#they know it is like this but they are not happy about it
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Worlds Apart
Max Verstappen x Sargeant!Reader
Summary: everyone seems to have something to say about your relationship with Max, but at the end of the day all that matters is the two of you
Warnings: Jos Verstappen
Based on a request by @butterflyexe
The sorority house is pulsing with noise — music, laughter, the clink of plastic cups. You weave through the crowd, feeling very much out of place amongst the scantily clad co-eds. Your sundress and sandals seem prudish in comparison.
“Y/N! There you are!” Chelsea, your big sister in Kappa Alpha Theta, comes barreling over with a few of her friends in tow. “We were just talking about you.”
You eye them warily. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah, like how you’re totally wasting your college experience pining over some old race car driver instead of playing the field.” Chelsea’s friend, Brittany, smirks as she takes a sip of her drink.
You bristle at that. “Max is not old! He’s only 26.”
“Exactly,” Chelsea says, putting an arm around your shoulders. “You’re a sophomore dating a whole ass man who’s nearly 30. It’s weird.”
“No it’s not!” You protest, shrugging off her arm. “We’ve been together over a year. I really like him.”
“Like him?” Brittany scoffs. “Wake up, Y/N. He’s an international celebrity dating a little college student. You’re just his side piece.”
The words hit like a slap to the face. “That’s not true!”
“Then why does he never post about you on social media?” Chelsea counters. “I follow him and you’re never on his accounts.”
“We just value our privacy,” you mumble, but her words have sown seeds of doubt.
Chelsea gives you a pitying look. “Honey, I’m just trying to watch out for you. There are so many great guys here on campus that would treat you right.”
Your eyes narrow at the dig. “You mean like those meathead frat bros that never shut up about their high school glory days? No thanks.”
The girls all gasp in mock offense. Brittany steps closer, using her height advantage to loom over you. “You’ve got a lot of nerve, talking about our men like that.”
“Yeah?” You stand your ground, hands on your hips. “Well maybe if they acted like men instead of immature little boys, I wouldn’t have to.”
A hush falls over the nearby crowd, all eyes on your confrontation. Brittany looks murderous until one of her sidekicks tugs her sleeve, murmuring “Let’s go, it’s not worth it.” She sneers at you one last time before stalking off, leaving you and Chelsea alone.
Your big sister sighs, rubbing her temples. “Why are you so hell-bent on making this hard on yourself, Y/N? Max is a world away, both physically and in terms of life experience. You could have any guy at this school eating out of the palm of your hand. Why not take advantage of that?”
Her words are salt in the wound. You blink back tears, fighting to keep your voice steady. “Because I love Max. He makes me incredibly happy. And yeah, the distance is hard and he’s older and more established in his career. But he’s kind and smart and we just … connect, you know? I’ve never felt this way about anyone else.”
Chelsea shakes her head pityingly. “I’m just trying to watch out for you. I’d hate to see you get your heart broken over some long-distance fling.”
“It’s not a fling!” You’re sick of trying to convince everyone. Pushing past her, you storm out of the suffocating house and into the cool night air. Gulping it down, you sink down onto the steps, chest heaving with anger and hurt and frustration.
Alone at last, you let the tears come. You know the doubts eating at you are unfair — Max has been nothing but devoted and caring throughout your relationship, even with his insanely busy schedule. But the fears voiced by Chelsea and her crew have burrowed under your skin. Maybe you are just a naive little plaything for him. Maybe he’ll eventually get bored and move on to someone more sophisticated and on his level.
Your phone buzzes in your pocket — a FaceTime call from the man in question himself. You fumble to answer it, swiping hastily at your damp cheeks. “H-Hey you.”
“There’s my gorgeous girl!” His bright smile fills the screen, momentarily banishing your worries. “I only have a few minutes before FP1, but I couldn’t wait to see that pretty face.”
You can’t help but return his warm grin, though it doesn’t quite meet your eyes. “I miss you so much, Max.”
His brow furrows at your tone. “What’s wrong, liefje? You sound upset.”
You want to brush it off, but maybe this is your chance to finally get those nagging fears off your chest. “It’s just … things have been rough lately with the girls. They keep saying I’m wasting my time with you, that you’re going to leave me for someone else, that I’m just a naive little girl you’re using for fun.”
He’s silent for a long moment, then curses under his breath. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. That must be really hard to deal with, on top of the distance.”
“It is,” you admit, blinking back fresh tears. “And as much as I try to ignore them and have faith in us, their words have started to get to me. I mean … why don’t you ever post about me on social media? Do you not want the world to know about me?”
A shadow crosses his features. Clearly he’s heard this criticism before. “My reasons for keeping my relationships private have nothing to do with you, okay? I keep that part of my life off social media to avoid a media frenzy and protect the people I care about.” His expression softens. “But you better believe everyone important in my life knows about you — my family, my closest mates. Hell, the whole Red Bull garage is sick of hearing me go on and on about how amazing my girl is.”
You can’t help but laugh through your tears, some of the weight lifting off your chest. “Really?”
“Of course!” He chuckles. “I’ve never felt this way about anyone before, Y/N. No matter how far apart we are or what anyone else says, you’re the only one I want.”
Your cheeks flush at his heart-melting words. In that moment, you don’t care about your snotty sorority sisters or the distance or anything else — just being completely in love with this amazing man. “I wish you were here,” you murmur, drinking in every detail of his face. “I miss holding you so damn much.”
Max’s eyes crinkle at the corners. “Maybe you can show me how much later tonight, when we’re all alone to video call properly?”
You giggle and smack your hand over the camera, feeling suddenly shy. “Max Verstappen, you incorrigible flirt!”
“You love it.” His voice takes on a deeper, huskier tone that sends tingles down your spine. “And you’re going to love what I have planned for your next visit even more ...”
You spend the next few giddy minutes shamelessly flirting back and forth, soaking up precious moments of intimacy through the phone line to sustain you until you can be together again. When his race engineer appears in the background, beckoning him to the track, you’re both full of regretful sighs.
“Duty calls,” Max says wistfully. “But I’ll call you later, okay? We can pick up where we left off ...” He waggles his eyebrows mischievously.
You can’t stop your face-splitting grin. “I’ll be counting the minutes.”
“Bye schatje. Love you to the moon and back.”
“Love you too!” You clutch the phone to your chest after he disconnects, completely lovestruck. All your insecurities have melted away under the heat of Max’s devoted words and that heart-stopping smile.
It’s going to be okay.
He chose you — Y/N Sargeant, sophomore student, for all your flaws and relative immaturity. And you’ve never felt luckier.
Spirits lifted, you bound back into the house and upstairs to your bedroom. You’ll ignore Chelsea and her nasty friends for the rest of the night, instead losing yourself in daydreams of the next time you’ll be wrapped in Max’s strong arms.
Your relationship may be a long-distance whirlwind, but you’re all in and you’ve never been happier. Let the other sorority girls whisper — you’ve snagged yourself a keeper.
***
Max drains the last of his water bottle as he exits the Red Bull garage, sweat still beading on his brow from the qualifying session. He stretches his arms over his head with a satisfied groan — even after all these years in Formula 1, there’s no better feeling than pushing a car to its limits on the track.
“Max! A word, if you please.”
He cringes at the familiar bark, turning to find his father bearing down on him like a storm cloud. So much for basking in the post-qualifying glow. “Yeah, what’s up?”
Jos’ mouth presses into a grim line, eyes smoldering behind the lenses of his sunglasses. “Well, for one, I saw that interview of yours from yesterday making the rounds online.”
Max fights the urge to roll his eyes. Of course his old man would find something to criticize. “And? I thought it was pretty standard, nothing controversial.”
“Oh, I’m sure you didn’t mean it to be controversial.” Jos sneers the word like a curse. “But dodging questions about your girlfriend and claiming you prefer to keep your private life private? It’s only going to stoke more media speculation and rumors.”
“Is that so bad?” Max counters. “I like to keep things out of the spotlight as much as I can. You know how ravenous the press is.”
“Don’t play dumb with me, son.” Jos steps closer, his voice lowering to a dangerous hiss. “I know exactly who this girl of yours is.”
Max feels his hackles rising at his dad’s dismissive tone when speaking about you. He opens his mouth to retort, but Jos barrels on.
“First it was that damn Kelly Piquet and her baggage, and now you’ve upgraded to jailbait? What is it with you and dating either old hags or naive teenagers, Max?”
“That’s enough!” Max snarls, feeling his face flush with anger. “How dare you talk about them like that, especially Y/N. She’s an incredible woman, and our age gap means nothing.”
Jos scoffs loudly. “Come off it, boy! She’s just a child, a nobody playing at being a WAG. You were born for greatness, bred to be a champion. Why on earth would you hitch your wagon to some college bimbo barely out of nappies?”
It’s like a red mist descends over Max’s vision at his father’s vile words about you. Before he can stop himself, his fist lashes out and connects squarely with Jos’ jawbone, sending the older man stumbling back.
“Don’t you ever speak about her that way again,” Max seethes, cradling his throbbing hand. “Y/N is ten times the person you’ll ever be. Smart, mature, driven as hell —she’s going to accomplish incredible things someday, whether you respect her or not.”
Jos regains his footing, clutching the blooming bruise on his cheek and glaring daggers at his son. “How dare you strike me, you ungrateful little shit! I gave you everything — the training, the opportunities, the sacrifices to get you to this level. And this is how you repay me?”
Max refuses to be baited, meeting his father’s glare with stony resolution. “Maybe if you didn’t insist on being such a hateful, miserable bastard all the time, I wouldn’t have to. All I want is for you to be civil and show some respect. Is that too much to ask?”
He huffs out a bitter chuckle, shaking his head. “But that’s not your way, is it? You’d rather condemn me for daring to find happiness with someone, just because she’s younger or doesn’t fit into your narrow ideas of what my life should look like. Well, I’ve got a newsflash for you. It’s my fucking life and I’ll live it however I damn well please.”
Jos opens his mouth, undoubtedly to fire off more vitriol, but Max cuts him off with a raised hand. He’s said his piece, expending the last of his energy and patience dealing with his father’s bullheadedness — at least for today. Right now, all he wants is to retreat somewhere quiet and let his thoughts drift across the ocean to you.
“Save it. I’m done arguing.” He turns on his heel and stalks away, Jos shouting insults at his retreating back.
Don’t react, don’t react. His jaw clenches almost painfully as he navigates the familiar path back to his driver’s room, typing out a quick message.
You free to chat soon, gorgeous? Need to hear your voice.
The reply comes almost instantly. For you, always. Give me 20 mins? ❤️
He can’t stop the surge of warmth at your words, the tension slowly draining from his shoulders. That’s his girl — always knowing exactly what he needs, even from thousands of miles away. And isn’t that what matters most of all?
After showering and changing into casual sweats and a t-shirt, Max sinks onto the small couch placed against the wall, pillows arranged just so to prop up his aching back and shoulders. He picks up his phone and dials your number, heart rate kicking up a notch in eager anticipation.
After what feels like an eternity but is surely only a few rings, your face fills the screen. You must have just gotten back from class — your hair is tousled and loose, your makeup-free skin flushed and glowing in the South Florida sun.
“Well hey there, handsome.” Your teasing smirk dissipates as you get a better look at him. “Max? Are you okay? You look exhausted.”
“I am now,” he manages, relief already washing over him at the simple sight of you. He drinks in every last detail like a man parched. “Just had a bit of a run-in with my dad and needed an escape.”
Concern flashes in your warm eyes. “Oh no, what happened?”
So he tells you — the interview rumors, his dad ambushing him and lobbing insults, the explosive fight that caused him to lose his cool and strike the first blow. You listen with sympathy, every encouraging nod and murmured reassurance calming his frazzled nerves until the story is spent, leaving him strangely at peace.
“Thank you for sharing all that with me, babe,” you say once he’s finished. Your voice is gentle but firm. “I’m sorry Jos was so out of line, but you were totally right to stand up to him. Nobody gets to dismiss our relationship or talk about you like that.”
Max blows out a long breath, raking a hand through his shower-damp hair. “I know, I just … I hate letting him get under my skin like that, you know? No matter how much I try to rise above it, he always finds a way to trigger something deep down. It’s exhausting constantly needing to defend myself and the people I care about.”
“But that’s not your burden to bear alone, Max.” You shake your head adamantly, jaw set in that stubborn way he loves. “Let me help shoulder that weight, even if I can’t actually be there physically yet. I’m on your team, remember? We’re partners. I’ve got your back.”
Your words loosen a knot of tension he didn’t realize he was carrying. Of course you get it, you always do. He knows in that moment how lucky he is to have found his teammate, his shelter in the storm that rages on no matter how successful he becomes.
“Have I told you lately how amazing you are?” His voice comes out low, thick with emotion. “How did I ever get so lucky?”
Your radiant smile could power entire cities. “By being you, silly. And for the record, your dad is way off base. There’s nothing wrong with you wanting a mature, driven, accomplished partner — even if she happens to be younger.”
“Age shaming goes both ways, apparently.”
“Apparently,” you agree wryly. “I had my own fun today ...”
As you launch into explaining the shenanigans that occurred during your morning lecture, Max feels himself relaxing further and further into the couch, a dopey grin spreading across his face. On and on the two of you go, playfully trading stories until his father and the endless pressures of his career have fully melted away, replaced by this perfect bubble the two of you inhabit.
When you hit a lull, stifling a yawn behind your hand, Max reluctantly decides to let you go for the night. “Do you have some time before your next class? You should get some rest.”
“Aw, I’m fine!” You protest through another jaw-cracking yawn. “I’m not done talking to my favorite driver yet.”
Max chuckles fondly. This stubborn streak of yours will be the death of him someday. “We both know that’s a lie. I can practically hear your bed calling your name for a nap from here.”
“Hmph, fine.” You stick out your full bottom lip in an exaggerated pout that makes his heart skip. “I guess if you insist on being all reasonable and stuff.”
“That’s me, a real fun-sucker.” He matches your playful tone, though his eyes are serious. “But before you go … can you just say it? For me?”
You immediately soften, gazing at him through the camera with so much tenderness, it almost winds him. “I love you, Max. More than anything.”
He exhales heavily, as if your words have physically lifted a weight from his shoulders. “I love you too, Y/N. And your love, your belief in me … it’s everything. Never doubt that, okay?”
“I won’t if you don’t,” you promise with a wink. “Good luck, babe. I’ll be dreaming of you.”
“Sweet dreams, liefje.”
Even after disconnecting the call, Max sits there for several long moments, staring at the now-dark screen with a besotted grin. His chest is pleasantly warm, full to bursting with the soul-deep reassurance that only you can provide.
Screw whatever toxic nonsense his dad tries to peddle about your age gap or his career. You’re the beating heart that sustains him, the sun around which his entire universe orbits. No disapproving authority figure or rumor mill gossip could ever change that fundamental truth.
So let his father rage and splutter all he wants about how “inappropriate” your relationship is. Max has tasted the extraordinary, found his home and partner in the most vibrant woman he’s ever met. All those lonely, empty years without that missing piece suddenly feel like a hazy, long-forgotten dream.
As Max sips his energy drink and prepares for another demanding few hours at the track, he can’t keep the dopey smile off his face. You’re worth enduring a thousand more shouting matches with his dad, worth traversing any distance just to hear your laugh again.
Max is the luckiest bastard alive to have earned your heart, and he’ll never take that gift for granted.
***
You shoulder your backpack and push through the double doors of the lecture hall, finally free from classes for the summer. The late afternoon sun bakes the quad in a warm glow as you pause for a moment, breathing in the sweet semi-tropical air.
For two years, this campus has been your entire world. Endless cycles of classes, parties, study sessions, and chaos with your sisters from Kappa Alpha Theta. But now, as you glance around at the laughing students basking in the first days of freedom, you feel a strange sense of restlessness settle over you.
Like there’s some place — somewhere — else you’re meant to be.
Shaking it off, you start heading for the student parking lot to meet up with Chelsea. You only make it a few steps before unusually loud cheers and shouts draw your attention to a small crowd forming near the front entrance.
Rows of parked cars block your view, but the distinctive growl of a high-performance engine cuts through the commotion. Your pulse instantly kicks up a notch as your mind puts it together.
That’s no ordinary car.
That’s a multimillion dollar, 800 horsepower British rocket. Sleek, powerful, luxuriously elegant.
Just like-
“No way ...” you breathe out, books slipping from your slackened grip as the glossy green bodywork of an Aston Martin DBS Superleggera slides into view. Because draped over the driver’s side door in that achingly familiar display of casual arrogance ...
“Max!” You shout his name in disbelieving joy even as your feet are carrying you toward him at a full sprint.
His head snaps up at the sound and your heart nearly stops at the way his whole face ignites with radiant delight. That brilliant smile you’ve ached to see in person for so long now stretching those full lips in the most heart-stoppingly beautiful way.
He pushes off from the car, hands outstretched, and in the space of a single frantic heartbeat you’ve flung yourself into his arms with a breathless laugh.
“What are you doing here?” You demand giddily as Max’s strong arms engulf you, swinging your frame around in a tight circle. You’re vaguely aware of the other students going nuts, people shouting and whistles piercing the air, but you only have eyes and ears for this incredible man holding you tightly.
Max just chuckles warmly, murmuring your name with raw affection before crashing his lips to yours in a scorching kiss that leaves you dizzy. You melt into the fierce embrace, parting your lips eagerly to taste the slight sweetness of Red Bull and dark chocolate that is so distinctly Max.
“Surprise, schatje,” he rumbles against your smiling mouth between heated, openmouthed kisses. “Thought I would swing by and pick up my favorite student myself.”
“Oh my god!” You laugh delightedly, cupping his chiseled jaw to drink in every perfectly imperfect inch of his beloved face. The strong jawline, the dimpled chin, those piercing blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he beams at you.
“When did you … how did you …” You’re at a loss for words, overcome with giddy euphoria at having Max here, warm and solid and real in your arms again after so many endless months.
A fresh wave of cheers and hollers suddenly cuts through your joyful bubble as half the crowd seems to recognize the celebrity in their midst. Dozens of camera phones whip out to capture the unexpectedly intimate reunion between you and Max.
“Who is that guy?”
“No way, that’s Max freaking Verstappen!”
“Y/N, how do you know Max Verstappen?”
The shouts and questions reach a fever pitch, finally breaking through your amorous fugue. Blushing furiously, you pull back just enough to murmur against Max’s chest.
“Well, much as I’d love to keep making out with my insanely hot boyfriend in the middle of campus, maybe we should take this somewhere a bit more private?”
Max gives a deep, rich laugh at that, the sound vibrating pleasantly against you.
“You are a wise woman, liefje,” he praises in that deliciously accented baritone. He presses one last, searing kiss to your smiling lips before reluctantly disentangling himself. “Though I would have thought you might like to give all your classmates one more delightful bit of inspiration to remember you by before you depart for the summer?”
He leers at you playfully as a chorus of whoops and whistles greets his flirtatious suggestion. You can’t help but bark out a laugh, shoving his chest lightly in mock admonishment even as heat rushes to your cheeks.
“You’re impossible!”
“No, just hopelessly in love with you,” he counters easily, reaching out to tuck an errant strand of hair behind your ear. The tenderness in his voice and touch instantly gentles your teasing mood into something infinitely fonder.
This remarkable man, so genuine and caring beneath the roguish exterior cultivated for the cameras. You’re struck by a sudden lance of melancholy at the thought of how little the world really knows of the real Max Verstappen.
But then his eyes crinkle in that way that speaks of unabashed adoration just for you and the feeling passes. Because you know him better than anyone. And he sees you just the same. Two souls intertwined by a rare, precious understanding.
Max’s hand slides around to cup the back of your neck, his thumb brushing lightly over your thundering pulse point. The tender motion instantly sets your nerves alight with renewed longing.
“So,” his voice drops to an impossibly deep bedroom octave meant only for your ears. “Shall we give the good people at the University of Miami one last show before I whisk you away for a few months of long overdue privacy?”
There’s the barest hint of a filthy promise underlying the words. You swallow thickly, unconsciously pressing closer as Max’s velvet tones wash over you like a physical caress.
“And just where will you be taking me?” You manage to tease back, forcing a bravado your hammering heart doesn’t feel.
“Well ...” He leans in until his lips brush the delicate shell of your ear. You shiver helplessly at the heated puff of air ghosting your sensitive skin.
“First,” he begins in a heated murmur, “we’re going to swing by your sorority house to gather your belongings.”
“Okay ...” You nod faintly, hyper-aware of Max’s intoxicating proximity.
“Then I’ll be driving us straight to your parents’ place in Fort Lauderdale,” he continues lowly. “Per the strict instructions of one Logan Sargeant, of course.”
You can’t help the surprised laugh that bursts forth. Trust your brother to strong-arm his way into Max’s surprise plans.
“He didn’t give you too hard a time, did he?” You ask through your giggles. “I can only imagine the threats he must have ...”
You trail off at the feeling of Max’s talented mouth blazing a trail of kisses along the slender column of your throat. Every exploratory brush of his lips and insistent swipe of tongue steals the breath from your lungs.
“Max ...” You whine out his name without conscious thought, going pliant against the solid wall of his body.
“Shhh,” he rumbles against your overwrought senses. “Let me finish first.”
There’s a maddening pause where the only sounds are the rushing waves of cheers and chaos from the delighted crowd watching your every move, hungered gazes drinking in every scorching caress Max bestows upon you. Under any other circumstances, the thought of being so shamelessly devoured by hundreds of strangers’ eyes would have you recoiling in embarrassment.
But Max’s presence, his heated touch and low, sinful voice have you spellbound, uncaring of your audience.
“After we’ve satisfied your family’s demands to see us with their own eyes,” he purrs. “We’ll be boarding my jet bright and early for someplace much more ... pleasurable.”
Your skin prickles with delicious tension as Max continues in that low, rough whisper.
“We’ll spend a few lazy days lounging on a private beach in Aruba, just the two of us.” His large hand roves provocatively down the curve of your spine to boldly grip your backside, pulling your hips flush against the insistent bulge in his designer jeans. “Catching up on all the things I’ve been dreaming about for months, schatje.”
