#Atmospherical Jubilancy

[s0dium]

𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐄𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐍

Haikyuu men x Reader

A/n: This is part of my Olympic event, please click on the for more! If you would like to suggest something for this event don't hesitate!

Synopsis: What do Haikyuu men do after the Olympics? Well, they do you

Warnings: Spanking, fingering, praise, groping, squirting

The camera zooms in on the bustling Olympic stadium in Paris, its energy palpable even through the television screen. The crowd's roaring cheers reverberate, celebrating the electrifying victory of the Japanese volleyball team. Among the sea of jubilant teammates, the camera focuses on one player, your boyfriend, glistening with sweat and wearing an infectious smile: fresh from clinching the gold medal.

As he steps away from the celebratory huddle, a reporter, microphone in hand, intercepts him. The reporter's voice is enthusiastic, mirroring the atmosphere, "So, what are your plans to celebrate the big win?"

He chuckles, wiping a bead of sweat from his brow, his grin widening, "Well, after drinks with the guys," he pauses, "I have a little post-game ritual."

Intrigued, the reporter leans in, the crowd's cheers serving as a dramatic backdrop, "Oh yeah? What's that?"

He winks at the camera, "Secret."

Yes a secret it was, one that only you and him knew. One that started off with you being bent over his knee with his fingers deep in your creamy cunt.

"Been thinking about this all day," he murmurs, right hand caressing the fat of your ass while his left curls and massages the sweet part of your gummy walls that makes your eyes roll back. At this point you have given up resisting, letting your body hang limp over his muscular thighs.

As his fingers probe and massage your gspot, the wet sounds of your arousal fill the room, an intoxicating symphony that drowns out all other thoughts. Each movement, each touch, creates a chorus of slick, rhythmic noises that seem to echo in your mind, pushing you further into a state of pure, unadulterated pleasure.

"So good," you whine and you don't know it but the tips of his ears go red from the sound of your voice. Your brain begins to haze, the world around you blurring until all that exists is the sensation of his ministrations. His touch is both fast and demanding, knowing exactly how to tease and please, drawing you closer to the edge. He reaches a spot inside you that you can only dream about reaching with your own fingers.

"I know baby, I know you feel good. Shit, i cant feel you squeezing my fingers." he groans at the feeling of your cunt convulsing around his digits. He is already two fingers deep in you but at this point he's thinking about stretching you further and slipping in a third. So he does. Using your dripping arousal as lubricant he slips in a third finger making your thighs tremble from the sudden intrusion. The stretch is delicious, who knew a volleyball player's hands had other uses besides volleyball?

"I won for you princess, the whole time i was playing I was thinking about you."

You can feel your pussy tighten and convulse at his words, the clicking sound of your arousal a testament to your connection, your mutual need.

Time loses all meaning as you surrender to the overwhelming sensations. His fingers, his praises, every part of him is dedicated to driving you wild, and you find yourself unable to hold back the moans that escape your lips. The noises you make together are primal, raw, and they pull you deeper into the abyss of pleasure.

"M'feel weird," You choke. Your breath comes in short, sharp gasps as the sensations become almost overwhelming. You feel something press down on your core like there is a pressure building inside you, a sweet, urgent tension that demands release.

"Shhh its ok, let it go baby." He coos and before you can respond he delivers a sharp smack to your ass. "make a mess on my hands, come on~"

The pleasure is so intense, so all-consuming, that it creates an almost paradoxical sensation. The euphoria is so great it feels as though you might lose control, as if you need to pee. It's a raw, primal feeling that heightens the urgency and the pleasure, pushing you further toward the edge.

You squeeze your eyes shut, your senses overwhelmed by the sheer intensity. Your mind races, caught between the need to let go and the fear of losing control. Then, it hits you. with a curl of his fingers against your wall, you surrender to it, letting the sensation wash over you.

Your are too lost in the ecstasy to realize that you are squirting all over his hand. It's like an explosion, your body trembling, your mind going blank, consumed entirely by the pleasure he has given you.

"Just like that, let it go y/n let it go." His hands rubs circles on your ass as your body shakes and trembles from your orgasm.

"So perfect so perfect, the best prize I swear."

HINATA, KUROO, BOKUTO, OIKAWA, TSUKISHIMA, Kenma, Ushijima, IWAZUMI, AKASHI, ATSUMU

[avocado-writing]

Omg i love your poly Deadpool and Wolverine fics !! I especially love that reader is totally a sunshine ! Could you do any fic with them and that trope ? 😍

vague sequel to this

Your bad day has been utterly forgotten. 

It’s not incredibly hard for them to cheer you up, Logan and Wade have learned. You’re so rarely sad that it’s hardly an issue anyway, but all they really need to do is redirect your energy into something else. A distraction to take your mind off of whatever’s gotten under your skin.  

There’s a little carnival that’s set up near the apartment. One of those ones which is constantly on the move, overcharges for everything, and is exactly the kind of place you love. So it was a no-brainer to take you there for the evening. 

Logan bought you a necklace made of hard candies, Wade took you on all the rollercoasters which were definitely not safe but you screamed with joy while riding. You’d insisted all three of you squeezed into a boat through the tunnel of love, and they’d come out the other side with your lipstick all over their faces, you smugly sandwiched between them. 

And through the evening you’ve been fucking jubilant. Your laughter rolls like thunder, but the kind which means a storm is going to clear out the oppressive atmosphere of a muggy day. A sweet, loud kind of laughter which peals from your very soul. Wade and Logan catch each other’s eye as you absolutely decimate a stick of neon blue cotton candy: they’ve done well. 

The three of you are preparing to go home when something catches your eye, slowing you to a stop as you stare. It’s a prize booth - the kind where you have to knock over a tower of tin cans to win. Hanging from the rafters are huge plushies of your favourite animal. 

“C’mon baby, you know these games are rigged,” Logan sighs, aware he’s marching into a losing battle. You lick the sugar off of your fingers and dump the wooden stick into a garbage bin, eyes wide in the fluorescent lights of the bumper cars nearby. 

“Aww… but they’re so cute…” you sigh, looking really disappointed. 

Well, neither of them are ones to let that happen, so Logan and Wade find themselves speaking in unison when they say: “I’ll win you one.”

They exchange a look and you grin. Oh. This has become a challenge, and both are too stubborn to back down. Together they step up to the counter, each slamming five dollars down and making the poor teenager manning the booth jump. 

“Uh, okay, you have two balls and need to knock the whole tower—”

The teen doesn’t even get a chance to finish their explanation before Logan has launched one of the pathetic beanbags at the cans with such force that it crumples a couple of them in half. They’re cleared off completely in one hit. The attendant can only gawp as he smugly points to one of the huge plushies which is dutifully fetched. You let out a little woop of joy as he passes it into your arms, giving Wade a look which says beat that. 

Wade hums, throwing the beanbag up and down in his hand, testing its weight. 

“Okay, well, not all of us are barbarians who need to use brute strength to compensate for our advanced age. It’s all about the finesse, pookie.”

Wade angles his throw so it bounces off the side wall, clearing all of the cans but one. Logan lets out a smug huff. Wade frowns. 

“Hey, look, is that Spiderman doing full-frontal nudity?” he says, pointing into the distance, distracting the teen with one hand while he whips out a knife with the other and skewers the can to the back of the booth. 

“Prize please!” he says when they turn back, turning pale at the sight of what’s been done to their game. They pass him another plushie from the roof with shaking hands, and Wade presents it to you with a flourish. 

“That was cheating,” Logan states as the three of you walk away.

“Uh, I cleared the cans, old man. No cheating about it.”

“You had a second ball to throw,” you point out, and Wade pauses. 

“Do you want the toy or not, sweetcheeks?”

And that is how you find yourself more stuffed animal than human, waddling out of the carnival with a huge smile and arms full of polyester. The whole thing is sort of ridiculous but, honestly, if you’re smiling? Logan and Wade can agree it’s totally worth it. 

taglist: @falsewordz @malfoys-demigod @belilwen @mildly-salted @tvwebs @childeslegstrap @getmeoutofhell @s1eep-o @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @yrthr @momopad @sugarplumz100 @captainjinkx @madspads @acrosstheunivcrse @yeethaw13 @na-is-salty @florduarte @hunterispunk @starfleetteddybear

[kingdom-of-sins]

Charles Leclerc x Girlfriend!Reader

Charles just won the race in Monza and his girlfriend is beyond proud and happy for him

The atmosphere at Monza is electric, the air thick with anticipation and hope. You’re standing in the back of the Ferrari garage, your heart pounding in sync with the roar of the engines, your eyes glued to the screen as the final lap unfolds. Charles is in the lead, and with each corner he expertly navigates, the reality of what’s about to happen sinks in deeper. He’s going to win. He’s really going to win again at Monza.

The grandstands erupt in cheers as Charles crosses the finish line in first place, the Ferrari flag waving proudly in the sea of tifosi. Your breath catches in your throat, tears instantly welling up as you watch him take victory at the home of Ferrari for the second time. It’s not just a win—it’s the culmination of all his hard work, all the late nights, the sacrifices, the endless determination. He did it. He really did it.

As soon as his car comes to a stop in parc fermé, Charles is out in a flash, helmet still on, but you can sense his overwhelming emotions even from a distance. He doesn’t take a moment to bask in the glory or pause for the cameras—his eyes are searching the crowd, looking for you, and the second he finds you, his body moves before his mind can catch up.

You don’t even have time to react before he’s running toward you, the intensity of his emotions palpable. The moment he reaches you, he scoops you up into his arms, spinning you around in sheer joy, his laughter muffled by the helmet but loud and clear in your ears. You cling to him, laughing through your tears, your heart overflowing with pride and love for him.

When he finally sets you down, he doesn’t let go. His gloved hands come up to cup your face, then he pulls back just enough to lift his helmet off, revealing his face flushed with exhilaration, damp with sweat, and eyes shining with unshed tears. He’s breathless, eyes locking onto yours, and for a moment, it’s like the whole world fades away, leaving just the two of you in this perfect moment.

“Charles, you did it!” you exclaim, your voice trembling with emotion.

Before you can say anything else, he leans in and captures your lips in a kiss, fierce and passionate, pouring all his feelings into that single moment. It’s a kiss filled with everything he can’t express in words—the gratitude, the love, the sheer happiness of this victory. You kiss him back just as fervently, your hands threading through his hair, pulling him even closer, needing to feel him, to reassure him that you’re there, that you’re proud, that you love him.

When you finally break apart, both of you are breathless, foreheads resting together as you try to catch your breath. His eyes are still locked onto yours, and the way he’s looking at you—it’s like you’re the only person in the world.

“I couldn’t have done this without you,” he says softly, his voice hoarse from the emotion and the exertion of the race. “Thank you for always believing in me.”

Tears spill over your cheeks, and you can’t help but smile through them. “I’m so proud of you, Charles. So incredibly proud.”

He grins, that beautiful, boyish grin that makes your heart flutter every time. “I love you,” he says, and the words are simple, but they carry the weight of everything he’s feeling.

“I love you too,” you reply, and the words come easily, naturally, as if they were always meant to be spoken in this moment.

The team swarms around Charles, celebrating his victory, but he doesn’t let go of your hand, keeping you close as he’s pulled in every direction by excited teammates and jubilant fans. You watch as he’s hoisted up onto the shoulders of the crew, his laughter filling the air as he waves to the adoring crowd.

And then comes the podium. The ceremony is a blur of cheers and confetti, but as Charles steps up onto the top step, trophy in hand, he looks down at you. His eyes find yours in the crowd, and he smiles—bright, proud, and filled with all the love he feels for you.

You look up at him, your heart swelling with pride and love. This is your Charles, the man you adore, the man who just won the race and an entire nation. And as the Italian anthem plays, with the crowd cheering and the champagne spraying, he never stops smiling down at you.

[fanfictionismyaddiction]

After the Finish Line

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader

Summary: After winning the Dutch Grand Prix, Lando Norris is surrounded by the excitement of his family and team, but all he wants is to celebrate privately with his girlfriend

Warnings: Explicit Content, Alcohol Use

Word count: 860

Request are open

______________________________________________________________

The orange sea roared around Lando as he stepped onto the top step of the podium. The Dutch Grand Prix had been nothing short of spectacular, with every turn and maneuver aligning perfectly. As the champagne sprayed and the anthem played, his eyes scanned the jubilant crowd. His family was there, of course, their proud faces beaming up at him, but he was searching for someone else—someone who had his heart in ways no one else did.

Finally, he found you, tucked away in the VIP section, your eyes shining with pride and something else, something deeper. The sight of you sent a surge of warmth through him that had nothing to do with the champagne or the roaring crowd. You had been with him through the highs and lows, every grueling race and every long night. And tonight, he wanted to make sure you knew just how much that meant to him.

As the celebration on the podium wrapped up, and the interviews began, Lando’s mind was already elsewhere. He answered questions with his usual charm, but the anticipation was building. He could feel it humming beneath his skin, a tension that only you could ease.

Once the interviews were over and he finally made his way back to the team, he was greeted by a flurry of hugs, handshakes, and back-slaps. His family and team were ecstatic, and the energy was infectious. But even as he smiled and laughed with them, his eyes kept drifting to you, standing a little apart from the chaos, a knowing smile playing on your lips.

The afterparty was in full swing at the team’s hotel, the music loud and the drinks flowing. Lando had danced with his family, shared drinks with his team, but the pull toward you was undeniable. You had stayed by his side, the two of you sharing secretive smiles and stolen touches whenever no one was looking.

Finally, as the night wore on and the crowd began to thin, Lando leaned close, his lips brushing against your ear. “Let’s get out of here,” he whispered, his voice low and full of promise.

You didn’t need to be asked twice. With a quick goodbye to his family and a few teammates, the two of you slipped out of the party, making your way back to his suite. The moment the door closed behind you, Lando’s hands were on you, pulling you close as his lips crashed against yours.

The kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he had been holding back all night and could finally let go. His hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips, sliding up your back, pulling you impossibly closer. You could feel the adrenaline still coursing through him, his heart racing beneath your palm as you pressed it against his chest.

“Lando,” you gasped when he pulled back, his eyes dark with desire as they met yours. The intensity of his gaze made your knees weak, and you gripped his shoulders for support.

He didn’t say anything, just scooped you up in his arms, carrying you to the bedroom. The atmosphere shifted the moment you crossed the threshold, the air thick with anticipation. He set you down gently on the bed, his body hovering over yours, his breath warm against your skin.

“I’ve been thinking about this all night,” he murmured, his lips brushing against your neck as he spoke. “All I wanted was to be alone with you.”

His hands slid under your shirt, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine. You arched into him, your fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed his way down your neck, each touch igniting a fire within you. The world outside faded away, leaving just the two of you, wrapped up in each other.

“Tonight was incredible,” you whispered, your voice trembling with need as he lifted your shirt over your head, his eyes drinking in the sight of you. “You were incredible.”

“So are you,” he breathed, his lips finding yours again, softer this time, but no less passionate. “You’re everything, you know that?”

His words made your heart swell, but before you could respond, his lips were on you again, stealing your breath away. The night stretched on, filled with soft moans, whispered promises, and the sound of your name on his lips like a prayer.

Lando took his time with you, worshipping every inch of your body as if you were the only thing that mattered. And to him, in that moment, you were. The rest of the world had fallen away, leaving just the two of you in a bubble of heat and desire.

When the last traces of adrenaline had finally faded, leaving you both breathless and spent, Lando pulled you close, his arms wrapping around you as he buried his face in your hair.

“Thank you for being here,” he whispered, his voice soft, vulnerable in a way that few people ever got to hear. “I wouldn’t want to celebrate this with anyone else.”

You smiled, pressing a kiss to his chest as you nestled against him. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else,” you murmured.

[mrsfancyferrari]

Just One Kiss

Summary: You & Charles are just best friends but when he wins in his home for the first time, things might change

Song: Reflections - The Neighbourhood

Author’s note: Congratulations to Charles Leclerc for winning in his first home Monaco Grand Prix! This is my first F1 story and I recently started following F1 so please give constructive criticism.

Word count: 2.4k

Your best friend was racing across the last track, and you held your breath, anticipating the outcome. The crowd was on their feet, cheering and shouting as the finish line approached.

As he sprinted towards the end, you could see the determination behind his helmet, the sheer will to win. And then, in a burst of speed, he crossed the finish line, victorious.

The stadium erupted in applause, celebrating his incredible feat of athleticism and the months of hard work and training that had led to this moment.

His victory at the Monaco Grand Prix was not only a personal triumph but also a historical moment for his team. It marked his first win on this iconic track, solidifying his status as a rising star in the world of Formula 1 racing.

The streets of Monte Carlo were filled with joy and excitement as fans and fellow drivers alike celebrated his remarkable achievement.

As you joined in the jubilant celebration, you couldn't help but feel a sense of pride and admiration for your best friend. You had witnessed firsthand the countless hours of dedication and sacrifice he had poured into his career.

From early mornings at the gym to late nights studying data and analyzing race strategies, he had truly given his all.

And now, as you stood among the crowd, you knew that this victory was just the beginning of an extraordinary journey that would undoubtedly lead him to even greater heights in the world of Formula 1 racing.

As soon as he parked close enough, he jumped out of his racing car and ran over to his team with happiness. They embraced him with open arms, their faces beaming with pride and joy.

Together, they celebrated this monumental victory, knowing that it was the result of their collective effort and unwavering support. The atmosphere was electric, and the moment will forever be etched in their memories as a symbol of their shared triumph and unbreakable bond.

You squeezed through the crowd, determined to catch a glimpse of your best friend before he headed for the podium. Finally, you spotted him, his face still flushed with the adrenaline of the race.

You shouted his name, waving your arms to get his attention, and when he saw you, a wide smile spread across his face. He made his way towards you, and in that moment, you felt an overwhelming sense of pride and happiness for his incredible achievement.

As he ran over to you, a surge of joy and excitement overcame both of you. He engulfed you into a tight hug, lifting you up off the ground.

You quickly wrapped your arms around his neck, holding on tightly as the exhilaration of the moment washed over you. The crowd roared in applause, their cheers blending with the sound of your friend's racing heartbeat, creating a symphony of triumph and friendship that echoed through the streets of Monte Carlo.

Placing you back down, you both looked at each other in silence, something you two started doing recently. It was as if words were no longer necessary to understand each other's thoughts and feelings.

"You did it," You whispered, unable to control the tears gushing down your face.

Charles grinned, "Yeah, I did, with you by my side," he said, his voice filled with gratitude and emotion.

While you played with his hair on the back of his head, you smiled back at him.

As if something had possessed you, you quickly leaned in and placed a quick kiss on Charles' lips.

Both of you were shocked by your actions, your eyes widening in surprise as you pulled away from the unexpected kiss.

What have you done?

The atmosphere around you seemed to pause for a moment, as if time itself had frozen, before the crowd erupted into a mix of gasps and cheers, unable to believe what they had just witnessed.

Charles heard his manager call him, and as he quickly glanced back, his eyes met yours. He smiled, a mix of excitement and uncertainty in his expression, and said, "I'll talk to you when I come back, promise."

He left the embrace and followed his manager, disappearing into the crowd as he made his way towards the podium. As you stood there, still in shock from the unexpected kiss, you couldn't help but wonder how this moment would change everything between you and Charles.

The crowd continued to cheer, but in that fleeting moment, you both knew that something had shifted between you, and there was no going back. . . . .

You couldn't help but feel a tinge of guilt as the laughter of Daniel echoed across the room as you explained your issue to him. It was clear that he found the situation amusing, and it made you question whether confiding in him was the right decision.

"Come on, don't be so hard on yourself," Daniel replied, his laughter subsiding.

"It's not every day that you accidentally kiss your best friend. But hey, maybe this could be the start of something amazing between you two."

