#Every time he's on screen my jaw's just on the floor

[isaadore]

SECOND BEST QUINN HUGHES

pairing quinn hughes x childhood friend!reader

SUMMARY you and quinn were inseparable growing up; two halves of the same whole. you gave him everything: your time, your loyalty, your heart. but as you both grew older, he only gave you scraps of his life. one day, you realize you’re tired of being second best. tired of waiting for something that might never come. word count 2.3k words

warnings ANGST with no happy ending, quinn’s a jerk and oblivious, lack of communication, reader’s feelings are unrequited (?)

note hey i’m back (again) 🤞 sorry my first fic back is angst with no happy ending (i felt moody)

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THE HUM OF the hockey broadcast filled the quiet air of Quinn’s living room, the commentator’s voice a low, steady background to the stillness that had settled between you. The rain outside created a rhythmic pattern on the windows, the soft tap of each droplet almost soothing, a constant companion to the uneasy weight that had been growing in your chest for the past few months. You sat curled into the corner of the couch, your legs tucked beneath you as you absentmindedly scrolled through your phone, but you weren’t really looking at anything. Your mind was elsewhere, swirling with thoughts and doubts you couldn’t quite articulate.

Quinn was sprawled out on the floor, his back leaning comfortably against the coffee table as he sat with his legs stretched out in front of him. His focus was entirely on the highlights playing on the TV, his lips twitching into a grin every so often at something the commentator said. The way he laughed, the way his eyes lit up at the game, everything about him looked so carefree. The joy he felt in these moments was palpable, and for a brief second, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of envy. You wondered what it would be like to feel that kind of peace, that kind of joy, without noticing the underlying tension that had been building between you.

You watched him for a while, noticing the way his muscles shifted with each laugh, the way his dark hair flopped over his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw as he took in the TV. He looked happy, content, even. And for a moment, you allowed yourself to savour the image of him like this, calm and oblivious to the storm brewing in your chest. But that moment was quickly swept away by the familiar ache that tugged at your insides.

There was a heaviness in your chest, a deep sense of unease that you couldn’t shake. It had been there for months, growing quietly but steadily, until it became an unspoken tension between you two. Quinn had always been your best friend, but recently, it felt like something was missing, like you were no longer the person he turned to when things got tough, when he needed someone to lean on. And that ache, that silent emptiness, had only deepened since the arrival of her.

Her.

The girl he’d been spending so much time with lately, the one who seemed to occupy his every waking thought. The one whose name seemed to slip from his lips in conversation, whose laughter filled the space between the two of you more than once. The one who had taken up residence in every corner of his attention. The realization hit you harder than you cared to admit: You were no longer his first thought. You were no longer the one he shared the small moments with, the one he turned to for comfort. You had been replaced.

The thought churned your stomach.

“I think I’m skipping the party tonight,” you said, breaking the silence, your voice quiet but steady.

Quinn didn’t take his eyes off the screen, his voice coming without a second thought. “Why? Everyone’s going to be there.”

Everyone. His teammates, his friends, and her. You didn’t need to say her name; the words were already written between the lines of the invitation. The girl who seemed to be in his orbit at all times now. The girl who had slowly, quietly, taken your place.

“I just don’t feel like it,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but your voice faltered slightly despite your best effort.

For a brief moment you let yourself hope that maybe, just maybe, he’d notice something in your tone, something in the way you spoke, something that hinted at the heaviness that had been pressing on your chest for weeks now. Maybe he’d pause the broadcast, turn to you, and ask you if something was wrong. Maybe he’d ask if you wanted to stay in like you used to. Like you were still important to him.

But Quinn didn’t. He shrugged, his attention not once leaving the TV screen.

“Suit yourself,” he said, his voice casual, almost dismissive.

It was like a slap to the face, even though you had been bracing for it. The ache in your chest intensified as the disappointment took root, deepening as you tried to swallow down the bitter truth. The truth that you weren’t the person he relied on anymore, that you were no longer his priority. You stood up from the couch, the movement stiff, your muscles tense from the knot that had formed in your stomach. You grabbed your bag and slung it over your shoulder, making your way toward the door, trying to hide the way your heart was breaking.

“Right,” you muttered, forcing out the words. “Have fun.”

“Thanks,” he mumbled, barely sparing you a glance, his attention still firmly on the screen.

You stepped out onto the porch, the cool, damp air hitting you instantly as the drizzle soaked through your sweater. You paused there for a moment, staring out into the night, the faint glow of the streetlights casting long shadows across the wet pavement. The rain had quieted to a gentle mist, but it did little to calm the tightness in your chest. For years, you had told yourself that things would get better, that you just needed to wait for the right moment, for the right shift in the universe. You had always believed that Quinn would eventually come around, that he would realize how much you cared and how long you had been there for him.

But tonight, standing alone in the rain, the truth was undeniable. The truth you had been running from for so long finally crashed down on you, and it hit harder than you had ever imagined.

FLASHBACK

When you were twelve, summers felt infinite. Endless days spent riding bikes down the quiet neighbourhood streets, jumping into the cool lake that shimmered under the sun, and spending nights making up stories under the stars. You and Quinn had been inseparable. He was your best friend, your confidant, your partner in crime. There was no one else in the world who could make you laugh the way Quinn could.

One evening, the two of you sat by the lake, your feet dipping into the cool water as the last rays of the sun painted the sky in soft oranges and pinks. The air smelled like fresh grass, and everything felt right, like the world had paused just for you two.

“Do you think we’ll always be friends?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, as you stared at the sunset, unsure where the question had come from.

Quinn looked at you like you were crazy. “Why wouldn’t we?”

You picked at a blade of grass between your fingers, the question lingering in the air. “I don’t know… what if you get famous? What if you forget about me?”

He laughed, splashing water at your feet in that way that only he could. “I’d never forget about you. You’re my best friend.”

“Promise?” you asked, your voice small but hopeful.

“I promise,” he said firmly, with a sincerity that made your heart swell. “You’ll come to all my games. We’ll talk every day. Nothing’s going to change.”

At that moment, you believed him with every fiber of your being. Back then, Quinn was everything: your world, your future, the person you couldn’t imagine living without. The promise he made felt unbreakable.

But now, everything had shifted. He wasn’t the same Quinn anymore. He was a version of himself you barely recognized. And you? You were just a bystander, watching him drift further and further away.

PRESENT DAY

It was a week after you walked out of Quinn’s apartment. A week after reality hit you like a truck. But you knew it was a matter of time before Quinn would contact you again, even if it meant you were just a second thought.

The invitation had sat there for days, a silent reminder of your place in his life. You coming? the text had read, sent with all the casualness of someone who had no idea the impact those words would have on you.

You hadn’t replied.

But tonight, something inside you cracked. Even knowing that she would be there, even knowing you would be nothing more than an afterthought, you couldn’t stop yourself from responding. But before you could, another message came in.

Leaving in 10. You coming or not?

You stared at the message for what felt like an eternity, your thumb hovering over the keyboard as the weight of your decision settled on you. Despite everything, despite the way your heart twisted at the thought of seeing him with her, you couldn’t ignore the voice inside you telling you to go.

Against every instinct, you typed out a response:

Be there soon.

The house was alive with the sound of music, the bass reverberating through the walls and vibrating in your chest. You stepped inside and immediately felt the weight of the crowd, the mass of people moving about, drinks in hand, laughter spilling from every corner of the house. The noise, the chaos; it all felt like a world you no longer belonged to.

Your eyes scanned the room, searching for him, already regretting your decision to show up. The anxiety in your stomach twisted harder with each step, your pulse racing as your gaze landed on him.

There he was, laughing, surrounded by his teammates, and of course, her. She was right there, standing so close to him, her hand brushing against his arm, her laughter filling the space between them. Quinn looked down at her, his smile soft and easy, the kind of smile you used to see so often, the one that made your heart skip a beat. But now, it wasn’t for you. It was for her.

It felt like a punch to the gut.

You stood frozen, the bitter taste of jealousy and heartbreak rising in your throat. But you forced a smile as Quinn’s voice broke through your thoughts.

“Hey!” He waved you over, his eyes lighting up when he spotted you.

You forced yourself to walk toward him, the distance between you and them feeling miles long. His arm slid around your shoulders, the familiar gesture doing nothing to ease the tightness in your chest.

“I’m glad you made it,” he said, his voice warm, but there was something in it that felt hollow.

“Yeah,” you replied quietly, your voice barely audible as you looked at him, trying to find something in his eyes that reminded you of the person you used to know. But there was nothing. Not anymore.

Before you could speak again, her voice cut through the moment. She laughed, and Quinn’s attention shifted to her in an instant, as if you had become invisible.

Just like that, you were forgotten once again.

FLASHBACK

You were seventeen when you realized just how much you had always been second place.

It was prom season, and the halls of your high school were buzzing with excitement. The chatter about dresses, tuxedos, date filled the air. You hadn’t thought much about it until Quinn started talking about asking someone out.

“She’s nice,” he said one day as the two of you walked home from school. “I think you’d like her.”

You forced a smile, nodding. “That’s great.”

He didn’t see it. He didn’t see how much it hurt. How his words dug deep into your chest.

When prom night came, you stayed home. Social media was flooded with photos of everyone, dressed to the nines, Quinn among them, standing proudly with his date, his arm casually draped over her shoulders. The pictures were everywhere.

You told yourself it didn’t matter. But the longer you stayed in that silence, the more the ache in your chest grew.

PRESENT DAY

After thirty agonizing minutes of silently standing beside Quinn and making awkward small talk with strangers, you slipped outside onto the back porch. The cool air offered a brief relief from the heaviness in your heart. Dampness from a storm earlier today clung to the air, making it harder to breathe.

You wrapped your arms around yourself, staring out at the distant skyline, wondering how it had all gone so wrong. How had you gone from the person Quinn turned to for everything to just a shadow of his past?

The door creaked open behind you. Quinn’s voice called out softly. “Hey. What are you doing out here?”

You didn’t turn to face him. “Just needed some air.”

He stepped closer, his footsteps barely audible. “You okay?”

You swallowed hard. “I’m fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” he said, his voice soft but concerned. “You’ve been… kind of distant lately.”

You finally turned to face him, the bitterness you had been swallowing spilling out before you could stop it. “Why do you care, Quinn?”

He blinked, confused. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m tired,” you said, your voice trembling. “Tired of always being the one who waits for you. The one who shows up for you, who puts you first, even when I’m clearly not your priority.”

“That’s not true,” he protested.

“Isn’t it?” You took a step toward him, anger rising. “When was the last time you really chose me, Quinn? Because I can’t think of a single time.”

He opened his mouth to argue, but the words didn’t come.

You let out a shaky breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to spill. “I’ve spent my whole life waiting for you to see me. But I’m starting to realize I’ll never be enough for you. And I can’t do this anymore.”

“Wait,” he said, his voice desperate as he reached for your arm, pulling you gently toward him. “Please, don’t go.”

You froze, your heart pounding as you pulled your arm out of his grasp. “Why not, Quinn?” You searched his eyes, hoping for something, anything. “Give me one good reason to stay.”

The silence between you was deafening.

Tears slipped down your cheeks as you walked away, your heart breaking with each step.

And this time, you didn’t look back.

‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎ ‎‎‎‎‎MAIN MASTERLIST ✷ QH43 MASTERLIST

[reikurusu]

No, I'm not simping hard over Sanji, what are you talking about...

[lokissweater]

you noticed me ⚾︎

{mlb!megumi fushiguro x f!reader}

summary: megumi fushiguro is one of the best players on the major league baseball team, and when you finally spot him on the big screen after practically dozing off at every game you went to with your girl friend? you were absolutely IN LOVE, but IN DENIAL that he could ever like you back… but he does, and bad.

warnings: MDNI. afab!reader, NASTY NASTY MEGUMI, oral sex, SMUT, pussy eating in locker rooms HEH, mentions of drinking but like tiny just once, reader is oblivious to the way megumi wants her, DOMINANT AF MEGUMI PHEWW, cursing, flufffff!!, barely any angst, DIRTY TALK, pet names, aged up characters.

word count: 12.1k (IK IM SORRY ITS A CUTE ONE THO)

authors note: you GUYSSSS i love megumi fushiguro i want him so bad and i LOOVEEE this fic!! i worked like a little worker bee for days and i really hope it makes you guys happy :] MWAH!!

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・

megumi fushiguro was the hottest baseball player you had ever seen in your life.

and you didn’t even like baseball to begin with, dozing off at every game your girl friend dragged you to because her boyfriend was on the major league team— but the one time you decided to open your eyes and pay attention to the big giant screen in front of you?

there he was in all of his emo glory.

number eighteen.

focused, half lidded eyes resembling borderline boredom as he waited for the pitcher to throw, his forehead glistening with sweat, flushed red cheeks, and his jet black hair slightly peeking over his forehead from underneath his baseball cap.

“my god—” your hand flew and you gripped your girl friends arm tightly, your jaw to the fucking floor as your eyes were gorilla glued to the screen, her quirking a curious eyebrow at you as she matched your frantic nature.

“what? what is it? who did you see? whats happ—”

you pointed your finger up at the screen, him swinging and hitting a fucking grand slam as he proceeded to get four runs with one hit, the one thing you knew about baseball besides a home run.

“that’s a— that’s a grand slam!” you pointed frantically, probably looking absolutely insane as you stood and screamed your fucking head off.

your girl friend laughed loudly, “you like fushiguro? megumi fushiguro?”

you jumped up and down, your girlfriend astonished and laughing as this was the first time she’d ever seen you energetic at a baseball game.

“he’s friends with yuji!” she yelled over the hollering of the crowd. “we can go to their locker room after and you can say hi! i heard he’s kind of mean though—”

“no!” you spun around, eyes wide and terrified. “i already know he’ll eat me alive then! i’m a loser, i can’t talk to him i don’t have game i—”

she rolled her eyes. “you’ll be fine—”

“no i can’t!” you shook your head frantically. “please he looks like the type to love bomb me and then leave me i don’t think i can handle that—”

she snorted. “are you sure?!”

you hesitated for a moment, biting your bottom lip as your eyes trailed back over to the screen, seeing megumi breathing a little heavy from running the field, his hands on his hips as he scanned the arena.

you sighed through your nose. “yeah i’m sure!”

“suit yourself!”

a year. a year you spent continuing to tag along with your girl friend to their games, staring lovesick and sad at the big screen over megumi, and standing outside far far away from the locker room once they scored another big win and not going in like you used to, waiting for your girl friend to finish up speaking to her boyfriend as you tried your best to avoid the chance of running into megumi.

she finally emerged from the locker rooms one day, a knowing smirk on her face.

“i told yuji.”

you blinked. “told him what?”

“that you like fushiguro.”

“no!” you gasped, a hand flying and smacking over your mouth. “please no im about to experience the biggest heartbreak of my life—”

“oh relax!” she grabbed your arm and practically dragged you towards the locker room doors. “he’s not even here megumi already left, but yuji wants to talk to you.”

“why?!” you exclaimed. “to let me down easy? to tell me he’s sorry on his behalf—”

your girl friend just about threw you in and went in after you as you stumbled, eyes blown wide as the air became humid and heavy, several of the players lounging about and refreshing themselves as the sound of lockers slamming shut echoed through the space— deep, broad voices laughing filling the room as yuji spotted you, his eyes friendly and polite. “y/n!”

you relaxed and smiled, “hi! you guys played really well today!”

“megumi also played really well today.”

“oh my god—” you groaned, throwing your head back as you spun around, heading straight for the exit.

“wait wait!” he laughed loudly, jogging up to you. “sorry sorry.”

“what do you want with me..” you mumbled.

he gave you a half smile. “i wanted to tell you that megumi’s weird.”

you snorted, “elaborate please.”

yuji threw an arm around your girl friend before continuing.

“you know we support your feelings and what you want…” he began.

your eyes narrowed. “why are you guys talking to me like you’re my parents—”

“but—” yuji cut you off. “i’m just gonna be straight with you. i’ve never ever seen megumi interact with anyone, let alone another woman, besides the team.”

“i don’t think i’ve ever seen him have a proper conversation with anyone on the team besides you actually…” your girl friend muttered to yuji.

yuji winced. “yeah…” he turned back to you. “back when megumi and i first got signed, he was really popular and a lot of girls would come up to him after games for his number or just to talk to him.”

“well obviously he’s a greek god,” you grumbled. “this is hurting me man get to the point.”

he sighed. “he basically scared all of them off. didn’t give a single one a chance and was kinda mean... he would either ignore them or straight up just tell them he wasn’t interested without them even being able to get a word in.”

you stared blankly.

“i tried to tell him that he needs to be nicer but he’s just not interested.”

you kept staring.

“that’s why i’m telling you this because we don’t want you to get hurt and i feel like if you try and talk to him he’s gonna be a dick and it might…” yuji looked at you sadly. “it might be a lost cause.”

you blinked.

“y/n?”

“that’s fine!” you squeaked, hands tight at your sides. “a part of me already knew. i read about it in an article, and i’ve seen his interviews.”

your girl friend looked at you with concern filled eyes. “are you okay?”

“yeah!” you waved them off. “why wouldn’t i be?”

“because your eyes are red.”

“ppffttt!” you blew out. “i’m fine! seriously. i never intended to talk to him anyways, i’m too much of a scaredy cat.”

you extended your arms out and engulfed the both of them, squeezing tight. “thank you guys for telling me though, i appreciate it.”

“y/n…” yuji trailed off.

“i’m gonna take off though, i’ll see you guys later, okay?” you waved and opened the door. “love you!”

and you scrammed, your heart in a million pieces.

it’s not like you didn’t already know. you knew, so why were you sad? why did you feel like you just got ran over by a double decker bus? why did you pathetically feel so sad?

this was the reality. you never stood a chance.

so why were you crying?

you continued walking down the hall and towards the main exit, utterly embarrassed at your sobbing and trying your best to hide it as you navigated through several groups of people, your vision entirely blurry as you were basically drowning in your tears.

you had barely escaped the crowd when you spotted a little secluded area in the lobby, trudging over pathetically and plopping down on the coushy seat as you wiped your cheeks, staring at the wall in front of you— a huge glass casing proudly decorated with the teams trophies and awards, gigantic portraits of the players on the team adorning the walls with megumi’s serious beautiful framed face right in front of you just making you feel worse.

you already knew, but regardless of megumi’s stand off ish personality, you liked it. you had curiously browsed his interviews and quotes in articles, and you always laughed at his responses, him almost every time offending the staff without even trying or knowing, and you found it so so funny, it only making you admire him and want to get to know him even more, even if it was just a friendship.

megumi fushiguro was one of the best players on the team in history, and as you closed your eyes, silent pathetic tears still slipping down your cheeks?

he never felt so out of reach.

“here.”

your eyes opened, but you literally could not see jack shit as your tears were still blurring your line of sight, you completely and utterly mortified that a stranger caught you sobbing as you wiped your face quickly in response.

“put on my sunglasses if you don’t want people to see you crying.”

the voice was gruff and lazy, but you could not care less as you took the sunglasses and settled them over your eyes, the lenses so freaking dark that you couldn’t see a single thing— your sight worse than before.

but it relieved you, as you figured no one could see your bloodshot eyes and therefore thankfully not notice you losing your mind over something so stupid.

“thank you,” you mumbled. “sorry.”

“for what.”

you felt the plush of the bench shift next to you, figuring that the stranger man sat beside you as you refused to look in their direction out of embarrassment.

not that you could even see in the first place.

“for looking like a loser.”

the stranger man snorted. “s’fine.”

you wiped your nose with your sleeve, sniffling.

“how do you see in these?” you muttered softly. “they’re making me claustrophobic i can’t see a thing.”

“that’s the point,” he hums.

“how come?”

“i get migraines everyday. they help.”

“oh i see.” you responded softly. “have you ever run into a wall because of them?”

you hear him huff out through his nose. “i did once, when i first got them.”

you giggled gently. “did you bleed?”

“no,” he spoke calmly. “i got a bump on my forehead.”

you snickered, “what? loserrr.”

you stood up and carefully tried to walk around a little, testing out how to guide yourself through the dark lenses and trying to be careful and not bump into a wall (which was literally impossible), your hands out, feeling around.

“jesus christ i’m just kidding now i feel bad. i think im gonna bump myself into a wall too so we can call it even.”

you couldn’t see, but the stranger man’s lips twitched at your comment.

“don’t do that.” he murmured. “sit back down.”

you listened and started making your way over, feeling him reach out and wrap his fingers around your wrist carefully and guide you to the bench, you plopping down on it once you felt it.

“thank you!” you responded sweetly. “…i’m actually glad i can’t see a thing right now.” you perked up, pushing the sunglasses back up over the bridge of your nose.

“why is that.”

“so i don’t have to look at megumi fushiguro’s big portrait in front of my face.”

the stranger man stopped.

“…why?”

“because he indirectly broke my heart.”

you heard a little audible laugh, and you smiled to yourself.

at least someone is having fun right now.

“how did he indirectly break your heart?”

“my girl friend’s boyfriend is yuji itadori. she spilled the beans against my will about how i have a crush on him, and yuji told me that he’s mean and he’ll basically bite my head off and tell me to scram.”

“did he?”

“uh huh,” you nodded. “they were trying to let me down easy, but it’s not like i was gonna try and talk to him anyways. i’ve gone a year without saying anything i can go on and on and on.”

the stranger man hummed.

“he’s so cool though…” you murmured, dazed. “he’s gonna be a hard one to forget about.”

“why do you like him?”

“i feel like im being interrogated,” you giggled.

you felt the stranger man lean back against the wall. “sorry, just curious.”

you copied him and crossed your arms, “mmm… because he’s really good at what he does. i admire that most of all.”

you tilted your head. “everyone berates him for being mean but i like that he’s supposedly mean for some reason…. he’s just serious about his profession and he doesn’t want to waste time. he’s also the hottest man i’ve ever seen so that definitely helps.”

the stranger man laughed a little.

“i don’t know,” you sighed sadly. “maybe i’m just demented. i am demented.”

“if yuji itadori told you the exact opposite about him, would that have encouraged you to go up to him?”

you sat in thought for a moment, but ultimately shook your head. “no. it’s too embarrassing for me and i’m also a big fat wuss so…”

you slid your fingers underneath the lenses and rubbed your stinging sore eyes. “maybe in the next life if i’m lucky, ill be reincarnated as a cool baseball man too and i won’t have to deal with this shit.”

“cool baseball man.” he repeated, tone seemingly amused.

“yup.”

the stranger man sighed. “is this why i found you crying?”

“maayybeee?” you dragged out shyly, your cheeks flushing.

it was silent for a moment, your vision completely black but his on your rosy cheeks, oddly staring that if you could see right now, you’d probably call him a creep.

“i’m sorry i made you cry.”

you jumped back.

“no not you!” you huffed. “have you not been paying attention? catch up man—”

you felt a shadow reach up and tug the sunglasses slightly away from your face, your eyes constricting against the bright lights of the hall as they tried to adjust.

and when they did?

megumi fushiguro was sitting right next to you, a tiny smile on his face dressed in all black with his teams baseball cap on.

your eyes widened dramatically and you slapped both hands over your mouth, beyond horrified as everything you had thought you were telling a stranger about him, you were telling him directly, your brain short circuiting and your body heating up like a fucking hot flash.

“oh my god i’m so sorry!” your voice was muffled, you shaking your head in absolute denial.

you immediately sprung up and grabbed your purse, slowly backing up further and further away from him.

his smile widened.

oh my god.

megumi fushiguro was smiling, a sight you’ve never ever seen during his games, practices, interviews, articles, or magazines as your cheeks increased in shade— wanting to mentally take a picture and remember forever as you knew you’d probably never see him smile like that again.

but he was smiling.

“pretend i don’t exist!” you stammered, “pretend this never happened i’m sorry this is so embarrassing keep winning your games okay and i’ll keep being an idiot far far away from you—”

“where are you going?” he chuckled lowly.

“—you’ll never see me again i’m going home and i’m going on lockdown—”

he laughed through his nose, his lips in an amused smile.

“you don’t have to do that.”

“yes i do—”

“you don’t have to forget me either.”

“that i definitely do—”

you were halfway out of the main entrance doors.

“hold on y/n—”

megumi stood, his long legs walking over to you and you froze.

y/n?

you slowly turned around, your face pale and afraid.

“how do you know my name?” you asked softly.

“your best friend is dating yuji, is she not.”

you nodded, eyes blank.

“i’ve been seeing you inside the locker room after our games for like… two years.” megumi mumbled.

oh.

oh that’s right.

you didn’t actually notice megumi until last year, when you decided to finally open your eyes for once during a game and that’s how you spotted him for the first time on the big screen in front of you, in all of his gorgeous handsome entity.

“oh.”

he raised a hand and pressed his index finger to your forehead, nudging you softly.

“dummy.”

“s-sorry..” you gave him a wobbly bashful smile, your cheeks pinky as you rubbed your red eyes.

his eyes slightly softened and he shook his head. “s’fine.”

megumi continued to stare at you, a stone cold face that always seemed to scare off the teams entire fan base, but only made you feel numb and giddy all over every single time.

you smiled wider then, and megumi’s lips twitched.

cute.

“i’m— i’m gonna go now.”

“do you have a ride home?”

you stopped. “no i was just gonna call an uber—”

he shook his head and walked past you, his shoulder brushing gently with yours with his hands stuffed in his pockets as you turned and stared at him.

he paused and looked over his shoulder.

“you coming?”

your eyes widened. “coming? w—where?”

he rolled his eyes. “i’m taking you home.”

“no!” you shot your hands out. “it’s okay! really! thank you thank you i appreciate it but—”

he stared lazily.

“come.”

you pressed your lips into a thin line and tipped your head down, taking tiny painful steps as you followed after him to the parking lot.

megumi led you from the public parking area to a secluded section around the back of the arena, one you assumed was for players and crew members only as you nervously gnawed on your bottom lip, feeling absolutely sick.

you both continued to walk down until you arrived to a private parking garage, megumi slipping out his keys from the pocket of his hoodie as you approached a shiny black luxurious car sitting neatly in a spot.

his car was really fucking nice, and you figured so being as he was one of the most popular players and probably had more than enough money in the bank— your fingers trembling as you gripped the passenger side door, settling yourself inside his plush cool leather seats and all black interior.

megumi pressed the ‘start’ button and his engine roared to life, the motor echoing through the structure as you clumsily tried to put on your seatbelt, your cheeks growing pinker with each passing second that you just couldn’t get the stupid damn thing to— click—

he reached over across the console and took the seatbelt from you, pulling it over your body and clicking it secure without a word.

“thank you.” you said softly, eyes trained to your lap.

megumi gave you a small nod and backed out of his parking space, driving around a couple of rows before making his way out with the night air softly breezing through your hair as he drove, his dash illuminated with blue lines that ran smoothly across.

“can you put your address in—”

“oh yeah!” you jumped. “sorry—”

you reached over and tapped in your address on his big touch screen, watching the way the gps registered the location and gave him the estimated time of arrival.

forty fucking minutes.

“megumi..”

his eyes looked over at you for a second before turning back to the road.

“hm?”

“i live kinda far from here and i don’t want you to drive the opposite way from where you live.”

you leaned a little, eyebrows pinched. “i can take an uber seriously, this is too much trouble i—”

“you’re already in my car.” he deadpanned.

“i’ll jump out.”

he pursed his lips, trying to suppress a smile.

“i have child lock on.”

“child lock?!” you gawked. “is this what you think of me?”

“you’re a little helpless… and you’re a crybaby.” he mumbled. “child lock stays on.”

you giggled after, your eyes shining and filled with mushy feelings for him as you nodded. “you’re probably right.”

he looked over at you then, and he smiled, softly.

