by piles of books and papers, not to mention the highlighter in her hand and the pen tucked above her ear. She’d clearly been busy with her studies, but when she looks up to see who her visitor was, she picks up her iPod Shuffle and hits pause before she plucks the other bud out of her ear.

“What a surprise,” She greets him with a warm smile. “To see you actually using the door, that is,”

That cracks a smile on his unusually sour face, and (y/n) leans back in her chair, already forgetting the work in front of her as she takes him in. Her arms cross over her chest as her brow furrows just a little bit.

“What’s wrong?”

“Something has to be wrong for me to stop by?” He asks, leaning back into the doorway. “Can’t I just be a good friend and come say hi?”

She raises a brow at him.

“Hi” She says with a smile too sweet to be real, or at least he thinks.

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his own smile is more genuine than he’d like to admit.

“Hi,” He replies. (y/n) smiles a little wider. “Is this really your plan for the night?” He asks, wagging his finger in a circular motion at the pile of work she had before her.

“It was,” She claims. “But I have this odd feeling… like you’re about to drag me off…?” She can barely contain her delight, even as she presses her finger against her pursed lips in mock curiosity.

“Take you away from your studies? Who do you think I am, Special Grade? A bad influence?”

“And apparently a mind reader, too” She quips.

“Well… do you want me to drag you out of here or not?”

It’s only a dizzy spell from Satoru’s warping later that they find themselves in the middle of a neighborhood, in front of a house she doesn’t recognize. Needless to say, it was not a usual spot for them.

“A house party?” (y/n) furrows her brows at him, before glancing down at herself. She’d ditched her uniform jacket at least, but she was still in black slacks and her white tee shirt. “You couldn’t have told me to wear something different?”

Satoru frowns, before mirroring her actions. In the same pants and a black tee shirt himself, he takes offense to her insinuation.

“You don’t think I make this look good?” He pouts.

“I think we look like we’re in costumes- what are we doing here, anyways?” She asks.

“Shoko told me about it,” He says, before taking a step towards the house. “C’mon let’s go in”

Begrudgingly, she follows him, even though she’s still completely unsure of the whole thing.

“This is really what you wanted to do?” She asks, and Satoru doesn’t miss the way she stiffens when he lets himself into the house without even a knock. She supposes knocking or ringing the doorbell would have been pointless, seeing as the music playing inside was so loud the bass could be heard from the front yard, but it unsettles her nonetheless.

No, he thinks.

But what he says is; “Why not?” with that big dumb grin of his that tells her she should keep her guard up tonight.

It’s strange that she can trust him with her life while simultaneously not trusting him in the slightest at this moment.

The house party is picture perfect, captured like every movie scene depicting a house party ever. Countless bodies inhabiting the open living room, the staircase, and the few hallways she could see just from stepping through the door. It seems everyone’s either holding a plastic cup, a beer bottle, a cigarette, or some combination of the three. When they take a few steps in and she doesn’t feel any weird stares, her stomach starts to settle, but the voice in the back of her mind still whines that she should’ve at least changed into a pair of jeans.

Satoru’s not taking any of it in- at all. Despite his Six Eyes, he hardly notices the bustling of dancing bodies, or bodies trying to push through the crowd. The music is at just the right volume to ring in his ears in a way that will ache tomorrow, but he doesn’t register the melody enough to identify the song, and he doesn’t try, either. He’s far more charmed by the way (y/n) takes it all in with complete enamourment and intrigue than he could be by the scene itself.

The scene itself was unimpressive. A loud, smoky atmosphere that had his skin crawling before even attempting to walk through the crowd of people made him want to wince. He tried to keep his expression as neutral as he could, not wanting to take away from (y/n’s) experience, but when his eyes surveyed the place, they squinted with disgust. It was even starting to smell.

“What first, hm?” He turned towards her in an attempt to block out the setting they found themselves in. If only he could turn off his Six Eyes and tunnel vision completely on her. “Body shots? Dancing?”

(y/n) scoffs, but a humored smile curls on her lips as she meets his gaze.

“How about just a drink?”

“A shot?”

“One beer”

His grin twitches, before he gives her a nod and takes off into the crowd that had his Infinity flickering on instantaneously. Satoru’s got his sights set straight on the kitchen, it seems a little less crowded in there, and the array of coolers and bottles on the counter was the most appealing thing about this place.

(y/n) let her eyes wander every person they passed, taking in everything she could. Every smile, every laugh, every outfit and anything else there was to take note of. A few people noticed her curious staring, some waved, some seemed indifferent, some stared back, but nothing captured her attention quicker than Satoru tapping her on the shoulder once they’d reached the kitchen. He’s already holding a bottle out to her, and she takes it with a quiet thank you.

He takes it back from her moments later when she tries to unscrew the bottle cap. The grin she knows to be cautious of returns as he points a finger at it, thumb outstretched, and with a quiet zap the cap flies off. Surprisingly, he doesn’t completely shatter the bottle with his abundance of cursed energy, but the bottle cap does go flying, and they hear a distant ‘ow!’.

“I could’ve found a bottle opener” (y/n) tells him, but he knows she was at least a little bit impressed by his finite control over his technique.

“But ya already got one,” He quips with pride. She stifles her laugh by raising the bottle to her lips, taking a few long drinks. Satoru’s eyebrows almost raise to his hairline, a shocked laugh belting out of him when she finishes.

“I figured you’ve never had a drop to drink before” He says when she gives him a confused look.

“I haven’t” She confirms. Satoru keeps his mouth shut after that.

They spend a few hours at the house party, to both of their surprise. There’s some mingling, (y/n) seemed to enjoy meeting new people, and drunk people seemed to enjoy flocking to her. Girls thought her attire was badass, guys liked talking to a girl that talked back- at least until Satoru’s face would screw up enough that they’d leave. Other than a few offers of phone numbers, he couldn’t say he hated the whole party setting.

But his acceptance of the whole ordeal might have had less to do with the party being fun and more to do with the company he kept for the night. As much as (y/n) moved about to enjoy every aspect of the simple party, she had a habit of sticking as close to his side as possible. If she was walking away, her hand was latching onto his, or his elbow, to keep him moving with her. If they were surrounded in a tightly packed space, she was glued to his side, tucked under her arm and pressed against him from torso to leg. Satoru deducted that he’d never show up to one of these things alone, but if she asked him? Hell, he might agree without thinking twice.

“Hear me out- hear me out!” She doesn’t need to tell him twice, but she shouts when she repeats herself just to be sure that Satoru can hear her clearly. “I think we should throw our- our own party, back at- back at home”

It’s cute that she calls it home, he thinks. Logically, he knows it’s because she’s never really had a solid place to land before Yaga scouted her and took her in, but it still has a way of making his heart flutter with the idea of her involving him in her idea of home.

They’ve taken a break from chatting with strangers, to Satoru’s relief, and right now he had her attention all to himself. They were currently wallflowering in a corner between the hallway and the living room, a water bottle being passed between them, although he tried to keep it more in her hands than his, considering she out drank him rather quickly.

“I dunno, Suguru and Shoko aren’t really party animals,” He replies, earning a bubbly giggle from her, which he takes to mean she agrees. “I think you might just be enjoying yourself too much”

“No such thing,” She argues with a definitive shake of her head. “And don’t lie, you’re having fun, too!”

She’s shouting a bit again, and Satoru laughs. Shoko and Suguru wouldn’t believe him later when he tells them about how cute she was when she was tipsy and talkative. Oh well, he’d have to enjoy it for himself first hand. He already couldn’t get enough of it, of her eager attention. He’s so wrapped up in it he’s been leaning closer and closer each time she speaks. Until he’s practically hanging onto the corner of the wall, pressing closer to the side she’d been leaning against.

“I wouldn’t attribute that to this party” He scoffs, almost rudely as he glances at the remaining people.

There’s a couple making out on the couch, a circle forming at the bottom of the stairs with a bong being slowly passed around, a few people are passed out on open furniture, at least one person sleeping on the floor- and he can only imagine what’s going on upstairs.

When he looks back at her, her eyes are already focused on his. Round and full of pure delight, as if this had been the greatest night of her life. Satoru pushes his sunglasses on top of his head, revealing the slight squint in his gaze. (y/n) tilts her head curiously when she catches the furrow forming in his brows, too.

“What?” She asks him, still studying his puzzled expression. It’s a bit difficult, with his pretty eyes on display, her mind was a little one track at the moment and it was hard to focus on anything other than the perfect cerulean oceans.

“How come you never went out ‘n did this stuff before moving here?”

Her shoulders rise and fall unceremoniously.

“I guess cause no one ever dragged me into doing them. Teleporters were in short supply, too” She laughs at her own joke, and Satoru cracks a smile, reveling in her amusement.

“Well aren’t you in luck, then,” He hums, and he admits his insides are starting to feel doughy when he’s the object her soft gaze is so set on, and it’s probably about time to convince her to head home, but that would mean ruining her fun, and he can’t bring himself to do so just yet. “Did you get to have all the synthetically produced fun you wanted?” He teases, and she shrugs again, but this time the motion is gentler, more careful.

“I had a good time with you,” The reply is genuine, making it all the more hard hitting to his heart. Even his Infinity couldn’t protect him from that. Her eyes finally tear away from his, only to glance over the dwindling crowd of drunken bodies. “You sort of scared off all my kiss options though”

“Kiss options?” He repeats with a laugh, taking her comment for a joke. When she looks up at him again, he can tell in her deluded, drunken mind, she’d been absolutely serious. “You’re joking. You wanted to kiss one of these clowns?” He clicks his tongue in displeasure, but her expression doesn’t waver.

“It’s a bit late for it now. But I figured it was as good a time as any to get it out of the way,” She says, in that light but serious tone again, and now Satoru feels his heart dropping. “Oh well,” She sighs, leaning further into the wall, until her head rested against it. “Another time…”

“What, it’s on your bucket list to kiss some rando?” He teases half-heartedly.

Had she been trying to make a move on someone all night? Now Satoru’s mind was racing with thoughts that made his stomach twist into knots. Had he misread their entire evening? Had she been trying to ditch him? Was he the one clinging to her? Well, he’d clung a little bit, but it felt natural to wrap his arm around her waist and keep her close! His heart started hammering in his chest as the nasty feeling in his gut began to climb up his throat.

“No,” She says, laughing under her breath at the idea. “Just wanted to get the first one over with”

Gojo’s eyes widen almost comically, before he leans in and drops his voice to a whisper, as if to spare her any embarrassment.

“As in first kiss?” He mutters, eyes darting around just to be sure no one else could hear. (y/n’s) laughter bubbles at his dramatic display, and takes no offense to it at all, simply nodding her head.

“Yeah, as in first kiss,” She repeats with the same secretive act, before laughing again. “Don’t act all surprised now”

“Baby, I’m not acting,” The pet name falls off his tongue sarcastically, but he can’t deny it feels a bit too natural. “You’ve never kissed anyone?”

“Nope” She pops her lips and shakes her head.

“And of all places you wanted to kiss someone here?” He asks, his lips curling into a grimace as he recalled the candidates from earlier. The pickings weren’t exactly ripe.

“It was just a kiss,” She rolls her eyes at his reaction. “I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, Satoru, I just wanted to know what it was like. Figured it might come up organically in a party setting”

Satoru sticks his tongue out and gags.

“Absolutely not. Why didn’t you just say somethin’? I would’ve kissed ya”

“That doesn’t count” She shakes her head, and he narrows his eyes back at her.

“And why not?” He asks, clearly offended. “I’ll have you know I’m a great kisser!”

“Oh yeah? Your hand told you so?” (y/n) snickers, and Satoru’s pout noticeably worsens. “I don’t want a pity kiss, I want a real kiss. Y’know, so I can be good at it before it… really matters”

“It would be a real kiss, dummy, what difference does it make?” He’s not following her logic, and he can’t tell if it’s drunk (y/n) logic or if this had been on her mind all night.

She blinks at him, the humor in her features fading away the longer he stares back at her and she begins to realize he’s being serious. Her brows twitch, and her mouth opens but no words come out. What was she supposed to say? Yes, kiss me now!? It felt awkward to suddenly rush into it and accept his offer. But she also didn’t want to let the moment pass and regret it later.

“It won’t be weird,” Satoru purses his lips and shakes his head with as much nonchalance as he can muster. It’s as though he’s reading her mind, and the thought of taking him up on it makes her face feel warm. “Besides, I would be a bad friend letting you have a bad first kiss with some non-sorcerer that doesn’t know what he’s doing”

“You’d feel bad?” A small laugh escapes her as she teases him, tilting her chin up at him. Satoru nods his head from side to side with uncertain confirmation. “Okay then”

“Okay?” He repeats.

“Yeah”

“You’ll let me?”

It’s an odd way of phrasing it, she’ll let him kiss her, as if he was the one seeking it out in the first place. However Satoru was simply doing her a favor, wasn’t he? Helping her get the first one out of the way. He’d much rather he do it himself than let any of the idiots she met tonight get the chance. But that’s just because they weren’t worthy like he was, and that was a fair assessment, wasn’t it?

He swallows the lump in his throat with only a little difficulty before she nods back at him and gives him a hum of approval. She’ll actually let him.

When he doesn’t make a move, she tilts her head at him in confusion.

“Well?”

“Well come on,” He beckons her, before taking her by the hand and pulling her away from the wall they’d been hugging for the better part of an hour. “Can’t have it be in some stranger’s house, might as well get a better view than that, yeah?”

He grins at her as he half guides and half drags her outside. She’s a little lost on his logic, because it was just a kiss wasn’t it? Did the setting really matter? Although once they’re outside she has to admit the moon’s luminescence did provide a nicer atmosphere. A smile graces her face as she admires the sky, until Satoru stops them.

“Here’s good,” He decides, grinning back at her. “Got a speech planned? Anyone you want to thank?”

“Well, I never thought I’d make it this far,” She giggles as she goes along with the bit. “I suppose at the end of it all I only have myself to thank, really-”

“Ahem”

“Oh, and of course Gojo Satoru, for the wonderful opportunity,” She corrects, barely containing her laughter through her made-up speech. Satoru brightens, grinning from ear to ear at her delight. “I think that’s all I got”

He chuckles, before taking a step forward and closing the already small distance between them. Her breath hitches in her throat as reality sets in. She didn’t really think about actually kissing Satoru until he was close enough that his cologne wafted past her nose, and her eyes naturally fell to the pink curve of his lips.

“I’m not kissin’ you with your eyes open,” He laughs breathlessly, and her eyes briefly flicker up to his before she lets them shut. The heat in her face begins to spread down her neck as she holds her breath. “You need me to count down?” He asks, and he’s only partially joking.

“Just kiss me, ‘toru-”

He doesn’t need further assurance beyond her impatient little whine, so in one motion he slides hand around the back of her neck, pulling her forehead just as he dipped his head to meet her lips with his.

She’s frozen at first, unmoving under his soft mouth prodding against hers, but he expected as much. After two seconds, she slowly and carefully kisses him back, still nervous she’d do something wrong.

Her hands are planted firmly at her sides, and her eyes are squeezed shut, but she still cherishes every second of the simple kiss. How sweet his lips taste, how warm and welcoming they are, how much she’d like to stand there and kiss him for a few minutes more…

When she pulls away to catch her breath that she’d been holding in for far too long, Satoru’s hand lingers at the nape of her neck. His fingers twitch, indecisive in what to do next.

Kissing her again wasn’t the right move… was it?

“Thank you,” She tells him softly, her blush prominent on her face even in the dark. “Should we get going now?”

He could almost laugh at how quickly she moved on if it didn’t sting a little. He hides it behind a smile as he nods his head in agreement, getting ready to warp them back home.

“You could’ve thanked my hand in your speech too” He teases as she wraps her arms round one of his, mentally preparing for the dizzying effect of teleportation.

“Shut up” She giggles back before they disappear from the scene.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Satoru’s never turned down (y/n’s) company. He’s never wanted her to be away from him, and he’d never ask her to, either. There was no one whose presence he delighted in more than hers- and he was starting to really come to terms with what that meant.

“You should go to bed,” He tells her, for the third time tonight.

There was no reason for him to stay up on guard with him. He had surveillance covered while Suguru and Riko slept. There was no sense in (y/n) staying up all night and wasting away her energy. Not when she’d already done so last night, despite his protests then, too.

She’s sitting on the other end of the sofa, a small carton of ice cream in her hands that she was poking around in, trying to scoop out all of the brownie bits first. She looks like she hadn’t even heard him, but Satoru’s not falling for it.

“Seriously, (y/n), you need rest” He sighs, hoping tonight he’d get through to her.

She hums thoughtfully, her eyes focused on her snack, and Satoru throws his head back against the couch cushion in defeat.

“We could put a movie on, good way to pass time,” She suggests, completely ignoring his request. “I’ll even let you pick” She adds, shooting him a warm smile.

“You’re not gonna sleep, are you?” Satoru frowns when he turns his head to look at her. Her smile remains as she shakes her head.

“Nope,” She murmurs sweetly. “So you might as well pick something to watch”

She’d pulled this last night, too. Convincing him to hang out at the beach all night, swimming and stargazing. He adored her company, he really did, but she hadn’t slept a wink yesterday, and he couldn’t put her through 48 straight hours without it.

He knows she’s exhausted, her eyes were dull, and starting to get puffy from lack of rest. She did her best keeping up an energetic attitude, especially during the day when Suguru and Riko had still been awake, she’d fooled them almost too easily. But Satoru knew better. He knew her better.

“If I put a movie on will you at least lay down?”

Her eyes narrow at him, before she lowers her ice cream to her lap.

“Are you trying to trick me into falling asleep, Satoru?”

“I’m trying to make sure you’re not going to go delirious because you’re not sleeping a normal human amount-” He tries to argue but she interrupts him.

“You haven’t slept either, hypocrite,” She mutters the last part. “I’m resting enough just sitting around for the night, aren’t I?”