You sighed, still unsure of how to navigate the complex emotions swirling within you. "I don't know, Daniel," you said softly. "I'm just worried that this kiss might ruin our friendship."

"Don't worry too much," Daniel reassured you. "Who knows, this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

"Exactly, maybe finally my favorite ship will get together," Oscar added, coming out of nowhere to join the conversation.

You lightly punched Oscar's arm for his comment, trying to hide your blush and dismiss his teasing. Deep down, though, you couldn't help but wonder if he was right, and if this unexpected kiss with Charles could truly lead to something more than just friendship.

"Just think about it, you two would look too cute together!" Oscar said while holding his arm in 'pain'.

"This is not what I meant when I asked for advice," you muttered, keeping an eye out of the Monegasque.

"Our advice is to ask him out, no ifs or buts," Daniel started.

"But," you interrupted, "what if he doesn't feel the same way? I don't want to risk losing our friendship."

Daniel sighed, understanding your hesitation. "I get it, but you'll never know unless you try. And if there's a 100 percent chance he says yes, then maybe it's worth taking the leap."

"But what if there's also a 100 percent chance he says no?" you countered, your voice wavering with uncertainty.

Daniel paused, considering your question. "Well," he finally said, "then at least you'll have closure and can move on without any regrets."

As the boys left you, you couldn't help but mull over their advice. The idea of asking Charles out was both exhilarating and terrifying, but deep down, you knew that regretting never taking a chance would be even worse.

It didn't take you long to find out that Charles, along with the rest of his team, were celebrating their victory by the dock.

His smile was enough to make you retreat. The warmth in his eyes and the genuine happiness he exuded made you momentarily remember about doubts of asking him out.

Maybe, just maybe, you were content with keeping things as they were for now, cherishing the friendship you had with Charles.

The party was a lively affair, with colorful decorations adorning the dock and laughter filling the air. Families, drivers, and workers mingled together, sharing stories and celebrating the team's victory.

The aroma of delicious food wafted through the crowd, enticing everyone to indulge in the festive feast. The atmosphere was filled with a sense of camaraderie and joy, as people danced to the upbeat music and raised their glasses in cheers.

It was a true celebration of hard work and success, and you couldn't help but feel grateful to be a part of such a vibrant and supportive community.

As you observed the lively celebration from the corner, you took a moment to gather your thoughts and plan what you would say to Charles when you finally had a chance to speak with him.

Having given up on love, you found yourself scrolling through the online world looking for signs that he might be interested in you and what to say when you want to confess your feelings.

Maybe instead of relying on online advice or searching for signs, it might be best to have an open and honest conversation with Charles.

Find a quiet moment during the celebration to approach him, express your feelings sincerely, and ask if he would be interested in exploring a romantic relationship. By directly communicating your emotions, you can avoid misunderstandings and have a clearer understanding of where you both stand-

As you were lost in your thoughts, suddenly your chin was raised up and your eyes were forced off your phone and look into the eyes of Charles. His gaze was intense, and you could see a hint of curiosity and intrigue.

He then leaned in closer as he tilted your head up, his lips brushing against yours for seconds, and you could taste the salty sea water from when he jumped into the docks.

You were taken aback by the unexpected kiss, the taste of salty sea water lingering on your lips.

"Hey, can we talk somewhere else in private?" Charles asked desperately.

"Ye- Yeah," you stuttered, having Charles lead you with his hand in yours out of the party. Your heart raced with a mix of excitement and nervousness as you followed him, wondering what he wanted to talk about in private.

As you stayed silent, your mind raced with possibilities of what Charles wanted to discuss in private. Was he going to reciprocate your feelings? Or was there something else entirely on his mind?

The anticipation and uncertainty only fueled your curiosity as you both entered the closest empty room.

Charles let go of your hand as soon as the room was secure, and you couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment. It was as if the connection you had just shared was abruptly severed, leaving you longing for his touch once more.

"Are you going to start or should I?" Charles asked as he leaned against a piece of furniture, his eyes never leave you.

The intense eye contact he made made you feel as though your legs were suddenly giving out.

"I don't know what you're talking about?" you muttered, avoiding his eyes at all costs.

"Well, I'm thinking about the kiss you gave me in front of national television," he stated. His voice was filled with a mix of amusement and disbelief.

The realization hit you like a wave, and you couldn't help but blush at the thought of the millions of people who saw that intimate moment between the two of you.

"And I can't stop wondering if it was just in the moment or if there's something more between us."

You shake your head vigorously, denying any deeper meaning behind the kiss. "It was just a spur-of-the-moment thing," you say, your voice barely above a whisper. "I didn't mean for it to be taken seriously."

There could never be anything between the two of you anyway. The public would never allow it. Just deny it.

"Mon chérie, are you sure? Because your expressions say otherwise," he teased as he started to walk over to you, his playful smile revealing that he saw through your denial.

The way he closed the distance between you made your heart race even faster, and you couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, there was a possibility for something more between you and Charles after all.

Charles always loved to tease you in every way possible. Either it was placing your cup on the top shelf or holding your phone in the air, he was always determined to tease you these days.

But this was different.

"No, Charles, I'm certain. It was just a momentary lapse in judgment, nothing more," you insisted, desperately clinging to the denial. Deep down, you knew that pursuing anything with Charles would only lead to heartbreak and disappointment.

It was better to keep your feelings buried and maintain the illusion of friendship.

As Charles stood in front of you, barely any space between you two, his eyes bore into yours with an intensity that made it hard to maintain your denial.

The air crackled with tension, and despite your best efforts, you couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, there could be something more between you and Charles.

"Want to try again to see if it was just a 'momentary lapse'?" he asked, raising your chin again. His words sent a shiver down your spine, tempting you to give in and explore the possibility of something more.

His lips were hovering over yours, teasing you with the possibility of what could be. The air between you was charged with anticipation, and it took every ounce of willpower to resist the temptation and maintain your denial.

"Just say it," He muttered, "Just say it and I'll do the rest."

But as you looked into his eyes, you couldn't deny the truth that they held. They were filled with a longing and desire that mirrored your own, and in that moment, you knew that your denial was futile.

"I want you," you finally whispered, surrendering to the undeniable connection between you and Charles.

Charles captured your lips with such hunger, his kiss filled with the years of unspoken longing and desire that had been building between you. In that moment, you both knew that there was no turning back, and that the possibility of something more had become an undeniable reality.

Your hands wrapped around his neck as you deepened the kiss, losing yourself in the intoxicating passion that had been simmering beneath the surface for far too long.

In that moment, you both knew that you were no longer able to deny the magnetic pull between you, and that surrendering to this forbidden love was inevitable.

"I love you," you whispered, your voice barely audible in the midst of your passionate embrace.

Charles's eyes softened, filled with a mix of joy and relief, as he murmured, "I love you too," sealing your fate in a love that had been yearning to be acknowledged. . . .

[driverlando]

✧.* FAST AND FRIGHTFUL

synopsis - charles fellow drivers doubt he’s actually going out with you, until you both make a grand gesture in the paddock (actress!reader x Charles Leclerc)

a/n: I’m very new to this smau so please do reblog and show your support! thank you <3

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc and 113, 368 others

yourusername happy ABIGAIL day! Hope you all have a bloody good time watching it 😉🩸

view all 1,894 comments

yourfan1 You were SO good! Loved the movie

yourfan2 loved the performance

alishaweir123 🩸🩸🩸🩸

yourfan3 how do you make covered in blood look good?!?! 😩

charles_leclerc you were amazing

↳ charlesfan1 a cross over no one expected

↳ yourfan4 so are we all just going to ignore the fact that Charles leclerc commented?

—

—

—

LOVE IN VICTORY: CHARLES LECLERC CELEBRATES MONACO GRAND PRIX WIN WITH PADDOCK PDA

Monaco was not only the stage for Charles Leclerc’s historic triumph at the Grand Prix but also the backdrop for a heartwarming display of love as the Formula 1 sensation celebrated his victory with a passionate kiss from horror movie actress Y/N, confirming their blossoming romance in front of cheering fans and thrilled friends.

A Moment of Joy and Affection

Amidst the jubilant atmosphere of the Monaco paddock, Charles Leclerc and Y/N shared a tender moment that stole the spotlight from the race itself. As Charles basked in the glory of his hometown victory, he rushed to y/ns side, her eyes shining with pride and admiration.

In a scene reminiscent of a Hollywood romance, Charles and Y/N embraced, their lips meeting in a sweet and spontaneous kiss that spoke volumes about the depth of their affection for each other. Cameras captured the intimate moment as cheers erupted from the crowd, congratulating the couple on their shared success and newfound love.

As news of their romance spread like wildfire, fans took to social media to express their delight and admiration for the happy couple. “I’ve always shipped Charles and Y/N!” tweeted one enthusiastic supporter. “They’re the perfect match!”

A Confirmation of Romance

While rumors of their relationship had been swirling for weeks, after Charles commented on y/ns post about her new horror movie Abigail, Charles and Y/N’s public display of affection in the paddock served as an official confirmation of their romance. With the world watching, the couple made no attempt to hide their feelings, embracing each other openly and without reservation.

From Victory Lane to Love Lane

For Charles and Y/N, their celebration in the paddock was about more than just victory—it was a celebration of their love and shared happiness. As they savored the sweet taste of success, they also embraced the joy of being together, united in their passion for each other and their respective careers.

What Lies Ahead for the Power Couple?

As the celebrations continued into the night, Charles and Y/N looked ahead to a future filled with love, laughter, and shared adventures. With their careers flourishing and their hearts entwined, they are ready to take on whatever challenges come their way, secure in the knowledge that they have each other by their side.

—

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, landonorris and 1,856,919 others

charles_leclerc Final Monaco Grand Prix post I promise! This one’s dedicated to this beauty, thanks for being there for me yesterday! love you mon chérie @yourusername ❤️🤍

view 8,346 comments

oscarpiastri I finally believe you 🫡

↳ landonorris hey, don’t believe everything you see online 🤣😉

↳ charles_leclerc get out of my comment section

yourusername I love you!! so unbelievably proud of you 🫶

[liked by charles_leclerc]

charlesfan1 THE PRINCE OF FERARI AND MONACO EVERYBODY!!

y/nfan1 you smashed it yesterday 😁

[its-avalon-08]

hi could you write a story about Carlos Sainz x Wife!Reader, where they just had a baby and Lando comes to visit them in the hospital. He is Carlos' and the reader's best friend and he was there throughout the pregnancy. Maybe Carlos and his wife ask him to be the godfather of their child….

thanks

norris are you crying? (cs55, ln4 <3)

✦ pairing - carlos sainz x female!reader + lando norris (platonic)

✦ genre - just plain ol'fluff

The sterile white walls of the hospital room felt strangely sterile with the miracle cradled in Y/N's arms. A tiny, wrinkled face, a perfect echo of Carlos, slept serenely against her chest. Beside her, Carlos, eyes still puffy with exhaustion, held her hand, a goofy grin plastered on his face. Their daughter, Sofia, had arrived a few hours ago, a whirlwind of emotions and a head full of dark hair, just like her father.

A knock on the door, followed by Lando Norris' boisterous entrance, shattered the quietude. "Alright Sainz, let me see the little legend!" he boomed, his usual mischievous glint dimmed with a touch of awe.

Carlos chuckled, pulling Lando into a tight embrace. "Careful, mate. Still a fragile little thing."

Lando approached Y/N cautiously, peering down at Sofia with a reverence that surprised them both. "Wow," he whispered, his voice thick. "She's perfect."

Y/N smiled, her heart swelling. Lando had been their rock during the pregnancy, the shoulder to cry on during hormonal meltdowns and the voice of reason when anxieties threatened to drown them. He'd even taken it upon himself to become an expert on all things baby, bombarding them with facts and advice while Carlos, bless his heart, fumbled through assembling cribs and figuring out pacifiers.

"So," Carlos began, bouncing Sofia gently in his arms, "we were thinking..."

Y/N squeezed his hand, already knowing what he was about to say. They'd discussed it before, late at night with the nursery glowing softly beside them.

Lando looked up, a playful glint returning to his eyes. "Spill it, then."

"We were wondering," Y/N continued, her voice catching slightly, "would you do us the incredible honor of being Sofia's godfather?"

Lando's jaw dropped. He blinked, then a grin erupted on his face, brighter than any podium finish. "Are you serious?" he sputtered, his voice thick with emotion. "Of course! I'd be, well, I don't even know what to say. Absolutely!"

He reached out, his finger gently tracing Sofia's cheek. A tear welled up in his eye, quickly brushed away. "I promise to be the best damn godfather she could ever ask for," he declared, his voice firm despite the tremor.

The room erupted in laughter, a mix of relief and joy. With Lando by their side, they knew Sofia would be surrounded by love, laughter, and someone who would teach her the finer points of both go-karting and taking selfies (much to Carlos's future chagrin).

As the sunlight dipped below the horizon, painting the hospital room in a warm glow, Carlos leaned towards Y/N, his eyes twinkling. "Looks like we just made a champion a godfather," he whispered, his voice thick with love.

Y/N smiled, her heart overflowing. Their little family, this perfect trio, was just the beginning of their greatest adventure.

The jubilant atmosphere in the hospital room quieted as Lando pulled out his phone, a sheepish grin on his face. "Gotta share this one with the boys," he explained, dialing a number.

Y/N chuckled, knowing the waterworks wouldn't be far behind. Lando may act like a goofball, but his emotions ran deep, especially for his friends.

As the call connected, a chorus of voices filled the room. "Lando! How's the little one?" came Max's voice, followed by Charles' enthusiastic, "Is she a Ferrari fan already?"

Lando sniffled back a tear, his voice cracking as he replied, "She's... she's perfect. Tiny little human, guys. And guess what?"

There was a beat of confused silence, then Oscar's voice cut through. "Did you manage to convince them to name her after Ricciardo?"

Lando choked back a laugh. "Nah, mate. It's Sofia. But..." He paused, his voice thick. "They asked me to be her godfather."

A stunned silence followed. Then, Max erupted in cheers, Charles followed suit, and even Oscar let out a surprised whoop.

"Lando, that's amazing!" Max yelled, his voice filled with disbelief. "The Godfather Norris! Sounds posh, doesn't it?"

Lando let out a watery sob, a smile splitting his face. "I can't believe it, guys. I'm gonna spoil her rotten, teach her all the best pranks..." his voice trailed off, replaced by more sniffles.

Carlos, who had been pretending to read a magazine, couldn't help but overhear the conversation. A smile tugged at his lips seeing Lando so overcome. He leaned over subtly, catching Y/N's knowing look.

"Seriously, Lando," Charles chimed in, oblivious to the drama unfolding in the room, "don't tell me you're crying already. You haven't even been 10 minutes !"

"It's just... I don't know, man," Lando choked out, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand. "It means a lot."

Carlos cleared his throat, drawing all eyes to him. "Sounds like someone's getting a bit emotional," he teased, a playful glint in his eyes.

Lando whipped around, his face instantly switching to a defensive scoff. "Who, me? Emotional? Absolutely not, mate. Just, uh, clearing my throat. Hay fever, you know?"

Y/N and Carlos burst into laughter. Max, Charles, and Oscar could practically hear Lando's blush through the phone.

Carlos, amusement dancing in his eyes, walked over to Lando and pulled him into a tight embrace. "Alright, alright," he chuckled, ruffling Lando's hair. "We believe you. You're going to be a fantastic godfather, just try not to scare her off with your... unique fashion sense."

Lando, still flustered, punched Carlos playfully on the arm. "Sod off, Sainz. Speaking of fashion, you're the one who wears those atrocious dad sneakers."

Y/N shook her head, a warm smile on her face. These two, with their playful rivalry and unwavering friendship, would make the perfect team for Sofia.

As Lando continued to chat with his friends, his voice regaining its characteristic bravado, Carlos couldn't help but feel a surge of pride. He leaned down and whispered to Y/N, "See? The best godfather a girl could ask for."

Y/N squeezed his hand, her eyes mirroring his sentiment. With Lando by their side, Sofia's life was sure to be filled with laughter, love, and maybe just a touch of healthy competition

The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast long shadows across the hospital room. Y/N lay sleeping, cradling their newborn daughter, Sofia, close to her chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of their breaths filled the quiet room with a soothing melody.

Carlos, unable to sleep, sat in the armchair beside the bed, his gaze fixed on the two most important people in his life. He reached out a hand, gently tracing the lines on Y/N's face with his thumb.

"She's incredible, isn't she?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb their sleep.

Lando, perched on the window ledge, turned his head, his voice hushed. "She's perfect, mate. Just like your missus."

Carlos chuckled softly. "She's something else, Lando. You know, throughout this pregnancy, I kept thinking I couldn't love her any more. And then she goes and pulls this off." He gestured towards Y/N and Sofia. "This miracle."

Lando smiled, understanding washing over him. He'd seen firsthand Carlos's unwavering devotion to Y/N. "She's strong, Carlos. Stronger than you give her credit for."

"Stronger than us all, mate," Carlos replied, his voice filled with awe. "She's been glowing these past few months, like an... an angel."

Lando raised an eyebrow. "An angel who craved pickles at three in the morning?"

Carlos laughed, shaking his head fondly. "Even then. No matter what, she's the most beautiful woman I've ever seen. And the way she looked at Sofia... pure love, Lando. Pure, unadulterated love."

He fell silent for a moment, his eyes reflecting the soft light. "I never want to lose her, you know? Never want her to stop looking at me like that."

Lando hopped down from the window ledge, placing a hand on Carlos's shoulder. "You won't, mate. You two have something special. A bond stronger than anything."

Carlos let out a shaky breath. "I hope you're right, Lando. I hope you're right."

He leaned closer to Y/N, brushing a stray strand of hair from her forehead. "Te amo," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "More than words can ever say."

As if sensing his presence, Y/N stirred, her eyes fluttering open. A tired smile graced her lips as she met Carlos's gaze. "Hey there," she whispered, her voice husky with sleep.

"Hey amor," he replied, his voice filled with adoration. "Just checking on my two favorite girls."

Y/N's eyes flickered to Sofia, then back to Carlos. Her smile widened, a silent testament to the love that filled the room, a love that promised a lifetime of happiness for their little family.

[alexiroflife]

‘don’t ignore me’

“Across the Earth” Part 1: satoru gojo x reader

part 2 | part 3

Synopsis: you travel to NYC for spring break completely oblivious of satoru’s plan to follow you there

to sum it up: satoru does not take being avoided by you very well

WC: 12,731

The late afternoon glow of the setting sun milks the empty classroom through the row of glass windows touching the floor up to the ceiling. Most classes for the day have ended, and students scatter about the campus in search of food, study spaces, and each other’s company. It is no later than five pm, two days out from the university's suspension for spring break. 

The chaotic atmosphere of the large campus is finally subsiding after a month’s long hectic craze of last minute assessments and projects as people prepare for their much needed vacation from strenuous academics.  

Satoru Gojo and his best friends lounge peacefully inside their empty philosophy classroom, soaking in the rich rays of orange sun. A comfortable silence has settled over the group as Suguru works to finish an essay and Shoko toys with her lighter, flicking it open and closed repeatedly as she watches the small flame ignite and dwindle in her palm. 

Satoru, oddly quiet, has been tapping away at his phone, hunched over the back of a chair so that he is facing his friends who sit properly before him at desks. The three pay each other no mind, wrapped into their own dazes, when Satoru breaks the stillness and thrusts his phone into their faces.

The two stop, snapping up from their trances instantly, the glow of Satoru’s phone screen disrupting their concentration. Satoru says nothing, waving his phone back and forth tauntingly in order to keep their, what he assumes will be, short-lived attention.

They lean forward to examine what the device has to display and scrunch their noses as their eyes dart over words and pictures that stand out to them in clarification of what Satoru has done. 