“what do you do?”

you fidgeted. “h—huh?”

“do you um…” he ran his thumb over the top of his gear shift. “do you work? do you go to school?”

he’s asking you?

“i go to school!” you responded shyly but kind. “i go to a college that’s about fifteen minutes from your stadium. i usually go and meet up with my best friend after class if there’s a game.”

he hummed. “are you a big baseball person?”

you grimaced.

do you lie? do you tell the truth? do you roll down his window and attempt to jump out of the car that way?

you played with a strand of your hair. “i— i um—”

he raised an eyebrow.

“i— don’t?”

he cocked his head. “you don’t?”

you shook your head no, completely ashamed of who you are as a person as you covered your eyes.

“i knoww i suuucckkk,” you whined. “the only things i know about baseball are home runs and grand slams— which you did!”

you pointed at him excitedly. “last year! i remember you hit a grand slam! i got so excited that for once i knew what the fuck was going on and why everyone was going crazy…”

you fiddled with your fingers nervously, your eyes trained to the road. “i felt so included.”

he chuckled, and unexpectedly, reached over and gently ruffled your hair.

you then stared at him as he did so, doe eyes wide and cheeks pink.

megumi was truly just beautiful— his smooth face that didn’t have a single blemish on his skin shining under the moonlight, his black spiky hair peeking from under his cap that you had no doubt in your mind was soft and velvety.

you hated that you’d probably do anything for that man.

“i’m sorry i made you cry,” he repeated, you recognizing his words from before.

your eyebrows furrowed.

he was still thinking about that?

you shook your head furiously, “you didn’t! i swear it’s okay. i’m just crazy.”

he huffed out a laugh.

megumi thought you were odd, but in a good way. he thought everything you did was a little funny, as you were jumpy and clumsy and a crybaby and helpless, but he also took note of how polite you were. he noticed how considerate you were of him even though you were really upset, and you were kind of sweet… really sweet actually, your personality something that was totally different from the usual girls that came up to him.

well, the usual girls that used to come up to him back when he first started.

megumi pulled into your driveway and shifted the gear into park, the doors automatically unlocking.

you opened the door and stepped out before leaning down and peeking your head in.

“thank you for the ride!” you said sweetly, a cute smile on your face. “i’m sorry you had to listen to my confession against your will.”

he shook his head. “it’s alright.”

you went in to close the door.

“y/n.”

you leaned back down, “yeah?”

“are you gonna stop coming to our games?”

you gnawed at the inside of your cheek, your eyes darting around the interior of his car nervously.

“i— i don’t think so.”

“good.”

megumi watched you close his door and walk back a bit, him shifting his gear into reverse as the corners of his lips turned a tiny bit upwards.

“i’ll see you then.”

as you watched him pull out and drive away, his engine roaring down the street, you could not stop or simmer down the way your heart raced against your chest, so much so that you were afraid it was going to burst through your chest and literally kill you.

the next time you went to a game, you hadn’t told your close girl friend yet as she led you through the crowd and down to the v.i.p. lower level seats like always, a kind courtesy of yuji’s that he did whenever he could.

as you watched, you embarrassingly spotted megumi almost the minute you arrived, stars and hearts in your eyes as you watched him do his thing and work magic through the field with his absolutely insane batting, strong and purposeful as he barked orders or observed the opposing team for leads.

once his and the opposing team switched sides, megumi looked up as he jogged, his eyes seemingly scanning the v.i.p. front sections until he spotted you.

he raised a hand and gave you a little wave, and your eyes widened as you timidly, hesitantly, gave him one in return— your cheeks turning pink.

“who are you waving at?”

your girl friend pressed a cheek against yours and looked.

“who is- fushiguro?!”

you looked at her sheepishly.

as you recounted the story to her, her eyes bulging out of her sockets and screaming her head off every two seconds, her head snapped to the field.

“i have to tell yuji—”

“no!” you gripped her shoulders. “it’s literally nothing! he drove me home and he probably just feels bad for me.”

“megumi isn’t the type to make a crying girl feel better or drive her home.”

“it’s because he knows that we know yuji.”

“mm i don’t think so..” she scowled, crossing her arms in eventual defeat as she stared straight ahead.

that’s how it went for about a month.

you would come to their games, megumi would wave at you from the field or you would catch his attention and wave at him, and you would briefly speak to him casually just after his games, your conversations with him usually lasting no more than three minutes as he was often pulled by his coach or a crew member.

but even though the conversations were short, they were really nice, and the both of you never seemed to notice the people around you wanting his attention until he physically had to get pulled away.

but you still refused to go inside the locker room, knowing that was surely the place where you had to talk to him for longer than three minutes. you were too scared, embarrassingly so as you bid your girl friend and yuji goodbye from just outside the door before leaving every time, completely unaware of the way megumi would stare expressionless at you from inside.

when your girl friend invited you to the team’s yearly banquet, you flat out said no, decision firm and unmoving as she begged you over and over and over again.

“please please you have to go! you can’t avoid megumi forever!”

“what is the purpose of me going though?” you sighed, shaking your head with a smile at the sight of her dramatically on her knees over you. “for you it makes sense because you’re with yuji but what’s the excuse for me? i’m not anybody’s plus one.”

“yes you are,” she got back up on her feet and wiggled her eyebrows, “you’re megumi’s plus one.”

“bye i wish,” you mumbled, plopping down on your bed.

“okay you’re my plus one, or yuji’s! so he has two plus ones!”

she walked over and sat down next to you, resting her head against your shoulder as she sighed. “please come. you don’t have to talk to megumi okay? fine. but just come with me, i’ll have a better time if you do.”

you gave her a silly smile and thought for a moment, her sad tone swaying you as you finally gave in.

“only if you swear you won’t force me to talk to him.”

she nodded eagerly.

“i swear!”

so you stood there, nervous and biting your thumb as you frantically looked around, dressed in a pretty black off the shoulder mermaid style gown with a high slit exposing your leg— fiddling with your styled hair as you waited and waited and waited for your girl friend to come back from the dessert table with yuji.

you hadn’t seen megumi yet as you were trying to keep on a look out, because the moment you did see him all dressed up? you were sure you were going to start pathetically bowing for him on your knees in front of all these people and end your social life forever.

finally, she came back and handed you a little pastry, you thanking her kindly and taking a small bite.

“wait no!” she gasped, turning her pastry around. “fuck, i got the wrong one. i meant to get the vanilla one this is coconut.”

“i can get it for you this time.” you smiled kindly, her looking at you gratefully as you patted her shoulder, making your way over to the dessert table.

your eyes lit up like stars at the sight of it, grand and luxurious as any kind of pastry you could ever possibly think of was present— neat and gourmet-like, each adorned with elegant toppings as multiple huge chocolate fountain stations ran from the sides.

“hi.”

you jumped and looked to your right, megumi standing there beside you with a bored expression, clad in a polished black button up and slacks, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

you gulped.

“h—hi.”

“i didn’t think you’d come.”

he lazily picked up a tiny slice of chocolate mousse cake and looked at it.

“i was dragged by my best friend,” you puffed out a laugh. “she said i was her and yuji’s plus one or something like that.”

he nodded, biting his cake slice and swallowing.

“you stopped coming inside the locker rooms.”

you faltered.

he noticed that?

“oh yeah! i just—” you shifted your weight from one foot to the other. “i’ve been really busy with school so i study right after…”

for some reason megumi eyed you carefully, and your cheeks grew pinker the more he blatantly stared at you as you fidgeted.

“are you—”

“fushiguro!”

you both turned your heads to the source, and you spotted an unfamiliar guy, one who you assumed was on the team with them, smiling enthusiastically and throwing a heavy arm around megumi’s shoulder.

“who’s this? i’ve never seen you talk to anyone besides us!”

megumi only spared him a nonchalant glance before he looked back over at the dessert table.

the unknown man extended a hand out to you, and megumi’s eyes snapped to it.

“hi! i’m takuma!”

you cheerfully took his hand. “y/n!”

“are you megumi’s girlfriend?”

you gawked, guilt and embarrassment already filling your body at the thought of megumi finding that comment uncomfortable and being uncomfortable because of you.

at his own banquet.

“n—no!” you shook your head, eyebrows pinched. “i came with my best friend and yuji.”

takuma unhooked his arm and let it rest beside him. “oh nice! you know yuji as well?”

you nodded, “mhm!”

the rest of the crowd began to take their seats for the awards ceremony segment, and the three of you walked over to your designated table by yuji and your best friend, who’s eyes widened at the sight of you next to megumi.

you all sat, and takuma pointed to the empty seat next to you.

“is anyone sitting here?”

“oh no!” you smiled politely. “it’s empty you can—”

“take mine ino.”

megumi pulled out the chair next to you and plopped down on it, scooting up. “it’s closer to the front.”

huh?

“o—oh!” takuma scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “okay! thanks fushiguro.”

he only nodded in response and stuck his face in his champagne glass, sipping.

and he was right. you watched as takuma navigated through the circular tables before sitting in a seat that was right smack dab in the front.

“that’s really nice of you megumi!” you chirped. “he has such a good view now!”

“mhm.”

your best friend smacked a hand to her forehead with a shake of her head, and you looked at her quizzically.

the awards ceremony was the most fun you’ve ever had, as you were over the moon for all of the players that were awarded prestigious titles and recognitions, and even more excited for yuji and megumi, the both of them combined taking award after award that by the time the event was done, your table was filled to the brim with frames, medals, and trophies.

your doe eyes glowed over megumi’s earnings, pride and admiration bubbling in your chest as you took in the result of his hard work, feeling like he was the most talented person you ever had the privilege of knowing.

he stared at your enamored look.

“you’re so cool, gumi..” you gushed, not even noticing the little nickname you gave him.

but he did.

“cool baseball man?” he responded softly, referencing your words from when you first met.

your eyes snapped to his and you gave him the shiniest smile, nodding quickly. “yeah! cool baseball man.”

megumi looked down at his awards, and after a couple of seconds, picked up a shiny gold medal hung on a baby blue striped lanyard, holding it out for you.

“here.”

your eyes traveled down.

“what?”

“for you.” he pushed the medal forward.

shock crossed your face, and you frantically shook your head, pushing the medal back to him. “no! no megumi that’s yours you earned it—”

megumi rolled his eyes and held on to the edges of the lanyard, effortlessly setting it over your head and around your neck, the medal clinking and twinkling against your chest.

“i have four others. it’s fine.”

“no but—”

he carded his thumbs underneath your hair and gently slid your hair out from beneath the lanyard, setting it delicately over your bare shoulders.

yuji and your best friends jaws were on the floor, but you didn’t notice, too busy ogling over the fact that megumi fushiguro was the kindest person you had ever met, utterly amazed that he selflessly gave you something so precious. you.

your gaze trailed down to the medal, and you softly touched it with the pads of your fingers.

“t—thank you gumi…”

his lips twitched.

you realized then that the music had started and the crowd had already dispersed to celebrate, some dancing in the center while others mingled on the sidelines or hogged the dessert table.

and you spotted your best friend with yuji, the both of them smiling adoringly at each other, laughing and dancing— something bashfully wished for yourself as you grinned softly at them.

megumi followed your gaze, and he huffed an amused small laugh through his nose.

“they met at a party didn’t they?”

you looked to him and nodded, “uh huh! i was with her. she was so scared to talk to him and i literally had to throw her in.”

he scratched his cheek. “i remember. i was there.”

your jaw dropped. “you were?!”

he nodded. “and i remember you too.”

you sat there in silence.

how long had megumi been around in your life without you knowing? how didn’t you ever freaking notice?

before you could press any further, megumi squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his fingers to his forehead in pain, groaning softly.

you jumped, “are you okay? what’s wrong?”

he shook his head. “migraine. the lights are fucking with me a little.”

“oh!” you frantically looked around the table and around him. “where are your sunglasses? the dark ones the ones you ran into a wall with!”

megumi snorted and shook his head again, eyes peeking at you a bit. “it’s fine. i left them at home.”

your eyebrows rose, “you left them?”

he nodded and dropped his hand, sitting up straight and trying to open his eyes fully to seem normal, but his lids only dropped again and his forehead fell to rest against the table.

“i’m sorry,” he mumbled. “just give me a minute.”

“don’t be sorry gumi…”

you figured the rest of the night was going to be like this, and if megumi stayed, he was going to end up dealing with the dull ache in his head for hours on end and not enjoy his banquet.

but you wanted him to enjoy it. this was his night, and you didn’t want him to spend it pissed off and writhing in pain.

“do you want to leave?”

he turned his head to the side and looked at you.

“we can um—” you fiddled with the medal around your neck. “we can go outside? or we can go for ice cream…”

you tilted your head to the side cutely, and you were oblivious to the way megumi’s cheeks went a little pink at the sight.

“ill pay though!” you smiled sweetly. “it’s the least i can do for the medal you gave me.”

he gave you an endearing half smile and nodded.

your eyes lit up. “really?! okay!— wait let me just say bye to my best friend and let her know—”

you quickly stood and walked over to the dance floor, megumi watching after you before picking up his black blazer and holding it underneath an arm, wondering how the fuck he was gonna pick up all of his awards himself.

“y/n!” your best friend gushed. “you’ve been talking to megumi for hours what the fuck is going on—”

you laughed. “nothing! it was nothing but i’m gonna go get ice cream with him!”

“what?!” her and yuji said in unison.

“did he ask you?” yuji pushed.

“no!” your eyes narrowed. “of course not i’m a big fat loser why would he? i invited him because he has a migraine so—”

your best friend hummed, a smirk on her face. “oh i see... use protection.”

“huh?!” your jaw dropped. “no! that’s not—”

“y/n!”

you turned and saw takuma walk over to you, a big smile on his face. “you enjoying the banquet?”

“oh yes! it’s really great!” you smiled kindly. “the dessert table is absolutely insane.”

“right?!” takuma stepped closer to you. “they go all out every year, it’s what everyone looks forward to.”

“i can definitely see why!”

he chuckled and nodded but then turned to you, speaking quieter. “listen um… i was wondering if you were uh— well if you wanted to dance? with me? y’know… maybe get to know each other better and then—”

yuji shoved his lips to your best friends ear.

“he’s stealing megumi’s girl.”

“i know!” she whispered harshly. “what the fuck do we do—”

“i don’t know!”

“well call megumi over—”

suddenly, a tall broad figure walked in between you and takuma, your vision blocked by his back.

“sorry ino,” megumi stepped to the side a little and placed a hand on the small of your back, ushering you towards the exit. “we were just leaving.”

yuji and your best friend gave each other a low high five before their eyes darted around, putting on false ignorance.

“sorry!— it was nice meeting you takuma!” you called from over your shoulder before the both of you stepped out of the venue and into the cool night air.

megumi’s car was parked right out front, him unlocking the doors with a button just like he had done the last time, you noticing how all of his awards were set neatly in the back seat.

“oh i’m sorry gumi! did you carry these over by yourself? i was gonna help you—”

you sat yourself on his passenger side seat, the leather creaking with every movement you made.

he shook his head. “i had my publicist team do it. it’s fine.”

“oh okay…” you mumbled, still feeling a little guilty that you didn’t help him.

you went to reach for your seatbelt when megumi’s arm flew in front of you and grabbed the strap, pulling it over your frame and clicking it securely before his hands wrapped back around the steering wheel, just like he had done a month prior.

you couldn’t make out his expression, as it was blank and stone-like and not a word was coming out of his mouth as he backed out from the parking space, but you smiled at him cutely nonetheless and thanked him.

the nearest ice cream shop was literally down the road from the venue, and the drive took less than three minutes before megumi pulled in and parallel parked on the side of the street.

you both stepped out and walked inside, the shop colorful and vibrant as what looked like twenty different assortments of ice cream were on display, your eyes launching across each flavor excitedly.

“i haven’t had ice cream in a fat minute…” you murmured as you pressed your hands against the glass.

“me neither.”

“which flavor do you want megumi?” you asked him sweetly, your eyes still glued to the flavors that it made him chuckle.

“um…” he stepped forward and scanned the different colors. “i’ll take whatever you get.”

you looked at him and your eyebrows softened, “are you sure? what if you don’t like it?”

the corner’s of his lips turned upward, the sight making your heart skip a beat.

“it’s okay. i trust you.”

you ended up getting your all time favorite flavor that you never skip— cake batter, one that tastes different depending on who’s palette it is, and something you anxiously thought over as you gnawed on your bottom lip and stared, waiting for him to try it as you both sat on a park bench not too far from the shop.

“why do you look like you’re about to cry.” he snickered lowly.

your eyes snapped to his and you giggled. “i might if you don’t like what i picked out.” you plopped a little spoonful in your mouth, the cold ice cream melting and spreading over your tongue as you swallowed. “cake batter is a hit or miss for different people…”

he hummed, “how come?”

“it’s either too sweet or just nasty.”

“i have a sweet tooth.”

your eyes lit up, “so do i! i’m a big sweets person. i love love desserts and chocolate and ice cream… but i’m not the biggest fan of candy.”

“you’re not?”

“i love candy but not how i love sweets… and i wouldn’t randomly pick it out like at the store because i wanted to. most likely i would get a cookie.”

megumi liked how much you talked.

“have you always had a sweet tooth?” he pressed on, looking at his ice cream cup.

you nodded. “have you?”

“not really,” he shook his head. “i didn’t pick it up until i met—” he stopped. “…my dad.”

met his dad?

megumi spotted your confusion and continued.

“my actual dad disappeared. dunno where he’s at. all i’ve heard is that he had a bad gambling addiction so i’m guessing it had something to do with that.”

your eyes softened.

“gojo is kind of like my dad…” he mumbled. “he’s supported my sister and i financially ever since i was maybe five or six.”

“you have a sister?” you murmured, eyes big.

he nodded. “i do.”

he scooped a bit of cake batter ice cream up with his spoon and plopped it into his mouth, smiling softly. “gojo gave me a sweet tooth. he can’t go a day without it.”

you’d never heard megumi open up so much before, and you felt incredibly lucky and special to be the one to hear about his family and share a precious moment with him over eating ice cream, something you wanted to treat delicately and remember for as long as you lived.

“do you like it?” you asked softly, gesturing to his cup.

“i love it.”

you beamed, and he took in your cute smile for a minute as you ate some more on your end.

“i’m sorry about your actual dad… but i’m glad you and your sister got the support you needed when you were young.”

he nodded.

“did he encourage you to do baseball? or was it you?”

“he did initially.” he shook his head. “he was annoying at first, was a cheerleader at every game and was so loud.”

you giggled.

“but i grew to like it… and that’s what i wanted to do for a career. if it wasn’t for gojo’s funding i wouldn’t have been able to.”

you hummed, savoring the ice cream a bit before swallowing. “that’s really nice, gumi. i’m really happy you got the opportunity to grow your skill out like that…” you swirled the ice cream around your cup with your spoon. “what you have is a solid gift, and i would hate to see it not get the recognition it deserves when you’ve worked so hard to make it what it is now.”

you looked at him. “so i’m really, really glad that it does get it.”

megumi stared at you, face blank and a scoop of yet to be eaten ice cream on his spoon, his cheeks growing hot.

“i don’t know why you think so highly of me.” he murmured.

everyone thinks he’s rude.

your eyebrows furrowed. “i don’t think megumi, i know. you’re not a mean person, you’re honest and serious about the important things in your life. and if the medal around my neck that you gave me selflessly doesn’t tell you otherwise? i might have to kill you.”

he laughed, loud, his eyes sparkling. “you might?”

you bit your lip to refrain yourself from freaking out over his smooth laughter. “i might.”

you subconsciously rubbed your hands over your chilling arms then and megumi eyed it before he put his cup down, reaching next to him for his blazer and opening it up as he gently placed it over your shoulders.

you looked at him like he was the world then, doe eyes big and round and shimmering, and megumi felt like he could do anything with that look as long as it came from you— a permanent red tint on his cheeks that was entirely your doing.

“thank you..” you mumbled shyly, your eyes glued to your now empty cup of ice cream on the bench as you clutched the sides of his blazer, the smell of him wafting in your nose that made you absolutely weak.

megumi timidly, slowly, reached up and moved a strand of hair from your eyes then, and you looked up.

“pretty…” he murmured, dazed even.

his hand fell and landed gently on your exposed thigh from the slit of your dress, but instead of moving it, he let it stay there, his hand smoothing over your plush soft skin as he was completely entranced by your heavenly face, his body pulling his lips closer to yours as megumi’s breath quickened with absolute need the higher up his hand trailed up your yummy thigh.

you couldn’t say a word, he practically didn’t let you as his lips pressed delicately and timidly against your plush ones, his mouth moving so slowly and his tongue parting your wet lips for the purpose of devouring more of you, all while his fingertips reached and felt the side straps of your panties— the material alone making him erratic and desperate while his other hand gripped your waist tightly.

your mouths moved faster now, the sounds of wet smacking and lips separating to reconnect with more greed than before muffling your ears as he breathed heavily through his nose, his eyebrows pinched together in pent up everything as he finally had you with him after months of you avoiding him.

and then you pulled away with a wet pop.

“i—i’m sorry!” you covered your mouth. “i didn’t mean to kiss you!—”

what?

megumi’s eyebrows furrowed, both of your chests heaving as his cheeks and lips were blushed red.

he shook his head, “no i kissed you—”

“don’t cover for me gumiii,” your shoulders slumped, your brain so in denial that he could ever like you back that it tricked you into thinking you were the one kissing and all over him. “fuck i’m sorry… that was so disrespectful and— and weird of me and i—”

megumi’s hands slipped away from your body and he shook his head, his eyes dead locked on yours with his eyebrows pinched together. “y/n no you’re not understanding—”

“i’m the biggest creep on the planet man i understand if you don’t ever want to speak to me again—” you covered your face and leaned forward.

megumi stared at you astonishingly as he listened to you ramble apologies and dramatic insults for yourself continuously, his shoulders slowly relaxing and his lips turning into a soft knowing smile, your random speech starting to make absolutely no sense at all and his heart aching at the fact of how naive you were.

“y/n.”

you stopped. “what.”

he reached over and pulled your hands away from your face. “you’re helpless, you know that?”

“helpless and a creep.”

he laughed and shook his head. “stop it.”

he stood and offered his hand out for you.

“it’s getting late, i’m driving you home.”

megumi decided he would properly speak to you about it the next time he saw you… except he didn’t.

you started avoiding him like the plague again, horrendously horrified about what you believed you had done, thinking that it was better if you stayed away from him and fulfilled your initial task of forgetting him, no matter how much it hurt you.

you didn’t want megumi to ever be uncomfortable or experience what you believed he experienced with you. he didn’t deserve that. he didn’t deserve a pathetic little fan girl that never left him alone and hindered his work on the field, even though you wished so badly you could see him again, as the taste of his lips and mouth never left your fuzzy mind.

you kissed megumi fushiguro.

“oh my god y/n, you’re so stupid.”

“no i’m not! do you really believe megumi could ever like me back? no! absolutely not. i kissed him and i fucked up and that’s it. i’m staying away from him.”

your best friend ran her fingers through her hair and almost tore a chunk out in frustration. “it sounds like he kissed you! he had his hand on your thigh—”

“that was for stability! he—”

“no it was to feel you up!”

you shook your head side to side with your arms crossed. “nope nope nope nope—”

“y/nnnn!”

as for megumi, the next game he had he looked for you while on the field like he always did, looking forward to seeing your precious face and giving you a little wave… except he couldn’t find you. after the game, he went around the stadium and towards the locker room, inside and back out, the parking lot, his parking lot—

and he couldn’t find you.

this went on for a full three weeks of game after game nearly every day him doing the same exact thing— him getting increasingly more confused and a bit upset at your disappearance, going as far as to staying hours after his games still in his sweaty baseball uniform and cap with hopes that you’ll turn up.

except you never did.

and at the end of the third week, he had had enough.

“oh hey megumi!” your best friend greeted him, her hand fixing around yuji’s hair in the locker room after a game.

“hi.”

he stood there and said nothing, and your best friend eyed him skeptically. “…yes?”

megumi shifted awkwardly. “have you um… have you seen y/n?”

she sucked in a breath. “uh yeah. i saw her this morning.”

“this morning?” his eyes narrowed. “is she okay? why hasn’t she been coming to our games with you?”

“because—” she stammered. “well because—”

“is it our place to say?” yuji muttered.

“is it our place to know?” she whispered back harshly.

“i don’t know!”

“let’s just tell him!”

“but what if!—”

megumi rolled his eyes and huffed. “nevermind. please tell her to come tomorrow, i need to talk to her.”

your best friend gulped and nodded, both her and yuji watching the way he walked away and snatched his cap off, throwing it inside his locker and slamming it shut with his foot before picking up his duffel bag and leaving, not even bothering to change out of his dirt covered uniform.

“i’ve never seen him so stressed,” yuji commented.

“it’s because he likes her and she’s being an idiot…” your best friend sighed sadly.

so when she came to you the next day and told you megumi needed to speak to you, she amplified how upset he was to get you to feel bad and feel the urgent need to come to the game tonight, which you of course did.

and you were worried. so so worried and scared that he was finally going to tell you off for kissing him, to tell you that you sucked and that he never ever wanted to see you again in his life and that you were a disgusting human being—

but the roar of the crowd pulled you from your thoughts, the team winning once again as many began to pack their things and take their leave. you were completely and utterly shitting yourself, petrified and already heartbroken over the fact that megumi was officially going to cut you off as a friend when you hadn’t even had the chance to try and win him over yet.

and the way he played on the field tonight was way more aggressive than normal. he was louder, meaner, and didn’t take his eyes away from the ball or his opponents as he nearly got into a fight with another player, yuji and a few others needing to pull megumi apart and set him aside to cool off— the cameras and reporters having a field day in regards to him.

and that bothered you like nothing else. why the hell were they so excited over him getting angry? to amplify the brand that he upholds as the teams meanest player? as if they’ve never had a bad day a day in their lives? what was the point?

and it was all because of you, you realized.

you made him upset.

you covered your face with your hands and groaned, feeling like you wanted to cry.

“y/n…” your best friend patted your back. “it’ll be fine… he just needs to talk to you! you don’t even know what it’s about.”

“i can take a wild guess.”

she looked at you worriedly before picking up her things. “whenever you’re ready babe… i think he’s in the locker rooms by now.”

she left you there to gather yourself, and you sat there for a couple of more minutes before finally getting up and making your way to the locker rooms.

most of the fans had cleared out by now, and the sun was beginning to set as you passed and squeezed through crew members and news reporters, gnawing at your bottom lip as you turned a corner and spotted the locker room, many of the players already leaving.

just as you had reached your hand up to open the door, a firm voice called out to you.

“y/n.”

you froze, retracting your hand as you turned to look.

megumi stood there at the end of the hall, his baseball uniform still on and his cap dangling from his belt loop, hands in tight fists with his chest rising and falling, an agitated look on his face that you had never seen before.

“h—hi-”

“are you trying to forget me? is that what’s going on?”

your eyebrows furrowed.

“what?”

megumi took stride full steps towards you. “you finally talk to me, you confess to me, you disappear for a month, i wait for you, you finally show up at the banquet looking like the most beautiful woman i’ve ever seen in my fucking life—”

he stopped in front of you. “takuma tries to steal you from me, i get pissed off, i fall for you at the park, i kiss you—“ he threw his arms up. “and you disappear again!”

your eyes bulge out of their sockets.

fall?

“you what?—”

“so i’m asking you again,” megumi bent his knees to look at you at eye level, his hands coming up to cup your pink cheeks and his face so close to yours you can make out the exact color of his eyes.

