#light speed magazine

[thoughtportal]

All traitors to the Sibyllines go to Tartarus to receive the only punishment for rebellion: eternal life. {read}

[annewithaneofthegreengable]

Instacrush

max verstappen x reader

Content warnings: unprotected sex (p-in-v), rough sex, dirty talk, language, daddy kink, pining, flirting, possessive behavior, one bed trope,...

Word count: almost 7k 

Note: I'm gonna add a smau at the end so keep reading!

My masterlist

The engagement ring on your finger suited you perfectly. It wasn’t overly large or flashy, but the single diamond gave off a subtle, delicate sparkle. It was beautiful and felt just right, symbolizing the love and unity of marriage. When you looked at it in the light, you almost thought you could feel the love Max had for you.

If only that were true.

“Remind me again why we’re doing this?” you asked, sitting down at the table across from Max.

“So we can practice and make sure we seem like a real couple,” he replied.

You sighed, your gaze once again drifting around the hotel room. There was a small sitting area, a dining space connected to a kitchenette, one bathroom, and a bedroom. You had already pointed out the single bed, and Max, ever the professional, reminded you that part of the assignment meant you were expected to share it. After all, this was a couple’s retreat. It wouldn’t have been a problem—if only you didn’t have a crush on him.

If only it were that simple.

You were completely enamoured with Max Verstappen, the handsome three-time F1 World Champion. Instacrush wasn't something you experienced often, so he took you by surprise. It was the first time you met him on your first day at work. You were so caught up looking around the paddock, so excited for your first time ever set foot in the land of speed. You were just an intern working in the social media department. Landing a job during the global economic recession was a dream come true for you, not to mention, working for such a big and top-tier team like Red Bull. And that’s where you bumped into him, his can of Red Bull splashed all over your new team uniform. And honestly, you didn’t remember much since you were busy looking staring at his eyes. The bluest eyes you have ever seen. It was like the water in the ocean in  Maldives that you once saw in some travel magazines. It was pathetic to fall for him so hard and quickly. It had to be some sort of karma or divine intervention that you were with him in a hotel room.

Just the two of you.

“You know,” he began, wetting his lips as he leaned back in his chair. You blinked, only because you didn't want him to call you out on staring. “You don't have to look so miserable to be here. Is my company that terrible?”

“What? No. Max, you aren't a terrible company,” you promised, slumping a bit in your chair. The last thing you wanted to do was upset him. “Just been a bit since I've been in a relationship and I’m kind of rusty,” you said. 

“I’m just not sure I’m the right one for this job,” you added.

“You’re perfect for this job. Why would you think otherwise?”

You froze like a deer in headlights, even as his compliment warmed your heart. It meant a lot that he thought you would do the job well. But how were you supposed to answer that question? That you adored him and it would be torture to pretend to be with him for a few months just to back to being coworkers after?

“We should practice,” you suggested instead of giving him an answer. The backstory wasn't overly elaborate, but you had to get it right.

He leaned forward, forcing you to meet his gaze. “Did someone say something to make you think you wouldn't be good for this assignment?” He asked in a low voice. “Because I'll straighten them out.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from whimpering. The thought of him putting someone in their place to make you feel better was swoon-worthy. “No, Max. No one said anything. You're right. I’m good for this,” you said before you added, “We’re good together.”

You couldn't read the look he gave you and it became more difficult not to squirm under his gaze. “Yeah,” he whispered, leaning back and clearing his throat. “So. We’re engaged. Going to a resort for a much-needed vacation. We’ll have to mingle with some of the guests in between investigating the owner. One of the first questions will be how we met.”

With an exhale, you recited, “We met at the track. Both slammed into each other. Both said sorry at the same time”

“And you gave me your hands for me to get up,” you smiled, making a show out of reaching for the glass on the table. “Our fingers touched first. Our eyes met second.”

“And we immediately befriended at first,” he smiled.

Your heart swelled. He looked like he didn’t have a care in the world when he smiled like that. “We did,” you said, trying to blink the longing from your eyes. “We went on that reserved dinner with the team and talked a bit about ourselves.” 

It was all the truth, except for the fact that you guys were never more than friends since he was with Kelly, and you. Well, you were just you, there’s nothing really special about you for him to like. You aren’t those supermodels he used to date, nor have the skinniest body type, you are chubbier, with red hair and freckles across your cheeks. Before accepting his request to be in a PR relationship with him just so he gets along with the image of not being a notorious playboy who drives a fast car as an occupation, you did ask him WHY YOU? WHY NOT SOME OTHER GIRLS? AND LET’S BE HONEST ANY OTHER GIRLS WHO ARE PRETTIER WOULD DIE TO FILL IN THE JOB, SO WHY YOU? He just stood there looking at you once again with the deepest set of blue eyes that made your knees go weak, We are friends so this is what a friend should do, right? Help each other out. And y/n I really need your helping hands now. 

“Even proposed to you at the same restaurant,” he said, gesturing to your left hand. “But I actually got the ring after our first date because I knew I wanted you to be my girl,” he said with such conviction that you found it hard to breathe.

The way his eyes softened as he gazed at you, you found yourself believing him for a moment. You had to stay rooted in realism though. The point of the mission besides the actual mission was to act as if you two were crazy about each other.

Not that you had to do any acting on your part.

You cleared your throat and pulled your hand back from the glass. “If only that were true,” you said, absentmindedly twisting the ring around your finger. You weren't cynical about love, but this whole thing was a reminder that you were single and alone. 

The silence between you two was deafening, filled only by the sound of your own heart breaking. You longed for his words to be true, for him to truly want you as his girlfriend. But deep down, you knew it was all pretend. Your fingers fidgeted with the ring again, a constant reminder of the lie you were living. The weight of the situation was almost unbearable. 

His brows furrowed. “What do you mean?”

Heat crept up your neck. You shouldn't have said anything. “I mean, what a briliant story you have in mind,” you replied to avoid saying you wanted to be his girl.

“Well, it was true, y/n.” 

You pulled yourself from your thoughts when he said your name, which sounded like it melted on his tongue. It made you press your thighs together. You needed to stay professional. 

“Most of it only, Max. Anyway, enough of that. Let’s move on,”

Max looked unsatisfied with your response, his blue eyes searching your face. He could tell you were deflecting, which was both attractive and frustrating. “Okay then. How about we move on to the next part of our relationship? The first date.” He leaned back in his chair and you mimicked his movement. 

“Ah, our first date,” you said, the memory bringing a smile to your face. “It was a classic dinner-and-a-movie type date, right?”

Max chuckled at your summation of your first date. “Yeah, it was pretty basic, but it was our first date,” he said, his voice low. “I wanted to keep things simple and focus on just the two of us. No fancy restaurants or anything like that.”

You recalled how nervous you were leading up to the date, spending hours trying to figure out what to wear and worrying about what to say. In hindsight, you didn’t need to have been so worried.

“But you looked beautiful that night,” Max continued, a small smile playing on his lips. “You always do.”

You tried to ignore the way your heart quickened at his compliment. How was it that Max Verstappen, F1 World Champion, and certified heartthrob, could say something so casually that made you feel like the most beautiful woman alive? 

“Thanks, Max,” you said, your cheeks starting to heat up. You twisted the ring on your finger, your nervous habit making its appearance. “You looked pretty good yourself, if I remember correctly.”

Max chuckled softly, his eyes fixated on your hand. “Are you nervous, Schatje?” he teased, a playful sparkle in his blue eyes. “You’re fiddling with your ring again.”

Your cheeks flushed even more. You should be used to his teasing by now, especially after the time you two had spent together recently while preparing for this PR mission. And yet, every time he called you darling, your heart would do somersaults in your chest. 

“No, I’m not,” you denied, knowing how unconvincing you sounded. “Just… practicing my part, you know. For the acting thing.”

Max’s eyes darkened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, his fingers drumming on the armrest. He knew that you were avoiding something, but he didn’t push further. Instead, he nodded in agreement. “Yeah, let’s keep going.”

He began to recite the next bit of their cover story. “What’s our favorite couple activity?”

You cleared your throat, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at the mention of couple activity. "Well," you began, your voice shaky, "our favorite couple activity is definitely cooking together. It's a great way for us to bond and spend quality time together." 

“Well it must be you will be the chef and I’m your assistant then, since I couldn’t even boil an egg to save my life, Liefje.”

Max's self-deprecating comment took you a little by surprise. You were used to seeing him as the confident, world-class athlete on the track, not as a hopeless cook in the kitchen.

You chuckled softly at his admission. "Well, I guess you'll have to stick to being my sous-chef then. I can teach you a thing or two in the kitchen."

Max groaned exaggeratedly. "I suppose I'll have to stick to fetching the ingredients and looking pretty," he joked.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his remark, unable to stop yourself from smiling. "Yes, you can be the pretty one, Max. I'll do all the hard work in the kitchen."

He chuckled, a lopsided smile pulling at his lips. "Well, I guess I should be thankful that I have a gorgeous girl doing all the cooking for me, then."

His compliment left you feeling warm and tingly, but you tried to brush it off and stay focused on the task at hand.

"But you have to promise me one thing, Max," you insisted, trying to maintain your composure. He raised an eyebrow, waiting for your condition. "What's that, Schatje?" he asked, his voice low and smooth.

You leaned forward a bit, your eyes meeting his. "You have to be my personal taste tester. Gotta make sure everything is just right."

Max chuckled at your condition, a smirk playing at his lips. "Ah, so I'm not only your sous-chef, but I also get the privilege of being your taste-tester?" he teased.

You nodded, a sly smile of your own on your lips. "That's right. You'll be my human guinea pig. No complaining, just eating." Max groaned dramatically, pretending to look disappointed.

Despite his initial reluctance, Max couldn't help but smile at your cheeky request. "Okay, okay, I'll be your taste-tester on one condition," he countered.

Your curiosity piqued, you asked, "And what's that?"

Max leaned forward, his eyes meeting yours, "You have to give me one of your special desserts afterward."

You laughed, surprised at his audacity. "Oh, now you're pushing it, Verstappen," you quipped. "But I suppose I can throw in a dessert for you, as a token of my appreciation for your taste-testing services."

Max leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile on his face. "Deal," he said, a playful grin on his face. "Let's hope your cooking skills are as good as your baking, Liefje."

“Why don't you have a boyfriend?” He asked suddenly.

The switch in topic jarred you. “That’s. I’m. What? How is that relevant?”

It wasn't smooth, but it was better than blurting out that your hopeless crush on him was one of the major factors.

“I’m curious,” he shrugged.

You swallowed hard, unsure of how to answer. Truth be told, your life was dominated by work, leaving little time for relationships. But if you explained that to Max, he'd probably just call you a workaholic and laugh. He was the epitome of work hard, play just as hard.

"I don't know," you finally said, trying to sound casual. "I guess I just haven't found the right person."

Max scrutinized you but didn't press the topic further. Instead, he took a sip of his water, his eyes never leaving your face. Max wasn't buying your nonchalant attitude. He leaned back in his chair, still watching you closely. "I don't believe you. You're a beautiful woman, and yet you're single."

The compliment caught you off guard. Coming from Max Verstappen, the three-time FIA Formula One World Champion, it was a lot to take in. Trying to keep your cool, you retorted, "You don't have to flatter me, Max. I know I'm not some supermodel or something."

Max's lips curled up into a sly smile. He leaned even closer, his eyes sparkling with mischief. "Who said anything about comparing you to a supermodel?" he teased.

You felt your heart skip a beat at his proximity. He was even more attractive up close, with his sharp features and those intense blue eyes. Despite your best attempts to keep your cool, you found yourself blushing again.

"Come on, Schatje," Max said, his voice dropping an octave. "Just tell me why you don't have a boyfriend."

The intensity in Max's eyes was almost overwhelming. You fidgeted nervously in your seat, feeling increasingly flustered under his gaze. Why was he so insistent on this topic? You tried to come up with a witty retort, a clever way to deflect, but your mind was drawing a blank. His intense gaze made it hard to think straight. "It's not a big deal, Max," you finally managed to say, your voice betraying your growing nervousness.

"Bullshit." He leaned back in his chair, studying you once again. "You're avoiding the question. There must be a reason why you don't have a boyfriend."

Max's persistence made you feel inexplicably flustered. He was so adamant about knowing the reason behind your single status. You wracked your brain, trying to come up with a convincing answer that wouldn't give away your secret. But the more you fidgeted and avoided his gaze, the more he seemed to be onto you. "Come on, y/n,” he coaxed again, leaning forward and bracing his elbows on his legs. "Just give me a straight answer."

Max's smirk widened as he saw the effect he was having on you. He could tell he was making you nervous, and that only made him more determined to get the answer he wanted. "You're making this even more suspicious, you know," he said, his voice laced with gentle mockery. "The more you avoid the question, the more interested I become."

There was something about the way Max said that that sent a shiver down your spine. Was he just teasing you, or was there a hint of genuine interest in his voice? It was hard to tell. "You're relentless, you know that?" you mumbled, trying to cover your nerves with sarcasm.

Max chuckled, clearly enjoying how much he was getting under your skin. "I can be very persistent when I want something."

Max's admission sent a flutter through your stomach. He was relentless in his pursuit of an answer, and it was both frustrating and exhilarating. You fidgeted in your seat, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. "And you always get what you want, don't you?" you retorted, aiming for a tone of sarcasm.

Max chuckled at your attempt at sarcasm. He seemed unfazed as he leaned back in his chair, his gaze still fixated on you. "I do, usually," he agreed. "But you're proving to be quite the challenge, y/n."

He took in your flushed cheeks and shifting eyes, a small smile playing on his lips.

Max's gaze seemed to pierce through you, reading your every reaction. "You're blushing like a schoolgirl, Schatje," he teased, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

His observant nature was both impressive and irritating. You tried to compose yourself, to appear unfazed by his words. But the more he teased, the more flustered you became.

The sound of your phone ringing snapped you both out of whatever spell you two were under. “Shit,”  you muttered, “It’s Christian. I better-”

“Yeah, you should answer that,” he said, “I think I'm going to call it a night. It was simply lovely to have such a conversation with you, Lief”

You watched as Max stood from the table, a smirk still tugging at his lips as he stretched his arms over his head. The way his shirt pulled tight against his muscles didn’t escape your notice, but you quickly turned your focus to your phone. Christian’s name flashed on the screen, a reminder that despite the playful teasing and lingering tension, you were still on assignment.

Clearing your throat, you answered the call, doing your best to sound professional. “Hey, Christian. What’s up?”

Max lingered by the doorway to the bedroom, his blue eyes still watching you as he leaned casually against the frame. The man was frustratingly calm and composed, as if he hadn’t just spent the last several minutes flustering you beyond belief.

“Just checking in. Wanted to make sure everything’s running smoothly with you and Max,” Christian’s voice came through the speaker.

“Yeah, everything’s fine,” you replied, glancing at Max again. He raised an eyebrow, clearly hearing the conversation. “We’re just going over the cover story. Making sure we’re on the same page for tomorrow.”

“Good, good. Remember, we need you two to look convincing as a couple. This retreat is high-profile, and we can’t afford any slip-ups. Play the part, but don’t overdo it,” Christian said.

You nodded, even though he couldn’t see you. “Got it. We’ll be convincing.”

After exchanging a few more pleasantries, you ended the call and set your phone down, releasing a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Max was still standing in the doorway, his gaze soft but unreadable.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now, almost concerned.

“Yeah,” you replied, though your heart still raced from the earlier tension. “Just… trying to make sure I don’t mess this up.”

Max pushed himself off the doorframe and took a few steps closer to you. “You won’t. You’re doing great, Schatje. Better than I expected, actually.”

The compliment caught you off guard, and for a moment, you let yourself believe that maybe—just maybe—there was more behind his words than simple encouragement. But you couldn’t afford to let your hopes get the better of you. This was a job. Nothing more.

“Well, I guess I should get some sleep too,” you said, standing up from the table. “Big day tomorrow.” Max nodded, his eyes flicking briefly to the bed in the other room. “Right. About the bed…”

You froze, realizing that you had been so caught up in the conversation earlier that you hadn’t given the sleeping arrangement much thought. But now, with the two of you standing there in a hotel room alone, the reality of sharing a bed with Max Verstappen hit you like a freight train.

“I can take the couch,” he offered quickly, sensing your hesitation.

“No, Max. It’s fine. We’re supposed to be a couple, right? Couples share beds.” You tried to sound confident, but your voice wavered slightly.

Max’s lips quirked into a small smile. “True. But I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

You shook your head, summoning what little courage you had left. “I’ll be fine. It’s just sleeping. No big deal.”

Max didn’t argue, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—something unreadable. He gestured towards the bedroom. “Ladies first.”

You swallowed hard and walked towards the bed, trying to ignore the butterflies in your stomach. Max followed close behind, and as you both climbed into the bed, the space between you felt like an ocean. You were hyper-aware of every movement, every breath.

Max lay on his back, one arm resting behind his head, while you kept to your side, facing away from him. The silence was thick, the air filled with unspoken thoughts.

“Goodnight, y/n,” he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper.

“Goodnight, Max,” you replied, your voice tight with nerves.

You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself to fall asleep. But the warmth of Max’s body next to you, the steady rhythm of his breathing—it was all too distracting. You tried to push the thoughts away, reminding yourself that this was all pretend. That Max Verstappen didn’t see you as anything more than a colleague helping him out.

But as the minutes ticked by, sleep continued to evade you, and you couldn’t help but wonder—what if?

What if this wasn’t just pretend? What if Max felt the same pull, the same unspoken connection that you did? What if, somewhere in the midst of this fake relationship, something real was beginning to bloom?

You shook your head at the thought, frustrated with yourself for even entertaining such a ridiculous idea. Max was a superstar, a world champion, and you were just… you.

But as you lay there, feeling the gentle rise and fall of his breathing beside you, it was hard to ignore the tiny spark of hope flickering in your chest.

Maybe—just maybe—there was more to this story than either of you realized.

You shifted slightly in bed, careful not to disturb Max, who was still lying quietly beside you. You glanced over at him, only to find that his eyes were open, staring at the ceiling.

"Can't sleep?" he asked quietly, turning his head to look at you.

You shook your head, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his gaze. "Too much on my mind, I guess."

Max smiled faintly. "Same here."

There was a brief silence between you, and in the quiet of the night, it felt like the weight of unspoken words was suffocating. You wanted to ask him if this was all just a game to him, if he felt the same tension you did, but you were too afraid of the answer.

Instead, you settled for something safer. "Do you ever get tired of it? The pressure, the constant spotlight?"

Max turned his head fully towards you, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes. It’s part of the job, though. I’ve learned to live with it. But yeah, there are days when it gets overwhelming."

You nodded, understanding the weight of his words. "I get that. It’s hard to find balance when the whole world is watching."

Max's eyes softened, and for a moment, it felt like the walls between you two were crumbling. "Yeah. But it’s not all bad, you know? There are people who make it easier."

You looked at him, your heart fluttering at the implication of his words. Was he talking about you? Or was this just part of his charm?

Before you could respond, Max shifted closer, closing the small gap between you. His proximity made your heart race, and you held your breath as he reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from your face.

"You make it easier, y/n," he whispered, his voice low and sincere.

Your heart skipped a beat, and for a moment, the world seemed to stop. There was no more pretending, no more acting for the sake of the mission. It was just the two of you, lying in the dark, and suddenly, it felt like everything you had been holding back was on the verge of spilling over.

"Max," you whispered, your voice trembling as you struggled to find the right words.

But before you could say anything more, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours. You imagined Max kissing you before, but didn’t think it would ever be so soft. His lips barely brushed against yours, but it felt like the beginning of something more. It tempted you like nothing else ever had. He must’ve felt it, too, since he deepened it. You melted. You surrendered. You never really stood a chance before him. 

“So, you like me? Was that why you kissed me, or, ” You asked when he pulled back a little to gaze at you. “I’m sorry. I just need to hear you say it because I really like you and have for months. Fuck, maybe I shouldn’t have said that because we have a whole acting and pretending thing ahead and now you know and I don't want it to be weird.”

Your mind almost shut down when he gave you a full-blown smile and said, “Yeah, I like you. I thought it was obvious. I tried dropping little hints, talking about your smile and teasing you.” He said. “You know Kelly dumped me because I remembered your coffee order when we were at the hospitality not hers,”

You stared at Max in shock, your heart thudding loudly in your chest. Kelly dumped him over... you?

"You remembered my coffee order?" you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Max chuckled softly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheek as he held your gaze. "Yeah," he replied. "Every single time. It wasn't something I planned to memorize, but I guess I couldn't help it. You’ve always been in the back of my mind, even when I didn’t realize it." You blinked, overwhelmed by the sudden flood of emotions. All the late-night conversations, the teasing, the moments when his touch lingered a little longer than necessary—it all clicked into place. He wasn’t just playing a part. He liked you. Max liked you.

"You really are an idiot," you said with a breathy laugh, feeling lighter than you had in weeks. The tension between you two, the unspoken feelings, had been weighing on you for so long, but now everything felt so clear.

Max grinned, his face inches from yours. "Takes one to know one," he teased, his lips brushing against yours again.

You leaned into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as you kissed him back. This time it wasn’t tentative or cautious. It was everything you had been holding back, all the feelings you had suppressed because you thought it was just part of the job, part of the act.

But this was real. You were real.

When you finally pulled back, you were both breathless. Max’s forehead rested against yours, and you could feel the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your hands.

"Guess we’re going to have to make this mission even more believable now, huh?" Max murmured, his voice filled with that same teasing warmth.

You smiled, biting your lip as you looked up at him. "We might have to practice a little more, just to make sure we’re convincing enough."

Max laughed, a sound that sent warmth coursing through your veins. "I think we can manage that." 

A moment passed before you giggled, happiness blooming in your chest. Max Verstappen liked you. Wanted you. “Please do,” you breathed, pulling him back down for another kiss.

He groaned, ravaging your mouth as he moved on top of you. His knee pushed your legs apart so he could settle between them, swallowing down your whimpers when he pressed his growing hardness against your pussy. He ground his hips, your panties soaked as his tongue tangled with yours. The man kissed you like he had something to prove.

Like he wanted to own you.

His muscles rippled as he leaned up and grasped the bottom of your nightie. The vision of him above you like this was now engraved in your mind. “If you want me to stop, I will.”

Sleeping with him was moving fast considering you just confessed your feelings for each other, but you didn't care. “Don't stop,” you whispered, quivering as he tugged the fabric over your head.

Your hands moved up to cover your chest before he gripped your wrists. “Are you trying to hide from me?” He questioned, his smirk playful in comparison to the uncertainty in his gaze.

You didn't want him doubting himself or your want for him for a second.

“Maybe? I mean, look at you and look at…”

You wouldn't knock on your looks since you were generally confident in your appearance, but the driver was an entirely different level of gorgeous. “Don't,” he whispered, releasing a wrist so he could cup your breast. You arched your back and any uncertainty in his eyes before faded when a moan escaped your lips. “You're so fucking beautiful.”

The praise almost made your eyes water as he brought his head down, losing focus when he swept his tongue across your nipple. Your eyes fluttered shut as he did it again, a wave from a sea of ecstasy crashing over you. Your heart thudded faster, addicted to the feel of his sinful mouth, suckling gently as his hands continued to explore. You writhed beneath him, your fingers tangling in his hair to pull him closer. "Please,"

He chuckled, the vibration making your breast hum in his mouth. "Please what, baby?" He asked, his free hand moving to your other breast, pinching the nipple gently. You whimpered, your hips bucking against the floor. "Please touch me, please kiss me, please fuck me,"

“You are such a needy baby,”

"His hands slid down your sides, gripping your thighs and spreading them apart. He settled between them, his breath hot against your core. "You want me to touch you here?" He asked, his fingers gently caressing your folds through your underwear."

“You’re the reason I don't have a boyfriend,” you whined, your fingers twisting in his hair. Why did you say that?

He paused, lifting his head to look at you with a mix of confusion and realization. "Because of me?" He asked softly. "Because I'm always around, and no one else can compare?" He slid a finger underneath the fabric, touching you for the first time.

His finger traced your slit, gathering your wetness before pushing inside gently. You let out a sigh of relief, your hips tilting to meet his finger. "Is that it? Is that why you don't have a boyfriend?" He asked, curling his finger inside you, rubbing your g-spot. 