Email confirmation. Seven day stay. Hamptons, New York, USA. 

Suguru looks up first, confusion and distrust swimming in his hazel eyes. Shoko puts her lighter down and takes Satoru’s phone from his hand gently next to peer down at the images of the extravagant, luxurious villa plastered all over Satoru’s phone with her own eyes. 

Satoru taps the back of his chair eagerly, eyes swapping between the brunette and the ravenette with an enthusiastic smile. “So? What do you think? You guys excited or what?”

Suguru crosses his arms atop his desk, leaning forward with eyes slim with suspicion as he tries to process what he has just seen. He places his pencil down next to his unfinished paper with the understanding that inquiring about whatever his best friend is planning will take a good chunk of time out of his work hour.

 “Satoru…” he begins tiredly, searching the snowy haired man’s jubilant expression for whatever true intentions lay beneath it, for there was always a reason why Satoru did the things he did. This applied especially to when his scheming led to greater absurdity, his actions as loud and ridiculous as the reasons he executed them. “Why did you rent out a villa in the Hamptons?”

Satoru shrugs. “The real question here, Suguru, is why not?” 

Shoko swipes her finger over the plethora of pictures Satoru’s email confirmation has to offer, brows jumping with subtle interest with each snapshot. “You want to go… to America?” she poses softly in a mumble, eyes glued to the phone.

“Ah, no. Correction: we are going to America! As a group!” Satoru exclaimed, leaning back with outstretched arms. “For spring break! Aren’t you guys excited?” 

Shoko finally looks up again, meeting Satoru’s eyes blankly, while Suguru rubs his forehead in exasperation. “And why would we be doing that?” 

“Well, because the first class round trip tickets are booked, and so is our stay, which you’re looking at right now,” the blue eyed man explains as though telling his friends two days before break that he paid for their expenses to travel across the world is completely justified and, far worse, normal. He leans over to point at the dates listed below the email confirmation on his phone, guiding his friends’ eyes to his finger. “See? Our stay starts Saturday, so we have to leave tomorrow.”

Suguru’s lips part in shock, eyes widening. “Wh- tomorrow?”

“It’s a twelve hour flight and we’ll be jet-lagged. Gotta plan ahead.”

The black haired man thinks he can just about wring out Satoru’s neck when that sentence falls from his mouth, for everything he is suddenly presenting is hardly something that has been planned ahead. 

Shoko looks over to Suguru to see what he is thinking and finds the agitation mixed with sheer awe at Satoru’s audacity will likely lead into yet another argument between the two that she is forced to witness from nearby. 

“Satoru, please tell me you’re joking,” Suguru scoffs. “We can’t just up and hop on a plane to America tomorrow- we have class, and none of us are packed for a week’s trip in a completely different country,” he reasons. “And America? Why the hell would you want to go there of all places?”

“Yeah, why not the beach?” Shoko chimes in monotonously, handing over Satoru’s phone to its owner. “There’s so many other options outside of the country. Like Bali, Greece, the Bahamas-”

“Or staying home and not springing a full trip out of nowhere onto your friends a day in advance?” Suguru interjects.

Satoru takes his phone back and pouts. “The Hamptons is on a beach, you guys. Didn’t you see the pictures? Our villa is like two seconds from the water,” he says. “Besides, who’s never wanted to go to the U.S.? Don’t you think it’ll be fun?”

“No, I don’t,” Suguru deadpans. “The Hamptons is in New York, Satoru. Don’t you know what New York is like? It’s disgusting.”

“How would you know? It’s not like you’ve ever been,” Satoru pokes out his tongue. “And what you’re thinking of is New York City. Where we’re staying is two hours away,” Satoru corrects. “It’s perfect. We can spend most of our time lounging in our big house and on the beach, and whenever we feel like it, we can drive down to the city to explore! It’ll be good to get a change of pace for us to embrace tourism.”

“I’m not going into that city,” Suguru frowns, and Satoru sighs loudly.

“Don’t be so reclusive, Suguru. You may like it.”

“I won’t.”

“Have a little faith!” Satoru groans, eyes peering dramatically over the frames of his round glasses. “We’re juniors. We shouldn’t just sit around at home all break doing nothing.”

“That’s not the point, Satoru.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, you don’t like America,” Satoru waves his hand. “But you’ll get over it once you actually get there.”

“Do you think they’ll be friendly?” Shoko asks, lifting her chin in thought. It’s clear that she is already mentally preparing to indulge Satoru by going on this trip, for she had nothing better to do than to spend it away with her friends. After all, there are worse fates than shacking up in an outrageously expensive villa in the states. 

“Who, Americans or New Yorkers?” Satoru questions. “Either way, no, not at all,” he concludes, answering his own question. “But it’ll still be fun!”

Shoko shrugs, leaning back into her chair and propping her feet atop her desk. “As long as there’s water and food, I’m set.”

Satoru grins. “See? Look at that, Suguru, Shoko’s on board. So stop complaining and just go with the flow.”

Suguru clenches his jaw, astonished by the things he is hearing. He does not understand it. Not one bit. Satoru, though constantly flaunting his privilege to travel around, has never expressed direct interest in going to America. While he has toyed with the idea playfully in the past, Suguru had never taken his comments seriously because, to be perfectly frank, who would?

He knows something was up by the glint in Satoru’s eyes alone. Suguru knows his best friend very well, like the back of his hand, and knows entirely too well when there is an alternate angle to his seemingly random madness. After all, Suguru always found himself directly in the center of his spontaneous proposals. 

Therefore, when Suguru’s glare on Satoru hardens as if he is trying to physically see past his thick skull and into his mind’s contents, and Satoru stares back with a frozen smile, he knows that his gut instinct is correct. “What are you up to?” the hazel eyed man asks, furrowing his brows. 

Satoru’s smile stretches but does not quite reach his eyes. “I’m not sure I understand what you’re asking,” he replies coolly. “I simply want to treat my friends to a nice vacation. Is that so hard to believe?”

“Yes, it is.”

The albino slumps, rolling his chin over the rim of his seat grumpily. “You think so little of me, Suguru.”

“If it makes you feel better, I wouldn’t if I didn’t know you so well.”

Satoru’s bottom lip juts out and brows angle as he ponders the comment. “I’m not sure I know how to respond to that one.”

“Just cut the bullshit, okay?” Geto shifts in his seat, raising a brow at his sulking buffoon of a friend. “You’ve always got a reason for doing something, and this is no exception. So spill.”

Gojo’s eyes wander beneath his dim lenses, bouncing over every object of the room as his playfulness diminishes with Suguru’s accusation. “God, when did you get that stick shoved up your ass?”

“Since I’m twenty-one with a future career to think about. And so are you,” Suguru bites. “Stop stalling. Out with it.”

Satoru exhales again, closing his eyes. “I don’t know what to tell you. I hate to disappoint, but I’m only doing this out of the kindness of my heart and my hunger for exploration. You should be ashamed, throwing around these accusations and insinuating that there’s something more I want other than to have a once in a lifetime experience with the people I hold dearest to my heart-”

“You think, maybe, this has something to do with (Y/n) mentioning that she was going to New York for spring break the other day?” Shoko jumps in, her words droning on as if she were bored and her attention now elsewhere on her own phone, but her presented notion striking realization and dismay in the boys beside her.

Suguru’s eye twitches as everything pieces together in his mind. It was you. How hadn’t he understood sooner?

Satoru had taken a particular interest in you ever since freshman year orientation. 

While he, Shoko, and Suguru entered university having known each other all throughout high school, you were the new addition into their lives that Satoru had been rather insistent upon acquiring. 

It started with the freshman presentation in the auditorium. You happened to sit next to Suguru at the end of the row while Satoru sat on his other side and Shoko on his. You caught the blue eyed man’s eye immediately without even having to speak. But when you did, it was not to him but to Geto, leaning over and asking quietly if he knew where one of the dorm rooms was located, for you had yet to adjust to the size of the campus.

Satoru watched intensely out of the corner of his eye as Geto explained to you that he lived in the same building and would gladly show you around after the presentation. You thanked him kindly, a sweet smile rising to your face to match the charm in your light tone. Satoru nudged his friend harshly in the side when you turned away, ignoring the glare he tossed into his direction and leaning to whisper that he thought you were hot. 

Geto was quick to shove him away and hiss a warning, for he didn’t want Satoru scaring you off just after he made your acquaintance. Nevertheless, Satoru was determined from then on to learn who you were. And learned, he had.

You were attending University to study art and history, your hometown about five hours away from the campus by car. You were an only child, but came from an incredibly academically pressured environment. You were an honors student, here on scholarship, and you were so very talented. Your parents had wanted you to pursue something more practical, something that would show for the hours of mathematics and science practices that had been forced onto you while you were in high school, but the strenuous impact of high expectations and terribly little breathing room had pushed you into a different direction. 

You adored learning. You had a skill for it. You liked understanding the lens through which history has been told, how artists have come to detail the past, how history takes a hand in not only your daily society but the way in which daily society remembers it through art. You wanted to travel, to create, to fill your head with knowledge of past and present worlds, and though you could have been anything, this school and this path was what you chose. 

Your parents, of course, had not approved, so you were forced to work for your position at the university because they refused to fund you financially. You applied to numerous scholarship applications until you were accepted by over three, wrote hundreds of drafted college essays that eventually crafted your best piece of writing yet, and worked two jobs during school and the summer whilst simultaneously maintaining straight As. You worked damn hard, and all of that work had led you to where you were today.

You had only mentioned about a quarter of that information to the friend group as they led you to the co-ed dorms that they coincidentally all resided in and asked you questions to get to know you, but Satoru had learned the rest over the months and years. 

Despite Suguru’s warning for Satoru to back off, he did just the opposite and crowded your space as the four of you walked to the dorms after orientation. He was chatty, buzzing with an aura of privilege that you just could not seem to acclimate yourself to, at least not at first. Even so, Satoru was quick to welcome you into the group, inviting you to lunches and over to his shared room with Suguru within the span of barely two days. You were overwhelmed, to say the least, but grateful to have made friends so quickly. 

Satoru found himself intruding into your life just as he did with anyone else. No matter where you went, he had always found a way to turn up unexpectedly. Sometimes, he was alone, and other times, he was with Suguru or Shoko or both. 

As time went by, Satoru knew that he had gotten on your nerves the more comfortable you became. Gojo had blinked, and you went from a timid, kind stranger to the loud, bubbly, brazen woman you are today, who told him to leave you alone when you were trying to study and he was buzzing around your room like a nagging fly, and man, did he adore it. He adored your attention, whether it was positive or negative. He adored how your reactions to his lack of personal space proved that you were acutely aware of his presence, of his space, of his body near yours. He adored how, though you considered yourself to be friends with all three of them, he remained the only one that you would constantly bicker back and forth with when he did something to agitate you. 

He adored everything about his interactions with you, for half the time they were the only thing motivating him to trudge out of bed and take on the day.

You, on the other hand, had very different opinions of Satoru Gojo. The first time he spoke to you, he reeked of privilege and presented himself as a position in such subconsciously. He was the stark opposite of you, having been handed a place in school, a legacy, an estate, and money that could last him, his children, his children’s children, and so on, for centuries to come. He was in a clear position of power, holding his head high and strutting about campus as if he owned the place. 

Your first impression of him was that he was an arrogant, pompous brat.

As you got to know him, Suguru, and Shoko better, however, your disinterest in him faltered and you truly did begin to view him as a friend and as someone you loved spending time with. Though he was still spoiled as all hell, he was funny, he was intelligent, he was smart, and he was hardworking when he wanted to be. He wasn’t a bad guy at all though he was preposterously clingy and bothersome, but in an endearing, playful kind of way.

Nevertheless, Satoru Gojo would always be someone who viewed himself as above you. Someone who toyed with you for fun, who said and did things solely to get a rise out of you, who flirted with practically the entire population of girls on the campus, and who found it funny when professors berated him because they were just too “uptight.” Satoru was a brat, through and through, and you knew that he’d only hover around you if it served well for his entertainment. 

This fact hadn’t bothered you before because you thought you understood the dynamic that Satoru had built with you and with many others, but when you started feeling pangs in your chest when he grinned at you or envy bubbling in your gut when another girl approached him to ask for his number, your stomach sank with fear because you knew that your feelings were shifting against your better judgment. 

Consequently, you began distancing yourself from Satoru as best as you possibly could. Your texts went from all caps to lowercase as your tone dried, you stopped by his apartment with Suguru less throughout the week, and when he tracked you down, throwing an arm around you and asking what you were doing for the night, you would tell him you were busy studying with people who didn’t exist. 

It hurt you to behave in such a way, for you could tell that Suguru and Shoko were beginning to notice not only your shift in demeanor, but Satoru’s obsessive panic over why you were talking to him less. You tried to keep your friendships with the two separate from your feelings for Gojo, but the task proved quite impossible due to how attached the three of them were to each other. No matter how far you tried to pull away subtly, Satoru was there. Everywhere. 

This is what led you to decide that a trip out of the country would do you some good. You had always wanted to go abroad and your professor had presented an opportunity to you in New York to do research with a colleague on a selection of artifacts presented in the MET gallery. You scraped up the money for a ticket and an AirBnB in SoHo, along with the generous help of your university’s study abroad funding, and set the date. You had mentioned that you were going away to Shoko a few nights ago over the phone, but were unaware that your voice was on speaker as Shoko got ready for the bar with Suguru and Satoru catching wind of your brief conversation in the background. 

Gojo must have seen the opportunity to catch up with you, and snatched it.

Suguru groans, rubbing his hands over his face as he takes it all in. The only reason Satoru is so set on this trip is because he will be hijacking yours.

Satoru rolls his eyes, sitting back up and crossing his arms stubbornly over his chest, displeased with the general reaction to Shoko’s observation. “Like it’s a crime to be in the same place as her for spring break. That could be purely coincidental,” he tsks, casting his gaze to the ceiling.

“Satoru, oh my god,” Suguru grumbles.

“What?! It’s not a big deal! We’ll be two hours away from her and we can hypothetically visit her in the city if we decide to one day.”

“Are you seriously staking this entire trip on the chance of seeing (Y/n)? Satoru, I’m pretty sure she’s not staying home for a reason.”

“Duh, because she has a research thing.”

“No- I mean, she’s trying to get some space,” he urges. “From us.”

The notion does not sit well in Satoru’s chest, so he decides to ignore it. “Impossible. She loves us.”

“I don’t doubt that, but I also can tell that she’s been distant and wants a break. A break… far away,” Suguru emphasizes the last few words with earnest. “Come on, you had to have noticed too.”

Had he noticed? 

It’s all Satoru can think about, day in and day out. He looks at your text messages, reading back over your loud responses from months ago that have resorted to short words with periods, and at times nothing at all. He wonders why you don’t visit him often anymore, why you blow him off every single time he tries to hang out, and his heart hurts at the thoughts.

He doesn’t know what he has done wrong or if he has upset you in any way. For a moment, he thought it was a mutual distance that you were putting between all three of you, but the night you had called Shoko telling her about your trip and not him really put things into perspective. You were avoiding him. Not Suguru, not Shoko, but him, and he has no way of knowing why or how he could fix it. 

He misses you, and he’s not ready for you to decide that you want nothing to do with him anymore, so he’s following you, chasing after the chance that perhaps there is something he can do to make you laugh with him, smile at him, whack the back of his head again like you used to. 

“I don’t know, Suguru… maybe it’s you she’s trying to distance herself from,” Satoru hisses through his teeth, purposely deflecting blame from him as a coping mechanism. “I mean, after all, you do get in a crabby mood after certain classes. You probably said something mean to her one day and didn’t realize.”

“Shut up, you idiot, we both know that didn’t happen,” Suguru denies confidently, for he knows exactly why you have been stepping away. 

He has seen it in your eyes when you look at Satoru, the way you unintentionally cast annoyed glances Suguru and Shoko’s way when the four of you are out and Gojo is stopped by an enamored pretty girl, looking to drag him home with her. 

He sees the love all too well, in the both of you. He and Shoko both do, but they can not for the life of them understand how the two of you have been so blind to it. If you had opened your eyes for one second to see the reason why Satoru would wake up every morning to text you random, insignificant thoughts or followed you around like a lost puppy, you wouldn’t have been distancing yourself the way you are now. 

Nevertheless, Suguru supposes he understands. Satoru can be a lot to handle, and when you are trying to look up at him from the bottom of the pedestal that the world has placed him upon, it is terribly difficult to meet him eye level and see the truth in his gaze. 

“You need to be honest with yourself,” the black haired man proceeds. “And you can’t just intrude on (Y/n)’s privacy because you want to. It’s not fair to her.”

“What do you know about what she wants,” Satoru mumbles bitterly under his breath, turning to look outside the window in hopes of the scenery outdoors drifting him away from this enclosed conversation. 

Suguru shakes his head to himself, watching as Suguru pouts. “She’s not just your friend. She’s a friend to all of us,” he says, voice growing softer as he knows this is a sensitive topic. “Yes, it’s sad that we don’t see her as much anymore, but you have to respect her wishes. We shouldn’t go on this trip. Not if it’s to see her.”

Satoru is stubborn. Incredibly stubborn. He was raised receiving everything he asked for and more, therefore, he did not understand the concept of not doing something if he wanted to do it. And of course, when it comes to you, Satoru is willing to challenge all barriers in order to get to you. 

So he shakes his head in retort and allows a smile to return to his face. “Even if I were bringing us to America for her, which I’m not, the trip is already fully booked and paid for,” he grins, and Suguru feels the color drain from his face. Shoko chuckles quietly to herself in amusement, all too familiar with the shenanigans that Satoru pulls. Only she finds it far funnier and less agitating than Suguru. “So either way, we’re going. No ifs, ands, or buts. And as a matter of fact, I'm feeling extra touristy this year. I say we hit the MET while we’re in New York too. You know what they say… when in Rome,” Satoru nods, entirely too satisfied with himself. 

Suguru pinches the bridge of his nose, reluctantly accepting his fate. “I hate you.”

“Tell me about it,” the white haired man smirks.

“Even so,” Suguru starts, picking up his pencil once more in a half-attempt to conclude his closing paragraph. “We still have class tomorrow. Don’t we, Shoko?”

The said brunette hums. “True, but we’re not really going, are we? It’s the last day before break. No one will be there.”

Satoru stands abruptly, rekindled pride bursting in his chest. “Exactly. You’re gonna have to skip class just this once, Suguru. We’ve got a flight to catch,” he grins and Suguru grips his pencil so hard it almost snaps.

_______________________________

You huff as you slam your suitcase onto the hard floor of your temporary residence for the next week. The door shuts gently behind you, and you are finally gifted your first moments of isolated peace within your room. You step around your bag, exploring the space excitedly. You’re exhausted from your flight, more exhausted than you believed a person could be, but the spark of thrill buzzing in your body from making it overseas after a long journey is fresh in your mind. 

The space is far bigger than you thought after having been told of horror stories about New York’s cramped style of living. You have a cute kitchen that connects directly to your living space, which leads to a small balcony that overlooks the bustling streets and crowded stores of SoHo, New York. You see the corner that rounds to your bedroom and bathroom with a full shower, but rush to the balcony first. You throw the door open and step out, the muffled sounds of the city instantly hitting your ears with crisp clarity. You are seven floors up, looking down with wide eyes and a large smile, taking in the smoggy air and rows of brick buildings. You think to yourself that it is absolutely perfect. 

And what is best of all is that there is no Satoru in sight, no reminder of the heavy weight that weighs on your chest each time he is near, no image of his perfect face and haunting blue eyes, or that messy hair white as a cloud, or those glossy lips that always curl into a sinister smile. 

No, none of that here. You are free of him, of this burden of love for the next week, and you feel you can finally breathe. 

