#i just feel disappointed in myself but also mistakes happen

[adore-gregor]

So

[pucksandpower]

Breaking Point

Charles Leclerc x Ferrari!Reader

Summary: Charles Leclerc finally reaches his breaking point after the disaster that was the United States Grand Prix. Something needs to change … and that’s where you come in

“Again, again!” Charles’ voice rings out, echoing through the debrief room, “How can we mess this up? I was on pole!”

Fred Vasseur looks down, sighing, but trying to maintain composure. “Charles, it was a miscalculation—”

“A miscalculation?” Charles retorts, eyes blazing, “This has been a trend all season, Fred. It’s not a one-time mistake. It’s systemic.”

Carlos, looking uncomfortable, tries to chime in, “It wasn’t just about strategy, you know the car—”

“Oh, I know the car,” Charles snaps, “And it was built against my driving preference. But it’s not just that. It’s everything. The poor race strategy, the unnecessary swap, and now being disqualified as if my day has not been bad enough!”

Enrico Cardile, the team’s technical director, steps forward, “Disqualification was not anticipated. We followed the regulations to the best—”

“Enough with the excuses!” Charles’ voice cracks with emotion. The weight of the season, the betrayal he feels, finally makes him see red. “Every time there’s an excuse. We’re a team and yet somehow it feels like I’m constantly battling not just our opponents but Ferrari as well.”

A deep silence settles.

The head strategist, Ravin Jain, finally speaks up hesitantly, “We thought the one-stop made sense. The data suggested—”

“Data,” Charles interrupts bitterly, “The same data that led to a decision that every other team on the grid laughed at! Did the data also suggest swapping me with Carlos? Or was I being punished for being able to manage my tires?”

Carlos, despite himself, looks hurt. “I didn’t ask for the swap,” he mutters.

Charles takes a breath, looking at his teammate, “I know. It’s not your fault, hermano. But I need to trust the team’s decisions. And right now, I don’t.”

Sporting Director Diego Ioverno tries to mediate, “It’s been a tough season, Charles. Everyone is understandably stressed. Let’s sit down, review everything together, and find a way forward.”

Charles shakes his head, “That’s what we said last time. And the time before that. And the twenty times before that! Empty promises, meetings, discussions, and then what? Nothing gets done and there is another disaster waiting to happen.”

Fred tries one more time, “We’re as frustrated as you are. We’re a family. We’ll figure this out.”

Charles scoffs, “I can’t keep being let down and used. Not like this.”

The room falls silent once more, a heavy cloud of disappointment and tension hanging in the air.

Carlos reaches out, placing a hand on Charles’ shoulder, “Things will get better.”

Charles meets Carlos’ gaze, nodding slightly. But the fire in his eyes has not dimmed, “I need to believe in this team again. But right now ...” He pauses, “I have a call to make.”

He turns, leaving the room filled with introspective silence. The team is left behind, grappling with their own emotions, knowing that actions will always speak louder than words.

***

Charles steps out into the warm evening air, taking a moment to compose himself before dialing a number he knows by heart but hasn’t touched in months.

“Hey,” Charles’ voice is a low rasp, every ounce of weariness evident.

Then a pause, as he listens to the voice on the other end.

“Yeah, it’s me ... look, I know what I said earlier this season. About handling it myself.” He takes a deep breath, letting the weight of it all settle.

A longer pause, broken by Charles’ intermittent nods and “Uh-huhs.”

“Every race feels like it’s been one disaster after another. And it’s not just the car, it’s everything. I can’t ... I can’t keep doing this to myself.”

He listens closely.

“I told them today, laid it all out. But it’s like talking to a brick wall. They listen, they nod, and then? The same mistakes. Over and over.”

He shifts his weight, the sound of his shoes scraping on the gravel echoing softly.

“I know, I know I told you not to get involved ... but maybe ... maybe that was a mistake.” He sounds defeated, a man at the end of his rope. “I need help. Real help. Maybe it’s time you step in.”

Charles is silent, absorbing whatever the person on the other end is saying.

“No, it’s not about leaving the team,” Charles’ voice is earnest, desperate even. “It’s about respect. Trust. It’s about feeling like I’m not constantly fighting against the tide, not just against other teams but within my own garage.”

A long pause.

“What I mean is, maybe some changes within the team would be good. Fresh perspectives. New faces, perhaps. Somewhere I can trust the decisions, the strategy ...”

He sighs.

“I just want to race, you know? Without all this drama. Without constantly wondering if I’m being set up to fail no matter what I do.”

Another pause as he listens, nodding, lost in the gravity of the decision he’s about to make.

“Thank you. Really. Let’s talk tomorrow? Lay out all our options?”

There’s a moment of quiet, only the sound of his breathing, the distant hum of the circuit, the world slowly dimming around him.

“Thanks. Goodnight, Y/N.”

***

“Emilia,” you call out, and before a moment passes, your ever-efficient personal assistant is by your side.

“Yes, Y/N?” Emilia asks, perfectly poised.

“I need the jet prepared. We’re heading to Mexico City,” you say, voice steady and determined though inside, the turmoil from the phone call with Charles still lingers.

Emilia raises an eyebrow slightly, a silent question in her eyes. “Any particular reason?”

You sigh, looking away for a moment, reflecting on the weight of the legacy you carry. “Scuderia Ferrari needs my direct attention. I trusted them to handle things, but ... it’s clear that has not been happening.”

Her eyes flash with understanding. “Of course. I’ll have the jet ready. When do you wish to depart?”

“Tomorrow morning, early.”

She’s already typing into her tablet. “I’ll book you the Presidential Suite at the Four Seasons. Will you be needing a meeting space there?”

“Absolutely,” you nod. “On Wednesday, before the Grand Prix. Organize for all team personnel to meet in the hotel conference room. And Emilia ... they are not to know the reason for the meeting or that I’m the one calling it.”

Her eyes gleam with a hint of mischief, “Mystery and surprise. I love it. Consider it done.”

A small, wry smile tugs at your lips. “Thank you. And can you make sure Charles knows about my arrival? But ask him to keep it quiet.”

“Of course. Anything else?”

You pause, taking a moment to consider. “Just one more thing. Make sure we have everything we need to review the team’s decisions and strategies for this season. Every little detail.”

Emilia nods. “Absolutely. Everything will be arranged as per your instructions.”

You take a deep breath, “Thanks, Emilia. This … it’s about preserving a legacy, and right now, that legacy is on shaky ground.”

She places a reassuring hand on your shoulder, “If anyone can steer this ship right, it’s you.”

***

The door to the conference room opens with a low creak, and the room immediately falls silent. Everyone turns to see you entering, your presence commanding every ounce of attention.

“Good afternoon,” you begin with ice-cold authority. “Thank you all for meeting on such short notice.”

There are murmurs of acknowledgment but no one dares speak up.

“I’ve reviewed our performance this season,” you continue, pacing the length of the conference room, letting each word sink in. “And to say I’m disappointed would be an understatement.”

Fred shifts uncomfortably in his seat, eyes darting around the room. You lock eyes with him, “Fred, you promised change. But the only change I’ve seen is our team’s steep decline.”

“I understand your frustration,” Fred stammers, “We’ve faced challenges—”

You cut him off sharply, “Challenges? Every team faces challenges. What matters is how you overcome them.”

Several team members look down, uncomfortably shuffling papers and avoiding eye contact.

You turn to the strategists, “Your decisions have cost us dearly, time and time again. Your inability to read a race situation, to adapt, to strategize effectively ... it’s quite frankly appalling.”

One of the strategists, a middle-aged man named Roberto, speaks up defensively, “We did our best with the information we had.”

Your eyes narrow, “Your best? Tell that to Charles, who has been left out in the cold race after race.”

Moving on, you address the engineers and designers, “Our car has issues that should have been rectified at the beginning of the season. Yet here we are, still struggling.”

An aerodynamicist named Lucia, clearly agitated, stands up. “We’ve been working tirelessly, trying to find solutions.”

You level her with a gaze, “Then maybe it’s time we look for people who can find those solutions more efficiently.”

Lucia’s face reddens, “You can’t just—”

“Actually I can,” you interrupt, “And I will.”

Your attention turns to Xavi, Charles’ race engineer, who has been noticeably silent. “Xavi, your dynamic with Charles has not been the slightest bit helpful. His feedback, his needs ... they’ve fallen on deaf ears.”

Xavi, trying to defend himself, says, “It’s a two-way street. Charles can be difficult.”

You shake your head, “Charles is a world-class driver. It’s your job to bridge any gaps, not widen them. I checked and it turns out that constantly repeating we are checking like a broken record is not beneficial for race performance!”

Taking a deep breath, you make your announcement, “Effective immediately, Roberto, Lucia, and several other strategists, engineers, and aerodynamicists that a personal audit revealed as detrimental to team performance relieved of their duties. Xavi, you too are let go.”

There are gasps around the room, the weight of your words sinking in. Roberto stands, fuming in anger, “You can’t just dismantle this team!”

You lock eyes with him, “I’m not dismantling. I’m rebuilding. And if that means letting go of every one of you who can’t uphold the standards of Scuderia Ferrari then so be it.”

Fred finally speaks up, “And what about me?”

You lean in, “Consider your position on very thin ice. I expect results. And fast.”

You straighten up, the room thick with tension, “Scuderia Ferrari is not just a team, it’s a legacy. My great-grandfather would be rolling in his grave to see what has been done to his beloved team. I will not stand by and watch it crumble.”

With a final, piercing gaze around the room, you pivot on your heel and exit with a flick of your hair.

***

You lean against the cool wall, taking a moment to gather yourself after the emotional intensity of the meeting. The hallway is quiet save for the distant hum of voices but soon familiar footsteps make their way around the corner.

“Charles,” you call out softly as spot the driver.

His green eyes, clouded with a mix of emotions, meet yours. “Y/N.”

“Are you okay?”

He hesitates, “I wasn’t expecting all of that.”

You nod, “It was long overdue. I should have intervened much sooner.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, clearly trying to process everything. “It’s ... a lot. I didn’t think you would actually step in like this.”

You sigh, “I hoped I wouldn’t have to. But my bisnonno once said that aerodynamics are for people who can’t build engines, and right now, it sure seems like Ferrari can’t do either.”

Charles chuckles dryly, “You have a point. It’s been ... frustrating.”

You gently touch his arm, trying to reassure him, “Enzo also believed that dreams become bigger, much bigger, to build a car that doesn’t slow in the curves, that flies without leaving the ground. I want that dream for you. For us.”

He looks at you, “It’s all I’ve ever wanted. A car that allows me to race to my full potential.”

You nod, thinking of the iconic red car and its tremendous legacy, “I know. And we’ll get there. Remember, racing cars are neither beautiful nor ugly. They become beautiful when they win.”

A smile tugs at Charles’ lips, “I haven’t won in too long. I almost forget what it feels like.”

You step closer, “That is going to change. I’m here for the long haul. To rebuild, restructure, and reclaim the Ferrari legacy. Glory will be dressed in red once more.”

He nods and swallows thickly. “Thank you, Y/N. It means more than you know.”

You smile softly, “We’re a team. And I promise to do whatever it takes to see us on top again.”

***

Early that Friday at Autódromo Hermanos Rodríguez, you gather the team in the garage.

“Good morning, everyone,” you begin. “I know it has been a whirlwind these past few days but I want to set the tone for this weekend.”

Fred, still adjusting to the new dynamic, nods silently from the back.

“We haven’t had the time to implement any physical changes to the car,” you continue, “But they are coming. For now, the difference will be about being smart … being strategic.”

Charles listens intently, his gaze occasionally drifting to the newcomers in front of him.

Speaking of the new additions, you gesture to the two people standing on either side of you, “I’ve brought on Marit Nilsen as our Principal Strategy Engineer and Claudio Segreti as Charles’ new race engineer. Not only are they exceptional engineers but also global chess masters.”

There are murmurs of surprise and interest among the crew. The world of Formula 1 and professional chess has rarely, if ever, intersected.

Marit, a tall woman with striking blonde hair, steps forward, “Chess is all about strategy, foreseeing the opponent’s moves and countering them. That’s what we’re here to do but on the track.”

Claudio, with his dark hair and deep-set eyes, adds, “Every move and decision we make will be precise. We’ll anticipate, adapt, and overcome.”

Carlos clears his throat, “So what’s the plan for free practice?”

You smile, “Today, we observe. We learn. We see where the car stands, where our strengths and weaknesses lie.”

As free practice commences, there’s a different energy in the garage. Marit, with her sharp analytical mind, quickly picks up on patterns, working closely with Claudio and Carlos’ engineer to ensure both drivers get feedback they need.

There’s a visible shift throughout the weekend. The team, rejuvenated by fresh perspectives, operates with a renewed vigor. And while the car may not have upgrades yet, new strategy quickly begins to make a difference like anticipated.

Qualifying sees Charles securing P3, an unexpected but welcome result. The garage is full of cautious hope but Marit and Claudio remain focused, already planning for the race to come.

Race day dawns and the tension is thick. You pull Charles aside, “Remember, things have changed. Believe in the strategy and the moves we make.”

He nods, “I trust them. And I trust you.”

As the lights go out and the cars roar to life, Charles delivers a performance that’s both calculated and aggressive. Every pit stop and every overtake is orchestrated like a chess match.

The race sees Charles finishing in P2 and Carlos in P4, a significant improvement from recent races.

The garage is a mix of tentative elation and relief.

Marit thoroughly reviews the race data, “This is just the beginning. Once the car upgrades are in place, the board will be ours.”

The sun sets on the Mexico City Grand Prix, but for Scuderia Ferrari, a new dawn is on the horizon.

***

“Fabiano Turati,” you muse, looking at the impressive portfolio before you. “Aerospace engineer, a key player in the development of hypercars for Agnellotti Motors, a professor at Politecnico di Milano. But never in F1?”

Fabiano, with salt and pepper hair and an air of quiet confidence, smiles slightly. “It’s not for lack of offers. I have just always believed in pushing boundaries outside of traditional paths.”

You lean back, intrigued, “So why Ferrari now?”

His eyes scan around the garage, “A challenge. An opportunity. A legacy to uphold. And, to put it simply, I think I can make a difference.”

You nod, appreciative of his candor. “We have three races left this season: Brazil, Las Vegas, and Abu Dhabi. Realistically, how much can we improve?”

You can practically see the gears in his brain turning, “In terms of complete redesign? Not much. But in terms of optimization and efficiency? Quite a bit.”

By the Brazilian Grand Prix, Fabiano’s influence is evident. While not a complete transformation, the SF-23 sports streamlined wings and a refined rear diffuser, maximizing what the current design allows.

“Initial feedback is good,” Charles reports after the practice session. “There’s a notable difference in the corners.”

Carlos chimes in, “The balance feels better.”

The improvements are evident, with both Ferraris finishing just off the podium. But Las Vegas poses a new challenge: a circuit unfamiliar to all teams and drivers.

“This is anyone’s game,” Marit says, examining the track layout.

Fabiano nods, “This weekend will be all about adaptation.”

The Las Vegas Grand Prix is an exhilarating rollercoaster. Charles fights for a podium finish, narrowly missing out but showcasing the SF-23’s newfound prowess, while Carlos secures a solid sixth.

As the season finale in Abu Dhabi looms, anticipation runs high. The Yas Marina Circuit will end the year with a test of Ferrari’s mettle.

Post-race, with both Ferraris finishing on the podium after avoiding a pile up that took out multiple opponents, there’s a sense of satisfaction but also of hunger.

“We’ve made progress,” Fabiano says as the garage winds down. “But next season, we’ll aim for a car that is not just evolved but fully revolutionized.”

You smile, “With you on board, I truly believe we can. The future is bright for Scuderia Ferrari.”

***

“Look at her,” Fabiano muses, admiration clear as the blueprint for the SF-24 is spread out before you both in your Maranello office.

“She’s a beauty,” you agree, tracing your fingers over the schematics. “If she performs half as well as she looks ...”

“She will,” Fabiano leaves no room for doubt. “We’ve streamlined the aerodynamics, enhanced the power unit, and made significant weight reductions.”

Carlos walks in with a grin on his face, “Is this the beast we’re taming next season?”

“That’s the plan.”

Charles catches your eye from where he lingers by the door. “It’s a fresh start,” he murmurs, approaching the table almost reverently. “I feel it.”

Over the following weeks, you rarely leave the factory other than to sleep and shower. You immerse yourself with the team, observing wind tunnel tests, joining strategy sessions, and even trying your hand with pit stop drills.

One evening, after a particularly long meeting, Charles finds you in the lounge, sipping an espresso. “Mind if I join you?”

You gesture to the seat across, “Of course not.”

He sits and just looks at you until you get the urge to fidget. “I’ve been thinking,” Charles begins, “About the changes, the car, and ... us.”

You raise an eyebrow, “Us?”

Charles smiles slightly, “You and I. We’ve spent so much time together these past weeks. I’ve gotten to know you, not just as Y/N Ferrari but as ... Y/N.”

You flush and not just from the hot coffee, “I feel the same. It’s been ... refreshing. Getting to know the man behind the helmet.”

He leans forward, elbows on the table, “There’s this great little place just outside Maranello. Quiet, hidden. I was thinking, maybe, dinner?”

Your heart skips a beat but you maintain your composure, “I’d really like that.”

The winter in Maranello unfolds, and as the SF-24 takes shape, so does the bond between you and Charles.

Between brainstorming sessions and late-night discussions about optimal setups, there are stolen moments: shared glances, lingering touches, and dinners that stretch long into the night talking about anything and everything.

Carlos teases, “Seems like the new car isn’t the only thing igniting sparks.”

You roll your eyes but there’s no hiding the smile tugging at your lips. You don’t try to deny it. Why bother when you hope it might be true one day?

***

r/formula1

Posted by RaceRundown · 6 hours ago

First look at the SF-24! Thoughts?

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RedFever · 6 hours ago

This could be the machine that keeps Ferrari at the top. Just look at those lines!

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PitStopPundit · 5 hours ago

Getting major 2004 vibes from this. Could be a dominant year for the Scuderia!

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***

You step into the air-conditioned motorhome, grateful for an escape from the Bahraini heat. Charles and Carlos, race suits unzipped around their waists, are animatedly discussing their first day of preseason testing with the SF-24.

“Last year, we didn’t have to sandbag because the car was, well … genuinely that slow,” Charles laughs. “But this time around ...”

Carlos grins, finishing his sentence. “This time, we have an ace up our sleeves.”

You nod, “Just remember, it’s only testing. We still have to see where we truly stand.”

The race weekend finally kicks off and the paddock is full of speculation. After a deliberately unimpressive showing during testing, no one expects Ferrari to be a front-runner.

Yet, when the lights go out, the SF-24 does not just impress …. it dominates. Charles takes P1 with Carlos not far behind in P3. And the world takes notice.

The next few races see a rejuvenated Ferrari. In Saudi Arabia, Charles and Carlos deliver a nail-biting duel with Red Bull, securing a double podium. Australia is a tougher battle, with Mercedes coming to form, but Charles clinches a respectable P4.

The Asian leg of the season has its highs and lows. In Japan, despite a torrential downpour, Charles masterfully handles the wet track to clinch the top step. On the podium, he points up at the sky and then shapes his fingers — first into a one and then a seven — a silent tribute to his late godfather and mentor.

However, China proves challenging and sees the SF-24 struggling unusually with tire degradation. But as Miami approaches, the team regroups and Charles takes a commanding win under the Florida sun.

Then comes Imola, the first of Ferrari’s home races.

As the sun shines brightly over the circuit named after your great-grandfather and grand uncle, you find yourself walking the track alongside Charles. The weight of racing on home soil evident in his eyes.

“Everything okay?” You check, sensing his nervous energy.

He looks at you and taking a deep breath. “Racing in front of the Tifosi at home always feel different. I want to make them proud.”

“No matter what happens today, they will be proud of you. The whole team will be proud of you. We’ve come so far.”

He smiles, visibly lighter. “Then let’s give them a race to remember.”

And it is nothing short of spectacular. Charles starts P2, but with determination and brilliant strategy, he overtakes Max in the final lap and secures a victory for Ferrari on home soil.

The roar of the crowd, the sea of red flags, the tears in Charles’ eyes as he stands atop the podium — you make a promise to never forget this moment.

As the sun sets on Imola, the Scuderia Ferrari team comes together, basking in their victory.

As Charles, champagne-soaked and beaming, pulls you in for a damp hug, it is clearer than ever that this season is only the beginning of a beautiful journey ahead.

***

“Norris is approaching on a flying lap. Make sure not to impede,” Claudio’s voice comes through crisp and clear over the radio during the dying moments of Q3 for the Monaco Grand Prix.

You can practically feel Charles’ concentration from where you’re seated on the Ferrari pit wall. The narrow streets of Monaco leave no room for error … Charles knows this better than most.

“Copy,” Charles responds, adjusting his position on the track just enough to give Lando the space he needs to pass while keeping his own momentum.

The clock is ticking and Charles needs a perfect lap if he wants to clinch pole position.

“Tires are feeling good. Pushing now,” Charles says, rounding the first corner with precision. The SF-24 dances around the iconic circuit, the roar of its engine echoing through the streets.

From Casino Square to the hairpin and through the tunnel, Charles’ driving is flawless. Every apex hit and every corner nailed.

“Final sector, Charles. Make it count,” Claudio encourages.

And he does. Crossing the line and jumping to the top of the timing board.

The garage cheers but there’s no time to waste. Tomorrow’s race is what truly matters.

***

Race day in Monaco is always special, but today, with Charles starting from pole, there’s an electric tension in the air.

“Lights out in ten,” Marit announces over the intercom.

Charles, already in the zone, simply nods.

And then he’s lined up on the front row.

The lights illuminate one by one. Then, in a heartbeat, they go out.

The race is on.

Charles gets a strong start, holding off challengers through the initial turns. The streets of Monaco are notoriously difficult for overtaking, so track position is everything.

“Maintain the pace. Tire management is key,” Claudio advises as the laps progress.

As the race unfolds, strategy becomes crucial.

“Plan to box in two laps,” Marit instructs through Claudio. With with Verstappen close on his tail, everything must be executed perfectly.

The pit stop is lightning-fast, the crew working in synchrony. Charles emerges just ahead of Max, who had followed him into the pits.

Throughout the race, Charles’ skill shines. He manages his tires, navigates the backmarkers, and keeps a razor-sharp focus.

The final laps approach. The team, the spectators, the entire Principality holds its breath.

The chequered flag waves and Charles crosses the finish line to takes his first home win. The elation, the pride, the sheer emotion of the moment is overwhelming.

“Monaco, Charles! You’ve won Monaco!”

Tears in his eyes, Charles responds, voice choked, “We did it! This is for Monaco. This is for Ferrari. Grazie mille. Merci beaucoup.”

The team gathers beneath the podium, celebrating their victory and the hometown here. Charles quickly sprays the two drivers beside him before aiming the bottle at the sea of red cheering in front of him and soaking his team in champagne.

He thinks back to how this weekend ended last season and let’s his elation wash away the years of dejected he faced before.

Things are different now.

***

“I’ve never seen Monaco come alive like this after a win,” you shout over the pulsating music in one of the city’s many upscale clubs.

Charles grins, leaning in closer so you can hear him. “It’s the magic of a home race victory!”

As the night turns to early morning, alcohol flows freer and the laughter grows louder.

The Ferrari team loves any reason to celebrate and they’re certainly making the most of the location.

Charles pulls you to a quieter corner of the VIP section. “Have you ever danced with a Monaco Grand Prix winner?”

You roll your eyes at the attempt at flirting but laugh as you accept his outstretched hand. “There’s a first time for everything.”

The two of you dance, losing track of time.

The world blurs around you. All that matters is the magnetic pull between you two which has been simmering for so long that it is threatening to overflow.

Charles pulls you closer, his lips brushing your ear. “There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.”

You relish in the warmth of his breath against your skin. “What’s that?”

“I’m drawn to you,” he admits, eyes searching yours. “Not just because of tonight but ... there’s something between us. I feel it. And I think you do too.”

You swallow hard. “I do.”

He hesitates before wrapping an arm around your waist, “Come with me.”

Without a word, you both exit the club, making your way to his apartment. The air between you is thick with anticipation but also vulnerability … openness.

Once inside, he gently pushes you against the wall, lips crashing onto yours. It’s passionate and intense, like a dam that has been waiting to break.

