#happy mothers day 2018

[jirachibaby]

Happy mother's day (US)!

Made this for my mom <3

[hollow-vok]

Ohh im obssesed

[maeumi-jng]

if looks could kill

pairing: enhypen x idol!gn!reader

synopsis: jealousy is a disease and he's caught it. or in which enhypen members try not to expose your entire relationship.

warnings: fluff, poor humour, skinship, mentions of falling, a variety of male idols mentioned, talks of insecurity, age-gap between another idol, proof read-ish?

library: enhypen bookshelf

heeseung

he's the oldest... he should manage himself. he's mature... he knows better...

but watching you with nct's jeno... heeseung had lost all sense of knowledge and rationality.

you were mcees with jeno back in 2018 to 2019 for sbs' the show. to say fans loved you together was an understatement. even heeseung had been watching you as a trainee, in awe of you and the chemistry you naturally created with everyone.

everyone and their mother was waiting for the news ,that you and jeno were dating, to break. whether it would be by dispatch or some other shady news report, or slip of the tongue... they were all sure and convinced you two were together.

sadly, you both had ended your mcing period together, only occasionally saying hi to each other at other events where you were both scheduled. but recently, the both of you had been reinstated as special mcees for music bank when the current hosts, lee chaemin and eunchae were attending their unavoidable schedules.

heeseung was happy at first that he could see you more considering the promotions for sweet venom had just started. you had been dating for almost a year but spending time with each other was harder than the both of you thought.

heeseung's happiness, however, soon died down when he stepped into that rather small cubicle. the cameras weren't rolling yet jeno and the stupid eye smile of his was beaming down at you. he literally could feel the fawning of the staff behind the cameras, all whispering to each other about the 'never ending' chemistry between you and jeno.

the entire interview was almost uncomfortable. you and jeno had put on your peppy and jubilant personalities for mcing, enthusiastically introducing and talking to enhypen. heeseung couldn't help but notice every time you said something, his eyes would flicker to jeno instead of you and spot the similar look of admiration he himself often sported.

heeseung could only bare tight-lipped smiles to jeno when he received questions, suppressing all his petty grimaces and curled lips of annoyance. it wasn't until he received jungwon's sharp glare and pointed look that he feigned a wider smile and responded with an unfamiliar chirp to his tone.

although heeseung was scolded heavily by jungwon afterwards, at the end of the day it didn't matter. because he had caused enough of a ruckus that fans had sensed his jealousy and ran along with it, making ships and creating dating rumours for you and him. in the end... it all worked out in his favour.

jongseong

whoever said jay is calm and collected needs to take a step back and do a bit of rethinking. he's not the leader... poor guy is panicking.

it started at the end of the korean festival kbs was hosting for select groups or artists that were popular and upcoming. you and your group were walking around in circles, thanking fans for their support, makings sure they were warm, and bidding goodbye. amongst all the confetti raining down on you, for some reason, one just had to get stuck under your heel, causing enough friction for you to begin your descent into falling. you would've ended up hitting your head if it wasn't for cravity's minhee behind you. the surprised idol had decent reflexes, catching you by your arms with his own hands.

for a moment, everyone in the room was quite shocked. your own members made sure you were okay. while assuring everyone you were fine, you profusely thanked minhee while simultaneously apologising even though it wasn't your fault in anyways... you were just so embarrassed. minhee was dismissive of the entire thing, just glad you were okay and nothing bad happened.

a minor interaction of sorts... but the repercussions were big. it had set netizens ablaze. news articles and gossip sites had been circulating. fans were looking back at old fancams to see your previous interactions, hoping you and minhee were indeed dating.

yeah jay wasn't happy. he didn't think anything of it initially. he was happy you were fine, similar to minhee, and thankful the idol was there to help you. but then he got the ship edits on his for you page. he blinked blankly and then clicked on the comments... oh boy.

they said you looked good with minhee? that you... 'suited' each other. or 'why haven't i thought of these two together before?' what the hell... the poor guy's literally looking at his screen with the most furrowed brows and dumbfounded face as a burning whirl begins to spark within him.

as dangerous as it was, jay would rather have his name circulating in your dating rumours rather than someone else that wasn't him. so he did just that. subtlety, of course.

jay wasn't necessarily the couple matching type of guy. he liked getting you things that were unique to you. but all of sudden, he was bombarding you with matching items... keychains, phone cases, bracelets, necklaces, even your damn socks.

safe to say, he had created a monstrosity that the hybe pr team was going to spend the next few weeks attempting to deny.

jaeyun

this one here... he can't bare it. jake is already so expressive and clingy (in a good way ofc). he feels a lot. therefore, he really really really likes you.

he won't lie. he's searched the both of your names up on twitter or naver far too many times just to see it trending. not to mention his secret tik tok account where he likes all of the ship edits and videos made for you two, even if they are terrible. more than once his pr team have thought of smacking some sense into him but it just seemed like jake was lovesick.

to be honest, the pr team was prepared to confirm news of you two dating. with the rate jake was going, he would've probably exposed it himself.

and the recent sbs gayodaejeon lost him.

you and yeonjun had a special stage together. he was slightly nervous already in the fact that you were performing together because he knew how fans got. but from the moment the performance started and he realised you guys were having a dancing stage... jake was left to become god's strongest soldier. yeah... no.

how on earth was jake supposed to know it was going to have this much skinship? jake loved shawn mendes but after today... he hated him. furthermore, he hated 'senorita' with a passion.

to make matter worse, the fans who were already going to be a bit delusional, were even more delusional. they were all fired up. "dispatch reveal, when?" "i would cry if yeonjun looked at me like that." "can't tell whether i want to be y/n or him..." "their chemistry... shit..."

his members were already worried for jake but their worry was becoming a constant state. all this jealousy was transferring into his work. jake was showing up to work every day, mind somewhere else, pouty and sulky, always reading the comments and influx of ship edits of you and yeonjun that had replaced his... the AUDACITY. not to mention, he was avoiding yeonjun like a plague. oh he's in the cafeteria? oops, bathroom time. backstage and talking to heeseung? well.

best believe the next few days he's stuck to you as if you were attached by the hip. jake's making it more obvious by the second and he couldn't care less. arm strung around your waist, hand in hand, pretending there was an eyelash on your face just to caress it, passing you his blazer at award shows to cover your legs or back.

quickly, any talk of you and yeonjun was gone and (rightly, according to jake), replaced by you and jake. he even made the mistake of going live, where the entire chat was filled with questions about whether you and jake were dating. someone said blink seven times if he was, so he blinked seven times afterwards. another said clap in a circle if he was, so he did.

yeah... a day later, belift and your company released a conjoined statement to confirm it. fans were mostly happy and also laughing at the fact that jake was so obviously jealous of yeonjun, who he now could look in the eye, knowing you were right by his side (not that yeonjun even cared. if anything, he probably found it funny as well).

sunghoon

sunghoon and jealousy... one could say it a good mix rather than a bad mix.

sunghoon was used to getting asked out often. not to brag, but have you seen him? it was a good looking guy. he understood it.

but you.. boy, you were on a whole another level. people were practically lining up for you. numbers on napkins accompanied by food or chocolate, straight up confessions or attempts for your number backstage, or even flowers under the pretence of congratulating you.

bold and brave, sunghoon thought. these people were bold and brave to be doing all of this. but he got it. in a way, he was proud. all these people... and you chose him. he mattered far more than you and only the both of you knew it. he cherished that. the secrecy of your relationship, while not ideal, meant keeping all the things he loved (you) all to himself with no one else intruding.

but all this secrecy didn't stop things from going a tad bit too far.

an actor and idol. park jihoon. the man wasn't a confession type of guy. at least not immediately. instead, he liked to court and flirt. and his choice? you.

you had both acted in a drama together recently. the chemistry between you two... well, it set everyone alive to say the least. even sunghoon was flustered... he couldn't tell if he hated jihoon or he wanted to replace jihoon and do all those scenes with you. both probably.

you were clearly paying your dues... being kind and nice to the actor even though the affection was very much one-sided. but either your kindness was leading him on or he couldn't take a hint because jihoon was not afraid of anything it seemed.

when asked his ideal type behind the scenes? you.

the purposeful double meaning type of comments that bordered more on corny rather than flirty? said.

the chance to hold your arm when you both took home the best couple award? taken.

the couple award struck sunghoon's last nerve. because one could excuse the arm thing as a basic manner moment. but the comment jihoon made. simple and quite common in the acting industry. yet said with every pure intention. "i would really like to work with y/n again." followed by the awes and gushing of fans and fellow actors while you painted a small smile and a soft laugh in response.

what. the. fuck.

are you serious? is he serious?

him and jay are the same. they want to be more obvious but in the least obvious way. instead of taking the matching items route, sunghoon needed to directly deal with jihoon. so every time you had a schedule with jihoon... mcing, award presenting, as nominees, etc, sunghoon pulled something new.

you're talking to jihoon about the wide praise you two were receiving for your work and suddenly, "oh, you left your phone at mine, here you go." sunghoon would put what was his phone into your hand and literally leave. and you're left there standing like ??? and jihoon is also like ???

this time you're sitting with the actor backstage and suddenly a water bottle dangles in front of your face. sunghoon is smiling at you, completely disregarding jihoon. "you like water, right? here." uh, sunghoon, sweetheart... everyone likes water. we kinda need it to live, babes.

by this point, you're now expecting sunghoon. eyes darting every second to get a glimpse of his growing hair and the smell of tamburins' wood salt beach perfume in the air to notify you of his presence. but he doesn't come. you're partly relieved but also sad. you were kinda of enjoying it. well, more like it was growing on you.

psych!

you and every other artist and actor is going around in circles, thanking the fans for coming tonight and what not. sunghoon is going for a strike. it's the evening, the temperature has cooled down and you're stylist has opted for a more summery outfit in this winter weather. you must be freezing is sunghoon's thought (you can't feel the cold considering the heat of a gazillion lights are on you but sure). ever the smooth man, sunghoon slides off of his blazer and puts it onto your shoulders, telling you to keep warm.

you were shocked.

jihoon was shocked.

everyone's shocked.

sure, sunghoon sacrificed a bit of your secrecy considering by the morning clips of the action were swarming every platform and every past fancam was being investigated, but the look on jihoon's face was absolutely worth it. and if he had to do it all over again just to see you smile warmly back at him and thank him, he would do it again in a heart beat.

seonwoo

sunoo is one of those people who wouldn't be that jealous. it's not that he wasn't insecure... he was human first and foremost. but he didn't really care for anyone else when it came to you. he only had eyes for you.

also he thought he was already obvious? like he's the one singing your song when they play through his headphones when the group plays the whisper game. or the first one to critique jake when he messes up the lyrics of your song during a live because he knows them off by heart. or the literal STACK of your albums (exclusive, limited, every version) he had in his dorm and his parents' house. there was literally more albums of your group then enhypen's that his parents had taken the responsibility of.

yet, that doesn't stop kim wooseok. well, not him specifically. the fans. you acted with him in the drama, the night has come. you weren't aware of your seven year age gap until your first meeting with him and he said he was like 27. and sunoo was like o_o. bc wdym your 27? he looked the same age as you... and he was playing an attractive teenager easily... wtf? unfair much???

while the age gap wasn't great, the romance wasn't heavily what your show was about anyways, which could make one feel lighter. despite all of that, sunoo had seen edit after edit after edit about you and wooseok. you and wooseok behind the scenes discussing your characters feelings towards each other, you and wooseok at a press conference bc he was making sure you were able to sit down in the small outfit your stylist gave you, you and wooseok in the water together

you and fucking wooseok.

sunoo was going to lose it. how much more obvious could he be?

how about matching couple items? well, the thing about sunoo is that he already has matching items. why wouldn't he? they were so cute!

sunoo also wasn't the type of person to directly combat it. he wasn't sunghoon.

he was mixture of jake, and well, himself. sunoo quickly got pouty and sulky as well. any time he heard that damn mafia alarm ring from your for you page, with feigned and overwhelming kindness, he gently took the phone from your hands and threw it onto the bed before folding his arms and looking at you blankly.

anytime a member brought up the drama on live and set of the chat to talk about you and wooseok, sunoo would immediately try to change the subject or he'd be a bit catty... "i just didn't know how old he was... he like so old." (fans began to notice how often this happened after bringing it up two or three times, resulting in the constant chatter of you and wooseok just to rile him up).

by end of the last episode, sunoo thought everyone would stop talking about the show. but no... you and the damn plot (which one? up to you) left everyone wanting more... especially of you and... yeah, he can't even say the name anymore.

the only way sunoo is getting over this, is by you comforting him. he isn't going to unnecessarily create rumours or try to leak your relationship. to be honest, the thought of it was terrifying. he hated involving himself in drama.

you end up spending the next few weeks almost sunoo-crazed. "oh sunoo recommended me this product..." forget matching bracelets, you brought him matching pyjamas. "oh, my dog? she's great. she doesn't really like people but she seems like sunoo the most. maybe more than me :("

soon, in a year or two, when the news breaks out of you two dating, this odd period of time will finally make sense.

jungwon

calm and collected? yes. why? he's the leader. said it before, but jungwon has the sole responsibility to be able to adjust to every situation there is.

an injured member? he's got it.

wardrobe malfunction? let's have a word with the stylist.

mic pack falling off mid-stage? man's got the word 'professional' in his dna.

if anyone asked him, truthfully, jungwon admired you. as a fan and as your boyfriend. you were similar to him. the same age, a young leader, good at basically everything... but you had three differences. one that your group might as well have invented the word popularity. second that you debuted earlier than him. lastly that you, yourself, created a new category of idols - super idols or super-dols.

what is a super-dol you ask? an all rounder that performs and executes everything with diligence and quality. they mean everything. not just the whole singing, rap, dancing combo. they mean the inclusion of acting, music production, song writing... etc.

they said that a person like you only comes once in a life time. they struggled to add people to your assigned 'category'.

to think jungwon was dating you was beyond him. how you liked him was equally beyond him. he thought he was just lucky. you thought otherwise. jungwon was everything to you. he understood you, he was always by your side and he was hard working. life was hard. but being with him made you feel like life in itself made sense.

jungwon knew that people wanted you. not romantically but as friends, as a mentor, as an advisor... it made sense for someone of your caliber. so he wasn't surprised when the newly debuted anton of riize was collaborating with you to produce a new song. but what he didn't expect was the genuine interest of the idol. nor did everyone else.

jungwon was backstage at the mbc gayodaejeon, watching your special stage with anton. it was the last day of the year and the last thing he wanted to do was end it on a bad note with something a fickle as jealousy. yet, the green-eyed monster had found him as he watched anton's gaze remain on you, as though he were unable to move, smiling ear to ear while you sang.

he heard one of his staff whisper to another, "they aren't dating right? gosh, they should date! he looks like he really likes her!"

jungwon could feel the cautious gazes of his members on him, trying dismiss such nonsense with frantic comments. "they don't know what they're talking about, jungwon." "ignore them." " he shook his head lightly, taking a deep breath. he needed to remain calm. if he couldn't, who would?

he trusted you with his entire heart. you liked him, there was no doubt in his mind. his heart skipped when he made you flustered with his sweet nothings and attention to detail. and to be frank, he understood anton. if the positions were swapped and he was in anton's place, he thought he would look at you the same way.

minutes after the clock struck twelve, jungwon didn't have to even look for you. you had found him instead, dragging him behind one of the trailers. you brought him into a long kiss, hugging him tightly.

jungwon smiled into this kiss, bringing you closer to him as all of his nonsensical worries melted away. parting almost breathlessly, his heart warmed at your wish of a happy new year. he smiled once again, placing a kiss the side of your head while he grabbed your hand, rubbing soothing circles with his thumb. "happy new year, baby."

riki

riki was right on the precipice of youth and adulthood. he was only a year younger than jungwon but everyone always treated him with such fragility. not just because of his young age but the innocence that came with moving to a different country because of his said young age.

but riki was more mature than he looked. he had to be. it wasn't that he was alone. no. his members and friends would never ever make him feel like that. nor would you. but this type of maturity was required of him.

upon seeing p1h's soul or haku's eyes constantly travel back and forth to you as he interviewed your group, riki resolved to maintain stoic and pretend like he didn't care. you were in public, all eyes were on you. did it bug him that the person looking at you was the same age and also japanese? yes. but the nudge of jungwon and the thought of dealing with the staff was enough to make him stand down at the time. to be honest, if haku's whole thing ended after the interview, riki wouldn't of cared.

but it didn't.

riki was observing him throughout your performance (well as much as one could, he was still trying to watch you) and haku kept looking at you. like his eyes were moving with you as if he was only focused on you. but it was fine. riki could handle this... this was life... right?

haku, however, seemed to enjoy taking on every last nerve of riki's (unintentionally ofc, sorry haku 🥹). your group and enhypen were seated together backstage, all chatting and playing card games to waste some time before having to go back out. riki, ever the communication expert, already pointed the boy to you. "can't you just look away every time he looks at you?" he complained.

you raised a brow, placing down a card. "you want me to not meet his eyes in an interview? riki, i didn't peg you as the jealous type," you teased.

riki blankly looked at you. "i'm not," he said defensively, folding his arms. "i'm not jealous. i'm just being... absolutely reasonable."

"sure, sure..." you squinted your eyes, nodding sarcastically. "riki, just forget about it. you were probably hallucinating. he probably was just looking at me normally. honestly, you should rest more like i told you to."

riki wished you were right. that he was indeed hallucinating. but any maturity riki had been working on was already on a thin line and diminished as he saw haku walk up to your large group, greeting everyone but mostly you. heart eyes and all.

in the moment, it dawned on you that riki was in fact right. haku's finger twiddling, the brief pause before he spoke as if he was thinking about what to say only for him to still fumble over his words, the tinged ears... you had done the same thing to riki when he suddenly told you he liked you after being clingy for days on end.

well... shit.

you were quick to act.

no one spoke as much japanese as the yearly comebacks warranted. at least that's what you figured when you greeted him back in japanese, introducing riki to him as another japanese idol he could be friends with and the best part, as your boyfriend.

the corners of riki's mouth couldn't help but twitch up. to say he was belated was an understatement. he dipped his head a little, a wide smile now sprawled all over his face.

the visible disappointment on haku's face made your heart ache slightly. you felt terrible. maybe you should've let him down less... directly. but the obvious happiness riki was radiating off of him made you want to smack some sense into him.

by the end of your schedule, you had hesitantly accepted riki's offer for you to sleep over at the dorm because you had no idea why but regret felt like it was looming over you. and boy was it. the entire way back home, riki teased you the entire time.

"say it again. say that i'm your boyfriend again! why not? too shy? you weren't shy then.. you said it so confidently like..."

the teasing only ended when you ignored him for the rest of the ride and riki realised he had fallen victim to the silent game. he was a fan of silence. but this was not the one he enjoyed.

cutting back on the teasing, riki just relished the fact you were asleep in his arms and not anyone else's. you were with him and that's all that mattered. ♡︎

© maeumi-jng | do not copy, post (repost is fine!) or translate anywhere else! thank you ♡︎ requests here!

[satorhime]

. ･｡･ right where you left me ࿐gojo satoru.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ content : angst, fluff, dad!gojo (reader ‘n’ gojo have a daughter), set in 2018 and 2023, reunion, beach trips, established relationship ! f!reader. ･｡･ w.c. 3.7k & not proofread.

── ◜ ⪩⪨ ◞ synopsis : time remains the one enemy gojo can’t defeat. ໒꒰ྀི ´ ꒳ ` ꒱ྀིა notes: ik there’s a gazillion reunion fics but this has been sitting in my drafts since oct n i suddenly felt like finishing n sharing so i hope u enjoy <333 ‘m gna go cry over this fic now ;u;

satoru is having a damn good day.

it’s suspicious, it feels like a fever dream, and he can’t really pinpoint where the dubiousness comes from. maybe it’s because he feels as if he doesn’t deserve it, like if he allows himself to relax like this something terrible will happen while he slacks off. or maybe, it’s because he’s only ever had those truly good days in his youth when he was devil may care and his concerns for the wellbeing of the world slid off his shoulders weightlessly, like sheets of rain on a rooftop. a wild and selfish kind of happiness that begun in spring and ended too quickly in winter.

but today is a good day. he forgot to charge his phone last night, he is in the best mood he’s been in all year, and he can’t stop fucking smiling. gojo satoru is thriving, on top of the world, a little bit of that nostalgic, adolescent joy warming up his chest.

and it’s all because it’s a sunny day, the water is cool, and he’s on the beach with you and his baby girl.

the three of you decided to steal away on a spontaneous trip to okinawa that forced him out of his work uniform and into swim trunks with a bare chest, simply because you burst into his office with big droplets of tears in your eyes declaring yourself a terrible mother because you realized that your daughter was already three years old and she had never seen the ocean before.

it had taken him ten minutes to book three first class tickets and secure the private family villa for the weekend, fifteen to get packed, and twenty to board after hearing that.

he would do anything to please his girls, after all.

“‘anna go into the bathtub, mama!” your baby whines impatiently from the embrace of your arms, squirming and squiggling for you to let her down as she points towards the rolling ocean waves behind you. ever since she learned how to walk, she’s lost all patience for her doting parents carrying her around— especially when something catches the attention of those big, pretty blue eyes. it didn’t take long for her to become enamored with the sea, wanting nothing more than to get out of your hold and toddle towards the shallows.

“it’s called an ‘ocean’, cupcake,” you correct her, voice full of amusement and affection as you crane your head forward to kiss the soft skin of her chubby cheek, bouncing the toddler in your arms. “too bad we’re being held hostage by dada right now.”

“i heard that,” satoru mumbles with a pout, his third melon popsicle of the day hanging from one side of his mouth. droplets of green slush drips onto the broad planes of his chest in a sticky mess as it melts but he’s wholly focused on the two of you, one summer blue eye winked closed as the other peers through the lens of the polaroid camera looped around his neck. “but wait, just one more photo of my two favorite girls!”

“you’ve been taking photos for the last twenty minutes, satoru,” you huff. “we aren’t going anywhere, you know. you don’t have to take so many.”

“our baby needs to see what the three of us looked like in our prime, before we grow old and gray together.”

“you’re so ridiculous, gojo satoru.”

but despite your exasperation, you remain put. it’s hard not to feel the same way he does on a perfect day like this— contentment, light in the heart and full of love because of this little trip. the camera focuses in on you and your daughter before the shutter clicks, each snap immortalizing the sight of you and your baby girl illuminated by the lazy autumn sun.

“and done!” he cheers, catching the polaroid in his palm as it slides from the slot. it wobbles between two of his fingers as it develops, but he can already see that it’s a perfect picture. he feels his heart sink in his chest, melting into a syrupy sweet puddle of happiness that makes him lightheaded and anxious.

oh, you’ve never looked as pretty as you do right now. like a dream, a forever kind of love he never plans to let go of. wearing that cute little swimsuit he likes so much with his sunnies perched on top of your head and his baby propped up on your supple hip. the two of you are beaming, cheeks squished together, your daughter’s hand cupping your face fondly.

it’s the kind of picture that others would coo at and fawn over if he framed it in a museum, but satoru retrieves his wallet from the pocket of his swim trunks, tucking the polaroid safely in the trifold for his own selfish keeping.

“i think she really likes the beach,” you tell him, squatting to set your daughter on her feet. she waves to you and satoru before waddling toward the shallow surf, her little legs stumbling in the thick body of sand. “this was good of you, satoru.”

“what? you think i’d miss the opportunity to spend time with my best girls?” he asks you, a hand on his chest with an affronted look on his face. you resist the urge to snort as the two of you follow closely behind your stumbling toddler, rushing towards her every time she gets distracted and attempts to eat the sand or chase one of the seagulls.

“you’ve been busy lately, that’s all,” is how you respond, the accusation washed out of your tone for the gentle words instead. you don’t bring up how many milestones, how many little memories he’s already missed, just by being who he is— that no matter what, he’ll always belong to his duty first and his family second. no, you’ve always shown patience and understanding. never complaining when his side of the bed is empty before morning or your girl requests for her father to read a bedtime story in that animated, comical way you can never replicate for her. making her settle for your offkey, wobbly lullabies instead.

“i know,” he says quietly, suddenly serious— keeping one eye on your baby girl who is currently splashing her hands around in the sand and water. “one of my first year’s a vessel so the curses are getting more pesky. i don’t think that’s a coincidence.”

“you think something’s about to happen?” you ask, looking up at him, but he presses a kiss to your temple and you wrinkle your nose at the sticky feeling of his lips.

“nah,” he replies, and you almost roll your eyes because you know he’s lying. even though satoru has done his best to keep you hidden from his world, you’re no fool. you already know why he rarely comes home at night, why he was absent for christmas last year, why your daughter has never met her paternal grandparents. you know that with the reappearance of several ancient cursed objects, there is thunder crackling among the clouds. “don’t worry your pretty little head about that.”

satoru turns up the volume on the waterproof boombox half-buried in the sand next to your belongings. he can’t stand your choice of music, finds it noise most of the time, but it’s the distraction the atmosphere needs to throw off your questioning. he pulls you to sit down between his legs, your back pressed against his chest and his arms wrapped around your body.

ocean foam splashes against the tips of your toes as the two of you sit at the surf of the tide in peaceful silence, time getting away from you both in the warm sun as your baby girl plays, her energy endless— waddling around and squealing at the different curiosities and wonders the beach has to offer.

whatever will happen, satoru won’t allow it to be today.

“satoru,” you call after a long quiet, craning your neck to look up at him. “if you—”

“what, you think i’m gonna croak sometime soon?” he shoots back, already knowing where the conversation is heading. so he holds you tighter, his strong arms a protective cage around your body as his shades slide down the attractive slope of his nose. he cracks a grin at you, another obvious deflection because he knows you can’t resist when he looks at you that way. not with his hair mussed from humidity, a strip of sunscreen on his nose as he chews on that damn wooden stick from his ice pop earlier.

“i know what you’re doing,” you shake your head. “and it’s not working. i’m just worried, i’m allowed to, as your wife. you think you’re invincible but if something happens to you that’ll… it’ll—” it will break us.

satoru’s smile fades, but he thankfully doesn’t need to reply because your daughter is waddling up to the both of you now, her sand-caked hands full of seashells and stones that glimmer in the sunlight. he wants to scoff because if anyone understands the consequences of failing those you love, it’s him— it’s all he’s ever known.

“what ya got there, princess?”

“fish—!” she cries in her sweet, babyish voice. some of the shells tumble from her hands, and you watch as her expression switches from happiness to dismay to finally confusion. you have to bite your lip to hold back laughter when instead of picking them back up, she dumps the rest of the seashells in your lap. “now i don’t have any fish.”

“i think those are seashells, princess,” gojo says with a grin, picking up a shell that rests on top of your thigh and holding it up to the sunlight. “this shell looks like it belongs to a hermit crab, like your megumi-nii.”

“you’re a terrible influence on our daughter, you know.”

“i’m just setting up future dynamics, angel face,” he grins.

“look look look!” your daughter gasps, bringing your attentions back to her. “this swee-shell looks like dada—!” she squeals excitedly, her new finding held delicately in her little sand-covered palm. she stands up on your thighs to reach her father sitting behind you, holding an iridescent blue seashell next to gojo’s eyes, her tiny mind comparing the colors in wonder. meanwhile, satoru wears a smile that burns so wide it hurts his cheeks.

“it looks like you too, princess,” he boops her nose, gently taking the seashell and holding it to her eyes next. her answering giggles sound like a sweet bell calling him home to heaven, but he can’t answer it because there are two people on this earth who laugh and smile at him like he hung the moon and painted the stars. “if you put it in your pocket now, the ocean won’t call the cops on you for stealing it.”

“no, this one ‘s for dada,” she insists, shoving the pretty blue seashell back into his hand.

“thank you, my mini angel,” he ruffles her hair, and you smile softly at the little exchange because though she may be enamored with her new discoveries at the beach, her father will always be one of her favorite wonders of the world.

“i ‘anna go find one for mama now!” she announces, and you wonder how she hasn’t run out of energy yet, but you nod and stand to your feet, dusting the sand away from the bottom of your swimsuit. your baby’s entire hand curls around your pointer finger, and she pulls you along with great effort.

you glance back at satoru and find that he’s watching the two of you head closer to the water, that uncharacteristically genuine smile still on his face, and you part your lips to call him to your side— where he’s always supposed to be.

“you didn’t think we’d let you slack off, did you? finding seashells is serious business, satoru!” you tease, pretty eyes crinkling with unbridled happiness, haloed by the waning sun and the orange dreamsicle sky that holds it. “hurry up!”

“wait for me just a little while, i’m coming to you,” he calls back, a lopsided grin spreading across his mouth before he raises the polaroid camera to his face, snapping one last candid photo of the two of you before he jogs towards his little piece of heaven.

but he doesn’t think he’s imagining things when the distance between heaven and earth keeps growing further and further apart—

“satoru, you can’t stand outside forever,” your voice is gentle as it speaks behind him, your hand laid delicately on his back in comfort; breaking the sorcerer out of deep reverie, the edges of the old memory fading, replaced by the pink paint of his daughter’s bedroom door that he’s been standing in front of for the last thirty minutes. his thumb brushes over the polaroid in his hand, the one that had been his salvation and his undoing in the prison realm. he’d taken it out without knowing, his eyes reading over the date written in his handwriting.

october 30, 2018

the picture of you with your daughter on your hip that he took at the beach all those years ago— that had been the last time he’d seen her.

four, no, five years?

his feet are nailed to the floor because change makes satoru shut down, and everything has changed since then.

while time was immeasurable and immovable inside of the prison realm for him, the clock had ticked on outside of it and just like that, his little girl is no longer three years old, giving him seashells that matches his eyes or hitting the back of his ankles with her big wheel or—

“you can’t keep doing this to yourself,” you sigh. “you’ve been unsealed for months. you’re her father, no matter what.”

“i’m a stranger to her,” and to you, but he doesn’t say it. you had waited for him, in every aspect of the word. held out on hope and faith in his strength that he would return to your side, where he’s always supposed to be.

“you’re n—” but you’re cut off when the door opens to reveal your daughter standing on the other side. the child standing before him is almost unrecognizable. she’s much taller and older, wearing track pants underneath her school dress with ribbons in unruly waves of white hair. the last time he’d seen his daughter, she had been three years old and still learning things like colors and sight words and that feeding megumi’s demon dogs her vegetable purée was against the rules. now, gojo satoru was the father of an eight year old and he’d missed everything because of a mista—

“you can come in,” she says, blinking up at satoru with an expression void of emotion. “but i’m not finished with my homework so if you stay too long, you’ll bug me.”

“how did you know i was outside?” he whistles nonchalantly, unbothered by the attitude that she gives him. it fills him with bitter satisfaction that she isn’t excited to see him, that someone is angry that he failed, regardless if he won in the end. he can handle bratty children who hate him and only look at him as a tool for their success, he can’t handle a daughter who cried herself to sleep every night waiting for him while he was losing his sanity away in a cube.

or at least, that’s what he tells himself.

“i could see you and mama through the door, duh,” she replies, hip cocked to the side in an amount of sass she had to pick up from you. “mama says i have your eyesight. i don’t really get it, but it makes it easy to cheat on tests.”

he could see it in the bright blue of her eyes, even if she hadn’t confirmed it. plain as daylight, she’s exactly like he was at that age. easily irritable and bratty, cocky and spoiled rotten. suffering from the weight of being an uncontested heir to an ancient dynasty at the age of elementary.

“i used six eyes to cheat on tests too,” he relates with pride, and then he bends down to her height, waving his palm. “sooo you probably got some questions about where i was—”

“not really. grandfather said you were sealed because you’re foolish and let weakness distract you.”

“you shouldn’t say things like that,” you scold, “apologize.”

“why? i don’t want to.”

your daughter turns, disappearing back into her room after that and seeming like she doesn’t care if satoru follows or not. your hand travels up the long expanse of satoru’s back in a soothing circle as you step closer.

“huh, that’s new.”

“sorry, she’s… i don’t know if acting out is the right term,” you say, pain in your voice. “she doesn’t really understand why she’s so different, or why you were … gone for so long. i know you didn’t want her around your family so i kept her away as best i could, but she started to have crippling migraines because she didn’t know how to use her ability and well… they were the only ones who knew how to help. filled her head with foolishness every time she visited the estate, though and it’s changed her.”

“huh,” is all he says, a broken record, tongue running across his inner lip in thought.

“do you need me?”

“what, you think i can’t handle her?”

“well, you were outside the door for a half hour, ‘toru.”

he shoots you a lopsided grin before he’s stepping into his daughter’s bedroom, glancing around at the unfamiliarity of it all. you follow close behind, watching with a heavy heart as he takes in the difference eight years can make.

her tiny baby crib has been traded for a poster bed decorated with a sanrio duvet and various stuffed animals where a laptop and study papers lay scattered on top. the angel themed decorations, along with her first ultrasound photo you and satoru had hung up in her nursery had been replaced by pink paint and pictures of her with a group of friends from school and a photo of her on a volleyball team.

he has to rip his gaze away.

“so,” he starts, standing in the center of the room and trying not to feel like an intruder, desperate for something to say— something to relate to her with. “how many episodes did i miss? did aya-chan ever get married?”

“i’m too old to play with dolls now, father,” she huffs, scrunching up her nose, and though satoru expected that exact answer, it doesn’t stop his heart from shattering into a million pieces. he feels that familiar itch, anger welling in his body until it burns at his fingertips because this is no one’s fault but his own. “don’t you know anything about me?”

“my bad, you’re a big kid now,” he snorts, even as his chest aches. he sits on the edge of her bed, flipping up one edge of the coloring book laying next to her laptop. “maybe you should start paying taxes.”

“i’m also too young to pay taxes. you really don’t know anything about me anymore,” she snaps, and she’s right— he doesn’t and it burns like saltwater on a wound. now he knows why you asked if he needed you; he’d hide behind you if he could, but he settles for flickering his eyes up to you helplessly.

you realize that neither of you can be upset with her for being angry that one of her favorite people vanished out of thin air. that while he was sealed, his clan had taken advantage of his absence and your powerlessness against them, and had begun spoiling your child rotten, teaching her how to use her ability— plumping her up for the inevitable day that she becomes her father’s successor, turning her against him.

“i think,” you say softly, leaning against the frame of the door. “that your dada— your father— would like to learn, though. he’s missed a lot, baby.”

she considers this for a long while, then she heaves a great sigh, hackles lowering. she scoots off the bed and before satoru can feel the hurt of figuring she doesn’t want to be near him, she does something unexpected. she moves one of her trophies out of the way to open her closet door, rummaging around for the longest before she yanks out a cardboard box you had labeled ‘donate one day since my snotty kid is a hag now’— it’s a box full of old dolls, covered in dust. she sits on her knees in front of the box, peering inside.

“aya-chan didn’t get married, but hinata-chan did,” she explains with an exasperated sigh and a roll of her eyes, taking out the dolls one by one and setting them on the floor in front of satoru’s feet.

“to the mailman that lived in your ugliest dollhouse?”

“you remember,” her eyes widen a little in surprise before her expression shutters again, smoothing out the doll’s colorful polyester dress before reaching back into the box and retrieving a brush covered in synthetic hairs. she looks at it for a while before extending her arm and offering the brush to her father. “aya-chan decided to be independent and explore the world. she’s planning to go on a trip soon so she needs to get ready. do y’wanna brush her hair?”

satoru is sliding off the bed and sitting cross-legged on the floor before he knows it, barely wanting to breathe because he doesn’t want to shatter the fragility of the moment between them. he takes the brush, and seconds later she hands him one of the dolls that had once upon a time been her favorite one that no one was allowed to touch. you would giggle at the delicate way he brushes the doll’s hair with utmost care and precision if you weren’t about to cry at the scene instead. “oh, and where’s she headed?”

“okinawa.”

“ponytail or messy bun then?” you don’t think you’re imagining the wobble in his voice. “to compliment her swimsuit.”

a tiny, hopeful smile twinkles over your lips at the two of them on the floor, babbling away to each other about the outlandish stories they’ve created together with her dolls. how many times had you offered to play with her, only for her to burst into tears because it wasn’t the same? you know that this won’t bridge the gap between the years that have been lost, but it’s a start. just hearing the soft murmurs of their conversation, the sound of your little girl giggling for the first time in ages, makes your heart swell.

time may be an undefeated opponent, and with it comes change that no one can control, but something tells you that as long as the three of you are together— everything will be okay.

you tiptoe out of the room, because they need time to catch up and apologize and reconnect, to learn one another once more, but before you close the door, you don’t think you’re mistaken when you hear, “can we go back to the beach too, dada?”

[guardarecheluna]

Wishing you were here tonight is like holding on. (CEO!H)

Words; 11.6K (look at me gooooo!)

Warnings: Fluff city, angst, parent death, smut (oral; fem rec. praise, penetrating sex.)

Summary: Harry has a brand-new employee at Pleasing. An employee that he fell in love with the minute he saw her, that he constantly had to hide his emotions from, because, well, he was the boss.