You settle in, unpacking your things and tucking your clothes away in the drawers, claiming the sunlit space as your own. You have a meeting early tomorrow morning with your professor’s research colleague at Central Park before heading into the museum, so you figure you could take the rest of the day to grab some food and rest, far too tired to explore a good chunk of the city due to the flight.

You go to sleep peacefully that night, the view of the city and busy noise surprisingly calming you into your slumber. Unbeknownst to you, however, while you drift off into a dreamless sleep, Suguru, Satoru, and Shoko are lugging their bags through the East Hampton airport.

-

You’re up bright and early the next morning. The first thing you do is check your phone subconsciously for messages from Satoru before recalling that your once steady text communication had come to a slow halt because of you, and that you two are in separate parts of the world. You pause, heart panging suddenly at the thought of Satoru, before shaking your head and pushing the thoughts away. This trip is not for you to sit around and think about that moron. You have work to do, sights to see, research to accomplish- and a meeting in an hour.

You rush out of your AirBnB after a half an hour, waving your hand aggressively on the sidewalk to hail your first cab. One eventually comes along after three have passed, and you set your destination for the South Side of Central Park. You dig into the cash fare you set aside specifically for cab rides and step out into the path leading into the plethora of greenery and liveliness of the park upon arriving. 

You are instantly filled with childlike wonder when you catch sight of street performers, vendors, horse drawn carriages, and artists. You look around, teeth biting into your lip harshly to suppress your smile. Though it is early morning, it’s already loud and busy as people rush to work or take morning jogs down the street.

Your phone rings before you can wander off to where you are not supposed to be, and you see the name of the colleague you are supposed to meet pop up. You quickly answer and trek off into the park, following his directions and finding him sitting at a bench atop a large rock. 

He is much younger than you expected when you approach him. He may be a few years older than you are now, stubble shading his face and brown hair cut short. You smile when he catches your eye, and he’s standing, reaching out to shake your hand with a warm grin. 

The two of you talk about your education, your experience with art history, and the goal of the research you would be helping him accomplish for your professor back at home. The two of you walk and talk as you head to the east side of the park to reach the MET gallery. 

He, who you learn to be named Aoto, is a grad student in his mid twenties attending a school in the city, an alum to your current college. Aoto is helping your art history professor collect data on how certain artifacts on display in the MET gallery have been discovered and acquired over the years, and to categorize them by culture and country of origin. Your job is to assist by essentially organizing the data and taking note of his findings by following him around galleries, lectures, and meetings, and you can not be more excited to start.

You then ask the dark haired man about his experience in the city, curious to know what New York is like from an insider’s perspective. He almost laughs and tells you that living there has changed his life for the better. He admits that it takes some getting used to at first, but once you have spent enough time here, there’s no going back. New York is a melding pot, he tells you, where anyone can work toward anything. It is a tough city to attempt to conquer, but it rewards you with so many connections and experiences that you can not find anywhere else. 

You take his words to heart, already admittedly inspired by the atmosphere around you. It is nothing like home, so boisterous and hectic, but lively, eclectic, and artful. It intrigues you.

You're snapping pictures left and right when you reach the MET, a wide, tan building with large banners cascading over the walls, advertising wonderful areas of exploration and collections within the museum. Aoto, far more casual than your professor had led on, chuckles at your excitement and offers to take pictures of you in front of the building with your camera. The two of you are standing on the steps of the museum for at least fifteen minutes, distracted by capturing images on your phone, before trekking inside.

And inside, your heart bursts as this building is where you are meant to be. Ancient Greek sculptures, fragments of middle eastern fabrics, plates collected from the Byzantine Era, works capturing prominent artists of the Harlem Renaissance, and more captivate your eyes, your heart, and your mind; the museum is a melding pot of history, new worlds different from the last lurking around each corner. You jump between signs, unsure of where to go next as you take it all in. 

Today, Aoto spends by giving you a tour and familiarizing you with the environment. He works there part-time with a membership and is able to give you an in-depth analysis of as many galleries as you can conquer within the few hours of time you have set for the day. 

When the tour concludes, he gives you a brief assignment to write down a list of the galleries you would be interested in focusing on for your short participation in his project as well as what you observed about certain artifacts that are on display. It isn’t much, but he wants to get your mind pumping with something before he puts you to real work throughout the rest of the week. You accept your task happily, moved by the pieces of history that you have already seen in the span of less than one day. 

For the rest of the afternoon, you find a nearby cafe and get to work, fixated completely on the works that have caught your eye in the museum. You type away the hours, jotting down observations, things that moved you, things that confused you, things you want to see. The sun is setting again before you even notice, and you get a buzz from your phone that brings you back up for air and concludes the dive into a rabbit hole that you have traveled through for a good chunk of the day. 

Aoto’s name pops up again, this time in a text. 

Dinner? I can show you a good spot near where you’re staying. We can talk work : )

You don’t see any reason for you not to accept, so you text back and agree. He sends an address instantly, and you’re packing your laptop and rushing out of the cafe to hail a taxi to head back to your place and put away your belongings before walking to your destination. 

You conclude that this is a nice change in pace from the constant harassment of Satoru as you sit across from your research partner at a bar and grill down the block from where you’re staying. It’s casual and friendly, refreshing, new. 

You talk about tomorrow's plans, your interest in the Arms and Armor gallery and the Islamic artifacts that you have analyzed earlier in the day. You also discuss your observation of missing fragments of Syrian tile or the preservation of torn carpet from centuries past. Many of the artifacts kept in the MET are still missing parts of itself that may likely never be recovered.

Once you finish discussing the day, Aoto tells you that tomorrow, you’ll be meeting up with him and a historian who will walk you through the findings of the Islamic Art collection. 

It is late when the two of you finish up. You step outside of the dim restaurant onto the sidewalk and into the cool air, facing each other to kindly bid farewell until the following day.

You smile to yourself as he walks away, heart fulfilled with the promise of a new week abundant with all the things you find joy in doing. You think to yourself that you are so very lucky to have been granted this opportunity, to travel, to learn, to experience, and that your spring break will be absolutely amazing. You grow excited even at the prospect of telling Shoko and Suguru about it when you return home.

You turn over your shoulder and prepare to walk home, eyes to the dark sky above before you lower them to look ahead…

And your face drops.

You squint, stopping dead in your tracks. Are you dreaming? Hallucinating? You must be, because there is no reality in which your eyes have caught a glimpse of that porcelain glow of silky hair in the midst of people walking by.

You scrunch your brows, a sudden aggressive sense of anxiety taking over you. Your heartbeat rises, the notion alone of seeing what you think you see makes your palms run cold with sweat and your body hot all over. No, you must be seeing things. Your mind is playing tricks on you, because there is no way in all hell that you just saw Satoru Gojo on the streets of SoHo, New York.

But then a path clears when people scatter to the sides, revealing two tall figures and a shorter  one ahead, and your jaw hangs wide open.

You have got to be fucking kidding. 

You wish someone was, that a prank is being played on you in poor taste, but your eyes have unfortunately not mistaken you. You could recognize your three friends anywhere. You watch in awe as Satoru Gojo, Suguru Geto, and Shoko Leiri saunter their way up the sidewalk into your direction. 

Satoru is looking around him with a childlike smile, flashing pictures of random people and alleys that hold no significance. He busies himself with the exaggerated pictures, looking everywhere but ahead of him, which tells you that he knows full well that you are standing nearby. 

Shoko stands behind him on his left with a cigarette propped between her lips, looking off across the street at an ice cream shop that catches her eye, and Suguru looks the most miserable of them all. Clad in dark, baggy sweats, he slumps on Satoru’s right, glaring in judgment at the people that brush by him, too close for his taste.

You don’t know what to say or do. You have half the mind to just turn around and walk off into a different direction, but Satoru’s eyes meet yours behind those damned glasses that he never took off of his face before you can even think about it 

He lowers his phone and parts his lips in feigned shock, cupping a hand over his forehead and leaning over to catch a better glimpse. He opens his arms wide upon detecting your face and his posture straightens. 

“(Y/n)! What a surprise, is that you?!”

His voice carries, turning heads as his tall form practically skips over to you and glomps you in a hug. You grunt, eyes wide and body frozen as the feeling of his body embracing yours fails to register very quickly. You stare off through wisps of white hair, tormented confusion written all over your face. Satoru is rocking your body side to side suddenly, acting as though you have not seen him in years, and for the blue eyed man, it may feel like just that. 

“It’s so good to see you!” he sings, pulling back with his large hands gripping your shoulders. You look up at him with a blank stare as he beams, pearly whites shining and fair skin tinged with a hint of pink on his cheeks. He chuckles when he looks at your expression, the bubbly sound making your head spin on your neck. “You look so shocked! Did you miss me?” he asks smugly, voice dipping lower as he leans his head in with a smirk.

You're speechless, stunned by his presence and distracted by his gut wrenching beauty. 

How the hell is he here? 

“Wh-” you stammer. “How- why are you-?”

“Why am I here?” he asks your unfinished question for you, and you nod stiffly. “Wanted to do some sight seeing for spring break, and I heard New York is great for tourists,” he grins, whipping out his phone camera once more to swiftly rush to your side and wrap an arm over your shoulders and snap a selfie of the two of you. You blink, the motion too quick for you to keep up with. Satoru steps back and looks down at his screen with a smile. “Aww, how cute! This one’s a keeper, for sure.”

A tinge of irritation captures you in the midst of your stupor when Satoru makes the picture of him smiling happily next to your ‘deer-in-headlights’ expression his new lockscreen. He’s messing with you, just as he always does, and for a moment you ponder whether this is truly a coincidence meeting him here or not. 

Suguru and Shoko slowly make their way over to the two of you. “Oh, guys! Look who I ran into,” Gojo gestures proudly to you. “Isn’t that funny?”

His friends do not look in the least bit surprised. When Suguru’s eyes swipe over you apologetically then back to Satoru with lingering annoyance, your suspicions are confirmed within seconds. “So funny,” Geto smiles tightly.

Despite his blatant displeasure in being here, Suguru is quick to mask his irritation and make his way over to you to hug you in greeting. “Sorry about this,” he murmurs to you before pulling away, and you’re reeling, overwhelmed. 

Shoko comes to you next with a soft smile, eyes lighting as she nudges your shoulder playfully. “Long time no see, huh? 

“Y-Yeah,” you stutter, flashing her a quick smile before glowering angrily up at Satoru. “What are the odds that we all find each other in America?” you hiss. 

“I know, right?” Satory shakes his head as if marveling at a joke. “The universe has a funny way of bringing us all together.”

Your eye twitches and your cheeks burn. You’re flustered, having been caught off guard by the one person you were trying your hardest to get away from. Now he’s here, after following you around in your heart, mind, and back home on campus, he has followed you overseas into another continent. 

You can’t escape him.

“So what are you up to? It’s dangerous to walk out here at night alone,” he says.

God, he is so insufferable. The very sound of his voice makes you want to slap him across the face in hopes that it will buffer whatever simulation you have been plopped into that has forced you to face Satoru Gojo of all people.

“Have you started your research yet?” Shoko inquires.

“Um… yeah, I got started with some stuff today. I actually just finished meeting with my research partner…”

“Oh, you were with someone then?” Satoru asks, pretending not to care. You can tell simply by the way he shoves his hands into his pockets and lifts his brows as though clueless. One thing you have learned about Satoru over the years is that his vision is eerily impressive and he observes things from miles away. In fact, he brags about his keen observational skills all the time, therefore, if he was able to see you from afar, he would have been able to see Aoto bid you farewell and walk away too.

“She just said she was with her research partner, Satoru,” Suguru adds, voice monotone. 

“I know, but I didn’t see any woman near (Y/n) before I saw her.”

You clench your jaw. “It’s a he,” you clarify flatly, eyes sharp on his face.

He nods slowly. “Ohhh, really now?” he hums, and you fight the urge to strangle him. “That’s interesting. Cool, good for you.”

“I’m sorry- what- I mean, how are you guys even here?” you change the subject to get clarification. “I didn’t think any of you were traveling for break. Shoko, you just told me the other night that you would be home.”

You don’t miss the exhale that Suguru breathes and the way Shoko’s eyes dart instantly to Gojo. “That’s a great question,” Suguru says. “Why don’t you ask Satoru? He’s the one who wanted to travel so bad.”

Satoru looks over at his best friend out of the corner of his eye, eyes hard as if warning him not to give him away. 

“Is that so?”

“You know me, (Y/n),” he turns to you giddily. “I love to go outside the box.”

“Clearly,” you bite, and he only grins that same stupid grin. You understand now. It was all his idea, as always. “So then, where are you guys staying? Here in the city?”

“Actually, no,” Suguru grumbles.

“Satoru’s rented a place up in the Hamptons.”

“The Hamptons?” you reel at Shoko’s revelation. “That’s a two hour drive from here!”

“We know,” she and Suguru say in unison, and you look at Satoru accusingly.

“Why would you make that drive at this time of night?”

The white haired man rolls his eyes. “As if it’s so crazy to want to rent a car to drive down to the city.”

“On our first full day on vacation, yes. It is,” Suguru says.

“Well, I wanted to see Times Square.”

“Times Square is on the other side of the city.”

“Okay, and? We can’t make detours along the way?” Satoru argues sassily. “Plus, my decision to make a detour and stop in the closest neighborhood led us to our friend! You guys should really be thanking me for reuniting us all like this.”

You almost wish you can’t believe this, but sadly, you do. 

Satoru Gojo is the only person you know who has not only the means, but the funds, and the audacity to book a last minute trip to New York solely to disrupt your peace. You can tell by Suguru’s face that he is not keen on spending time in the city, for he had always told you about his pet peeve of large crowded areas with unsanitary conditions. New York is the last place he would want to be, and the only reason he would even find himself here is if his nuisance of a best friend forced him to be. 

While Shoko does not look bothered to be in the city at all, you know her very well. Shoko is low maintenance, but she likes to relax, to unwind, and she most likely much prefers the Hamptons and the beach over an impromptu drive into a city with no water or signs of relaxation.

And then there was Satoru, arrogant, hardly ever serious, and all too pleased with himself. He knows exactly what he is doing, showing up in the same part of the city you told your brown haired friend you would be residing in for the entirety of your stay. The pictures you have posted on social media hours ago likely led Satoru to this very spot, where he stands with an air of satisfaction and delight around him. 

You witness the way girls’ eyes linger as they walk by, his presence giving off that of a model’s. He clearly is not native to the city, for you all stand out like a sore thumb, but Satoru specifically gives off a vibe of untouchable refinement and value that not many have seen before. 

You hate him, how much attention he gets anywhere he goes, how he is so painfully aware of it. You hate how smug he looks, how pleased he appears to be in your presence after having shown up so unexpected. You hate him and those captivating round eyes complemented by snowy lashes glimpsing over round frames. You hate his irritating smile that prods into subtle indents of dimples in his lower chin and the stretch of pink lips that you catch yourself ogling at during the worst of times. You hate the way he dresses so well, how he stands confidently adorned in a loose, linen shirt and jeans, and how his clothing smells of him hand in hand with his intoxicating cologne.

You hate him. You hate him so much. You hate how he won’t leave you alone, not even for a second, not even when you think you’re safe. He returns to haunt you, to flaunt himself all around you with no regard for how he makes you feel. He’s a brat. A spoiled, self-concerned, childish brat who you love with all of your being and you hate him. 

“Since we’re all here,” Satoru begins slyly, interrupting your train of thought with a shrug. “Why don’t you show us where you’re staying, (Y/n)? For old time’s sake.”

You try to regulate your breathing before you actually find yourself punching the white haired bastard beside you in the face. First, he springs himself onto you in the middle of the street, and now, he’s asking to intrude on your space. What gives him the right?

“I don’t think (Y/n) would want us marching into her space like that,” Suguru says pensively, doing his best not to further agitate you. He must have already seen the look on your face and determined that it is time for him to drag Satoru away from you and give you some breathing room. “After all, you’re working here, aren’t you (Y/n)? We wouldn’t want to distract you anymore than we already have.”

“Nah, (Y/n) would love to have us! Right?” Satoru speaks for you, moving behind you to cup your shoulders into his palms again.

You tense, his scent consuming you and his body heat radiating into yours. He’s so tall, you can feel his body dwarfing yours from where he stands so close. 

You want to kill him. 

“Come on,” he probes, grip on your shoulders tightening. “Just this once and we’ll be out of your hair.”

You know it's a lie the moment he speaks it into existence. Never once has Satoru come and gone so easily when you were involved. He always ensures to make a show of his pestering, sticking around you for as long as possible until he finally decides that he is happy with himself. You know that if you agree to letting him in, he won’t leave. At least, not for a long while. 

“Leave her be, Satoru,” Shoko waves at him. “She’s sick of your face already.”

“No one could be sick of my face, Shoko. It’s a work of art.”

“For real, Satoru. Let’s get out of this city already. It smells horrible,” Suguru adds.

“Hold on a minute, would you? We’re not going anywhere until we hear a yes or no from (Y/n).. Don’t be so impatient.”

Satoru happily places the spotlight onto you as your friends await a response.

Your first instinct is to tell them that it is getting late, that they should probably start heading back soon so that they are not driving past an unreasonable hour. You want to rid yourself of the thought of Gojo, of his eyes, his smile, his smell, his presence. You want to tell him off, to tell him that you want him gone, to go about your week as if nothing has happened.

You want to find the strength to do so badly, but you can’t.

As you stand there with your friends surrounding you, looking at their faces, you realize that you have missed them despite your desire to avoid Gojo for selfish reasons. You miss late night study sessions with Suguru in his apartment while you exchange laughs as well as answers for problems you were unsure about. You miss sneaking off into secluded areas of the campus to spark a flame in the dusk with Shoko, smoking until you were inebriated enough to bang on Suguru and Satoru’s door and demand food. And most of all, you miss Satoru. You miss the way he pestered you, the way he showed up outside of your classes, the way he took your phone to sneak a few pictures into your camera roll, the way he lounged on your bed and ranted to you about his father for hours while you listened as you painted your nails at your desk. 

You miss his company. You miss the way he makes you laugh. You even miss the way he makes you frown. 

You hadn’t realized before how difficult it had been to keep your distance from these people until seeing them here with you, and a wave of guilt sinks over your body. Suguru and Shoko are clearly attempting to do damage control before damage is inflicted by urging Satoru to leave you be, and them along with him, but despite your eagerness to stay away from Satoru, you find you don’t want him to leave you be. You don’t want any of them to leave you be. You miss your friends, and to turn them away now would be like rejecting them forever.

The four of you are out of the country together for the first time. You would be cruel to waste this opportunity to spend time with them after weeks of trying to step away.

So you sigh and give in, knowing that it is exactly what Satoru wants. “It wouldn’t hurt to have you guys over,” you say shyly, and Suguru and Shoko perk up. “Hell, we’re in America. Why not? I missed you guys.”

Shoko smiles, and against Suguru’s distaste for the city, he smiles tiredly with the shake of his head. He can only imagine that this trip will go into a far more chaotic direction that he had already believed. 

Satoru rejoices loudly, linking his arm around yours and yanking you to him. “Alright, (Y/n)! Lead the way!” he projects, marching forward and pulling you along with him. You stumble to catch up with his large strides.

“Alright, alright, I’m coming! Just slow down, you idiot!” you bark as he drags you past Shoko and Suguru.

The two exchange glances, sharing the same knowing look, before following suit. 

The four of you stop to grab pizza and a few beers on the way before entering your AirBnB. After Satoru familiarizes himself with the entire space, nosily peering into every nook and cranny, the four of you settle in the living room to eat with the balcony door open, allowing the spring breeze and ambiance of the city to drift into the space while you all keeled over in laughter, reminiscing over the past few years you have spent in each other’s company. Hours fly by until two empty pizza boxes sit in the middle of the floor, forgotten by your boisterousness. 