Charles pulls away slightly, “Are you sure about this?”

“I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life,” you whisper, eyes locked with his. “But ... Charles, not just for tonight. I don’t want this to be just a result of a victory high or the Monaco night air.”

He cups your face, thumb brushing your cheek. “I don’t want that either. This isn’t about the race or the party. It’s about us. I think it’s been about us for a while now.”

“Then why didn’t you say something sooner?”

He chuckles softly. “You think it’s easy, being around you every day, wanting to be close but maintaining a distance for the sake of professionalism? To spend every evening when we’re in Maranello sitting across from you at dinner and wishing that I could call it a date? But tonight,” he pauses, eyes searching yours, “Tonight felt different.”

You waste no time to draw him closer. “No more waiting then.”

***

Canada’s Circuit Gilles Villeneuve echoes with the roar of engines and the cheers of fans. Charles dominates the track, mastering the chicanes and the notorious Wall of Champions.

But the race isn’t straightforward. Mid-race, strategy suddenly changes when an unexpected rain shower soaks the track. However, the new strategy team you’ve brought in makes all the right calls and Charles takes the chequered flag.

In the Spanish sun, it’s a different story. The high-speed corners expose a slight flaw in the SF-24 which leaves Charles fighting valiantly but finishing third.

Despite the setback, you see determination in his eyes. “We’ll get them in Austria,” he promises.

True to his word, at the Red Bull Ring, he dominates. The SF-24 suits the straights and fast corners. Charles takes pole and leads every lap, building a gap that the competition can’t close. The victory feels even sweeter given the circuit’s name.

Silverstone proves challenging. There’s fierce competition, and while Charles doesn’t win, he’s involved in one of the most thrilling wheel-to-wheel battles of the season with Max Verstappen. They exchange positions multiple times, showing pure racing talent. In the end, Charles finishes a proud second after a photo finish.

The Hungarian Grand Prix tests the team. Tire strategy becomes paramount. The SF-24 shows vulnerabilities in the surprisingly sweltering conditions. Still, Charles’ impeccable driving and some cunning strategy calls earn him a place on the podium.

At the Circuit de Spa-Francorchamps, Charles shines brilliantly. He conquers Eau Rouge and Raidillon like few can, making it seem effortless. The SF-24 feels perfectly balanced and he takes another win, smiling at the Ferrari flags waving high in the crowd as the Monegasque and Italian anthems play.

Through it all, you see Charles grow not just as a driver but as a leader and beacon of hope for the team and global fanbase. He is not just driving for himself or for Ferrari, he drives for everyone who believes in him.

***

The warm Italian sun pours golden light onto the expansive villa overlooking Lake Como. The water below sparkles, mirroring the sky. For a brief moment, the hectic world of Formula 1 feels miles away.

You’re lounging under an oversized umbrella, Aperol Spritz in hand, while Charles emerges from the pool, beads of water cascading down his toned physique.

“That swim was perfect,” Charles grins as he flops down beside you.

“You were in there for ages! Trying to turn into a fish?”

He shakes his head like a wet puppy, making you squeal as you try to escape the splashes. “Just preparing for our yacht trip. Besides, I have to burn off all those pasta dinners we’ve been having or else I won’t fit in the car by the end of the month.”

“The troubles of a professional athlete,” you laugh, “I’ve been indulging and I’m not even sorry.”

That evening, the two of you share a quiet moment on the terrace. Soft jazz floats from inside and cicadas buzz rhythmically.

“Remember our first race together?” Charles starts. “It feels like a lifetime ago.”

“I never imagined we’d be here. But I am so glad that we are.”

He meets your gaze, his eyes reflecting the same heat you feel. “Me too. These moments, away from the track with you ... they’re special.”

The following week, you find yourselves on a luxurious yacht off the coast of Sardinia. Charles’ family and both of your friends are aboard. The sun decks echo with laughter, music, and the soft lapping of waves. There is never a quiet moment and you relish in the sounds of happiness.

As you stand by the railing, watching Charles and Joris race each other on jet-skis, Arthur slides up beside you. “So, how’s life with my big brother?”

You laugh, “It’s an adventure every day. But honestly, I wouldn’t change a thing. It’s wonderful. He’s wonderful.”

Arthur nods, “I’ve never seen him this happy, you know?”

You smile warmly, your gaze drifting to where Charles has somehow fallen into the water and is now splashing his friend. “He brings out the best in me, just as I hope I do for him.”

***

The gentle lapping of the Mediterranean waves seems like a distant memory as you find yourself in Zandvoort.

“Quite the change of scenery, isn’t it?” Charles chuckles, standing beside you as the sea breeze of the Dutch coast tousles his hair.

You laugh, “A bit but I’ve missed it. Nothing beats the excitement of a race weekend.”

And what a weekend it was. Charles, against all odds, comes out on top at Max Verstappen’s home race. The Dutch crowd offer begrudging respect as Charles takes the top step.

And then, Monza.

Monza is different. There’s an electricity in the air that cannot be replicated anywhere else. It’s the home race of Ferrari … the cathedral of speed.

“Do you know,” you tell Charles as you both walk through the paddock, “I used to come here with my grandfather as a child. This track ... it’s steeped in history. I’ve always loved it.”

“Winning here was like nothing else I have ever experience,” he reflects. “Let’s do it again. We’ll write our own chapter in history this weekend.”

Qualifying is a nail-biter. Charles pushes the SF-24 to its limits, dancing on the edge of control.

“How are we looking?” Charles checks in.

“You’re on provisional pole,” Claudio responds over the radio. “But push on the last sector. Max is close and getting closer.”

And push he does. Charles clinches pole with a margin that leaves no doubts about the capabilities of both the driver and the car.

Race day, the atmosphere is fever-pitched. The Tifosi, in their sea of red, wave their flags and banners, chanting Charles’ name like a prayer. As the lights go out, the battle rages. The strategy is aggressive, a one-stop that requires Charles to defend position in the latter stages of the race.

“Lap 45. Push now, we need widen this gap,” Claudio instructs.

The tires scream in protest as Charles further carves out a lead. But as the laps tick down, Verstappen and Piastri close in.

“Drive smart and hold them off. Four laps to go. You’ve got this,” Claudio urges him on.

Going wheel-to-wheel with Max through the Ascari chicane, Charles pulls ahead. The Tifosi roar, their energy and sheer will pushing him on.

“Last lap. Bring it home!”

And he does.

As Charles crosses the finish line, the crowd erupts. The track is soon packed with red as fans flood the track, surrounding the podium.

From the sea of faces, one voice stands out — yours, “You did it, Charles. Monza is yours.”

He lifts the trophy high, a tear in his eye, “We did it. This is for Ferrari … for the Tifosi … for us.”

***

The streets of Baku and the lights of Singapore both witness the magic that Charles and the SF-24 weave together. Two more wins, two more steps closer to the championship.

And then you find yourselves in Texas.

“Do you remember this time last year?” Charles asks.

“How could I forget? It was the phone call that changed everything.”

Charles laughs but there’s a weight to it, “For both of us. It was a disaster ... pole to sixth and then the disqualification. All because of...” He doesn’t finish the sentence, the mismanagement of the team a heavy shadow neither of you can forget.

“You’ve grown since then,” you point out gently, “The team has grown. Look at where we are now.”

He nods, taking a deep breath, “One year. So much has changed. From one of the worst days in my racing career to ... this.” Charles gestures around, to the revamped team, the transformed car, the very atmosphere of competence that permeates every corner of the Ferrari garage.

“I can’t believe we’re here,” he whispers, “The championship is within our grasp. Right back where it all went wrong.”

You take a moment to pull out your laptop and open a data sheet, “Here’s the breakdown. If Max gets P2 in both the sprint and the race, you need P1 in both. That’s how we seal the championship this weekend.”

Charles’ eyes scan the spreadsheet, “That’s ... a tall order.”

“But not impossible. Not for you and not for this team,” you assure him.

He chuckles again but it’s brighter now, “With you in my corner? I know anything is possible.”

***

The energy is electric when qualifying day arrives in Austin. You find Charles in his driver’s room, eyes closed in focus as he visualizes the track.

“You ready for this?”

His eyes pop open, determination burning in them. “Ready. Let’s show them what we can do.”

Qualifying unfolds in a blur of fast laps and bated breath. Charles pushes the limits, wrestling the SF-24 around the bumpy circuit.

“Time for one more lap. Give it your all here,” Claudio radioes through.

Jaw set, Charles squeezes all he can from the SF-24. Silence falls as he crosses the line … broken by cheers as his new lap time is set.

Pole position for the second season in a row.

Charles sheds his helmet and rips off his balaclava. “Yes! That’s how we start a weekend!”

The sprint shootout and race similarly see Charles launch cleanly from P1, building a gap early.

“Verstappen is matching your pace, don’t let him get within DRS range,” Claudio advises.

“Copy,” Charles responds, focused.

A late charge from Max raises tensions but Charles keeps him at bay, taking the chequered flag and the eight points.

“That’s the way to do it!” You shout as Charles enters the garage.

“Grand Slam in the sprint, now time for the main event,” he grins.

You rally the team Sunday morning. “Remember, the start is crucial. The car that lines up in P2 has led by the end of lap 1 for five years in a row. We need full focus.”

It seems like barely any time has passed before Charles takes his spot on the grid. Lights out, tires screeching, he holds the lead through the first lap madness.

“Nicely done,” Claudio praises. “Manage those tires now.”

The pit stop strategy is executed flawlessly. Charles takes his second stop, emerging ahead of a charging Verstappen.

“Ten laps remaining,” Claudio counts down.

Charles responds with measured confidence, “Let’s bring it home.”

In the closing laps, he is poetry in motion, hitting each apex and maximizing every straight. Max closes in but Charles is perfect to the millimeter.

“Charles Leclerc,” Claudio’s voice cracks with emotion, “you are the World Champion!”

Eyes wet, Charles radios in, “Yes! Yes! Yes! We did it! Thank you guys! This is unbelievable! Grazie, grazie mille, grazie a tutti! It’s been an incredible season with all of you. This is for the team, for Ferrari, for all the fans, and for everyone who has supported me. We brought it back to Maranello! I’m speechless ... grazie, thank you!”

In the garage, celebrations in full swing, you lean in with a laugh, “Don’t worry, I checked with the FIA — the plank is up to regulation this time.”

Grinning, Charles pulls you into a passionate kiss as the team hoots and hollers around you.

The World Champion smiles so bright he makes the Texan sun look dull in comparison.

You would do anything to make sure he feels like this every season. You will do anything to make sure he feels like this every season.

***

The winter sun casts a warm glow on Maranello as you walk beside Charles into the Ferrari factory. The off-season buzz of activity fills the air as the team prepares for next year’s challenges.

Charles looks at the sleek lines of the new SF-25 with anticipation. “She’s beautiful. I can’t wait to see what she can do.”

“This one’s special. She’ll be fighting for the championship again.”

“Yeah?”

“You heard me right,” you say with a smile. “I made you a promise. Last season was just the beginning.”

As Charles turns for a briefing, you spot Fred across the room. Your relationship has evolved and he now respects the authority you wield for the team’s benefit.

Approaching, you extend a hand. “I wanted to say, you’ve led the team well this past season.”

He grasps it firmly. “We share this success. Thank you for being the catalyst we needed”

You know there will still be challenges ahead. But Ferrari has been reinvigorated. Its racing spirit has been reignited.

That evening, Charles joins you on the terrace of the home you both share when in Maranello and wraps you both in a warm blanket to fight the chill. “Can you believe what a year it’s been?”

You shake your head. “It’s been a dream.”

He pulls you close. “The dream is just beginning and it’s a dream I hope we never wake up from.”

[noxtivagus]

hfddkjfaskldf

[sourbinnie]

☆ regrets & replacements ☆ (2)

♡ genre ¿? ♡ -> angst with a hopeful ending ♡ pair ¿? ♡ -> hyung line!skz x gn!reader ♡ plot ¿? ♡ -> it's not about making up, it's about owning up to your mistakes. ♡ warnings ¿? ♡ -> swearing ♡ request ¿? ♡ -> yes!

a/n -> BEFORE YOU READ ; if you're expecting an angsty ending, this is not gonna please you but if you expected everything to be happy and good in the end, this isn't for you either. i really did try to write a part where they fully make up and i couldn't do it. i don't even if it's my angsty side kicking in or if it's just instinct where i just don't find it possible for that to happen. i also didn't feel like giving in and making it sad as hell because i got requested to do something happy and i'm sorry if i disappointed that person. i literally couldn't do it:( and i'm really sad with myself about this one, i would say this is a neutral ending and i'm gonna leave it at that.

first part -> hyung line

chan ✉

waking up with no chan next to you was rare. your birthday was gone now but not your feelings and that sucked because that meant you would have to talk to chan about what happened. you didn't feel bad about not explaining it to him, you kinda hoped he already realized his mistake but even if he did it wouldn't change the course of things right now.

as you got up and walked to your living room, you saw the never ending pile of gifts. the flowers, the cake, the different things the boys got you and of course your boyfriend chan. he looked tired as hell, bags under his eyes and just overall the energy he usually had wasn't there. he looked at you and sighed when he saw the the reddish eyes from crying but he still had hope in him.

"you know getting me stuff won't make me forgive you that easily channie." you said and chan nodded as he heard your words. he wasn't doing this to earn your forgiveness, he knew he didn't deserve that in the end. but he still wanted you to have a birthday, even if the day had gone by, you deserved a celebration and he would leave if you asked him to because he just respected you that much.

"this isn't for you to forgive me even if i am so fucking sorry. this is because you deserved a good day yesterday and because your boyfriend's an idiot, he ruined that." he muttered and it was your time to nod as you listened to him. there was no easy way to forgive him really because what he did hurt you so deeply and this was beyond just forgetting.

"why did you do that chan? i mean i don't really expect you to always remember my birthday but i wasn't expecting to find out that you spend it with someone who deeply hates me." you explained and felt like you were going to cry again thinking about it. it wasn't fair to you and chan knew better than that, he didn't want to push it but he did want to fix things. losing you was not in his mind right now, he needed to make things right.

"when soohee called me yesterday i left without a comment because i truly was worried that something happened to her. it turned out she broke up with her boyfriend and whatever, begged me to stay with her and everything just went by so fucking fast. i didn't notice anything and i just-." he had to cut himself off because he knew he was rambling and he was desperate to make things okay but he was feeling so broken. thinking about you being all alone and waiting for him to come back was probably gonna haunt him and that made the tears build up in his eyes. "i know i don't deserve it (y/n) but please let me make it right."

you looked at him as you took in everything. you wanted to believe him because you knew chan and you knew how kind hearted he was when it came to his friends. you saw how he realized that soohee wasn't who he thought she was and it's hard losing a friend, you hated that this was all happening and felt absolutely betrayed but you were not heartless and chan crying always made you feel the worst way.

"channie, i don't know if i'm gonna be able to forgive you right now. but i would really like to spend the day with you because i missed you so much yesterday." you said and he could feel himself crying more but understanding. he was so scared that this was gonna be the end but he was given another chance. you got close to him and as soon as you were next to him, he wrapped his arms around you.

"i'll make it right, i promise." he mumbled through tears and you really hoped he would. drying the tears from his face with your thumb as you gave him a little kiss on the lips and he smiled again. it wasn't quite alright yet but the wound would heal eventually.

minho ✉

you knew it wasn't gonna be easy to go through the night all by yourself. of course you had your friends there but usually having minho by your side made things easier. jisung stayed by your side, disappointed in his friend and sad to witness the falling out but he was rooting for him to show up and make things right. the night was still young and he had been texting minho to come over even if you told him not to. jisung knew better though, he could read you and your eyes were always at the door.

when minho arrived at the place, he sighed deeply and prayed that he could fix this. the boys greeted him but jisung had a look on his face of "make this right" and it was scary. he wasn't the type to be afraid but if he did lose you today, that would be his biggest fear coming true and he didn't know what he would do without you.

he saw you looking as beautiful as ever out on the balcony. he had you all alone, he needed to talk and he needed to choose his words carefully before thinking of the worst.

"minho? i told you not to show up." you said but you didn't sound confident in your words. he could tell there was a mix of anger and sadness in your tone and it was all because of him, this wasn't going to be easy.

"i could not miss my partner's birthday even if i screwed up everything." he said and looked at you. you weren't even looking in his direction but he was captured by your beauty every time he glanced at you and it was beyond your outfit and how you did your hair. he got so lucky with you and knowing that this could be the last night he saw you would kill him slowly. "i can't lose you (y/n) and i know everything's beyond wrong right now but i just need you."

"i didn't feel bad that you forgot or even that you were with her of all people. but you lied to me and we've never had an instance where i felt like things were beyond repair but right now i just don't know what to say minho." you said and you didn't want to cry right now but it was all too much. he felt like crying himself as he saw those spill from your eyes because like you said, there wasn't a situation that you lived before where you guys wouldn't make up and he felt you slipping away from him.

"don't say that, i don't deserve you and i should've remembered in the first place. i choose someone who doesn't understand that i met the love of my life already and that i'm not gonna give up on them. i won't put you second ever again (y/n) and i know you probably won't believe me right now but i truly do mean it." he said confidently and you looked at him, meeting his honest eyes. "i lied i know and i thought i was making things better by keeping soohee away from everyone. i cut her off and i know i should've done it sooner."

you took his hand in yours as you looked down. he knew you did this when you were nervous, when you needed to hold or do something to distract you so he just let you. 

"i can't forgive you even if i want to because all i wanted was for you to show up and explain yourself." you said and it warmed his heart. even if he let you down, you always believed in him and will always wait for him. "minho i love you, would you give me time?"

"all the time you need, i'll be here waiting for you as long as it takes." he responded and even if it hurt that things went so wrong, there was a glimpse of hope in the end. "i love you more (y/n)." he then said and you kissed his cheek as you headed inside. 

changbin ✉

waking up to someone yelling over the phone wasn't really what you had in mind. you went to the living room where all the noise was coming from and you saw changbin looking as tired as he could be. you really didn't expect for him to stay in your apartment and for him to be mad was rare. 

"changbin what's going on?" you asked genuinely concerned because even if all the events from yesterday were on your mind, you cared too much about him to not be there if he needed you. on the other hand, changbin couldn't take that you still were looking at him with caring eyes, he deserved to be yelled at and deserved to be kicked out.

"i'm cutting someone out of my life and they didn't make it easy. as soon as they started insulting you, i had to say some things that were not quite nice but i don't regret it." he responded and you could imagine who he was talking about. it still surprised you that he did that because even if you hated her, you knew that changbin in the end cared about her but from how angry he was you could see there was no going back.

"you didn't have to do that changbin." you muttered and he was so sad to hear that, not because of soohee and cutting off their "friendship" but because you genuinely thought he shouldn't have defended you. "i mean it's not like you didn't go there yesterday and spent all day with her when she needed you."

"stop that right now. first of all, i know what i did and i'm always gonna be fucking sorry about not being here with you, celebrating your day and choosing someone who clearly wanted this to happen all along." changbin said and you were glad he was now finally realizing but you also felt like it was too late. "but i'm not gonna hear you say that you don't want me to defend you because i'm always gonna be choosing you even if you want me to go right now, you will always be the one for me. i'm genuinely serious (y/n), i don't want soohee and i'm never gonna want her because i am in love with you."

"and i'm always gonna be in love with you but it doesn't change the fact that you hurt me." you said and he nodded now getting what you meant and how you felt. there might no be going back from this one and he just wanted to disappear right then and there. 

"tell me what i can do to fix this. i'll do anything you want me to because i swear i can't live without you." he begged basically and you could hear his voice getting higher pitched. it wasn't common for him to cry and if you saw him cry, you would end up crying as well.

"binnie i don't know. this is not the end and i don't want you to leave, can we pretend for a while that yesterday didn't happen?" you said and he looks at you. his eyes filled with tears but he still finds the strength to hold on to you and give you a hug. you felt like you needed to be in his arms, maybe even more so yesterday than today but right now is all you have and your birthday is long gone.

"i will make it up to you, i swear i will." he whispered as he kissed your forehead. you let the tears go, staining his shirt but he didn't care as long as he had you in his arms where you belonged. 

hyunjin ✉

to your dismay and your surprise at the same time, he was knocking at your door an hour later. you knew it was him, he had been spamming your phone ever since you left the building but you couldn't even respond from how disappointed you were. even now you were doubting if you should open the door or leave him knocking all night but you couldn't do that without a neighbor complaining so you decided to head to the entrance and open the door.

"i told you not to come. go back to soohee or whatever you had in mind for today." you said and you wanted to close the door again but he stopped you before you could do it. you looked as he walked into your apartment and took in his appearance. he looked like he almost ripped his hair out and like he had been crying, so pretty much like you did right now.

"i don't even know where to start." he said pacing back and forth and as much as you wanted to hate him, you grabbed his hand and sat down with him before he kept spinning around your apartment. that action alone was enough to calm him down but the glare you were giving him was making him doubt himself all over again. "the only thing i have in mind right now is the fact that i don't want to lose you because i was so fucking stupid."

"you were and i truly don't know how you're gonna get out of this one jinnie. this is beyond it being my birthday just why? why didn't you pick up? why did you show up with her? why didn't you defend me? i feel so stupid." you expressed and the tears were rolling again but so were hyunjin's because he could not stand seeing you cry. you didn't have to feel stupid, he was the stupid one and the one that messed everything up on a special day.

"i didn't pick up because she kept telling me that it was an unknown number calling and hanged it up for me. i showed up with her because she told me she would help me pick up your present at the end of practice and i didn't defend you because i truly wasn't expecting her to say that. i thought she was my friend and i thought she cared about me but i had to kick her out as soon as i saw it all go down." he said in between tears and rambles. you didn't want him to justify himself or his actions but it was nice hearing his side even if you were still very much hurt by everything that happened. 

"hyunjin i always told you how i don't want to interfere in your friendships but she has always hated me and you put her first." you said and he nodded, he was already accepting defeat because he truly did fuck it up this time. you pushed the tears away because you didn't feel like crying anymore and yet they wouldn't stop. 

"i'll leave, you don't deserve to spend the rest of your birthday with someone who did you wrong." he said and even in all this pain, it still hurt when hyunjin didn't fight it anymore. there was a point in all the fights that you've had where he gave up because he could not take in your anger or your sadness, he just wanted to see you smile again. right now he felt like he was holding back what could be a good day for you because it was still your birthday after all and he didn't want to ruin it anymore.

"hyunjin, stay. i can't say that i'm past it yet but i just wanna be with you right now even after all that happened, i just don't see myself going out celebrating if it's not with you by my side." you said, giving him a little smile through all the tears. he got closer to you as he placed a kiss on your lips which you responded to, the most hurtful one you shared yet.

"i'll stay for as long as you want me to and i'll leave if you need me to." he whispered and you nodded because everything was hurting but his words would always find a way to your heart. his hand on your cheek as he caressed it slowly and you met for another kiss.

[papaya-twinks]

It's me again (the anon who asked for the Short fic of Lando) 🤠🤠🤠

I'll identify myself as Lia (I don't post openly because I'm embarrassed, but I already consider us great friends ❤️ haha)

About a sequel to this story, I can only say "YES PLEASE" (I would ask anyway 😂)

I was thinking that for the reader's first victory, Lando would be amazed by her beauty on the podium, after taking a champagne bath, her golden glow after the victory etc. And that will make him crazy and very horny for the reader. However, our reader is keen to play with Lando. she will "run away" from him all day claiming to have meetings with the team after the race and at night, despite them being together at the same party, she makes a point of not talking to him and always being involved in a group with more than one person so he can't talk dirty to her or something.

This makes Lando even more thirsty for her but they only manage to have a moment alone in the elevator, returning to the hotel room. Lando wants to punish (not with violence) her and please her at the same time for being so stubborn during the day and so beautiful and seductive, so he gives the reader multiple orgasms with his fingers and mouth. The reader even thinks that she won't be able to get to the part where he uses his member, but she does, and OMG it's the best sexual experience of her life.

That's what I thought for a second part 🤭. I apologize for the length of the text and for any mistakes, I'm Brazilian and not very good with English. (Feel free to change anything if you're not comfortable writing about something I sent).