A tremulous whimper escapes your parted lips at the blatant promise underlying Max’s words. You flatten your palms against the firm planes of his chest, feeling his powerful heartbeat thundering in time with your own.
“A-And after that?” You somehow manage in a breathy rasp, scarcely daring to hope.
Max’s only response is a low, thrumming chuckle that you feel vibrate across your heated skin. His chin dips, molten blue eyes searing into yours with naked hunger.
“After that?” He husks, stealing the breath from your lungs with a devastating grin. “Well, then I’ll finally get to introduce the world to my favorite girl.”
And neither of you can wait.
#f1 imagine#f1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#f1 x you#max verstappen#mv1#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen blurb#f1 fluff#f1 blurb#f1 one shot#f1 x y/n#f1 drabble#f1 fandom#f1blr#f1 x female reader#max verstappen x female reader#max verstappen x y/n#red bull racing#max verstappen one shot#max verstappen drabble
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youtube
All the arguments online about Vivian's trans identity used old japanese version as a reference point, so I wanted to see what japanese community has to say about it, and was suprised to see that it's in fact the game's original text that was rewritten.
Original japanese text:
" "Three Shadow Sisters"? Where did you get that!? You're not even a girl!"
"I'm sorry, sister..."
Rewritten japanese text:
"It's not "Three Shadow Sisters", its "Three Shadows Crew"! I'm always telling you that, damnit!"
"I'm sorry... it's just, in my heart I'm your sister as well..."
And checking the currect remake translation i t is very much exactly the same text, it makes it less as direct hatred for her identity and more like dismissal of her as a part of the family. Compare to Gamecube english version, where she is instead mocked for her looks, but not gender identity. This is so interesting to me, because in modern political scene the most annoying opinion is how "localizers are erasing culture and trying to push their own narative", when in this same game the older english translation erased character's whole identity, opting to instead make it less obvious and in a way going againts the original intent. And seeing that the modern remake is even more progressive even without english intervention makes me so happy, although I do admit it's not AS clear about it as original text. It's not bad of course, later on she directly says that "Even if my body is male, my heart is of a pretty girl." I don't know if you can be any more clear about it than that.
If anything, japanese people are at the worst neutral, and at the best are just as excited that a character that they love gets proper recognition from game's text.
What 90% of comments were more focused on is when naked invisible Peach walks on the ground and you can hear her bare feet slapping sounds, they have different priorities.
#ramble#anyone who says “ermmm actually the original game-” can go to straight to hell immediately#unless if theyre a white supremacist who believe that western propaganda has poisoned the based nippon society#then its something even worse than hell#Youtube
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In case you need to hear it today...
Earlier today on Bluesky, I wrote about how—and I firmly believe this—no one is hard to love. That, if someone makes you feel that way, it’s entirely on them. And that love—in its myriad forms—never judges us by the small quirks and details of our less polished selves.
This is 100% the hill I will die on.
The thing is, I’ve often been told I am too much. I have too many feelings. (Like, you can just…remove some of them?) This used to bother me, until I realized that was someone else’s hangup. The reality is I have a very big heart and I am not shy about letting someone I know I care about them.
Why? Several reasons. One is that I am always true to myself, and I don’t believe in playing it cool. Another is that the world is a harsh mess, quite literally often on fire. It’s the warmth and love and the connection that help us through. And if a kind, honest word or gesture might matter to someone, I’m gonna do it. No hesitation.
I have also been the person who didn’t know how someone else felt, and that didn’t feel great. (Understatement.) And I never, ever want anyone else to feel that kind of awful confusion. Because by the time I did find out, it almost broke me. (Almost! I’m very stubborn.) So, if it’s within my power, no one else is gonna go through that.
Back to the beginning: no one is hard to love. Are we mutuals? Do we chat? I can rattle off at least three things I love about you, if asked. Hell, even if you don’t ask, I might randomly tell you anyway. Because ninja compliments make everyone smile!
I am always deeply happy when I get to show my affection for someone. It makes my heart happy. And the reverse is true, too: I am deeply happy to be cared about. It’s affirming. And yes, it also quiets the voices in my head that pop up, from time to time.
You are, right now, more loved than you probably know. So, consider this a reminder, from a weird little witch woman shouting on the internet.
#love people out loud#you are not hard to love#caring matters#Yes I am being a dork again#no regrets
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With a sleepy s/o
Pairing: skz Ot8 × Gn!reader (individually)
Genre: headcanon, fluff, established relationship
Request: skz with a very sleepy s/o, kinda like han but worse lol.
Warnings: none
A/n: pink lee know can save lives | important highlight
Bang Chan
No one likes it more than him, trust me. He just loves it so much whenever you start to feel a bit drowsy and then sleep in his shoulder/lap. Partially because he thinks you're adorable when sleeping but partially because he feels he can protect you when you're vulnerable like that. He really really likes it
Lee Know
Please stop falling asleep all the time, his camera roll can't take it anymore. Seriously though, every time you sleep he takes thousands of pictures in all possible angles. He says it's because he wants to blackmail you but in reality he just finds you extremely adorable (won't admit that tho)
Changbin
He has like this sixth sense where he just knows you're about to fall asleep, no matter where he is. He physically needs to be like your pillow for whenever you're in this state. Always has a proud smile for when he manages to be there when you need him. Asks for the boys to take pictures of you both like that (they can't handle it anymore)
Hyunjin
The first time you fell asleep next to him he was a bit in shock, but now that he is used to it, he welcomes you with open arms whenever your eyes start to close. He is really satisfied with how you trust him enough to sleep around him, it never fails on making him smile
Han
We just know y'all sleeping together everywhere no matter what time it is. The world could be potentially ending but y'all would be cuddled up and sleeping on the nearest sofa. Honestly it's expected for you both to end up like this after a while, but it's also very cute of you ngl
Felix
Another one who sees this as an opportunity to cuddle everywhere, even if he doesn't feel sleepy in the slightest. He just really enjoys holding you while you dream. The boys took a picture of you both like that once to try to tease Felix but it didn't work at all, as he was extremely happy about it lmao
Seungmin
Also has a lot of pictures of you sleeping but you'll never know that because no way on earth he is showing you that, he might as well die of embarrassment. You also always wake up covered by his jacket/sweatshirt, warm and cozy.
I.N
Most likely to have you sleeping as his phone wallpaper and the least likely to change it. He's so relieved you can't see him when you're sleeping because he always gets this huge lovesick smile on him, he'd probably combust if you could see that.
Masterlist | you'll probably like: you give them flowers
Thank you for reading 🩷
Taglist (open!): @yuyubeans @dandelions-143
Credits for images 1 , 2 and 3
Dividers by @saradika-graphics
#celi headcanons#stray kids#skz fluff#stray kids fluff#skz#stray kids soft hours#stray kids soft thoughts#skz x reader#skz x you#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagine#stray kids imagines#skz soft hours#bang chan#bang chan fluff#lee know#lee know fluff#changbin#changbin fluff#hyunjin#hyunjin fluff#han#han fluff#felix#felix fluff#seungmin#seungmin fluff#i.n fluff#i.n#yang jeongin
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too many times do I see labru art where Kabru is just mean to laios. are we looking at the same guy? He’s obsessed with him
Edit my tags are important to this actually
#Kabru wants him so bad all of his ‘hatred’ comes from a trolley problem in his head about the greater good#he likes Laios like so much he wants to know him he wants to be his friend he’s WANTED to be his friend for so long#he uses cartoon violence because he’s silly.#if they got together or even just hooked up he would not be mean he’d be so happy Laios ask if he has a fever#dungeon meshi#labru#kabru of utaya#shut up evan
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at first sight? — GOJO SATORU
pairing: gojo satoru x gn!reader
word count: 10k (idek i was possessed)
banner by @/bbyseok , dividers by @/bunnysrph !!
a/n: um hi. its finally here ! thanks to all who liked the teaser, this is my first jjk/gojo fic ever but i really think everyone needs some comfort after jjk chap 261.. and fuck u gege !!
content: soulmate au, gender neutral reader, minimal use of they/them pronouns for reader but gender is not specified, sorcerer reader, nicknames ‘sweetheart’, ‘pretty’, ‘baby’, fluff, mild angst with a happy ending, slowburn??, several pov switches, suggestive/implied nsfw at the end but nothing explicit, brief swearing/explicit language, brief violence/injuries, alcohol consumption, reader gets mildly drunk but nothing else, implied satosugu as past soulmates: can be interpreted as either romantic or platonic, fic takes place after jjk 0 but before the show starts
analysis: this is a world filled not only with curses, but soulmates—in which you know someone is your soulmate when you first make eye contact with them. but for your case, things can get a bit complicated when someone is wearing a blindfold.
here, in this universe, you can tell that someone is your soulmate by simply looking at them. so with that, the saying of “love at first sight” is actually pretty accurate here. you see them for the very first time and barely know the person and yet, somehow, they’re the one you’re destined to be with.
with that, you’d think it’d be pretty common for two random people to run into each other while crossing the street or something and bam! suddenly you’ve found the supposed love of your life!
and you? well, for you, that hasn’t happened yet.
to be fair, it’s not like you’re actively trying to look for your soulmate. handling curses as a jujutsu sorcerer is difficult enough. (maybe you’ll run into them one day after saving them from a curse or something. how romantic!)
it’s better to leave it up to fate. it’s fate who decided your pairing anyway, right?
your transfer to jujutsu tech had been fairly smooth. after being stationed in kyoto for a while, tokyo was a nice change of pace.
coincidentally, you had been out of the country during the incident known as the night parade of a hundred demons. a scary event that proved the threat of curse users to be formidable.
because of that, your decision to transfer to tokyo seemed like the right thing to do. and so far, it’s been decent.
it’s a nice change of scenery. the students are aspiring; while maki and megumi aren’t the friendliest, they’re warming up to you. toge and panda are gradually improving.
nanami’s pessimistic outlook on jujutsu society and shoko’s overall unenthusiastic demeanor are certainly interesting for the most part, but your coworkers are pleasant to be around.
well. except for one.
gojo satoru knows that you are his soulmate. he has indeed known this fact right from the very start, ever since your first meeting.
even with his blindfold on, he could see your own eyes before him. his six eyes can see everything. the thing is.. he didn’t know he could have another soulmate.
his situation with geto suguru is something he doesn’t talk about with anyone. maybe shoko at times, but even then, it’s rare. it’s not that he doesn’t want to, but it’s pretty hard to talk about.
after suguru defected, gojo could still obviously feel their bond. even though they were no longer together as the strongest duo, did it really matter when their souls were still connected to one another? it was a factor that played in avoiding (and perhaps meeting up with) each other as the years went by.
satoru felt their bond die that day after the events with okkotsu and rika. and it had frightened him. that lingering presence of the bond was no longer there.
so imagine his surprise when he sees you.
a new sorcerer in kyoto, now transferred to tokyo. normally, gojo doesn’t seek out the new recruits, but yaga had dragged him over regardless. besides, he might as well get to know his possible assistant teacher that would be helping him out with the new first years.
“i guess i can check out some new faces,” he relented with a sigh, adjusting his blindfold and looking to the side as yaga’s steps slowed as they approached you.
gojo rolled his eyes–not that you’d see it anyway–as yaga introduced you with your name and your sorcerer grade. he stopped to stand next to the principal.
you extended your hand to offer a handshake, and gojo finally turned his head.
that feeling as his gaze fell upon yours beneath the blindfold was familiar—frighteningly so—and unfamiliar at the same time. as if he could breathe for the first time in ages. your eyes are unaware, but they’re so revealing to him.
satoru stuttered in his movements, reluctantly taking your hand. the skin that touched yours felt like it was on fire. he briefly held on to see if you felt it too.
but you simply smiled up at him.
“it’s nice to meet you, gojo,” you said, blissfully unaware of the revelation currently dawning on the man before you and the turmoil it brought as he abruptly retracted his arm back.
gojo stiffened. he merely offered a curt nod before turning on heel and walking away briskly. he could faintly hear yaga protest about his sudden departure before apologizing to you hastily. satoru shook his head.
how was this be possible? how could the universe give him two soulmates? he didn’t even know that was a thing that could happen. he wondered if there had been a similar occurrence before.
gojo couldn’t help but feel nauseous. was this the world playing some sort of sick, cruel joke on him? or was it perhaps giving him a second chance?
and truthfully, it wasn’t like gojo even wanted another soulmate. not after what he had been through with suguru. he hadn’t given it much thought.
was it really worth it?
what if he couldn’t protect you too?
so satoru had decided on one thing that day: the blindfold stays on. concealing his eyes from the world not only for him, but for your sake too. he was certain in his choice; he would never tell you the truth.
as far as you were concerned, you haven’t met your soulmate yet.
and never will.
your first meeting with gojo wasn’t exactly unpleasant, but it wasn’t something you could describe as good either. you’ve been left with the impression that he’s cocky and indifferent.
and that he doesn’t like you.
it’s been around.. two? three weeks? it’s been a while since your encounter with the white-haired sorcerer, and you’ve only seen a few glimpses of him here and there on campus.
okay, he doesn’t display any outright mean or ill intention towards you. on the very rare times the two of you do interact, he is obviously curt and clipped. seems like he’s deemed you worthy of the only either nods or one word responses.
you’ve yet to actually participate in a lesson or mission with gojo, but you prefer it that way. providing individual training and advice for the upcoming second years has been going great. at this point, you’re sure it’d only be awkward.
besides, the strongest sorcerer alive doesn’t necessarily need assistance in dealing with curses after all. that much is understandable.
you’re currently in the teachers’ lounge room with nanami. even though he isn’t actually a teacher, he pays visits sometimes. he’s good company anyway.
“it’s nice to hear that you’re settling in well,” the blonde says with a nod. he loosens his necktie absentmindedly as he adjusts the newspaper in his lap. “especially with that gojo around. he can be a pain in the ass sometimes.”
you frown at the mention of the sorcerer, crossing your arms. you’re seated across from nanami, watching him idly look through the newspaper.
“oh, well, actually, he isn’t too much trouble. for me, at least,” you reply, brows furrowing, “he barely talks to me.” (in fact, he seems to avoid you like you’re carrying the plague or something.)
nanami looks up, raising a brow. “huh. you should be grateful then.” he then hums, “but maybe that’ll change once there’s actually new first year students to teach. you both are assigned to them after all.”
you lean back in your seat, your shoulders committing to a halfhearted shrug. “maybe. it’s not like i never did anything bad to him though..”
nanami sighs gruffly. “don’t think about it too much.” before he can continue, there’s the sound of footsteps. nanami brings his newspaper back up, muttering, “speak of the devil.”
“nanamiiii!” gojo’s voice sounds from around the corner. it almost startles you how lively he sounds. you realize you’ve never actually heard or seen how he acts without you around.
nanami doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes.
gojo strolls in enthusiastically, blindfold on. “heyy, nanami, we should-” he cuts off when he presumably sees you, falling quiet and stopping short.
you blink, a bit hurt. does he dislike you that much? but you don’t let it show, resorting to greeting him politely like you usually do when you occasionally pass each other.
“good afternoon, gojo,” you muse, offering a little wave.
nanami notices his reaction too, but doesn’t comment on it. he continues to ignore the sorcerer’s presence in fact, eyes still roaming over the newspaper.
gojo clears his throat and resumes his pace. “afternoon,” he responds, focusing his attention back on nanami. he reaches the two of you, giving you no further acknowledgment.
you don’t care if he can see you looking at him, you opt to stare at the black blindfold covering his face. you have a hunch that he can see, or at least feel, you staring at him.
“can i borrow you for a sec, nanami?”
nanami emits an exasperated sigh, but stands nonetheless to follow gojo out of the room for some discussion not meant for your ears apparently, leaving you alone with your thoughts.
do you make gojo uncomfortable? you don’t know what you could’ve possibly done so though. from what you’ve heard from the others, he can be rather eccentric and overbearing.
does he just not like you? perhaps he views you as inferior, too below his level and power to actually converse with you. while it seems a bit of a stretch, you’re sure it’s not out of the possibility also based on what you’ve heard about him from others.
your frown returns. before you can dwell on it any longer, nanami comes back into the room. “well, i certainly see what you mean from what you said about gojo earlier,” he announces.
his words do nothing to falter your frown. “right.” you then shrug once more, “it’s okay. it’s just a bit.. strange.” you then shake your head, trying to be a bit optimistic. “but also like you said earlier, that might change! who knows?”
who knows, indeed.
megumi tucks the cursed tools inside their designated box and closes the lid. he moves on to the next one right as gojo enters the shed, beaming a smile.
“hey, megumi. you almost done wrapping up things here?” satoru asks, undoing his blindfold naturally. there’s a pair of glasses in his hand ready for use.
the teen nods. they had used a few cursed tools during training session today, and the storage did need a bit of tidying up. “almost done.”
satoru makes a noise of approval as he places his glasses on. “great! do you need help setting up your dorm room?” he looks excited at the idea, still grinning.
meanwhile, megumi looks disinterested at his offer. “no thanks. i think it’ll be easy enough. it’s not like i’m decorating it anyway.”
“oh, boo.” but gojo doesn’t insist on it any further. he actually falls strangely quiet, which causes megumi to glance at him curiously.
his teacher looks.. distraught. it’s hard to actually tell, but he seems to be looking at the floor, maybe lost in thought. before megumi can say anything, gojo’s expression changes and he starts talking again.
“you’re, uh, with the new teacher for tomorrow,�� gojo then informs. he shoves his hands into his pockets and kicks at the floor absentmindedly. (he’s fidgeting. subtly.) “it’ll just be you two, i think, on a small mission. so they can get used to actually working with students on field. it’ll be good for the both of you.”
megumi nods. he tilts his head afterward. “you can say their name, you know. it won’t kill you,” he says a bit pointedly, “and they’re not technically new anymore. it has been a few weeks now since they’ve joined the school.”
“right, right.” megumi’s face scrunches up as gojo’s hand comes down to ruffle his hair gently. (a habit that has not died since his younger days.) “whatever you say, megumi.”
despite your minimal interactions and his rather closed off demeanor, megumi is actually one of your favorite students. (and yeah, maybe you shouldn’t have favorites, but oh well.)
your mission with megumi, or rather, the mission you’ve been assigned to supervise the student on, is rather simple.
there’s been reports of a low grade curse roaming the premises of a supermarket neighboring a nearby cemetery, so megumi is to obviously exorcise it under your watch. the area has been closed off with a small veil. megumi had decided to check the parking lot first for any lingering traces, so here you are.
“i think we’re good here,” the teenager confirms as his demon dogs return to his feet, seemingly in the clear. you nod and let him lead the way towards the inside of the store.
as the two of you begin to walk down each aisle with one of the demon dogs trailing behind, megumi says your name in an inquisitive tone. “what do you think of gojo-sensei?”
the sudden question has you blinking in surprise. your eyes scan megumi as you both continue to trek down the aisle. “what makes you ask?”
“no reason.” he doesn’t meet your gaze.
you bite down on your lip in contemplation. you’re not sure what brings this question to mind for him, but you’re willing to indulge him for now. “well.. i think he’s.. alright.” you pause. “as a sorcerer, i admire his strength. though, i think a lot of people think that obviously.”
“and as a person?” megumi presses, turning to investigate the next aisle. he still doesn’t glance over to you, still preoccupied with searching for the curse.
(hell, for a teenager, he sure is perceptive.)
you choose your words carefully, thinking it over with a brief pause.
“i’ll admit, i don’t think i know him well enough to be sure. as a person, i think he’s.. self-centered and rude. sometimes, i see him act very carefree in a way. he’s.. obscure, i guess.” you clear your throat and reiterate, “but again, i don’t really... know him.”
you can see megumi go over your words silently. the quiet continues. the conversation seems to be dying, but it doesn’t matter when monstrous gurgling sounds up ahead.
a curse appears in front of you, the shelving of the aisles toppling over as it gargles some unintelligible roar. megumi doesn’t hesitate, using his technique to summon his demon dogs once more to swiftly engage in combat.
the fight is easily handled in three minutes top. (they weren’t kidding when they said it’d be easy.)
after the commotion has settled, you allow megumi to do one more check up around the store just in case. just as you are prepared to exit and bring down the veil, you decide it’s your turn to ask him now.
“and what about you, megumi?” you inquire lightly, giving one of the demon dogs a few head pats for their good work. “what exactly do you think of gojo?”
megumi hums.
“i agree with most of what you said actually,” he answers honestly, causing you to chuckle in amusement. the teenager tilts his head and finally looks at you. “but i also think he’s kind when he wants to be.”
his frontward honesty surprises you once more. this kid sure is something. you believe his words; he has no reason to lie to you, especially about gojo of all things. still, you poke at him teasingly, “really now?”
you don’t really expect him to answer, but then megumi says in a mumble so quiet that you nearly miss it.
“well, he did sort of raise me after all.”
“i just don’t think he likes me, shoko,” you puff out a sigh, watching as she puffs out smoke. “i’ve seen the way he is around other people, and he’s not like that with me.”
she’s on break right now, so you thought you could talk to her about a certain blindfolded sorcerer who’s been plaguing your thoughts.
it’s interesting to hear about the different sides of gojo satoru from your peers. from nanami, you’ve learned that he’s pretentious and troublesome. from megumi, that he can be caring in his own way. and shoko?
“he’s crazy.” the doctor waves her cigarette at you with a shrug of her shoulders. “but it beats me on why he doesn’t particularly like you.”
you groan, slouching in one of the chairs set up in the infirmary. “maybe i should’ve stayed in kyoto,” you mumble. it’s more of a joke than anything; your.. weird terms with gojo isn’t enough to actually deter you.
but shoko puts the cigarette back to her lips and tilts her head. “want me to ask him about it?”
you straighten your posture abruptly and look at her. “what? you don’t have to. he might think i asked you to or something.”
she shrugs again. “your call.”
your brows furrow. “maybe we just got off on the wrong foot somehow. even though all i did was shake his hand.” you snort. “maybe i can get him something to break the ice. what does he like?”
shoko doesn’t even hesitate. “sweets. he likes his sweets.”
oh. oh, okay! you blink and nod. who would’ve thought? the strongest sorcerer in the world likes sweets. “i can handle sweets.”
you, in fact, cannot handle sweets.
why are there so many? you’re at a local bakery staring at the rows and rows of pastries they have on display, looking as if you’re trying the decipher the world’s hardest math problem.
shoko never specified what kind of sweets he liked during your conversation with her a couple days ago. cake? ice cream? cookies? you might as well buy the whole damn store at this point with your luck. the last thing you want is to buy him something he won’t actually eat.
