#i want all the dates we did not get in balance

[dannyriccsystem]

can we please have yn reacting to the drivers learning how to braid hair because they know hers is kinda long and is always getting in the way. thanks queen

LUSCIOUS LOCKS!

FORMULA ONE DRIVERS X READER

Summary: You have long hair and it’s always getting in the way. Your boyfriend surprises you by learning how to braid it!

Warnings: Reader is described with long hair, Y/N usage, not proofread

Featuring: MV1, DR3, LN4, CL16, LH44, CS55, GR63, OP81

MAX VERSTAPPEN - MV1

Your boyfriend had been on the sim all day. You didn’t mind, you were just… Slightly worried for his health. Certainly it couldn’t be good for you to just sit down all day, drinking only RedBull. It was a wonder how he managed to be a pro-athlete without having a heart attack.

Either way, you wanted to make sure he stayed healthy and satisfied, so you cooked up a nice dinner for him, filled with nutrients to balance out the excess caffeine he was taking in all day. As long as he was happy.

You walked over and set the plate down on the sim’s little table. He straightened up, pausing it to look over at you, all while you planted a firm kiss to his forehead. He smiled gratefully.

“Do you want to try?” He’d have to stop to eat anyway, so there was no harm done. You seemed hesitant, but when you nodded he climbed out, grabbing his plate to take with him.

You climbed into the cockpit of the simulator, getting situated. It was a little awkward, but after adjusting some of the settings, you were ready to do some fake racing. He smiled, munching on his food while he watched.

Once he finished, he took note of how you kept brushing your hair aside and away from your face, which was taking your racing down a notch. Max stood up, his hands collecting your hair behind your back, separating it into three sections.

“What are you doing?” You questioned, shivering at the sensation of his hands plating with your hair.

You could feel his hands moving deftly, a slight tug here and there. “Braiding your hair,” He answered so nonchalantly.

“You know how to braid?” He hummed with confirmation, and you slightly shrugged. It was nice to have it out of the way, that’s for sure.

Later, when you were both done using the simulator, you went to the bathroom. Seeing your reflection in the mirror, you couldn’t help but laugh.

It looked awful.

—

DANIEL RICCIARDO - DR3

He noticed it a lot. Your hair seemed to really bug you, constantly getting in the way. You could put it up, but then you’d always complain about how it looked sloppy compared to the rest of your outfit, especially when you guys went on fancy dates.

You always had hair in your face, mouth, or food when eating. It was obviously frustrating to you based on the constant groans of annoyance and overall frustration through the night. He wanted to help, but didn’t know how.

It was late one night, and you were already asleep next to him, your hair thrown into a messy bun that would eventually fall out in your sleep. He went to scouring the internet with tutorials on how to braid and style long hair.

The next day, you seemed angry as you stood in front of the mirror, getting ready for work. You couldn’t get your hair to cooperate in the ponytail like you wanted. Daniel approached from behind, gently massaging your soldiers before pulling it free from the hair tie.

“What?” He didn’t respond, just gave you a big grin in the mirror, and you couldn’t help but grin back. His joy was always contagious like that.

He gathered all of your hair and then split it into three sections. You realized immediately he was braiding it, something you were never able to do because of the awkward angle. It was too long for you to braid it yourself.

When it was done, he took his phone out and captured a picture of his handiwork to show you. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “When did you learn that?” It looked surprisingly good.

“Last night.” He replies, chasing after you for a real kiss on the lips. “I know how frustrating it is to do your hair.”

The real definition of if he wanted to, he would.

—

LANDO NORRIS - LN4

Lando had been itching for the opportunity to prove himself to you. When you guys first started dating, he predicted that he’d need a skill such as braiding. Your hair was ridiculously long, after all. Except, you never did. Never did you really need a braid.

Until now.

He was sitting on the couch while you got ready to go out with friends. He didn’t care, you were a free woman and he quite liked your friends anyway. Lando was anything but controlling— Just clingy.

You came out of the bathroom, all dressed to perfection with your makeup done nicely. He smiled, immediately complimenting your appearance. You thanked him, and then turned around to show the back, as well as your hair. “I’m just not sure how to style it-”

“A braid!” He replied instantly, sitting up straight. You blinked in confusion, taken aback by his sudden response.

His leg was shaking, foot rapidly tapping against the carpeted floors. You giggled softly, and shook your head.

“I don’t know how to braid my own hair. Only other people’s.”

Again, he replied instantly, “I can do it.”

Silence, and then you smiled. Even if it looked bad, you could tell he felt passionate about this. You agreed, and sat on the floor in front of him.