Eagerly awaiting the continuation 🫶🏻✨

Warnings: Smut, 18+, teasing, kinda breeding

Pairing: Lando Norris x fem!reader

A/N - firstly I don’t judge requests <3, but also, I’ve heard of someone else on here called Lia. Are you alright with messaging me or something? Also making part 2

Lando’s words rang out in your ears for ages afterwards. What happens after you win a race. It was like motivation, a fuel of some sorts, driving you forwards to win. Which is exactly what you did the following week. “And Y/N Y/L/N has won her first Grand Prix here in Canada!” the commentator yelled as you screamed and cheered through the radio. 

As you thanked the team, all you could think about were Lando’s words. “Wow, Y/N,” the interviewer smiled, “what a victory! So close to Lando,”. You smiled at the words, “Yeah, Lando was really close, it was hard keeping him off,” you laughed, “but yeah, a win’s a win,”. Lando congratulated, evidently impressed, his hug lingering a little longer than usual. 

“And in first, Y/N Y/L/N!” you ran onto the podium, beaming as you locked eyes with Lando on his second place step. “Well done,” he whispered as the anthems begun. You held the trophy aloft, Lando’s eyes tracing your movements like his life depended on it, his own trophy limo at his side as he watched you. And the podium music began, Lando was his signature bottle slam, as he immediately sent the spray to you. 

You shrieked, feeling the bubbly liquid coat you, your skin radiating with the golden glow. Lando had to physically restrain himself from falling to his knees right then. You were gorgeous. Oh what he’d give to just bend you over right then and there. “Remember our promise?” he said, subtly whispering into your ear as you took the podium picture. “Might do,” you shrugged, a small smile on your face. 

“Team debrief,” you said, following the man who collected the trophy as Lando watched you, disappointment etched on his face. “After,” he said. And when the debrief finished, you told him you had another PR meeting. “Done, finally?” Lando asked, seeing you emerge from your motorhome.  “Mhm,” you nodded, pressing a kiss to his neck, “oh, wait, I have another meeting,” you said, blinking innocently at him as he groaned 

“You’re doing it on purpose,” Lando grabbed your arm to stop you from walking away, “you’re being a brat on purpose,”. You looked at him, as if you didn’t know what he was talking about. “Don’t give me that,” he said, eyebrow raised at your expression. “And here I am, trying to reward you for winning. Now you’re gonna get punished,” your eyes widened at his words as he took your hand, pushing you back into your room. 

Any of the real meetings you genuinely had were gonna be missed. 

“Lando,” you gasped as he tugged at your team shirt, clawing it off your chest, your baggy trousers coming off with it. “What?” he said, eyebrow raised as he pushed you against the wall, his hand twisting the lock of the door. “Fuck,” you gasped as he nipped at your neck and collarbone. “Feel good?” he asked, lifting your legs up, onto his waist, his hands firmly on you ass. 

Your lips met, a warm, passionate kiss filled with lust and desire, as he moved one hand to your hair, the other one tugging your panties down. “Fuck” he pushed you onto the bed, “you’re soaking, y’know?”. You couldn’t help the whine that left your lips as he threw your legs onto his shoulders, your hands tugging at his curls as his mouth came to your folds. 

“Oh fuck,” you moaned, his lips pressing featherlight kisses to your pussy, your wrists in his hand, your breast in his other. “Lando feels s’good,” you gasped, tugging at his locks, your hips pressing against him as he groaned, pushing you down. He moved his hand down to your stomach, holding you down, his mouth staying on you as you wriggled. “Fuck, Lando!” you shrieked, your orgasm was like heaven. 

He moved away from your core, his wet, warm lips trailing up your abdomen, his lashes clinging together with your wetness. “Feel good, doesn’t it?” he asked, your body shaking a bit from your high, “Doesn’t it?” he asked again, voice more demanding. You nodded, a small whimper leaving your lips as he took one of you tits into your mouth, swirling his tongue round the sensitive bud. “Lando, fuck” you gasped, his finger running through your folds again. 

Oh he meant punishment. You moaned again as his finger pushed into you, your hips bucking into him, his lips still sucking. “Lando don’t stop,” you rolled your hips against his hand as he pushed his middle finger in, curling inside of you as gasped, the sensation was heavenly. “Oh god, fuck,” you felt another high coming up. 

Your eyes rolled at the sensations, cheeks fiery red as you moaned - at this rate, you wouldn’t be able to take his actual dick. “Lando, Lan…” your voice trailed off, filtering into mewls and moans as you felt another orgasm wash over you. “So good f’me,” Lando mumbled, pulling you onto his lap, your body tired against his, “looked so good on the podium, y’know?” he cooed, pulling his own joggers down. 

One hand pumped his length, the other with his fingers deep inside of you, pumping slowly. “Gonna give me one more, okay?” he asked, lifting you up, before letting you sink onto his cock. “So fucking tight, Y/N, always so tight f’me,” he groaned, bouncing you softly on his lap, his hand coming to circle your clit. 

You were already sensitive from your last two orgasms, the knot building up quicker…faster, as his pace deepened. “Lando, Lando, I’m close,” you whined, your head on his shoulder as he bounced you. “That’s it, yeah? Cum for me,” he whispered in your ear, one hand dangling in your hair. “One more, okay?” Lando said, still bouncing you gently. 

You moaned again as he didn’t stop, your body tightening round his as he groaned. “Fuck, Y/N, gonna cum in you,” he mumbled, “gonna fill you up good,”. His words were what sent you over the edge, his thrusts becoming sloppier as he rode out your high for you, before he followed. “Oh fuck, Y/N,” he groaned as you tightened round him, your body against his chest. 

“So tight, fuck,” he gasped, “gonna fill you up, fill you right up,”. You felt his warm, hot cum shoot in this ropes inside of you, his head thrown back, resting his weight on his arms, which were shaking, his eyes squeezed shut as he rode out his high. “Mmm fuck,” you groaned, eyes shut again. “Feels s’good,” you whined. “I know,” he said, a kiss to your cheek. 

[pumpkinpaix]

Regarding #EndOTWRacism’s summaries of 2023 OTW Board election candidate positions

Before I begin, let me say now that while I am a volunteer with the OTW, my views are personal and should not be taken as any kind of official statement from the org, its leadership, or other volunteers, especially not the candidates in question. My focus here is on the Asian candidates for obvious reasons, but this post is not meant as endorsement or disavowal of any of the candidates, whose bios and platforms can all be read here.

Do not take this as an excuse harass the mods running EOTWR. I cannot make myself clearer.

--

I am making this post to express my extreme disappointment with End OTW Racism’s post purporting to summarize the platforms of the candidates for the upcoming Board elections. It is no longer rebloggable, but can be read here.

The way that the candidates with Asian names were spoken of is deeply insulting when compared with how candidates with English-language names were discussed. Asian candidates had their platforms misrepresented, their expertise downplayed, and their lived experiences reduced down to “bringing an international presence” to the board, which was then further caveated with, “diversity alone is not going to solve the issue of racist harassment currently allowed in the OTW’s policies and enforcement practice”. While it is true that diversity alone is not a solution, it’s pretty offensive to essentially have “remember! Just because they aren’t white doesn’t mean you should vote for them!” tacked on to one of the Asian candidates’ platforms. 

End OTW Racism seems more concerned with whether or not candidates used the buzzwords they wanted to hear rather than with how racism is discussed holistically within the statements. While I can appreciate that EOTWR has a specific agenda, to say things like, “[s]he does not mention racism, racist harassment, or hiring a DEI consultant in her platform, so outside the outreach and support she mentions, there is not enough for us to conclude that these would be priorities for her” regarding Zixin Z.’s position, directly following the statement, “[s]he also mentions the need for outreach towards non-English-speaking fans and has a desire to provide support to volunteers from minority groups” is fucking laughable, especially after the initial mistake of stating that Zixin Z. only wanted to do more outreach to Chinese-speaking fans. Again, I understand that people make mistakes and that this mistake has since been corrected, but I hope it prompts some reflection on the sort of biases that would lead to such a mistake in the first place. It may have been completely innocuous, but in charged discussions about racism, please understand that it gives an impression that is difficult to shake. I do thank you for not trying to hide that this happened. 

Why is Anh P.’s lack of discussion on TOS/PAC a point against her, while Zixin Z.’s years of experience on PAC, her role as a mod on Weibo, and her background in nonprofits don’t even warrant a mention? For that matter, why did none of the Asian candidates’ skills or experience warrant mention? Qiao C. and Zixin Z. have both been volunteers with the organization for several years now, and Anh P. has years of moderation and volunteer experience elsewhere prior to her work with the OTW.

It is so fucking frustrating that despite each one of these candidates specifically talking about the need for diverse voices, they had their platforms essentially passed over because they didn’t use the right words, and it is particularly fucking aggravating to see that EOTWR will use Chinese issues as props when trying to press OTW leadership on the racism that occurs within the org, but then completely fail to connect the dots on why these candidates are running because the wrong language was used. Zixin Z. is one of the Weibo mods, for fuck’s sake. 

The entire post feels like an exercise in virtue signalling, from every time it was brought up that a candidate did not provide pronouns in their platform statements, despite every one of them having pronouns provided in their bios (why mention this detail at all? You could have simply used the pronouns), to what felt like willful obliviousness to the anti-racism stances in the Asian candidates’ platforms. It feels like the concern starts and ends with racism in Anglophone terms, on Anglophone terms.

I can respect the driving ideas behind EOTWR, even if I disagree with the way that EOTWR pursues their goals. I do believe that we want the same things in the end, and therefore chose not to interact with the many posts I have seen about the protest. However, I saw the summary post and could not let it pass without speaking.

For a protest group supposedly dedicated to ending racism in the OTW, this felt incredibly hypocritical, conscious bias or not. In my most charitable frame of mind, I can see this as misjudging and overcorrecting to ensure that there was no favoritism shown to the obvious non-white candidates lest EOTWR be accused of tokenizing– again, it is true, that diversity in and of itself is not a solution to racism. 

In my least charitable and most bitter frame of mind, I feel inclined to wonder if EOTWR, much like the OTW itself, is uncomfortable with the lack of influence they could exude over an international candidate. It would be much, much easier to push their agenda forward with more culturally familiar candidates, particularly white ones. Guilt and public scrutiny are powerful weapons and easy to wield against those with perceived privilege in our current atmosphere, often to the detriment of the actual discussion at hand in my experience. I know that’s cynical. It’s hard not to be. (For clarity's sake: I do not know the other candidates' races. This is a hypothetical.)

This isn’t a demand for an apology. I think we fetishize the capital-A Apology to the point where I find them sort of meaningless unless they are given freely. I don’t need EOTWR to agree with me, and I don’t really want to keep talking about it. Rather, I would prefer that EOTWR take action to do better as they continue in their campaign. What that action is is their decision. If they truly mean to stand against racism in the OTW, then I’d like them to demonstrate it.

--

DO NOT HARASS EOTWR MODS. I AM FUCKING SERIOUS ABOUT THIS.

[rose-tea-and-strawberries]

Return To Sender

Reader/Yuu is female

To Me Mr Deuce Spade,

Hello. How are things going? I’m not sure if you remember this but during your first year we all wrote letters for our future selves to read once we graduate. Y/N said that this was something she did back in her world so Professor Crewel thought that it would be a good idea for our homeroom class to do it as well.

To be honest, I don’t really know what to say to - which is weird because I have a lot of things I want to say to my past self. I’m sure you know all about that, we really were a complete idiot back in middle school. Does the guilt ever go away? Did our wish come through? Do we become better? Do we make mum proud and become an honour’s student? Is Y/N proud of us?

I don’t think I need to tell you about Y/N. She’s not someone you can forget. She and I just got together actually! I asked her out and we kissed and it was amazing! I still can’t believe that this is the life I have and knowing me I don’t think you do either. I’m actually really scared. This whole boyfriend-girlfriend thing is new and I really don’t want to mess this up. I’m really good at messing things up.

I don’t know what happens in the future and whatever happens can’t be changed by you. There’s a chance that Y/N has gone back to her home but if she hasn’t, if she’s still there then I’m going to remind you how lucky we are to have her in our life. We both know that we’ve made a lot of big mistakes in our life, mistakes that hurt people we care about and that’s hurt we can’t ever take back but please don’t ever make any mistakes when it comes to her. Don’t ever disappoint her. She’s been through a lot and she deserves so much more than what she’s got.

So cherish her. Spend every day making sure she knows how much we love her. Buy her flowers and take her on dates and do everything that they do in the books and movies. Let her know how much we adore her laugh and that her smile is brighter than the sun and don’t take a single second for granted. Let her know that you’ve loved her ever since the egg incident at the beginning of the year. Listen to her because she’s usually right. Support her just like she’s always supporting us. She feels safe with us. Don’t change that.

Please marry her.

Growing up changes people and every day I’m doing my best to be better so you have to be better too, okay? Don’t make her cry like we made mum because if you do I swear I’ll bash your head in. Don’t be the idiot we both know we can be. Don’t let her get hurt more than this world already did. 

Oh, before we started writing, Y/N told me to tell you that she’s proud of you. She said that she hopes that you're happy and that she’s cheering you on. She also said a bunch of other stuff  but I’m not writing that down.

I hope that we get accepted into the police academy. I hope that we achieve our dreams and make the world a better place. Y/N’s not the only one who believes in you. I do too. I’ve been told that I should love myself so just know that I love you too.

I’ll see be you soon

Deuce Spade (16 years old) 

[astroyongie]

Riize February Reading 2024

Note: please take it lightly

Shotaro

Love: Shotaro is still dating the idol he was dating in the December reading. Things are going well, the relationship is healthy and there isnt much to say about it at the moment. Since December nothing changed 

Career: one thing I have noticed for every Riize member while shuffling is that the career for them are a meeting a set back. When it comes to Shotaro, he was very disappointed with the new rules the company gave them and he is rather upset with the change of plans for this year. 

Self: despite the chaotic moment of the career, he is okay. Shotaro have been talking more with people around him, he isnt isolating myself anymore and the support of his partner has been proven to be positive on his behavior 

Eunseok

Love: like you guys know, he came out of a relationship around October/November. Still now, things are complicated and his heart is aimlessly roaming without a clear path. I think he is still healing and trying to forget the feelings he had for that person

Career: he was probably the only member that was happy with the new schedules for Riize and the change of plans and concept. Eunseok’s sponsorship will also work to put him under the spotlight 

Self: he is a little upset because of the argument he had with one of the members. This was mostly due to career and the competition they have between them. Eunseok got really upset with the fact that he lost an opportunity to this other member

Sungchan

Love: the way he is coping with his love life is extremely unhealthy. Sungchan has been having behaviors that could be unhealthy and harm him. Although he does that because he just want to forget about his own heartache, he isnt doing things correctly. Some people could get hurt around him too

Career: needless to say, for him the companies choice for the group this year is shit. He feels like the group will go through stagnation because of it which makes him white annoyed. 

Self: currently he is going through a very complicated moment. Physically and emotionally he isnt okay (this is probably due to the behaviors mention above). Sungchan should be careful with his health or there will be a possible hiatus for him if he keeps this up.                    

Wonbin

Love: whatever relationship he had in December, they finished a couple of days before. The person took the decision to leave Wonbin after a mistake that he has made. He is very disappointed  on himself but also on this ex because he thought that they would fight for it 

Career: he is scared that the news schedules will but the group into a lighter spotlight. Wonbin truly believes that the company is stupid for making such marketing decisions for them 

Self: other than that, he is feeling very confident with himself. Despite the setbacks, Wonbin is someone that knows his worth and he acts like the “leader” when it comes to his own choices. 

Seunghan

Love: he is still single and he isnt seeking for any realtionsho at the moment, since he knows he can’t get someone of his “league” while he has an issue with his long term success that is currently limited 

Career: he is so exhausted and sad. Seunghan wants to come back but the company havent given him any green light for the moment. Seunghan feels overwhelmed with everything that has been happening around him and he is truly upset about it 

Self: as expected, his mood is rather low. I think he is rather on the sad side lately, mostly because he feels like he has worked hard for nothing. He needs to take care of his mental health

Sohee

Love: he is still dating, but lately he has been more focused on himself than on his partner. Sohee is been a little self centered and focused on his career. I dont know what his partner thinks about it

Career: like the others, he is pissed. Sohee is also kind of scared about the new concepts and the new turn the group needs to take for this year, because he doesnt know if people will take it well 

Self: focused on himself like I said and on his own well being. Everything that is happening around him and with other people, isnt of his concern at the moment 

Anton

Love: I believe that Anton is in a complicated situation where he got rejected by someone but where he also rejected someone who confessed to him. He is feeling a little overwhelmed when it comes to the heart 

Career: he thinks that the whole new concept is boring as hell and he doesnt like it at all. Although it is his work to do his best, Anton isnt doing the new schedules with joy 

Self: he has been dealing with some set backs. Emotionally he is scared of the future and he has been having some troubles to sleep as well due to anxiety 

[gofancyninjaworld]

The OPM Manga in 2023

By the numbers:

23 updates (most 14 days apart, shortest interval: 9 days, longest: 33 days).

662 pages (range 12 - 41 pages, mean page count: 29 pages).

Volumes published: 2 (Volumes 28 and 29). 1 bonus chapter included in Volume 28 -- Olfaction.

By the story:

Psychics and Temper Tantrums (chapters 176 - 184)

Well, the Monster Association is behind us but the fallout from it is slowly beginning to settle. Most of the heroes are now back at work and some of the consequences of a world that's increasingly scared of monster attacks are beginning to show up. The first quarter of the year was taken up with Tatsumaki's temper tantrum -- and Saitama once again daring a strong person to do their worst -- it's like he didn't learn his lesson with Garou, which disappoints me. [I love Saitama, but when brains were being handed out, he was not at the front of the queue.]

That said, even though I did not care one whit for Tatsumaki throwing Saitama around (it wasn't terrible, but really it could have been condensed into 1-2 chapters), the start of the Psychic Sisters arc was fantastic, and its ending was very interesting. I made a nuisance of myself at the start of it, pestering everyone in earshot with my excitement that Tatsumaki was taking Fubuki into her confidence to try getting Psykos out rather than trying to do everything herself.

Her complex feelings of disappointment, betrayal, and the sense that she'd made a mistake were some of the most complex and nuanced we'd seen in the story. She may be paranoid and misanthropic, but she's not crazy: there's a basis for her actions, and being knocked back just when she'd taken the risk of opening up was harsh. Unfortunately, Tatsumaki's default response is rage.. and I'm not going to waste time on recounting what happened then.

I felt pain for her here.

The end as well, expanding as it did on Tatsumaki's thoughts about how she'd accidentally woken Fubuki's psychic powers by scaring her so badly and the guilt she felt at having made her sister a target, was great. Her feelings about Blast are great, as this is the first time we get what she actually thinks of him. I still want her to learn that Blast doesn't work alone -- it'll blow her mind. The session ending with her giving the Fubuki group a chance to grow stronger and prove themselves is a fantastic development.

Even when she's giving someone a chance she still has to be scary.

Schemes (chapters 184, 187 - 191)

I really love how seamlessly the Psychic Sister arc flows into the next big theme: that of schemes and threats to the Hero Association's future. ONE has done a lot of work reworking the webcomic story so that the storyline is a coherent whole rather than two-three apparently unrelated storylines. Fubuki taking advantage of the chaotic aftermath to extract Psykos while securing immunity for her sister, and Tatsumaki brazenly using the HA's need to keep the rich clients sweet to scupper an investigation into Psykos's whereabouts was all clever. However, they're just amateurs and their antics played beautifully into McCoy's hands, who leveraged the crisis to make himself appear indispensible to the HA, thus making it very hard for him to be removed, even as he works to implicate the Hero Association in scandals (many of which he's running).

You can't call McCoy hasty: this guy has played a good long game.

The Hero Association is already having issues recruiting new heroes as they're going to Neo Heroes, which is also pinching existing heroes. However, it's not 100% going McCoy's way. Something I started praising in my review of chapter 173 is the greater self-efficacy of the characters in the manga. Sekingar and Sicchi haven't just been sitting on their hands watching McCoy sell the HA down the river. They've teamed up with Child Emperor to find out what he's really up to.

I think that this is the best cover of 2023: a collection of individuals who embody heroism, whether or not they're recognised as such or work in 'regular' ways. Well, there's one impostor…

Critically, they're not assuming that the Neo Heroes are necessarily evil: they want to understand what this outfit is actually doing. After all, heroism is heroism, no matter what guise it takes. To see that Sekingar has so earned Metal Bat's respect that the latter follows him into the heart of danger did my heart good [1].

Please, my poor heart, it'll burst if things get much more awesome.

Ninjas, Ninnies, Nintendos (193 - 199, ongoing)

That Blast has some connection to the ninjas from Sonic's Ninja Village has been clear for a long time in the webcomic. [2] However, it is only here in the manga that we're getting a full explanation of what that connection is.

Yes, yes, my partner may be a monster but he's a useful monster.

The intertwined story of Blast and his attempts to reach his former partner, Empty Void, who was also running a horrifying 'school' for grooming boys into assassins, and that of Flashy Flash and Speed o' Sound Sonic isn't done yet, but it looks to be reaching at least one turning point. It's a pity that the fan translators stopped translating the cover text because that for chapter 199 was incredibly pertinent: 'Staring at the back of a friend you used to stand shoulder to shoulder with.' Sonic has so much to process.

And like that, Sonic's world has been turned upside down.

Since Blast has an ongoing relationship with Empty Void, we get troubling questions as to how long Blast had known about the Village and whether he disapproved, or had been content to ignore it as long as he had his partner by his side and found his talents indispensible. It's going to be interesting when those two meet! Also, if Blast is hoping to reverse Empty Void's monsterization, he'd better hope that the guy isn't like most people who became monsters. Most ex-human monsters *want* to be that way and there doesn't seem to be a good way to undo it. Well, maybe if you chop them up, have Phoenixman (oops, he seems to have lost his powers) resurrect them, then shock them incredibly hard, that might work. It's unlikely that anyone present can deduce what happened to Gale Wind and Hellfire Flame, much less put all the working parts of that together.

Still, they're going to try. This *is* going to be interesting. Also, potentially heartbreaking.

Reappearances

Genos: the disciple returns to his duty

Unlike the webcomic, Genos has not been completely absent. He's been quite busy: helping Saitama recover their apartment, meeting the Hero Association to discuss important matters, and also, hanging out with Saitama as a friend rather than as a disciple. It's been fun to see that he's finally ditched his flip phone for a smart one, heheh.

Nevertheless, it's not until Dr Kuseno finishes his new upgrade that Genos sets foot in Saitama's house, formally reporting for duty, so to speak. I praise Saitama's self-discipline and good sense in not breaking eye contact and in politely ignoring his disciple's new-found exhibitionism until he had the sense to put a shirt on [3].

Less positive, it's been painful to see that Genos is frustrated at how he doesn't seem to have grasped the kind of growth he's looking for and is unsure whether Saitama truly sees him. It's not been helped by Saitama trying to reassure him, pulling his best 'Reigen' face and instead made everything worse. There are two interesting shames, which will surely be built on at some point. 1: We see Saitama seeing Genos's strength but he doesn't say anything. 2: Genos is right that the strength that comes from within is different from that granted to one by upgrades. We see in another chapter from Nichirin, that having artificial parts is no hindrance to pulling out that great inner strength. The funny thing is that Genos has shown that kind of strength before, when he was fighting Elder Centipede, but he doesn't know it.

Ah, despite everything, those fools are no better at speaking to each other than they were before! It'd be hilarious if it weren't so tragic.

Rarely have the words 'open your mouth and solve your problems' been more apposite. Sadly, that's exactly what they don't do.

Garou: the other disciple tries to learn duty

Now this really threw a lot of fans for a loop -- ONE making clear that he's aware of how young Garou actually is. It was very easy to read Garou as a guy in his early twenties, but strip away the pretensions and he's really young. His over-simple understanding of what was wrong with the world and his over-large sense of responsibility to fix it are thoughts of a teen. It's just a good thing that teenagers don't have world-shattering power, and so can be extreme and wrong without hurting anyone. But it has really jarred with a lot of fans.

I may be giving Bang the side eye as he implements his idea of reformation (apparently, it involves hitting Garou over the head often), but the sense of lightness Garou feels at having a reliable mentor, the relief he undoubtedly feels at having a way to work his crimes off -- being a social outcast may seem cool in a 'reject-the-corrupt-world' way but it gets old fast -- and being able to contribute meaningfully to the dojo's re-establishment is palpable.

His life is sure to start sucking again soon, but for now, it's a joy to see him.