“Y-yes… It's you, has always been you, Max.” you gasped.

He added another finger, pumping in and out of you slowly. His voice was low, filled with a dominance you'd never heard from him before. "So, every time you went on a date, every time they kissed you, it was me you thought of?” 

His fingers moved faster, curling and rubbing against your g-spot. "And every time they tried to touch you, hold your hand, it was my hand you wished was there instead?" He asked, his thumb rubbing your clit in circles. "Is that it, baby?”

But what can you say more besides moaning at his touch. 

He grinned wolfishly, his eyes locked onto yours. "You can't speak because you're so turned on, thinking about me instead of them. Isn't that right?" His fingers continued to pump in and out of you, his thumb pressing circles onto your swollen nub. "Say it.”

But you’re not thinking straight. You’re not thinking straight at all when all he did was teasing you like that.

He growled, his face hovering over your core. "Say it, or I'll stop." His fingers paused, buried deep inside you. You squirmed, your hips bucking, silently begging him to continue. "Say it," he repeated, his voice low and dangerous.

“Max” you breathed, clenching your legs together.

He tsked disapprovingly, prying your legs apart with his broad shoulders. "Not until you say what I want to hear." His golden eyes bore into yours, filled with desire and determination. "Say, 'Only you, Max. Only you.'" His fingers remained motionless. 

“Jus’ need you. Need you to make it better. ‘M yours Daddy, only yours.” 

His expression softened, and he rewarded you by moving his fingers again, crooking them inside you. "Good girl," he praised, his voice gentle. "Now, wrap your legs around my shoulders. I'm going to make you come with my mouth.”

You eagerly wrapped your legs around his shoulders, locking your ankles behind his neck. He lowered his face between your thighs, his breath hot against your wet flesh. "You're so ready for me, baby," he murmured, his thumbs spreading you open. "So swollen and needy.”

And without further teasing, he pressed his lips to your clit and sucked. Hard. His fingers curled inside you again, hitting that perfect spot. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. "Oh god oh god oh god,"

Max smiled around the soft pearl in his mouth and flicked it gently with the tip of his tongue. "Feel good, baby?" he breathed. His head tilted up to you, and he could see you were struggling just to breathe, face painted with a medley of emotions. You didn't know if you could, or should, be feeling this good from a man so evil. Max flattened his tongue and licked a long stripe up your pussy to ensure that you would. Then he posed the question again, smirking. "You like my tongue on this wet, needy cunt?" His words were so damn obscene, but you nodded anyway. Feeling small and powerless beneath those big, broad hands as they pinned you back on the sheets and spread you even wider for the taking.

He loved how innocent and lewd you looked at once, wincing with pleasure and still trying to keep your composure like you thought a good girl should.

And, just as your breaths were starting to hitch and grow more ragged in your chest, he pushed two fingers inside.

The act surprised your lover almost as much as it did you-not quite, but almost -upon feeling how tight you were, how resistant to even two digits you seemed to be. He hardly knew whether to shove them deeper or pull them out, so fast did your muscles contract around him. When you whined a loud, protracted, 'FUCK!' he figured he would stick with the former. He grinned, having never heard you speak, much less swear, out of pleasure like this. Your head lolled back and your body made an arch when his fingers curled inside you. You were panting, moaning, coating his hand with your juices, and Max knew you were close. He started pumping his fingers in and out while his tongue worked your clit, chin practically doused in your arousal by now. A swell of pride rose within him: he could finally bring you home to that sweet release, have you a shaking, soaking mess above his face like you were wholly his and no one else's. He moved his tongue even faster and sank his fingers straight down to the knuckle.

 "Come on my face, Liefde. Show me what a good girl you are.”

And suddenly you were coming undone all over him—crying his name, clawing his skin, squeezing your legs so tight around his head you feared you might snap it in two.

He slowly licked you clean, his gaze never leaving yours. "You taste even better than you look," he murmured, a slow smirk spreading across his face. He leaned in close, pressing his forehead to yours. "And you look... like a masterpiece.

You took his face in closer and sucked your arousal off his tongue. Took him by surprise and dragged a mindless, lazy, half-crazed and careless tongue all over his, where your juices had no doubt collected too. That slutty, fucked-out look you gave him—like your brain had all but fallen out of your head with the orgasm he’d given you—was everything Max could’ve wanted.

Max's eyes widened in surprise as you sucked his face clean, his hands instinctively coming up to hold your head in place. He groaned into your mouth, his own arousal spiking at the filthy, careless way you were using your tongue.

He deepened the kiss, his tongue plunging into your mouth to explore and taste every inch of it. His hands slid down to your waist, pulling you even closer against him, letting you feel the hard length of his cock pressed up against you.

“I need to fuck you now,” he said.

His voice was rough with desire, his patience worn thin. He reached between your legs, grabbing your thigh and tossing your leg over his shoulder. He positioned himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked folds. "Hold on, Schatje,"

He slammed into you with no warning, burying his cock deep inside your pussy in one brutal thrust. You cried out in surprise and pleasure, your walls clenching around him as he fills you completely. He grabbed your other thigh, holding you in place as he started pounding into you with ruthless intensity.

“Feel a little stretch down there, huh?”

You didn’t have to say anything, just whimpering in time. Max kissed your forehead and let you fold into him as his dick wreaked havoc down below. He kissed you again, and again, and in between kisses, mumbled,

“That’s daddy’s sweet, needy little slut.”

“My perfect fucking Schatje, so good at taking my cock.”

Every syllable spoken aloud was like a brand new catalyst for your impending release. You barely nodded your head, opened your mouth and whined pathetically, but that’s exactly how Max wanted you.

"Shit, you were made for this, weren't you baby? Made to take my load." He's so lost in the way you whine, telling him he's right and he knows it when he feels the way your body clenches and flutters around him.

He pistons his hips, fucking you with abandon, his balls slapping against your ass with each brutal thrust. He reaches up to grab your breast, squeezing it roughly as he snarls in your ear. "Gonna fill this fucking pussy up with my cum, mark you as mine.”

His grip on your thighs tightened as he continued to pound into you, the sound of flesh slapping against flesh filling the room. "Not till I say so, baby. You gonna wait for me, aren't you?" He grunted, his own release barreling down on him. 

“Daddy, faster, please, harder, feels so good!” You were practically sobbing, loving the way he was splitting you open.

“I'm Gonna cum, daddy! Can I cum?” Max practically growls, not missing a beat while still thrusting in you.

He grunted approvingly at your desperate pleas, his face contorting with effort as he held back his own release. "Not... till... I... say... so..." He punctuated each word with a powerful thrust, his voice harsh with command. "Look at me, baby. Look at me when you beg."

You preened, the walls of your pussy clenching around his length. “Please, daddy.” 

“Jesus, you’re making me so wet. You’re such a little whore for me.”

“I’m your whore. Always, daddy, please!”

His face contorted with pleasure as you finally gave him what he wanted. "Good girl," he hissed, his pace becoming frenzied as he finally let himself go. "You're gonna take it all, aren't you? Gonna take every last drop?" 

“Yes!!” You sob, biting down onto his shoulder to keep your cries down while he continues to fuck you into oblivion. You don't understand how such filth can spew from that pink, pouty little mouth of his. "Please-please-need-you-daddy-I'm gonna-" 

“ I’m 'yours sweet girl, all yours, go on, cum for me love, cum on my cock, it's all yours" He gazed into your eyes, cooing at your parted lips and sweat slicked skin. It didn't take long for you to shatter around him his lips smashing against yours to swallow your moans.

"Want your cum daddy" You beg , desperate to have him claim you from the inside.

"Oh fuck baby, y-you can't say that, gonna, oh fuckkk" Your words throw Max right off the edge as he lets out a deep groan stilling his hips and shooting endless ropes of his spend into you. You both lay in comfortable silence, your fingers playing with his hair now disheveled. 

“Do you mean it? After this is all over?” Anything could happen. Perhaps this was just to keep his bed warm. Something to keep him calm, you were just someone to-

"Of course Liefje" Max presses a firm kiss to your forehead, silencing the thoughts that tried to run wild. "You're mine"

liked by 2,427 others

yourusername first day at work, welcome to the playground - newbie.

view all 728 comments

user1 what a dream job 😭

user2 I wanna be there toooooo 😭

urfriend my baby's dream finally came true

yourusername wish me luck bestie

user4 what is your job?

yourusername i'm the new intern in social media for RBR

liked by redbullracing, yourusername, landonorris, charles_leclerc, and 3,962,028 others

maxverstappen1 this new (intern) social media manager has me doing all sorts of weird things, apparently the fans like me doing this…I’m yet to be convinced 😂 might need a long nap after this.

view all 350,728 comments

username12 fyi we absolutely love photos like these 😂

landonorris I nearly fell off my chair laughing after scrolling through this post 😂😂😂

username13 thank you the new intern for convincing max to bless us with a world of meme worthy content, i beg for more

username14 he has no idea how much we love seeing this side of him does he???

username15 pls promote ur new intern to be ur lifelong admin @/redbullracing

redbullracing let me ask my boss first ferrari we still have open position for the new intern, wanna join? redbullracing back off mercedesamgf1 or u can work for us instead, why be an intern when u can be our new admin for a very demure, very mindfull team! username16 are they battling for the new intern 😂 username17 on track and offtrack battle

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing and 26,882 others

yourusername life lately as the new intern at @/redbullracing

view all 2,728 comments

username18 so u r the new intern that blessed us with so much max's meme

yourusername no need to tks me 🤗 username18 u r so pretty, might be my new wife

username19 oooooh max's in the like

username20 aww so cute

username3 the outfits slay

landonorris uhhh 

username21 WHAT ARE YOU EOING HERE maxverstappen1 she's not on ur team, mate landonorris so i can not say hello to her ???

yourbff you are so effortlessly gorgeous please 😫 and whose hand is that wifey

username22 wtf is max and lando beefing in the comment

username23 shut the f up she's a swiftie OMG i need a challenge with max and checo with taylor

yourusername working on it, but these two know nothing 'bout the pop culture 😭 username24 OMG the devil works hard but u gotta work harder girl

liked by maxverstappen1, redbullracing, yourusername and 1,826,882 others

redbullracing Taylor Swift 1 - 0 Chestappen

view all 550,128 comments

maxverstappen1 do not shame ur drivers publicly like that

redbullracing we do not 🤗 landonorris how can they not know about THE TAYLOR georgerussell63 i would have won this charlesleclerc if the ferrari's challenge could be this easy

username30 they cant even score a point

username31 OMG Chestappen

liked by 826,882 others

f1wags new wag alert!!! This might be the new gf of Max and she also works for Red Bull too

username32 OMG is she y/n the old intern now admin

f1wags that's her

username33 i follow her too and she is soooooooo pretty

username34 her new ideas for all their challenges are cool too

username1 😒😒

username2 BOOOO👎

username3 so it’s official then huh?

username13 BODY IS TEAA

username24 HOLYYY

liked by yourusername, danielricciardo, charlesleclerc, redbullracing, and 3,344,234 others

maxverstappen1 i think this called hard launch and yes this is my new gf @/yourusername took all the pics since she thought i'm not very good at it

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[jungwnies]

wrong time, right person - carlos sainz (1/4)

୨ৎ : pairing : carlos sainz x fem!reader ୨ৎ : synopsis : years after a bitter breakup, you and carlos sainz reunite unexpectedly. old wounds resurface, but so does undeniable love. will history repeat itself?

୨ৎ : genre : romance, angst, humor, drama ୨ৎ : tws : mild language, arguing, friendships ending, bantering, suggestive humor, mentions of alcohol consumption. ୨ৎ : wc : 952

part one | part two | part three | part four

Spain was never supposed to feel like home.

You were just an exchange student, a stranger in a country where the language tripped you up, where conversations flowed around you like a current you couldn’t quite swim in. The other students were nice, polite even, but distant. They smiled, but no one really saw you.

Except for him.

Carlos Sainz wasn’t just friendly; he was relentless. He talked to you like it was the most natural thing in the world, like he had made it his personal mission to make you feel at home. The first time he sat next to you at lunch, he didn’t ask the usual "Where are you from?" or "How do you like Spain?" Instead, he stole a fry from your plate and smirked.

“You always eat this little?”

It took you a second to process what he said, your brain scrambling for the right words. When you did, you narrowed your eyes and stole a fry right back.

“Mind your business.”

He laughed, loud, unapologetic. And just like that, best friends.

He made Spain feel like home. He dragged you to local karting tracks, shoved a helmet on your head, and laughed until he was breathless as you struggled to drive at half his speed. You sat on the asphalt after his races, drinking cheap sodas and listening to him talk about his dreams; Formula 1, podiums, championships. You still remember the way his eyes lit up when he talked about his father, the legendary Carlos Sainz Sr., how he wanted to make him proud.

“You think I can do it?” he asked once, voice quieter than usual.

You scoffed, nudging his shoulder. “I think you’re already doing it.”

And you were right.

He climbed the ranks, and you were right there beside him, just like he was there for you. Modeling started small, with local gigs, small shoots. but soon after, your face was showing up in magazines, whispered about in the industry. The first time you booked an international job, Carlos picked you up and spun you around like it was his victory too.

“You’re gonna be famous,” he said, grinning. “I’m gonna see your face on billboards, aren’t I?”

It was fun, easy, and natural, until it wasn’t.

The higher he climbed, the further away he felt. The more you succeeded, the less you seemed to talk. At first, it didn’t feel like a big deal. You still sent texts, still FaceTimed when you could. But slowly, the missed calls turned into silence, and suddenly, you were watching each other’s successes through headlines instead of in person.

Then, he made it to Formula 1.

And you? You were stepping into high-fashion modeling.

The night it all fell apart wasn’t supposed to be anything special. Just another call that went unanswered. Just another missed "good luck" before a race. But this time, Carlos called back, and he called back angry.

“You don’t even care anymore.” His voice was sharp, cutting straight through your exhaustion.

You blinked, phone pressed to your ear, the weight of his words settling deep into your chest. “What?”

“You heard me,” he snapped. “You missed my race. Again.”

Your stomach twisted. “Carlos, I had a show. You knew that.”

“Right, right,” he said bitterly. “Another shoot, another runway, another excuse. Siempre tienes una razón, ¿verdad?” (You always have a reason, right?)

Heat flared in your cheeks. “Excuse me? Don’t you dare act like you’re the only one with a career! I support you, Carlos, but I have my own dreams too.”

He laughed, but it wasn’t the kind that made your heart feel light, it was sharp, hollow, cold. “Support? ¿Eso es lo que llamas esto?” (Is that what you call this?) “Because it feels a lot like you just don’t give a damn anymore.”

Anger burned hot in your chest. “That’s not fair.”

“No?” His voice dropped, quieter, but somehow even more dangerous. “Entonces dime, when was the last time you actually showed up for me? When was the last time you watched me race, not through a screen, but actually there?”

You opened your mouth, then closed it. Because the answer was obvious. And it wasn’t one you wanted to say out loud.

Carlos exhaled sharply, like he had been hoping, hell, borderline begging, for you to fight him on it. But you couldn’t.

He scoffed. “Eso pensé.” (That’s what I thought.)

Tears burned behind your eyes. “This isn’t fair, Carlos. You’re always traveling, I’m always traveling! What the hell do you expect me to do?”

“I expected you to care.” His voice cracked. Just slightly. But it was enough to break you.

Your breath hitched. “You think I don’t?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted, and that hurt worse than anything else.

Because Carlos always knew. He always understood you, always read between the lines, always saw you even when you felt invisible to everyone else. But now? Now he wasn’t even sure.

The silence stretched between you like an open wound.

And then he said it.

“Quizás sea más fácil así.” (Maybe it’s just easier this way.)

It felt like the wind had been knocked out of you. “What?”

His voice was flat, emotionless. Like he had already given up. “Maybe we’ve just been holding on to something that doesn’t exist anymore.”

You felt something inside you shatter.

Carlos had been your best friend. Your person. Your safe place. But now he was just...just nothing.

“I don’t have time for this.” Your voice was quiet, raw, aching. “I have an early flight.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Por supuesto que sí.” (Of course you do.)

Neither of you apologized.

Neither of you fought for it.

Neither of you said goodbye.

Carlos left for another race. You left for another shoot.

Neither of you looked back.

Until you were given no choice...

© 2024 jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate.

[tuesdayiminlove]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you) PART 2/3

where jamie seems to remember everything, and you're just trying to navigate a stitch on your crochet flower (jamie tartt x fem!reader)

part one

A/N: here's part two!!!!! link what yall think, im so grateful for the feedback of the first part, it's super encouraging <33 tysm. also this is NOT proofread oops

word count: 4.5k

When you arrive back inside your home, you’re heavy-breathing with a heartbeat erratic enough for your heart to pop out of your chest. You place your keys down, reaching into your jean pocket for your phone, placing the first call you can manage to muster up. 

Stevie is over within minutes, you think you might’ve heard her light jogging over to your house. 

Her heavy pants echo the room as she tries to muster up the words. “I just got back from work, and I fucking ran! Tell me the emergency immediately.”

“I don’t even know where to begin!” you say. “I mean, I was trying to make some creamy vegetable soup, but I didn’t even get to chop the tomatoes, Stevie! The fucking tomatoes! I—“

“Okay, begin by getting the point, babe." She walks to your kitchen, you following close behind. It doesn’t come to a surprise that she opens your refrigerator, most likely rummaging for the cucumbers and your chickpea hummus. “I love you, but if this is dire, I’m gonna need to know now.” 

You gather your thoughts as Stevie begins to look through your drawers for a knife. How do you even say it simply? “Jamie Tartt thinks I’m his girlfriend.”

Stevie drops the knife. 

In any other situation, you would scold her for doing something close to a hazard in the kitchen. But you understand her actions completely. If you were holding a flower pot when finding out this information, you’d drop that shit, too. 

“Continue before I absolutely freak the fuck out.”

That’s when you tell her about the call and the trip to the hospital. The words are coming out of your mouth at the speed of light, you’re surprised Stevie is managing to keep up. But she does, quietly chopping her cucumbers and dipping a few into the hummus. This is a more collected look than when she dropped the knife, but you’re sure the gears are turning in her head just as much as they are for you currently. 

“I just left his house and I told him I’d be back with—soup!”

You don’t wait to turn the stove back on, shuffling Stevie away from the center of the counter while you go back to cooking. 

She says your name slowly, eyes wide. “This is some romcom-movie-shit, babe.”

You fight a roll of your eyes. “This is real life!” you scold. “And the poor boy is concussed, probably mental!” 

“Mental for thinking he’s dating you? Have you seen yourself? You’re fucking magnificent.”

“Thanks,” you drawl, not in the mood for a compliment. “But that doesn’t change the fact that he’s just a bit bonkers right now, and I don’t know what to do!” You stir the pot stressfully, watching the ingredients mix around the broth. You’ve put a bit more ingredients, and added more broth to make sure that the serving is good for two, and for any leftovers Jamie may want. You think you’ll have enough to send Steve home with, as well. “The doctor said not to startle him, but I’m pretty fucking startled. So I don’t know how to not startle him when I’m not in the right state of mind! This feels so stupid.” 

“I think you should tell him the truth,” says Stevie. She’s right behind your shoulder, peering over at the pot. She takes a large whiff, and hums. “You making this for him?”

“And for you.” And me! 

“Ah,” she says. “I see. A little compensation so I don’t out you to the press, yeah? Nice thinking!”

“Not funny,” you drawl. It was never a thought that crossed your mind that Stevie would go out, telling people of your current entanglement with Jamie. She’s an editor for a magazine company, and she has a problem telling you all the tips she gets about local celebrities, always trusting you not to tell anyone anything. You don’t doubt that she’ll do the same for you. “So I should tell him the truth, then?” you ask, getting back to the main point of Stevie’s visit. 

“Mhm,” she replies. “Probably not today though, don’t you think? He’s overwhelmed enough as it is, he’s probably gonna be benched in Richmond’s next couple matches. That sad fuck is probably groveling as we speak. And he can’t even drink to cure the pain! … That’s how concussions work, right?” She shakes her head. “Anyway, don’t do it today. If I were you, I’d play it by ear, you know?”

You nod, having heard all of this from the doctor.

"And one more thing."

Stevie hums in questionn

“… He may have tried to kiss me.”

You think everyone in the neighborhood heard Stevie’s screech when she belts your name. 

It’s later in the day when you ring Jamie’s doorbell. You’d successfully shooed Stevie out of your house, convincing her that she does not need to spy on you from your kitchen window in case Jamie tries to make a move (“I’ll be there in two seconds, ready to make that concussion worse. Just say the word.”). And now you have the soup in two tupperware containers, as well some carrots and dip in your tote bag because that’s what Jamie originally always used you for, right? The familiarity will hopefully make him happy. 

When he opens the door, you’re not surprised to see all the lights are closed, as well as his curtains shut (so much for Stevie spying). The only thing you see that’s shedding artificial light is the lamp by his staircase, but even that looks as dim as it can be. 

“Hey, love,” he says groggily, a certain warmth to it that makes the nickname seem more intimate. He rubs his eyes as he moves to create room for you to come inside. “Sorry I took so long. Took a bit of a nap.”

“Oh,” you frown, concern taking over the nerves of his sudden pet names, “I’m sorry for waking you. I can just drop these off and head out, if you’d prefer?”

Jamie shakes his head. “Don’t be silly. Come in.”

You enter apprehensively, though you’re trying your best to conceal it. This is the second time ever that you are in Jamie’s home. And it’s only been a day. The strangeness of that fact lingers in the air as you close the door behind you.

You trail behind him toward the kitchen, your footsteps quiet against the hardwood floors. Various football plaques litter the walls, as well as many, many photos of Richmond’s team.

“Why don’t you go sit down?” you say as you simultaneously take in his home. “I can prepare these myself and bring them to you.”

“Rubbish," scoffs Jamie, "I’m still mobile, and I’m not leaving my girlfriend to take care of me like you’re some sort of maid. I’m not bedridden.”

The word girlfriend, once again, catches you off guard, and your heart does a funny little stutter. You push it aside. “I just don’t want you to exert yourself,” you reason, brows furrowed. “You’re concussed, Jamie.”

“Who cares about that?” he jokes, waving off your concerns. 

Your jaw clenches. You want to say I care. Because this concussion is affecting you more than you fucking know. But you bite your tongue, and instead ask him where he keeps his bowls and silverware. 

Minutes later, Jamie and yourself are sitting on his couch. You took the liberty of sitting on the opposite end of his sofa, taking up as little space as possible. You’ve tucked yourself into the far corner, legs curled up slightly, trying to occupy as little room as possible. Jamie, on the other hand, lounges comfortably, his socked feet propped on the edge of the coffee table, though his posture is slightly more relaxed than it was earlier. You’d ask Jamie if it would be okay to crochet while you’re here, mainly so you can have something to do instead of sitting there awkward with today’s events before you. 

So, soup now resting on Jamie’s coffee table (you stop every few moments to take a bite), you’re intent on the rose petal you’re making with your yarn. Jamie alternates between eating his soup and watching you, his gaze unashamedly direct, though there’s a softness to it that makes your heart flutter despite yourself.

To anyone else, the scene might look endearingly domestic: the two of you sharing a quiet moment in the living room, him eating soup, you crocheting, the occasional exchange of lighthearted banter. But there’s an underlying element to it. You don’t want to tip-toe around Jamie, because you’re supposed to be acting natural and all, but it’s hard. 

“You’re the most thoughtful thing ever, you know that?” he says, after a minute of silence. 

Your hands pause mid-stitch, your eyes staying fixed on the delicate yarn in front of you as you decide how to respond, stomach churning nervously. “A ‘thing’?” you joke lightly, a small smile tugging at your lips. “How very gentlemanly of you.”

“You know what I mean!” chastises Jamie. 

Fighting the butterflies in your stomach as his words settle warmly around your heart.

“I do know,” you reply softly, finally glancing up at him. “Why do you say that?”

“The rose you’re knitting—“

“Crocheting.”

“Crocheting. Sorry, love. How many are you making for the old bloke’s grandson?”

The moment you take in Jamie's words, you pause, crochet hook in the air. “What?” 

Jamie looks confused. “Mr. Taylor? That his name?”

You shake your head, mind still reeling. “No, I know who you meant. How do you know I’m making this for his grandson?” You don’t recall telling that to Jamie when you initially mentioned what you wanted to do here. 