“No-”

“Pick the damn movie, Satoru”

He huffs, but for some reason he finds himself putting a random disc in the dvd player before he falls onto the sofa again. (y/n) remains at her end, slowly picking at her ice cream while the movie starts. Satoru doesn’t have the energy to argue with her- literally, he’s starting to get tired keeping his Infinity up like this- so he sits in silence and watches the tv. All he can do now is hope that she’ll get tired over time and maybe just pass out. She couldn’t keep it up forever, could she?

Two more movies later, Satoru worries he’d grossly underestimated her. It had been almost six hours- it was nearing four in the morning- and she still reluctantly had her eyes glued to the tv. He’d tried a few more times to convince her, but all he’d managed was to get her to share a blanket with him.

It hadn’t been enough. She settled under the fluffy blanket, right up against his side, and still it wasn’t enough coziness to lure her into sleep. He had to give her some credit for her stubbornness, that was for sure.

Around the 4:30 mark, he feels a weight pressing into his shoulder- well, against the Infinity, and he’s filled with so much hope he almost drops the barrier just to fully enjoy the feeling of her sleeping against him.

Then she alerts him that she’s still awake by speaking.

“Satoru,” It’s soft, so faint that he holds onto hope that she could still drift off. “If I do fall asleep, you’ll wake me up, won’t you?”

He chuckles, before sliding his arm around her back, making sure to tuck the blanket up to her shoulder before he settles his arm there, keeping her tucked in against him. He tells himself that this is all to make sure she’ll get some sleep- against her will or not- and that it had nothing to do with how his heart felt full when she snuggled a little deeper into his hold.

“You know I’m not gonna, Special Grade,” He murmurs back. She grumbles something inaudible, but he assumes it has something to do with the heavier droop of her head.

After a few minutes, he raises his hand from her shoulder, and slowly presses his fingers against her temple, easing her into a more comfortable position, until eventually he feels her slump completely as she gives in.

He lets their movie keep on rolling once she’s finally asleep against him, it at least held his attention enough to keep him awake. The hammering of his heart in his chest might’ve also kept his adrenaline kicking for long enough that it wouldn’t have mattered, though.

The following day, (y/n) gives him a few icy glares, just to remind him that she didn’t appreciate his cruel trick. Riko and Suguru share a few awkward glances as the two half fight and half joke about the whole thing. They try to remove themselves from the pair’s bantering as much as they can, unable to stand the levels of chemistry they carried into every room.

“Seriously Satoru, it’s going to make me sick,” Suguru mutters to his friend at one point, while (y/n) and Riko are busy wandering the shore for seashells, or something. “Make a move or don’t, but you’re driving the rest of us mad”

Satoru laughs, his eyes squinting against the sun even with his shades on. It was getting exhausting keeping them open, the amount of cursed energy it took to keep up Infinity and his Six Eyes had been giving him headaches all day, but he did his best to hide it.

“You’re just jealous that she likes me more” He says, even though Suguru doesn’t care in the slightest, and he even rolls his eyes to drive that point home.

“Well she’s not gonna like you forever if you keep up this dumb game,” He argues. “What kind of friends kiss and then don’t do anything about it?”

“I told you that in confidence” Satoru whines.

“You told me in the middle of the night right after it happened,” Suguru reminds him in a plain tone of voice. “Seriously, we all know she has feelings for you, so stop being a coward”

“Not a coward,’ Satoru mumbles, kicking at the sand. “We’re just… sorta in the middle of something here?” He tries to blame it on the assignment, but Suguru gives him a blank look.

“We’re at the beach,” He mutters. “She’s been staying up with you, too, so do it then, after the rest of us have gone to sleep” He points a finger at him for the last part, making sure it was crystal clear.

“I don’t know. Maybe” Satoru huffs, and starts to walk away before Suguru could drag the conversation on any longer.

He spends the rest of the afternoon and evening mulling it over. He’d known how he felt about her for quite some time now, before he’d even kissed her. The kiss was just the solidification that his feelings were real, and not some romanticized imagination his mind had drawn up. But he’d never felt love before, and he had no clue how to go about professing it.

He’s antsy when he and (y/n) find themselves on the beach again that night, long past sunset, long past when everyone else had gone to bed. They’re both seated on a towel to keep their clothes clear of sand, but with their feet digging into the soft grains it didn’t matter, the towel became a mess anyways.

“I don’t want you to stay up too late again,” He tells her, although it feels useless. “It’s just not good for you,” He looks over at her, taking in the darker circles under her eyes, the paleness in her features even after spending the day in the sun. “And it’s not worth it”

She gives him a bittersweet smile, her head tilting just slightly as she regards his worry.

“It is worth it,” She replies quietly. “I don’t want you to be alone out here,” She tells him, watching the way his expression falters and softens. “It’s just not good for you” She mimics him with a laugh for good measure, and he barely cracks a smile, but his worry is still evident.

“Well, when this assignment is over, can you promise to sleep for three days straight to make up for it?” He asks, and she thinks it over for a moment before nodding her head in agreement.

“I suppose,” She answers. “As long as you do, too,” She adds quickly, “Fair is fair”

Satoru rolls his eyes, but his smile is a little more genuine this time.

“Alright then, 72 hours of sleep it is,” He gives in. “But I’m holding you to that promise”

“I don’t break promises,” She tells him confidently, before a quietness settles between them again. Her gaze lingers on the low tide rolling in as she lets her mind wander, and before she knows it, she’s speaking up again. “I know you don’t think you need anyone looking out for you, Satoru,”

He looks at her right away, tired eyes widening at the sudden seriousness in her tone. She’s still watching the tide, completely captured by it, but he can tell she’s holding in more.

“But I… I worry about you,” She admits, dropping her head to stare at her lap. “I don’t want you to take on more than you can handle, I… I don’t want them to take advantage of you anymore,”

She swallows the lump in her throat before finally working up the courage to look over at him.

“I know that you’re the strongest, and it’s gonna happen but… but I can’t help this feeling like… I’m here too, you know? I can take things on too, assignments, or… this,” She gives him a weak smile, hoping he understands that her sentiment comes from a good place. “I care about you, you know?” She finishes in a whisper.

Satoru’s eyes shift in between hers as he takes it in. How ironic, that every reason she has for putting herself through hours without rest, were the exact reasons that he wanted her to get rest. The corner of his lips tugs into a small smile as he takes her in now, completely.

Her exhaustion is evident, but with the way she’s looking at him now, he doesn’t think he’s ever seen someone so beautiful.

He couldn’t take it anymore.

In an act of complete selfish desire, he leans over the space between them and plants his lips on hers. Her eyes widen at first, alarmed by the sudden kiss, and the fact that he’s dropped his Infinity in order to touch her at all, but as soon as the shock starts to wear off her eyes fall shut and she’s kissing him back with all the fervor that she wished she had the first time.

It’s another pleasant surprise when she reaches out and finds her fingertips bumping into his cheekbones, before her entire hands up his warm face and she’s pulling him closer to her, kissing him again- and then again some more.

Satoru’s balance is thrown off from the way he leans against her, but it’s nothing that can’t be fixed when he wraps his arms around the dip in her back and pulls her closer to him. She obliges with a soft sigh panted against his lips before they’re colliding again.

For all the passion he pours into it- for every ounce of need and impatience he feels, he kisses her slowly, each one lingering a little longer than the last, just to be sure he commits every detail of it to his memory, where it could be preserved in his perfection forever.

He doesn’t let go of her when they finally pull apart, and she doesn’t pull her hands away from his face, either. They keep each other close, as close as they can while still catching their breath.

Her eyes are wide when they meet his, confused and ecstatic all in one sweet expression that Satoru wants to add to his collection of memories. He smiles at her as his eyes wander her face leisurely.

“What was that for?” She murmurs, the pad of her thumb rubbing over the delicate curve of his cheekbone with nothing but fondness in her touch.

He chuckles, warm breath fanning over her lips.

Wasn’t it obvious?

“Because,”

His voice is a mere murmur, and for a moment she thinks that might be his entire answer. She wouldn’t put it past him, but there’s a look in his eyes that resembles longing, and she knows there must be more.

“I love you too”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ summer's in the air and baby, heaven's in your eyes // i'm your national anthem ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie a/n: i actually had a super rad cursed technique planned for reader but ended up not writing any scenes where she's using it so u WILL see it come up in another fic sometime

#gojo satoru #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #satoru x reader #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru imagine #satoru gojo imagine #jjk x reader #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader

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pucksandpower · 1 year ago

Text

Family Feud

Charles Leclerc x Verstappen!Reader

Summary: Max thinks it’s bad enough that his sister is dating his emotional support rival … but did they really have to rub salt in the wound by making him want to puke on national tv?

Warnings: 18+ content mildly implied

You take a deep breath as you walk onto the Family Feud stage, trying to calm the butterflies in your stomach. You never expected to be here, about to face off against your brother and his Red Bull Racing teammates in a battle of wits. But when Fred Vasseur talked to you about potentially doing an episode of the show for charity, you jumped at the chance.

Especially since it meant spending time with your boyfriend.

You glance over at Charles and he winks at you, his smile making your heart flutter.

You could stare into each other’s eyes all day so you force yourself to look away and turn to face the host Steve Harvey as he introduces the teams.

“Welcome to Celebrity Family Feud!” Steve announces. “Today we’ve got two Formula 1 teams ready to compete. Let’s meet the teams!”

Steve starts with the Red Bull Racing team. “We’ve got Team Principal Christian Horner, Red Bull drivers Max Verstappen and Sergio Perez, and AlphaTauri drivers Daniel Ricciardo and Yuki Tsunoda!”

The crowd cheers as the guys wave. Max shifts awkwardly, clearly not comfortable being on stage. You stifle a laugh, knowing he would rather be anywhere than here right now.

“And the Scuderia Ferrari team,” Steve continues, “led by Team Principal Fred Vasseur, with drivers Charles Leclerc and Carlos Sainz, Chief Technical Officer Y/N Verstappen, and reserve driver Antonio Giovinazzi!”

You and your teammates greet the audience. As you pass Max, you ruffle his hair teasingly. “Ready to lose?”

He swats your hand away, rolling his eyes. “You wish.”

Steve explains the rules and then it’s time for the face-off. You and Charles step up to represent Ferrari while Daniel and Max come forward for Red Bull.

“Alright, we surveyed 100 people, top five answers are on the board,” Steve says. “Name something you do to get pumped up before a race.”

You ring the buzzer just before Max. “Listen to hype music!” You shout.

“Listen to hype music!” Steve repeats. “Let’s see if it’s up there!”

You hold your breath as the board flips, revealing your answer in the #2 spot. You and Charles high-five triumphantly.

“Alright, Red Bull, you can steal if you have a better answer,” Steve prompts.

Max thinks for a moment. “Visualize winning,” he tries.

“Good answer, good answer,” Steve nods. But it’s not there. You grin at Charles, knowing Ferrari has taken round one.

The game continues, both teams battling it out trying to guess the survey answers.

You and Charles can’t resist teasing your brother every chance you get.

“What might a Formula 1 driver do to unwind after a long race?” Steve asks next.

You buzz in with a sly smile. “Make love to their partner!”

Charles doubles over laughing as Max makes gagging noises, his face turning bright red.

“Wooowee, let’s see if our survey takers agree! Is making sweet sweet love to their partner on the board?” Steve chuckles. Unbelievably, it shows up as the #4 answer.

“Yes!” You shout, kissing Charles on the cheek. Max is shaking his head, looking like he wants to disappear. You blow him a taunting kiss, which just makes him cringe more.

“Red Bull, you gotta come back from this,” Steve says.

“Uhhh ... play video games,” Daniel guesses but the large red X that appears on the screen shows that Ferrari maintains the lead as you head into the final round.

“Alright, this is for the win. Ferrari just needs 9 points to end this right here,” Steve announces dramatically. “Name something you might find in an F1 driver’s motorhome.”

Charles rings in first. “Condoms!” He calls out, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

You laugh as Max lets out an anguished yell. “Stoooooop!”

“Survey says ... number three answer!” Steve announces. “Ferrari wins!”

Charles grabs you in a celebratory hug, spinning you around happily. You kiss him deeply, not caring that Max is fake vomiting behind you.

You break apart from your boyfriend, glancing back at Max still pretending to gag.

“Ugh get a room,” Max complains.

“Don’t worry, we plan to as soon as we get done with this,” you wink.

Max looks utterly disgusted as always.

“Alright folks, time for the Fast Money round!” Steve announces. “First up for Ferrari is Charles Leclerc!”

You blow Charles a flirty kiss as he takes the stage.

“Name something an F1 driver might eat before a race,” Steve begins.

Charles shoots you a shit-eating grin before winking at the camera. “Their beautiful girlfriend.”

You giggle as Max turns an unnatural shade of red alarmingly similar to your Ferrari branded shirt.

“Let’s see if the survey agrees!” Steve turns to the board.

No match but you don’t care.

Charles fires through the next few questions.

“Name something you’d pack for a race weekend.”

“Handcuffs,” he laughs at Steve’s scandalized expression.

You pretend to fan yourself while Max bangs his head against the podium in agony.

The buzzer sounds and Charles finishes strong. You give him a hug as you take the stage instead.

“Name something associated with F1,” Steve says.

“Fast cars and sexy drivers,” you reply with a wink towards Charles.

Charles blows you a kiss. Max looks ready to walk off stage or stab a mechanic with a fork.

You hope it’s the first option. One mechanic stabber in the family is more than enough, thank you very much.

You match Charles’ style, giving mostly normal answers until …

“Name something you pack for a weekend trip.”

You tap your chin playfully. “Lots and lots of lingerie.”

Charles whistles and cheers as you curtsy. Max is nearly crimson with embarrassment.

“And that’s the game!” Steve concludes. “Congratulations to Ferrari for their big win today on Celebrity Family Feud! $46,000 will be donated to Racing For Kids on your behalf.”

You leap into Charles arms, kissing him deeply. “That’s how it’s done, schatje!”

“We make an unstoppable team,” Charles smiles, dimples on full display, and you swear that some of the women in the audience swoon.

Max just shakes his head as he stomps to the exit. “You two need Jesus.”

But you’re too busy gazing adoringly at Charles to notice. Winning the show was fun but the real prize is having the love of your life by your side.

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hotties4gojo · 2 months ago

Note

Haha is this thing even on??? taps the mic and tugs on collar of shirt guuuulppp,, could… we get like head canons for characters favorite positions?? Specifically Toji. I like Toji.

nawt even playing with u rn but the second I read ‘specifically toji’ I was like sigh… thinking about kat… and then my eyes flick up and I read ur user and was like ????4&1&3& MYYY WIFEEEEE???? 70% of the time I see toji I think of youuuu icb like that’s literally ur man 😭😭 BUT OH MY GOD I YIPPEEDDDDDD HI WIFE I gotchu 😋🤍 i’ll do extra toji just for u

characters: satoru gojo, suguru geto, toji fushiguro, choso kamo, shoko ieiri, yuki tsukumo

content: most can be read as gn!reader but a few are afab!reader, fem!reader for the girls since they’re sapphics, oral sex, penetration, sex toys, the world’s briefest subtlest allusion to anal in toji’s, yada yada why list positions when they’re down below

18+, MDNI

satoru gojo:

• before I say anything… #weloveyousubmissivetopsatoru

• missionary is his second favorite position. trust. not only does he get to pin you down with his full weight so that he can feel eeeevery inch of your skin against his, look into your eyes, and push deep into you, but. BUT! you can also grab his hips/ass in this position and guide how he fucks you, taking control of the pace. this always gets this man WHIMPERINGGGG into your neck. smothers you in kisses the whole time

• his ultimate favorite is cowgirl though 😋 satoru needs you bouncing and moaning on it at all times 🙂‍↕️👆🏽 he loves just reclining back and watching you through hooded eyes, lashes batting against his cheeks and toes curling every time you drop back down

• bites his lips to stifle his loud ass noises but this position makes it easy for you to grab his jaw/chin and force his mouth open which gets him extra hot and bothered

• bonus points if you stick your fingers in his mouth… 👹 he loves that shit

• slaps and gropes and licks your tits like his life depends on it while you ride him into oblivion

• also loves lying between your legs so he can go down on you while he humps the mattress like a dog in heat 😇 satoru busts just like that

• if he’s pent up you get the naaaastiest backshots. fucks you like his life is on the line 😭😭 drools into the crook of your neck while slamming into you over and over again until you’re both cumming, stays inside of you until he’s hard again, and then goes for round 2, 3, 4… also satoru always keeps his full weight on you cos he wants to crawl beneath your skinnnn so you’re always like damn. I’m trapped here

suguru geto:

• prefers positions where he can look directly into your eyes and watch you fall apart. that’s his favorite body part of yours— since they’re windows to the soul and whatnot

• also cos the front of your body is his personal charcuterie board; suguru can play with your nipples, kiss you all over, lightly drag his nails down your stomach/sides and watch you shudder, play with whatever the hell is between your legs, etcetera. his Second favorite body part of yours is your thighs so he also likes stroking, squeezing, and kissing them

• also when you’re face to face you can pull his hair and he lets out the most seraphic grunts/whines… he has a sensitive scalp and he loves when you tug at his strands (but he’ll brood for days if you rip his hair out 🧌 be careful with his 40inch bussdown or he’ll end up on national news)

• missionary is a classic but he likes taking it a step further and folding you over like a lawn chair into a mating press. he fucks you dumb stupidly fast like this

• suguru’s also a fan of having sex when you’re both on your sides, either facing each other or spooning. he’s always the first one to wake up so he’ll sometimes just hold you, petting your hair and drinking you in. inevitably gets hard when you rub up on him in your sleep. he’ll wake you up with kisses and murmured words, then lazily fuck you on their sides… he looooves slow unhurried morning sex

• ride his face and he’ll propose 🤷🏽‍♀️ CALL YOUR PUSSY BRITISH WITH THE WAY HIS TONGUE IS INNITTTTTTTTT

Brief intermission oh my god I just killed the fattest spider and actually cried cos it was so terrifyinggggggg I had to take a 10 min break tjat was embarrassing

toji fushiguro:

• let’s unpack this list— doggystyle, prone bone, happy scissors (THE NAME?), wall sex, and reverse cowgirl

• not even gonna get into mating presses cos everybody and their mother knows he loves that. obviously. MY GOD AND TITTY FUCKING yeah yall already knowwwww you knowwwwwwww

• doggystyle and prone bone yup yup two of his go-to’s. BEND THAT ASS OVERRR LET THAT COOCHIE BREATHE SHAKE THAT ASS BITCH HANDS ON UR KNEES!!!