Let him gambol for now. Go Garou!

King: ugh

Sorry, King just irritates me some days and this was one of them. Not because he was running around trying to find someone who could help him: that was fine. But because, unlike the webcomic, once Saitama told him to work out, he's continuing to stick around and play videogames. In a world where everyone is trying their best to make sense of their world and help themselves in some way, however imperfect, the sight of this poster child for mediocre white men overpromoted for looking the part continuing to laze about just pisses me off.

Let him start helping himself and I will praise him.

He's been told what to do but he's not doing it.

GAY!

This year, ONE said: here, my children, I have brought you a pint of homo milk. Drink. What else are we to make of Fubuki triumphantly cradling Psykos as she makes a clean getaway?

This has to be the smuggest 'got the girl' face I've ever seen.

Or Blast continuing to call Empty Void his partner, despite everything that the guy has done, including turning into a monster? He wants him back so badly, and though he says it's strictly professional interest, we think the man doth protest too much.

And then whatever's going on with these two:

Flashy Flash, you ain't got no business calling Blast soft when you're handing Sonic tissues and smiling at him.

Fandom Follies

Do we need to do this? Yup! This year, we discovered that a lot of dudebros who have been against the idea of romance in OPM have just been shippers afraid to come out and own it. The sheer number of Saitama x Tatsumaki fans has been incredible. Nothing wrong with SaiTatsu but the obnoxiousness of fans new to shipping has been hard to tolerate. Learn some manners, folks!

Asides

[1] I think this is great foreshadowing of something Forte says later in the webcomic to paraphrase, risking your life for another hero is something you do as a favour for a friend, not because someone's declared themselves the boss of you and ordered it. It's nice to see Sekingar embodying that ideal.

[2] It's hard to believe it, but to this day (chapter 149), Blast is not yet seen in the webcomic. At this rate, he'll show up at the very end to get jobbed by God (no ID), but not before giving an over-long exposition about what he's been up to. That is, if he's not already dead, only nobody knows yet.

[3] I can see SaiGenos shippers worried that my saying that it's good that Saitama isn't taking Genos up on his obvious attraction means that I might be disapproving of the ship. That is not the case. I'm going to assume that most of us here are old enough to vote, enter into contracts, and pay taxes and so can think of things with nuance and context. A fandom that needs the reassurance of canon to decide what's permissible is a weak, timid, and pallid imitation of one, and one I want no part of. For certain, we're here to discuss the story as it exists, but please, we're also here to consider and explore scenarios and make works that cannot and often should not exist in the canon because they are FUN. Even more pertinent, ONE is on record as LOVING that fans spend their time and creativity doing things with his stories. So please, don't allow any in-universe discussions on what is helpful or unhelpful in the story affect what you draw and write! PLEASE SHIP! Gimme!

[jupitervega]

fleein the south part II

hi, i'm ri & i'm an autistic nonbinary trans guy-lite-ish person. 4 years ago i moved out to denver from mississippi (where i was born & raised) & immediately had a massive improvement in my quality of life. i was able to access medical & psychiatric care, my career stabilized, people were addressin me with correct terms for the most part, & i was startin to feel like life had finally begun

unfortunately when the lease ran out on our house end of summer last year my roommates decided not to renew, & then the people who were gonna be my new roommates backed out last minute. in a panic i looked for other options but with time runnin short & top surgery approachin i decided to recover at a friend's house & move back to mississippi once my surgeon cleared me to travel cross country so i could regroup somewhere i figured would be less expensive & at least somewhat familiar

that, friends, was a very costly & painful mistake! every single problem that made me wanna move away in the first place has only exacerbated!

i'm comin up on 8 months post top surgery, i have a beard, & i'm still gettin called ma'am/she/her. trump flags & signs still adorn many yards/porches here. hatred & bigotry run rampant in local politics. the other day i didn't even enter one of the convenience stores in the town where i live when i stopped by because they had posted a very thinly veiled racist sign on the door

when i arrived back here i was not even a full month outta surgery & i had a minor complication, so i went to the emergency room cause what else was i sposed to do? applied for charity as i had around $100 to my name at that point, which i THINK? got approved? also applied for mississippi medicaid the same day, which got denied almost outright as i have no children. so i've been uninsured since november & rationin the 3 month supply of my psych/migraine meds i received before leavin colorado for goin on 7 months. never mind bein able to access hrt!

job prospects here are Not Great! i've had to collect unemployment for a while as i cannot for the life of me find a full time job with a livin wage. otherwise i literally cannot make ends meet as the jobs i've held so far down here are payin average 50% or less of what i was makin in denver. even with the part time gigs i've had i have yet to crack 30hr/wk on any kind of regular basis

housin is an absolute shitshow. my lease is up 1 july (got a month extension) & i've been searchin everywhere for an affordable place of my own or at least a good roommate. the more affordable studio/1bd apartments go for around $700 & up, but most have income requirements of 2.5-3x the monthly rent which, considerin previous point abt wages, is near impossible. roommate listins are available but the majority are questionable at best & seekin a live-in bangmaid at worst

with all these considerations i spent the past few weeks feelin worse & worse lookin for somewhere close to the job i currently have. the leases are like 6mo-1y so i was picturin another year down here & how i was gonna survive, let alone thrive. my thoughts got darker & darker. i'd wake up in the mornin & be sad/disappointed i'd survived the night

this is no way to live

i snapped a few days ago. said to myself "if i'm destined to struggle wherever i go, i'd rather do it somewhere i actually Wanted to be in the first place" & started applyin for housin in denver. waitin to hear back from my first option & have secured a backup with a friend with a spare room for 6mo in case that falls through

right now i need help gettin the hell out! i've got first month's rent already put back, i can continue to collect unemployment until i land a good job in denver, & i'm already reachin out to find somewhere to work. i just don't have anywhere to go for another month or two to save the money i'll need to travel almost 1200mi (~1900km) back to colorado. i'll need at least $500 to make gas/food happen durin the time it will take me to get there, & i need it by the first of july (38 days from day of postin)

please help me escape!!!

ca: $jupitervega

vmo: jupitervega

ppal

please please please donate whatever you're able! pls boost!

thank u so much for readin, pls have an item from my emergency happy photo folder for yr enjoyment

[goodnightmemes]

YELLOWJACKETS SEASON TWO SENTENCE STARTERS

❛ The only thing you should ever say to the police is, "I want my lawyer." That's why I put it on the cookie. ❜

❛ Before you go, you should take some Hawaii 5-0 punch. It's just regular Hawaiian punch, but I gave it a snazzier name. ❜

❛ I might have to break up with him. Unless I get lucky and he just disappears. ❜

❛ I don't want to talk about the future, anyways. I'm all about living in the moment. ❜

❛ You're, like, holding on to me or whatever. That's, like, haunting 101. ❜

❛ I had to cut back the rations again. There's not much left. ❜

❛ The thought of you with someone else always scared me. But it also turned me on. ❜

❛ I'll make a solid kidnapper out of you yet. ❜

❛ There's no such thing as false hope. There's just hope. ❜

❛ I'm not scared of you. I'm never gonna be scared of you. ❜

❛ This is how you're choosing to say "I love you," for the first time? ❜

❛ You weren't the only smart one. You just liked to think you were. ❜

❛ What if my only way of dealing is to numb myself into oblivion? ❜

❛ They're too focused on their own shit to even notice that I'm gone. ❜

❛ Well...you're not a picture of normalcy yourself. ❜

❛ I can feel your heart beating. ❜

❛ Everyone has their role. ❜

❛ Stop reliving this! You're in the vise grip of your trauma. ❜

❛ Every time that you try to save someone, a lot of bad shit happens. ❜

❛ Serial killers love puzzles. It's a documented fact. ❜

❛ For fuck's sake, shut up! Don't you see how much damage you are doing? ❜

❛ I don't even know where you end and I begin. ❜

❛ Believe me, if I could relax about anything ever, I promise you, I would. ❜

❛ As I'm sure you can imagine, emotions can run high in a place like this. ❜

❛ You never know when you might need to leave the country sans passport. ❜

❛ It made me feel like...I didn't know what was going to happen. And I liked that. ❜

❛ You can't blame yourself. We all did it together. ❜

❛ Dude, I don't even remember what socks I put on today. ❜

❛ I guess I'd kind of do anything to see him again, you know? ❜

❛ Moving in with you means everything in my life changes. ❜

❛ I think shit is gonna get a lot worse out here. ❜

❛ Thing is...it's one thing to point a gun at a person. It's another thing to use it. ❜

❛ There's a look people get when they realize they're going to die. It's that one. ❜

❛ My hand wasn't shaking because I was afraid. It was shaking because of how badly I wanted to do this. ❜

❛ I'm gonna live how I want to. How I know I'm meant to. And I'm gonna be the person that I know I am. ❜

❛ They're all lucky to have you. It's pretty rare to have a friend who's relentlessly got your back. ❜

❛ In small towns, everyone knows who and where the weirdos are. ❜

❛ I don't normally hitchhike and...look like this. ❜

❛ I know that you're depressed. I know that you can't see it, but I can always tell. ❜

❛ Yes, I am still depressed because it's kind of a forever thing, but I'm doing real work. ❜

❛ And I swear to God, if you lie to me again…I am so fucking over secrets. Like, I can't. ❜

❛ Oh, my fucking God. So, you… you killed a person? ❜

❛ Maybe one day I can talk to you about it, but for now, can that just be enough? ❜

❛ I don't understand why you won't see what's right in front of you. ❜

❛ I'm sorry I disappointed you. I love you even when you try to control me. But I'm okay now! ❜

❛ I think we need to get you out of here. ❜

❛ But I just got here. I don't - I don't want to leave you. ❜

❛ As parents, it's part of our job. We have to protect her, we have to shield her from making the same shitty mistakes we made. To throw our fucking bodies in front of her if that's what we have to do. ❜

❛ No, you can't deny this anymore. There is something deep inside of you that is connected to all of this. ❜

❛ So, you gonna tell me why you're here, or are we just gonna pretend this isn't super weird? ❜

❛ I'm doing a fucking thing here. I don't need you getting in my way. ❜

❛ If I happen to mention sacrificing anything on an altar, well, just ignore that part, okay? Thanks. ❜

❛ Do you get how lucky we are? Some people never find someone they trust enough to share their deepest secrets. ❜

❛ You think I'm capable of murder? ❜

❛ You're charming and impulsive, which are traits of most serial killers. Only, you pull it off. ❜

❛ Look, all I'm trying to say is, I like you regardless of your extracurricular activities. ❜

❛ That's medication for me to mind my own business. You should take two. ❜

❛ Maybe you don't have to be dying to have regrets. ❜

❛ I'm mixing my pop culture metaphors 'cause I'm fucking upset! ❜

❛ I can't ask you for your help 'cause I don't want to hurt any more of the people I love. ❜

❛ You should know better than anyone we can't define a person based on their past. ❜

❛ I don't need your fucking prayers, I need you to have my back. ❜

❛ We weren't alone out there. ❜

❛ You should get the hell away from me. I'm poison. I ruin people. ❜

❛ We did so much fucked up shit out there. And, yeah, maybe it was to survive. Maybe. But I don't think we deserved to. ❜

❛ Women have been having babies for millions of years. You're gonna be fine. ❜

❛ The wilderness recognizes your sacrifice. And so do I. ❜

❛ The power of that place. The god of that place. We did terrible things in Its name. ❜

❛ It's all your fault. There's just something wrong with you. You always do this. ❜

❛ Aren't you probably the last person who should be giving me legal advice right now? ❜

❛ I know I have no right to ask you this, but truly, what is going on with you? ❜

❛ I just want to know you haven't given up on love. ❜

❛ Maybe I have given up on love. But don't flatter yourself. It's not because of you. ❜

❛ You know I don't deserve your friendship, right? I just hurt people. ❜

❛ Suffering is inevitable. And only by meeting it with compassion can we truly begin to grow. ❜

❛ I never even wanted to be a mom. ❜

❛ I did not start out a bad person. But in case you haven't noticed, life doesn't tend to turn out the way you think it will. ❜

❛ Oh, no. What happened? Fuck, are we going to jail? ❜

❛ It's you and me against the whole world. ❜

❛ You lost a lot of blood and you were unconscious. We thought we lost you. ❜

❛ I kept surviving all this shit that should've killed me, and I just...I figured it meant something. You know, like maybe it meant that I had some kind of purpose in all of this, but, uh...Yeah. I'm not fucking seeing it. ❜

❛ I need to know why the fuck I'm still here. ❜

❛ Shouldn't you be in therapy? ❜

❛ I'm not like you, okay? I don't think of killing as a joke. ❜

❛ I really am very grateful that your hobby seems to be figuring out how to be the perfect serial killer. ❜

❛ I've always kept my daughter at arm's length. I think just out of fear that she would...die, I guess. Or maybe that she was never even real to begin with. ❜

❛ I can't have another death on my hands. ❜

❛ I can't wait for you. I don't have that kind of time. ❜

❛ Tell me, is there anything of value in this life that doesn't come with risk? ❜

❛ Does a hunt that has no violence feed anyone? ❜

❛ What, do you want to casually reminisce about our time in fucking oblivion? ❜

❛ Well, if I'm repressing things I don't know about, I am very okay with never figuring it out. ❜

❛ I know there's a lot of pain. You need to let it out. ❜

❛ I don't understand. You measured the grave to the standard six feet? ❜

❛ You're lying to me. And I want to know why. ❜

❛ Maybe [name] dying wouldn't be the worst thing. ❜

❛ When they get a whiff of how much of a liar your mom is, they'll realize that the ❜ psychopath apple doesn't fall far from the fucked-up, man-eating tree. ❜

❛ So, this is what you've all been doing with your lives? Chasing blackmailers and murdering lovers? ❜

❛ I think we can agree that it's in everyone's best interest that [name] is gone. ❜

❛ If I die, don't waste my body. Promise me. ❜

❛ I thought you loved all of me, like I love all of you. ❜

❛ We put ourselves in danger for you. You've been using us! ❜

❛ I've been trying to fix...No. I have been telling myself that I've been trying to fix things and make the problems go away, but the truth is, I've just been doing stuff that makes it worse. ❜

❛ We're all pretty messed up. It's time we finally fucking talk about it. ❜

❛ This isn't something that therapies can fix. ❜

❛ I think that you might be taking this whole, like, cult leader persona thing... a tad far. ❜

❛ I never meant... I didn't want this. ❜

❛ You started this. It's done. And it's going to save all of our lives. ❜

❛ I appreciate you trying to teach me...forgiveness. It's a nice idea. ❜

❛ I let him die in my place. It was supposed to be me. ❜

❛ You're a good person. You really don't belong in this place. ❜

❛ I'm not ashamed. I'm glad I'm alive. And I don't think that any of us who are still here should feel ashamed of that. Ever. ❜

❛ That was a beautiful false confession. I could see it came out of real love. ❜

❛ You want to help me move this body? ❜

❛ It's up to you. You can submit. Or you can run. ❜

❛ You know there's no "it," right? It was just us. ❜

❛ I never wanted to be in charge. ❜

❛ No. I'm not supposed to be here. ❜

❛ This is exactly where we belong. We've been here for years. ❜

❛ It's not evil. Just hungry. Like us. ❜

[malichev]

Attention: This publication has sensitive topics, talking a little about the current situation of CC Forever and my position in relation to future posts. If you don't feel comfortable, please skip it.

------------------------------ I confess that, because I wasn't on Twitter VERY much, I wasn't up to date, but I started seeing posts here and decided that I needed to update myself a little on the situation. Apparently, tweets were unearthed, with comments and interactions'' from Forever with a minor, for those who don't know, in Brazil, under 18 you are a minor. At the time he must have been 19 or 20 years old. Despite understanding that people change over the years, technically, he committed a serious crime for which, it appears he never received a type of punishment, it appears that it was kept in the closet'' and has now been unearthed. So, it's a delicate topic, so I understand those who no longer want updates on it. Now, for those who were waiting for a statement, he opened a live to talk about the subject, but people were disappointed, especially the way he dealt with the topic, he said that they distorted his tweets, so he deleted them (in fact more than 900 tweets disappeared), and then said that he will sue the people who made a thread on Twitter with his posts. Honestly, I decided to go after these supposed tweets, and to be honest, the things I read were a bit…bizarre? I understand why people are not comfortable, I don't know how the case will go, but apparently the ´´victim´´ exists, he made strange tweets and she was indeed a minor. So I think Forever saying they distorted his tweets wasn´t the best argument. Overall, I didn't find it a really satisfactory statement. And honestly, some of their fanatics, because it's not a fan thing, it's a fanatic thing, are making the situation worse by trying to erase the problem, wanting to use other CCs' mistakes to defend Forever, they just forget that if the other CCs have already recanted, or even ``paid for their mistakes''. They are not going to save Forever by using other people as a shield, especially since the Forever case happened years ago, BUT it has now been discovered even by the Brazilians themselves, and it is something that is STILL open, there has not been any kind of resolution and, the worst part, is that it can still be considered a serious crime depending on the justice system, because apparently there will be a legal fight.He said he hired lawyers.

What will this result in and how will it affect his presence in the QSMP?

Let's find out, I just ask that you be patient with Quackity, the team and even the others CC´s, many of them probably don't know anything because they are on vacation, and even if they don't want to get involved that's their right since, because currently, they are not actually involved in the problem. I honestly don't even know how the information will reach them, especially those who were closest to Forever. I believe that, just as the community is in shock, not wanting to believe, whoever is his closest friend will also be in denial. In conclusion: Because I was also uncomfortable, I'm going to avoid talking about qForever and Forever as much as possible in future posts, unless there's no way out, after all, the sad thing is that he made a memorable character in Lore, and it seemed like he was going to have more about him. Now I don't know what happens. Anyway, I hope you take care of yourselves, don't stress, and if you want to take some time off social media, I recommend it.

[leajdh]

Gold rush

Chapter Five: You who shimmy shook my bone, leaving me stranded all in love on my own.

He was just a few more steps away from becoming a living legend. Already praised by the media as the honored one, he made a grave mistake which not only put his Ice Hockey career on hold, it disappointed even his most loyal fans so much so that his reputation sank to an all-time low.

Then he meets you; a retired figure skating champion who is now trying to find her purpose in life after her triumphs, all while still being loved and cherished by the media and public likewise.

Satoru Gojo sees his chance to not only get back unto the rink, but also to regain his former popularity.

But he soon realizes it will be a lot harder to get on your good side, because he's everything you despise combined into one person.

Will you give him a second chance and allow him to redeem himself, or is this going to be the match for your life time?

Gojo Satoru x reader (first person narrator)

Ice Hockey AU

FAKE DATING TROPE

Enemies to lovers

English isn't my first language, so expect some grammar errors

18+!!

ALL CHAPTERS: https://www.tumblr.com/leajdh/722300699873083392/all-chapter-of-my-satoru-gojo-x-reader-fanfiction?source=share

Suguru was right. 

The people love us. The picture he took yesterday of Satoru and me went viral. Not even ten minutes after it was posted on Satorus instagram page, it had over 20k likes and over a thousand comments. Surely some comments were negative but that was predictable and mostly they were genuinely nice. We got a whole lot of comments telling us that we are perfect for each other, which is such an internet thing to say, because they don’t know anything about us other than we are both skating on ice. Well, certainly this is enough for the public to think we are compatible. 

We had a good run since the picture was taken. I don’t feel awkward or nervous around Satoru anymore. Against my better judgment sleeping with him really helped. I can look at him without having the sudden urge to run away and hide. 

And I like to look at him, especially when he is training with his focused face, listening to everything Mei Mei screams at him, but still completely absorbed in his flow. I have only watched him train for about thirty minutes, however I was hooked by his movements. The itch to watch him far longer was there, but I didn’t want to come across as if I have any kind of interest in him outside of our contract. 

The way I smiled at him in this goddamn picture was enough to set me off. 

I slept with him, I smiled like a simpleton at him and now I even enjoyed him playing Ice Hockey, the sport I hate more than anything. 

I had to press on my mental brake. Falling for him isn’t an option. After all, I still have my doubts about him. I can’t throw them all over board because we had sex. He is ever so unpredictable and arrogant and just not the one for me. 

At least social media proved itself useful in my dilemma. A user posted an edit of the way I glance before I step on the ice followed by a clip of Satoru doing the same. Once we are on the ice, knowing something is there to win, we both look and act the same. 

Maybe that’s what fascinates me when I watch him train. It is like looking in a macabre mirror, seeing another person as infatuated as myself with being the best. We have the same fixed stare, head slightly tilted downwards, looking up between our lashes and noticing everything around us without losing our center. Shoulders and back straight and neck long. The perfect posture, even while stepping and sliding on the ice.

I wish to know if his heart has the same beat as mine in these kinds of moments. Strong enough to feel it pulsate in my ears, feeling the blood flow hot up and down my carotid artery, vision focused but also blurry from the frenzy. 

The emergence of goosebumps all over the skin, not enough for others to notice, but just enough to feel it happening out of fever and being filled up with enough adrenaline to knock out a thousand men, but just enough of it to calm one maniac. 

I realized from the moment he blackmailed me with this video of us, we are cut from the same cloth. 

Since then I was on the lookout, my guard up to the moon but he still managed to slip right through and got the upper hand over me by noticing one of my weaknesses. 

How I am actually really insecure whenever I am not on the ice. 

How fragile my self-perception is. 

How important the voices of others are. 

How my life is one big ongoing performance. 

I let him see a glimpse of the real me and in return I got nothing. All I know about him, I can read online. Just some standard information. Granted our contract was formed because he wants his popularity back. Something that seems important to him. Nevertheless Suguru was the one who told me the resentment of his fans affected Satoru. It wasn’t Satoru who openly claimed and explained it. 

He doesn’t let me in and it pisses me off. 

I don’t want him to win. When we will walk out of the contract, I want to have the upper hand.  

Should we be a team? Absolutely. 

Are we both team players? Absolutely not.

Well, I know I am not a team player. He should be one as the captain of an Ice Hockey team, but I have the eerie feeling just for our state of affairs, he won’t be one. 

I need to get the control back or at least a draw. 

But how?

Think, think, think.

Totally lost in my thoughts upon creating a counter strike, I notice the big, gloomy figure behind me first when an arm like a tree trunk hovers over my head to grab something from the supermarket shelf I stand in front of. Irritated by the close proximity of this random person showing up right behind me, I quickly turn around and stare up at a man, who grins like the devil himself. He isn’t looking at me, staring at the grocery he wants from the shelf but that grin. 

I know it is for me and strangely I have the feeling we met before. 

“Well, excuse me”, I mutter, finding it troublesome to have someone in my personal space. 

“You’re excused”, he answers, still not looking at me while examining the ingredients of the product he just grabbed. I feel a shiver down my spine from how low and thorny his voice is, but I try to not get too alarmed as I roll my eyes at his answer. With an offended side stare, I take a step to the side. 

He is tall, not as tall as Satoru but broader, taking up more space in an uncomfortable manner. His arms and even his face are crested in thick, black tattoos. Maybe he has some more all over his body but I won’t ever be able to tell. Sharp facial features with a strong jaw and menacing warm eyes with a reddish hue to them. With his wide smirk still plastered on his face, I shortly doubt myself that the man next to me is human. The teeth are barbed and massive like ones feline predators have. 

“Loser.”

As soon as he adds this word, my head snaps back up. 

Oh my fucking god. He is real.

The memories of him hit me like a ton of bricks.

Tokyo, Japan, my first world championship.

The year before I won second place at the junior world championship, ending my streak of first places. 

It was devastating. 

Surely once being second place isn’t the end of the world, but the media at that time was harsh and brutal on me, maybe because I never lost and they finally saw a crack in my perfect facade.

I was 16 and read articles saying from now on I will only get worse. 

And I wasn’t even at the Olympics. 

It felt like my entire career had no meaning and I should just quit altogether. The questions I got asked ripped me mentally into pieces as I answered them with a fake smile, ready to cry once the cameras were away. Mei Mei and my mother tried to cheer me up, telling me not to listen to such bullshit. 

Figure skating is one of the most competitive sports. Each year the athletes are getting younger and breaking more limits and record after record.

Time doesn’t stop for anyone and it certainly doesn’t for athletes. I was crying for 2 days in my room calling myself old and worn-out.

Truly the joys of being an athlete. 