“are you trying to forget me? like you said you would?”

you fidgeted.

“i— i was doing it for you—”

“why for me? i never said—”

the feeling of his big hands on your cheeks was making your heart do backflips and trick shots as your wide doe eyes looked at him.

“because when i kissed you i made you uncomfortable and i don’t ever want you to be so i thought it’d be best if i left you alone—”

“okay let’s fix that right now,” his hands tightened slightly around your cheeks and he readjusted his footing, knees still bent. “i kissed you. if anything i should be the one worried if i made you uncomfortable because i put my hand on your thigh like that and for that i’m sorry.”

“no but—”

“yes y/n. i kissed you because you’re polite and you’re sweet and you’re funny, and you don’t see me as rude like everybody else does. and even though you’re naive and helpless sometimes, i like that you are. i like you.”

“but you’re megumi fushiguro…” you squeaked.

“so?”

“and i’m a loser.”

he laughed so cutely and shook his head, his pearly whites fully shining at you so big that it took you back to the first time he smiled in front of you.

“no you’re not you big dummy.”

he let go of your cheeks and placed his palms flat against the brick wall behind you, cornering you in as he let his head hang low, the top of his spiky black hair the only thing in your line of vision.

“i don’t know how else i can make you see…”

he sounded so exhausted, and your heart clenched.

“was it—” you timidly placed your hands on his shoulders. “was it actually you that kissed me?”

he nodded, head still hung.

“and do you actually like me? like— like more than a friend…”

“way fucking more,” he mumbled.

you bit the inside of your cheek as you tried to contain yourself from screaming.

you couldn’t believe it. the megumi fushiguro, number eighteen, the most handsome man you’ve ever seen and the kindest one you’ve ever met… liked you.

“i could’ve sworn i kissed you..” you spoke softly, trailing off.

“you didn’t.” his voice was firm. “i kissed you and i put my hand up your thigh…” his forehead lifted to rest on the crook of your neck as he sighed a deep breath.

“i told— i told takuma to scram at the banquet because i got jealous that you were talking to him more than me. i saw you crying in the hall that first time we spoke and i recognized you and i went up to you because finally—”

he picked his head up slowly, eyes serious. “finally, you noticed me.”

he was so close that your nose brushed gently with his.

“you’re so dense y/n…”

megumi’s eyes flickered to your lips, “i’ve wanted you since the party.”

“the party?” you murmured.

he nodded. “the party where your friend first met yuji.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands slide down the wall and snake over your hips, holding you tightly against him as the shock of his words made your body numb and tingly.

since the party?

it all seemed to click into place then, every single moment megumi tried to get you to look at him, to talk to him, in his own discreet way that you were completely oblivious to. and you were so fucking caught up in this fog of denial, that a person like megumi could never be interested in a person like you, that it made you push him away for the longest time without even giving yourself a chance.

you were so fucking stupid.

your arms slowly wrapped around his broad shoulders, the rough feeling of his baseball uniform underneath your fingertips and arms as you pressed your nose up against his shoulder shyly, feeling so incredibly bad for avoiding megumi for so long.

“i’m sorry…” you mumbled. “i’m sorry i was so oblivious gumi.”

you felt him shake his head from the crook of your neck silently, the vibration of his heart beating rapidly against you making you sweat and melt at the same time.

“don’t be.”

“i just—” you struggled. “i just thought you didn’t like me like i liked you and i wanted to respect your space…”

“i understand,” he muttered. “but i don’t want you to respect my space anymore.”

you held him tighter.

“and—” your voice was slightly muffled by his shoulder.

“hm?”

“i liked it when you put your hand on my thigh…”

megumi stilled, you playing the night he kissed you over and over in your head again like you’ve done since it happened— the thought making you nervous and timid.

he gripped you tighter.

“did you?”

you nodded, “mhm.”

megumi without parting from you, slipped a hand under your shirt and soothed his fingers over the bare skin of your torso, your breathing stuttering, his rough hand radiating warmth.

“what else do you like.”

you gripped the fabric of his uniform.

“i like… i like the way you kissed me. and how you touch me… like right now.”

your voice was so so soft, practically a whisper as he seemed to shiver under your words, wanting more.

“what else.”

“you,” you mumbled. “your body… your hair… your face… your hands… the way you talk to people.”

“you want me?” he murmured breathlessly.

“more than anything.”

“what else do you like?”

you leaned your head back a little and pressed your lips to his ear. “the way you play ball.”

he hummed, “you like the way i play baby?”

you nodded, your heart hammering.

he lifted his face from the crook of your neck and shamelessly pressed his lips to your cheek, murmuring.

“you wanna see what else i can do?”

“what— what else?”

megumi’s face remained pressed against your cheek as he let both of his hands now snake underneath your shirt and upwards, slowly but roughly groping the cup of your tits over your bra, feeling you up as you gasped.

“uh huh..” he pressed an open mouthed wet kiss to your pink fuzzy cheek. “‘cause i can do a lot more than just be your cool baseball man.”

he roughly spun you around and pushed you up against the wall, his hands coming back up to your breasts to grope you as he shoved and rubbed his hardened clothed dick against your perky ass, your tiny skirt riding up and revealing your pretty pink panties that made him absolutely feral.

“gumi!” you gasped. “s—someone could see—”

“i don’t fucking care.”

megumi buried his nose further into the back of your neck and your hair, him being a little pervert in the most delicious and intoxicating way possible.

he dragged his mouth up against your skin and latched on to the nape of your neck, sucking and biting sloppily against it as he marked you aggressively, no doubt in your mind that a purple bruise would follow soon after as his hands slipped under your bra now, pinching your hard nipples meanly and laughing when you jumped.

you moaned and whined against the wall, your body trembling as you felt your slick arousal slip from your hole and dampen your panties, choked up embarrassment coating your face as he shoved his fingers down your skirt without warning.

“you’re soaked baby…” he whispered. “and all because i grabbed your tits?”

“megumiii…” you whined, and you squeaked as he quickly slipped his fingers in between your pussy lips and pinched your clit.

“gumi,” he corrected. “fix it.”

“g—gumi—”

“good, pretty baby...” he praised, his dick rock fucking solid against your ass at the way his fingers slipped and slid in between your lower lips without much effort, both of your chests heaving and panting as your brains frazzled erotically.

the sounds of footsteps echoed from the end of the hall and you both immediately froze, a gasp slipping past your lips before megumi quickly covered your mouth with the same hand that was just fingering you.

“shh.” he kissed the back of your head.

if anyone were to walk in and see the sight before them— megumi with his crotch pressed up against your ass, a hand pushing your top and bra up, squeezing your bare puffy tit and the other covering your mouth?

they’d drop dead.

without another moment wasted, megumi uncovered your mouth and turned you around, his tongue darting out and licking the patch of wet on your cheek from his fingers before shoving them in his mouth, sucking up your left over juice as he bent down and wrapped his arms around your legs, lifting and throwing you over his shoulder.

megumi was freaky.

your eyes widened as he walked to the double doors of the locker room and kicked it open with his foot, turning around to lock them shut before walking to a corner and setting you down gently on a bench, his palms flat beside you on the smooth wood as he towered over you.

“is— is everybody gone?”

“long gone.” he nibbled at your cheek.

“but— but what if someone wants to come in?—”

he pulled away and got down on his knees. “i’ll tell them to fuck off.”

you panted as he pressed his hands against your thighs and squeezed, spreading them apart slowly with his eyes trained to your drenched cute pink panties.

he slid his hands underneath your thighs and lifted, bending you and pressing your knees closer to you as your back hit the lockers behind you, your hands gripping the bench for dear life.

“has anyone ever seen your pussy?” he gruffed, licking his lips.

you shook your head, embarrassed. “n—no.”

“has any other man touched you the way i’ve touched you?”

“m—maybe in high school?—”

megumi sunk his teeth into your inner thigh and bit you as you yelped.

“thought you liked me.”

“i do!” you sputtered.

“clearly not if you’re being a little whore and letting other filthy men on you.”

your hole clenched.

“that— that was before you!”

he stuck his tongue out and pressed it flat against your pussy covered panties, dragging it slowly and agonizingly up until the tip of his tongue passed and flicked up against your clit, the tip moving around and around your little nub as your thighs shook.

“doesn’t matter.” he let a string of drool fall from the corner of his lips and over your ruined underwear, your eyes fluttering as you felt his warm saliva ooze in between your lips.

“and what about takuma, hm?”

you tried to open your eyes. “ta—takuma?”

“mhm. he was all over you.”

you hiccuped as he wrapped his fingers around the straps of your panties and pulled them down.

“i—”

“bet he wanted to do to you what i’m doing right now…” he hummed. “would you have let him?”

he stuffed his nose into your bare pussy and inhaled deeply, your jaw dropping as you squeezed your eyes shut.

your lack of response caused him to pull away and bite your thigh again, harder.

“would you?”

“n—no!” you shook your head quickly, strands of your hair lightly grazing your face. “i wouldn’t—”

“so who then?” he licked over his bite mark. “who would you spread your legs open for like this and let them see what a nasty fucking girl you are…”

“you gumi!” you hiccuped. “just you—”

“just me?”

megumi finally let his tongue slither itself in between your folds, slowly running over your flaps and clit as your hole continued to squelch out your arousal, pooling on the bench beneath you.

“y—yes!”

he slobbered and spit over your pussy like a starved dog, his face glistening like sugary glazed sweets.

“that’s what i fucking thought,” he hummed. “you gonna try and forget me again?”

“no!” you shook your head. “never! i can’t!”

he gripped your thighs tighter as he absolutely violated your folds then, wet sloshing and slurpings filling the air as he spat and shook his head side to side rapidly on your clit, you squealing and attempting to snap your thighs shut in response, his strong grip not letting you even if you tried.

“i—i can’t!” you cried. “gumi slow please it’s too much—”

“be a pretty baby and stop complaining.” he ran his slimy tongue over your pussy entirely before shoving it inside your hole.

you choked and clasped a trembling hand over your mouth, tears of ecstasy spilling from the corners of your eyes as you squeezed them shut.

you whimpered and moaned and cried so pathetically, so cutely in his ears that he grinned as he pumped his tongue in and out of you filthily.

“you’re so fucking sweet—” he slapped your cunt and you jumped. “good thing i have a sweet tooth.”

your legs shook violently as you began to see stars, your tight hole clenching and sputtering around nothing as you felt your release approaching.

“gumi—” your hand flew back to the bench and you gripped it. “m’gonna cum! i’m— i’m gonna make a mess—”

megumi’s hand shot up and wrapped around one of your thighs so the tips of his fingers met your clit, his digits proceeding to rub and flick it as you climbed and reached your high, a high pitched scream echoing through the steamy locker room as your pussy leaked your sweet cum on his tongue.

you shuddered and jumped at the way he cleaned up your release and swallowed it, running his tongue soothingly over the bite marks on your thighs before coming back up and wiping his glistening face with his sleeve.

megumi leaned in and pressed a gentle loving kiss to your lips, a complete turn around from the feral beast you had in between your legs— you kissing him back with just as much feel and affection.

he pulled back and got back up on his feet, you watching him ditzy as he jogged over to his locker and turned the lock until it clicked open, him rummaging inside for a little before he shut it and came back with a fresh pair of gray sweatpants.

“put these on baby,” he murmured.

you nodded sweetly and took them from him, you slipping off your skirt and pulling his sweatpants over as you watched him bend and look over corners.

“what are you looking for?” you asked softly.

he perked up then and stuck his hand under a bench, pulling out your wet ruined pink panties and holding them up high like a trophy.

“oh my god—” you covered your mouth in embarrassment. “give me those!”

“nope.” he shook his head and walked over to his duffel bag on the floor, unzipping it before stuffing your panties inside. “these are mine now.”

megumi came back up and wrapped his palm underneath your chin, tilting your face up softly before planting a sweet kiss to your swollen lips.

“and so are you.”

and that you were.

you went on many many dates with megumi after that, each and every single one so incredibly lovely and fun, a genuine connection you felt with him and each other that you had never ever felt before in your life, absolutely enamored by the way he gently treated you and made you feel like the only one that mattered in his life.

your best friend was obviously over the moon for you, squealing like a maniac at everything you told her, and always teased megumi about his lovesick face whenever you came to his games or appeared in the locker room to help him change, sort his clothes, or fix his hair.

“megumi…” she snickered. “your cheeks are a little red! are you like— sick?”

he scowled at her and turned the other way, wiping his sweaty forehead as he watched you bounce down the steps cutely and onto the field after one of his practices, a huge smile on your face that replicated on his.

the minute you jumped into his arms, he peppered your little cheeks with kisses as you giggled and ruffled his spiky hair, asking him how he felt about practice and other things after he set you down.

without anyone noticing, a journalist was on the field, and at the sight of megumi fushiguro’s beaming toothy smile as he watched you run to him, they quickly snapped a photo and published it.

one was a perfect portrait photo of his shining white smile (that later became his signature picture) and the other was a photo of his arms out for you as you ran, the both of them causing an absolute uproar that altered megumi’s image from that day forward.

megumi fushiguro was thought to be the meanest player on the team since the day he got signed.

but when he started taking more pictures with fans, kind of stopped offending the people around him, signed more autographs, and smiled occasionally at the paparazzi— all while your pretty self stood right next to him?

megumi fushiguro was sometimes the meanest player on the team.

————————————————————————

want more? you can find my mlb!megumi fushiguro masterlist here!

[theonottsbxtch]

HONEST | LN4

an: this is dedicated to the anon who noticed my bio and saw i loved honest by the nbhd, it inspired me to write something based off of it <3

wc: 3.5k

summary: lando and his girlfriend keep going back to each other despite her numerous attempts to get him to open up, what happens when she finally has enough.

The night was alive with the hum of possibility, the city draped in neon light and the buzz of distant traffic. She sat cross-legged on the floor of her cramped university apartment, a half-finished canvas propped up against the wall, colors bleeding together in a way that made her frown. Her fingers were smudged with paint, her hair twisted into a loose knot that threatened to unravel with every frustrated exhale.

Her phone buzzed, the screen lighting up with a notification: “Lando Norris finishes P2 at Hungary Grand Prix.”

She hesitated before swiping it away. The world might have celebrated second place, but she knew him better. For Lando, second was nothing more than a public failure.

The knock at her door came minutes later, sharp and deliberate, like him. She didn’t need to check who it was.

When she opened it, there he stood, still in the McLaren jacket with the logo stitched across his chest. His dark hair clung to his forehead, and his jaw was set in that stubborn line she knew too well. He smelled like engine oil and exhaustion, and she couldn’t decide if the ache in her chest was for him or the weight he always carried.

“You’re here,” she said, the words soft, more observation than greeting.

“I needed to see you.” His voice was low, barely audible over the sound of her radiator ticking in the background.

“Shouldn’t you be celebrating? Champagne showers and all that?” she asked, stepping aside to let him in.

“I didn’t win.”

She closed the door behind him, watching as he moved to her window, his silhouette framed by the city lights outside. He didn’t sit, didn’t even take off his jacket. He just stood there, the tension radiating from him like heat from a burning track.

“You came in second,” she said carefully, crossing her arms as she leaned against the door. “That’s not nothing.”

“It’s not first,” he snapped, his voice sharper than he meant. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Sorry. I just—”

“You don’t have to explain,” she interrupted, her tone softer now. She was getting used to this.

But he shook his head, turning to face her. “I do. You don’t get it. The team made me and I know I shouldn’t have kicked up a fuss but I’ve been working my ass off. Oscar doesn’t deserve this bullshit but I’m so close—”

“Lando,” she said, cutting him off again. “You’ve done this before. You’ll do it again. But it’s never about the race, is it?”

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling as he struggled to find the words.

“It’s not enough,” he finally said. “No matter what I do, I’m never enough.”

Her throat tightened at the familiar refrain. She’d heard it before—in the way he avoided eye contact when he talked about his expectations, in the way he deflected her compliments like they were a nuisance. She stepped closer, her arms unfolding as she reached for his hand.

“It’s enough for me,” she said softly.

For a moment, she thought he might pull away, but he didn’t. His hand was cold, trembling slightly against hers. He looked at her like he wanted to believe her, like he wanted her words to be true.

“You don’t get it,” he said again, quieter this time. “I don’t know how to be okay with less. I don’t know how to stop chasing.”

“Then stop chasing,” she said, her voice firm. “Just… stay. For once, just stay.”

He closed his eyes, the weight of the words hanging between them. When he opened them again, she saw the cracks in his armour, the vulnerability he fought so hard to hide.

“I don’t know if I can,” he admitted.

The words stung, but she didn’t let go of his hand. “Then figure it out. I can’t do it for you, Lando. I can’t keep filling in the spaces you leave blank.”

The silence stretched, heavy and uncertain, until he finally nodded, a small, reluctant gesture.

She didn’t know if it meant he would stay, or if it was just another moment in the long cycle of him crashing into her life and pulling away again. But for now, it was enough.

“Come on,” she said, leading him to the couch. “Sit down. I’ll make tea.”

And as she moved to the kitchen, he sank into the cushions, the tension in his shoulders easing just slightly. He watched her from across the room, and for the first time that night, he allowed himself to breathe.

The tea kettle whistled, a sharp note cutting through the quiet tension. She poured the hot water into two mismatched mugs, her movements slow, deliberate. Every sound—the clink of the spoon, the soft rush of liquid—felt amplified in the silence that stretched between them.

Lando sat hunched forward on the couch, his elbows resting on his knees, his hands clasped together. His head was bowed like he was waiting for something to break, or maybe trying to hold it all together.

When she placed a mug in front of him, he looked up, offering her the smallest nod of thanks. She sat beside him, tucking her legs beneath her. The couch was old, the cushions sagging, forcing them closer than either might have chosen in that moment.

“I used to think art was about perfection,” she said, staring into her tea. Her voice was calm, but there was an edge of vulnerability, like she wasn’t sure where the words would take her.

He turned his head toward her, waiting.

“When I started studying, I wanted to control every detail, every brushstroke,” she continued. “I thought if I just worked hard enough, it would all come together the way I imagined. But no matter how much I tried, it always felt… wrong. Like something was missing.”

He didn’t reply, but his gaze stayed on her, heavy with unspoken questions.

“I realised it wasn’t about getting it perfect. It was about letting the imperfections in, letting the chaos fill the spaces. That’s what makes it real. That’s what makes it art.”

Lando exhaled, a slow, almost shaky breath. “You think I should just let chaos into my life?”

“I think it’s already there,” she said gently. “You’re just pretending it isn’t.”

He laughed, a short, bitter sound. “You make it sound so easy.”

“It’s not. But what you’re doing isn’t easy either, is it? Beating yourself up every time you don’t hit perfection? Trying to control everything, even things you can’t?”

Lando stared into his tea, the steam curling upward like a ghost of his thoughts. “When you’re on the track,” he began, his voice low, “everything depends on precision. One mistake, one miscalculation, and it’s over. You don’t just lose the race—you crash. You burn.”

She didn’t interrupt, letting him work through the words that seemed to take more effort than any lap he’d ever driven.

“That’s what my life is. Corners and braking zones and split-second decisions. If I let chaos in…” He trailed off, shaking his head.

“You’re not on the track right now,” she said softly.

His head turned sharply toward her, his expression unreadable.

“I know you don’t think you can stop,” she continued, her eyes meeting his. “But you’re not just a driver, Lando. You’re a person. And people aren’t built to live like that all the time.”

He looked at her for a long moment, the walls in his eyes flickering, wavering. Then he leaned back against the couch, his shoulders slumping as if he’d finally allowed himself to feel the weight of it all.

“You make it sound like I have a choice,” he murmured.

“You do,” she said. “But you have to be brave enough to take it.”

He huffed out a humorless laugh. “Bravery. That’s funny, coming from you.”

Her brow furrowed. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re the one who made us go on break last time,” he said, the words sharper than he intended. “You couldn’t stick around when things got hard.”

She flinched, the accusation landing like a slap. But she didn’t look away. “I didn’t leave because it was hard. I left because you wouldn’t let me in. You let me see pieces of you, but never the whole thing. And I can’t keep guessing at who you are.”

The air between them felt thick, charged with everything they’d never said.

“I don’t know how to do that,” he admitted, his voice breaking slightly.

She reached for his hand, her fingers brushing his knuckles. “Then try. That’s all I’ve ever asked.”

For a moment, he didn’t move. Then, slowly, his hand turned, his fingers intertwining with hers.

“I don’t want to lose you,” he said, so quietly she almost didn’t hear it.

Her lips curved into a small, bittersweet smile. “You never lost me, Lando. But I can’t be the one holding us together anymore.”

He nodded, a tiny, almost imperceptible motion. It wasn’t a promise, not yet. But it was something.

The next race that went to shit for him was Baku.

The door to her London apartment creaked open, and Lando stepped inside, his bag slung over one shoulder. His face was a map of exhaustion—dark circles under his eyes, his jawline shadowed with stubble. The scent of jet fuel and rubber seemed to cling to him, a remnant of the race he’d just returned from.

She was sitting at her desk, the glow of her laptop illuminating her face as she worked on an assignment. The sound of the door closing made her glance over her shoulder. Her expression softened for a moment, then grew guarded, like she was bracing for impact.

“You’re back,” she said, her voice neutral.

“I’m back,” he echoed. He dropped his bag in the corner and rubbed a hand over his face, his fingers lingering at his temples. “How’s your week been?”

“Fine,” she said, turning back to her screen. “Yours?”

He let out a dry laugh as he collapsed onto the couch. “Do you want the press-conference version or the real one?”

She swiveled her chair to face him fully, her arms crossed. “The real one, obviously.”

He hesitated, his mouth opening and closing as if the words were caught in his throat. Finally, he shrugged. “It was fine. Finished P4. Made a stupid mistake in qualifying, couldn’t recover. Typical.”

She frowned, her eyes narrowing slightly. “That’s it?”

“What else do you want me to say?”

She stood, crossing the room to sit on the armchair across from him. “I don’t know, Lando. Maybe something real? Maybe talk to me like I’m more than just an audience for your race recap?”

He looked at her, startled by the sharpness in her tone. “I am talking to you.”

“No, you’re not,” she said, her voice cracking slightly. “You’re telling me what you think I want to hear. You’ve been doing that since the moment we got back together.”

He sat up straighter, his brows furrowing. “That’s not fair.”

“It’s not fair?” she repeated, incredulous. “Lando, we’ve been stuck in the same pattern for months. You come back, you barely say anything real, and then you leave again. We took a break because you said you’d try, and nothing has changed.”

“That’s not true,” he argued, his voice rising defensively.

“Then tell me what’s true,” she countered. “Tell me what’s actually going on in your head, because I don’t know anymore.”

He looked away, his jaw tightening. The silence stretched between them, heavy and suffocating.

“See?” she said, throwing her hands up. “This is what I mean. I’m sitting here, begging you to let me in, and you’re just… shutting down. Again.”

“It’s not that simple,” he muttered, his voice barely audible.

“Yes, it is,” she said, her frustration boiling over. “It’s as simple as you deciding whether or not you actually want me in your life. Because I can’t keep sacrificing myself for you if you’re not willing to meet me halfway.”

Her words hung in the air like a challenge, daring him to respond. But he didn’t. He just stared at the floor, his hands clasped tightly together.

Her voice softened, trembling slightly. “We need to break up. For real this time.”

His head snapped up, panic flashing across his face. “No. Please, don’t do this. I can do better, I promise. Just—”

“No,” she interrupted, shaking her head. Tears pricked at her eyes, but she blinked them away. “I’ve heard that before. I can’t keep waiting for you to figure this out while I’m breaking myself apart trying to hold us together.”

“Please,” he said again, his voice desperate.

But then something shifted. His shoulders sagged, the fight leaving him all at once. He let out a long, shaky breath and finally met her eyes.

“Okay,” he said, the word soft but resolute.

She froze, her heart skipping a beat. She had expected resistance, pleading, anger—but not this.

“Okay?” she echoed, her voice barely above a whisper.

He nodded, his expression unreadable. “You’re right. I don’t know how to give you what you need. And I don’t think I ever will.”

Her chest tightened, the weight of his words cutting deeper than any argument ever could.

“I’m sorry,” he added, standing and grabbing his bag. He hesitated at the door, his hand on the knob. “I hope… I hope you find someone who can.”

And just like that, he was gone.

She sat there for a long time, staring at the closed door, the echo of his and her words ringing in her ears. She had gotten what she’d asked for, but it didn’t feel like a victory. It felt like the quiet hollow left after something breaks.

The weeks after he walked out passed in a blur of quiet moments and restless nights. Her apartment felt bigger, somehow emptier, though his presence had always been fleeting. At first, she moved through the days mechanically: attending lectures, working on assignments, and scrolling mindlessly through her phone when she couldn’t concentrate.

That was how she saw the first video.

It popped up on her social media feed one evening—a clip of Lando during a post-race interview. He stood with the same calm precision he always carried, his dark eyes serious as he talked about tire degradation and strategy.

But she noticed the way his jaw tightened when the reporter mentioned the championship battle. The way he rubbed the back of his neck when he thought no one was watching. The things only she would have picked up on.

She swiped away from the video quickly, her heart hammering in her chest.

For days after, more videos surfaced. Clips of him on the podium, the national anthem playing in the background. Snippets of races where he pushed through the pack with surgical precision. Even candid moments, fans catching him as he signed autographs with a tight, practiced smile.

She didn’t go looking for them, but they seemed to find her anyway.

Part of her wanted to stop watching. Every video felt like a small knife twisting in her chest. But another part of her—the part that still woke up some mornings thinking about the weight of his hand in hers—couldn’t look away.

And then there was the guilt. The nagging voice in her head that whispered she could have done more, been more, stayed longer. That maybe if she’d held on just a little tighter, he wouldn’t have slipped away.

But the rational part of her knew better. She couldn’t keep sacrificing herself for someone who wouldn’t let her in. She couldn’t keep living in the spaces he refused to fill.

Throwing herself into her work became her salvation. She spent hours in her studio, her fingers smudged with paint and charcoal, her mind racing with ideas.

Her project started as a simple concept: inner thoughts, the things we hide from the world. But the more she worked, the more it grew, expanding into something bigger than anything she’d ever created.

The centerpiece was a massive installation—an abstract figure built from fragmented mirrors, wires, and twisted metal. Each shard reflected something different: colors that didn’t match, faces distorted in impossible ways. Surrounding the figure were interactive panels where viewers could write their own hidden thoughts, projected onto the walls in real-time.

It wasn’t just art; it was a conversation. A reflection of the unspoken truths that lived in everyone.

Her professor was floored when she presented it during a critique. “This is… remarkable,” he said, circling the model she’d built as he spoke. “It’s raw, vulnerable. It demands engagement.”

She flushed under the praise but nodded, unsure what to say.

“You need to exhibit this,” the professor continued. “There’s an upcoming gallery in Monte Carlo—prestigious, international attendance. I’ll submit your work.”

Monte Carlo.

Her stomach tightened at the name. She thought of glitzy hotels, sharp corners, and the sound of engines echoing through narrow streets. Of Lando, and the apartment she’d only been to a few times.

But she nodded again. “Okay,” she said.

And that was how she found herself in Monaco.

The gallery hummed with conversation, the din blending with the soft background music that played over hidden speakers. She was standing near the wine table, engaged in a lively discussion with an older couple who were gushing about her work.

“It’s so… visceral,” the woman said, gesturing animatedly with her glass of champagne. “It feels like you’ve captured something universal but deeply personal at the same time. Like it’s speaking directly to me.”

Her lips curved into a polite smile. “That’s exactly what I hoped for,” she said.