• toji’s an ass mannnn he needs to cop a feel while destroying ur 🐱 likes pressing down on your lower back with his palms and forcing your stomach flat against the bed to make you arch cos his bitch pose is nyaaaasty!!! get ready to wear turtlenecks after he gives you backshots cos his mouth mauls your shoulders and neck

• you guys are getting audio for the damn anal thing (it’s really not that explicit you’ll see) (it’s 5 seconds)

• happy scissors… still ctfu at the name. anyways toji basically just stands up while you’re on the bed on your back and he spreads your legs heeeella wide so he can watch how you spasm around his cock. likes watching every millisecond of you taking him 🙂‍↕️ says the nastiest detailed shit about what’s going on downstairs

• “wanna come shower with me babes?” “yeah something sinister is definitely afoot” “what’s that?” “oh nothing… omw 😁😟”

• and you’re right— cos showering together and scrubbing his hair while he closes his eyes like a content cat suddenly turns into him grabbing your goods. which then turns into him fucking you against the shower wall and he just grins while listening to the filthy noises echo off the walls

• sometimes when toji returns home and you give him his daily hug at the door, he just picks you up with one arm around your waist and pounds you against the wall/door until you start wondering what’ll break first— the surface you’re pressed against or your back 😭😭

• aside from doggystyle + prone bone this man is a fieeeend for reverse cowgirl. folds his arms beneath his head while watching you do splits on his dick without lifting a hand to help you… buuuut he does sometimes grab your hips and hammer up into you. may you survive the night 🙏🏽

• ik his ass is playing nba 2k on the dailyyyy on his beat up console!!! so reverse cowgirl lets him play while you ride him LMAOOOOHTKAJEND y’all either end up on the bed with him on his back, you in reverse cowgirl but you lay your stomach flat between his legs so he can peek over your head, or y’all end up on the couch like this so you can cockwarm him… plus you’re his personal set of bongos 🥺😇🌸🕊️🧚

choso kamo:

• this man is a sucker for any position where he gets to cling to you like a koala

• lotus position is his #1. instead of properly riding him, this position allows you to just grind against him and do like. all of the work. and since he’s the king of dry humping they do this clothed sometimes too

• choso turns into a whimpering mess that melts beneath you every time you two have sex like this, pretty brown eyes rolling back in his head while he squeezes you close in a hug… my shaylaaaaa 😭😭😭

• his second favorite position is having sex on their sides ESPECIALLY when y’all are spooning. he reaches around you to roll his nipples between his fingers. always grasps your jaw/chin and turns your head so that he can kiss you while rocking into you

• missionary is another go-to of his. loveslovesloves the intimacy of it, how he can pepper you in kisses, maintain eye-contact as he praises you, asks if he’s doing good, how you’re feeling, what you need. always guides your legs to wrap around him so that they can be impossibly closer

• satoru and suguru are the reigning champions of munching but best believe choso is on their heels! you’re breakfast lunch and DINNERRRRR he’ll do anything to get his mouth on you. megan thee stallion voice THAT AINT MY BAE HE REALLY MORE LIKE MY BIDET sorry. he doesn’t stop until you’ve cum all over his face and in his mouth multiple times

shoko ieiri:

• no matter what position it is she’s absolutely slaughtering your meow meow 1000

• ive written something about this before but mmmm shoko on top while they scissor and she smokes while intently watching you, those low eyes of her never missing a thing. usually lifts one of your legs or fully drapes it over her shoulder so that she can turn her head and mouth at your leg, squeezing the top of your thigh all the while

• if she’s doing paperwork at jujutsu high or at her desk at home, half the time you end up sitting on her lap so that she can finger you while getting her shit done. or shoko just lets you ride her thigh, occasionally bouncing her leg a bit to hear the way you hiccup as you squirm atop her. she’s addicted to having you on her lap

• shoko also looooves resting on her stomach, reading something or scrolling through her phone while you hover behind her and rub your cunt against her ass. she makes casual conversation or ignores you entirely cos my gawwwdddd she eats up the way you progressively get more and more desperate and needy cos it’s not enoughhh and you want attentionnnn. but something about grinding on her ass makes you cum every single time without fail. and that gets shoko going which is why they end up doing this often

• often guides you to sit between her thighs with your back to her chest so that one hand can reach around you to palm your tits while her free hand goes to town on your 🐱. uses toys like vibrators and dildos on you in this position too

• and speaking of toys… her strap game goes CRAAAAAZY. prefers fucking you like this in missionary, dropping her whole weight on you so that their tits press together. always sucks hickeys into your neck too

yuki tsukumo:

• CERTIFIED FREAK SEVEN DAYS A WEEEEEEK

• walk with me MOTORCYCLE SEX. does that count as a position Idk but I’m rolling with it anyways

• I need to write a fic about this SO. BAD. but she sometimes lets you drive her motorcycle so that you’re in front, and when they get back home and park, yuki’s instantly reaching around you to grab the handlebars and revs the engine. she kisses your nape and whispers teasing words into your ear as the two of you rock against the vibrating seat of the harley. grins like the cheshire cat when you cum in your pants… but she’s quick to follow

• you riding her strap in cowgirl or reverse cowgirl? OH SHES IN! you start internally singing LET ME SIT THIS AAAAASSSSSSS ON YOU from that one beyonce song as you lower yourself down onto the strap

• for a few minutes you’re under the impression that you’re in control, setting the pace as she drags her hands up and down your body and showers you in praise. that is until she grabs your hips and fucks up into your cunt and cheerily smiles as you instantly lose it

• yuki definitely switches positions a lot. she’ll either keep going like that or eventually flip them both over to peg the shitttt outta you. from there, there’s a 70% chance that she’ll pull out and maneuver you into doggystyle

• and speaking of being on top she also likes being on top when they scissor. guides you to lie down halfway on your side cos yuki is a tits And ass woman so she wants to see both jiggle as she grinds down against you. and yes she’s always grabbing and smacking both

• the queen of 69ing truly… she’s an eaterrrr she has the time of her life whenever you ride her face while you bury your face between her legs. yuki wants that cookie so effin baddddd 😭😭 she tends to accidentally break your concentration cos my gawd she is SLUUUURPING on that thang like it’s her last meal

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httpsserene · 2 months ago

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Hello hello! How are you?

I wanted to request a Yuki Tsunoda one-shot before you close your inbox.

I was thinking of a GN!Driver!Reader (if possible) and Yuki going out for a stroll after the Japanese GP in which the reader got P1. Yuki is showing them around, local places to dine and such... Seeing them be so interested in his ramblings he starts to realize some stuff and decides to act on it!

Please and thank you! Have a nice day! ☀️

𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 - 𝐲𝐭. 𝟐𝟐

summary: yuki's private tours include exclusive features, just for you. pairing: yuki tsunoda x gn!driver!reader (reader's race/ethnicity/appearance is not described but, they're bi-poc < 3)

2.7k words. oneshot & smau. yuki pov. fluff. feelings realization. pre-relationship. explicit language. alcohol consumption. flirtation. horny thoughts. author's never been to suzuka (or anywhere in japan) but did a little research for this. i apologize for anything that's incorrect or inaccurate :) requested by @anicega < 3

༊࿐ ⊹ ˚. serene returns with a yuki fic/smau she was hoping to post in celebration of him being promoted to RB...have this as consolation instead. belated happy holidays and happy new year, 2025 will be all you wish it to be x

title inspo from one direction's why don't we go there (miss u liam🕊️) they were my #3 artist of 2024 and i'm not ashamed to admit that. when i read this request for the first time i instantly thought of this song and it just had the vibe of realizing you're crushing on somebody.

in other news, my 3k followers celly will serve as my v-day special this year and will last the entire month of february (this is how u properly celebrate black history month) !!! so, trying to finish writing the last of my requests so i can focus on doing the 3k celly requests :) more fics and info coming soon but in the meantime, enjoy reading xxx

⌕ join taglist | requests & feedback | table of contents ↻

twitter • april 7th, 2024

Yuki watches your expression bloom with awe as you take in the endless sprawl of Sakura trees within Suzuka Flower Garden. Your hand grasps his forearm gently, tugging happily and exclaiming in delight as pink and white petals float through the sky. The flowers (while not as novel to him as they are to you; he’s seen many Sakura seasons growing up in Japan) make him feel nostalgic, memories of his youth—before F1, before karting—tingling somewhere at the back of his head. It feels like a lifetime ago.

Your mouth remains open in amazement until you end up sputtering around a mouthful of blossoms, and Yuki laughs.

“Take a picture of me, please?” Yuki accepts your phone, not complaining as you make him take hundreds of photos before you find two or three that you deem acceptable.

Yuki remains silent during your stroll underneath the trees. He allows you space to inhale the vanilla-like scent, to marvel at the image of graceful, falling petals. Every so often, the comfortable silence is interrupted by a passing fan sharing congratulations. They smile kindly while praising your first-place finish, but grin wildly while cheering for Yuki’s first home-race point.

“She sounded happier about your point than she did about my win,” you remarked, not offended or annoyed, but charmed.

Yuki denied the idea, but his pink cheeks undermined his credibility. The earlier silence is absent, but not missed as Yuki begins to explain the significance and traditions of cherry blossom season in Japan.

“The sakura is our national flower. It symbolizes Spring—the time of renewal, life and death, beauty and violence, the fleeting nature of life. The blossoms only last for two weeks, which tells us to appreciate what we have,” Yuki relays, recalling what he was taught in elementary school verbatim.

“We have cherry blossom parties,” he grins at your envious gasp, “—called hanami. The translation is ‘watching blossoms.’ It can be just a walk like we’re doing now, but we also have picnics under the trees with family, friends, and even colleagues. There is also something called yozakura, which is doing the same thing but at night. My middle school held a hanami every year.”

You come to an abrupt start, turning to look at him with pleading eyes, “Let’s do a yozakura! Can’t we have dinner here? I want to see the trees at night—it must be beautiful! ”

Sympathetically, Yuki frowns, “We don’t have enough time to have dinner here if you still want to make it to the shrine before it closes.” His resolve weakens at the growing pouty downturn of your lips, “…I guess, we can have a snack here before leaving.”

He lets you drag him to the closest takoyaki cart, pleased to see the vendor’s patience as you order in choppy Japanese. While the food is being prepared, Yuki tasks you with finding the perfect tree to sit underneath while he stays near the cart.

“The two of you make a cute couple,” the vendor comments, smiling adoringly.

Yuki chokes on his exhale.

The two of you are far from resembling anything near a couple. Or, at least, Yuki thinks so. He thinks of you as a close friend but, do you see him as a friend? What if you view him as a colleague, or worse: just another annoying, backfield, competitor? Banishing his spiraling thoughts, Yuki considers there is no need to correct the kind lady. She doesn’t seem to recognize him. And, if she did follow Formula One, she would know you two aren’t a couple.

“Arigato gozaimasu,” he utters after a beat, reaching for his wallet as she begins plating the snacks.

She refuses to accept payment, ushering him to grab the small plates, “You’ve earned this meal; for your point and their race win—it is free.”

Yuki nearly exhausts himself expressing his gratitude to the vendor as he thanks her and deeply bows. When he finds you sitting underneath the chosen tree, he realizes he forgot to correct her assumption about his relationship status. Instantly, he forgets again, as you reach toward him to tuck a blossom behind his ear with a smile.

“Kawaii, Yuki-chan~,” you tease, grabbing your takoyaki dish off his stunned-still hands.

“Shut the fuck up,” he flusters eventually, cheeks burning at the sounds of the word cute and his name leaving your mouth in quick succession. Even if the grammar is incorrect and it’s nothing more than a joke.

Yuki practically swallows his snack in one bite. He didn’t know he was terribly longing for authentic street food until his first bite. Not wanting to rush you to finish, he busies himself by searching for the most unblemished flower he can find on the ground.

Yuki waits for the perfect moment when you're distracted by brushing away the petals clinging to your clothing and tucks the near-perfect blossom he picked behind your ear.

“Now we match; kawaii desu~,” he chirps, his grin deceptively innocent. “Close your mouth, it would be a shame if you swallowed more petals.”

Yuki snorts at your offended gasp and dodges the soft punch you throw out as you both dispose of your trash and head back to the car.

The drive to Tsubaki Grand Shrine is filled with anecdotes about his childhood mischief on these very streets you're passing by and questions about shrine etiquette. He didn’t realize you were so concerned about acting respectfully in the temple until you forced him to quiz you on appropriate manners and the important steps. Your dedication to having the perfect etiquette makes him think you’re one of the kindest people he’s ever known. It’s characteristic of you to be mindful of different cultures and kind overall; the fact that you willingly chose to celebrate a win by letting Yuki show you around Suzuka is telling.

Yuki parks smoothly, and soothes your worries calmly, “You have no reason to panic. It sounds like you have it memorized—and if you forget anything, that’s what I’m here for. I would be a terrible tour guide if I let you fuck around and get cursed.”

With a healthy amount of side-eye, you quip, “I will write an extremely negative review and give you one star on Yelp. If you decide to fuck around, be ready to find out! Is this your intricate plan to get me cursed with bad luck so I don’t win another race this year?”

With an appalled expression, he earnestly denies, “If I had to pick any driver to win besides myself, I would pick you,” Yuki sees your eyes soften sweetly and he swallows nervously, needing to deflect the attention, “And, maybe Pierre. Only because he would be mad if he found out I chose you over him.”

The soft tinge of your stare remains even as you roll your eyes at him and giggle, “Of course! I could never compare to your lil’ boyfriend Pierre.”

He shrugs, the two of you exiting the car and making your way to the entrance. Feeling devious, he speaks loftily, “Hey. we both know there’s nothing little about Pierre.”

Yuki can admit he deserved to be deafened by your shriek of disgust. His ears continue to ring as you adamantly state that you don’t need any image of the Frenchman in your brain besides the view of his car shrinking away in your mirrors.

The distraction was effective, your earlier panic about proper manners is nowhere to be found as you confidently navigate purifying yourself at the chozuya, only looking toward Yuki once for reassurance. While you’re busy being awestruck by the architecture and natural beauty, Yuki carefully makes sure you don’t stray into the middle of the pathway and finds himself taking candid photos of you. He knows you’ll be disappointed that you forgot to take any, but he doesn’t want to interrupt your reverence. Hopefully, his idea of what makes a beautiful picture satisfies you. He pauses at the thought, wondering if it’s odd that you’re in the forefront of all the images.

You’ve always been attractive—photogenic, to him.

The two of you reach the shrine and Yuki lets you pay your respects first. He offers you a handful of coins to choose from, reminding you that the amount doesn’t matter, any coin will do. You decided on a 5-yen coin; Yuki’s certain you’re unaware of the belief about that coin increasing your chances of finding a significant other. Although, he is aware that it’s an urban legend. It doesn’t stop his chest from tightening when he thinks about you in a relationship, with somebody who isn’t him. He tosses a 5-yen coin in the offering box to match.

He doesn’t believe in the myth, but if there’s any chance it helps him get together with you he’ll take it.

Burning incense at the temple comes without any more romantic realizations. Buying omamori, on the other hand, has Yuki thinking that what he feels for you is more than a simple crush. He forces himself to not stare at your selections and focuses on his purchases. An en-musubi (for finding love) for himself, and he’s chosen two for you: kotsu-anzen (for safe driving—he thinks it’s a little ironic) and katsumori (for success and victory—he knows you don’t need it).

On the way to dinner, Yuki notices your shuin and asks needlessly, “Is that to remind you of visiting?”

He can feel your gaze as he watches the road in front of him, hearing you ponder over your response, “Of visiting the shrine with you? Yes. Um, I don’t know if this is weird but, I bought you a couple of omamori, if that’s okay?”

Your tone is bashful and when he spares a glance, you avoid eye contact, fiddling with the shuin anxiously.

Yuki sighs giddily, relieved, “It’s not weird because I bought you a couple too. We can exchange at the restaurant?”

He sees the shock on your face from the corner of his eye, as if you weren’t expecting him to do the same. It angers him slightly, his previous obliviousness. If you didn’t ask him to show you around tonight, he never would have been aware of his budding feelings for you, nor the feelings he thinks you already reciprocate.

You’re overwhelmed with the number of choices at the hole-in-the-wall sushi establishment Yuki chose for the night, eventually slamming the menu shut and asking him to order for you. He sits up straighter at the responsibility, rattling off the plates he’d like to the server, mindful of any preferences and dietary restrictions you have.

A flight of sake samples is brought to your table, and Yuki finds it fitting that you enjoy the sweetest flavor because it compliments you. The alcohol loosens the tension gathered in him, helping him maintain a semblance of a regular conversation while he refrains from thinking about the shape of your lips, your attentive shining eyes, the length of your neck, your inquisitive questions as he recalls his childhood, the dip of your waist—Yuki doesn’t take another sip after he feels his eyes straying. He’s enamored with your undivided attention and it makes him feel hotter than he was in Qatar last year.

He asks to see the omamori you’re gifting him before you can comment on the flush spanning from his cheeks down to his collar. Receiving kotsu-anzen (for road safety) and katsumori (for success and victory) from you only serves to make him redder. He thinks about asking for your hand in marriage when he reveals he’s bought you the same and your flush blooms to match his.

With impeccable timing, the server begins to deliver the endless amount of plates Yuki ordered and the moment passes without being addressed. He almost whimpered aloud when your eyes fluttered shut at your first bite of food, moaning appreciatively at the taste.