I refused to step on the ice for over a month until my mother had enough and took my phone and computer away, forcing me back on the rink. 

For her there wasn’t any other outcome. One day I would win gold in the Olympics. 

Her dream for me.

But for that dream to come true, I must skate again.

And I did, reluctantly. 

As if I ever had a choice in this matter. With an overly ambitious mother and my competitive mindset which was thrilled into my head as soon as I took my first step on the ice.

However, let's go back to the World Championship. 

All eyes were on me and I felt it in my strangled veins. I was never so nervous and insecure on ice before. 

I’m never insecure on ice. Skating is like breathing for me. 

And who would ever be insecure about breathing?

You get time slots when you can enter the rink for training before the competition. I waited for my turn at the lobby, getting myself warmed up. Championships lure all kinds of people into one place and mostly other athletes. It is good press to be interested in other sports and showing support, but most athletes do it for a bit of media coverage in between their seasons. 

I used to love watching swimming competitions, always finding it nice to see the contrast from ice skating. 

Hard ice against soft water. Coldness against warmth. 

So it wasn’t a surprise to see other athletes or just random celebrities in the hall. 

I remember him. As tall as in the present but not as broad. Younger but still sharp features and already tattoos on his arms. Overall an extremely good-looking man. 

He talked with reporters, grinning mischievous. 

I was amazed like most of the other girls. 

To be honest, to amaze me at that time, you just had to look at me at least once and open a door for me. Both things he did.

My seventeen years old brain was going haywire and you can definitely blame my mother for it. I barely had any time for friends, so meeting boys wasn’t even a theme to begin with. The only talk I really had with her was when I got my period and she instantly made an appointment to get me an IUD.

Her dream ended with her pregnancy. She wouldn’t allow the same thing to happen to me.

Granted, I never questioned her. For me it was normal to concentrate all my energy on skating. 

Mei Mei always told me ‘now you are a figure skater and when you retire you will be a human again’.

Insane, right?

But I lived by that statement, focusing on skating entirely.

Just not on that day. I watched him like a hawk, walking around with a dozen people around him and taking picture after picture. 

Just who was he?

I couldn’t google it because my mother still had my phone and asking wasn’t in my repertoire. 

He noticed my glances. It wasn’t like I was subtle with it. I did everything to occupy my mind with something other than skating and losing again. 

On the outside I seemed cool and collective, Mei Mei and my mother truly thought I was over the Junior Championship, but mentally I was a sinking ship, just one more crash against an iceberg away from becoming a wreck. 

And just a few hours later I became one. 

On that day less than 24 hours before the competition. I was on the ice, going over my routine.  

I fell, not once, not twice, I fell so often I stopped counting. Mei Mei screamed at me, my mother completely shocked on why I performed this way. 

Reporters aren’t allowed on the tribune while athletes are training in their time slots but people with VIP-passes can enter and he seemed to have one. He watched me fall and fall again with that creepy smile on his face. I tried to blend him out and it worked. 

Like I said before, glances don’t bother me. I am used to being watched. Only Satoru managed to make me giddy.

Not even twenty minutes into my training I fucked up my signature triple axel, bending my ankle so hard I could hear my ligaments snatch, overstretching to the maximum. I was lucky they didn’t rip. 

I bit my teeth hard together and managed to leave the rink, stomping past Mei Mei and my mother, who wanted me back on ice. They didn’t know about my ligaments, just thinking I landed poorly but if I could still skate, it wasn’t so bad, right?

Right.

Telling them with gritted teeth that I need some time for myself I went into my locker room, where I just sat down and stared at the wall for minutes, emotionless. 

The blood pulsating in my feet, I knew once I put the skates off it would be bad. With shaky hands I opened them and stared at my ankle. Swollen already and I knew it would bruise. 

My mother would not allow me to skate like this. She is strict but not a lunatic. If I land one more time incorrectly without the ligaments fully healed, they will snap completely and my career is over. 

But I needed, no, I wanted the World Champion title.

Now or never. I didn’t want to wait another year.  

Another year would mean one year older, one year nearer my retirement. 

I wanted to cry but nothing came out. 

Eventually with an injury like this, I must have accepted that my career was ending. 

I just wasn’t good enough for the Olympics.

There is no shame to it. A lot of athletes never make it.

I instantly kick these thoughts in the butt. No, it isn’t over. I can do this. I will not fall tomorrow at the competition. I will win. I can take care of my ankle after the competition. It will fully heal. 

I knew it. 

It was nearly 10 years ago, so I don’t quite remember how long I was alone with my thoughts as the door opened and someone stepped in. I remember I sighed, madly trying to hide the swelling with a towel thrown over it. I expected my mother or Mei Mei to be the ones bothering me, but it was him with a big fat grin sitting on his face.

Throughout the conversation we were going to have his grin stayed on, sometimes fading or growing. But one thing is engraved in my brain like an antibiotic resistant parasite. His first words to me. Simple, but so world shattering to me. 

“Hey, Loser.”

He called me what I was truly thinking of myself at that moment, but never dared to acknowledge. 

Nevertheless I couldn’t believe someone would call me that. Before I even had the chance to tell him to fuck himself and get lost, he kept on talking. Along the lines of he knows torn ligaments when he sees them happening.

Staring him down I should have told him to leave my cabin, instead I said: “They aren’t torn, just on the edge of it.” 

I removed the towel and leaned over to my bag, taking out sport tapes. With a smile I babbled more to myself: “I had worse.”

Confidence is the key but my act didn’t work on him. He just leaned against the wall in front of me, not believing a single word by the way he looked at me. 

As I started to pull my legging up and begin sticking the tapes down, he clicked his tongue in disbelief. 

“By the way this is a private cabin.”, he ignored my words and with two big steps, he was right in front of me, taking the tapes out of my hand and muttering curses to himself. 

Mercilessly he grabbed my lower leg and stretched it out, my feet staying on his hard chest. It hurt like hell and I yelped, which gained me a side eye and something along the lines of ‘stop being a fucking pussy’. 

Usually I would say something snarky back, but I didn’t dare with him. Instead I just murmured: “I know how to tape myself.”

He only snorted mockingly at that and started to tape my ankle. If this guy is one thing, it definitely isn’t gentle. He applied the tape with such force, it felt like he wanted me to bruise even more. Still, I bit my teeth and let him do it. In between taping he started to talk to me: “I had the same thing once, so I know what to do.” 

My ankle was covered in tape in the pattern of a spiderweb. He talked to me like a ruthless trainer, who ignores the health of his athlete. 

“Keep the ankle cold under any circumstance, even if it feels like dying or you don’t feel anything at all.” 

Then he took a normal bandage and wrapped it around, tightly, telling me not to open it until after the competition. It will swell even worse and probably needs more time to heal, but at least I could be on the ice. 

Then he told me the same truth I already knew. 

“If you fall, it is over”, he snickered: “maybe it would be better anyway. To just end your foolish career.”

I knew, if I fall with this injury, it is truly over. Knowing it is one thing, but hearing someone else say it out loud shook my back into reality. 

“I won’t fall”, I told him without a doubt in my voice, ignoring his mean remarks. Bare teeth blinded my eyes as he laughed. 

“Just making sure you know your fate.”

Asshole.

“Why even help me if I will fail?”, I bit back. He shrugged his shoulders.

“I like being surprised.”

What a fucking weirdo.  

He pulled out his wallet and showed me a pill, asking if I already had my urine test. I nodded and looked skeptical at the pill. I do a lot of things to win, but I don’t take drugs. Seeing my suspicious scowl he told me: “It’s just a heavy painkiller.”

My scowl deepens. Painkillers are allowed, so why would he ask about my urine test?

He could read my mind like an open book.

"Prescribed.”

If they find a substance from a prescribed pill in my urine, I would need a doctor's note, so his question made sense. 

Well, that certainly didn’t sound better, and fine, I trusted him with my ankle but I wouldn’t take a pill from him. For all I knew he could be lying and giving me drugs. He rolled his eyes as I didn’t take it like I am stupid or something for not trusting him. Quite the contrary, I thought I was pretty smart for it. 

So I asked him: “Who are you even?”

All I got was a doubting laugh with furrowed brows like I am a fool for not knowing him. Based on my confused face he understood quickly I really had no clue and a devious smile grew back on his face. 

“I am.. Yuji.”, he states with a pause in between like he forgot what his own name is: “I play for the Japanese national basketball team.”

Nevertheless I was hesitant. Surely he was tall enough to be a basketball player but why was he here? 

Duh, why did I go to the swimming World cups? To be seen. 

Still I wouldn’t take a pill from him. 

I crossed my arms like a sulking child and shook my head. 

The air around him switched. To be honest he wasn’t in a friendly mood to begin with but now it changed drastically. 

He explained why he was even here to begin with. How he extra came for me to the Championship and how it was such a pain for his team to get him a VIP-pass.

All that for me to be a pathetic loser, who falls. He criticized my speed, my jumps and my overall form. It was like talking to all my worst critics combined. He didn’t sugarcoat one bit. His words were brutal and unforgiving. 

How he gave me a chance to get my title back and get Gold again, just for me to not accept it. How much he hates wasted potential and I am the embodiment of it. A silly little pathetic loser, blessed with genetic talent but no drive. 

I pushed myself up, feeling a slight sting in my leg, but didn’t mind. 

How dare he? He doesn’t know shit about me. As if his fucking pill would be my path to Gold. No, I didn’t care about the pain, I could ignore it. 

But I couldn’t ignore his attitude anymore. What did he even want from me? He didn’t know anything about me. We never talked before, nothing. I was angry. Angry at him and angry at me for allowing him from the beginning to talk down to me.

“Get the fuck out of my cabin!”, I hollered, but he didn’t move, smiling like my anger meant nothing to him and rather amused him, if not turning him on. 

“Or what?”

Yeah, fuck that or what? Honestly there was nothing I could do against a guy like this. I bet even if I hit him, it wouldn’t affect him, probably again just turning him on. 

“I will make sure they take your VIP-pass away”, oh my god, that was pathetic. Looking back I cringe at myself, but that’s all I could do. 

Another deep laugh.

“Do it, this whole thing is a waste of my time anyway. I thought I would see some great talents, but all I see is a whiny slut.”

I should be afraid but I wasn’t. I was just angry.

“I am a lot but not whiny.”

“No denying on the slut part, I see.”

I roll my eyes. I didn’t even have my first kiss at that time, but he didn’t have to know. 

“It’s not worth commenting”, I fired back. 

Suddenly everything happened so quickly, I barely had time to register anything as he grabbed my jaw with his large hand and squeezed my cheeks together. 

“I bet it turns you on being called all these degrading words”, he lowers his face to mine, nose on nose with a demonic grin plastered on his face. 

I’m a winner. Degradation doesn’t turn me on. It makes my blood boil. Sadly wrath and lust often go hand in hand, but I would never let him know. 

“I beg to differ”, I tear my face out of his grip. 

“Then prove me wrong, loser.”, his grip traveled to my throat, holding me in place, not wanting me to look away from his challenge. I didn’t waver my glance from his dark eyes. 

He leant in closer to my face, waiting for me to break away first but I kept my eyes on him, even as his lips nearly brushed mine. 

Never in my life was I more happy to be interrupted by my mother as we heard a knock on the door. Slowly, still with a wide smile on his face, he let go of me like nothing happened and put the pill in my hand. In a swift motion he walked to another exit like he had no care in the world while I was frozen into place. 

My mother came into the cabin and talked to me, but I didn’t listen. All I had in my mind was him and how to prove him fucking wrong. 

And I did, I won Gold the next day.

With the worst pain ever in my leg I stood on the pedestal, waving with a bitter smile into the camera. 

I saw him during my performance but not at the award ceremony. 

Who is the loser now?

I bet he thought I couldn’t bring it. Wanted me to fall and fail, crying on national TV over my career ending. 

Wrong slut, motherfucker. 

However as soon as I was backstage, my leg gave in. My mother caught me and Masamichi carried me to a private cabin. 

I didn’t take his pill. I didn’t need his help. 

I won on my own. 

When my mother took my skate off my foot I screamed, nearly blacking out. Mei Mei looked at the bandages around my ankle.

“Who did this?”, she asked furious, now understanding why I didn’t let them near my skates to fix them before my performance.

“I did it.”

“Don’t lie to me, you idiot!”

My mother proceeded to unwrap my ankle, feeling like she skinned my foot alive. 

“This is a military binding technique! It is made to stabilize a dying foot so the soldier can move forward.”

“It did the job”, I muttered back in a delirious state of pain.

“You are so stupid! It is for a dying foot! With this technique they don’t want to save the foot, they just want stabilization for a moment before it will be amputated!”

I didn’t really register her words, all I had in my mind was the Gold medal around my neck and the cold metal against my chest as I fainted.

I woke up in the hospital, my foot held up by some strings and tubes pumping a liquid into it. 

The pain was bearable, but my foot felt heavy and numb. 

I looked over and saw my mother sitting in a chair. She didn’t look happy like most mothers would be once their child woke up after fainting. 

“What the hell did you think?”

I thought nothing to be frank. I did as he told me and it worked. It worked perfectly. I won Gold. My lucky streak would be back. 

“I did what I had to do to win”, I replied.

“You could have not only lost your career as a figure skater, you could have lost your foot!”

“But I didn’t.”

“Don’t act smart with me now!”

“I am the world champion, mom.”

“I don’t care.”

“You do, you only ever cared about that.”

“That is not true.”

I stared at her with a tired but fierce expression. If she wanted to tell herself that, she could do it. I wouldn’t stop her. Making herself feel like she was the mother of the century. 

If I had shown her my foot, yeah, she would have said no to the competition but I would have gotten the silent treatment for weeks. 

Like getting an injury is my fault. For her it would be. 

Because how dare me to fail her dream. 

She put so much energy into me. Imagine it all failing.

What a waste of time. All for a loser like me.

Certainly I have shown in this performance I am not a loser. My performance was worthy of the Olympics and I would go to them the coming year and win Gold too. 

I am a fucking winner. The whole world is going to know my name.

Everything felt unreal. My career wasn’t over. If my foot wasn’t going to fully recover my mother would have told me instantly instead of trying to lecture me. 

I softly chuckled to myself, thinking about him. At this moment of delusion I truly thought I owe this motherfucker my career.

“Right now you look just like your father”, she said quietly: “I don’t recognize you.”

Still in my trance I tilted my head to my mother and just sputtered: “At least I am not a loser like you.”

The moment I said it was the moment I regretted it. Before I had the chance to apologize, she was out of the room, leaving me alone. 

No, I was wrong. I didn’t owe him my career, he only took part in creating a new part of my personality. An irrational and cruel one. 

He made me the cunt I am. 

For years I thought he was a ghost I created myself. Like part of my hidden personality came out the moment I nearly gave up and brutally dragged me back on the ice. 

To kick me even harder at my lowest point and either leave me there or make me get back up. 

I never apologized to my mother, but I got my phone and computer back and she acted like nothing happened, training me for the Olympics once my foot was back to normal. I lost two months of training because of my injury and the binding technique, but it didn’t matter. I knew whatever would come in between the Olympics and me would be demolished. I was never going to give up. 

He was a mystery I didn’t want to solve. I could have googled him, but I didn’t. I liked the idea of him just being a weird imagination of mine to get back on track. 

But now he is standing next to me in the cereal aisle of a small town supermarket and I am sure he is not a projection of my mind. He is real. 

“I know you are but what am I?”, I croak back, my voice lost in my throat. 

“You are witty, I will give you that.”, he chortles, cracking a smile: “But I take it back, you certainly aren’t a loser.”

“So don’t call me that.”

“Pet names take time to form, I wasn’t expecting to meet you here in the middle of nowhere. So I don’t have one up my sleeve.”

Me neither to the meeting part, but why does it feel like he is lying. Like he knew I would be here. 

“How about my real name?”

“Nah, way too impersonal.”, god, the way he is so presumptuous is kind of alluring in the best way possible. Must be me, I seem to have a soft spot for cocky bastards. 

“Well, we aren’t exactly friends.”

He turns with a full on grin to me, the one I dreamed about for months. The one I see in my mind before entering a competition.

“You are right.”, he added my name: “But I will still think of something new, something fitting.”

I can’t fucking wait for it.

“What would you say is the perfect gift for an old friend you haven’t seen in a while?”, he drags me out of my empty thoughts: “Not for you. You stated we aren’t friends, right?”

“Right”, I stutter back: “I guess it depends on the friend.” 

I try to act nonchalantly, but I feel like failing.  

That answer earned me a slight chuckle from him. I decide it would be best to ignore him and just continue my purchase, walking down the aisle, but the looming shadow doesn’t leave me. 

“A friend who isn’t a friend at all.”

This sentence piqued my interest. 

“Still not for you”, he adds, but I wasn’t even thinking that. 

“Then why buy a gift?”, I ask, allowing him to keep the conversation going as he walks through the fruit section with me. I am glad we are in a public space filled with people. Alone with him again, I would not survive. 

“Just for courtesy. He had a rough time”, subtle information but nothing sturdy to grab onto.

His grin is going to kill me. I feel like a flight animal in the headlights of a predator. 

“Wine always works”, I answer politely and curse myself still giving him partially my attention. 

The curse of being a woman, always civil to uncivil men. 

A loud laugh echoes through the aisle before it abruptly ends, his sharp teeth still showing. 

“Not a bad idea, but alcohol isn’t his thing”, he states: “anymore.”

I frown but end up not thinking further about his oddity as I see a box of chocolates and instantly think of Satoru. How he asked me for a ‘thank you’ card and a box of chocolates for his ‘help’. A dumb tease from his side but in my head the cogs start to turn. 

Round and round for a counter strike. I place the box in my shopper with a grin similar to the one from him. 

Fuck, he really created a part of me. 

“Chocolates always work as well”, I babble back, before turning serious. “What brought you to this city?”

“Oh, just a quick stop before visiting my friend, who isn’t really my friend.”

For whatever reason the way he talks and acts is enthralling. I know he isn’t a good person but he has a certain aura that not a lot of people have. A confident one, but ready to be able to back it up. I should have googled him. I should have to see if he has some achievements to back up his brash attitude towards me all those years ago. 

I can’t shake off the feeling that something isn’t quite right. 

“Seems like fate that we meet again”, if it is even possible his grin got bigger. 

“You also thought it would be my fate to fall and call quits, but here we are. Coincidences happen.”

Yes, our meeting years ago and now, they are just coincidences. Nothing more and nothing less.

“Oh, little devil I don’t believe in just coincidences.”

“Don’t call me that!”, I turned sharply around to him. He holds up his hands in a mocking way.

“Calm your tits.”

“Why did you call me that?”

“Because you are a bratty, little devil”, I ignore the sexual undertone in his words. It clicked instantly like finding the right puzzle piece. 

“Are you a Devils fan?”, I ask, taking another step back. He steps forward, looking down on me.

“Nah”, he chuckles roughly: “I am not into Ice Hockey.”

Fuck, I can’t tell if he is lying or not. He is as unreadable as Satoru. He is so indifferent, so detached, it is hard to see what his intentions are. For a second I just want to yell at him: ‘What do you want from me!?’ but I calm down and just continue my purchase, feeling his presence still in my neck.

“Mind if we take a picture together?”

I turn towards him, looking him up and down with my eyebrows pulled together. He laughs lightly, sounding friendlier. 

“Against whatever skepticism is playing in your head, I was always a fan of you.”

“You had a great way to show your support”, I instantly built my guards up around him.

“I think so too”, he ignores my obvious sarcasm. 

That fucking evil grin again as he pulls out his phone and hands it to a lady next to us, asking her to take a picture. Before I even register it, he is next to me, slinging his massive arm around my shoulder and yanks me towards him. Looking up he has a big grin on his face while I probably look startled as hell. 

Everything just happens so fast again, like I am back in the cabin. I couldn’t even agree as he took the phone back from the lady.

“Thank y-”, he starts, but I butt in: “I didn’t ag-”

“You smell good, what’s your perfume?”, he interrupts me too. I’m too confused to finish my other sentences as I just ask: “Why?”

“That friend, who isn’t really my friend, has a new girlfriend. I want to give her something too.” 

I tell him the perfume I use and walk straight to the register, just wanting to get away. He should have fucking stayed a ghost. 

I don’t try to gnaw on it too much as I put my groceries down. Eyeing a ‘thank you’ card, I quickly put it next to my groceries.

“Got a boyfriend?”, he asks without giving me a second look as he puts his stuff on the conveyor belt too.

“I actually do”, I snarl back, not amused at all by his behavior. I should have never answered his questions in the first place, just acting like I have no idea who he is. On the other hand it is hard to overlook the person who played such a big role in my career. 

He could have been the ending but he was the crucial part to my new beginning. Because of him I had the chance to retire when I wanted to. Two Olympic Gold medals. I ended my career in the best moment, at its peak. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.”, I state affirmatively. 

“Someone I would know?”

What kind of dumb question is that?

It seems more likely that he isn’t believing me and just wants to make sure I am not lying. 

I owe him a lot in a cruel way, but I would never fall so low to ever date him. Regardless, I have a contract with Satoru and I will not waver. 

For the time being Satoru is my priority. 

At least this question gives me a little relief. If he doesn’t know about Satoru and me, he really isn’t an Ice Hockey fan. Good, one less worry.

“Well, can’t tell if you know him but Satoru Gojo”, I mutter, hoping it will be enough to get him off my back and leave me alone. I give the cashier my card and pay for my stuff. 

“It doesn’t ring a bell”, he laughs, his eyes following my every move. 

“Then you must live behind the moon”, I retorted and grabbed my groceries.

“Maybe, or he isn’t just that important”, he says with a shrug: “anymore.”

I foolishly neglect his reply and just walk out of the store towards my car. All I want is to get away from this person. From my past. 

Once I sit in my car, everything comes crashing down on me. My hands shake and I feel panic rising inside of me. I shouldn’t drive in this emotional state, but I need to leave the parking lot. Away from him. Far away and praying that I will never see him again. 

My mothers words come back into my brain. I could have lost my foot. 

Because of him. 

He is dangerous. 

In the end I will never know if I had made history at the Olympics if I had told him to fuck off and leave me alone, not skating at the world championship. No one will know. By all means I could have recovered out of my insecurities alone and won a year later. Everything is possible.

But I did what I did and he did what he did. Risking your own career is one thing, but being a driving force in risking others, problematic. 

Additionally to his acting of ‘fixing’ my ankle, his words were a big part in my win too. His degradation towards me made me want to prove him wrong. As soon as I stepped on the ice I wanted him to look at me and see me win. 

Full circle back to my weaknesses. I care too much about what people think of me. It shouldn’t have mattered what an unknown man claims about me. 

Yet it did to me. 

Cut that crap! I will change. This is my second new beginning. 

With that I start my car and drive off, not looking back. 

I arrive at the rink hall, taking my groceries with me as I walk to the front door. Seeing Satoru waiting for me from afar makes my heart flutter. 

I am safe now from the ghost of my past. 

He grins widely, nothing evil behind it. Just Satoru. 

I step towards him, he takes my bags from me as I don’t stop getting nearer. Pressing my face in his chest, I sling my arms around him and just breathe in. He never saw me as a loser. He always treated me like an equal. 

“What’s wrong?”, he lightly chuckles and puts one of his large hands on my head, patting me like I have seen him pat my cat Todo. His chest quakes from his laughter and it feels good. It feels safe. Satoru knows me and at least some of my weaknesses and he is still here.

“I just saw a ghost”, I mumble, which earns me another quiver from him. 

“A ghost?”

“Yes, but he is gone now and will never come back.”

“Did you fall on your head or something?”

Slight concern is in his voice. I look up to him with a cheeky smile. 

“I got something for you”, taking a step back, I grab my bags from Satoru and rummage inside of one of them. It is too full, so I take a pack of baby carrots out and hand it to him to just hold while I keep on searching.

“Wow, I love baby carrots!”, he says with way too much enthusiasm. They aren’t his surprise, but I couldn’t resist my next tease: “Why, do they remind you of something?”

He laughs and we both grin at each other. 

“I don’t have a baby carrot and you know it”, he adds: “As I recall it, you were afra-”

“Yeah, yeah I know! Don’t remind me, idiot.”

Satoru would love nothing more to remind me again of our night together, but I 

keep him quiet by switching the baby carrots in his hand with a box of chocolates. 

“Sorry to disappoint, but the baby carrots are for the kids later.”