As she explained the inspiration behind the installation, the doors to the gallery opened again, and Lando walked in.

He wore a crisp suit, his usual casual edge replaced by something sharper, more formal. The team required his attendance. His hair was nicely curled, and his presence was magnetic, commanding subtle glances from attendees who didn’t recognise him but knew he must be someone important.

Lando’s gaze swept the room, searching, but her back was to him. She was too engrossed in her conversation to notice the way his shoulders stiffened when he saw the installation—or the way his expression softened when he realised it was hers.

He approached the centerpiece quietly, his hands in his pockets as he took it all in. The mirrored figure seemed to hold his gaze, fragments of his reflection staring back at him. His attention moved to the interactive panels, where dozens of anonymous confessions lit up the walls.

“I’m afraid of being alone forever.”“I miss the person I was before them.”“I don’t know how to move on.”

Lando stood there for a long moment, his chest tightening as he read the words. Finally, he stepped closer to one of the blank panels and picked up the stylus.

He hesitated, the pen hovering just above the screen, before he began to write:

"I wish I could have been honest.”

He paused, then added something small, something only she would understand:

4♡

It was the way he’d signed every note he’d left for her. Scrawled on Post-its stuck to the bathroom mirror. On napkins tucked into her lunch bag. On the inside cover of a sketchbook he’d bought her. It had always been their little secret, a shorthand for everything he couldn’t say out loud.

Lando stepped back, his throat tight. He cast one last glance around the room, his eyes lingering on her as she laughed softly at something the older man said. Then he turned and walked out, unnoticed.

The crowd thinned as the night wore on, and the gallery grew quieter. She stood alone now, gazing at her installation with a mixture of pride and exhaustion. The panels were almost completely filled with confessions, their glowing words painting the walls in a kaleidoscope of emotion.

She walked up to the nearest panel, scrolling through the entries. Some were poignant, others painfully raw. But one stopped her in her tracks.

"I wish I could have been honest.”

Her breath hitched as her eyes darted to the small signature below it.

4♡

Her hand flew to her mouth, a tremor running through her as she stared at the words. For a moment, she thought she might have imagined it. But no—there it was, unmistakable.

A wave of emotions crashed over her: shock, sadness, and a deep, aching tenderness that she had tried so hard to bury.

She sank onto a nearby bench, tears slipping down her cheeks.

She thought of him standing here, reading her work, writing those words. The quiet acknowledgment of everything left unsaid between them. And the small, stubborn piece of him that still lingered in her world, no matter how far apart they were.

She wiped her tears, but they kept coming, her chest heaving as the weight of it all settled over her.

For the first time in weeks, she allowed herself to feel the full depth of her loss. But alongside the grief was something else—a fragile, flickering sense of closure.

He had been here. He had seen her, her work, her heart laid bare. And he had left her a piece of himself, as he always had.

It wasn’t enough to fix what had broken. But maybe, just maybe, it was enough to let her begin to heal.

the end.

[pucksandpower]

So Good to Her

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: the public reacts to the TikTok challenge you and Charles inadvertently participated in

Read So Good to Me (about the TikTok challenge) here

The TikTok that the British influencer posted of his encounter with you and your incredibly generous boyfriend quickly goes viral, racking up millions of views, likes, and comments within mere hours.

It spreads like wildfire across social media platforms, with people sharing it on Twitter, Instagram, Facebook — even LinkedIn of all places. Everyone marvels at this mystery woman with the boyfriend of all boyfriends who casually sent her €10,000 just to buy a pair of shoes.

In a cozy London flat, a group of university students and diehard Charles fans gather around a laptop, eyes wide as they watch the now-viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe Charles has a secret girlfriend!” Megan, a petite blonde wearing a red Ferrari cap, exclaims. “How did we not know about this? We follow his every move!”

Her best friend Ethan nods in agreement, his brow furrowed. “Seriously, who is this girl? She’s drop dead gorgeous and apparently Charles is just casually sending her 10 grand for shopping sprees?”

“Okay but like, goals though,” Lexi chimes in dreamily, clutching a Charles Leclerc poster to her chest. “Imagine having a boyfriend who’s not only mega hot and talented but also spoils you rotten. She’s living the dream.”

Ethan scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, he can’t just throw money around like that. I bet this whole thing was staged for clout.”

Megan shoots him a withering glare. “Don’t be ridiculous. What would be the point? Charles is already one of the most popular drivers on the grid, he doesn’t need to pull PR stunts for attention.”

“Plus did you see the way he talked to her on the phone?” Lexi points out, rewinding the video. “That was not acting, that was real love and affection in his voice. I’m so soft for them already, ugh.”

The trio falls silent as they watch the clip again, zeroing in on every little detail and facial expression from both Charles’ mystery girlfriend and the clearly shocked TikToker.

Ethan chuckles and shakes his head. “I still can’t get over her reaction though. Just a guy who loves driving fast cars — I mean, the cheek! She really knows how to keep a secret, gotta give her that.”

“An icon, honestly,” Megan declares. “The fact that she told him to donate the money to an animal shelter too ... okay, I can’t even be mad. She seems like a sweet person.”

Lexi sighs happily, starry-eyed. “They’re literally a power couple. The sheer confidence and BDE of it all. I’m so jealous but also like, rooting for them? We have to find out who this girl is!”

As if on cue, Megan’s phone pings with a Twitter notification. Her eyes widen as she swipes to view it. “Guys. GUYS. The TikToker just confirmed her first name is Y/N and posted another video with a few more details about her!”

“Well don’t just sit there, play it!” Ethan demands, practically launching himself across the couch to peer over Megan’s shoulder at her phone screen. Lexi scrambles to join them, bouncing with anticipation.

In the new clip, the TikToker is grinning excitedly at the camera, an extra bounce in his step as he walks along the same Monaco street where he first approached you.

“Right, so I’m sure by now you’ve all seen my video with Charles Leclerc’s girlfriend go absolutely mental viral,” he begins, running a hand through his artfully tousled hair. “Which, can I just say — thank you so much for the insane support and love, you lot are the best fans ever.”

“Get to the point,” Ethan mutters under his breath, earning a sharp “Shh!” from both girls.

“Anyway,” the TikToker continues. “After she left and I finally picked my jaw up off the floor, I did some digging. I headed to that little boutique she mentioned in the call with Charles, just to see if she actually went in and bought anything. Thought maybe if I asked the staff, they might be able to give me some more info, you know?”

Megan, Ethan, and Lexi all subconsciously lean closer to the small phone screen, hanging on to his every word.

“So get this — not only did she buy the shoes, she apparently also went next door and purchased, and I quote, a frankly alarming amount of lingerie. The cashier said she dropped over 5 grand like it was nothing!”

Lexi lets out a scandalized gasp as Ethan chokes on his sip of Red Bull. Megan just shakes her head in wonderment. “The actual legend,” she murmurs reverently.

The TikToker laughs and waggles his eyebrows suggestively at the camera. “I don’t know about you lot, but I’m definitely sensing some spicy thank you for the shopping money activities were planned for a certain Ferrari driver, if you know what I mean. Get in there, Charles!”

“Gross, I so did not need that visual,” Ethan grumbles, but there’s a slight smirk playing on his lips all the same.

“Oh shut up, as if you wouldn’t do the exact same if you were dating Charles,” Lexi retorts with a playful shove to his shoulder.

“ANYWAY,” the TikToker presses on, “I did manage to squeeze a few more details out of the lovely shop girl. Apparently Charles’ girlfriend is named Y/N, no last name given for privacy reasons. But she’s a regular customer and, I quote, an absolute sweetheart who only ever has glowing things to say about her man. So there you have it, folks — Y/N and Charles are the real deal and we’re all just peasants watching a fairytale unfold.”

Megan sighs dreamily as the video ends. “Y/N and Charles,” she repeats to herself, already typing the names into her social media search bars. “God, even their names sound good together. I have to find out everything about her.”

“Dibs on making their ship name hashtag go viral,” Lexi calls out, already furiously typing away on her own phone.

Ethan snorts and rolls his eyes affectionately at his friends, but there’s no denying the small, reluctantly impressed smile tugging at the corners of his mouth too. “I give it two days before they’re papped together on some glamorous date night now that the secret’s out. Hope she’s ready for the attention dating an F1 star brings.”

“With that level of confidence and the way Charles clearly adores her? I think our girl Y/N will handle the spotlight just fine,” Megan says confidently.

Lexi nods in firm agreement. “Yep, a true queen. Charles better lock that down and wife her up real quick before one of us tries to snatch her for ourselves!”

***

In a cozy apartment not far from the very street where you had your memorable encounter with the TikToker, three young women huddle around a laptop screen, eyes wide and jaws slack as they watch the now viral video for the umpteenth time.

“I can’t believe this,” mutters Isabelle, a pretty brunette with an impressively encyclopedic knowledge of Formula 1 stats. “Charles has a girlfriend? Since when?”

“And he just sent her €10,000 like it was nothing!” Exclaims Maia, nervously twirling a strand of her platinum blonde hair. “I mean, I know he’s loaded but holy shit, the way he spoils her ...”

The third girl, Claire, bites her lip, a pensive look on her delicate features. “Did you hear what she said at the end though? Just a guy who loves driving fast cars. She was obviously talking about Charles. But the way she said it, all mysterious and like it was some inside joke ... I don’t know, it just rubs me the wrong way.”

Isabelle scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Please, she was totally gloating. Didn’t even have the decency to act a little humble about the fact that THE Charles Leclerc is apparently head over heels for her.”

“Exactly!” Maia chimes in, nodding vigorously. “Like okay, congrats, you bagged a hot, rich, famous race car driver. No need to rub it in the rest of our faces.”

Claire wrinkles her nose. “I just don’t get the vibe that she actually cares about him, you know? I mean, who asks their boyfriend to send them money in the middle of the day for some stupid shoes? While he’s working? She seems like such a gold digger.”

“Ugh, you’re so right,” Isabelle agrees, her lips curling in distaste. “Poor Charles is probably blind to it because he’s so gone for her. He didn’t even hesitate to transfer that money!”

Maia sighs dramatically and falls back on the bed. “God, it’s so unfair. Why can’t I find a man who’s that generous and totally obsessed with me? I’d treat him so much better than she does, you can already tell.”

Claire hums and taps her chin thoughtfully. “You know what, I think this smells fishy. How do we even know she’s actually Charles’ girlfriend? For all we know, she could have paid some guy who sounds like him to play along for a TikTok clout.”

Isabelle’s eyes narrow as she considers this possibility. “That’s true ... I haven’t come across any photos of them together or anything. Why has no one ever seen her before if they’re supposedly so in love?”

“Exactly!” Claire exclaims, growing more animated. “I’ve been a Charles fan for years and I’ve never seen or heard anything about a girlfriend. If they’re really dating, there’s no way it wouldn’t have come out before now.”

Maia sits up, suddenly energized by this new conspiracy theory. “Oh my god, you’re right! She’s probably just some wannabe influencer trying to get famous by pretending to be with Charles. That’s so pathetic.”

Isabelle nods slowly, a determined glint in her eye. “You know what? We should do some digging. Try to find out who this girl really is and expose her for the fraud she clearly is. Charles and the world deserve to know the truth.”

“Yesss, I’m so down for an investigation!” Maia says gleefully. “Imagine if we’re the ones who reveal that this whole thing is fake. We’d be doing Charles a huge favor.”

Claire is already pulling up Instagram and Twitter on her phone. “Let’s start by going through the comments on that TikTok and seeing if anyone has identified her or posted any receipts. There have to be some clues somewhere.”

The girls spend the next few hours poring over social media, searching for any scrap of information they can find about the mystery woman who has supposedly captured Charles Leclerc’s heart. They work themselves into a frenzy, convincing each other more and more that you can’t possibly be Charles’ real girlfriend. In their minds, you’re clearly just an opportunistic clout chaser looking for your 15 minutes of fame.

“God, I hope Charles sees through her act soon,” Isabelle says for the hundredth time, shaking her head. “He’s too good for some two-bit gold digger who’s just using him.”

“We’ll make sure he finds out who she really is,” Claire assures her firmly. “And then he’ll have no choice but to dump her lying ass.”

Maia sighs wistfully, hugging a throw pillow to her chest. “Do you think once he’s single again, I might actually have a chance? Like, if I run into him at a race one day and strike up a conversation, maybe he’ll realize I’m the girl he’s meant to be with ...”

“Okay, let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Claire says with a laugh. “First step is taking down this fraud of a girlfriend. Then we can daydream about being Mrs. Leclerc.”

The girls giggle and go back to their social media sleuthing with renewed determination. They’ve decided you’re public enemy number one and they won’t rest until they’ve exposed you for the fake, money-hungry, clout-chasing liar they’re certain you must be. In their eyes, they’re crusaders for truth, fighting to save their beloved Charles from your clutches.

What they don’t realize, of course, is just how very real and very deep Charles’ feelings for you actually are ... and that you’re not going anywhere anytime soon, Internet conspiracy theories be damned.

***

In a dimly lit basement somewhere in Italy, a group of die-hard Charles Leclerc fans huddle around a computer screen, their jaws dropping as they watch the video for the umpteenth time.

“Guys, are you seeing this shit?” Enzo, the self-appointed leader of the group, asks incredulously. “Who the hell is this girl and how did she bag Charles freakin’ Leclerc?”

“Dude, we don’t even know for sure that it’s actually Charles,” Giovanni points out skeptically. “She never said his name. It could be some other rich dude with a fast car.”

Enzo scoffs and rolls his eyes. “Oh come on, who else could it be? €10,000 like it’s nothing, is it possible that Leclerc has a secret girlfriend we don’t know about all this time? A guy who likes driving fast cars? It’s obviously Charles! Our boy is LOADED and that’s exactly how he’d spoil his girl.”

Luca nods in agreement, a dreamy expression on his face. “God, can you imagine being with Charles though? Having him call you all those cute pet names and just showering you with love and gifts? I’d fucking die.”

“Yeah, she has to be the luckiest woman on the planet,” Enzo sighs wistfully. “I mean, I’m straight, but even I’d let Charles ruin me, you know what I’m saying?”

The other guys murmur and nod in emphatic agreement, all of them momentarily lost in a fantasy of being Charles Leclerc’s pampered significant other.

“Okay but like, how is this even fair?” Giovanni gripes, breaking the spell. “The rest of us mere mortals are out here busting our asses on Tinder and Hinge, praying a decent girl will swipe right, and Charles just gets to date a literal goddess who is probably a model?”

“Life isn’t fair, Gio,” Enzo says solemnly. “Charles is on a completely different level. He could have any woman he wants and they’d all say yes before he even finished asking. The rules don’t apply to a guy like that.”

Luca suddenly sits up straight, his eyes widening with realization. “Holy shit, guys. Do you know what this means? If Charles is taken, that’s one less F1 driver on the market for all those grid girl groupies to throw themselves at! Maybe the rest of us actually have a chance now!”

Giovanni snorts derisively. “Yeah, you wish. Those chicks are still gonna be busy trying to get with Sainz or Verstappen or Norris. They’re not gonna settle for some nobody Ferrari fan. Let’s be real.”

“Wow, way to kill the vibe, Debbie Downer,” Luca mutters. He turns back to the computer and hits replay on the video, watching enviously as the TikToker clearly shows the €10,000 bank transfer on your phone. “Seriously though, how is this chick not freaking the fuck out? If Charles Leclerc randomly sent me 10 grand I’d be screaming and probably pass out.”

“She’s probably used to it,” Enzo says with a shrug. “I bet this is like, a regular Tuesday for her. Just casually strolling around Monaco, stopping into designer stores whenever she feels like it, Charles’ black credit card weighing down her Hermès purse. The bougiest of WAG lives.”

“God, what I wouldn’t give to trade places with her for just one day,” Giovanni says longingly. “Can you imagine getting to wake up next to Charles every morning? Having him make you breakfast and give you forehead kisses and tell you how much he loves you in that sexy accent?”

“Okay, now you’re just torturing yourself, bro,” Luca laughs. “You’ll be lucky if you can get a Tinder match to agree to split the bill at McDonalds.”

“Why you gotta bring me back to my sad reality like that?” Giovanni groans, chucking a throw pillow at Luca’s head. “Let me live vicariously through Charles’ bougie mystery girlfriend for a little while longer, damn.”

Enzo sighs and leans back in his chair, hands behind his head. “You know what the craziest part of all this is? The fact that Charles managed to keep a whole ass girlfriend hidden from the world. Like, the media has been speculating about his love life forever and no one had a clue he was actually in a serious relationship. That man moves in silence like a ninja.”

“Yeah, and did you see how he just casually threw out that he loves her?” Luca gushes. “He was all I love spoiling you, you deserve the world. My dude is head over heels for this girl and I am LIVING for it.”

“Ugh, why can’t I find a man like that?” Giovanni whines dramatically. “All I want is a guy who will write me cute Instagram captions in three languages and buy out the Gucci store for me but I guess that’s too much to ask!”

“Maybe if you stanned Charles harder, the universe would reward you,” Enzo snarks. “Start leaving thirsty comments on his shirtless pics, see if that manifests your dream F1 boyfriend.”

“Bold of you to assume I don’t already do that,” Giovanni retorts with a smirk. “How else do you think Oscar Piastri ended up in my DMs last night?”

“Wait, WHAT?” Luca and Enzo exclaim in unison, whipping their heads around to gape at their friend.

Giovanni bursts out laughing at their shocked faces. “I’m just kidding, jeez! You think I’d be sitting here listening to you losers if Oscar freaking Piastri actually messaged me? Puh-lease.”

“Man, don’t even joke about that,” Enzo grumbles, clutching at his heart. “You really had me going there for a sec.”

Luca huffs and slouches down in his seat. “Can we get back to being jealous of Charles’ sugar baby girlfriend now? I was enjoying that more than whatever the hell this conversation turned into.”

“She’s not his sugar baby!” Enzo argues. “They’re clearly in love! Did we watch the same video? The way he talked to her was mad cute. That’s his GIRL girl.”

“You’re right, you’re right,” Luca concedes, holding his hands up in apology. “Charles might spoil her but he obviously adores her for more than just her looks. That’s the real relationship goals right there.”

“Imagine being so secure in your love that you can just ball out on your partner like that and know it’s only going to make them love you more,” Giovanni muses. “Cannot relate.”

Enzo nods sagely. “Charles is just built different, man. In more ways than one.”

“Truer words have never been spoken,” Luca agrees. “So, are we watching this video another 50 times or are we moving on to the Grill the Grid compilation I found of all of Charles’ most adorably flustered moments?”

Enzo grins maniacally and reaches for the mouse. “Oh, you know we’re watching the hell out of this absolute gift again. And then we’re gonna spend the next three hours cyberstalking Charles and seeing if we can find any other crumbs about who this legendary mystery woman is. For research purposes.”

“This is the most productive thing we’ve done in months and I’m not even ashamed,” Giovanni declares, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the intense social media deep dive they’re about to undertake.

***

In a crowded sports bar in Dublin, a group of die-hard Ferrari fans gather to watch the latest race. But today, there’s another bit of F1-related content that has their attention. They huddle around a phone, repeatedly watching the now-infamous TikTok video.

“Can you believe it? €10,000 just like that!” Exclaims James, a tall, lanky guy with a mop of curly hair. “I mean, I knew Charles was loaded but damn ...”

“Forget the money, did you see his girlfriend?” Tom, a stocky redhead, chimes in. “Absolutely stunning. Like, how does a race car driver land a girl like that?”

Mark, a quieter guy with glasses, rolls his eyes. “Uh, maybe because he’s Charles freaking Leclerc? The man’s a beast on the track and has the face of a Greek god. Girls probably throw themselves at him left and right.”

The guys all mutter in begrudging agreement, a note of envy coloring their voices. On screen, the video replays yet again, showing you confidently calling up your boyfriend and securing the small fortune without batting an eye.

“God, what I wouldn’t give to have a woman look at me the way she probably looks at Leclerc,” Tom sighs wistfully.

“In your dreams, mate,” James scoffs. “Girls like that are way out of our league. We can’t compete with a Ferrari paycheck and Monaco real estate.”

“Still doesn’t seem fair though,” grumbles Mark. “The dude’s already got it all — talent, fame, money. Leave some for the rest of us!”

On screen, the video reaches the part where you coolly inform the gobsmacked TikToker that you don’t need his measly €2,000 and he should donate it to an animal shelter instead. The guys let out low whistles, clearly impressed by your classy move.

“See, that right there, that’s what separates the Monegasque princess types from regular girls,” says James with an air of authority. “We would’ve taken the cash in a heartbeat.”

“Speak for yourself, I’m a man of principle,” Tom jokes, puffing out his chest exaggeratedly. The others snort and shove him playfully.

As the video ends, the guys sit back, each lost in their own wistful imaginings of what it must be like to be Charles Leclerc. To have the money, success, and effortless charm to win over a girl like you.

Mark is the first to break the contemplative silence. “Maybe we’re looking at this all wrong,” he muses thoughtfully. “I mean yeah, Charles is a lucky bastard, no doubt. But that girl, she seems like a real catch too. Like the kind of person who’d keep you humble and grounded, even when you’re a superstar athlete with the world at your feet.”

The others consider this, nodding slowly. “Fair point,” concedes Tom. “Behind every great man and all that jazz. Leclerc may have his millions but he still needs someone to call him out on his BS from time to time.”

“Exactly,” agrees Mark. “And did you hear the way he spoke to her on the phone? The dude’s completely smitten. He may have all the money and fame, but I bet she’s the real prize in his eyes.”

“Alright, alright, settle down Dr. Phil,” James interjects with a good-natured eye roll. “You gonna start writing romance novels in your spare time now? Maybe they’ll make a movie — The Tifosi Who Loved Me: A Charles Leclerc Story.”

The guys all crack up laughing at that, the tension broken. Their envy towards Leclerc’s charmed life remains, but it’s now tinged with a newfound respect and even a touch of empathy.

“Y’know, jokes aside, I do hope he realizes how lucky he is to have her and treats her right,” Mark says sincerely as their chuckles subside. “A love like that seems rare these days.”

Tom reaches over to clap Mark on the shoulder. “No worries, mate. Did you see the dopey grin on Charles’ face in those paparazzi pics of them together that came out earlier? That man is whipped with a capital W. He knows he’s got a keeper.”

“As he should,” nods James sagely. “Behind every great Ferrari champion is an even greater woman keeping his ego in check. Tale as old as time.”

On that note, the guys clink their pint glasses together, silently saluting the unnamed woman who stole the heart of Charles Leclerc and the envious admiration of Formula 1 fans worldwide. The mystery girlfriend with impeccable style and a heart of gold.

As the pre-race coverage starts up on the bar TV, the guys settle in to cheer on their favorite driver, their fleeting jealousy replaced by the camaraderie and excitement of race day. But in the back of their minds, a single wistful thought remains — what they wouldn’t give to find a love like Charles and his girl seem to share. Guess that’s just one more thing to add to the list of reasons to idolize Charles Leclerc.

***

Among the hordes of viewers obsessively replaying the clip are three best friends gathered for a girls night at a posh Parisian penthouse. Colette, the willowy blonde draped across a velvet chaise lounge, takes a sip of her champagne and shakes her head in wonder.

“God, can you imagine having a boyfriend who just casually drops 10k on you like it’s nothing? Talk about relationship goals,” she sighs dreamily.

Next to her, Nadia snorts derisively while scrolling through Instagram on her phone. “Oh please, like that’s hard to find. I bet loads of rich guys would do that for their girlfriends. It’s not that impressive.”

From her perch on a tufted ottoman, Stephanie raises a skeptical eyebrow. “Really? You think Liam would send you that kind of cash without batting an eye? Mr. I-Need-To-Check-With-My-Financial-Advisor-Before-I-Buy-A-New-Tie?”

Colette erupts into giggles at the scathing impression of Nadia’s banker boyfriend. Even Nadia cracks a reluctant smile before tossing her sleek dark hair.

“Whatever. I’m just saying, that TikTok chick’s boyfriend can’t be THAT special. I’m sure if we did the same challenge our boyfriends would come through too,” she declares with more than a hint of competitiveness in her voice.

“Oooh yes, let’s do it! Let’s recreate the video and see what happens!” Colette squeals, bouncing up and down on the chaise with excitement.

Stephanie, ever the voice of reason, looks uncertain. “I don’t know, guys ... isn’t it a bit tacky to demand money from them like that? What if they get mad?”

Nadia rolls her eyes. “Oh come on Steph, live a little! It’s just a silly experiment. Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“Okay, okay fine,” Stephanie relents, unable to resist her friends’ cajoling. “But I’m blaming you both if Omer breaks up with me over this!”

“Deal!” Colette grins impishly as she grabs her phone. “I’ll go first — let me call Henry and we’ll see if he’s as generous as Mystery Monaco Man.”

With a deep breath, she dials her property developer boyfriend and launches into her rehearsed plea as soon as he picks up. “Baby!” She whines. “You’ll never believe what happened. I’m out with the girls and my Louboutins broke! Like the heel just totally snapped off. I’m absolutely gutted, these were my faves. Is there any way you could send some money to my account so I can grab a new pair on the way home? Pleeeaaase, I’ll love you forever!”

There’s a heavy pause before Henry’s clipped voice comes through, tinged with annoyance. “Christ, again with the bloody shoes? What is it with you women and wasting my hard earned money on bits of leather you don’t need? Can’t you just take the broken ones to get fixed?”

Colette’s perfectly glossed pout trembles, her blue eyes shining with disappointed tears as Nadia and Stephanie look on in pity. “Never mind,” she mumbles. “Forget I asked. Chat later.” She hangs up and flings her phone down despondently.

“What an ass,” Nadia spits. “You deserve so much better.” Colette shrugs sadly but rallies as she turns to Stephanie expectantly.

“Okay Steph, your turn to give Omer a ring! Let’s hope he restores our faith in rich boyfriends everywhere.”

Stephanie grimaces but dutifully calls her Qatar-based hedge fund manager beau. In her most saccharine voice, she makes her case. “Habibi, you know that gorgeous YSL bag I showed you last week? It finally came back in stock but only for today! Could you maybe pop some cash in my account so I can treat myself? I’ve been working so hard lately and-”

“Wallahi Stephanie, how many handbags does one woman need?” Omer cuts her off irritably. “If I buy you this one, I don’t want to hear any more whining for designer things for at least 6 months, got it? I’ll send you 500 euros, that should more than cover it.”

“Oh. Right. Thanks, I guess ...” Stephanie replies glumly before ending the call. She shakes her head at her friends. “Well, it’s something at least?”

“Hardly,” Nadia scoffs. “These men, I swear. Okay, time for me to show you girls how it’s done. Watch and learn, ladies.”

With a confident smirk, she video calls Liam who answers distractedly, clearly still at the office despite the late hour. “This better be important Nadia, I’m right in the middle of-”

“Liam. Focus,” Nadia cuts him off crisply. “I need you to send €10,000 to my account right now. No questions asked.” She arches a commanding eyebrow, daring him to argue.

Liam just blinks at her for a moment before letting out an incredulous laugh. “I’m sorry, you need me to do what now? 10 grand, are you mad? For what possible reason?”

“To prove you love me,” Nadia retorts smugly. “I saw this thing on TikTok, some girl’s boyfriend sent her-”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Liam interrupts. “I’m not one of your little social media playthings to manipulate for views, Nadia. My money is not a toy. I’ll buy you a thoughtful gift for your birthday next month, but I’m not in the business of flinging cash at you for no reason. Now if you’ll excuse me, some of us have real work to do. Goodnight.”