His hands were gently as he pulled your hair together into a braid. When he was done, he clapped his hands. “There! Looks great.”

You went to check yourself out in the mirror, and surprisingly… He had done it perfectly.

—

CHARLES LECLERC - CL16

Charles loved more than anything to take you on motorcycle rides when the two of you went on dates. It was so freeing, and it felt nice to have you clinging to him with your arms around his waist, enjoying the breeze.

The only problem was, it hadn’t been fun for you since your hair grew out longer, and he respected that. It always flung around everywhere and made it nearly impossible to see. It was unfortunate because before that, motorcycle rides were fun for you as well.

He scoured the internet for a solution to his issue, even asking a forum anonymously on advice. Charles felt stupid when wise women on the internet politely informed him that a braid would fix everything. Of course! But then, he had to ask… How to braid one’s hair, which earned a few laughs from these wise women.

He approached you one day after you both came home from work. You were lazily sprawled out on the couch, wearing an old t-shirt and patterned pajama pants as your comfy attire. “Do you want to go for a ride?” He mused, a slight smirk.

“Mmm…” He looked so eager, it was hard to say no. You hummed. “I suppose.” It was good to do things your boyfriend loved, even if you didn’t.

“Okay, but sit up first.” You did, your back pressed against the cushions on the back of the couch. He went behind, grabbing your hair to begin braiding it. You were pleasantly surprised at his hidden skill, rewarding him with a kiss afterwards.

“Genius, Charles.” You jested, taking the helmet to put over your head, your hair now secure in a braid.

“Thank you, mon ange.” It looked like shit, but it’s okay. Comfort over style.

—

LEWIS HAMILTON - LH44

Every morning when you woke up, your hair looked like a giant bird’s nest. You went to sleep feeling clean and silky, and then you’d wake up and everything was frizzy and sticking out everywhere. It was annoying.

At first, Lewis laughed at the sight, and would help you brush it out. But then, he began to realize your frustrations were serious and you had yet to find the right solution, so he went on a hunt to gather the proper materials for your new hair care routine.

You were both getting ready for bed. As you were brushing your teeth, Lewis came into the bathroom and silently started to braid your hair. You continued with your teeth brushing, but after rinsing your mouth out with mouthwash, you decided to question him.

“I’m braiding your hair,” he replied before pressing a kiss to the back of your neck, now exposed with your hair out of the way. “I bought you a silk pillowcase too. Tomorrow, when you take the braid out, it should remain smooth.”

The action made you emotional, to say the least. You went to bed quietly after showing him your thorough thanks!

—

CARLOS SAINZ - CS55

Carlos always maintained great care of his hair. He had some of the best hair on the entire F1 grid, making sure it stayed healthy and rid of any gray strays. Having you there to help him through the stressful times was part of that.

Your hair, as result, became well cared for as well. You both took pride in having such healthy hair, flaunting it on the paddock together. The problem was that with hair as long as your own, it got to become an issue. You couldn’t swim without it getting in the way, you couldn’t eat, you couldn’t go on runs.

You were sitting by the side of a pool— It belonged to one of your boyfriend’s friends, and you liked the company that came with. However, swimming wasn’t your favorite. Your hair got everyone and usually ended up tangled from the water. A bun could barely hold it up, especially without looking ridiculous.

“Amor, won’t you get in the water?” Carlos asked as he walked over to you, grabbing a towel to dry himself off. “It’s hot.” He sat in the chair beside you, drying his hair off. It fluffed up quickly.

“Mm… No,” You shrugged softly, pushing your sunglasses up. He looked nice— Always something you could appreciate. “My hair just gets everywhere.”

He felt bad that you couldn’t enjoy the cool water on a day like this, especially since he was the one to drag you out there. “Do you have a hair tie?” You nodded, and handed it to him. He gestured for you to sit up, and when you did he began to section your hair.

When it was done, he tied the braid off at the end and cleared his throat. “There… Looks, uh… Good.”

You didn’t care how it looked. It was the effort that made you smile, and you were happy to be able to enjoy swimming with him.

—

GEORGE RUSSELL - GR63

George was an absolute diva. This was no surprise to anyone. He took many things very seriously— The rules, racing, you… His skincare. He took it very seriously, valuing the health of the organ more than anything. When the two of you started dating, you both began to do skin care routines together.

Or, well… You tried. But when it came to the face masks, you always found yourself accidentally tearing hair out. It’s get stuck in the mask and then you’d have a real issue to deal with. Overall, very frustrating to deal with.