You currently have half of a rose petal done, wanting to make something special for Mr. Taylor grandson—Roman. The young toddler is allergic to flowers, getting all sniffly and itchy when you had brought over a hand-made flower arrangement for the Taylors (it had been their 37th wedding anniversary). But Roman had just kept looking at the flowers with such curiosity, despite his body’s affinity for them. When you had decided to take up crocheting (you wanted to make tiny plant plushies yourself—because why are stuffed plushies with cute faces on them so expensive these days?), one of the first things you learned was to make stuffed flower arrangements, just for when Roman would visit. 

How could Jamie possibly know that?

“Because you’re you,” says Jamie. Blush coats over his cheeks lightly when he averts his gaze from hers, hand moving to scratch the back of his head.

“… And," he begins, "one day, I was in me car and I saw you walk over to the Taylors’ house with crochet roses. ‘Made it look like a nice arrangement, too. I wanted to ask you why you had fake flowers when you have fucking millions just in your front yard. Didn’t know if that’d sound weird, though, so…” he trails off, his words getting quieter, “So, I may have asked Mr. Taylor instead.”

You try to recall the memory Jamie spoke of. You do recall the last time you had headed over to the Taylors with the signature bouquet. Jamie had been at the front of his house, getting into his car. Of course she had noticed him immediately, spotting him just by her peripheral vision, but she hadn’t decided to spare him a look until she crossed the street to look back, but he had been preoccupied. She didn’t even think he saw her that day. 

That day had been nearly three months ago. 

Your mouth falls open. Jamie had noticed and asked about you that long ago?

Jamie glances at you nervously, mistaking your silence for something more negative. “I’m not some creep or anything, promise! I just—I dunno—I was curious! You’re always doing stuff like that.” 

You shake your head. “I just never knew you noticed,” you mumble, your nerves growing. Even now, he remembers. You wish you knew what that meant for you two; you wish that the suspicions and hopes in your brain are true. “Or asked.”

Jamie’s cockiness kicks back in at your flustered nerves. “Like I said, I’ve always noticed you. And now I get to be the luckiest guy.”

Your eyes meet his. For a moment, you let yourself pretend. Pretend that this is real—that this is the relationship you and Jamie have built together. That you’re a couple, and this is just one of those moments you get to stumble upon—a sweet realization that Jamie had liked you long before either of you dared to admit it.

You let yourself hold on to the fantasy, just for a moment.

It has to be just a moment... you think if you stare any longer at Jamie your body is going to take over and grab him for a kiss, just to know what it may feel like. You just know you shouldn’t.

“Four,” you say softly. “I’m making four for Roman.” You turn back to the stitch you had laid on your lap, trying to get out of your frenzie and into your zone. 

Jamie smiles, eyes still twinkling. “That’s his name? Roman?”

You hum. “He’s about to turn four. And he’s just the most adorable kid I’ve seen.”

“I’m being rude, aren’t I?" replies Jamie, "Prodding.”

Your head snaps up. “What? No.” You uncomfortably shift in your seat to hopefully look less odd. “Sorry if I’m being weird. I’m just… zoned out, I guess. Thinking a lot.”

“Yeah?” he says, staring at you intently. “What about?”

“Just… everything about today, I suppose.”

Jamie jokingly smiles. “Yeah, getting a call that your boyfriend got whacked in the head and is now concussed wasn’t really in your daily plan, was it?”

You let out a laugh. “No, it wasn’t.”

“It got in the way of watering radishes, I bet.”

Again, you laugh more, your stomach moving steadily at the action. From the limited conversation you’ve had with him, paired with now, you’ve deduced that Jamie is just a complete pro for lightening up conversations. When your heart races nervously, a quip comes out of his mouth that makes your body go back steady. You don’t even think that this is an individual experience; he seems like he does it a lot. You wonder how that balance comes so perfectly in his life. 

“Yeah,” you laugh. “My gardening has to come to a pause today.” 

“It’s a shame,” he says, grinning. “Would’ve loved to see you in your cute sunhat, or the giant yellow gloves you always wear.”

Your eyes widen at his words. 

Seeing your shock, he adds, “You think I don’t notice these things? I always have.”

You try not to cough up the food you’d just digested. You would like to consider that Jamie is just making things up, but the description of your usual accessories when you’re out tending to your plants remain true. The giant yellow gloves belong to your mom, and there hasn’t been any reason to buy new ones if you’ve already got a pair. 

And the sunhat—well, it’s not everyday you’re seen out with it. It’s usually if the sun ever comes out, glaring at your eyes while you try to focus on a task at hand. You’ve probably brought it out maybe a couple of times since Jamie had moved in next to you; none of those times being as of recent. 

It’s a shock Jamie can even recall it. 

He remembers the little things. I always have. 

“Fuck,” he mutters softly. “Have I creeped you out? Don’t mean to sound like a prick, but I thought what I said was pretty fucking cute. But I understand if it’s creepy again. I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

You shake your head. “No, Jamie, I’m not creeped. ‘M kinda just shocked that you notice things like that.” 

He shrugs. “It’s hard to not pay attention. You live right beside me. And you’re you. It’s pretty fucking impossible for me not to notice things about you.”

Your heart is back to racing. All of Jamie’s confessions of things he’s noticed can only insinuate that he’s genuinely seen things about you, whether he had gotten hit in the head or not. They’re not fabricated in his mind from his belief that you two are dating. He’s not like Holy shit, do you remember that time we had dinner together? You think if he started recalling specific memories that never happened, you’d check him straight into the nearest mental institution. 

But he’s saying things that are so undeniably true; things he’s noticed about your being. 

If you aren’t already so conscious and confused of the actual problem at hand, you’d sit here and pretend that he’s yours—just as much as he claims to be. You wish this moment to be real, but it’s not. The sadness and guilt that weighs over you with that fact can overtake any other feeling in this moment. 

“Jamie,” you begin, “I need to tell you something.”

You think about Stevie’s advice, to not tell him today. The doctor saying not to overwhelm him. You know they’re right. You don’t want to. The poor bloke is probably already stressed enough as it is. You want to be here for Jamie, to help him get better because even with your limited experience around him, you care very deeply about his wellbeing. And maybe your feelings are skewed by the crush you’ve been harboring on him, but that’s hardly the point anymore. 

But how are you supposed to keep this up? Pretending to be someone you’re not, filling a role in his life that isn’t truly yours—it feels wrong, no matter how much you want to help him heal.

You don’t think you’re cut out for pretending. 

Jamie looks at you expectantly, a small smile on his face and your heart just breaks. 

“Jamie… I don’t know how to say this,” you admit, your throat tightening. “But I’m not your girlfriend.”

For a second, Jamie looks beyond confused. “The fuck? Did we break up?”

“I got the call today,” you explain gently, shrinking down into the sofa with a racing heart. “When I heard you were in the hospital, I was worried—God, I was worried—but I didn’t understand why they called me. And then Roy said… he said we’d been going out.” You bite your lip, carefully choosing your next words. “It made me realize something had gone wrong. That maybe you hit your head and got things mixed up.”

Jamie doesn’t say anything, his brows knitting together as he processes your words.

“I wanted to do what was best for you,” you continue, your voice growing quieter. “Everyone kept telling me not to startle you, not to stress you out. But I can’t keep pretending we’re in a relationship when we’re not. It doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t feel honest. “I care about you, Jamie. I care about you getting better. But I can’t pretend, okay? I’m really, really sorry.””

It’s been nearly two days since you’ve seen or heard from Jamie. You’d practically bolted after your admission, your chest tight with guilt and your hands trembling as you no longer felt worthy of being in his home.

You hadn’t looked back, and he hadn’t stopped you.

It’s all you think about as you sit in the kitchen with your morning coffee, trying your best to catch up on the emails about work that have been piling up while you wallow.

Your work is interrupted when the doorbell rings. 

You immediately think it’s Stevie; she’s been wanting to see you since you had texted and said that you couldn’t even last the night without telling Jamie the truth. You purposefully left out the parts where Jamie pointed out the crocheting for Roman, and the gloves, and the sunhat, and Jamie just noticing you. God knows Stevie will be the first person to jump up and say he’s in love with you, and you’re not ready for that delusion in your head to be spoken out into the universe. 

Especially after Jamie has not spoken to you since. He’s probably freaked out, never wanting to speak to you for as long as he possibly can. 

You close your laptop and head to your front door, not even bothering to check who may be on the other end because—duh—it’s Stevie. 

Only, it’s not her. 

Instead, three boys stand on the opposite end of your door, gaping at you from the moment you lay eyes on them. 

They look vaguely familiar to you, and judging but the sweatsuits they’re wearing with the AFC Richmond logo, they’re Jamie’s teammates. You swallow your anxiety and give them a confused look.

“You’re real,” the man in the middle says, tall and broad with a commanding presence.. 

“Shut up, bruv,” the man to the right elbows the other. “We don’t even know if it’s her. ‘Could be the girl two houses down…”

“Mi amor,” says the final man, eyes light. His warm, melodic voice is unmistakably Spanish, holding up a bottle of wine like a peace offering. “What’s your name?”

You frown, wanting to ask so many questions when a shout intercepts the trio that has lined up at your door. 

“Oi!” 

They boys all turn, and you manage to peek your head out the door, to see Jamie stomping down the steps of his home, clad in sweats and… cow slippers? 

Despite the grumpy set of his face, the sight is almost endearing.

“Jamie!” the trio chorus in unison, like they’ve been caught red-handed.

“You didn’t answer the door,” one of them says, “we figured you’d be at your beautiful lady’s.”

“Don’t mean you can go knocking on doors of people you don’t fucking know,” huffs Jamie, finally reaching them. He doesn’t spare you a glance. 

The boys look ashamed. “We’re sorry, bruv,” says the tallest one, voice gruff and guilty. “Dani made Birria tacos, and Colin’s brought fuzzy socks. I just wanted to say sorry for whacking ya.”

Jamie’s eyes soften at his words. He sighs. “Thank you, mate. I appreciate it, I really do. But I stand by what I fuckin��� said. You can’t go knocking at random doors.”

“But it’s not random!” says the boy you’ve deduced to be Colin. For the first time since they’ve knocked, he turns to you in acknowledgement. “It’s lovely to meet you!” 

“The flowers are gorgeous,” says Dani, eyes g;azing dutifully at your front lawn. “And we apologize for the interruption.”

Jamie nods at them, like a mother watching over their child at the playground after a petty fight breaks out. 

You grin, awkwardness dissolvong. “It's okay. And—I love birria tacos, by the way. Good choice.”

Dani blushes. “I’m sure Jamie wouldn’t mind sharing it with his lady. Wouldn’t  you, Jamie?”

Jamie sputters, looking between the boys, and sparing you the first glance since he’s got here. His mouth opens, then closes. Repeatedly. 

“Um,” you interject, “I would much rather let Jamie enjoy it. Thank you, though!”

Isaac frowns. “That’s how you’re gonna treat your girl?” he grumbles at Jamie. 

“She said it!” argues Jamie. “Not me!”

Isaac shakes his head, muttering something under his breath about no chivalry these days, but he claps Jamie on the shoulder. “Alright, bruv, we’ll get outta your hair. Just make sure you enjoy the tacos. And, uh…” he glances at you with a cheeky grin, “Be nice to your lady, yeah?”

Jamie groans, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Colin pipes up, “It was lovely meeting you!” His voice is warm and genuine, and he flashes you a smile before jogging after Isaac, who is already halfway down the steps.

Dani lingers a moment longer, holding out the wine bottle to Jamie. “You deserve this,” he says with a knowing smile, his gaze flicking between you and Jamie.

Jamie takes the bottle “Thanks.”

“And don’t worry, we won’t knock on any more random doors. Adiós, mi amigos!” Dani trots after the others.

And then it’s just the two of you.

“‘M really fucking sorry ‘bout them. I didn’t think they’d come knocking at your door when I decided to fucking ignore them.” He stares down at the endearing cow faces at his feet, sighing.

You shrug, a harmless smile tugging at your lips. Jamie looks awfully nervous, which you don’t understand. “Makes sense, honestly. And I don’t mind. Now that you’re here, though, I just wanna ask how you’re doing.”

He looks briefly surprised. “I’m doing alright,” he says eventually. 

“Okay, because I never intend to pry, but I’ve just been pretty worried. And—“

“You don’t need to pretend to care.”

The abruptness of Jamie’s cutoff has you wondering whether or not it actually occurred. His frown, however, only solidifies that those words did indeed come from his mouth. 

“Excuse me?” you reply, voice sharper than intended.

“Listen, I was a fuckin’ idiot and a borderline creep to you. When you left, I really thought about it and how fucked up that whole day was. I can’t imagine how it made you feel; being put into a position where you had to be in a relationship with me.”

You frown. You wonder now if this is why Jamie has chosen not to speak to you; if his guilt for the situation has kept him from reaching out. You refuse for that to be a reality. 

“Jamie, are you serious? I just wanted you to be okay! And that’s still what I want for you.”

His eyes peek up from his slippers to you. “… So you don’t hate me?”

You laugh. “I have no reason to hate you, Jamie.”

“You have every reason to believe that I’m a stalker-creep, by the way!”

You raise an eyebrow. “Do you want me to see you as one?”

“Obviously fucking not!

“Then stop trying to drill it into my head!” you laugh. 

Jamie stares at you for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like he wants to argue but can’t find the words. Finally, he lets out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair. There’s a flicker of vulnerability in his expression, softened by the small. And, for the first time in days, the tension between you feels like it’s starting to ease.

“If it’s not obvious,” he begins awkwardly, “I like you. A lot.” He laughs at himself. “Enough to reach stalker status. And clearly my fucking fantasies wanted to take over with me fucking head… but I wanted to do it all the right way. ‘Kinda cheated didn’t I?”

For the first time in two days, the churning in your stomach isn’t anxiety, and instead something entirely more manageable. You grin at him, teasing, “Maybe a little.”

He huffs a laugh, the sound a mix of relief and something hopeful. His eyes meet yours, more sure now, though his voice remains gentle when he says, “I want to do it right. All of it. If you’ll let me.”

The way he looks at you—open, expectant, like he’s giving you the choice and trusting you to give the truest response.

Your smile says everything he needs to know.

(You already know Stevie’s going to lose her mind when you tell her.)

[mononijikayu]

love means everything — ryomen sukuna.

“So, hey.” he said, voice dropping into that mellow drawl he only really used with you. “You always ask me what I’m doing in the off–season. You know, working out less, spoiling you more, trying to figure out the difference between a flat white and a cortado…” You laughed softly on the other end, and he smiled just hearing it. “But I never asked you. What about you, huh? What does your off-season look like, Starstuff–sensei?” You let out a breath, half a sigh, half a smile. “Off–season? You mean the mythical time when I’m not being held hostage by quantum models and satellite firmware?” He chuckled. “Yeah. That one. If it ever existed.”

Genre: Alternate Universe — Volleyball! AU;

Warning/s: General Rating, AFAB! Reader, Use of She/Her, Use of Female Centered Identification, Pet Names (Babe, My Love, Baby, Etc), Romance, Fluff, Humour, Love, Comfort/No Hurt, Established Relationship, Lovers, Dating, Feeling, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Idiots In Love, Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Teasing, Healthy Relationship, Friendships, Profanity, Volleyball Pro! Sukuna, Astrophysicist! Reader, Fiancee! Sukuna, Fiancee! Reader;

Words: 8k words.

Note: this was inspired by some clips ive seen from people talking about their spouses. and then you have me listening to coffee by bts??? yeah, it works out. anyway, i got home (after a disasterous time in the airport) and am able to write again!!! i hope you enjoy this one!!! i love you all <3

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OFF SEASON WAS ALSO A TIME TO WORK ON OTHER THINGS REGARDING HIS EVER GROWING FAME. That’s why he was told to come here, since people wanted to ask to interview him and want to know more about him, especially now since he just won a gold medal with his team in the Olympics. 

The studio was sun drenched, sleek and minimalist, dotted with tasteful awards and blown up stills from the magazine’s latest photoshoot. Ryomen Sukuna, Olympic gold medalist and captain of Japan’s national volleyball team, was dressed in a relaxed open-collar shirt and slacks. 

He was more toned down from the striking editorial wear he'd posed in just an hour ago, which he liked better than anything else. It’s not that the editorial wear was bad. He was just more comfortable with this sort of fit. He should take a picture, though. You’d enjoy it more than he does. 

Though the cameras continued to roll silently from then and now as he went and sat there, waiting for the interview to begin. The interviewer, who was smiling behind the camera, flipped to a page in their notes.

“Alright, Sukuna–san.” The interviewer began, voice gentle and curious. “You’ve spoken about your post season training, your comeback for this upcoming national season, and your Olympic gold medal win on the international stage. But tell us a little about your off–season. What do you do when you’re not spiking balls into orbit?”

Sukuna chuckled, a lowly amused sound, one hand dragging lazily through his pink-tinted hair. “Honestly? Not much... At least, nothing glamorous. I like to be at home. I’m a homebody, more than people think. Just love being at home with my fiance and our dog Marin.”

“And what does home look like for you now? You recently got engaged, right?”

He smiled, really smiled this time and the camera caught the softening in his expression. “Yeah. I did. She’s a really smart astrophysicist.” he said, pride lacing his voice. “Which basically means her brain runs at the speed of light even when I’m still trying to find where I put my protein shaker in the morning.”

“She must be something then! But you must spend a lot with her during the off–season.” The interviewer laughed, prompting Sukuna to go on. 

“I mean, we both try to make sure we have time.” Sukuna retorts, smiling wider. “But of course, she also has work. I mean, off–season’s really when she gets busier. Her field doesn’t break, and they’ve got a pretty vital role where they work. So while I’m off the court, I’ve kind of made it my job to take care of everything at home. Make her comfortable when she gets home, y’know?”

“Oh? In what ways does an Olympic champion do that?”

“I got my barista license this past season. I just figured if I can read plays mid-air, I can learn how to make coffee right.”

The crew echoed quietly in awe behind the scenes. Ryomen Sukuna leaned forward a little, face warming at his revelation to all of them. The interviewer raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued by Sukuna’s revelation. 

“A barista license, huh? That’s impressive! But I’ve got to ask, Sukuna–san. What else do you do to take care of her when she’s so busy?”

Sukuna chuckled, leaning back slightly in his chair, his demeanor relaxed but there was an underlying warmth in his eyes that couldn’t be overlooked. He was surely thinking about you right now with all he could.

“Well, like I said, she’s got this crazy demanding job.” Sukuna starts to say. “I know how it feels to be locked into something you love, where you don’t even notice the hours passing. So when she gets home, I try to make it feel like a break. I keep the house cozy, cook meals, set things up so she can just unwind without having to think about anything else.”

The interviewer nodded, clearly impressed by his thoughtfulness. “That sounds so sweet. You really seem to know what she needs.”

Sukuna smiled wider, a rare, genuine expression that softened his usual fierce persona. “I do. I pay attention. She doesn’t ask for much. Just a quiet space, a hot meal, and good coffee.” He grinned mischievously. “Oh, and sometimes I throw in a bit of flirting to remind her I’m still the same guy who makes her laugh.”

The interviewer chuckled, but there was a twinkle of curiosity. “So, back to this coffee thing. Is it just a way to spoil her, or do you have a deeper connection to it?”

“Honestly?” Sukuna leaned in a little, his voice dropping a touch lower. “It’s a way for me to make sure she’s taking care of herself. The first time I made her coffee when we were teenagers, I realized how much she needed it.”

“Oh, wow! It’s been that long?”

“Yeah, we’ve been together for so long. And at that time, I realized that she didn’t just need it.” He continues to say, a smile on his face. “It’s not just about the caffeine for her or for me. It’s this small moment of peace in her day. And I don’t want her to go without that, even if it’s just for a few minutes. So I got serious about learning how to make it perfect.”

“That’s actually such dedication, Sukuna–san!” The interviewer reiterated back in awe of him. “Some courses take quite a long time and by your words, it must have taken some time. You did it during the off season? Shouldn’t you be taking care of your health then, since you have to be training soon after that?”

He nodded. “Yeah. But that wasn’t anything too big of a big deal. There was a training course a few blocks away from home. I did it after my run and my training sessions. It wasn’t too bad. Just a few weeks.”

The interviewer’s eyes widened, clearly taken by how deeply Sukuna had thought about this. “That’s really thoughtful.”

“So now, every morning, no matter how early, I make breakfast. And coffee.” Sukuna laughs. "I don’t let my baby go without it. Even if it’s 4 a.m. and she’s still running numbers or checking satellite data or whatever astrophysicists do.” 

He grinned again, eyes glinting with something boyish. “She’ll say she doesn't need it, but she’ll always finish the whole cup. Then she’ll ask for more. I know how she likes it. No measurements anymore. I just know it by memory.”

“That’s a bold statement to make, Sukuna–san. It’s hard to cook by memory most of the time, without measurements.” The interviewer teased. 

There was a pause, the room a little quieter as his words settled. Sukuna shrugged, a playful glint in his eye. “It was a challenge, but I liked it. She does so much for me and the world. I really should pull my weight as a man, you know?”

“I bet she loves that. To have someone to rely on like that, with such a busy lifestyle.”

“She does! Even if she pouts, and never admits it. I can see it in her face.” He lets out a hearty laugh. “It’s the best part of my day, everyday. Where I can just love her right with the ways that I can do it. She’s always worth it.”

The interviewer gave a dreamy sigh, clearly smitten with the answer. “That’s… kind of perfect. Wish all men were like that.”

“I wish the same for all women out there, wait, cut that. Everyone deserves to be loved like that.” Sukuna says, scarlet eyes narrowing slightly serious. “If your partners refuse to love you like that, leave them! They’re not worth your love!”

“Yeah, I agree with that!”

Sukuna shrugged, but there was no hiding the fond curve at the corner of his mouth. “I don’t play about my girl, you know? I just love her so much.” he said simply. “Even in the off-season, love shouldn’t stop for my baby.”

The camera zoomed in a little towards the man with eyes full of love. The camera in this moment was capturing the gold medalist not as the usual overconfident towering champion.

Instead, he was a man quietly in love, tending to his morning ritual and waiting for his favorite person to take their first sip. The interviewer leaned in, clearly enchanted by the quiet domesticity wrapped around the Olympic athlete’s words.

“Aside from becoming a full-fledged barista for your fiancé.” they said with a light chuckle. “What else do you like to do during your off-season?”

Ryomen Sukuna tilted his head for a moment, as if considering the question seriously, then answered with that casual confidence of his. “There’s quite a bit, actually. I mean, I play around with games and stuff like that. But I think that’s boring compared to what I do with my fiancé.”

“Your world revolves around your fiancé, no?”

“Happily so! We’ve been together since we were kids. I always do everything to make her smile. Like, I try to make date nights happen. Or, well, date moments.” he said, lifting two fingers in air quotes. “As I said, her schedule’s kind of brutal. Astrophysics isn’t exactly a nine-to-five thing.” 

The interviewer nodded, intrigued. “There are weeks where the only time she’s home is for like what?—an hour around lunch, since her office is near our home too. So I started planning what I call ‘thirty-minute date lunches.’”

A soft chorus of awws rippled through the crew. Sukuna grinned, rubbing the back of his neck. He talks about it as much as he doesn't. Yet when it comes to you, everything is love. Your love is everything, his love is everything. Showing it to you was no problem to him.

“I’ll cook something quick but good. Set the balcony table. Nothing fancy, just… nice. I’ll make her laugh, get her to forget orbital calculations or whatever hell equations she’s still wrangling about. We’ll eat, talk, and they’ll be gone again. But I think those little pockets of time matter.”

There was a pause. At least just enough to let that picture settle. “And on the rare days they do get time off?” he continued, voice a little quieter now. “I'll go all in. Reservations, walks, bookstores, rooftop stargazing. Whatever makes my baby smile.”

“That probably eases her feelings a lot, helps ground her back to earth.”  The interviewer points out. “With such a demanding job, its meaningful to do something like this.”

Sukuna grins as he nods. “Yeah, it means a lot. But sometimes, space works too. She loves that stuff. Sometimes I’ll rent out this tiny planetarium near the research institute if it’s really been a rough week. Just for us. She’ll get to look up and talk about stars without worrying about the math behind it.”