With that he abruptly ends the call, leaving Nadia staring at the blank screen, a red flush of embarrassment and anger creeping up her elegant neck. Stephanie and Colette exchange knowing looks.

“So … that went well,” Stephanie quips sarcastically.

Colette sighs morosely as she flops back onto the chaise, hugging a silk pillow. “Maybe that girl’s boyfriend really is one of a kind. God, I bet she feels like the luckiest woman alive. Can you even imagine being THAT loved and adored?”

Nadia seems to deflate, her bravado evaporating. “No,” she whispers. “I can’t. You’re right, Col. Mystery Monaco Man is clearly in a league of his own. I bet he makes her feel like an absolute queen every damn day.”

Stephanie nods thoughtfully, twirling a lock of hair. “You know what though? Good for her. She seems lovely and down-to-earth in the video. If anyone deserves that fairy tale romance, it’s a girl like that who doesn’t even realize how special it is.”

“Ugh, so true. god I’m depressed now,” Colette groans, reaching for the champagne bottle to refill her glass. “To Mystery Monaco Man — may he set the standard for rich boyfriends everywhere. And to the girl who’s lucky enough to love him — may she live happily ever after and never take a single moment for granted.”

“Hear, hear,” Nadia and Stephanie chorus, clinking their glasses against Colette’s.

As the bubbles fizz on their tongues, the wistful faraway looks in their eyes betray the same thought — what they wouldn’t give to trade places with you for just a day, to know what it feels like to be cherished so completely by a man like Charles. To them, you’re living the ultimate dream.

If only they knew the best part isn’t the extravagant gestures or lavish gifts.

It’s the little moments. The soft kisses pressed to your temple. The fingers intertwined with yours. The sleepy smiles over morning coffee. The shared laughter and inside jokes. The unwavering support and unconditional acceptance. The bone-deep feeling of safety and coming home.

That’s the real fairy tale. And no amount of money could ever buy it.

***

Back in Monaco, Lando Norris slouches comfortably in his gaming chair, eyes glued to the triple monitors in front of him. He’s meant to be reviewing telemetry data in preparation for the upcoming race weekend, but the notification chime from his phone proves far too tempting. Lando picks up the device, fully intending to only glance at it for a second before dutifully returning to his work.

But then he sees it — the TikTok that at least a dozen people have sent to him in the past hour alone. Curiosity piqued, Lando clicks on the video and watches intently, his brows steadily rising towards his hairline with each passing second.

“Wait, is that ...” he mutters to himself as the clip plays out. When your boyfriend’s voice comes through the speakers, Lando’s eyes bug out comically. “Holy shit, it is Charles! And Y/N!”

A knock on the door makes Lando jump slightly. Before he can respond, a familiar mop of tousled chestnut hair pokes into the room. “Hey mate, did you see-” Max Verstappen starts to say.

“The TikTok of Charles simping hard for Y/N? Yup, watching it right now,” Lando finishes for him, eyes still glued to his phone screen in fascination.

Max invites himself into the room fully and flops down on the couch. “Absolutely crazy, right? Who just casually sends their girlfriend 10k for a random pair of shoes?”

Lando snorts. “Certainly not you, you stingy Dutchman,” he ribs playfully. Max chucks a throw pillow at him in retaliation.

“Hey, even I splurge on my girlfriend sometimes!” Max protests. “I just bought her ... erm ...” He racks his brain trying to remember the last lavish gift he purchased unprompted.

“A six-pack of Sugar Free Red Bull last week?” Lando supplies dryly.

“... Shut up.”

The two dissolve into snickers before turning their attention back to the TikTok, which has now looped to the beginning again.

“Charles is so whipped for Y/N,” Max observes, shaking his head in amused disbelief. “He’s just asking to get taken advantage of, throwing money around like that.”

“I think it’s kinda sweet,” Lando admits with a shrug. “He just wants to make her happy. Don’t act like you wouldn’t do the same if your girl asked!”

Max scoffs. “What, fall victim to a gold digger? No thanks mate.”

“Y/N’s hardly a gold digger and you know it,” Lando chides. “She works hard for her own money and buys plenty of expensive gifts for Charles too. They just like spoiling each other ‘cause they’re in luuurve.” He draws out the last word in a silly voice, making dramatic kissy faces.

“Yeah, yeah, true love and all that sappy bullshit,” Max says dismissively, though there’s no real heat behind it. “I’m just saying, no way in hell I’m sending 10k on command for a pair of fucking shoes!”

Lando hums thoughtfully. “I would.”

Max’s head whips around to stare at him incredulously. “You what.”

“If it was the right girl? Sure, I’d do it,” Lando says nonchalantly. “Maybe not for something frivolous like shoes, but if my girlfriend called me up and said she needed 10k transferred ASAP? I’d do it, no questions asked. You gotta have that level of trust.”

Clearly torn between wanting to take the piss out of his friend and feeling a reluctant sort of respect, Max just grunts noncommittally in response before turning back to rewatch the clip once more.

Debate rages online among the fans about the cute interaction. Most find the whole thing adorably romantic, cooing over what a doting and generous boyfriend Charles is. They swoon at the obvious love and care between you two, speculating excitedly in the comments about when Charles might pop the question.

Others are more cynical, rolling their eyes at Charles “simping” so hard and accusing you of only dating the Ferrari driver for his money. However, these naysayers are quickly drowned out and ratio’d by your legions of adoring supporters.

Through it all, you and Charles pay the speculation little mind, blissfully wrapped up in your fairytale romance.

Charles returns home that evening to the mouthwatering aroma of his favorite pesto pasta dish wafting from the kitchen. He grins when he spots you at the stove, swaying your hips to the sultry jazz music playing from the speaker as you stir the sauce. Quietly, he comes up behind you and slips his strong arms around your waist, pressing a kiss to your temple.

“Mmm, smells amazing,” he murmurs appreciatively.

You turn in his embrace and loop your arms around his neck, smiling radiantly up at him. “Welcome home, Cha-Cha,” you greet him, using the silly pet name that never fails to make him chuckle and scrunch his nose adorably. “Dinner’s almost ready.”

“And what’s for dessert?” Charles asks with a playful waggle of his eyebrows.

Biting your lip coyly, you untangle yourself from his arms and saunter off towards the bedroom. “Come find out after we eat. Oh, and I picked up a little something special to express my gratitude for earlier ...” you call over your shoulder with a wink.

Charles’ megawatt grin could power all of Monaco for a year. Viral TikTok or not, the Monegasque knows he’s already the luckiest man in the world to have you as his partner through this crazy ride called life.

No amount of money could ever compare to the joy of being loved by you.

[dreamwritesimagines]

Sunshine [8] - Scorching

AN: My loves, thank you so so much for your wonderful support and lovely comments and HCs! ❤️ You’re amazing! ❤️

I hope you like this as well, and please don’t forget to tell me what you think, thank you! 🥰

Pairing: Logan Howlett x Female!Reader

Summary: The morning after can be peaceful.

Word Count: 4244

CW: Explicit language, mentions of sex, drinking, adult themes MDNI

Series Masterlist

There was a reason why you kept telling everyone you couldn’t do casual. You had tried it numerous times, and every single time you ended up getting attached but this?

With Logan?

This was a whole different level.

When the alarm pulled you out of the deep haze of sleep, it took you a couple of seconds to be able to even lift your arm to grab your phone. Your whole body felt sore in the most pleasant way as you pulled back from the warmth and rolled to your side to check the time on the screen before hitting snooze, and while you were more than ready to fall back to sleep, the urge disappeared immediately the moment you heard Logan’s groan.

It was almost insane how you were still hungry for him. The dawn was breaking by the time you had fallen asleep -to be honest, you were quite sure you had passed out- but as soon as you turned around and your eyes fell on him, the spark of the familiar fire of desire shot through you, making your lips curl into a smile. He ran a hand over his eyes as if trying to get rid of any trace of sleep before he lowered his hand to smirk at you.

“Morning,” you said softly and he pulled you closer to himself and cupped your cheek to brush his lips against yours, coaxing a sigh out of you.

“Hi sweetheart.”

You could feel your heart skipping a beat at his morning voice and you rested your chin on his chest, fiddling with the dog tags hanging from the chain around his neck as he brushed his knuckles against your cheekbone.

“Feeling okay?”

“More than okay,” you said and thought for a moment. “I’ll have to ask if Jamie knows someone who can teach me how to walk again but zero regrets.”

A chuckle vibrated deep in his chest and you beamed at him, turning the tags in your hand. He ran his fingertips up and down your spine, awakening goosebumps on your skin and you pecked him on the lips but the moment you pulled away, he pulled you back so that he could kiss you again. He rolled over so that he could get on top of you, making you let out a happy squeal before the loud alarm of your phone went off again and you hit snooze once more.

“Call in sick,” Logan murmured and you tried to focus, scratching at the nape of his neck softly but before you could say anything, his phone started vibrating somewhere on the floor-you were guessing in his jean pockets. He dropped his head to the croak of your neck, making you giggle.

“Aren’t you gonna get that?”

“Nope.”

“But it could be important.”

You could almost feel his smirk. “I swear to you, nothing is more important than this.”

“Someone could be dying!”

“They should find a doctor then.”

“Logan!” you exclaimed, pushing at his broad shoulders and he lifted his head with a sigh, then grabbed his phone off the floor with a sigh. You toyed with the tags swinging above your face as he looked down at you with a fond light in his eyes before dipping his head to give you a small kiss on the lips, then answered the phone.

“What do you want?”

Your jaw dropped as you squeezed at his hand beside your head.

“Be nice!”

He shook his head slightly, his brows pulling into a frown.

“Find someone else,” he told the person on the other line and rolled his eyes. “I’m not at the mansion right now Scott, I can’t go up to the roof—” he stopped talking as Scott said something you couldn’t hear, making his frown deepen. “How the fuck do you know where I am?”

You tilted your head to the left while he heaved a furious sigh, then gritted his teeth.

“Just wait there,” he snapped and hung up, a growl rumbling in his chest before he cleared his throat and put the phone down.

“I’m really sorry princess,” he said softly, turning to you. “I…I’m going to kill Scott, but I gotta go.”

The change in his tone almost gave you a whiplash. You knew he was annoyed, if not angry at Scott, but there was no trace of that snappy tone he used with him when he spoke to you; instead his voice was gentle, and held none of that sharp edge it held just a moment ago. You could feel a smile curling your lips and you nodded your head.

“No problem,” you said. “Is everything okay?”

“He brought the jet here.”

You blinked a couple of times. “Sorry?”

“Yeah, waiting on the roof right now.”

“This roof?”

“This roof,” he said. “I have no idea how he knew where I was.”

You grabbed his phone and waved it at him. “This maybe?”

A look of realization dawned on his face.

“Right,” he muttered before kissing you on the lips and you giggled, cupping his cheek before pulling back to look up at him.

“Your friends are waiting,” you told him and he heaved a sigh, then pecked you again and got off of you to grab his clothes. You let your eyes roam his naked body hungrily while he put his clothes on but as soon as you rolled over to his side, you felt the significant dip that made you frown before the memory hit you.

You—

Oh.

You had in fact broken the bed last night.

You pulled yourself to the edge of the bed to hang down halfway, trying to see under the bed and you reached down to feel underneath the frame where it had broken but Logan stopped you.

“Don’t, it’ll cut you,” he said and reached down before you felt the unmistakable sound of metal bending into its place.

“Oops,” you said with a giggle and he smirked at you, crouching down to get to your level while you rested your chin on your hand, still on the edge of the bed.

“It should be good for now,” he said. “I’ll fix it when I get back, okay sweetheart?”

You nodded your head, beaming up at him.

“When will you be back?” you asked, your voice soft and he stole a kiss from your lips, his fingers caressing your hair.

“Scott seems to think it’ll take the whole weekend and if we’re not back on Monday, I’ll leave him there and come back.”

“You would never.”

“I might,” he muttered, making you let out a small laugh.

“But seriously, it’s fine,” you insisted. “I’m going to be with Theo whole weekend, it’s not as if we’d be able to see each other until Monday.”

He paused as if he hadn’t considered that before nodding his head.

“Right,” he said. “Of course.”

“See you on Monday then,” you said with a smile and he pecked you on the lips, then pressed a kiss on the top of your bed and straightened his back.

“Be careful, please?”

“Always am,” you said. “And you too.”

He shot you a smirk before walking out of the room and you heard the front door open before it closed again and you heaved a sigh, then rolled onto your back and smiled to yourself. You pressed your fingertips on your lips, then attempted to sit up but your eyes widened as all your muscles protested, and you took a deep breath.

“Moving slow today,” you muttered to yourself. “So worth it.”

                                        *

You’d always liked weekends but ever since Theo had started attending the school for the gifted, weekends was becoming your favorite time of the week. You missed Theo so terribly from Monday to Friday, so every weekend you tried to make sure he was happy to be home. You would take him on picnics, to movies, to wherever he wanted to see and always made sure to cook and bake his favorites so that when he went back to school, he knew he still had a home to go back to whenever he wanted.

So, your weekend with Theo had gone well. You took him to a new exhibition in one of his favorite museums and had a documentary night at home with his favorite snacks, as it was your tradition before he started school.

He was also beyond happy to have Cheeto and Popcorn. He had hugged you and told you that you were the best mom ever, and you would be lying if you said it didn’t make the tears rush to your eyes.

When Monday arrived and you dropped him off to school, you had texted Logan but apparently he still wasn’t back. You could almost hear him grumbling about it even if it was on text, and you would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit disappointed, but you knew you had to go to work anyway so the best-case scenario you would be seeing him in the evening even if he were back.

But apparently, Theo had forgotten his book home so after work, you had to drop by home and drive to his school to drop it off.

“So,” Julie’s voice reached you from the speaker of the phone as you kept your eyes on the road. “Is Mr. Break Your Bed gonna be there?”

“I don’t think so,” you said with a small grin. “I texted him but he hasn’t seen it yet. And either way, he probably won’t be back by the midnight, so…”

“Maybe a midnight visit then?”

“I mean I don’t want to be pushy but…” you trailed off. “I hope so. Can you have withdrawals when it comes to sex? Because I’m pretty sure I’m having withdrawals.”

“It’s barely Monday evening,” she said. “You’re not having withdrawals, you’re just horny.”

“Julie, that night changed me,” you said. “I’m a changed woman now.”

“I’m happy for you but how about we slow down for a moment?”

“I think at some point my soul left my body.”

“I don’t think so.”

“It was floating in space or something.”

“No it wasn’t.”

“I saw myself in an alternate universe and she was also with Logan.”

“That’s not what happened.”

“Julie—”

 “I’m really proud of you for having orgasms but at the risk of sounding like Jamie,” she cut you off. “You need to take a deep breath and calm down for a moment. I don’t care how good he is in bed, let’s keep in mind that he’s still just a guy.”

“I am calm.”

“You’re not calm,” she said. “We’re on family account so I know you listened to Crazy in Love - Fifty Shades of Grey remix on loop all night last night.”

“I was making a trailer for me and Logan in my head.”

“Which doesn’t fall under the category of being calm.”

You took a deep breath, lazily turning the steering wheel.

“You know how much I support you getting laid,” Julie said. “But let’s not put the guy up on a pedestal just because he’s great in bed. Please?”

“I’m not doing that,” you said, your voice coming out way too petulant. “It’s just…you know, I’m happy.”

“And that makes me happy,” she assured you. “I promise you. But I don’t want you to get hurt, so let’s go slow with this whole thing with Logan.”

You nodded your head.

“Yeah I know,” you said as you pulled over, looking up at the mansion. “Gotta go, I’ll call you?”

“Okay!”

“Love you!”

“Love you too sunshine,” she said and hung up, and you grabbed your phone off the holder before stepping out of the car. You knew Logan wasn’t there, but you still felt your heart skipping a happy beat and made your way into the mansion.

Considering it was late in the evening, Theo and the most of the younger students had to have gone to bed, and you didn’t want to wake him up from his sleep just to give him his book. Some of the older students were around so you stopped the closest guy and smiled at him.

“Um, hi.”

His eyes widened as he looked at you, then he looked up at the ceiling as if forcing himself to drag his gaze away.

“Hi miss—ma’am,” he said and you tilted your head.

“Uh, are you okay?”

“Yes ma’am,” he stammered. “I just have been told not to even look at…how—how may I help you?”

“I was wondering where Professor X is,” you said even though you were confused about why he refused to look at you. “I’ll give him Theo’s book, I’m his mom.”

“I know,” he said. “I can give it to him tomorrow if you’d like.”

“Oh that’d be wonderful, thank you!” you said as he took the book from you and you frowned.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

“Caleb!” someone called out and he turned his head, then nodded.

“I’d better go,” he said. “Uh, see you around—or not! Not see you around, I’ll just…” he waved his hand vaguely before walking away from you in a hurry, and you leaned on your hip.

“Well that was weird,” you muttered to yourself and turned around to make your way through the hallway but as soon as you turned the corner, someone pulled you by the arm, making you let out a squeal before you saw who it was, your heartbeat getting faster in a second.

Logan.

He had to have just stepped out of the shower judging by his wet hair. His hazel eyes was shining with that fond light they always held whenever he looked at you, making your chest feel all warm as a smile curled his lips.

“Hi princess.”

“Hi!” you chirped, smiling wide at him, painfully aware of the heart eyes you were giving him. “You’re back!”

He hummed, dipping his head to pull you into a kiss and you heaved a pleasant sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck when his arm sneaked around your waist to press your body to his.

“I didn’t know you were back,” you said when you pulled back to look up at him and he stroked your cheekbone.

“Arrived like half an hour ago,” he said. “I heard your voice when I stepped out of the shower. What are you doing here?”

“Theo forgot his book,” you said. “I texted you actually, but…”

“My phone died,” he mumbled apologetically and you let out a laugh.

“Why do I get the feeling you and technology don’t get along well?”

The corners of his lips twitched. “Maybe.”

“How was the mission?”

“It was good,” he said. “Missed you though.”

Happiness bloomed in your chest, making you beam at him. “Did you?”

He hummed and stole another kiss from you, entwining his fingers with yours before stepping back and tugging at your hand.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

He shot you a playful smile, making your stomach do a happy flip.

“Well, like I said, I missed you,” he said, pulling you to himself to peck you on the lips again. “And my room is closer than your place.”

                                                   *

Okay.

Well—

Perhaps you weren’t exactly going slow.

Perhaps sex with Logan was making you plan your future cabin in the woods but as long as you kept it to yourself, you figured it was fine.

You had no idea what time you had fallen asleep but when you woke up to your stomach growling, it was still midnight. You looked up at Logan’s sleeping figure before smiling to yourself, and very carefully moved in the bed but as soon as you turned around, Logan threw an arm over your waist to pull you back to him.

“Where are you going?” he muttered into your hair, his voice still sleepy and you let out a giggle, squeezing at his arm.

“Burning energy leads to hunger, strange as it sounds,” you said. “Aren’t you hungry?”

You could hear his smirk; “Nah, I ate.”

A fire spread over your face as you pulled the pillow from under your head to smack it on his arm, making him chuckle.

“Want me to get you something?” he asked and you thought for a moment, then shook your head.

“I don’t know what I want, so I’ll check the kitchen,” you said as you sat up in the bed and grabbed your dress but tilted your head when you saw the broken zipper. You raised your brows and held it up, throwing a look at him over your shoulder and he held up his hands.

“Sorry about that.”

You tilted your head. “You don’t sound very sorry.”

“That’s because I’m not.”

You scrunched up your nose at him, narrowing your eyes.

“I’m so stealing your clothes tomorrow before going to my place,” you told him and grabbed his shirt to put it on, then got up from the bed despite your muscles protesting every single movement. He got up as well and got into his jeans then followed you out of the room.

It was clear that everyone was asleep, the hallway completely dark and empty, and you smiled when Logan threw an arm over your shoulder, pulling you closer. Entwining your fingers with his, you let him lead you to the kitchen downstairs and as soon as you took a step to the fridge, he slapped your butt, making you whirl around with a gasp.

“People are sleeping!” you whispered, pointing a finger at him while trying your hardest not to laugh, then opened the fridge door to see what was inside. You hummed, then took out some bread, butter and cheese and held them up.

“You want some grilled cheese sandwich?”

“Sure,” he said with a soft smile on his face and you nodded, then kicked the fridge door close to make your way to the counter.

“At the risk of sounding arrogant,” you said. “I make a killer grilled cheese sandwich.”

“Yeah?” he asked, coming up behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, dipping his head to bury his nose to the crook of your neck. A giggle escaped from your lips as you fidgeted in his arms.

“Logan!”

“You smell so good.”

“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, cutting the cheese. “We’ve been um…busy for hours.”

You could feel his smirk against your skin; “Busy?”

“Stop,” you chided him lightheartedly, your cheeks burning a little as you held up a piece of cheese over your shoulder for him to bite it. You popped the rest into your mouth, then looked around.

“Where’s the pan?”

“It’s—” Logan started, but raised his head to look behind him, making you frown.

“What?”

“You don’t want Theo to know yet, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“He’s awake, coming here,” he muttered, stepping back from you and you frowned but before you could ask anything, you heard the familiar footsteps.

Uh oh.

Any observer would’ve been able to tell what was happening, considering Logan was only in his jeans, and you were in his flannel but Theo was still little and you hadn’t brought anyone home before so you knew he wouldn’t be able to understand. Either way, you fixed your hair hurriedly and threw your shoulders back when Theo appeared at the entrance, rubbing his eyes behind his glasses with his fist, then he lowered his hand to pull his brows together.

“Mommy?”

“Bean!” you said breathlessly and smiled at him. “Hi. Why are you awake?”

Theo blinked a couple of times as if trying to focus, then fixed his glasses, his lips pulled into a pout.

“What are you doing here?”

You exchanged glances with Logan who was leaning against the counter with his arms crossed, then you turned to Theo.

“I brought your book and the car broke down so I decided to spend the night here,” you lied. “You were already asleep when I got here. What are you doing up?”

“I was thirsty,” he said through his pout and Logan filled a glass of water to give it to you so that you could give it to Theo. “Hi Mr. Logan.”

“Hi bub.”

Theo downed the water and gave the glass back to you, then hugged your legs with a small whine. You smiled to yourself and lifted him up for him to wrap his arms and legs around you like a little koala, and leaned his head to your chest with a yawn.

“Want me to carry him to bed?” Logan asked and Theo frowned, then shook his head, holding onto you tighter.

“We get a bit cranky when we’re sleepy,” you whispered to Logan and pressed a kiss on top of Theo’s hair. “It’s fine, right bean?”

Theo nodded quietly.

“His room is—”

“Down the hallway, I know,” you told Logan with a smile. “Be right back.”

You walked out of the kitchen with Theo in your arms, humming an old song that used to put Theo to sleep when he was a baby. He mumbled something in his sleep and you reached the half open door of his room, then pushed it to step in.

Theo having a room to himself wasn’t something you had thought about when you enrolled him but when you came to pick him up at the end of his first week, Professor X had informed you that it was a precaution, after all Theo still didn’t know how to control his very destructive powers so it was both for his safety and the other students’. You could see his books on the table and his animal drawings on the walls, as well as him in a superhero suit. You repressed a smile, then gently put him down on his bed and pulled the covers over him.

“Mommy?”

“Yes my love?” you whispered, stroking over his hair before taking his glasses off to put them on his bedside table. Theo yawned.

“I had a dream about Cheeto and Popcorn.”

“Really?”

“Mm hm,” he said drowsily. “They’re friends right? Best friends?”

You smiled to yourself.

“They are,” you said. “And they love you.”

 Theo hugged his pillow tighter, already half asleep. “Love you mommy.”

“Love you too bean,” you said, pressing a kiss on his forehead before pulling back to see whether he could hear you but he was deep asleep already. You smiled to yourself and heaved a sigh, then made your way back to the kitchen where Logan was already turning the sandwich in the pan on the stove.

“Hottest chef I’ve ever seen,” you joked as you jumped to sit on the counter and he gave you a smile.

“I doubt making grilled sandwich counts as being a chef.”

“It totally does,” you told him and he put it on a plate, then put it in your lap.

“Here.”

“Yay!” you said and took a bite, then closed your eyes. “Ugh, I love bread.”

Logan chuckled, making you open your eyes as you chewed on your bite, then swallowed it.

“You’re great with him, you know?” Logan asked and you pulled your brows together in confusion before the realization dawned on you.

“With Theo?” you asked and let out a small laugh. “Well, comes with the territory.”

“Not at all,” Logan said. “Not every parent is like that.”

A bright smile lit up your face.

“Thank you,” you said. “For saying that. It means more than you know. Half of the time I have no idea what I’m doing.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Logan said. “He’s the happiest kid I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah?” you asked, your smile widening and he nodded.

“Mm hm.”

“Good,” you said. “I mean his happiness is the most important thing for me. Everything else comes secondary to that, even myself which is…not something I thought was possible before.”

That soft light was shining in his eyes again and you took a deep breath, then scrunched up your nose.

“Sorry,” you said as you put down the sandwich in the plate. “This is the part where people get scared.”

He hummed, leaning his hands on either side of you, caging you in, making your heart skip a happy beat and a mischievous smirk curled his lips.

“Do I strike you as a man who gets scared?” he asked and a small giggle climbed up your throat.

“No,” you admitted. “But…”

“But?”

“But I’d get it if you did.”

He shook his head, his hazel gaze locked in yours.

“Not gonna happen.”

You could feel the warmth spreading from your chest to your whole body and you leaned in to press a feathery kiss on his lips.

“Good,” you managed to say. “I happen to like having you around, and your cooking skills aren’t so bad.”

“Oh is that right?”

“Could use some more practice but I figure two hundred years is a bit early to learn and—Logan!” you squealed as he took the plate to put it beside you on the counter, then pulled you to himself, making you slide on the counter, a laugh escaping from you before you covered your mouth.

“People are sleeping!” you reminded him again and he shrugged his shoulders, that irresistible smile curling his lips again.

“Well,” he muttered, leaning down to kiss you again as you wrapped your arms around his neck with a pleasant sigh. “Guess you’re gonna have to be quiet, sweetheart.”

9 - Tranquility

[ifwdominicfike]

your camera roll —

if you were dating guitarist!matt

a little insight on the life with your boyfriend who is the lead guitarist of an upcoming band ⊹ ࣪ ˖

layout inspo: @55sturn

1st - you walked in on matt shirtless while strumming away on his guitar, his bottom lip between his teeth while bopping his head to tune he was playing. you were enjoying the view until he had caught you staring. “sweetheart- where’d you come from? scared me there” he says with a smile “have i ever told you how good y’look like this..?” you make your way to his lap as he sets down the instrument “come on y/n you know i c-cant have any distractions baby..” your hands trailing down his chest, teasing their way down to his belt “just five minutes please ?” “fuck okay fine, only five though got it?”

── .✦. ──

2nd - your 1 year anniversary with matt was coming up and you had the perfect gift for him. you were lucky that he had gone off to rehearse at a friend’s house leaving you alone, with his laptop still opened on a tab that was on a specific guitar still on the screen. fast forward the day of your anniversary you had matt covering his eyes as you excitedly brought over the same guitar to set in his hands. by the feel of it matt had already gotten an idea on what it was. “o-oh my- no you didn’t” “happy anniversary matt!!” he carefully sets it down and wraps his arms you, lifting you up slightly as he starts to kiss all over your face “i love you so much baby you have no idea”

── .✦. ──

3rd - it was no secret that matt loved you, he would kiss the ground you walked on every second of the day. always waiting on you hand and foot and taking care of whatever you had going on, he spoiled you bad. you always got your way no matter what, some may say you were “needy” but that never bothered matt — he loved it. you two were getting ready to go out and you were “having trouble with the laces.” that was your excuse to matt as he kneeled down with a sarcastic sigh “you were having trouble with the laces bun? the other shoe seems perfectly fine t’me” you smile and pull at the other lace to undo the knot “i think y’need to do that one too baby” you giggle at him as he sighs “have it your way then, spoiled girl”

1st - it was your first time seeing matt play live and fuck. he looked so good, the entire night he would glance over at you and wink or give you a teasing smirk as his fingers worked the chords. that was another thing too, his hands. he knew how much you loved them, as the night went on the show was coming to an end. matt had made his way over to you and he instantly lifted you off the floor “m’gonna fuck you soo good when we get home, hope y’know that pretty girl” his voice filled desperation as you whine when his lips make their way to your neck.