“Wait, wait, wait, hold on,” Shoko wheezes with laughter, leaning over in her seat on the sofa she shares with Geto to put out the ashes of her cigarette into the mug on that table. “What about that time Satoru got plastered and tried to scale the side of the science building?”

You and Suguru burst out cackling. You crane over your lap and Suguru throws his head back, amusement overcoming your bodies. Satoru rolls his eyes, tilting back the beer in his hand to prevent you all from seeing his smile.

 “Oh my god,” you cry. “He- He was yelling at us- for trying to tell him that the bricks- were too flat for him to grab!” 

“And then he made it up like five inches before falling flat on his ass!”

The three of you howl at the memory, stomachs aching from how hard you are laughing. “And his face after,” Suguru adds, swiping his hand over his face. “He was pissed at us like we did something wrong.”

“Because it was your lack of faith that fucked up my concentration,” Satoru butts in after lowering the bottle from his lips, thumb smoothing away drops of alcohol from his mouth. “I bet you I can climb that old ass building now. I know what to expect this time. I’ll be prepared.” 

“Sure, and you’ll break a hip this time around too.”

Satoru flips Suguru off from across the room, to which the dark haired man smiles with feigned politeness. 

“God, we used to get drunk like every weekend,” you say, placing your empty bottle on the floor next to the pizza boxes. You sit sprawled out between the couch and the chair that Satoru occupies, legs crossed before you. “How the hell did we get anything done?”

“Beats me,” Shoko chuckles, cooling down from her fit of giggles. “I don’t think I went to one class sober back in freshman year.”

“That sounds to me like you have a problem,” Satoru smirks.

“And you don’t? You’re a lightweight who actively chooses to get wrecked off three shots then makes it everyone else’s problem.”

“Wouldn’t me being a lightweight mean I’m less addicted?” he leans over his spread legs, sitting his elbows on his knees as he cradles his beer in his large palms. 

“No, it means you’re worse than any of us,” you tease, looking over to find Satoru’s eyes already on you.

He raises a brow. “Oh yeah? What about you, miss ‘emotional drunk?’”

You can hear Suguru snort, and you’re whipping your head between the two, offended. “Shut up! I don’t get that emotional.”

“(Y/n), you are so sappy when you’re drunk,” Suguru snickers. “One minute you’re taking a shot, the next you’re crying about how much you appreciate our friendship.”

Your face goes red. “I do not!” you deny.

“Oh, yes you do,” Shoko agrees.

“‘You guys, I just don’t know what I’d do without you!’” Satoru imitates your voice by scaling his own up a pitch, pressing a hand to his chest to encapsulate a touched emotion. “‘You all make me so happy! I love you all so much!’”

“Shut up!” you demand, fighting a laugh as Shoko and Suguru stifle their own. 

“‘Satoru, I know I’m mean to you all the time, but I don’t mean it! I love having you around! You make me smile!’” he sighs dreamily, batting his eyelashes, and your friends are laughing loudly again.

You crawl over to where Satoru sits and slap his shin hard, to which he looks down at you and grins snarkily. “Ow.”

“I do not sound like that,” you argue.

“Sure you do. I should know, I'm the one you always ended up babbling to.”

“Liar,” you groan.

“Whatever you say,” Satoru taps your nose lightly with his finger and you quickly swat his hand away.

“Oh! Suguru, do you remember that time (Y/n) cried over your hair?” Shoko brings up. 

It’s their turn to make fun of you now as you cross your arms stubbornly and listen. 

“She told me that she was crying because she was happy for me that my hair is so long,” the hazel eyed man recalls. 

“I mean, who wouldn’t?” Satoru chimes in. “Suguru was blessed with such beautiful, luscious hair, who wouldn’t cry over it? Isn’t that right, (Y/n)?” 

“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” you murmur. “At least I’m kind when I’m drunk.”

All eyes immediately turn to Suguru, and he freezes, laughter dying in his throat. “What?”

“You’re a fucking asshole when you’re drunk, Sugu, that’s what,” Shoko says. 

“Oh please, I’m not that bad.” 

“Tell that to those girls you made cry at the bar last year.”

Suguru grunts, pursing his lips in embarrassment. “I told them I was sorry.”

“Doesn’t make you any less of a monster off vodka,” Satoru says, and Geto throws an arm pillow at the blue eyed man’s face. 

You smile to yourself, leaning back on your hands and looking out the window at the city lights. “This is nice,” you say aloud.

Suguru and Shoko hum in agreement while Satoru stands to his feet after putting his bottle on the floor. “Isn’t it?” he announces loudly in content. “Aren’t you glad you ran into us and invited us here?”

“You invited yourself here,” you correct with a roll of your eyes. “But yes, Satoru. Yes I am.”

“We’ve missed spending time with you, (Y/n),” Shoko says. “You left me alone to deal with these two idiots and all they do is fight.”

“Because Satoru doesn’t take anything seriously,” Geto adds.

“It’s only ‘cause I love ya, Suguru.”

“Shut the hell up.”

You chuckle, bringing your knees to your chest. You glance at your phone beside you and see that the time reads 1:34 am. You cringe, unsure of where the hell the time went. “Damn, it’s late,” you say.

Suguru glances at his own phone and his brows jump. “Oh shit, yeah,” he observes. “Sorry, (Y/n). Didn’t mean to take up your entire night.”

“No, no. It's fine, I’m actually really glad you did.”

Shoko stands, stretching her arms behind her back with a sigh. “So, we hittin’ the road or what?” 

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you in an instant, and you already know what he is going to suggest before he even opens his mouth to ask. You curse yourself internally because you know that you will regret proposing what you are about to propose, but you can’t bring yourself to watch your friends head out so late and drive two hours out to where they are staying.

Once again, Satoru’s decisions have become your problem. 

“Why don’t you guys just sleep over here for the night?” you suggest.

“...Are you sure?” Suguru questions. “I’m sure you’re busy tomorrow… and you’ve only been here one night.”

“It’s not a big deal. I meet with Aoto at ten tomorrow, so I’ll have plenty of time to get ready and see you guys off. Please, I wouldn’t forgive myself if I let Satoru drive you all back this late.”

“Aoto?”

“My research partner.”

“Ah,” Suguru nods, eyes flickering up swiftly to Satoru’s face before landing back on yours. “Well, if it’s not any trouble for you, we’d appreciate it.”

“Not at all. The four of us have had hundreds of sleepovers, this isn’t any different.”

“Alright, then. Thanks.”

The moment you stand up, Satoru is leaning himself against you, resting his heavy head on yours and squishing against your cheek. “You take such good care of us,” he coos, giggling when you try to push him away but struggle under his weight.

“Satoru, get off!”

The next twenty minutes fly as you spend them setting up the pullout in the living room (that you have only just discovered) and moving the coffee table to lay extra blankets and pillows next to the pullout. Suguru and Shoko take the bed while Satoru teases you about letting him sleep in the bed with you. You tell him to fuck off and he winks. 

Suguru and Shoko pass out within minutes, likely exhausted from Satoru pulling them along with him all day. You see Satoru setting himself up on the floor, taking off his glasses and setting them aside, when you sneak past quietly to step out onto the balcony.

You aren’t tired. Your mind is racing and your nerves are jumping with their awareness of Satoru sitting in your living room. You exhale softly, leaning over the railing and looking down at the still busy streets, watching taxis round corners aggressively and pedestrians chat loudly. You close your eyes, setting your arms on the rail and your cheek atop them, listening to the sounds and savoring the feeling of the cool night breeze against your flustered skin.

You soak in at least five minutes of silence before you hear feet padding behind you and the door opens and closes again. You lift your head and turn to find Satoru joining you. He walks up quietly and stands beside you, peering over the ledge in the same fashion you had as you avert your gaze. 

He does not say much, shockingly. Sleepiness is finally catching up to him as he looks down lazily, peacefully, unshaded blue eyes glossy beneath his long lashes. The soft distant lights of the street lamps illuminate his face with a dim glow while he hunches over, watching calmly. 

It is quiet between the two of you for a moment before he’s talking, a deep voice sending chills down your spine. “Do you like it here so far?” he asks softly, voice low.

You nod, pursing your lips and keeping your gaze down. “Yeah, it’s nice,” you tell him gently. “Really different from home, but nice. I like it.”

“I can see the appeal,” he agrees. “It’s busy like Tokyo.”

“Yeah, it is,” you nod. “I don’t think it’s Suguru’s style.”

A huff of amusement breathlessly leaves Satoru’s lips, the corners of his mouth curling. “It definitely isn’t. I had to practically drag him out of his room to get him to come with.”

“You know Suguru. He’s picky.”

“Very.”

“Shoko seems to be cool with the city though.”

“Mhm. There’s not much she doesn’t adapt to.”

“That’s true…” you mumble as a lull in the conversation arises. “...Satoru, why are you-“

“So what’s your research partner like?” he interjects, turning to look at you now. You furrow your brows, meeting his eyes when you face him. His face is serene, still, yet his eyes tell a different story. They’re alive with an eagerness for his question to be answered, a curiosity, a hint of frustration. You grow confused.

“…Why?”

He tilts his head. “I can’t ask about the person my friend is working with?”

“I- no, it’s just an abrupt question.”

“I don’t think it is,” he disagrees. “What’s his name again? Ayano?”

“Aoto,” you correct sharply.

“Right. So? How is he?”

His eyes don’t waver, and you pucker your lips with befuddlement. “I mean, he’s nice. I only just met him today, but I like him so far.”

“Yeah?” he says. “You must. I mean, you just met him and he’s already taking you to dinner.”

“…For work, Satoru. Dinner for work,” you say firmly, put off by his comment. “And he was being nice because I’ve never been in the city before.”

He nods and hums nonchalantly. “That makes sense,” he says, though you doubt he’s very understanding.

“Is there something wrong?”

“No, of course not,” he answered quickly. “It’s just, we haven’t talked in so long and you’re already…”

You leaned over on your elbow and turned to face him fully. “Already what?”

He smiles to himself and lowers his head, picking at his fingernails. “I don’t know,” he mumbles. “It’s just been weird, that’s all. I had to find you in America to get you to talk to me.”

A still silence settles in the air again as you stare at him, attempting to comprehend what is going through his mind. “Satoru,” you begin, and you almost think you see him jump when you say his name. “Why are you here?”

His eyes glance up ahead of him before back down at his hands over the railing. “I told you, already. For spring break.”

“You expect me to believe that of all places in the world, you chose to come to the same place that I told Shoko I was going?” you question and he only shrugs. “I’m not dumb, Satoru. You’ve always done this.”

“Done what?” his brows angle. 

“This,” you emphasize to yourself. “You always find ways to- to-“

“To what?” 

His eyes are on you again, vibrant, intense. You struggle to respond under the isolation of his gaze. “You know what I mean. It’s just what you do. You push your boundaries with people,” you say eventually. 

“Am I pushing a boundary with you by being here now?”

“I don’t know, Satoru, I just don’t think it’s a coincidence that you show up down the street from me in a completely different country.”

“But what if it is?”

“It’s not, though.”

“But if it is a coincidence, would you still be upset? Would you still be asking me why I’m here?” he questions. “Because I think you would.”

“The point here, Satoru, is that it’s not a coincidence and we both know it. That’s the only reason why I’m reacting this way.”

“So what I don’t understand, right,” Satoru starts and you can sense a tone of hostility creeping into his voice, though it remains mellow,” …is why it’s all of a sudden strange for me to want to spend time with you.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“But you’re so busy focusing on why I’m here instead of just the fact that I’m here.”

“Yeah, because I know you.”

“Do you?” 

You straighten yourself, trying to act as if his words did not sting. “What’s going on, huh? What’s the issue?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out, (Y/n). You stopped answering my calls and texts, you don’t hang out with me anymore, you leave the country without telling me…” he stops himself before he can go any further and turns to look down at you head on again. “Help me understand, did I do something wrong?”

You sigh and lower your gaze. “Satoru…”

“I just need to understand what happened between us. We’re friends, and all of a sudden you’re acting like we’re not. Even Suguru and Shoko see it, but you still talk to them more than you talk to me these days.”

“It’s not-“ you pause, trying to figure out what you want to say. You don’t want to talk about this right now. Not here, not with him. It’s too much for you to get into, especially so without revealing how you feel about him. “I’ve just been-“

“Busy?” he interjects, and you deflate.

“Yes, actually.”

“Okay,” he nods, ripping his eyes from you as if the sight of you temporarily blinded him. “I can handle you being busy, (Y/n), but I can’t handle being ignored. And you can’t tell me that you haven’t been doing just that.”

“I haven’t been ignoring you.”

“You’re lying.”

“No, I’m not,” you argue. “I’ve been giving myself space. It’s different.”

“But why do you need space from me? What did I do?”

“It’s nothing you did, per say, Satoru.”

“Okay, then why?” he pleads. “Why won’t you talk to me anymore? Why aren’t you happy to see me? If I haven’t done anything wrong, why have you pushed me away? If there’s nothing, then that would just mean that you chose to step away from me for no reason, and I refuse to believe that’s true.”

You can tell by the way he speaks that you have truly affected him by stepping away, affected him in a way you did not realize you had. 

You honestly didn’t think he would have cared either way if you had waned off your contact, but you were clearly very wrong. After all, like Satoru said, you’re his friend above anything else. 

He’s looking at you again, desperation swirling in his crystal irises. “So just tell me, (Y/n). Tell me what it is. What did I do? What can I do?”

You sigh, hardened exterior softening, because how could it not when he’s giving you those huge puppy dog eyes.

“If I hurt your feelings, I didn’t mean to,” you tell him. “That wasn’t why… I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to get you to apologize for something you knew you were doing, I just want to understand why,” he says gently. “But if you don’t want to tell me… I guess that’s fine. I can’t force it out of you. I just thought you should know that I’ve missed you.”

You feel your heart do that thing it does every time Satoru is around, and you melt slightly. “I missed you too.”

Then, he’s smiling again, as though he wasn’t just upset. Eyes bright and cheeks warm as he turns to you with a newfound warmth returning in his composure. “Did you really?” he inquires, bending over slightly and craning his neck down to you with a low lidded eyes and cheeky grin.

You scoff, pushing his head away and turning your head to the side. “Don’t push it.”

“Yes ma’am,” he teases. “But seriously though.”

He steps closer to you, eyes peering down at you with a soft gleam. You look up and stiffen as he nears further into your personal space, his hand gripping the rail as the other tucks into his pocket. 

“Don’t ignore me again,” he mutters, gaze piercing into yours. “Please.”

You stare at each other wordlessly, air bristling through your hair as an intensity swelters between you. You blink, swallowing nervously. “O-Okay. Sorry.”

He hums, a smile stretching over his face once more, and ducks down to wraps his arms tightly around your waist, hoisting you up in the air as he embraces you. You squeak, your arms grasping at his shoulder blades to steady yourself once you're off balance. “It’s okay, munchkin,” he squeezes you tightly. “I could never stay upset with you!” 

“Satoru, put me down!” you hiss, face flustering. 

He chuckles, setting you gently back down onto your feet. You put bashfully, straightening out your shirt as he looks at you sweetly. “Man, am I glad we made up. I would have done something crazy if this went on much longer.”

“Oh, you mean crazier than flying all the way to fucking New York?” you quip and he grins.

“I told you, I’m here for vacation. Not everything’s about you, you narcissist,” he says, and you can feel a vein bulging in your forehead. 

“Sure,” you grumble.

“Anyways, since we’re all already here, I think we’ll stay in the city one more day before heading back up to our place.”

You quirk a brow. “Um, you think Suguru is gonna be okay with that?”

“Not at all, but I’m the one driving, so he’ll have to be fine.”

You shake your head to yourself, laughing quietly. “He’s gonna kill you one of these days.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Satoru says, making his way over to the patio door. “Oh,” he stops and turns over his shoulder. “What’s your schedule like tomorrow?”

“Well, I told you, I have a meeting at ten.”

“Oh yeah, with Aromo.”

“Aoto.”

“Same thing,” he sighs loudly, turning his eyes up. “Whatever, either way, we should all hang when you’re done. You know, before we head back.”

“While that sounds fun, Satoru, I’m here for research. I’m not sure I'll have much free time.”

“Right, like you’ll be doing work all day,” he says sarcastically.

“...Yeah. I might be,” you repeat with a straight face. 

“Uh huh. So, we’ll see you at one?”

“Wh- Satoru, I have to check with-”

“Great! Text us and we’ll meet you wherever you are when you’re finished,” he cuts in, not even allowing the word no to hit his ears. 

“No! Satoru-”

“Good night, beautiful,” he blows a dramatic kiss, swinging the door open. He reduces his voice to a whisper, mindful of his sleeping friends on the pullout behind him. “See you in the morning~” he wiggles his fingers in a dainty wave before leaving the balcony and shutting the door behind him, plopping himself down on his makeshift bed after making his way around the couch. 

You look after him in agitation, finding yourself alone and processing what Satoru has just said to you, the way he looked at you as he begged to understand why you took steps away from your friendship, the warmth of his arms as you held you tight, the gleam in his eye when he asked you not to ignore him. You shiver as the moments replay in your head, making you wonder how things have come to this. 

You sigh and turn back around to look out at the city one last time before turning into bed. It’s going to be a long week. 

[shitsndgiggs]

THE SECRET IS OUT - LAMINE YAMAL

In which a secret comes out when Spain won the euros

Lamine Yamal x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

As the clock hit the 86th minute, Mikel Oyarzabal found himself perfectly positioned, meeting Marc Cucurella’s cross with precision.

He tapped the ball past Jordan Pickford, giving Spain a crucial 2-1 lead. The Spanish fans erupted in joy, their cheers filling the Berlin night.

The remaining minutes of regular time were a blur of frantic action. England pushed forward desperately, seeking an equalizer, but Spain’s defense held firm.

The tension was palpable, every second stretching out as the Spanish team fought to maintain their lead.

Finally, the referee blew the whistle, signaling the end of the match and confirming Spain’s victory. The stadium exploded with celebration.

The awards ceremony began shortly after the final whistle. England’s players were the first to step up, receiving their silver medals with a look of disappointment etched on their faces.

The applause was respectful, acknowledging their hard-fought journey to the final.

Next, it was Spain’s turn. The atmosphere was electric as the Spanish team lined up to receive their gold medals.

Each player beamed with joy as the medals were placed around their necks, the culmination of their hard work and determination.

Among the accolades, Lamine Yamal was called forward to receive the Young Player of the Tournament trophy.

His face lit up with a mixture of surprise and pride as he accepted the award, the crowd cheering loudly in recognition of his outstanding performances throughout the tournament.

As he held the trophy aloft, his teammates clapped him on the back, their cheers echoing in the stadium.

With medals around their necks and trophies in hand, the Spanish team gathered together for the ultimate prize.

The Euro 2024 trophy gleamed under the stadium lights as the captain lifted it high above his head. The team erupted in joyous celebration, the iconic sight of confetti raining down on the champions.

“Come on, let's join them,” Lamine's mother said, pulling me towards the pitch.

We made our way down, weaving through the throngs of ecstatic fans and media.

The field was a scene of pure jubilation. Spanish players were embracing, jumping, and shouting in celebration.

Lamine spotted us and broke away from his teammates, sprinting towards his family. He enveloped his mother in a tight hug, lifting her off the ground, his laughter ringing out.

“Lamine, you were incredible!” I shouted over the noise, my voice barely reaching him.

He turned to me, his eyes sparkling with happiness. “Thank you! This is unreal!” He pulled me into a hug, his grip strong and full of elation.

We had kept our relationship a secret for months, fearing the scrutiny that could come with it.