A/N: My first CEO!Harry one shot!! Eeeek I’m so excited for you to read this one, I’ve worked really hard on it, and I’ve always wanted to write about CEO Harry. I love him already; I hope you do too! If you read, please let me know what your favourite part was or talk to me here. I’m always open for conversations <3 (ALSO! This is my first time writing any smut, so be kind please) Take care and go easy on yourself this week. Elle x

March 2018

Harry is a good boss. Really, he is. He always stands up for his staff members, approving vacation days without much trouble and brought in pastries to the creative meetings.

He would maybe even be described as a happy, joyfull person, kind and engaged in what his staff was creating and how they were doing. And he was, but it was mostly a façade.

And it wasn’t that he didn’t feel joy around his colleagues, or that he was faking it to gain something else – Harry was just miserable in his personal life.

You would think it is impossible to be sad and to feel hopeless when you have a multi-million-pound company at the ripe age of 34, the cars, the women, the parties and all the vacation days he could ever want. But Harry wasn’t that shallow, he never had been. He wanted connection. Craved and yearned for a soulful connection with someone else. A lover, a soulmate to be his own, and not just a one-night stand or a drunken philosophical debate with whoever was available.

Harry sat in his penthouse suite, in the lounge. The penthouse was eerily quiet, apart from a few raindrops smattering against the glass of the windows. The sky looked as dreary and sad as he felt on the inside, his chest tightening and a furrow between his brows as the thought about her. There wasn’t a her yet, but when Harry sat there on his sofa, tie loose around his neck and clammy hands resting on his thighs, he couldn’t help but imagine her there with him.

He wasn’t going to cry though, have a breakdown or feel sorry for himself; it didn’t do him any good, even if it was all he needed right now. He almost called his mom, ready to confess his loneliness, his longing, empty, fragile heart, in hopes that his mothers love could glue at least a few pieces back together.

There was no use, though. He could feel himself falling deeper and deeper into the feeling of loneliness, his head leaning back over the arm of the couch.

A sudden phonecall woke him up from this circle of evil he found himself in. It was Niall, his COO, and best friend, the co-founder of Pleasing. Harry took a deep breath, readying himself for answering Niall’s phone call. It was past 8pm on Wednesday, if anything he wanted to go have a drink at a shitty bar somewhere and drag on about his ex-girlfriend. Harry couldn’t have that tonight.

Harry pressed answer and put on his façade, like he always did when there was possible business to oversee. “Hey, Niall.” Harry said, putting on his calmest, most stable voice. “Heeeeey there H! Sorry to bother you at this hour, I may have done something stupid, but I want you to hear me out before you get pissed, you hear me?” Niall enthused over the phone. Harry sighed, falling back on the sofa with the phone to his ear. This could be anything, it could be that he sold his part of the company to the devil himself or that someone put roses instead of tulips at the entrance of the building. “What did you do, Niall?” Harry let out, already feeling defeated with how his evening was going. His hand over his forehead, bracing himself for what was about to come out of Niall’s mouth. “It could be worse, Styles, I’ve done worse than this. So, you know how we were going over the applications for the new senior creative for cosmetics and design earlier?” Niall led on. “Yes.” Harry replied shortly. “Well, a very interesting application just got through a few hours late and I’ve already called her and set up an interview for tomorrow afternoon. Her resume looks incredible, she’s just leaving her post at Rare beauty and has previously worked as a creative at Milk makeup. She does marketing, press, design and has so many other skills, I just couldn’t put down her application without giving her a chance. If she’s anything like what’s mentioned in her resume she’ll-“Niall rambled on, Harry interrupting him, annoyance filling his head, although Niall didn’t deserve the blow of it. “Niall. We have a full day of interviews tomorrow, and you just booked another one until late. We don’t have time for this, I’m sure someone we’re interviewing can do all those tasks just as well.” Harry just wasn’t feeling it, at all. He didn’t care if Niall had just found the rarest gem in the industry, his workday was over at 5 and not a minute later. With how much brainpower has gone to his depressed mood and anxiety, he couldn’t bear the thought of staying until at least 6:30 on a Thursday. “Harry, I don’t know what to tell you, but I have a feeling about this one. I can stay and do the interview on my own if it bothers you that much. I just want us to give her a chance.” The line got quiet. Niall knew he had messed up not checking with Harry first, but his gut was telling him that this girl might be right for Pleasing. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Niall.” Harry plainly said and hung up the phone. Harry threw his phone on the couch, not wanting to even think about how drained he’ll be tomorrow as he went for his evening shower.

The next day dragged on, Harry keeping a big smile on his face for every new applicant that came through the door. There were a few possible hires, definitely, but with the final interview coming up, Harry felt the day wash over him as he waved goodbye to the one applicant they had just finished interviewing.

Their floor was pretty much empty now, just a few staff members hanging around and talking about their day. Harry needed a coffee to be able to finish strong, he didn’t want to leave Niall to do the final interview himself, even if all he wanted right now was to get a takeout and then get straight home. “Do you want anything?” Harry mumbled to Niall as he rose from his seat beside him, making an exit for the door of his office. There was still a few minutes remaining until the last applicant was supposed to be interviewed. Niall didn’t look up as he just said, “No thanks, mate.” And continued reading through the next applicant’s personal letter and information.

Harry walked out into the hall, hearing cheerful laughter down by the offices as he made his way through. His eyes zeroed in on the end of the hallway, the coffee machine calling out his name. “Hi, Sorry, can I just ask you something?” A sweet, nervous sounding voice came from behind him. Harry turned around and was met with what was probably the most stunning woman he had ever laid his eyes on. His breath caught in his throat, cheeks already flushing just by looking at her. She was the most beautiful creature he’d ever seen. Harry realized he had been quiet for a few seconds to long and kicked himself back into gear. “Of course, what can I help you with?” He got out, flashing his sweet smile at her. He got a chance to study her features, her outfit. Her full lips as she smiled, eyes bright and curious as she looked right at him. He felt like he had won the lottery, just by looking at her, his chest was on fire. She was wearing a fun, colourful outfit that was still business casual, a few cartoonish looking enamel pins on her blazer pocket. Creative she was. “I’m sorry to be a bother, I think the receptionist has already left. I have an interview for the senior creative position here and I’m just lost looking for Horan and Styles offices. Do you know where I can find them?” She smiled at him, a hopeful, kind look in her eyes as she awaited his answer. Harry immediately felt disappointment, if she was looking for work at Pleasing, he couldn’t even think about looking at her the way he was right now. Harry reached his hand out. “I’m the Styles you’re looking for, it’s nice to meet you…” He looked at her with a questioning look, not yet having heard her name. “Oh! This couldn’t be more perfect! It’s Y/N Y/L/N.” She bubbled with joy, reaching for his hand and shaking it. “It’s really good to meet you Y/N, you can call me Harry, everyone here does.” He smiled at her; he really couldn’t help it at this point.

“I was going to get some coffee before our meeting, we still have…13 minutes. Do you want anything?” Harry continued, looking down at his wristwatch to catch the time. Her shoulders slumped in relief, maybe partly relaxing because of his kind demeanour and kind offering. “I-yes, coffee sounds like it’s exactly what I need right now. Thank you, Harry.” She said lightly, with a giggle in her voice. Harry doesn’t think he’s ever heard such a beautiful sound in all his life, and she had managed to worm her way into his heart and make an impression bigger than the other 5 applicants had made combined. They walked together to the coffee machine, small talking about visions and dreams for the company and why she sent in her resume to work for them. And Harry, Harry was in trouble.

---

Harry was light on his feet as he stepped into the lift at Pleasing HQ this morning, because he was in love. His whole life had transformed in just a matter of months, no longer feeling the lonely, bitter thoughts taking over him at night. He was in his own world of pink rose petals falling from the sky, rosy cheeks and laughter echoing in his head. He felt like he way going crazy, and maybe he was. Y/N had obviously gotten the position as a senior creative. After she left her interview, Harry was just obsessed with her. With what she saw for the company’s future, her laugh and kindness, her witty humour.

Y/N had been working for pleasing now for the last three months, taking it all in stride and charming the whole office with her tactics and energy; Harry had never seen anyone so passionate about their job, so caring about the people around her. She was the perfect puzzle piece.

There was just one issue.

Y/N had no idea about any of this. Or, maybe she could’ve guessed. Niall had to tell him how obviously in love he was with her, and that he had to get his ducks in a line or there would be issues. Dating a co-worker, especially as a boss was frowned upon, however not forbidden.

Harry just couldn’t stop thinking about her, ever. And they were friends, really good friends. Having lunch together, always getting stuck in conversation at their after-work gatherings, and Harry always did an extra round by the offices in the afternoon just to have an excuse to talk to her. Maybe she saw right through him, but he’s not sure he minded it. He was desperate to be a part of her world at this point, just to have a little piece of her, even if he couldn’t have her in the way he so desperately craved. This was going to have to be enough. It was like Harry had accepted his fate of this unrequited love, but he couldn’t really complain as long as she was still in his life. He didn’t feel sad about it anymore, it wasn’t that heartache he had felt previously, he had accepted that he had found his person, but that he was never going to have her. It was alright, he decided.

Y/N was doing a big pitch today, her first one. She had ben scrambling around for the first three months trying to learn everything about the company, the values, the staff and the consumers to really get an idea of what they were wanting to put out. She had worked hard, stayed some late nights to finish a mood-board or sketch a new design for something.

And Y/N was excited. Nervous for sure, but mostly excited to show everyone her interpretation of what Pleasing could become.

Harry spotted her in their conference room as he entered the floor. A smile on his lips immediately after seeing her setting up some snacks for everyone and trying to get the projector to work. He knocked on the slightly open door. “Morning, there! You need help with anything before we kick off?” Harry offered as he leaned against the doorframe. Y/N hastily turned around from the table she was standing on, trying to fix the cord to the projector that was not doing it’s best work today. She jumped down, straightening out her clothes and sighed. “I think most of it is all set, I just can’t seem to pull down the screen for the projector though, and you seem like a tall enough lad.” Y/N jokingly said to him, eyes scrunching and her little crow’s feet by her eyes showing. Harry loved every detail of her. “Course, love.” Harry replied as he walked over to the front of the room and pulled down the screen, easy as pie. “Thank you, H.” She said, now focused on her laptop screen, and fingers picking nervously at her lips. “You’re going to do incredible; I know it. Don’t have to be nervous, it’s just the staff and you know all of them.” Harry said, catching her nervousness as he’d known her for years. “Hm? Oh, yeah, I’m a little nervous, but everyone here is so nice, I have trouble believing I’ll be roasted by any of you.” She answered. He noticed that she never replied to his compliment about her being incredible. Sweet girl, Harry thought, she’s too nice and too sceptical of her own ability, she’s absolutely incredible at what she’s doing. Just as he was about to repeat himself, affirming his trust in her, the other staff started to trickle into the room. Harry hadn’t even put away his coat since he got here, he just went straight to Y/N. “Oh shit, give me a minute, yeah? I’m just going to put away my things, I’ll be right back.” Harry excused himself from the room, but not before hearing, “Hurry up, bossman, you’ve got to minutes to business-time!” Y/N shouted after him, earning a giggle from the people in the room. Harry just smiled to himself as he shook his head in adoration before walking over to his office.

She did so good. Of course she did. She had nothing to be nervous about, and she charmed the whole office with her visions and imagination of future products. She had put fourth an idea about more homegoods, candles, pyjamas and blankets. She had even went so far as to research materials, resellers for those materials and always making sure to stay true to the company’s values according to fair trade and labour rights. Her presentation was also funny, It barely felt like a meeting, she was just so naturally comedic, and Harry absolutely adored her. He sat way in the back, leaning back on his chair and twiddled with his shirtsleeve, looking like a lovesick puppy. Her every move and her every word entrancing him and pulling him deeper and deeper into her trenches. Although, he’d happily go down.

Just as Y/N finished, everyone cheered and clapped for her, everyone was proper impressed by her ideas and research, and couldn’t wait to get started with things. Harry stayed in the back, listening to everyone talk and share their ideas, budgets, raw material ideas and colourswatches. Harry was so proud of her. Everyone slowly left the room, congratulating Y/N on her impressive work, giving her hugs and encouraging words. Harry was the last one there. He was wearing a big, dimply smile as he walked up to her. “You have no idea what you just started, did you hear everyone? You’re fucking amazing, Y/N I don’t even know what to say. I’m so, so impressed.” Harry said, the smile never leaving his lips. If he didn’t know better he’d congratulate her with all the kisses she’d want. Y/N was blushing, her cheeks turning rosy as she looked up at him. “Thank you, Harry. I’m so relieved everyone liked it and that you’ve been here to support me, I really couldn’t have done any of this if you weren’t there so I could ask all those stupid questions.” She replied, humble as always. Harry got stuck in her eyes, just nodding to her. “Celebratory lunch? On me?” Harry followed up with, the blush never leaving her cheeks. “I’d like that.”

---

Another 4 months had passed, and Harry fell just fell deeper and deeper into the sticky sweet lovecloud he was constantly in. It was dreary and dark out, the middle of November as Harry made his way into the office, preparing for their regular staff meeting, when he noticed Y/N was nowhere to be found. A pang of worry beat through his chest. Had she called in sick? Maybe she got in an accident on the way here? Harry felt his heart beating out of his chest in worry for his favourite girl; and just like that his phone went off. It was her.

He’s never answered his phone so quickly in his life. “Hey, there, I was beginning to wonder where you were.” Harry said immediately with a smile teasing on his lips, waiting to hear her voice. The line was quiet on the other end, he could hear her breathing and some rustling of something in the background. “Love? You there? Are you alright?” He said, softening his voice for her, the worry back in his chest as he stepped aside from a few other co workers and into his office, closing the door. “Harry…I’m sorry to call so late in the workday, I-i just don’t know what to do, i-.” He heard her crying over the phone, clearly upset, her breathing irregular and voice shaky. “Shhh, it’s okay love, take a deep breath for me, yeah? Tell me what’s happening, are you alright?” Harry was pacing in his office, wanting to demand her to tell her what was wrong, but he kept his voice gentle for her. He felt his pocket for his car keys in case he had to come get her. He would do anything. “It’s my dad, my dad has- he passed away in the night, and th-they don’t know what happened, I just I ca-can’t come in today so, so I was just…can I-I work from home today, is that o-okay?” Harry’s chest was aching as he listened to her tearful voice. Silly girl, working from home when something like this happened. He couldn’t allow it, and all he could think about was seeing her, wrapping her up in his arms to shield her from the pain she was experiencing. “Listen to me, Y/N, everything is going to be alright. I’m so sorry about your loss, I am so, so sorry. You’re not working today, or tomorrow, you’re going to take the week off and go see your family, do you understand?” He tried to be as gentle and clear as possible so her foggy brain could understand his words. “Do you have someone there with you?” Harry continued, biting his nails in worry for the sweet girl he had fallen so hard for. Harry already knew her answer, her family lived a plane ride away and she was pretty new in London, not yet having made a steady base of friends to look after her. She didn’t protest when he said she wasn’t going to work this week. “No-no. I’ve already booked a flight home, but it isn’t until the weeken-nd.” She stuttered through her tears. “Can I come see you? I just want to make sure you’re alright.” He said immediately, taking any chance he could to care for her. “It’s, it’s okay, Harry. You’re busy, and i-I’m a mess anyways. Thank you for l-letting me out of work tho-though, I’ll make it up to y-you.” She said, but he knew her better than this by now. He knew she’d never ask for help, even if it was from a friend, and just the fact that she called him instead of her closest boss, or Niall for that matter, made his cheeks warm, they were friends first, he decided then.

“Don’t worry a second about work right now, I’m never too busy for you, you know that. I’m going to excuse myself from the meeting and I’ll be at yours in 30 minutes, alright?” He said gently, her heavy breathing on the other side. “It’s going to be okay, doll, I’ve got you.” Harry continued as he grabbed his coat from the hanger and fished his keys out of his pocket, not letting go of his phone for a single second. “Thank you, H.” She just said, as they hung up and Harry was sprinting through the office building to get to the meeting he was supposed to attend minutes ago. He peeked his head through the glass door. “Sorry everyone, Niall can I borrow you for just a second? Important.” Their staff was all very kind and gentle people, Niall excused himself as small talk was rolling around in the meeting area. The staff not wanting to intrude on their conversation. “Y/N’s father has passed away, and she needs a friend right now, she’s all alone and her family lives a plane ride away. I just got a call from her, and she needs someone, will you be handling the meetings for today?” Harry said as he buttoned his coat up, barely looking at Niall, cause all he could think about was her, her, her. Niall put on a knowing smile, but not without feeling his chest tighten for one of his favourite colleagues. “Of course, mate, that’s so shit to hear. Be gentle with her and give her a hug from all of us, yeah?” Niall said, looking for eye contact with Harry. They weren’t a super big company, they were around 20 people and everyone knew each other well, including Y/N. Niall thought he’d tell them she wouldn’t be in for the rest of the week. “I will be, good luck, I’ll phone you tonight.” Harry said, already halfway to the lift as he harshly pressed the buttons in attempt to get a move on, faster. Niall gave harry a smile and nodded. He had to know exactly what Harry was feeling, he was a shit liar and could see right through him.

Harry sped off to Y/N’s apartment, making no stops and pushing the gas a little extra to get to her as fast as he could. He almost ran up the flight of stairs to her apartment, out of breath as he knocked on her door.

And there she was. Still the most beautiful person he’d ever known, despite the tears staining her face, her messy hair and pyjamas still on. It was like another wave of tears hit her the minute she saw Harry, it was like now that he was here, she was going to be okay. “Hey, doll, I’m so sorry.” Harry said as Y/N crashed into his arms, her body heavy and limp from the crying, panic and absolute bottomless darkness she found herself in. Harry had shivers running down his back, just being able to hold her like this, comfort her. His arms wrapped around her, his cheek pressing to the top of her head as he breathed her in and continued whispering affirming words to her. Without letting go of her, Harry stepped them inside her apartment, closing the door behind him with his foot. “Shhh, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, love.” He continued, pulling her head out of his chest and tear stained shirt, his thumbs drying her cheeks and looking her in her eyes. “I know it’s difficult right now, but I’m here to help, alright? C’mon, let’s get you settled, yeah?” He continued. She couldn’t have possibly missed his loving gazes and soft language. She couldn’t have possibly missed how he without any doubt took her into his chest to calm her down. She couldn’t have possibly missed how Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest when he held her so close.

Harry took her into her lounge, witnessing a mess of tissues, her open laptop and a now ice-cold cup of tea on the table. Y/N was still burrowed in Harry’s chest, searching for any kind of comfort she could find. In this moment, she didn’t care that he was her boss, that he had hired her months before to be an addition to his very successful team of workers. She knew it was a strange situation to be in, and to be such good friends with your boss, but with her being so new to the London, sha wanted to grab and hold onto the people she had. And Harry was a very special friend to Y/N, she really liked him as a friend, but it was difficult to not harbour feelings for the man, affectionate, kind and clever as he is. She tried her best to keep things as casual as possible between them, but she was stumbling in the dark right now, looking for whatever lifeline she could grab, and Harry showed up. Of course he did.

Harry settled her down in the lounge, now on a mission to do whatever he could to make her feel at least a little bit better. He wanted nothing more than to hold her, kiss her, stroke her wild hair and paint soft circles on her skin with his fingers but he had to draw a line. He couldn’t use this situation to his advantage, this wasn’t about him and his feelings.

Harry knew her well by know, she couldn’t function in a messy environment, so he took the first step, that was deemed appropriate enough, and started cleaning up and cozying up her lounge area. He removed all the tissues, wiped down her table and made her a new steaming hot cup of tea. He lit a candle, and put on some soft, but not too sad music for her in the background. She protested, of course, not wanting to bother him, it was almost embarrassing that he had to take care of her in this way; but for Harry it was an act of pure love. Of course he would do absolutely everything and anything for her, even if it was picking up her snotty tissues.

As he finished, he settled down on the other side of her sofa where she was laid down. Her crying had settled, she didn’t have a single tear left in her eye. At this point he was just staring at the candle in front of her, trying to focus her energy on something else other than the trainwreck that was her current situation. Harry sighed as he looked over at her. “Thank you for being here, Harry.” Y/N mumbled quietly, not letting her eyes drift away from the flame. “You don’t have to thank me; you know I’d do anything for you.” Harry answered her, his warm hand coming to give her a comforting squeeze around her ankle. She just nodded.

There they sat, Harry’s hand still on her ankle, at loss for action or words. “Is there anything I can do, at all, to help you? I know it’s a stupid question, I know there’s physically nothing I can do to make this any better, but if there is anything, please let me help.” Harry said into the still air of the room. A few more tears welled up in her eyes; he was so kind to her. “C-can I have a hug? I know it’s not proper but I coul-” Y/N said quietly, almost ashamed to be asking such a thing from him, but she really needed him right now. Harry let a puff of air escape his lungs, almost relieved at her words as sat up slightly and opened his arms for her. “C’mere, sweet girl.” Harry let the words slip from his mouth so easily, he couldn’t help but call her those sweet names when she was like this. And Harry often did call her those names, she didn’t seem to mind.

Without another word she turned over on the sofa, crawling her way up into his arms, and letting his scent embrace her and calm her down. His warm chest and comforting strokes to her back. Harry was trying hard to keep his cool with her so close to him, and tried to emit calmness in hopes that she could feel it too. And it wasn’t just a hug, it was more of a cuddle. But in that moment, they both needed it more than anything else.

---

After that day at her apartment, Harry and Y/N had become even closer. Y/N had gone to see her family for the weekend, and Harry had assured her that she could stay longer if she needed to. She was slowly coming out of her hazy mind, thinking more clearly, but she was still barely functioning. Grief is hard. It’s cruel, dark and endless. Y/N’s mind was constantly racing between the final time she saw her dad, their memories, and all the things she had to do that was piling up over the week. Harry was checking in on her constantly, texting, calling, showing up with dinner or helping her with the most simple tasks, that felt huge and impossible in her state of mind.

Y/N was going back to work tomorrow, and although she dreaded the pitying looks and comforting hugs, although she really wanted to get back to her life. Not to forget what had happened with her father, but more to kickstart herself, she knew she didn’t want to lose herself in this grief, so she had to at least try and do something about it.

Harry was taking up a big chunk of her mind as well. As if she wasn’t falling for him before all this, she was now hopelessly lovesick over someone she couldn’t have. She didn’t want it to turn out this way, and she had thought about all possible scenarios for them to maybe, just maybe have a chance together, but was constantly reminded of the one thing that made her heart ache more than anything – he probably didn’t want her. He was just the best human alive, supporting and cheering for his friends, she knew he was like this with all of his friends, he couldn’t possibly not be. She shouldn’t mistake his kindness and generosity for being in love with her.

---

Harry felt like he was going to explode at any given time. They had spent so much time together in the last few weeks, and now that she was coming back to work, full time, he wasn’t sure if he could handle just seeing her without giving her a good cuddle or asking how she’s doing. He knows that as a boss, this is the last thing he should be doing and thinking about, but Harry had never felt like this. It had been months of torture not having her the way he wanted, and he felt completely blinded by the love he felt. Even so far as considering leaving pleasing to Niall just so he could maybe be with her. That was an insane thought though, he was still pretty sure that Y/N didn’t even reciprocate those feelings for him, and he was weighing his options of telling her what he felt or if he was going to take it to his grave. He didn’t want to risk her career, and if they actually got together, he wasn’t sure how the company would take it. HR would hate it, even though it wasn’t forbidden to date a coworker.

This was what his mind was racing on and on about, and he felt like he was going to accidentally expose himself soon if he didn’t say anything.

He had to talk to Niall. He was his best friend, his COO. Harry knew that he was blinded by the love he had inside of him, he needed someone with a clear mind.

“Niall, I need you here for a short meeting, it’s personal though so don’t bring anyone with you.” Harry texted Niall after lunch that day. He wasn’t functioning properly, he felt incapacitated from all of this love that he had nowhere to put, and it was time to come clean to someone, although Niall already knew some of the feelings he was harbouring for Y/N.

Not even 2 minutes later, Niall popped into Harry’s office, closing and locking the door. His office at leas had some frosted glass, so they wouldn’t be totally exposed. “What can I do for you, lad?” Niall said as he sat down across from where Harry was sitting, at his desk. Harry looked deep in thought, his arm leaning on the armrest of his chair, chin supported by his hand. He didn’t even know how to say it, but he could feel a word vomit coming up his throat as the silence grew bigger. “I don’t know what to do, Niall.” Harry said, eyes glazing over as the iceberg finally tipped over, and everything came to the surface. Niall instantly looked worried about his friend, not yet knowing where he was going with all of this. Niall leaned forward in his seat, eyes on Harry as he watched him rub his eyes to rid them from tears coming through.

“I’m so in love with her and I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like I can’t do anything without thinking of her, I feel totally incapacitated. But I know that if I tell her this, her career could be at risk. I want to let her know, I need to, but it could go wrong in so many ways. She probably doesn’t even feel the same way I do, and I don’t think I could live with that. I’d rather not tell her and keep her in my life for as long as I can…And I know it sounds dramatic, but I’m desperate at this point, Niall, It’s been seven months and I-“ Harry trailed off as he rubbed his eye once again, refusing to let another tear fall for this girl. He was rambling, almost incoherent at times, but Niall listened to him.

Niall knew, he knew without Harry even mentioning her name. It was obvious that they were both in love with each other. The whole office basically knew, except for Harry and Y/N. And for this, Niall wanted to almost laugh at this immensely dense friend of his, but he kept it to himself, aware that this was probably paining Harry more than he knew.

“Harry, I’m going to tell this to you straight and you need to listen to me.” Niall said, no readable look on his face. Harry readied himself for a proper metaphorical fist to the face. He knew this wasn’t right, he was her boss for chirst’s sake. Niall continued. “I think the whole office knows that you’re both in love with each other except for you two. And I need you to get your house in order because I can’t watch this anymore. You’re going to tell her, and you’re doing it tonight. Y/N just left for her half-day and I suggest you call her up right now and see her tonight.” Harry is just staring blankly at Niall, not completely sure that he heard him right. He just starts nodding. And then the tears come. It was relief in some way, and although he still wasn’t sure about her response if he told her, there was still something there for them to build on. “Niall, I-. What if it all goes wrong, I’m her fucking boss, what do I do if she becomes uncomfortable at her own workplace, she’s a genius, I’m going to have to be the one that leaves.” Harry stuttered. “You’re not going to spend a single second thinking about that just yet, because it might not even happen. In fact, I don’t think it will. You know, she’s talking about you all the time. And she has these disgusting puppy eyes every time you just walk past or even glance at her direction. This needs to end. Call her.” Niall continued, supporting his friend. Niall really did think they were endgame, he could already see it when she had her interview here, all those months ago. Harry nodded. And in a moment of bravery, he got out his phone and pressed her contact information.

Y/N’s heart grew when she saw Harry’s contact on her phone. She didn’t waste a second picking up. “Hey, there bossman, everything alright?” She chirped on the other end of the line. Harry’s heart was beating out of his chest. “Y/N.” He just said, as her blood ran cold. She felt like she was in trouble. Had she forgotten something important? Did she do something to offend him? Y/N was thinking at a million miles per hour, every thought she had ever had about Harry was coursing through her brain at the same time. Harry continued. “I was just wondering if I could come see you later, I have something I need to speak to you about.” Harry said, trying his best not to let his emotions spill into his speech. “Harry? Are you alright? I’m free now, do you want me to come back to the office? I just left.” Y/N said. She could tell this wasn’t the regular hang out or check in like in the past two weeks. “I’m alright, love. And don’t turn around. Can I pick you up at 6 and we could go to mine?” Harry said, looking at Niall who was still sitting across from him, nodding and giving him a thumbs up like a child doing a prank call. Harry’s nicknaming made her slightly calmer, maybe he just had a stressful day. Although, he’d never offered her to come to his, if they were hanging out they were always at hers. “Of course, that sounds good. I’ll be outside by 6, then?” Y/N replied. “Yeah. I’ll see you later, okay?”. Harry said and then hung up the phone.

---

Harry’s hands were shaking on the steering wheel of his range rover. When he had gotten home from his office he stormed around his penthouse, cleaning up any mess that he could detect. He made sure he had something to serve her, and some snacks in case they wanted some. Every thought he had about telling her, he tried to steer away. Instead he cleaned up, took a shower, did some nervous pacing around, and now finally, he was behind the wheel, minutes from Y/N’s apartment. It was all or nothing, now. And he thought about every likely outcome for what was about to happen, he just couldn’t stop stressing out about it.

He didn’t want to mess this up. That thirst, longing, yearning feeling for connection had immediately been quenched the minute he met her. The person he had been waiting for. And maybe, if it didn’t turn out the way he was hoping, all those dreams of a love so deep maybe wasn’t meant for him. And maybe it would be okay if that was the outcome. Harry wasn’t sure he wanted anyone else but her.

Y/N was stood outside her apartment complex as harry drove up. She looked heart-stoppingly beautiful, like she always did. She had been getting a little better sleep and routines for the past few days, which had been nice to see for Harry. He was such a worry wart when it came to her.

Y/N enthusiastically threw the door open to his car, stepping in as if it was nothing.

“Hi, doll.” Harry said sweetly. “Hi, H.” She replied. “So, what’s this mystery topic you can’t talk about over the phone, huh? Top secret business?” Y/N continued, wiggling her eyebrows in suspense. A smile crept on Harry’s face for maybe the first time today. “I’ll tell you when we get to mine, yeah? You might be surprised, who knows?”

Y/N stepped out of the elevator that led directly into Harry’s penthouse. Her chin was on the floor, she didn’t realize he lived somewhere like THIS. She was almost ashamed of the fact that he had ever hung out in her neighbourhood. She was absolutely well paid as a senior creative at Pleasing, but this was a whole other level. “Sit down, cuppa tea?” Harry led her to his lounge, overlooking the city skyline. “Mhm, yes please.” She said, instead going over to the windows rather than sitting down. Harry disappeared for a second and she could hear him put the kettle on. You could see the office from his window, just barely.

Y/N zoned out in some kind of philosophical thought, looking at the skyline, thinking about her current life. But at the forefront of her mind, she was always thinking about Harry. And now she was at his place.

“Cuppa tea, for you, love.” Harry mentioned, putting their two mugs down on a table by the sofas. Y/N stood still, looking at all the lights as she could feel Harry’s presence behind her. She felt his eyes looking at her, and she craned her neck to take a good look at him. Y/N is thinking that he is getting more beautiful by the day. His defined features lit up by the twinkling lights of the city, and his perfectly unperfect chestnut brown curls, framing his face in the most delicious looking way. A pang of adoration fought it’s way into her chest, but she couldn’t let him know.

“Y/N, I really need to tell you something. And before you say anything I really need you to listen to me and let me explain. Can you come sit down?” Y/N was shaken out of her daydream with his serious words. Y/N could just nod, plopping down on the sofa, facing him as he tried to relax against the back of the sofa. Y/N did her best to put on a calm and settled look, smiling at him when she could tell that he was getting nervous. This was going to be way worse than she was expecting, she’s sure now.

“I don’t even know how to say this.” Harry started. It took everything in Y/N’s body to stay still and not question those words from him, he had told her to just listen at first. Her thoughts were racing, as she stared at him, waiting for more words to come out of his mouth. He doubted his voice, trying to get words out and then it was like he was changing his mind. Over and over again. Y/N reached for his hand that was resting on his thigh, fingers lacing together as she gave him a long, hard squeeze. Harry looked to their interlocked hands, carefully stroking her hand with his callous fingers. He gained courage enough to look straight at her. ”I’m in love with you. I have been since the day I first saw you.” The words left Harry’s mouth as he gauged her reaction to them in real time. Harry continued, “And I feel like an asshole, because I know I’m putting you in a tricky situation with me being selfish and telling you this. But I also want you to know that if you want nothing to do with me, or this situation, that’s okay. I-I just had to tell you, because I felt like I was going to drown If I didn’t.” Harry looked right into her eyes. “I was fucking drowning.” He said, almost like he was all out of air, or breathing oxygen for the first time. Y/N couldn’t believe a single word coming from his mouth. This had to be a prank, it couldn’t be. And if it is true, maybe she wouldn’t feel sad ever again. “Harry…” Y/N got out before he stopped her again, grabbing her same hand with his other one. “I’ve been realizing a lot of things lately, and one of them-.” Harry continued. Y/N could see the gears turning in his head, trying to get the right words out, but she couldn’t wait another second for her lips to collide with his. Her eyes glazed over as she realized that he wasn’t going to let her speak. So instead, she took control. “Harry!” She said loudly. Moving from her position on the sofa, towards him and settling herself in his lap. “Shhhh, I don’t want to hear another word about that, just tell me again.” Y/N said as she got closer to his face. Lips calling out to one another. Harry couldn’t breathe. Not with her this close, with her breath on his lips, her thighs hugging his, his hands around her back. It was Harry’s turn to get teary eyed. It just dawned on him what her answer to his speech would be. “Just tell me.” Y/N breathed against his lips. “Please.” She was almost begging to tell her those words again. Just to know if they were true. “I love you, I’m in love with you.” The words left his mouth like they had been sitting on his lips for his whole existence. Y/N let a watery smile overtake her features, and a chuckle left her mouth. “Thank god.” She whispered as she finally pressed her lips against his. His pink, puffy lips danced with hers as their tongues licked into each other’s mouths. It wasn’t like any first kiss; this was a long time coming. It was desperate, passionate and everything they had been craving. Their wet lips then collided in a smattering of pecks, one after the other being placed on their lovers’ lips. Wanting to do absolutely anything except speaking words right now. “I love you, H.” It was Y/N’s turn to speak, in between desperate kisses. Harry was seeing stars as she said those words loud, her nickname for him feeling like it’s burning a hole through his heart.

It was hard for Harry to be vulnerable. He only really was with his family, and Niall. He couldn’t even remember how it felt to have a possible partner to be vulnerable with. Someone he could pour his heart out to, someone who listened, and who vowed to take care of him. Y/N has stepped into his life and cracked open his whole being, it felt like he was on fire from top to toe from all the emotions and tenseness releasing. Y/N let go from his lips as she felt wetness smeared onto her cheeks. Harry was full on crying now. Y/N put her hands around his cheeks, drawing soft patterns on his cheeks with her thumbs, strategically removing the tears from his eyes. “I-I’m so happy, I promise, I ju-st…” Harry breathed, looking at her with wet, wild eyes, his face leaning into her hold. “I know, it’s alright. It’s been a long time coming, yeah?” Y/N chuckled out, in attempt to lift the moods. Harry nodded, smiling to her. His hands moved to her wrists, holding her in place. “I’m going to tell you everything I’ve been feeling these past few months, but the girl I love just told me she loves me too, so I just need to breathe for a second. Take a good look at her.” Harry joked, eyes still focused on Y/N’s face, his gaze bouncing all over her features, drinking her in. Y/N just nodded to him, her love for the man in front of her glowing in her chest. It had been a long, long time since she had felt like this.

This wasn’t at all what Y/N had in mind when he had called her earlier that day. She really had no idea that he was in love with her, she really had no idea that he felt the same way she had, especially in the last few weeks, with them becoming extra close since her father passed away.

Y/N agreed to stay over at Harry’s that night. She didn’t bring a single thing with her to prepare her for an overnight stay, but Harry had convinced her that he had everything that she would need. And she really didn’t want to let him go, not when their night had turned out like this, maybe she would just stay here, always.

They had barely stopped touching since the moment he told her. Always at least one hand on one another; they had a lot of time to make up for.

As they settled in his bed for the night, it was still early, barely 10. They had changed into soft, comfortable clothing, and Y/N got to borrow a set from him. There they laid, Harry was behind her, strong arms wrapped around her frame, fingers lightly touching and playing. Harry breathed in her scent, burrowing his face into her neck and soft, lavender scented hair.

They talked for hours, pouring their hearts out about the past months that they had known each other. But the tears had since long left their eyes, they had each other now, and there was not a single broken heart in sight.

“I still feel like this is all in my head. Like I’m going to wake up from this dream and I’ll be as fucking lonely and sad as I always am.” Harry said into her neck, placing a light kiss after he finished his sentence. “I know. But it isn’t a dream, although my mind is definitely trying to tell me otherwise.” She replied to him. Her eyes focused on the lights from the city dancing on the walls. Suddenly Y/N turned around in his arms, so that they were facing eachother. “Hi.” She said. “Hi, sweet girl:” Harry’s reply came so easily, and he was finally able to say it whenever they wanted to. “I think we need to talk about work, what do we say to HR, do we even say anything? I know it’s all still so new, but I want you to know that I’m all in…if you want that as well.” Y/N continued, a worried look on her face. The thought was bothering Harry as well, but as things had turned out well for them, his positive mindset was telling him that it was going to be alright. And work, HR and people’s opinions was about the last thing he wanted to talk to her about. At least for tonight.