The room fell silent, even the assistant with the clipboard frozen mid-scribble. The interviewer blinked, mouth parted like they’d briefly forgotten how to speak. “That’s… that’s unbelievably romantic.”

Sukuna smirked, unapologetically smug. “I told you. I’m off–season. I’ve got time to love my baby right.”

A crew member actually clutched their chest. The interviewer gave a sheepish, breathless laugh. “You’re setting the bar high, Sukuna–san.”

He leaned back in his chair with a shrug that somehow managed to be both cocky and affectionate. “Well, what can I say? I might be captain on court but she’s the gravity I orbit.”

The interview was still rolling, the room thick with soft lights and focused silence, when Ryomen Sukuna’s phone vibrated on the table just beside him.

He glanced at it briefly, just a flick of his scarlet eyes but the moment he saw your name on the screen, his whole posture changed. He smiled, subtle and immediate, the kind of smile that didn’t need to be big to be completely disarming.

“Ah—sorry, one sec.” he said, raising a hand toward the crew, already reaching for the phone. “It’s [name], my baby. It’s her only break window today.”

The interviewer blinked, then gave a quick nod. “Of course, yeah—go ahead.”

Ryomen Sukuna didn’t wait for the official pause. He stood up from the interview chair, walking a few steps away with the phone to his ear, voice already softening as he answered. He smiles as your breath echoes through the phone.

“My love, hi!”

“Hey, babe.” he murmured, leaning against a nearby counter. “You good? Just got a ten-minute break?”

Your voice continued to crack through the line, laced with fatigue and static from the lab but still bright enough to make his expression soften even more. He could see it fully in his head as he waits for you to reply.

“Yeah, yeah. Don’t worry about me.” you said, sighing through what sounded like the background hum of machines. “We’re calibrating the prototype’s rotation module again. I’ve been staring at solar panels and trajectory mapping for six hours. I needed to hear your voice.”

Sukuna chuckled, low and warm, and ran a hand through his hair. “You're insane, you know that? Designing satellites while half running mission control on caffeine and half a protein bar.”

“You made me that protein bar, so whose fault is it, really?” you teased.

He laughed, eyes flicking up briefly at the camera crew still waiting politely across the room. “Hey, babe.” he said, gently, “I’m mid-interview, but I told them to wait. You’re more important. I’m all yours for the next ten minutes.”

You exhaled softly on the line. “You really didn’t have to—”

“Yes I did.” he cut in, voice firm but fond. “You never stop working. I’ll always make time when you finally stop.”

There was a beat of silence between you. There was nothing awkward, just weighted with how much the two of you knew without saying it. You know that he was not going to care, no matter what you say. You were going to be his priority, no matter what he’s doing. 

“So, babe.” he continued, grinning now. “You want the espresso rundown for today? I’ve got a new blend waiting for you when you get home. The new coffee beans just arrived!”

“You spoil me so much.” you whispered.

“You build satellites without rest. Let me have this.”

From across the room, the crew watched quietly. The interviewer, still seated, whispered to someone off-camera, “He’s totally gone for her..”

Sukuna didn’t even seem to notice. He was still leaning against the wall, smiling as he nodded at your words and replied back to him. He happily replies to you once again.

The crew was quietly resetting for the next segment when Ryomen Sukuna walked and leaned further against the counter, still on the phone with you. One hand tucked into his pocket, the other holding the phone a little tighter now, like it grounded him.

“So, hey.” he said, voice dropping into that mellow drawl he only really used with you. “You always ask me what I’m doing in the off–season. You know, working out less, spoiling you more, trying to figure out the difference between a flat white and a cortado…”

You laughed softly on the other end, and he smiled just hearing it. “But I never asked you. What about you, huh? What does your off-season look like, Starstuff–sensei?”

You let out a breath, half a sigh, half a smile. “Off–season? You mean the mythical time when I’m not being held hostage by quantum models and satellite firmware?”

He chuckled. “Yeah. That one. If it ever existed.”

There was a pause, like you had to actually think about the idea. Because rest didn’t come easy when your work literally reached the edges of space. But you know that if you could, if you had the chance to do it, then you know what you wanted to do.

“Honestly?” you said. “If I get downtime... I just want to be around you. Take care of you even more. That’s it. No labs, no screens, no math. Just... you. Even if it’s quiet. Especially if it’s quiet.”

Sukuna’s fingers curled a little around the edge of the counter, his heart doing that annoying little thing where it picked up speed without permission. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, my love.” you retorted, gleefully swooning about your fantasy. “You’re the only person I can sit next to in silence and feel like I’m actually resting. I don’t want a beach, or a trip, or some grand thing. Just the balcony with you. Or the kitchen. Or even the gym if you’re doing those dumb push–up challenges again. We can bring Marin too!”

He laughed, rich and warm, and tilted his head back to hide how much that meant. “Dumb push-up challenges.” he repeated, grinning. “Okay, that one’s on you for watching every rep like it was the Olympics all over again.”

“You make it hard not to stare, my love.” you said, and the flirt in your voice was clear enough that Sukuna had to bite back a smug little noise. “I’m crazy about you. You know that.”

“Stop, babe.” he said, eyes glinting. “I’m still mic’d up. I’ll short out the camera guy’s equipment if you keep that up.”

You giggled again, softer now. “I should get back to the lab in a minute.”

“I know, babe.” he murmured, glancing at the timer on the wall, already counting down the seconds you had left.

“Thirty seconds, my love.” you said before he could, reading his mind. “Guess it’s your turn to say something cheesy.”

He looked down for a beat, then spoke low. “Come home safe. Your coffee’s waiting. And I miss you, even in ten–minute pieces.”

Silence, again. But the kind that held a smile inside it. “Love you, my golden love.” you whispered.

“Love you more, my genius baby.” he replied, and the line clicked off.

Ryomen Sukuna turned back toward the crew, slipping his phone into his pocket like he hadn’t just been pulled halfway into orbit by your voice. “Sorry, you guys.” he said, settling back into the chair. “Where were we?”

The interviewer, still recovering, just blinked. “Right. Uh. You were saying something about cortados…”

But all anyone could think about was how the gold medalist, the fierce, untouchable captain had stars in his scarlet eyes for someone who charted galaxies for a living on the other side of town. And he never fell back to earth.

YOU WERE HAPPY AND NERVOUS ALL AT ONCE. The atmosphere was electric in the room filled with bright lights and excited reporters. The Japan Prize ceremony had wrapped up in a whirlwind of accolades, handshakes, and applause. 

You and your colleague, Dr. Maryu Hana, stood side by side, both holding your newly awarded prize with pride.  It had been a long, intense journey to get here, you both know that.

It was so many countless nights in the lab, endless calculations, and years of dedication to your groundbreaking research in astrophysics. But today, it had all paid off.

As the camera crew prepared to capture you and your partner, a bright eyed reporter turned toward you, eager to ask the questions that everyone was dying to hear. The reporter smiled brightly as they began to speak.

"Congratulations, [last name] – sensei, and of course, to you as well, Maryu–sensei. What an achievement! You've made such an impact with your work.”

You smiled, nodding at them. “Thank you so much.”

“But there’s one question that’s been on everyone’s mind: you’ve been very public about your relationship with someone who’s quite famous himself—Ryomen Sukuna, the Olympic gold medalist and national volleyball team captain. Could you tell us a little about how you balance such a high–profile relationship with your demanding career?"

Your heart warmed at the mention of Sukuna’s name, the very thought of him always bringing a soft smile to your face. You glanced at Hana, who was grinning knowingly. She had been there for quite some time now, watching the bond between you and Sukuna grow. She knows how you feel, how overwhelming love has consumed your heart.

“Well…..it’s a lot." you began, your voice steady but warm. "But I think it’s all about mutual support. Both of us have incredibly demanding careers, but we’ve learned to make time for each other, even if it's just small moments. When he's off–season, he's incredibly present, and when he's in the thick of competition, I try to be there in whatever way I can."

The reporter’s eyes widened, clearly intrigued. "It sounds like you and Sukuna–san really understand each other. What’s it like to have such a public figure as a partner?"

You smiled, your fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of your award. “I don’t really think about him as ‘Ryomen Sukuna, the volleyball captain’. But at home, I just think of him as Sukuna."

"He's just your beloved Sukuna." The reporter supplies to you.

You nodded at them, smiling. "Exactly. He's just him. He's my fiancé. And Marin's cheerful energetic dad. He’s… the one who makes sure I’m well-fed with good coffee when I’m buried in research. He makes me laugh even when I’m on my hundredth sleepless night.”

The interviewer’s smile deepened as they jotted down a few notes. “You mentioned coffee, [last name] – sensei. We’ve heard rumors that Ryomen Sukuna’s barista skills have become legendary. Is that true?”

You laughed softly, unable to hide the fondness that bloomed in your chest at the thought of him. "He got his barista license during the off – season, yeah. He learned how to make the perfect cup of coffee just for me. "

"Which takes a lot, I heard he did at least twenty sessions cause he wanted to make it perfect!"

Well, he said he wanted to be able to spoil me during those rare moments when I can take a break. So, he did what he thinks he could for me. That's just love, you know?" You laugh softly, eyes full of tenderness. "Yes, I do get spoiled with the best coffee. Best in the country, best in the world, even.”

A soft chuckle passed through the crew, but the interviewer’s curiosity hadn’t been fully sated. “That sounds like a perfect balance. But what about the challenges? How do you two navigate the pressures of your individual careers?”

You took a deep breath, considering the question. “It’s not always easy. Both of us have high expectations for ourselves, and we’re driven by the work we do. But we’ve learned that we don’t always have to be together physically to support each other. Sometimes it’s just sending a text during a long day, making sure the other knows you’re thinking of them. When you’re in a partnership like that, it’s the small gestures that matter the most.”

Hana, who had been quietly listening with a knowing smile, nodded beside you. "I've seen the two of them quite a lot when Sukuna visits the lab. There’s a quiet understanding there. They both give a lot, and they both understand what the other needs, whether it’s space to work or moments of rest.”

The reporter’s expression softened, clearly moved by the connection between you and Sukuna. “It’s clear that you two have something special. And now, with such a significant achievement under your belt, what’s next for you both?”

You looked at the interviewer, then at Hana, and finally allowed your mind to wander toward Sukuna. You could almost picture him in the back of your mind. Sitting on the couch with your beloved dog son and waiting at home, the hum of the coffee machine brewing. He would stand up, your loving dog barking and asking you if you want coffee.

“Well…..” you said with a twinkle in your eyes. “I think we’ll both take some time to celebrate this. I mean, national title in the bag and a Japan Prize? It’s massive. But of course, the work never really stops for either of us. I’ll be back in the lab tomorrow, and he’ll be gearing up for his next season. But... I think we’ve got a good thing going. And no matter what comes next, we’ll continue supporting each other, no matter the stars we’re chasing."

The reporter grinned, a little mischievously this time. “Alright, you’ve painted such a sweet picture of life with Sukuna. But let’s be honest—no one’s perfect. What’s something he does that ticks you off a little… but you also can’t help being fond of?”

You laughed, the kind that comes from years of endearment wrapped in mild exasperation. “Oh, there’s definitely something.”

The reporter leaned in, intrigued. “Oh, please tell, sensei!”

“He has this thing, my love.” you began, eyes already gleaming with affection. “It’s where he refuses to fall asleep unless he’s holding my hand. Every single night. Doesn’t matter if it’s the middle of summer and we’re both melting into the mattress. So, he’ll lie there, completely still, not even pretending to sleep, just... waiting. Silently. Until I give in and reach over.”

You shook your head with a fond sigh. “It used to drive me crazy. I’d be tossing and turning, trying to stay cool, and he’s just lying there like some stubborn heat source, hand outstretched like I’m the one being difficult.”

The reporter chuckled, clearly loving every bit of it. “And now?”

“Now?” you smiled softly. “Now I can’t fall asleep either unless I know he’s holding my hand. I guess it just became our thing. I grumble about it every summer, but honestly… It's one of the little things that remind me how much he loves me. That quiet, constant presence. It’s annoying, it’s ridiculous, and it’s so him. And I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

The reporter scribbled something quickly, then looked up with a smile. “Sounds like the best kind of trouble.”

You nodded. “Yeah. He’s exactly that.”

The reporter’s smile lingered, soft and a little dreamy now. “That’s such a vivid image. I think everyone just collectively sighed at the thought of the Demon King refusing to sleep without holding your hand.”

You laughed again, this time covering your face briefly in mock embarrassment. “He’s going to kill me when he goes and watches this.”

“Worth it, isn’t it?” the reporter grinned. “It’s those tiny rituals that make a relationship feel real, y’know? Oh, but one last thing before we wrap. When you think about everything, the early mornings, the wins, the stress, the quiet nights with your hand in his….what do you think makes your love last?”

You paused, the question settling over you like a blanket. And for a moment, your expression softened into something raw and honest. You become flustered, but there was a smile on your face. “Gosh, that’s quite a big question.”

Hana smiles at you, tugging at your shoulder tenderly. “Just be honest about it. He’ll love that.”

“I think… it’s the choice, always has been.” you said quietly. “Every day, we choose each other. Even when we’re exhausted. Even when we argue. Even when it’s easier to turn away. He waits for me to hold his hand like it’s the most natural thing in the world, like he knows I’ll always reach back. And I do. That kind of trust? That’s what keeps us going.”

The room seemed still, like the story between the two of you had settled into the space, warm and undeniable. You smiled, already picturing the moment you’d get home. Everything about going home just makes you feel like life is beautiful, more beautiful than any utopia.

You imagine Sukuna on the couch, probably pretending he wasn’t waiting up. Your beloved dog wagging his tail, your favorite mug set beside the couch. And later, when the lights go out and the room is still, that familiar hand reaches for yours in the dark. You’d reach back. Always.

The interviewer smiled, clearly touched. "You’ve both certainly reached for the stars, and now you're holding them in your hands. Congratulations again, [last name] – sensei, and Maryu–sensei. And best wishes to both of you and your incredible futures."

The drive home was filled with a quiet kind of anticipation. The adrenaline of the ceremony still buzzed in your veins, and the weight of the Japan Prize still felt surreal, but all you could think about was the warm, steady presence of Ryomen Sukuna. 

But it was a stark contrast to the academic whirlwind you had just stepped out of, the cameras and interviews a distant echo now, replaced by thoughts of him. You wanted nothing more than to be home in his arms and feel his warmth only. 

When you walked through the door of your shared apartment, you were greeted by the familiar scent of something delicious wafting from the kitchen. The soft clink of pots and pans suggested that Sukuna was already hard at work. 

As you set down your bag, you caught sight of him in the kitchen. There was no longer the Olympian hero, but simply your beloved fiancé, who had rolled up his sleeves and was cooking with his usual focused intensity.

You smiled softly, the day’s chaos fading with every step toward him. He turned, sensing your presence, and when his eyes landed on you, there was no mistaking the pride and tenderness that filled them.

“Well, look who decided to grace me with her regal science genius presence, my baby.” Sukuna teased, a playful grin curling at the corners of his lips. He stepped forward, setting down the ladle he had been stirring with. “You deserve a victory lap, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart was already swelling at how normal this felt. In the midst of all the fame, the interviews, and the flashing lights, this was the real joy. It was just being together. This was more than anything, the best of your life.

“Victory lap?” you said with a soft laugh. “I think I’ve had enough of those for today. Besides, I know I’ll be back in the lab tomorrow. No time to rest on my laurels.”

Sukuna's expression softened, and he crossed the room in a few long strides to pull you into a gentle hug. His warmth seeped through your clothes, grounding you in the present. “You’ve earned it, babe. You and Hana both. You’re brilliant, and I’m proud of you.”

You chuckled against his chest, a lightness in your voice. “I’m just doing my job, my love.”

He pulled back slightly, his hands still on your shoulders. “Don’t downplay it. What you’re doing is incredible. The world’s got to catch up with you, genius.” His smile widened, as though that was a challenge he was ready to take on.

You shook your head fondly, your hand brushing over the front of his shirt before resting on his chest. “I think the world’s already caught up with me. Or maybe they’ve caught up with us.”

He raised an eyebrow at that, a low chuckle rumbling in his chest. “Oh? And why’s that?”

“Because, my love,” you replied, lifting your head to meet his gaze with a smile of your own, “I’ve got an Olympic gold medalist, cook and barista at home. All in one. What more could I need?”

Sukuna’s scarlet eyes gleamed with pride. “I’d like to think that’s a pretty good package.”

He dropped a kiss on the top of your head before leading you over to the dining table, where a meal fit for a celebration awaited. The table was set simply but thoughtfully. The candles flickered in the center, casting a warm glow on the beautifully prepared dishes. 

You could tell he’d put in the effort, carefully selecting ingredients to make something you’d enjoy. It wasn’t the grandest of celebrations, but to you, it felt like everything you needed. He was everything you needed.

He pulled out your chair for you with a flourish, and you sat down, already anticipating the warmth of his homemade cooking. As he began serving the meal, he made sure to tell you all about his day, how he had been following the interview, how much he was cheering for you, how proud he was.

“Tell me about the next step for your project, babe.” Sukuna said, leaning forward with an almost childlike curiosity. “What comes after the prize? What’s next for you?”

You took a moment, considering the future. It was easy to get lost in the immediate tasks ahead, but the truth was, you had dreamed about this moment for so long. The recognition was important, of course, but it was the journey you shared with him that meant the most.

“I’m still figuring that out, all that, my love.” you admitted, taking a sip of the wine he’d poured for you. “But honestly? I think it’s time to start looking beyond just the work. Maybe we’ll finally take that trip we’ve been talking about for years.”

He gave a sly grin. “You mean the one where we actually relax for once?”

You nodded, leaning back in your chair, feeling the weight of the day finally lifting from your shoulders. “Yeah, I think it’s about time.”

He raised his glass in a silent toast, his eyes soft as they met yours. “To that wish!” he said, his voice steady and filled with promise. “And to you, my baby for life. For everything.”

You clink your glass against his, smiling wider. “And to us, for making it all work.”

He smiles back at you, slyly as it was gentle. “Always, to us.”

As the evening drew on, the two of you found yourselves nestled together on the couch, the quiet hum of the city outside filling the silence. The warm glow of the candles lingered, and the soft music played in the background, setting a mood that was calm and content. 

Ryomen Sukuna’s arm was draped around your shoulders, his long fingers absentmindedly tracing circles on your warm, tender skin as you leaned into his side, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

“So, babe.” Sukuna said, his voice low but playful. “When are we packing our bags for that trip? Off–season still has time for us. You can ask for a break, hopefully. You know the one where we actually relax.”

You smiled, nuzzling into his shoulder as you thought about it. “I’m still not sure where I want to go. I’ve been so caught up in the work, I haven’t even had a chance to really think about it.”

“C’mon, babe.” he teased, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “We could go anywhere. Let’s pick a place that’s got nothing to do with astrophysics. No satellites, no stars, no quantum models. Just us.”

You chuckled softly. “You mean… no coffee? No espresso machines?”

Sukuna’s smirk deepened. “Well, I’m not giving up my barista status. But maybe I’ll take a break from making it and just let you enjoy it for once.”

You laughed at that, your hand resting on his chest. “Alright, deal. But what about you? You’re always so busy with your training. You never take a break either.”

He looked down at you, his gaze softening. “You’ve got a point. Maybe it’s time I take a break from everything too, you know? Even volleyball. No gym, no courts, just time for us. I’ll spend the whole trip just making sure you have everything you need.”

Your heart swelled at the thought, and you lifted your head to meet his gaze. “You know, you already do that every day. I don’t need a trip to feel special. Just being here with you is more than enough.”

Sukuna’s smirk softened into something tender. He pulled you closer, his lips brushing against the top of your head. “You’re the only one who thinks like that. But that’s why I love you, babe.”

For a moment, everything else faded almost suddenly. The world outside, the interviews, the awards. It was just you and Sukuna, a quiet evening shared between two people who had built something deeper than any career or recognition.

“I’m serious, my love.” you murmured, your voice quiet but firm. “I don’t need anything else. You’re all I need.”

His arms tightened around you, and for a moment, the only sound in the room was the soft beat of your hearts in sync. The weight of the world, the prize, and the noise of the outside world all faded into nothingness.

“I’ll keep that in mind, babe.” he whispered. “But I’m still taking you on that trip. Call your boss. We deserve it.”

You leaned into him again, your eyes fluttering closed. “Alright, alright. I’ll make it happen.”

“Good.” He says, placing a kiss against your hair. 

The room fell into a comfortable silence, the kind that spoke volumes without needing words. Sukuna didn’t ask for more than you were willing to give, and you didn’t ask for anything beyond the quiet, shared moments that were somehow the most significant.

You could already picture the trip in your mind. It was a place with no distractions, no deadlines, just time to breathe and be with each other. It wasn’t about where you went, but about the peace that came with being together. A perfect escape from the chaos.

As the night wore on, you both lingered in that peaceful space. The gentle rise and fall of Sukuna’s chest beneath your head was enough to lull you into a sense of comfort and safety. And when you finally stood up to get ready for bed, Sukuna’s hand slid into yours like it had always belonged there.

“I’ll make you coffee tomorrow morning, babe.” he said with a grin as you both walked to your bedroom. “But only if you let me spoil you with breakfast again.”

You smiled, nodding. “I think I can manage that.”

And with that, the night unfolded like any other peaceful evening at home with your beloved Sukuna. Just as always, it was quiet, comforting, and full of love. And it was everything you could ever want. 

epilogue

The sound of the roaring crowd reverberated through the television speakers, the tension in the air almost palpable as the game neared its final moments. The scoreboard flashed, Ryomen Sukuna’s team was trailing by just one point, the energy in the stadium crackling with anticipation. 

The ball soared through the air like a comet, heading straight toward the opposing team’s side. You leaned forward in your seat, your fingers tightening around the mug of coffee made by your love still in your hands.

You were back in the office once again, still doing calculations for the newest improvements on the satellite. From your quiet corner of the laboratory office, you could see it all unfolding on the screen: the powerful serves, the flawless blocks, the high-flying spikes. And there, amidst all the chaos, was Sukuna. 

His toned and tanned body, glowing from the vacation sun, flexed with the way he moved. His hair slightly tousled, his face set in that familiar determined expression, and his movements. It was fluid, almost effortless. It showed exactly why he was a gold medalist.

"You’ve got this, my love. Come on!" you whispered under your breath, even though you knew he couldn’t hear you. Still, it felt right to say it, to be part of this moment, even from afar.

The camera zoomed in on Sukuna as he took position for the game-deciding moment. The opposing team was ready for the block, but there was something in the way Sukuna stood, his eyes locked onto the ball. The quiet confidence he wore was contagious, even through the screen.

The ball came soaring toward him. He didn’t hesitate whatsoever. With a powerful, fluid motion, he leapt into the air. His spike cut through the tension like a blade through silk.

The crowd held its collective breath as hope continued to pounce against the heaviness of the unknown. Time seemed to slow as the ball collided with the perfect angle and flew past the blockers.

The stadium exploded with sound. Cheers, clapping, the echo of voices screaming his name. You grinned, watching his team members rush toward him in celebration.

Yet, your heart swelled most when Sukuna’s scarlet eyes locked onto the screen. It was brief, but in that moment, it felt like he was looking right at you.

“You did it, my love!” you whispered to yourself, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you clutched the coffee mug a little tighter. “I knew you would.”

The post-game interviews began, and you took a sip of your coffee, settling in to watch the typical frenzy of reporters bombarding him with questions. You were about to scroll through your phone when a new message popped up on your screen. You smiled when you saw the name.

“Victory’s ours. Now it’s your turn. Don’t think I forgot.”

It was a text from Sukuna. You quickly typed your response.

“I’ll be home in a bit. I’ll see you soon, my love! Same rules as before, right? No satellites, just us.”

A few moments passed before his reply came through.

“Exactly. I’ll be waiting for you, babe. With some hot milk this time.”

You put your phone down and watched as Ryomen Sukuna was handed the microphone. The interviewer was grinning, clearly excited by the energy surrounding him. He pushes away his wet fuschia hair back from falling against his eyes.

“So, Sukuna–san.” the reporter began to say. “You’ve just clinched the game with that impressive spike. Your team has been on fire this season, and you’re back with a vengeance after your Olympic gold medal. How does it feel to be on top once again?”