Desperate to distract his hindbrain, he stutters, “W-What was I talking about before?”

Yuki feels like you know what he’s trying to hide, your eyes omniscient. He spots the corner of your lips tilting upward into a smirk, but it vanishes before he can be sure and you remind him, “You were talking about beating Natori in Motegi to win the F4 title in 2018.”

The rest of the meal remains lighthearted, intrigued chatter flowing around bites of food as you compare and contrast your junior careers and hometowns. It carries to the final stop Yuki brings you tonight, Isozu Beach. The vast, dark ocean is bathed in moonlight, the salty breeze cooling the air, and the coastline is lit up with buildings. The sound of waves crashing against the shore melts away as the heart-to-heart you’re sharing becomes his sole importance. He’s holding both pairs of your shoes in one hand, listening to your occasional giggles as the tide slips high enough to wet your feet and tickle your ankles. Your lilted and somewhat slurred speech tells Yuki you’re tipsy, but you’re insistent on simply linking your arm with his to prevent yourself from stumbling as you continue to walk the length of the shoreline. The stroll resumes and you slowly lean more of your weight into him; your head nestled on his arm, hand wrapped around his bicep, and Yuki feels you shiver at the next wind gust.

Like a gentleman, Yuki pulls off his sweater and helps you into it when your arms prove to be too clumsy to manage on their own without ending up stuck. Briefly, he squeezes his eyes shut to regain his composure after you bury your nose into the collar of his sweater with a pleased hum.

“Okay,” he says, sounding strangled, “Let’s get you back to the hotel—you’re more drunk than I thought.”

He suffers quietly during the short trip to the hotel you're staying in. The way you’re humming quietly as you play with the hem of his sweater has his grip tightening around the steering wheel, stopping him from reaching for the handbrake to halt the car and leaning over the console to kiss the tiny grin on your lips. Yuki escorts you to your room door, making sure you arrive safely.

He takes the keycard from you and unlocks the door after you fail at your first few attempts.

The door clicks open and Yuki speaks, “This was…nice. It’s the best celebration I have had in a while. We should do it again, sometime.”

You smile shyly, agreeing quietly, “I think so too. Thank you for showing me around.”

Nervously, Yuki’s voice wavers, “But, next time, I want it to be a date.”

“I think…I think I would like that,” your small smile grows into an unrestrained grin, pupils wide with infatuation.

He exhales roughly, the tight pressure in his chest lightening as it sounds like you like him, want him, too, “W-wait—really?”

Yuki looks on as you hold onto the door for stability as relieved-sounding laughter overwhelms you. Your amusement quiets when you straighten up to meet his eyes once more, probably seeing how he’s honestly shocked at your returned feelings.

“Yuki, babe—” Oh. He’s going to sing in the shower when he gets back to his hotel room. “—I tucked a cherry blossom behind your ear and called you kawaii. I know the 5-yen coin has that myth about relationships, and I bought an en-musubi omamori for myself because it’s for finding love. Obviously, Yuki—I would like to fall in love with you.”

Lost for words, and with his mouth gaping, stunned, he says, “...You do?”

You’re kind enough to spare him with a roll of your eyes, “I do.”

“I bought the en-musubi, too,” he reveals for no other reason than not knowing what to say.

“I know, babe,” Yuki’s heartbeat skips, “I saw it in the bag during the drive back here.”

“When is your flight scheduled?” He asks suddenly, a plan beginning to form in his mind.

“Tomorrow morning?” Your brows are furrowed in confusion at the change in topic, glancing down at your phone screen to confirm, “—Or this morning, I suppose, since it’s the next day already.”

He swallows, eager again all of a sudden, “Is it too soon if I ask you to cancel your flight and spend the rest of the week here with me?”

instagram • yourinstagram

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yourinstagram missed my flight because i got lost in suzuka. not because i got hammered 👍🏽

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user1 when i put "two f1 drivers start dating e/o" on my 2024 bingo card, i meant for it to be lestappen… happy for you though haha...

user2 WHERE HAVE YOU BEEEEN ???!!!

user3 BEDS EMPTY 😡 user4 NO NOTE 😵‍💫 user5 CAR GONE 😫 user2 i was going quoting rihanna but this works too LMAO

danielricciardo well well well

yourinstagram are YOU doing well 🤨 danielricciardo i’m not the one who told their team that they needed to reschedule their flight bc of food poisoning yukitsunoda0511 it’s me! i’m food poisoning 😁🙋🏻‍♂️ user6 YUKIII PLS 😭😭😭

user7 no shot u missed your flight when u told your team to be ready for it on the radio 🤡

yourinstagram do as i say, not as i do—is the phrase, i believe :) user7 okayyy mother gothel since u know what's best 😝

oscarpiastri hey you never gave yuki his sweater back, in case you forgot 😀

yourinstagram oscar please stfu i’m never telling u anything again landonorris hey don’t speak to osc like that…he’s just a boy :( yourinstagram lando u can stfu too? tf ??? these hands are rated e for everyone 🤺 user8 the threat of violence almost distracted me from the sweater exchange…keyword being almost

user9 no post about the race win and no tag for yuki on the last photo…

-yourinstagram hey i won the suzuka gp in case anybody forgot :p -yukitsunoda0511 hey i’m in the last photo in case anybody didn’t know :3

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yukitsunoda0511 i do private tours 🇯🇵🍣⛩️🌸🌊🌖😚🥇

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pierregasly no point in asking who took that last photo 😏

yukitsunoda0511 your mom did pierregasly yuki please yukitsunoda0511 is what your mom said last night user10 your honor, my client pleads: boy best friends

user11 that’s a lotttt of emojis yuki-san

user12 he graduated from the charles leclerc school of emoji usage with honors 🧑🏻‍🎓 charles_leclerc i am a very good teacher 😊 user12 chuck legleg responded i can die happily now

yourinstagram do you have any tours available in shanghai next week?

yukitsunoda0511 there’s a spot open at a discounted price! yourinstagram how much will it cost me 🥴🤧 yukitsunoda0511 five or six kisses should cover it :) yourinstagram payment is on its way rn 🏎️💨💨💨 user13 this could have been a private whatsapp message… user14 going to say taylor swift sucks on twitter so death comes faster

visacashapprb when you tell your driver to have some decorum and he decorates his caption instead 🫠🫠🫠

user15 WAITTT WHY WAS THIS ACTUALLY A FUNNY JOKE💀💀😭 user16 when you tell your driver to score a point and he decides to score a date as well 🫠🫠🫠 pierregasly when you tell your driver to stop harassing pierre and he cyber bullies him instead 🫠🫠🫠

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hiraethwa · 7 months ago

Text

𓈒 𓏸 — ghost of you

dancing through our house with the ghost of you

pairing: kuroo x reader a/n: pls yell at me thank you <3 i was on my period when the idea was concocted, blame my period :) word count: 6.7k bonus: listen to playlist while reading

“all we have to do is lower the net.” nekomata sensei’s comment became words that shaped kuroo tetsuro’s past, present and future. words that ignited his love for volleyball and fueled his purpose.

kuroo tetsuro, whose entire life mission is to lower the net, his passion for volleyball being the driving force to make the sport accessible for all. kuroo tetsuro, who joined the japan volleyball association straight out of university, because he is certain of his purpose.

kuroo tetsuro, whose singular life mission is to lower the net—that is, until he met you, the official setter for japan’s national women’s volleyball team at the young age of 21.

at 24, kuroo had been in the jva sports promotional division for a few years now, having seen all sorts of players whether it be setters or spikers, liberos or middle blockers. but you, with your flawless setting form, the cunningness in your eyes and the cogs spinning behind them, and your utmost dedication to your spikers, you caught him by surprise.

his immediate thought was that your impeccable technique reminded him of kageyama. certainly, to say that would be an insult to who you are as a setter. after all, you are you and he is him. no two setters are the same.

kuroo might as well have fallen to his knees the moment he saw your seamless cross court set.

by the grace of some deity, kuroo tetsuro did not. he somehow managed to introduce himself to you without embarrassing himself when your team took a break, using his position with the jva as an excuse. apparently, it was something he did with all the new players for the national team—a complete lie that he came up with on the fly.

“kuroo tetsuro, kuroo-san.” he thinks he was a goner the moment he heard his name rolling off your tongue, the timbre of your voice dulcet yet firm, as he handed you his business card. he almost asked you to call him tetsuro, but he caught himself in time, cursing kenma for infecting him with his casual mannerisms.

since that day, kuroo started to find excuses to stop by the women’s volleyball practice more often, for case studies, he said. he learned that you started playing volleyball at 8, and that you wanted to be a setter because you hated digs, and you loved doing sets and coming up with strategies to mess with the opposing team’s minds.

thanks to the internet, he also learned that you are one of the most prominent, rising setters in the global volleyball scene, one of a handful of setters who has an unreadable setting form.

“i’m still not good at serving though,” you said to him one day, frowning. he opened his mouth to disagree, but one of the other players waved at you to get back to practice. you commented offhandedly, “anyway, yuki-senpai told me you are showing up a lot lately since i joined.”

you didn’t give him a chance to explain himself, however, dropping your towel on the bench and running back to the court. kuroo promised himself that he would ask you out the next time he sees you.

at least, that was what he told himself for the last three times he stopped by practice in the past two weeks.

“you know, i was under the impression that the jva office is in this building, but i recently found out that it’s actually two train stations away.” you took a swig of your pocari sweat, composing yourself for your next question. “is there a reason you seem to always be here, kuroo-san?”

that was the day kuroo folded, finally asking you out on a proper date. he somehow managed to get a reservation for two at 8pm at the up-and-coming omakase place in ginza by calling in a few favors.

you knocked the breath out of him when you exited the subway gates in a flowy summer dress. he almost forgot his own name as you walked up to him, a shy smile on your lips after locating him in the rush hour crowd.

to this day, he wonders how you did it—finding him, another suited office worker in the packed subway station.

to his disappointment, he found himself outside the restaurant after an uneventful dinner. the fine dining atmosphere provided little to no opening for any meaningful conversation, save for a few hushed whispers exchanged between the two of you.

looking at you, he wondered if you would give him a second chance. you, with stars in your eyes and a light blush across your cheeks, courtesy of the sake you drank.

probably not. kuroo tetsuro was too much of a coward to ask, for he prepared to bid you good night just as you opened your mouth to say something.

“i know a yakitori place not far from here, wanna go?” kuroo blinked, lifting his head to meet your eyes, surprise shining through his own.

a grin threatened to split his face. “with you? anywhere.”

you ended up bonding over meat skewers and beers in the cramped hole-in-the-wall yakitori bar frequented by salarymen after long days of work better than you did at the fancy omakase restaurant.

that night kuroo tetsuro learned that despite your star-studded status, you never learned to enjoy the luxury that came with it, preferring to keep to the familiar comforts of your university days.

“i know a really good onigiri place,” kuroo remarked at the end of the night, having ridden the train back to your place with you to ensure you get home safe and sound.

“oh? maybe i know where it is,” curiosity lined your eyes as you prattled off the top onigiri restaurants you have found in tokyo. “so, where is it, kuroo-san?”

“osaka,” kuroo grinned at you. he was taking a rather large gamble, asking you on a second date to a different city, but he had a feeling you would say yes.

you blinked, a smile growing at your lips, and without missing another beat, “i hear it’s only two hours away by shinkansen.”

just like that, kuroo met his match in you. he never stood a chance against you; one date quickly turned into two, into three, and many, many more.

it was a whirlwind romance across the eastern country full of stolen time shared with each other. a weekend in okinawa, only the two of you with the clear skies and the vast ocean. strolling through the streets of osaka, young and in love. meeting you in another city during your away games, proudly cheering your team on.

visiting the daigo-ji temple late fall in kyoto, making saisen, the customary money offering, with five-yen coins before bowing with pressed palms and offering your prayers. kuroo had stolen a glance at you in that short moment, finding himself hoping that the gods were listening to his prayers.

then a week later, when kuroo got on one knee just a few weeks shy of your one year anniversary, ring in hand, asking you to be his wife, you had said yes without hesitation. that day, he promised himself that you would not end up like his parents.

you got married in the middle of volleyball season, spurred on by the desire to have your wedding anniversary on the same date as your dating anniversary. it was an intimate event, only close family and friends were invited to the celebration of your love. you had both agreed that it was best to keep it quiet from the press to avoid any unwanted public attention—and pressure.

and so you exchanged your vows under an arch draped with dusk pink flowers of every type surrounded by the people who knew you best; to cherish and to hold the other always, and to remember love. tears of happiness were shed at the altar, a river merely from the two of you.

even with two left feet, you danced the night away with the love of your life, before the guests sent you off on your short honeymoon getaway to an onsen resort at fuji-san. only two people who were madly in love, basking in each other’s undivided attention before duty calls you back to tokyo.

and so kuroo tetsuro finds another purpose in life—you.

now, kuroo admits that it has been a while since he got time to have you to himself. both your work have been swallowing up your time since you got back from fuji-san almost a year ago, but you still managed to make time for each other, even if you are not going on dates.

he thinks he is a lucky man to have the honor of calling you his wife.

almost a whole year already, huh. kuroo makes a mental note to make a reservation at the restaurant where he proposed to you.

“kuroo-san, yoshida-san wants to see you.” ah, yes, work calls. the previous thought slips his mind by the time he leaves his boss’s office.

soon enough, the week rolls by.

kuroo knows that he fucked up when he finds 11 missed calls from you after he sent his client off. three hours ago, nine of them within the span of the first thirty minutes, and two final attempts two hours ago. his heart drops as his eyes land on the four digit date on his homescreen. he missed your anniversary dinner.

fuck. you don’t pick up on the first two calls. his heart thunders in his chest. he thinks he hears ringing in his ears that is not the dial tone, but finally, thankfully, you pick up on the third.

“sweetheart, i am so sorry—” he blurts, strings of apologies that fall naturally from his mouth as he begs for your forgiveness. “i’m on my way home, we can still go out to the yakitori place you love—”

“i’m not home.” silence stretches between the two of you as kuroo fumbles for his words. careful, he needs to be careful of his choice of words right now.

“where are you? c-can i come find you?” he stumbles over his words, his heart still pounding too fast. all he can think about is how much he fucked up.

kuroo holds his breath, praying to the gods to look kindly upon him as he waits for your answer. in all honesty, you have every right to tell him off right now, but he desperately hopes otherwise. “i’m at the training center.”

of course. why didn’t he think of it? whenever you are frustrated, you train and let yourself loose on the court. “wait for me, i’ll be there in 20.”

you are waiting in the lobby of the facility when he gets there, panting after running the four blocks over from the subway station. “y/n, sweetheart,” he almost knocks you over with the sheer intensity of his embrace, squeezing the air of your lungs.

“tetsuro, you’re late,” a frown mars your beautiful features once he releases you, and he finds himself smoothing over the knot between your eyebrows.

“i know, i am sorry, love.” he pulls you close, your chin resting on his shoulder. “will you let me make it up to you?”

there is a second of hesitation before you answer, “okay.” but kuroo misses the look of conflict that flashes across your face, distracted with dissuading his own fears that your marriage is safe, intact.

he vows to never let you go through that again. though it never comes to that.

it’s kageyama tobio that makes you realize something is wrong with your marriage.

kageyama tobio, the pinnacle of setters in men’s volleyball as introduced by your then boyfriend, whose contact was lighting up your phone, startled you as you attempted to make dinner.

shit, shit, shit. you forgot to tell him that you won’t be able to make your monthly practice meetup today, having sprained your ankle at the practice match against france a few days ago. well… sprained would be understating the bluish-purple color blossoming on your left foot.

you fumbled for your phone, picking up the call. “kageyama-san?” the slim device is balanced between your ear and shoulder as you try to flip the omelette. damn it, it’s burnt. “ah, sorry. i forgot to tell you that i won’t be able to make it to practice today.”

“it’s fine, kuroo-san. i was at your match on sunday. are you doing alright?” right, the match that tetsuro missed again because of something that came at work with his client. work that took precedence over his promise to you to attend the match.

“oh, that? i’m fine,” you absentmindedly reached for a plate a little too far to the left, causing you to put your weight on your left foot as you catch your balance. you muffled the cry rising from your throat, hoping it didn’t carry over the call.

“that didn’t sound like you are fine.” your hands are placed on the counter, holding yourself up as you steadied yourself on your right foot. your rapid heartbeat boomed in your ears, uneven breaths leaving your mouth in small pants as you realize you could have fallen and cracked your head open on the corner of the countertop. “send me your address, i’ll be over soon.”

fuck. you felt pathetic, unable to do mundane tasks that take little to no effort with two functional ankles. but this, this you could do. hunger forgotten, you slid down next to the stove, knees to your chest, and typed in your home address to the other setter.

the buzz of your doorbell startled you from doom scrolling social media a good 45 minutes later.

you scooted over the door on your knees, unlocking the front door for kageyama, mortifyingly realizing a second too late that you should have gotten to your foot to greet your guest.

“sorry, i just need to get up—” he wordlessly lent you a hand for support as you rose up on your good foot, helping you hobble over to the living room. “thanks.”

kageyama tobio frowned at you, displeasure etched into the lines of his forehead, eyes concentrated on your discolored ankle. “it looks worse than it feels.”

he did not trust your words, for he was squatting down in front of the couch to take a look at your injury. “then this shouldn’t hurt, right?” his finger reached out to poke your ankle.

“don’t—” you winced, eyes closed in anticipation of the pain that would follow. but there isn’t any, your eyes flying open to find kageyama staring back at you in disappointment.

“kuroo-san, you need to get this looked at. it looks serious.” reluctantly, you agreed with him, expressing your consent for him to call the team physician in to assess your condition.

watching kageyama step outside your home to make the call, you felt something akin to lightning cleaving your chest open, heart exposed and breaking as you realized how much you yearned for tetsuro to be the one here right now, fussing over you.

tetsuro had been surprised to find you still at home at 9am on a monday morning.