They talked for hours, kissed for hours. In this room, it was just them, Harry and Y/N. They had both been craving this for so long, Y/N had thought of him so much. How it would feel like to be loved by him, what it was like to feel his hands on her body, in her hair, on her cunt. She couldn’t stop herself from thinking about it some nights when she was all by herself in her apartment, with her hands between her legs. Heavy breath lingering in the air as his name left her lips in a desperate call for him to do anything to her, anything he wanted. She had felt guilty about it, of course. But now that they were in his bed together, those illicit thoughts were starting to creep back into her head. Now that he was touching all over her, she wanted more.

Her lips reached for his neck, leaving wet kisses and small bites around his soft spot, as Harry’s breathing got a little heavier. “Love, what are you up to, hm?” He said in the gentlest voice, knowing where this was going as her kisses had suddenly changed from pure and loving, to slightly more sexual. “Tell me what you need, pet. I’ll give you anything, do you know that?” Harry continued, as he brought his lips to hers. Y/N almost mewled out a reply, mind fuzzy from his scent and sweet talking. “I need you, everywhere. Please. Just do anything, I’m yours.” Her eyes closing as Harry placed kisses all over her face, nose, cheeks and corners of her mouth. “You’re mine now, huh? I love to hear those words from you, you have no idea. But I need you to tell me what to do pet, what do you want?” He tried again, wanting to make sure that she knew what she was asking for, and wasn’t just caught up in her hazy mind. “I need you to touch me, k-kiss me, I just want you, H.” Y/N said desperately, in an almost whisper. Harry chuckled at the sweet girl in front of him. Of course he was going to take care of her. “Alright, love I’ve got you, yeah? But I need you to tell me if there’s something you need or if you want me to stop, do you understand?” Harry spoke clearly to her now, looking into her eyes to make sure that his message got through. “Yes. Yes, H, I want you.” She got out, her hands now underneath his t-shirt, nails scraping against his stomach. Harry’s hands touched her all over, keeping her close to his body, his hands travelled south and dipped into the waistband of her borrowed sweatpants. He stroked her soft skin over the thighs, bum and finally stopped on the outside of her underwear. Their mouths connected, and Harry was trying to stay focused on her pleasure, on the ques and clues she was leaving him with her touches and the way she moved. “Please, H” She moaned out, so zeroed in o finally getting a little taste of him on her tongue. “Shhh, pet, you’ll get all of me, don’t worry.” He tried to reassure her as his hand grazed over her underwear, laying soft and gentle strokes over her underwear, right on her clit. He moved devilishly slow, and Y/N was aching for more, higher pleasure from him. A moan slipped from Y/N’s lips and it was like all of the blood in Harry’s body rushed to his cock, almost making him lightheaded. Harry’s fingers that were moving on the outside of her underwear was now moving said underwear out of the way, being able to fully feel how wet she had become just from a few touches. Y/N had started to tug on his t-shirt. “Off, I want it off” she said to him in the dimly lit room, wanting to see all of him. Harry chuckled at the silly, sweet girl in his bed and removed himself from her, pulling his shirt over his head aswell as removing his sweats, just in his underwear mow. His next mission was to get Y/N out of her kit. He tugged on her t-shirt. “Is this alright? Wanna see you.” Harry whispered in her ear as his large hands were already underneath the t-shirt she was wearing, massaging her soft sides. Without a word from her, she sat up, and pulled it all off, discarding the t-shirt and her bra on the floor. “You’re so fucking beautiful, love.” Harry said, without tearing his gaze away from her breasts. His mouth instantly coming towards her belly and kissing up towards her boobs, wrapping his lips around one of her nipples, fingers tugging and rolling the other one. A moan ripping out of Harry’s chest the second he got a taste of her. “Shit, H, that feels…” Y/N moaned out, fingers running through Harry’s hair, slightly tugging on it. Harry continued kissing her chest, any skin he could to touch or kiss, he was there. Desperate to taste every inch of skin that she’d offer him.

Harry’s mouth started to travel down Y/N’s belly, teasing at the waistband with his green eyes looking into her’s for permission to remove them. Y/N slightly lifted her hips to make it easier for him, and her underwear and sweats were on the floor in barely a second, his body falling in between her legs, as he continued to kiss anywhere he could get to. “Are you going to let me have a taste, pet? Yeah?” He said to her, eyes still looking into hers. Another “please” fell from her lips, eager to get him on her. “Hmm, so kind to me, yeah? I’ll show you my worth, I promise you.” Harry said with a gentle tone, leaving her even more needy and ready for him to do something; anything. His lips finally met with her wet cunt, licking broad, strong swipes over her entrance and clit. Harry moaned at the taste of her, his eyes falling shut; he’d been dreaming about tasting her like this, but this was way better than anything he could’ve imagined. Y/N was writhing in her place on the mattress, her hips chasing after his tongue and heavy moans escaping her throat as he continued to kiss, lick and poke at her with his tongue. “You’re so goo-d, Harry, fuck! You’re mine, please,” Her moans encouraged him and simultaneously made his cock even harder, if that was even possible. Harry’s arms came up, one arm over her hips to slightly still her, and one over her breast, teasing her nipple. “I’m yours, don’t worry pet.” He replied to her, letting go of her messy, wet cunt for just a second before diving back in. Y/N’s hand flew to his hair, searching for anything to hold on to in her intense amount of pleasure. “Please, I’m going to come, you’re gonna make me com-e, please” Y/N was moaning out, almost screaming at this point, to deep into her pleasure to realise how loud she as being. Harry didn’t mind it at all. The hand that was previously on her breast moved down to her cunt, a finger playing at her entrance before pushing two of them inside her, slightly curving his fingers as he could feel her clenching around them. Y/N could almost black out at this point. She could barely remember the last time someone else had made her come this hard, it wasn’t usually happening at all with her previous partners. Her breathing started to get heavier as she came closer to her climax. “Come for me, pet, let me taste what I’ve worked so hard for. Look at me.” Harry let out, having to rut his hips into the mattress to get some kind of relief, he felt like he could come just by looking at her in this immense state of pleasure. With her eyes locked to his, she came, orgasm ripping through her body, legs trembling as Harry worked her through her orgasm with his mouth and fingers. When she slowly started to come down, Harry’s touches became lighter and more gentle, not wanting to overwhelm her after such an intense orgasm. As Harry’s lips let go of her, he moved to crash down on top of her, kissing her puffy, swollen lips. He had already missed her mouth. “I think I’m going to have to keep you forever, if that’s how you’re going to make me come.” Y/N admitted with a smile, her flushed face close to his and lips lingering on each other. “Darling, you know I wouldn’t mind, I’m here for as long as you want me.” He said back. Now it was her hands that started to travel down to his boxers, slipping inside of his boxers and gently stroking over his cock. “Shit, doll, I’m not going to last if you put your hands and me and I’m planning on at least two more orgasms for you.” Harry shakily breathed against her lips. “Mmmh” Was Y/N’s only reply, instead ridding him of his underwear and mumbling. “Are you clean, please tell me you’re clean I just want to feel you. I have a Nexplanon.” She almost begged him, it felt like too much to just get out of bed in search of a condom. “I got tested after my last partner, I’m clean as well, do you trust me? I could go get a condom, it’s no trouble, pet.” He replied in between kisses.

“No condom, I want to feel all of you. Please?” Her wide eyes looked into his for any kind of regret about it. She trusted him, he had already proven himself to be loyal and trustworthy, and she couldn’t find a single reason not to believe him although Y/N religiously always wore a condom with new partners. “Of course, pet, give you everything, you can trust me. Always so good for me, yeah?” He said, loving her reaction to the words that came out of her mouth. He turned them around, so that he was on his back, with her on top. “I want you on top to start with, okay? You can go as fast or as slow as you’d like, pet, it’s up to you.” Her heart trembled as he encouraged her to feel good with his body, completely trusting her and wanting to go at her pace. Although, her face fell slightly as her confidence wore thin when she had been on top with previous partners. Harry could read her immediately. “Shhh, no frown on that beautiful face, just to start and then I’ll take over when you’re ready, yeah?” He said, sitting up so their naked, upper bodies were flush against each other. “C’mon, doll, take what you want.” He encouraged her as she lined him up and slowly sank down onto him. She was slightly worried about taking him, he was above average in comparison to others and she wasn’t a fan of the pain that it could bring. But as sank down and took all of him, and she had never felt such a spark of pure pleasure as he filled her up. “Fuck me, pet, you feel so good around me, never had anyone feel this good on my cock.” Harry praised her, as she started to slowly grind her hips for some friction. Harry held her close, arms clasped around her upper body for support, as he attached his lips to hers. They moaned into each others mouth as Harry’s encouragement made her more brave and she moved more freely, her hips desperate for more, more of him. She had never felt this good during sex. Y/N’s thighs were burning from the work out she was getting, her belly on fire from him, so deep inside of her. “You feel good, baby? You’re taking my cock so well, look at you.” Harry praised her. She could barely think straight, not even being able to form a single word as more moans escaped from her lips and spilled into his mouth. His lips went to her neck, leaving lovebites, kissing, sucking, not for a second thinking of any marks he was leaving, deciding that he liked it like that. “Harry…” Y/N let out a tired whimper of his name, feeling so close to another orgasm already, but her legs felt like jelly, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t keep up her pace to chase after her climax. “I’ve got you.” Harry replied, giving her a big smile as his hands came up to her sweaty face to get some hairs away from her eyes. He just wanted to see her properly. “Going to let me take care of you? Make you come, again?” Harry continued, a proud, cocky, smile on his lips. Y/N just about had time to nod as he pushed her onto her back onto the mattress, getting up after her and getting on top of her. “This is my favourite…” Harry said into her neck, proceeding to put both of her legs over his shoulder, Harry leaning over her. As he pushed himself back into her, Y/N could swear she was seeing stars, the angle made up for her almost lost orgasm as after just a few strong thrusts, she was barrelling towards her orgasm again. Her hand attempted to slip in between them, to rub her puffy clit, she could taste her orgasm, it was just right there. Harry had realised quickly pulling up her arm and replacing her hand with his. “You’re going to come for me, again, pet? Spoiling me, aren’t you?” Harry laughed, pressing and pinching her clit, as Y/N’s lips attached to his neck. His scent was grounding her as another orgasm rolled through her body, causing her to grip on to Harry hard, pressing herself against him as if he would vanish at any given moment. Y/N’s nails pressed into his biceps, his shoulder blades, earning a grunt from Harry. Every nerve ending in her body was exploding, wanting more him, needing him like water or air.

Harry’s pace didn’t falter, he worked her through her orgasm and continued. The pleasure was so overwhelming, but she didn’t want to stop, she wanted more. “Darling, look what you’re doing to me. Promised you another one though, didn’t i? I’m so close, pet, be gentle with me, alright? Harry stuttered softly to her, kissing her lips as he released her legs from his shoulders, pulling out of her. Wordlessly, he turned her to her side, placing a pillow under her head as he got in behind her and pulled Y/N’s leg up for him to enter her again. Y/N was lost for words, she was in some hazy dream state driven by her lust for him, and not thinking a single thought besides him. “There we go,” Harry whispered to her, his arm encasing her shoulders as his other hand find it’s way back to her clit, in hopes of luring her into another orgasm. Y/N sighed as he picked up his pace again, her head falling back on his shoulder as she let him manipulate her to wherever he wanted. She was almost pissed at this point; she had gone her whole life without having sex that was this could? She had no idea that this is what it could’ve been. And she’s also pissed at herself for missing out on so much time with him, when he had been in love with her this whole time.

“Pet, you’re going to make me come any moment, where do you want it?” Harry’s voice was strained, trying to keep his composure as he neared his end. Y/N could barely get her words out, already feeling her next orgasm growing from those words he said to her. “Inside, come inside me.” She manged to say into the air as she turned her head slightly to catch his lips.

Harry let out an otherworldly moan from that sentence. “So good to me, Y/N, i’m going to come, are you with me?” He grunted out, his thrusts quickening as did his hand on her clit. Y/N was sure she was going to black out by the time they were done, as she felt her orgasm triggered by Harry’s cock steadily poking her g-spot. Y/N just about screamed, hands clawing at Harry’s arms, writhing around in the bed, wanting to get closer to him and get away from him at the same time. She could feel Harry’s cock twitching inside of her and his cum filling her as his pace faltered, giving deep, hard thrusts into her. They were both moaning out, breathing laboured, as they had just ran a marathon. Y/N was now shivering in her post orgasmic state, Harry’s cock still inside of her as he had caught up to reality, placing soft kisses on her neck, jaw, and cheek.

“Did so good for me, you feel okay, pet? I’m honestly kind of pissed that we didn’t get to do this earlier, best I’ve ever had.” Harry mumbled, nose grazing her cheek. Y/N smiled, slowly coming back to reality; their minds had to be connected somehow. Y/N turned around in bed, now facing him on their sides as she clung on to him. Sweaty bodies embracing each other, heartrates still way too high to be healthy. “Mm-hmm.” Was all she could reply to him, as she closed her eyes, taking in his scent, a mixture of sweat, his cologne and pure man, peppery, citrusy. “I don’t even think I could form a proper sentence; you’ve absolutely wrecked me.” Y/N manged to get out, a teasing smile on her lips as their eyes made contact. “Yeah, I was kind of hoping I’d ruin everyone else for you, you’re mine now, huh?” Harry winked at her, an almost comedic tone to his voice, although Y/N could see the hopeful glint in his eyes as he had repeated those words back to her. He can’t fool her that easily. “I am yours. If you’ll be mine.” She said to him, watching a glowing smile spread over his face, a puff of air escaping his lungs, full of all the love he had for her. “I’m all yours, and I have been for a long time.”

[vettelsvee]

GOODBYES ARE BITTERSWEET | Sebastian Vettel ✩₊˚.⋆ PART 3: HAPPY BIRTHDAY, MAMA! [PREVIOUS PART] [NEXT PART]

goodbyes are bittersweet masterlist f1 masterlist | ao3 | requests or let's talk!

ferrari sebastian vettel x ex gf!female reader

word count: 4462

summary: y/n discovers not only that she went viral on youtube on her birthday and that she's offered a reunion with capital records, but also has to face a possible reunion with seb after having no contact with him for four, almost five, years

warnings: settled on april 2018. curse words, angst, mention to y/n being friends with a certain guy who's a singer and used to be a dyed blond (we'll get to know how they met and also hope you like this cameo!). y/n refusing to have any news of seb. translated german (almost every one calls emily mäuschen, which means little mouse).

taglist: [@saltycomicsanimalssalad @hc-dutch @mycenterfold @simplyamberj @spitesfvl-blog @jaydaaasworld @lottalove4evelyn @zoeyjadetice2010 @jehun @ferralari @cosmoscoffeee @mcmuppet @myescapefromthislife ]

a/n: i had to post this, especially today heheh. hope you like this part as much as you seemed to like the others! i'll be waiting for your comments and anons (honestly, daily serotonin), and also remind you that feedback and reposts are truly appreciated <3

© VETTELSVEE (2024). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

2018

April 27th Heppenheim, Germany

If someone had told you a few years ago that your thirtieth birthday would be like any other day, you wouldn't have believed them.

As every morning, you had woken up, although today it wasn’t the light entering through the window that woke you. The voices of Emily and your parents singing "Happy Birthday" in unison were the reason for your abrupt awakening. You forced yourself to hold back tears when you saw your daughter approaching you, with the help of your mother, with a cake in her little hands. Your father was taking the utmost care to ensure the lit candle didn’t go out before you blew it out, and you noticed their pitiful glances falling on you.

You understood. Since you became a mother, you knew what it was like to suffer for a child.

“Happy birthday, Mama!”

After sitting up in bed, you took your daughter in your arms and sat her between your legs. You quickly wiped away the tears and, after clapping a few more times with her, you suggested you both to blow out the yellow candle, your favorite color, together.

Your only wish for that year, as it had been for the previous four, was to finally be able to talk to Seb and explain the real reason why you left in Barcelona almost 5 years ago.

With that thought firmly in your mind, you said goodbye to your parents, who headed to the kitchen to prepare breakfast. You quickly got out of bed, took the clothes you had chosen the night before for Emily and yourself, and dressed her while you told her the sugar-coated version of how you met her father and how happy you were, as you always did almost every time to her since she loved that story. Shortly after you were already dressed, and both of you were heading to the kitchen, where two bowls of cereal were already set on the counter.

“Mommy, what did you wish for?”

The little one's question took you by surprise. If there was something that characterized her and made you think of her father, it was her great curiosity. Not to mention her clearly defined blonde curls and her entire face.

Denying that she was Sebastian's daughter was impossible, and that's how Heike found out she was a grandmother.

“It’s a secret, mäuschen,” you replied, starting to cough immediately, trying not to choke on the spoonful of cereal you had already put in your mouth. “I can’t tell you, or it won’t come true.”

“But is it something nice?” she insisted.

“Well, I suppose…”

You noticed that your mother was watching you with concern while she dried the freshly washed dishes.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to take Emily to Hanna’s house?” she asked, interrupting your daughter's incessant questions. “I know you have to clean the bar thoroughly and it takes you quite some time.”

“No, don’t worry,” you assured her. “I want to take a walk with Emily and buy something for Heike and Norbert. Emily wants to see them today,” you explained.

“Norbert told me the other day that we could go feed the baby ducks at the lake!”

Your former in-laws knew that your daughter was their granddaughter, that she was Sebastian’s daughter, but Emily didn’t know they were her paternal grandparents, and for now, you preferred it to stay that way.

You couldn’t deny that it hurt you, but you knew things could be much worse if the couple hadn’t been so understanding. If Heike had believed that you really cheated on her son when you met two months after you had broken all ties with him and his family...

“I also want to buy them something. You know, it’s what I’ve always done,” your mother nodded with a slight smile, perfectly understanding what you meant.

“Have you thought of anything specific, honey?”

“I know Heike went to the market the other day and saw a pot of tulips that caught her attention,” the flower Seb used to give you whenever he had the chance. “I hope there are still some left.”

“I'm sure there will be. You’ll see how you brighten their day.”

I’m sure, you thought to yourself as you finished breakfast. Once you were done and made sure you were a bit tidied up and had everything you needed, you and Emily said goodbye to your parents with the promise of returning in the evening to have dinner together, although you knew you would end up doing overtime at work.

The little one’s blonde hair, completely loose, was tangled by the wind. Her boots were covered in mud because all she did was jump in puddles without letting go of her right hand from yours, and her left from the handle of the Peppa Pig backpack she carried on her shoulders.

“Mommy, why do I have to stay with Aunt Hanna today? It’s your birthday…”

“I have to work, mäuschen,” you said as calmly as you could, trying not to succumb to her gaze. “We have to help granny and pops buy food, pay the rent…”

“But granny and pops are your parents! They have to take care of you like you take care of me,” she interrupted.

You continued chatting cheerfully during the short walk from your house to the flower shop. While the clerk attended to you, Emily couldn’t stop pointing at all the flowers and giving them made-up names.

A few minutes later, you had already paid and arrived at your best friend’s house, who was already waiting for you at her door, arms crossed until she opened them as your daughter ran towards her.

“How is my favorite person in the world today?”

“I’m very good because today is Mommy’s birthday, Aunt Hanna!” she replied, burying herself in her arms. “Mommy said we can go see Heike and Norbert!”

“I bought them yellow tulips.”

You raised the bag with the pot and shrugged as she gave you a disapproving look.

You knew perfectly well that she was thinking the same as you, and you couldn’t agree more. But how were you supposed to tell Sebastian that he had a four-year-old daughter out of nowhere?

You tried to hold back the tears forming in your eyes when you heard the blonde telling your daughter that cartoons were on TV and that she should go watch them because she needed to talk to you. Fortunately, she didn’t object.

“I’m not going to tell you what you should do because we’ve been like this for almost five years and you’re old enough to make your own decisions, but…”

“I want to tell him, Hanna,” you blurted out, finally revealing what had been on your mind so many times. “I don’t know when or how, but I’m going to tell Seb that she’s his daughter.”

“I was going to ask if you were okay, but I see you’re not.”

Her face was completely serious, and you sweared that if today weren’t your birthday and you weren’t more sensitive than usual, she would have given you one of the biggest scoldings of your life.

“You know today is a difficult day for me,” you confessed what she already knew. You handed her the bag with the pot you had bought for Heike, and she hesitated whether to take it or not. “Would you mind taking this to Heike’s house? Emily is eager to see her, and I… I can’t go. Not today.”

“Y/N…”

Still holding the pot tightly to her chest and her compassionate eyes piercing you, you noticed her hesitation, finally speaking after a few seconds that felt like an eternity.

“Have you seen how the video is coming along?”

Your heart raced just thinking about the video you uploaded to YouTube yesterday, singing Red. You hadn’t checked its performance, and it wasn't your intention. Like every birthday, you had turned off your mobile phone and ensured the next time you turned it on, it would be with Hanna present to delete the email your ex-boyfriend sent you annually at midnight on your birthday.

“I haven’t seen it, and I don’t plan to,” you responded quickly, turning away. Her hand caught your wrist swiftly, forcing you to turn around. “Come on, Hanna, I have to go to work.”

“I want to talk about this, Y/N. You can’t act like nothing happened. You can’t keep avoiding it.”

“I don’t want to know anything about that, Hanna,” you answered aggressively, referring to any birthday wishes from the German. “I don’t want to read things I shouldn’t. Besides, considering he has free practice today, do you really think he wished me a happy birthday?”

“You should read it, Y/N. I know things between you and Seb aren’t what they used to be, but still…”

“No, Hanna, I don’t want to read it today, tomorrow, or ever.”

With those words, you turned away without even saying goodbye and started walking towards the bar where you worked, for once in your life, determined and with your head held high.

As you walked away, your friend’s voice grew louder, insisting on what you had already made clear you didn’t want:

“Y/N, you should read Seb’s damn message! Damn it, it could be important!”

You stopped for a moment, feeling a lump in your throat as Hanna’s unusual yelling and cursing echoed in your ears.

You turned once again, now facing her but much less determined and, to be honest, a bit scared, though that didn’t mean you would back down or change an opinion you constantly changed out of fear of facing the situation and wanting to change it.

“I don’t want to talk about Seb, Hanna! Just do me a favor and take the pot to Heike, please!” you yelled, feeling the anger taking over you.

“Y/N, I understand you’re confused and want to tell Seb. Maybe today is a good opportunity to get in touch again and…”

“Damn it, Hanna, I already told you I don’t want to talk about this!”

Your shouts were out of control. Your voice trembled, and so did the rest of your body. You hated talking about Seb and not knowing how to handle the situation, but you hated even more when Emily saw you like this and felt guilty for everything.

Now, with tears in her eyes, your daughter’s little head peeked timidly through the front door, unable to control herself as you were.

Once again, you had failed her as you had promised you wouldn’t.

“Hanna…” you said to the blonde, now calmer. You pointed to the child with your head, and she turned to look at her subtly. “I don’t want her to think I don’t love her or that all the problems are her fault, so please: don’t mention Sebastian when we’re together and she’s around. I don’t want to feel like an even worse mother than I already do most days.”

“Understood, no problem. I won’t bring him up in front of the little one.”

You prayed it would be that way, not just on the way to the bar, which wasn’t far from Hanna’s house, but also once you were inside and started preparing everything. While sweeping and mopping, you tried to avoid the mobile phone, but it was impossible. It had been resting on the counter, still off, since you arrived, and you tried your best to keep it that way. You had your daughter, your parents, and your best friend by your side; Niall, since you told him what happened with your ex, started sending you a postcard a few days before just in case it didn’t arrive on time. Even your ex-in-laws met with you, if not the day before, the day after.

What you were trying to avoid at all costs was the damn email that Sebastian sent every April 27th, which you wished you could read but didn’t because you knew it would leave you shattered.

You sighed and ended up taking the device, knowing that if you wanted to reveal the truth to the sunshine of your life, today was a good day to do it, as Hanna had told you.

“Mommy! We have a present for you!”

You jumped when you heard your daughter’s shouts. She and Hanna were running and walking, respectively, towards you. The little one was carrying a bag in one hand in which you could see the head of Billy, her favorite stuffed panda.

She didn’t hesitate to hand you the bag, with the teddy bear included, as soon as she got beside you. Hanna also approached you as you focused on your daughter, holding a cake in her hands.

“Don’t say anything,” she started, knowing you would ask why. “It was Heike’s idea, and since she knows how much you like cookie cake…”

“Especially hers,” you replied with a laugh, remembering all the times you and her son asked her to make that cake beyond special occasions. “God, you don’t know how much I appreciate it. Did she like the tulips?”

She nodded, placing the cake on the counter.

“She said they would have been better if you had given them to her. She wants to see you, Y/N,” she added.

“I know.”

“Do you want us to blow out the candles again, Mommy?”

Emily’s interruption and question took you completely by surprise. It was impossible to resist the sparkle in her eyes and her curved lips; it was as if you were denying Seb, not her.

“Of course, darling.”

Despite how mentally bad you felt, you made an effort not to show it. You took your daughter in your arms, and together you approached the cake. Prater started the singing, and Emily and you joined her immediately, swaying from side to side.

You blew out the candles as soon as they started clapping and, for once in your life, you wished to see Seb again, even if just for a moment.

A welcome, a new beginning or a farewell, a definitive goodbye. At this point you really didn't care much about it.

Thinking too much about Sebastian Vettel in the past few weeks had been the real reason you decided to publish Red yesterday. As you had composed it while pregnant with Emily.

Seeing your daughter not only playing on the little stage where you were used to sing almost every night with a couple of toy cars, including her father’s Ferrari Formula 1 car, and her stuffed animal, reminded you of the countless times Seb and you promised each other this life, but together.

“First of all, I don’t want you to panic, but… you have to see this.”

Hanna Prater’s words scared you like they rarely did.

With her phone in hand and without saying a word, she placed it in front of you, revealing the views the YouTube video you uploaded had garnered in just a day.

Your eyes widened at the high number on the screen. A small scream escaped your lips, startling Hanna, who imitated you, and even Emily, who ran towards you with great concern on her face.

“Mommy, what’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, darling,” you assured her, trying to contain the shock. “Keep playing. Aunt Hanna and I are talking about some things for my birthday party tonight.”

Your answer seemed to calm her. She nodded with a smile and returned to the stage, leaving you alone again.

"Yes, I know, Hanna, I have to improvise a birthday party now. I swear I'll do it as soon as we finish all this," you replied, anticipating her reproach.

Hanna shook her head and buried herself in her phone again. She seemed completely engrossed in it; her fingers were constantly moving across the screen, worrying you about everything she was trying to show you.

Hanna, I need you to tell me if it's Y/N in this link.

I mean, you don't have to tell me because I know it's her. She sounds exactly like Y/N, and she plays the piano, which is a plus because Y/N knows how to play the piano.

God, I feel like a mix of Sherlock and a stalker.

You understand me, so...

Jeez, tell her to answer to the message I've sent her, please.

I just want to know if the song is about us or if I'm just getting my hopes up four years after breaking up.

And, with those words and butterflies invading your stomach, you clicked on the link he attached. There you were, playing the piano while singing a song about the same guy who had not only talked to your best friend but also to you.

"Did Seb send you that message?" you wanted to know, thinking it was really a joke.

She nodded.

"It seems he didn't just send you the annual email, but also a WhatsApp message."

"A message and an email that, by the way, I am not going to read. Neither of them," you assured her.

"He knows you sing Red, and he suspects Red is about him," your friend began to say. "Don't you think there are too many coincidences for you two to, I don't know, talk or something?"

"I have nothing to talk to him about," you replied.

"Emily's existence means nothing to you then?"

It meant everything, but you had mixed feelings about telling Sebastian.

He was going to hate you, that was clear, but you didn't want that hate to end up being directed at Emily because of something that was completely your fault.

"Emily means everything to me, but I can't let Seb know, at least not for now. He has many chances of winning the championship this year finally, and..."

Once again, another excuse to avoid reality and the fear you had of rejection.

"Y/N, I love you so much and you know it, but you can't keep going on like this," Prater stated, raising her voice a little. "His parents know, yours know; I know, and possibly a large majority of people in this town. For God's sake, even Britta knows, and I don't even know how she hasn't told him yet!"

"Britta came..."

"I know perfectly well that Britta came looking for an explanation, just what Seb didn't do and maybe should have done even though you asked for space," she interrupted you, wanting to continue her impromptu speech. "If you want to move forward, you have to face your fear for once. If you won't do it for yourself, at least do it for Emily. She deserves to know her father and not ask me why her little friends in kindergarten have dads and she doesn't."

Her words made you feel like the villain of the story, the one doing everything wrong. You wanted to ignore her advice and, as always, avoid the subject, but you knew she was right.

"I can't, Hanna. I can't turn on the mobile phone. Not today."

"Allow yourself to start your thirties on the right foot. Don't you think it's better to face fear with someone than to go through it alone? You have me here for whatever you need, Y/N, and you know it."

You let out a long sigh. You walked to the bar, took your cell phone in your trembling hands, and turned it on, feeling the anxiety and uncertainty increase as the device slowly lit up.

When you entered the code and unlocked it, notifications started to appear.

You gradually checked the YouTube notifications, seeing the overwhelming number of likes and comments. Hanna, whose head was peeking to try to see something, shushed you when you ignored the YouTube-related emails and moved on to the text messages, caring little about what she thought.

Niall told you that going viral on your birthday was not only the best thing that could happen to you and the best birthday present they could have given you, but also a whimsical sign from fate to do something worthwhile with your music. At the end of the message, the Irishman asked you to call him when you could, as it was important.

You moved on to Sebastian's PR message, completely ignoring the Irishman's nudge and other various birthday greetings. Britta asked how you could post a video, singing, without telling her anything and, much less, singing about her client. She said you were crazy and lucky that Vettel hadn't suspected anything about the song or, fortunately, about mäuschen.

You calmed down a bit, but the tranquility barely lasted. Seb's message was the one at the top of the WhatsApp home page. It was more than obvious that it was the most recent, from just an hour ago. Also, it was the least one you wanted to open.

You looked up at Hanna, seeking confirmation you knew you didn't need, and that she had already given you.

"Open it, Y/N. It's okay."

You had to be alone when you did it. You asked your friend to take care of Emily and wait for a moment, that you'd be back in a few moments.

You went into the bathroom. You positioned yourself in one of the corners and sat on the floor, legs crossed and the phone in your hands, and started having flashbacks of the day you broke up with Seb.

Happy birthday, Y/N.

If you can and, above all, want to, please read the email I sent you.

I know it's you. The girl behind the song that went viral, I mean.

The song is great, but I couldn't expect anything less from you. It's pure art.

Your tears were already falling down your face. You took a deep breath and forced yourself, though it might not have been better in your current situation, to open the message your ex was talking about.

As usual, you had received it at midnight. And, of course, the profile picture was still one of the two of you lying in bed, him kissing you, and you smiling, just as you were now.

Dear sunshine of my life,

Happy birthday. Or better said: happy thirtieth birthday. 

I know we haven't heard from each other directly in four years. Maybe you see me on TV from time to time, or maybe not, and the last time I saw you was a few years ago, but that's not the point.

Maybe I wasn't the best boyfriend in the world, nor the best friend. I still wonder what I did to make you leave like that, but I won't blame you, at least not after so much time. I miss you more than I can express, and you don't know what I would give to have the chance to fix things between us.

I can't ask you to forgive me, nor can I force you to come back to me or to have a friendship, cordiality or whatever you want to call it, but I hope we can find the opportunity to forgive each other.

If you're ever ready to talk, or for anything you want, I will always be waiting for you, just as I have done for these past four, almost five, years.

P.S.: My mother always tells me she makes a cookie cake for your birthday, so I hope for your thirtieth she makes a special one and you all enjoy it as you deserve.

Tears blurred your vision as you continued reading Sebastian's words. A wave of emotions, ranging from anger and disappointment to perhaps, confusion, flooded every part of your body.

You began to write that you wanted to talk to him, that what you most desired in this world and what you most regretted was the ultimatum you gave him. That you could meet whenever he wanted to tell him everything that had happened since that day in Barcelona. That Emily is his daughter, that she looks more like him every day, and that you're convinced the moment he meets her, she'll become his favorite person.

After rereading all your words, written in desperation, you stopped.

You couldn't send him that; you couldn't reply, at least not yet. You couldn't give him false hopes, not when the possibility that revealing Emily's existence might affect the championship he so longed for with Ferrari, not just since he joined the team in 2015, but since you both barely knew yourselves.

You decided to delete the message and, instead, phone Horan's number, promising yourself that you would reply to Seb as soon as you hung up. You dried your tears, inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm down a bit more, and left the bathroom with much more confidence than when you entered, as you heard the phone ringing.

Emily was still playing, now dancing to some music, while Hanna was speaking too heatedly in your native language with someone. You tried to pay attention to what the blonde was saying, but the Irishman's voice on the phone caught you off guard:

"Next week. London. Joseph Benson being your personal Britta, maybe?"

You didn't understand anything, and the mere mention of Roeske made you shudder. You knew Niall had done it with the best of his intentions, but that didn't mean it didn't hurt.

"What?"

"Capital Records, Y/N," Niall affirmed. "They heard Red and, although they don't know who you are or who the girl behind the song is, better said, I want to introduce you to them. Maybe I told them I knew the girl behind that..."

You saw your friend ending the call too quickly just to approach you, visibly desperate. She made some gestures, grabbing your arms to try get your attention.

"Jeez, Hanna, wait," you replied grumpily in German.

"Is Hanna there?" the singer wanted to know. "Say her hi for me, and thanks in advance for taking care of Emily next week!"

"We'll talk about it later, Niall. People are starting to come into the bar."

With that excuse, and without giving him time to finish talking, you hung up. You turned to Hanna, who was still desperate, making you also start to get desperate and worried.

"What happened?" you demanded to know, considering she hadn't said anything yet.

"I just talked to Sebastian and Britta."

Her expression had now become more serious. Your chest started to ache, and your heart began to beat faster.

"And...?"

"Sebastian is coming next week," she said in a low voice so your daughter wouldn't hear. "I know you'll come up with some excuse, and that you also have to talk to Niall about I don't know, but he wants to talk. Seb wants to talk to you... seriously."

[teriri-sayes]

History of “Lout of Count’s Family”

This compilation lists all real-life events related to the Korean novel, 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 (Lout of Count’s Family), in chronological order, but limited to the Korean and English-reading audiences.

==========

2018

April 9, 2018

The novel was first released as a free-to-read series on Munpia, a Korean web novel platform, under the title, 백작가의 망나니가 되었다 (I Became the Trash of the Count’s Family) by the author, Yoo Ryeo Han, under the Korean publisher, Chungeoram. It had a Mon-Sat release schedule of 6 chapters per week.

May 29, 2018

The novel became a pay-to-read series, owing to its popularity, as announced by the author on May 25. Its first cover illustration featured Cale and Raon.

Image 1. The first cover illustration of the novel.

July 26, 2018

The novel won both the Grand Prize and the Popularity Award at the 4th Korean Web Novel Contest co-hosted by Munpia and the Korean Popular Literature Writers Association. The author received a total of 105 million KRW (~$76,000), a plaque, and other special benefits.

Image 2. Yoo Ryeo Han (right) posing for the Grand Prize winner photo. The old woman in the left is either the author's relative or a contest holder representative.

“When I first started writing, it was a very difficult time for me, both physically and mentally, so when I heard about this contest, I decided to participate,” said Yoo Ryeo Han, the author of “I Became the Trash of the Count’s Family”, the grand prize-winning story, ”I won a great prize through this contest and it was a turning point in my life. I am grateful to Munpia for providing such a great opportunity.” Source: Munpia. (2018, July 31). Munpia Holds the 4th South Korean Web Novel Contest Award Ceremony. NewsWire.co.kr.https://www.newswire.co.kr/newsRead.php?no=873212

July 30, 2018

The novel was serialized on Naver Series, a Korean web novel platform.

September ??, 2018

WuxiaWorld, an English web novel translation publisher, began an English fan translation of the novel under the title “Trash of the Count’s Family” with MiracleRifle as the translator.

October 2, 2018

The novel was serialized on RIDI, a Korean web novel and ebook publisher.

October 15, 2018

The novel was serialized on KakaoPage, a Korean web novel platform.

October 18, 2018

The author announced a temporary hiatus because her mother had an accident, so she had to take care of her mother who would be undergoing surgery.

October 26, 2018

The novel was serialized on Joara, a Korean web novel platform.

October 29, 2018

The author announced a temporary change of the release schedule from 6 chapters per week (Mon-Sat) to 5 chapters per week (Mon-Fri) for 3 weeks. This was because she wanted to devote more time to taking care of her mother whose surgery went well. She also thanked her readers who left well wishes for her and her mother.

November 29, 2018

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because she had to take care of her mother’s hospital paperwork and stuff.

2019

January 2, 2019

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because she caught a cold. She also wished her fans a Happy New Year.