── .✦. ──

2nd - matt knew you were the only one he would ever want, he always knew from the start. so when you suggested getting matching tattoos he dropped everything and made an appointment. “y’scared pretty girl?” he was holding your hand to calm your nerves as you were basically shaking in the chair. “shut up matt, im just- not used to getting these. unlike you!” you point to his sleeve as you scoff “s’gonna be fine sweetheart, im right here”

── .✦. ──

3rd - “baby you he- oh” he opens the bedroom door before he stops in his tracks when he sees you sitting down with his favorite guitar in your arms. “what’re y’doing?” he asks but before you could answer he interrupts himself “wait- whats jerry doing there?” you laugh at the name of the cat, you never took it serious for a cat name but matt insisted on naming him jerry. “jerry wanted to help me out love, isn’t he the cutest thing ever!!” matt laughs as he makes his way to you, his hand caressing your jaw as he lifts up your head to give you a kiss “i love you so much sweetheart.”

1st - “baby that sounds fine right?” matt ask’s “m’sorry what?” your eyes quickly meeting his, he wanted you to be the first to hear his solo for his bands next song but you got sidetracked and ended up staring at his hands — the veins spread out and becoming more prominent when they moved. “really? whats with you and my hands huh?” he teases “they’re just so pretty, how could i not stare at them?” you state “you’re weird, kidding! but please can you actually hear this real quick” “of course handsome”

── .✦. ──

2nd - you two always enjoyed moments like these, quality time was always something important to both of you. it never failed to turn into you talking matts ear off but he loved hearing you talk about your day. “also you’re never gonna guess what happened so y’know my friend- sorry m’rambling again” matt looks at you confused “no- no keep going baby why’d y’stop?” he asks “o-oh uhm okay!” you awkwardly laugh “you’ll never annoy me bun, i love hearing you talk”

── .✦. ──

3rd - you were deep into your book while matt was fixing up his guitar, until matt heard small snores coming from you as your book was limp against your chest. he smiles to himself and begins to put away his things — agreeing that it was time for bed already. one everything was done he had gone over to you, curled into a ball peacefully sleeping. “m’pretty girl” he says to himself, he carefully picks you up making sure to not wake up but he failed horribly “wh- matt?” you grumble “shh, just go back to sleep hun. ‘kay?” last thing you know is matt snuggling up against you while whispering the sweetest words ever.

- avery’s note ˚ 𝜗𝜚˚⋆｡-

i live for guitarist!matt. i always use sweetheart WAYYY TOOO MUCHHH. but i just know matt would call his gf sweetheart so SHHH. this took me way longer than needed but only bc im a procrastinator ANYWAY i didn’t notice how long these were.. but enjoy!!

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - @ellaapsworld @chrissv4mp @jetaimevous @mattsbrowser @submattenthusiast @flouvela @bluestriips

[lanabuckybarnes]

Might have re-watched Captain America: Winter Soldier again 🫣....and it's just something about the way he says "You're my misson." All I know is this gives off HUGE smutty vibes. I love your written so I just knew I had to ask you!

Ohh nonnie the way he growls it as well (panties soaked)

18+ MINORS DNI, DUB/NON CON THEMES AHEAD

His metal hand pressed against your throat, you should’ve passed out ages ago but he wasn’t squeezing enough to hurt. He was keeping you in place.

You don’t know how you ended up on Hydra’s watchlist. You were a regular person, a security expert who woke up at 6am every morning, showered and got ready for the long hours at the office.

Your boss had some new clientele. They were in the market for top-notch security and they’d chosen the company you worked for, and your boss had chosen you to be part of the team. You learned quickly that they were a very secretive group, you only ever met the messengers and even then they blanked every other word you spoke besides a polite hello.

It was one boring day, completely uneventful, the usual in your office. You were working on the can’t security side of the project when your screen went black, then a logo appeared—an octopus? Weird.

“Hey Jim come look at this” you notified your cubicle neighbour who peaked over the barrier. Just as he did mountains of files filtered onto your screen, many of them in Russian it looked like but one thing was for certain. You definitely shouldn’t have seen it.

That night after packing up and heading downstairs you noticed Jim still at the revolving doors.

“Hey, you alright?” You asked, he looked pale, if you were in an old house you were sure you would’ve mistook him for a ghost.

“T-the—“ he cleared his throat before his brown eyes bore into yours. They looked dead, it shook you to your core. “The logo, on your computer…I searched it up and…”

Your jaw dropped to the floor when you digested the content on his phone. Hydra. Your new clients were Hydra and you’d accidentally seen all their files.

—

You jumped from your dreamless sleep at the sound of your landline. Checking your clock lets you know it was well past midnight, who on earth would be calling at this time?

“H-hello?” You rasped, eyes shutting by the second.

The frantic voice spoke your name. It was Jim and by his tone, he was panicking.

“Jim? Jim, are you alright?” You pressed, holding the phone closer to your ear.

“T-they’re here, listen to me whatever you do, do not open your door. Find a weapon and hide…oh god…Do not op—“ BANG!!

You let out a shriek at the sound, Jim’s side turning eerily quiet. Then your door knocked.

Once.

Twice.

Your door was gone before it could be knocked for a third time. Kicked so hard it hit the opposite wall, you screamed, dropping the phone from your ear and falling to the ground like you were made of jelly.

Tears flowed freely down your face as the huge body stalked forth, his arm glistening under the dim light you kept on at all times. A mask sat upon his face obscuring his emotions from you but you were certain he was enjoying the torture he was putting you through.

His heavy boots stopped just in front of your knees, his metal hand grasped at your throat squeezing until your vision spotted, until you garbled pleas up at him. Only then did he pull you up, your toes pointing to reach the floor, you were trying desperately to relieve some of the pressure around your throat.

You should’ve died a long time ago, his brain screamed at him to fulfil his mission, put a bullet in your skull and be done. But the more he looked at you the more he wanted.

The spaghetti straps of your nightgown had slipped down off your shoulders, catching in the crooks of your elbows but not before giving him a delicious tease of your bust.

He wanted more.

He raised his flesh hand, hooking a long thick index finger into the material before ripping it from your body in one fell swoop. You yelled and struggled against his grasp but a harsh squeeze of your trachea had any fight dying quickly.

He let his knuckles trace the swell of your tits, pinching a nipple in between his fingers, smirking darkly under the mask as you squirmed.

You look cute all scared of him; wide-eyed and chest heaving, your tummy sucking in to get away from his hand as it trailed down to your cotton panties.

A dark chuckle escaped him as he felt along your gusset.

“You’re wet”

You shook your head, eyes darting anywhere but him, your thighs squeezing his hand and keeping it pressed firmly against your mound.

He ripped the panties from your body as well, running two fingers through your folds and bringing them up to your face. Absolutely soaked.

“Wet” he spoke matter-of-factly before pushing his hand back down there; fingers plucking your hard little clit effortlessly until you were crying out.

“W-why are you doing this” you moaned, head hitting off the wall with a bang as you sucked in air greedily.

“You’re my mission” he growled back, fingers stretching you out until your brain turned to mush.

He coaxed four orgasms out of you that night. His mask, thrown to the floor so he could kiss you sloppily before leaving.

He returned night after night, Hydra sending him to complete his task but he’d do the same again, play with you, eat you out until you were a writhing mess—all dumb and thinking of nothing but him.

You were his mission. For days, months, years. You were his.

—

I pulled this outta my ass but I hope it was up to your standard nonnie 🤭🤭

Also thank you so much, it’s nice to know some people enjoy reading the poo I write.

Likes, Reblogs and Asks are always appreciated ❤️❤️

[itneverendshere]

okay we know rafes help reader in situations like with electricity and no car and such. but maybe it’s the first time where he knows he’s in love with her and she’s the one for him, where she doesn’t go to him for any help. and it’s maybe like not having enough money to buy groceries for herself, or how she walks to work still bc she can’t afford gas. and he gets so mad, and she thinks it’s an inconvenience to him. but it’s actually because rafe will always be there for her, and no matter what the problem is , he can fix it just for her

you got me overnight - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader(bartender!reader universe) warnings: first fight and confession 🫂

Rafe knew convincing you he was worth a shot was the easiest part of your relationship.

You were absolutely perfect, made to be his. He could picture you right now, the way you’d smile at his stupid jokes, the warmth of your hand in his, or how you’d send him those random "good morning" texts that hit him like a gut punch every time. You were everything. It wasn’t just the way you looked, although that obviously had him floored, but the way you thought about things, the way you cared about people. It was all of it. You gave a shit.

That was something new for him.

He never thought he’d get someone like you, someone who made him want to be better. It was months later, and he was hooked.

Totally gone. You were the real deal for him. Every time his phone buzzed with your name on the screen, it hit him in the chest. Hard.

So when you dropped it on him, casually, that you were walking to work because you didn’t have the gas money while he’d been away on a family holiday, it set off something inside him.

You said it like it was no big deal, like it was just another part of your day. He was losing it. The idea of you walking to work, sweating it out while he was chilling on vacation, made him feel sick. He couldn’t wrap his head around it.

Rafe’s jaw clenched. He didn’t understand why you didn’t tell him earlier, didn’t ask for help. Why didn’t you call him? He could’ve handled it in a second, no problem. You didn’t need to be doing stuff like that. 

“You’ve been walking to work?”

“Yeah… it’s fine. It’s not far,” you replied, brushing it off like it was nothing.

But it wasn’t nothing. Not to him. He knew how far your walk was.

He knew it wasn’t just around the corner. And you didn’t have to be doing this. Even if he hadn’t been there for the past week to give you a ride as he usually did, he could’ve taken care of it even if he was miles away. He was always here for you, even if he wasn’t physically there.

Rafe gripped the counter tighter, trying to keep his frustration under control, for your sake. “Why didn’t you say anything? You didn’t tell me you were low on gas.”

You gave a little shrug, as if that was the end of the conversation.

“Didn’t wanna bother you. It’s not your problem.”

Didn’t wanna bother him? Not his problem? You were his problem, the best kind of problem, and he couldn’t understand why you thought you had to handle everything by yourself. It pissed him off—not at you, but at the fact that you were doing this, struggling in silence. It was like you didn’t trust him to be there for you. 

You didn’t trust him enough to lean on him when you needed something.

“What do you mean it’s not my problem?” His voice came out harsher than what he'd hoped for, and you froze, eyes wide.

“Whoa. Chill,” you said, holding your hands up defensively. “I didn’t think you’d get so worked up about it. I can handle it.”

But that wasn’t the point. You shouldn’t have to handle it. Not when you had him. You were supposed to lean on him, to come to him when things like this came up. 

That’s what being together meant.

It was crazy to him. Every part of him wanted to protect you, to make sure you didn’t have to deal with anything like this on your own. The thought of you walking to work—tired, probably stressed out—while he was away doing nothing important...he hated it.

"You don’t have to handle it, though," he argued, voice softer now but still frustrated “That’s the thing. You don’t get it, do you? I want to help. I need to help. When you're struggling, that's my problem too. I wanna be there for you. Always.”

You looked at him like he was overreacting like he was making something out of nothing. “Baby, it’s not that serious. It’s just a couple of walks. You’re acting like I was in danger or something.”

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to calm down, but it wasn’t working. "It's not about the fucking walks. It's the fact that you didn’t even think to tell me. Like I wouldn’t care.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples like you were tired of this conversation already. “I didn’t wanna bother you. You were on vacation. I didn’t want to stress you out over something so small.”

He didn’t know why it pissed him off so much, but it did. It was gnawing at him like a splinter under his skin, “You’re serious? You didn’t think it was worth mentioning?” 

You shifted on your feet, already defensive. “I don’t know. I didn’t think it was that big of a deal. I figured I’d just handle it.”

“That’s exactly the problem!” he snapped, stepping closer to you, his hand gesturing wildly. “You figured you’d handle it? What the fuck? Why would you think I wouldn’t want to know about something like this?”

“Because it’s stupid gas money, Rafe!” you fired back, your frustration bubbling to the surface now. “I didn’t wanna bother you with something so small! You were gone, and I didn’t want to make it a whole fucking thing.”

He could hear the irritation in your voice, but it just made him angrier.

You thought you were protecting him from being “bothered,” but all it did was make him feel like you didn’t need him. Like you didn’t think he could help, or worse, like you didn’t want him to.

“Small? Are you fucking kiddin’ me? You walked to work for how many days, in the heat, probably tired as fuck, and you think that’s small?” His voice was rising, and he hated that he couldn’t control it, but he was too worked up now. “It’s not about the gas money. It’s the fact that you didn’t tell me. You kept it to yourself, like I’m just some fucking dude who’s not in your life like that.”

You crossed your arms, your own frustration clear. “Rafe, you’re blowing this way out of proportion. I didn’t need to tell you because I can take care of myself. I’m not helpless.”

“That’s not what this is about!” he nearly shouted, the words tumbling out before he could stop them. “This isn’t about you being helpless or not! It’s about you letting me be there for you, letting me help you when things get tough. Shit. That’s what this is, what we are. You don’t fucking get it.”

“I do fucking get it, Rafe!” you snapped back, stepping closer to him, your eyes burning with misplaced anger. “But I don’t need to run to you every time something goes wrong. I’m not gonna fall apart because of a few days without a car.”

He was grinding his teeth now, trying to keep his composure but failing miserably. “It’s not about falling apart. It’s about the fact that you didn’t even think to lean on me! You didn’t trust me enough to just call and say, ‘Hey baby, I’m low on gas. Can you help?’ You shouldn’t have to figure it out on your own.”

You threw your hands up, exasperated. “I did figure it out! I walked. It wasn’t some huge disaster. I made it work.”

“But you shouldn’t have had to!” he yelled, his voice echoing in the kitchen. “Why can’t you get that? You don’t have to handle shit like this alone! I want to be there for you. I need to be there for you. Don’t you get that?”

You flinched at the volume of his voice, but you didn’t back down.

“You’re acting like I don’t care about us because I didn’t ask you to bail me out. I care, Rafe. But I can deal with things on my own, too. I’m not just gonna dump every little problem on you like it’s your job to fix everything.”

Rafe shook his head, running his hands through his hair for the millionth time, pacing now because he couldn’t stand still. “It is my job, though. That’s the whole fucking point. I’m supposed to be the one you come to when things go wrong sweets, big or small. I’m supposed to be the one who makes your life easier, not the guy you hide stuff from.”

You let out a frustrated laugh, disbelief coloring your tone. “Hide? Seriously? You think I’m hiding things from you? It was gas money, Rafe, not some deep, dark secret.”

“It feels like it, though!” he shot back, voice cracking slightly, betraying the emotion he’d been holding back. “It feels like you don’t trust me. Like I’m not… like I’m not enough for you to depend on.”

You went silent at that, your arms dropping to your sides as you stared at him, the tension between you thick and heavy. “That’s not fair,” you said quietly, shaking your head. “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” his voice cracked slightly, “Because it doesn’t feel like it. I’m out here thinking I’m the one who’s supposed to have your back, but you’re just out there, dealing with stuff alone. It makes me feel like… I don’t know. Like I’m not even part of your life like that.”

“That’s not what this is,” you said, stepping toward him now, the fight draining out of your voice. “I didn’t ask you because I didn’t want you to worry. Not because I don’t trust you. I thought I was helping by not making you deal with it.”

He let out a bitter laugh. “Helping? You think it helps me to know you’re struggling and didn’t say anything? That’s not helping. Shit, that’s torture, baby. I’d rather know and fix it than find out after and feel like an idiot because I wasn’t there.”

You sighed, rubbing your face with both hands, exhaustion settling in. “Rafe, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that. I didn’t think it was that serious.”

“It’s serious to me,” he said, his voice almost a whisper now, the anger ebbing away, leaving only the hurt behind. “Because I love you. And when you love someone, you don’t want them to handle things alone. You want to be there. Always.”

You froze, eyes wide as you stared at him. What? He hadn’t planned to say it like this, not in the middle of a fight, but there it was—out there and real.

“I love you,” he repeated, quieter this time. “And I need you to understand that means I’m here. For all of it. No matter how small it seems.”

He said it. He loved you. Maybe it wasn’t the best timing, but at least it was out of his chest. This man who had always been so intense, so fiercely protective, was looking at you like you held his entire world in your hands. And you did.

He loved you. That word—love—felt huge, almost too much. But it was what you had felt for him too. It was why you held back from asking for help, not because you didn’t trust him, but because you didn’t want to burden him with every little problem. You thought you were protecting him. Now, standing there, you realized maybe you’d gotten it wrong.

“You l-love me?”

“Yeah. I thought that was obvious by now.”

“Rafe…” you started, but he shook his head, his jaw clenched like he was bracing himself for rejection.

“It’s fine,” he mumbled, turning away, his hand running through his face. “You don’t have to say anything. I just—I just needed you to know.”

“No.” You stepped forward, reaching for his hand before he could pull completely away. “No, you don’t get to do that. You don’t get to just say it and walk away like I’m not standing right here.”

His gaze shot back to yours, confused and a little bit guarded, like he wasn’t sure what to expect.

“I love you too,” you said, the words feeling right as soon as they left your lips. You squeezed his hand, needing him to feel it. “I love you, okay? I didn’t ask for help because I didn’t want to drag you into my mess. I thought I was being strong, handling things on my own. I never wanted you to feel like I didn’t need you. I do need you,” you continued, stepping closer, your voice trembling slightly. “And I know now that I should’ve just called. That I should’ve let you help me, because that’s what we do. We’re a team. I just didn’t want to be a burden.”

Rafe let out a shaky breath, his shoulders sagging as if the weight of the world had just been lifted off him. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tight against his chest, his grip almost desperate. You melted into him, burying your face in the crook of his neck, feeling the calming thrum of his heartbeat.

“You’re not a burden,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “You’ll never be a burden. I just—I need you to let me be there for you. I don’t care what it is. Big or small, I wanna know. I wanna help.”

You nodded against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, letting the warmth of his skin calm you.

“Okay. I promise.”

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look at you, his thumb brushing lightly against your cheek. There was something in his eyes now that hadn’t been there before—relief, maybe, but more than that. Love. He felt you relax against him, your body molding into his.

“Say it again,” he murmured, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

You chuckled softly, your hand resting on his chest, feeling the rapid beat of his heart under your palm. “I love you, Rafe.”

He leaned down, pressing his forehead against yours. “I need you to get something,” he said softly, his voice much calmer now “When I say I love you, I’m not just saying it. I mean it. Like… for real. I’m in this, all the way.”

You blinked up at him, your eyes wide “I—” you started, but he shook his head, cutting you off gently.

“No, listen,” he interrupted, “I’ve never felt like this before. You’re everything. And I love you for it. I love every single part of you.”

He felt his chest tighten as he said it, like the words were coming from somewhere so deep inside him that he hadn’t even realized they were there until now. But they were, and they were real. He didn’t just love you—he needed you. He wasn’t sure if you’d even processed it yet. Then, slowly, you grinned, your eyes glistening just a little. 

 “This just… it feels so big. Holy shit, bigger than anything I’ve ever felt.”

“That’s because it is big,” Rafe said, his voice dropping to a whisper as he pressed his forehead against yours again. “It’s the biggest thing in the world to me. You are.”

Your breath hitched, and he could feel you trembling slightly in his arms. You reached up, cupping his face with your hands, and for the first time since the fight started, Rafe felt like you were really seeing him. Not just in that moment, but all of him—the guy who was scared out of his mind at how much he needed you, but who was willing to do anything to keep you close.

“I love you too,” you said it again, your voice shaking a little as you said it. “I’m sorry.”

 “We’re in this together,” he kissed your knuckles, his own fingers gently brushing through your hair. “No more going through stuff alone. Not you, not me. We’ve got each other now.”

You smiled, and Rafe felt like he could breathe again, really breathe, for the first time all night. “Deal,” you whispered.

And right there, he knew that everything was going to be okay.

Because you weren’t just someone he loved—you were his person. 

[reidsdimples]

“I gave your girlfriend cunnalingus on my couch”

Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Smut & Fluff (if you squint) 18+❤️‍🔥

Your cheating ex gets what’s coming to him when Spencer shows you what you truly deserve.

Just a little fantasy I had based on this song

Spencer opens his front door just barely after you finish knocking. You rub your arms as you hug yourself tight, trying not to cry anymore. When you see those sympathetic doe eyes though, you feel apart and collapsed into your best friend’s arms. He was warm, solid, unwavering. He always has been.

He closes the door behind you and gently guides you to his couch. You sniffle and wipe your tears. You’d been here before. Somehow you always end up in Spencer’s arms after your boyfriend cheats on you.

Even though you and Spencer no longer work together, the two of you have always been close. So when you took a new job in a different department, it didn’t affect your friendship.

“What happened?” He asks gently. He sits a mug of warm coffee on the table in front of you. Of course it was sweetened to your liking.

“Got off of work early, they were in my bed,” you seethe.

“Same girl?” He stares through you, his anger clear in the flexing of his perfect jaw.

“Nope,” you sigh. “I kicked him out. I don’t care anymore. He better be gone by morning,” you shake your head.

“So you wanna crash here?” He grins and nudges your arm playfully.

“Please,” you pucker your lip. His eyes linger on your mouth for a moment then he stands.

“You are always welcome,” he retrieves his phone which pinged with a text. He’s leaning on his counter casually with his long legs crossed at the ankles, looking unreal in a hoodie and pajama pants.

You and Spencer had never gone there. But you had thought about it… a lot. Now, sitting on his couch, heartbroken again, you find yourself wanting him closer than ever.

Your phone finds.

Leon

You ignore it, a fowl taste in your mouth. He calls again which becomes Spencer over with a pillow and a blanket.

Leon: come on babe, we both know you’ll get over it. Just come home

You scowl at the screen and drop your phone on his coffee table.

“I can’t believe I’ve put up with his shit for two years. Every time I say I’m done, I take him back,” you drop your head into your hands.

“I know you don’t like it when I profile you…” he starts.

“Give it to me doctor,” you tell him. No way you could feel worse.

“He’s carefully worn you down slowly. He has destroyed your self esteem and made you subconsciously believe you’re worth nothing better than him. He relishes in the power he’s taken from you. You crave intimacy and fear being alone so you take him back, you can’t help it,” he takes the seat next to you. The couch dips slightly.

You know he’s right, he’s always right.

“How do I… not do that,” you’re feeling vulnerable.

“Prove to yourself that you can do better,” he pushes and gently grips your hand.

You scoff in a disbelieving ‘yeah right’ manner and turn look away from him. You can’t bear his intense stare at the moment.

“I’m serious… you…” he pauses on a groan as if he’s fighting not to say something. His thumb brushes over your skin gently, sending chills up your arm.

“What?” You urge him.

“You are gorgeous, and powerful. You own a room when you walk into it and somehow you have no idea that all eyes are on you. You have the ability to drive a man to his knees but you keep letting Leon bring you to yours,” he shakes his head. Anger has crept into Spencer’s demeanor. “It’s not fair.”

“Fair?” You ask because his words have rendered you nearly speechless. He his squeezes your gently, he look away and looks back into your eyes.

“It’s not fair that he’s treating you this way. If I had the chance, I’d worship you.”

You’re pretty sure your jaw is on the floor. Spencer… Spencer Reid didn’t say those things, Spencer didn’t fantasize about you the way you do him. It’s impossible.

Your sheer lack of give a shit about anything spurs you to grip the collar of his hoodie and pull him towards you. He collapses to his knees before you and stares up into your eyes. He’s torn between astonishment and amusement.

“Worship me how?” You tease him.

He grins, his tongue darts out to moisten his bottom lip. His strong hands rest on your thighs and squeeze. You inhale a sharp breath.

“It doesn’t even have to mean anything. But you need to know that you can do better,” he implores and situates himself between your still clothed legs.

“And you’re the better I’m assuming?” You poke his nose and lean back on the couch. You lift your hips when he locks his fingers in your waistband and tugs. You silently follow his lead.

“I’ll let you be the judge of that,” he gently kisses your ankle as he tosses your jeans on the ground.

He props that same ankle on his shoulder and begins kissing up your leg. You want to tell him he’s the better man in every way, that he always has been.

But his fingers are fire against your skin, his lips soft and teasing as he plants soft kisses on your thighs.

Your phone rings again. Spencer looks up and laughs a breathless sort of laugh against your skin.

A text comes through and you look at it lazily while you play in Spencer’s hair. His fingers dig massage your thighs as he starts to nip at your soft skin.

Leon: where are you?

You smirk as an idea flies to you, one that would exact the perfect revenge. You place your hand on the crown of Spencer’s head and snap a photo from your point of view.

He laughs when you show him the picture. His identify is concealed and Leon doesn’t know Spencer. You send the photo of the “mystery man” between your legs to your cheating ass boyfriend. You finally toss your phone away, eager to focus on said man.

“Are you using me?” He tutts and tugs on your lace panties with his teeth. His breath fans across your pussy and causes goosebumps to trail up your skin and harden your nipples.

“Is that okay?” You playfully pucker out your bottom lip and bat your eyelashes.

“Mhmm,” he answers mindlessly because he’s tugging your underwear aside.

He gets a glimpse of you and you’re perfect and he’s amazed. He kisses your pussy lips softly, eliciting a soft moan. You want more of him, you need more friction.

You put your other leg on his opposite shoulder and pull him closer. That’s all the prompting he needs. He holds your underwear out of the way completely and dives into you as you open up for him.

Spencer’s lips are warm, his strong tongue pushing and prodding against your most sensitive areas. Your clit is given special attention but he notes how much you enjoy his tongue inside of you.

“Spencer,” you cry.

He holds girls your thighs and laps at you like a man starved.

“So perfect, angel,” he praises and slips his tongue back into your entrance.

He drags it upward and flicks it against your clit causing you to twitch.

“Mmm right there,” you beg and push his head closer.

He obeys and keeps his pace steady and unrelenting against your clit. You inhale deeply as your climax builds and you don’t remember the last time you’ve felt so wanted, felt so good.

He moans into your cunt when you start to greedily grind against his face. He masters the pace you need and tilts you right over the edge. Your orgasm seizes you all at once and your legs shake. He eats you through it and your eyes roll back in your head.

“Oh god,” you shudder.

He looks up at you as though asking if he did good and wipes his mouth.

“Woah,” you pant.

He grins and you pull him up to kiss him. You had never kissed Spencer before but doing so felt so … right. He leans against you and cradles you softly, his hands on either side of your face as though he needs to keep you close.

Your lips slot against each others perfectly as if in tune to one another already. You savor the taste of him and how it mixes with your arousal already on his tongue.

Somehow you both moan into the kiss at the same time. It prompts a small laugh from the two of you and he rests his forehead against yours. He’s still leaning between your legs, well, more like lazily resting there as though beyond content.

You hear your phone buzzing and you think it must have been the whole time.

You scoff.

“For the record, Spencer, you’ve always been the better man. I just never would have thought you’d be interested,” you admit. He furrows his brow and moves up to set beside you. He faces you with his legs crossed.