Sukuna’s usual smirk curled into his lips, but this time it softened, just slightly, when he spoke. “It feels good!” he said, his voice smooth and steady. “But you know, every win is just another step forward. It’s never enough to just get there. You keep pushing for more.”

“Of course, of course.” the reporter continued. “I know you’re planning to go home after this. But please do tell, because we’ve heard a lot about your off–season routine. How do you balance being one of the top athletes in the country with your personal life? Especially with someone like [last name] — sensei, the brilliant astrophysicist who just won the Japan Prize?”

Sukuna leaned back slightly, the ghost of a smirk playing on his lips as he considered the question. His fingers drummed idly against the armrest.

But his eyes. They were sharp, steady, and glowing with quiet determination—remained locked on the interviewer.

“Well....lots of work. And devotion. In the mess, you always choose each other!” he began, voice low and sure. “Just as I hope for another hope for the gold, there should be hunger for love. Do everything for love. Make sure that hunger never really fades. You put in the hours, the blood, the sweat, just to sit back. And.........”

He paused for a beat, then let his eyes drift toward you across the city through the screen, something undeniably soft slipping into his gaze.

“Lately, I’ve been thinking a lot more long-term. I’ve got medals, trophies, records. But the real win? It’s being able to come home to peace. To her. And having life with her."

"So yeah, I’m still chasing the top. In love, in life, in work. But I’m also building something steady outside of the spotlight. Learning how to show up in all the quiet ways that matter most. That’s how it goes.”

The whole work room was quiet for a heartbeat, like everyone had collectively forgotten to breathe. Then, you found that Hana was on the verge of singing praises all the sudden.

“God, he’s so sweet!” Hana groaned, dramatically flopping onto the couch. “I wish my boyfriend was just like that!”

Kenji wheeled around to her with a laugh. “Good luck with that!”

Haruki raised his hands in surrender, eyes wide. More flustered than he had ever looked in his life. “Hey, I’m trying my best here!”

Kenji shot him a wicked grin. “Oh? Doesn’t sound like it’s enough!”

You stifled a laugh behind your hand as Hana groaned, “Don’t start, you two! this is why I need a Sukuna in my life.”

The interviewer chuckled at the chaos unfolding in the background before turning their attention back to Sukuna. “Well, it sounds like you’re more than just an athlete, you know? You’re the backbone of something really special. A perfect team, indeed. So what’s next? Another championship? Or something new entirely?”

Sukuna cracked his knuckles, that usual glint of fire returning to his expression. “Definitely another championship, for sure.” he said, voice low and certain. “But more than that? I want to set an example. Not just on the field, but off it too. Show that you can be relentless in your goals and soft where it counts. I’ve already got the most important win. The rest? That’s just icing.”

Your heart gave a little flutter, even after all this time. “God….”

And beside you, Hana whispered, “Seriously. Where do I order one of him?”

The room burst into laughter at Hana’s dramatic whisper, even the interviewer chuckling as they scribbled something into their notes. Sukuna glanced over, amused, one brow squirming up in that smug way of his.

The audience laughed, the room buzzing with energy from the live segment. Sukuna’s words continued to become a viral moment once again. You watched through it all.

You saw his smug grin, the teasing glint in his eye as he proudly declared his engagement once again. Even through the screen, his confidence was magnetic, almost obnoxiously charming.

Kenji was still whooping in the background. “Man, that was bold! You better be ready, he just threw you under the spotlight now!”

Hana looked at you with starry eyes. “Seriously! Do you know how many people just fell in love with him after that clip? You better keep a close grip on that ring!”

You smirked, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “Trust me. If anyone tried, they’d find out real quick, he’s not the only one who fights professionally.”

Everyone laughed, especially Haruki, who was now clinging to the armrest of the couch like it was a life preserver. “I’m just trying to live up to the standard, okay? Can we lower the bar back to human levels?”

“Nope, nope!” Hana said sweetly. “Not when that guy just announced he’s engaged and is a one woman man like a heartthrob lead in a drama.”

You laughed again, but there was a subtle softness in your gaze now as you looked at the ecstatic and eccentric form of Ryomen Sukuna’s image moving on screen.

Still gesturing and continuing with the interview, but still the corner of his mouth pulled into that familiar cocky grin. You couldn't help but let your eyes sparkle with intrigue and entertainment.

“Yeah, yeah.” you said, waving a hand dismissively, though your voice was warm. “And he comes with a whole lot of maintenance too you know. He takes care of me and loves me. You all hear the charming part, but you don’t see the sulking when I hide the junk food or when he loses one sock and swears the washing machine’s out to get him.”

Haruki blinked. “Wait—he loses socks?”

You nodded solemnly. “Like it’s a personal betrayal every single time.”

Hana gasped. “Even his flaws are adorable!”

Kenji clapped a hand over his heart. “That man is living on final boss energy and soft boy romance tropes. Unreal.”

The interviewer, still recovering from the wave of chaos, leaned forward with a knowing smile. “So, wedding soon?”

Ryomen Sukuna looked at the interviewer, smiling back. “Maybe.”

“Oh, so maybe….it means soon, right?” Hana asks you.

You paused, your voice dropping just a touch. “And I’ll take it. Every time.”

You smiled to yourself, the image already so clear in your mind. “Yeah. When the season’s over and this new paper’s out. We’ve got plans. Just really quiet ones. It’ll be something simple, something ours. But I already know… he’ll be waiting at the altar with that same stupid grin, holding out his hand like always.”

The room settled for a moment, the laughter and teasing softening into a warm hum of something quieter. You were sure it was something close to awe.

The screen behind you still showed Sukuna, his expression full of affection for you even as he continues to talk about his plans this season.

Maryu Hana leaned her head on your shoulder with a theatrical sigh, the kind only she could pull off with just the right amount of over the top flair. You like to think that she was truly ready to go and cry her eyes out.

“That’s it, wah. I believe in love again.” Her voice was touched with mock despair and genuine wonder, like she’d just witnessed a fairytale unfold in real time. 

Kenji, never one to be outdone in the dramatics department, wiped an imaginary tear from the corner of his eye with a shaky breath. This was all the sudden.

“I’m gonna cry and I don’t even like romance.” he sniffled, clutching at his chest as if Sukuna’s off-screen declaration had personally wounded him with its sweetness. “This is emotional damage, I wasn’t prepared!”

Laughter rippled through the room, light and affectionate. It was somewhat of a thing here whenever you and Sukuna were brought up.

This was just something people didn’t expect, seeing all his tattoos and all that. Yet the more they knew him, the more they all fell in love with his devotion for you. They were as hooked as you were. 

Haruki, still visibly flustered from being compared to Sukuna for the third time in ten minutes, finally dropped the act and threw up his hands in defeat. “Okay, but even I want to be invited to this wedding now, senpai.” he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck as his cheeks flushed pink.

Hana snapped her head toward him, lifting her head off your shoulder just long enough to squint suspiciously. “Figure out how you’ll propose to me first!” she huffed, jabbing a finger into his side with faux annoyance.

He winced and held up his hands like a man under interrogation. “I—I’m working on it!”

“You’ve had two years and not even a hint of a ring!” Hana grumbled, arms crossed as she pouted dramatically. “Meanwhile, Ryomen Sukuna is out here declaring eternal love on national TV like some legendary shojo manga lead.”

“Do you want me to compete with The Ryomen Sukuna?” Haruki squeaked, clearly panicking now. “Because that’s a losing game and you know it!”

Kenji leaned over with a smug grin, patting Haruki’s shoulder like a disappointed older brother. “He’s right. That man’s got cheat codes. You? You’re just trying not to burn pasta.”

The group burst into another wave of laughter as Haruki buried his face in his hands and groaned. It was another lovely day in the research lab. You sighed contently as you nodded to yourself. Life was indeed good.

You smiled as you watched your friends bicker and banter, your heart full. Even with Sukuna miles away, his presence had lit up the room like he was sitting right there beside you. And somewhere in all the laughter, the teasing, and the warmth.

For a moment, you knew felt it again. It was that familiar, steady pull. The quiet certainty that no matter how big the world got, no matter how loud the applause or how bright the spotlight.

It was your love, at its core, that remained soft and tender and at the center of it all. And most of all, you knew that man was entirely, irrevocably, yours.

[littlelamy]

how you met

rockstar!rafe x model!reader

The pulsing bass and dim lights made it easy to get lost in the heat of the underground club. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, spilled drinks, and the kind of energy that came alive after midnight. It was the perfect place to forget… or be forgotten. Exactly what you’d needed after your friends all but forced you out tonight, insisting that life didn’t end just because you’d left your famous ex in the past.

"Look around!" one of them yelled over the music, nudging you with a sly grin. “This is exactly what you need!”

“Right,” you muttered, taking a sip of whatever drink they’d ordered for you, scanning the room with a sort of lazy detachment. You weren’t really looking to rebound with anyone here. That is, until you saw him.

He was on stage, barely ten feet away. Shirtless, tattoos splashed across his skin, he had that dark, brooding edge that made him look like he was born for a stage like this, all arrogance and mystery wrapped up in a stunning face with a jawline that could cut glass. His voice was raw, gravelly, like he was spitting out every word with a vengeance, and somehow, he had the entire crowd hooked.

Rafe Cameron.

You recognized him immediately—he’d been the face (and body) of a million indie music magazines you’d been in too, though your worlds had never actually crossed. But seeing him up close, hearing him live, felt different. You watched, your heart picking up speed with each word he growled into the mic, his piercing blue eyes scanning the room until—

He saw you.

There was a beat, maybe two, where the energy between you was so thick it was almost tangible. His gaze raked over you slowly, starting from the glossy heels that matched the clingy little dress your friends had practically begged you to wear. His eyes were heavy, hooded, and every time he looked at you, you could practically feel the heat licking at your skin. You arched a brow, pretending not to notice, barely giving him a second glance, which only seemed to make his stare even bolder.

“God, he’s looking right at you,” your friend whispered, practically squealing in excitement. You kept a cool exterior, giving Rafe the most casual of glances before looking away, leaning back to take a slow sip of your drink. His band continued their set, but he never stopped glancing in your direction, his attention flickering between the song and whatever spell you’d cast over him.

The moment they finished, you expected him to disappear backstage. Instead, Rafe practically leaped off the stage, heading straight for the bar, for you.

“Didn’t think a girl like you would ever show up in a place like this,” he drawled, voice low and teasing as he leaned an arm on the bar next to you. He smelled like sweat and the faintest hint of smoke, and somehow, it was intoxicating. Up close, he was even more gorgeous, a mix of rugged, careless appeal and a confidence that was probably earned from too many one-night stands.

“Maybe you don’t know what kind of girl I am,” you replied, shooting him a little smirk. You wanted him, yes, but the game was too fun to rush. Besides, you were still reeling from the effect he had on you. You couldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing that.

Rafe chuckled, and there was something wicked about it, like he already knew exactly what you were doing and had every intention of breaking down your resolve. “Oh, I know. I’ve seen your face on more magazine covers than I can count. Got them all over my place, by the way.” His eyes roamed your body again, this time with no hint of shame. “But trust me, you’re even better in person.”

“You talk like you think you’ve got me all figured out,” you shot back, the smirk playing on your lips as you turned to face him. His stare was unrelenting, blue eyes devouring every inch of you, and there was no hiding the smolder in them. He’d probably perfected that look a long time ago, and it was undeniably sexy.

He leaned in, his lips brushing just past your ear. “You want me to figure you out?” His voice was a low, dangerous whisper. “Because, baby, I’ll take all night if that’s what it takes.”

You couldn’t help the way your breath hitched at his words. He was crass, unapologetic, and entirely too good at this game, but you weren’t about to let him know he’d gotten under your skin. Yet.

“Oh, please,” you replied coolly, rolling your eyes as if unaffected. “Like you could handle it.”

Rafe’s grin widened, flashing that perfect smile that made your pulse thud in your chest. “Big words for a girl playing hard to get,” he said, his hand reaching to twirl a strand of your hair between his fingers. He was close enough that you could see every detail of the tattoos etched along his collarbone, and you had to focus hard to keep your cool as he looked at you like you were something he was seconds away from devouring.

You arched a brow, meeting his gaze head-on. “Playing?” you echoed, feigning nonchalance. “This is just my normal.”

His laugh was a dark, husky sound, and the way his fingers brushed along your arm left a trail of heat on your skin. “If that’s the case, sweetheart, consider me hooked.”

He paused, eyes locking on yours as he closed the distance, his hand coming to rest on your waist. You could feel his warm breath on your lips, smell the scent of whiskey on his breath. You knew exactly what he wanted—and, if you were honest with yourself, you wanted it too. But you weren’t about to make it easy.

You let a long moment of silence stretch between you, your eyes flicking to his mouth for the briefest second before meeting his gaze again, a smile tugging at the corner of your lips. “Then I guess you’ll just have to work a little harder for it, won’t you?”

Rafe’s smirk softened into something that was almost a grin. “Oh, trust me, I don’t mind putting in the work.” Without another word, his lips crashed against yours, hungry, unrestrained, a kiss that held every bit of the reckless energy he had on stage. His hands held you firmly, like he was staking a claim, and the way he kissed was more than just a kiss—it was a promise, a challenge, a taunt all in one.

As you pulled away, a satisfied smirk played on your lips. Rafe was left standing there, his hand still lingering at his side as if reluctant to let go. You met his heated gaze, letting a slow, coy smile spread across your face before stepping back, savoring the way his eyes stayed locked on you, intense and unyielding.

With one last lingering glance, you turned on your heel, swaying your hips with each step, knowing full well he was watching every second. Each sway was deliberate, your heels clicking against the floor in time with the pounding bass of the music, and you didn’t look back, but you could practically feel his eyes tracing every curve.

Rafe’s husky voice rang out, half-amused, half-starved, over the music. “You’re playing a dangerous game, you know that?”

You glanced back, giving him a sly wink. “Guess you’ll just have to catch up and see.”

His smirk grew, and you knew you’d just sparked something wild in him. Just the way you wanted it. And as you slipped into the crowd, you could already feel the tension simmering, ready to pull you back to him the second you both decided to stop playing games.

taglist: @namelesslosers @princessslutt @averyoceanblvd @iknowdatsrightbih @starkeysprincess @sixrosberg @anamiad00msday @ivysprophecy @wearemadeofstardust0 @dinakisser @rafecameroninterlude @sstargirln

[the-thing-withfeathers]

gunshots, gods, & getting fucked (b.e.)

warning: SMUT SMUT SMUT! gun usage, violence, bank robbery, mention of cops. fingering, oral, strap-on usage, pet names, praise.

your hands gripped the steering wheel tight, your knuckles were turning white. your eyes scanned the dark and empty road for any sign of flashing lights.

you were growing bored, but you had to stay focused.

the radio was playing the faintest of tunes, you mouthed the lyrics as you looked into the void, only being illuminated streetlamps.

and then there was an alarm.

your eyes flicked to the bank’s entrance as the car’s engine sprung to life. your eats started to hurt at how loud the alarm was.

you thought she was more careful than that.

you saw your raven-haired partner sprint out the doors, the duffel bag she was carrying looked like it was about to burst open.

she swung the passenger door open, practically leaping into it.

“drive!”

you didn’t waste a second before your foot slammed onto the gas. you drove off, your tires screeching as you took a hard right at the end of the street.

“what the fuck, bils?!” you asked her, frustrated. ���you said you wouldn’t set it off!”

“yeah, look. sometimes things go wrong.” she scoffed, “anyways, i have the money. it’s up to you now, baby. get us outta here.”

you chuckled dryly. of course she managed to sweet talk you despite nearly butchering the whole operation.

“you look so fucking pretty behind the wheel.” billie grinned at you, she lowered the mask she was wearing and leaned over to press a kiss to your neck.

“enough, tiger. i need to focus.” you elbowed her softly, she laughed softly and leaned back in her seat. “save it for when we’re in the clear.”

it was like the universe was trying to be funny. just as you said that, you heard sirens getting closer to you.

“fuck.” you hissed, looking in the rearview mirror. you saw a cop car tailing you, you changed gears and the two of you jolted forwards as the car sped up.

billie leaned forward and popped the glovebox open, pulling out a pistol. she grabbed an ammo magazine from the middle compartment and loaded the gun. she pulled her mask back up and turned around to gauge what she was dealing with.

“hold on, we might not need it.” you warned her. billie tended to have, what they called, a trigger finger. she got a little too excited to sport the gun in her hand.

you saw her blow a raspberry as she slumped back in her chair. you found her cute like that.

you made a sharp left, turning into a busier road. you made risky swerves, cutting in between available spaces when you could. then you turned a random corner, spotting an alleyway.

you quickly parked in it, killing the engine. you signaled billie to be quiet, your eyes never leaving the rearview. you saw as the cop cars sped by quickly. you gave it a few seconds before turning the engine back on and reversing back onto the road.

you made sure to keep the car quiet as you made your way to the bridge that allowed you to get into the next city over.

three cop cars managed to spot you just as you entered the bridge, quickly speeding after you.

“jesus billie.” you groaned softly. “made yourself a bit of a threat there.”

“luckily, i have the best getaway driver ever.” she poked your shoulder.

“i can only do so much.”

you conquered any gap that you were allowed. but you saw in the distance that oncoming traffic was starting to slow down as more cars started to pile onto the lanes.

the three cars behind you managed to take over all the lanes, one on each. you couldn’t back out now. you started to sweat a little, worrying that you might not make it out fast enough.

and then you spotted it.

a huge semi-truck, it’s shadow was hiding the cars beside it.

you squinted slightly and managed to read its license plate.

BRT 365.

you almost called it a victory, but you weren’t out of the woods yet.

as you were about to make your move, one of the cop cars bumped into your rear. it sent you and billie forward a little.

you looked over to her to make sure she was okay, but she was only frustrated. you could tell she was getting close to scratching that itch, and you needed more time.

“hey bils.” you called after her, grabbing her attention. she turned to you and raised her eyebrows in anticipation.

“give ‘em hell.”

she licked the top row of her teeth, donning an almost sinister smile. she cocked the gun and rolled her window down. she elevated herself and stuck her head and arm out the window.

she pointed the gun directly at the cop car’s wheel.

“fuck you.” she said as she fired, hitting the tire dead on. you watched in the rearview mirror as the car veered off to the side and crashed into the bridge.

the driver of the car fumbled with the radio, most likely signaling that you were armed.

the other two cars were nowhere to be seen, hidden behind layers and layers of other cars. you saw your chance.

you lined the car up with the underbelly of the semitruck, spotting it’s mechanism that you & its driver built yourself.

“watch this.” you said to billie. you swerved into the underside of the truck, latching onto the mechanism.

the metal platform started to lift the car up into the truck, you turned the engine off to make it easier.

when you were completely inside and the bottom of the truck closed itself off, you exited the car.

“that was some mighty fine timing, charli!” you called out to the woman behind the wheel.

“thank me later, we’re nearly back at the safe house.” she said, her thick accent was reassuring.

you leaned against the car, your arms crossed over your chest as your girlfriend rounded the car, standing in front of you.

“look at you, pretty. proper criminal.” she said, her hands finding their way to your waist. she yanked you forward and connected your lips in a deep kiss. it was immediately heated, you knew successful missions like this turned her on like no tomorrow.

you giggled softly and put your hands on her shoulders. “nice shooting.” you pushed her backwards slightly, she groaned at the loss of affection.

you smiled to yourself, making your way to charli’s passenger seat. billie still set off the alarm, so you had to deprive her just a little bit.

—

you hopped out of the passenger seat once you reached the safehouse, smacking your hand on the side of the truck twice. you made your way back to the car as charli opened the back.

you drove out of the truck and parked the car in the garage.

“we’ll dump it tomorrow night, we just have to let the police cool down their search.” you said, shutting the car door behind you. billie took out the duffel bag and slung it over her shoulder.

she reached for your hand as she walked towards the back door entrance to your safe house. you jogged a little to grab it, intertwining your fingers together.

“i’ll see you guys next week. night, night!” charli called after the two of you, mounting her motorbike and driving off. you waved after her and so did billie.

as you two made your way to your shared bedroom, billie howled in excitement. she tossed the bag on your bed and unzipped it, turning it over and emptying it right on the bed.

“fuck yeah, baby!!!!” she exclaimed, whooping and turning to hug you. she lifted you a little and spun you around. you laughed and whooped just the same.

she set you down and grabbed your face with both her hands, “my fucking princess, you and your cars are a fucking supernova.” she said, smashing your lips together in a fiery kiss.

you wrapped your arms around her neck, pulling her closer. she set her hands on the back of your thighs and you jumped, wrapping your legs around her waist. she turned 90 degrees and set you down directly on the cash.

oh, this was interesting!

she nearly tore off your pants, not even bothering to take your other clothes off. she planted your feet on her shoulders as she knelt down in front of your already dripping cunt. you could head your heart pounding in your ears, this turned you on a little too much.

“fuck baby, does robbing a bank turn you on?” she chuckled, running a finger up and down your opening. “or was it the getaway?” she asked, tilting her head.

you nearly let out a whimper as you shook your head. “no…” you answered.

“no? what was it then?” her piercing eyes looked up at you from where she was.

“you shooting that gun… that was so fucking hot.” you confessed, your hips rolling on her finger. she let you continue that motion, you were the reason she got away. she had to reward you for that.

“oh really? you flatter me too much…” billie smirked, her gold teeth flashing in the light of your bedroom. her finger hit your clit, you hissed at the contact, your hips bucking upwards.

“billie, c’mon, please?” you begged her, you needed her to make you feel good.

“i suppose so, because you’ve been such a good girl. my fucking supernova.” she said, leaning down and diving into your pussy.

she pressed her tongue flat against your clit and shook her head quickly. you were leaking all over the cash, you knew it would ruin some of the bills. but you didn’t care, and neither did she.

you let out a sharp moan as she put two fingers in you. she was devouring you like she was a woman starved, lapping at your arousal like it was the only thing she could ever eat again.

your thighs tightened around her head, you could tell she was enjoying it. she loved being suffocated between your thighs.

her fingers pumped in and out of you quickly, she wanted to please you too. she curled her fingers inside of you, coaxing another moan out.

you felt a white-hot flush run through your body and settle in the pits of your stomach. it didn’t take long for you to give her a warning.

“billie— oh fuck, i’m gonna cum!” you cried out to her, your hands gripping the sheets and the bills that laid on top of them.

you thanked whatever otherworldly presence was looking out for you that she didn’t stop. she gave you silent permission with her eyes, those fucking eyes.

your back arched as you reached your climax, and she lapped everything up. she refused to leave anything behind.

when she was done, she walked off to the closet, and you knew exactly what she was after. she came out with a black silicone cock sitting perfectly strapped around her waist.

you felt yourself gush at her stance. you sat up, backing up into the bed and she climbed on it to hover above you.

the wads of cash followed the two of you, sinking into the mattress until it was under your back.

“you’re already so wet, don’t even need to use lube.” she said, mockingly. “does my cock make you this wet, princess?” she pouted, asking you.

you nodded quickly, your hands caressing her cheeks as she lined the tip of her cock with your hole. she turned her head slightly to kiss the palm of your hand.

as she slowly entered you, you let out a series of whines, trying to adjust to being stretched out.

“yeah, you can take it, baby. you can take it.” she said, pushing it further into you until the gap between your cunt and her waist was basically non-existent.

your eyes squeezed shut as you wriggled a little, allowing yourself a couple of seconds to get used to the size. you opened your eyes slowly to see billie’s empathetic ones, she was so sweet even in times like this.

even after all the crimes she’d committed, you had no doubt that she loved you more than the life she led.

“ready, baby?” she asked you as you met her eyes. you nodded in response because if you tried to talk, it would only come out as moans.

she thrusted into you, hard. pulling out almost all the way then bottoming out completely. you cried out in pain at first, but then it became pleasure just as quickly.

“fucking…” she mumbled, “good girl. fucking good girl, taking it so good for me.” she said through thrusts.

your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your mouth hung open. her hand found its way up your shirt, squeezing one of your tits through your bra. your back arched into her hand.

“oh my god, you’re so pretty. you’re so fucking sexy.” she said, studying your face of pleasure.

“fuck, bils!” you screamed out, your nails digging into her cheeks. she didn’t care about the pain, she just loved making you feel good.

she started to pick up her pace, her hand joining the fun as she used her fingers to draw circles on your clit. you squealed as your body jolted, your tits bouncing with every thrust.