“Kids?”, he frowns and looks at the new item in his hand. His brain is rattering to figure out why I give him chocolates. 

“Yeah, the skating students you happily agreed on training for me. Did you forget?”

The frown on his face deepens and soon enough he groans. 

“Do I really have to do this?”

“You promised.”

“Lie, I never did.” “Well, you said to Suguru that you promised me, so it is kind of a promise.”

Another groan, which makes me feel flustered, growing a bit hot in certain areas.

“Suguru and I will be there too.”, a small smile forms on his lips. 

“Fine.”, he pouts and rolls his eyes, but I know he is just acting bothered: “But if you leave me alone for one second I will be mad.”

“I would never.”, I reply with a soft nod. 

I take the ‘thank you’ card out of my bag and his brain is catching up to the premise. His pout turns into a knowing smirk. 

“Do you have your wallet on you?”

He knows what I want. 

“Always”, he hands me a pen out of his pocket. I open the card and go behind Satoru, using his broad back as a table to write on. He is nice enough to lean slightly forward as I scribble something down. I put the card into the envelope and 

wet the glue strip with my spit to close it. Once I am finished I hand it back to him with a big smile.

“Thank you, partner”

He is all smiles and dimples as he takes the card from me.

“It was my pleasure”, he sticks the box of chocolates under his armpit and rips the envelope open to read my message. 

Dear Satoru,

thank you for fucking my insecurity away ❤️

Sincerely followed by my signature autograph.  

By the way he looks at me, I am one more step closer to finally get him to open up to me. A step closer to get our situation ruled out as a draw.

He puts the card back into the envelope and looks at me with tomato red cheeks. I gasp at this sight. 

I managed to make the Satoru Gojo speechless with his own shenanigans! The ‘thank you’ card and box of chocolates were his idea after all.

“I got you blushing!”, I can not not make him even more embarrassed. This is the chance of a lifetime. I will wallow in it like a piggy in fresh mud. 

“Shut up”, he turns his face away, but I take his beautiful face in between my hands to make him look at me. 

A mistake because from the way he looks at me, he got me blushing now. I feel like in this moment we are just one more heartbeat away from kissing each other but as if god sent an angel to save me from my disgrace, the front door swings open and Suguru emerges. I let go of Satoru and took a step back, looking at Suguru now.

“There you are”, he nods at Satoru, not noticing me at first. I have never seen such an expression on Sugurus face. A grimace, a pissed off grimace.

“We need to talk.”

The last twenty minutes I spent on the tribune, next to Shoko as we watched Satoru and Suguru hammer pucks into the goal. 

“Men”, Shoko sighs next to me: “Can’t handle their emotions so they have to act them out.”

I agree with her. 

The situation they found themself in isn’t ideal but I don’t get the fuss. Toji Fushiguro didn’t sign an extension contract for the Rangers. It was a surprise but they could have seen it coming. Greedy athletes always change their team, especially if money is on the line. And if I learned one thing about Toji during my research, he loves money.

Surely losing a player is always shitty, but I looked into the entire team. There are so many good other players. He won’t be missed. At least I thought so, but as I voiced it Suguru looked at me with an offended glare and said I have no idea about Ice Hockey, so I kept my mouth shut from that point and just let them work it out on their own. 

It was better anyway to stay out of this, because my father decided to make Toji an offer of a lifetime and he will be playing for the Devils from now on. Once Suguru mentioned this to Satoru, I got the death stare, like I have something to do with the shit my father does. 

So I banished myself on the bench next to Shoko, now watching two grown men trying to see who can destroy their ice hockey stick the fastest. 

“Want something from the vending machine?”, Shoko asks me.

“Nah, I’m good, but here”, I hand her my keys: “Just open it and take what you want.”

“You will never get those keys back.”, she declares and I one hundred percent believe her. “I will not forget about them.”, I respond with a light smile, but she just waves me off and walks away.

As I watch them play or whatever the hell they are doing, I regret not unfollowing Toji on Satorus account in first place. 

With a big stretch I get up and decide to finally intervene. They could do this for hours to no end, but in around two hours ten kids will be here for their skating course and I can’t have two sulking men train them. 

I step on the ice being totally ignored by the two of them. Granted, I am the enemy right now, well, I have half the DNA of their enemy. 

“Does it really matter that he left?”

Both of them tilt their heads to me with an annoyed expression. I hold my hands up in defense.

“Like, is he stronger than you?”, I ask Satoru.

“No.”, a prompt answer.

“So it doesn’t matter.”, I get eye rolls from them - synchronous. 

“Ice hockey is a team sport.”, Suguru tells me like I don’t know. 

“Okay, and? What about the others? Aren’t they good enough?”

“That’s not the-”, I don’t let Suguru finish.

“Hakari never missed the goal, Higuruma always has a solid strategy, Kusakabe has one of the greatest defenses, Ino is an allround talent, Choso never misses a pass”, I pause, but add: “And Nanami just won the award for best goalie.”

They are a lot more players, but I decided to just go with the main ones. Both Satoru and Suguru stare at me like I am a freak.

“You learned about the team?”, Satoru asks, astonished.

“Yeah, for you”, I answer and oh boy, I didn’t mean for it to sound so tender, even corny. 

“I mean, you know I should kind of know your team, right? Like it would be weird if a reporter asks me something and I have no clue, right?”, too many rights. I cross my arms and act nonchalant, looking everywhere but at Satorus plaguing and all-knowing grin. Suguru just peeks between Satoru and me before rolling his eyes but with a small smile. 

“Anyway”, I try to get back on track: “Both of you are so occupied at being mad at a person who left your team for money, that you are the ones acting like Ice Hockey isn’t a team sport.”

According to wikipedia Toji is one of the best Ice Hockey players alive right now, but I certainly don’t need to mention this right now. 

“You are right, we don’t need him to win the Stanley cup”, Satoru announces after a while of skeptical glimpses between Suguru and himself. 

“Still he knows all the weaknesses of our team members”, Suguru thinks out loud: “and he knows the relationship between you two is fake.”

Shit, I forgot about that part.

“But like every other teammate he had to sign a document, he isn’t allowed to disclose that.”

“Come on, Satoru, don’t be dumb. He will never publicly state it but he will tell his new team and they will do anything to use it against you.”

“Let them try”, I chirp in: “we are smarter than them.”

I will end up regretting these words.

Satoru seems confident as well, giving me a thumbs up with a big smile. Only Suguru isn’t convinced.

“If everything goes down”, I skate to him and take his stick: “I can always take Tojis spot on the team.”

I hit the puck and scored. 

“Natural talent”, Satoru grins.

“Yeah, sadly it is in my blood”, I shrug my shoulders, looking at his beaming smile. I am glad I got them to stop overthinking. At least for now. If they want they can have a sleepover and keep sulking the entire night. For now I want them to be ready for the skating course later. 

As I was thinking of a way to cheer up Suguru, Shoko shrieks from the tribune. We all looked at her like she got bitten by a spider. 

“You gotta be kidding me!”, see, I will regret my words.

“What’s up, Choco-Shoko”, Satoru skates towards the brim of the rink, followed by Suguru and me. Normally Shoko would glare daggers at Satoru for this name, but she is too occupied staring at her phone. 

She alters her stare and looks with an open mouth at me before stuttering: “I have a girl problem.”

“A what?”, Suguru asks confusedly, staring at Satoru, who seems as perplexed. 

“I need you, now, outside”, she points at me and I just comply, stepping out the rink and stomping behind her with my skates still on. As soon as we exit the rink hall and enter the corridor, she turns around and holds her phone too close to my face to see. 

“Can you explain this?”

“Shoko, I can’t see anything like this”, I push her hand down and focus on the screen. 

It is a picture. 

Not any picture. 

It is the picture from the supermarket.

The picture of Yuji and me. 

The ghost isn’t gone. 

But they don’t know anything about my past with him. For what it looks like he is just a fan taking a picture with me. 

“What’s the problem, Shoko? He just asked for a picture in the supermarket”, I tilt my head, acting confused and certainly I am a bit. 

“You know who this is, right?”, she proceeds to press the phone again in my face.

“Shoko, stop”, I take a step back: “again, he was just asking for a picture. I didn’t ask for his ID or anything.”

Why do I have the feeling I made a huge mistake. 

Why can’t this ghost stay in my past? 

Shoko looks at me like I am a pink elephant wearing a tutu. 

“You really have no idea?”

“No, I told you, he just asked for a picture.”

Who the hell is he?

Yuji, the pro basketball player. Did he have a scandal I don’t know about and taking a picture with him wasn’t a good move. 

Well, lack of knowledge doesn’t save you from backlash, but Shoko acts like someone posted a video of me skinning puppies alive. 

“Short and sweet, this is Satorus mortal enemy on and off the ice.”

Shoko explains dryly: “And you better run, because if Satoru sees this, he will use your bones to make a new Ice Hockey stick.”

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Mortal enemy?

On the ice?

That motherfucker is an Ice Hockey Player!

I grab her phone and click on his profile. 

Sukuna Ryomen. Not Yuji.

Ice Hockey. Not basketball.

Center player for the New Jersey Devils. No fucking way.

What kind of fuckery is this? 

I feel like the last few days I got way too many situations like this, where I just get thrown under the bus, but this, this is next level shit. 

He lied to me years ago and kept the lie running. 

Well, I decided to play in his cards by not googling him. 

Keeping him a mystery, a ghost. 

Great idea, now he is back and alive, ready to jump me like a lion a gazelle. He kind of did that already. 

I don’t care about Satorus hatred against him. For now.

All I think about is why he was at the stadium years ago!?

Was he sent by my father? According to his profile, he was already playing for the Devils at that time. 

What is doing on? 

The binding technique, the unknown pill. 

Sabotage.

He truly was there to sabotage me. To end my career. 

One hundred percent did my father send him. 

I was getting more and more media coverage at that time. After all, I was a candidate for the Olympics. My father got asked more and more questions about me. He surely knew how to ignore them, but they must have bothered him. So much so that he sent someone over to sabotage my career. To end it and then he would have never heard of me again. 

It all made sense. 

But his little trick didn’t work, it did the opposite. 

Oh, he must have been so pissed. So pissed seeing me win and a few weeks later announcing that I will be skating for the Olympics. 

Definitely a vein popped in his forehead. 

The door swings open loudly as it crashes against the wall.

“Here we go.”, Shoko takes her phone out of my hand and steps backwards, seemingly wanting to escape whatever is coming our way.

Satoru with his head tilted forwards, angry like a bull seeing red. 

Fitting, I have a red pilates set on.

Behind him Suguru tries to entangle Satoru in a conversation, but it doesn’t work. Satoru stops right in front of me and I would do everything for him to just scream at me and get it over with, instead he is so calm. 

Calm like the sea before a tsunami.

“What is this?”, he shows me the same picture I just saw a second ago on Shokos phone.

“Let me explain.”

“What is there to explain? You took a cute little picture with Sukuna. Anything else I need to know?”, he gestures with his hand fastly, something I have never seen him do before: “Like have you given him a quick update on how my recovery is going or I don’t know, fucked him.”

I was expecting a lot of accusations but fucking him. 

“Satoru”, Suguru chimes in, in a warning tone, but even he is looking at me like I did skin puppies alive.

Satoru ignores him completely, just staring at me. His height was always intimidating but now it is fucking terrifying.

But I am too stubborn and actually really hurt by his accusation, especially the last one. I will not allow someone to talk down on me again. I have changed.

“Yes Satoru, right between the bananas and the apples in the fruit aisle”, the moment I said it, the moment I regretted it. Satoru is so irrational right now, he would take everything seriously. He snorts with a menacing smile forming on his face. 

“I see, no denying.”

Different approach. 

“Listen, I just told Shoko I had no idea who he is. He just asked me for a picture.”

There is no reason for me to tell him about my past with Sukuna. It has nothing to do with Satoru and the situation I am in. I will keep it to myself. I see no sense in telling him about it and making him probably even angrier for being so foolish to not looking more into that guy who nearly ended my career. 

This is a conflict between my father, Sukuna and me. No need to drag Satoru into this. 

“How stupid do you think I am?”, Satoru replies, not even listening to me: “I fell for your little act of having no clue about Ice Hockey because it made sense, but now it is just getting ridiculous.”

That hurt like hell, worse than my foot inside the binding. 

Yeah, my life is a performance and I act like people want me to. 

But I never acted when it came to Satoru. I tried in the car on our first meeting, but he saw right through me and since I was always myself around him. 

“I was never acting around you and you know it”, tears start to sting in my eyes. 

This is all a big misunderstanding and it could be solved so easily if he just listens. 

“I just want you to tell me the truth and stop wasting my time.”

“Oh, you want the truth? I will give you the truth”, neither Satoru nor I should talk to each other right now. We are too emotional when it comes to the other person, but I am so hurt from his ignorance towards me. How can he not believe me? Whatever rivalry is between Sukuna and him, it goes deep. 

“Even if I was that evil mastermind who lured you into a trap.”, well, fuck I lured him into a trap once, but he did it too! He isn’t a saint either, but to accuse me of working together with a member of my fathers team is too much: “What could I have told Sukuna about you, huh? How all I know about you is readable on your fucking wikipedia page? Because you certainly didn’t tell me anything half the planet doesn’t know about you already!”

I keep holding eye contact with him, even when I feel the tears flowing now. “How I only saw you train for like thirty minutes and I have no idea about your progress? I never asked you or anyone else about your recovery or training plan or I don’t even know what. I have no idea who you truly are.”

He doesn’t answer me, just keeps meeting my eyes, like trying to find something in them so he can doubt me again. 

He doesn’t want to trust me. 

I thought about trust a lot. How I have trouble trusting Satoru, but I kind of disregarded that he might feel the same way about me. Not fully trusting me and with a situation like this. I would have probably reacted the same way. 

One thing is clear, he is hurt as well. 

“Okay, this is getting out of hand”, Suguru steps in between us, tearing our staring contest apart. 

“Both of you need to calm down! Whatever Sukunas intention was by posting this picture, he would probably have a big, fat grin on his face seeing you two go against each other!”, Suguru takes a deep breath. I look at Suguru but I still feel Satorus penetrating stare at me. 

“Toji surely told them about the contract between you two. Sukuna will do everything to throw you off course, Satoru”, he touches Satorus shoulder to get him to listen. 

I hear Shoko sucking in a breath and underlay Sugurus comments: “Suguru is right, it seems like he tries to get under your skin. Sukuna will do everything to keep you from performing your best. I mean he tried a similar play between Suguru and you years ago.”

I give Shoko a questioning glance but she just shrugs her shoulders. Whatever, I know nothing about Satoru anyway, why should it matter what happened years ago between the three of them. 

Yeah, whatever!

All this talk about being a team and partner, fuck it. I don’t care. I was never part of his team to begin with. 

I don’t care, I don’t care, I don’t care.

But I do care.

The contract means as much to me as I thought it meant to Satoru. It is my chance to come to terms with all that happened in my life. 

My absent father.

My overzealous mother. 

My madly ascent as a figure skater. 

Maybe I should just really call a therapist. 

I should turn around and leave, never looking back and forget the time we had. Just go into my room and lay in my bed, figuring my life out on my own. 

However in the end I am not a quitter. I signed this contract and I will do everything to keep it running. 

Everything is one big misunderstanding and I need to bash this in Satorus head. Of course my feelings are hurt because I feel like I have shown him parts of me no one knows and he didn’t give me anything back. 

But there was a reason why he wanted me as his fake girlfriend. Me and no one else, because we understand each other on a level most can’t relate to. I need to break his walls down, one by one. 

I like to think I had harder challenges. 

Satoru exhales, taking in what Suguru and Shoko said. He rubs his hands over his face, pressing his finger into his eye sockets. 

“I didn’t m- I need a minute”, with that he just leaves, walking to the locker rooms. 

Silence between the three of us. I know Suguru will be the first one to say something, probably telling me to give Satoru some time and everything will work out after a rational talk. 

Not this time, Suguru. This time I will do it my way. 

Without another word I follow Satoru, Suguru calling me from behind to let him be. I don’t listen as I keep walking, storming into the locker room.

“I said I need a minute”, Satoru groans loudly, probably thinking I am Suguru by the way his voice sounds. 

It is like a Deja Vu from another point of view. How he is the one sitting on a bench, mind going haywires and just done with the world as I storm into the room with one thing in mind. Getting him back on track. 

I’m Sukuna and Satoru is me from all those years ago. 

Well, it is debatable what Sukunas true intention was by getting my ass back on the ice, but I know what mine is.  

“Hey, Loser”, I chuckle as I lean against the wall in front of him, looking at him with a grin plastered on my face.

I will use the same tactic Sukuna used on me. I will use Sukunas own weapon to get his mortal enemy back on track, but I will make it better. 

The pure degradation from Sukuna made me go mad. I mean I nearly lost my career alongside my foot. What I would have needed, was a slap in the face to wake up and a gentle kiss after to make me realize I have worth. 

Degradation and praise. 

My weapons are better.

“What did you call me?”

“Want me to repeat it?”

“Yes, say it again”, his voice is so low, I start to get goosebumps and regret my plan. Maybe it doesn’t work on Satoru. Maybe we aren’t as similar, but I remember being mad at Sukuna too, I think I was only more bewildered because I didn’t know him. 

“I said you are a loser”, my confidence slips a bit and he can see it. 

I hate how easily he reads me. 

“Care to elaborate?”, he grins back and yeah, this isn’t going the way it did with Sukuna and me. This bastard is enjoying this.  

I seem to have forgotten that there is one big difference between Satoru and me and this is confidence. 

My confidence outside the rink is all fake, while his’ never leaves. He probably never thought of himself as a loser.

“It is just a bit pathetic, don’t you think?”

Laughter from him, but if you listen closely you can hear the difference between his real one and this one. 

I can pick up a bit of sourness. 

My words got to him. I mean it is probably the first time ever someone talked to him like this. Someone he cares about. 

Tell me what you want, but I know he cares at least a tiny bit about me. He has to for our contract to work. 

“I’m still waiting for the elaboration, princess.”

 I want to roll my eyes. Not even five minutes ago he accused me of being this evil mastermind and now he acts like nothing happened between us, like he can just call me princess and get away with it. 

Okay, I will let him get away with it, but just because I have a more important mission.

“You got all unreasonable and threw a fit because I took an innocent picture with a man I didn’t know was your self-appointed mortal enemy. Hard to believe this is how the legend Satoru Gojo behaves.”

His eyes darkened and I think I overstepped slightly. Well, there is no turning back now. 

What's said is said. 

“You complain about not knowing me, but once I show you a side of me, you complain even more.”

“That’s not what I was complaining about and you know it.”, I sigh and change the theme, because I don’t want to start a discussion about this. 

This conversation is about him, not about my hurt feelings. 

“Anyway, I don’t want to believe this is the real you”, I walk over to him and kneel down in front of him, looking up to meet his damning eyes.

“I don’t believe it. You are smart, smarter than most people I know. You think ahead for your five teammates and know your opponents by heart. You are the fastest, strongest and most versatile player in the NHL. And you are funny and kind in your own way, so don’t tell me the way you just acted out there is part of you. Whatever your issue with Sukuna is, he uses your hatred against him to bring out a part of you that isn’t you. An irrational and cruel loser.”

Sukuna did the same to me and I didn’t even know him prior to that. He made me irrational by playing with my insecurity of losing and made me cruel by the way I ended up talking with my mother. 

All these were my actions and I’m to blame for it, but everything would have turned out differently without him. 

He didn’t make me the person I am today. I will not give him that. The irrational and cruel side he handed me will be bashed once and for all.

I won’t give him credit anymore for giving me my titles. He isn’t the reason I made it to the Olympics. I could have done it on my own, because deep down I had all the strength in myself I needed. I am not a loser.

“Did you google my stats?”, is all he says to me after I told him a lot of nice things about himself. 

“Had to, it is not like you ever told me about yourself or your team”, my mouth turns into a thin line. 

“I’m sorry, I saw red and I overreacted. Suguru, Shoko and you are right. He wants to get inside my head to mess with me.”

“He is afraid you will come back stronger than ever and beat his ass”, now I smile at him and I get a harumph back but with a light smile playing on his lips. 

I would give everything to see him all smiles and dimples again, but it might take time. 

He takes my chin in his hand and looks at me with his intense eyes. 

“I’m really sorry, can you forgive this irrational and cruel loser?” 

“I only see a rational and kind winner in front of me, but sure.”

“You will be the death to me”, he laughs and I’m glad I got the smiles and dimples faster back than expected. 

“Come here”, he slaps on his leg and helps me get back up to sit down on his lap.

A small voice in my mind tells me to ask him if he was jealous of Sukuna in this picture. The fucking part in his accusations was rather random and I first thought it was to just randomly hurt me, but maybe there was a bit of jealousy. I should ask him, tease him about it, but it is going well now, I shouldn’t test my luck. 

Even the best players run out of it and I tested the limits with Satoru enough for one day. 

He pulls me closer and slings his arms around my back, pressing me to his chest and oh, his crotch. 

“I can’t believe you are hard right now.”

I don’t know why I said that outloud but I did. Nuzzling his head into the croak of my neck, he breaths in my hair and chortles. 

“Believe it, it’s the stress.”

“So you are hard 24/7?”

“Only when you are around.”

“You are such a smooth talker”, I giggle and hate myself for the way I react. 

“I think red just turned into my favorite color”, he pushes my hair back to get access to my neck, kissing it softly. I feel his fingers linger on the hem of my tight shirt, ready to pull it over my head.

“Then I should better keep it on so you have more of it.”

He grunts and bites me lightly in the shoulder, sending goosebumps down my spine.

“Let me take it off, okay?”

Instantly I want to do nothing more than nod my head, but a thought crosses my mind. 

“This wouldn’t be a good idea.”

Another grunt. 

“Please don’t tell me you were serious with the one time thing”, he leans back from my neck and looks at me, waiting to accept a rejection. 

I actually was, but now I am not anymore. The problem lies somewhere else. 

“What if someone comes in?”

“A big surprise for them”, he grins widely.

“Not funny”, I roll my eyes: “I’m serious.”

“You are always too serious”, he brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. 

“And you aren’t serious enough. Suguru could come in and catch us.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

I punch his shoulder lightly.

“It does! I don’t want him nor anyone else from the team to know about this”, I wave my finger between Satoru and me back and forth. 

“Not to break your little bubble, but they already know”, I stare with a shocked expression at him, ready to punch him for real this time. 

If he dared to-

“You weren’t exactly quiet the other night and the walls are rather thin.”

Now I wish he would have told them instead, that would be way less embarrassing. I grumble in my hands, hiding my face out of sheer mortification. Satoru just laughs, as always and grabs my hands, pulling them off my face. “It is fine.”

“It is not”, I pout. Is today my personal humiliation day? A new holiday I didn’t know about.

“It really is, princess.”

I didn’t want anyone, especially Suguru, to know I had slept with Satoru. It comes across as extremely incompetent regarding our whole contract. Our entire relationship should have stayed professional. I don’t want to know what Suguru is thinking of me. He had the most trust in me and I ended up sleeping with Satoru not even a few days into the contract. 

I’m weak. At least when it comes to Satoru. 

Wait.

This is the chance. A draw!

There is no insecurity for him to fuck out of my mind. He wants to hook up with me out of sheer fun? Lust? Whatever it is, it will create the draw I so desperately want to have. 

I want to be on equal terms again. 

“But we don’t need to anymore, you know. No more insecurity inside my head.”

Well, no more insecurity regarding looking at him and being close to him. 

“I know, but I just want to be inside you”, he looks at me with a small, pleading pout: “No, I need to be inside you.”

I exhale a steamy breath. He is again at the hem of my shirt, pulling it slightly up, rough fingertips traveling over my skin. 

“Don’t make me beg, unless it turns you on, then I will gladly beg”, his mouth is against my jawline, leaving a trail of kisses and small bites.

I nod and reap a ‘tz’ from him. 

“Give me a clear yes or no.”

I shouldn’t.

“Yes”, and his lips are suddenly on mine, just leaving them for a second as he pulls my top over my head. 

With slightly cold hands he squeezes my breasts, a moan escaping my mouth, which he catches with his. He rolls my already hard nipples between his fingers before choosing the one on the left side to close his lips around and lick. I whimper and lean my head back, giving him even more access as his now unoccupied hand enters my waistband. 

“Angel”, he whispers in my ear: “Get up for a second, we need to get rid of your pants, okay?”