But in this moment, Lamine's happiness overflowed, and he didn't seem to care who saw us. He leaned in, pressing a kiss to my forehead, and then another to my cheek.

"You're my good luck charm," he whispered, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

I laughed, feeling the weight of secrecy lift ever so slightly. "Looks like I have to come to all your games now."

"Deal," he said, his eyes twinkling. "But seriously, thank you for being here."

“You really outdid yourself,” I said, my voice a mix of pride and amazement.

“I couldn’t have done it without knowing you all were here,” he replied, his smile never fading.

Then, in a move that made my heart skip a beat, Lamine took his gold medal from around his neck and placed it over mine. “This is for you, mi amor,” he said, his eyes holding mine. I could barely respond, the gesture leaving me overwhelmed.

As the celebration continued, we stayed close, Lamine occasionally placing a hand on my back or holding my hand briefly, his joy making it impossible for him to keep his distance.

The other players were too engrossed in their own celebrations to notice much, but a few teammates gave us knowing smiles and nods, supportive in their silence.

"Lamine, come on, we need you for the team photo!" one of his teammates called out.

He squeezed my hand one last time before joining his team, looking back at me with a smile that promised many more shared moments.

As he stood with his teammates, the cameras flashing, I couldn't help but feel proud, not just of his achievement, but of the bond we had managed to keep strong through it all.

The night was filled with laughter, hugs, and endless photos. The Spanish team celebrated their victory, but for Lamine and me, it was also a moment to share our joy and love with the world.

Our secret was out, and it felt perfect.

[heartysworld]

A Champion's Proposal | Lando Norris x Reader

W.C.: 2.5k

Reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated! Feel free to send requests! 🧡

Masterlist

"Lando Norris rounds the final corner in Monaco, the roar of the crowd almost deafening. It's been a long and arduous journey for the young Brit, facing countless challenges and setbacks. But today, all the hard work, all the perseverance, has finally paid off.

The checkered flag waves as Norris crosses the finish line, and the realization hits – Lando Norris has won the Monaco Grand Prix! What a moment, what a triumph!

This isn't just a win; it's a testament to Lando's incredible spirit and determination. From his karting days to this very moment, every lap, every turn, every sacrifice has led to this unforgettable victory. He's conquered the streets of Monaco, a feat that many drivers dream of but few achieve!"

The atmosphere at the Yas Marina Circuit in Abu Dhabi was electric. The crowd erupted into cheers as Lando Norris crossed the finish line, securing his first Formula 1 World Championship. The roar of the engines mixed with the jubilant cries of fans and team members, creating a symphony of victory. Lando could hardly believe it. He had finally achieved his lifelong dream.

You stood in the McLaren garage, your heart pounding with excitement and pride. The energy around you was palpable, and you could barely contain your joy as you watched Lando bring his car to a stop. This was the moment he had worked so hard for, and you felt incredibly proud of him. You've spent over a decade supporting him in every step towards this exact moments. All the sad and happy tears the two of you had shed over the years were finally worth it.

As Lando climbed out of his car, he wasted no time and ran straight towards his team, and you watched as they congratulated him with high-fives and hugs. Soon, he was hoisted onto someone's shoulders, a huge grin on his face. You couldn't help but smile, your heart swelling with love for your boyfriend who had just achieved his life-long dream.

Lando was then ushered towards the podium for the trophy ceremony. The crowd roared as he took his place on the top step, the gold medal around his neck.

Your teary eyes met his as he searched the crowd of the McLaren team. You mouthed an "I love you" which he seemed to understand quite well as he mouthed back to you "I love you too". You watched with tears in your eyes as the British national anthem played, your heart bursting with pride.

After the anthem, the champagne celebration began. Lando, along with the second and third-place finishers, shook their bottles and sprayed the fizzy liquid everywhere. The sight of Lando, drenched and laughing, made you laugh too. It was a moment of pure joy and triumph.

Once the celebrations on the podium were over, Lando was whisked away for interviews. You watched from the sidelines as he spoke to the media, his face glowing with happiness. His words were full of gratitude for his team, his fans, and for you. He mentioned you several times, and each time, your heart skipped a beat.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Lando made his way back to the garage. He looked at you with that signature smile, the one that always made your heart flutter. Seconds later your body crashed against his as you two finally let it all out. Wrapped around each other's arms you kissed passionately, smiling against Lando's lips as your tears mixed in the kiss. His hands were gripping your waist as if there's no tomorrow, holding his favorite person in the whole entire universe and not wanting to ever let go.

After the high emotions worse off you separated your body from his, finally looking at his teary eyes that sparkled with a type of emotion you've never seen before from him.

"Congratulations, world champion. I am so proud of you." You said as you reached for his cheek, laying s gentle peck on the warm skin of his face.

His bright smile appeared second later as he kissed your forehead. Even though Lando was feeling emotional there was still something very important that he had to do. And that made him nervous, so nervous he barely found words to speak.

"Thank you baby. I love you so much, I couldn't have done it without your support. Thank you thank you thank you." Lando said, burying his head between your neck and collarbone, breathing in the nice floral smell of your perfume that made him go crazy every time his nose caught it in the air around.

You stood there, one of your hands buried in his messy curls that you adored so much while the other hugged Lando around his waist.

A few moments later you boyfriend spoke again, his voice quiet, coming from his hiding spot next to your neck.

"Y/N, there's something I want to show you," Lando said, his eyes sparkling with excitement as he looked at you. "Come, sit in the car."

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, but you complied, taking his hand as he helped you slide into the driver's seat of his race car. This was something unusual as he'd never done this before or even suggested it. You even though it was forbidden as it might seem as tampering with the car in the steward's eyes.

The seat felt surprisingly comfortable, yet alien. You had always admired the car from a distance, never imagining yourself inside it. Around you, the mechanics and team members exchanged knowing smiles.

"What's going on, Lando?" you asked, your heart pounding. You looked around both confused and worried. Being the center of attention wasn't exactly your favorite thing.

Lando stepped back, when suddenly, Max appeared out of nowhere holding the large sign which they use to announce their driver's finish positions. You squinted,trying to read it as Max slowly lifted it above his head so that the halo wouldn't be in your line of sight. The sign read, in bold letters: "WILL YOU MARRY ME?"

Your breath caught in your throat, your shaking hands flying to your mouth as tears welled up in your eyes. You looked back at Lando, who was now kneeling beside the car, a small red,velvet box in his hand.

"Baby, you are my rock, my best friend, and my greatest love and supprter," Lando said, his voice trembling with emotion as his own eyes got teary. "winning the championship means the world to me, but none of it compares to how much I love you. Will you marry me?"

Tears were streaming down your face by the time he finished talking as you nodded vigorously. "Yes! Yes, Lando, of course, I will!"

Everyone around started clapping and congratulating the newly engaged couple.

The crowd, having caught on to what was happening thanks to the live broadcast, erupted into cheers once more. The commentators, caught up in the moment, couldn't contain their excitement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, not only has Lando Norris won his first World Championship today, but he's also just proposed to his girlfriend! And she said yes! What a moment!"

Lando stood up, pulling you out of the car and straight into his arms. He slipped the ring onto your finger, and you shared a kiss that was broadcasted to millions of viewers around the world. The world seemed to fade away as you lost yourself in the moment, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the softness of his lips.

Max, still holding the sign, laughed and joined in the celebrations. "Congratulations, you two! Looks like we have a double win today!"

The entire McLaren team gathered around, clapping and cheering for you and Lando. Surrounded by friends and teammates, you felt the warmth of their love and the joy of your shared moment. The ring on your finger sparkled under the bright lights of the garage, a perfect symbol of the new chapter you were about to begin together.

As the celebrations continued, Lando looked deeply into your eyes, waiting for your reaction to the stunt he just pulled, his heart full.

"I can't wait to spend the rest of my life with you, Y/N."

"And I can't wait to spend mine with you, Lando," you replied, your smile brighter than ever. "It is very much your style, this whole thing. But that's one of the many reasons I love you." You said as you pecked his cheek once again.

In the midst of victory and love, Lando Norris's proposal had become a moment that neither you nor the world would ever forget. The memories of this day would be etched into your hearts forever, a beautiful beginning to your life together.

[nayziiz]

Bubbles | OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Author's note: Again, shorter than I intended. Please send through your thoughts, suggestions, and requests!

Masterlist

She and Oscar attend Lando’s lavish New Year’s Eve party. Before the clock strikes midnight, Lando shoves a bottle into your hand and one into Oscar’s hand. When the clock does strike midnight, they kiss and then blow bubbles like the little kids they are. Oscar simply smiles at her as she goes around blowing bubbles at everyone.

The grandeur of the occasion was palpable from the moment they stepped foot into Lando's Monte Carlo apartment. Every detail was meticulously planned, from the shimmering decorations adorning the walls to the exquisite floral arrangements that adorned every corner. The air was filled with the tinkling of champagne glasses and the lively chatter of the guests, all dressed to the nines in their most glamorous attire.

As they made their way through the throng of partygoers, she couldn't help but be captivated by the sheer splendour of it all. The room seemed to sparkle with an infectious energy, and she felt herself swept up in the excitement of the festivities.

Oscar, ever the charming companion, guided her through the crowd with ease.

As they navigated through the bustling crowd, Oscar's shy smile was a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere surrounding them. He made a concerted effort to find a quieter corner where they could relax and settle in for the evening. Among the sea of guests, Lando's vibrant presence stood out like a beacon, effortlessly gliding through the party, engaging with one person after another.

Suddenly, Lando's trajectory shifted as he caught sight of Oscar and his girlfriend. With an exuberant grin, he veered towards them, his energy infectious as he enveloped Oscar in a jovial embrace.

“Ah, you came!” Lando exclaimed, his voice carrying over the din of the party as he wrapped an arm around Oscar's shoulder. Oscar, slightly flustered by the sudden attention, chuckled softly before introducing her to Lando.

“This is Y/N,” he said, his voice tinged with warmth. She smiled politely, feeling a twinge of embarrassment at the introduction.

“We’ve met, Osc, multiple times,” Lando cackled, his laughter ringing out before he was pulled away by another guest, leaving Oscar and her to exchange amused glances.

Despite the brief interaction, she couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Lando, his infectious laughter lingering in the air even as he disappeared into the crowd once more. And as she turned to Oscar, she couldn't suppress a smile, grateful to be sharing this moment with him amidst the whirlwind of Lando's lavish New Year's Eve party.

As the final moments of the year dwindled away, Lando, the consummate host, embarked on another circuit of his lavish apartment, ensuring that every guest was ready to welcome the new year in style. It was during this round that he once again found himself in the company of Oscar and his girlfriend.

With a mischievous glint in his eye, Lando produced two bottles of soapy liquid, the promise of joy and whimsy evident in their frothy contents. Handing one to each of them, he grinned expectantly before drifting off to spread his infectious enthusiasm elsewhere.

As the countdown to midnight commenced, Oscar pulled her closer, the anticipation of the impending moment palpable in the air. The room buzzed with excitement as the seconds ticked away, each one bringing them closer to the dawn of a new year.

And then, amidst the collective cheers and jubilation of the crowd, the clock struck twelve, marking the birth of a new beginning. In that fleeting moment, enveloped in a shimmering cascade of bubbles and the warmth of each other's embrace, they shared a tender kiss—a silent vow to greet the future hand in hand, come what may.

As the euphoria of the midnight kiss subsided, she felt a surge of playful energy coursing through her veins, ignited by the bubbles clutched in her hands. With a mischievous glint in her eye, she pulled away from Oscar's embrace, embarking on a whimsical journey that carried her through the labyrinthine corridors of Lando's opulent apartment.

With each exhalation, she released a flurry of iridescent bubbles into the air, their delicate forms dancing on invisible currents, casting prisms of light across the room. And to her delight, she found herself accompanied by a merry band of fellow revellers, their laughter mingling with the soft pop of bursting bubbles as they joined her in this impromptu escapade.

Oscar watched on, his smug smile betraying a sense of pride as he witnessed her unbridled joy, her laughter echoing like music in the air. Amidst the throng of guests, she moved with an effortless grace, her infectious enthusiasm drawing others into her orbit, if only for a fleeting moment.

And as she laughed and chatted with her newfound companions, Oscar couldn't help but marvel at the way she effortlessly embraced the spirit of the evening, allowing her inner child to roam free in a world of bubbles and laughter. In that moment, surrounded by the shimmering spectacle of Lando's lavish party, they shared a silent understanding—a reminder that sometimes, the simplest moments hold the most profound beauty.

“I like her,” Lando commented. “Keep her around. She’s good for you.”

Lando's words cut through the festive din, his voice carrying a sincerity that resonated deeply with Oscar. Pausing for a moment to take in the scene unfolding before them, he nodded in silent agreement, a sense of gratitude swelling within him.

“Yeah,” Oscar replied, a soft smile playing at the corners of his lips as he watched her twirl amidst the bubbles, her laughter like a beacon of light in the darkness. “I think I'll keep her.”

There was a warmth in his voice, a certainty born from the knowledge that he had found something truly special in her. And as he turned his gaze back to Lando, he couldn't help but feel a surge of appreciation for the unwavering support of his friend.

“I think you're right. She's more than just good for me—she's everything I never knew I needed,” he said, his words laced with genuine emotion.

[reasonsforhope]

"On a blustery day in early March, the who’s who of methane research gathered at Vandenberg Space Force Base in Santa Barbara, California. Dozens of people crammed into a NASA mission control center. Others watched from cars pulled alongside roads just outside the sprawling facility. Many more followed a livestream. They came from across the country to witness the launch of an oven-sized satellite capable of detecting the potent planet-warming gas from space. 

The amount of methane, the primary component in natural gas, in the atmosphere has been rising steadily over the last few decades, reaching nearly three times as much as preindustrial times. About a third of methane emissions in the United States occur during the extraction of fossil fuels as the gas seeps from wellheads, pipelines, and other equipment. The rest come from agricultural operations, landfills, coal mining, and other sources. Some of these leaks are large enough to be seen from orbit. Others are miniscule, yet contribute to a growing problem.

Identifying and repairing them is a relatively straightforward climate solution. Methane has a warming potential about 80 times higher than carbon dioxide over a 20-year period, so reducing its levels in the atmosphere can help curb global temperature rise. And unlike other industries where the technology to decarbonize is still relatively new, oil and gas companies have long had the tools and know-how to fix these leaks.

MethaneSAT, the gas-detecting device launched in March, is the latest in a growing armada of satellites designed to detect methane. Led by the nonprofit Environmental Defense Fund, or EDF, and more than six years in the making, the satellite has the ability to circle the globe 15 times a day and monitor regions where 80 percent of the world’s oil and gas is produced. Along with other satellites in orbit, it is expected to dramatically change how regulators and watchdogs police the oil and gas industry...

A couple hours after the rocket blasted off, Wofsy, Hamburg, and his colleagues watched on a television at a hotel about two miles away as their creation was ejected into orbit. It was a jubilant moment for members of the team, many of whom had traveled to Vandenberg with their partners, parents, and children. “Everybody spontaneously broke into a cheer,” Wofsy said. “You [would’ve] thought that your team scored a touchdown during overtime.”

The data the satellite generates in the coming months will be publicly accessible — available for environmental advocates, oil and gas companies, and regulators alike. Each has an interest in the information MethaneSAT will beam home. Climate advocates hope to use it to push for more stringent regulations governing methane emissions and to hold negligent operators accountable. Fossil fuel companies, many of which do their own monitoring, could use the information to pinpoint and repair leaks, avoiding penalties and recouping a resource they can sell. Regulators could use the data to identify hotspots, develop targeted policies, and catch polluters. For the first time, the Environmental Protection Agency is taking steps to be able to use third-party data to enforce its air quality regulations, developing guidelines for using the intelligence satellites like MethaneSAT will provide. The satellite is so important to the agency’s efforts that EPA Administrator Michael Regan was in Santa Barbara for the launch as was a congressional lawmaker. Activists hailed the satellite as a much-needed tool to address climate change. 

“This is going to radically change the amount of empirically observed data that we have and vastly increase our understanding of the amount of methane emissions that are currently happening and what needs to be done to reduce them,” said Dakota Raynes, a research and policy manager at the environmental nonprofit Earthworks. “I’m hopeful that gaining that understanding is going to help continue to shift the narrative towards [the] phase down of fossil fuels.”

With the satellite safely orbiting 370 miles above the Earth’s surface, the mission enters a critical second phase. In the coming months, EDF researchers will calibrate equipment and ensure the satellite works as planned. By next year [2025], it is expected to transmit reams of information from around the world."

-via Grist, April 7, 2024

[maiochiruhanabiraaa]

VICTORY (Pedri Gonzàles.)

Summary: Pedri and you celebrating a big win at the Camp Nou stadium. He expresses gratitude for your support, and you share a tender kiss as the stadium lights illuminate the magical atmosphere.

⚽

In the heart of Barcelona, the Camp Nou stadium erupted with jubilation as FC Barcelona secured a decisive victory against their fierce rivals. The air was electric with the cheers of fans and the triumphant chants echoing through the stands. Among the sea of passionate supporters, you and Pedri stood side by side, caught up in the exhilaration of the moment.

Pedri, with his eyes sparkling with pride and excitement, turned to you amidst the celebrations. His joy was contagious, and you couldn't help but share in his elation as he hugged you tightly.

"Can you believe it?" he exclaimed, his voice filled with disbelief and delight. "What a game!"

You laughed joyously, feeling the warmth of his embrace and the rush of emotions that came with witnessing such a thrilling match.

Pedri's dedication and skill on the field had been instrumental in securing the victory, and seeing him shine among his teammates filled you with immense pride.

As the celebrations continued around you, Pedri took your hand and led you onto the pitch, where the grass still bore the marks of the intense battle that had unfolded. The stadium lights bathed everything in a soft, golden glow, casting a magical aura over the scene.

"I couldn't have done it without you," Pedri said earnestly, his gaze never leaving yours.

"Your support means everything to me."

Moved by his words, you leaned in and kissed him tenderly, the sweet taste of victory lingering in the air around you. In that moment, amidst the echoes of triumph and the shared passion for football, you felt an unbreakable bond between you and Pedri, strengthened by the highs and lows of the game they loved.

As you stood together on the hallowed ground of Camp Nou, surrounded by the echoes of victory and the love that had blossomed between you, you knew that this night would be etched forever in your memories as a celebration of both footballing triumph and the beginning of a beautiful journey together.

[plum-writes]

Black Noir x Piano!Player!Reader

Summary: Black Noir is known for having a knack of taking over the piano when anyone from your agency is sent to play for Vought. You’ve been warned of this, and although you have played for Vought before, you’ve never come across the mysterious hero. Something you are very grateful for. But your luck can only last for so long.

A/n: this baby doesn’t get enough love so I had to write something xx

Your fingers were on autopilot as they played the music for the prestigious party. Your ears mindlessly listened to the gossip and conversations around you as you played. The music was rather somber, the conversations consisting of information you’d rather not ever know, and no one was really paying attention otherwise to the notes you played. No one ever did, really.

The music at these Vought parties served as a filler. It was there to ward off any awkward moments, and fill a light vibe in the air between the many governing officials that more or less put up fake appearances when interacting with each other. It was just background noise to the dull, materialistic atmosphere that surrounded the party. You had done this same routine every time you were scheduled to play for Vought, and almost every time things went the same.

You got hired to play at a party by Vought for 5 hours, sitting all night long at the piano, and had a 30 minute break in between your hours. The same routine you followed whenever you were booked by Vought. No one came to check up on you throughout the party, or really make sure you were playing the music, and you were in charge of making sure you didn’t skip your break.

So it wouldn’t hurt to kick things up a bit now, would it? Not like anyone would notice, or more likely care, would they?