January 22, 2019

The author announced a temporary change of the release schedule from 6 chapters per week (Mon-Sat) to 5 chapters per week (Mon-Fri) for the next 2-3 months. She stated it was because of a temporary change in her work environment.

March 8, 2019

The author posted a brief character profile on Munpia.

Link: https://novel.munpia.com/113612/page/1/neSrl/2290020

April 1, 2019

The author announced that she would maintain the 5 chapters per week release schedule. She said that her mother’s full recovery and rehabilitation kept getting delayed, and there were also some personal matters, so she needed 2 days off a week.

May 29, 2019

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of health reasons.

June 14, 2019

The author announced a 5-day hiatus because of headache and fever. She went to the hospital to get herself checked, and was diagnosed with meningitis. 

July 4, 2019

The release schedule was permanently changed from 6 chapters per week (Mon-Sat) to 5 chapters per week (Mon-Fri). The author said that she wanted to improve her health as the previous release schedule tired her out.

August 13, 2019

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of health reasons.

September 16, 2019

The author announced a 4-day hiatus because of health reasons.

November 11, 2019

The author announced a 3-day hiatus because of personal reasons and body aches.

December 17, 2019

The 2nd cover illustration of the novel was released, featuring Cale, Choi Han, Raon, Ohn, and Hong.

Image 3. The second cover illustration of the novel.

December 31, 2019

The author greeted her readers a happy new year, and also joked about her wrong estimation of the novel ending soon in 500 chapters.

2020

January 17, 2020

The author posted a note in celebration of the novel’s 500th chapter. She answered a few fan questions, and insisted that her dream was not to be a slacker.

January 29, 2020

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of a stomach ache. She also greeted her readers who recently celebrated the Lunar New Year holiday.

February 19, 2020

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of health reasons.

April 17, 2020

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of difficulty in writing. She said that she was suffering from pain in her lower back, wrist, and fingers, making it hard for her to type on her right hand.

April 24, 2020

The author announced a 5-day hiatus because of health reasons.

June 2, 2020

The author announced a month-long hiatus because of family circumstances, which left her in not a good mood for writing.

June 29, 2020

The author announced a 1-month hiatus because of family circumstances. She stated that one of her family members was sick, and this was a very long-term battle, so she wanted to stay by their side until they had fully recovered.

August 5, 2020

The release schedule was permanently changed from 5 chapters per week (Mon-Fri) to 3 chapters per week (MWF). This was in relation to her sick family member’s situation last June 29.

August 26, 2020

Copin Comics, a Korean webtoon publisher and studio, first announced its webtoon adaptation of the novel.

August 31, 2020

Season 1 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel was released on KakaoPage and Copin Comics’s own website, with PAN4 as the artist.

October 28, 2020

The official English title, “Lout of Count’s Family”, made its first appearance in the event prizes given by RIDI. These prizes were stickers and cell phone ring holders featuring Raon, Ohn, and Hong. One needed to purchase 30,000 KRW worth of chapters to qualify for the event.

Image 4. The stickers and cell phone ring holders given in the event.

November 5, 2020

WuxiaWorld announced that it would cease its fan translations of the novel because the author herself turned down their offer to officially translate the novel in English, despite the fact that WuxiaWorld and Chungeoram were in the middle of negotiations.

Eat Apple Pies, a fan translation site, continued the English fan translation of the novel, with permission from MiracleRifle to host in their site the already-translated chapters that were in WuxiaWorld.

November 6, 2020

Adar Terra, a personal blog, began posting English chapter summaries of the novel starting from Part 1 Chapter 630.

December 15, 2020

Copin Comics released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation under the title, “Lout of Count’s Family” on its English website.

2021

January 4, 2021

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of personal reasons.

January 11, 2021

The novel won 2nd place in the 2020 Best Awards of Munpia.

Link: https://www.munpia.com/page/bestawards2020f

January 26, 2021

The author announced a month-long hiatus because of family, health, and personal reasons. 

April 4, 2021

TappyToon, an English webtoon publisher, also released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

April 30, 2021

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of personal reasons.

May 3, 2021

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because of personal reasons.

May 14, 2021

The 3rd cover illustration was released for the novel, featuring Cale and Kim Rok Soo.

Image 5. The third cover illustration of the novel.

May 28, 2021

Season 1 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel ended.

May 31, 2021

The author posted a note in celebration of the novel’s 700th chapter. She also hinted that she was working on a paperback version of the novel.

June 14, 2021

COWON started a crowdfunding event on Tumblbug, a Korean crowdfunding platform, for a Korean mobile game adaptation of the novel, with the game title of “Plop”. Various official merchandise could also be obtained, depending on which item set the sponsor would purchase. Merchandise included in-game coupons and items, stickers, postcards, and acrylic stands.

Image 6. Preview of the mobile game adaptation.

Image 7. Acrylic stands of Alberu, Cale, and Choi Han given to sponsors who sponsored more than 65,000 KRW ($47.10).

Link: https://tumblbug.com/plop_story

June 15, 2021

The author announced a 3-day hiatus because of health reasons.

July 26, 2021

The crowdfunding event ended with 376 sponsors, raising 33,763,000 KRW (~$25,500) and surpassing its funding goal of 20,000,000 KRW.

September 17, 2021

Season 2 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel began.

October 7, 2021

The author announced a 4-day hiatus because she lost her laptop while outside and spent her time looking for it. Fortunately, she recovered her laptop back.

November 1, 2021

The Korean mobile game “Plop” was released by COWON. It followed a Visual Novel (VN) approach with dating simulation elements. Players could select different stories to play with, and these stories were mobile game adaptations of popular Korean novels. Lout of Count’s Family was one of the stories a player could select. Plop could only be downloaded on QooApp, and was Korean-only.

November 29, 2021

Part 1 of the novel ended at Chapter 776. It was also announced that 7 side stories would be released at the end of every month, and Part 2 of the novel would begin on July 1, 2022.

December 31, 2021

The 1st of 7 side stories of the novel was released.

The novel won the Grand Prize in the Fantasy Web Novel category at the 2021 RIDI Web Novel Awards. Link: https://ridibooks.com/event/37133 

2022

February 2, 2022

An English version of the mobile game “Plop” was released under the title, “IFyou:episodes-love stories”, by PIER Corporation. The English mobile game adaptation of the novel could be played if one selected the “Lout of Count’s Family” story.

Image 8. Promotional image of the game showing the multiple stories one could play with.

February 4, 2022

Pocket Comics, an English webtoon publisher, released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

February ??, 2022

Bilibili Comics, an English webtoon publisher, released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

April 9, 2022

A special side story was released to celebrate the 4th anniversary of the novel’s serialization.

May 11, 2022

Chungeoram announced a crowdfunding event for the Korean hardcover books of the novel, beginning on June 13 and covering Part 1 Chapters 1-200 in 5 volumes. 

Link: https://blog.naver.com/chungeoram_book/222726296248

June 13, 2022

The crowdfunding event began on Tumblbug. Various official merchandise could also be obtained, depending on which item set the sponsor would purchase. Merchandise included posters, postcards, washi tapes, etc.

Image 9. Preview of the hardcover versions of the novel, and two posters featuring Cale and Choi Han.

Link: https://tumblbug.com/henituse

July 1, 2022

Part 2 of the novel began.

July 15, 2022

The crowdfunding event ended with 4,785 sponsors, raising 788,666,000 KRW (~$596,000) and surpassing its funding goal of 15,000,000 KRW.

July 19, 2022

Copin Comics renamed itself as Terapin Studios. Their English branch continued to be called Copin Comics.

August 4, 2022

Season 2 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel ended.

August 31, 2022

Sponsors of the crowdfunding event began to receive their hardcover books and official merchandise.

October 14, 2022

Copin Comics, the English branch of Terapin Studios, announced that it would be shut down by November 30. The official English translation of the webtoon adaptation would be continued by TappyToons.

November 30, 2022

Copin Comics officially shut down. Terapin Studios continued its service as the Korean webtoon publisher and studio for the webtoon adaptation of the novel.

December 20, 2022

The author announced a week-long hiatus because of health reasons.

December ??, 2022

Plop, the Korean mobile game adaptation of the novel, was terminated.

2023

January 27, 2023

LaLatoon, an English webtoon publisher, released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

March 29, 2023

The author announced an almost 2-weeks long hiatus because of personal reasons.

March 31, 2023

IFyou:episodes-love stories, the English mobile game adaptation of the novel, was terminated. PIER Corporation stated that it was because they could no longer afford to pay server maintenance and labor costs.

April 18, 2023

Adar Terra announced that it would discontinue posting summaries for the novel after receiving a DMCA notice from RIDI who asserted that writing summaries itself was illegal.

June 5, 2023

The author announced a week-long hiatus because of personal reasons.

July 13, 2023

Season 3 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel began.

July 31, 2023

RIDI announced that it would release a Korean ebook adaptation of the novel on August 21. They also held a RIDI-exclusive event on July 31 to August 2 where fans could ask the author their questions.

Link: https://ridibooks.com/event/57453

August 21, 2023

RIDI released Volumes 1-5 of the Korean ebook adaptation, covering chapters 1-117 of Part 1. They also had a limited-time event where those who purchased Volumes 1-5 as a set would get discounts plus an Author Q&A as exclusive content. The Author Q&A had 26 questions answered by the author, and was based on the fan questions they gathered in their past event on July 31.

Image 10. Cover of the Author Q&A released as a RIDI-only exclusive content.

August 31, 2023

The author announced a 1-day hiatus because she caught COVID-19.

September 3, 2023

Tapas, an English webtoon publisher, released their official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

September 15, 2023

RIDI released Volumes 6-9 of the Korean ebook adaptation, covering chapters 118-200 of Part 1. They also had a limited-time event where those who purchased Volumes 6-9 as a set would get discounts.

October 20, 2023

The author posted a note in celebration of the novel’s 1000th chapter. She thanked her readers and also joked about the novel reaching 2000 chapters.

December 29, 2023

The Korean ebook adaptation of the novel won the Grand Prize in the Fantasy ebook category at the 2023 RIDI Awards.

2024

January 24, 2024

Bilibili Comics announced that it would be shut down by February 29. 

February 29, 2024

Bilibili Comics officially shut down. The official English translation of the webtoon adaptation remained on the other webtoon publishers.

March 3, 2024

DAYcomics, an English webtoon publisher, released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

March 8, 2024

Lezhin, an English webtoon publisher, released the official English translation of the webtoon adaptation on their website.

March 18, 2024

RIDI released Volumes 10-18 of the Korean ebook adaptation, covering chapters 201-398 of Part 1. They also had a limited-time event where those who purchased Volumes 10-18 as a set would get discounts plus an LCF Modern AU Character Checklist as exclusive content. The checklist had 39 situations that described which character would likely be fit or do something in that situation, but in a modern alternate universe (AU) setting. Two new cover illustrations for the ebook adaptation were also included.

Images 11 and 12. On the left is the new cover illustration for ebook volumes 1-9, featuring Cale alone. On the right is the cover illustration for ebook volumes 10-18, featuring Cale and Raon.

March 27, 2024

Seven Seas Entertainment, an English novel publisher, announced that it had acquired the license to officially translate the novel in English, under the title, “Lout of Count’s Family”. It would be released in September of 2024 in paperback and ebook versions.

July 11, 2024

Season 3 of the webtoon adaptation of the novel ended.

August 24, 2024

Seven Seas Entertainment announced that it would release an English audiobook version of the official English translation of the novel. No release date had been given.

September 3, 2024

Seven Seas Entertainment released volume 1 of the novel's official English translation in paperback and ebook versions. It was also revealed that Seven Seas bought MiracleRifle’s fan translation to use in their official translation, and credited MiracleRifle in their print details.

Image 13. Cover illustration for volume 1 of the English adaptation of the novel.

November 7, 2024

Seven Seas Entertainment released Volume 1 of the official English audio book. It was narrated by Nick Martineau and produced by John Marshall Media.

==========

Coming Soon:

December 3, 2024

Volume 2 of the official English novel translation will be released on this date.

March 4, 2025

Volume 3 of the official English novel translation would be released on this date.

==========

Personal Remarks:

Creating this list was quite a huge task for me. It also made me appreciate the author's hard work, given that she had to write the novel while having family and health problems.

This list was limited to the Korean and English-speaking audiences because finding information about official translations of the novel or webtoon adaptation in other languages was difficult, especially researching the exact dates.

Some personal bias was also involved in the creation of this list. Adar Terra should actually not be included here because it was a fandom thing and not an official one. Unless you count me getting the DMCA notice from the official publisher as an "official" thing. 😂

And that's it. This list will continue to be updated as more official events happen. If you know of other official events related to the novel that I missed, please share it in the comments! Thank you! 🥰

[strawberrysainz]

racing in the street. charles leclerc.

“ it’s a dream that has surpassed many others in both of your lives. to win the monaco grand prix - it had evaded him for many years. this year felt different. ”

charles leclerc x reader

word count: 2.5k

warnings: mentions of alcohol, suggestive themes.

this is a love letter to his win - years and years in the making. ❤️‍🔥

The first time you had known Charles would win in Monaco one day was when you were both seven, in the back of his dad’s car on the way to a friend’s party.

You had passed Mirabeau, and Charles had pointed out the red and white on the ground as you whizzed past.

“One day if I get to-“

“When,” his father had corrected from the front, and Charles had rolled his eyes playfully.

“-when I get to Formula 1, this is going to be very cool to pass by,”

You had nodded briefly - a seven year old’s attention span could only focus on something abstract for so long - and you had paused. “You can win it, right Cha?”

He had shrugged modestly. It was terribly annoying how modest he had been, even back then.

“You can. You win everything you want to win.” You were certain of this, even so many years ago.

Hervé had laughed loudly and you had blushed crimson.

Charles had smiled then, looking out the window, eyes shining with the hope of it all. The look in his eyes had startled you, one of wisdom only an adult could have.

One day in 2017 Lorenzo called you and Charles had staggered out of the hotel bathroom, face white. He had sat there next to you on the bed.

“I lied.”

“What?”

“I told him a few weeks ago I got to F1. So he would be happy knowing I achieved our dream. And I haven’t.”

Tears burned in your eyes.

He had fallen into your embrace, sobs shaking his whole body.

Standing on the top step in Baku three days later, you had stood there below him, crying, his mother on the phone.

You were eating sushi you’d ordered in at his place a few months later, and he’d had a sneakily happy look on his face the whole day.

“What’s up with you?” You’d said with a mouth full of california roll.

“Sauber is giving me a seat for next year.”

You’d broken a glass jumping up and soy sauce had stained both of your shirts as you screamed.

That first Monaco race day in 2018 had been a magical affair, up until the sixth-last lap, when his brakes had failed, spinning him into Brendan Hartley as they approached the Nouvelle Chicane.

You had winced in the garage, and he’d been dejected when he approached you a few hours afterward.

You’d thought of that day passing Mirabeau when you saw him. “Was it as cool as you thought doing it in F1?” You’d said quietly.

Tears had shone in his eyes. “I got to race it. Dad knew I could race it in F1.”

You had nearly choked months later when he’d told you over a glass of wine dipping your toes in the sea that he’d been called by Ferrari.

Shivers had run through you as you thought of Jules, and of Hervé. All they all had ever wanted.

“You know, your dad would have not been prouder. He would have dragged you to Rampoldi to celebrate.”

“Shall we go?” He had asked, and you’d both made the trip back to Monte-Carlo and when you phoned the restaurant in the back of the Uber, they’d said it was full with a little bit of regret.

But when they’d heard Charles was going to be there - oh, they’d all loved him from the beginning - they’d gotten a table for you both near closing time, when everyone was dispersing.

You’d both laughed and cried over the plates of his dad’s favourite ravioli.

Monaco had felt different in 2019, more eyes on him.

He’d started P15. Then on lap 16 - the irony - his puncture due to contact had called him back to the garage.

Pure grief had decorated his face as he got out of the car, shaking his head. Finding you after the Grand Prix, you saw the light dimming from his eyes and gave him the biggest hug you could.

That night you’d both cycled back to his place and sat all night in his kitchen, the dim light doing little to hide his sadness.

2021 was even worse; he’d had no chance to even start, and this time he was angry.

You hadn’t even seen him and had gone to bed when he called up at 2am, drunk, asking for a lift home.

You had gone in your pajama shorts and glasses, and he had sat in the back seat and asked why he always had worser luck here than anywhere else.

You didn’t really have an answer. “I just know one day it’s going to work out for you,” you said softly.

2022 had been spent in his friend’s apartment, watching from their balcony with a cocktail in hand, watching his girlfriend smile on the television.

You’d watched on as disaster had struck, Ferrari making an awful call, sacrificing his P1 for a measly P4.

You’d seen him two days later, out for breakfast, and he had just sighed. “Fucking stupid,” he’d murmured. “I think we have to accept I might never get this.”

That belief of your seven year old self was still strong, cemented in your soul when you shook your head.

In 2023, he’d just been annoyed at sixth place once he came back from the stewards. You’d left the paddock and he’d just gone home, bidding you a good night. As you walked to your apartment, you’d thought of all the nights as teenagers racing on bicycles in the streets.

Monaco would love him back as much as he did it one day. You knew it - deep down, he knew it too.

Well, Saturday in Monaco this year had felt different. He’d oozed confidence all weekend. And you felt different about him.

After he’d broken up with his girlfriend, all you’d been thinking about was him. He had been making unnecessary trips to see you, inviting you to more races than usual.

It had culminated a few months ago in Miami, where things were just different; he had come on the podium, and you had kissed his cheek when you saw him an hour later. You swore he almost moved his face to meet your lips.

You’d both spent the night partying with Lando, the drinks making you both different, dancing sensually, eyes dark. He had kissed your neck, and you’d both realised what the hell you were doing, moving back.

The next time you saw him you both pretended it had never happened.

You hadn’t seen him again until last Sunday, at your place. He’d come for your birthday dinner, handing you a present and flowers with two kisses to your cheeks. You’d blushed amongst all your friends, champagne flowing.

On Wednesday night after a long day of press, he’d come over again. “I have a feeling about the race this year.” You nodded, silently inviting him to expand.

“It feels different. Like I can definitely do it.”

You smiled. “I know you can do it. And you’ve been really strong this year.”

“I was cycling last month through Mirabeau and I really remembered one day when we were walking around there or driving when we were young and you told me you knew I could win.”

“It was when we were driving with your dad.” He’d let out a little sigh.

“I can do it this year for him. And me and Jules and you.”

You’d gotten emotional all of sudden. “I know you can do it, Cha. I’ve always known.”

He hugged you, his body soft and warm against yours in the dark room. You’d wanted nothing more than to kiss him.

Well, he’d got on pole on Saturday, reinforcing his determination and confidence. You’d seen how calm and collected he looked and it had been noticed by nearly everyone. You’d given him a fist bump and he’d grabbed you, hugging you, the smell of his sweat a testament to how badly he wanted it.

You’d gone home after a dinner with the Leclercs (minus him, he had sponsorship engagements to fulfill) and there was the quiet knowledge amongst all of them that this was the year.

Your mom had phoned on Sunday morning, and you spoke about your lives, then about Charles. “I hope he knows how loved he is by all of us. And I know Hervé and Jules are watching on today with the utmost pride.”

You nodded. “I think he does know, mama.”

You had picked out a red dress, short and flowing to accommodate the welcome heat. As you did your makeup, you thought of all the years that had come before, previous versions of yourself that had wanted him so badly to win.

The entire race you’d had stubborn tears in your eyes, blurring your vision. The last two laps you could barely look, too emotional at the thought of even seeing this happen.

Joris had gently guided you up to look again in the room and you just knew Charles was crying too on that last lap. The thought of the little boy in the car staring out at these streets made you wonder how he must be feeling.

All these years of this dream.

He had crossed the finish line and you had erupted into tears, turning into Lorenzo’s chest to take a breath. Later, you’d seen the camera footage of your teary eyes and the glimmer of hope in them as you looked back.

Then everyone had run down to the podium and you were in the second row, all of his team in the front. You saw him jump in slow motion into the air from his car and saw the joy in his steps.

He had jumped into the roar, and didn’t manage to see you but you could tell he was looking. Then he’d done the post race interview and him talking about his dad made you burst out crying again.

Someone had found you and dragged you to the front of the barrier underneath the podium. You must have looked awful. As he walked to the cool down room he cast a look back and your eyes caught his for a fraction of a second before he disappeared.

You had used the five minutes to take big deep breaths, multiple hands grasping you.

Then he’d walked out onto the podium and you saw how Prince Albert had gripped him like a son, tears in his own eyes. And Charles had held up his flag, full of hopes and dreams.

And then you all sang the anthems and then he was given the trophy and you were taking videos and photos as if in a dream.

He’d not seen you again, scanning, but gave up when the attentions of everyone else were cast on him.

You hadn’t caught sight of him again until you were hanging around in the paddock, wondering. Your phone rang and your heart skipped a beat.

“Hello?”

He was breathless and you couldn’t hear him, really, over the sound of the wind.

“Wh-“

“I’m cycling home…”

You had snorted. “Alone?”

“Yeah.”

You had paused.

“I wanted to just think of all the years and moments I raced and rode these streets and prayed I would win here one day. It felt right.”

You had laughed. “I’m proud of you.”

“Yeah, yeah… meet me at home? Then we go out?”

“Sounds like a plan.”

He ended the call. You saw videos of him on TikTok later on the bike on speakerphone and he had grinned as the people drove past him.

You had stopped at your place first, freshening up, and grabbed a bag and a power bank and downed a shot of vodka (to ease the nerves). Putting on heels with the red dress this time, you ordered an Uber to his place. You had used your key to get in and music was blaring when you opened the door. He was shirtless, trying to find an appropriate one.

“Hi,” you smiled.

He had forgotten what he was doing to basically run over and hug you, the force of it nearly knocking you over.

You were in tears again when he pulled away. “Love you,” you whispered, and he smiled. “I’m so proud. I keep thinking of little you.”

“I could never be here without you throughout the years. Never. You have picked me up and glued me back together so many times.”

You let out a small sound of emotion.

“I thought so much of all of you the last laps. I couldn’t see I was so emotional.” He laughed.

“And just all the times you told me you just knew I could do it. And my dad. And Jules. And my mom and brothers. Oh, I want to cry even now!”

You laughed as he ran back to his room to get a shirt.

“But-” he called from the room- “now we have to party like crazy!”

The next morning, you woke up at Arthur’s apartment with a pounding headache and a few missed calls and texts.

Charles 🕺 4:37

Let me know if you got back okay?

Charles 🕺 5:13

I think I’m going home now

Charles 🕺 10:52

I’m going to come pick you up I think Arthur won’t wake until 3pm

You checked the time. 11:04. Getting up from the couch and groaning, you went to the bathroom and pulled your hair into a ponytail, trying to wipe the makeup and finding a disposable toothbrush in his drawer to brush your teeth and the stale smell of tequila away.

You heard his car horn outside and you pulled on your heels that had been thrown on the ground a few meters from the couch. Leaving and letting the door close quietly you walked down the stairs, wincing at every loud noise your high heels made.

He was in his car and thank God there was no one around because you looked crazy. “Hiii,” you said, and he handed you a pair of sunglasses you thought you lost (but clearly just left in his car).

“How’s the race winner doing?” You said, and slid into the seat.

“Incredible,” he said dramatically and his voice was raspy, nearly gone. You laughed and then grasped your head.

Coming out of your bedroom with your hair wrapped in a towel and a crop top and sweatpants, he was making coffee for you both. Finding leftover pasta from Saturday night that Pascale had sent you home with, you heated it up and offered him some. He shook his head.

When you turned around from the microwave with the pasta in hand, he kissed you.

Your eyes widened. He set down the pasta, not breaking the kiss, and hoisted you onto the kitchen counter. You let him open you up, your body leaning into his. Your arms wrapped around his neck and his hand rested underneath your shirt.

“You make me feel so lucky,” he whispered.

Your mouth fell open slightly. “Well, you deserve all of it.”

He did. He did.

omg i just started crying over this stupid fic for the third time. i feel like this encompasses all i feel for him. i hope you feel it. ❤️‍🔥

[mikelogan]

POSSUM (2018) dir. Matthew Holness

TJ MIKELOGAN's HALLOWEEN 2024 EVENT Day 11: Obscure horror

Mother, father, what's afoot? Only Possum, black as soot. Mother, father, where to tread? Far from Possum and his head. Here's a bag, now what's inside? Does he seek or does he hide? Can you spy him, deep within? Little Possum, black as sin. Bag is open, growing wider. What's inside it, man or spider? Little boy, don't lose your way. Possum wants to come and play. Look at Possum, there he lies. Children meet his lifeless eyes. See his nasty legs and tongue. When he wakens, watch him run. Wait a while, my little child, for what is playing dead. Possum, with his black balloons, will eat you up in bed. Happy valley, painted black. All the children in a sack. Wave goodbye to sun and moon. Say hello to black balloon. The parcel opened, out it sprang, the black, long-legged Possum Man. Children, run! He'll eat and smother any child without a mother.

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ v ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: sorry it took a while compared to the other chapters. i finished up my lab reports in my surveying class. this is not edited nor is it beta read and i dont remember much on what happened during the 2018-2021 seasons so pardon me if there are inaccuracies. anyways, welcome to max's pov. u can say im stalling on the shitshow that will happen once max discovers that reader resigned. lemme know what you think.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1

masterlist.

2018

“Who’s that?”

Daniel looks up, cheeks stuffed with the sandwich he was eating for lunch, “Who?”

Max cringes internally. His mother always told him and Victoria to not talk when his mouth was full, she called it bad manners, and now, he is understanding where she was coming from with those lectures. Nevertheless, he doesn't reprimand Daniel. Instead, he gestures to the girl standing a few meters away from their table in the Red Bull hospitality staff cafeteria, who was happily chatting with two Red Bull senior engineers whom Max recognizes to be Elijah Stuart and Richard Fox.

It is the first time Max has seen her. A new employee perhaps? Perhaps not. She lacks the company standard uniform.

Daniel trails his line of sight to where Max has pointed, “Which one? Richard?”

“No,” Max groans. Daniel blinks.

“Elijah?”

This is quickly becoming annoying.

“The girl, Daniel,” Max says, his exasperation bleeding through his words. “She’s not wearing a Red Bull polo.”

Daniel’s brows rise to his hairline, head snapping back to Max, “[Name]?”

Then, a shit-eating grin erupts on his lips. “Are you interested in her?”

“She’s not my type,” Max’s denial comes quickly. Is it even considered denial if it’s the truth? In his twenty almost twenty-one years being alive, Max never really put a lot of time into thinking about what his ideal type would look like. But he is sure that the woman of his dreams will look very far from the woman who was successful in catching his attention because you are wearing a black shirt in a sea of Red Bull polo shirts.

You with your eyes that forms into tiny crescent moons once your face breaks into a grin, you with your smile that shows too much gums and too much teeth, you with your hands that moves too much when you talk, and you with that too loud and too obnoxious laugh that comes even with the lamest of jokes. You’re like Daniel in a way. All happy sunshine vibes.

Max is watching you close, observing how you were interacting with Richard and Elijah. They're old men and no one should look this happy while talking to boring, old, white men, who worked more than four decades in the engineering industry so they only know how to speak boomer language and everything engineering. Surprisingly, Elijah and Richard seem to be having fun talking to you. A miracle on its own because they never even look that happy talking to Daniel Ricciardo and everybody in Red Bull Racing adores sunshine honey badger, Daniel Ricciardo.

“I didn't say anything.”

“You're thinking about it.”

“How would you know what I’m thinking?”

“Because you’re currently on a quest to erase my singledom. I can put two and two together.”

Daniel snorts, crossing his arms over his chest, “Maybe I just want to let you meet new friends.”

“I have enough friends.”

“You don't have friends that are not racers.”

Max presses his lips in a thin line.

“She’s my manager, by the way.” says Daniel, leaning back into his seat.

“What happened to Nick?”

“He’s on leave,” Daniel says. “His wife’s giving birth soon. She’s my temporary manager for a few months. Or I don't know, maybe the whole season.”

Max brows rise in pleasant surprise but says nothing.

“Now that I think about it, she’s around your age. How old are you again? Twenty-two?”

“Twenty,” Max corrects. His birthday is still months away from pre-season. On the end of September.

“Ah, she's older than you. Oh wait, here she comes. Hey, [Name]! Here!”

Max flinches and his heart begins ramming against his ribs erratically that he thinks he’ll undergo cardiac arrest in a matter of seconds. He does a double take—why am I even panicking?—then forces himself to calm down and straightens up in his seat. His shoulders and neck are still considerably stiff and his palms are slowly becoming sweaty. He swallows an invisible stone in his throat.

“¡Hola mi amiga, [Name]!” Daniel greets and his Spanish accent sounds off that it makes [Name], who stopped right in front of their table, giggle and when Max looks up at her through his lashes, it almost feels like the world is turning too rapidly on its axis and it’s making Max dizzy. Daniel and her do a friendly handshake—when did they reach this level of friendship?

“Hola, Daniel,” she greets, smiling. Your accent reminds Max of Carlos, but unlike Carlos, who possesses a very distinct Spanish accent, yours sounded subtler than his and it's mixed with the charming rhythm of words that reminds Max of sunsets in the south. You pronounce Daniel’s name like it has two syllables instead of three. Dan-yel instead of Dan-i-el. Suddenly, Max is curious as to how his name will sound if it originates from her mouth, how the syllables will roll off her tongue. Max will still sound like Max. Nobody will mispronounce that name. But Emilian and Verstappen? How will you say it?

“Hi Max.”

The Max sounds plain even though you’re smiling when you greet him. She didn't say Max the same way she said Daniel, whose name was uttered with a certain fondness.

“Hello,” Max’s chin dips slightly into a nod.

“Eat with us,” Daniel invites and he is already dragging a chair from a nearby table to their table before Max can fully register what he’s doing.

“You sure?” you ask, brows raising slightly at Daniel’s abrupt invitation.

Daniel waves his hand dismissively, “Yeah, yeah, Max wouldn't mind. Would you, Max?”

Suddenly, two pairs of eyes are on him and his throat feels dry. He cannot speak. No words leave his mouth. Empty brain, zero thoughts. In the end, he nods and you join the two for lunch.

Max frequently sees you following Daniel in the paddock. You remind him of a dog. No, even dogs do not follow their owners this much. Or do they? Max wouldn't know. He is a cat person anyway.

Max’s main point is this: not even the other racers’ managers follow them around this much. Not even Max’s manager follows him this much. (No one tell Max that this was due to the fact that he scares his own manager. Imagine a middle-aged man scared of a Dutch racer half his age with anger issues.) But you follow Daniel around like he is the sun and you are planet Earth and you need to be constantly revolving around him to achieve universal balance. And for some reason, your actions cause something odd to stir up in Max. He is annoyed. Of what? Maybe because you are so good to Daniel? Maybe he wants someone to be like that for him, too? His manager is not as proactive as you. Yeah, maybe that’s it.

And if you are not with Daniel, which is a rare occurrence, you’re hovering around the Red Bull mechanics. You even go as far as bringing them coffee in the mornings and that annoys Max even more. Daniel, he can understand if you brought him coffee, but the others? No. You don't even bring Christian Horner coffee. Why only them?

Whatever.

You are such a suck up. Max hates suck ups.

Baku 2018 was a bad race, a total nightmare for everyone in the team. The moment Max got out of that car, he was burning. Figuratively, at least. The engine of the RB14 is the one burning, in a literal sense. Horner is red in the face when he sees Max and Daniel, and he yells at them to cool down before they do the formal stuff of apologizing and dealing with the FIA and all the formalities that Max rather thinks are bullshit.

“What are you doing here?” he asks, his voice raising, when he sees you approaching. “Aren't you supposed to be with Daniel?”

“Water?” you offer the water bottle to him and Max knows full well it’s supposed to be for Daniel. Max saw you offering it to Daniel earlier when the two of them stepped into the Red Bull garage after retiring from the race but the older man has declined your offer before stomping off somewhere else to cool down.

“No.”

He is not going to take the scraps of someone else, even though he is thirsty as hell.

You nod, shrugging your shoulders and saying, “Okay.”

You crouch on the floor and put the water bottle in front of him with a neatly folded face towel balancing on top of it. Then, you rise and walk away, leaving Max to glare at your back as you fade away from his view. Once you disappeared from his line of sight, he drags his gaze back to the water bottle and towel.

He drinks the water and then uses the towel to wipe his sweat. At that moment, Max decides that he will never allow himself to be beaten by Daniel ever again.

Max remembers the anger he feels when he discovers the news of Daniel leaving Red Bull.

“Was this because of Baku?!”

Daniel tries to explain his situation as calmly as he can but Max is all fire and flames and fury. He is only hearing Daniel’s words, not listening to them because all that he registers are the words “leaving” and “Renault” and “goodbye” and the rest are all just a bunch of ringing noise. Max knows where Daniel is coming from because he isn't dumb nor naive and he is aware that he is quickly becoming the team favorite, but did Daniel really need to leave?

Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving, Daniel’s leaving. He’ll have no friends left on the team.

Max’s fear of being left behind is often masqueraded as anger. The thing about Max is that his pain always turns to anger and his anger turns into violence.

He barely registers what he has done to Daniel until he sees his teammate—former teammate—on the floor, eyes wide and clutching his cheek. Max’s fist trembles. They are both horrified at what Max has done.

“Daniel, I—”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, man?!” Daniel scrambles to a stand and lunges at Max. Max fears he’s going to get punched, too, and maybe he deserves it because he is the one who has thrown his fist first, but [Name] appears, quick as lightning, and rushes in between Daniel and Max.

“Daniel, calm down.”

Max is surprised you can hold Daniel down on your own. Daniel was a racer, had been since 2011, so he possessed the physical strength of a veteran racer and you, well, you're not. You’re shorter than them both, too.

Daniel is turning red in the face and fury paints his features. Max wants to fight, answer Daniel’s anger with his own. Fire to fire. Let them both burn until they achieve ruination.

“Nick!” you cry and at the call of his name, Nick appears quickly. “Hold Daniel!”

Your hands clutch Max’s nape and forearm and you quickly drag him away from the furious Daniel, leaving Nick to hold Daniel off and calm him down.

His ears are still ringing. Even after he's dragged away from the chaos. Even after he's brought into an empty room. Even after he sits down on a plush chair, face scarily blank while his mind runs for miles.

The ringing sound disappears when you tap his shoulder and asks, “You okay, big boy?”

His brain becomes a blank slate.

Max nods hesitantly, “Yeah.”

His knuckles are still tingling. He can still feel the remnants of the violence of his fist, can still feel the sting when his knuckles met Daniel’s cheek.

“Injuries?”

Why do you only speak words instead of full sentences?

You scan Max’s face for injuries and Max holds his breath when you lean your face closer to see clearly.

“No—No injuries.”

Your shoulders sag in relief, “Good. Thank fuck. Horner wouldn't be happy if golden boy got clocked.”

You pull yourself away and Max feels like he can breathe again. Then, you pivot on your heels.

“I’ll get you water.”

“No!”

You flinch and then turn to him slowly, your eyes growing wide and mouth falling slightly open. Max mirrors your surprise. You blink at him. Once. Twice. Thrice. Then, your forehead creases and you close your mouth.

“No need to yell at me,” you mumble but Max hears it loud and clear and now, his anger is spiking up again.

“Fine, go!”

You raise a brow at him, giving him a long look. A sigh escapes your lips. You leaned against the door, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Why aren't you leaving?”

“You don't want me to,” you say in a know-it-all tone.

“I told you to go!”

“What you want and what you say are two different things. Don't worry, I’ll stay for as long as you need.”

Max doesn’t say anything else. Instead, he sits there in the silence with his thoughts and he can already feel the tears welling up in his eyes. He’s sure you noticed that he’s trying not to cry, not with you standing in front of him. Max always makes weird faces when he forces himself not to cry.

But then you turn your back on him, not to leave, but to give him the privacy he needs.

His tears fall silently.

The 2018 WDC was Lewis Hamilton, who garnered 408 points by the end of the year. Max finishes in fourth, only after the Ferrari drivers, Sebastian Vettel and Kimi Raikkonen. The world thinks it is not a bad result. Max is still young and he’s battling three WDCs for points. But Max thinks otherwise. Winning is number one. The rest is just losing. The only thing he knows is he's not good enough. Jos is thinking of the same thing, too. He knows it.

Everytime someone congratulates him, Max has to bite his tongue and fake a smile. He can only feel anger, for finishing up fourth. It's like people are constantly reminding him of what he failed to become—a champion.

Red Bull throws an after party at the hotel bar, like they do at every Grand Prix, but Max chose not to go so he can drown in his own bitterness in the privacy of his hotel room.

A series of knocks on the door disturbs his ongoing rampage. He is sure it is his manager who’s behind the door. Archie possesses a horrible habit of appearing when he is not needed and not appearing when he is.

“What?!”

“Open the door, sour loser.”

That's not Archie.