He talks to me like I am slow on the uptake and at this moment I feel like it. I’m in a delicious delirium as I stand up and hold myself up on Satorus shoulders. He gets rid of my pants, not we. In a swift motion he brings me back on his lap and kisses me again, his tongue asking for excess to enter my mouth and I let him with a small sob. I want to open his pants, but he grabs my eager hands quickly. 

“I know we don’t have a lot of time, but you need to be a bit prepared, okay?”, again he talks to me slowly and I just nod, not knowing why we need to be quick. 

…

The skating course!

Dragged out of my delirium I look around for a watch. Satoru catches me scowling and states: “Don’t worry, we still have enough time.”

I pucker my lips for a second but I ended up trusting him, not wanting to call it quits now. 

And no, this isn’t just about me wanting this to. This is all about getting equal again. In my head I mentally make the note to let this really be the last time. After this Satoru and I will just be partners like we are in a law firm. 

Before I can even write the note mentally down, the thought is gone as he wets two of his fingers with his tongue before stuffing them inside my mouth too. I twirl my tongue around them too as he pulls them back out with a blop. With his other hand, he grabs my butt and slightly lifts me up as I kneel on his lap. 

Then he creeps his fingers at a slow pace up and down in between my fold to gather slick. I lean forward and lift myself a bit more up to give him better excess. Steady but so, so, so slowly he enters me. His thumb is drawing soft circles on my clit while he starts to move his fingers in and out. So slow like we are in no hurry, like he wants to torture me. 

“Please Satoru, faster”, I cry in his ear.

“Nah, angel”, he presses a kiss on my temple.

“This is your punishment for taking that picture.”

I should have known he wouldn’t let me off the hook about this picture so quickly. 

“Please, I had no idea”, I groan frustrated and sling my arms around his neck for support as I start to move my hips, trying to create speed and friction on my own. My plan failed as Satoru keeps my hips in place with his other arm around my waist now. 

“Should have thought about that before taking a picture with a random man.”

He can’t be serious, right?

How am I supposed to know Satoru has a mortal enemy out there, who out of nowhere appears in front of me at the supermarket. 

Sukuna called it fate, but what was it really?

With a light bite in my cheek, Satoru brings me back to the present as his fingers once again enter me lazily. 

“This is unfair”, I complain against his neck, thinking if I touch him more it will make him more excited, giving me what I want. 

My hands wander under his shirt, along his hard abs to his nipples, stroking them slightly. That move earned me a rough exhale from him between shut teeth. 

“Just promise me one thing.”

“Everything, I will promise you everything”, I am so desperate to get off. I can feel the coil inside me building up but it isn’t going to snap at this slow pace.

“Whatever happens between us, never fuck Sukuna, promise.”

Again his insecurity when it comes to Sukuna and me. Is it really a jealousy thing? I can’t imagine Satoru ever being jealous of someone. 

“I promise, really, I will always be on your team even if you don’t want me to.”

He looks at me with an amazed grimace before locking our lips again, finally speeding up. The lazy circles on my clit turn into rougher ones as his fingers pump into me. I breathe heavily into his shoulder as my legs start to quiver and the strength to keep them up tardily leaves me. 

He knows exactly where my weak spot is, as he supports my weight with his muscular arm, hitting the same sweet spot over and over again as his fingers work their wonders to make me cum. The coil that was built on at the slow movements, quickly grows bigger before it explodes and I cum undone around his fingers. My walls pulsate around his fingers as he lets me ride my orgasm out on them. 

I’m out of breath but I can’t wait any longer. I want him inside me right now. With shaky hands I open his pants and lift myself up on my wobbly knees to pull his pants down. His erection springs free and yeah, no baby carrot. 

Nevertheless I am still intimidated but I had him already in me and I survived it and even better liked, no loved it.

“Slow down, partner”, Satoru yelps out of breath as I position myself on top of his dick. 

“No.”, I kiss him and sink down on him, feeling my walls painfully stretch around his massive girth. He leans back, pressing his back against the wall for support and giving me time to adjust and do everything at my speed. His eyes are closed and I know he wants to do nothing more than move his hips at an incredible pace to drill into me.

But he is patient as I slip slowly down his cock, letting out small whines, each one making his cock flutter inside of me. Once I am all settled down, I take a short breather adjusting myself.

Soon enough I start to roll my hips to let him know I am ready. His reaction was immediate as he grips my hips hard, boring his fingers into the soft flesh on my stomach and just fucks raw into me. I gasp and tears escape my eyes at the sudden rough friction. My eyes roll back as he lets go off my hip with one arm, laying it now flat against my back and gripping my neck from behind. Hand in my hair to keep me steady as he slides his dick in and out of me with loud groans. He has to use a lot of strength to not keep me from falling off his lap, but he doesn’t seem to mind, not breaking a sweat over this. His tongue moves from my shoulder to my neck, up my jaw to my mouth where it means mine. 

I’m so full of him I feel everything so intense that it is mind numbing. Whenever his white pubic hair meets my clit, it sends a shiver down from head to toe. 

“Maybe I will just mark you”, he bites into my lip before kissing me again: “Making it clear who you belong to.”

He lets go of my hip and grabs my jaw between his long fingers to make me look at him.

“Would you like that, angel? Letting everyone know you are mine?”

I nod and babble a few yesyesyes.

Surely this is all filthy sex talk, right? He doesn’t really mean it. I am not his. 

“I could cum on your face and make you walk around like that or fill you up with so much of my cum your birth control fails and you will be round with my baby.”

Whatever he wants, he can have and I make sure to tell him that as I wail into the palm of my hand to keep myself quiet. 

This time we aren’t team players as we both chase our own release. His thrusts get sloppier as he supports my legs with his hands so I don’t break down on him. My chest is pressed against his, since I lost the power to uphold my body on its own. Before I lose my strength completely I climax and my head falls heavy on his shoulder as I start to see stars behind my closed eyes. 

“No one fucks you so good.”

I’m not sure if it was a statement or a question, but I can’t speak anyway, so I just nod against his hard shoulder.

Feeling my walls open and close around his dick, Satoru slides one more time fully into me, his pubic hair chilling against my clit again as he fills me up with his warm sperm, twitching inside of me until he is completely milked.

My head is resting on his shoulder and he is resting his’ on mine. 

I don’t know how long we stay like this, but after a while Satoru slaps my ass, making me jolt. 

“Time to get ready, can’t let them kids wait, right?”, he pulls me up, his dick slipping out of me, suddenly leaving me feeling empty and abandoned. Carefully he carries me to the side, my naked ass on the bench now as he gets up and pulls his pants up. He picks up my clothes and grabs a few paper towels from the shelf, placing all next to me on the bench while I am still in a state of trance. He smirks at my fucked out gooey form and slicks my hair out of my face. 

“I need to discuss something with Suguru. I will be back once the course starts.”

For a second it looks like he is leaning in for a kiss, but then he retracts and pats my shoulder like we are buddies!? As if his dick wasn’t a few seconds ago getting freaky inside my bowels. He turns around and leaves without saying another word or waiting for a response. 

I got my draw. 

But with the worst outcome possible. Being left alone, naked, with his cum leaking out of me and nothing has changed, I still know nearly nothing about him. 

Sukuna is his enemy, but why exactly does he hate him so much? It can’t be just that he is on an opposite team. 

And what does Suguru have to do with this? 

I lied to all of them. I told them I had no idea who Sukuna was. 

Well, that’s actually true to an extent, but I didn’t mention our past. 

If Satoru can have his secrets, I can have mine too.

As long as they don’t come back and bite me in the ass. 

[stinkyme]

Hello! This is Nikolai fic I had an idea of, I hope you like it and enjoy it! :) <3

There are parts to this story that discuss death, reader is NOT suicidal, but metaphorically speaking, envying how the dead even have more freedom with their emotions than a living human. Also, they misunderstand Nikolai's idea of freedom because of lack of informations (they know he needs to die for a plan, so misinterpretation happens). There is also a part in the beginning that mentions their ability coming to an end, they are unaware of Fyodor's desire to kill all ability users, they just know they could be free from their ability. (this is very briefly mentioned, one sentence)

CW/TW: SFW, gn!reader, reader works at DoA and has an ability "Dead Souls", they don't like Nikolai at first, reader is also a bit mean/sharp/bitter at first, the story follows part of the main plot, bickering, sometimes sassy Nikolai, cursing, reader has never been in love or had friends, reader doesn't allow themselves to feel a lot due to the ability, a lot of dialogue and inner monologue, misunderstandings, Nikolai & reader prank Sigma, kinda slow burn, "friends" to enemies to lovers…?, they get into an argument, reader slaps Nikolai & uses harsh words, they make up, fluff and romance (yikes😒), if I forgot anything please let me know! :)

Also, there is a small portion where Nikolai and reader discuss his card, I am a bit of a fanatic towards tarot & regular cards, so I wanted to add that part because I think it's really interesting for Nikolai's character + it creates a bit of intimacy :) (basically, 3 of spades represents a failure in achieving a certain desire; outcome different than firstly anticipated. Usually disappointment, however, I wanted to make a little twist to it, given the nature of the fic, so his plan fails for other cheesy reasons :3)

* This mostly stems from my need for fluffy Nikolai and because I am an awful, cheesy & romantic person. (I disgust myself and you should be disgusted too)

I digress...I thought that using one of the works from an irl author to sort of...make an opposite, but similar to bsd Nikolai when it comes to freedom could be interesting. Ability isn't fully connected to a book itself, it's more my own interpretation + using the name to make it! :D Also, names are from the book, descriptions of souls in this case is different since I wanted to make a little variety :)

** When Nikolai says "So is graveyard", he isn't threatening to kill the reader, but teasing their ability and dead vibe/behavior or rather lack of excitement :3

I apologize for any mistakes in advance! :)

this is long, I am sorry, spam how disgusting I am pls.....an AO3 link is here and in the fic, since it couldn't fit LOL

A cage of freedom || Nikolai Gogol x Reader

Dead Souls. That was your ability which you hated. It had some good parts, of course, but it mostly limited you in your own essence. Part of your ability allowed you to see other people's essence, their soul and one thing they crave the most. Different part was granting you power to see, speak to and help souls of the dead to pass on when they are ready. 

It all sounds like a lovely thing to experience, except it wasn't.

Indeed, the souls could help you as well, grant you needed information, take care of your blind spots, even fight for you.

However, everything has a price.

Yours was your own soul. Not in a way people usually imagine. 

Your ability didn't allow you to feel much. The dead who get stuck in the physical realm are already feeling a lot of heavy emotions - such as grief, pain, anger, sorrow and anxiety. Therefore, your own emotions had to be in constant check so you wouldn't be disturbing the souls attached to you and possibly ruin their remaining stability. With that being known, you realized that the best way is to not experience anything at all or rather, as little as possible. 

You didn't allow yourself to experience fear, anxiety or sadness. You learned to detach yourself and naturally, the stories of the poor souls made your endurance much bigger. Another big rule you had was not falling in love or loving people. They can leave at any moment and completely ruin the ground beneath you which would trap those souls you take care of in the worst parts of existence - eternal suffering and no memories of their lives. 

People can hurt you, they are unpredictable and dishonest, as much as you can see the part of their essence - that doesn't protect your own. It is always better not to risk it. That's what you've learned after so many years of living the way you do.

Which is why you were a perfect fit for Decay of Angels.

Someone who is rational, not emotion driven and has a flexible ability that actually grants more than one person. Fyodor was beyond intrigued, and you were beyond satisfied with their goal. You wanted your own ability to come to an end, but also, to stop the war. 

Aftermaths of wars still have souls lingering to this day, too damaged to be helped and you always feel a faint sting in your heart when you can't do anything. You can't even grieve them or cry over them, just forcefully accept endless suffering like it's nothing, but an inconvenience. 

You were deprived of basic human experience and the right - to feel. You were not a psychopath, nor a sociopath, no. You had to forcefully cage your own heart and limit anything that may come in or out of it. As much as you would like to say it does become easier, some days remind you that it's not. 

To say you crave a friendship, a love, a passion, a sadness, an intense happiness, a heartbreak, a feeling of being alive after being surrounded by nothing but death for as long as you remember was an understatement. 

Sometimes, the souls would apologize to you, they felt your desires too. They were beyond grateful for your work, but they also knew the suffering they were causing to you. 

Being stripped away from a life - in a living, functioning body in which the blood runs and heart beats intensely was nothing more than a punishment. Nothing less than a cruel joke. Just a simple slavery to your own unfortunate circumstance. You were a warm flesh covering your own cage, pretending to be alive while craving the freedom of the dead. A freedom of everyone else.

Even the worst scums on earth had a right to feel, but you? No.

You were deprived of a choice even before you were given one. 

When you met the rest of the Angels, you were not impressed by any, given the fact you already knew you wouldn't attach yourself. A quick glance at their essences told you everything you needed to know. 

Sigma, Bram, Fukuchi, Fyodor and finally Nikolai.

A home. 

A sleep. A family. It switches depending on whether he is awake or asleep.

An end to a war. 

Salvation and cleansing. 

A freedom.

You want to scoff. A freedom? From what? 

It often mildly annoys you how people's deepest desires are either shallow, overly egoistical or simply attainable. Some people desire to change the world in the name of God, old or dead friends which is always an excuse for them to do whatever they think is right. Nobody can out-perfect the dead and you know it very well. 

God is always used as a pedestal to explain human's extremities and allow them destruction in the name of higher good. Past can never not be sorrow and similarly to the dead - nothing can out-perfect it or change it. It all seems like a valid excuse simply because it can't be touched by humans. A past, the dead, a God. It's all singular and unchangeable. Therefore, it is undiscussable and immediately accepted as a valid reasoning for human's selfishness.

Some people desire a home or a family. Those are valid desires of any human and to those you can relate to. 

However, for most humans it holds no meaning. They are shallow in their desires. It's often a one-way street. They want to be loved and to be safe or secure, but they aren't ready to give the same treatment back. Or simply, they try to heal their own lack of certain emotions or feelings through physically conventional things. 

To make up for something they are not. 

But one thing they all are. Humans are greedy. Once they attain home or a family, they desire something else. More. More. More. It's always more. They always want more of life. They never learn to appreciate what they have and the freedom of choice they were given. The very beginning of it - a freedom to desire things. It could be your own mild bitterness speaking, but given your position, it was a fair mindset to have. You were not allowed to even desire too much or too hard.

Some people desire things they already have. Those you hated the most - as much as you were allowed to hate. 

They were either creepily shallow in a way such as - desiring more money when they already have everything they could possibly need. Desiring more partners; more love or passion when they already have a person who is completely devoted to them. Wanting more excitement, more happiness, more friends - everything they already had, but didn't appreciate, or could achieve without breaking a sweat.

A freedom?

There were people who desired freedom for good reasons. Abusive marriages, families or relationships. Being disabled or mentally ill. Being sick. Being overly pressured. Suffering things such as slavery, sex trafficking and similar. They desire freedom too and you know that. You don't speak of them, and you are aware of your own ungratefulness sometimes. 

But, human tragedies and pains are not to be compared because one will always seem smaller than the other, but emotions on each side will always remain. Desire on each side will always remain. Helplessness will always remain. 

They will connect through their despair which humans are either awfully good or bad at. 

You are the bad one. You can only connect to the dead, and even then, your input and output must be limited. Your heart shall not open more than an inch. If you could stitch it to be shut closed - you would. 

But you can't. Because certain empathy is needed for your ability to work. Not too much or too little of anything. To some it may seem like balance, but in reality it's torture. 

Either feel everything or nothing at all. Feel as much as you need to feel.

Because experiencing life in low, limited measurement is like a soul is sick. Experiencing life in rare tea spoons of what it means to be living. Get a drop of water when there is an endless, clean ocean in front of you. A few breaths of being alive in-between what seems like endless suffocation. 

It's awful and excruciating. It feels tightening. It feels like your soul is constipated to say the least. It feels torturous. 

Therefore, quite frankly, you can't help but experience a small jolting of nerves when you witness someone like him. Someone who seems so obnoxious, so loud, so out there, so shamelessly being themself. Someone who has all the freedom, who isn't bound by the dead, by the living, by the suffering, by his own ability. Hell, even listening about his ability makes you want to puke.

"My ability grants me to store things in my coat right here! I can also create portals and transfer my body parts or things. Pretty cool, isn't it?!" he is twirling around while he speaks, his voice enthusiastic.

"A true ability for a true magician!" he claps his hands before bowing down. As if he did something amazing.

You don't even say a word, a faint disgust on your face.

"Oh~, you don't seem impressed," his voice softens.

"How about now?!" he transports his hand from his coat to the other member named Sigma, squishing his cheek. Sigma yelps, giving him an irritated look.

"Could you stop that?!" he yells as he unsuccessfully tries to slap Nikolai's hand away as he reverts it back quickly, giggling. 

"Interesting." you say in an obviously disinterested tone. Nikolai looks at you, his expression confused for a moment.

"Ah, sarcasm! Got it!" he snaps his fingers before pointing at you.

"What about you, though? What's your ability?" he asks with a little smile on his face.

"I can speak to the dead." you deadpan and both men's expressions change to a slight shock.

"Really?" Nikolai asks, a bit intrigued.

"Really. I can communicate with them and help them cross once they are ready." you nod, your whole demeanor calm.

"That's spooky!" he says in a lower, but still expressive tone, covering his mouth with his hand that was further covered by the coat.

"Not at all. It's depressing, but rewarding at times." you reply in a casual tone. 

"Hm...still, quite spooky to me." he replies in a quieter tone.

"To each its own." you shrug. The silence fills the room, feeling a bit awkward, but as if it could affect you.

"So...are there any dead people with us now?" Sigma whispers.

"Quite a few actually. Around five at the moment." you smile as you rest your chin on your palm.

"Your whisper woke them, they seem to be quite angry with you. They will begin to hunt soon." you give him a sly gaze.

"Why?! I didn't do anything! How do I-"

"I am kidding. They don't care." you say in a slightly playful tone, calming an anxious man down. He would never be able to have your ability, it's entertaining to witness.

"So you do have a sense of humor after all! We will make a great pair." Nikolai giggles at your teasing. He sits next to you and you feel the disgust climb up your throat. 

Naturally, you tone it down immediately. For your own and the souls' sake.

"I don't think so." you raise your eyebrow at him, lips curling down a bit. Nikolai gives you a slightly confused expression.

"If I leave now, will they follow me?" Sigma whispers again and it makes you sigh out.

"No, they won't follow you. Unless you are the reason they are bound in the physical realm or I order them, they won't care about you." your voice is comforting. You understand people's anxiety around you and rarely blame them. It's better than those who cling onto you. Like this damn clown.

Sigma nods, letting a little sigh out from relief. He waves to you and leaves the room, you assume to the Casino he was in charge of.

"Do you want to prank him later?" Nikolai giggles happily, elbowing your arm. You want to rip his arm apart, but remain calm - as always.

"Not interested." you slowly get up, making a leave of your own. 

You stop for a moment, turning around to face him. Nikolai's expression seems innocent and dumb-founded. 

"One more thing though. I can also see the souls of people and their biggest desire. Quite frankly, yours disgusts me. So, if you would be so kind as to stay away from me unless it's a work thing." you give him a polite smile, regardless of your voice being sharp. You open the door and leave the room to go to your own before a mission.

......Continue on AO3

[running-with-kn1ves]

HSJKSKSS THE BF WHO FCKED THE GF ON A FACE TIME CALL 💀💀💀 I usually don't send requests but i cant help myself with this one because you quite posibly have created my dream man 😍 the way he was speaking to her and teasing her 🙈🙈🙈 he was soooo sexy the way you wrote him groaning and bucking like my heart (and other things) hurt 🥲 can you write something with him and reader and basically she tells him she's not feeling well so she stays home at her apt but he goes and finds her at a club instead, dancing with her friends that she hasn't seen and her ex also happens to be there 👀 nsfw if you're okay with it, with him fucking her in front of said ex. I read your rules so its ok if this doesn't pick your interest but i still wanted to let you know how much i love that yandere!!!

Got a little inspired by this idea anon so here's my take on it😋I really loved writing the kind of public, riskiness of that fic so I'm glad you cared for it dude!!

TW: Noncon, toxic relationships/yandere behaviors, punishment, NSFT, yandere films himself rearranging readers guts

Your first mistake was when you tried to use the old “out-sick” approach. You weren’t the world's best actor but even if you were, you probably still wouldn’t be able to fool your boyfriend. He was too skeptical, too observant and too invested for your own good. He always managed to find out; always. And each time, you got less and less confident about being able to escape him, even for a little while. 

“I’ve got a fever of 105, and I’m really contagious. I promise we can go out tomorrow, I just…. Need some alone time to rest for now. To get better, so I can see you.” 

You knew it was a poor lie, that there was the chance that he would come over anyway, trying to potentially take care of you or scold you for letting yourself get this sick. But, he hadn’t even needed to. It wasn’t long after the phonecall that he got a ding from his phone, your location having updated. You were in an unfamiliar area, one that wasn’t  recognizable as one of your many common stops. It was a bar, one that was hosting a small event with karaoke and cheap booze. It made much more sense to him when he came to find you and saw your friends surrounding you; he was disappointed, angry, and felt betrayed; but those feelings only lasted for a second. The image of you talking to one of your ex’s, sent him into a different state. It was just a quick turn of your gaze where he caught the corner of your eye, standing next to a barstool. 

Pieces of his phone crunched in between his fingers, his eyes blank as he saw your face morphed from shame to grief. It felt like a rock sank in your stomach, the panic of him having caught you in your lie making your feet go wobbly. 

You were the first to approach, excusing yourself from the conversation with your ex-partner, who your boyfriend was already getting malicious ideas towards. He was more angry at you, though; for having tricked him so openly. You walked to him slumped, ashamed of yourself but upset that your boyfriend was even here in the first place. 

You knew your short-lived freedom was over, feeling the pinch of his fingers wrap around your wrist. He pulled you to the car, forcing you in with a slam of the door. You hadn’t even gotten the chance to say goodbye to your friends, even though they were halfway to being in a stupor. 

The punishment wasn’t pretty; the worst, most embarrassing part of it came when your boyfriend managed to get his hands on your ex’s number. Thankfully, only the one you had been talking to that night. But that one number was enough of an audience for your boyfriend to have a field day.

 At first you didn’t know why he was holding the phone up, though you could barely see it from how restrained he had you. But it didn’t take long for him to shove it up and close at your pretty, worn out face. You could hardly keep your eyes straight, shuddered breaths leaving your sticky mouth. He enjoyed the positions where your whole body could be seen, could be displayed on camera to show your ex what was his, how he was using it. Especially when he could hold your jaw, telling you to look pretty, asking you to smile for a “little picture.” He got the chance to shove his face against your neck and show how deeply he could fuck you, could make you into nothing but a mess for him. What he loved most to send was the pictures of deep, swollen lovebites, of the marks his nails make on your skin. 

“C’mon baby, don’t you wanna say something to the camera? Maybe beg for them to come and save you?” 

Each thrust had your insides rearranged, your boyfriend lowering his phone to show the mess that was him inside of you, the drips on your thighs and the sweat that clung to your skin.  The worst part of all in this punishment-- was the lack of control you had, the fact that you couldn’t stop yourself from bellowing out sounds caused by your pleasure. The will he had on your body had you saying things that made it hard to look at yourself in the mirror. 

You knew you’d never be able to escape from the blackmail he now held over you. It was hard to come to terms with that, but the more often it happened---the harder it was to pay attention to it.

[helloalycia]

first friend [one] // yelena belova

summary: you didn't expect to befriend an Avenger's sister, and yet you can't seem to imagine a life where she isn't in it.

warning/s: mentions of cheating.

author's note: it's been so long since i've updated this story and that's because i've been working on my own original fiction story, whilst also writing bits for this in between. here's a yelena imagine to make up for it! it's two parts so here is part one :)

some things to note: the snap didn't happen, thanos isn't a thing and natasha didn't die bc i said so lol

part two / masterlist / wattpad

YOUR POV

Befriending Yelena Belova, a Black Widow assassin and the Black Widow's little sister wasn't something I expected to happen. Aside from the fact that I didn't even know she existed until recently, I didn't think we'd hit it off. And yet, when I was filing some mission reports out in the Avengers Compound, I found myself having to call back a Miss Yelena Belova because she hadn't filled out her report correctly.