“oh, fuck it,” you mutter and finally decide on a small piece of cake. it happens to be your favorite kind of cake, but oh well. if he doesn’t like it, he doesn’t like it! it’s the thought that matters anyway, right?
as you exit the shop with your newly acquired dessert, you try to devise a way to give it to him. do you just.. hand it to him? or maybe it’ll be better to leave it in his office. or have shoko give it to him!
ughh, who knew how hard it’d be to give a man a cake? okay, okay. you’ll simply give it to him in person since he’ll know it’s directly from you. problem solved.
well, actually, problem is not solved. how are you supposed to give the cake to gojo in person when you have absolutely no clue where he is right now? after returning to the school, he’s no where to be found, so you eventually turn to yaga for help.
“he’s on a mission where??”
you stare at yaga with wide eyes as he names some city so far away you’re pretty sure you wouldn’t be able to find an affordable ride to get you there in a reasonable amount of time.
“oh, alright,” you say, feeling a little disappointed. the cake suddenly feels a little too big and heavy in your hands.
the principal’s gaze flickers down to your little intended treat for his former student. “these kinds of missions are no trouble for satoru. i’m sure he’ll be back soon, so you can leave that in his office.”
you brighten up at that and nod. “thank you, yaga.” you then dismiss yourself with a polite bow after he informs you where gojo’s office is exactly, and you start to make your way there.
it’s only a few minutes until you get there. you open the door and catch sight of a desk. it looks rather plain, which is understandable since it doesn’t seem like he uses this space often. (though, there is a chair that looks more expensive than your entire rent.)
either way, you walk inside and set the container down on the desk with a small sigh. hopefully the gesture is appreciated! if he really does have a sweet tooth like shoko says, you’re not sure why he’d turn it down. again, you can only hope.
you sigh again and turn to leave when the sound of the door creaking open sounds again. you freeze in place when it swings out fully, revealing the very man you were thinking about.
(yaga was not kidding when he said that gojo finishes his missions pretty fast.)
gojo perks up at the sight of you in his office, and even with his blindfold on, you can tell he’s got a surprised look on his face. “can i help you.. or do you have a reason on why you’re snooping around in my office?” he inquires, walking in.
while not evidently hostile, his appearance and words suddenly have you anxious. “oh, well, i-’’ you want to mentally smack yourself for fumbling over your words. “i’m sorry for intruding. i, uh, just wanted to leave you a little something.”
it’s only then does gojo look past you and makes a small noise. you can’t really decipher it, but you watch as he walks by you to open the small packaging to see the slice of cake meant for him.
and when he makes a small noise again, you can tell it’s one of delight. “you got me.. cake?” he asks, looking to you again questioningly.
“i did,” you clarify with a small nod, summoning a small smile and rubbing the back of your neck a bit sheepishly, “i didn’t know what kind of sweet you would like, so i just ended up choosing my favorite cake. um, i really hope you don’t mind the flavor, but if you don’t you really don’t have to eat it so-”
“kikufuku.”
you stare at him, confused. “what?”
“kikufuku,” satoru reiterates, and it’s his turn to smile. (it nearly catches you off guard because although very small, it’s pretty.) “s’my favorite. or.. one of my favorite sweets. crepes are good too.”
his newfound friendliness has you smiling a bit more evidently, pleased that this interaction is your most pleasant one with him so far in the weeks you’ve been here. “oh, okay,” you chuckle, “noted.”
gojo opens the container and unwraps the plastic fork that had came with it. he takes a bite of the cake and hums in approval. “can see why it’s your favorite. it’s not bad.”
your face lightens up at that. “oh, i’m glad.”
he hums, popping another slice of cake into his mouth. “any particular reason on why you’ve decided to give me cake, if i may ask?”
you falter once more, now nervous in telling that you’re hoping to.. resolve this one-sided tension with you. ultimately, you decide to be straightforward, inhaling deeply and looking at him. (well, his blindfold.)
“well, i’m not an idiot, gojo. you haven’t exactly been.. friendly to me. i’m not trying to win you over or anything, but if we’re going to work together with the first year students, consider this a gift for a truce. or um, a peace offering so we can act somewhat decent with each other.”
the white-haired sorcerer falls silent at your confrontation. you’re half expecting him to brush you off and walk out of the room entirely. especially since he seems to have stiffen up (similarly to the way when you first met, you had noticed).
he seems to contemplate for a bit. you don’t know where he’s looking at; the floor, the cake in his hands, you? it’s suddenly nerve-wracking.
“you’re right,” he finally speaks up, “i.. i’m sorry for my previous behavior towards you. can we start over?” he places the cake aside and walks back over to you to hold out his hand.
“gojo satoru.”
your eyes flicker to his blindfold to his hand, then back to where his eyes are hidden underneath. the rumored powerful and breaktaking six eyes concealed from your ever so curious sight.
against your better judgment, you repeat your name and take his hand.
“it’s nice to meet you, gojo.”
your new relationship with gojo is steadily becoming better. he’s no longer curt with you, and actually engages in conversations even with no other people around.
though, you can’t help but feel like he’d avoiding looking at you for some reason. which is pretty far off since you can’t technically see where he’s looking, but it’s a hunch you have nonetheless.
but hey, it’s progress, progress that you’re somewhat happy about.
like now, as satoru leans over your shoulder to peer at the clipboard in your hands. you’ve just finished wrapping up a lesson with the soon-to-be second years out on the field.
“ooh, what’s on the agenda for tomorrow, teach?” he pries.
“assistant teach,” you remind him teasingly, going over the contents of the clipboard. “more sparring. oh, and the registration for that new first year.”
“the one from the countryside?” gojo hums.
you nod. “yep. a.. kugasaki nobara. we won’t actually get to meet her, but arrangements for her arrival are getting finalized.”
“oh, boo. s’just more paperwork,” the sorcerer beside you whines, kicking at the grass.
“at least megumi isn’t the only one now,” you point out and finally turn to him.
just as you expected, satoru glances away to look at panda and toge finishing up. you squint at him narrowly but don’t comment on it.
“that’s true. not like that kid cares anyway, but it’ll be good for him,” gojo agrees airily, shoving his hands into his pockets.
you eye him. “hey, gojo?”
“yeah?” his head remains turned to the students. (further proving your point! you feel like you’re collecting evidence here; the gojo satoru cannot look at you in the eye!)
you hesitate. “wanna grab some kikufuku?”
he perks up at that. (like a puppy, really. it almost makes you laugh.) “mm, whatever happened to not trying to win me over with sweets?” he teases.
you laugh at that then, shaking your head in soft denial. “no- that’s not what i-”
“well, you did said kikufuku.." satoru interrupts you with a dramatic sigh and heave of his shoulders, “so how could i ever possibly resist?”
satoru doesn’t dare to look down at you.
“care to join me?”
but you smile up at him cheekily, and he hates the way the sunlight is hitting your features just right. it looks like the color of your eyes is glistening.
you’re just.. lying down on the grass of one of the training fields, admiring the drifting formations of white clouds on the blue canvas that is the sky.
satoru keeps telling himself that shouldn’t be doing this. his first mistake was accepting your cake. allowing himself to get closer to you. but when you look at him like that, he feels like he can do anything. which is odd, becaues really, he can do anything. it goes without saying as his status as the strongest.
but with you, it’s starting to feel a bit different.
when he doesn’t give you an immediate answer, you tilt your head and continue to blink up at him. “you can see the sky even with your blindfold on, right?”
he snorts. “yeah, i can.”
you pat the space on the grass next to you welcomingly, a beckoning that he just can’t resist again. “well, come on and join me,” you persist.
he hesitates, shifting his weight on his legs for a moment. against his better judgement, he joins you. it’s surprisingly comfortable, he finds, as he kicks out his legs and sighs.
it’s a comfortable silence that it’s almost startling. how easy it is just to be around you. (which is the exact reason why he had been avoiding you in the start, in fear of slipping up around you. he still might.)
“you get headaches, right? if you don’t cover your eyes.”
he chuckles at your question. “yeah.” it’s a half truth, half lie. he does get headaches, but for another reason now. you can’t get out of his head. (he’s got a suspicious feeling it’s because the soulmate bond is incomplete. but again, that’s just a theory of his.)
“‘m’sorry. that sucks.” you pout subconscously, still looking up at the sky to admire it.
he scoffs fondly, clapsing his hands over his stomach. “it’s no biggie. you think headaches can take down gojo satoru?”
“hey now, tough guy. they can take down me sometimes.”
(he’d fight off headaches from you if he could.) his heart is thudding against his ribcage, warning him. but he doesn’t heed the warning, and continues to lay down with you on the grass.
it’s a nice feeling. he doesn’t feel like the greatest sorcerer in the world with his colleague. it feels like he’s just satoru, pointing out the different shapes and animals you can spot in the sky with his soulmate.
“hey, that one looks like you!”
“hah?!”
“i’m guessing you and gojo-sensei are getting along now,” megumi bluntly comments.
it catches you off guard slightly, and you can’t help but laugh. (of course he had noticed how the both of you interacted from the beginning.) “oh, uh, yeah.”
and as you watch satoru go down the steps of the stairs to head over to you both whilst waving an arm with much more enthusiam than needed, you can’t help but smile.
“yeah, we are.”
this is a mistake. he shouldn’t be doing this.
but satoru can’t help but be so selfish, selfish in indulging in your looks, in your scarce touches. when you had confronted him with your peace offering as you had so called it, he had given in.
and now he’s spending more time with you. be it after lessons with the students, on random days where you have nothing to do, during weekends when there’s no authorities to bother him—he can’t help it.
was it the bond wanting to be complete? you were still unaware of his true identity, of what he could possibly mean to you, so why does he feel like he needs to be so close? he gets antsy at times when you’re not in his sight. it’s starting to affect him.
the soulmate bond, or lack of it—that has to be the only explanation for it. because he knows that you’re his soulmate, he’s subconsciously drawn to you and your presence. (it’s definitely not because he likes the way you smile, or laugh, or-)
fuck.
after a relatively tough mission, you’re obviously sent to see shoko. you’re not fatally harmed, maybe a scratch here and there. and okay, maybe a gash on your shoulder..
it had been enough to sort of knock you off your feet, but you’re fine. totally. exorcising a semi grade two curse at 1 a.m. in the morning was no biggie at this point.
once she’s finished tending to your wound, she dusts off her hands and places them on her hips. “you’re all set.”
you smile gratefully. “thanks, sho. can always count you to patch me up.”
she snorts. “well, it is my job.”
gojo suddenly appears right next to the table and you yelp, startled by his teleportation. shoko, on the other hand, looks unfazed, as if she’s used to this.
“gojo!” you blink, your voice taking a scolding tone soon after, “geez, you scared me! what’re you still doing awake??”
the blindfolded man falters, looking apologetic. “sorry. heard you got back from your mission.” he sounds worried, but before he can voice his concern, shoko rolls her eyes.
“they’ll be fine,” she says.
gojo’s shoulders finally drop down and he plays off his previous display of concern with a laugh. “ahaha, yeahhh, i knew that,” he scoffs with a wave of his hand, “i can’t bless you two with my presence?”
shoko gives him a displeased look before she turns around to tidy up her tools. you chuckle at her annoyance. “thanks for checking up on me, satoru,” you say sincerely. your eyes go over his appearance; he’s dressed more casually: a pair of dark slacks and shirt that expose his collarbones. not that you’re.. particularly looking.
but his shoulders seem tense again at your words and he hums quietly. (huh, strange. at least he’s not refusing to look at you anymore, you think.)
“well, i say this calls for a little celebration,” satoru suddenly purrs in delight, waving his hands in the air.
“celebration? for me getting kinda beat up?” you blow a raspberry at him, only for him to blow one at you right back. even though you had done it first, you can’t help but giggle at his childish antics.
he grins at that, then shakes his head. “heyy, i heard you beat up a semi grade two curse!” he says, “i think that does call for a celebration, does it not?”
you stare at him, unsure on whether he’s joking or not. wait, how did he even know that? well, maybe he had gone through the mission reports and assignments. still, you’re surprised that he knows. “you can wipe those out in less than a minute, gojo,” you point out with a raised brow, “don’t try and humor me.”
his grin lessens. “well, yeah, s’kinda easy for me, but i think that goes without saying. you’re telling me don’t wanna celebrate an accomplishment of yours?”
you look to shoko who is almost finished with cleaning up. she just shrugs. you look back to satoru and shrug yourself whilst rolling your eyes. “alright, we can celebrate.”
gojo fist bumps the air. and here you are again, giggling at him.
eventually, when he leads you out of the infirmary and to the teachers’ lounge. he digs through one of the fridges and hands you a bottle of what seems to be alcohol.
“i didn’t even know this was allowed here,” you mumble, settling down on what of the high chairs near the counter. you wiggle in your seat to get comfortable as gojo takes the one next to you.
you offer it to him but he shakes his head, nose scrunching up a little. “i don’t drink.”
“wasn’t this your idea?” you blink. “suit yourself, more for me.” you shrug and open the bottle to pour yourself a glass. and another. and another. and then another.
(you don’t know what particularly drives you to keep drinking as you talk with him, but perhaps it’s the way you know that satoru’s eyes are lingering just underneath the blindfold. you can practically feel his stare.)
and gojo watches you gradually drink yourself to being mildly drunk.
“okay, no more for you,” he laughs as he takes the bottle away from you and holding it above your head when you try to reach for it.
“awh, man.” you pout and rest your head on your arms on the table, looking at him the best you can. “you meanie. you got me drunk on purpose. give it back.”
he snickers, amused and endeared by your drunk antics as he pushes the bottle aside. “sorry. you’ll thank me later, pretty.”
pretty. he’s never called you that before. you wanna hear him say it again. (amongst some other things.)
“pretty.. you’re pretty. i bet your eyes are pretty too,” you say into your sleeve, your other hand reaching out to his blindfold, “everyone else says they’re v’ry pretty.”
he leans back to avoid your hand, heart pounding in his chest a little too loud for his liking. he wonders if you can hear it. “sure. i guess they are,” he says softly with a small chuckle.
“i wonder who my soulmate is,” you then mumble out. maybe it’s the alcohol, maybe it’s your incoherent slurring, but you sound.. sad.
before he can dwell on it, you’re slurring out another question that has come to your head.
“d’you have a soulmate?”
satoru’s eyes widen under the blindfold. he knows that you’re drunk. that you’re just saying things. but your hazy eyes stare up at him with a glint that makes his heart lurch.
and you won’t remember a thing in the morning, right?
before he can answer, you’re out like a light.
you wake up in the morning with a splitting headache.
with a groan, you sit up in what seems to be a bed that seems way to be to be your own, legs kicking the sheets that had been draped over you in alarm.
you have no idea where you are, but there’s a glass of water along with some painkillers on the nightstand beside you, which you down gratefully. there’s also the smell of food coming from outside the room.
you can piece two and two together that you’re probably in the home of someone you know.. your brain racks for information of what had happened last night but it’s only causing it to ache even more.
gojo.
you shake your head and make your way to what seems to be the bathroom to tidy yourself up. you notice that your’re still clad in your clothes of last night, so gojo had done the courtesy of tucking you in.
after you’re done, you take a deep breath and head outside.
you navigate your way down the hallway and follow the smell of food. as you turn the corner, you catch the sight of satoru in the kitchen. not that you doubted that the greatest sorcerer could cook, but for some reason, he looks so domestic.
he’s simply wearing sweats and a loose fitting shirt, your back turned to you as he tends to the stove, but the mere sight of it has your heart leaping into your throat. you have a feeling that it’s a sight meant for you, for you to see.
you don’t no how long you stand there, but suddenly a laugh rings through the kitchen from satoru teasingly. “take a picture, sweetheart, it’ll last longer.”
you yelp, embarrassed. (sweetheart? you try not to think about it, but you hate the way it makes your heart leap again. he’s just.. messing with you.) “erm.. sorry. good morning, gojo.” you approach the kitchen and take a seat at the counter.
when he finally turns to you, he’s not wearing his usual black blindfold, but instead what seems to be white bandages. you haven’t seen it on him before, but you don’t comment on it though.
he says good morning back before serving you some food, which you thank him for gratefully. “thank you for the painkillers too. i didn’t do anything embarrassing last night, did i?” you inquire, half jokingly.
you try to remember what had happened last night, but your memories are still a bit hazy. all you can recall is talking with him about things and staring at him. (you’re not going to tell him that though.)
“nah,” he waves off, “just told me your darkest secrets, s'all.”
you straighten up. “what?”
“kidding, kidding!” he snickers.
you groan and drag your plate to you. “i didn’t know you could cook.”
satoru looks mildly offended, emitting a dramatic gasp as he waves the spatula at you in a petulant manner. “hey now, i’m no expert. but i can at least make some sort of breakfast.”
(he totally did not look up a tutorial on how to cook for you. definitely not. but he’s a natural at everything, so at least his naturally gifted skill is in his favor this time.)
“thank you, gojo.” a smile tugs at the edges of your mouth.
“satoru.”
“what?”
“c’mon, you’re literally eating breakfast in my kitchen,” he laughs, sliding a mug of coffee (probably with extra cream and sugar because it’s gojo) towards you across the counter. “satoru’s fine.”
you test the name on your tongue, paying little attention to the way it makes the man before you stiffen up as you grab the coffee. “satoru.. thanks, satoru.” you think you can get used to saying that.
(he does too.)
satoru turns away back to the stove. “you’re welcome.”
“hey satoru, what did you say what you wanted again? i’m thinking bubble tea but i dunno..”
he likes the way his name sounds from you.
“uh, satoru? satoru? helloo, earth to gojo satoru? satoru!”
oh.
fuck, he hadn’t realized he had spaced out. gojo lifts his head in a sudden motion, making a surprised noise. he smiles sheepishly. “what’s up?”
“you feeling alright, satoru?” you tilt your head.
keep saying his name.
“awhh, i’m feeling more than alright, sweetheart.” he shoots you a grin, liking the way your eyes reflect the café lights, giving it a warm hue. “i’ll have whatever you’re having.”
“you seem to be in a good mood lately,” megumi points out. ijichi, in the front see, looks at the two of them through the rear view in silent agreement.
(a lot of people have noticed actually.)
gojo pauses, halfway through unwrapping the plastic of a popsicle. it’s the same one he used to consume during his youth, but his taste really hasn’t changed after all this time. “oh?”
the teenager eyes him narrowly. “yeah.”
gojo merely hums and pops the icy treat into his mouth.
“heh, i guess i am.”
you can hear gojo and shoko’s voices coming from the infirmary, causing you to smile absentmindedly. you didn’t think you’d be enjoying their company this much in the recent months—especially satoru’s.
(strangely, it feels so natural to be around him, you can’t help but wonder if he feels the same. you try to write it off as spending so much time together for a while now, but you can’t lie when you say he doesn’t make the stomach churn with butterflies.)
you turn the corner and announce your presence to the two with a smile and wave. you catch sight of them when they glance over to you, noticing something different.
shoko is wearing her usual white coat with a cigarette in hand, but she’s got her hair tied up in a rare bun to keep any strands from her face.
but that’s not what’s different as your gaze strays to the man next to her, the familiar frame of gojo catching you a bit off guard.
he’s wearing his glasses.
you’ve never seen him wear anything but his blindfold.
how does he look even more breathtaking than without it? you can’t see his eyes still, no—it’s a deep, deep shade of blue that still blocks his gaze from anyone else. but it’s a more casual look, seeing as his hair isn’t being help up and a few strands fall down and you can see his sharp facial features a bit more and-
and then he’s gone.
you audibly make a sound of confusion and hurt, because one moment he’s there and the next he’s no where to be seen. he had vanished without a single world.
he’s fucking avoiding you again; the realization of it makes your throat close up. after all you had been through with satoru.
“what the fuck was that?”
shoko stares at the space gojo had just been standing, just as lost as you.
there’s a distance between the two of you again. it’s painstakingly familiar to when you had first met gojo and he had kept himself strictly professional with you.
and you don’t know why.
it’s back to the cold shoulder from him; you’re seeing him less and less around campus, and those times where you did hang out off duty are practically a thing of the past now.
satoru is going to be the death of you one day, you’re sure of it.
and you and satoru aren’t even.. a thing.
then again, you’re not even sure what you are. you’re friends, yes, that’s much more than clear, but why does it feel so much more intimate than that despite the fact that the two of you have never even done anything?
however.. a part of you knows that you want more. more of those days lying in the grass with him, more of those mornings eating breakfast with him in his home, more of those afternoon café runs, more of everything with satoru.
is that why does it hurts so much now that he’s pushed you away again?
satoru is praying that you’re not in there with shoko as he approaches the infirmary a week later. she had called him over, and though he could’ve easily refused, he found himself obliging anyway.
“hey, what was that the other day?”
shoko is blunt and straight to the point once he arrived, striking him with a petulant and expectant gaze with her tired eyes.
gojo blinks innocently, tilting his head at shoko. “what was what?”
shoko then rolls her eyes. “you know what i’m talking about. what was that. you just- walked out like they we’re going to kill you or something.”
that’s the thing. you just might.
the white-haired man frowns and continues to feign innocence. he’s starting to wonder why he bothered coming here. “i have no idea what you’re talking about.”
his avoidance causes shoko to frown as well and she crosses her arms. “you’re doing the same thing that you did with them when they first joined here.”
when he doesn’t say anything, she continues, “avoiding them, pushing them away. i thought you didn’t have any problems with them. at this point, make up your mind because you’re just toying with their feelings and it’s not going to-”
“we’re soulmates,” satoru blurts out.
shoko is cut off, staring at him all wide-eyed for once. “you’re kidding.”
satoru falters. “i’m not. s’why i always wear the blindfold. and that’s why i.. i ran last night. just my glasses was too risky.”
what if he had angled his head the wrong way, what if you saw his eyes, what if you finally realized that you were fated to be together at the whims of the universe? he couldn’t do that to you.