Max’s jaw tenses. He marches towards the door and aggressively throws it open. It is you who stands behind it, an unimpressed expression printed on your face. Why is Daniel’s manager here?

“Who are you calling a loser?”

You sigh, peering your head in to look at his hotel room. You wince.

“Horner is not gonna be happy with how you trashed everything,” you begin. Max may or may not have thrown things across the room, punched a table and the wall, and accidentally broke a hotel-owned wall decoration. “Did you punch the wall?”

He did. But he’s not going to tell you that. Max hopes you don’t notice the peeling skin on his knuckles—red and angry and bloody.

“Can you leave?” he asks through gritted teeth. He hears you sigh. You do that a lot when you’re around him. Why?

You rummage through your tote bag—cream-colored with peach prints, the same one you wear all year round—and pull out a cold can of beer and a face towel.

“Lemme see.”

You reach for Max’s hand, which causes him to jerk back, his hand going behind him. You pause.

“I told you to leave.”

“Okay,” you shrug. You grab his wrist before he could dodge and you thrust the cold canned beer and face towel into his hand.

“Put this on your knuckles,” your tone leaves no room for further arguments. “Danny’s worried ‘bout you.”

“If he’s so worried about me, he shouldn't be leaving me,” Max snaps.

“Have you tried listening to his reasons?”

“Of course, I did!” Max is offended that you even feel the need to ask him that.

You purse your lips, “Maybe you did listen, just never tried to understand. I’d do the same thing, too, if I was Danny. No need to stay in a place where we’re no longer wanted.”

Max opens his mouth to bark back. How dare you utter such nonsense? You only stayed here for a year! ? You will never understand the relationship between Daniel and Max. You will never know Daniel the same way Max knows him.

“He isn't going to win anywhere else. We are going to get a new engine and the car will be better than this year. We’ll be better than Ferrari or Mercedes. We’ll be champions.”

I’ll be a champion, but Max leaves it unsaid.

“I know, heard it from the mechanics,” you shrug. “Maybe Danny won't win in another machinery. Maybe he will. Who knows? But if the team wanted Danny then that’s better. A team that wants and prioritizes Danny will treat him better than any team could. And right now, that's what he needs, a good team that supports him well.”

“Red Bull prioritizes him, too.”

“You're lyin’ to yourself, you know it. You of all people should know how shitty it feels to be number two and Danny is number two right now.”

Silence.

Number two. Cursed number two.

“Are you gonna follow Daniel, too?”

Max will not be surprised if you do.

You shrug.

“Let's wait and see.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the soft click of your beige flats echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer and a face towel in his hand.

He uses the face towel to wipe the blood on his knuckle and uses the cold canned beer to help soothe the pain of forming bruises. Max wishes you brought something to ease the pain in his heart, too.

2019

The 2019 pre-season begins with Christian Horner saying that Archie, Max’s incompetent manager last year, has submitted a resignation letter. That makes Max Verstappen officially manager-less this year.

“For this season, since Daniel is no longer with us—” The corner of Max’s lips curve downwards. “[Name] does not have anyone to manage anymore. I was thinking of moving her to the engineering team but she was too efficient at managing Daniel last year. Would you mind if she becomes your manager? I assume you're both friends?”

Friends is not the appropriate term to describe what they are. Sure, they talked because Daniel talked with Max frequently and wherever Daniel was, [Name] is closely behind. Daniel also has this habit of dragging everyone into the conversation so no one will be left out. They also engaged in banter a few times, when Daniel’s not around and Max and her do not bother tolerating each other for the sake of the Australian racer.

For the most part, when Daniel is present, [Name] become the nicest person to ever grace the room, even Mother Teresa is put to shame, but when Daniel’s gone, [Name]’s saintess act disappears and enters an asshole who'll argue with Max and annoy him to oblivion. She absolutely vexes him.

Also, she's a terrible suck up. Max hates suck ups.

“She’ll be good for you,” Horner adds.

“Do you believe so?”

“I know she can handle you.”

Max raises a single questioning brow, “What is that supposed to mean?”

Nevertheless, Max has no choice. Horner believes she’ll be good for him and Max prefers having her as a manager than having none at all. God forbid he’ll be stuck manager-less. He can barely organize anything to save his life.

Even though they're not perfectly civil with each other, Max cannot deny the fact that [Name] is a good manager. It is like she possesses the uncanny ability of knowing everything Max needs without having him to voice it out and you do it without Max having to ask you. Which works greatly for Max. He really isn't the best at asking what he needs and people cannot mindread so he just sucks everything up until a simple thing gets blown out of proportion and he ends up blaming someone else for a problem that should have been solved had he voiced it out in the first place.

“PR sent me this,” you walk into the room early in the morning and Max groans because he’s still dealing with the hangover from last night so he cannot deal with your annoyingness right now. Despite hearing his dilemma, you put the iPad on the table and Max sees a picture of him drunk as fuck in a bar somewhere in Barcelona. He winces, looking away and not bothering to read the caption.

“They want you to clear shit up.”

“What's there to be cleared about?”

“People think we're datin’, darlin’. That's what you need to clear up.”

Max’s eyes go comically wide. Him and [Name]....dating? A blush graces Max’s cheeks.

You swipe down and show Max a video. The clip shows you walking out of the bar, warding off people with a passed out Max on your shoulder.

There are two things that immediately entered Max’s head at that moment:

Wow. You're really strong.

What the fuck? When did this happen?

“I’ll get you an Advil and soup. In the meantime,” you open a word document on your iPad. “You read this. Prepared a script ‘cuz you can’t improvise shit. We’ll film a press release vid when I come back, aight?”

You are gone before Max can even nod his head.

[mclacedes]

The Idea Of You (LN4)

1. The Idea of Kissing

summary: in which lando and you have been friends for over 5 years and developed feelings for each other, but refuse to admit it until his family's new year's party.

autor's note: I present to you my first story on tumblr :')!! I'm so happy that this is finally becoming a reality, that I could post all the chapters at once... maybe chapters every other day would be a good start.

I would like to remind you that English is not my first language, so FEEL FREE to correct me 🤍

WARNINGS: bits of fluff every here and there, angst, a little smut, mention of anxiety

wc: 5.5k words

“i'd rather take that risk than keep pretending”

next chapter: The Idea of Worthiness

the norris party had been a great success, with laughter and music still echoing in the kitchen, where you and lando worked side by side to clean up the remnants of the celebration. the cozy mess of half-eaten snacks and empty drink bottles created an intimate atmosphere, a testament to the night’s joy and the warmth of being with friends.

since you two became friends in 2018, it has become the most normal thing in the world for you to spend a few days at his family's house when he gets time to come home; so when your families met at Silverstone 2019, it was almost like you were one big family, only one thing, part of the same thing. as usual, his mother invited you to their New Year's party.

the party—like anything involving the Norris name—was a blast and, of course, something to remember. it was the best possible way to welcome 2024 with open arms after the last disastrous years.

now, confetti, shiny paper, and glitter were scattered across the floor of the house, remnants of a night well-spent. you and Lando willingly took your time cleaning up, both of you slipping easily into the comfortable rhythm of a shared task. Lando rinsed the cutlery, while you swept the floor.

as you moved around the room, your eyes were drawn to him—his back, broad and muscular beneath the thin fabric of his white dress shirt, which clung just enough to reveal the silhouette of his strength.

as you swept the floor, you couldn’t help but let your gaze linger a little longer on Lando’s silhouette as he washed the dishes. the quiet between you felt more yours than the remnants of the party scattered around the room. with the last guests gone, the laughter and music faded into a soft hum, leaving just the rhythmic clinking of dishes. you found the moment oddly intimate, a shared space where everything else faded away.

“do you remember the first New Year’s party you came to?” Lando’s voice broke the silence, pulling you from your thoughts. he turned slightly, a teasing grin spreading across his face. “i think it was 2019. you nearly dropped your drink when my dad tried to get everyone to sing ‘Auld Lang Syne.’”

you laughed, the memory making you feel warm inside. “how could i have forgotten? your dad was so into it, and i was just standing there, completely clueless.”

“it felt just like a movie scene,” he said, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “and i still think you owe me a proper midnight kiss for that.”

your heart skipped a beat at his words. it was a lighthearted joke, but it hit closer to home than you expected.

you've had this major crush on him since 2019, and moments like these only made it harder to ignore. every lingering glance, every shared laugh, and the warmth of his presence felt charged with something unspoken, something you both danced around but never fully acknowledged. as you swept the floor, the weight of your feelings settled in the silence, an undercurrent that hummed softly between you. it was a reminder of all those stolen moments and quiet confessions, a connection that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

you shook that feeling off.

“god, you'll never let that go, will you?” the playful shock was palpable in your tone as you stopped sweeping the floor. a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you watched lando position himself to face you, on the other side of the kitchen island. he rested his body against the sink, his weight supported on his elbows.

“how could i? you pulled me in for a kiss but didn't move!” he rolls his eyes.

the memory hits you, sending a shiver down your spine. you remember just how physically close you two were there and what led you to do that… the overwhelming want of his lips in yours, the way he looked just as pretty as tonight, how he was a gentleman to you all night long.

“i was a bit drunk,” the lie rolls off your tongue with a little too much ease.

lando moves around the island and stop in front of you.

“are you drunk right now, love?” his voice dropped almost an octave, reverberating low and husky. his voice like that had a special effect on you, something you would never understand.

“not much, you know i don't like drinking” you shrug.

“then why does it look like you still wanna kiss me, beautiful?” his eyes twinkling with mischief, the voice drunk on his characteristic playful confidence and that smile… it made your heart perform various somersaults in sequence, the butterflies on your stomach wanted to be freed. he was driving you wild. and he knew it. “did you kiss someone tonight?”

“why does that even matter?” you rolled your eyes and turned your back to him.

he followed. his body now stands fewer meters from you. you could feel his presence, hanging imposingly around the kitchen.

“because i wanna know if i’ll be the first to do so this year, baby,” your whole body froze by the saying.

every limb petrified, every cell dead, every neuron fried. you stood right there were you where, unable to process the weight of his words.

you took a moment to gather your thoughts, feeling the weight of his gaze on you. the warmth of his presence enveloped you, making it hard to think straight. somehow, you managed to turn around.

“i mean… you know what they say—no kiss, no bliss”

“no one says that, lan,” you chuckle at the made-up saying.

“well... then we do,” he states.

“we?” you echo, hesitantly. “what do you mean, we?”

“us, love. you and me,” he turns around and smile.

you felt the heat creeping up your cheeks at his words, a mix of embarrassment and excitement swirling within you. “so, what? i should kiss you because you coined a catchy phrase?”

lando stepped closer, a playful glint in his eye. “well, it sounds pretty convincing to me. plus, it’s new year’s! a fresh start, right? a perfect time to mess around and have some fun, don't you think?”

your heart sunk to your stomach.

for lando, it was a joke, something that'd entertain him.

the realization that he would never look at you how you looked at him hit you right in your stomach—the weight of his words hitting harder than expected.

“i… i can’t handle this right now,” you stammered, the lump in your throat making it hard to breathe. “i need a minute.” without waiting for a response, you dashed out of the kitchen, desperate to escape and keep your tears at bay.

you bolted into the guest room that had become a second home over the years, flinging yourself onto the bed and burying your face in the soft pillows.

the weight of his words clung to you, turning what had felt like playful banter into something more painful. hot tears slipped down your cheeks, soaking into the fabric of the pillow as you tried to quiet your racing heart.

after a few minutes, soft knock interrupted your spiraling thoughts, and before you could muster a response, lando stepped in. his expression shifted from playful to serious, concern etched across his features as he took in your trembling form and the telltale signs of tears. his heart sank, breaking at the sight of you so upset.

“y/n,” he said gently, closing the door behind him. “can we have a word?”

you turned away, not wanting him to see the tears brimming in your eyes. “go away” you mumbled, your voice muffled by the pillow.

“i’m not going anywhere, y/n,” he voiced. “please, talk to me.”

he took a step closer until he finally sat on the bed in which you laid face down. his presence filled the small room with a warmth that both comforted and terrified you. “i didn’t mean to upset you. i thought it would be funny.”

you felt the bed shift under his weight, and the gentle creak of the mattress reminded you of how close he was. you took a shaky breath, still not ready to face him; yet you got up, walking to the other side of the bed so you could see him from the front.

“it’s not just that,” you said, your words barely escaping your lips. “you don’t understand how… complicated and hurtful this is for me.”

“complicated? hurtful?” he echoed, confusion lacing his tone. “y/n, we’ve been friends for years. what’s complicated about this?”

your heart pounded in your chest as you tried to gather all the courage in the world to tell him how you've felt for so long.

“you don’t get it, lan,” you chuckled softly in disbelief. “how come you don't see i've had feelings for you for a long time now? every time you joke around, it just… it makes everything harder. it hurts me, lan. so much. i think you won't ever see me like that because i mean… the people you've went out with, jesus, they're goddesses and me? i'm… fuck, lan!”

you turned your back to lando, staring at the wall and letting tears run down your cheeks.

lando’s heart dropped as soon as he heard the soft, muffled sobs escaping your lips. panic surged through him, and he sprang up from the bed, his pulse racing.

“hey, hey,” he breathed, urgency lacing his tone. his hands reached out instinctively to cup your face, but he hesitated for a moment, unsure of how to bridge the distance between your pain and his desire to comfort you. when he finally touched you, his soft hands were breaking out in cold sweat, yet his familiar touch brought you a sense of solace. his grip was gentle but firm, grounding you in that moment. “please don’t cry, baby.”

“look at me,” he searched your eyes, desperation in his voice. “i hate seeing you like this. you mean too much to me. way more than you know.”

“lando, i can't—” he cut you off.

“i need you to hear me, y/n. you are the most beautiful girl i have ever seen, and it breaks my heart to see you like this and because, fuck, you are the most perfect person. it pisses me off to think that you don't see yourself the way i do. god, i love you. i think it's amazing how you take your time to look after your friends and relatives, it's adorable how good you are with children, you are so effortlessly funny and intelligent. how come you don't see it?”

his words hung in the air, heavy with meaning and sincerity. you felt the warmth of his hands on your cheeks, the way he looked at you as if you were the only person in the world. slowly, the wall you had built around your heart began to crumble under the weight of his confession.

“you’re not just my friend, y/n,” he continued, his voice softening. “you’ve always been more to me. and every time i joked, it was just me trying to hide how much i cared. i didn’t want to ruin what we had, but here we are.”

he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin. “i’m tired of pretending. i want you to be mine, for real. please let me in. let me show you how much you mean to me.”

your heart raced as his gaze bore into yours, searching for understanding, for a glimpse of hope. the vulnerability in his eyes made you feel seen in a way you never had before. you were at a crossroads, and for the first time, you saw the possibility of something beautiful blooming from the ashes of your uncertainty.

you felt a whirlwind of emotions swirling inside you, taken aback by the depth of his words. your mind raced, struggling to process the reality of what he was saying. “lando, this… this is a lot to take in,” you managed to whisper, your heart pounding in your chest.

he took a small step closer, his hands still cradling your face as he searched your eyes for any flicker of reciprocation. “i know it is. but i’ve been holding back for so long, scared of losing you if things didn’t work out. but the truth is, i can’t imagine my life without you. i don’t want to hide how i feel anymore.”

the vulnerability in his voice made your heart ache. “you really mean that?” you asked, your voice trembling slightly. the weight of your feelings, long kept hidden, began to surface, intertwining with his confession.

“absolutely,” he said earnestly. “you’re the one who makes me laugh when i’m down, the person i want to share my victories with. i’ve always felt a connection with you, something deeper than just friendship. and i’ve been too afraid to say anything because i didn’t want to ruin what we have.”

you took a shaky breath, the reality of his love washing over you like a wave. “but what if things change? what if it ruins our friendship?”

“i’d rather take that risk than keep pretending,” he replied, his voice steady and reassuring. “you’re worth it. and if it doesn’t work out, at least we’ll know we tried. but i truly believe we can be more than friends. i want to explore this with you.”

his honesty wrapped around you, pulling you closer, and for the first time, you felt the possibility of a future filled with hope rather than fear. you stared into his eyes, seeing not just the boy you had known for years but the man who could potentially hold your heart.

“i just… i’ve had feelings for you for so long, lan,” you confessed, your voice barely above a whisper. “i was terrified you’d never see me that way.”

“and now?” he asked, leaning in closer, his gaze unwavering.

“now,” you said, feeling the walls you’d built around your heart begin to dissolve, “i want to see where this goes. if you’re really sure about us.”

“more than sure,” he promised, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that had slipped down your cheek. “i’m all in, y/n.”

in that moment, the air between you crackled with possibility, and you knew, no matter what came next, you were ready to take that leap together.

“what do you want, lando?” you finally asked, vulnerability spilling over the edges of your bravado.

“i want to kiss you, for real this time,” he replied simply, his tone low and sincere. “but more than that... i want you, y/n”

and just like that, the tension shifted. the room felt smaller as he leaned in, the gravity of the moment drawing you closer.

as you leaned in, the world outside faded into nothingness, leaving just the two of you, a shared breath before the leap.

his defined lips brushed against yours, soft and tentative, igniting a spark inside you. you could taste the remnants of champagne on his breath, a sweet reminder of the night you two shared. the kiss deepened.

lando grabbed your waist and staggered back until he sat on the bed, without breaking your kiss. with his legs open, you remained between them. your hands played with norris' neck and shoulder as he explored your waist, hips, tailbone until they landed on your ass, going down to his thighs, where he gripped tighter.

the soft moan that left your mouth made him smile and squeeze tighter, which brought you closer to him. almost like instinct, you moved to sit on his lap.

it felt like you two were trying to make up for all the lost time, and the clock didn't move; the party was a distant memory. the only thing that mattered was the feeling of his hands on you and the growing bulge beneath you.

lando’s fingers tangled in your hair, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a fervent need that sent shivers down your spine. you could feel the tension from earlier melting away, replaced by a heat that enveloped you both. each kiss felt like a promise, a declaration of everything you had both been too afraid to say until now.

his hands moves to the back of your dress, unzipping it carefully. the brush of his fingers on your bare skin ignited a spark within you, sending shivers down your spine as his hands explored your body with a reverent slowness. he caressed your sides, fingers brushing against the fabric of your sparkly Prada dress, teasing and tracing the curves he had only imagined before.

Lando quickly got rid of your expensive dress, leaving her breasts exposed for you to do whatever he wanted with the pair.

he felt his mouth water as he looked at your breasts, feeling even more horny just imagining you bouncing on top of him and your breasts swaying with each thrust. oh, god, here was so much he wanted to try with you and the mere thought made his cock even more painfully hard.

“so beautiful…” he silently praised, leaning in to kiss the top of your tits. “so hot… so mine”

“i’m yours, yeah?” you asked, trying not to sound too desperate and needy—as much as you were too desperate and needy.

“oh, yeah, you're mine,” he told you before grabbing one of your breasts, transmitting a wave of pleasure that made you throw your head back leaving your mouth agape.

“oh, lando,” slipped out before you could stop it, leaving you feeling lighter yet more vulnerable than ever.

“baby… you can't be loud, my love; my parents are here, remember?” he said with a teasing smile, the seriousness of his words sending a rush of excitement through you. “if you moan, i stop, okay?” he added, his voice a mix of playfulness and dominance.

you nodded, a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. lando’s fingers worked magic as they moved on your sides and titties, sending shockwaves through you, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

as you settled more comfortably on his lap, the heat radiating from his body made your skin flush. you pressed yourself against him, deepening the kiss as you felt him respond, his hands roaming down your sides, exploring every inch of you with a growing urgency.

involuntarily, your hips moved against his, eliciting a slight groan from him.

“ah god, you’re perfect,” he murmured against your lips, his breath hot and needy, and it sent a rush of warmth through you. you felt like you were losing yourself in him, every touch igniting a fire that left you breathless.

a thought struck you—what would happen now.

“lando, wait, wait…” you whispered, breaking the kiss just enough to speak—or rather, whisper. the intensity in his eyes only fueled your desire. “do you have a condom?”

“uh… no, fuck…” he shut his eyes when realizing the implications of not having a condom with him.

“oh…” you said, leaving his lap to lay on the bed.

you felt a mix of disappointment and frustration, knowing that this moment could slip away before it even truly began. the air between you felt heavy with unfulfilled tension, and you couldn’t help but wonder how you had arrived at this precipice, so close yet so far.

“but i can't leave you wanting,” lando said, his voice laced with sincerity.

“but what about you?” you pointed to his bulge, the undeniable evidence of his arousal pressing against his jeans.

“i’ll be fine, love. i wanna take care of you.” he turned to look at you, his eyes searching for reassurance.

“are you sure?” you searched his gaze for any hint of doubt, but all you found was the same want reflected back at you.

“i’ve never been this sure before,” he replied, his voice low and thick with desire. “i need you, love,” he admitted between leaving kisses across your shoulders and the crook of your neck.

“you’re so… fuck, y/n,” he breathed, his gaze burning into every part of your body until it finally landed in your white lace panties, soaked by your pussy juices. “ah, shit… you're so ready f’me, aren't ya?”

you felt yourself begin to spiral by the way he said it, lost in the pleasure he was giving you, the warmth of his skin against yours. you bit your lip, trying not to scream his name, but the more time moved, the harder it got.

the softness of the sheets contrasted with the heat radiating between your bodies when lando hovered above you, his eyes darkened with desire, searching yours for reassurance. you nodded slightly, and that was all the encouragement he needed.

“just breathe, okay?” he murmured, his voice husky as he pressed another lingering kiss to your lips, trailing down to your neck, where he placed soft bites and gentle kisses that made you gasp.

“lando,” you breathed. you craved more, but the vulnerability of the moment was almost overwhelming.

“i know, my love, i know, shh” he whispered back, his lips brushing against your collarbone. “just let me take care of you, m’kay? i’mma make you feel so good, love.”

with that, he shifted lower, trailing kisses down your body, each one igniting the fire within you further. he reached the hem of your dress, his fingers dancing lightly along the shimmering fabric before hesitating for just a moment.

“may i?” he asked, looking up at you with that boyish charm and sincerity you adored.

his hands were warm as they slid over your waist, fingertips teasingly grazing the delicate material before slipping his hand beneath it. he reveled in the feel of your skin, the warmth radiating from your body contrasting with the chill of the fabric.

lando’s fingers slid beneath the lace of your panties, the fabric damp and clinging to you, sending electric sparks through your body. he took his time, savoring every moment as he explored you with the gentleness of a lover and the urgency of a man who craved you deeply.

“so perfect,” he murmured, more to himself, his voice thick with desire. his eyes locked onto yours as he slowly peeled away the fabric, exposing you completely. the heat in his gaze made you feel both vulnerable and empowered, igniting a fire deep within.

as his fingers danced over your most sensitive spots, your breath hitched in your throat. every stroke was deliberate, coaxing whimpers and gasps from you. you arched your back, instinctively seeking more, your body craving his touch.

“ah, god, y/n,” he breathed, his fingers moving in a rhythm that felt intoxicating. “no moaning, remember?” he added another finger just to watch squirm in pleasure.

“lando, please…” you gasped, the sensation overwhelming you. it was a heady mix of pleasure and anticipation, and you could feel the tension building, coiling tightly within you. “please…”

“do you want me to stop, y/n?” he dared.

“no…” your eyes fluttered shut as you cried out like a plea.

“then no sounds, alright?” you nodded, battling the overwhelming sensations as his fingers moved with expert precision. each stroke felt electrifying, and your body instinctively pushed against him, craving more.

you panted, feeling yourself unravel with each deliberate stroke. the urge to moan was becoming impossible to resist, especially as his fingers worked their magic, sending shockwaves through you.

his mouth trailed lower, and you could feel the heat radiating off him as he peppered kisses down your thighs, teasingly close to where you needed him most. you could hardly contain the whimpers that escaped your lips as he finally reached his destination.

with every kiss, every gentle touch, he ignited a fire within you that felt both exhilarating and frightening.

he took his time, his movements deliberate and intoxicating as he kissed your thighs, his breath sending delicious shivers through you.

“lando, please,” you breathed, the urgency in your voice undeniable.

he murmured, sending another wave of warmth coursing through you. he kissed you softly through the fabric, his breath hot and teasing, sending you spiraling closer to the edge.

you felt a rush of pleasure as he slowly moved aside the fabric, his mouth hovering just above you, eyes locked on yours. it was an unspoken promise, one that sent your heart racing. his gaze held yours, a silent question hanging in the air.

“you okay?” he asked softly, his voice thick with anticipation.

“yes, yes” you breathed, the word escaping your lips as a plea and a promise.

with that, he took you into his mouth, drawing you in with a gentle intensity that made you arch against the mattress. every movement was careful yet filled with a desperate need, and you lost yourself completely in the rhythm he created.

what lando’s tongue did on your pussy was almost obscene, the way he explored every sensitive inch of you with a fervor that sent jolts of pleasure racing through your body. his movements were both calculated and wild, as if he couldn’t get enough of the taste of you, the way your body responded to his every touch.

with each flick and swirl, you felt yourself unraveling, the tension inside you coiling tighter as he expertly guided you toward ecstasy. you couldn’t hold back the moans that escaped your lips, the sounds echoing off the walls of the room, mingling with the racing heartbeat that pulsed in your ears.

“lan,” you gasped, trying to catch your breath as your fingers tangled in his curls, urging him on. you could feel him smirking against you, the vibration of his laughter sending delicious shivers down your spine. he loved the effect he had on you, and it fueled his desire to give you everything you craved.

the world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, entwined in a dance of passion and intimacy. each wave of pleasure that crashed over you was met with a new height of exhilaration, leaving you gasping for more. lando's hands found your hips, grounding you as you surrendered completely to the sensations flooding your senses.

you could feel the warmth building inside you, a tight coil of pleasure that threatened to unravel at any moment.

“lando, i’m—” you gasped, your voice breaking as he increased his pace, his determination making your heart race.

“relax and let go for me, love,” he urged, his voice muffled against your skin. the way he said it felt like a gentle command, coaxing you to give into momentary bliss.

“you’re doing so well f’me, baby,” his praise was enough make you go over the edge, you couldn’t stand another second of staying quiet.

the soft, needy sounds that slipped from your lips ignited something primal within him, making lando moan against your pussy. the vibrations sent shockwaves through you, amplifying your pleasure and pulling you deeper into ecstasy.

“there you go,” he chuckled, his breath warm against your sensitive skin. “let it out. lemme hear you, love.” his fingers continued their sweet assault, each movement perfectly tailored to your body’s response, driving you wild.

“fuck, i’m… shit,” you gasped, gripping the sheets, struggling to articulate your need, but the sensations were too overwhelming.

you pressed him against you, craving more of that intoxicating connection.

“you’re so beautiful when you’re lost like this,” he whispered, looking up at you with a wicked grin. “don’t hold back; i wanna hear all those lovely sounds you make.”

the encouragement only fueled your desire, and the combination of his words and the way he touched you pushed you to the edge again. your moans became louder, spilling out despite your efforts to contain them, and each sound only seemed to spur him on.

“that’s it, baby,” he encouraged, his voice thick with lust. “let it all out for me. i want to feel every inch of you.”

you arched your back, the pleasure building higher and higher, each stroke of his fingers a delicious tease that had you begging for release. “lando, please, i can’t—”

“yes, you can. just let go,” he urged, his lips brushing against your thigh as he continued to work his magic, sending you spiraling further into pleasure.

the moment stretched on, each second a mix of bliss and sweet torture, and as you felt yourself teetering on the brink, you knew you were ready to surrender completely. “shit, i’m so close…” you breathed, unable to hold back any longer.

“that’s it, love. let it happen,” he coaxed, his fingers quickening as he pushed you over the edge, the pleasure crashing over you like a tidal wave, leaving you gasping and trembling beneath him.

with one final stroke, the tension shattered, and waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. you didn't fight the instinct to cry out as you surrendered to the bliss. for a second you forgot about lando’s parents and family, the world around you had faded away.

after the waves of ecstasy receded, you lay together in a blissful haze, the warmth of his body still wrapped around you, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your skin. the soft sounds of the party outside faded into the background, but you knew that this moment, right here, was all that mattered.

your body relaxed in a way that you didn't even care about what lando's parents would think about you screaming their son's name in the very first day of 2024. that moment was yours and no one would take that away from you.

“happy new year's, y/n,” he muttered against your hair.

“happy new year's, norris.”

the next morning, january 1st, 2024, you woke up alone. the bed felt strangely empty without lando beside you, a stark contrast to the warmth and intimacy of the night before. a nagging worry settled in your stomach as you pushed the covers aside and got up, glancing around the quiet room. after a moment’s hesitation, you made your way downstairs, curiosity guiding you but anxiety nipping at your heels.

in the now-clean kitchen, you found cisca, lando's mother, bustling around as she cooked breakfast. her presence was comforting, a reminder of the welcoming home you had come to cherish, but it did little to ease the tightness in your chest.

“good morning, y/n,” she greeted, glancing up with a warm smile. “did you sleep well?”

“yeah, just… where's lando?” you asked, the hint of worry creeping into your voice betraying your calm facade.

“he said he needed to think; he left about an hour ago,” she replied, stirring a pot on the stove.

“oh…” your heart sank, a mix of confusion and concern flooding your mind. why would he leave without saying anything? had you messed things up? the uncertainty twisted in your stomach, and you felt the warmth of last night slip away, replaced by the chill of doubt.

cisca seemed to sense your unease and turned to you, her expression softening. “look, y/n,” she began gently. “i know you two like each other, and i know… things happened last night. i just want to say that i am so supportive of you getting together. you do him so much good, dear.”

you felt your cheeks warm at her words, a mix of embarrassment and happiness washing over you. but the lingering thought nagged at you—that maybe lando regretted what happened last night, that perhaps he needed space because he was unsure about everything.

“thank you. it means a lot to hear that. lando and i have been close for a while, and last night... it just felt right,” you said, trying to convince yourself as much as her.

“wait,” she said, raising an eyebrow playfully, a teasing smile creeping onto her face. “so does that mean you’re actually together now?”

you paused, the weight of her question hanging in the air, amplifying the doubt already creeping into your mind. “i… well, we haven’t really talked about it like that yet, but... i guess? i don't know…”

her smile widened. “well, i’m glad to hear that anyway! he’s a wonderful boy, and you two deserve to be happy together.”

you nodded, but the uncertainty remained. what if lando was questioning everything? as you thought about him, your heart fluttered with the possibilities of what was to come, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that something might have changed overnight. you needed to clear your head.

you excused yourself, feeling the weight of the morning's events pressing down on you. “i should go home and be with my relatives,” you said, trying to dismiss the anxious thoughts swirling in your mind.

as you stepped outside, the cool morning air hit you, and a wave of insecurity washed over you. what if lando regretted last night? you pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him:

“hey you, good morningg

you alright? didn’t see you leave.

text me when you can.”

you hesitated for a moment, staring at the screen, hoping he’d reply soon. with each passing second, the uncertainty gnawed at you, but you tried to shake it off and focus on the warmth of the memories from the night before.

[sunny44]

All these years (Part 1)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Ex girlfriend! Reader

Warnings: anxiety attack, fights, brake ups and maybe other things.

Summary: Separated by a disagreement, Charles and Y/n meet again after years apart and all the feelings they had repressed come flooding back.

Next Chapter

Having to go back to Monaco was certainly not in my plans.

I had sworn to myself the day I left that I would never go back, but I had never actually kept that promise.

His family lives there and I've never been able to stop seeing them. Of course, I made them promise never tell him that I was still visiting them and they kept their promise.

I know this because I never received a call or an angry message.

Charles Marc Harvé Perceval Leclerc.

My first everything.

And I mean that in the literal sense of the word.

My first friend, my first kiss, my first boyfriend, the guy I had my first time with.

But most importantly.

My first and only true love.

When I moved to the house next to them, we connected as soon as we were introduced to each other.

We never had many friends because we knew we had everything we needed in each other.

He was the best boyfriend a girl could ask for.

But one thing about him was wrong.

His lack of understanding at times.

Charles was always a calm, fun guy who could make my shitty day 100% better.

But in March 10th, 2018.

That was the day everything we had went down the drain.

Charles was focused on getting his first year in Formula 1 off to a good start and I was focused on getting a job since I had just graduated from architecture school.

And I received the best offer a recent graduate could get.

It was an internship at an architecture firm.

The problem was that it was in Milan and Charles and I lived in Monaco and because of Formula 1 he wasn't going to leave.

I remember exactly the day I went to tell him excitedly that I'd got one of the best jobs I could ever want.

But Charles, contrary to what I thought, didn't have the best reaction, in fact he was very upset that the job wasn't in Monaco.

That's when our fights started, me because he didn't understand how important he was to me and an offer I couldn't refuse.

And him for saying that I'd ruined all our plans.

That day we'd had a bad fight, but the next day when I went to talk to him to try and sort it out, we fought again.

He said that I was the worst person he had ever met, that I would be a horrible wife and that our children would be ashamed to have a mother like me.

That day I cried so much that I had a horrible anxiety attack and had to go to hospital because of shortness of breath.

And he never showed up.

From that day on we never saw each other again, five years passed and here I was returning to Monaco for the wedding of Arthur, Charles' younger brother.

He and Carla were getting married after a year of being engaged and I remember how happy I was when he called to tell me that she had accepted and thanked me for helping him choose the ring.

I knew I would meet him there, I just didn't know if I was ready to see him.

Even more so in a situation like this.

"So, are you ready to see Charles?" Kika sits on the bed while I pack the last of my clothes.

"Certainly not, but what choice do I have?"

"You could have chosen not to go."

"I couldn't do that to Arthur, he was the only one who always supported me in everything, unlike his brother." I sighed, remembering him. "And I want to go, I want to see him marry the love of his life."

"I understand, and I know he'll love that you're going."

"But one day it would happen, we have so many things and people that keep us connected, so it took a while to happen."

"But you'll be fine."

"I know."

"Why are you getting so many clothes?"

"Because I don't know how long I'll have to stay there."

"What do you mean?" she asks confused.

"Because my father always convinces me to stay longer than I want to."

"I see."

"Well, I have to go soon, it's a long drive to get there."

We said goodbye and I got straight into the car and started driving there.

It was going to be a long trip.

Bonus scene!

Yourusername Instagram stories

“Road tripping to Monaco”

Who wants to be on the tag list of these new story? I've already got it all written so I plan to post a chapter a day until it's finished.

[thesmutsideblog]

Never Ever? - Spencer Reid x Reader

Summary: After a you and your long term ex breakup, some truths about your sex life come to light at the BAU and the idea that you've never had an orgasm, does not fly with Spencer Reid.

Reader is AFAB, and the story is using she/her pronouns, mostly because this one is really self indulgent and loosely based on me being pissed off about my ex.

Content warnings: dumbification of Spencer Reid, simp Spencer, shitty ex boyfriend, self indulgent writing, no beta or proof reading, cursing, smut, sexual worship, porn with plot I guess.

I have never written in second person before so I can only apologise for the shit quality of this, I havent written smut since 2018 and it's unedited, there is going to be spelling issues it's the dyslexia I'm sorry xx

GIF by comeandjointhebigboys

Spencer is doing everything in his power to look like he is minding his business, mostly because he really is trying to not eavesdrop. He came over to make a cup of coffee because he got barely any sleep last night and he wants to keep focused. But with no case directly at hand, there was something else the team were paying attention to and it was impossible for Spencer to completely ignore it.

"So he just, broke up with you?" Emily asks, dumbfounded.

"Over the phone," you say tilting your mug towards yourself, choosing to stare down at the small remainder of your coffee rather than to make eye contact with your team members.

"What an asshole," JJ says, lacing her arms together, until she looks like a disapproving mother. "Did he say why?"

"He said, we were going different places, and it would be a disservice to the time we spent together to pretend to be happy and keep lying to eachother," you say, sighing and putting the mug down, choosing to accept this caring interrogation about your breakup as your fate for the next twenty minutes.

"He used those words?" Emily asks, still trying to grapple the concept that your boyfriend, who she had met on a few occasions and had some thoughts she kept to herself about, had broken up with you.

"He used those words but what he really meant was 'I want to start sleeping with my twenty year old coworker and you spend too much time at work, so I'm ending things,' but he won't have the decency to admit that, despite the fact he was sleeping with her before the week was out," you roll your eyes as Emily and JJ continue to voice their disgust, loudly across the bullpen. You catch Spencer's eye for a moment and give him a small sad smile across the room, he nods and then looks away.

The guilt is eating Spencer alive. It's not like he actually had anything to do with the end of your relationship, he actively kept himself far away from it and even discussing it with you as possible. But the facts still remained the same, he likes you. He has liked you since your first day at the BAU and his feelings have never faltered. But you have always been in that relationship since long before he met you, and he knew that he didn't stand a chance, and he wouldn't want to mess around with that anyway. But he was unable to disagree with Prentiss, his own feelings for you aside, the simple fact of the matter was you have always been well out of your exes league. You are beautiful, and intelligent and charismatic, and your ex thought he was those things but more often than not fell short.