“i twisted my ankle.” you had stated, looking up from your book momentarily when you heard him shuffling out of the bedroom dressed for work. you appreciated the view, unable to recall the last time you saw him in a suit since your schedules rarely overlapped with yours starting early in the day, and his ending late at night.

“make sure to ice it, sweetheart.” he had commented distractedly, attention on his work tablet, kissing you on your forehead on his way out. it’s not that tetsuro doesn’t love you, he has just grown forgetful over time, complacent in your marriage.

it’s too bad that complacency kills, sniffing out the weaknesses in the foundation of your love, snaking its way into crevices in the bedrock of your marriage. and just like water, it erodes the strongest rock with persistence and time.

there were only two things you loved more than life itself. one being kuroo tetsuro, the other being volleyball. and if your marriage is falling apart… what if your stubbornness made your injury worse than it was? if you didn’t have volleyball, the one thing you could always fall back on, then what would you even live for?

suddenly the room felt too small, closing in around you. your breathing turned heavy, the air in your lungs no longer enough to supply life-bearing oxygen to your bloodstream.

“you’re going to be fine.” kageyama’s voice broke you away from your internal panic. lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even hear the front door close. he leaned against the wall in the hallway, jerking his chin at you. “what if this injury cost me the spot on the olympic roster? what if i can’t play in the olympics? what if my smallest misstep cost me everything? what if i can’t play volleyball ever again?”

“what are you—” he waved his hand, cutting you off mid sentence.

“that’s what you’re thinking, isn’t it?” kageyama shook his head at you. “but kuroo-san, you’re the best setter we have, and you’re strong. you’ll make it back.” his matter-of-fact statement left no room for argument.

still, your smile did not reach your eyes. tired, you were so tired. “thanks, kageyama-san.”

“eat. the food is getting cold.” you nodded, digging into the takeout kageyama brought with him—shiozake with rice, once again wishing that tetsuro was here instead of kageyama. you swallow your food forcefully, as if the thought of tetsuro being here and telling you that the salted salmon would be beneficial for your body repairing itself didn’t cause you to crumble.

the other setter pretended he didn’t see the tears gliding down your cheeks into your food, quietly keeping you company until the physician showed up.

the team physician diagnosed you with a grade 2 ankle sprain and prescribed you plenty of rest and burden off your ankle—basically the equivalent of a bed rest as a professional athlete. she also made sure to scold you for not taking it easy after your injury and not alerting her sooner before leaving.

“is kuroo-san going to be back soon?” kageyama asked, glancing at the clock that was ticking close to 9pm. the winter (almost spring) sun had disappeared down the horizon a long time ago, and you realized he meant your husband.

“do i look like an invalid, kageyama-san? i’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“duly noted, kuroo-san.” he smiled wryly at you. kageyama slipped his shoes on, opening his mouth to say something before deciding otherwise. the front door clicked shut behind him, leaving you with his parting words of “see you next month”.

next month. he said next month. the physician had anticipated your sprain to heal in four to six weeks, with the partial tearing of your ankle ligament. four weeks. you can give yourself that. you can work with that. just 28 days before you get back on the court where you lived and breathed. just one foot forward at a time.

but those thoughts flew out of your mind as tetsuro came home early. 10:09pm. that was early for your husband who sometimes came home in the middle of the night smelling like cigarettes and beer—or not at all, when he pulled all-nighters in his office.

tetsuro, whose tie is loosened and slightly crooked, examined your foot, a frown on his handsome face. tetsuro, who is cleaning up the mess of dishes in the sink, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, as he asked about your day.

tetsuro, who made you forget all your worries and troubles about your marriage, as he doted on you, making sure you had enough water in the glass on your nightstand and propping your ankle on a pillow.

tetsuro, who made an effort to be there for you in the following weeks, making breakfast before he goes to work, leaving lunch for you in the fridge and taking his work home by 6pm so he could make you dinner. tetsuro, who took some days to work from home in the beginning, taking care of you and holding you tightly in his arms when you revealed your fears about the upcoming olympics, wiping the tears that stained your face away as if they were never there.

you remembered why you fell in love with kuroo tetsuro.

you return to the court after five weeks at home, restlessness in your bones from the long period of inactivity. you know tetsuro felt it too, eager to dive back into his work after holding himself back the first few weeks to take care of you. that made the two of you.

after two weeks, you both agreed that you have recovered enough for him to return to the office full-time. by the fifth week, he has gone back to his former habit of staying at work into the late nights and early mornings.

you convinced yourself that your husband needed to catch up on the work that was on the backburner when he had to take care of you. reassured yourself that the lack of intimacy was due to your recovery and work taking its toll on your husband.

your marriage wasn’t falling apart before your eyes. right?

you first brought your worry up to him after a month rolled by, feeling relieved when he started coming home by dinner again, only to find him slipping back into his routine. so you do it again. and again.

and again.

but as more weeks fly by, the olympics on the horizon, his behavior unchanged despite your attempts at saving your marriage, you start to wonder if he remembered why he fell in love with you.

you can’t say that tetsuro never makes an effort. he does, although work seems to always be on the forefront of his mind, taking up whatever space is in his head.

“can i call you back, sweetheart? suzuki-san wants to speak to me about my proposal.” you presume suzuki-san is his boss, even though the name sounds unfamiliar to you.

“sure, but it’s just— honey, we barely see each other anymore.” it’s a slap to the face when you realize you’re speaking to the dial tone.

it feels as though each time you take a step forward to repair your relationship, you take two steps back. kuroo’s work always comes up on top. the better he gets at his job, the more in demand he becomes, the more projects with high visibility gets assigned to him, the more his passion for volleyball takes him away from you.

you are at the crossroads within yourself, each turn at odds with your beliefs, your wishes, your love for kuroo tetsuro. you never faulted him for being so devoted to his job. after all, are you not the same? how can you fault him for something you love about him?

assigning blame is not equivalent to feeling resentment, however. you hated the feeling of resentment towards kuroo with each missed date, with each broken promise, with each night of waking up to a cold bed. you were afraid of what awaits you at the end of the road.

you love kuroo tetsuro. that is a fact. you love yourself. that is also a fact.

so how can you ever make him choose between you and volleyball? you will not force that ultimatum upon him, not even knowing your own answer to it. but you love kuroo tetsuro, the same way you love volleyball. the same way he loves volleyball.

you decide you would rather be the villain in his story before you make him choose.

you love kuroo tetsuro. that is why you made your decision to leave with love in your heart before love turns to poison. after all, love and hate go hand in hand, and you are already walking the fine line between them.

you make an appointment with his secretary, smiling wistfully at her as you walk into his office. kuroo has climbed the ladder to a height you can no longer reach.

the cubicle that you used to drop by is now occupied by an unfamiliar face, where photos of the two of you once covered one entire wall. in contrast, his neat office is effectively devoid of all traces of your relationship, save for the ring on his finger.

“sweetheart?” he perks up at the sight of you before a frown appears on his handsome face. his bedhead still a constant feature of his. at least some things never change. “it’s great to see you, but i have a 2pm coming in soon.”

his comment should not hurt as much as it does. but of course it does, you still love kuroo desperately, you’re just not sure if that is enough anymore.

“kuroo, i’m your 2pm.”

“oh,” confusion flashes across his features for a quick second before it disappears. “well, what can i do for you, sweetheart?”

for all the different ways you have thought of this conversation going, all the different ways of easing into the topic, you can’t seem to find the words to break his heart.

right person, wrong time. you would be lying if you said you never thought of it. of what could have been if you met him later on in his career, when he has done all he wanted to do, when he has achieved what he set out for. would he have time for you then?

would it be the kuroo tetsuro you fell in love with?

that was the most difficult question you grappled with the past few weeks as you waited for your lawyer to draft the papers. would your relationship work out if you had met each other in your prime, perhaps a few years from now, when you have both reached the height of your careers? when the strenuous uphill battles of establishing yourselves in your fields are over?

perhaps. perhaps you could have settled down, the days of grinding far behind you. perhaps you could have had the happily ever after you both deserved.

answers that will forever evade you because in this timeline, in this universe, you met too early, too young. right person, wrong time.

you wordlessly hand him the brown packet of divorce papers. there are simply no words that would make this any easier.

“what are these—” he slumps in his chair, defeat written in his being. “divorce? sweetheart, isn’t this going too far? we can talk things out when i come home. i don’t have time right now.”

“kuroo, you haven’t had time in a long while. that is why i am filing for divorce.”

“we talked about this. i am busy now, but i will have time for us later. all the work i am doing is for our future. please, y/n.”

“but i don’t need your time later. i need it now, kuroo.” you grip the edge of his table tightly, knuckles turning white with force. and yet, tears still slip from your eyes. “sign the papers, tetsuro. just let me go.”

if you’re the one ending the marriage, why does it feel like your heart is ripped out of your chest?

kuroo has seen you cry a total of three times in your entire relationship. once when you got married. second when your maternal grandfather passed away. third when you hurt your ankle, unsure if you would be able to compete in the olympics. tears that shocked him to the core, because he knows you mean it.

minutes pass by without another word exchanged between you. stolen minutes that used to be full of laughter and hushed conversations.

you see it now, you think. the time that used to be carved out of your days for each other, whether it was a quick call or lunch, sharing downtime before bed watching some tv or simply cuddling and merely enjoying each other’s presence. you both used to do that, used to each other’s packed schedules. somewhere along the line, kuroo stopped.

you did too, not pushing him harder to give you more time sooner. you tried to play the role of an understanding wife and support his dreams until it was too late. to what end?

in the end, you both failed each other.

it was that realization that made you understand — you and kuroo tetsuro were doomed from the start. doomed by your love. doomed by the very thing that brought you together. two souls in the universe shooting in opposite trajectories, fated to cross paths for a brief moment in time before barreling onwards to your next destination, destined for loneliness.

but kuroo refused to give up without a fight. though you wondered if it was because he loved you or because he felt like he had to.

you went on dates every week and kuroo came home for dinner every night. he kissed you on your forehead every night before you turned on your side, two strangers sharing the same bed.

the two of you tiptoeing over the broken pieces of your marriage, choosing to turn a blind eye to the way your hands don’t seem to fit quite right. the chopsticks you made in a workshop to commemorate your anniversary warped in the dishwasher from disregard. the shape of your bodies no longer fitting together like two puzzle pieces, as if you have outgrown each other.

the cup of matcha on your side of the table has long since gone cold. you didn’t have the heart to remind your husband that you don’t like the grassy drink anymore, hadn’t in a while.

you see a husband who is desperately trying to save his marriage, but you also notice the lines in the corners of his eyes, the smiles that don't seem to reach his eyes no more. the cracks in his composure when he loses his temper.

his efforts felt forced, duty-bound. so were yours. it wasn’t until that understanding that you finally put a name to the reason you are still trying after months—you were both scared of losing the familiarity, the ghost of your past selves still fighting to hold onto what once was.

for three whole weeks during the olympics, you mull over the packet of papers that still sits untouched beneath your winter clothes in your bottom drawer of your shared apartment. by the time you fly home to japan, your mind is made.

this time though, you think kuroo saw it coming.

“can’t you see that i am trying my best here?” the shadows underneath his eyes remind you of a past that you cannot return to.

“sometimes our best is still too late.” kuroo y/n no longer sounds quite right coming off your tongue.

the evidence of your crumbling marriage lies bare in your absence. you could tell from the piles of project folders on your kitchen island that kuroo had been working himself to the bones while you were away, glad for the reprieve from splitting his focus between you and work.

“but i love you.”

“does the moon die every morning for the sun because that is all it knows or because it loves the sun?”

kuroo slumps next to you, face buried in his hands.

“don’t leave me, y/n.” his voice was broken and small.

“it’s okay, tetsuro. it’s okay to let me go. we had a good run. just because we couldn’t last didn’t mean we failed.” you let kuroo find comfort in your arms one last time, running your fingers through his black hair and rubbing his back tenderly. “it’s okay.”

and so he lets you go, his name scrawled on each dotted line on the damned papers.

by the end, you still loved kuroo tetsuro. you were just no longer in love with him. though strangely, it didn't hurt any less when you let the heavy door shut behind you, the key to what was once your home left on top of the shoe cabinet, your life packed in just two suitcases as you leave japan for good.

two years have passed since you filed the papers and changed your name back to oumae y/n, but you look just as beautiful as the day he laid his eyes on you, standing in front of him after the all stars game, the match he put together with his bare hands for japan’s monster generation. you are beautiful, and you are here. in person. right in front of him.

he wonders if he had died and gone to heaven because whatever gods are out there have listened to his prayers, and answered again.

kuroo thinks he should probably get on the ground, grovel on his knees and beg for you to take him back. he knows you wouldn’t though, you were always disciplined like that. but you never looked back, another thing he loved dearly about you.

you still looked at him like you see through him to the core of who he was, seemingly able to get a perfect read on people you meet.

“what?” you had woken up to kuroo admiring you in your sleep, the sun streaming in through the blinds hitting your face at just the right angle that kuroo thinks you might be an angel from heaven.

“nothing, just admiring how much of a gremlin you look like when sleeping.” your jaw had dropped open at kuroo’s audacity, causing him to cackle loudly as you smacked him with a pillow.

“careful now, don’t knock over the coffee,” kuroo stuck his tongue out at you childishly. you tucked your hair behind your ear, carefully lifting the coffee mug to your lips, white sheet gathered under your arms to cover your naked body.

though there is more depth behind your eyes now, more restraint written in your body language. and the coffee mug now sits untouched on the nightstand on your side of the bed, as if you’re still there in that apartment, laughing, dancing, waking up next to him if he closed his eyes and dreamed hard enough.

he racks his brain of the possible lines he could open the conversation with, ending up with a lame “did you enjoy the match, y/n?” y/n, not sweetheart, because he has long since lost the privilege to use that name when it came to you.

despite himself, and his knowing of you, he can’t help the small hope that flares to life within him at the sight of you. he knows that you have moved abroad to italy, joining aeroitalia smi roma since you went your separate ways. he still wakes up each morning, scouring news websites for anything about you, a habit he formed after he stopped waking up to a warmness on your side of the bed.

“kuroo,” you give him a polite smile, reminding him of the distance that now stretches miles between the two of you. kuroo, you called him kuroo. right, it has been a while since kuroo belonged to both of you. “it was an amazing match. all thanks to you, i am sure?”

it’s only natural that he can’t help the wide grin on his face, proud of his sweat and tears, his project that he spent years planning for to be perfect, working to establish faith and credibility before finally pitching it to the higher ups. time that he dedicated to work instead of his wife.

the stark reminder wipes the grin off his face, making him grow serious once more.

“tell me, how have you been? how’s italy treating you?”

“i’m doing well. italy is beautiful, you should visit someday.” he takes a step closer to you, but you make no move to distance yourself.

so he takes another step, hand outreached towards you. he missed you so much. he wonders if you did too. “i’m so sorry, y/n, i—”

but a voice behind him cuts him off, “kuroo-san, y/n.”

he wishes that he is mistaken in hearing the gentleness in the olympian setter’s voice when he said your name. just as he realizes whose number is on the jersey you are wearing.

kageyama tobio stands next to you, too close to just be friends. “everything good here?” kuroo wishes that he is mistaken in seeing the softness in kageyama’s eyes sweeping over you from head to toe to make sure you are alright.

“of course. go ahead, i will catch up to you.” the dark-haired setter cocks his head at you, a silent conversation passes between the two of you before he decides that he is satisfied with whatever it is you conveyed to him wordlessly and leaves the two of you alone.

kuroo stumbles over his thoughts, shock seeping into his system. you had moved on. with kageyama.

betrayal sears hot across his chest as he recalls kageyama calling him when you had injured your ankle, worry carrying over the line. he didn’t think much of it then, rushing home as soon as he could to take care of you.

even so, it was kageyama, practically a work colleague who noticed that your injury was much more serious than you let on. it was kageyama, who made sure a doctor saw to your injury, not kuroo, your husband. your ex-husband.

did whatever you had with kageyama start then?

kuroo shoves that awful thought down, deep within himself where it would never see the light of day. you would never do that to him. he forces the words out of his mouth, anything to keep his mind from ever going back to that. “kageyama, huh?”

“he is the better half of me.” the sincerity in your voice makes him envious of the setter. the word unfair crosses his thoughts, but he also banishes that. kuroo had a chance with you first. he built a whole life with you before he threw it all away.

he must not have shut out that repulsive thought as well as he thought because you sniff out the doubt in him as you always did. “ask me, kuroo.”

“when did you two…?” he does not dare to ask it outright, finding it offensive even on your behalf.

but somehow you know the question he is asking. “it happened in italy after i moved there.” the unspoken words relieving the heaviness on his chest. i didn’t cheat on you.

“are you happy?” he could not help but ask. you hadn’t seemed happy in the last few months of your marriage, you hadn’t been in a long time because of his negligence as your husband.

“yes, i am.” your reply is quick and firm.

“good.” because gods know that he was not a good husband to you. because you deserved the very best anyone had to offer. and if it was kageyama who could do that, not him, kuroo could live with that. what choice does he have but to live with the fact that he let you slip through his fingers by his own fault?

yet he could not help the words that tumble out of his lips. “do you think it could have been different if i—”

“don’t go down that path, kuroo, whatever answer you find at the end of it will not be kind to you. but to answer your question, i don’t think we were meant to be.”

right. the past should stay where it belongs. only, kuroo wishes that you weren’t the only one who fell out of love. why didn’t he remember sooner before it was too late?

silence falls between the two of you, but you must have decided that you are satisfied with whatever it is you see in him, bidding him goodbye one last time.