“how long have you-”
“since we first met. i.. i could see it because of six eyes,” he explains, running a hand through his hair. “i don’t know why. i didn’t think i could have another one after-”
the two fall quiet at the mention of suguru, a heavy feeling hanging in the air between them.
“what are you going to do?” shoko asks quietly.
satoru sounds wrecked. “..i don’t know.”
“well.” shoko smushes her cigarette against the surface of the metal table. “you better do something before it’s too late.”
unfortunately, the higher ups have also noticed.
(the push and pull that has been going on between the pride of the gojo clan and a random transferred sorcerer from kyoto. nothing goes unseen by their tight hold on jujutsu society.)
and you are none the wiser when you’re an assigned a mission late so at night, at a secluded edge of tokyo. you would’ve questioned it, but after looking over the details, it seems easy enough since it was a low level curse.
ijichi drops you off near the location and bids you luck. the night is dark, with the shape of the moon only peaking out every now and then due to the clouds to offer minimum light, and then the veil is coming up.
it’s fine though, as you start walking to get this over with. the faster, the better.
what the fuck? the cursed energy here is much stronger than you had anticipated, almost as if it’s suffocating. now uneasy, you continue your search with more caution.
a low growl sounds from somewhere behind you, and you turn on heel to brace yourself in case the curse decides to catch you off guard with an unexpected attack.
your heart drops.
it’s a grade one curse.
something’s not right.
satoru can feel it. he can sense it in the air. something is lingering, a presence that makes even him feel uneasy, and he doesn’t know why. nothing makes him feel uneasy. but it’s a gut feeling, it’s the bond tugging and tugging and-
you.
something’s not right.
and then gojo is teleporting and finding ijichi in record time, giving the poor man a scare. gojo’s voice is on edge and leaves no room for argument as he demands the assistant director where he had driven you minutes prior. the veil still stands, undisturbed.
fuck, fuck, fuck- shoko was right. he should’ve done something before it was too late, because now it might actually be too late as he steps through the veil.
it’s too quiet for his liking, but the lingering silence only lasts for a few heartbeats before he hears you scream.
you’re going to die.
you don’t want to think that, but you’re definitely not going to make it out of this unscathed as you dodge the curse’s scarily accurate attacks, as if it knows where you’re going to move and land.
the curse screeches out something ugly, and you’re too stunned to react in time as one of its malformed limbs swings down with a speed that you can’t comprehend.
your throat cries for help even as the air out of your lungs, but then there’s the sudden brilliant flash of red that blinds your vision.
satoru?
you can’t see and your body aches everywhere while the sounds of the curse fade out. it’s replaced by the sound of someone speaking frantically. it is satoru as he crouches down at you, hands coming to lift you up gently. his infinity is off. “hey, hey it’s me,” he voices, “it’s me, sweetheart.”
satoru, it’s satoru. satoru is here.
you emit a sigh of relief, cloudy vision gradually focusing. you try and focus it on satoru, tracing over his features repeatedly, trying to engrave it into your memory.
“shit. those damn higher ups,” gojo grits his teeth into an angered scowl. the higher ups? were they behind this? you don’t know, but you know that you’ve ever seen him this furious before. “i am going to rip those old geezers apart limb from li-”
“satoru, we need to head back.”
he looks dazed, tufts of snowy hair now hanging a bit loosely over his blindfold compared to when it’s normally pushed upright. he even sounds dazed, the great gojo satoru, when he says, “yeah. yeah, okay.”
he’s holding on to you tight and suddenly everything seems to get blurry for less than a second before you blink. you realize he’s teleported you both not to the school, not to shoko’s infirmary, but to his penthouse.
the interior is at least familiar: white walls, a little messy, a couple of decorations, and—
“my place,” he clarifies, as if he had read your thoughts. he sets you down on his couch, uncaring if you’re staining the color of the cushions. but he doesn’t let go, hands still cradling your form so tight that you don’t know if you’re still shaking or that he is.
“are you okay?” you utter out weakly and scan him for any injuries while clutching at his arms, which is ridiculous because he’s untouchable. but you’re not in the right mind right now, and you have a feeling he isn’t either.
“i should be the one asking you that,” he retorts, and you also have the feeling he’s doing the same thing with you with the help of his six eyes.
“i’m alright,” you try to reassure him with a small shake of your head. it only aids you in wincing, but the pain is the last thing on your mind. especially with him here. “it’s fine.”
“it’s not fine,” he argues, his hold tightening even more on you, if that was even possible. is that a slight tremor in his voice? “you almost died.”
“and why do you care?” it’s not a malicious question from you. it’s more of confusion, of genuine. after all you’ve been through with satoru, you’re not sure where he stands. what he feels.
he seems startled by your question, like he can’t believe you could ask such a thing. “of course i care! why-”
you clench your fists in your lap, eyes tracing over his face repeatedly. “i don’t know what you want anymore from me, satoru! you’re not- you’re not telling me the truth.”
“i didn’t want to hurt you,” he tells you hoarsely. god, you wish you could see what he’s thinking. what’s going on in that head of his.
“you did hurt me.”
gojo trembles. “i know.”
“you seem to know a lot of things.” your voice sounds tired. your hand goes to rest on his chest, where you can faintly feel his heartbeat underneath. (oh, to be the only one who can touch gojo satoru like this.) “what are you hiding from me?”
“i can’t hide anything from you.” he draws a slow intake of breath. he then whispers,
“but how am i supposed to tell you that we’re soulmates?”
your heart skips a beat.
gojo satoru is your soulmate?
astonished, you now stare at him with wide eyes. “why- why didn’t you tell me??” you ask, voice cracking. to think, all this time, your soulmate had been right there, right beside you, right in front of you.
then it all clicks. his off-standish behavior, his reluctant interactions, his avoidance. his blindfold. he didn’t want you to see his eyes.
he’s known all this time somehow—and oh, oh. his six eyes. your lips part in realization as you stare hard, as if you could see his damned eyes beneath the cloth that hides you from the truth.
“i thought that if you knew that we were soulmates, you’d-” satoru shakes his head. “something always happens to the people i love.” he hesitates, “you still have a chance. you can find someone else.”
“what if i don’t want someone else??” you say out softly in protest, gripping the lapels of his uniform.
gojo shakes his head again. despite this, he doesn’t let you go. like he can’t, like he doesn’t want to. “we’re not bonded yet,” he says your name shakily. “please.”
still gripping the collar of his uniform, you tug him closer to you desperately. it’s so clear, so obvious that he wanted this.
“satoru, have you thought about what i wanted?” you breathe out, feeling tears well up in your eyes, “that maybe, there’s a chance that i want to take the risk? that i want to be bonded to you?”
your eyes flicker down to his lips momentarily. “that i want you too?”
satoru’s breath stutters.
“you haven’t seen my eyes.”
you cup satoru’s face in your hands, swiping your thumb under the space where his eye is hidden with a fierce tenderness that makes him listen.
“satoru, i didn’t need to see your eyes to fall in love with you.”
your confession has him stilling.
(all the times he had stiffened up in your presence, he had been falling for you, bit by bit. you know that now.)
his hand comes to cover yours, the one that’s still resting on his cheek, fingers smoothing over your knuckles. and then his hand continues to go up, up, up, and-
he tugs the blindfold up and over his head, revealing his eyes to you at last.
his eyes are gorgeous, a blue that seems to spill into your vision and take over your senses. a blue that you can get lost in, a blue that reminds you of the summer sky, a blue that tethers your soul to his, and you both can feel it.
the bond between you is so electrifying that you nearly forget how to breathe.
and then satoru is surging forward, closer, even closer, until your breath is his and you forget how to breathe for a whole different reason entirely.
he’s kissing you.
he kisses you like you might disappear right before him, his head angling into yours to capture your lips with a force that makes your world spin.
and you return it tenfold, one hand still cradling his face while the other sneaks to dig its fingers into his undercut, and he’s making a noise into your mouth with fervor.
you’re all too aware of his heat against you, the frantic touches he’s now giving into as he draws you closer. the surface of the sofa dissipates into nothingness and then-
suddenly he’s teleporting you both again—or maybe he’s kissing you dizzy. but you realize you’re now in space that’s not overly familiar with you, but you can tell it’s most likely his bedroom based off of the feel of the lush satin sheets underneath you.
less than an hour ago you were fighting for your life, and now you’re fighting for your life on gojo satoru’s bed.
“satoru, s’toru, wait-” you’re gasping for air, for something as he engulfs you with his presence. he’s everywhere all at once, and it feels as if the bond is intensifying everything he’s doing to you.
“nuh uh. think we’ve both waited long enough for this, baby,” he gasps against your lips, like it’s impossible to be separated from you again, “don’t know how much i wanted this, wanted you. drove me crazy.”
his words makes your head all fuzzy. you don’t even know if it’s the bond anymore, or just the way he makes you feel. maybe even both. your lungs feeling like they’re burning, but even then, you manage to get out,
“you have me, ‘toru, you have me.”
“yeah?” when he pulls back, it’s not even a few inches, his nose brushing against yours. his alluring eyes glimmer in the darkness of the room, and you’re almost so mad that you feel like kissing him again because he’s kept them from you for so long.
your hands hook over his neck again. when your fingers run over his undercut again, you can actually feel him shiver, causing you to giggle in delight. “yeah, ‘toru.”
“yeah, pretty,” he sighs out and he’s losing himself in everything that is you once more so willingly. your eyes, your very being, compels him to give you everything, so he does. “y’have me too. all of me.”
his confession rings through your ears before he’s kissing you again, kissing you breathless. it’s a blur on what happens next; feverish touches and passionate symphonies, but one thing’s for sure,
the magnetic glow of his eyes in the dark of that night is something that you’ll never forget.
as your stir amongst the tousled bedsheets, you can feel the warmth of a certain someone creeping over you, like a cozy cat searching for cuddles.
your eyes peer open to meet the blurry sight of the ceiling, along with the sight of messy white hair tickling your chin.
“good morning to you, sweetheart,” a voice says cheekily, followed by cascading kisses down your jawline, prompting you to giggle softly.
you watch sunlight spill over into the bedroom, engulfing the man above you in an angelic glow as he finally pulls back to look down at you.
so maybe you didn’t fall in love at first sight with gojo satoru.
that’s okay.
cause as you stare up into your soulmate’s pretty ceruleans in the morning light, you think you can fall in love with him like this a little more.
BONUS!
“you owe me.”
nanami drags a hand over his face as he digs into his pocket for his wallet. “this is the first and last time i make a bet with you,” he grumbles.
shoko merely smirks. “you have such little faith in gojo.”
“bet or not, can we go back to before they were together?” nanami looks like he’s close to investing in a pair of one of gojo’s glasses that can block any normal person’s vision.
satoru is clinging onto you like a sloth.
“babyyyyy,” your boyfriend whines, resting his chin on your shoulder with his arms wrapped around your torso. you can’t help but giggle, endeared by his clinginess. (he had claimed it was to make up for the way he had acted in the past and for lost time.)
he’s like another part of you now. not that you mind. being his soulmate is everything and more—from the tender touches to the passionate ones, to the talks of everything: to the mundane to the serious. after all, your soul is his, and his soul is yours.
(and then his hands are sneaking off to places they shouldn’t be.)
“‘toru, not here!”
nanami heaves out another sigh as his hand comes to pinch the bridge of his nose. “is it too late to quit being a sorcerer again?”
TAGLIST : @spn-obession , @deepestartisanhumanoidshark , @scarasw1f3 , @kalopsia-flaneur , @90s-belladonna , @peachipeachy , @chrystinaamanda , @kalulakunundrum , @hunnyheavenn , @dekusdante , @dontmindmelove , @cherries-lostgirls , @rv19 , @etherealstarlightqueen
+ a/n: this fic ended up being way no longer than i expected omg.. but thanks to all who asked to be on the taglist !! some didnt work so im sorry about that </3
like this fic? feel free to go ahead and check out my other works here! -> masterlist
#gojo x reader#satoru x reader#satoru gojo x reader#satoru gojo x you#gojo satoru x gn!reader#gojo x gender neutral reader#gojo x gn!reader#gojo x you#satoru x you#gojo satoru x reader fluff#gojo satoru x you fluff#satoru gojo x reader fluff#satoru gojo x you fluff#gojo x reader fluff#gojo x you fluff#satoru x reader fluff#satoru x you fluff#gojo satoru x reader angst#gojo satoru x you angst#satoru gojo x reader angst#satoru gojo x you angst#jjk x reader#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen x you#jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader#jujutsu kaisen x gn reader#my writing#rain’s writing
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Fancy Restaurant
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x female reader
Word Count: 2,457
Summary: Nat works her magic and 'accidentally' double books you and Bucky for babysitting. The kids don't want either of you to leave so you end up babysitting together and thanks to some imaginative play the night progresses perfectly.
Author's Note: I definitely took inspiration for this from the Bluey episodes "Fancy Restaurant and Double Babysitter." It just seemed like such a fun idea! Steve and Nat's kids are about the same ages as Bingo and Bluey, 4-5ish and 6-7ish. Thank you all so much for reading! Much love always! ❤️❤️❤️Divider by the sweet @firefly-graphics thank you Daisy! 🥰
Warnings: super sweet fluff and fun, Bucky's a little shy at first but by the end he knows exactly what he's doing.
“Almost ready?” Steve asks from the doorway of the bedroom.
Nat turns and smiles. “Just five minutes.”
The doorbell rings.
“We’ll get it!” their two daughters, Lily and Rose, yell simultaneously.
The sound of slapping feet and giggles disappears down the stairs before you hear them scream, “UNCLE BUCKY!”
“My two favorite girls!” Bucky coos as he kneels down to embrace them. “Ready for lots of junk food, scary movies and staying up late!?”
Lily and Rose nod their heads vigorously and don matching grins.
“There will be none of that,” Steve tsks as he walks into the foyer, hands on hips.
“AW DADDY!” Lily whines.
“You’re no fun!” Rose adds.
Steve just scoffs as Nat walks in with a confirming smile.
“I just love it when you all gang up on me,” Steve grumbles.
Nat pats him on the back sympathetically and Bucky chuckles.
“Alright you two. Off you go,” Bucky says. “We’ll be just fine. Have fun!”
Just as Steve is helping Nat into her coat the doorbell rings again. Everyone, but Nat, turns with confused expressions before Steve and Bucky exchange questioning glances.
“Nat?” Steve asks.
She shrugs nonchalantly and opens the door.
“Hey babe,” Nat says as she greets you and holds her arms open.
You smile brightly and rush in to hug her.
It takes you a moment to realize you have an audience and when your eyes lock on Steve’s puzzled face your brows furrow.
The girls momentarily distract you when they start squealing in happiness and tug at your pants in greeting. You kneel down to squeeze them both before asking Nat, “what’s going on? What did I miss?”
“I was about to ask the same thing,” Steve says with a warm smile as he hugs you.
Bucky just stands to the side, his eyes glued to you and his mouth hanging open.
“Nothing!” Nat exclaims excitedly. “Steve and I are leaving.”
“Ok! You two have fu…” you trail off when your eyes land on Bucky.
“Did you double book?” you whisper to Nat.
“Double book?” she repeats, feigning misunderstanding.
Bucky clears his throat and wipes his palm on his jeans before extending his hand.
“Hi, I’m Bucky,” he says.
You introduce yourself, noticing the way his cheeks turn pink when your skin touches his.
Steve drops his head with a shake then looks to his wife who’s standing there looking smug.
“I didn’t realize you already had a sitter,” you say. “I can go?”
“NO!” Steve, Nat, Bucky and the girls screech.
“You should definitely stay,” Nat says.
“Of course, the girls would be so disappointed if you left,” Steve adds.
“WE WOULD!” Rose says in her sweet voice. “Please stay!”
“YES you have to stay!” Lily pleads. “Now we can play fancy restaurant!”
The two girls squeak with excitement before rushing off with a yell. “We’re going to set it up!”
Steve and Nat finally get out the door and leave you and Bucky standing there.
“So,” Bucky starts and rubs the back of his neck.
You smile and move toward the kitchen.
“Have you eaten dinner yet?” you ask him.
“No,” he sighs while he pats his stomach. “But I’m starving!”
Your gaze falls to his large hand spread across his abs, the soft fabric of his Henley pressing against his muscles and accentuating them.
When your eyes move upward you catch him wearing a smirk and quickly turn your focus to the cabinets for food.
“I’m sure I can find something quick and easy to make,” you assure him.
As you move around the kitchen and pull things from the fridge and cabinets Bucky follows you, offering help where he can and asking you about how you met Nat.
“Are you sure we haven’t met before?” you ask him.
His eyes wander over your features, lingering on your lips for a moment too long before he blinks and says, “no way. I would definitely have remembered.”
You capture your bottom lip between your teeth and continue mixing the mac and cheese and when you steal a look his way you can see the pink color on his cheeks just above the dark scruff of hair.
A loud crash from the girls playroom alerts you both and Bucky quickly stands.
“I’ll go check on them.”
You finish up the mac and cheese and serve it into two bowls then set them on the table.
He returns just in time.
“They were just trying to set up the table for their restaurant,” he explains.
“I love how imaginative they are,” you muse. “They always come up with fun ideas!”
Bucky agrees before pulling out your chair.
“Thanks for cooking,” he says. “I’ll do the dishes.”
“No problem and great!”
You sit and dig in, enjoying the easy conversation the flows between the two of you.
The girls rush back in the kitchen just after Bucky places the last dish on the drying rack.
“READY!?” Rose asks, her tiny hands clasped together and a chef hat sitting crooked on her head.
The apron she’s wearing is tied haphazardly at her waist and there are several toy utensils sticking out of the pockets.
You and Bucky exchange a smile.
“We’re ready!” you tell the girls.
Lily whispers something in Rose’s ear before Rose rushes off with a giggle.
“That was our chef,” Lily explains. “The restaurant is just this way.”
She holds out her hand and waits for you and Bucky to follow.
“You have to hold hands,” Lily says as she walks you two toward the play room.
Bucky’s eyes go wide and he turns to you.
“Mommy and daddy always hold hands on dates!” Lily exclaims.
You give Bucky a reassuring smile. “I don’t mind if you don’t.”
“I definitely don’t!” he says and holds out his hand.
You take it and walk the rest of the way hand in hand.
Lily runs ahead and stands behind a makeshift pile of books, turning over some papers. You and Bucky stop in front of her and she states, “welcome to our fancy restaurant. Do you have a reservation?”
“Ummm,” Bucky starts. “Yeah, two for Barnes,” and he looks at his watch. “Six pm.”
Lily runs her finger down the paper. “I don’t see a Barnes here,” she says.
Bucky looks nervously to you then back at Lily.
“Are you sure?” he asks.
Lily sighs. “Did you call to make a reservation?”
“Oh,” Bucky says. “No, I didn’t! Is that bad?”
“YES!” both Lily and Rose yell. “But don’t worry,” Lily continues in a whispered voice, “you can just call now.”
Bucky stands there, clearly unsure of how to handle this and you think quick, reaching with your free hand into the back pocket of his jeans to pull his phone free.
You poke him in the chest with it. “Quick call!” you whisper shout. “I’m hungry!”
The girls giggle and watch Bucky.
“Uh…RIGHT!” he says and pretends to dial his phone.
“Hello, fancy restaurant. How can I help you this evening,” Lily says as she picks up her Minnie Mouse phone.
“Hi,” Bucky answers. “I’d like to make a reservation please.”
“Certainly,” Lily responds. “How many?”
“Two for James Barnes.”
“James?” Rose chimes from behind the play kitchen. “Who’s James?”
Bucky laughs. “That’s my first name but your dad has been calling me Bucky since we’re kids so it kind of stuck.”
Rose shrugs and Lily pretends to scribble something on the paper. “Great,” she says.
She hangs up the phone and repeats her welcome from earlier.
“Barnes for two,” Bucky states.
“Ah yes!” Lily sings. “Right this way.
In all the commotion you and Bucky stopped holding hands and when Lily realizes she stops short and puts her hands on her hips, a mirror image of her father, and gives you both a stern look.
“HANDS!” she shouts.
Bucky reaches over and takes your hand, gently stroking his thumb across your knuckles.
“If I knew I had a date tonight I would have dressed the part,” you lean over and whisper to him.
His lips lift into a boyish smirk. “You look perfect doll.”
Lily pulls his attention away and he misses the way his words make you react.
The table that’s set up is kid size and after Bucky pulls out your chair he sits in his and it makes you nearly fall over with laughter.
“What?” he asks with a grin.
“Oh my god,” you giggle.
Lily and Rose join you tableside.
“Would you like to hear the specials?” Rose asks.
“Sure,” Bucky answers.
“You’re still supposed to be holding hands,” Lily says. “On the table.”
“Oh!” you say and reach your hand across for Bucky’s. “Like this?”
“Perfect!” Lily says with a satisfied smile. “Now Chef Rose. The specials please.”
Rose rattles off a list of random food pairings that have you and Bucky trying not to burst out laughing. You somehow hold it together and place your orders, watching as the girls run off toward their play kitchen.
“This is already the best date I’ve been on,” Bucky says.
“Me too!” you agree. “The service is amazing!”
You say the last part loud enough to make sure the girls can hear it and their excited squeals warm your heart.
“I mean it,” Bucky says. “I’m having a great time.”
After he admits that out loud you can tell he’s slightly embarrassed so you’re quick to assure him you are too.
Lily brings over play plates and utensils and periodically checks in as you wait for your ‘food’ to be prepared.
The ease of your conversation with Bucky makes you feel comfortable and safe and the more you talk to him the more you like him.
Rose joins Lily for the presentation of the food and both you and Bucky are impressed with the spread.
“Wow this looks delicious!” he says eagerly.
The girls look pleased and excuse themselves in a flurry of fancy bows and unintelligible mutterings.
You and Bucky pretend to eat the food, laughing and sharing stories. Lily sneaks over and whispers, “don’t forget to feed each other!”
She tip toes away and you can feel her staring.
“She’s watching and waiting isn’t she?” you ask Bucky.