It's not like he even wished that your relationship would end and could blame it on the unlikely event of magical intervention. But the sheer fact that he was undeniably happier that you were no longer dating a man you were once very much in love with, that was enough to have him feeling guilty. Which is one of the many reasons he is really trying to not get involved in this conversation. One of the many reasons he is trying to keep a distance.

"How long were you two together again, like three years?" JJ asks. You shake your head.

"High school sweethearts," you correct her, "it's been a lot longer than three years."

"And he broke up with you over the phone, for a co-worker?" Emily emphasis each word in the sentence as she slowly sounds them out.

"He denies the last part but, yes," you nod.

"What are you beautiful ladies being so loud about?" Derek asks, approaching the three of you with some files in hand.

"The fact that men never fail to both disappoint and astound me," Emily states looking up at Derek from her seat, "no offence."

"None taken, but a little context wouldn't go a miss," he says looking at each of you in turn.

"My ex is a pig," you explain as nonchalantly as you can manage. You're trying really hard to be very collected about this. You've had a few days to process the breakup and you knew it was coming, even if you won't admit that to yourself. But being broken up with hurts, whether you see it coming or not. He was the only person you ever really dated, and having spent so much of your life with him this was a big adjustment. But deep down you weren't exactly mad about the situation, as much as it made you feel a lot better to complain about it. Things had not been right between the two of you for quite some time, and you find yourself almost relieved that it's over. But that still gave him no right to be as much of an asshole about it all as he has been.

"So he is the only guy you've ever really dated then, huh?" Emily asks. You give her a look as the thought crosses through her mind. "Wait, does that mean?"

"We started dating when we were barely more than kids Emily," you defend.

"So it's just been that guy, that guy?" Emily is struggling to be even the smallest part composed. "What is wrong with men?"

"You need some strange," Derek says casually.

"Morgan," JJ scolds him but Emily is slowly nodding her head. "Emily..."

"Best way to get over someone," Emily points out.

"Wow, I am not getting under anyone," you state, holding up your hands.

"Look, I understand the appeal of someone you've been with for a long time, they know you, they know what you like," Derek leans back on the table, "so new is risky, and some people really don't have a clue what they're doing I'll admit," he chuckles, "but trust me the longer you leave it-" Derek knows he isn't crossing a boundary, you and him have had plenty of conversations, but as soon as you give him the look to stop talking, he stops.

"I appreciate your concern but sex, is really not at the top of my priority list," you say.

"Please don't let a guy like that ruin it for you," Emily is staring up at the ceiling all types of distressed at the idea of your ex and his general existence.

"I don't think you need to worry about him ruining anything for me, more like just wasting my time," you say before realising that may be revealing too much. All three of them look at you instantly. "Do not read into that."

"Disinterest," Emily states looking you up and down. "And no immediate desire to release that usually comes with a breakup."

"We're not really doing this, are we?" JJ asks looking between the two profilers concerned.

"She's been distant the last few months, talking less and less about him, so the breakup wasn't unexpected, which means the sexlife probably wasn't up to scratch at the time," Derek adds.

"Oh you guys are doing this," JJ gives you an apologetic look as they start rattling off assumptions.

You try your best to ignore them until Derek says something which does tiptoe over the line- by a mile. "Pretty boy, what are the statistics on post breakup sex?" He is half joking but it pulls Spencer directly into a conversation he had been trying to avoid.

Spencer knows the answer, and that's obvious, but answering will only encourage them to get him involved in the conversation. But not answering is suspicious and could cause worse problems. He pushes his thumb into the centre of his palm as he speaks. "27% of adults report having sex with an ex within a two-year period," Spencer states knowing that's not what Derek meant but hoping he could get away with it.

"No, I mean rebound sex," Derek corrects.

"Studies show that thirty-five percent of those who are broken up with have sex to get over their ex, and twenty-five percent as a form of revenge," Spencer says giving in and stepping closer to the group.

"Look sixty five percent of rebound relationships fail within six months," you say. That's a safe thing to say you believe, as you know the team would likely assign that research as an attempt to make an educated guess how long the fling with the coworker would last. But Spencer knows better. He cannot help but wonder if that's what has been making you act differently the last few months. If you saw the end in sight and wondered what that means for you when it's over.

"You're not looking for a relationship though, you're just looking for some fun," JJ points out.

"You do remember how to have fun, don't you beautiful," Derek asks giving you a wink.

"Yeah," you say brushing him off.

"Do you?" Derek asks, unconvinced.

"I told you, I'm not interested in going out and getting laid, it's not worth the energy," you say.

"When was the last time you had an orgasm?" Emily asks. Spencer chokes on his coffee.

"Emily!" JJ chastises her.

"Someone had to ask," Emily says.

"No one had to," you tell her.

"Come on, six months?" Emily asks. "A year?"

"Emily," JJ warns.

"Shit..." Derek whispers and you feel his gaze on you intensifying. He has you all figured out.

"What?" Spencer asks, not meaning to.

Derek is keeping his eyes on you and you cannot meet his eye. "Tell me I'm wrong pretty girl," Derek says, wanting himself to be wrong.

"I... I don't know... You're a profiler, how am I supposed to lie to you?" You huff.

"Are you kidding me?" Derek asks.

"Derek you're not helping," you state.

"Sorry," he says, "I just don't understand how that can be the case."

"You said it yourself, some people really don't have a clue what they're doing," you say.

"So you've never?" Emily asks cottoning on.

"Can we please stop talking about this," you say.

Spencer's brain is ticking over trying to read between the lines and when it clicks he is struck with a similar dumbfounding as Morgan. How? How?

He cannot help but have one clear thought scrambling around his brain at a million miles per hour. If he had ever had the chance, he wouldn't have wanted anything more than to make sure you felt good. To know he had made you feel good.

How inconsiderate could your ex be? How little attention must he have been playing to not even notice that you were not getting what he was out of it? How had he never cared to make that better?

And why did you not feel cheated by that fact?

"I'm not eavesdropping," Garcia defends bringing Spencer out of his head and back into the room.

"Okay why don't we just fax everyone the stats on my sex life," you groan, resting your head in your hands.

"I'm just saying," Garcia tries.

"I appreciate all of the unnecessary concern," you say, "but my sex life isn't a BAU case." Emily smiles as she goes to speak but you catch her thought right before she opens her mouth. "And it's no ones problem to solve either."

"It's a little tragic," JJ confesses.

"JJ," you're surprised, JJ is normally the one you can count on to get the others back on track but she just shrugs.

"Let's leave it be, Garcia do we have a case," Spencer is talking with his hands even more than normal and you cannot help but notice. He is trying to come to your rescue and you appreciate that. You appreciate everything Spencer does.

"Maybe," Garcia explains, waving her tablet at the group. "Hotch wants us in the conference room, five minutes ago."

You're quick to get out of your seat and away from the grilling you are receiving from the team and everyone else is quick behind you. Hotch and Rossi are at the desk when you all enter.

Hotch frowns. "You took a while," he notes.

"Discussing the breakup?" Rossi asks, looking you up and down.

"I dont even want to know what has given that away," you admit taking a seat. Hotch nods a half apology which you silently shrug off in return.

You were trying your best to pay attention, giving Hotch the respect he deserves, but the case he was talking about didnt feel like it required the BAU's involvement and Emily is quick to voice that opinion. You managed to register a few words about consulting and favours, but nothing is really sinking in, not when you can feel Spencer's gaze on you as hot as a fever.

You raise your eyes to meet his and they dart away. You think back, and it occurs to you that maybe conversations about your sex life or anyone of the teams sex lives for that matter wasnt exactly what Spencer signed up for. You feel a little guilty, knowing you kind of indulged the others and let him get pulled into the conversation even if that wasnt your intention.

You catch him looking at you again but he doesnt see you looking back, it's like he is trapped in a thought, and in this moment you've never seen Spencer look so without a clue.

"Reid?" Hotch asks, repeating the question.

Spencer looks to Hotch, and he buffers. You know he knows the answer to the question, you know he always knows, but his brain seems to have frozen up on him. "I... sorry what?"

"This is statistics kid," Derek says, "are you sick or something?"

Emily gently pokes Spencers shoulder. "Maybe he is getting a software update," she jokes.

You lean forward and give Hotch the answer he is looking for, remembering from a conversation you and Spencer had a few weeks back about Ohio. Hotch gives a side eye to Rossi before continuing.

You look back at Spencer and he is watching you again, you offer him a small smile and he returns it. You've always been better at reading Spencer than most members of the team but you don't recognize this behaviour at all.

"Are you okay?" You ask him as you both make your way down the steps of the BAU.

"Of course, why do you ask?"

"You blanked back there, Spence, pretty hard," you say as gently as you can, "I havent seen you like that since..."

"Since when?" Spencer looks curious, and softer somehow.

"Since we worked that case in Illinois, with the models, you took one look at that girl Annie Grant was it, and your IQ dropped like a hundred points," you laugh gently.

"She was pretty," Spencer confesses.

"I think Morgan got her number," you recall.

"He did," Spencer agrees.

"So, what is it? Because it's not a pretty girl in lounge wear," you say.

"You dont know that for sure," you can tell he is trying to joke around the subject, and normally youd find that cute. Cute in the kind of way you havent been able to admit to yourself before. Because having a crush on a coworker is not convenient at the best of times.

"Okay, Dr Reid, keep your secrets," you give him gentle shove and his smile is disarming, soft and so happy to just be involved. "Got any fun evening plans?"

"There's this new study into cognitive dissonance in specific trauma patterns I have been meaning to read," he offers. You bite back a chuckle.

"You've got a date with science," you nod to yourself, "of course you do."

He looks around, thinking for a moment. "Are you going to walk?" He asks.

"I usually do," you admit, "it's only a few blocks after all."

"Can I," he pauses, "can I walk you?"

"You want to walk me home?" You ask, a little suprised at the offer.

"If that's okay, the study can wait," he says. There is a look in his eyes you can't quite pinpoint, somewhere between pleading and hopeful. You nod.

"I'd love that Spence."

The distance to your apartment door had never felt so short, and you hadn't realised until now quite how much you enjoyed the moments when you were with Spencer, and no one else was watching. Maybe because he paid less attention to making sure no one noticed him watching you, and he just keeps watching.

Spencer looks at his feet as you fumble with your keys, he has no idea what he is doing. He didn't think any of this through, he just kept thinking about you, and what you deserved and what you should've always been given and now he is stood at the doorstep of your place with no plan, no idea of what compelled him to think any of this was a good idea and no idea of what to do next.

You smile at him, and bite your lower lip just a small bit, the look is so demure that Spencer wonders if he imagined the entire conversation in the bullpen, wondering if maybe he was really so wrapped up in these months of conflicted feelings for you that he managed to lapse from reality so badly that he got himself here.

"Do you want to come in for coffee?" You offer and his heart damn near stops in his chest.

"Coffee is never coffee kid," Derek's voice rings in his head. "It's an invitation."

"Got decaf?" Spencer asks, and you laugh.

"Like anyone who works at the BAU knows what decaf is," you open the door wide and walk through. "You coming?"

He doesn't answer but follows you, closing the door behind him. Your apartment isn't a mess but it's clear things have been moved around since your breakup, there is clear empty spaces where things once collected dust, like so many things once filled a place and vanished. You weren't dwelling on the relationship, because there wasn't a point. You had loved and you had lost, and you knew it went like that sometimes.

"You better not be profiling me Dr Reid," you quip as you catch him looking around.

"I wouldn't dare," he says.

"So, are you going to explain why you're being so sheepish?" You ask, reaching for a mug, to actually make coffee.

"I'm being sheepish?" he asks. He had hoped he was hiding it better.

"Nervous at the very least," you say putting the kettle on. He says nothing and you sigh. "Did we make you uncomfortable earlier?"

"What?" Spencer asks, caught off guard by the question.

"Talking about my ex," you offer up. "I know that sort of gossip isn't exactly for everyone-,"

"No," he is quick to defend, "that's not what's bothering me."

You smirk and he sees the trap you laid for him that he walked right into. "So something is bothering you pretty boy," Morgan's nickname for him falls from your lips and it sounds so different. It burns every nerve ending, each fibre of his being and he forgets how to speak for a moment too long. "Spence?"

"I," he brings himself back.

"I don't mean to pry, you don't have to tell me anything," you explain quickly.

"How was your ex such an idiot?" he asks outright. You laugh, it's short and shallow because you're not expecting anything close to that from Spencer.

"What?" It's your turn to feel dumb now as you spiral trying to process what Spencer is suggesting. That the conversation had gotten to him, but not in the way you'd thought. His problem hadn't been with the topic but the content, the confession. The kettle brings itself to a boil but you're interest is elsewhere now.

"I don't mean to speak out of place here, but if I were him there are so many things I would've done differently," he fidgets with his tie but doesn't stop. This confession is coming out now or not at all and he wants it finished. He needs it finished. He does not want blurred lines. Not between the two of you. "Not even touching the subject of how your relationship ended. I wouldn't have left you in the rain last October, I wouldn't have held all the things I knew about you when we met as reasons to run years after I agreed to love you regardless. I wouldn't have let you go to work angry all those times. I wouldn't have lied about plans. I wouldn't have let you go to sleep sad or angry, and be gone in the morning. I wouldn't have left you wanting, for anything. Because if I was him I would understand what a beautiful rarity it is to find someone who does what you do, with your compassion and determination and dedication and is still kind, still hopeful, even when things are dark. There are not a lot of things I don't know much about, and maybe relationships, and romance and sex are in that limited list, and maybe he would argue that hypotheticals hold no ground when your experience is as limited as mine, but I frankly don't care what his opinion would be. Because he didn't see you for what you are and that means his thoughts are of no value to me. I don't tell you this because I am expecting you to say anything, it's just burning me up that you weren't treated, hell worshiped, in the way you deserved and I had to tell you that I can't think of anything more wrong." He steps back and you're still catching your breath. "I, I am sorry I shouldn't have... I will see you at work."

He turns and strides to the door, and your breath heaves in and out of your chest and you wonder if you can find your voice before his hand finds purchase on your doors lock. "Spencer," you breathe out. He pauses, hand hovering over the door handle.

"Yes?" his voice is so quiet, and he doesn't turn to look at you.

"Please don't leave," the request falls from your lips and Spencer has never felt more of a need to do something than to do anything you ask of him in this moment. But his doubt still hangs gently in the space between the two of you.

"What?" he asks again, searching in the word to find something to hold onto, looking for some guidance or instructions he missed. He didn't have a plan, and he doesn't know what to do with this.

"Please," you say again, voice sturdier now as you start to close the distance between the two of you, "Spence," his breath hitches as you place a hand gently on his shoulder, encouraging him to turn back to you, and he does, "don't leave."

His eyes stare into yours and you swear you feel all the months of unsaid things, of quiet wanting, of stolen thoughts in weak moments, bursting at the seams. You had told yourself in another world, another life time, had you met Spencer Reid and the timing had been different, if you had been different, he would've been everything. You told yourself from that first day that those brown eyes may plead into you with every moment you meet them but it was never going to be the right time.

His eyes stare into yours and he feels the weight of all the things he long tired to bury, crawling their way up from the depths and pushing against his skin, desperate to get out. Desperate to be known. Desperate to correct the wrongs and do right by you. Desperate.

His hand hovers touch's length away, scared to close the distance, scared to make the move, to change everything. You both know in this moment, that all it takes is one touch and you're going over the cliff.

This is a road you do not turn back from.

You whisper one last time, like a prayer, "Spence," and in a blink gravity turns back on, and everything blooms in bright technicolour.

It unfolds in a rush, his hand to your waist, pulling you that much closer, both of your hands gripping to the fabric of his shirt as he pulls you up to him, other hand moving gently under your chin to guide the tilt of your head. His lips crash onto yours and there's a hunger you've never seen in him, and a hunger you've never known inside yourself.

There's a gentleness, a caution in his desperation, in his need, one that you don't have in your own. He keeps kissing you and you back up, footing not very careful as you tighten your grip on his shirt. Your back finds support against the edge of your counter and you find yourself letting on of the hands slip from the fabric of his button down to tug at his tie, to keep him closer at first, and then in an attempt to remove it entirely.

He pulls back for a moment, not to catch breath as either of you would be happy to drown in this moment, but his eyes are scanning you, like he is looking for something else, something missing.

You pause, slowly tugging the tie from his collar and letting it fall to your floor. "Spencer?" you ask.

He looks lost as he breathes in. "I don't know what I am doing," he says.

"You're doing great is what you're doing," you say, not looking away.

"Is this okay?" he finally asks. Your heart starts running away from you as you try to remember to breathe.

"This is more than okay," you assure him, "please Spencer, don't stop kissing me."

That's all he needs to hear and his lips are back on yours and the kisses are feverish and starved and he presses his hands into your hips and the gentle moan that leaves your lips sends Spencer's mind spinning.

He pulls his lips from yours and starts kissing a trail down to your neck, you lean more into the support of the counter top and let a hand find it's way into a tangle of his brown hair.

His tongue against your skin, the gentle brush of teeth on that spot that makes the sound from before seem like a draft of a masterpiece. Spencer knows that now he has heard you, voice like honey, moan trembling from your lips, nails dug into his scalp gently tugging on his hair, barely able to keep your eyes open yet again your breathing steady, no sound will ever compare.

In the the times he had let himself think about you, imagine all the things, let his fantasies and dreams run away with him, he had never come close to this moment. How your fingers shake as you start to unbutton his shirt, needing to do something, needing something.

Needing him.

And you can feel his need in return, in the way he holds onto you, on the way he is listening to your body, hearing every response, feeling every movement, determined to do this right.

He feels the way you press your tights together, tight against the counter, the need for something more radiating off of you, and you don't give time for the doubt to creep in. "We should," you breathe out as you feel the blood rushing through you, knowing that there will be marks from where he is kissing you that you won't be able to hide tomorrow, not that you want to, "move this to the bedroom."

"Is now a bad time to point out that I have mostly just a conceptual understanding of what we are about to do?" Spencer asks between kisses.

"I think you're worrying too much, because if you're basing this on theory," you take his hand leading him towards your room, "so far you're giving nothing but hard evidence."

You let your own innuendo slide as you both fall back onto your bed, he looks down as he leans over you, and there's a softness, a patience in this moment, as he needs to soak it all in.

You reach up and continue to undo the buttons on his shirt until they are completely undone, and he watches you as you do, you give the fabric a gentle tug and he catches on, slipping the rest of the shirt and the jacket off and letting it fall back somewhere out of mind. You trace a hand gently up his arm and he leans down to kiss you again, your lips, your jaw, your neck.

He runs a thumb over the deep red mark he has left and you feel the fever rising again. You need out of these clothes, you need more.

You start to undo your own shirt buttons and as each button comes undone Spencer follows the trail of exposed skin and leaves hot kisses on each new place.

You can feel the hard outline of his cock against your thigh as you reach to unzip the side of your skirt. The nervousness is still fluttering in Spencer's face as he helps you slip out of it. His fingertips brushing over exposed skin, his hand creeping up the inside of your thigh and you buck up gently at the touch.

His lips trace kisses up your torso to your chest and like this, each kiss so intoxicating, each touch so electrifying, his hand inching further and further up your thigh, as his lips dance over the skin around the fabric of your bra there is nothing he could ask of you that you would not do.

Sex may never have been perfect before, but you'd always thought it was at least decent, passing, respectable. But this build up with Spencer, his hands on your skin, his lips leaving evidence on your body that he has been here, this was more than you'd ever felt. And he hadn't even really touched you yet.

You reach to undo his trousers, eager to get him in less clothing but he pulls back, out of your reach. "Not yet," he whispers against your skin, "you start doing that and this will be over way too soon." He brings his lips to yours again, stealing a deep kiss as he unclasps your bra. "And this is about you, all about you," he is mumbling again, almost incoherent against you. He is determined, his mind is focused on you and your pleasure and what you deserve.

You don't think you've ever wanted anything as much as you want this.

His thumb brushes against the your clothed skin, and sparks shoot through your body, nails digging into his shoulder as you gasp at the contact.

He nudges closer, his forehead pressed to yours, and you look at him. Spencer, your colleague, your friend. Spencer who never forgets your coffee order. Spencer who stayed all night to help with paperwork because you lost a bet. Spencer who has accompanied you to every movie you've ever asked him to. Spencer who bought an extra ticket to every convention just in case you would want to come.

"Please," you plead, like you need to, as if it was possible that he wouldn't do anything for you in this moment. As if you even needed to ask.

He kisses you, pulling you up and towards him, breathing you in as his hand finds its way between the elastic of your underwear and your skin.

Your nerves are as quick to respond to his touch as fire to a accelerant. Every movement makes you wonder if Spencer was given some map of your body that you didn't know existed, a guide to movement and pressure and timing that couldn't be more perfect.

You are nodding at his movements, keening at every increase of pace, every finger curl, every swipe of his thumb. Your body shuddering in anticipation and a pleasure you never knew courses through you.

Spencer is leaving compliments with every kiss across your body, so eager to please, so desperate to worship. When he hits the spot, your body gives you away at alarming speed, you buck, moving your arms to prop yourself up on elbows, leaning into him, into the movements, rutting against him. "Fuck," you manage in the haze.

Spencer responds to this approval with dedication and vigour and then you feel it, that hot white coil of pleasure pulling at you, like a tight chord. "Shit," you start breathing heavier, faster, "shit, shit."

"You're so incredibly beautiful," you hear Spencer whisper. You can't keep your eyes open as your knees begin to shake.

"Spencer," you whimper, not for any reason but to say his name. The need to say his name over and over, and over as the chord pulls tight and finally snaps.

The pleasure explodes through you, every nerve tingling, like fireworks cascading through you. You shake, riding the high through and fall back onto the bed, slumped with a laboured breath.

Spencer moves back up to be level with you, gently brushes some stray hairs from your face and he smiles down at you. "That is what it's supposed to feel like?" You ask.

If this was all he could have for the rest of his life, Spencer would be a happy man. He plants a kiss on your forehead, and that look of devotion has not left his eyes.

But he has been filled with a new sense of purpose, like he was made for this. For you.

He doesn't have time to debate internally if your ex was purely just that poor at what he did or if it feeling so easy, coming so naturally to him was something else entirely. He didn't really care which it was, maybe both. Right now all he cared about was making up for lost time, lost opportunities, all your disappointment.

He kisses you again and the force of it is more knowing, more sure, it's hot and messy and every moment it feels like you need to be closer, deeper, more entwined. The whole time he keeps his hand in your underwear, thumb running in soft, intensely accurate circles as his fingers do most of the work.

It crosses your mind that maybe it should be almost embarrassing that he is making it so easy. It should be embarrassing that Spencer barely needed any time to bring that second orgasm to precipice. It should be embarrassing that you're convinced this man could make you come by the way he kisses you alone, but you're not embarrassed. Not because you've never felt the pleasure like this before, not because you think pleasure it never something to be embarrassed about and not because after everything you deserve this. But because it's Spencer Reid, and everything with him has always felt like it is exactly as it should be, and him making you feel this way, is no exception.

He holds you in the kiss as your second orgasm pulses through you, just as intense as the first one, he feels you shake as it floods you. A moan escaping into the kiss, from your mouth to his and he groans against your lips.

He is so focused on you that he isn't paying any attention to how this is effecting him, how hard he is against you. How desperate he is for you. His need for your pleasure overtaking any need of his own.

You know if left to his own devices Spencer would stay as the two of you are, skin pressed to skin, lips on yours, trying to write years worth of wrongs in one night. But you do not want to give into exhaustion before you have let him ruin your expectations in all the ways you know.

He moves from your lips to your neck and before you can process much of his plans you feel the kisses trailing your hipbone, and with the third orgasm approaching you can see where his mind has wondered to. You lean forward, gasping in pleasure, but determined to get his attention, you place a hand on the side of his face, tilting up his chin to meet your eyes. "Wait," is all you manage to moan out before the pleasure tears into you, your head falls back and you grab a fistful of sheet, trying to keep yourself up through the pleasure.

Spencer does as you ask and waits until you manage to gather your words, eyes on you. "Please," you try. He runs his eyes over your body trying to understand your request.

You reach down, pulling once again at the edge of his trousers, fumbling to undo them, to get him out of them. You've never known Spencer to be so slow to catch on, but he is practically drunk on you.

"Oh," he manages. "Oh."

Before he can start to explain all the reasons he doesn't think that's important right now you look up at him with those eyes so pleading. "Please," you whisper again.

And he is putty in your hand, happy to do anything you ask of him, he nods and you finish undoing his trousers and push them down, he finishes discarding them.

Now it's your fingertips against his skin and he holds his breath as you move for his boxers. "Is this okay?" you ask quietly.

"You're everything I have ever wanted," the honey leaves his lips and you kiss him, his lips focused on you as you help him out of his boxers and pull him down and close.

"I need you," you whisper. "Right now, I need you."

"I am yours," he responds.

You keep your fingers threaded in his hair, and you tug a little harder as you become overwhelmed with him. "Fuck," Spencer's voice shudders in pleasure and you understand his desperation to please you instantly, because you want nothing more than to give him everything.

Everything becomes a mixture of moans and names, lips pressed to skin, and fabric scrunched with every thrust. You kiss Spencer's neck, finding his sweet spot with a similar precision to which he found yours. Leaving a collection of marks on his neck before her buries his face into yours, repeating your name over and over, becoming more and more wanting. His neediness matching your own and as he digs his fingers into your hips that now familiar feeling starts to rush you.

"Spencer, I am going to cum again," you whisper. Spencer cannot form words, he just keeps kissing, sucking, digging at your skin, even now he isn't close enough to you. "Fuck!" You scream out and the pleasure of your orgasm is almost too much for Spencer.

"Fuck, I," Spencer's brain is doing flips trying to figure out what to do, what he is supposed to do. "I am going to."

"Please," you beg in his ear.

"I should, I haven't," he is trying to piece the words together but they're not coming. You know what is trying to say, what is cannot find the words to ask.

"Please stay with me," you say, nudging his nose with your own, "please."

Your gentle request is his breaking point and he crashes his lips back onto yours as his own orgasm comes to fruition.

He collapses down next to you, both catching your breath. "Fuck," you repeat, for what might be the millionth time, as you long lost count.

You cannot help it, you let out a little laugh and Spencer glances at you, a smile breaking out on his face. "For the record, I hadn't planned that," he says.

"For the record, I really planned on drinking my coffee."

"I can make you a coffee," Spencer offers, turning to his side.

"We should, get cleaned up first," you smile.

"Then coffee?"

"Then coffee."

[whyanne4]

Daylight

Part: 1/?

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Category: Social Media au

Summary: Follow the love story of a global pop icon and a monegasque F1 driver

Face claim: Taylor Swift (Singing) + others

Masterlist

2018

celebritynews

Liked by 128 037 people

celebritynews:

The 21 year old pop icon has been spotted getting cozy with the new hot-shot Formula One rookie Charles Leclerc, driver for Sauber F1 Team. The pair was spotted at a night club in Monaco after Sundays Grand Prix.

L/N recently broke up with ex-boyfriend Neymar Jr. after rumors of the footballer cheating on her had been circling the internet. Do you think this new F1 driver could be Mr. Right or just a rebound?

view comments:

Ferrarigirlie: Con😭grat😭ula😭tions😭

y/nicon: I know I never had a chance with her but still…😔

Icemanfan: How in the world did bro manage to pull her?

- cuteasabutton: Ikr!!?? Like we all know that he has an angelic face but I did not think the whole awkward, slightly stupid flirting would work on THE y/n l/n

y/nschild: Awww I actually really ship this. Look at the way she is holding his face as she kisses him🥹 plus he seems like a nice guy, not like that N*ymar

yourusername

liked by blakelively, charles_leclerc and 8 582 194 others

yourusername:

Cats out of the bag I guess. Everyone meet my Lover, Charles.

Charles, stealing my heart was effortless for you. The moment I met you was was like seeing a rainbow at the end of a storm. Your presence has painted my life with the most vibrant and beautiful colors and I can't wait to explore them all. Thank you for making my life happier each day, my heart is forever entwined with yours.

Love y/n🤍

view comments:

charles_leclerc: je t'aime mon amour❤️

Ferrarigirlie: Stop I cannot handle this today!!😭😭

y/nchildrenunite: So this is our new dad? If he makes you this happy I approve mother🫶

futurewagfr: brb I'm just gonna take a bath with my toaster💀

- y/nsfavorite: just gonna go take a nap on the highway💀

leclercxxz: I want love like this one day😖

rorytheracingcar: me and who when?

Charles_leclerc:

Liked by pierregasly, yourusername and 2 126 932 others

charles_leclerc:

y/n, mon amour, amore mio, my love. I can speak 3 languages but there is still not a combination of words that can express just how much I love you.

You are my sun that I want to wake up to every morning and the moon that I want to fall asleep to every night. You are the waves that calms me down when life gets hard and the gravity that keeps me grounded. Without you I would forever float in a black void, looking for solid ground, looking for you, mon amour.

Je t'aime, Ti amo, I love you❤️

view comments:

y/nstanzz: OMG STOOOOPPPP!!! THIS IS TOO CUTE! MOTHER WHERE DID YOU FIND THIS GEM??😭😭😭

pierregasly: Man you're down BAD

- charles_leclerc: Shut up, Pierre.

Icamanfan: wow he's in love LOVE

rbvettelsupremacy: where can I find myself one of these?🥹

papayanando: I'm actually crying rn.😭😭

y/nsfavorite: okay I approve of this relationship. This man is gonna treat her right.

[pixiedustjellicle]

I have such a difficult time connecting with the Cats community now. Part of me feels like maybe I'm too old for the current fandom(I don't feel old, but I'm certainly not 19 anymore). Or that perhaps it's because I don't much care about ships. Sometimes I worry that I intimidate people, and I'd hate that. Let me introduce myself and how Cats has shaped my life, and maybe I can find my people?

I first saw Cats at a tiny local theatre when I was eight. I fell in love with it, and even though I didn't have the movie yet, I spent months afterwards with just the poem book and highlights album. Eventually I got the 98 VHS too- and then another local theatre put it on when I was ten! I got to see it twice there. And afterwards, I made up my own attempt at a costume, turned our spare room into my attempt at the set, and put some chairs in there to put on the highlights show for some friends of my mother. The CD was worn out, I went on with the show, and they even gave me a card and a new CD afterwards- the London 2 disc set! Looking back, I think how embarrassing it probably was, but I was so happy and proud of myself in the moment. Two more years later, US Tour 5 came through Nashville, and I got to go and stagedoor for the first time. I wore a tail I made and one of the actresses told me I had a perfect Bombalurina tail twirl. For all those years, I worked Cats into school projects, I drew nothing else. My mom put up with it for so long, and I still thank her to this day.

And then I went into middle school. New school, new students, and I started getting bullied for it. I found other musicals I didn't get bullied for- Phantom, Wicked, and Sweeney- to latch onto, and I kinda put Cats in the back of my head. I still loved it, but my hyperfixation had waned thanks to mean kids, and other than occasionally watching the 1998 movie, I didn't think much of it for years.

But the US Tour 6 announced a date in Nashville. I hadn't seen the show in eight years, and I wasn't about to miss it. I had already started taking an interest in cosplay, but I'd never made a costume like that. I remembered admiring the CCDB as a kid though, and I told myself I was totally capable of making my own, just to go see the show in costume. And I did.

And the cast were SO sweet, and I started finding Cats fans on Instagram. I thought I could do better on the costume, so when the show stopped in Chattanooga a couple months later... I did it again.

The pandemic hit and I lost my job. Immediately I started getting work making Cats cosplays for others, and I haven't stopped since. And when the show resumed, I made an overnight trip to Memphis to dress up again!

And then, I saved until I could finally go see the Royal Caribbean production (front row all three performances), and got to cosplay on the cruise and get a picture on stage with the cast! This was absolutely everything to me, especially seeing the original choreography as opposed to the revival. I definitely cried. (I'm in the middle bottom row!)

I've gotten to make some costume pieces for three regional productions of Cats, in the Dominican Republic, Atlanta Georgia, and most recently Georgetown Texas. I've won some local cosplay contest with my costumes, too! And I'm lucky enough to own a few original pieces- though I've had to part with some too.

My love for this show has spanned just over 17 years now. I adore the story, the costumes, the choreography, the sets, and the characters. It's part of how I learned I am autistic. It's given me confidence I didn't know I could find. And every time I get to see it live, I feel like I'm where I belong. The fandom has felt quiet. And I'm not sure if that's just because I don't know where I fit in? So here's hoping I can find my tribe.

Favorite productions: Original Broadway, Moscow, and Mexico 2013/2018

Favorite Cats: Jemima/Sillabub, Bombalurina, Demeter, Munkustrap, Tumblebrutus, Jellylorum

Favorite songs: Jellicle Songs for Jellicle Cats, The Song of the Jellicles and the Jellicle Ball, Macavity

Favorite cats to cosplay: Etcetera and Victoria

[mononijikayu]

water is fine — ryomen sukuna.

You tried to fight, over and over. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to drown. But against your little body, the force of the water was one that it could not fight. The water enveloped you, pulling you down into its depths. You felt your eyes starting to close. You felt like you were losing your soul. All you could think about was your brother. How you had to come back, because he’d be looking for you.

GENRE: Heian Era to Shibuya Arc, 2018;

WARNING/s: Alternate Universe ─ Canon Divergence, Romance, Emotional Hurt, Found Family, Hurt/Comfort, Heavy Angst, Heavy Pining, Domesticity, Friends to Lovers, Character Death, Grief, Mention of Depression, Mention of Mourning, Depiction of Physical Touch, Depiction of Mental Anguish, Depiction of Violence, Depiction of Harm, Depiction of Blood and Wounds, Depiction of Death, Depiction of Harm, Portrayal of Misogynist And Degrading Acts and Language;

masterlist

ashes of love

song: water is fine by chloe ament.

note: this was longer than i wanted to be, but it took longer because i was waiting for this one to be beta read by a friend. they loved this chapter and they got curious so asked about my plans moving forward. and needless to say, i feel like im gege akutami!!! please enjoy the chapter~ i'll see you in the next one!!! i love you~

YOU WERE THERE AGAIN. You were happy to admit that you hated it. In the dark embrace of the night, Ryomen You found that it was like being transported back to yesterday. It felt like yesterday. to one of the most harrowing summers of your life—that horrible, bloody, summer.

You think you’d never forget the most eventful day of your young life. But dreams were either tender to the righteous and suffering to a sinner. Truth be told, you had always considered yourself a sinner. Because if you were not, the gods would not be willing to punish you. You would not be atoning. Otherwise, nii-sama would still be alive and well. 

The Ryomen clan, though not as prominent as the Fujiwara, held an ancient lineage that commanded respect within the world of jujutsu. Their roots ran deep, intertwined with the very fabric of history, marking them as a force to be reckoned with despite their relatively smaller stature compared to the Fujiwara. It was a legacy that had been upheld through generations, nurtured by the strength of their traditions and the power of their bloodline.

Yet, for all their strength, the Ryomen clan had always found themselves at odds with the Fujiwara. The two families had a long and tumultuous history, marked by countless conflicts and rivalries that had spanned centuries. From minor skirmishes to full-blown wars, their animosity had left scars that ran deep, staining the fabric of their shared past with bloodshed and bitterness.

It was in this turbulent landscape that you and your brother had been raised, caught between the echoes of ancient feuds and the weight of familial duty. Your parents had sought to end the cycle of violence through marriage, forging an alliance that had brought temporary peace between the warring clans. But beneath the veneer of unity lay a marriage that was anything but equal, a union marred by resentment and unfulfilled expectations.

In truth, you had grown up in the shadow of your parents' strained relationship, in this consistent suffering of shouting matches and unpleasantries. Your life, your whole upbringing was shaped by your father's unconditional love and your mother's cold indifference. It was a dichotomy that had left its mark on you, molding you into a woman of strength and resilience, yet burdened by the weight of familial legacy.

Perhaps it was why you had grown up never knowing why your mother was that way. Until you had visited her grandfather’s fief for the first time, You had your eyes opened. Your mother’s cold eyes were the same as your old grandfather’s eyes. And it terrified you. It made your skin crawl. Father hated the trip as much as you and Akimu did. Uncle Hiramu hated everyone of mother’s kin too easily. Still, it was keeping the peace. They swallowed their pride, they swallowed their anger and their fears and moved forward.

You and your brother had continued to uphold the tradition of annual visits to their Fujiwara relatives over the years. It was a tradition born out of duty rather than genuine affection. Each visit was rigid and cold. But it reminded both of them that the fragile truce that hung between their families was like a delicate thread. Each visit was fraught with tension, a delicate dance of diplomacy and restraint as they navigated the complex web of familial politics and ancient grudges. You had loathed all of it. You didn’t want it all. But having Akimu there to hold your hand, it was enough to keep your breath.

But it was that summer where their lives changed.

The child that is within you would not know it just yet.