Your fingers fluidly transferred the slow melody into an upbeat one, your hands now dancing over the keys instead of gliding over them, a jubilant tune washing over the party. You let a little smile break your professional exterior, and your rod straight posture used when playing, relaxed slightly. As expected, no one turned around at the change of the music, too invested in their conversations to notice or care. And a little selfishly, you preferred it this way.

You played on and on, taking this opportunity to practice some music you had been rehearsing on your downtime, those moments being the only times where you spared a glance towards Madelyn Stilwell and the other Vought officials, seeing if they noticed you weren’t playing the pieces of music they requested of you. Of course, they didn’t even so much as twitch their heads in your direction, and your posture relaxed some more, this comfort allowing you to play the unapproved music for longer than what was allowed. But no harm, no foul right? No one noticed you going off script, so why not take advantage. If only you knew about the hidden eyes that were watching you from the shadows.

After about an hour of passing the time indulging yourself, you fell into the light flow of music again and went back to the scheduled sheets of music. You huffed slightly, a little disappointed at having to quit the lively tunes, but keeping the self satisfied little smile plastered on your face as you played on. After all, you couldn’t deny how good it felt to play something else other than the same 12 melodies.

So yet again, you fell into the muscle memory of the notes, eyes glazing over in the disassociation that came with doing a repetitive action, mindlessly humming the notes lowly to yourself. So blissfully oblivious and unassuming of your surroundings at the time. So when looking back at this moment in the future, you would want to slap yourself for not noticing the approaching figure that had snuck up next to you. Because you really should’ve with how many times you had been warned.

You quickly choked on your hum when you felt the weight of someone else sit down next to you on the bench, and your ghost of a smile immediately vanished when you spotted the black combat boots placed closely to your own black professional shoes.

You knew exactly who it was.

How couldn’t you?

He was somewhat infamous to you piano players who were always scheduled for Vought. The many tales of Black Noir’s taking over the piano when someone was playing for the party was one too many. Thomas, a man who played for Vought more than you, warned you many times about Black Noir’s tendencies.

“Aye, he has a knack for sitting down next to you, and just waiting for you to leave.”

You swallowed to yourself now, hating how you were in the same position right this second, your body quickly feeling a buzz that urged you to run. The only thing stopping you was the memory of the next words Thomas had told you.

“Don’t fight him on the piano if it ever happens to you, lass.” His face was uncharacteristically serious, dulled down with a grim expression, his Scottish accent losing the playful hitch it always had. It scared you a bit, quite honestly, never having seen Thomas act this way.

You had tilted your head at Thomas then, looking down, and thinking about it at the time. Of course, you would never fight Noir on the piano if he had ever done what he had done to every other piano player that played for Vought. You were so scared of the advantage supes had on you that you equated fighting any average C-List supe to fighting Homelander. But the way Thomas talked about it, holding a more serious tone rather than a bitter one of having to give away their working time just cause a supe demanded gave you a more chilling feeling than anything about them.And when Thomas had continued, it just solidified your thoughts.

“It doesn’t matter if he butts in just two hours after you started playing, and you don’t get paid for the rest of the night- It’s better not to cause any problems at Vought, lassie.”

God, did you ever agree with Thomas right now more than you ever have before.

You were tense, so tense next to Back Noir, playing with a rigid frame, and resolutely keeping your eyes on the sheet of music in front of you even though you didn’t even need to read it. Your heart was beating fast and you wondered minutely if he could hear it before scratching that thought out of your brain, and finishing the rest of the notes of the melody. The keys faded out, the music slowly dying, and you rested your hands on the keys for a few more moments after the song ended before raising them up. There was another beat of silence as you sat impeccably still, and his eyes burned the side of your face.

You turned towards him with a stiff neck, heart jumping at seeing him already looking at you. It made your hands tremble, and you clenched yours fists tight as you forced the words out of your mouth as you gestured to the piano with a small flick of your eyes. “I- it’s all yours, sir.”

You got up, trying not to make it obvious that you were in a haste to leave and at the same time trying to get the fuck away from him as fast as possible, but a gloved hand gripping your wrist had you paralyzed again.

Your breath stopped. Why? You screamed to yourself. This never happened to anyone else, Black Noir always let them leave without any struggle, what is so different about now??

You gave a trembling gasp, and turned towards Black Noir calmly. You gave him what you hoped was an inquisitive look, but you knew yourself too well to know it was anything but. Especially because he was looking at you dead in the eyes, his black mask creating an unnerving stare that you tried your best to meet. Your head snapped down at his hand that gently placed a little piece of paper on the piano keys.

‘keep playing’

You felt your breath slowly release itself, and you looked towards him again. He was still staring at you in the same way as before, but this time you felt a little less threatened.

It’s okay, it’s okay, he didn’t threaten you, and there’s too many witnesses for him to do something, right?

After a few moments of calming yourself you slowly nodded at him, your once fleeting stance relaxing some. He released his hold on your wrist, and you turned towards the keys immediately with a seat, sitting down a few more inches away from him. Your body felt a bit more grounded, and face turning more composed. Your heart was still racing, but one glance towards the person next to you let you know that he could honestly care less about that. Just play, that’s all you have to do and then he’ll leave you alone. With another deep breath that you would later chastise yourself for being so obvious, your hands started pressing down on the keys, and you resumed playing the songs Vought gave you. Though, the melody hardly went past the first eight notes because you quickly stopped when a hand reached out to grab your wrist again, this time harder to stop your from playing. You abruptly stopped with a fearful gasp, and harsh press of the keys that had some people glancing over before they looked away again.

You internally screamed to yourself, knowing that if Noir suddenly decided that he didn’t want to be so calm, no one would come to your help. You don’t allow yourself to know much about supes, but you know that they get away with almost anything.

Your head snapped up at him, and you couldn’t even hide the fear written all over your face if you tried. He placed another note next to your hands.

‘Play what you were playing before’

What the fuck? You desperately thought to yourself, immediately racking your brain for what he could mean. Is he talking about the song I played before he told me to sit back down-?

‘Not the Vought songs Play from before’

You had a look of realization on your face before you looked up at him again. He was looking at you straight in the eyes, and you felt your cheeks flush for just a second.

He heard you playing your other songs??

You felt like crawling under a rock, because dammit you thought no one had noticed you indulging in your guilty pleasure of being unnoticed at these parties to stray off script- something that would surely get you in the hot seat since Vought was notorious to always making sure everyone was sticking to directions. Instead, you swallowed the newfound terror stick in your throat and, nodded once again and turned back to the keys.

You were still so tense, your heart was still beating against your chest like a sledgehammer and you felt the weight of Black Noir’s presence weighing so heavily on your head that it felt impossible to play right now. But even so, you forced yourself to.

Your hands started dancing over the keys again, and the only reprieve you felt in this suffocating situation was that you had to focus more intently on the notes since they came from memory, and it helped you ignore the person sitting next to you. As time passed, you got more and more comfortable, and you eventually fell into a steady rhythm, transitioning into the different melodies with more emotion now. Everything started to feel a bit more natural, and a little less forced.

Next to you, you noticed how Noir leaned his head back slightly, sitting up almost as rod straight as you were, hands resting on his thighs as he slightly swayed his head to the music. You could see him tapping his fingers along to the notes on his thighs, almost as if he were playing on the keys and not you. He was listening to the music. He was listening to you play the music.

It made you more nervous than you’d like to feel right now.

Especially when people started now glancing at you two.

You could imagine the picture you two made, with Noir clearly enjoying the music with a lax posture, and you with your rigid one, fingers flying over the keys with your pale face. You would’ve laughed with how comical and absurd this all was if you weren’t solely involved in this.

You’re grateful when Madelyn Stillwell comes over and puts on her PR smile, informing Black Noir that he is needed for a charity event, notably meeting your eyes when she says this.

Yes, yes, take him. I won’t keep him from you.

You keep playing as she tells him, just lightly pressing down on the keys so as to not play over their conversation, eyes resolutely staying away from them. You do feel Black Noir turn towards you, his eye grazing your side profile, and you try not to look up once again.

“C’mon, Noir. I’m sure you’ll see her very soon again, we don’t want to bother her any longer.” Madelyn’s voice carry’s over you like a cold chill, making you shudder and clench your jaw even tighter.

She talks about you like you’re not even there, and she talks to Noir like a child- no. More like a dog, you conclude. Her mother knows best tone grates on your nerves, and you can hear the demanding undertone it carry’s when she talks to him.

You don’t know why you feel for him at this moment, why you feel for all supes that have to always be on a tight schedule for publicity. It doesn’t last long when you remember they’re supes and will always have more privileges than you and everyone else you know.

So you’re not too torn up when Noir gets up, and turns to follow Ms. Stillwell. They both leave you alone at the piano, playing with tense fingers and not even bothering to care about the timing you come in nor about how you press the keys too harshly and lightly at some points. You’re finally able to breathe, able to relax without a killing machine sitting next to you.

You’d say you’re allowed some leverage on your poor playing.

You sneak a look at the clock on your wrist, and finally let out your shuddering sigh of relief.

Only two more hours, and you can go home.

Only two more hours.

*

Once the two hour mark hits, you’re closing up with a small, light melody. One that you admittedly rush through, and as soon as the last note hits, you don’t wait for it to reverberate all the way before you’re closing the lid of the piano and getting up. You push in the bench, and straighten your work suit as you rush to the exit doors.

You walk briskly to it, smiling quickly, and nodding your appreciation to the few people who half meaninglessly praise your playing. You open the doors of the room with a desperate push, greeting the muted hallway like it’s your savior.

You feel so much better already.

You go to the elevator, and as the doors are closing you don’t know why you expect Black Noir to come out at this moment, but you do. You’ve been feeling it ever since he sat down next to you, expecting him to influence a preemptive event after all this, and you wait with baited breath as the doors close. Your stomach is turning in anxiety and fear, and you’re just waiting for the moment he comes in and- shit, you don’t even know- kill you or something. It’s something you’d most expect to happen at these Vought parties.

You were paid to much attention to to not have something happen, right?

The doors close without any interruption, though, and you go down to the bottom floor alone without anything happening. You immediately walk outside when you reach your designated floor, not wanting to push your luck. You don’t heed the front desk clerk who is wishing you a good night, feeling a bit rude but needing to get home as soon as possible.

You get in your car and practically race home, driving a little over the speeding limit, and swerving your turns. When you reach your house, the porch light still on, and nothing looking too disturbed, you park in the driveway and sit in your car for a few moments in the dark.

This is when you feel like you can breathe.

*

When you wake up the next morning, you feel a bit better. When you had came home last night you reasoned to yourself that things weren’t really as bad as it had felt in the moment. I mean, Noir could’ve done a lot worse, couldn’t he? And he would’ve if he wanted to surely, maybe he just really liked your playing and that’s why he decided to stay by your side for who knows how long. You got lucky, luckier than most anyone you knew.

So when you sit at your table, little dog rubbing by your feet, and a steaming cup of coffee blowing against your face, you don’t feel lucky when you open your phone and see new text messages in your box from multiple people. There’s one from Thomas, one from your hard ass boss, and one from an unknown number. They all vary in tones that an anxiety fueled pit twists your stomach. You open them before you can think, hoping that reading this messages will calm your cramping stomach. It doesn’t.

Thomas: Lassie, what’d you do?? Everyone’s going bonkers right now

Giovanni Cruz(boss): You must’ve made quite the impression at Vought. Good job, this is the type of work I’m expecting.

Impression? Your stomach dropped, and you looked at the message from the unknown number, seeing part of it in the little notification box. Before you can allow yourself to stay scared, you open the text message.

Unknown: Congratulations! Vought was very impressed by your piano skills, and our Party Planning Committee has decided to book you for all of our events this fall. Here are the dates and times, along with the prices we are offering…

You didn’t even bother to finish reading the whole text message, your phone slipping from your hands, and thumping onto the table. You were motionless, your hand limply hanging in the air where you were holding your phone, and eyes wide and unblinking as you just processed what the fuck Vought had sent you.

After a while, you started laughing.

Because when you would go back to play for Vought three weeks later, and you played a new sheet of music filled with the songs you had played for Noir last time, you didn’t even have to feel his gaze to know he was the one who wanted you back.

And when he sat down next to you on the bench, content to listen as you played, you were surprised to find yourself less tense. Less scared. You didn’t think he’d hurt you.

You hoped you weren’t wrong.

***

Thank you so much for reading <3<3 Thinking about doing a part two but idkkk, maybe🤭

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Hi I’d like to request Abraham with a breeding kink. They’ve already got twin boys and another boy but Abraham wants a girl like her mother, so he puts reader in a mating press and fucks her stupid till his cums taken root

Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: Semi-arranged marriage. Ideals that might seem sexist but are quite typical for Romani communities, especially in a 1950s setting. Mention of loss of virginity. Breeding kink. Smut. Word count: ~2k

Author's note: I did a lot of research into Romani culture to ensure I got this right, but if there's anything that is incorrect or handled insensitively, please let me know. Abraham doesn't have a surname, a he's such a minor character, for the purpose of this fic I've given him one - it's Lee - quite a common Romani surname in the UK. I don't have a tag list. Please follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

She has spent her whole life dreaming of her wedding day, her thoughts filled with what her husband will be like and how many children they’ll have. 

She idolises her mother. Growing up, she helps her to care for her siblings and to keep a clean home. She learns how to cook, how to sew, all of the skills that will shape her into the perfect Romani wife. 

She hopes for a union that will strengthen her and her future husband’s familial ties and contribute towards their small community of travellers. 

It’s with excitement when she turns eighteen that she learns that a man within their community wishes to marry her, but she is nervous when she finally gets to meet him. 

Abraham; she knows of him, though they have never properly spoken. She finds him intimidating. He’s tall, has sharply chiseled features, slicked back hair and piercing blue eyes, tattoos litter his forearms. He is undeniably handsome, but there’s something about his smirk that suggests an element of danger. She’s uncertain of whether it frightens or excites her, the feeling that flutters in her lower belly when she looks at him is unfamiliar to her.

Her fate is sealed when Abraham gifts one of his prized thoroughbreds to her parents as his bride price. It’s a massive horse, with a shiny chestnut coat that he has clearly cared well for. He could sell it into racing and earn thousands, so the fact that he is prepared to part ways with it in exchange for her hand in marriage is more than enough to convince her mother and father. She cannot deny the way her heart flutters at the gesture either, it’s exciting to know that a man of his reputation is so eager to be wed to her.

Their wedding day feels like a dream come true, with both their families coming together to celebrate the happy couple. Yet despite the jubilant atmosphere and effort everyone has gone to to ensure the day is perfect, nerves swirl like butterflies within her. Their courtship has never allowed them any real time alone together and she is anxious for what will happen on their wedding night when it’s finally just the two of them.

As they join hands, Abraham’s blue eyes gazing deeply into hers with a tenderness she didn’t know he was capable of, her stomach does flips, but this time anxiety is not the cause.

When his lips press against hers for their first kiss, she is taken aback by their remarkable softness. He treats her with such reverence and care, as though he is handling something precious and fragile.

She trembles like a leaf as his steady hands help her out of her wedding dress to lay her down upon their marital bed. His calloused palms stroke across her skin, soothing her and she is once more surprised at his gentleness, a stark juxtaposition to his rugged appearance.

He takes his time with her, his kisses and caresses are unhurried, causing her to melt with pleasure, so that when he does push inside of her for the first time she feels only the faintest of stings.

As soon as she relaxes, her breathing growing heavier, her hips chasing the movement of his, it’s as though a switch is flipped inside of him.

He slings one of her legs over his shoulder, his thrusts becoming harder and faster, his forehead pressed against hers against as his eyes stare into hers.

“Been fuckin’ obsessed wi’ ya since I first laid eyes on ya,” he rasps, “Knew I had to have ya. You’re gonna look so pretty when I knock you up.”

She gasps at his words, tightening involuntarily around him, and it’s not long before he’s spilling inside of her as her own climax sends her sensitive inner walls into spasms.

Abraham’s appetite for her is insatiable and he has her on every available surface of their shared caravan, at every opportunity. She grows to love him. He has a mean streak, though it is never directed towards her; he treats her with utter adoration and is fiercely protective of her. It is only when they are intimate that his temperament towards her darkens, becoming possessive, spilling forth confessions of his desires for her to fall pregnant. She doesn't mind this, however; on the contrary, it excites her. When they aren’t together, he works hard with the horses, while she takes care of their home, and their married life is a happy one.

When she learns she’s expecting, he’s ecstatic, his large hand cradling her abdomen as he smiles down at her. She gives birth to healthy twin boys, Noah and Elijah, and six months later she discovers she’s pregnant again.

She is overjoyed when her third baby boy, Logan, is placed into her arms, though there is a small part of her that feels disappointment that he’s not a girl.

Over the next five years, their home is filled with love and laughter as the boys grow and Abraham dotes on all of them. The male energy within their home can feel stifling at times for her, and when their sons excitedly accompany Abraham to the stables each day, she feels lonely, missing the connection she had with her mother.

She longs for a daughter, someone she can teach to cook and look after a home, much like her mother did for her. But with three noisy boys keeping them occupied, there is rarely time for them to try again.

Wistfully, she thinks back on the days of when Abraham thrust into her on every surface, a memory that now seems unrealistic when they’re battling against endless shouts of “I’m hungry!” and “he’s hitting me!”

The sun has barely begun to rise as she slips out of bed, unable to sleep. Her hands cup around the steaming mug of tea as she stares out of the caravan window at the horizon, a sense of longing settling into her as she thinks about how soon her husband and the boys would be awake, leaving her alone again for the day.

She is startled out of her thoughts when she feels Abraham’s sturdy arms wrap around her waist, his chest against her back as he leans over her shoulder. The cleft of his nose presses into her hair, inhaling deeply before dragging lightly across her cheekbone.

“You’re up early, Mrs. Lee,” he whispers.

She hums in acknowledgement, leaning back against him. “Couldn’t sleep.”

“You alright, love?” Concern tinges his voice, his hand raising to cup her jaw, tilting her face to look at him.

“It’s stupid, don’t worry,” she says, moving away to place her mug in the washing up bowl on the kitchenette side.

“Oi,” he chides, grabbing her arm and pulling her back to him. “Less of that. Tell me.”

She sighs, pressing her palms flat against the solid expanse of his chest, before sliding them upwards to rest on his shoulders. “I just…I get lonely with you and the boys gone all day. I’ve just always wanted–”

“A girl?” Abraham cuts her off with a smirk.

“Yeah…” She says, lowering her gaze, feeling her skin heat up with embarrassment.

“What’s to stop us trying?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down her arms.

She scoffs, rolling her eyes. “Fat chance of that when we’ve got a caravan full of screaming kids already.”

He nods his head, pursing his lips thoughtfully. “Well, how about we send the boys to Cora’s for a bit tonight? Once I’m finished with the horses today, it’ll be just you and me for the evening.”

Her eyes light up and she grins excitedly, the thought of some alone time with her husband for the first time in five years making her feel giddy. “Oh, I’d love that!”

When Abraham and the boys are ready to leave for the stables later that morning, he leans in to whisper to her as he kisses her cheek. “Hope you’re ready for all the things I’m gonna do to you later.”

A shiver of excitement shoots up her spine and she spends the rest of the day filled with nervous energy, unable to concentrate properly on anything.

In spite of her restless excitement, she ensures the caravan is spotless and bakes Abraham his favourite steak and kidney pie for dinner.

When he steps through the door later that evening, he’s unaccompanied by their sons, and is holding a bunch of wildflowers, which she recognises from the fields that surround his walk to and from the stables. She smiles at the thought that he’d gone to the effort to pick them for her, taking them from him with a peck on the lips as thanks.

“Made your favourite for dinner,” she tells him, as he backs her up towards the bedroom with a predatory glint in his eye.