He subtly nods and pretends to scoop his spaghetti. He holds up the small fork and you laugh again, the pink plastic tiny in his hand.
You lean forward and he meets you half way, pretending to feed you a bite. A cheer erupts from behind you and the girls yell, “again!”
After sharing more bites and a special ‘fancy’ dessert Lily and Rose present Bucky with the bill.
“Hope you enjoyed your meal doll,” he says to you. “I know I did!”
“It was delicious!” you exclaim. “We definitely have to come back!”
Lily escorts you toward the door of the play room, instructing you once again to hold hands and bids you farewell.
While you and Bucky are strolling down the hall you hear the girls whispering to each other and Bucky squeezes your hand.
“I don’t think the date’s over,” he mutters.
You cover your mouth to stifle your laughter.
Rose skips over and stops in front of you and Bucky so you have to stop walking.
“Time for a smoochy kiss!” she says happily.
“YES! YES! Smoochy kiss time!” Lily sings.
Bucky looks down at the two girls and kneels so he’s eye level.
“Aw girls,” he says, “I’m not sure we can do that.”
“But” Rose says, her eyes big and shining. “Daddy and Mommy always smoochy kiss!”
You tug on Bucky’s shoulder and he stands again. You smile at the girls and lean up to press your lips to his cheek.
“There,” you say. “How’s that?”
Two sets of pouty lips turn to you and their tiny voices say in unison, “that’s a cheeky kiss! Not a smoochy kiss!”
Bucky wraps his fingers around your biceps and studies your face.
“Maybe if I give you one?” he says, his tone questioning.
You nod and wait for the press of his lips to your skin, closing your eyes briefly and opening them to find him staring at your lips.
The girls stomp and whimper, clearly not satisfied.
“Might as well give them what they want,” you whisper, pressing yourself closer to him.
His right hand slides up your arm and grazes the curve of your neck before he cradles your cheek and brushes his thumb at the corner of your mouth.
He dips his head as his metal hand slides around your waist and splays across your lower back. His dark eyelashes lower and he moves closer. Your fingers grasp at his Henley and you give him a little tug.
“Bucky, you can kiss me now.”
He nods lightly and his nose bumps yours, his lips hovering so close you can feel his warm breath.
“I hope I can keep this PG,” he whispers before pressing his lips to yours.
Your hands glide up to his shoulders and then to the back of his neck, fingernails gently scraping along his hair when he pulls you so close there isn’t a breath of space left between you.
The sounds of the girls screeching and screaming finally pulls you out of the kiss and you bury your face in his neck.
“THAT…” Rose starts with sparkling eyes, “was the best smoochy kiss EVER!!!”
“Can you do it again?” Lily asks, dancing in place.
You giggle and peck Bucky on the lips.
“Girls it’s just about time for bath and bed,” you tell them.
“Aww but we want to keep playing fancy restaurant,” Rose whines.
“I know. But we can play in the bath and then I’ll read you a bedtime story! Any one you want!”
The two girls beam up at you and then look at Bucky.
“You’ll play too Uncle Bucky, right?” Rose asks.
“Of course!” he says. “But first you two have to clean up.”
They groan but agree with shuffling feet and head back to the play room.
You watch them go until you feel Bucky’s eyes on you. When you turn to face him he grabs your hand and pulls you around the hallway and presses you against the wall.
“One more smoochy kiss?” he asks.
“Yes,” you murmur and meet his lips in a soft kiss.
“They’re smoochy kissing again!” Rose squeals!
“They do it way better than mommy and daddy!” Lily giggles. “I can’t wait to tell them!”
“We’re never gonna hear the end of this doll,” Bucky winks.
“I think this is exactly what they wanted,” you whisper.
“You’re exactly what I want,” he says before kissing you again. “And I plan on getting as many kisses as possible after those two go to bed.”
@randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @goldylions @kmc1989 @blackwidownat2814 @littleseasiren @buckysdollforlife @lizette50
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky barnes#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes x y/n#bucky barnes fanfiction#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes imagine#sebastian stan#sebastian stan x reader
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“Happy two year anniversary on your crush, dingus.” Robin tosses a peanut at Steve’s head.
“Shut uuuup,” he groans into his arms after an embarrassing interaction with the one and only Eddie Munson only 7 min earlier.
“What did you get yourself? What’s the two year anniversary anyway? Paper? Wood?”
“Why do you torture me?” He softly hits his forehead against the top of the countertop near the candy rack.
“Because you deserve it.”
“He keeps getting hotter,” Steve whines.
“So you keep saying.” She crosses her arms and leans against the counter at Steve’s side.
“Did you see? Did you see that tattoo on his- under his- oh my god.” Steve waves his hand under his armpit. “That should be illegal. Why does he think wearing a tank top with that much skin showing is-is appropriate? If he shows up at my house in fucking cut off jean shorts again, I’m going to lose it.”
“Oh yeah?” Like she hasn’t heard this before. “You mean like how you said you were going to throw ice at him, if he showed up in those wranglers to help with your car? Or when you said you were going to bite him, if he wore that stretched out loose-necked band shirt? Maybe this time you should kiss him. Spice it up a little.”
“Shut up, those jeans are diabolical. No one ever said that cowboys had great asses.”
“Um, actually I think they did? Why are chaps assless?”
Steve stands up and thinks about that for a minute. “Oh, shit.”
“You gonna finally say something to him?” She’s thisclose to shoving their faces together.
“I don’t know. I don’t want to ruin anything.” Steve says with a sigh.
Meanwhile…
“Idiot, idiot, idiot.” Eddie bashes his head into a pillow.
“It couldn’t have been that bad.” Jeff rolls his eyes.
“It was horrendously bad. He stared at me like I don’t know, like I grew a second head or something.”
“When are you going to just talk to him about it? Dude, it’s been two years. Two years of listening to you pine over Harrington. If you don’t tell him, I will figure out a way to tell him myself.”
“Et tu Brute?” Eddie grabs the collar of his shirt in mock horror.
“If you don’t tell him, I can promise you Dustin is mere moments away from piecing it together. The way you look at Steve when he picks the kids up? Dude, it’s over.”
“Oh god, don’t remind me. I know I’m on borrowed time!” He digs his fingers into his hair.
“Aren’t you going over there this weekend?” Jeff crushes his empty soda can and tosses it easily into his nearby trash can.
“Yessss, ugh the first pool party of the summer. I gotta find those stupid shorts.”
“You own shorts?”
“They were an old pair of Wayne’s jeans I cut into shorts. They’re a little loose around the waist so they don’t dig into me.” Eddie falls back onto Jeff’s mattress with a sigh. “Last year I could’ve sworn I saw Steve checking me out in them.”
“Dude? Fucking tell him.” Jeff groans.
Steve rushes to the front door after hearing Eddie’s signature knock. When he pulls it open he’s unprepared for what’s standing on the other side.
“Hey, man.” Eddie smiles wide while holding up a six pack.
“Sh-shorts…,” Steve murmurs.
“Huh? Oh, I know my legs are whiter than white.”
“Come in,” Steve tries to even his voice.
“I’ll put these in the fridge.”
Steve walks behind Eddie as the man heads into the kitchen. Steve’s trying not to ogle. Honestly. He’s trying to keep his eyes off Eddie’s ass, objectifying him like he’s a piece of meat, but it’s hard when he keeps shimmying his hips to the music playing in the living room.
After Eddie slides the beer into the fridge he grabs one of the cold ones Steve loaded up earlier and kicks the door shut with his hip.
“Everyone else outside?”
“Yeah, I knew you were on your way so I was finishing up in here and listening for the van.” Steve grabs a bag of chips, rips it open, and pours into a big plastic bowl.
“Hey, did you know we’ve been friends for two years now?” Eddie bumps Steve’s hip with his own.
“Oh yeah?” Steve definitely knew that.
“Happy anniversary,” Eddie grins.
“Heh, that’s what Robin said.”
“She- Robin said happy anniversary?”
Shit
Steve opens his mouth trying to come up with something but shuts it again when it all sounds stupid in his head.
“Yeah, uh, she said something like we’ve been friends for two years.”
Eddie shifts and leans on the counter to face Steve. “You and her? You’ve been friends longer than that.”
“No, no, you and me. You and me have been friends for two years.”
Eddie furrows his brows while chewing on his bottom lip. Steve keeps his eyes pointed forward as he continues to situate snacks. They stand in silence for a beat and Steve feels like he should say something.
Eddie beats him to it. “Tell me something. Do I look ridiculous in these shorts?”
Steve feels his stomach drop because there’s no way he’s getting out of this unscathed.
“They were my uncle’s and I cut them up. Do you think I should cut them shorter, maybe?” Eddie turns around and looks over his shoulder at Steve.
Steve’s eyes flick to Eddie’s denim hugged butt before clearing his throat and looking away again. “I don’t know. They look fine like that.”
“Sure, but,” Eddie turns around and takes a hold of the hem of Steve’s shorts between his thumb and index finger. “Your’s are so much shorter than mine.”
Steve can feel Eddie’s knuckle brushing against his thigh.
“I may not have thighs like yours, Stevie.” Eddie leans into Steve’s space while continuing to hold the hem. “But do you think I could pull them off?”
Steve’s brain is malfunctioning because does he mean pull Steve’s shorts off? “My shorts?”
“Hmm,” Eddie grins and then looks over Steve’s shoulder like he’s making sure no one is watching. “I’m gonna do something that I’m praying you’re into. If not, please don’t punch my face.”
“What-?” Steve’s question gets cut off when Eddie places a quick kiss to Steve’s mouth.
It’s so quick Steve’s brain didn’t even realize it was happening until Eddie was already standing back in place. He stands in shock, lifts his fingertips to touch his lips, and gawks at the doe-eyed man before him.
“Was that ok?” Eddie’s leaning away.
Steve’s nodding before he speaks. “Yeah, mhmm.”
“Can I do it longer this time?”
Steve can’t speak but he nods without hesitation. Eddie makes a quiet noise before moving in and kissing Steve.
And it feels….
“I knew it!”
Steve pulls back and the two men turn to see Robin standing smugly.
“I knew it! Two fucking years.” She shakes her head before waving her hand at them and moving to the fridge. “Oh don’t stop on my account.”
#the spend the entire afternoon sneaking away and making out#Dustin ran in on them in Steve’s dad’s den but they broke a part before Dustin could see#Steve pretended to be showing off the crown molding#steddie#steve harrington#eddie munson#steddiecameraroll posts#my writing#steddie ficlet
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Sound II
Steph Catley x Baby!Reader
Summary: You're not having fun
You have decided that the weird things Mummy puts in your ears are annoying. You don't enjoy them at all. They're strange and weird and make things loud.
You don't like loud.
Loud is weird and you wish Mummy would just let the world be quiet.
You also wish Mummy would stop putting you on your belly. You used to do that in your old home until you could successfully lift your head up. Then you stopped.
You're not entirely happy that Mummy is making you do it again.
"Come on, angel," Steph coos at you," Just a little bit longer."
You're not the biggest fan of tummy time and Steph would prefer not to make you upset but she's working on getting you to crawl. Mini called just last week to say that Bubs has begun crawling and Steph doesn't want you to be left behind, hence tummy time.
"What's with the frowny face?" She coos," It's not really that bad, see?"
Steph lays on her tummy as well and your frown disappears a little bit as you stare at her. Steph just supposes you needed someone to do it with you.
You start giggling and you clumsily reach out with a hand to smack against her nose. Steph tilts her head up so she can lay a kiss on your palm that causes another wave of laughter from you.
You're a fairly giggly baby, at least compared to Bubs, and Steph could listen to your laughter for hours.
You kick your legs happily as Steph drags herself closer on her belly until she's close enough to layer kisses all over your face. Her phone chimes and she sits up.
"Tummy time's done!" She says to you, lifting you into her arms," You're such a good girl for doing it!"
You beam at her, legs still kicking out slightly before you're settled on her lap.
Now that you're free from the confines of your tummy time, you've decided you want to be free of the things in your ears.
You tug on them clumsily and Steph chuckles, covering your hands with her own.
"I'm sorry, angel," She says," But the doctors said you've got to wear them to get used to all the noise."
Mummy's been putting these things on you for a while now. Every day, she keeps them on for longer and longer. You tolerated it at first but now you think she's doing this just to annoy you.
You huff and blow spit bubbles at her so she knows you're annoyed.
Steph drags a cloth over your lips to clean them off and you huff again. She laughs a little at your face. Like every time you pull a frowny face or look mildly disgruntled, she has to laugh.
It's so out of place on your usually sunny features that Steph has no choice.
"Just a little longer," Steph promises you," And then we'll do something else."
She already knows what that 'something else' is. In the month or so since she's brought you home, Steph found very quickly that you've an affinity for music.
It had been a complete accident when Steph was cleaning while you were napping, putting some music on as she worked only to find you kicking your little legs in happiness to the beat.
You just adored music, even when you couldn't hear it. You routinely enjoyed being set up by the speaker and just resting your body against it, feeling the vibrations on your skin.
You still don't look very happy at still having to wear your hearing aids but this is one thing Steph won't relent on. You'll wear your hearing aids as long as the doctor recommends to get you properly adjusted.
Macca's assured her that this is the way to go. It's easier to adjust to the noise when you're younger than it is to do it when you're a teenager.
Steph's helping you in the long run, no matter what you think in this moment.
Her phone goes off with another alarm so you don't get the chance to make your anger more known. The frown absolutely disappears once you're set down in front of the speaker and Steph puts on some classical music.
You don't really mind what music is played, so long as you can play around and touch the speaker but Steph likes to think you like classical.
There's probably something about the vibrations that makes it different from pop music or any other genre.
You seem happy either way and Steph's content to just leave you there as she cleans up your scattered toys.
You've fully wedged yourself onto the speaker and Steph's left to briefly wonder how you've knocked it over and how you've managed to clamber on it at all when you've not even started to crawl yet.
It's impressive though and you mush your cheek against it and giggle as the vibrations echo through your body.
Steph has to laugh too, putting your toys away before plucking you from your position atop the speaker.
"That's a little too close," She tells you, standing it back up and moving you far enough away that you can only rest your little hand against it," This is better."
You huff.
It's fine. As soon as she leaves to get snacks, you'll go straight back to laying on it.
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Sundered (Alt. Ending): CRUSH
Pairing: Gojo x reader
- Toji x reader (this part)
• Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Alt. Ending
Genre: Angst
tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments
word count: 5.8k
a/n: here it is! (it's late, sorry. not proofread too😭) im forever grateful to you all who waited and supported the sundered series and for supporting my other stories too. i cant do much but this means so much. ily.
If you never talk to him again, he will miss you forever.
“Do I not deserve it?” You asked him, almost flinching at your words when you promised yourself you’d never ask anyone that. Toji sighed, taking both of your hands and bringing them to his lips. “Not this. You deserve more than this. You deserve to be genuinely happy without sacrificing anything, without feeling spent.”
Your brows furrowed, trying to contain another flood of tears threatening to overflow from your already swollen eyes. Why does it always have to be so hard when it's you? When it was Satoru who tried to move on, he did with Naomi. You wouldn’t say it was a breeze for them but you just know it was never this hard.
Naomi and Satoru stayed together for a year, being the family you couldn’t give your child. And now you, you couldn’t even make it work with Toji. Why do you always have to feel stuck? Why does he refuse to take your hand and pull you out of this void that is slowly sucking you down?
Along with these thoughts, you felt a squeeze in your hand. “Y/N?” Toji called, “Y/N, it’s gonna be alright.” No, it’s not, you thought. The roof of your mouth tastes bitter against your tongue; so bitter that it burns. “It’s not. But it’s alright. I just don’t want you to feel burdened with this, alright?” You reached up to his face, eyes wandering.
“I’m sorry.” You felt selfish. You felt so selfish for not thinking about how this void of yours could pull him down with you instead of him pulling you up. You felt so selfish for wanting him to keep hurting just so you could feel safe. “I’m sorry I dragged you into this, I didn’t realize it would be this hard on you too.” Your throat feels tight all of a sudden.
You stepped away from him, sniffing as you wiped your tears away. You couldn’t remember what else he said, you couldn't remember how you ended up in that room alone, crying as you clutched your chest, blaming yourself for wearing out such a good man.
You couldn’t remember, or more like you chose not to carve into your memory how that day ended. The only image you can see in your head is how he cuddled you to sleep, woke you up to eat with him and the kids, and went home. You remember him saying that they could always visit. And you hated yourself for doubting him.
Now you smooth out the bed, rearranging the pillows and gaslighting yourself that you’ve been the only one sleeping on it all this time just so it wouldn't feel so unfamiliar. You changed the sheets and prayed you wouldn’t wake up in the middle of the night, reaching for the man you love.
And the fact that this wouldn’t be the first time that you would do so…
You remembered how you would wake up and break down at midnights during the first few months of your separation from Satoru, weeping as you ran to your daughter’s crib just to remind yourself to be stronger, locking your phone away to not call and embarrass yourself in front of him and his then-new girlfriend again.
You heard the sound of the video your daughter was watching as she sat on the bean bag in the corner of your room. “Mama, look it.” You heard her tiny footsteps tap the floor as she ran to you, holding the phone out. The screen flashed with Toji’s caller ID, “Thank you, baby.” You kissed her cheek as you picked her up to sit her on your lap.
“Yeah?,” You answered, hearing a sigh from the other end. You pulled your toddler closer to you just as she started to move near the edge of the bed. You that your voice didn’t sound hoarse at all. You didn’t cry as hard as you did with Satoru, but it was painful enough that you had to pause some chores just so you could think of a solution to fix it.
You doubted there was a fix and if there was, you felt like Toji would only be trying out of pity for you.
You’re tired of that. You don’t want people to feel sorry for you anymore. You feel like you’ve been nothing but pitiful every year of your life. Your dad gave up on you and your mother, your baby daddy gave up on your relationship with him and now you feel like you caused Toji to give up on you too.
Your brows bumped together at the thoughts and you were quick to shake your head, hoping it would shed off the searing pain in your chest as well. You can't have self-pity when you have a child. You’re determined to be better for her. Your index finger found its place on your lips, listening to your ex’s voice.
“Just wanna know how you’re doing.” You wanted to laugh, not to mock him but because you don’t really know how to explain how you feel to him. You decided to answer it from the surface, “I am okay, surprisingly.” You sniffed, hearing a sigh from the other end of the line and a tiny laugh from Megumi, probably watching something on his iPad.
You would say it’s too early for him to call you, but this whole breakup isn’t even like the normal ones. You broke up for each other's well-being. Not because you fought, not because one of you cheated, not because you just started to hate each other. You broke up wanting only the best for each other.
“I know this is for the best.” You wanted to help Toji feel better about this decision. You could tell that there was guilt on his part. He probably feels like what he did was just an inch kinder than Satoru’s way of leaving you. That would eat him inside. The last thing Toji wants to do is shatter all your progress.
“I don’t feel the best about it.” There was no hint of amusement in his chuckle, no trace of smile in his words. You don’t even know if he meant to say he feels bad for doing this to you. You don’t want to assume that he’s not doing better away from you because you’re pretty sure he’s more relaxed now that he doesn’t have to worry about his girlfriend thinking of someone even when she’s with him.
“Please, don’t dwell on it. I, uh, I have thought things through and it’s… it’s just getting kind of lighter for me.” You blinked away each tear that came with the lies that are flowing out of your tongue. It’s not getting any lighter. If anything, the crushing weight is still continuously pressing down on you and you know any time soon, you might break down in this phone call.
“I don’t know if I can trust your words…” Aside from the fact that it has only been a day, Toji thought back on your last conversation before you broke up. He’s well-aware of your tendencies to push all of your feelings aside because you blame yourself for the fall of your relationship. You would probably shoulder all of this again, like you did with your separation from Satoru.
Toji isn’t all clean here but he doesn’t know how to get that to you. You can be very stubborn when it comes to these things especially when it concerns your past. It’s an unhealed part of you and Toji can’t help but feel like your previous arguments, his words to
you and how he made you feel contributed to it rather than alleviate it.
“Toji, this isn't good for me. For us,” You’re not talking about your relationship with him but it’s about him contacting you. “I know that we’re still good, we broke up to save each other,” you laughed half-heartedly, “Our kids are friends, of course, we can’t just throw that away, but for now…” You took a deep breath.
“For now, let’s give each other space. I’m not mad at you, I could never hate you but, Toji, this isn’t helping me at all.” The crack in your voice sent a blow to Toji’s heart, “I…I want to be able to talk to you, see you and visit Megumi with Yui without feeling the guilt of letting something so good slip away so, please...” You took a deep, painful breath.
“Let’s just give each other some space. Just until I have picked myself up again.” You covered your mouth, desperate to turn away from your child who’s been starting to glance at you. Toji’s silence felt like it could squeeze you, like a soundless bubble getting smaller and smaller around you.
“I’m sorry. I…I shouldn’t have called.” Of course, you’re not fine, Is he out of his mind? The voices in Toji’s head knocked sense into him as he realized what he did. How could he be so insensitive? Is it because he knows of his crimes, the source of his guilt and how he didn’t think it would affect him as much as it does now?
Now, even this breakup feels selfish. How could he just decide to leave when you’ve been trying so hard? He’s not different from your baby daddy—running away when they couldn’t handle the pressure, leaving you to clean up after the mess. Toji closed his eyes tight, clearing his head, begging himself to say the right words and make the correct decisions.
“I—I’m still here for you always, alright? Take care, Y/N. Kiss Yui good night for me.” He spoke slowly, fighting the loss in the empty space he’s staring at, absorbing your soft hums and apology as he continued, “I’m sorry.” I’m sorry, baby. It took every fiber in his baby not to say it like that. For your sake. And for him.
If you never talk to him again, he will miss you forever.
You put the phone down, feeling your daughter’s head on your chest as she stared up at you. Your mother once said that children do not understand these things yet but they feel their parents’ pain when it happens. And just like that, it’s almost as if your baby girl can read you. Her eyes says that she wants to help but doesn’t know how because she doesn’t eve understand it.
“Mama sad?” Her voice was small, it’s amazing that even at her age she knows how to try and soothe you. She knows that this is not the time to be playful without even knowing the situation. All she knows is that her mother is sad and crying. “No, mama’s just tired.” You smiled at her and for the first time she seems hesitant to reciprocate it.