There was no more fighting against their written fates.

Akimu, dutiful and ever responsible, had obligations that required him to travel later than the rest of their family. As heir, Akimu had ventured out from the manor walls and into the wider bounty of the Ryomen lands. He collected taxes, he dealt with disputes, he dealt with the curses — all on behalf of their father. This time would not be divorced from that day to day. Akimu bowed steadily at the chōdō-in in front of all the spectators and smiled handsomely as a prince would. He was to be sent to collect the taxes across the lands and follow to the summer manor of the Fujiwara.  

You were not eager to let your beloved brother journey alone, rushed in front of the crowd and bowed in front of their father. You could laugh. You think you must have looked so foolish then. You begged their father to let you accompany him. Akimu’s face lit up with joy at the prospect of traveling with you, protective and proud as he was. You often think that he will only smile like that for you. That you knew then. But you will never know Akimu to have a chance to shine his smile upon someone else. If there had been someone. 

In the spacious, sunlit parlor of the Ryomen family estate, young you found your father and uncle seated together, poring over some scrolls and maps laid out on a large table. The air was filled with the weight of responsibility, as decisions made here often steered the fate of your clan. With a mixture of determination and a childlike hopefulness in your eyes, you approached, your mind set on joining your brother Akimu nii–sama on his later journey.

“Father,” You started, your voice carrying a rehearsed tone of earnestness, “I’ve been thinking a lot about my nii–sama and his trip alone to the Fujiwara clan...”

Your uncle looked up, a small softening on his features. “And what thoughts have you had, my little lady?” he inquired, already anticipating the nature of his niece’s reflections.

You took a deep breath, gathering your courage. “I want to go with him. I want to join Akimu on his journey, not just travel later with you and the others.”

Your father raised an eyebrow, setting down his brush. “It’s a long journey, You. And Akimu will be busy with his duties on the way. It won’t be a leisurely visit. I do not want you to disturb him, little one.”

“But I won’t be in the way, I promise!” Your voice took on a pleading tone, your youthful eagerness to be near your brother shining through. “I can help him! I’ve been learning maps and history. I can read it for him too! I... I just don’t want him to be alone.”

Your uncle exchanged a glance with your father, a silent conversation passing between them. “Little lady, it’s not just about being alone. It’s a matter of your safety and well-being,” your uncle explained, your voice gentle yet firm. “You are too important, little lady.”

Your shoulders slumped, but you weren’t ready to give up. You moved closer, your expression morphing into one of heartfelt moping. “Please, I’ll be careful. I’ll stay close to Akimu–nii and the guards. And... and I miss him. When he’s gone, who will teach me to hold a sword at dawn? Who will tell me stories of the stars?”

Seeing you so earnest and feeling the genuine longing in your words, your father sighed, the resistance in his eyes softening. “You’ll miss your brother that much, hm?”

You nodded vigorously, your eyes wide with hope.

Your father rubbed his chin, pondering. Then he looked at his brother, seeking his counsel without words. After a moment, your uncle snickered and just urged his brother with his smile. He nodded slightly, giving a subtle approval.

“Alright, my darling.” your father finally said, a reluctant smile breaking through his serious demeanor. “You can join Akimu’s trip. But you must promise to follow his lead and stay out of trouble. You must be helpful to your onii-sama.”

A bright, beaming smile exploded across You’s face. “Yes, Father! I promise! I’ll be so careful, and I’ll make sure Akimu–nii isn’t alone!”

As you joyously hugged your father and then your uncle who giggled at your joy, your heart swelled with excitement and gratitude. Not only would you be able to keep your beloved brother company, but you also felt a step closer to the adventures you had always dreamed about, now unfolding into reality.

When you found Akimu–nii-sama later that day in the training grounds, practicing his swordsmanship with a focus that seemed to cut through the very air around him, your steps quickened with excitement. You waited for him to complete his sequence, watching as his blade danced in the sunlight. He was so beautiful, such a perfect beacon of home for the future. You hopes that she can be worthy of serving her brother one day. You hope to be worthy of being his servant.

As he finished and wiped the sweat from his brow, You approached, barely containing your enthusiasm. "Akimu–nii!" you called out, your voice echoing slightly in the open space.

Akimu turned, his expression shifting from concentration to curiosity at the sight of his sister’s beaming face. "My little You? What brings you here with such a smile? I thought you still had lessons, hm?" he asked, a grin spreading across his face as he sensed your excitement. “Did you escape your lessons again?”

“I did not!” You pouted at her elder brother, who laughed. “I stayed, like you bid me.”

“Good girl.” He whispered, kneeling to your height and kissing your cheek. “Now, why are you so eager to run out here in the heat and endure your nii-sama and his sweatiness?”

"I asked uncle and father if I could join you on your trip, the one where we visit grandfather Fuji to the Fujiwara clan. And they said yes!" You exclaimed, practically bouncing on the balls of your feet. “I’ll read a lot of your maps, nii-sama! I promise, we will not be lost!”

Akimu's eyes widened in surprise, a mixture of joy and slight concern flickering through them. "Really? You’re coming with me?" he asked, as if needing confirmation for such unexpected but welcome news. “I thought you were going to be with mother and father, little one.”

"Yes!" You nodded vigorously. "I convinced them. I told them I could help, and I promised to be good and follow all the rules."

A warm laugh escaped Akimu, and he opened his arms, inviting You into a hug. As she rushed into his embrace, he lifted her slightly off the ground, her laughter mingling with his. "That’s fantastic! I was dreading the long ride alone, and now I’ll have my favorite sister to keep me company," he said, setting her back down. “My precious little one is after all the smartest girl in the world.”

You blushed. “But I am your only sister, nii-sama.”

“But that makes you the very best one, doesn’t it? You are my only most treasured little sister.”

You’s heart swelled with pride and happiness, knowing her brother was genuinely pleased to have her along. "I can learn so much from you on the way, and maybe I can even help with some of your duties," she suggested, eager to make herself useful.

Akimu set his hand on your shoulder, his expression turning serious. "I’m sure you will, You. But remember, this trip isn’t just about learning; it’s also about being vigilant. We’ll be traveling through some unsettled territories," he cautioned, the protective brother always at the forefront. “Most of all, nii-sama will be busy on this trip too. You must keep close to me at all times, hm? I must keep you safe, little one.”

You nodded solemnly, understanding the weight of his words. "I’ll be careful, I promise. And I’ll follow your lead."

Akimu smiled, reassured by your earnestness. "I know you will. And we’ll make sure to have some fun along the way, too," he added, the twinkle returning to his eye.

But lurking in the shadows of your path were dangers you had not foreseen. Unknown to you, malevolent eyes watched, waiting for the opportunity to strike. You, despite your youth, were already seen as a valuable asset in the political games of higher clans—your hand in marriage, a prize that could sway the balance of power. Being the only daughter of the Ryomen lord, it was a battle on who should be your spouse. From the moment you were born to the cradle, your fate was sealed. It would be a disaster or it would be glorious.

For after all, the Ryomen clan's renown for producing potent sorcerers made you even more desirable. If their sons would father a child with you as soon as possible, then the creation of stronger sorcerer blood would be cemented. Everyone knew this. Most of all, Akimu, who was careful to conceal his sister’s cursed energy from the rest of the world on this delicate trip.

As you traveled, it was peaceful at first. You went from tenant to tenant and gathered the lord’s coin from them. You enjoyed playing with common children in each village, abundant in the smiles of youth. Akimu enjoyed seeing his sister be a lively child. It was often hard to see such a thing at home, more so with their mother being unkind to you. Mother disliked You. Akimu did not know why. But he knew that You deserved to be loved. For his sister was born to be a soul that thrived on being loved.

But on that same route, you stopped because of the night. Everyone was exhausted with the pace you had settled on. It had been non-stop traveling which left little rest for all. More so, Akimu could see how his sister was fatigued by it all. If you kept up with the speed, you would certainly catch a chill. And you wouldn’t be able to perform well in front of their mother’s kin. That would not do. And so, you camped under the stars, ate a bountiful meal for the night, sang some songs and went to bed.

It was then at midnight that a group of powerful cursed users came upon the camp with all their might and staged a barrage of their powers to ambush you. The attackers were ruthless, their intent clear as they overpowered the Ryomen guards and soldiers with terrifying efficiency. One after another, the campsite was filled with screams and horrors. 

Body after body, blood after blood, you screamed with your eyes wide open as your protector died one after the other. A man was coming for you. Hand tightly, brutishly— wrapped around your little body, you screamed. You felt fear pierce you for the first time. You felt tears pour out. But an arrow hit before he could do anything. You felt yourself cry out loud. Women or men, children or adults, they died before you. Died over and over again.

Your brother’s eyes tightened as he slew one enemy after another to get to you. You were a sobbing mess as Akimu checked you for injuries. But all he found was your grief and your horror, and the red pool straining your white silk kimono. He hushed you, pulling you into a hidden corner and tried to comfort you. But it was hard. His sister could not stop crying, could not stop thinking about how you were powerless. You sobbed in his arms, kept whispering apologies one after the other. He silenced you and kissed your temple.

“It’s okay.” He whispered to you, brushing your hair with his unstained hand. “It’s not your fault. It’s okay.”

Ryomen Akimu, brave and fierce, stood his ground once more as new enemies clashed against him one after another. He was fighting with a desperation born of the need to protect his sister. As he slew the last one, he took a deep breath. He looked around and saw that others were preoccupied, fighting for their lives. Flames engulfed the camp. He cannot fail here. Not here. Not when you were in danger.

Amidst the chaos, he turned to you, his voice strained with urgency. "Run to the river, get away from here! Don’t come back!" he pleaded. Your heart shattered with each word, tears streaming down your face as the reality of your fate crashed down upon you. “Please, let me do this, okay? I’ll come for you. I promise!”

With a heavy heart, you ran with tears in your eyes. You could hear your brother's final cries echoing in your ears as you sprinted towards the river. You tried to turn back but you could only gasp as you continued into the river. The water was high, unusually high. But you could not think of anything why. You were concerned about survival. About nii–sama. About their clan folk dying. The cruelty of it all. 

Hitching breath lumped at your throat as you ran and ran, still, even as your legs resisted the water’s pressure. The cold, cruel water roared beside you, swollen from the summer rains, a tumultuous escape route that mirrored the turmoil in your heart. These cursed users gave a brutal chase, their dark magic swirling around them like a malevolent storm.

Exhausted, terrified, and overwhelmed,  You could not help but strangle in a scream as you stumbled into the river. It was frightening, your body could not react any longer. There was no escape. You couldn’t escape. How you now couldn’t breathe. It felt like your body was burning. It felt like your throat was on fire. Everything was frightening, pulling and pushing. It all hurts. 

It hurts.

It hurts.

It hurts.

You tried to fight, over and over. You didn’t want to die. You didn’t want to drown. But against your little body, the force of the water was one that it could not fight. The water enveloped you, pulling you down into its depths. You felt your eyes starting to close. You felt like you were losing your soul. All you could think about was your brother. How you had to come back, because he’d be looking for you.

As you sank deeper and deeper, a strange, otherworldly voice reached out to you.

"What do you desire, child of Ryomen?" it asked, resonating through the water. “What does a child like you seek, before a god?”

Terror mixed with a fierce, brushing against the river’s cold weave —burning anger within you. If this was a different circumstance, there would be a different wish. There would be a joyous wish. A child’s longing. But as you lose your consciousness to the pressure of the water, you feel yourself burn with something else.

"Revenge," you gasped, your lungs filling with water, your voice a drowning whisper. "I want revenge."

The voice, deep and resonant, seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, filling the murky depths that surrounded you. It paused, as if considering your answer, the silence stretching into eternity as you struggled against the pull of the river.

"Revenge is a heavy burden for such young shoulders," the voice continued, its tone neither approved nor condemning. Rather, intrigued. "But if it is revenge you seek, child of Ryomen, it shall be granted. However, the path you choose will change you forever. Are you prepared to accept the consequences? To serve me?”

Your mind raced, panic and determination warring within her. You knew the weight of your request, but the loss of your kinfolk, the horror of your brother still fighting for his life, for your life, the agony of it all—they fueled that burning resolve. 

"Yes," you managed to choke out, determination collared on your voice. "I accept."

Then, just as suddenly as the nightmare began to unfold, you shook and awoke, your body drenched in sweat, your breaths ragged with fear and anguish. The room was dark, save for the soft light of the moon streaming through the window. Beside you was your beloved, wiping your tears away. Sukuna, who had returned from his late training, stirred, immediately sensing your distress.

Without a word, he reached for you, pulling your trembling body into his arms. His presence was grounding, a solid reality you clung to amidst the remnants of your haunting dream. 

"I'm here, night flower. I’m here.” Sukuna murmured, his voice a soothing balm. One that you think you will never deserve. "You're safe."

As you look at him, your face contorts into a silent sob. You buried your face in his chest, the tears came freely, each drop a release of the pent-up fear and sorrow that the dream had stirred. Sukuna held you tenderly, his arms becoming a fortress against the lingering shadows of the past, his heartbeat a steady drum that anchored you back to the safety of the present.

In his embrace, the horrors of that fateful summer day gradually receded, replaced by the warmth and security that his presence always brought. Though the pain of the loss would never fully fade, with Sukuna by your side, You found the strength to face the remnants of your nightmares, in their quiet echoes. You knew that you weren’t alone anymore. These nightmares won’t hurt you anymore. 

And so you cried and cried, his fingers tracing your hair.

You could feel the echo of morning light come through.

It will all be alright. Everything will be well from now on.

Ryomen Sukuna was there to chase the nightmares away.

SPRING WAS ALWAYS A BEAUTIFUL TIME. The morning sun bathed the Ryomen manor gardens in a soft, ethereal light, casting a tranquil spell over the lush surroundings. The koi ponds shimmered with reflected sunlight, their waters alive with vibrant hues of orange and pink. The gentle rustle of cherry blossom trees filled the air, accompanied by the distant melody of birdsong.

For you, it was a rare moment of respite amidst the flurry of activity that heralded the upcoming unity games. As preparations for the arrival of the visiting clans unfolded throughout the manor, you found solace in the quiet beauty of the garden. Leaning against the sturdy trunk of an ancient tree, you closed your eyes and let out a soft sigh, allowing the peaceful ambiance to wash over her.

You watch as a bird sits by the water's edge, the soft murmurs of the ponds mingling with the rustle of leaves in the breeze. The bird hums, looking back at you with a curious gaze. That was a new one. But it was quite clever, a witty little bird. The little bird was composing a hymn. You couldn’t help but smile at the sweet tones for a moment. It sounded almost like a tender flute to dance to. 

You think you could get used to this. It was a well deserved rest, after what has been happening. Your nightmares have been keeping you awake most nights, terrorizing you over and over again. But each time, Sukuna was there.

It was plain to you that now, you cannot truly live without him or his love. You wanted him. You wanted nothing but him. And he knew that too well. Sukuna lay with his head nestled in your lap, his eyes closed in a rare moment of stillness. You couldn't help but notice the exhaustion etched into his features, the subtle lines of tension that lingered even in repose. He hadn't slept much, you realized with a pang of concern. 

In his restless nights consumed by the weight of his responsibilities. More than that, he had been obsessed with his new developments in his sorcery. You would have scolded him. But you do not have the heart to. You were happy he was there with you, from dusk till dawn, holding his hand as he wrapped his arms around you. 

Gently, you let your fingers trail through Sukuna's hair, offering what little comfort you could. You knew how tirelessly he had been training for the curse hunt and the upcoming matches, his dedication unwavering even in the face of exhaustion. Your father had entrusted him with the honor of representing the clan and with your uncle’s own encouragement and your pride, Ryomen Sukuna accepted without another word. 

Though, he would have expressed another word had he not been respectful to your presence. He did not like Masaomi. But having to sit alongside Mikoto Masaomi as he too was chosen as the clan’s champion, it was obvious his disdain was evident. But you couldn’t blame him. He was often jealous, with how close you and Masaomi are. Masaomi after all was your personal guard.

Still, it wasn't the first time Sukuna had shouldered such expectations, you mused, recalling the countless instances over the past five years where he had fought tirelessly to uphold the honor of their clan. His relentless pursuit of victory had earned him both admiration and outrageous envy from his peers, yet Ryomen Sukuna remained undeterred in his pursuit of his success. 

As you gazed down at Sukuna, a swell of pride surged within you. Despite the burdens he bore and the challenges he faced, he remained steadfast in his commitment to their clan and to you. You marveled at his resilience, you always have. At the unwavering strength that lay beneath his weary exterior. Somehow, you like to think your love for him can only grow from here. Your heart pounded against your chest as you let your love for him flow within you.

In the tranquility of the garden, surrounded by the beauty of nature, you found yourself overwhelmed by a wave of gratitude for the bond they shared. Sukuna had been your constant companion throughout their youth, a source of comfort and support in times of need. This tender love out of it all provides you nothing but strength. Together, you and he could only navigate the intricacies of clan politics, weathered the storms of uncertainty. Hand in hand, you think you came out better for it. But they only did it together. It was all easy, because you had each other. You knew he felt the same, that he would say the same.

As you continued to stroke Sukuna's hair, a soft smile tugged at the corners of your lips. Despite the challenges that lay ahead, you knew that they would face them together, united in purpose and resolve. With Sukuna by your side, you felt invincible, ready to take on whatever trials awaited them in the days to come. He would never disappoint you in all your life— he would never let you face the world alone.

Sukuna lay with his head nestled in your lap, his eyes fixed on the dancing reflections on the surface of the water. Despite the peaceful surroundings, a furrow creased his brow, betraying the turmoil brewing beneath his calm exterior. Sukuna closed his eyes once more, trying to return to the peace he had before. 

You watched him with a mixture of concern and affection, her fingers tracing soothing patterns through his jaw. With a gentle, exasperated sigh, Ryomen Sukuna stirred, his eyes fluttering open to meet You's gaze. There was a warmth in his eyes as much as there were storms. 

"Are you alright, Sukuna?" you asked softly, your voice a gentle melody that seemed to blend seamlessly with the symphony of nature around them.

Sukuna grunted in response, a faint scowl marring his features as he shifted uncomfortably. 

"I'm fine," he muttered, though the tension in his body spoke volumes. “Trust me.”

You couldn't shake the feeling that Sukuna was hiding something, despite his dismissive words. You watched him closely, your concern growing with each passing moment. There was a tension in his demeanor that you couldn't ignore, a subtle shift in his usual confident demeanor that set you on edge.

With a gentle poke to his cheek, you couldn’t help but teasingly attempt to draw him out, to coax him into opening up about whatever was troubling him. Sukuna had never minded how playful you were with him. In fact, your giddiness about it pleased him. But perhaps not in this case. Sukuna huffed in response, his frustration evident, but he remained tight-lipped.

"You don't seem fine," You persisted, your tone gentle yet insistent. You studied his face intently, searching for any clue as to what might be weighing on his mind. "What's with you, my love? You can tell me."

“There’s nothing. I’m fine. I'll reassure you.”

Sukuna's response was a terse repetition of his earlier assertion that everything was fine, but you could hear the strain in his voice, the underlying tension that belied his words. You sighed at his thick refusal.

"You know, the more you say that, the more suspicious you seem," you remarked, your brows furrowing in concern. "Whatever it is, we can face it together. You don't have to carry the burden alone. Spit it out, stubborn boy.”

Sukuna groaned slightly in response, a mixture of frustration and resignation coloring his tone. Despite his reluctance to confide in you, he knew that you would remain determined to stand by his side, to offer him the support and comfort he needed in times of uncertainty. You reached out, taking his hand in your own and giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"We'll figure this out together, Sukuna," you said softly, your gaze unwavering. "I promise. But I won’t know what to do to help if you don’t tell me.”

Sukuna sighed heavily, sitting up beside you and running a hand through his fuschia hair in frustration. "Fine, since you won't drop it," he grumbled, his tone resigned. He looked at you for a moment and finally spoke, "I heard news about the clans nearing their arrival. They’ll be here soon.”

As you pondered Sukuna's demeanor, she couldn't shake the feeling that his unease ran deeper than the mere anticipation of the upcoming clan visit. You were keenly attuned to the intricate web of clan relations, sensing the subtle shifts and undercurrents that shaped your world.

In recent times, Sukuna's growing power had propelled the Ryomen clan into the spotlight, to heights never seen before in any previous lord’s lifetime. This fame had started earning them both admiration and animosity. But you were certain that such animosity was festering faster than such admiration. The status quo was after all finally being questioned.

The Ryomen clan was often referred to in less than flattering terms by their peers, with Sukuna himself bearing the brunt of much of the criticism. Sukuna could care less about such whispers. He could hardly care if people thought that he was worth talking about or not. 

But you were concerned, still. That was most normal when you love someone. You were no stranger to the disparaging whispers and sideways glances that followed in their wake. Being the only female heir of the clans does prepare one for such a thing. In the eyes of many, she was little more than a mere pawn, a figurehead to be manipulated and controlled. The men of other clans, in particular, harbored a deep-seated resentment towards her, their disdain fueled by antiquated notions of gender and power.

For you, such treatment had long been a bitter reality, one you had grown accustomed to over the years. But in your eyes, the questioning of Sukuna’s reputation was much more concerning. Even with the Ryomen name, he was still without the blood. As equally as he was concerned with your reputation, you were concerned about how they looked down on his common birth. 

The derogatory nicknames that circulated among their peers served as a constant reminder of the prejudice and bigotry that pervaded their world. Last year's incident, where Sukuna had lashed out at a servant for using a derogatory term to describe you and him. He would not say what he had heard from the servant till now, he had kept it to himself. But for him to resort to such violence, it was not one he took to favorably.

This event had only served to exacerbate tensions further. It was sheer luck that the man Sukuna had chastised was only a servant and not one with noble blood. It was easier also that the servant served under the Gojo. Suzaku had dealt with it on his own. Sukuna had not been pleased with that, but you were. 

In a way, you understood Sukuna’s concerns. He did not think that he would want to return to any further gatherings with the other clans. It was more of a headache than anything else. You could never harbor any feelings against what Sukuna felt. Despite your own resilience, you couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration at the injustice of it all. A Ryomen was taught to suffer in silence. But you wished there was a time where you could express your own sufferings, to complain. 

You had worked tirelessly to prove herself worthy of your position, to earn the respect. Even if you had known nothing from your brother’s own work, you had worked tirelessly to learn. To do well. To serve well. And yet, you knew that in the eyes of many, you would always be seen as nothing more than "the damsel and your hound." 

Or if they would like to be blunt, ‘the whore and your hound’.

There were many more names that you perhaps did not know.

And truly, you perhaps would not want to know all of them.

"That's to be expected," you replied calmly, your voice laced with understanding. "But I have a feeling there's something else bothering you."

Sukuna glanced at his lover for a moment. His expression softened slightly at her perceptiveness. "You're…..right," he admitted reluctantly, his gaze drifting to the shimmering surface of the pond. "Our fathers are talking about arranging marriages for the two of us.”

Your eyes widened slightly. You knew you were bound to hear about it again one of these days. But you couldn’t help but be surprised. Sukuna too? Uncle Hiramu knew about her and Sukuna. He had not introduced Sukuna upon the list of eligible bachelors in these many years since Sukuna had grown of age. He said it was up to his adoptive son to do what he wanted. You have to wonder where Sukuna had heard of this. You felt a flicker of concern flashing across your features as you processed the news. 

"I see," she murmured, understanding the weight of such a decision. "That must be difficult for you to hear."

Sukuna nodded, his jaw tightening with tension as he wrestled with his emotions. "I have no interest in being tied down by some arranged marriage to some pathetic damsel." he snickered.

“Sukuna, that is unpleasant to say to other women.”

“I don’t care about other women.” He says brazenly, pursing his lips at her. “Are we not already together? Shouldn’t that be enough to spur out such ridiculous notions?”

You opened your lips, but closed them for a moment. “I–I don’t know. Father is the last word upon any sort of marriage. So is your father.”

Sukuna frowned. “He would not deny you the pleasure of a happy marriage, surely? Being married to that wench—”

“Sukuna—”

“That broad—”

“That broad is still my mother.” 

He snickers back. “That woman still earned my ire. Of all of our ire. For sucking the life out of every room she deems to enter.”

“That woman may make everyone miserable….but her misery upon others has kept the peace.” You sighed, looking at him and taking his hand. “It’s expected for me to make the same sacrifice.”

“You’re all too willing to settle for a foolish man who’s half hearted and dim-witted? One that could not even protect you? Unlike me?” Sukuna looked at her with a flash of disappointment. “Fuck duty. You don’t have to suffer a terrible husband.”

“Sukuna, you must understand, they will make us explain—”

Sukuna's response was initially sharp, his frustration bubbling to the surface in a surge of aggression. "Damn it. Why should we have to explain ourselves to them?" he snapped, his voice laced with bitterness. "We don't owe them anything. None of them have ever given us anything.”

But as he saw the flicker of hurt and surprise in your eyes, his anger ebbed away, replaced by a pang of remorse. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his tone softer now, his gaze averted. "I didn't mean to scare you. I just…all this talk of politics and marriage alliances. This is not what we should have. We already chose what we wanted. And I….I want to wed you. To give you the life you deserve. The love you deserve.”

You reached out, gently cupping his cheek with your hand. "I know," you reassured him, your voice gentle and forgiving. "I understand. I know you would never hurt me."

“I nearly could have.”

You shake your head. “But you didn’t. Clear your mind of the notion.”

“.....It’s not easy to do.”

With a small smile, you leaned in closer, pressing your lips against his in a tender kiss. "No matter what happens, I'll love no one in this world but you," you whispered against his lips, your words filled with unwavering devotion. “You are my love.”

Sukuna's cheeks flushed at your declaration, his heart swelling with warmth. "You're too easy with this," he whispers back. “It’s embarrassing. How much you affect me.”

“This is love,” you whispered softly, your voice barely above a breath as you looked up at him, your eyes reflecting the moonlight streaming through the window.

Sukuna's gaze met yours, his expression tender and filled with understanding. In that moment, he leaned down, his lips meeting yours in a gentle kiss. It was a kiss filled with warmth and reassurance, a silent promise that you were not alone in your struggles.

As the kiss deepened, you felt a surge of affection and gratitude welling up within you. This connection, this shared moment of intimacy, was a testament to the bond you shared with Sukuna—a bond forged through countless trials and triumphs, and strengthened by unwavering support and unconditional love.

You giggled softly against his lips, savoring the sweetness of the moment, before kissing him once more. In his arms, surrounded by love and warmth, you knew that no matter what challenges lay ahead, you would face them together, united in your love for each other.

But as he leaned for another kiss, you pushed him away.

He frowns as you settle yourself straight on your position.

He looked towards where you were looking and frowned deeper.

Mikoto Masaomi's arrival was met with a courteous nod from you, your demeanor composed and gracious despite the interruption. Sukuna's reaction, however, was less welcoming. His eyes narrowed with a bitter edge as he regarded the man before him. He had never liked Mikoto Masaomi, sensing an unspoken rivalry between them that simmered just beneath the surface.

The bow offered by Mikoto was met with a cool gaze from Sukuna, his expression betraying his distrust. He couldn't shake the feeling of discomfort that washed over him whenever Mikoto was near you. It wasn't just jealousy, though there was an element of that too. It was something deeper, a primal instinct that urged him to keep a watchful eye on the man who seemed to hover ever closer to your side.

Despite his misgivings, Sukuna maintained a facade of civility, his lips curved into a tight, obviously, forced smile as he acknowledged Mikoto's presence. But beneath the surface, his resentment simmered, a silent warning to anyone who dared encroach upon his territory. You, too, sensed the tension in the air. Your gaze flickers between the two men with a mixture of concern and wariness.

“Good day, Masaomi–dono.” You smile at him, moving slightly near Masaomi. Sukuna nearly caught your hand, but turned away. “How have you been?”

“Well, Hiromi–sama.” He replies simply, a small fond look was in his eyes. “I am pleased to know you are also well.”

“What have you come to me for, Masaomi–dono?”

"The Gojo clan has started arriving through the gates," he informed you, his eyes darting to Sukuna. It's as though he knew. Sukuna’s eyes grew even narrower. The jealousy in Sukuna’s chest. “Your father, my lord, has asked me to fetch the two of you to attend the formal greeting.”

“I see.” You nodded. “We will be there in a bit. You may go, Masaomi–dono.”

You thanked him with a nod, your smile fading as the weight of responsibility settled upon you once more. Sukuna, too, felt a sense of annoyance at the intrusion, his brief respite with you now shattered.

Mikoto Masaomi inclined his head in acknowledgment of your words before turning on his heel and departing, his departure leaving behind an uneasy tension in the air. Sukuna's gaze followed him until he disappeared from view, his jaw clenched with a simmering anger that threatened to boil over.

As the silence stretched between them, you reached out, placing a comforting hand on Sukuna's arm. You could feel the tension radiating from him, the palpable frustration that colored his every movement. Despite your own reservations about Mikoto, you knew that now was not the time to dwell on such matters.

"We should go," You said softly, yourvoice a soothing balm against the storm of emotions brewing within Sukuna. "Our fathers are waiting for us, and it wouldn't do to keep them waiting."

Sukuna looks at you again. “Must we? I do not want to greet that lecher–”

“You must, and kindly.” You playfully commanded him, your eyes looking at him tenderly. “Play nice, for me.”

Sukuna purses his lips. He cannot win. Not against you, not ever against the tenderness of your eyes for him. He hated it, how much control you had upon him. But what could he do? He loved you too much to leave you too. He sighed and then nodded curtly, his features softening slightly at your touch. With a resigned sigh, he pushed himself to his feet, offering you a hand to help you up. You smiled at him and took his hand.

Together, they made their way towards the torii gates, the weight of their respective burdens hanging heavy in the air between them. But as you walked side by side, you couldn't help but feel a glimmer of hope amidst the uncertainty.  

You looked at him and smiled. His hand wrapped against your own, as though he knew. As though he knew you needed his strength. You grinned at him and lifted his hand to your lips, kissing the side of his thumb. He seemed satisfied by that as they parted hands. 

No matter what challenges may they come across,

You knew that as long as they faced them together.

They would emerge to be stronger by the end of it all.

Because no matter what, they would always be together.

SUKUNA COULD ONLY WONDER HOW MUCH THEY POURED OUT FOR THIS. The Ryomen manor stood as a testament to opulence and grandeur, its halls adorned with the trappings of wealth and power. Every corner of the estate was meticulously decorated, from the ornate tapestries that hung from the walls to the shimmering chandeliers that cast a soft, golden glow over the proceedings. 

Sukuna couldn't help but scoff at the extravagance, the ostentatious display of wealth and power that seemed to permeate every inch of the estate. Expensive tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of battles won and enemies vanquished, while ornate chandeliers bathed the halls in a soft, golden glow.

For you, the lavish display was a source of frustration and disdain. You had always been vocal about your opposition to the extravagant spending that such events entailed. In your eyes, it was a needless waste of resources, a squandering of funds that could be better used elsewhere. As your Ryomen ancestors had taught, simplicity was the way of one’s life — for wealth cannot be brought upon man’s judgment in the afterlife.

Sukuna, too, shared his master's sentiments. As your loyal servant and guardian, he couldn't help but feel a sense of unease at the excessive displays of wealth that surrounded them. He had always been more comfortable with simplicity and practicality, finding little joy in the ostentatious displays of the upper echelons of society.

Despite their misgivings, however, there was little they could do to change the course of events. The unity games were a time-honored tradition, a chance for the rival clans to come together and become allies. A chance for allies to prove their loyalty to another. But most of all, a chance to showcase their strength and skill. And so, reluctantly, you and Sukuna found yourselves swept up in the whirlwind of activity, their reservations pushed aside in favor of duty and obligation.

As Sukuna effortlessly bested opponent after opponent in the individual rounds of curse hunting, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of disdain for the proceedings. The other sorcerers seemed like mere amateurs compared to him, their techniques lacking in both power and finesse. With each victory, his boredom deepened, his frustration mounting at the thought of wasting his time on such trivial pursuits.

The thrill of battle, the exhilarating rush of combat that he so craved, was conspicuously absent in these tame encounters. Instead of facing worthy adversaries who could test his skills to their limits, Sukuna found himself locked in battle with opponents who posed little challenge, their feeble attempts at defense crumbling before his overwhelming might.

As he effortlessly dodged their attacks and countered with devastating precision, Sukuna couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was wasting his time. The individual rounds of curse hunting had become nothing more than a monotonous chore, a tiresome exercise in futility that did little to sate his hunger for true combat.

With each passing round, Sukuna's impatience grew, his frustration boiling over into simmering resentment. He longed for the thrill of a real challenge, for an opponent who could push him to his limits and force him to unleash the full extent of his power. But amidst the sea of mediocrity that surrounded him, such adversaries were nowhere to be found.

As the day wore on and the individual rounds drew to a close, Sukuna found himself growing increasingly restless. He yearned for the freedom of the open battlefield, for the chaos and carnage of a true fight to the death. But for now, he would have to content himself with the hollow victory of a cursed technique mastered and an opponent defeated.

In the moments of respite between rounds, Sukuna retreated to the secluded grounds of the Ryomen manor, seeking solace amidst the tranquil beauty of nature. He stalked away from the prying eyes of spectators and competitors alike and he immersed himself in the relentless pursuit of perfection, honing his cursed technique with a singular focus that bordered on obsession.

You, ever attuned to his needs, would often seek him out in these private moments, your presence a comforting balm amidst the chaos of the unity games. You dressed lovely for him. As Sukuna held you close, his heart swelled with adoration as he gazed upon you. In the soft glow of the moonlight filtering through the window, you looked ethereal, like a celestial being descended from the heavens above.

Your delicate features were accentuated by the gentle light, casting a luminous glow upon your skin. The intricate folds of your decorations upon your garments draped gracefully around you, each layer adding to the mesmerizing allure of your presence. The fabric shimmered with subtle patterns and hues, reflecting the soft hues of the moon, as if woven from strands of stardust and dreams.

Your hair, adorned with delicate ornaments and flowers, cascaded in ebony waves down your back, framing your face like a halo of midnight silk. Each movement sent ripples of light dancing across the room, casting enchanting shadows upon the tent walls.

But it was your eyes that captivated him the most, pools of liquid darkness that held the depths of the universe within them. In their depths, he saw galaxies swirling, stars twinkling, and constellations unfolding—a reflection of the boundless beauty and wonder of the cosmos.

As Sukuna drank in the sight of you, he felt as though time itself had slowed, suspended in the timeless embrace of the night. In that moment, you were not just his beloved, but a vision of divine grace and celestial elegance, a muse that ignited the spark of creativity and wonder within his soul. 

And as he held you close, he knew that he would cherish this moment for eternity, a cherished memory to be treasured in the depths of his heart forevermore. You wrapped your arms around him and pulled him close to you. Sukuna found himself momentarily lost in the warmth of her embrace, the softness of her touch a welcome distraction from the rigors of combat. Your compliments filled his ears with the sweetest things.

Though the time together was brief, you wanted to visit him and cheer him on. In that short amount of time, you rejuvenated Sukuna's spirit, infusing him with a reward for his devotion. He cherished these stolen moments of intimacy, relishing the fleeting sense of closeness that the both of you shared.

But even as he reveled in your presence, Sukuna couldn't shake the lingering sense of unease that gnawed at the edges of his consciousness. He knew that their forbidden romance could never be openly acknowledged, that the consequences of discovery could be dire for your reputation. He could hardly care for what everyone else says behind his back. But he does care about what others say to you.

You couldn’t help but pout as you reluctantly bid him farewell, your bright beaming cheeks flushed with embarrassment as he pressed a kiss upon your temple. Sukuna couldn't help but admire your beauty in the soft glow of the beautiful morning sun. How did he find such a gem in the world? You seemed to radiate an otherworldly allure that left him breathless with longing. 

"I wish you could stay longer," Sukuna murmured, his voice tinged with longing as he held your hand close to his. “You ought to warm me with you.”

You smiled sadly, your eyes betraying the same yearning that echoed in Sukuna's heart. "I do too," you admitted softly, fingers lingering on his arm. How warm you were, he will never get tired how you warm his cold world. "But we can't risk drawing attention to ourselves. It's better this way, for now.”

Sukuna nodded, though the weight of their clandestine relationship hung heavy between them. "I know," he conceded, his tone heavy with resignation. "But it doesn't make it any easier."

Your smile faltered slightly, your gaze clouded with tenderness. "Oh, my love, I know." you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. "But we have to be patient. Our time will come, I promise."

Sukuna's heart swelled with a mixture of gratitude and determination at your words. "I'll hold you to that," he vowed, his eyes locking with your eyes full of affection. “I’ll see you soon.”

You smiled. “I’ll see you.”

A wistful sigh leaves his lips, Sukuna watches you depart, a pang of regret tugging at his heart. Though their time together was fleeting, the memory of your kisses lingered on his lips, a potent reminder of the forbidden love that bound them together in secret.