“take care, kuroo tetsuro.” it hits him your final words to him were the same as your first ones, his name slipping out in a dulcet whisper. only this time it carries a finality it didn’t used to.

kuroo tetsuro, whose entire life mission is to lower the net. he has achieved it—but at what cost?

tags: @tulip-room @bookskeepers a/n pt 2: notice how tetsuro slowly becomes kuroo and i oop—

complaint box askbox open

looking for more? browse the library

#haikyuu #hq angst #haikyuu angst #kuroo tetsuro angst #kuroo tetsuro #kuroo tetsuro x reader #hq kuroo #kuroo x reader #kuroo angst #kuroo tetsurou #kuroo tetsuro x y/n #hq #hiraethwa writes #angst #haikyuu kuroo

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saintslewis · 1 year ago

Text

❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐃 | 𝐅𝟏 ❞

pairing: f1 grid (not all) x black fem driver!reader

summary: in which reader takes the f1 pilots to experience her culture and the beautiful country that is South Africa.

warnings: south african slang, cussing, social media environment, mentions of food, borderline chaotic

saint’s team radio 🎀: you have no idea how excited i was to write this. i love my country so so much and to be able to share it with all of you is a blessing. thank you @exotic-iris13 for requesting this! side note, December is in summer so i hope i don’t confuse you! enjoy!

please like, comment and reblog! (i’m watching you)

fc: @/mbbaarrhliii on ig!

tags: @non-stop-imagines @perfecttrashface @mauvecherie-writes @purplelewlew @arshiyuh @yeea-nah @alika-4466 @louvrepool @sheluvsf1

imessage: THE OFFICE 🏎️

y/n: i just got my braids done losers

charlie w a ferrari: but the season’s over, we won’t see it :(

carlito: plus didn’t you already have them done last month?

landinhoooo: no guys december braids usually mean a vacation, so where are you going? 🤨

y/n: firstly, you know wayyyy too much about the braids thing 😭

honey badger: that was oddly specific i have to say, lan

yukibae: yeah that was weird

landinhoooo: wtv 🙄 where are you going, y/n!

y/n: my mother is requesting the presence of all of you so you’re all coming back home with me 🤭

carlito: mi vida, wouldn’t that be too soon? winter break just started

kika’s bf: also how would it work? accommodation, transport, all those things

y/n: are you saying no to an african mother?

lew <3: guys say yes, she’ll show up to your house and force you

alexander!: not to mention it’s summer that side (she kidnapped one of my cats, say yes)

princess george: okay, let’s say we all go. what is going to happen?

y/n: i’m just saying, you haven’t lived if you haven’t never experienced a South African summer

mad max: I don’t know, y/n. just please don’t guilt trip us

mickey schumi: i can already feel her frown from here

y/n: i was going to pay for everything but since none of you want to go, i’m saving money 🤭

landinho: wait

kika’s bf: wait hold on

charlie w a ferrari: why didn’t you say so in the first place?!

honey badger: now that you’ll be our sugar mommy, ofc we’ll all be there

princess george: that clears out so much

y/n: you guys are a bunch of IDIOTS

alexander!: there has to be a catch???

landinho: ALEX SHUT UP WE’RE GOING ON A FREE TRIP

carlito: we’ll even dance to that one music playlist of yours

y/n: all of you have to wear my merch next season and you’ll let me win two races back to back

mad max: now y/n-

y/n: uh oh! looks like max is paying for everything!

charlie w a ferrari: JUST SAY YES

mad max: okay, you’ll win two races and i’ll slow down

princess george: i just did some quick research and y/n, you’re seen as a national treasure??? and lewis is considered Nelson Mandela’s grandchild??

y/n: well, yes! don’t question my country, okay? 🫶🏽

yukibae: yes ma’am 🫡

oscahhh: i went for a run, what did i miss??

landinho: we’re going on a trip and y/n is paying 😝

honey badger: except max, he’s paying for his own things

mad max: i’m not??

y/n: three races and i’ll get you a new console

kika’s bf: CAN I HAVE ONE??

landinho: NOOO I NEED ONE, PLS Y/N

y/n: we all earn millions every race??? get it yourself????

kika’s bf: i’m going to tell kika you’re bullying me

y/n: she’s coming on the trip too along with all the other wags 🤭

yukibae: and where’s YOUR wag, y/n? 🤨

y/n: yuki shhh pls i’ll literally buy you an island

charlie w a ferrari: NUH UH YUKI TELL US

landinho: yuki what do you know

princess george: whoever isn’t y/n’s wag, say so RN

everyone: NOT ME

lew <3: damn

landinho: I KNEW ITTTTTT

honey badger: IT ALL MAKES SENSE NOW AHHH

alexander!: I HAVE TO GO TELL LILY

oscahhh: have you guys never seen them interact in the media pen? it’s like they’ve been married for 27 years

logang: and how do YOU know that

oscahhh: mate, you told me

y/n: 🙄

y/n: go pack for this trip before i shave your eyebrows 🫶🏽

y/n’s instagram story

seen by kehlani, ferrari and 34,282,722 others

“There’s no way you got cars for all of us.” George and everyone else really couldn’t believe that the lengths you went through to make this trip as perfect as you could. “Not to mention booking out the Four Seasons!” Carmen interjected, walking next to her boyfriend.

You watched as everyone filed into the Mercedes vans waiting for them on the airport runway where the large jet had landed. You couldn’t believe you got everyone to come to South Africa in the first place but guilt tripping them had worked a charm, complaining that you don’t have a home race and that your mom would be pissed.

Very easy to fool these guys.

The skies of Johannesburg weren’t all too clear but you could tell that it was summer. Deciding to rather catch up with everyone at the hotel a bit later, you used a private exit to the airport so that you could visit your mom and sister before anything else. Plus you knew a big deal would’ve been made if you had announced that you were coming home so posting will do for now.

“Bathong, where are your friends? I thought you’d all come here.” Your mother said whilst setting up the extremely long table in her backyard so you were sat on a pool chair just watching her.

bathong - more of an expression of confusion or shock

“It was going to look suspicious if i came here with all these people with the same vans following each other.” You replied. “I booked the Four Seasons, it should be big enough for all of us.”

“Oh okay, that’s fancy. So where’s your boyfriend?” Your mom asked with a grin on her face that earned a head shake from you.

“Ukuphi uLerai?” Where’s Lerai? (younger sister)

“Usaseskholeni. Unfuna ukuyomlanda?” Your mom replied. She’s still at school. Do you want to go fetch her?

“Yeah, i want to surprise her. So let me go and I’ll see you later when I drop her off.” You stood up, saying goodbyes to her as your mom went about what she doing.

Hopping in one of your various cars that you kept in your mother’s garages, you quickly texted your boyfriend when an idea popped in your head.

imessages!

y/n: do you want to cause a bit of chaos

lew <3: sigh

lew <3: what kind?

y/n: i’ll pick you up rn and we’re going to pick my sister up from school 😝

lew <3: should i be scared?

y/n: slightly, see you in a few 😚

To say you caused a bit of chaos would be an understatement. You hadn’t realised that your sister’s school was huge and this whole time, you forgot what you and your boyfriend did for a living. Picture this: a Lamborghini Urus parked outside where many high school kids are obsessed with it, you and Lewis stepping out to call your little sister, kids recognise you two, you apologise to your sister with ice cream.

You end the day off with lounging in the room with your boyfriend, laughing at the reactions of your fans to the news of you being in the country. You had planned this whole visit out, wanting everyone to get their rentals tomorrow morning then taking them everywhere.

yourusername

liked by pierregasly, bellahadid and 937,728 others

yourusername home 🇿🇦

view comments

user there’s no fucking way, YOU’RE BACK??

yourusername and i’m with my FRIENDS 🤭

youryoungersister a facetime would be nice next time 🧍🏽‍♀️

yourusername well, no!

landonorris y/n, what is a kota?

yourusername if you’re up for it, we can get some today

georgerussell okay but what IS it

yourusername DON’T WORRY

georgerussell I’M WORRIED

carlossainz55 you didn’t say it was going to be this hot

charles_leclerc she warned us mate 😭

danielricciardo btw max is still hanging out with that cat he found at breakfast

lilymhe i’m obsessed with this place, i never want to leave

francisca.cgomes you’re still in the hotel room 🫤

alexandrasaintmleux i just googled gold reef city, CAN WE GOOO PLS

alex_albon WHATS THAT

loganseargent IT’S AN AMUSEMENT PARK

user i just drove in the four seasons driveway, guys there are so many cars lined up for them 😭

user she comes to the country when i decide to LEAVE??

dbngogo stfu you’re back? 🥹 come to Konka 🫵🏽

landonorris WHAT’S THAT

dbngogo it’s a nightclub 🤭

sza CAN I JOIN Y’ALL

yourusername ofc bae

lewishamilton there’s a flower bouquet that says Mandela’s grandchild for me 🧍‍♂️

user oh fuck he knows the joke

georgerussell told you

f1 y/n bring back our drivers 😣

yourusername bring back kyalami then we’ll talk

user oop-

SOWETO

south western township

Not wanting to waste any time, Y/n scooped up her friends to visit her hometown, where she grew up and dreamed of this very moment.

The convoy of extremely expensive cars that sped through the route to Soweto had caught the attention of many people, including the news that announced your arrival.

Briefing the boys (and the girls) on their menu choices of your favourite foods, they all equally decided that they’ll start training when they get back home. With the food place being right across a park with a large parking lot, it was convenient for you.

Being the host for this whole trip, you went ahead and ordered for everyone, speaking through the hole in the wall to specify orders and paying a hefty price including drinks. You watched as all your friends climbed out of their respective cars, leaning and sitting on the hoods of the cars as they all bonded. The vibrant atmosphere of your home country made everything feel like summertime.

Getting help carrying all that food to the group, everyone took their orders and observed them. “So, amagwinya are fat cakes, they’re very filling. A Kota is a uncut loaf of bread with stuff inside like hot chips, sausages and other things that you can specify for your Kota.” You explained, everyone immediately digging in and their faces said it all.

“And for you, Lew, you can have the fat cakes and the hot chips. I have to say, you’ll be full for the entire day.” You turned to your boyfriend who gave you a kiss before trying the food.

Later that day, dinner at your mother’s was a success, everyone finishing their plates and sharing different stories under the Johannesburg stars.

The next day was filled with fun activities, hitting up the amusement park Gold Reef City then late night karting, the friendship between everyone was growing as smiles never left their faces.

a week later

yourusername

liked by patooward, mclaren and 3,728,912 others

yourusername south africa my baby, it’s been amazing 🇿🇦

view comments

landonorris take me back (we’re checking out of Four Seasons)

danielricciardo and what about your gf that you met? 🤨

landonorris she’s coming to the next race 🫡

maxverstappen33 three wins and that’s it

yourusername do you want me to tell on you to my mom?

maxverstappen33 no 😨

charles_leclerc i need another kota

alexandrasaintmleux we’re actually shaking for one right now

yourusername askies 🤣 sorry

loganseargent never thought i’d ever be an avid lover of amapiano

user what multiverse are we in that Logan, the most american person to ever exist, is saying this

user it’s the South Africa effect baby 😝🇿🇦

lewishamilton can we come here every winter break?

carlossainz55 can we please? all my joy is at Gold Reef City

alex_albon i just want her mother’s cooking again, changed my life

f1 y/n, what did you do to our drivers

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lilymhe someone gave me a painting of you and i will be hanging it in my home

francisca.cgomes to complete the shrine

landonorris to our Sugar Mother Y/n

yukitsunoda i got all the recipes, i’m ready

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oscarpiastri even your money looks so cool 😭

user if this is not the greatest representation of our country, i don’t know what it is

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tyla I LOVE YOU

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saint’s notes: ahhhhhh hope y’all enjoyed! mwah 😝 i tried but it feels sorta rushed?? idk, let me know

#saint writes #☆ ‧₊˚ saint’s media pen #f1 x black!reader #f1 imagines #f1 x you #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #f1 fic #formula one x black reader #x black reader #x black fem reader #black!reader #south africa with saint!#Spotify

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wethotcrazy · 4 months ago

Text

Parallel Lines

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Olympic Figure Skater! Reader

word count: 6638

i've had this marinating in my brain for a bit. i just think that racing and skating have such interesting juxtaposition so here it is.

Sagamihara always had a sleepy kind of charm, but Yuki and YN felt something else in the quiet mornings and late nights, the stillness only broken by the hum of dreams in motion. Growing up here meant routines and rituals, like early morning alarms and empty streets, the cold air pinching at their cheeks as they walked out to different but parallel paths.

They’d seen each other countless times over the years: two kids with big dreams crossing paths by chance, brushing against each other’s lives without ever truly touching. YN was always the girl with the figure skates slung over her shoulder, eyes bright and posture poised even at dawn. Yuki, in contrast, was the scrappy boy with an endless supply of karting posters and racing memorabilia, always dashing toward the next practice with the fierce focus of a kid who already knew his path.

When they passed each other, there was always a nod, a polite “Good morning” or “Good night,” exchanged in those shared spaces—two people who understood the solitude of dreams.

The first time Yuki saw her was on his way home after a long day at the track, dirt and oil streaked across his cheek. YN was on her way to the rink, her skates glittering in her hands, her hair pulled back in a tidy ponytail. She looked ready to take on the world, and he couldn’t help but admire that, even as he ducked his head slightly, embarrassed by his own disheveled state. She’d simply smiled, nodding in that small, knowing way, and gone on her way.

Yuki didn’t know it at the time, but that look—the look of someone fully consumed by a dream—was something he’d come to recognize again and again over the years.

As they grew older, they kept moving in the same direction: toward ambition, toward something beyond Sagamihara. But they’d drifted apart in other ways. Yuki’s weekends became filled with karting, and then, one day, with plans for Europe—his sights set on Formula 1. YN’s weekends were consumed by rink hours, the constant, punishing quest to perfect each routine, each jump, each spin. They still crossed paths, sometimes outside the ice rink or the train station, exchanging those same fleeting nods.

It was strange—Sagamihara wasn’t large, yet somehow, they’d managed to orbit each other like planets, moving along parallel paths that never seemed to converge.

One summer evening, just after dusk, they crossed paths again, older now, YN carrying a gym bag and wearing a jacket from the national team, Yuki carrying a helmet, his clothes scuffed from a day of karting. They stood there, paused on the quiet street, and he couldn’t help but break the usual silence.

“You’re still skating, then?”

She nodded, her eyes warm with a familiar determination. “And you’re still racing.”

“Planning to stop anytime soon?” he teased.

Her smile was small, but it held a kind of fierceness. “Not until I make it.”

“Same here.”

The weight of their dreams hung in the air between them, the invisible wall that had always been there but that they’d learned to accept. There wasn’t any need for explanation, just that shared understanding. They were alike, but separate, and they knew the sacrifices and loneliness that came with chasing something so big.

Years passed like that, each of them watching the other only in passing—Yuki catching glimpses of her in news clips, her routines sharpened with an artistry that almost seemed untouchable, while she’d see photos of him in magazines and on TV, headlines proclaiming his meteoric rise through the ranks of motorsport. Every success felt like a nod to each other, a reminder of the dreams that had been born back in Sagamihara.

One winter, when Yuki was back in Japan for the off-season, he found himself walking through their old neighborhood, a rare moment of quiet for him. Snow had settled on the streets, muffling the sounds of the city and creating that same early-morning hush that he remembered from childhood.

At the ice rink, he spotted her just coming off practice. She noticed him, her eyes widening a bit in surprise, then softening in recognition.

“Yuki,” she said, her voice warm in a way that held their shared history, even if they’d never shared much more than a nod. “You’re here.”

“Just for a bit. Off-season,” he replied, feeling that same familiar ease, as though they’d just picked up an old, comfortable habit.

They didn’t need to say much; that was the thing about two people who’d been chasing dreams their whole lives—they’d run out of words long ago. Instead, they sat side by side on the cold metal bench outside the rink, their breaths visible in the chilly air. For a moment, it felt as if they were kids again, those same two quiet strangers in the early hours of Sagamihara, bound by something unspoken but unmistakable.

“It’s weird, isn’t it?” Yuki murmured finally, glancing over at her. “How we’ve always been here, but never really…here.”

YN nodded, looking out at the snowy street, her skates resting by her side. “Maybe we’ll always be a little like that. Parallel. Just…passing each other.”

He let out a quiet laugh. “Maybe. But I think I’m okay with that.”

And in that moment, they both knew it was true. They’d never really needed each other to understand. Their connection was there, solid but silent, like the hum of the early morning streets of Sagamihara that had once seen them both grow and rise, side by side.

As Yuki settled into his off-season routine, blissfully unaware, an unexpected storm was brewing on the internet. It began when a fan account posted an old, grainy yearbook photo that seemed to have no apparent significance—just two kids from Sagamihara, tucked into a corner of the page. Yuki Tsunoda, grinning with that familiar spark in his eyes even at a young age, and right beside him, YN, with a shy, focused look that hinted at the grace she’d later bring to the rink.

The photo alone might have gone unnoticed. But within hours, more yearbook photos appeared, retweeted and reshared by fans who’d pieced together the fact that these two seemingly unrelated athletes had shared more than just a hometown.

One especially dedicated fan managed to dig up an old article from a Sagamihara newspaper, “The Rising Stars of Sagamihara,” a feature highlighting young, local talents. In it was a tiny column dedicated to a 10-year-old Yuki Tsunoda, “the lightning-fast karting prodigy,” and a paragraph further down, highlighting YN, “the local ice princess.” The two write-ups were paired with side-by-side photos: Yuki in a helmet, hands on his karting wheel with that mischievous grin, and YN in her skating attire, her posture proud and determined even at such a young age.

Fans started to piece it together: the fact that they’d grown up in the same neighborhood, gone to the same schools, and even shared the same early mornings and late nights, each in their own world yet strangely intertwined. And it wasn’t long before the discovery of an old, archived video from a local TV broadcast surfaced online—a brief segment from years ago that fans began to pass around excitedly.

In the clip, the young, wide-eyed Yuki stood outside his local karting track, excitedly describing his dream of one day becoming a Formula 1 driver. The interviewer had asked him, “What’s the best part of racing?” Yuki had grinned, eyes lighting up in a way that was still familiar to his fans today. “Going fast,” he’d said simply. “And getting better each time. I want to be the fastest in the world.”