You note his messy hair, crooked collar, and doe eyes which give him a boyish kind of charm.

“You’re so far out of my league that I never pursued you,” his voice notes the irony of the situation. “You don’t have to choose me. Or anyone. Ever. I just want you to be happy,” he says honestly.

Your phone vibrates again. Spencer stares at it and hands it to you.

6 Missed Calls

8 Texts Messages

4 Voicemails

“Thank you,” you smirk. “Right now I want to get over this asshole and spend time with you. In equal measure.”

“We can do that.” He leans back in the couch and you crawl against him.

You play the most recent voicemail which is just Leon blubbering and sobbing about “how could you do this to me” despite him cheating for your entire relationship.

You and Spencer get a good laugh out of Leon misery and then he reaches for a book.

“Read to me?” You sigh contently.

He does, until you fall asleep peacefully in his arms.

[flowershines]

I’m just better

Summary: Your boyfriend loves to show you off to his friends and shows them how lucky he got, even if that means fucking you in front of them

Warnings: Smut, deepthroat, caught, fucking in front of others, boner, blowjob, teasing, jealous Heeseung (lmk if i missed any)

Not proof read

Spending all of your time with your boyfriend meant that you basically lived in the dorms with him and his roommates. You felt comfortable hanging out with all of them because they treat you like you are their roommate too, so when you weren’t hanging out with your boyfriend you would sometimes walk out to the living room and hang out with whoever was in there. Heeseung would sometimes question why you are so close with them as he tells himself to not think much of it and should just be glad that you are getting along with his friends but when they get really touchy, he gets protective over you and would talk to them saying how they need to keep their hands off of you.

Walking into the living room most of their heads turned to you, looking around you see most of the seats were already taken so you decided to sit on the floor in front of your boyfriend as you walked in front of him his hand wrapped around your waist and pulled you onto his knee wrapping his arm around you, putting his hand back on the controller continuing to play the game. His body started to tense up since most of the other players died and it was him versus Jake, he held his breath till he absolutely couldn't anymore which made you not only look at how fast his fingers were moving on the controller but the way his lips fell in between his teeth. You just started to admire him, he was so gorgeous and he wouldn't even pay any attention to how perfect he is.

With every minute that passed by the more boredom filled through your body, not even being entertained by your boyfriend playing his game, you shifted forward on his leg and pulled out your phone from your back pocket and opened tiktok. You did not expect the most jaw dropping, mouth salivating edit of Jay, you finished the edit and placed your phone back in your pocket hoping that nobody had seen what you just witnessed. Turning to both sided you see that you were in the clear as all of them were staring at the screen or on their phones meanwhile you couldn't even look at Jay.

Your train of thought was quickly pulled away as your boyfriend's head fell onto your shoulder. You looked at him then to the side and seeing Jake celebrating, the man behind you grumbled into your shoulder about how unfair that was. “You did good.” You told him which made him pick his head up and pull you into a kiss, the sound of gagging and ‘eww’ made him smile on your lips. He pulled away from the kiss and whined “You guys are no fun.” then pulled you back onto him so your back was resting on his chest, “It’s not our fault you do that in front of us, go get a room.” he smirked “That’s for later.” his roommates gave him a disgusted look and faked throwing up. “I’m leaving you guys are nasty.” Niki explains as he gathered his things and left the room and started to head down the hallway to his bedroom, “What did I do?” you asked quietly, making some of them look at you “It's not you we are disgusted by.” Jay said, turning to face Heeseung. “It's not my fault that I love my girlfriend, you guys are just jealous.”

After some time of watching your boyfriend’s roommates play games on the screen, you starting to hear an occasional knock on the door which brought in new people every minute, you were confused because you knew that people were coming over but they said it was only a couple of people yet everyone filled up the entire dorm. “Want a drink?” Your boyfriend asked as he had his hands on your hips motioning you to stand up, following his motions you stood up as he squeezed around you and the people around you both. “No i’m good.'' With that he walked into the kitchen as you pulled your phone out once again and went onto your favorite game and started to play it while waiting for your boyfriend to get back.

Till your gaze was pulled away as someone started to talk to you, “What’cha playing?” you looked up to see Jay sitting next to you. The question he asked had you turning your phone to show him. “Heeseung went to get drinks and I got bored.” He turned his head to the kitchen as he saw Heeseung talking to one of his friends ``Why don’t you come with me? We can go into the kitchen and get something to eat.” You whined but he had his hand wrapped around your wrist pulling you in the slightest bit, “Come on it will be fine, plus I could hear your stomach from a mile away.” he commented as you smiled. Walking into the kitchen your boyfriend gave you a glance and a smile before he winked at you then returned his gaze to the man in front of him. “Cookie?” You shook your head “Chips?” once again followed by shaking your head “What are you hungry for?” you shrugged “Why don’t you go into the fridge and see what we got.” he said as he opened the fridge door as you walked up to it and bended forward to see what there was but not only was Jay standing right behind you but your ass rubbed up against him which caused you to shoot up and turn around.

“What are you guys doing?” You hear your boyfriend say from behind you, causing you to peek your head around to see him staring at you both with one eyebrow cocked, “I was just getting a snack and Jay was helping me pick one out.” as Jay nodded to the man. “Why did you stand up so fast?” you looked around for a second “Oh.. Well I just found the snack that I wanted.” he gave you a questioning look as you reached into the fridge and held up a bag “Carrots?” you nodded. “Yup, who doesn’t love carrots.” He gave Jay a glare and grabbed your hand as you both walked into his room, he shut the door behind him turning to you and saying “Be honest, carrots?” you looked down and wanted to be honest with your boyfriend “No, Jay was helping me pick out a snack because I didn't know what to pick out and he held the fridge door open for me so i snuck in front of him and looked to see what was in the fridge but when I bent down I was not only bent down in front of him but my ass rubbed up against him and I felt- nevermind. But Then I shot up because I was surprised and that's what happened.” You said still looking at the floor with the carrot bag still in your hand.

“Wait we aren't going to ignore that like you just didn't say anything you felt his what?” He asked sitting on his bed and pulled you closer so your standing in front of him while he sits, “When I bent down in front of him I felt his dick, it not anything really bad.” he huffed as he placed his hand on your chin making you look up at him. “Not bad, Y/n?” You didn’t say anything, “I don’t want my girl feeling another man’s dick on her.” “But Hee it wasn’t either of our faults, it was an accident.” “Accident my ass, he had to see you bent down like that in front of you.” You walked around him and sat on the bed by where his pillows were causing him to turn around while you patted the empty spot next to you which was soon filled with his body next to you.

He wasn’t mad which made you feel a lot better but you were really confused on why he kept bringing Jay up because it was about half and hour since he brought you into his room and questions about his friend was still being talked about, at this point everybody left including Niki but his roommates were still screaming at the tv as they played a video game. He grabbed you hand and suggested that you both go and join them which you couldn’t say no so you followed him into the room with his roommates as they greeted you both. Heeseung sat right next to Jay and put you on his lap but before he did he turned you around so you were facing him, that way when you sat on his lap you would be straddling him. Sitting down you rested your head on his shoulder facing his neck while still being able to see the screen, his hands snaked down to your waist as you thought nothing of it and continued to watch the screen. Until you felt his hands start to move your hips back and forth on his lap, you immediately started to try and stop his movements as there are other people in the room but he ignored you.

“Heeseung.” You whispered in his ear not wanting to aware the others of his movements, he didn’t say anything back but his breaths started to get more heavy causing Jay to almost look but thankfully he didn’t because of a loud noise on the screen. “We can go in the bedroom and do it but not out here please.” You lifted up your head which only lead to him attacking your neck with kisses, “I’m just showing them that your mine.” he said in between kisses “They already know that, let’s just go.” shaking his head in response causing Jay to look over, “Are you guys serious right now?” he asked while the other roommates look at what you both are doing. You tried your best to get Heeseung’s hands off of your hips but he wasn’t budging, “Come on man.” Jake said as he looks away from the screen “Don’t act like this is your first time seeing her like this.” you moved your head up from his shoulder and looked at him then Jake. “Huh?!” “Remember the other night, the door was accidentally open a bit and you will never guess who i saw peeping in the crack of the door while jerking his shit to you riding me.”

The room went completely silent as Jake’s cheeks flushed red , “Oh that’s not even half of it Y/n, you talk about how they are all so innocent and how they don’t like you in that way yet Sunoo jerks off to your selfies, Jungwon is constantly staring at your body mostly your ass, Sunghoon gets off to your moans when we have sex, and Jay.. you don’t even wanna know what he does.” A cricket could be heard from the room as how completely silent it went after he talked, everyone was to embarrassed to even look at you. “So to answer your question, no i’m not going to stop because they need to know that your mine even if that means fucking you in front of them.” You were completely stunned by his words all of you were, needless to say he stuck to his words and kept moving your hips on him.

Even though it felt off to be this sexual in front of his friends none of them got up and left or made any noises they stayed put as they watched you both, “See now they shut up since you know their dirty little secrets about you.” his lips started to move to your neck as he kissed you between each word he said “God your so perfect.” you started to hesitate from all of his friends eyes on you till he comforted you saying “Don’t worry, they like seeing you like this. They just wish they were the ones fucking you and not me.” Turning around to see his friends, you were right all of their eyes were fascinated on you both but something you saw gave you a confidence boost and went along with Heeseung’s actions, as you went to put your head back onto his shoulder out of the corner of your eye you see Jays hand moving up and down.

You moved your head to get a clear view as you saw how he was stroking himself over his pants while his bulge was clearly prominent, your boyfriend was right they did like seeing you like this. Heeseung’s hands started to move down onto your ass as he started the very awaited movements again but instead of just him moving you placed your hands on his shoulders and started to grind on him, “Good girl.” he said as he grunted through his teeth. The more that you grinded on your him the more sporadic his movements became, his hands would not leave your body, his veins started to show from how tight he was holding onto you, his cock would twitch with every movement you made, and his expressions would easily show just how good you made him feel.

“Why don’t you be a good girl and give them a show, suck my cock.” He wasn’t asking and you weren’t complaining, it started to make you more and more wet by just the thought of having his friends watching you both have sex while they get themselves off. Getting up from his lap and to your knees you sat in front of him as he placed one of his hands on your cheek while the other started to undo his pants while his eyes never broke contact with yours, starting to get impatient on how long he was taking you ran your fingers along the outline of his bulge that stuck out in his pants. Which resulted to him letting go of your face and holding your wrist to stop your motions, “Don’t tease me right now because I will bend you over the couch and fuck you while they watch. Do you understand me?” you nodded “Words princess.” looking up at him as his grip on your wrist loosened. “Yes.”

He didn’t say anything else as he moved his pants and boxers to his knees, picking up your hand and wrapping it around his cock slowly starting a constant movement of jerking him off then teasing his tip. His hands traveled to your hair as he pulled it up into a ponytail which was always his way of telling you that he wants you to put him in your mouth, doing so you kitten licked his tip and started to go down further onto his cock the further you went down the tighter his grip had gotten on your hair. Looking up at him you see how his head was thrown back with his adams apple poking out, your eyes traveled to the man next to him resulting in you both making imitate eye contact neither of you looked away even when you started to deep throat your boyfriend.

Not wanting to turn your head and make it obvious you were looking at his friends getting off to this, you could just tell because the silence that was in the room is now filled with breathy moans, small grunts, heavy breathing, and more small noises they let out. You hadn’t noticed before but Heeseung’s gaze was back on you as he saw you and Jay staring at one another as you sucked him off, “You getting off to this?” he asked while looking at you not being able to pick your head up you just hummed on him which caused him to moan because of the vibrations. “Fuck this, get on my lap. Need to be in you, now.”

Following his instructions and sitting on his lap you stripped yourself till you were left in your bra and underwear as you were not completely comfortable with being naked in front of all of them, Heeseung figured this out easily and didn’t say anything about taking them off and just moved your panties to the side as he slowly started to move you down on his cock but always making sure you have enough time to adjust to his size. Soft moans fell from your lips as he never failed to make your body feel good, you started to move up and down on his cock while his fingers digged into your hips filled with desperation.

The sound of someone spitting pulled your out of your trance of please causing you to turn your head to the noise as you see spit leaving Jake’s lips as it fell onto the tip of his cock sliding down his base, picking your eyes up and looking around the room you see the guys who were sitting there making occasional noises either had their dicks out and were jerking themselves off or they did it over their pants and boxers. You could cum just from the sight of all them getting off to you but you decided to just focus on you and your boyfriend’s pleasure, his hips started to rut up into you as your movements just wasn’t enough for his pleasure and he needed more of you. He brought one of his knees higher so that way he can lift you up and fuck up into you, you didn’t mind because it would give your legs a break.

Grunts and moans fell from his lips along with occasional swearing about ‘how fucking good you feel’, ‘so fucking good’, ‘fucking hell’ or even just ‘fuck’. Moans filled the room as they started to get louder and louder with each passing moment, even though they were getting close you had no idea of Heeseung was. He usually moans loud and gets more noisy but since his friends are here you just think he doesn’t want to be as loud as he can get, if he wasn’t about to cum soon you sure were the thought of all of them and your boyfriend fucking up into you like he has never fucked you in ages was finally getting to you. Feeling yourself reach your limit you moaned to your boyfriend “Fuck keep going, i’m gonna cum. Cum with me, please.” the sound of skin hitting one another echoed through the room, some of his friends already came just from hearing such a lewd comment fall from your lips.

While others wanted to cum when you did including your boyfriend, he was getting close his cock kept uncontrollably twitching inside of you hitting your g-spot in all the right ways. “Fuck” You whispered as your climax hit you like a bus as you came on your boyfriend, just as you came he was not that far behind you while he quickly pulled out and squirted his cum all along your stomach. “Thank you.” He said as he pulled you closer to him while you cuddled into his chest, “You got really lucky man.” you hear Sunghoon mention to him. “I’m just better than you guys that’s why.”

[luveline]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞 | 𝐦𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐞𝐥 𝐨’𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚

the tension between you and miguel rises to an all-time high —a ficlet featuring a grumpy miguel and a flirty, distracted spider-girl. pre across the spider-verse but contains spoilers. fem!reader, 1k

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Miguel has asked you multiple times to leave him alone while he's working. The strike force can't run itself (or so he claims —Margo and Lyla seem plenty capable, in your eyes) and he needs time and solitude to organise the protection of canon events, and—

"Blah, blah, blah," you say, dropping your voice to a soft, teasing melody as you skirt around his frankly audaciously jacked chest. 

"Don't blah, blah, blah me," Miguel says. You'd be intimidated if you weren't so happy to mess with him. "I'm not kidding around." 

Okay, maybe you are intimidated. That just makes messing with him more fun. 

The room he operates from, as you've so fondly monikered The Office, is in organised chaos, and much too dark. You drag a lone chair toward his control panel and set yourself down in front of all his screens and computers. 

"Ooh," you hum, reaching for an unlabelled switch with a purposeful slowness. 

Predictably, Miguel slams his hand over yours, yanking your chair back with an annoyed, "No." 

"Come on, Miguel. What harm could I possibly do?"

"You could–" 

"Topple the multiverse?" you suggest. "I've heard." 

"You could turn off every member of the Society's DMW. That's what that does. Potentially endangering each of their lives by stranding them in unfamiliar dimensions, and preventing them from correcting canon events." 

You feel bad for teasing him when you see the look on his face, anger and exhaustion and the slimmest allowance of defeat. It must be tough to lead the Spider-Society. Tougher to micromanage more than half of its members. 

Pulling your hand from under his, you cross your arms over your stomach and give him an apologetic frown. "Sorry, Miguel."

Evidence of his sweet spot for you lines his expression, softening his sharp jaw and the stoic set of his brow. It's gone as quick as it came, and his mask falls back into place. He turns away from you as though pretending you aren't there and scans one of his holographic screens, his face glowing with a yellow-orange haze. 

Miguel has to tolerate you, because you're a Spider-Girl. Though you've never called yourself that aloud, and you're not sure anyone else has, either, it's an undeniable truth. You were bitten by a radioactive spider that gave you super mutant abilities, though yours aren't as potent as others. You're not especially strong, you probably couldn't stop a bus with your bare hands, but you're smart. You haven't saved the world or anything, but you lost your Uncle Ben. You paid the toll. 

Every spider person has lost someone. Miguel seems to have lost more than that. 

"You know," you mumble, kicking the ground lightly to make your chair spin on its axle, "I've been thinking…" 

"That's never good." 

"Why do we wear our suits here?" you ask, spinning for a second time, the room moving past your eyes in flashes. "It seems performative." 

"Ah, I can answer that. Some of us work when we're here." 

You wrinkle your nose at his deadpan and kick the floor again, spinning so fast it makes you laugh. "What did you say? I can't hear you from your high horse– woah!" 

Miguel grabs the back of your chair, bringing you to a sudden and firm stop. You blink hoping it'll assuage the dizziness between your eyes, and when it doesn't work you keel forward, muttering, "Woah, I'm gonna die." 

"You won't die." 

"How do you know?" you ask. 

"You're under my watch, aren't you?" 

"I knew you liked me," you say. "Oh, I don't feel well." 

"You brought it on yourself." 

You catch your breath. When you feel okay enough to stand you almost trip, and Miguel doesn't bother pretending that he had any intention of stopping you from landing flat on your face. The you before the spider bite would've wiped out. This you giggles and holds Miguel's elbow for a second while you plant your feet. 

"Okay, boss-man," you ask, looking up at the unnaturally high screen he's investigating. "What are we doing today?" 

"I'm supervising a task force operation on Earth-31913. You're going home." 

"Miguel," you say, not sure if you want to flirt with him or piss him off. He looks incredibly pissed off already, so you choose flirtation. "Have I told you how handsome you look this evening?" 

He doesn't react. His hands don't so much as shift where they're akimbo on his hips. 

"You really have the most handsome eyes," you continue, weaving around his arm to stand in front of him. You have to crane your neck to see them. "Sulky. Do I really have to go home? I'd rather stay here with you." 

He looks down his nose at you. "Yeah?" he asks quietly, his voice rough as hewn stone.

"Yeah," you say, taking a small step back. 

"And do what?" 

You mirror his stance, hands on your hips. Your suit isn't form fitting like his, doesn't showcase nearly so much lean muscle, but you like it. You'd chosen a simple black ensemble to match the spider who bit you with a pinky purple heart over your stomach. Miguel had asked about it once, just once, when you'd first met and he had no idea how much of a problem for him you were going to become. 

Why there? 

Why do you think? you'd asked, giving him a sticky-sweet smile. 

Forget I asked. 

He lifts a hand to your chin, pinching it between two deft fingers. You're lucky he isn't wearing his gloves; his claws would pierce your jaw. 

"What do you want to do?" he asks, again so quietly. "If you stay?" 

"I could help with the task force." 

"That's what you want to do?" 

You flush with heat but refuse to let him know how you're feeling. Your heart bumps against your ribs, breath caught in your throat as he tilts your head up, as he leans down. 

"No," he says near your lips, "that's not it." 

"I could help you?" you offer. 

Something flashes in his eyes. You hesitate to call it lust. It reminds you of a cat with a mouse in it’s clutches, only his pupils are blown, black and inky and wide as dimes. 

"You want to help me?" he asks, his lips an inch, half of that from yours. 

You nod minutely. "Yes," you say under your breath. 

His hand moves to your cheek. He leans in closer and closer, until there's a hair's width of air between his mouth and yours, the tips of your noses bent together. His breath fans over your bottom lip and it's hot. You swear you can feel his heart as his chest presses to yours. He lingers there for an endless handful of seconds, silently egging you on.

You call his bluff and refuse to close the distance. 

Miguel pushes you away from him, far from cruel but certainly not sweet. "I have a tower of paperwork you can file," he says. 

"Here I thought you were finally going to bite my head off," you hum. "You're a sore loser, Miguel." 

"And you're my pest," he says, holding your gaze for a half-second too long. He turns away. "Lyla? Arrange the recounts from the last canon event for Spider-Girl's perusal, please." 

"So you've remembered I'm here?" Lyla asks wryly.

You don't mind the paperwork. You sign each one with a winky face and a pink gel pen heart, knowing Miguel will go over them all again, and knowing he'll grow angrier and angrier with each heart.

He'll kiss you and mean it one day. You just have to play the waiting game.

˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

thanks so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed!

[amhrosina]

Love Bites

Summary: Your complicated relationship with Miguel is pushed beyond the usual bounds when you ask him to give in to his deepest desire.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara (Spider-Man 2099) x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1.9k

masterlist // join my taglist // follow me on instagram & ao3

a/n: i'm unashamed to announce that all i thought about when Miguel was on that giant movie screen was writing a fic where Miguel bites reader...........clearly i was team edward.

warnings: porn with some plot, mostly just porn though, p in v sex, Miguel is sort of a grump, undefined relationship between reader and Miguel, biting kink???, mentions of blood, etc.

“Shhh, baby.” Miguel cooed, pressing his hand over your mouth to quiet your whimpering moans. “You’re taking me so well, honey. Y’just have to be a little quieter.”

You could barely hear him, so caught up in the pleasure of having him deep inside you that his voice was a gentle murmur in the back of your mind. You were on the verge of, yet another, orgasm at the hands of Miguel, who was currently thrusting into you so hard you were sure you’d go flying off his desk if he didn’t have a firm grip on your hip.

“No one’s here, Miguel.” You whined, albeit a little quieter than before, and muffled from the hand he still pressed against your lips. “They all went home hours ago. We’re the only ones crazy enough to still be working this late.” 

Was this still considered working? You’d been going at it for at least an hour. 

“You don’t know that.” He emphasized his words with a harsh thrust, seducing a rather loud whine from your throat. “Stop that.”

As annoyed as he probably sounded, you knew he didn’t mean a word he was saying to you. How many times had he pushed you into this desk and begged to feel you clenching around him? How many times had you let him? The cycle that made up you and Miguel’s relationship was vicious and addicting -  a clash of skin on skin, teeth against teeth, body against body - if any of the other spider-people knew just how well Miguel knew your body, they’d raise even more hell about his favoritism of you.

Because of course it was obvious to any casual passer-by that Miguel and you were something. Friends? Miguel didn’t really have any, and neither did you. Lovers? You were almost positive that lovers communicated beyond ‘Can I take your pants off?’ and ‘Fuck me so hard I forget my name, please.” Co-workers? Well, if tearing each other’s clothes off every time you were alone counted, then sure, Miguel was your co-worker. 

“Miguel.” You whined, arching into his bare chest and moaning when your nipples rubbed against the hard muscles that made up his body. Your current position - naked and being fucked into Miguel’s desk - was arguably a dangerous one. If someone did happen to still be at HQ and came anywhere near Miguel’s workspace, there was no chance you’d be able to hide what you were doing. “Use your super-hearing. No one’s here.”

Miguel faltered for a few seconds, pausing his movements - because God knows he couldn’t focus on anything but your sweet pussy while he was moving inside you - so that he could focus on the noises around his office. You tried to control your breathing, allowing him to move through each floor until he was certain no one was around to hear your moans.

“There’s no one here.” He bobbed his head once, confirming what you’d been trying to tell him for the better part of an hour. That was all you were going to get from him. He’d never say outright that you were right, but the softened caress of his fingers over your jaw was enough to tell you he at least acknowledged your contribution. 

“So I can be loud again?” You questioned, spreading your legs wider so he could thrust into you as deep as possible. 

“No, needy girl.” He shook his head, the softness in his eyes now replaced with something carnal and lusty. He cupped your jaw with both hands and thrusted all the way into you, grunting when you involuntarily clenched around his thick length. 

“Why not?” You whined.

“Because when you’re moaning like that in my ear, cariño, I can feel myself losing control.” He grunted, gently rocking in and out of you. He kissed your shoulder before softly resting his forehead against it. “Don’t want to hurt you, baby.”

You blinked once, twice. This was uncharted waters for you and Miguel. He’d never vocalized these fears before, and you weren’t sure what that meant. 

“You won’t hurt me, Miguel.” You tentatively cradled his head against your body, running your fingers through his soft, black hair. “I trust you.”

He abruptly pulled away from you, meeting your gaze with what looked like both, confusion and hope in his eyes. You watched him watch you, unsure if you’d gone too far. Did co-workers/lovers/friends often have vulnerable conversations when tied together in the most intimate way possible?

“You trust me?” He was still softly thrusting in and out of you, and you wondered how long he’d been wanting to have this conversation. Had it been days? Weeks? 

“Of course.” You scoffed, as if what you were saying had been obvious, though clearly it had been weighing on Miguel’s mind for quite some time. “You can let go with me, Miguel. I’ll tell you if it’s too much, okay?”

He paused, mulling over your words for a moment before tentatively nodding. You smiled, and suddenly Miguel’s mouth was on yours, and you couldn’t remember which way was up or down because his mouth was downright sinful. A spark erupted in your chest, eliciting a groan from deep in your throat. It was every skyscraper you’d ever jumped off of, every leap of faith you’d taken while swinging through the city, every goosebump you’d ever felt, tingling throughout every nerve in your body.

Miguel, in all his silent glory, must’ve felt it too, because he let out the most delicious moan you’d ever heard in your life before deepening the kiss even further. His tongue swiped over yours, and in a swift, thoughtless motion, he tugged at your lower lip with his teeth before trailing down to your neck. His thrusts were relentless and deep, a wild juxtaposition to the gentleness of his mouth nibbling at your throat. And Jesus, you’d never considered biting to be something that turned you on, but the thought of Miguel sinking his sharp fangs into your skin as he fucked you was, arguably, the hottest and most fucked up thing you’d ever thought about in your life.

An involuntary moan echoed out of you at the thought, and you found yourself mumbling incoherently into his ear.

“Miguel, Miguel, Miguel, Miguel, Mig-”

“You sound so sweet when you’re moaning my name, baby.” 

He pressed a chaste kiss to your swollen lips before returning to your neck. He nibbled, licked, and sucked along the column of your throat, getting more aggressive the louder you moaned. The familiar heat that coiled in your core was so close to erupting that you started to talk before you realized what you were doing.

“Can you…” You trailed off, panting and a little embarrassed at the question you wanted to ask.

“Can I what, amor?” He gripped your hips, slamming into you with such force that you felt the words tumbling out of you.

“Can you bite me?”

A low groan slipped from his throat, so far gone in the pleasure that he barely hesitated before sinking his teeth into your shoulder. The pain was almost immediately coated by such an immense warmth that your orgasm suddenly and violently ricocheted through your body. You shook against Miguel, shuttering with every pass of his tongue over the mark he’d left on you. 

Miguel wasn’t far behind you. You were unknowingly clenching around him so hard that he couldn’t stop the pleasure from overtaking him as well. He sunk his teeth into your throat, marking you harshly enough that you were sure it would leave a huge, purple bruise. He grunted, movements faltering, before thrusting into you deeply and coming.

Blood slowly trickled from the wounds on your neck and shoulder, and he eagerly licked at them while you tried to come down from what was arguably the highest you’d ever been. Every time his tongue passed over the sensitive marks, a spark of pleasure shot through you so violently that you eventually had to shove his mouth away from them.

“That was…insane.” You finally said, laughing at how blissed out Miguel looked. “But I liked it.”

“You’re going to be so bruised tomorrow.” He noted, mirroring your grin with a wide one of his own. 

And you suddenly realized how fucking handsome he was when he smiled. You knew, of course, that Miguel was objectively the hottest person you’d ever seen, but he’d never smiled at you that way before - vulnerable, walls down for once - and you were suddenly overwhelmed with the desire to kiss him again. 