“fuck.. fuck… fuck…” the curses stumbled out of your mouth with each thrust. that rush of pleasure went straight through your body again.

“gonna cum, princess?” billie asked, you started to tighten around her cock, making it harder to continue her movements. you could only whimper out a soft ‘mmhm’, but that was good enough for billie.

“okay baby, why don’t you cum for me like the good girl you are, yeah? c’mon, you can do it. cum like a good girl.” she coaxed your second orgasm out of you.

the pleasure was building up from everything she was doing. the hand on your clit, her cock fucking into you and making you see stars. your body tensed up,

and then you released.

“billie!” you cried out, your body relaxing as you came on her cock, your arousal forming a ring at its base.

she kept thrusting into you, helping you ride out the crashing wave of an orgasm you just had. and then she pulled away, plopping down on the bed next to you.

“hey baby?” she spoke to you.

“hm?”

“i’ll only ever fuck you like this now.” she said.

“what do you mean?”

“i’ll only ever fuck you like we’re gods.”

—

author’s journal

pooookie nation!!!!! it’s been a while since i came out with something for billie and i had this sudden burst of inspiration to write this.

this one in particular is for @dandelions4us <33 i told u i’d come thru with this babes!!

going insane for crime billie now WOOF WOOF BARK BSRK

& also i hope u all enjoyed this you filthy animals

kisses xx

[lanf1an]

SEASONS lando norris x fewtrell sister pt.2 - january 5 2025

pt.1 pt.3 pt.4 pt.5 pt.6 pt.7 pt.8 pt.9 pt.10

wordcount: 1810

The door of the ski lodge burst open, making you look up from your drink. Max appeared, the rest of the group having found Lando and you, waving and dragging his snowboard behind him, with Dylan close on his heels. Flo and Cisca followed.

“Absolute perfection out there,” Max declared, his grin as wide as the horizon. He dropped into the chair across from you and immediately launched into a story about his wipeout. Dylan followed, unstrapping his boots with practiced ease.

“Max, you forgot to mention the part where I saved your ass after you faceplanted.”

“Details,” Max said with a dismissive wave before turning to Lando. “Hey, Lan, you know what I’ve been thinking? Quadrant should sponsor Dylan.”

Lando raised an eyebrow. “Seriously?”

“Why not?” Max said, gesturing toward Dylan. “He’s Red Bull-sponsored already, and he’s basically a legend. Plus, Dylan would kill it in the merch.”

Dylan laughed, shaking his head. “I appreciate the thought, but I’m not exactly esports material, and I think Lando’s got the whole ‘speed’ thing covered.”

Lando leaned back in his chair, considering. “It’s not a bad idea. Could bring a new vibe to the team, snowboarding isn’t racing.” 

“Exactly!” Max exclaimed, clearly pleased with himself.

The conversation drifted as the group packed up their stuff and made their way back to the lodge. You watched Dylan joking with Cisca, Cisca had dragged Dylan into a conversation about snowboarding tricks and she was clustered to his lips, he was laughing as he sketched a move with his hands.“You’ve got to teach me that,” she said, eyes wide with excitement. “Anytime” Dylan said with a grin. his easy charm blending seamlessly with the group, and you couldn’t help but feel a swell of affection for him. 

Later, back at the lodge, Magui arrived, her presence lighting up the room. Lando was quick to meet her by the doorway, pulling her into a easy kiss before taking her coat. They looked perfect together, the F1 driver and the model—a picture straight out of a magazine. Their reunion was quiet and easy, as though they were used to these quick and fleeting moments together. This time she was also only staying for a few days.

You turned back to the kitchen, focusing on the mugs of hot chocolate you were preparing. Dylan leaned in the door opening, watching you with a soft smile.

“Should I take over?” he asked. “You’ve been hostess of the year this trip.”

You laughed, handing him a steaming mug. “I think I’ve got it under control. Go mingle.”

He gave you a mock salute and wandered back to join the others

You busied yourself setting the table for dinner, Lando helping. 

Dinner was a lively affair, with Max recounting his earlier escapades and Cisca chiming in with sarcastic commentary. Magui's laugh ringing out at all the right moments, but mostly at Lando’s stories, which were less frequent since they were having quiet conversations with the two of them, keeping to themselves, her hand resting on Lando’s arm as if it belonged there.

As the evening wore on, the group moved from dinner to games and then to music and dancing. The wine flowed freely, laughter and warmth filling the lodge. By the time the night wound down, most of the group was sprawled across the couches and floor, drowsy but content.

You found yourself beside Lando on the couch, the fire casting a warm glow over the room. He leaned against the armrest, his half-empty glass of wine dangling from his fingers. His gaze was fixed on the flickering flames.

“You okay?” you asked softly, tucking your feet beneath you.

Lando turned to you, his usual smirk replaced with something quieter. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

“Dangerous territory for you,” you teased, nudging his shoulder.

He huffed a laugh. “You’re hilarious.”

You sat in comfortable silence for a moment before he spoke again, his voice quieter. “Do you ever feel like… like you’re just going through the motions?” Lando asked suddenly, his voice low. “Like you’re living the life everyone expects you to, but it’s not really yours?”

You blinked confused, caught off guard by his sudden unexpected choice of subject. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged, swirling the wine in his glass. “Magui’s great. She is. But sometimes I wonder if we’re together because we want to be or because it just… fits the narrative. F1 driver and model. Picture-perfect.”

You didn’t respond immediately, sensing he needed to say more.

“You and Dylan…” Lando continued, his voice tinged with something you couldn’t quite place. “You guys are so natural. You actually know each other, and it works. It’s real. I want that. Something real.”

“Lando…” you started, unsure of what to say. “You’ll have that too. You’ve never even wanted that yet—focusing on racing, and look where that’s brought you.”

“You know what, Fewtrell? You’ve got it good with Dylan. That’s what I want. Someone who actually gets me. Not just someone who… looks good on my arm.” Lando repeated himself. 

“You’re drunk, Lan.” you concluded.

“No, I mean it. F1 relationships… they’re all the same. Shallow. Temporary. But you and Dylan… that’s real. I want that.”

You sensed he wasn't going to give it a break. You gave a short laugh, shaking your head. “Lando, you haven’t even been looking for something real.” you also repeated yourself, hoping he would hear it now.

He frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’ve been focused on winning races and kissing other girls in clubs,” you shot back, tone light but edged with meaning. “You don’t get to complain about not having something real when you’ve never made room for it.”

Lando winced, the guilt flashing across his face. You know you should judge him for it—anyone else, and you probably would have. But you also knew his world was different. A life on the road, racing nearly every weekend, with a level of attention and temptation most people couldn’t imagine.

You softened slightly. “Look, I know it’s hard. F1 relationships aren’t exactly a blueprint for stability. You barely see each other because you’re always traveling, and there are... distractions. But if you really want something real, it’s not going to fall into your lap. You’ve got to make space for it.”

“How do you know I haven’t?” he said defensively, though the edge in his voice was weaker now.

“Because I know you,”

His shoulders sagged, and the guilt returned, more evident this time. “Okay. Maybe I haven’t. But I want it now,” he said, quieter, almost like a confession.

You raised an eyebrow, a small smirk tugging at her lips. “Oh, so now you’ve decided you want it all?”

He frowned slightly, unsure where you were going with this.

“You know, the McLaren constructor’s championship, driver’s world champion…” You gestured vaguely, your tone laced with playful sarcasm. “You can’t have everything, Lando. Life doesn’t work that way.’’ 

Lando leaned his head back against the couch, his gaze flickering to you. “You’re probably right.”

“Of course, I’m always right,” you said, sticking out your tongue, having had enough of this serious conversation this late at night, sleepiness taking over. 

He glanced at you, a faint smirk forming. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

— London, november 14 2015

At sixteen year old, it had felt like a disaster. Not in a catastrophic way—nothing earth-shattering had gone wrong—but in a teenage life it was one of the worst things. Her first time with her then-boyfriend, a sweet enough guy who she thought had cared. She’d expected… something. Fireworks, a sense of closeness, maybe even just a feeling of satisfaction. But all she’d been left with was disappointment  and a desperate need to shake it off.

When Max hadn’t answered her texts, she’d turned to the one other person who always seemed to know what to say—or at least how to distract her.

Lando had shown up within ten minutes of her cryptic “What are you doing right now?” text, a bag of chips in one hand and a pack of her favorite chocolate in the other.

“Alright,” he’d said, flopping onto the couch beside her. “What’s up? Max is out of commission?”

She hadn’t meant to tell him. She’d thought maybe they’d just watch a movie or play a game so she’d feel distracted. But the words had spilled out before she could stop them.

“It sucked Lan,” she admitted, her voice cracking between a laugh and a cry. “I thought it would be… I don’t know. Better.”

Lando blinked, clearly trying to process what she’d just said. “Wait, are you saying—”

“Yes,” she interrupted, burying her face in her hands. “And don’t make it weird, okay?”

“I’m not making it weird,” he protested, though his tone was slightly higher than usual. “I just… wasn’t expecting that.”

She peeked at him through her fingers, his expression a mix of surprise and something she couldn’t quite place. “What, you didn’t think I’d ever have sex?”

“No, I mean—yeah, obviously, you would. I just didn’t think…” He trailed off, ruffling his hair awkwardly. “Never mind. What happened?”

And so she told him. About the awkward pauses, the fumbling, the little to no attention for her, and the overwhelming sense that something was missing.

“It’s not supposed to feel like that, right?” she asked, her voice small.

Lando had been quiet for a moment before shrugging. “I don’t think there’s a ‘supposed to.’ It’s different for everyone, but… yeah, it probably shouldn’t feel like that. You want me to go beat him up? I’m not that big, but I’m scrappy.”

She huffed a laugh, leaning back against the couch. “Great. Glad to know I’m just unlucky, then.”

“Hey,” he said, nudging her with his shoulder. “It’s definitely not you. Sometimes it’s just… the wrong person. Or the wrong timing. Or both.”

“Thanks, Dr. Norris,” she teased, but her smile was genuine.

They’d spent the rest of the night watching the movie and talking about everything and nothing. By the time he got up to leave, the heaviness in her chest had lifted, replaced by a warm sense of gratitude.

As he slipped on his jacket, he turned to her, a familiar smirk tugging at his lips. “Can’t believe the first time your first time isn’t with me, it doesn’t work out. Mistakes, Fewtrell.”

She rolled her eyes, groaning. “Oh my god, Lando.”

“No, seriously,” he continued, winking as he opened the door. “We could have had an actual good first time, you know. Just saying, everything’s better with me.”

“Get out,” she said, throwing a pillow at him as he laughed and ducked out of the room.

But even as the door clicked shut behind him, she found herself smiling, shaking her head at his ridiculousness. Only Lando could turn a moment like that into something lighthearted without dismissing how she felt. 

—

WN: Hi guys!! Thanks so much for reading!! Hope you like it! Let me know what you think, not my favorite chapter.... but bear with me please!! I'm open for all suggestions and feedback! Posting part 3 tomorrow!

tl: @ash88-yep @lewishamiltonismybf @harrysdimple05

[swappedman]

A Retirement Trip Part 1

David Miller, a 55-year-old accountant, had spent his entire adult life working long hours, saving diligently, and dreaming of the day he could finally take a vacation without worrying about deadlines or spreadsheets. When his coworkers surprised him with a retirement gift—a weeklong trip to Exchange Island—he was both excited and skeptical. The concept of swapping bodies with someone else for a week sounded bizarre, but his friends insisted it would be the adventure of a lifetime.

“Why not?” he thought as he packed his suitcase. “It’s time to try something new.”

The island was as beautiful as the brochures had promised, with golden sands, turquoise waters, and luxurious bungalows dotting the coastline. As he checked in, the staff explained the process.

“Once you step into the transition pod, you’ll wake up in the body of another guest. The swap is random, but don’t worry—your original body will be well cared for,” the receptionist said with a reassuring smile.

David chuckled nervously, imagining himself as a young, fit traveler or perhaps even an older, seasoned adventurer like himself.

When the moment came, David stepped into the sleek silver pod. A brief flash of light blinded him, and he felt a strange tingling sensation. When he opened his eyes, everything was… different.

He looked down and gasped. His body was lean, muscular, and bronzed. His chest and arms rippled with strength he hadn’t felt in decades. He ran his hands over his flat stomach, where defined abs replaced the slight paunch he’d grown used to.

“What the…?” His voice was deeper, smoother, filled with youthful energy.

Stepping out of the pod, he caught his reflection in a nearby mirror and nearly laughed out loud. His new body was that of a man in his 20s, with a confident smile, short brown hair, and a physique straight out of a fitness magazine. The realization hit him: for the first time in years, he felt powerful, free, and unstoppable.

David spent the first day marveling at his newfound physical abilities. Jogging along the beach, he didn’t feel the usual twinge in his knees. Instead, his strides were long and effortless. He waded into the ocean, swimming with a strength and speed he hadn’t experienced in decades.

On the second day, David decided to push his limits. He joined a volleyball game with a group of other guests, diving and spiking the ball with ease. “This is incredible!” he thought as the other players cheered him on. Later, he tried paddleboarding for the first time and was amazed at how easily his body balanced on the board.

For the first time in years, David wasn’t worried about what people thought of him. Walking along the beach in nothing but swim briefs, he felt confident and carefree. Younger guests smiled at him, and he found himself chatting easily with strangers.

By midweek, David was exploring parts of himself he hadn’t touched in years—his adventurous spirit, his curiosity, and even his flirtatious side. He struck up a conversation with a woman in her 40s who’d swapped bodies with a younger guest. Together, they laughed about the absurdity of their situations and danced under the stars at the resort’s beachside party.

As the final day approached, David found himself reflecting on the experience. The swap hadn’t just given him a younger body—it had reminded him of what it felt like to live without limits. He realized he’d spent so much of his life playing it safe, saving for the future, and forgetting to enjoy the present.

When the time came to return to his own body, David stepped back into the pod with mixed feelings. He was grateful for the chance to be young again, but he also felt ready to embrace his true self with a new perspective.

Emerging from the pod, David looked down at his hands—now older and familiar. He smiled, feeling a renewed sense of gratitude. The island had given him more than just a week of adventure; it had given him a second chance at living fully, no matter his age.

As he boarded the ferry back to the airport, David knew one thing for certain: he would be taking another trip to Exchange Island in the future.

Read the final part here!

[eu-nicola]

Mr. and Mrs. Leclerc

summary: a remake of mr and mrs smith (from a request)

warnings: mentions of weapons and other things

word counter: 4115

author's note: english is not my first language

The murmur of the cameras and the dazzling lights felt like a constant buzzing in your ears. You wore a perfectly tailored black dress, its design elegantly embracing your curves, while your hair fell in soft waves over your shoulders. Charles, impeccable in his custom-made tuxedo, held your hand with the same grace. To everyone’s eyes, you were the perfect couple: he, Ferrari’s star driver; you, the woman who shone on every red carpet.  

That night’s charity gala was one of the most important of the year. You were in Monaco, at the Opera House, surrounded by high-society figures, billionaire entrepreneurs, and fellow drivers. Your lips curved into a flawless smile as you answered a journalist’s questions.  

“You two look more in love than ever,” commented the reporter from a prestigious lifestyle magazine.  

“We’ve always been a great team,” you replied sweetly, intertwining your fingers with Charles’s. He looked at you with that mix of adoration and confidence that he had perfected, his jaw relaxed but his eyes sharp.  

But behind all that spectacle, there was a subtext that only you and Charles understood. You knew his thoughts weren’t on the flashes or the trivial conversations with other guests. His mind was analyzing, observing. Just as yours was.  

As Charles stepped away for a moment to greet a sponsor, you excused yourself with an elegant nod and walked toward the bar. You ordered a glass of red wine and leaned lightly against the counter, discreetly surveying the room. Among the attendees, you recognized a familiar face someone who didn’t belong in this world.  

‘A client’, you thought.  

Your ears caught a coded phrase, spoken softly by a man walking past you. You pretended to adjust the bracelet on your wrist as you mentally connected to the information you had been given. Your mission was clear: gather intel on that man before the night was over.  

Charles reappeared beside you within minutes, placing a hand on your waist. His touch seemed casual, even affectionate, but you felt the subtle pressure of his thumb a signal. He had also identified someone.  

“Are you all right, mon amour?” he asked, with that charming smile that could melt anyone.  

“Of course,” you replied, meeting his gaze with knowing complicity.  

The gala continued as usual, with speeches, auctions, and live music. However, you and Charles operated on a completely different level than the other guests. While conversing with people, every word you spoke and every gesture you made was carefully calculated. Between you, words weren’t necessary to coordinate.  

At some point in the night, you found yourself walking toward an empty terrace to get some fresh air. As soon as you closed the doors behind you, a familiar voice spoke from the shadows.  

“The target is on the move,” Charles murmured, already there, waiting for you.  

You turned to him, surprised by his speed.  

“I saw him speaking with an unknown contact near the stairs,” he added, adjusting his watch.  

“Then it’s now or never” you said, your eyes locking onto his.  

Charles took a step toward you, closing the distance with that unwavering confidence he always carried.  

“Be careful” he whispered, running a hand along your cheek as if it were a romantic gesture.  

“You too” you murmured, leaning in to brush your lips against his in a brief but tension filled kiss.  

Without another word, you both parted and blended back into the crowd, each following your target.  

The night continued with wine glasses, studied smiles, and trivial conversations. Amid all the luxury and false compliments, you and Charles kept playing the game.  

The target of the night was a man named Alexander Moreau. His name wasn’t on any public list, but in his world, he was an information broker, a mediator between powerful clients and assassins like you. Tonight, your job wasn’t to eliminate him but to extract what he knew.  

You were the first to approach. You found him deep in conversation with an older businessman, a gleaming gold watch on his wrist and a whiskey glass in his hand. You smiled elegantly, tilting your head slightly.  

“Pardon the interruption,”

you said, with that sweetness that masked your true intentions. “Mr. Moreau, may I steal a moment of your time?.”

The man lifted his gaze, studying you with interest. Charles, from across the room, glanced at you, his posture relaxed but keenly attentive.  

Moreau followed you to a more secluded corner of the hall, where the music and chatter softened.  

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” he said with a sly smile. “Though I must admit, I’m intrigued.”

“I found your presence at this gala interesting. Not quite your type of event, am I wrong?.”

“One must adapt to the times. But I suspect you already know that.”

You smiled, feigning amusement. You knew Moreau was intelligent and wouldn’t give away information easily. So you didn’t waste time on pleasantries.  

“I know you recently sold information. Information my client wants back.”

Moreau raised an eyebrow.  

“My dear lady, information is power. I don’t give it away without getting something in return.”

“Of course,” you replied, leaning slightly toward him, letting your perfume work its magic. “But we both know that if you don’t give us what we want, it will be a problem.”

Moreau studied you for a moment before chuckling.  

“Always so persuasive. Fine, I’ll tell you this: the information you seek was sold to one person. Someone who, if not handled carefully, will be a problem for everyone.”

“A name?,” you asked, keeping your composure.  

Moreau smiled again, but this time, with amusement.  

“You’ll find the name yourself. But I’ll give you one piece of advice: pay attention to who’s watching too closely.”

Before you could press further, Charles appeared at your side, his presence steady.  

“Am I interrupting something?,” he asked, with his usual calm.  

“Not at all” you replied, not breaking eye contact with Moreau.  

The man took a sip of his whiskey and, with one last smile, disappeared into the crowd.  

Charles exhaled lightly.  

“Always so cryptic.”

“But he gave us something,” you said. “Someone here has the information. We just need to figure out who.”

Hours later, the gala had ended. You were in a hotel room on the outskirts of Monaco, a meeting point whenever your boss summoned you. The room was luxurious, with a vast window offering a panoramic view of the illuminated city.  

In front of you stood a tall man in a dark suit. His face was nearly expressionless, but his cold, calculating eyes spoke for him. His name was Victor Langley. You knew little about him, only that he operated in the shadows and that his word was law.  

“Good work tonight,” he said in a neutral tone. “Moreau is a difficult man to make talk.”

Charles lounged on the sofa, his jaw tight.  

“He only gave us half-truths.”

Langley nodded slowly.  

“That’s how Moreau plays. Now, I have a new assignment for you both.”

You frowned slightly. It wasn’t common for you and Charles to receive the same mission.  

“Who is it?,” you asked.  

Langley barely smiled, a gesture that didn’t reassure you at all.  

“That’s the interesting part. I won’t give you a name.”

Charles leaned forward, eyeing him intently.  

“You’re saying we have to figure out who to eliminate?.”

“Exactly.”

A tense silence followed. You crossed your arms, demanding answers.  

“That makes no sense. If you want us to take someone out, it would be logical to give us their identity.”

Langley shrugged, as if it wasn’t his problem.  

“The orders come from higher up. I was only told that you two are the only ones fit for this job.”

Charles let out a humorless laugh.  

“How convenient.”

Langley observed you both calmly before adding:  

“You’ll find out soon. Consider this a test. You have one week.”

With that, he turned and left the room, leaving more questions than answers.

The silence left in the wake of his departure was heavy. Charles ran a hand through his hair, exhaling in frustration.  

"I don't like this."  

"Me neither," you admitted. "It's too risky."  

He looked at you, his green eyes intense under the room’s dim light.  

"We'll figure it out."  

You held his gaze and replied,  

"We always do."  

Charles gave a faint smile before leaning in, brushing his lips against yours in a slow kiss.  

The morning after the meeting with Langley, life returned to its usual course. At least, on the surface.  

You and Charles woke up in the massive bed, the sheets tangled between your bodies. The sea breeze drifted in through the open windows, and the sound of the city gradually waking up filled the air.  

But as Charles stretched and pressed a distracted kiss to your shoulder before heading to the shower, your mind was already elsewhere.  

The target.  

You didn’t know who it was. You had no leads. All you knew was that you had one week to find and eliminate them.  

You and Charles operated in the same world, but when it came to work, each had their own methods. There was an unspoken agreement: you would handle this separately. And although you trusted each other, at the end of the day, you were both trained assassins. You didn’t share information unless it was necessary.  

So that morning, after having breakfast together and laughing as if nothing was wrong, you each went your separate ways.  

Your first instinct was to go back to Moreau. You knew that bastard had more information than he had let on at the gala.  

You found him in a private club in Nice, surrounded by bodyguards and beautiful women. Moreau lived like a king, but you knew that beneath all his luxury, he was a man always one step away from death.  

You waited for the right moment. When he stepped away from his group to a more secluded area of the club, you followed him.  

"You're persistent," he said without turning around, as if he already knew you were there.  

"You know I don’t like being given half-truths."  

Moreau slowly turned, a smug smile on his lips.  

"That’s what makes this more fun."  

You didn’t waste time. In a swift motion, you pulled a small knife from your dress and pressed it against his side. Moreau didn’t even flinch.  

"How much do you want to live, Moreau?" you whispered.  

He sighed, as if he were tired of the game.  

"Alright, alright. Listen… There’s someone in Monte Carlo who's been asking too many questions. Someone new in the scene. Might be your target."  

"Name."  

"I don’t have one. But I know they frequent the casino at the Hôtel de Paris. If I were you, I’d start there."  

You studied him for a moment. Moreau wasn’t easy to read, but you knew when he was lying. This time, he seemed sincere.  

"If you’re deceiving me, I’ll kill you."  

"I know, darling," he replied with a smirk. "But I’m not."  

You put the knife away and walked out without looking back.  

Meanwhile, Charles had taken a different approach. His instincts led him back to Langley.  

He didn’t like taking orders without clear information, and he wasn’t going to play a game without knowing the rules.  

The problem with Langley was that he wasn’t easy to find. So Charles had to turn to an old contact at the Monte Carlo port, a man who worked in private security for certain illicit businesses.  

"Langley isn’t in town," the man said, a burly guy with a few days’ worth of beard. "But he can see you over a video call."  

"Do it."  

The man led him to an office in the back of a warehouse. As soon as the screen lit up, Langley’s image appeared, his expression as neutral as ever.  

"I knew you’d come, Charles."  

"Give me something more. I’m not hunting a ghost."  

Langley sighed, as if tired of repeating the same answers.  

"Always so impatient."  

"Always so annoying," Charles retorted.  

Langley gave a faint smile.  

"Fine. Here’s your clue: the target was at the Monaco Grand Prix this year."  

Charles frowned.  