But most of the time, he was alone with his thoughts. He cannot handle the bustling of servants, nor the nagging of his adoptive father. And so, he maintains a quiet time alone for himself when you have become increasingly occupied with duty. It was during one of these moments of solitude that he overheard a group of men talking nearby. Judging by the crest on their kimono — they were Fujiwara, a fact that only served to fuel Sukuna's disdain.

Sukuna listened intently as the voices of the Fujiwara men carried through the air, their conversation laced with arrogance and disdain. His lips curled into a sneer of contempt as he recognized the distinctive crest adorning their attire, a symbol of the very clan that had long been a thorn in the side of the Ryomen.

"They say the Ryomen girl is to take a husband this year," one of the men remarked, his tone filled with a sense of superiority. “I’m quite impressed how high the name remains high on the match maker’s list!”

Sukuna's blood boiled at the mention of your name, your honor in such a context, his fists clenched at his sides in barely contained fury. He bristled at the audacity of these men, their callous words serving as a stark reminder of the prejudices and injustices that permeated the world of sorcery.

"But who would want to marry the bitch?" another voice chimed in, eliciting a round of mocking laughter from the group. "The bitch’s nothing but a cruel murderer of men."

Another man, perhaps emboldened by the laughter, added, "I heard the whore once killed a man just for looking at her the wrong way. Who would want to be tied to such a beast?"

One of the stupid fools bolted into boisterous hooting. “Killed a man? The whore is ever so lucky to have some suitors. No one should be tied to such a brutish whore.”

The other one of these stupid brutes, emboldened by the laughter of his companions, continued, "You may think the bitch is powerful, but if I marry and bed the bitch, I'll make sure that bitch keeps silent. Nothing more than being nothing more than a tool, bent to my will."

The cruel words pushed Sukuna to the brink, his body trembling with the effort of restraining himself. The image of your serene face, your unwavering trust in him, kept him from unleashing the full extent of his wrath. With a sharp exhale, Sukuna forced himself to relax, the tension draining from his body as he made a conscious effort to quell the storm of emotions raging within him. He may have harbored a burning desire for revenge, but he would not let it consume him, not when your safety and happiness hung in the balance.

"The bitch needs a strong hand to guide and rule, someone like me.” another man sneered. "Put the collar upon that bitch.”

"Imagine the power one could wield with that bitch within one of our control," the first man mused, his voice dripping with ambition. "A conquest of the jujutsu world would be imminent. But we must ensure that bitch breaks first.”

The more they talked, the more Sukuna felt like he was going to lose it. It struck Sukuna over and over like a physical blow, his anger flaring into white-hot rage at the disparagement of the person he held deepest in his being. His mind raced with violent thoughts, visions of vengeance dancing tantalizingly at the edges of his consciousness.

But then, your voice echoed in his mind, a soothing balm to his simmering fury. 

"Don't," you whispered, your gentle tone a stark contrast to the storm raging within him. "It's not worth it. They are not worth it.”

Sukuna gritted his teeth against the overwhelming urge to lash out, his muscles coiling with tension as he fought to rein in his emotions. It was always you guiding him, even when you weren't around. Even if he hated it, Sukuna knew you were right, knew that succumbing to his rage would only bring them more trouble. More so, if he defeats them now — the clan would suffer more issues with the Fujiwara. Sukuna could care less about these spineless fools. But it would be different for you

With a sharp exhale over and over, even if it doesn’t work — Ryomen Sukuna forced himself to relax, the tension draining from his body as he made a conscious effort to quell the storm of emotions raging within him. He may have harbored a burning desire for revenge, but he would not let it consume him, not when your safety and happiness hung in the balance.

As he tried to steady himself, The sorcerer retreated further into the shadows, his heart heavy with the weight of his unspoken vow. No matter the obstacles they faced, he swore to protect you, to shield you from the cruelty of the world, even if it meant sacrificing his own desires for the sake of your well-being.

Sooner or later, they will end up paying for their words.

He will not let them get away with tarnishing you.

One way or another, it will be the cleave or a cutting slash.

RYOMEN SUKUNA PURSED HIS LIPS IN A FLAT LINE, LOOKING AT HIS THE COURTYARD. Sukuna considered himself fortunate to have the luxury of choosing his opponents. In a world where battles often come unbidden and enemies strike without warning, he relished the rare freedom to select his adversaries. This autonomy allowed him to seek out the most formidable challengers, ensuring that each fight would test his limits and provide a thrill worthy of his power.

To Sukuna, combat was more than mere survival or dominance—it was an art form, a dance of death that required a worthy partner. He took pride in his ability to discern who was truly deserving of facing him, who could push him to his fullest potential. The chance to pick his battles meant he could avoid the mundane and mediocre, focusing only on those who offered a true challenge.

In the quiet moments before a fight, Sukuna often reflected on this privilege. He knew that many warriors never had such a choice, forced to fight whoever fate threw in their path. But he, Sukuna, stood above them, wielding the power not just to conquer, but to choose his conquests. This freedom was a testament to his strength and a source of immense satisfaction, reminding him that he was not merely a participant in the eternal struggle for power—he was its master.

He stepped toward the courtyard of the Ryomen manor and looked upon the crowd. It was a spectacle of unparalleled grandeur, a testament to the clan's status and influence. Every corner of the expansive space was adorned with elaborate decorations that spoke of meticulous care and significant investment. The Ryomen double heron flies above, bright against all the other clan’s banners. His win was a result of that, for which he had too much pride about.

Silk banners, bearing the insignias of the various clans, fluttered lower, ever so gently in the breeze, their vibrant colors catching the light of the midday sun. Intricate tapestries depicting historic battles and legendary sorcerers draped the walls, adding a sense of reverence and tradition to the atmosphere.

Flower arrangements, meticulously crafted with seasonal blooms, punctuated the courtyard, their colors and fragrances mingling to create an intoxicating ambiance. Each floral display was a work of art, with blossoms arranged in harmonious patterns that drew the eye and invited admiration. Pathways of polished stone meandered through the courtyard, leading to various observation points and seating areas where the dignitaries and clan members could comfortably view the matches.

Large, ornate lanterns hung from intricately carved wooden posts, their delicate designs casting intricate shadows on the ground below. These lanterns would be lit as the sun set, casting a warm, inviting glow over the proceedings and adding to the magical atmosphere of the event. The air buzzed with anticipation, a palpable energy that surged through the crowd as they awaited the commencement of the individual matches.

The assembled sorcerers, dressed in their finest ceremonial attire, engaged in hushed conversations, their voices creating a low hum that underscored the gravity of the occasion. The younger juniors of the clan could feel their eyes wide with excitement and curiosity, whispering among themselves, speculating on the outcomes of the matches and the prowess of the competitors.

You sat poised alongside your uncle and your father, perched in a place of honor that overlooked the arena. Though your demeanor projected an air of tranquility and control, your true sentiments were veiled beneath a carefully crafted facade. Despite your efforts to maintain a stoic composure, the affection you tenderly harbored for Sukuna simmered just beneath the surface, evident to those who were attuned to your subtle cues.

From your elevated vantage point, you could survey the unfolding spectacle with a serene gaze one after another. Your eyes, alight with a quiet intensity, traced the movements of the combatants below. While her features remained composed, betraying little of her inner turmoil, the warmth emanating from her gaze spoke volumes.

As Sukuna crossed the threshold into the ring, a palpable aura of determination enveloped him. His steely gaze swept across the gathered spectators, momentarily lingering on the familiar countenance of you. In that fleeting exchange, an unspoken bond passed between them, a silent pact that fortified Sukuna's resolve and served as a constant reminder of the personal stakes he carried into the impending clash.

Opposite him, Fujiwara Koku stood with an air of arrogance that bordered on insolence, his smirk a blatant display of confidence. He remembered this ugly face quite clearly. His words of degradation towards you repeating in Sukuna’s head over and over. 

Sukuna's jaw clenched imperceptibly at the sight, his disdain for his adversary simmering beneath his cool exterior. While Koku exuded an air of self-assurance, Sukuna's demeanor remained inscrutable, a mask of detachment concealing the seething intensity of his emotions. He hated Fujiwara. The gall, the arrogance — with nothing to show for it but a power that was collapsing on its own hubris.

As the signal to commence the match echoed through the arena, tension crackled in the air like electricity. Each step taken by Sukuna reverberated with purpose, a silent declaration of his unwavering determination. Across the ring, Koku mirrored his opponent's movements with a predatory grace, anticipation gleaming in his eyes. In that charged moment, the clash of wills between Sukuna and Koku became inevitable, a collision of personal vendettas and unyielding resolve set to unfold in the unforgiving arena of combat.

As the gyōji announced the start of the match, Koku sneered, "Do you really think you can stand against me, foolish little hound?"

Sukuna remained silent, his eyes narrowing as he focused on his opponent.

Koku's expression twisted into one of mock pity. "I suppose your master, your bitch. Look at your master, little dog. You will be watching. Perhaps I should go easy on that bitch’s little pet."

As the confrontation escalated, the air crackled with tension, each heartbeat echoing like a drumbeat in the stillness of the night. Without preamble or hesitation, Fujiwara Koku unleashed the full fury of his power, a torrent of fire and brimstone hurtling towards Sukuna with deadly precision.

The first fireball erupted from Koku's outstretched palm, a searing orb of crimson flame that streaked through the darkness like a comet on a collision course. Sukuna's senses sharpened as he watched the fiery projectile hurtle towards him, his instincts honed from all these years kicking in with ease.

With a dancer's grace and a warrior's precision, Sukuna sprang into action, his movements fluid and seamless as he evaded the onslaught of fireballs with effortless agility. Each step was a calculated maneuver, each twist and turn a testament to his mastery of combat. The home crowd cheered with vigor at the spectacle of their kin.

The air around him shimmered with heat as the fireballs whizzed past, their searing heat leaving trails of scorched air in their wake. But Sukuna remained undeterred, his focus unwavering as he danced through the inferno unscathed. The flames were hot, but that’s all they were. They were nothing to him.

With each passing moment, Sukuna's movements became more fluid, more effortless, as if he were a force of nature unleashed upon the world. His footwork was impeccable, his timing impeccable, as he anticipated each strike with uncanny accuracy.

As the barrage continued, Sukuna seemed to meld with the rhythm of the chaos around him. Each leap, each twist, was executed with a precision that bordered on preternatural. His body moved with a fluidity that belied the danger that surrounded him, as if he were an extension of the very elements he danced amidst.

With each passing moment, Sukuna's senses heightened, his awareness expanding to encompass the entire battlefield. Every flicker of movement, every shift in the air, became a part of his consciousness, feeding into his instinctual understanding of the fight unfolding before him.

The fireballs came faster now, streaking through the night like shooting stars intent on obliterating their target. But Sukuna was no mere mortal; he was a master of combat, a living testament to the power of discipline and training.

With a graceful twist of his body, Sukuna evaded a particularly close call, the heat of the passing fireball licking at his heels as he danced out of harm's way. His movements were a symphony of motion, each step a carefully orchestrated note in the melody of battle.

And then, in a burst of speed and agility, Sukuna closed the distance between himself and his adversary, his blade flashing in the moonlight as he struck with lethal precision. The clash of steel rang out like thunder in the night, a testament to the ferocity of their duel.

"Impressive, little pet. But is that all you've got?" Koku taunted, summoning a larger flame. "Let's see how you handle this!"

Sukuna's lips curled into a contemptuous smirk, a silent retort to Koku's taunts. His focus remained unbroken, his movements fluid and precise as he deftly evaded each incoming fireball with calculated ease. Though Koku's attacks were fierce, Sukuna's resolve did not falter. He remains unshaken, his determination burning like a steady flame amidst the chaos of battle.

With a graceful flourish, Sukuna countered Koku's escalating assault, summoning his own inferno to meet the challenge head-on. The clash of fire and fury illuminated the arena in a dazzling display of power, each combatant vying for supremacy with unyielding resolve.

As the flames danced and flickered in the air, Sukuna's eyes blazed with an intensity that belied his calm exterior. With each passing moment, his confidence grew, fueled by the silent encouragement he sensed from You's unwavering gaze.

Koku's smirk faltered slightly, replaced by a flicker of uncertainty as he realized the depth of Sukuna's determination. Yet, true to his nature, he pressed on undeterred, channeling his rage into a relentless onslaught of attacks.

“I’ll fight you with your element.” Sukuna retorts to the man, a smirk on his face. “It’s getting dull, fighting with you. Is that all you have? Come on. We should mix it up.”

Koku’s face contorts in anger, an insult cutting through at his ego. The heir of the Fujiwara screamed as he harnessed massive flames. The heat could be felt everywhere, people screeched upon the feeling. Koku hurled the massive fireball at Sukuna, but Sukuna was ready.  He smirks. 

He muttered "Open," the echoes of his palms bouncing off flame against flame. Koku’s eyes widened at the sight. It was bright, orange flames with hints of reddish scarlet. Sukuna’s hands tamed the flames as he brushed them together. 

The whispers of Sukuna’s fame were heavily focused upon his cutting and slashes techniques. Ones which were versatile in its own right. But a Ryomen does not content himself with what he is now. He adapts, he develops. He becomes divine. 

The crowd goes in awe as his own Divine Flame countered Koku’s own bright flames. The flames  clashed in a spectacular explosion, radiating against the veil one after the other. Koku looked pathetic as he tried to push against the fuschia haired man. But Sukuna snickered as he pushed, his superior control and intensity quickly overpowered Koku's attack, dissipating it into nothing. Koku falls back, his head lowered and his feet clutched onto the ground. He looks at Sukuna, who’s flames had disappeared at his command.

Seizing the moment, Sukuna closed the distance between them with lightning speed. Koku swung a flaming fist, aiming for Sukuna's head, but Sukuna ducked under the blow, his movements fluid and precise. He touched the ground, activating Spiderweb. The earth beneath Koku's feet cracked and shattered in an intense blow, the technique adjusting to the terrain's toughness and collapsing the ground in one decisive move.

Koku stumbled harshly once more, his balance disrupted by the sudden upheaval. Sukuna moved in with Cleave, the slashing attack adjusting itself to Koku's cursed technique. Sukuna was no longer giving him time to recover. One could see the elders of the Fujiwara rushing towards lord Isamu. The rest were standing, calling foul at what Sukuna was trying to do. But Sukuna did not see all that. What he saw was his prey and he was going to hunt. Strike after another towards his opponent was devastating, cutting through Koku's defenses and leaving a deep, gaping wound across his torso, his hands, his arms, even at his face. 

"You... you'll pay for this," Koku gasped, blood seeping everywhere as he stumbled, feeling more blood spill through his fingers as he clutched his upper chest. He hissed from the pain. “YOU WILL PAY FOR THIS!”

"You're not even worth my time," Sukuna replied coldly, his voice devoid of emotion. He watches him cough more blood. But he did not care. Not even when you were standing off your seat, calling out to him, telling him to stop. “Get lost.”

Desperate to live, Fujiwara Koku summoned a massive fireball, his last-ditch effort to turn the tide of the battle. The crowd was yelling and cheering for Sukuna, to end the game. Many professed that he would end the round and win glory for the Ryomen. The cheering grew louder, but Sukuna could not hear them. He did not want to hear them. Sukuna was lost in over his head, for revenge now. He could care less about the glory. 

This fool ran his mouth, had stepped on his clan and stepped on the person he loves. He will not let him get away with simple wounds. Sukuna was relentless. He quickly extended his hand, his Dismantle technique slicing through the fireball with ease. Koku's final attack disintegrated before it could even begin, before it could even try to reach Sukuna.

In a final, desperate move, Koku stood and screamed, pathetically charging at Sukuna, flames engulfing both his fists. Sukuna snickered and met him head-on, activating his  Cleave once more. The attack was swift and lethal, cutting through Koku's fire and striking him down with a single, decisive blow. The pressure was so much from that hit, everyone could feel it. The sound, the wind, the air — all had changed course as Fujiwara Koku choked on his own blood and flew battered and broken upon the other side of the ring. 

Koku's defeat was as swift as it was decisive, the once-arrogant heir to the Fujiwara clan now reduced to a fallen adversary, sprawled upon the unforgiving ground of the arena. The courtyard, once alive with the tumultuous energy of battle, now fell into an eerie silence, the onlookers rendered speechless by the spectacle unfolding before them. Soon enough, the cheers returned. But only the Gojo and the Ryomen cheered. Kamo, Zenin and Fujiwara all looked with horror as the heir of a prestigious clan, lay unresponsive. 

Sukuna stood amidst the aftermath of his triumph, his chest rising and falling with the exertion of battle. He did not care to look back if Koku was dead or alive. It was a fair match, one he had won with his sorcery. He would not speak like that about you ever again. Despite the victory he had achieved, there was no hint of triumph in his demeanor, only a solemn acknowledgment of the price paid in pursuit of victory. He was not happy. He wanted more. He wanted more than this. All of them have to pay.

Amidst the hushed whispers and murmurs of the quiet crowd, you remained a steadfast presence, your wavering gaze fixed upon Sukuna. He watched as you shook your head at him, your eyes narrowed towards him. The warmth that had suffused your eyes earlier now mingled with a newfound complexity, reflecting the conflicting emotions swirling within your own heart. Sukuna felt unsettled by that. He thought you would feel a little more pride for what he had achieved.

It’s as if you knew something that Sukuna did not know.

Sukuna felt his glory drowned by the shadows in your eyes.

Fights broke out between the Ryomen and the Fujiwara that day.

You left the conference dinner that night in sheer, wordlessness.

The next few days, Hiramu Isamu looked at Sukuna bitterly.

Ryomen Hiromi was to wed Fujiwara Koku, to keep the peace.

IT HAD BEEN A ROUGH WEEK. The rest of the events had gone without your presence throughout, the withdrawal of the Fujiwara’s heir from all matches and Sukuna’s disqualification. It was quite somber after all of that. Much too much had been said behind the golden screens of the ancestral halls. Tears and brutish whispers and commands. But none had said anything. You ought not to. It was not an affair that belonged to you.

By the end of that week, the tension between You, the heir to the Ryomen clan, and Sukuna, your loyal follower, had become unbearable. It was quite a palpable undercurrent coursing through the entire clan. Lord Isamu and his brother Hiramu too were just as much in a battle of wills, but that was quite underwhelming to say the least. Lord Hiramu knew when to step away and let his brother settle in his inflamed words. He was after all like the water that flows in the river — strident in his own ways.

As the days passed without you emerging from your chambers, the atmosphere within the Ryomen compound grew increasingly strained. The unity games, meant to foster camaraderie and goodwill among the clans, had become marred by the rift between the Fujiwara and the Ryomen. But that was always one that had existed. One that all had been used to. What the rest of the Ryomen had not been used to was the distance between the heiress and her devoted guardian.

For Sukuna, the days of your seclusion felt like an eternity, each passing moment gnawing away at his patience and sanity. Despite his best efforts to understand the reasons behind your withdrawal, whispers from the shadows painted a different picture. The Fujiwara clan, incensed by Koku's defeat at Sukuna's hands, were exerting pressure on the Ryomen, leveraging their influence to force compliance with their demands.

Uncle Hiromu, ever the voice of reason, stood outside your chambers, attempting to bridge the gap between his adoptive son and his niece. But Sukuna's resolve remained unyielding, his need to see you eclipsing any semblance of diplomacy or compromise. He stared down the guards, all of whom whimpered at his dark gaze.

“It’s alright.” Your voice lingered for a moment. “Let him in.”

As he stood before you, Sukuna's emotions roiled beneath the surface, a tempest of anger and disbelief threatening to consume him whole. The weight of the Fujiwara's intimidation tactics bore down upon him like a suffocating blanket, fueling his determination to resist their tyranny at all costs.

Though your explanation of the marriage match was meant to placate the warring factions and maintain peace between the clans, Sukuna knew in his heart that it was a thinly veiled facade. The Fujiwara's ulterior motives lay bare before him, their insidious machinations driving a wedge between you and your true desires.

In the hushed confines of your chambers, Sukuna's gaze bore into you with an intensity that bordered on accusation. His features contorted with a potent mixture of frustration and despair, his silent plea for you to see reason echoing in the hollow recesses of your shared solitude.

But as the walls closed in around them, Sukuna knew that your fate hung precariously in the balance, and that the choices you made in the days to come would shape the course of your destinies in ways neither of you could yet comprehend.

"You accepted the marriage?" Sukuna's voice was barely above a whisper, laced with a seething undercurrent of fury. "After everything that happened, you just... agreed to it?"

You met Sukuna's gaze with a haunted expression, your eyes betraying the turmoil raging within your soul. "It was the only way," you murmured, your voice barely audible above the tumult of your thoughts. "The Fujiwara felt humiliated, Sukuna. They demanded retribution for what you did to Koku."

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides, his rage simmering just beneath the surface. "You're telling me you agreed to marry that bastard because of their pride?" His words were a venomous accusation, a stark reminder of the betrayal he felt coursing through his veins.

But your response was tinged with a sorrow that cut deeper than any blade. "It's not just about their pride, Sukuna," you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your confession. "I... I feel responsible for what happened. For the animosity between our families. As father does. If I can bear this burden, perhaps... Perhaps I can make amends."

Sukuna recoiled at your words, his disbelief warring with the anguish that threatened to consume him whole. "You blame yourself for his actions? Their actions? For the words he spoke, the pain he inflicted?" His voice cracked with emotion, his heartache laid bare for all to see. “You, you’re smart. You ought not to be stupid about this.”

Your gaze faltered, your resolve crumbling like fragile glass beneath the weight of Sukuna's accusation. "He... he talked about me?" Your voice was barely a whisper, your heart breaking anew at the realization of Koku's cruelty. You shook your head, defeated. “It does not matter…..he…he would be my lord husband.”

Sukuna's anger flared anew, his fists trembling with suppressed rage. "He belittled you, You. He wanted to hurt you, to break you. And you... you would willingly subject yourself to that misery?" His voice was laced with desperation, a plea for you to see reason amidst the chaos of your unraveling world.

But you shook your head, your tears flowing freely now, a torrent of anguish and regret. "It doesn't matter, Sukuna," you sobbed, your voice raw with emotion. "I must carry this burden, this guilt, this shame. For what he did, for what I failed to prevent."

A haunting flashback washed over you, the memory of your brother's death looming large in your mind's eye. You remembered the terror in his eyes, the desperation of his final moments as he faced off against those who sought to claim you. The weight of that guilt pressed down upon you, crushing you beneath its unbearable burden. But the aftermath, it was all coming back to you now. It was all coming back to you. A sinner can never forget. You must only atone.

The water around you began to swirl with a newfound energy, currents twisting and turning in a vortex that seemed to center on your very being. Suddenly, a surge of power flooded through you, intense and overwhelming. It felt as if the very essence of the river—the unyielding force of its currents, the depth of its secrets—was merging with your own spirit.

Your eyes, previously a soft tender shade, ignited with a vibrant purple hue, shining through the murky waters like twin beacons. This transformation marked the awakening of your cursed technique, a manifestation of your desire for vengeance infused with the river's ancient power. A god bestowed you favor and one that could never be escaped. Ryomen You felt the energy coursing through her veins, her head filling with burning sensations. Of the truth of the world, the anger of the world, the horror of the gods — Ryomen You was no longer just a child. You was a god’s warrior. A servant chained to the strings of a god’s whim.

As the power settled within you, the waters around you seemed to calm, and you found yourself gently deposited on the riverbank, gasping for air but alive. You lay there for a moment, drenched and exhausted, yet invigorated by a newfound strength. Your heart pounded with the pulsing reality of the power that now resided within you.

You stood, your clothes clinging to your skin, your every movement imbued with a sense of purpose. You looked at your hands, your gaze then shifting to the river that had nearly claimed your life but had instead given you a new path. The purple of your eyes was not just a mark of the power you had gained; it was a symbol of your vow, a vivid reminder of the path you had chosen.

And you knew what would happen.

There was no kindness nor doubt in your mind.

Ryomen You walked towards the burning camp.

One look towards the dead and the killers was enough.

You could feel the blood pouring down from your wrists.

“You will pay.” You whispered, turning to who noticed her.

“Who are you?” 

“Your death.” Your purple eyes narrowed as you looked at her wrist, and raised it onto the air. You watched as it poured to the ground. You smiled at the murderer. “Heaven’s Bloom.”

You stood with an air of eerie calmness as the intricate spirit array spun around you, a mesmerizing dance of white and red light casting long, twisting shadows across the ground. The ambient glow pulsed with the rhythm of your heartbeat, each surge of light drawing forth the energy from the droplets of your own blood that had fallen in the formation of the array. Your purple eyes, alight with a fierce, unyielding resolve, followed the movements of the murderer who stumbled backward, his eyes wide with dawning terror.

The array's light coalesced into forms. It was the most grotesque thing you had ever seen. You watched as these snarling creatures wrought from the energy you commanded. Little by little, they grew angrier, they grew bitter. They grew ugly. Yet, they were manifestations of your will, each one a grotesque caricature of vengeance, one you felt in your heart. You could feel their forms shimmering with the same eerie luminescence of the array. They were your children, your blood. Your little monsters. 

Yet they were born out of the heavens, the gods and their wills. They were holy beasts. The ugliest, most horrific of them all. None could deny how terrifying they are. How brutally cruel they are. Not even your newfound victim. Not even you yourself. The air was filled with the sound of their screeches, blood pouring out of their mouths like a languid fountain. It was a brutal cacophony that seemed almost triumphant as they sensed the fear emanating from their prey.

Your smile deepened, your expression one of dark satisfaction as you watched the murderer's feeble attempts to retreat. You think that if she laughed, that man would piss himself. There were more of him around, that she was certain. But he would be the first. You think that he was already too afraid that he would shat himself. His back hit against the cold, unyielding surface of the carriage — there was no further space to flee, no escape from the retribution he had brought upon himself.

With a voice as cold as the freezing night, You uttered a single command that sealed the fates of the murderer and his comrades. "Eat."

At your word, the creatures lunged forward with the most brutal force anyone had ever seen. Their movements were a blur, a violent cascade of light and shadow that pounced on the murderer and his group.  One after another, the spraying of blood was all too much. Your kimono danced against blood and water. Blood was indeed thicker than water. But as they sprayed against you one after another, You did not mind it. You just watched, you just stood still and listened. 

Screams pierced the night air, a terrible symphony of agony that played out under the uncaring gaze of the moon above. The creatures tore at the men with spectral claws and teeth, each attack brutal, relentless — not just physical assaults, but invasions of the very soul, rending spirit as well as flesh.

The chaos was brief, yet it stretched out like a lifetime of pain for those on the receiving end. You lived in that moment like it was forever. When the dead were claimed by the earth with the soiled thickness of blood, the creatures finally receded. You watched as they were drawn back into the fading light of the spirit array. You could not recognize the fools. There was nothing that remained of the murderers. But the young lady lived in the infinity of their echo of their echoing screams and the disjointed shadows of discarded flesh and bone that danced fitfully on the blood-stained ground.

Your heart beat steadily, a stark contrast to the violence that had just unfolded. You turned away from the carnage, your steps measured and purposeful. There was no joy in your actions any longer. Not even if you felt satisfied. There is only vain sorrow. Grief. Nothing was left, only the grim satisfaction of justice served — not through the law, but by the ancient, arcane arts that you had mastered and wielded with lethal precision.

As the night reclaimed its silence, Ryomen You felt exhausted. You felt drained. There was nothing left. Nothing of your past left. That night, it all burnt to ashes. And you too, disappeared into the darkness. Ryomen You became a sinner that night, a murderer even. But you did not care. It would never bring your brother back. You did not care.

"Leave me, Sukuna," you whispered, your voice barely audible amidst the chaos of your shattered world. Your fingers grip tightly to your lilac silks. "Leave me be, at least for now. Please.”

And as Sukuna stood before you, his heart heavy with the weight of your shared pain, he knew that your journey was far from over, and that the road ahead would be fraught with obstacles neither of you could yet foresee. But amidst the ashes of your shattered dreams, a glimmer of hope remained—a beacon of light that illuminated the darkness, guiding you ever onward towards an uncertain future.

Tears poured out from Ryomen You’s eyes.

The pain in your head echoed over and over again.

‘Don’t waste tears over decisions you made like this..’

You bit your lower lip as you could feel the voice of god.

‘Stand by your choices, stop being a foolish little one.’

HE HAD NO WAY TO SOOTHE HIS HEART ACHE. In the secluded sanctuary of the koi ponds, Sukuna sought respite from the tempestuous storm of emotions that churned relentlessly within him. Surrounded by the gentle rustle of leaves and the melodious trickle of water, he found himself drawn to the serene tranquility of his surroundings, each ripple upon the surface of the pond a reflection of the chaos raging within his own soul.

With each step you took along the worn stone pathway, Sukuna felt the weight of his grief pressing down upon him like an unbearable burden. The air hung heavy with the weight of unspoken words and fractured bonds, the silence broken only by the soft echo of your footsteps against the cool, smooth surface beneath him.

As you wandered aimlessly amidst the verdant foliage and graceful arc of the wooden bridges, Sukuna sought solace in the timeless beauty of nature, a silent witness to the tumultuous symphony of your innermost thoughts and emotions. Each breath you took seemed to draw you deeper into the heart of your turmoil, the tranquil facade of the koi ponds offering little sanctuary from the tempest that raged within.

Yet, amidst the chaos of your own making, Sukuna found a strange sense of peace in the rhythmic dance of the koi beneath the surface, their graceful movements a silent reminder of the ebb and flow of life itself. With each passing moment, he felt himself drawn ever closer to the heart of his own grief, the gentle embrace of the water offering solace where words could not.

Lonesomeness among the tranquil serenity of the koi ponds, Sukuna stood on the precipice of his own despair, his heart laid bare beneath the watchful gaze of the silent sentinels that danced upon the surface of the water. And though the path ahead remained shrouded in uncertainty, he knew that in the depths of his solitude, he would find the strength to weather the storm that raged within, and emerge anew, forged in the fires of his own turmoil.

The tranquil ambiance of the koi ponds was disrupted by the fading echoes of departing footsteps, leaving behind an unsettling stillness that seemed to swallow Sukuna whole. As the last remnants of the departing clans vanished into the distance, the weight of Sukuna's isolation settled heavily upon his shoulders, a tangible reminder of the chasm that had formed between him and You.

Lost in the labyrinth of his own thoughts, Sukuna was startled by the arrival of his adoptive father, Hiramu, whose presence cut through the suffocating silence like a beacon of light amidst the darkness. Wordlessly, the elder Ryomen settled beside him, his silent companionship a balm to Sukuna's wounded soul.

For a long while, they sat in contemplative silence, the weight of unspoken words hanging heavy in the air. It was Hiramu who broke the silence first, his voice gentle yet firm as he sought to bridge the gap between them.

"Sukuna," he began gently, "I understand your pain. But you must also understand that You has a duty to uphold. As our lord, Isamu's choice for peace outweighs all else."

Sukuna's fists clenched at his sides, his anger and bitterness threatening to consume him whole. But despite his inner turmoil, he refused to meet his father's gaze, the tumult of emotions roiling within him rendering him speechless.

"What should I do then?" Sukuna's voice was barely above a whisper, a desperate plea for guidance in a world devoid of certainty.

Hiramu's words reverberated in Sukuna's mind like a relentless echo, each syllable a painful reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty and loyalty. As he wrestled with the weight of his father's expectations, a sense of unease gnawed at the edges of his consciousness, threatening to unravel the fragile threads of his resolve.

"If you truly love You," Hiramu's voice echoed in Sukuna's ears, the gentle cadence of his words belying the weight of their implications. "Then you must serve her above all else."

The ache in Sukuna's chest deepened at his father's admonition, a bittersweet reminder of the love he harbored for You, a love tinged with equal parts longing and despair. For as much as he yearned to be by her side, to support her in her time of need, Sukuna couldn't shake the gnawing fear that his presence would only serve to deepen the chasm that had formed between them.

"You is alone in her burden," Hiramu continued, his voice a solemn decree that echoed in the silence of Sukuna's soul. "And it falls upon you to fill that void."

The weight of those words settled upon Sukuna like a suffocating shroud, the burden of responsibility pressing down upon him with unrelenting force. How could he, a mere mortal burdened with his own flaws and insecurities, hope to shoulder the weight of You's burdens? And yet, the thought of abandoning her to face her trials alone filled him with a sense of profound despair.

"One day," Hiramu's voice carried a note of quiet conviction, a promise of redemption amidst the chaos of Sukuna's fractured world. "You will be her right hand man, her staunchest ally."

But Sukuna couldn't help but wonder if that day would ever come—if he would ever be worthy of standing by You's side as her equal, her confidant, her friend. The thought of a future filled with uncertainty and doubt sent a shiver down his spine, a chill that seeped into the very marrow of his bones.

"But you must put her needs before your own," Hiramu's words cut through the fog of Sukuna's despair like a sharpened blade, a stark reminder of the sacrifices demanded by duty and obligation. "For the sake of our duty, our legacy."

With a heavy heart and a weary soul, Sukuna bowed his head in silent acquiescence, his resolve wavering beneath the weight of his father's expectations. For as much as he longed to defy fate and carve his own path forward, Sukuna knew that his duty to You, to their clan, to their legacy, was a burden he could never hope to escape. And so, with a heavy heart and a weary soul, Sukuna surrendered himself to the relentless tide of destiny, resigned to the anguished whispers of his own fractured heart.

Sukuna found himself engulfed in a sea of contemplation, each word uttered by his father echoing in the recesses of his mind like a resounding bell telling the truth. With each passing moment, a sense of clarity washed over him like a cleansing tide, stripping away the layers of doubt and uncertainty that had clouded his judgment.

As Sukuna grappled with the weight of his father's wisdom, a profound realization dawned upon him like a ray of sunlight piercing through the darkness. Hiramu was right—if he dared to admit it to himself.

Blood may indeed be thicker than water, but the bonds forged by duty and loyalty transcended the confines of mere familial ties. In the quiet solitude of his contemplation, Sukuna came to understand that belonging was not always about blood relations, but rather about the connections forged through shared experiences and unwavering loyalty.

With a heavy heart, Sukuna acknowledged that he had never truly known what it meant to belong before. Raised within the confines of the Ryomen clan, he had always felt like an outsider looking in, yearning for acceptance and validation amidst the sea of unfamiliar faces. But now, in the wake of his father's guidance, Sukuna realized that being a Ryomen was not just a matter of lineage—it was a testament to the strength of their bond, forged in the crucible of duty and obligation.

"You were all I have," Sukuna mused quietly to himself, the weight of his realization settling upon him like a comforting embrace. Despite the lingering sense of loneliness that had haunted him for so long, Sukuna knew that he was never truly alone. The Ryomen clan was his family, his home, his anchor amidst the tumultuous sea of uncertainty. 

“You’re all I will ever have.” He now says out loud.

Ryomen Sukuna looked away from his father and sighed.

He didn’t know what to do, nor did he know where to go.

But he can’t see you and he’s certain, you don’t want to see him.

It would break your hearts more than ever, to seek each other out.

There was warmth in the water, the water was fine as he sought it.

Ryomen Sukuna wonders if he too will be able to feel fine once more.

fun facts about this chapter

this is the longest chapter i wrote and the longest one i took breaks in between for. its about 48 pages in my docu file and it took a week or so because of my school life. i really like it, though.

fujiwara akiko, really didn't love her children. she hates being married to hiramu. she paid more attention to akimu because his status as heir and how that gives her more power and influence. she looks down on hiromi and blames hiromi for akimu's death.

hiromi was found alone in the woods near the fujiwara's summer manor a few days after what happened. gojo suzaku was the one who found hiromi. it was noted that hiromi was the lone survivor.

hiromi's curse technique is called 'siphon of heaven'. her curse technique by nature is sacrificial, she has to offer up something to use it. hiromi's blood is often used. a god has four aspects of control - life, death, nature and the cosmic heavens. 'heaven's bloom' is a nature in between of life and death.

hiromi does not curse technique often. it takes more cursed energy than what is stored up. though hiromi has honed the techniques throughout the years, it is incomplete. with this purpose, hiromi focuses on using other forms of jujutsu including cursed weapons and aids.

prior having 'siphon of heaven', hiromi did have a developing cursed technique but it never manifested as it was overrided by the pact hiromi and the god made. from hiromi and onwards, only three had been users of the technique. hiromi, another clan leader and genmei, who is hiromi's descendant.

sukuna has yet to completely perfect and refine much of his techniques and he is obssessive over the need to be able to do it. hiromi doesn't think its healthy for him to push himself, but sukuna thinks that the only way he'll improve is if he devotes his time to it.

hiramu and sukuna's relationship as father and son isn't the most typical, but its warm enough that they call each other father and son. hiramu has pride over giving sukuna his name.

fujiwara koku is the same age as hiromi's older brother. he is the heir of the fujiwara, but he's mostly disliked by the rest of the clan. however, they are obliged to follow him by their loyalty to the fujiwara. his fire cursed technique is 'fire matter'.