“Mama sleep.” She got suddenly, bouncing her way to the spot next to you as she gets into a curled sleeping position. She’s a smart child. You laid down next to her, cuddling her small frame for as long as she can sit still but it wasn’t long before she was playing again, forgetting about it all. She’s still a baby after all. But this kid right here is the one who will always pull you out of the waters.
You wished that you could forget and get over this as quickly as this baby does, You wished it would all just fly out of your mind, that you could just throw up all of the pain out of your heart. You wished that you could just dust off the broken pieces of your relationship from your clothes, that you could scrub away the pain in the shower and watch it flow down the drain.
—————————-
“Look, I know Yui’s always been our priority but if you need a bit of time for yourself, you know you can leave Yui with me.” Satoru came earlier than expected. You can tell that he’s trying to stay inside the ‘boundaries’ as he struggled to find the right words to say about your breakup with Toji.
“You should take a break from work, if you think that’s what you need, I will-“ You placed a hand on his arm, stopping him. Satoru doesn’t want to seem like he’s taking advantage of the situation, that’s the last thing he wants to do. As painful as it is to admit it, he knows that you love Toji.
“Thanks. But it’s alright. We’re good, we’re just…not dating anymore.” You forced out a laugh, trying to make it better than how it really is. It’s clear to Satoru that you’re having a hard time. He could see it in your face, your eyes. Satoru remembered those times when he would do anything just to avoid looking at you and seeing how badly he broke you.
He was heartless for letting himself make you feel like that. He was stupid for letting you feel like that.
“Thanks. But it’s alright. We’re good, we’re just…not dating anymore.” You let out a laugh, retracting your hand away as you reached for the towel to wipe your daughter’s food-stained cheek. “Megumi and Yui still play together, I mean they’re besties now, right?” Yui giggled at the mention of her friend.
As much as Satoru wants to have another chance with you, he just doesn’t think he would deserve it just like that. Also, he doesn’t think he can see you like this everyday. Now he wants to talk to Toji. If it’s because of his interactions with you then Satoru himself would volunteer to give the big guy the assurance he wants.
It would be painful for Satoru but to see you so dull makes him want to give up his fight. If he even has some. His friends, mostly Shoko, already told him that he already lost all his chances. “You’re not a cat. You don’t get nine lives in this Satoru.” She would say and Suguru would quickly add “You used to have nine lives, actually. But you’re a dead man to her now.” It was playful but depressing talk but valid but…sad.
It was everything but playful to Satoru, no matter how much his friends tried to lighten up the delivery, it still felt like playing darts with his heart. Because he knows how much truth those words hold. He would smile and shake his head. His friends are never the ones to sugarcoat shit.
After saying goodbye to Y/N with his baby girl, Satoru can’t help but feel curious about your breakup. He’s almost a hundred percent sure that it’s Toji’s decision because of how you are right now. He doubts that you’d be the one to break it off. You’re a fighter, he knows that. He hates that you have to deal with these cowards of men who only know how to break.
But of course, Toji’s more deserving than him. That’s the bitter truth. Toji left for your good, while Satoru…just gave up on you back then. He will regret it for the rest of his life if he doesn’t get you back.
Get you back. He felt like a villain, hoping that you were the first to initiate the split. That would give Satoru so much hope. Thinking about why you did it (if you did), taunts him into assuming that maybe you still have something with him. But this isn’t right. No. Satoru should be better than this. Your happiness comes first. Even if it’s not with him.
Satoru swallowed the rushing mix of emotions that fogged his mind as he drives. It felt like swallowing needles, allowing them to go straight to his cracking heart. It’s almost impossible now, huh, to get you back? Even when you’re single again, it still feels impossible. Why is he even imagining it?
Shaking his head, he successfully parked his car, clapping his hands as he looked at Yui through the rearview mirror. “Let’s go now, my heart~” He sing-songed and the toddler eagerly reached up to him. “Tomorrow we go back to Mama, alright? She’s kinda sad, isn’t she? We gotta rescue that!” Yui cheered with him, despite not understanding what her father was saying.
Satoru knows that he can’t meddle with your relationship with Toji, no matter how much it bothers him. The least he can do is try to brighten your mood. Without any ulterior motives, of course. This is a vulnerable time for you. He doesn’t think he can stomach trying to get in through those cracks in your heart because of your failed relationship.
It’s not the right thing to do and that’s not what a good person who truly cares would do. He can only support you, but he doesn’t plan on taking advantage of this situation.
—-------------------------------------------------
3 months later
It’s a blessing to be a mother. It’s hard too. Especially, when your daughter won’t allow you to have a break from your ex for more than three months. “Mama!” She screamed at the top of her lungs for the hundredth time that morning. “I just took your bag, let’s go.” You wished you could’ve taken a picture of her, standing as she held the door of her room open.
“You’re so big now, baby.” Her birthday’s in a few months and you feel like crying because it felt like you just gave birth to her yesterday and now she’s turning three. Time is a thief. You wonder if so much has changed with Toji’s life too. You wouldn’t be shocked if he’s got a new girlfriend. After all, Satoru only took a few weeks to find someone new when you broke up.
That fucking stings. You told yourself and if you weren’t holding your daughter’s hand and her bag you would physically clutch your chest. The thought of being so replaceable has been a constant in your mind since Satoru and Naomi.
And if it happens with Toji again, you’d probably just close the table for love. You drove to the park, a meeting place you chose for the kids. You don’t want to be in Toji’s house. You don’t think you can handle that yet.
You wondered if you’d be greeted by some new lady with him, like how Satoru received you with Naomi’s head on his chest. What if they play with the kids instead and leave you out of place during the whole play date? Or what if they leave you to watch the kids while they get some snacks, taking their time to play couple while you wait?
What if— A knock on your window broke off your train of thoughts as you took in your surroundings. That’s right. You’ve been driving and now you’re at the part. And now Toji’s shading his eyes, his hand arched over his brows as he tried to see through your windows. “Gumi!” Yui squealed, kicking in her car seat as Megumi waved from the outside.
Toji was holding him in one hand as his bag hang loosely on Toji’s shoulder. You rolled the windows down, gulping your anxiety as you thanked the heavens that none of the scenarios in your head came true.
“You spaced out.” He chuckled a bit awkwardly as he smiled at you. There’s something new about him. Did he really glow up after leaving you? You almost frowned but you gave him a laugh, trying to think of an excuse as to why you’re sitting absentmindedly in your car a few minutes before meeting with your ex and his child.
“I was trying to remember if I locked our door.” You laughed, gathering your things as you stepped out. “Can I hold that for you?” Toji offered as you opened Yui’s door. You thanked him softly, trying your best to seem relaxed. You don’t know if you should be glad or worried that he’s being so cool.
It could be because he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable or because he doesn’t really give two shits about your relationship with him that he doesn’t even feel uneasy meeting for the first time after you broke up.
Or maybe because he’s already moved on to someone else, he just didn’t bring her with him because he’s a respectful man. You swore you heard a voice say it and it almost convinced you that it’s your brain that wants you dead. “Yui.” Megumi’s neck stretched as he looked over your shoulder for his best friend.
“Chill, man. Your long lost bestie will be free in a minute.” He still doesn’t fail to make you laugh. You put Yui down and watched the two kids adorably and messily hug. Now you’re glad that you taught them the importance of hugs.
“It’s cute that they’re still comfortable with each other.” You commented, pulling at your clothes as you tried to distract yourself from checking your ex out. You’re thinking hard to figure out what changed with his look. Aside from his forehead showing as the wind played with his dark hair,
“Let’s sit there, near the seesaw. They love that.” The kids were talking in a language only they understand, pointing at stuff before laughing as if it was the funniest thing they saw while to you, it looked like nothing. You would give everything to be a kid again. Just carefree and happy. But seeing your daughter makes you realize you wouldn’t have this any other way.
“How have you been?” He started as you sat down, hugging yourself as you looked ahead at the children. To be honest, you don’t know how to answer that. Do you tell him first that you miss him? Or do you tell him first that you got a clearer understanding of the holes in your relationship with him?
“I won’t deny that I missed you.” He chuckled leaning back. “But I did some reflecting.” He paused, glancing over to you, eyes traveling across your face. “A lot of reflecting actually.” He nodded, licking his lips. Right. That’s right, you thought, referring to his looks. Aside from his hair being longer, he looked…softer. You blinked away your thoughts, clearing your vision.
“I…I’m okay.” You don’t know how to tell him it could’ve been better if he was still with you. You wondered if your relationship problems would’ve been gone now if you didn’t break up. Would it have been better by now if you kept going? “I missed you, of course. But,” You laughed airily, “I’m getting better.”
You didn’t let your breakup with Toji affect you as a mother to Yui. But if you’re talking about yourself. You’re still trying. You have lived without Toji, of course, you can still keep going now. But your split felt like a crash from cloud nine. You’ve been so soaked with your happiness with him that when he left it felt like you were slowly getting drained and dry.
He walked you into a field of roses and when you returned to your old garden you realized how dull it was. Yui was your sunshine in those days under the dark clouds. She was a sunlight that went out of its way to bring a smile on your face. “It’ll get better.” You sighed, glancing at Toji and seeing the solemn look on his face. Does he feel sorry for you? Does he feel guilty for leaving so abruptly as your baby daddy did? Does he feel—
“It doesn’t feel any better for me at all.” Toji’s not one to hide the reality of his feelings from people he feels comfortable with. It melts your heart when you think about how he loosens up with you. It makes you feel special. Though, not special enough to fight for.
“It will. Soon.” You looked down. You know that it wasn’t his intention to make you feel as if you’re making him feel guilty for choosing his peace. But it still feels like it and you don’t know what to say anymore. I’m sorry? I’m sorry that you feel sorry for me? He nodded, smiling so softly. Charming, you thought. You feel sad for the people who don't get to see this. Yes, his smirk can make one feel things but this smile…
The day went by fast, Toji invited you to dinner since a restaurant was nearby but you politely declined. It’s not that you want to. It’s just that you have to. One thing that you learned from your heartbreak with Satoru is that the more that you see them, the deeper the shards cut.
“My mom’s coming over for dinner. Maybe next time.” Your genuine smile contradicted the lie flowing out of your lips. It was so tempting when he looked like this, but you have to stand your ground. Next time. The two words reverberated inside Toji’s head and that was enough to push aside the disappointment he felt when you declined.
“That’s alright. There’s always a next time.” It sounded as if he was reassuring himself, emphasizing that you’re fine with meeting him and Megumi again next time. This is enough for now. After all, he still has to reflect on a couple of things regarding your breakup. But everything always seems to be pointing him back to you.
—————————
“Just call me when you’re ready to go, and I’ll pick you up.” Satoru’s words before he left you and Yui earlier started to get twisted inside Toji’s head. Now that Toji has let you go, Satoru’s just waiting for your go signal so he can pick you up again. He swallowed dryly, faking a smile when you looked back at him, laughing at whatever the kids did that he didn’t see.
Time flew by fast but that image of you leaning towards Satoru so that he could give his daughter a kiss as he said that to you has been stuck in Toji’s head all day. The kids were drinking juice with small towels around their shoulders. “I can, uh, I can just drive you home, you know? I mean, so that Satoru wouldn’t have to drive all the way here again.” He suggested, wiping off some of the water droplets in his son’s body.
“It’s alright, he’s already on his way anyway and he owes Yui a kitty cake that they didn’t get to buy last time.” You smiled at him, before asking to leave to give Yui a quick warm shower. Toji would’ve wanted to chat a bit more with you. Just spend more time with you. He couldn’t ask for so much of it now. It felt like it would be too much of an imposition for him to do so.
After a couple of minutes, the doorbell rang and he placed Megumi on one of the rugs, reminding him to stay there so he won’t slip. He sighed, running to his gate, knowing that it would be Satoru and of course, since you’re still getting Yui ready, the polite thing to do is to let him sit and maybe, entertain your baby daddy a bit.
“Oh, come on in. She’s just getting Yui ready.” His voice was almost monotonous, the nod of his head was another way to be a bit more ‘friendly’ to the guy. “You a fan of iced tea?” Toji cleared his throat with Satoru following behind him. Megumi was still on the rug, staring off into space. Toji can’t help but laugh when Satoru waved a hand at his face.
“Yui Dad.” He looked up, waving his small hand despite the blank look on his face. “He really looks like you.” Satoru commented, “Except his hair.” Toji placed a pitcher on the counter, pouring a glass for the man, something he didn’t think he would ever do. “I’m glad you and Y/N are doing better,” Toji spoke after a couple of minutes of silence.
“Yeah,” Satoru nodded, holding Megumi’s hand as he tried to walk towards Toji. “We’re getting more used to this co-parenting thing. Figured out it was healthier for all of us when we’re not constantly arguing about something.” Toji doesn’t know if it’s right to say it but it already came out of his mouth before he realized it.
“The both of you single made it better, eh?” He didn’t mean it to start something with Satoru again, it’s just that that is the first thing that popped up in his head when he heard him. “Yes and No.” Satoru answered before he could even back it up with something lighthearted. “Me being single, yes. Because Naomi was basically a wedge, one cause of the problems that used to arise between us. And no, because no problem arises directly from you regarding those arguments.” He shrugged, taking a sip before continuing.
“Actually, I don’t even know why you broke up with her, if I’m going to be frank I trusted you with my family already, why did you even left her?” He’s saying a lot more now than before. Definitely a healthier man. And he seems like he’s back to his real self now. Toji might even assume he’s drunk if only you didn’t mention that he doesn’t handle liquor well.
“I’m not trying to guilt-trip you, alright? I want you to love her because you truly love her, but come on, man, there’s no threat.” Yui definitely takes after her father. Very talkative, Toji thought. Inhaling, he gathered his thoughts and which aspect of what Satoru has said he should focus on, “I don’t know.” Was his short answer.
“I mean… I was worried. I don’t know if she’s really over you. I don’t want her to keep hurting by my side.” It was quiet. Satoru didn’t speak, allowing Toji to continue. “Plus, I fear that she will forever feel like she just comes second to my wife. To be honest, I feel that with her too. With you being her first.” Toji felt surprised at his honesty. He just hopes that you won’t overhear this.
“You’re the present. I’m her past.” It felt bitter for Satoru to say, “I’m starting to accept that now. I’m just contented that I can be with my daughter and that I take care of them even from the sidelines.”
But Satoru would forever wish it didn't have to be like that.
“I’m not playing matchmaker. I just want what’s best for her. Even if it’s not me, Toji.” He stood up, sighing as he heard footsteps coming closer. You came in struggling to carry a barefoot, laughing little girl, a towel and her bag. “Dada!” She screamed with a smile as she tries to get away from you. “You’ll slip!” You warned her and Satoru quickly went closer to take her in his arms.
Toji sat there for a minute more, processing the man’s words. The best for you. If he’s going to ask Satoru about it, he’d say that if he has to pick someone for Y/N, Toji will be a top candidate. Aside from the fact that he’s a good man who truly cares for her, he also easily understands your situation because he has a child of his own too.
It’s safe to say that right now, you’re the only man that Satoru feels is safe to leave his daughter and baby momma with. His past mistakes and horrible decisions put him in this place and the least that he could do to make it all up to you is support you and whatever makes you happy as long as it’s good for you and his child.
“We’ll be going now, thank you, Toji.” Only then has Toji realize that he’s been staring at the three of you now and his baby boy who’s trying to hug Yui as her father puts on her shoes. “Uh, yeah. Let me walk you guys out.” He licked his lips, blinking fast as he tried to snap himself back to reality. “Come on, Megs. After this, you take a bath, alright?” He picked him up, wrapping a towel around his body.
“Come again. Please.” Satoru laughed as the little boy waved, probably worried that it would take months for his little friend to come over again. “She’ll be back soon, bro. Chill.” That’s wild, Toji thought, He just called my son ‘bro’. Before you could even get on the other side of the car, Toji has made up his mind. “Uhm, Y/N.” You looked up at him, for some reason, eyes shining with what seemed to be…hope.
“Can we come over sometime?” Megumi’s little cheer made your smile wider, nodding at them, “Of course..” You felt like a teen, worried that you answered too quickly, “Anything for that ‘gumi smile.” You played it off cool but kept your eyes on Toji the whole time.
You didn’t hear anything about what he and Satoru talked about. But it was nice to know that they’re starting to get along. Inside, Satoru was fixing his daughter’s things, somehow glad that he couldn’t hear whatever the of two of you were talking about because no matter how happy he is for you, he’d always break into smaller pieces each time he saw you smile and look at Toji like that.
He knows. Because you used to look at him like that.
Albeit, crossed with pain and longing, you used to look at him with so much love. Overflowing. And then, along with the tears he caused. It felt like acid in his stomach, threatening to spill out of his mouth whenever he thought of what you went through because of him. But now you’re happy.
He didn’t know that love would show him that some people are worth being pulverized for.
The car door opened just as he pretended to find something inside the glove compartment and he swallowed the pang in his chest at the glow on your face. “Gumi, babye! Gumi, babye!” His child screams behind him, waving her hands back at her playmate. “You ready to go?” He asked you and you hummed, glee evident even in the small sound.
With that, the two of you waved at Toji and Megumi, pulling out of their driveway. You smiled at the shared nods between Toji and Satoru before speeding down the road to the bakery where Satoru usually buy Yui’s cakes. Your mind kept going back to Toji. Maybe you’re being delusional but you can’t help but feel like he had to gather the courage to ask you that very last-minute question.
He feels like a…high school crush.
And maybe he’s being a high school crush because a week later, he shows up at your doorstep dressed like a heartthrob with a kid in oversized sunglasses and a bouquet of flowers in his hand.
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🧺 Any More 🧺
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Requested: spencer realizing that he’ll never love someone as much as he loves you. (whether that be because of a case or what have you), his mind is absolutely blown with how much he worships you and how much you love and care for him and he shows you that with the softest most sickeningly sweet sex you and him has ever done. <3
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI! Discussions of case details, case burnout, very close friends to lovers, oral (f receiving), vanilla sex (p in v penetration). Discussions of mental health, and two idiots in love.
A/N: I'm hitting the prompt Vanilla for this one, so please don't be scared off by the KinkBingo tags! I had a lot of fun writing this one (and adding Pride and Prejudice quotes into the smut scene because HELLO). Let me know what you think in the replies~♡
Masterlist || Bingo Board
You hadn't seen Spencer in 100 days. Which in the grand scheme of things wasn't that long, trapped in the purgatory of a ‘what if’ the way you had been for the last eight years.
You'd lived without him for longer than 100 days before. He'd been in prison, you'd been on assignments, you'd lived an entire life before meeting him, but now somehow 100 days was too much time, and you were exhausted. You understood why Spencer had to take some time away from you, from the team in an official capacity after everything he'd been through. You supported him even.
But when even your free time didn't overlap anymore, you wondered if your relationship would ever be the same again.
Spencer was a friend, your best friend, probably. You'd arrived on the BAU team, he'd rattled off some statistics, stammering the way through them, and you'd immediately warmed to the man. He was brilliant, funny, and fiercely loyal, and you tried your best to protect him even when the job seemed designed to break people like him into thousands of little pieces.
You'd tried to convince him to leave before, after Maeve had died. You didn't want to see him heart broken again, but no one else had seemed to agree.
“Reid needs purpose,” they'd said. “Reid needs something to do.”
What Reid needed was to not end up dead before he had a chance to be happy, and happiness didn't come often in your field of work.
You'd been almost vindicated a year later when he'd been shot again, almost fatally. Vindicated, maybe but distraught and inconsolable. Morgan had to carry you screaming and clawing out of his hospital room multiple times. It sounded stupid enough to yourself that it was only then you realized your feelings for the man.
You wanted to be Spencer Reid's happiness, which was why you were so lost without him.
He was coming back on Monday, and at least you had the weekend to sort your feelings out about everything.not just about him, but about the job you'd found didn't fit you well enough anymore, about the team you loved like family, about the relationship you knew would likely never come to fruition.
You dumped your bags at your door when you'd arrived in your house that night, pushed yourself into your bedroom and let yourself collapse on your bed, balling up into as cozy a position as you could. You didn't even bother taking your jacket off, you just let your brain haze over and sleep rush in.
Three quiet raps at your door lifted you up and out of bed again, not an hour later.
You grabbed your phone, grabbed the second go-bag you kept at your house, put your shoes back on, and opened the door, expecting Emily and a new case.
“Where are we going?” You said, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, not even looking up at your guest.
“Hopefully, nowhere? I brought takeout.”
Your eyes widened then, taking in all 185cm of Doctor Spencer Reid, tweed jacket and plastic bag full of chow mein included.
“Spencer,” you breathed out, like a sigh of relief, letting the bag drop to the floor next to the first one and letting yourself into his arms.
He held you carefully there for a second before leading you back into the apartment, wrapping an arm around you and ruffling your hair. It was brotherly, and it made you sick to your stomach.
“What are you doing here?”
“Emily said you were back from a case,” he started, unpacking the takeaway from the containers. “And it feels wrong to eat this without you.”
You rolled your eyes and followed him into the kitchen, pulling two forks out of the drawer nearer you and stabbing them in the top of your two cups.
“Hey, I can use chopsticks now,” he said, defending himself against an inside joke. Spencer was always useless with his hands.
“I don't care if you can use them, I care that they don't accidentally end up stabbing me,” you said, taking yourself back to your bedroom, Spencer following.
“You'd hardly die from being stabbed by a wooden chopstick, maybe a papercut or a splinter but-”
“But you're just bad enough that I don't want to risk it.”
You kicked off your shoes again and climbed onto your bed. Spencer followed.
“Remind me again why we aren't sitting on your couch?”
“Uncomfortable.”
“Or at your breakfast bar?”
“Glorified filing cabinet right now. Eat.”
He shook his head but complied, leaning back against your pillows as you both began carefully eating. Silently, you pulled your laptop onto your bed, opened it up, and pressed play on a movie, one you'd seen more than once, and you'd forced Spencer to watch before as well.
In a comfortable, friendly silence, you finished your food. You stretched out in a yawn once and then curled into his side, letting his mumbling voice, repeating the movie lines as they were spoken, lull you softly into sleep.