Tonight was no different. You started with the water and lotion, and some cream to help clear the stray pimples. George stood beside you, starting to apply his mask. You huffed, staring down at it with a sense of dread. He took note of your quiet rage and moved behind you to begin braiding your hair, his touch tender and gentle.

“George?” You questioned softly, staring at his focused expression in the mirror. He’d probably be a lot cuter if he wasn’t wearing a bright pink face mask.

He looked up at you and smiled, tying the braid off with a tie. “Now it won’t get stuck in the mask, right? Here.” You handed him the mask when he gestured for it.

He helped you finish up the routine by applying your face mask and tucking you into bed for the night. How considerate.

—

OSCAR PIASTRI - OP81

Dating Oscar was a breeze. He rarely picked a fight, was very open minded, and overall was very sweet and caring. The only challenge was how often he exercised. He never forced you to go with him, but you felt somewhat obligated to join him on his journeys.

Running was never easy. Your hair was whipped around in the wind, making it nearly impossible to go for a jog without either inhaling your own hair or having it cover your entire face. You never voiced your concerns, because you were worried he’d feel pressured to stop because of you.

Finally, Oscar just noticed it himself. He was running alongside you, taking note of how you were constantly trying to brush the strands behind your ears or flipping it aside. He stopped his pace, and out of confusion you did too.

“Is your hair bothering you?” He asked upfront, taking a few steps to catch up as you had stopped a few seconds after him.

“Yeah, but it’s not a big deal.” You shrugged, but he shook his head.

He spun his index finger in a circle. “Turn around.” You hummed and nodded, and without even be asked to, Oscar began to braid your hair.

“Where’d you learn to style hair?” You asked. You could practically hear his smile, especially when he began to talk.

“I have three sisters. No way they didn’t make me braid their hair when we were little…” He trailed off in silent focus, and then snapped his right fingers. “Done.”

You jogged a few steps to test it out, and then turned around with a grin. “Perfect! Thank you.”

IF HE WANTED TO, HE WOULD.

[cciwos]

𓂃₊ ⊹ 𝑠𝑘𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 | into love

ℎ𝑒'𝑙𝑙 𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑚𝑒 𝐼'𝑚 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑜𝑛𝑒 ; and we'll have so much fun

₊˚⊹ ᰔ . bf!sunghoon + gn!reader ୭ ˚. ᵎᵎˎˊ˗

you had always loved the ice. the cool air against your skin, the smooth glide of your skates over the frozen surface, it was freeing. but no matter how much you loved it, you had never quite mastered it like sunghoon. he had always been the natural, the prodigy, the boy who made skating look effortless.

and he had always been your best friend.

ever since you met at the rink as kids, he had been by your side, catching you when you fell, laughing with you when you crashed into the boards, and always, always looking at you with that soft, teasing gaze that made your heart flutter.

somewhere along the way, that fluttering feeling had turned into something more.

now, you were dating, and everything felt like a dream. the little moments, the way he laced up your skates, the way his fingers lingered when he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, the way he pulled you close when you lost balance, were enough to make your heart race.

tonight was one of those nights that felt straight out of a romance movie.

sunghoon had texted you earlier that day with a simple message:

“meet me at the rink at 10. just us.”

and now, here you were, standing outside the empty ice arena, bundled up in a hoodie and sweatpants, the anticipation buzzing in your chest.

when you stepped inside, the rink was eerily quiet, the overhead lights casting a soft glow over the ice. sunghoon was already there, sitting on the bench, lacing up his skates. he looked up when he heard you, a smile immediately gracing his lips.

“you made it,” he said, standing up. his black hoodie hung loosely over his frame, and his hair was slightly tousled, making him look even more breathtaking than usual.

“of course,” you said, sitting down beside him to put on your skates. “i couldn’t say no to a private skate date.”

sunghoon chuckled, reaching over to tighten your laces before you could protest. his fingers brushed against your ankle, sending a shiver up your spine.

“there,” he murmured, looking up at you with that boyish grin that made your heart skip a beat. “all set.”

you rolled your eyes playfully. “you really don’t trust me to tie my own skates, do you?”

“i do,” he said, standing up and offering you his hand. “i just like taking care of you.”

your breath hitched slightly, but you took his hand, letting him guide you onto the ice.

the moment your skates touched the surface, you wobbled slightly, and sunghoon’s hands immediately found your waist, steadying you.

“careful,” he murmured, his face close to yours. “i don’t want you falling before we even start.”

you laughed, placing your hands on his chest for balance. “i don’t want that either.”

he smirked, then slowly started skating backward, pulling you along with him. his hands stayed firmly on your waist, his grip steady and sure.