The video then cut to the local ice rink, where a young YN was carefully lacing up her skates, so focused on the task that she barely noticed the camera. When the interviewer asked her what drove her to skate, she’d answered with quiet conviction, “I just love it. I want to make it to the Olympics someday. It’s…where I need to be.”

The segment was barely two minutes long, but it captured two kids with dreams that stretched far beyond Sagamihara, two kids who, even back then, had an uncanny sense of direction and drive. Fans, both of Yuki and of the Olympic skating world, couldn’t help but feel like they’d uncovered a rare glimpse into a shared story—two kids from the same neighborhood, their paths woven together by dreams, even if only in the way they passed each other.

Social media blew up with fan theories, speculating on how often their lives must have intersected, how many times they might have passed each other on their way to training. Photos surfaced, sent in by locals who had watched them both grow up in Sagamihara—some just vague, fleeting memories: “I remember seeing them both at the train station on winter mornings!” or “I used to watch Yuki at the track and YN at the rink. They were both so intense, so dedicated, even as kids.”

Yuki had been mostly offline during his break, enjoying a rare stretch of quiet, until one of his friends finally texted him about it. Amused, he clicked through the screenshots and articles, surprised by how far fans had gone to piece together these memories. He hadn’t even remembered half of them himself. One of the photos, an old class trip snapshot, brought a small smile to his face—YN and him standing near each other, neither of them smiling for the camera, both distracted, probably thinking about their next practice.

Meanwhile, YN caught wind of it from one of her friends, who sent her a link with a message: “Look! You’re practically trending!”

She’d laughed at first, scrolling through tweets and posts, memories flashing back like scenes from an old movie: her hurried mornings at the train station, those late-night practice sessions when she’d sometimes catch a glimpse of Yuki heading home from the karting track, their nods and polite hellos. She couldn’t help but feel a little nostalgic—she hadn’t realized how much those quiet moments had mattered to her, how they’d become part of the story of her dream.

One night, not long after, Yuki texted her.

“Have you seen the whole internet making us childhood rivals or something? Lol”

She smirked, fingers tapping quickly to reply.

“Or ‘childhood sweethearts,’ depending on who you ask.”

A few minutes later, her phone buzzed with his reply:

“They’re not totally wrong. Not the rivals part, anyway.”

She chuckled at that, surprised by the warmth the message brought. There was a comfort in knowing that he remembered those early days too, that those moments of passing each other had meant something, even if it had been unspoken.

“Maybe they’ll call us ‘parallel dreamers’ next,” she replied.

And as she lay back on her couch, scrolling through the old photos and shared memories, she realized something: maybe their paths had been parallel, and maybe they’d drifted apart in pursuit of those dreams, but Sagamihara had left its mark on both of them. It was their shared starting line, the place where they’d both learned to dream and to fight, even if their paths had rarely converged.

A few days later, Yuki was in Tokyo for a media event, and on an impulse, he texted her again.

“Coffee? For old times’ sake?”

When they met at a small, tucked-away café in the city, there was an ease between them, as if the years and distance hadn’t changed a thing. They laughed over the fan theories, traded stories about the yearbook photos and old video clips, and shared some of the strange, wonderful feeling of seeing their quiet little corner of Sagamihara suddenly brought to light.

“I always thought you were so intense back then,” Yuki teased, raising an eyebrow. “Every time I saw you, you looked like you were going into battle.”

“Look who’s talking, Mr. Formula 1,” she shot back, rolling her eyes. “I’d see you at the track, looking like you were in some kind of racing trance. You know, you used to scare me a little.”

He laughed, a sound that was so warm and familiar. “Guess we were both a little intense. Guess we still are.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching the bustling street outside, each of them thinking back to those early mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, to the unspoken connection that had somehow brought them back together, even in the vastness of their separate worlds.

“Do you ever miss it?” she asked quietly, her gaze softening. “Sagamihara, I mean. Those early days?”

He nodded, his expression wistful. “Sometimes. I think I miss the simplicity of it. The way it felt to just…dream.”

She looked at him, and in that moment, she felt the weight of all those years, of all the mornings and nights they’d shared in passing, two strangers who had never truly been strangers at all.

“Me too,” she said softly. And for the first time, it felt like they weren’t just passing by—they were here, in this moment, together.

The whole thing still felt surreal to YN. Figure skating had always been a quiet pursuit, one that seemed to exist in the background of mainstream attention—until the Winter Olympics came around, when suddenly, the whole world seemed to tune in. But this recent surge of attention felt different. It wasn’t just about her skating career anymore; it was as if her whole childhood was being reexamined through this strange, nostalgic lens. Fans couldn’t seem to get enough of the idea that she and Yuki had spent their earliest years unknowingly sharing the same road.

And, somehow, the more the fans uncovered, the more it actually brought her and Yuki together.

They began to message each other regularly, trading stories from their childhood that they hadn’t even realized they shared. YN would find herself laughing as she read Yuki’s late-night messages, recounting moments she’d almost forgotten—like the time they’d both been late for school on the same day because they’d each missed the early train, or the little neighborhood shop where they’d each spent their allowances on sports magazines and energy drinks, practically standing side-by-side without knowing it.

One evening, YN received a message from Yuki that included an old photo she had completely forgotten about. It was a group photo from a school field day, and there they were, standing a few feet apart in their gym uniforms, each of them looking off in different directions, probably already thinking about the next practice, the next goal. The caption he’d written was simple:

“Look at us, already daydreaming.”

She found herself smiling, typing back:

“I think we were both always somewhere else.”

To her surprise, Yuki replied almost immediately.

“Maybe we were just waiting to catch up.”

Something about that made her pause, her heart giving a small, unexpected flutter. She hadn’t expected this sudden closeness—hadn’t expected to find herself confiding in him so naturally, like they were picking up a conversation they’d started years ago but never quite finished.

The fans, meanwhile, were relentless. More photos and old stories kept surfacing, and every new discovery seemed to send the internet into a frenzy. Some old classmates even came forward with their own memories, adding to the charm of it all. One of the most popular was a story from a girl who remembered how Yuki and YN would always be the first ones out the school gates after the last bell, each headed in different directions, both of them racing the clock to get to their practices on time. “They looked like they were in some kind of secret competition,” the girl had written with a laugh. “They never even knew they were competing.”

The two of them found it all endlessly amusing, and they often texted each other late into the night, reminiscing and teasing each other about the memories fans kept unearthing.

Then one night, YN found herself scrolling through her messages with Yuki, reading back through the familiar exchanges that had slowly become part of her days. She felt a pang of nostalgia, and on a whim, she texted him:

“Hey, do you remember that old café near the train station? The one with the melon soda floats?”

He texted back almost instantly.

“The one where I spilled a whole soda on myself? Yeah, I remember. Want to meet up there?”

The next afternoon, they found themselves back in that cozy, faded café, sitting across from each other with melon soda floats, just like they had years ago. She watched as Yuki took a sip, and they both burst into laughter as he wrinkled his nose, clearly not used to the sweetness anymore.

“Wow, it tastes exactly the same,” he said, putting the glass down with a mock grimace. “How did we drink these all the time?”

YN laughed. “Guess we didn’t know any better.”

They sat there, talking easily about their childhood routines, each one of them filling in gaps in the other’s memories. Yuki told her about the hours he’d spent working on his kart at the local track, about the old man who used to stop by and offer him tips, and she found herself captivated, imagining the younger Yuki she’d only ever seen in glimpses.

She told him about the hours at the rink, practicing spins until her legs shook, the evenings when she’d watch the last of the sunlight filter through the windows and think about what it would feel like to one day skate for an audience that stretched far beyond Sagamihara.

As she talked, Yuki looked at her with a softness she hadn’t quite seen before. “I remember,” he said quietly, his voice tinged with a hint of awe. “I remember seeing you after practice, with your skates hanging over your shoulder. You always looked…so focused, like you were in a world of your own.”

She smiled, feeling a warmth blossom in her chest. “I always thought you looked like you were ready to take on the world.”

They sat there, a comfortable silence settling between them, and for a moment, it felt as if they were back in Sagamihara, just two kids chasing their dreams, both of them trying to make sense of a feeling they hadn’t quite had words for back then.

But this time, it was different. This time, they were here, and the world wasn’t pulling them in opposite directions.

That night, after they’d said their goodbyes and gone their separate ways, YN found herself thinking about Yuki long after she got home. She scrolled through her messages, re-reading the conversations they’d shared over the past few weeks, the memories they’d uncovered together, the fragments of their shared past that had slowly pulled them closer.

And as she lay in bed, her phone buzzed with one last message from him.

“Thanks for today. It was…good to be back. With you.”

She smiled, her heart warm with a quiet happiness she hadn’t quite felt before. She typed a quick reply:

“Good to be back, too. And hey—don’t forget, I beat you to practice every time back then.”

The next morning, as she headed to practice, she found herself smiling as she passed by familiar streets and old buildings. For the first time in a long time, she felt a kind of peace settle over her, a sense that maybe, just maybe, she’d finally found a piece of home in the most unexpected of places.

And perhaps, she thought with a quiet hope, this time their paths wouldn’t just cross—they might actually find themselves walking side by side, together.

At first, it was subtle, almost like a game of hide-and-seek played by two people who didn’t really want to hide. YN’s posts were usually quiet, focused on her routines, her performances, the ice rink early in the morning or late at night when it was empty and calm. But lately, fans had noticed a difference. There were little hints—a second coffee cup on the table, a shadow beside her in the mirror at the rink, a half-smile that seemed directed at someone just out of view.

And then, there was Yuki. His own fans, well-attuned to his habits, noticed he was a little more active online than usual, sharing bits and pieces of his days that were uncharacteristically… soft. He’d always had a down-to-earth presence, but now there was something more thoughtful to it—a kind of quiet happiness that seemed to radiate from even the simplest posts. A casual photo of him at a cafe would have a book next to his coffee, open to some obscure passage about ambition and the journey to reach it. In another post, he was on a quiet Tokyo street at dusk, the caption a single kanji: “帰” (home).

Most fans brushed it off as coincidence—until the first fan sighting happened. It was a quiet Tuesday, and Yuki and YN had snuck away to a tiny ramen shop tucked into one of the side streets of Tokyo, hoping to escape the city’s usual rush. They were deep in conversation, heads bent close together, laughing at some shared joke as they slurped noodles. Neither noticed the two fans a few tables over, both of whom sat in stunned silence, glancing at each other with wide eyes.

Photos surfaced on social media within hours. The fandom went into an instant, thrilled frenzy as fans dissected every detail—the relaxed way they seemed to sit together, the way Yuki had looked at her while she laughed, the unmistakable ease and familiarity that only came with years of shared history. And as more fans pieced together the clues that had been scattered across their social media, the internet’s interest in “the childhood rivals” reignited in a big way.

Some fans were quick to pull out old screenshots, examining the places YN had been posting about recently, pointing out landmarks that seemed to match up with places Yuki had been seen as well. Others dissected old interviews and clips, spotting the subtle changes in their expressions whenever their respective childhoods in Sagamihara were brought up. It was as if, now that fans knew what to look for, the hints were everywhere, woven quietly through both of their lives.

One day, YN’s manager pulled her aside, gently asking if she’d seen the fan reaction. She had, of course, though she’d tried not to look too closely, letting herself stay in the bubble of their quiet, everyday moments. But curiosity got the better of her, and that night, she found herself scrolling through post after post, watching fans piece together their shared past like some kind of romantic detective story.

There was one thread in particular that made her pause, an almost absurdly thorough breakdown of all the times YN and Yuki had likely crossed paths as kids. It included everything from their school schedules to their practice times, even a speculative timeline of when they might have seen each other at the train station.

One of the fans had written, “I think what I love most about this whole thing is that they were just… there, for each other, all those years. Even if they didn’t realize it. It’s like they were connected without ever needing to say anything.”

As she read, she found herself smiling, remembering those long, quiet mornings, those nods exchanged across empty streets. And when her phone buzzed with a new message from Yuki, she almost laughed at the timing.

“Guess they’re onto us, huh?”

She typed back, fingers moving almost without thinking.

“I think they like it. Us. All those years we kept passing each other.”

A few seconds later, his reply appeared.

“It’s kind of nice, actually. I didn’t know it’d mean this much to people.”

“To me, either,” she replied, pausing, feeling the weight of those words. “But I think they see it now—how we’ve been part of each other’s lives, all this time. Even if it was just little things.”

And that was the heart of it, wasn’t it? She’d grown up knowing his silhouette from across the street, his familiar nod, the way he’d look at her with a small, tired smile after a long day, as if they were acknowledging the quiet cost of their dreams. Those small gestures had added up, building something she hadn’t fully realized until now.

A few weeks later, when the off-season was almost over, Yuki suggested they meet at the old track in Sagamihara. She was surprised—after all, they’d both moved on, their worlds much larger than they’d been as kids, but something about the idea felt perfect.

When she arrived, Yuki was already there, leaning against a guardrail with a nostalgic grin on his face. The track was empty, just as it had been in their childhood, and he waved her over, his smile widening as she approached.

“Welcome back,” he said, his voice soft, filled with a quiet happiness she’d grown to recognize.

They walked around the track, sharing stories from their childhood that felt both old and new. Yuki told her about his first time racing there, how he’d stayed up all night the day before, too excited to sleep. She laughed, admitting she’d once done the same thing before her first competition, spending the entire night pacing around her room, practicing jumps she’d already perfected a hundred times.

They ended up sitting side by side in the stands, looking out at the track, lost in memories. After a while, YN spoke up, her voice barely a whisper.

“Do you ever wonder what it would’ve been like if we’d actually been friends back then?”

Yuki tilted his head, considering her question. “Maybe we were, in a way. I mean, we were there for each other, right? Even if we didn’t talk much.”

“Yeah,” she said, her voice thoughtful. “I think we were, too.”

He looked over at her, a gentle warmth in his eyes. “Well, we’ve got all the time in the world to catch up now.”

The simplicity of his words settled over her, filling a space she hadn’t realized was empty. She smiled, reaching out to lightly nudge his shoulder. “Guess we do.”

The fans, of course, noticed the Sagamihara track photo she posted later that night—a wide shot of the track at dusk, golden sunlight pooling over the asphalt. No sign of Yuki in the frame, no hints in her caption, just a simple line: “Sometimes, going back means moving forward.”

But to her, it felt like a quiet declaration—a way of honoring the years they’d spent running toward their dreams, passing each other like strangers on a shared road. And even if the whole world knew about them now, it didn’t change the fact that this was, at its heart, theirs alone: two kids from Sagamihara, two dreams that had always run parallel, finally side by side.

The end of the break came faster than either of them expected, and with it, a quiet sense of loss that lingered as Yuki prepared to leave for Europe. For years, leaving home had been easy, almost routine. But this time, Sagamihara felt different. It was as if his small hometown was charged with a new kind of energy—one that came from having someone there who felt like home in a way he hadn’t fully expected.

But, even though they couldn’t be in the same place, Yuki and YN settled into a rhythm of staying close despite the distance. Texts flew back and forth, little jokes and stories from their days. The hours spent on FaceTime became a kind of ritual, each call bringing with it a familiar warmth and comfort that reminded them both of those shared streets and the quiet dreams of Sagamihara.

One evening, on a call, Yuki mentioned an idea that had been buzzing in his mind for a while.

“You should come to a race,” he said, his voice casual but his eyes bright. “I mean, if you’re interested. It’s not exactly like a skating competition, but… it’s something you’ve got to experience live.”

Her face lit up on the screen. “Are you serious? I mean, I’ve watched some races since we started talking, but I’ve never seen it in person.”

He grinned. “Oh, it’s totally different live. The sound, the atmosphere… it’s like nothing else.” He paused, then added, “Besides, it’d mean we get to see each other again.”

It didn’t take long for her to say yes.

The day of the Grand Prix arrived, and as YN stepped into the bustling paddock, she was hit by a mix of excitement and nerves. She’d seen glimpses of this world through Yuki’s stories and posts, but nothing could have prepared her for the sheer intensity of it—the colors, the noise, the energy crackling through every inch of the place. There was a sense of purpose everywhere, a buzzing energy that felt so different from the serene calm of an ice rink but somehow familiar, too. It was the feeling of athletes chasing something, pouring themselves into every detail, every second, every breath.

And then, there he was. Yuki spotted her from across the paddock, weaving through the crowd with a wide grin, looking more animated than she’d ever seen him. They met with an easy hug, as if no time had passed since they’d last seen each other. She couldn’t help but laugh, taking in his racing suit, his excitement radiating off him in waves.

“It’s even crazier in person,” she said, glancing around, trying to absorb everything at once. “I didn’t know it would be like this.”

He laughed, looking both proud and a little sheepish. “Yeah, it’s… it’s a lot. But you’ll get used to it. I wanted you to see it, though. This is… well, it’s my version of the rink, I guess.”

They walked through the paddock, with Yuki explaining everything from the intense setup behind each car to the team’s relentless preparation. She could see the pride in his eyes, the way he moved around his car with a sense of ownership, a reflection of the countless hours he’d spent on tracks, working toward this dream. And she could feel it—this was where he belonged, where every step and sacrifice from their childhood had led him.

He introduced her to a few members of his team, laughing as they teased him about finally bringing a friend to a race. She watched as he interacted with his team, realizing for the first time just how much responsibility he carried. The boy she remembered from Sagamihara had grown into someone steady and sharp, someone whose determination had molded him into a presence that filled the space around him.

When the race started, she was in awe. The sheer speed, the roar of the engines, the crowd’s cheers—all of it combined into a visceral thrill that went beyond anything she’d ever experienced. She found herself gripping the railing, watching Yuki’s car flash past, feeling every twist and turn like it was happening to her. She hadn’t expected to be so captivated, but here she was, heart pounding as if she were skating a program of her own.

After the race, when things quieted down, Yuki found her in the paddock again. He was exhausted, his face flushed, but his eyes sparkled with the high of it all. She threw her arms around him, feeling a surge of pride she hadn’t expected.