She earned my attention by knocking her knuckle on the desk next to mine, making me look up.

"You're Y/N Y/L/N?" she asked with a questioning look.

I nodded, returning her look with a confused one. "I am... and you are?"

"Yelena Belova," she answered, and I noticed her thick Russian accent, as if her name hadn't given it away already. "I was told to see you? Something about a report?"

"Oh, yes! Yes, thank you for coming," I said with a smile, before spinning around in my seat to face her fully. "It shouldn't take long. It's about your latest mission reports you've been sending in. They're missing a few important details, so I though I could show you how to fix it and then you won't have to keep coming back here."

"They're wrong?" she asked, lifting a brow.

"Just a few mistakes," I assured her before going to pull my laptop from my drawer to set up for her. She mumbled something to herself in Russian and though I wasn't sure what, I knew she sounded disappointed, so I added, "It gets easier once you're used to it, don't worry. You're new right?"

She hummed halfheartedly, more intrigued with the reports I was pulling up on the laptop. I motioned to the seat beside me and she moved from her hovering position to sit there, eyes still glued to the laptop.

"Let's see... here we are," I said, getting everything up on the screen before pushing the laptop between us so she could see it better. "Just some wrong codes which makes it harder to file correctly. You've been a little vague with some of the descriptions, and most importantly, you didn't get it signed off."

She frowned slightly and I tried to make her feel better since I knew what it was like to be new and not completely understand the system.

"I'll show you how to fix it," I told her with a reassuring smile, before taking another look at one of her reports. "Hey, this is quite the first mission, Agent Belova. High profile, working directly with the Black Widow – that's huge! Congrats!"

She winced, shaking her head quickly so that her fringe shook with her. "No, no, no. It's not Agent. Just Yelena."

"Oh. Sorry, Yelena."

"And you don't need to congratulate me. She's my sister," she continued with nonchalance, making me snort with a stifled laugh.

"Yeah, and the Hulk is my brother," I played along, before looking back to the screen to start from the top.

"She is," Yelena said with such conviction that I almost believed her. "Natasha Romanoff. My sister. She's a Black Widow. I'm a Widow, too."

I scoffed, waiting for her to tell me she was joking, but the longer she stared at me with expressionless eyes, the stupider I felt. She wasn't lying.

"You're serious," I realised, suddenly straightening up.

"Was I not serious looking? I thought I was pretty serious looking..."

"I didn't even know Agent Romanoff had a sister," I said with a mixture of amazement and surprise.

Yelena blinked, looked down at herself, then said, "Well, here I am."

I tried to disguise my surprise, but it was very obvious. After all, it wasn't everyday you met one of the Avengers' siblings.

"Right, yeah," I babbled, not sure how else to respond. "Er, sorry. Anyway... the report. It still needs to be amended."

She sighed impatiently and motioned for me to continue, so I went through one of them with her, thoroughly explaining the process in which to fill it in. After she was certain she understood, I left her to fill in the second report on her own whilst I got back to my PC to continue some work. Every now and then I'd glance at her to see if she was okay, and she'd have this very entertaining pout on her lips as she made some corrections. For somebody who was a trained assassin, she wasn't very intimidating. It was cute.

"What?" she asked, and I blinked when I realised she'd caught me staring.

Hoping she couldn't sense the heat rising in my cheeks, I shook my head. "Sorry, nothing."

She quirked a brow, hazel eyes lingering on mine momentarily before going back to her screen.

After about ten minutes, she let out a sigh of relief and pushed the laptop towards me, earning my attention.

"It is done," she said tiredly. "I think, anyway."

I smiled at her before checking it over, relieved when I'd seen she'd done it right. She'd saved me a job in the long run.

"It's looking good, Yelena, thank you," I told her. "You're alright to go now."

"Great." She slapped her hands on her thighs before standing up, letting out a dramatic breath.

"Nice meeting you," I said with a nod as she tucked the chair in, ready to leave. "Though hopefully not again if you get this right from now on."

At my poor attempt at a joke, she surprisingly cracked a smile. "Nice meeting you, too, Y/N. Thanks for the help."

"Anytime. S'what I'm here for."

And that was what I thought would be the first and last time I'd meet Yelena. You know, a nice little story to share at parties of how I met an Avengers' sister. But it was barely half a month later when she returned. Funnily enough, it was for the same reason – she was using the wrong code, making my job harder.

When I called her to my floor, I saw her first this time. I'd seen her around a few times since the last, though it was only in passing around the building. She definitely wouldn't have remembered me, but I'd heard enough about her to know who she was. Her eyes roamed the room before she caught my gaze and I waved her over with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Yelena," I said when she stopped before me. "You probably don't remember me, but I'm–"

"Y/N Y/L/N, right?" she asked, to my surprise.

"Yeah...," I said, before adding, "Sorry for calling you down again. It's just– you really need to get this right before I file it away and it's a bad habit to develop."

She pouted a little, nodding. "Right. Sorry."

"It's all good," I assured her, leading her over to the laptop already set up at my desk. "We can go through it again if it'll help."

She nodded and I sat with her for a bit, explaining what the different codes meant and how to differentiate for the sake of the filing system. She seemed to understand after a bit, so I left her to it as I returned to my computer beside her to do some work. It was quiet for a few minutes, as she correctly filed her latest reports, before she spoke up.

"You have a lot of... things," she noticed aloud, and when I glanced her way, she was touching one of the toys on my desk – a solar-powered dancing giraffe.

I smiled with amusement. "Yeah... I get tired of staring at a screen all the time, so it's nice to have stuff to play with."

She reached over for another one of the toys lining my desk – a Scooby Doo plushie – and held it up, quirking a brow. "This?"

Putting on my best Shaggy voice, I said with a grin, "That's Scoob."

She seemed mildly taken aback by my voice and blinked, making me realise she had no idea what I was doing.

"Scooby Doo?" I prompted, my face heating up with embarrassment, before taking the plushie from her and setting it back down to distract myself and not think about the funny look she was giving me. "My sister got it me as a present for my desk. I don't even like Scooby Doo that much, but it's cute..."

"I have no idea what a Scooby Doo is," she said, shaking her head.

I raised my brows, surprised. "No." Judging from her expression, she was serious, leading me to continue attempting to prompt some sort of memory of the famous cartoon. "Scooby Doo? Mystery Inc.? Shaggy? Velma? Daphne? Fred?"

"It's almost like I've been under mind control for the past decade and not had chance to watch any TV in my free time," she deadpanned, and my insides shrivelled up there and then.

Since Yelena had started working with her sister, storied had travelled through the grapevine about how she'd been under mind control and was freed, only for her to spend a lot of her time doing the same for the women in the Black Widow programme around the world, freeing them, too. It was honourable work, but easy to forget when it wasn't something that affected you directly.

"Oh, erm," I started, mouth going dry the longer she stared through my soul (or at least it felt that way), "sorry. I didn't mean to– oh God– I–"

"Kidding," she interrupted, her intimidating expression easing into a smile. She tilted her head, amused. "Kind of. I mean, that's definitely what happened, but no biggie."

I began to laugh awkwardly, swallowing the lump in my throat. "Right, yeah..."

"You're not mad, right?" she asked, in reference to her playing me.

So, I took my revenge, naturally. "Well, it was kind of shitty to make this whole thing awkward," I answered with a fake frown.

Her smile faded instantly when she realised I was offended, so I shot her a smile of my own, tilting my head.

"Kidding."

Upon realising I, too, was pulling her leg, she exhaled softly and rolled her eyes, but a playful smile was tugging at her lips.

"Anyway," I returned to the subject at hand, looking back to the plushie, "it's cool. Scooby Doo. Worth the watch, if you find the chance."

She hummed in response, but I wasn't sure if she was actually considering it or just making conversation.

Soon enough, we returned to our work before she finished up and filed everything correctly this time.

"Awesome, looks like you're all done here," I told her, the both of us standing up. "Was nice seeing you again, Yelena. Hopefully for the last time. I'm sure you're getting sick of being called down here."

She cracked a smile, hazel eyes looking green as they met mine. "It was nice meeting you properly, Y/N Y/L/N."

I wondered why she kept addressing me by my full name but said nothing of it as I nodded to her. "You, too. See you later."

Though Yelena and I had met twice because of work circumstances, we never became friends until afterwards. It wasn't long after that second encounter when I saw her again.

I was eating lunch with some colleagues in the café on one of the lower levels of the Compound when I recognised the blonde assassin approaching our table, to my surprise.

Immediately I lowered my sandwich and sent her a smile. "Yelena, hey!"

She was wearing workout clothes, though wasn't sweaty which made me think she was on her lunch break, too. "Hey, I saw you and thought I'd stop by to say hello."

This was surprising to hear, since the Avengers rarely ate anywhere but their designated floors, but I appreciated it nonetheless and answered, "Nice. Have you eaten? You can join us if you want."

I motioned to the table of my colleagues, who were all so deep into conversation that they weren't even paying Yelena and I any attention. To be fair, it was so busy in the café that I could only just about hear our conversation myself.

"Oh, no, I've just finished eating with my sister," she explained, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

I followed the direction and saw none other than Natasha Romanoff sat at a table by the window, looking over at us with intrigue. Too intimidated by her presence, I immediately looked away, hoping nobody picked up on it. What can I say? It was an Avenger! Yes, I worked in the same building as them, but they were still superheroes. And Natasha was the scariest one in my opinion.

"Cool," I squeaked out, cursing inwardly at my failed attempt to remain cool before Yelena.

Maybe it was because we'd gotten to know each other a little so I wasn't as intimidated by her as I should have been, but I didn't find myself nervous around Yelena which was a relief. I had no doubts that she could murder me in several ways, just like her sister, if she wanted to, but it still didn't make a difference.

"So, I checked out that Scooby Doo show you mentioned," Yelena continued, further surprising me. "And apparently there's a film as well?"

I grinned at the mention of it. "Hell yeah! The film is the best. But it has to be the 2002 and 2004 ones."

"Yeah, well the show is great, and I get the whole Shaggy voice you were doing now," she said with a smile, and I felt myself cringing as I relived that moment all over again.

"That's good," I said awkwardly, scrunching my face up with embarrassment, and she definitely noticed but thankfully didn't tease me about it. "Anyway, you doing good? You must be since you've not been sent down to see me to fix your reports."

She snickered. "Yeah. Thanks for the help with that by the way."

I shrugged. "It's the job."

She hummed, appearing awkward momentarily, before taking a step back. "I should leave you to it anyway. Just wanted to say hello. Hope I didn't interrupt."

"No worries, you didn't!" I said reassuringly, realising she may have wanted to talk some more. To be honest, I kind of wanted to, too. She was easy to talk to. "Hey, er, before you go, did you want to go out for a coffee or something sometime? I know you're new to the city, so maybe you wanna hang out?"

In this moment, it wasn't like I was talking to an Avenger's sister or an infamous Black Widow. It was just me wanting to get to know Yelena Belova a little better. She was new, we got on, so why not? Only when she took a second longer to answer did I realise that I may have overstepped. But thankfully, any worries I had were squashed when she smiled gently.

"Yeah, I would like that," she said with a nod.

I returned her smile. "Cool. Hold on. I'll grab your number from you, let me just get my phone..."

THIRD PERSON POV

After exchanging phone numbers with Y/N, the two girls bid their goodbyes before Yelena returned to her sister. Natasha was standing up already, ready to leave, but not without giving her sister a knowing smirk.

"What?" Yelena asked when she noticed it, grabbing her rubbish from the table and moving to throw it away.

Natasha's smirk didn't fade as she followed after the blonde, but not before glancing back at the girl Yelena was just talking to. "I know why you wanted to eat downstairs now."

Yelena, who was usually so in control of situations like these, avoided looking at the redhead. "Shut up, Natasha."

Natasha, of course, didn't let up. "So, who was that? New crush?"

Yelena was certain her cheeks are pink with embarrassment, but she refused to let Natasha get to her. "I don't know what you're talking about. You told me to make new friends, remember?"

Chuckling to herself, Natasha said, "Yeah, no. That's clearly more than a friend. Or at least you want it to be. Now. Are you gonna tell me who she is or do I have to go back there and find out myself?"

Yelena rolled her eyes, sure that if she just didn't answer, her sister would leave it alone. Of course, that was too good to be true as Natasha suddenly came to a halt and began to back up, ready to turn around.

"Natasha, wait!" Yelena spluttered, grabbing her by the arms to stop her, making Natasha raise her brows with surprise and amusement.

"Wow, somebody's nervous! What – you scared I'm gonna embarrass you?" Natasha teased.

Yelena was hot with nervousness, unsure why she was so effected by the possibility of Y/N and her sister meeting. Then again, the fact that Natasha was definitely intending to humiliate her was probably enough of a reason.

"She isn't a crush," Yelena explained, though she would be lying if she said she wasn't thinking about Y/N a lot more than she should have been since their last encounter. "Her name is Y/N Y/L/N. She works in the admin department a few floors down. We've spoken a few times and I thought she seemed pretty cool, so we made plans to hang out. That's all."

Natasha squinted, trying to read her sister's expression. It was clear that wasn't the whole truth, but she'd done enough teasing for the day and decided to give Yelena a break. For now.

"Hmm, alright," she gave in reluctantly. "If you say so."

"Your told me to make friends," Yelena reminded her, letting go of her arms and relaxing. "That's all I'm doing.”

Natasha snickered. "Right. Well, good on you."

Yelena exhaled, glad Natasha wasn't fighting it anymore. After all, she wasn't lying. She was just making friends. Ever since joining her sister at the Compound, making use of the resources the Avengers had on her mission to freeing the mind-controlled Widows, Natasha had been adamant she attempt to fit in somehow, make a life for herself. And Y/N happened to be the first person she had a genuine interest in. Was that a crime?

It wasn't a crush – at least she didn't think it was. After all, she hadn't had the opportunity to 'like' like somebody before, let alone befriend somebody. She wasn't exactly sure she knew the difference, not when she hadn't had control of her own mind for so long.

It was best to take things as they came, she knew that, so that's what she would do. And that began with going out with Y/N.

YOUR POV

After hanging out with Yelena – nothing extravagant, just grabbing a coffee and getting to know each other better – we became friends. It was easy to grow used to her dry, sarcastic sense of humour and blunt personality, and it was much easier to be less intimidated by her when I realised how sweet she was.

I wasn't sure how or why we got on, but we just did, and that was where our friendship blossomed. We'd catch each other at work, her mostly stopping by my offices as going to the Avengers' personal floors still made me nervous, and I'd show her around the city more between work which was the best way for her to settle in whilst I got to show her some of my favourite spots.

Turns out the scary assassin was actually a big old softie on the inside, and it was too easy to consider her my best friend. After half a year of growing so close that she knew pretty much everything about me and vice versa, I couldn't have imagined not having her in my life. Her opinion meant a lot to me – she meant a lot to me – so much that when I found out my boyfriend of a year was cheating on me, I couldn't bring it in myself to tell her.

It was humiliating, finding the texts on his phone from another girl, along with some inappropriate videos. Dehumanising when he tried to defend his actions after discovering I knew the truth. We were in a content, happy relationship and I was convinced I loved him, only for the worst to happen.

The last thing I wanted to do was air out my dirty laundry to people I knew, including Yelena, so I kept it to myself. Of course it hurt and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry, but the embarrassment of her finding out I'd been cheated on was even worse, so I just didn't tell her.

Of course, Yelena wasn't a fool. She was a trained assassin for crying out loud, so when were watching TV together in my apartment, she brought the topic up carefully.

"Y'know, I haven't heard you talk about Thomas in a while," she said between episodes of The Office.

The mention of my ex-boyfriend took me off guard, admittedly, and I hoped she couldn't see my hesitation when I replied, "Yeah, he's not really in my life anymore. We broke up."

In my peripheral vision, I could see Yelena's surprise. "Pardon? Did I hear that right? You broke up?"

I cleared my throat, nodding nonchalantly, though inside the wound was still fresh. "Yeah, it was a mutual thing. We realised it wasn't working anymore. So, we broke up."

"But you were– it was a long–" She was stuck on her words, before finally settling on, "When?"

I shuffled uncomfortably on the couch, fingers playing with the corner of the cushion in my hand. "About a week ago."

She paused, and I finally looked over to see her watching me with a softened expression, though still confused.

"Do you mind if we don't talk about it?" I asked her gently, offering a forced smile.

She nodded. "Right. Sorry. I just– sorry."

I shrugged, looking back at the TV. "It's okay. It's no biggie."

It was, but she didn't need to know that. My hope was that she'd never bring it up again and I'd move on from it all without her ever discovering the embarrassment of the truth. That just wasn't the case though...

We went out for lunch together, maybe a week after that conversation took place, and it was going perfectly fine. We caught up, had pointless and absolutely insane conversations about things that made no sense, and were genuinely enjoying each other's company. It was going perfectly fine, until it wasn't.

"...so he tried to shoot me, but obviously he didn't get a single shot...," Yelena was recalling one of her recent missions, and I wanted to listen, but my attention was stolen when I saw who was sat a few tables behind her.

Thomas, out of all the people who I could have spotted, was pulling out a chair for his date – a really pretty girl who I recalled seeing in the photos and videos on his phone. They were smiling flirtatiously at one another, clearly on a date, and though it was so glaringly obvious that he was going out with her, it didn't really hit me until they shared a kiss.

He was on a date with the girl he cheated on me with.

It wasn't the easiest thing to witness, the wound still very much raw. I hated his guts and I hated the way he made me feel, but that hatred was still wrapped in hurt and embarrassment. And when I saw him with her, I already felt tears pricking my eyes.

"Sorry, I just need to go to the toilet," I cut Yelena off quickly, stumbling out of my booth as I stood up.

She called my name but I ignored her as I sped to the toilets, avoiding looking anywhere but ahead. Thankfully it was empty, but I was left to view my own reflection and, for the first time in a long time, I hated what I saw. I looked like a mess. My vision was blurry, tears filling my eyes, a lump in my throat.

He really didn't want me, didn't he? Something had to be wrong for him not to.

"Y/N, are you in here?"

I sucked up a breath and wiped my eyes before I could shed a single tear for him. Turning around, I saw Yelena entering the bathroom, eyes looking around until they met mine worriedly.

"There you are," she said with relief, rushing in and resting her hands on my shoulders. "What happened? Is it to do with Thomas? I saw him sat out there when you ran off."

It would have been so easy to lie and brush it off, but Yelena was staring right into my soul and I couldn't hold it in for much longer.

"We didn't break up mutually," I whispered, ashamed of the crack in my voice.

Yelena wasn't following. "What?"

I frowned, looking down and feeling my eyes well up all over again. "Thomas and I. We didn't– he–"

Why was it so hard to say?

"Y/N, you can tell me anything," Yelena reassured in a voice so soft I'd never heard it before.

I couldn't meet her eyes. "He was cheating on me."

She didn't respond, nor react, not verbally anyway. I wasn't sure what expression she pulled because I was too embarrassed to look up from the floor.

"Y/N, I..."

All she did was pull me close and it was like a dam burst within me, the tears I'd bottled up for so long finally being set free. I sobbed quietly, shamefully, into her shoulder, and wasn't sure what else to say.

Yelena was sweet – she always was – as she held me upright, letting me make a wet, snotty mess of her jacket. And she held me close until I finally stopped, reluctantly pulling myself from the safety of the crook of her neck.

"Do you want to say something to him?" is all she asked, so carefully, as if I might break even more.

I shook my head, wiping the tears from my face and avoiding her eyes. "I just want to leave."

She nodded, taking my hand in hers and squeezing it gently. I was too tired to do anything but let her lead me out of there, most of it a blur. I recalled her glaring daggers in Thomas' direction when we passed his table, but I refused to look up and see if he noticed. When we reached her car, there was a tense silence in the air.

Finally, after a minute, she broke it.

"Why didn't you tell me, Y/N?" she asked quietly, and I could feel her eyes boring into the side of my head.

Wiping my face to distract from my warm cheeks, I answered, "It's embarrassing."

"No, it's not," she said, and I could see her shaking her head in the corner of my eye.

I scoffed, angry at myself for breaking down. "Of course it is. He cheated on me because clearly something is wrong with me. That's literally the epitome of embarrassing."

"What– are you insane?"

I glanced at her, clenching my jaw. "Maybe. Who knows?"

She scrunched her face up with annoyance. "Stop that. You're not." Her expression softened. "You're completely and utterly wonderful, and the only insane one is him for throwing that away!"

I rolled my eyes, leaning against the passenger door as I got comfortable. "You have to say that. You're my friend."

"No," she said with conviction. "I mean it. Every word. And those are the reasons I'm your friend. Because you're the way you are."

I shook my head, glaring at the front window. "Forget it, it doesn't matter anyway. Can you just– please can we go home?"

She opened her mouth, as if to retort, and I seriously wasn't in the mood. Thankfully, she dropped it for now and put her seatbelt on instead.

The ride home was awkward, mostly because I still felt humiliated at my breakdown and even worse because I hated being pitied by Yelena. If it were up to me, we'd forget this ever happened, but I knew she wouldn't.

"You should've said something sooner," she said when she pulled up outside my apartment building. Her voice was calm, but her words carried weight. "I would've helped."

Realising how bitchy I was being for no reason, I let go of my anger. She was never my target – I was my own worst enemy right now. All Yelena had done was be there for me.

"You helped before. Getting me out of there." I exhaled, regretful of my attitude earlier, and gave her a grateful look. "Thanks."

She looked to me, green eyes twinkling sadly, matching the frown on her lips. I leaned forward and pulled her in for a hug, albeit an awkward one because we were still in the car, but a needed one. She was a really good hugger, I realised, and I didn't want her to go just yet.

"Do you wanna come up?" I asked lamely once I pulled away. "I just– I–"

"Of course," she cut me off, and I was relieved because I had no idea how to say anything else.

I relaxed, nodding, and glanced at her with a small smile before getting out the car. She followed me out and up to my place, where we instantly fell into a sweet lull of an afternoon. She didn't bring up Thomas for the rest of the day. Not when we ate up all the junk food in my kitchen. Not when we watched one film after another, her letting me pick them all. And not when we passed out on my couch, too tired to get up and make it to my bed.

When I woke up the next morning, I found myself half laying on Yelena's chest as she laid on the couch, leg hanging off the end.

"Shit, sorry," I mumbled when I realised I was drooling on her shirt.

She groaned, tired, and mumbled something I couldn't make out, before opening her eyes and immediately widening them. I wondered what had her spooked, but was still too tired to think on it longer than a second.

"I am so hungry," I thought aloud, pushing myself to sit upright. Letting out a yawn, I checked my watch. "We didn't eat at all last night. Not a proper meal anyway."

Yelena still hadn't spoken, so I stood up and stretched, yawning once more. I hadn't realised how quickly time had gotten away from us yesterday, nor how easily I was able to forget the mishap because I had Yelena.

"I think I have some eggs in the fridge," I said, padding over to the kitchen to take a look. "You want some?"

Yelena didn't answer and I didn't really care, taking it as a yes anyway. Before starting to cook, I went to freshen up in the bathroom and wake myself up a little more. When I came out, Yelena was waiting outside the door.

"There's a spare toothbrush under the sink," I told her with a smile. "I'll get started on breakfast."

She nodded tiredly, going in after me. I started on breakfast meanwhile, the events of yesterday coming to mind as I fried some eggs. It was a strange day, but it felt good to be able to tell Yelena the truth. I didn't feel so alone anymore.

When I heard Yelena coming out the bathroom, I glanced over my shoulder and saw her looking much more awake than before. And that's also when I realised she was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday.

"I have some clothes you can wear if you want," I offered, but she declined with a polite head shake.

"I'll just be going back to the Compound after, it's all good."

I hummed in acknowledgment, getting back to putting our breakfast together. She took a seat at the dining table and I felt the need to speak up again.

"Thanks," I blurted out, making no sense.

She sounded confused, and tired. "Huh?"

I chewed on the inside of my cheek as I distracted myself with plating up our eggs. "For staying last night. And for not making... it a thing. That's all I wanted."

If Yelena wanted to, she could have turned Thomas inside out with ease, but she didn't, and I was eternally grateful.

"I'll always be here for you, Y/N," she said when I was setting her plate in front of her.

I glanced up at her from the plate. "I know. I'm lucky."

She began to smile, eyes meeting mine comfortingly. I returned her smile, hoping she knew how much she meant to me, before taking a seat opposite her and digging in.