“We should pro-”

You cut him off by wrapping your arms around his shoulders and pulling him into another kiss. It was slow and sweet and even though he briefly tensed when your lips met his, he eventually eased into the kiss, allowing himself the sweet indulgence of kissing the pretty girl in front of him. When you finally pulled away from him, lips swollen and red and maddening, he let out a soft whimper in protest.

“It’s only midnight.” He mumbled, glancing at the clock before kissing you again.

“If you try to make me get back to work after this, I’m going to slap you, Miguel O’Hara.” You breathed.

He chuckled, shaking his head. “I was going to say let’s call it a night.”

You suddenly became very aware of his length still buried in you. Surely, if he didn’t want this to continue, he would’ve pulled out earlier, right? He wouldn’t be kissing you like you were the only girl in the world, right? But Miguel had always been temperamental, sometimes hot, usually cold. Unease coiled in your gut as you tried to figure out where his head was at. This joining had certainly felt different than the other times you’d been with him, but did that really mean anything when it came to Miguel?

“My place or yours, Mami?”

Your heart thundered at the nickname, and all the doubt from moments before was replaced with thoughts of him, him, him. 

“Either one.” You shrugged, “We’ll have to stagger our arrival times tomorrow so no one suspects us. Especially with these.” You pointed to the bite marks on your shoulder and neck. 

“Or,” he shrugged nonchalantly, “we could say fuck it and show up together.”

You blinked up at him, wondering if he meant what you thought he meant.

“What about the bites? Don’t you think people might think they’re…weird?”

He shrugged again. “Let them. I don’t care. They make you feel good, so fuck everyone else, baby.”

“Is this ‘nice-Miguel’ going to stick around or is it just because you’re high on blood right now?” You teased.

He scowled, but you noticed the tiny tick in his jaw that indicated a hidden smile. “You saying I’m not nice, baby?”

“You’re a perpetually grumpy person, Miguel.”

“Not with you.” He grumbled.

“Especially with me.” You corrected, kissing the tip of his nose. “But I like that about you.”

“You do?” He perked up, grinning slightly. 

“Yes.” You nodded earnestly. “Of course I do.”

He nuzzled into your neck, resting his head on your unmarked shoulder, and mumbled, “I like you too.” 

Tag List:

@foxglove-grove @lavnderluv @khaleesihavilliard @alexxavicry @hallecarey1 @km-ffluv @chiaraxtargaryen @trulylavandedarling @D0wnbad @deliciousfestsalad @lilyevans1 @imagineadream @22carolina08 @definitelynotsugar @casualchaoticdevil @peachy-flxwr @nashja @xshewayout @blep--bloop @kpopgirlbtssvt @aynsleywalker @queenofthenoobs @ostricx @horrorflix @myhomethesea

[bigwishes]

"I wish it was bigger" (vote story)

Joey was one of the biggest guys in the gym, perfect chest, perfect abs, perfect arms. Almost every part of him was perfect apart from one aspect. Every bodybuilding show he did he got the same feedback "his glutes were underdeveloped" he had been training for years and no matter what he did he couldn't force them to grow. He even started to have a dedicated glute day but it did nothing, he was cursed with terrible genes that just left him with a flat ass.

Despite the rest of him being perfection Joey still couldn't help but dream of a nice big bubble but. He loved the idea of having to wiggle to fit his jeans on in the morning. He longed to feel a guys hand grab a handful of his meaty ass and his desperation to find a solution to grow his ass lead him to strange corners of the internet.

Whilst scrolling on his phone between sets he found a website "MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU.WISHNOW" he opened it up and saw a pixelated night sky background with a chat box in the middle. A message appeared with the sound of a slight ping.

"HELLO WELCOME TO MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU, MAKE A WISH NOW!"

Joey laughed and wrote back "hey is this where I make a wish?"

instantly a response came through "YES YES HELLO MAKE A WISH WITH MAGICKSPELLSFORYOU AND I WILL GRANT IT VERY FAST"

Joey chuckled, clearly whoever was running the site was desperate for engagement and he decided to play along.

"okay, I wish for a bigger ass"

"YES YES I CAN DO THAT FOR YOU, I AM JUST CONFIRMING YOUR WISH? YOU WISH FOR A BIGGER ASS? YES?"

"yep thats right buddy, I wish for a bigger ass, give me a big fat juicy ass"

A little ding noise played as a pixelated animation of a shooting start played on Joey's screen before his search engine crashed and returned to him home screen. But Joey didn't have time to play any more silly games, it was time for his next set.

Joey stepped up to the squat rack and began to move the weight up and down, with each movement something felt strange, it felt like the muscles in his glutes were being worked but, something else, something more. A few reps went by a Joey placed the weight back, as he turned to the side he saw something sticking out from behind.

Joey had extra mass in the back, a big bubble but stuck out from him. He was stunned and his jaw almost hit the floor as he rubbed it. He put both his hands behind him holding his cheeks and making his new ass bounce. Joey turned around facing his back to the mirror looking over his shoulder with a smile as he rocked from his toes to his heels watching his new big bubble but bounce.

He was so caught up in the excitement of finally having his glutes fill out his frame that he didn't realise he was starting to look puffy.

The sides of his waist began to creep over his gym shorts as the definition in his thighs began to merge together into one slab of mean, same with his arms, but nothing could get his attention, that was until he turned his front back to the mirror and in an instant.

*FWOOOOOMP

Joey's eyes widened as he watched his perfect abs suddenly bulk forward into a large swollen muscle gut.

"WHAT THE FUCK" Joey yelled out

"Im...f...FAT" Joey's face turned bright red as people around the gym began to look at him, nobody seemed to notice what was happening. He quickly waddled his way to the changing room feeling his stomach grumble and all the muscles and mass across his body jiggle.

Joey stood in the mirror of the empty changing room, shocked and horrified, his perfect body was now big bulky and bloated out, he was starting to panic as he rubbed his new fat muscle gut.

"Oh god....how am I gonna be ready for my show in a week....oh fuck...I....I look like a fucking muscled up pig"

As Joey finished his sentence another pulse hit his body, increasing the size of his muscles and bulk all over, but he noticed it was extra concentrated in once area, as he felt his new massive fat ass split through his shorts making the fabric start to sag, only just holding on around the waist band,

cementing his transformation as a big muscle pig, with a huge fat ass.

[zegrasdrysdale]

Hi! Could you do a Luke Hughes x reader where the reader still goes to UMich while Luke is in Jersey w/ Jack and she speculates he’s cheating on her? Angst with a happy ending, preferably? Thank you!

[ 604 miles ] l. hughes

paring : Luke Hughes x fem!reader

summary : after seeing Luke on Jack’s private story, his girlfriend begins speculating that he’s doing more than just playing hockey

warning(s) : angst ! but w a happy ending. mentions of cheating. reader still goes to Umich

author’s note : oooh this is gonna be juicy

༺═──────────────═༻

She trusts Luke. She swear she does, but she can’t help but feel the little pull at her heart when she watches him in the background of Jack’s private story.

A bunch of their mutual Michigan friends started to text her while she was doing homework. Even fans on social media have been posting about it and tagging her in posts.

She was confused, then she opened Snapchat to see what they were talking about.

In one video, Jack’s drunk and dancing to some song that she doesn’t know. In the background, she sees her boyfriend sitting at a booth with some blonde at his side. He isn’t touching her, but she’s sitting too close to him.

In another video, Luke’s in the background dancing with that same girl. She notices the smile on Luke’s face when he faces the camera.

It brings tears to her eyes as she jumps to an immediate conclusion. She’s been right every time so far.

She truly thought he was different than the other hockey players she dated. They all cheated on her too, and Luke promised her over and over again that he would never do that to her.

Well, here he is. Probably cheating on her and Jack is posting it all over his private Snap story for all their mutual friends to see. It’s embarrassing for her.

It took months for Luke to break down the wall she built around her heart. They met halfway through their freshman year at Michigan. It wasn’t until the beginning of their sophomore year that they started dating.

With her sadness turning into anger and tears rolling down her hot face, she calls Luke. It keeps ringing. And ringing. So she calls one more time.

And gets his voicemail.

“Luke Warren Hughes, you have five minutes to call me back or you’re going to end up without a girlfriend,” she says into the phone. “I mean it. And you better have a damn good reason you’re dancing with some random blonde girl on Jack’s Snapchat.” Then she hits the end button and puts the phone on her desk with the screen up.

A minute passes and her phone doesn’t ring. She doesn’t get a text.

Two minutes pass and her fingers are itching to call him again. She wants to stay true to her word because if Luke has a good explanation as to why he’s with some blonde then he’ll call her back.

Four minutes pass from the call. She drafts a text to Jack that she’s going to send in a minute if her phone doesn’t ring.

‘ tell luke i’m going to send him his things that i have in my apartment and that i want mine back. i’m done. ’

After five minutes pass, she sends the text.

It’s not the first time that this has happened, and it’s the last. Not only is she done with Luke, she’s done with any hockey boys in general. Too many times has she gotten her heart broken because the relationship had to go long distance. Too many times has she had too much trust.

Two minutes after she sents Jack the text, her phone rings. Jack is calling her.

“I really don’t feel like explaining why-”

“What do you mean you’re done?” Luke interrupts before she can finish her sentence. “What did I do?”

Her jaw drops. “You can’t be serious, Luke,” she replies. “I saw you in the background of Jack’s snaps getting too comfortable with a blonde girl. Sitting with her and a smile on your face while dancing with her? You told me you wouldn’t break my heart.”

“That’s not- baby, she’s a friend,” Luke tries to defend. “Jack’s friend if I’m being honest. He was busy hanging out with Nico and Dawson so she came to sit with me. She dragged me out onto the dance floor and told me to dance. I told her I had a girlfriend and she still dragged me to the dance floor and got close to me. I didn’t try to do anything with her because I don’t want to.”

Tears sting her eyes. “I gave you a chance to explain yourself,” she tells him. “I called you twice before I texted Jack. It took me texting Jack before you called me from his phone. You told me you’d never break my heart but you did. I don’t trust you, Luke. I’ve been told that same story over and over again.”

Luke stays silent. She has to dry her own tears that have rolled down her cheeks. She has to cover her mouth so she doesn’t let out a sob that he hears.

She’s standing her ground. She’s protecting her heart. The 604 miles between them should be enough space and make it easier to move on.

“(Y/N), I would never cheat on you,” Luke tells her. She can hear the sincerity in his voice but she still doesn’t believe him.

“Luke, I can’t right now,” she softly says. She’s pretty sure he can’t even hear her because of how loud it is in the bar or wherever they are. “I’m sorry.”

Then she hangs up. She shuts her phone off and crawls into bed, completely forgetting about her homework. All she wants to do right now is wallow.

His words are just words. She knows what she saw. Right now, nothing that Luke can say to her will change her mind about being done.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

It’s nearly two in the afternoon when she hears a knock on her off-campus apartment door. She hasn’t gotten up out of bed in nearly forty-eight hours except to use the bathroom. Her phone hasn’t been turned on since her talk with Luke the other day.

Someone is probably coming to check on her since she has fallen off the face of the Earth for the moment. That is the only reason why she drags herself out of bed to go answer the door.

When she swings open the door, it’s the last person she expects to be on her doorstep. He actually supposed to be in California right now. They have a game to play in a few hours in Anaheim.

Luke holds a single rose out for her and a little basket full of snacks is in his other hand. “I was going to get a whole bouquet for you but I forgot to grab one at the store,” he tells her. “If anyone asks, I did not pull this from the bed by the front door of the building.”

“What are you doing here?” she asks. “You shouldn’t be here.”

“I wanted to talk,” he replies. “You haven’t been replying to any of my texts or answering my calls. I told Lindy that I needed a few personal days and he told me that I can come back when I’m ready to. I didn’t want you to keep thinking that I was cheating on you or hurting you. That was never my intention.”

She rolls her eyes and walks into the apartment. Luke is quick to follow her and shut the door behind her. “You can say what you have to say then you can get on a flight to Anaheim to play tonight,” she tells him as she sits on the couch in the living room.

He sets the basket of snacks on the coffee table in front of her and sets the rose next to it. Luke pulls out his phone and taps on it for a second. She’s about to say something when he shows her his screen.

It’s a picture of the blonde girl that was with Luke, but she’s all cuddled up with Jack. Jack looks happy and is looking at her like she’s the only person in the world. It was taken at the beginning of the night because she can tell that there is something behind Jack’s eyes.

“It’s Jack’s ‘friend’,” Luke assures her. “They’re together but aren’t telling people they’re together but they make it obvious that they are. The reason she was hanging out with me for a little bit was because she wanted to know how to tell Jack that she’s ready to publicly be together.”

She looks up at Luke behind the phone. “You couldn’t answer your phone and just tell me that?” she asks.

“I left it in the car,” he tells her. He taps on the screen a few more times and holds up a screenshot of his and Jack’s locations. They weren’t together, and it looks like Luke was right outside the building.

It’s all making sense to her. Her and her trust issues were wrong this time.

A pout forms on her lips at the same time tears form in her eyes. “You really weren’t lying to me,” she mumbles. Her voice is incredibly shaky.

“I told you that I would never break your heart,” Luke tells her. “Not intentionally. I definitely wouldn’t cheat on you. I know you’re past with that and no matter how upset I am with you, I wouldn’t resort to that. Unlike everyone else you’ve been with, I’m more willing to communicate. Hell, I took time away from the team to come make sure we were okay.”

One of the tears rolls down her cheeks and Luke uses the back of his pointer finger to wipe it away. She leans into his touch and looks at him. “I’m sorry, Luke,” she says. It comes out as more of a sob than actual words.

He moves closer to her and throws an arm over her shoulders. She curls up against him and Luke kisses the top of her head. “It’s okay,” he assures her. “I know how you think so I gave you a little bit then came to talk to you. Just needed you to think with your head and not your past.”

She frowns and throws her legs over his lap. Luke holds her close.

“Do you want to go to Anaheim to play?” she asks as she looks up at him. “There’s enough time for you to make it for warmups.”

Luke shakes his head. “I think I want to spend a few days with you,” he replies. “I’m pretty sure they can handle a couple of games without me. I need a handful of days off where I don’t think about hockey. I haven’t been playing the best so a break sounds nice.”

“It’s your first season,” she tells him as she runs her fingers through his curls. “There is so much pressure on you because of your last name. You’re most likely feeling it without realizing it.”

He looks at his girlfriend. “I know,” he sighs. “Just give me a few days and I’ll head back to Jersey to play when they get back from the California trip.”

She leans forward and presses a long kiss to his cheek. “I love you,” she tells him. “I think you’ll grow into your NHL skates. You’ll have an insane season next season, or even for the last 20 something games of the season.”

“I love you too,” Luke replies. “Sorry I made you think I was cheating on you.”

“Got you to come see me so I guess I forgive you,” she teases.

It’s been a few weeks since Luke came to see her. They watched the All Star game together in the apartment. That was the last time they saw each other.

Luke gets comfortable on the couch. “Can we take a nap since we’re okay?” he asks. “I’m exhausted.”

“Only if we move to the bed because you are too big to share a couch with.”

༺═──────────────═༻

MASTERLIST

have a request ? check out the guidelines !

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taglist : @dasiysthings @axaslee @ithinkimokeei @dancerbailey3 @love4lando @mangoluver @prettyinsatiable

[sahrii]

hiii! Can you please do sick f!reader x kenma and reader is a big crybaby a quiet clingy and if you have time can you please make it long? And thank youu<3

hiiii!!!! Here it is, I really hope it’s to your liking!!

Also guys keep requesting, requests are open!

Enjoy <333

_____________________________________________

“Oi lover boy, your girlfriend is—“ kuroo began but got instantly cut off by kenma, whose eyes were glued to his gaming console.

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Kenma cut in immediately, his voice low but edged with irritation. His thumbs didn’t pause on the buttons of his console, though his jaw tensed ever so slightly.

Rustling noises of students walking around the crowded cafeteria swirled around them as the group sat together at their usual table. Plates clattered, bursts of laughter echoed, and chairs scraped the floor, but Kenma’s focus remained pinned to the dim glow of his screen.

“Why so defensive?” Kuroo smirked, and added “but anyway, your not girlfriend girlfriend looks like she just finished pushing a whole car across the continent”

Although kenma initially didn’t care, or tried to act like he didn’t care, his sharp, cat-like eyes darted upward, reluctantly shifting their focus to you.

You were sitting a few tables away with a couple of other classmates, but even from this distance, Kenma could tell something was off. Normally, you were full of energy during lunch, cracking jokes, dragging your friends into conversations, and—most importantly—occasionally wandering over to annoy him. But today, you sat slouched over your tray, barely picking at the food.

Your usually bright expression was replaced by a pale, sickly complexion. Your cheeks and nose were lightly tinted red, and your movements seemed sluggish, almost robotic.

“Ooo are we gonna see our lover boy in action?” Said kuroo smugly.

Kenma’s eyes narrowed, his irritation bubbling to the surface. “Will you shut up?” he muttered, flipping his console closed with a soft click as their lunch time was up, indicating the start of the next class.

_____________________________________________

Kenma’s eyes kept finding their way to your back.

Sat behind you, he couldn’t focus on the test paper in front of him which was glaring at him, asking him to solve its questions.

Kenma’s pencil hovered above the test paper, his gaze flicking up toward the back of your head for the third time in five minutes.

Your usual straight posture was gone, replaced with a tired slump. Every now and then, you sniffled softly or shifted in your seat, but it was clear you were barely holding yourself together.

The class bell finally rang, signalling the end of this test and the school day. After packing up, kenma approached you, bag casually swung on his shoulder and hands in pockets.

“You’re sick” he muttered bluntly in his usual low voice.

You turned, startled to see him standing so close. “Kenma? I’m—”

“Not fine?” He questioned, knowing you were about to say the complete opposite of what he just said.

“That’s not what I was gonna say,” you breathed, trying to keep your composure, “I’m fi—“

“Let’s go” he cut you off, grabbing your bag from you and swinging it on his shoulder as he turned away, beginning to approach the door.

You however, with wobbly arms, held him back, fingers around his wrist.

“I can’t, I have a meeting that—“

“Don’t care, you look like you’re gonna be blown by the wind. You’re not in a state to attend your meeting”

Kenma’s tone was blunt, leaving no room for argument, but you still hesitated. “Kenma, I really can’t miss this—”

“Just call in sick, dumbass. It’s not the end of the world” he gently pulled his hand away from your grip.

The walk home was quiet at first, save for the sound of your uneven breaths and the occasional sniffle. Kenma walked slightly ahead of you, his usual laid-back demeanor masking the way he subtly slowed his pace to match your unsteady steps.

“You didn’t have to do this, you know,” you mumbled after a while, your voice hoarse.

Kenma shrugged, not looking back. “You wouldn’t have made it on your own.”

You pouted at his straightforwardness, though you lacked the energy to argue. Still, the thought of him going out of his way for you made your chest tighten in a strange, unfamiliar way.

As you turned a corner, a sudden gust of wind hit, making you shiver. Kenma noticed immediately, his sharp eyes darting to you.

With a quiet sigh, he pulled his hoodie over his head and held it out to you.

“Put it on,” he said, his voice low.

“But you’ll be cold,” you protested weakly, though you were already reaching for it.

“I don’t care,” he replied flatly.

You slipped the hoodie on, the fabric warm and comforting as it enveloped you. The scent of him—something faint and clean—lingered, and you pulled it tighter around yourself without thinking.

Without any warning, something suddenly snapped in you. Your already glassy eyes opened up a little, allowing tears to flow down your flushed cheeks.

“Are you crying?” He questioned, concern evident in his comm voice for the first time today.

“No I’m not,” you hoarsely mumble, beginning to fast-walk while scrubbing at your cheeks in an attempt to hide your tears.

However, kenma’s athletic nature did not betray as he caught up to you with ease.

“So you are crying” he emphasised. He didn’t need a confirmation, he didn’t need a reply. He secretly hoped that you understand that he’s here for you, even though he is struggling to show that.

As you reached your house, your sniffles were the only thing that could be heard along with the humming of the wind.

“Is your mom at home?”

“No, she has a night shift today” you replied as your shaky hands clumsily tried to insert the key into its hole.

Kenma however gently pushed you away in order to open the door instead.

“I’ll stay over for a bit then”

“You don’t have to” you said with a small voice as you entered your house.

“But I want to” he replied back.

_____________________________________________

The first thing you did when you entered your house was to collapse onto the couch. You let out a long, exhausted breath, your body finally allowing itself to sink into the soft cushions, the heaviness of the day crashing over you all at once.

Kenma set both your bags down quietly by the door before glancing at you. He began to approach you, now standing directly in front of you.

His figure leaned closer to you, hand slipping under your bangs and feeling your forehead.

“You’re burning” he mumbled, his hot breath fanning your face as his golden eyes stared into yours. The urge to lean into a kiss was hard to resist, but he resisted it anyway.

You, on the other hand, were in complete shock. His eyes glimmering at you planet Saturn, captivating in every way possible.

“You know, you don’t have to hold it in,” he mumbled, pulling away. He read you like an open book, after all, being friends with you for 5 years makes it easy to do that.

And all you had to hear was these words to unleash the swarm of emotions swimming inside your eyes. Tears spilled over, leaving hot tracks down your cheeks as you stared at him, unable to contain the choke that escaped your throat.

He sighed as he sat down next to you, eyes still stuck to your sobbing figure.

“I’m so sorry” you cried, voice breaking.

“Don’t be” his usual flat tone tinged with something softer now as he reached out to brush a strand of hair behind your ear hesitantly.

“But—but I have wasted your time by getting you to walk me and—“

“I don’t really care about my time” he replied flatly.

“What—what about practice?” You hiccuped as tears continued to race out of your eyes.

“It can wait” he shrugged.

“Kuroo is gonna kill me” you cried more.

Kenma’s eyes narrowed slightly, his usual teasing smirk fading as he considered your words. “Kuroo can go and bite me if he wants,” he replied.

“Try to not apologise for existing challenge” he added, trying to lighten the mood.

Your eyes darted away, embarrassed, but the words just came out in a rush. “I’m not trying to—”

“I know,” he interrupted, cutting you off before you could protest further. “I’m just saying. It’s exhausting watching you try to convince everyone you’re not allowed to feel like shit.”

His words stung, but not in the way they usually did. There was an edge of something different, something more vulnerable in his tone. You stared down at your lap, fingers curling into the hem of the oversized hoodie he’d lent you, still feeling the dampness of your tears on your cheeks. “I just—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

Kenma didn’t say anything more, just reached out and took your hand, the warmth of his fingers wrapping around yours. “You’re not bothering me,” he said softly, like he was trying to make you believe it even though you both knew how foreign it felt to hear him say it. “You never were.”

You squeezed his hand tighter, the effort to stop your sobs failing as they slipped out again “I’m so tired, and it hurts so much”

“I know you are and it’s—“

“And I look like shit”

“You don’t have to look good while you’re sick”

“You didn’t even try to deny the fact that I look like shit kenma”

“Was I supposed to?” He questioned, making you slip your hand out of his grasp and nudge him in the ribs, causing him to slightly wince. However, the corners of his lips were twitching upwards.

The silence stretched between you for a moment, the kind of silence that didn’t need words to communicate everything you both felt. Kenma’s thumb moved in slow, steady circles against the back of your hand, a silent rhythm that somehow began to pull you out of the storm inside your chest.

“Thanks kenma” you sniffled, finally feeling better.

“For what?”

“Making me feel better,”

“You don’t—“

“You’re such a dumbass” you cut him off, shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Stop acting like this is no big deal. You’re being nice for once.”

“I’m a dumbass huh? Well you’re clingy” he jokingly shot back.

“What? How—“

“And a crybaby” he added with a smirk.

“Okay, I can’t argue with you on that, but stop being mean!” you protested, half-laughing, half-crying. It was frustrating, the way he could make you laugh even when you felt like you were falling apart.

“It’s called being honest,”

You groaned and leaned back against the couch, pulling the hoodie tighter around you as if it would somehow shield you from his relentless teasing. “Well, if being honest means being a jerk, I’ll take the lies, thanks.”

“I’m just saying, you’re lucky I’m here to keep you in check. Someone’s gotta.” He shrugged, a slight smile on his lips.

“Keep me in check?” You questioned, your voice still hoarse.

hey, I’m not complaining. I’m just pointing it out.”

You couldn’t hold back the smile that tugged at your lips, despite the tiredness still weighing down on you. “You’re such a pain, you know that?”

“Look at who’s being mean now”

“It’s called being honest” you smirked.

“Touché” he replied. “Well anyway, have you got any medicine, I’ll go and grab it for you”

“It’s fine I’ll get it—“

“Just sit down and be sick,” he interrupted with a playful, exasperated tone, standing up straight and stretching out his arms as if he’d just finished a workout. “You look like you're about to collapse.”

“Kenma—“

You scowled, about to say something snarky back, but before you could, Kenma was already rummaging through your cabinets with his usual efficiency. He wasn’t letting you argue this time, and for once, you didn't have the energy to fight him.

“Kenma—“

“Forget it. I’ll just search for it. You sit still, and careful not to ruin my hoodie with your snot,”

“Who said that’s your hoodie? It’s mine now”

you shot back, voice hoarse but defiant. You tugged it tighter around you, peeking out from the oversized hood. “It’s mine now.”

Kenma paused mid-step, turning just enough to give you one of his classic deadpan stares. “I didn’t know theft was a side effect of a fever.”

You grinned weakly, sniffling as you adjusted the hoodie’s sleeves, which hung far past your fingertips. “Finders keepers.”

“sure, go ahead. Keep it. Just know I’m charging you rent for it.”

“Good luck getting a single yen out of me,” you muttered as you sank further into the couch, your fingers tugging the hood over your head.

Kenma arched a brow, his lips twitching into the faintest smirk. “Who said the rent was monetary?”

That made you pause, your gaze snapping up to meet his as heat crept up your already flushed face. “What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked, narrowing your eyes in suspicion, though your voice cracked slightly from your cold and... something else.

You blinked, your foggy brain struggling to keep up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kenma tilted his head, feigning innocence. “Just saying. I could charge you something else. Like... I dunno... a date?”

Your head snapped up, heat blooming in your already flushed face. “Are you asking me out when I looked like just finished fighting the flue monster?”

Kenma’s lips twitched upward into a faint smirk, his golden eyes locking onto yours. “You said it yourself earlier—you look like shit. But I’m still here, aren’t I?”

Your jaw dropped at his bluntness, and you groaned, pulling the hood further over your head to hide your face. “Kenma, you’re terrible at this.”

“At what?” he asked, leaning casually against the doorway, clearly enjoying how flustered you were.

“At being romantic!” you sputtered, your words muffled by the fabric of his hoodie.

He chuckled softly, the sound rare but comforting. “Guess I’m doing something right if you’re this worked up.”

You peeked out from under the hood, narrowing your eyes at him. “You’re lucky I’m too sick to argue properly.”

“Good,” he said simply, straightening up. “Then it’s settled.”

“What’s settled?” you asked, blinking in confusion.

“The date,” he replied, his tone so casual it made your head spin. “Once you’re not battling the flu monster anymore.”

You stared at him, half-expecting him to laugh or say he was joking, but he didn’t. Instead, he turned and walked toward the kitchen, leaving you sitting there, hoodie-swaddled and stunned.

“Kenma!” you called after him, your voice hoarse but incredulous.

“Take your medicine first,” he called back without turning around. “Can’t have my future date still looking like she just ended world war 3”

You groaned again, but this time, there was a smile tugging at your lips that you couldn’t quite fight off. Maybe being sick wasn’t so bad after all.