“That was incredible,” she said, still breathless from the excitement. “I didn’t know racing could feel like that.”

He grinned, a little bashful. “It’s different when you’re here, right?”

They spent the rest of the evening wandering through the emptying paddock, the buzz of the race still lingering in the air around them. As they walked, she told him about her own competitions—the nervous energy that would settle over her before she stepped onto the ice, the strange kind of stillness that would take over the rink just before she launched into her first jump.

And for a moment, they were just two kids from Sagamihara again, two dreamers who’d spent their lives working tirelessly toward something that felt bigger than themselves.

She looked over at him, her heart warming at the honesty in his expression. “I get that. I always felt the same way about skating. But I think… I think it makes a difference, knowing someone else understands it.”

They found a quiet spot near the track, sitting on a low wall overlooking the grandstands. The stadium lights cast long shadows over the empty space, and for a while, they just sat there, letting the silence fill the spaces between them. It was a kind of peace they hadn’t realized they’d been looking for.

“You know,” YN said, her voice soft, “when I was younger, I always wondered what it’d be like to actually talk to you. To know you, beyond just passing each other on the way to practice.”

Yuki looked over at her, his gaze steady. “Guess we’re finally getting that chance now.”

They sat in silence again, a comfortable warmth settling between them. And in that moment, with the empty track stretching out before them, they both felt it—the quiet realization that they’d found something here, something that had always been there, waiting for them to finally catch up.

As they sat there, Yuki reached out, a small, tentative movement that spoke volumes. She took his hand without hesitation, their fingers lacing together easily, naturally. It was a small gesture, one that felt both familiar and thrillingly new, like finding home in a place they’d both thought they’d left behind.

And in that quiet, empty paddock, with the echoes of the race still hanging in the air, they found a kind of peace they hadn’t known they were looking for—a sense that, no matter where their paths led, they’d always be able to find each other, side by side.

By now, Yuki and YN were inseparable, no matter how many miles lay between them. It was a connection that felt both effortless and profound, the sort of bond that didn’t need big declarations or elaborate plans to make sense. They’d found something in each other that went beyond their childhood familiarity and beyond the worlds of figure skating and racing—something that was uniquely theirs, a relationship that had grown quietly and steadily, almost as if it had been waiting for them all along.

Anyone who spent time with them could see it. Fans had a field day piecing together every time YN was spotted near a racetrack or every time Yuki happened to be in the audience at one of her competitions. There were moments when fans speculated wildly, building romantic theories out of mere glimpses, but Yuki and YN never fed into it. For them, what they had was too precious to make a spectacle of; this was theirs alone, and they were happy to keep it that way.

Friends and family saw it too, though their reaction was less of a surprise and more of a quiet understanding. For years, everyone who knew them had seen that glimmer of connection, the kind that didn’t fade with distance or time. Their friends laughed about it sometimes, joking that Sagamihara must have woven their destinies together before they even knew it themselves.

Even other drivers, those who saw Yuki at his best and his most vulnerable, couldn’t miss the subtle shift in him. There was a calmness to him now, a steadiness that came from having someone who understood the cost of his world, someone who’d been chasing dreams just as big. In the garage, Yuki would occasionally have a little grin on his face as he read a text, or he’d walk into the paddock with a quiet happiness that his team members hadn’t seen before.

“You’re different these days, you know?” one of the drivers remarked one afternoon, a teasing smile on his face as they sat together after a race. “You’ve got that… settled look. Like someone who finally knows where he’s going.”

Yuki didn’t deny it. Instead, he just shrugged with a slight smile. “Guess I do.”

And then, there were moments when they found themselves together in the same place, and it felt like the whole world disappeared. No matter how loud the roar of the crowd or how many people surrounded them, they had this ability to turn everything else into background noise.

One weekend, after one of Yuki’s races, they found themselves in a quiet corner of the paddock, hidden away from the bustling crowds. They had little moments like these, stolen pockets of time when the rest of the world felt a million miles away. YN leaned against the wall, watching Yuki as he recounted moments from the race, his eyes bright with excitement. She knew she’d never tire of seeing him like this, his passion shining through every word.

“It’s funny,” she said, smiling as he paused to catch his breath. “When we were kids, I’d see you after a long practice, and you’d look just as exhausted but never as happy.”

“Back then, we were both just pushing, you know?” he replied, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. “We were both fighting so hard to get somewhere, to make something of ourselves. I think we both forgot it could be this… good.”

She nodded, understanding completely. There was something different now—a balance, a kind of peace that came from knowing they’d reached the places they’d fought for, and that they had someone to share it with.

He reached out, his fingers finding hers, lacing together in a way that had come to feel so natural. “Do you ever think about how many times we must have passed each other? Back in Sagamihara, at the train station, or even just walking down the street?”

“Yeah,” she replied softly, a smile playing at her lips. “It’s like we were both so focused on our own paths that we didn’t even realize we were following the same one.”

They fell into a comfortable silence, simply enjoying the moment, their hands still intertwined. There was a quiet magic to these moments that no audience could ever see, a depth of understanding that went beyond words. In each other, they’d found a quiet kind of solace, a shared understanding that had blossomed into something more, something as vast and unshakable as the dreams they’d chased all their lives.

When she finally had to return to Tokyo, they shared a hug that lingered a little longer than usual, the unspoken promises between them clear. “I’ll see you soon,” he said, his voice soft but sure.

“Soon,” she echoed, knowing that, wherever they were in the world, they’d always have this unbreakable thread tying them back to each other.

As she walked away, he stood there for a moment, watching her go, a feeling of certainty settling over him. What they had was beyond the limitations of time zones and stadiums. It was something far bigger than Sagamihara, beyond racing circuits and skating rinks. It was something timeless, something that was just theirs, waiting patiently for them all these years.

And as Yuki turned to head back to the track, a quiet smile on his face, he knew that whatever twists and turns lay ahead, he’d always have this piece of home with him—something that had started long ago, on quiet mornings and late nights in Sagamihara, and had grown into something far more beautiful than he’d ever expected.

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doreminimi · 7 months ago

Text

an exposed love story | I.Y.

A/N: It's been a while since l've been in the writing scene but l've been wanting to go back into it for a while but didn't really have anyone in mind to write about. But recently, l've been quite hooked onto the olympics scene and a few of the athletes ended up catching my interest and so this short imagine is based off the person who caught my attention.

The story is a mix between my love for the k-pop (as I have done some writings from the past) and the volleyball scene - particularly the Japanese men's volleyball team

Hope you enjoy my first piece of writing in a while!

Genre: Hidden Love, Highschool Friends to Lovers, Fluff

Characters: Ishikawa Yuki x Reader (Reader has a last name)

POV: Third Person to Your POV

- ft. Dokyeom, Mingyu, Seungkwan from SVT, Sana from Twice, and JPN Men's Volleyball Team

Word Count: 2.3k (A short imagine / one-shot)

———————

In the bustling city of Tokyo, where the neon lights danced and the energy never seemed to wane, Jeon Y/N and Ishikawa Yuki first met. Y/N, a bright and ambitious high school student with dreams of becoming a renowned idol, was instantly captivated by Yuki's quiet determination and athletic prowess. Yuki, a promising young volleyball player with a serious yet kind demeanor, found Y/N's charisma and passion irresistible.

Their connection was immediate and profound. As high school friends, they spent time together whenever they could, sharing dreams and supporting each other through their busy schedules. Y/N's path soon took her to Korea, where she pursued a successful career in the music industry. Yuki joined Japan's national volleyball team and played for various Italian clubs during the offseason, leading to a long-distance relationship that was both challenging and rewarding.

Despite the distance, their bond remained unshakeable. Y/N's songs began to feature subtly in Yuki's team practice vlogs and official matches, leading to murmurs among fans. Although neither Y/N nor Yuki publicly confirmed their relationship, their connection was evident in these small but meaningful gestures.

—

One evening, during a casual brunch get-together with, Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Mingyu at a cozy café, the topic of your "relationship" with Yuki came up.

"Have you noticed that song from the Japan volleyball team's vlogs?" Seungkwan asked, leaning forward with curiosity. "It sounds a lot like something Y/N/N would sing~" ending his sentence in a teasing manner.

Quickly turning towards Seungkwan surprised like a deer in headlights, you curse in your mind forgetting that he always keeps himself updated in the volleyball scene as an avid-fan of the sport. You should have known sooner or later that one of your friends would found out, so you reply with a nervous chuckle, "Really? I hadn't heard that.”

Mingyu, always ready to stir the pot, added with a grin, "There's been chatter about you and someone in Italy. Care to share?"

Your face turned a light shade of pink as you tried to compose yourself. "There might be some truth to it, but let's just keep it between us for now."

Dokyeom placed a supportive hand on your shoulder. "Whatever's happening, we've got your back. You don't have to go through this alone."

—

After years of navigating the complexities of a long-distance relationship, you and Yuki finally found a moment in your busy schedules for a short getaway. Quickly deciding on Florence, a city that seemed to perfectly embody your dreams of romance and history. As you and Yuki walk through its cobblestone streets, exploring its art-filled museums and enjoying its quaint cafes, you find yourselves enveloped in the very essence of a long-awaited reunion. The city’s timeless charm mirrored the depth of your connection, making the time together both magical and unforgettable.

The days were filled with joy as you two explored the city's narrow streets, visited the Uffizi Gallery, and enjoyed meals at quaint trattorias. Wandering hand-in-hand, savoring the rare opportunity to be together without the constant scrutiny of your public lives.

One sunny afternoon, you find a charming café deeply hidden in the alleyways, you look at Yuki with a bright smile. "How about we sit here? I've heard their espresso and tiramisu is fantastic! Plus, since it is a bit secluded we won't have to worry too much about someone spotting us."

Yuki’s eyes twinkled with affection. "That sounds perfect. I trust your taste completely."

As you settled at your table, enjoying your coffee and each other's company, a sudden burst of camera flashes disrupted your peaceful afternoon. Paparazzi, ever on the lookout for a story, had caught you in your private moment. You exchanged startled glances with Yuki, realizing your carefully planned escape had been compromised.

Looking around frantically, you tried to find a waiter who could help you find a more private spot. Yuki, his face hardened with determination, grasped your hands and said, "Hey, look at me. Don’t panic. It’s okay, what happened has already happened. Let’s try to enjoy the rest of our day. We will deal with the consequences later."

You squeezed his hand, offering a reassuring smile as you settled your anxiety and nerves. "Okay. We’ve faced challenges before, so we can handle this together."

Despite your efforts to stay calm, the media frenzy that followed made your vacation far from relaxing.

—

The morning after the photos were leaked, you and Yuki awoke to a media storm. Dispatch had published an exclusive article titled "An Italian Getaway: The Secret Romance Between Korean Idol and Japanese Volleyball Captain!" The article featured several intimate photos of you and Yuki from your Italian vacation, and it didn’t take long for the story to spread across various media platforms.

Your phone buzzed incessantly with notifications. You felt a mix of anxiety and resolve as you read messages from friends. Seungkwan, Dokyeom, and Mingyu all reached out in your group chat.

Seungkwan's message appeared first: "Y/N, are you really dating my volleyball idol? Is it true about you and Ishikawa? You know we’re here for you, no matter what."

You took a deep breath and typed a response. "Yes, it’s true. Yuki and I have been together for a long time. We kept it private because of our careers, but now that it’s out, we’re ready to face it."

Dokyeom's message followed quickly: "I’m glad you’re open about it. We’re all here for you. How are you holding up?"

You sighed, feeling a mix of relief and worry. "It’s overwhelming, but I’m managing. Thanks for your support."

On Yuki’s side, his teammates in Japan were also reacting. His phone buzzed with messages from their group chat, which was now exploding with notifications.

[Group Chat: Japan Volleyball Team]

Ran: "Congratulations on your relationship, Captain! Can I ask for a favor, can you ask Y/N for an autograph? I need it for my collection!"

Otsuka: "Seriously, congrats, Captain! You’ve always been such a mystery with your personal life. It’s great to see you so happy."

Yamauchi: "Yuki, about time you got into a relationship. We were worried you’d stay single forever!"

Nishida: "Wow, I can’t believe it’s Y/N. That’s huge! I’m sure you both make a great couple."

Yuki read the messages with amusement. He scoffed at the playful jabs but appreciated the genuine congratulations from his teammates. Smiling, he typed a response: "Thank you for the messages, guys. I’ll definitely ask Y/N for an autograph for you, Ran."

He hit send, shaking his head with a chuckle. The reactions from his teammates were a comforting reminder of the support he had, even amidst the chaos of the media frenzy. Their messages provided relief and laughter, helping him navigate the challenging situation with camaraderie and humor.

—

As the Paris 2024 Olympics approached, Yuki dedicated himself fully to his training, and you prepared for your own activities. You had planned to make a meaningful public statement after the Olympics, marking both your relationship and Yuki’s achievements.

When Yuki’s team won the gold medal after weeks of challenges and hardships, the moment was both triumphant and emotionally charged. You felt an overwhelming sense of pride and joy. Your shared victory was a testament to your resilience and love.

Later that night, you and Yuki sat in your hotel room, the weight of the day’s events sinking in. You were preparing a special Instagram post. "Are you ready for this?" you asked Yuki, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and nerves.

Yuki, his gaze soft and full of affection, nodded. "Yes. It’s time for the fans to know the truth. I want to celebrate our journey."

You uploaded a series of images to your Instagram story. The first few photos were nostalgic, showing your high school days, candid vacation moments, and various milestones in your relationship. The final image was the most powerful: you and Yuki in the now-empty Olympic volleyball arena, sharing a sweet kiss on his cheek with your arms propped around his neck, with Yuki holding onto the gold medal in one hand and your waist in the other.

The caption read: "Happy 10 years, my captain ♡ to many more years with you"

The post quickly went viral, with fans from both Korea and Japan, as well as across the globe, flooding your feeds with messages of congratulations and support. A hashtag for your relationship trended on Twitter, symbolizing your love story and the strength of your bond.

You were inundated with heartfelt messages from friends and fans. Sana from Twice reached out with a warm message: "I’m so happy for you both! Your love story is truly inspiring. Congratulations!"

You responded with gratitude: "Thank you, Unnie. Your support means so much to us!"

—

The final show of your Japan tour was set to take place at the iconic Nissan Stadium in Yokohama, a grand venue that held a special place in your heart. The stage was set, the lights were dazzling, and the anticipation in the air was palpable. This concert marked the culmination of a successful tour, and you wanted it to be unforgettable.

As you prepared to go on stage, your heart raced with excitement. You had planned something special—not just for your fans, but for Yuki. The Japanese volleyball team had been given special VIP seats for the concert from your management company, and Yuki was among them. You wanted to honor Yuki and your relationship in front of thousands of devoted fans, and you had a surprise planned.

The concert began with an electrifying opening number, your powerful voice filling the stadium as you sang your heart out. The crowd’s energy was contagious, and you fed off their enthusiasm, performing with an intensity that matched your excitement.

Midway through the concert, during a particularly emotional ballad, you signaled to your camera crew. You had a special request that you hoped would add a personal touch to the evening. The crew quickly understood and prepared for the transition.

As the song reached its crescendo, you gestured towards the camera with a bright smile. "We have a very special guest here tonight, and I’d like to share that with you all," you announced through your mic, your voice full of emotion.

The camera panned away from the stage and began to move towards the special VIP balcony, where Yuki and the volleyball team were seated. The crowd’s murmur grew into excited whispers as the camera drew closer. Your fans recognized Yuki and the volleyball team, and the energy in the stadium surged with excitement.

You took a deep breath, your voice steady but filled with warmth. "I want to take a moment to thank someone very special to me. Yuki, you’ve been my rock and my greatest support throughout this journey. This night is dedicated to you and our love."

As you sang the final notes of the ballad, your eyes locked with Yuki’s. The connection between you was palpable, and the sincerity in your gaze spoke volumes. The audience, moved by the gesture, responded with cheers and applause that echoed throughout the stadium.

The camera then returned to you on stage, capturing your radiant smile and the way you seemed to glow with happiness. You continued to perform with renewed energy, your heart lightened by the visible support from Yuki and the volleyball team.

After the concert, you and your bandmates were backstage, basking in the afterglow of a successful show. The atmosphere was jubilant, filled with laughter and congratulations. Yuki and his teammates made their way backstage to meet you, and the reunion was filled with warmth and affection.

Yuki pulled you into a tight embrace, his eyes shining with pride. "Amore mio, you were amazing tonight. I’m so proud of you."

You looked up at him with a beaming smile. "Thank you, Yuki. Having you here means everything to me. I wanted to share this moment with you."

As you stood together, surrounded by friends and colleagues, Sana and Momo from Twice approached with a smile. "The concert was incredible, Y/N. And you two looked so happy together. I’m really glad to see you both celebrating."

You hugged both of them warmly. "Thank you, Sana. Your support has been so meaningful to us."

As the evening wound down, you and Yuki took a quiet moment together, stepping outside to enjoy the cool night air. You stood on a balcony overlooking the city, the lights of Yokohama twinkling below.

"This tour has been incredible," you said, leaning against the railing. "But tonight was really special."

Yuki nodded, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and placing a sweet kiss on your forehead. "It was perfect. Thank you for making me a part of it."

You rested your head on Yuki’s shoulder, feeling a deep sense of contentment. "Here’s to many more moments like this."

As you stood together, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you and the promise of a bright future. Your love had endured through the highs and lows, and now, with your relationship celebrated publicly, you looked forward to what lay ahead, knowing that you could face any challenge together.

Your journey, marked by love, dedication, and resilience, continued to inspire many. And as you embraced the future, you and Yuki knew that your love was stronger than ever, ready to shine in the spotlight and beyond.

#ryujin nippon #yuki ishikawa imagines #ishikawa yuki imagines #yuki ishikawa au #ishikawa yuki au #yuki ishikawa fluff #ishikawa yuki fluff #yuki ishikawa x reader #ishikawa yuki x reader #volleyball #writing #imagines #fluff #lmao idk what else to tag

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