"That’s not enough."  

"It’s all you need. Start there."  

The screen went black before Charles could respond.  

He stood in silence for a moment, processing the information. If the target had been at the Monaco Grand Prix, it meant they had access to the elite of the sport. A sponsor, a businessman, a politician… or someone far more dangerous.  

Charles clenched his jaw.  

He didn’t like riddles.  

But one thing was certain: he would find this person.  

That night, you returned to the penthouse just as Charles was walking through the door.  

You both looked at each other, analyzing each other’s faces, searching for traces of what the other had discovered. But as always, neither said anything.  

"How was your day?" you asked with a flawless smile.  

"Productive. And yours?"  

"The same."  

Charles set his keys on the table and walked toward you, wrapping an arm around your waist.  

"Dinner out?"  

"I’d love to."

That night, they chose a discreet restaurant on a quiet corner of Monte Carlo. It was a small, elegant place, with barely half a dozen tables and an intimate atmosphere created by candlelight and the soft murmur of distant conversations.  

You chose a simple black dress that highlighted your features, while Charles opted for a perfectly tailored suit, as always.  

The dishes arrived one after another, a parade of delicate flavors they barely registered. Each bite was an excuse to avoid speaking, to not risk saying something that would give them away. As he filled your wine glass, you looked at him, wondering if he also felt that invisible weight.  

Charles seemed relaxed, but you knew him too well. His movements were a little slower, his eyes less bright. He was thinking, analyzing. Just like you.  

When they finally paid the bill and walked back to the penthouse, silence remained their greatest refuge. Neither of them mentioned the investigation or the clues guiding them down parallel paths toward the same truth.  

The following days were marked by the routine of their double life. In the mornings, they behaved like the perfect married couple: having breakfast together on the terrace, attending social events, and maintaining their impeccable public image. But as soon as the sun began to set, they separated, each with their own secret agenda.  

Your investigation led you back to the casino at the Hôtel de Paris, following Moreau’s trail. You spent hours observing, mentally noting the familiar and unfamiliar faces that frequented the place. You tried to identify someone who didn’t belong, someone who might be the target. But every time you thought you were getting close, the trail vanished.  

Finally, one night, you intercepted an intermediary working for Langley. It was difficult to get anything out of him, but you managed:  

“The target is closer than you think,” the man said before disappearing into the shadows.  

The phrase left you cold. What exactly did it mean?  

Charles, meanwhile, followed the lead through the Monaco Grand Prix. He reviewed guest lists, sponsors, and businessmen who had attended the event. He made discreet calls and pressed old contacts. But just like you, he encountered an unsettling void.  

One afternoon, while reviewing documents in his private office, he received an envelope. Inside was a note written with mechanical precision:  

“The closest enemy is the hardest to identify.”  

He read the words over and over, as if the truth was hidden between the lines. Something didn’t add up.  

Both of you reached the same conclusion at the same time, though you were in different places.  

You, mentally reviewing the pieces of your investigation, began to notice a pattern: every path seemed to lead back to Charles. The vague phrases, the contradictory clues everything pointed to one possibility.  

He, staring at the note in his office, had a similar revelation. If the target was “close,” if the enemy was “hard to identify,” then it couldn’t be an outsider. It had to be you.  

When you both returned to the penthouse that night, you didn’t talk about it. But you both knew.  

The following days were a mix of tension and denial. You both moved as if nothing had changed, but the truth chased you like a shadow.  

In the mornings, you still shared breakfast on the terrace. Charles poured your coffee, you asked about his day. Smiles, glances, small touches of affection. But it was all an act, a way to avoid the inevitable confrontation.  

At night, you both pretended to be busy. You said you had meetings, he mentioned important calls. But in reality, you were making plans, evaluating options, looking for a way to complete the mission without the other knowing.  

Neither of you wanted to do it. But you knew that failing to complete the assignment would be an act of betrayal. And in your world, betrayal was paid with life.  

On the last night of the week, you both returned to the penthouse at the same time, as if fate had planned the encounter.  

The atmosphere was different. The tension was palpable, like a knot in the air. You looked at yourself in the mirror as you removed your earrings, noticing how your hands trembled slightly.  

Charles, in his room, sat on the edge of the bed, holding a glass of whiskey. He watched the amber liquid, lost in thought.  

That night, neither of you slept. You knew the deadline was about to expire. And you knew the moment to act was drawing closer.  

The question you both avoided asking was the same: Will I be able to do it? 

A couple of hours later, the clock struck two in the morning when the phone rang.  

It was a call you had been expecting, though neither of you wanted to answer.  

You were on the balcony, watching the lights of Monte Carlo reflect on the sea. Charles was inside, pouring himself another whiskey. But when you both saw the screen illuminated with your respective bosses’ numbers, you knew time had run out.  

There were no more excuses. No more delays.  

With almost synchronized movements, you answered the call.  

“It’s time,” said the voices on the other end of the line.  

There were no further explanations. None were needed.  

You both hung up at the same time. The silence that followed was deafening.  

You kept looking at the horizon, feeling the cold breeze against your skin. Charles placed his glass on the glass table with a faint *click*.  

No words were necessary.  

Slowly, you turned around.  

He was waiting for you in the center of the room, his posture relaxed but alert. His jacket rested on the sofa, his fingers playing with the ring on his hand.  

You walked toward him calmly, your heart pounding in your chest.  

You both knew what had to be done.  

You both knew this would only end one way.  

And yet… neither of you was the first to attack.  

For an eternal moment, you stared at each other, as if waiting for the other to find a way out of the inevitable.  

And then, almost at the same time, you both moved.  

Your first strike was quick, aimed at his face, but Charles dodged it easily, catching your wrist in the process. With an agile twist, you tried to free yourself, using your other hand to throw a punch at his side.

He blocked it with his forearm and pushed you back, making you crash against the coffee table. The glass trembled but didn’t break.  

“You're going to have to do better than that, amour,” he murmured with a lopsided smile.  

You didn’t give him the satisfaction of responding. Instead, you took advantage of the distance to pull out the knife hidden on your thigh. With a precise movement, you tried to cut him, but Charles was faster.  

He dodged by mere millimeters, twisting his body and catching your wrist again. This time, he used his strength to turn you around and push you against the wall, pinning you in place.  

But you had already anticipated the move.  

You used the momentum to lift your leg and strike him in the ribs, forcing him to release you.  

Charles staggered back with a low grunt, bringing a hand to his side.  

“That hurt.”  

“That was the idea.”  

He smiled. Not like a man who was losing, but like someone who was enjoying the challenge.  

And then, he pulled out his gun.  

He aimed it straight at your chest.  

But you were already prepared.  

Before he could pull the trigger, you threw the knife at his hand. You didn’t manage to cut him, but the impact was strong enough to make him drop the weapon.  

The gun hit the floor with a loud clang.  

Both of you lunged for it at the same time.  

You rolled across the marble floor, feeling the cold against your skin. Charles tried to reach it, but you were faster.  

Just as your fingers brushed the metal, he grabbed you by the waist and flipped you over with force, making you land on the carpet.  

The impact knocked the air out of you, but you didn’t give up.  

You used your weight to turn him over, ending up on top of him. You tried to reach for the gun again, but Charles caught you, rolling with you until he was the one on top.  

Your wrists were trapped in his hands, pinned against the carpet.  

Both of you were breathing heavily, your bodies tense with adrenaline.  

Charles’ hair fell slightly over his forehead, his shirt was half unbuttoned, and his parted lips revealed his ragged breathing.  

Your legs were still tangled with his, and you could feel the heat of his body against yours.  

For a moment, neither of you moved.  

Desire and fury were indistinguishable in that instant.  

Charles smiled with that arrogant air that drove you crazy.  

“You know you can’t beat me, chérie.”  

His voice was low, almost a whisper.  

Your lips parted, your heart hammered in your chest.  

And then, instead of answering, you disarmed him in the only way you knew would make him fall.  

You kissed him.  

With the same intensity with which you had fought.  

Your lips crashed against his in a fierce, desperate kiss, pouring all the anger, frustration, and desire into every movement.  

Charles growled against your mouth, surprised at first, but then, his grip on your wrists loosened. His hands, which had been trying to dominate you, now trailed down your arms, touching your skin with a need that had nothing to do with the fight.  

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, making him let out a breathless gasp against your lips.  

Nothing else existed in that moment.  

Just the two of you.  

Just the need to forget, for an instant, that you were supposed to kill each other.  

But then…  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

Both of you froze.  

Charles let his forehead fall against yours, closing his eyes in frustration.  

“Tell me it’s not what I think it is…”  

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.

A heavy sigh escaped your lips.  

“If we don’t answer, they’ll come in.”  

Charles cursed under his breath in French before getting off you and walking toward the door, still disheveled.  

He opened it just enough to see the hotel manager. An older man with an impassive face that had seen too much in his lifetime.  

“The neighbors have complained about the noise,” the man said calmly. “Is everything all right here?”  

Charles ran a hand through his hair, forcing a tired smile.  

“We’re working.”  

The man nodded immediately, asking no further questions.  

“I understand. Try to keep it down.”  

Charles closed the door without another word.  

When he turned around, you were still on the floor, breathing deeply, an amused smile on your lips.  

“Working, huh?”  

He shrugged, leaning over you again.  

“It wasn’t a lie.”  

He looked at you with those intense green eyes, with an expression you knew all too well.  

The battle wasn’t over yet.  

But for that night, the war would be on pause.

[wolverigrl]

Party (1)

Hugh Jackman x reader (actress)

A/N: Sooo this part was written right after clubbing, and I may got carried away, which why I divided it into two parts. The next part should be online on Monday or Tuesday! So stay tuned! :)

Warnings: smut (not completely detailed), unprotected p in v (wrap it up!), mentions of alcohol, some swearing, mentions of pregnancy

Not proofread!

Enjoy!

Previous Part

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It's happening. I'm officially a year older today. Honestly, I don't even feel the change. Except for maybe the overwhelming sense of everything right now - the music, the laughter, the champagne that seems to be in my hand all the time - and him. Especially him. Hugh.

The night feels like a dream, but it's real - my birthday, my party. I rented this entire club for the occasion, and it's filled to the brim with friends, the people I care about, the ones who've been there through everything. Some are people I used to only see on screens, in magazines, but now they're real, they're here, and they're celebrating me. It's surreal.

The cast of The Greatest Showman showed up early, and I've barely had amoment to myself. Zac and Zendaya are dancing like they don't have a care in the world. Keala's by the bar, harmonizing with the DJ's set like only she can. Everywhere I turn, someone new is pulling me in for a hug, giving me a gift, toasting to me and wishing me all the best.

"Happy birthday, y/n!" Another friend comes up to me - one of the faces I vaguely recognize through the blur of champagne and flashing lights. They hand me a beautifully wrapped gift, and I accept it with a smile, although my mind is elsewhere. I'm grateful, of course, but the attention, the noise, the constant flow of people - it's overwhelming.

But my eyes always drift back to him. Hugh.

I catch a glimpse of him near the bar, his tall, broad frame leaning casually as he sips martini, talking to Ryan. The way the dim lights catch his features - sharp jawline, eyes that sparkle with a mischievous glint - it's like time slows down when I see him. My heart speeds up, a familiar heat spreading through me. It's not the alcohol. It's him.

I can't stop thinking about him, not tonight. There's something about the way he looks, how he moves in that perfectly tailored suit that drives me crazy. Maybe it's because I've had one too many glasses of champagne, or maybe it's just that he's Hugh and he's everything I want right now. I'm feeling it, that hormonal pull that still won't quit. It's like I'm on fire, and he's the only one who can put it out.

Our eyes meet across the room. A slow, easy smile spreads across his lips, and I feel a rush of heat flood through me. God, he's gorgeous. I feel myself gravitating toward him before I even realize what I'm doing weaving through the crowd.

"Enjoying your party, love?" His voice is low when I reach him, the deep itmbre sending shivers down my spine. He leans in, his breath warm against my ear, and I inhale the familiar scent of him - something earthy, masculine, mixed with the faintest hint of martini.

"I would be enjoying it a lot more if you weren't all the way over here." I murmur, my fingers finding the lapels of his jacket, tugging him closer.

Hugh laughs softly, his hand sliding around my waist with such ease it feels like second nature.

"Oh, I see. Is the birthday girl feeling a little. neglected?"

"Maybe." I tease, but the truth is, it's not just that. It's everything. I feel wound up, my body buzzing from the alcohol, the excitement, and from him. The way his hand rests so possessively on my waist. The way his eyes darken just a bit when I lean in closer and my chest brushing against his.

He's trying to play it cool, but I know him too well. He feels it too, this spark between us that's been burning hotter as the night goes on. And right now, I can't think of anything but us.

I press my body against his, my lips just grazing his ear as I whisper.

"You know, I've been thinking about you all night."

His grip tightens on my waist, his thumb brushing my hip in a way that makes me bite my lip.

"Oh is that so?" His voice is teasing, but there's an edge to it now, something darker and more primal.

"Mmhmm" I hum, letting my hands drift up his chest, feeling the firmness of his body beneath the thin fabric of his shirt. My fingers toy with his collar, brushing against his skin.

"I can't stop thinking about how good you look in this suit."

He chuckles, a low, rumbling sound hat vibrates through my body.

"You're playing with fire, baby."

"Oh I like the burn." I grin.

For a moment, we're just standing here, locked in this invisible dance of tension and desire, the noise of he party fading into the background. My fingers slip into his hair, tugging lightly, and I can feel the way his breath catches in response. He doesn't move, just looks at me with that slow smoldering gaze that makes my knees feel weak.

"Y/n.." he murmurs, his voice a little rough now, like he's barely holding himself back. "We're at your birthday party. You do realize that?"

I grin, pressing my hips against him as I lean up to whisper in his ear, "And what do you wanna do about that?"

His hand grips my waist tighter pulling me even closer, his mouth so close to mine I can feel his breath against my lips.

"You're trouble, you know that?"

"Only for you, baby."

Before I can say anything else, the music changes, and I feel the beat thrum through my body, pulling me onto the dance floor. Hugh follows, his hands on my hips as we move together.

Dancing with him feels like the most natural thing in the world. Every sway of my hips, every turn, it's like our bodies are in sync, perfectly attuned to each other. I can feel the heat of his hands on my skin, even through the fabric of my dress, and it makes me ache for more.

I turn in his arms, pressing my back against his chest and grinding against him as the music pulses around us. His hands tighten on my hips pulling me back harder against him, and I can feel his breath on my neck, hot and heavy.

"Y/n.." he whispers in my ear, voice strained but playful.

"You're making it very hard to be a gentleman right now."

A wicked smile curves my lips. I glance over my shoulder, giving him a sultry look. "Who said I want you to be a gentleman?"

His eyes darken, the playful glint replaced by something more primal. He presses a kiss to my neck, just below my ear, sending goosebumps down my arms. I turn in his arms, facing him fully, and pull him into another kiss, this one deeper, more intense, oblivious to the crowd dancing around us

He groans softly into the kiss, his hands sliding down my sides and his fingers gripping my hips like he's trying to keep some semblance of control. But I can feel him losing it, just as much as I am. The way his body presses into mine, the heat between us - it's almost unbearable.

The music blurs into the background, and all I can think about is the feel of him behind me. His body moving with mine, the way his hands seem to leave trails of fire on my skin. I look up, our lips just inches apart.

"We should stop.." he murmurs though his grip on me doesn't loosen. If anything, he pulls me closer.

I tilt my head up, brushing my lips against his in the barest of touches, teasing.

"Do you really want to?"

He doesn't answer with words. Instead, his mouth crashes against mine, and I lose myself in the taste of him. My hands are in his hair, tugging him closer, and I can feel the way his body tenses against mine, like he's holding back everything he wants to do.

I know we're still in the middle of the dance floor, but I don't care. Right now, it's just him and me, lost in the heat of the moment. I deepen the kiss, letting my tongue slide against hus, and he groans into my mouth, pulling me even closer, if that's even possible.

After what feels like an eternity, we finally pull away from the dance floor. My head is spinning, but not only from the champagne. I grab his hand, pulling him toward the photobooth in the corner of the club.

"Come on, let's do something fun!" I say with a playful grin, tugging him inside.

He laughs, following me into the cramped space. The curtain closes pehind us, and I waste no time climbing onto his lap, my legs straddling his.

"Smile for the camera!" I say, sticking my tongue out at him just as the first flash goes off.

We make silly faces for the next few shots - sticking our tongues out crossing our eyes - but I can feel the tension building between us again. My body is still humming from the dancing, the closeness, the way his hands feel on my thighs, even through the fabric of my dress.

I lean in for the next shot, kissing his cheek, but it doesn't stop there. The kiss lingers, my lips trailing down to his jaw, his neck, and I can feel the way his breath hitches beneath me.

"Love.." he breathes, his hands sliding up my thighs, gripping them tightly. "You're really trying to drive me crazy tonight, aren't you?"

smile against his skin, my lips brushing his ear as I whisper, "Maybe."

The camera flashes again, but we're not paying attention anymore. My mouth finds his, and the kiss quickly turns heated, desperate. His hands slide up my sides, pulling me closer until there's no space left between us. I can feel him hard against me, and it only makes me want him more.

I grind against him, and he groans softly, his hands gripping my hips so tightly I know I'II have bruises tomorrow. But I don't care. All I care about is the feel of him beneath me, the way his mouth moves against mine and the way his hands are everywhere at once.

We're lost in each other, so caught in the heat of the moment that I barely register the curtain ripping open. It takes a second for reality to hit, but when it does, it's not subtle.

"Hey! No funny business in there!" a voice teases, giggling as it echoes in the small booth.

I freeze, still straddling Hugh, our lips inches apart, our breathing heavy. I look up and find Chris standing there with his brother Scott, both grinning like they've just caught us in the act - because, well, they pretty much have.

"Really, guys?" I groan, burying my face in Hugh's neck in a mixture of embarrassment and frustration. Hugh chuckles, his chest vibrating beneath me, still catching his breath.

Chris gives me an exaggerated wink. "What? Thought we'd come join the party. The booth's big enough for four, right?"

"Get out of here, man!" Hugh says with a laugh, shaking his head, though he's still holding onto me like he has no intention of letting go. His hands remain firm on my waist and his body warm beneath mine. Scott leans against the doorway of the booth, grinning. "You know, we're happy for you two, but maybe save the PDA for after the birthday cake?"

I roll my eyes and slide off Hugh's lap, standing up and adjusting my dress, trying not to look too flustered.

"Fine, fine. The booth is yours!"

Hugh stands up behind me, smoothing down his suit and running a hand through his hair. He's got that mischievous glint in his eyes, though one that tells me this is far from over.

"Have fun!" he says, stepping out of the booth, his hand slipping into mine as we head back toward the party. I squeeze his fingers, unable to hide the grin on my face. But as we walk away, I feel the heat between us still simmering beneath the surface. It's like every brush of his hand against mine, every glance he gives me, is charged with electricity. I don't think either of us is done with what we started.

We slip into a quieter area of the club, tucked away from the noise of the party.

There's a small storage room just off the side of the main hallway, dimly lit, the perfect place to catch our breath and maybe finish what we started.

Inside the storage room, it's cramped and cluttered, a stark contrast to the opulent club just outside. The air smells faintly of cleaning products and dust. Shelves ine the walls, stacked with supplies - boxes, extra bottles of liquor, random equipment that looks untouched for months. There's a small, rickety table in the corner, just big enough for me to sit on, though it Iooks like it could collapse at any moment.

Hugh's hands are on me the second the door clicks shut. His lips find mine in a fierce, hungry kiss, and the world around us fades into a blur of heat and need. His fingers grip my tips, pulling me against him, and can feel the hardness of him through his pants, pressing insistently against me, The urgency between us is undeniable, like we've been holding back all night and can't wait another second.

He guides me backward, and stumble slightly as my back hits the edge of the small table, my breath catching. His mouth leaves a scorching trail along my neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin where my shoulder meets my collarbone. I shiver, my hands tangling in his hair, pulling him closer.

"I need you." I whisper, my voice breathy and desperate.

His response is a low growl vibrating against my skin. "God, y/n.. I need you too. I've needed you all night."

With one swift motion, he lifts me onto the table, my legs wrapping around his waist instinctively. The table creaks beneath me, unsteady from our combined weight, but neither of us cares. His hands slide up my thighs, pushing my dress higher, bunching it around my hips.

"You have no idea what you're doing to me." he murmurs against my ear, his voice thick with desire. His nands grip my waist, and his lips brush my neck again, leaving a trail of heat wherever he touches.

"I've been thinking about you.. imagining this.. every second of tonight."

A soft moan escapes my lips as his fingers tease the edge of my panties, and I arch my back, pressing against him. "Hugh please.."

Hugh's mouth crashes back onto mine swallowing my words. He fumbles with his belt, the leather slipping through the loops with a soft hiss, and the sound alone makes my pulse race. I can feel the tension in his body, the way his hands shake slightly with need, and it drives me wild.

He pulls my panties to the side, and I gasp as his fingers slide against me, teasingly testing.

"Fuck. You're so wet." he whispers, his voice hoarse. His fingers dip inside me briefly, making me gasp.

"And all for me?"

"Only for you baby.." I manage to say parely able to form the words through the haze of desire.

I need you, Hugh. Now."

With a groan, he frees himself from his pants, and I feel the hot, hard length of him pressing against my thigh. His fingers dig into my hips as he positions himself at my entrance, and I bite my lip, already rembling with anticipation.

"Tell me what you want." he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear. "Say it."

"I want you." I breathe, my voice shaking with need.

"I want you to fuck me."

He pushes inside me slowly, inch by inch, and my head falls back as a moan escapes my lips. The sensation of him filling me is overwhelming, a mix of pleasure and pain as he stretches me and takes me.

"Fucking hell, y/n." he groans, his forehead pressed against mine as he bottoms out inside me.

"You feel...so fucking good."

The table creaks beneath us, swaying slightly from our movements, but I barely notice. My legs tighten around his waist, pulling him deeper, and he begins to move slow at first, then harder, faster, until the rhythm of his thrusts matches the beat of the music still thudding through the walls. With every movement, I feel the tension building inside me, winding tighter and tighter until l'm on the verge of breaking. Hugh's hands roam my body, gripping my thighs my hips, sliding up to cup my breasts through my dress. His lips find mine again, his tongue tangling with mine as he thrusts into me with a desperation that mirrors my own.

"You make me feel so good.." I whimper, my nails digging into his shoulders.

"Don't stop... please, don't stop.."

His hand slides down to grip my ass pulling me harder against him as he thrusts deeper, his breath coming in ragged gasps.

"I love you, y/n." he groans, his voice rough with need. "I fucking love you."

"I love you, Hugh." I whisper, my body trembling as I hold onto him for dear life.

"I love you so much."

We're completely lost in each other now, the world around us disappearing as we move together and the table creaking loudly beneath us.

At one point, I hear something fall - a bottle or maybe a box knocked off one of the shelves - but neither of us cares. We're too far gone, too wrapped up in the heat of the moment to think about anything else.

His thrusts become more erratic, harder, faster, and I feel the tension inside me snap.

My climax crashes through me, sending waves of pleasure rippling through every nerve in my body. I cry out, my nails raking down his back as I hold on, riding the wave of ecstasy.

Hugh groans loudly as he follows me over the edge, his body tensing as he thrusts one last time, his release hot and deep inside me. We're both shaking, breathless, our bodies pressed so tightly together it's like we're one.

For at few moments, we - just stay like that, holding each other with our foreheads pressed together as we try to catch our breath. The room is silent now, save for the sound of our breathing, the faint thump of music still vibrating through the walls.

After a long moment, Hugh pulls back slightly, his eyes dark and intense as he looks at me. He leans down, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to my lips.

"You're amazing." he whispers, his voice thick with emotion.

I smile, my heart still racing. "So are you."

He kisses me again, but this time slower and sweeter, like he's savoring the moment. Then, with a soft laugh he pulls back and reaches into his pocket, pulling out a handkerchief.

"Here, love." he says with a grin, his back pocket and pulling out a handkerchief. It's such a gentlemanly gesture, one that makes me laugh softly. He helps me clean up, his touch careful and respectful, and I can't help but feel a rush of affection for him in that moment.

"Always prepared, huh?" I tease, running a hand through his tousled hair, which is still slightly damp with sweat from our heated encounter.