Spencer knew he had to leave, but he couldn't bring himself to wake you. The movie had finished hours ago, he'd closed the laptop and turned off the bug lights, but he couldn't leave.
Unlike you, he hadn't counted the days that you'd been apart. He hadn't needed to. He knew you'd be waiting there for him when he returned, knew you'd give him a smile and a pat on the back, and immediately start bouncing ideas off of him. It was what he loved about you.
As he laid next to you in your bed, a place he'd absolutely been before, his heart thumped. Just once, but hard.
Even in sleep, you looked exhausted. Your shirt was crumpled, hair a mess, you were still wearing makeup, and he knew he'd probably get an earful for letting you sleep like that in the morning. You were a mess, and he still wanted you.
The thought came to him suddenly, another painful thump of his chest echoing in his mind. He rubbed absent mindedly at his chest as if experiencing heartburn. In the dim light of the room, he let his head drop to the pillow and wrapped two shaky arms around you and pulled you in closer.
The two of you were a picture - both in suits, both with badges still somewhere on your person, both dearly clinging to the person they feared losing the most.
When you woke the next morning, it was actually the afternoon.
“Spencer,” you groaned, melting under the heat of his embrace. Somehow, during the night, he'd rolled on top of you, pressing you into the bed with a delightful pressure, head nuzzled into your neck, arms tucked around your waist.
“Spencer, we should get up,” you said again, forcing your eyelids apart as your mascara tried to glue them together.
“Mmmmhh,” he groaned, moving to pick himself up off you for a minute but lowering himself again. If asked, he'd blame your hand in his hair, stroking the rogue curls gently, as if he were a prized pet and you their carer.
“Spencer, its 2pm.”
“On a Saturday.” You laughed at how pouty his voice sounded, but he complied and rolled off of you slightly, arms still wrapped around you.
“Come on. Get up. I've got some clothes that might fit you, let's get you out of the tweed.”
He huffed but nodded and lifted himself halfway to upright, eyes still closed lazily as he let in the light millimetre by millimetre.
“God, my face feels horrible,” you said, itching at your nose. “How did we even sleep so long like this? My belt is still on, Spencer, my belt.”
“If you were still wearing a weapon, then I'd be worried,” he smiled.
You shot him a sarcastic look and finally detangled yourself, only to clasp his hands and pull him forward as well, letting him trail you to your closet.
“Here, change in the bathroom,” he nodded and walked away, following directions with eyes still closed, as if it were really his apartment and not your own.
100 days without him, and it was as if it had only been 100 hours. Your entire body chemistry changed when he was around, the stick holding your spine rigidly in place, dissolving into calm, into a smile and a free giggle. It felt right again, and you almost forgot you'd ever felt wrong.
After briefly changing, you swapped place with Spencer, who'd exited the bathroom with a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth and wet hair.
“Dry it for me?” He asked, sitting on your couch, and you nodded your ascent. A shower and a quick change later, and you were doing just that.
As much as he tried to keep his head upright, it kept lolling onto your thigh, yawns stretching out of him as he nuzzled closer to you.
“Spencer, you're like a big kid, keep your head up.”
“I'm not a kid,” he laughed, hooking his arms behind your knees and nuzzling closer into your soft sweats. “I'm just tired.”
“You're right. A child would probably be better behaved.”
“Our child would be,” he sighed, but you'd already turned the hairdryer back on, drowning out everything. Everything but that thump again. A child, he was thinking about children, and more importantly, he was thinking about your children. With him.
He'd always imagined himself with a family, knowing it would ultimately stay in his imagination. But for a second, his visions changed. It wasn't just a child or two. It was you. Thump.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
He only released the image when you finally pushed his head off of you and stood, turning away from him to get a glass of water from your kitchen.
“So, any plans today? Books to read, papers to mark, undergrads to run away screaming from?” You let the ice water cool your hot cheeks, but kept your back to him. You were hot, embarrassed, and you were looking at him in a sickeningly sweet way that could only be described as love struck or struck dumb.
“No, no, I finished all my obligations at the college yesterday,” he said, following behind you and picking up your cup when you set it down, taking a sip himself.
“I was… I was actually hoping we could spend some time together? Unless you had plans, which is totally fine-”
“No, Spencer, yeah, I have no plans, that's…. Well I have to do laundry, which is a bit boring but, no. No plans.”
“Laundry?”
“Two week case in Florida, I don't know how you didn't smell me yesterday, Spencer. I'd be running for the hills.”
He laughed and stepped away again, grabbing the two go bags by the door and coming back into your space.
“How about we get this done now so we can spend the day in a Who-Trek marathon?”
“Make that a Who-Greys Anatomy Marathon, and you have yourself a deal.”
He pouted again, and you snorted at the sight, taking another sip of water to calm yourself before you could react safely to that face.
“Come on, you know you've been dying to know what happens next at the Grey Sloane Memorial Hospital.”
“I thought it was called the Seattle Grace Mercy?”
“Oh we better get to that laundry now. You have a lot to catch up on.”
Grabbing a bag in one hand and his free hand in your other, you made your way down to your building's laundry room. But despite the man by your side and the relaxing day threatening to stretch ahead of you, a gloom caught you in the corridors.
You'd worked for two weeks, practically solid. You'd killed a man two days ago, or at least someone on your team had multiple shots having been fired. Another day on your job, another unsub felled, and everyone else was content with this just being a part of the job description.
It felt like each step towards the laundry room, each thing you did that was normal, that was regular, threw back in your face the pain you endured to save lives.
The bag in your hand weighed you down, pulling you lower and lower by the second.
You reached the laundry room, and you found the weight almost unbearable, stopping just before you could step in. You didn't have to think about what came next though, because suddenly the bag was out of your hands and Spencer was sorting your laundry for you.
“It's a Saturday, so your neighbour's won't complain if we separate the darks and lights into two machines, will they?” He asked, not looking up at you as he worked pouring out the fabric softener and the detergent. “Y/N?”
You hadn't noticed the lightness in your body until the tears hit your cheeks, the weight gone with his support.
“Y/N, what is it? What's wrong?” He said, hands cupping your face, because of course he was immediately at your side.
“I-I can't do it, Spencer…” your voice shook, pitching upwards, your vision blurring with tears.
“Can't do what, Y/N? Talk to me please, let me help?”
“I can't do laundry!” You said, finally bursting into a full fit of tears and burying your head in his waiting chest.
“L-Laundry?” He said, trying not to laugh, but the smile slipping out anyway now you were holding him.
You only sobbed again, nodding into his shirt, aware you were probably leaving snot all over it but not being able to care. It was your shirt anyway. You would just have to add it back to your laundry pile.
The thought set you off on another wave of sobs, and Spencer set about comforting you again. Keeping an arm wrapped around you, he put his quarters into the machines and set them off before quickly ushering you back up the stairs into your apartment.
“Y/N? Y/N, please talk to me,” he begged, smoothing your hair out of your eyes as you tried to gather yourself.
“I don't…. I can't….” You took a breath again, aware of the way your breathing hitched in your chest as you did.
“I don't think I can do this anymore,” you said, and his eyes widened quickly.
“This? Y/N, if you mean this as in us, then I can't-”
“This job,” you clarified, hands digging into the soft flesh of his arms further as he held you, finally sitting back on your couch.
“The job. Okay, the job. That's okay. We all feel like this at some point.”
You sniffed again and refused to meet his eyes.
“But this isn't like the other times this - It's like my whole b-body is protesting, and I can't sleep, and if I don't, then I might get sloppy and an unsub could-”
“Y/N, focus on my voice. You're spiralling. Listen to my voice, let's take some breaths, and think about this for a second.”
He guided you through some breathing, a hand on your back tapping out beats even as his voice grew quiet.
When you finally relaxed, you were sat on top of him, his hand rubbing circles into your back.
“I think it started when you left,” you whispered. “When you went to Mexico, and then, you know,” you've voice thickened, and you couldn't get the words out.
“And then these last 100 days they've just been…difficult.”
“100…difficult,” he echoed, almost breathless as he listened to you.
“It's like I can't do it without you. I never had to try to do it without you, and now I get what people say when they say this job is shitty, because it is when your best friend isn't there.”
You gave him a weak smile and wiped away your tears, trying to climb from his lap. But his firm arms held you still, and you didn't really want out anyways.
“When I get home, everything is different, and I can't make myself do anything. If you weren't here, I wouldn't have done that laundry. I'd let it sit and avoid it for weeks. Do you understand?”
“Y/N, lots of people feel depressed sometimes-”
“It's not - Spencer, I don't think this is something I can medicate my way out of. I don't know what to do because I can't do my job without you, and I can't be happy doing my job, and if I leave my job I'll be without you and then-”
Your voice cracked again.
“And then I still won't be happy.” The words were barely a whisper, but they were a plea, too. You weren't sure what for.
“You can't be happy without me?” He asked, but it was more a statement than anything else. Spencer felt horrible in that moment as his chest rattled, gleeful that he was your happiness.
“I love you,” he said, outloud finally after eight years.
“I love you, too, Spencer, but-”
“No, Y/N. Listen to me. I. Love. You.” The thumping of his heart set the tempo for the choir that was his senses to begin singing, as he finally leaned forward and kissed you.
“I love you, and I don't care if you're working at the BAU or if you're avoiding laundry at home. I, god, you're amazing and wonderful, and you're a human being, and you've our yourself under so much pressure for the last decade to keep me alive, to keep all of us alive really and….”
He took another breath, leaning into kiss you one more time.
“And you deserve a break.”
“W-When we take breaks, people die.”
“Did anyone die when I was teaching for the last three months? When JJ went on maternity leave?”
You shook your head, but your brain was still a mess.
“You all had reasons, I-”
“You have reasons, too. Y/N…. Y/N, let me be your reason.”
For a moment or two, Spencer truly thought you were going to say no. He thought you would get up and walk away, or better yet, ask him to leave and never come back.
So when you pressed your lips to his, he was sure that this was a dream.
But to you, it was salvation. Spencer Reid's love was the lifeline you'd been thrown, and it was buoyant enough to make you start floating.
His hands kneaded the flesh at your hips as he pulled you closer still to him, his tongue slipping into your mouth to explore every part of you there.
“Y/N… love…you,” he mumbled with each spare breath he caught, and you only detangled your lips to hear him say it again as he pressed similarly heated kisses against every inch of your exposed skin.
When Spencer's mind lost its ability to create original speech, he leant back on a lifetime of information, of learning love through books and people and marathons with you.
“I know that all I know right now is that I love you. And I know that I always will,” he whispered, lifting you and carrying you back to the bed you'd only crawled from an hour hence.
A hand slid under your shirt, and slowly pushed it over your head, letting it slowly drop to the floor as he held you tenderly.
“To me, you are perfect.”
His mouth found one nipple, and he gently kissed, then suckled at it, hands softly caressing your stomach, feeling along every ridge of you as you writhed under him.
“Of all the FBI Units, in all the towns, in all the world, she walks into mine.”
“Spencer,” you said, voice still thick with tears, but these ones more tender, more joyful.
His hand eased your sweats over your ass and off, his hips settling between your legs as if he found the place he was made to lie forever.
“The truth of it is, I’ve loved you from the first second I met you.”
His mouth trailed lower until his tongue hit your clit, brushing against it languidly, as if it was his deepest desire to taste you and nothing else ever again.
His tongue flattened and flicked and pushed inside of you as you replayed his words again and again and again. You found yourself repeating them with him.
“I love you,” you echoed as he pushed a finger inside of you.
“I.. love you,” you gasped as he added another.
“I love you,” you screamed as your back arched up off the bed, finding your pleasure in his tongue, just ad you'd found love in his words.
“You have bewitched me body and soul, and I love….” He freed his cock from his pants, and took it in hand.
“I love…” With another kiss, he pressed the tip of it against you, asking for permission silently as you nodded your head.
“I love you.” He pushed in slowly, but it wouldn't matter how he did it because now you knew how he felt, and you didn't want to return to a time of not knowing.
Hooking your legs around him, Spencer dropped his forehead to yours and looked you directly in the eyes as he began moving. In and out, he thrust, mouth open in a moan of pleasure, likely mirroring your own.
The poetry, the movie lines, they were gone now, and Spencer was left with nothing but you, and love, and love for you.
“Spencer,” you moaned out, and he felt his chest swell. Pride. His name on your tongue, his body pressed to yours, claiming you as his ad you claimed him as yours.
He came with a shudder and you were not far behind, his undoing sending a shiver up your spine as his fingers grazed your clit again.
You sat panting for a minute, still attached, still forehead to forehead.
You weren't sure if it was him who giggled first or if it was you, but you were glad it was one of you.
You spent the rest of the night, the rest of the weekend, wrapped in his warmth, dressed in his love, taking each day a step at a time as you basked in his adoration.
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summary: [ cs55, cl16, mv1, lh44, fa14, sv5, dr3, mwebber, jb22 x fem!reader ]
three major kinks + a couple minor kinks for each driver
word count: 1.8k
content warnings: smut under the cut (minors dni pls!), pwp; i'm not going to tag all of these bc that would take 5ever BUT 1) everything is consensual & in the setting of a happy, healthy relationship & 2) dm me if you are needing any specific tw's/cw's & i'll be happy to share those!
a/n: it's been a hot, hot minute since i've had the energy to write (i was busy surviving my surgery core rotation at a level 1 trauma center & pediatrics at a major children's hospital), but i've been brewing up a lil something for awhile now! i was stalling out on writing the last part of corsica, so i figured i'd at least give you this to get the juices flowing again! i started this blog about six months ago, & i'm nearly at 500 followers & i wanted to take a moment to thank you all! i love you so much and i hope you enjoy this! these are the kinks i think each of these drivers has! what proof do i have, you ask? absolute fuck-all! enjoy, loves! xx
creampie + breeding kink — he’s a family man & lord knows how badly he wants his own. he’s possessive, too, & this sates both of those desires well for him. he’s always whispering something in your ear, hand low on your belly about how good you’d look carrying his babies. and once you’re actually pregnant? sweet jesus, he’s never taking his hands off of you.
shower sex — he’s talked a number of times about how he’ll shower multiple times a day, and something tells me he’d never object to a partner. more than once he’s had you against the tiled walls until the water ran cold and your teeth were chattering. he’d then proceed to take it upon himself to warm you up again, ever the gentleman.
post-workout sex — there’s something about the way you look, out of breath & drenched in sweat that sends all the blood in his body rushing to his cock. you’re trying to push him away, afraid that you’re just too gross, but this man does not give a single fuck. he adores you in all your sweaty, sticky glory & is on you the second you make it back from your class, peeling you out of your leggings and wrangling your too-tight sports bra over your head. and it goes the other way as well: his favorite workout cooldown is fucking you senseless; there’s something deeply primal about the exertion of a workout that clouds his head with only thoughts of you, out of breath & on the brink of orgasm.
minor kinks | hair pulling — rough sex — cockwarming — pussy worship — possessiveness — soft dom — teasing — dirty talk
praise kink — he’s a talker in bed, and that means that he’s telling you just how delicious the tight clutch of your velvet walls feels around his cock. one language is not enough to tell you all the ways you make him feel, how good you are, how badly he’s wanted you. it certainly doesn’t hurt when you reciprocate, but the sounds he’s able to work out of you are often enough for him.
vanilla sex — listen: it’s no secret that this man is a romantic, and there are few things as romantic as good ole vanilla sex. sure, some spice is nice every once in a while, but he doesn’t need it to get his rocks off. he’s too caught up in the romance of it all—the tangle of limbs, skin pressed against skin, stuttering breaths, and stammering hearts—to want anything else. all he needs is you.
kissing — similar as above, charles is a sucker for romance, and a good makeout sess is just the right thing to get him hot and bothered. he’s very talented with languages, and his mastery of his tongue doesn’t end with words. *wink wink*
minor kinks | oral sex (giving + receiving) — creampie — cowgirl — bathtub sex — breathplay
mutually drunk sex — no matter how much he loves a club scene, he’d always find himself back in your arms. happy, sloppy, messy sex. as much as he loves a g&t, he loves the taste of you more.
wax play — we’ve seen the clips. he likes dripping the wax just as much as he likes being dripped on, and every time you go to light a candle his eyes get that hungry look like he could devour you whole; you’ve learned how to use this to your advantage.
dirty talk + praise kink — as we all know, this man is a certified YAPPER. and, unsurprisingly, that extends to the bedroom, too. always groaning, grunting, whispering sweet nothings in your ears, there’s very little that leaves him truly speechless; you’ll always know exactly how he feels when you're riding his cock or taking him deep in your throat, whether that’s in dutch, english, or the french he’s been trying to practice. and, given his upbringing, he lives for the praises that fall past your lips; he aims to please, and your sweet words are all the motivation he needs.
minor kinks | restraints (giving + receiving) — spanking — threesomes — nipple play — sensory play
massage — he takes great pride in his physique, and he thinks every inch of you is perfect. he loves watching all the tension leave your body. with such limited time in his busy, busy life, he thrives on the time he gets to spend with you; few things can compete with the peace, intimacy, and pleasure that comes from the feeling of your hands working over the tight muscles of his back and legs. and if they happen to wander somewhere else? well, what a happy accident that would be!
fingering — if there’s one thing lewis knows, it’s that a man’s most important tool isn’t the one between his legs. he loves all the ways in which you unravel for him, your back pressed against his chest with your legs draped over his own to keep them open. he’ll play with you like that for hours if he could, unlacing your composure until you're boneless and melting into him with every touch. (also, dear god, have you seen his hands? female gaze bait of the highest form.)
the lingerie stays on — there’s a litany of pick-up lines about clothes, etc. looking good on you but better on their floor, and a one mr. hamilton disagrees with that sentiment; we know well how he appreciates fine garments, and he loves them even more when you’re wearing them. he’s most certainly one to spoil his partner, and if he’s going to buy you that agent provocateur set, you can bet he wants to see you in it.
minor kinks | soft dom — cowgirl — voyeurism — intimacy — dirty talk — shower sex — pillowtalk
face riding — why do you think he takes so much pride in his neck strength? and even when you’re squirming away from overstimulation, he’s more than able to hold you in place by hooking his toned biceps over your shaking thighs. he’s a menace, but he never leaves a partner wanting for more.
wearing his clothes — okay, this one isn’t original in the slightest because i simply cannot get this blurb by @folkloresthings out of my head. nando would keel over at the sight of you in his clothes, especially if there was a particular lack of certain undergarments. he’d pull you in by the excess material and have you right there if feasible.
anal sex — all the nando fuckers know that he’s a little freaky—can i get an amen? that being said, his experience goes a long way in helping his partner get the most out of it and making it a pleasurable experience for all parties. he’d take his time working you open, pairing it with leg-shaking orgasms to wash away any doubts in your mind. it’s a new sensation, but a welcome one at that.
minor kinks | swallowing / facials — teasing — spanking — rough sex — sloppy sex — aftercare
teasing — a tyrant on the track and one in the bedroom as well. or in the car. or at a dinner with a few too many pairs of eyes. regardless, being a tease is his favorite above all else despite his own inability to handle a healthy dose of his own medicine.
overstimulation — this more or less goes hand-in-hand with his teasing, but he loves the way you beg when you’re coming down from one high and coasting right into another. “just one more, liebling” or “you’ve got another one, don’t you, schatz?” or “i know you can take it, kleiner hase” before making your vision go white as he wrings another orgasm from you.
morning sex — but, above all else, sebastian is a lover, and few things are quite as intimate as slow, fumbling, half-awake morning sex where you’re mumbling praises and communicating in soft, hushed sounds of pleasure. chasing sensations and desires before your mind is even fully awake takes a strong, trusting bond, and he prides himself on this with his partner.
minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — mutual masturbation — toys — soft restraints (giving + receiving) — creampie / breeding — praise kink — dirty talk
cowgirl — this man & his mobsession w/ texas—need i say more? how does that saying go, again? “save a horse…”
photos/sextape — daniel3.jpg would like a word. he’s obsessed with this new medium, and what’s a better way to remember a spicy moment than on film? plus, when you’re traveling 200-plus days a year, you need a way to bring a piece of home with you however you can, whether that’s watching you fall apart while arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight or taking him into the back of your throat as you look up at him through damp lashes or riding his cock or or arching your back as he grips your shoulder tight…you get the picture.
threesomes — considering the way that everyone fawns over him on the grid, this man could so easily work himself into some surprising pairings. his love language is physical touch and he’s not afraid to share it. that, combined with his competitiveness and desire to please, turns into a dangerous desire for him to see you fucked out and overwhelmed by your own need for more.
minor kinks | mirror sex — dirty talk — thigh riding — facefucking — rough sex — hair pulling
rough sex — aussie grit. there’s nothing else i need to say other than he’s a wild ride.
aftercare — any rough lover worth their prowess, though, knows the importance of aftercare, and mark is no different in that regard. he takes it very seriously and is always checking in afterward to make sure you enjoyed yourself as much as he did, peppering you in sweet kisses and warm embraces.
pussy worship — we’ve all seen the clip, right? this man knows how to eat pussy and he’s damn good at it. better yet—he loves doing it. you’d practically have to pry him off you from the overstimulation, his tongue, lips, and teeth finding alllll the right ways to make you fall apart.
minor kinks | cockwarming — spanking — possessiveness — massage — swallowing / facials
exhibitionism + voyeurism — the grid slag. he’s confident about his body and his abilities, and he’s not afraid to share. he’s not overly possessive and an unabashed hedonist to boot, so this pairing works perfectly to get his rocks off (and hopefully yours, too). he’s a little freak, and he’s not afraid to let it show!
spanking — when you’re especially mouthy (frequently to get these exact reactions) and he’s a little bold, jenson is partial to taking you over his knee and seeing how long you can keep up the act before you’re a whimpering mess. frequently this ends with him literally kissing your ass, two fingers buried knuckle deep in your dripping cunt while another toys with your too-sensitive clit.
brattiness — again, like above, he loves when you backtalk or drag your heels on him, making him work for your pleasure and, on some nights, your submission. (though, he’s not afraid to admit how fucking hot he finds it when you take control, using him for your pleasure and taking what you need. all that matters to him is raw, messy, dirty fun.)
minor kinks | threesomes — begging — degradation kink (giving + receiving) — nipple play — oral sex (giving + receiving) — toys
final note: that's all, folks! now what do you think? let me know! 🤍 as always, you can follow my writing sideblog @velvetsainz-writes where i reblog inspo & recs!