“Smells good,” he tells her, hands moving to encircle her waist, “but maybe we can start with pudding?”

He dips his head, capturing her lips with his own and kisses her slowly, yet the hand that moves to cradle the back of her head serves as a quiet reminder that he’s in control.

“Clothes off, Mrs. Lee”, he instructs quietly, pushing her gently back on to the bed.

Her breathing comes in quick, shallow pants of eagerness, as she works to unbutton her blouse with shaky fingers. 

Abraham watches her intently, his hands slowly unbuckling his belt as she bares herself to him. He makes quick work of the rest of his clothes once she’s completely undressed, and covers her body with his own, all lithe, lean muscle and tattoos.

“You gonna let me taste you?” He murmurs against the shell of her ear.

She shivers, her voice coming out in a whine. “Please, I’ve waited for you all day, I don’t need that, just want you.”

“So desperate,” he chuckles, dipping a hand between her legs.

She gasps as he swipes his fingers through her folds, collecting the arousal that’s gathered there.

“Fuckin’ hell, you’re soaked.”

She lets out a quiet mewl in response, her body arching against his.

He smirks, gripping the base of his cock and sliding the head through her wetness, causing her to emit a needy sigh.

“Abe, please…”

He answers by sheathing himself fully inside of her in one fluid thrust, causing her to cry out.

“Wrap your legs around me,” he commands quietly, “wanna make sure I’m nice and deep.”

She does as she’s told, tipping her head back at the sensation of how far inside the change in angle pulls him.

Abraham grunts, pulling his hips back before slamming them forward once more. The pace he sets is relentless, fucking her into the mattress with urgency.

“Gonna fill you up,” he murmurs to her, “you look so fuckin’ good when you’re pregnant, love, can’t wait to see it again.”

She moans, walls fluttering around him at his filthy words, every drag of him inside of her pushes and pulls against a spot that has her toes curling and her voice raising an octave.

His brow furrows with exertion, full lips parted as he pants for breath, his grip on her thighs near bruising. He releases one of them, pressing his palm flat against her lower belly.

“Wanna make sure it goes all the way in here, love” he grits out, pace never faltering.

The combination of what he’s telling her and the way he uses her so forcefully nudges her closer to the edge and she tenses, feeling her peak begin to build inside of her.

Abraham’s gaze darkens as he senses this. “Nearly there, aren’t ya? Come on, give it to me.”

He slides the hand on her belly downwards, stopping when he reaches her pearl and circles pressured strokes against it with his thumb.

The added stimulus causes the already near unbearable pressure to build, until finally it reaches its boiling point, and she falls apart as waves of white hot pleasure roll through her body.

Abraham stills with a grunt, pushing himself as deep as he can possibly go, pulsating as he spills inside of her.

He collapses against her, breathless and sweaty, and she wraps her arms around him, breathing in the comforting scent of him.

“When’s Cora dropping the boys back off?” She asks quietly, after a few moments of satisfied silence.

“Not until tomorrow morning,” he says with a grin, “we’ve got all night.”

Nine months later, when little Esme is placed into her arms, she’s glad that they did.

[valkyriexo]

Invasion of Privacy | Ep. 1 - Objects in the mirror are closer than they appear

ᑉ³SYNOPSIS; In the dazzling world of fame, you have it all—a beautiful home, devoted fans, and Chan, the love of your life. But when cryptic messages start arriving, the line between adoration and obsession blurs. With each note, you feel increasingly unsafe. Now, you're on a dangerous journey to uncover the truth before it's too late.

ᑉ³PAIRING; Chan x Idol! reader. Ft. Stray Kids

ᑉ³GENRE; Smau, FF , Angst, Hurt, Comfort, mystery

ᑉ³GENERAL WARNINGS ; Violence, Sasaeng (Stalker). Mentions of a knife, mentions of blood, Home invasion, cursing, Kissing, Pain, death, Implied female reader, Certain episodes may be Suggestive MDNI ᑉ³EPISODE WARNINGS;  none

EPISODE WORD COUNT; 3.1k

AUTHOR'S NOTE ; Welcome to the first episode! AHHHHH. I hope you're as excited as I am :) . Get ready, because things are only going to get more intense from here! This is my first series so I am in fact a lot a little nervous

If you enjoyed this episode, I'd love to hear your thoughts. Whether it's through comments, reblogs, or sending an ask, your feedback means the world to me.

Master Post | Teaser | Suspect Cards

"It's 'bout to get risky, hands gettin' frisky. Threw it back, caught it like frisbee," you sing along with the electrifying performance of KARD's hit song. Your voice blends seamlessly with the music filling the luxurious ballroom of the Mnet Asian Music Awards (MAMA). 

The atmosphere crackles with excitement as the crowd also joins in, their voices rising in unison to the beat.

You're adorned in a breathtaking gown that exudes glamour and sophistication, the fabric draping elegantly around you in a cascade of shimmering fabric. Every detail of your dress, from the delicate beading to the intricate embroidery, speaks of timeless elegance and style.

At your table, with Chan beside you and Minho on your other side, Stray Kids are caught up in the energy of the moment. Their eyes alight with enthusiasm as they sing and dance along with you. The shimmering chandeliers above cast a warm glow over the scene. You sway to the rhythm of the music, every movement with grace and elegance. Your dress catches the light, creating a mesmerizing display as you become lost in the music.

As KARD's performance reaches its crescendo, the energy in the room reaches its max. Applause erupts throughout the ballroom as the performers bring the song to its conclusion.

With a gracious bow, KARD exits the stage, leaving behind an electrified atmosphere in their wake. The host steps forward, microphone in hand. With a charming smile, he gestures for the two presenters to join him on stage, to announce the last award of the night.

Artist of the Year

Beside you, Chan's hand finds yours, a silent gesture of support as you both await the moment of truth.

"You've got this," Chan murmurs, his voice filled with confidence and pride. "I believe in you." His eyes meet yours, sparkling with pride and anticipation, and you share a brief, reassuring smile. The air is electric with excitement as the presenters take their places at the podium, their voices echoing through the grand ballroom as they build suspense with each nominee they announce.

Your heart pounds in your chest as your name is called as one of the nominees. The room erupts into cheers and applause, and you feel a swell of gratitude for the journey that has brought you to this moment. With bated breath, you await the final announcement, and as the presenters open the envelope and reveal the winner, the world seems to stand still for a moment. 

Then, the room explodes into cheers as your name is announced as the winner of Artist of the Year. 

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you rise from your seat, overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support from your peers and fans alike. Amidst the jubilation, you catch Chan's eye, his smile radiant with pride and happiness for you. "Congratulations, love!" he says, his voice filled with emotion. "You deserve this and so much more."

"Congratulations, Y/N!" Changbin exclaims, his voice filled with genuine excitement as he jumps up from his seat, pumping his fist in the air. "You absolutely deserve this!" Han joins in, his cheers echoing throughout the ballroom as they offer their heartfelt congratulations. "We're so proud of you, Y/N!" Jeongin exclaims, his voice filled with admiration.

With a sense of elation, you make your way to the stage, the spotlight now shining brightly on you as you accept this prestigious award. As you step into the spotlight, you feel a rush of adrenaline coursing through your veins, knowing that all eyes are on you. 

"I'm truly honored to receive this award for Artist of the Year," you begin, your voice steady yet filled with emotion. "This recognition means the world to me, and I am deeply grateful to everyone who has supported me on this incredible journey."

You pause for a moment, soaking in the applause and cheers from the audience, their excitement echoing throughout the grand ballroom.

"I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to JYP Entertainment, my agency," you continue, your words carrying a sense of sincerity. "Your belief in me and support have been the cornerstone of my career. And to my manager, Zayne, thank you for your guidance and dedication."

"To my fans," you continue, "you are the reason I do what I do. Your love and support inspire me every single day, and I am truly blessed to have you in my life."

You pause, a smile spreading across your face as you turn and make eye contact with Chan, his eyes shining with pride.

"And to my love, Chan," you say, your voice filled with affection. "Your support means everything to me. I couldn't have done this without you by my side."

The applause swells as you raise your award, a symbol of your dedication and perseverance, high above your head.

"This award is for all of us—for the dreamers, the believers," you proclaim, your voice resonating with passion. "Let's continue to chase our dreams, be kind, and inspire others."

With a final heartfelt "thank you," you lower the trophy, the room erupting into cheers and applause once more. Basking in the euphoria, you bow gracefully to the cheering crowd, gratitude swelling in your heart. The stage lights shimmer around you, casting an ethereal glow as you soak in the moment.

As you retreat to the wings, the host steps forward, the spotlight following their every move. With a warm smile, they address the audience, their voice carrying across the grand ballroom.

"Ladies and gentlemen, that concludes tonight's event," the host announces. "Thank you all for joining us for this unforgettable evening. We extend our heartfelt gratitude to our performers, presenters, and all those who have contributed to making this event a success. And to our audience, thank you for your support and enthusiasm. Until next time, goodnight and safe travels."

Amidst the flurry of activity, you're met with familiar faces, including your dedicated staff.

First among them is Aera, your loyal assistant, her eyes shining with pride and admiration as she approaches you. "Congratulations, Y/N," she says, her voice filled with pride. "You were absolutely incredible up there. I'm so proud to be a part of your team."

Her words warm your heart, and you offer her a grateful smile, touched by her support. "Thank you, Aera," you reply, unconsciously, handing the trophy to her. "I couldn't have done it without you." 

As the jubilant atmosphere swirls around you, your gaze catches a familiar figure amidst the crowd – Zayne, your trusted manager. With a warm smile, he strides over to you, his eyes reflecting pride and admiration.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Zayne says, his voice tinged with genuine excitement. "You were absolutely phenomenal up there. Your hard work and dedication have truly paid off."

"Thank you, Sir," you reply, sincerity evident in your voice. "I couldn't have done it without your expertise and leadership."

Before you can say more, Chan appears by your side, his presence a comforting anchor amidst the bustling activity backstage. With a proud smile, he wraps an arm around you, drawing you close in a tender embrace. "You were amazing, love," he murmurs. "I couldn't be prouder of you."

Turning around, you find yourself face to face with the members of Stray Kids, each one wearing a grin as wide as the stage itself.

"So… what I'm hearing is party at the artist of the year's house?" Hyunjin says, his excitement contagious as he looks around at the group.

The suggestion is met with enthusiastic agreement from the rest of the members, their smiles widening at the prospect of continuing the festivities together.

"Sounds like a plan.." Felix says, his grin widening as he claps his hands together. "Y/N, what do you say? How about a little party?"

You chuckle at their excitement, feeling a surge of warmth at the thought of spending more time with your friends after the awards show." Sure, why not?" you reply with a smile, already picturing the evening ahead. With that, the group sets off, making their way to your house with laughter and chatter filling the air. 

Your house exudes an air of elegance and warmth, its grandeur evident in every meticulously designed detail.

However, your eyes are drawn to the intricately woven basket near the entrance. Changbin's sudden pause and furrowed brow catch your attention, prompting you to look at him as he bends down to inspect the object.

"What's this?" Changbin murmurs, his fingers tracing the colorful ribbons that adorn the basket.

Curiosity gets the better of you, and you join him, the rest of Stray Kids gathering around as well. The basket, with its lavish display of generosity, is unlike anything you've seen before. As the members gather around the basket, their excitement palpable in the air, they are taken aback by its sheer size and weight.

As the members marvel at the treasures hidden within, you can't help but feel a sense of unease prickling at the edges of your mind. Something about the extravagant gift feels out of place, the weight of the basket and the sheer opulence of its contents casting a shadow over the otherwise joyous occasion. You've never received a gift directly to your house before; typically, such gestures are managed through the agency.

But before you can voice your concerns, Adam, your bodyguard, tenses noticeably. Dressed entirely in black, Adam blends seamlessly into the darkness of the night, his imposing figure a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the celebration. Despite the festive atmosphere, his focus remains unwavering, a silent sentinel on high alert. His sharp eyes scan the surroundings with a vigilance that doesn't go unnoticed, his instinctive reaction drawing your attention.

Without a word, Adam strides purposefully towards the basket, his imposing figure towering over the group as he begins to inspect it for any potential threats or dangers. The sudden shift in atmosphere, coupled with Adam's focused demeanor, sends a ripple of unease, the festive mood momentarily dampened by the undercurrent of tension.

After a brief inspection, Adam's tense posture relaxes slightly, signaling his assurance that the basket is safe. With a nod of approval, he turns to you, his expression stoic yet reassuring.

 "At first glance, there doesn't appear to be anything dangerous," he announces.

"Thank you, Adam. I appreciate it."

Adam nods in acknowledgment before stepping back, allowing the group to resume their examination of the extravagant gift. With the bodyguard's seal of approval, any lingering doubts about the safety of the basket are cast aside, replaced by eager anticipation for the surprises that await within.

"Hey, what's this?" Minho's voice carries across the space, a mixture of curiosity and intrigue evident in his tone as he picks up the mysterious envelope.

Seungmin's eyes narrow as he snatches the envelope from Minho's grasp. "Let me see," he says, his voice tinged with an unusual sharpness. With a scrutinizing gaze, he examines the envelope before extending it towards you, his expression a mix of curiosity and suspicion.

You can't help but notice the way Seungmin's fingers tremble slightly as he hands you the envelope, a detail that doesn't escape your attention.

With bated breath, you reach for the envelope, your heart pounding with anticipation as you carefully break the seal and unfold the letter inside.

The letter's message seems disjointed and unsettling. It's as though the words were plucked randomly from the air and strung together without purpose or coherence. With furrowed brows, you try to make sense of it, but the more you ponder, the more bewildering it becomes. It's a cryptic message that raises more questions than it answers, leaving an uneasy feeling lingering in the air. All you could decipher is that the sender was present at the awards ceremony that night,

.....or at the very least, was watching.

You turn to Chan, your brows furrowed with concern. "Hey, Channie, did you send this basket?" you ask, gesturing towards the extravagant gift with a hint of suspicion. Chan shakes his head, his expression mirroring your confusion. "No, love, I didn't," he replies honestly, reaching out to steady the heavy basket as Changbin and Han prepare to carry it inside. 

Despite your lingering unease, you brush off your concerns for the moment, chalking it up to the excitement of the evening. Together, with careful coordination, they lift the basket and carry it in. You push the unsettling feeling aside and follow Chan into the warmth of your home, the mystery of the letter and its sender momentarily forgotten in the midst of your celebration.

Turning to Adam, your trusted bodyguard, you offer him a grateful smile. "Adam, you can head home for the night," you say, expressing your appreciation for his dedicated service. With a nod of acknowledgment, Adam takes his leave.

As you step inside, you're greeted by the soft glow of warm lighting that illuminates the spacious foyer, casting a welcoming ambiance throughout the expansive interior. The walls are adorned with tasteful artwork and framed photographs, each piece adding a touch of personality and charm to the space. Plush furnishings invite you to relax and unwind, their luxurious fabrics beckoning you to sink into their embrace. From the gleaming hardwood floors to the ornate fixtures, every aspect of your home reflects your impeccable taste and style. As you lead your friends further into the house, you can't help but feel a sense of pride and contentment in the place you call home.

The members continue to marvel at the extravagant gift, and Jeongin eagerly unties the ribbons and delves into the treasures hidden within the basket. From gourmet chocolates to luxurious skincare products, each item is a testament to the thoughtfulness and generosity of the unknown sender. Hyunjin's eyes widen in astonishment as he takes in the grandeur of the basket.

Just as they are fully engrossed in exploring the lavish gifts, Aera, your assistant, arrives a bit later than expected, breathless and apologetic. "I'm so sorry for being late," she says, bowing deeply as she catches her breath. "There was unexpected traffic on the way back, and I had to run back to the venue because you forgot your bracelet at the table." Your eyes catch sight of the trophy in her hands.

You furrow your brows in confusion, not recalling wearing a bracelet earlier in the evening, but you accept it nonetheless, grateful for Aera's diligence. "Thank you, Aera," you say, taking the bracelet from her and putting it on with a smile. "I appreciate you going the extra mile to retrieve it for me."

With a nod of understanding, Aera straightens up, relief evident in her expression. "Of course, anything for you," she replies sincerely. "I'll make sure to keep a closer eye on your belongings from now on."

"You've had a long day, Aera," you say, noticing the fatigue in her eyes and the weariness in her posture. "You should head home and rest. I can take the trophy. I'll put it on my trophy shelf," you suggest, reaching out to gently take the trophy from her hands, giving her a reassuring smile.

"Oh no, I'm okay," Aera insists with a determined smile, though a hint of weariness still lingers in her eyes. "Excited to be here. I can do it!" With that, she rushes over to another room, disappearing briefly. Moments later, she returns with a determined look on her face, the trophy now securely placed in the other room.

"I appreciate your dedication, Aera, but your well-being is important too. You've already gone above and beyond today, you really should go home," you say, sensing her reluctance to leave.

Despite her disappointment, Aera bows respectfully, her expression tinged with a hint of sadness as she bids farewell and takes her leave.

Felix, ever the amiable presence in your home, offers a friendly observation as he settles into a comfortable spot. "You know, I've been here quite a bit, but I don't think I've ever seen Aera before," he remarks with genuine curiosity.

"Ah, that's because Aera is relatively new," Chan says, sitting beside Felix. "She's still getting acquainted with everything around here…although I've never seen Aera inside before. Only at the JYP building"

You nod, a hint of surprise coloring your expression as you acknowledge Chan's observation. "That's right," you confirm, your tone reflecting your curiosity. "My staff usually waits outside. It's... unusual for someone to come inside, other than Adam of course," you say. "But I suppose Aera's new to this role, and... well, she's my first personal assistant, so things might be a bit different from what I'm used to."

Changbin, who's been rummaging through the cabinets in search of snacks, looks up with a perplexed expression. "So, if Aera's breaking the 'no staff inside' rule, can she at least bring snacks with her next time?" he asks, his tone teasing yet earnest.

You giggle nervously at Changbin's suggestion, feeling a slight flush of embarrassment at the situation. "Well, I suppose that's a fair request," you respond with a sheepish grin

"I don't have much in the way of snacks. But there's a convenience store just a minute away. I can go grab some snacks real quick if you want."

As you mention going to the store, the maknae perks up, his eyes bright with enthusiasm.

"I'll come with you!" he offers, already halfway off the couch and reaching for his jacket.

You smile at his eagerness, touched by his willingness to accompany you.

"Sure, Innie," you agree, grateful for the company. "Let's make it quick, though. We don't want to miss out on the movie." 

With a quick promise to return soon, you both slip out of the house and into the cool night air.

As you and Jeongin make your way down the quiet street towards the convenience store, the gentle hum of distant traffic fills the air, contrasting with the peacefulness of the neighborhood. However, despite the serene surroundings, an inexplicable unease gnaws at the edges of your consciousness, sending a shiver down your spine.

You quicken your pace, trying to shake off the feeling of being watched, but it persists, a persistent weight on your shoulders. Each step feels heavier than the last as you struggle to banish the sense of unease from your mind, Jeongin matching your hurried steps beside you.

Glancing over your shoulder, you catch a glimpse of someone dressed all in black, their hood pulled up to conceal their face.

But as quickly as they appeared, they're gone, vanishing into the shadows without a trace. You blink, trying to process what you just saw, but the empty street offers no answers, leaving you to wonder if it was just your imagination playing tricks on you. With a shake of your head, you continue walking, eager to pick up the snacks and return to the safety of your home.

ઇଓEp.2 - favors

ઇଓ Taglist in the comments! If you want to be removed from the taglist send me a dm!

ઇଓ M.LIST | Ko-Fi | Taglist | Thank you for your support ♡ | Consider leaving a comment, reblog or like ♡ | © 2024 Valkyriexo