"I like to think so." he replies with a wink, adjusting his pants and redoing his belt.

He then wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer while kissing softly my forehead.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice soft.

smile, my heart still pounding 'More than okay.

He chuckles, pressing a kiss to my forehead before slowly puling away and helping me straighten out my dress. We both fumble with our clothes trying to make ourselves look at least somewhat presentable, but I can't stop myself from smoothing his shirt, adjusting his tie, and brushing a hand through his hair.

"You're fussing." He says with a lazy smile while his hands find my waist again. "They're going to know we've been up to something."

"I don't care!" I laugh softly, though I can feel my cheeks flushing. I tug on his shirt collar one last time, making sure everything is back in place.

Then, he looks at me with that familiar softness in his eyes, the intensity from earlier replaced with something deeper. His hand cups my cheek, his thumb brushing my skin, and for a moment, we just stand there in the dim light, staring at each other like the rest of the world doesn't exist.

"What if you were pregnant?"

...

- to be continued -

---------------------------------------------------

@spectorrrhgf @tinawantstobeadoll @appetencyfortacos @weskerussy @kellyxo1 @larkkyoris @shukirschtein14 @corvusmorte @carefree-flowerchild @rexmeshlasblog @melmel-fandom @needz1nk @nonamevenus @morganlolitta @angelofthorr @pickuptruck01 @inlovewithcharmers @gaulty74 @mega-kittyglitter-1 @sylviavf @bethexo07

Next part

[thoughtportal]

by Kij Johnson

Published in Jan. 2020 (Issue 116) | 3960 words

Six story types, from Damon Knight:

The story of resolution. The protagonist has a problem and solves it, or doesn’t.

The story of explanation.

The trick ending.

A decision is made. Whether it is acted upon is irrelevant.

The protagonist solves a puzzle.

The story of revelation. Something hidden is revealed to the protagonist, or to the reader. [read]

[yup-thats-me]

confession • Takakura. K

pairing; Takakura Ken x fem!reader

summary; it took y/n a bit too long to understand she's caught feelings for that idiot!

warnings; none. minor spoiler from ep 8

Were lunch breaks always this boring? That, Y/n couldn't tell. After all, she had spent lunches for the last few weeks with Okarun on the school terrace talking about who knows what.

She wouldn't even be here sulking with her friends in the classroom, she could have been at her favorite place with Okarun if no that idiot had lied straight to her face.

"I'll be working on a report," he said. And maybe she would have believed him if not for the answer he gave when Y/n asked to hang out later after school: "I have stuff to do."

"Ugh. I'm gonna buy some drinks," she exclaimed getting up. "Orange juice for me!" her friends ordered.

What was Okarun doing now? Reading occult magazines? but he could have done the same while eating his lunch with Y/n. Working on a report? maybe but the girl had her doubts. The last months or so they've spent together looking for Okarun's balls, the dude never even uttered a word about assignments. what came over him now?

As Y/n strolled around lazily with her friend's drinks in hand, she stopped dead in her tracks. There was Okarun, doing what seemed to be push-ups, the only thing extraordinary being that Aira Shiratori was under him. Y/n even noticed her eyes were closed.

Y/n's heart began thumping loudly against her chest. What were they doing? Kissing. It couldn't be right? Please! Knowing Okarun, he had never even held a girl's hand in his entire existence. A kiss would be the stretch of the century!

Y/n really wanted to see where the two were going with this, but the drinks she was carrying fell with a thud loud enough to make Okarun startle and look around.

Y/n swore their eyes met. She turned at the speed of light, running away from the two.

"Y/n! Wait, its a misunderstanding!" came the pleading voice of Okarun. But Y/n couldn't hear him over the loud thumps her heart was making, nor could she see with tears covering her vision.

Tears? Why were there tears? She couldn't possibly cry just because the idiot she fell in love with was just seconds away from crashing his lips against the girl who calls her a demon?

Suddenly, Y/n was stopped in her tracks. Okarun was holding on to her sleeve, his other hand carrying the drinks she had dropped. His eyes were pleading.

"I've had enough!" Y/n snapped, snatching her arms from him. "'I have a report to work on,' yeah, right! The report was on the anatomy of female lips, right?"

Y/n could no longer hold back her tears. They streamed down her face endlessly, her eyes red. Okarun had tried to wipe them away even if he was confused as to why the girl was crying, but Y/n backed away.

"You should get back to your bae, she'd be waiting for her kiss," she remarked turning away.

The poor drinks were dropped yet again. Okarun grabbed her wrist, making her face him by force.

"I'm in love with you, so would you please stop with the remarks?"

His voice held a hidden pain. His hands were trembling. He still had not processed what he just blurted out. When it did, he let go of her wrist, backing away a few steps. "Sorry."

The guy was looking down, his mind on overdrive. Did he just confess to Y/n as a request? That was so lame! Of course she would reject him. There's surely no questioning that!

But unexpectedly, Y/n made him look up. His eyes still had not focused on the girl standing before him before he heard a crisp "smack" and the pain stinging in his ear.

Y/n had slapped him. Not that hard that it would hurt, but it still came as a shock. Before he could recover, however, he felt Y/n pulling him by the neck.

In an instant, their lips were clashing agsint the other's clumsily, both amateurs. Just as Okarun was about to register what was happening and maybe even wrap his hands around Y/n, Y/n pulled away.

"I love you too!"

She burst out. "I could tell," Okarun mumbled. When he came to, he looked as shocked as Y/n. Then with the greatest look of betrayal in his eyes, and a hand over his stinging cheek, he asked with faux fury, "What was the slap for then?"

"You deserved it," Y/n smiled, poking out her tongue. "You're officially my boyfriend now," She smirked pulling him by his tie.

"I guess we wouldn't get our drinks today?"

it was her friends who were watching the whole scene play out from their hideout, watching giddily as their friend finally made her move. Took Y/n long enough.

[purin-gambler]

there was nothing more suna loved than to take photos of his chubby love. with photography as his full time profession, you would be the main subject captured first in his heart, then captured to his lense. his vision of his love for you reflected in the imagery he takes of you.

never once had he pressured you. always understanding whether or not you felt picture ready in the moment. though he wants nothing more than to show the world your beauty, in your most rawest form to your most dolled up. and the times you do agree, his choices of composition, his use of following and breaking all dynamics in the principles of photography, as well as the incredible way he executes your perfection is not just derived from skill, but his wholehearted love for you.

the way hed take time, shifting in all sorts of silly and uncomfortable positions just to find the lighting that best highlights the doughy goodness of your body. shuffling around more to get an angle that doesnt shadow away your supple parts he loves so much. he looks ridiculous, especially in public. but he’ll take the light humiliation if it means you get to shine in return. the results always awed you both, so of course— it was worth it.

though his own guilty pleasure? gifting you outfits hed love for you to do mini photoshoots in, taking perspective pov shots— just to get close to you while posed and dressed up, and making sets for you in his personal studio or just in your shared home. because to his eyes, you are every lovely definition and more. not just as his muse, but as his girlfriend, his most cherished love, and his other half.

he could gush for hours over the way you stole his heart, and how he greedily gate keeps yours. every time he saw your smile as you laughed and chatted his ears off, every time you groggily woke up beside him, every time he saw you in ways you trusted no one else besides him to.

it almost frustrates him that your beautiful expressions cant be fully grasped by the digital pixels created by a photo. no matter how good the camera or his skills are. your smile on film would never live up to the radiant way you shine in person. but hes a greedy man, so he feels a sense of pride knowing he could see your smile youve given him in its truest form. with you right beside him, and its all for himself.

through his eyes alone, he had been entranced since day one. and he feels so damn luckily he can be the one to show you off to the world through his loving gaze.

hence the number of photos of you, the reason a photo of you and him are front and center on his booking website, and why his portfolio is full of his best work— a large percentage of it involving you.

and when it comes back to the individual photos hes taken— each capture, even if accidentally blurred from an unmatched shutter speed, or caught too off guard— still meant so much to him. back to the times youve agreed to take part in his more professional work, suna would always make it a point not to bother with heavily editing the photos. wanting highlight what makes you so one of a kind. with your blemishes and your so called ‘imperfections’ that only made so much more real to him, unlike the images seen in magazines or online.

he treasures you, and has seen you in so many different ways unlike no other. through each moment outside of still imagery, he will always highly regard you as a person he so dearly loves. shined in his work and through his own two orbs— you as a whole became his muse and center of his world.

[ladysharmaa]

Wild Hearts

Jasper Hale x original character

Summary: When a new girl arrives at Forks, she seems to catch Jasper Hale's attention. However, he and his family are hiding a secret. What they don't know is that Evelyn has a secret of her own

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3 | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 | Chapter 7 | Chapter 8

Jasper, Lucas, and Emmett made their way downstairs, already discussing their hunting plans. Jasper adjusted the sleeves of his shirt, while Lucas listened to Emmett's enthusiastic rant about tracking down the biggest bear he could find.

“I’m just saying,” Emmett smirked, “last time, I got the real prize. You two were just chasing dears.”

Jasper rolled his eyes. “You mean the one you wrestled for twenty minutes just to show off?”

Lucas laughed. “Sounds about right.”

As they reached the bottom of the stairs, however, they came to an abrupt halt. Seated in the living room, sprawled across the couch and floor, were Alice, Rosalie, and Evelyn. Each had a thick, charcoal black colored face mask smeared across their porcelain skin.

“What the…” Emmett called, clearly trying not to laugh. “What is this?”

“A self-care night,” Rosalie hummed, crossing one leg over the other. Her blonde hair was tied in a perfect bun. “Not everything has to be about hunting and wrestling bears, you know.”

Lucas cocked his head at Alice, amused. “You do realize you’re a vampire, right? Your skin is already flawless. And very beautiful.”

Alice huffed, waving a hand dismissively. “That’s not the point! It’s about the experience.”

Evelyn pouted dramatically, looking at Jasper. “And you are leaving us. Without even a goodbye kiss.”

Jasper chuckled, stepping forward. “I would, darlin’, but I’d rather not get a mouthful of… whatever that is.”

“It’s a charcoal detox mask." she huffed. "I won’t forget this act of betrayal.”

Meanwhile, Emmett threw his hands up, as Rosalie said exactly the opposite of the demigod. “Oh, come on, babe. What kind of husband would I be if I didn’t kiss you goodbye?”

“The kind that doesn’t want a face full of exfoliant.”

Lucas leaned against the wall, grinning. “So you tell me you’ll be offended if I don’t kiss you, but you’ll also be offended if I get face mask all over me?”

"That's correct!" Alice smiled sweetly, supporting her sisters.

The three men exchanged looks, clearly confused. Jasper's eyes sparkled with amusement, Evelyn was completely at ease with his family and nothing could make him happier. She no longer showed her shy side, only when she received a lot of attention and of course, whenever the vampire complimented her. He loved the light pink that spread across her cheeks.

Just then, the front door opened, and Esme and Carlisle stepped inside.

“Oh!” Esme clasped her hands together, delighted. “A spa night?”

“Finally, someone who can do it.” Rosalie smirked, also showing off her freshly painted nails. The deep red made Emmett groan, who got odd looks from the other boys.

Carlisle chuckled, slipping off his coat. “And here I thought I was home for a peaceful night.”

Esme walked over to the girls, inspecting their handiwork with approval before glancing at the three men still standing awkwardly in the doorway. “What’s wrong with you three?”

Lucas gestured at the girls. “They won’t let us leave without kissing, but they’re also covered in that weird stuff.”

“Oh, I’m sure you’ll figure it out.” Esme smiled, clearly holding back laughter. "Act like gentlemen and grab the magazines from the kitchen, please."

Jasper sighed in defeat, stepping forward and carefully pressing a kiss to Evelyn’s forehead — where there was no face mask. Lucas followed suit with Alice, while Emmett, ever the dramatic one, grabbed Rosalie’s hand and kissed it gallantly.

“There,” he declared. “Proper goodbye, no damage done. And, for example, your magazines." He ran to the kitchen using his vampire speed.

With their mission complete, Jasper, Lucas, and Emmett finally made their way to the door.

“Try not to miss us too much!” Emmett called over his shoulder. "Man, they scare me when they gang up on us. I feel like everything we say is the wrong thing." he confessed to Jasper and Lucas as they left the house. The other two nodded in agreement with a chuckle.

As they disappeared into the night, Esme settled onto the couch beside Evelyn. “Alright, ladies, I hope you saved some of that for me.”

"Always." Eve giggled. She began to spread the mask on the vampire queen's face, closing her eyes and letting her body relax.

Carlisle sighed in amusement as he headed toward his office. “Just let me know when it’s safe to come back. Also, gather in the living room when Edward arrives. He has something to tell us."

"It's definitely going to be something about Bella. I hate her." the blonde vampire hissed, immediately becoming sullen.

"They went to the forest together today. She knows." Alice confirmed his fears, clearly having had a vision of them. "Edward will talk to us, but they seem to be very close in my vision."

"Well, now there's nothing we can do." Evelyn sighed.

She already knew that it would be difficult for the vampire family, especially Rosalie, to accept this unusual relationship. The demigod agreed that it was dangerous, but who were they to keep Edward from his love? Just like everyone else, he also had the right to do whatever his heart told him to do. For now, she let herself listen to Rosalie complain while Alice and Esme tried to smooth things over.

‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗‗

Jasper pulled up to Evelyn’s house just as the morning sun peeked through the trees, casting golden streaks across the quiet street. He barely had time to step out of the car before the front door swung open.

And then — he forgot everything else.

Evelyn stepped outside, her hair catching the light just right, her outfit hugging her in a way that made his already still heart ache. It wasn’t fair. How did she always manage to look so effortlessly stunning?

Jasper straightened, his golden eyes drinking her in as she walked towards him.

"Good morning." she said with a soft smile, giving him a chaste kiss. Jasper, however, pulled her closer, deepening the kiss, his large hands resting on the demigod's hips.

Jasper tilted his head, a slow smirk touching his lips. “Morning, darlin’. You planning on ruining every boy’s concentration today, or is this just for me?”

“I have no idea what you're talking about.” Evelyn rolled her eyes.

Jasper let out a quiet chuckle. "I'll pretend I believe you.”

Before she could protest, he was already at her side, brushing his fingers along her arm as he opened the car door for her. She slides in, and he shuts the door before rounding to the driver’s side.

As he started the car, he flicked a glance toward her. “You do know every guy at school is gonna be lookin’ at you, right?” I'll feel every single emotion of them. They look at you like you are a meal.” his voice was inferior, edged with something darker. “And I don’t like it.”

“Jealous, Major?” Evelyn raised an eye, amused. His smile widened even more at the tremor that ran through the vampire's body upon hearing the nickname.

“You have no idea.”

"It's a good thing I only have eyes for you." Eve whispered, unable to bear Jasper's intense gaze, which should have been focused on the road but wasn't, and shyly looking away. "Did Edward ever talk to you guys?"

After her spa moment with the three Cullenn women, Evelyn ended up going home to give the vampire clan more privacy to discuss the matter regarding Edward and Bella. In addition, she hadn't spent a night alone in a few days, so she decided to take advantage of it by eating a bunch of junk food while watching Disney movies.

"He just said that Bella had discovered our secret and that he was in love with her. Of course, Rosalie immediately started arguing with him and Carlisle tried to mediate. Edward ended up locking himself in his room like a moody teenager." Jasper explained, as he placed his hand on Evelyn's thigh. "You could have stayed there. Your opinion is important to us."

"That's fine, I think it was better this way. Especially because it's a more private matter, and it's already enough that Edward thinks we're all against him. Having the mindset of a seventeen-year-old boy for the rest of your life can't be easy."

After a few minutes, spent in comfortable silence, they arrived at Forks school and Jasper slowed down until he reached the place where he and his entire family normally parked. He had barely pulled into the lot when the emotions hit him like a tidal wave.

Interest. Lust. Envy.

Everywhere, boys were turning their heads, their thoughts clear even before their emotions gave them away. They were looking at Evelyn—his Evelyn.

Jasper clenched his jaw. He could feel it too vividly. The way some admired her beauty, the way others were already trying to catch her attention, the way a few were even wondering if she was really taken — as if she could be convinced otherwise.

Jasper had lived through a century, fought wars, faced monsters—been one himself—but nothing cleansed him like the thought of someone else looking at his girl like this.

A low growl rumbled in his throat. Rosalie, Alice, Emmett and Lucas watched amusedly, just a little ways away from him. They were instantaneous and formal as they immediately captured the attention of all the students. Even after months, this never changed.

Before Evelyn could even reach the door, Jasper was already there, opening it for her. He offered his hand, his grip firm as he helped her out, keeping her close.

“Such a gentleman.” she teased.

Jasper smirked, but his voice took on something more possessive as he murmured, “Only for you, darling.”

Evelyn didn't notice the sharp glance he shot toward the group of gawking boys, but they did. Most of them quickly averted their gazes and quickly hurried up to enter the school.

Satisfied, Jasper tucked Evelyn's arm through his and led her toward his siblings. They stood in their usual spot, looking effortlessly untouchable.

“You two took your time.” Alice teas with a knowing smile.

Jasper just rolled his eyes, but before he could respond, the attention of the entire parking lot shifted.

Edward and Bella had arrived.

Bella, still somewhat hesitant about all the eyes on her, walked beside Edward as he led her to the school entrance stairs. But there was no ignoring the buzz of curiosity and envy from the other students.

Edward wore dark sunglasses and a proud smile on his lips. Poor Bella, on the other hand, looked very uncomfortable with all the eyes on her. To make matters worse, the vampire put an arm around the brunette's shoulders, whispering something in her ear. The rest of the vampires looked at the couple seriously, knowing that this reckless behavior could bring them serious consequences.

Whispers spread through the crowd. How is she with him? I thought she wasn't into dating. She's so lucky. Look at him.

"Well," Emmett began, smirking. "Look how they're the main attraction today."

Jasper chuckled, shaking his head. But as he pulled Evelyn just a little closer to his side, he knew one thing for sure, he was okay with Edward and Bella being the center of attention if it meant Evelyn could have a day in peace without being bothered.

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"Why do I have to be here while Bella meets you?" Evelyn huffed, sitting cross-legged on Jasper's bed, which he had bought when he met his mate. In turn, Jasper was in front of his bookshelf, looking for his next read.

"Because Edward said that way Bella would be more comfortable. Besides, I want you here." the Hale replied sincerely, turning his attention back to the blonde. She was completely comfortable in his house, in his room, letting herself fall back into the pillows with a sigh.

"Come lie down with me, Jas."

Jasper obeyed immediately, his body going to bed before he could even think about what he was doing. He let himself be snuggled close to the demigod, putting an arm around her as she laid her head on his strong chest. His hands, large and cold, caressed the skin of her arm, enjoying the goosebumps that formed under his touch.

He turned his head to the side, trying to engrave every feature of Evelyn into his mind. Her nose, the small freckles that were scattered across her face, her blue eyes. She was an angel. Coming to this world to make it a better place, condemned to spend her life alongside a monster.

“You’re starring, Jas.” Evelyn murmured, her voice as soft as honey. Like an angel singing. "I love you. I really really love you. I never thought I could feel this happiness, you make me feel like the luckiest person in the world."

"I assure you, my love, I am the lucky one."

Evelyn's heart was stuttering. He was too close now, his golden eyes flickering between hers and her lips. Evelyn's breath hitched as he leaned in, his lips barely brushing hers—just enough to tease, to make her want to close the distance herself. She did.

The first kiss was soft, slow, but filled with that undeniable pull between them. Jasper's hand slid along her waist, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss, his lips moving against hers with an intoxicating tenderness.

Evelyn melted into him, her hands curling into his shirt as her other hand dug into the back of his head, playing with his curls. The vampire kissed her like she was the only thing in the world that mattered — like he’d been waiting forever just to do this.

"Are you sure?" Jasper pulled back a little, even as the blonde's soft, full lips chased his, looking for more. "I don't want to hurt you. I don't know if I can control my strength…"

"You won't hurt me, Jasper." the girl assured, looking into his amber eyes with full trust in him. She didn't feel the slightest bit of fear, all she needed was him. "I trust you. Please."

Without questioning twice, Jasper brought their lips together again, this time with more force, more hunger, as if her lips were the only way to survive. They let their hands explore each other's bodies, small raspy moans coming from both of them. Quickly, Jasper began helping Evelyn take off her shirt, appreciating her body and kissing her skin with tenderness.

They allowed themselves to be consumed by each other, creating an unbreakable bond. Even with all the challenges they would have to overcome with supernatural creatures and even the problems of any mere human, they belonged to each other. An indomitable force, a love that was the most beautiful thing, but also the most dangerous.

[h3nderyss]

magazine - mark lee

pairing: idol!mark lee x fem!reader . . . masterlist genre: fluff word count: 774 a/n: recently got the mark cosmopolitan magazine.. i KNOW it's a june issue and it's literally november, but i'm still thirsty. sue me.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

"i'm home!" mark's voice echoed throughout the hallway, the familiar voice making your expression soften into an automatic smile.

the day had been slow; off work, catching up on a show you occasionally rewatched, and anticipating mark's return from his long days of work.

being an idol meant his schedule was FULL. barely any time for anything, especially for mark, the most hard-working and committed man you'd ever met. nobody could ever compare to him, how he perfectly balances life, work, and relationships. most importantly; you.

he'd recently had a photoshoot. for what? well, you didn't know. he demanded he'd keep it a secret, although a hint had been it was for a famous magazine brand. of course, this meant waiting weeks upon weeks for the issue to release. especially when your boyfriend was on the cover, it felt like months of waiting.

you sprung off the couch and rushed over to mark who took off his shoes and set them aside, as a second after, bringing him into a loving long-awaited hug which you both had been dying for the entire day.

"what's that?" you looked at this plastic bag he was holding, inside of it was a suspiciously tall thin book that you took a glance of.

mark moved the bag behind his back, out of view. "a surprise." he smirked at you and gave you a peck on the lips. "i want you to be prepared."

it only etched more confusion on your face as you slightly tilted your head. "why? is it just a book?" the thought of the magazine photoshoot mark had weeks ago hadn't even crossed your mind.

his eyes darted up as if he was thinking, "hm, i guess you could say that.." he nodded and looked back at you as he was joking around. he made you chuckle, and he moved the bag back in between you two, looking into it.

"a magazine? a-" your eyes immediately widened, mouth agape.

"oh my god." you spoke in light speed, digging the book out of the bag and into your arms. "mark..?!" your voice had been quiet and breathless. he really did have *this* much impact on you, even if it was a single photo. "c..cosmopolitan..?"

"i only managed to get this second version. the other two they couldn't give me." he gestured at the magazine and you immediately went and sat on the table to prepare yourself to skip through the pages and only focus on your ravishing boyfriend.

mark followed suit and sat next to you, the whole time smiling like an idiot. you were smiling too; blushing and biting your bottom lip as you stared at the gorgeous man on the cover of this magazine.

"how are you real," you said in almost a whisper. mark had not taken his eyes off of you. he loved seeing your reaction to everything, and he adored you so much it had been unhealthy.

mark moved a piece of hair that fell on your face looking down at the magazine, he wanted to see your face as he melted upon seeing you freak out over the man on paper. him.

you flipped through the pages, taking a minute to actually take in the photos of mark. "this pose.. mark this pose is.. that shirt on you.." mumbles came out of your mouth as you glanced at the real mark next to you.

"how are you you?" you looked at him infatuated.

"how am i, me?" he chuckled at you with a smile and briefly looking at the photo of him in front of you.

you nodded. "how did i manage to snag you?" suddenly a joking mood filled the air.

"i don't know but, i'd prefer you over anybody else."

as if you hadn't already been fiercely blushing from looking at mark in photoshoot in the magazine, he never failed to make you flustered.

"stop it!" you giggled and turned your attention back to the magazine, flipping through the same pages over again.

"close that book now and focus on the real mark! i'm right in front of you.." mark starts to whine, his real self not getting attention, just the reflection in the magazine.

"it's your fault for getting me this! i'm gonna frame all of these pictures now."

"babyyy.." his whiny tone and his hand starting to intertwine with yours was just enough to make your give in.

"markieee..." you reciprocated his whiny tone and gazed into his eyes. "i can't believe you're mine."

"you better start believing soon because, i'm not going anywhere anytime soon." mark smiles and pulls you into a loving passionate kiss.