#f1 smut#formula one smut#formula 1 smut#f1 driver smut#charles leclerc x reader#cl16 x reader#cl16 smut#carlos sainz x reader#cs55 x reader#cs55 smut#fa14 x reader#lh44 x reader#mv1 x reader#mv33 x reader#dr3 x reader#sv5 x reader#jb22 x reader#jenson button x reader#fernando alonso x reader#fa14 smut#lewis hamilton x reader#lh44 smut#max verstappen x reader#mv33 smut#mv1 smut#daniel ricciardo x reader#dr3 smut#danny ric x reader#sebastian vettel x reader#sv5 smut
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Hi Mae!! I keep rereading the overprotective poly marauders fic I love it sm 🫶 can I please request another one it can tie into casual dominance marauders if you want I don’t mind I just can’t get them off my mind. Thanks babe!!
Hi lovely!! So this went a bit off the rails, I had different intentions for it at first but then somehow it became very serious and the boys not so much overprotective as reasonably upset....all in all, I'm not super happy with it but I didn't want to throw it out, I'd be happy to write another overprotective one for you if you'd like!
cw: sexual assault
poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.5k words
You walk out of your office feeling odd and off-kilter. Your mind seems addled, unable to complete one thought before jumping to the next, and something prickles just underneath your skin that feels like anger and shame and also like panic.
Your boyfriends are waiting for you, idling at the curb. You’re supposed to go straight from here to the cinema, and you tell yourself you’ll feel better afterwards. Even if not, you have until Monday before you have to deal with this, if you deal with it at all. You may not. You’re not sure. You can’t think straight.
“Hey, angel,” James says as you get in, and it’s immediately obvious your upset has already been noticed. Probably as soon as you walked outside, your boyfriends observing you through the car windows. Remus, in the driver’s seat, and Sirius, sitting beside you in the back, are both charily silent. “How was work?”
“It was fine,” you reply. Your voice sounds off even to your own ears, but no one comments as Remus puts the car in drive.
“Ready for the weekend?” James imbues his voice with a light sort of commiseration. You try to smile for him.
No one is more surprised than you when a sob chokes you instead. You hide your face in your hands, tears already leaking out from between your lashes.
“God, sorry.”
“Hey, what’s wrong?” Sirius asks, unbuckling his seatbelt and reaching for you. Remus pulls into a parking spot just by the exit and shuts off the engine, turning around in his seat. “Baby.” Sirius wraps his arm around your shaking shoulders, squeezing tight. He sounds anxious. “Did something happen?”
The worst of your crying passes like a summer storm, over as quickly as it started. Your emotions gone haywire. You lean into Sirius, and he clicks the buckle on your seatbelt for you, pulling you the rest of the way.
“You’re scaring me,” he murmurs, pressing a quick kiss to your hairline. “Tell us why you’re upset, angel, please.”
“I think,” you mumble, face and eyes burning, “my boss grabbed my butt.”
You say it quieter than a whisper, but you know they’ve all heard. The silence that follows is so complete you could hear a pin drop.
“What?” James asks. His throat sounds dry.
You hear Remus sigh. “Oh, sweetheart.” The vinyl of his seat squeaks as he shifts. “When did this happen?”
“Just now,” you answer.
“Right.” Sirius’ arms had gone tense around you, but now they fall away completely. He moves for his door. “I’ll be back.”
“Don’t,” you plead. You worry he will anyway, but Remus locks the doors from the front seat.
Sirius cuts a glare his way, truly scary with the way wrath seems to gleam in his gray irises. He unlocks his door manually, and Remus locks it again.
“We can’t be rash,” he says, his own tone sharper than you think is intended for anyone in the car. “We have to think this through.”
“What’s there to think about?” Sirius snaps. James reaches behind his seat, taking your hand and rubbing comfortingly. “He’s just inside!”
“You think I don’t want to go in there too?” Remus gives him a look that’s a short fall from incredulous. “But if we have to call the police, it won’t help if you’ve already had a go at him.”
Your head spins. You hadn’t even thought of calling the police. You hadn’t really gotten past going to the cinema.
“What do you mean, you think he grabbed you, sweetheart?” James' voice is pointedly kinder than the others, and Remus takes a deep breath, calming himself.
“I don’t know, I just—I feel like I can’t be sure—”
“That’s alright.” Remus' voice is slower now. Soothing. “Why don’t you tell us how it happened?”
“I, um.” You swallow. James strokes the back of your hand with his thumb. “I was looking at something on his computer, because he said he wasn’t getting my emails and I thought they might be going to his spam. He was sitting behind me in his chair, and we were talking and his hand, like, squeezed—” your brain tries to shake off the memory, and you shudder along with it “—and then he just kept talking like nothing happened. It was so fast I’m not sure it even did--”
“Baby.”
You don’t realize you’re tripping over your words until Sirius’ voice cuts through them. You look at him, and his eyes are already on yours, fierce but solid.
“Did you feel him touch you?” he asks.
You rub your lips together. “Yeah,” you murmur.
Your boyfriend’s expression pinches, but his gaze is steady. “Then he did. Trust yourself. You know what happened.”
This provokes another wave of tears, less tempestuous than the first but somehow more painful. You wouldn't have expected any one of your boyfriends to blame you, not if you’d thought about it, but you haven’t had time to think yet and the relief that they’re so wholly on your side makes your heart feel cracked open.
“Dove, I’m so sorry,” Remus says. He’s frowning, a well-worn line etched between his brows. You hate to put it there. “What do you want to do? Do you know if you can contact HR?”
“I don’t know,” you admit, pliable to Sirius’ ministrations as he tucks you securely under one arm and uses the other to thumb at your salty cheeks. “I feel a bit silly. It was a small thing, I don’t think it’s worth a bunch of fuss.”
“It’s not a small thing,” says James, uncharacteristically severe. “It’s a big thing—a really fucked up thing, that he did—and it’s worth a lot of fuss. A lot.” He leans around his seatback, pressing a firm kiss to your hand. “It’s just a matter of how much fuss you’re willing to go through with, sweetheart. It’s up to you. We can go through HR, we can go to the police. There’s still the option of just going in there and roughing him up to be sure it doesn’t happen again.” He smiles wryly. It looks like it takes effort. “I’m very game for that option. We know Sirius is ready.”
Sirius makes an affirming humph sound against the side of your head. You try to smile back at James.
“I think maybe…HR?” Your voice is tentative. “I have a friend, Marcella, who I think would be nice about it.” You realize as it comes out of your mouth what a low bar that is, but that’s the reality of your situation.
“Do you know if she’s still here?” Remus asks.
You feel your brow wrinkle. “I think so…”
Remus unlocks the doors, and James gets out. You barely manage to squeak out a “Wait” before the door shuts behind him.
You turn to Remus. “Where’s he going?”
“To find Marcella,” he says. “It’s better that they know when it’s just happened, dovey, but you don’t have to deal with it right now. That’s why James is going instead.”
You nod. It makes sense, even if the reality of it all makes tears press at your throat again.
“My sweet girl.” Sirius holds you tight, mashing a kiss into the side of your head. “I’m so sorry this happened, baby. I’m sorry we weren’t there to protect you.”
“Don’t be sorry,” you murmur, turning in his arms to hug him properly. He seems pleased with this development, and squeezes you ferociously. “You can’t always be with me. And it’s not your responsibility.”
“Careful what you say.” Sirius seems to muster up some humor, a teasing edge to his tone. “I’ll get us one of those big shirts so the four of us can fit in it together, and then you’ll never be rid of us.”
“It’s our job to look after you,” says Remus, firm but kind. “It’s true we can’t be with you all of the time, but I’m glad you felt comfortable telling us this. Thank you, sweetheart.”
You’re about to dismiss his thanks when James gets back in the car, this time in the back seat instead of the front.
“Did you see him?” Sirius asks immediately, scooching the both of you over to make room.
“No, he must’ve left right after her.” James looks unhappy, but his touch is gentle as always as he takes your waist in both hands, easing you off of Sirius’ lap and into the seat between them. Sirius sighs but doesn’t complain, likely knowing he’s had more than his fair share of your comfort.
“Marcella was nice, though,” James says. “She arranged for you to have the morning off on Monday, and she’ll call you then to hear from you what happened. We can be with you, if you like.”
“Monday.” You blow out a slow breath, though it doesn’t do much to keep your throat from contracting in panic. “Okay, that sounds good. Thank you.”
“No worries, angel.” James rubs your thigh, watching you carefully. “You doing okay?”
“Yeah, sorry.” Your voice squeaks, and you cover your eyes with a hand. Sirius whines and kisses your shoulder. You try to laugh, but it comes out wet. “I think this might just keep happening for a while.”
“Oh, honey, it’s okay,” Remus coos, reaching out a hand to set on the top of your head. He scratches at your scalp with his fingernails the way he knows you like. “It makes sense to be upset. We’ll get you through this, alright? Let us look after you for a bit.”
#poly!marauders#poly!marauders x reader#poly!marauders x y/n#poly!marauders x fem!reader#poly!marauders x you#poly!marauders x self insert#poly!marauders fanfiction#poly!marauders fanfic#poly!marauders fic#poly!marauders hurt/comfort#poly!marauders imagine#poly!marauders scenario#poly!marauders drabble#poly!marauders blurb#poly!marauders one shot#poly!marauders oneshot#james potter#james potter x reader#sirius black#sirius black x reader#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#marauders#marauders fanfiction#marauders fandom#the marauders#hp marauders#marauders era#marauders x reader#cw sa mention
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@thelightofmylife wouldn’t it be funny if I decided to reread your entire HSR writing list again (I in fact did)… lolol <3 I’m still thinking about your response to me btw. You’re very kind 💖💞💗 truly I can’t get enough of your writing and I suppose kind words
No pressure to do this request if you don’t want to, you can also take this ask as an invitation to chat too
( ´ ▽ ` )ﾉ
ahh! I was thinking ,,,, Sunday + Aventurine + Jing Yuan… and anyone else you would personally want to do …!! Giving them headpats because you love them soooo much!!! And receiving or asking for headpats in trade … <3 i think it’s a universal thing that headpats are <33 so good and lovely and good for showing love ;w;’ <3
Jing Yuan will gladly accept your head pats, he finds your beaming face adorable as you gently patted his head as though you were being extremely cautious with how you gave him head pats.
He recognises it as your primary display of love after awhile and would create a routine where he would just sit himself in front of you, claim that he was meditating, and closes his eyes and waits until he felt you begin to pat him on the head and mutter ‘soft floofy hair’ under your breath as he fights back the urge to smile.
You really do want his heart and he didn’t want to go back to a reality where he did not know the power of your comforting head pats.
Someone could’ve been looking for him about something serious and when they’ve enter the room, they are greeted to the sight of him him dozing off all the while getting treated to some well deserved head pats from you.
A bird popped out of his hair once during a headpat session and you were scared off of giving him head pats for a while in fear of having another tiny bird fly out from his hair. Jing Yuan was a sad man that day and would stop fucking pouting until Yanquing asked you to put him out of his misery and give Jing Yuan his head pats, he couldn’t train with a moody general who didn’t get his daily head pats.
Jing Yuan wasn’t afraid of giving out headpats of his own. He gave Yanquing a couple in the past but he used them sparingly. You however, you could have as many headpats as you’d like from him and Jing Yuan wouldn’t complain, especially not as he got the chance to watch you melt under his touch to the point you were practically cuddled into his side with a look of pure content written across your face.
So if he were to see that you weren’t having the best of days he’d immediately start giving you headpats in hopes of making you feel better. Jing Yuan’s logic was that seeing as how your headpats always helped make his day just that little bit brighter. Jing Yuan could only hope that he could pay it forward to you in a way that let you know that he would always have your back, always.
Aventurine leans into your hand as you give him head pats and closing his eyes as he enjoyed any amount of affection you decided to give him.
He needed this, he really did.
At first he was afraid of what the implication meant but now, he would practically sprawl himself across your lap and silently wait until you were done with what you were doing to give him some head pats, whining that you don’t pay enough attention to him.
He wasn’t use to such gentle, loving touch such as yours and now that he’s gotten a taste, he’s become addicted and would always find a way to get you to give him head pats no matter what. He would ask but Aventurine felt as though he was only worth them when he’s done something to earn such affection.
He viewed everything as a transaction and your headpats were no different.
Until you told him one day that he didn’t have to ever ask to receive love and affection, at least not with you and that you would gladly give him headpats just for waking up.
Aventurine cried that night in your arms as you gave him soft, comforting headpats.
Now aventurine demands headpats for practically everything but you didn’t mind as you were more than happy to spend hours on end if it meant spending time with your lover and reassuring him of your love for him. It heals apart of him that he didn’t know needed healing before, you heal him with your unwavering kindness and compassion and he didn’t know how the appropriate way to thank you, other then to give you some headpats himself.
Aventurine’s headpats were soft, gentle, Alamo as though he was scared he was going to hurt you but they were reassuring and encouraging at the same time that made you feel as though you could move mountains.
His headpats were like a silent ‘I love you’ for a singular reason.
He would pat your head three times and linger there for a couple of seconds then patting your head three more times before repeating this a couple more times, even going as far as to adding in a couple of kisses to your face in between. He loved hearing you laugh but he loved it when you shown signs of being comfortable, being safe with him as that was all he wants was to make you feel safe and happy with him because that’s how you made him feel on a daily basis.
Sunday finds your need to give him head pats amusing and will gladly let you do so to your hearts content if it brings you so much joy.
It doesn’t matter if he was busy because Sunday will always make room for you and you head pats no matter what, and will stress the importance to his staff that a specific time slot remains reserved for you and only you because your head pats were pure magic to the Halovian.
His wings would flutter softly and in time with your head pats that you couldn’t help but giggle at how cute the sight was as Sunday tries to get them to stop, but ultimately just accepts that his wings had a mind of their own when it came to you and how reciprocal they were to your touch.
He defiantly needs them after a hard days work and will most defiantly collapse on your lap, wings drooping like a pair of dog ears in tandem to express his exhaustion, and sigh as he felt you begin to softly pat his head.
‘You’ve done amazing today honey.’ You tell him.
‘Thank you my dearest but all I want to do now is relax with you if that’s quite alright with you.’ Sunday said tired and you couldn’t deny him when he was like this, and for the rest of the afternoon you spent cuddled up with Sunday and giving him head pats as his wings tried to match with the pace of your pats.
Sunday does reward you with headpats of your own but they may not come as frequently as you might like but you understood that he was a busy man, when you do get your headpats its mainly when you were on the brink of falling asleep, so often times it felt like a dream. Sunday wishes he could give you as many headpats as you’d like but giving you them while you were half asleep was for the best.
Bonus: when he’s cuddling you from behind, his wings will try and give you headpats but end up hitting the sides of your face, so somethings you’d wake up to a pair of soft grey wings softly smacking you first thing in the morning.
#hsr imagines#hsr imagine#hsr x reader#hsr jing yuan x reader#hsr aventurine x reader#hsr sunday x reader#honkai star rail#honkai star rail x reader#Honkai star rail imagines#Honkai star rail imagine#sunday x reader#sunday imagines#sunday imagine#aventurine x reader#aventurine imagine#aventurine imagines#jing yuan x reader#jing yuan imagine#jing yuan imagines
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ok ok but imagine being simon’s gf and könig just being so infatuated with u :( he likes you so so much, believes you deserve better than simon and just pines after you ^_^
very im on fire of him
könig’s never been one to be discreet about his feelings, especially toward you. he doesn’t owe simon anything, much less loyalty. his crush has become an inside joke amongst the crew, has gotten dirty looks thrown at him by simon too many times to count for being just slightly too touchy to be friendly, too intense in his yearning. tuning in intently whenever you talk, doing small favors for you whenever he gets the chance, asks after you when you’re gone. too close for comfort, oughta get himself in trouble, simon says.
its hard to ignore a stare that burns a hole in the side of your head, weighted like a caress on all the exposed parts of your body. könig gets some sort of satisfaction out of watching you squirm under his intense gaze, eyes trained on you most of the time he’s around, because at least he makes you feel something. he wishes to sliver underneath your skin and infiltrate your thoughts just as you’ve done to him, sending his emotions into haywire just by way of existing. smiling at him so brightly, extending a fraction of the warmth and kindness that comes naturally to you, craves it when he’s alone at night. your boyfriend can’t blame him.
simon’s weird, quiet coworker, helplessly infatuated with you, his too cute, too sweet, too soft girlfriend. could only dream of experiencing the parts of you that are exclusively for simon — wonders how someone like you even ended up with a man like him. looking far too out of place under his tattooed arm, bottom lip tucked between pearly teeth bashfully while he chats to the group of guys in typical boyish manner. the occasional ducks of his head to kiss your forehead when he remembers you’re there is not enough attention showed to such a pretty, doting thing like you, in könig’s humble opinion. it’s not even that he believes he’s better than him, but a selfish part of him would rather you end up in his calloused hands than anyone elses. his mind strays the longer he observes you, imagines all the ways he’d treat you better, take care of you like you deserve. would’ve probably already proposed to you by now given the chance. you might seem happy enough, but that doesn’t stop him from searching for cracks in the polished porcelain. always waiting for a spot to slip in.
he finally gets you alone one night, finds you where you wandered off into price’s basement to fetch more beer. coming behind you to grab the case from your delicate hands like lifting a feather off the ground.
“boyfriend not here to do this for you?”
after you regain your composure from the startle, you scoff, peering up at könig through your lashes. “just thought i’d do something nice for him.”
“sweet. does he always allow you to do a man’s job?” sarcasm bites at his words.
“allow me—?”
“do you think he even noticed your absence, maus?” he presses a bit harder, his face holding the same indifference it always does under his mask, tone flat around his accent. “as i did?”
his eyes search yours for a second, looking for any sign of reciprocation for his feelings, and somehow you can tell he knows you don’t know how to respond. as a show of mercy, he steps to the side to let you squeeze past his frame and up the stairs leading back inside the house, heavy footsteps following slowly behind. he watches as you so easily slip back into simon’s side, how his arm finds its home around your shoulders without effort. concern knits your boyfriend’s eyebrows together as he leans down to peck your lips, never breaking eye contact with könig over your shoulder, a petty display of ownership. he watches.
#bella writes⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚#this might’ve been a smut request but my brain went <3 unrequited love <3#simon x reader x könig#konig cod#konig x reader#konig call of duty#könig cod#könig x reader#konig x you#konig x y/n#könig call of duty#simon riley x you#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley#könig fanfiction#könig x you#könig x y/n#könig mw2#ghost x reader#ghost cod#cod#cod x reader
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mum said no | lewis hamilton
an: i love hot ones <3 that’s all
After canceling many times, Lewis finally made his appearance on Hot Ones with Sean Evans. He was a big fan of the show so he was happy to finally get to be a guest. Not only was he a big fan, but so was his eleven year old daughter, Maeve, so naturally she accompanied him to the set.
Maeve Hamilton watched as her dad ate spicy wings and answered questions. When talking about Roscoe, Maeve payed close attention. She loved talking about Roscoe so much.
On the monitor, a picture of Roscoe and Maeve appeared. Maeve was wearing a black Lewis shirt that her mum had bought from an Etsy store while Roscoe licked her face. It was the British Grand Prix and Maeve, along with her sisters, was beyond excited.
“Look, Mavy, that’s you and Roscoe!” Lewis pointed to the screen. “That was taken last year. Do you remember?” Lewis asked his daughter.
Maeve looked at the picture and nodded. “Angela took it!”
“Is your family always at the races?” Sean asked.
“Most of the time during the summer, yeah. It’s always a great time when they’re in the garage, but when it’s school time, they stay home with their mum.” Lewis explained. “They don’t like that at all. But I always tell them education comes first.”
“But I get lots of good grades.” Maeve cut in.
“What’s your favorite subject?” Sean asked the girl.
“I like science.” Replied Maeve.
As the show went on, Maeve was seated next to the camera crew, laughing at her father. He was now taking bigger bites.
“You can do it!” Maeve cheered on.
“Thank you, baby. Love you.” Lewis chuckled and blew a kiss to the girl. “I can always count on my girls to cheer me on.”
“On the topic of family, is it possible that Formula One could get another Hamilton on the track? Or do they want to go into other careers?” Sean asked.
“At one point, they did say they wanted to, but now they’re discovering more careers that they’re interested in. I will support them in whatever choice they make.”
You and Lewis both knew that your daughters would never be Formula one drivers. You both talked about how hard it would be on them. He saw how fans were tough on Mick. He didn’t want his girls to go through that.
The wings got spicier and all Maeve could do was laugh at the faces Lewis was making. He drank milk but that barely helped. Tears were starting to come out his eyes. Maeve noticed and quickly went to her father’s side and used a clean napkin to clean the tears since she didn’t want him using his own hands that were covered in sauce.
“Thank you, baby.” Lewis said as Maeve cleaned up the tears.
“What kind of reaction do you get when somone pulls up alongside of you and then sees that it’s, you know, Lewis Hamilton behind the wheel next to them?” Sean questioned.
“Most people are just like ‘Holy Shit!’ um. . .” Lewis chuckled.
“They’re not revving their engine at you or anything?”
“I’ve had people, yeah traffic light that wanna race yeah.” He nodded. “Definitely when I was young, I felt like yeah. . . smoke this fool.” He laughed.
“This man wanted to race you yesterday!” Maeve spoke up. “Mum said no.”
“I got kids now!” Lewis laughed once again. “I got precious cargo, I can’t be fooling around.”
“And mum said no.” Maeve whispered to him.
“Yup, and mum said no.”
#formula 1#f1 x reader#formula 1 imagine#f1 imagine#f1 x you#sir lewis hamilton#lewis hamilton x reader#dad!lewis hamilton#lh44 imagine#lh44 x reader#lh44#lewis hamilton one shot#lewis hamilton imagine#lewis hamilton
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