𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔… is the best racer in all of japan.
he's iconic the moment he steps into the view of the camera. recognized by his pearly white hair and pretty eyelashes that flutter like the wings of an angel. you can find him on the cover of the most recent fashion magazines and internet blogs in japan— he's the hottest topic right now no matter the platform.
the crowd is growing as he pulls up in his sleek silver car, indigo accents shimmering and catching the eyes of everyone around. heads instantly snap in his direction, and some sort of smug satisfaction fills him as he pulls up. it's only natural he feels this way; he just won first place after all. his black gloved hand runs over the wheel before he comes to a stop, revving the engine once before parking and stepping out of the car. he is nothing short of expensive and lavish, a man of high class and charisma. gojo "undefeated winner on the track ever since he started this sorta thing" satoru is a dream, and when he talks, people listen.
you swallow hard as you take in his presence, knees buckling as you try to match the man's confidence.
you— a senior university student who had a day off and decided to check out all the commotion a few blocks down from campus. you were an art student, sketchbook settled in your arms filled with messy graphite sketches of cars and portraits of people that came to these events. you didn't know a goddamn thing about race cars, and you definitely did not know about the hot men that drove them.
too busy in your own world, you miss the way you catch his curious, iridescent ocean eyes.
"you curious, princess? come a little closer. i don't bite." he chuckles, and it takes a moment before you realize he's talking to you.
"me?" you ask with widened eyes. there were multiple people around you— and he was referring to you out of all of them? you tilt your head a bit to check if he was talking to someone behind you perhaps.
gojo finds your reaction amusing.
"yeah, you." he confirms, words rolling off of his tongue like a purr. he leans against his car, muscles rippling under his leather race jacket in the shade charcoal. you swallow hard before approaching the man.
"what's your name?" gojo asks out of genuine curiosity. his car shifts as he straightens up a bit in your presence. the man towers over you with ease.
you tell him your name, wondering if the sunlight is making you feel hot under your clothes or if it's just him. you take a nervous breath.
"congrats on winning, by the way." you smile kindly, trying to get as many words as possible out before your throat goes entirely dry.
"and how'd a sweet thing like you know i'd won?" he gives you a cocky little smirk. "you a fan?"
"not necessarily. i'm just a student here in tokyo. i'm designing your next car wrap and working on a new brand for you, and i thought it would be nice to meet the man behind the wheel." you reply with a soft laugh, gazing up at him with something that feels a lot like warm fondness.
"you're a student here?" he tilts his head. "what are you studying?"
gojo blinks, and you've caught him off guard this time.
"and you're the one designing my new wrap?" he asks, letting it sink in for a moment before he speaks again. "like... a personal designer?"
"something like that." you smile.
"you have no idea how much i'll enjoy having you around."
"do you tell all of your new designers that?" you laugh, trying to avoid the flutter of butterflies in your stomach.
"of course not, only you."
before you can respond, a man with long, black hair jogs over, magenta helmet tucked under a strong arm. equally as handsome as gojo himself.
"satoru," the man purrs, gaze catching yours for a second before he turns back to the white-haired man. "time to go mingle with higher ups."
"right now, suguru?" gojo's smile falls a bit. he does have to keep his sponsors happy, much to his irritation. he motions to you with his head, and the black-haired man chuckles.
gojo gives you an apologetic glance; he's not ready to let you go just yet. he doesn't chase anyone or anything, but for you, he was willing to if it meant getting to speak to you a little longer.
"no, no— it's alright. i was heading out soon anyways. it was nice meeting you, gojo." you smile up at him, giving the racer by his side a polite grin as well before departing.
a lazy laugh escapes the white-haired man as you walk away, and that's all it takes for gojo to make up his mind.
he's gonna need you to draw him like one of your french girls.
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