“you trust me, right?” he asked, tilting his head slightly.

“of course,” you said without hesitation.

“good,” he whispered, his voice low and warm. “then let’s try something.”

before you could protest, he pulled you closer, making you skate in sync with him. you clutched onto him, your fingers gripping the fabric of his hoodie as he led you across the ice.

“sunghoon—”

“relax,” he said, his voice filled with amusement. “i’ve got you.”

and he did.

the two of you skated together, his movements guiding yours effortlessly. eventually, you found yourself loosening up, trusting him completely. the world around you blurred, leaving only the sound of your skates gliding across the ice and the warmth of his touch.

after a while, sunghoon slowed down, pulling you to a stop in the center of the rink. his hands lingered on your waist, his dark eyes searching yours.

“you’re getting better,” he murmured, his breath warm against your cheek.

“only because you never let me fall,” you said softly.

his gaze softened. “i never will.”

a heavy silence hung between you, thick with unspoken emotions. your heart pounded in your chest as he lifted a hand, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.

and then, slowly, so slowly it made your stomach do somersaults, he leaned in.

his lips brushed against yours, featherlight at first, as if waiting for permission. but when you didn’t pull away, when you melted into him instead, he deepened the kiss, his hand cupping your cheek while his other arm wrapped securely around your waist.

the ice beneath you felt nonexistent, as if you were floating, completely lost in him.

when he finally pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, a breathless chuckle escaping his lips.

“you taste like hot chocolate,” he mused, his thumb tracing slow circles against your cheek.

you laughed, your cheeks warm despite the cold. “and you taste like mint gum.”

he smirked. “guess we balance each other out.”

you grinned. “guess we do.”

sunghoon pulled you closer, his lips brushing against yours once more. “so… want to keep skating, or should we just stay here and kiss a little longer?”

you pretended to think for a moment before wrapping your arms around his neck. “i think i like this option better.”

he chuckled, pressing another soft, lingering kiss to your lips.

and under the soft glow of the rink’s lights, with nothing but the quiet hum of the ice beneath you, sunghoon kissed you again, slowly, sweetly, like he had all the time in the world.

and in that moment, it felt like he did.

[kthologue]

operation: get over your childhood crush! — gojo satoru

synopsis. in an attempt to move on from your childhood best friend—who definitely doesn’t see you the way you want—you hatch a series of plans to help you get over him. it doesn't go as planned.

contents. hurt/comfort, fluff, nerd!gojo, college au, childhood friends to lovers, mutual pining, unreliable narrator, miscommunication, insecurity, dorky references bc u make him go dumb and digimon inaccuracies probably

notes. i did not proofread this monster!! enjoy :P

The hum of the air conditioning fills the room as night settles in, the light from Satoru’s bedside lamp casting a soft glow over his mess of a room. You’re both sprawled out across his bed, limbs entangled like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Because, for the two of you, it is.

Satoru’s Nintendo Switch is balanced on his stomach, hands lazily tapping away as his little Digimon charges into battle on screen. You’re curled into his side, one leg hooked around his and a blanket thrown haphazardly across you both. The half-abandoned textbooks sit at the edge of the mattress, tragically ignored. Another study session: failed. Not that Satoru needed it. He passed everything with flying colors. It was more of an excuse for you to come over.

“Your room still smells like that cheap vanilla air freshener,” you mumble, nose scrunching.

“That’s because you bought it,” he replies without looking up, thumb expertly guiding his character through an attack.

“Because your room would end up stinking with sweat and whatever freaky stuff you do in here.”

“Hey!” He whines. “I shower everyday and you know it. The stink is all you. Have you ever sniffed yourself, princess?”

You swat at his stomach, and he lets out a dramatic grunt. “Rude. I brought that candle to add ambiance.”

“Ah yes,” he deadpans, “nothing like artificial sugar scent.’”

You snort, settling your head back down on his shoulder, the fabric of his hoodie soft beneath your cheek. There’s a long pause before you say, “You know, if we fail our exams, I’m blaming your Digimon addiction.”

He grins. “I’m raising digital warriors, thank you very much. And I’ve never failed an exam, don’t wound me now!”

“They look like mutant toddlers with attitude problems.”

He gasps, clutching his heart. “They’re champions, you monster.”

You laugh, letting the sound dissolve into something quieter as your fingers absentmindedly trace a pattern into the blanket. His hand rests near yours. Not holding it. Not not holding it.

His glasses are tilted again. Of course.

You reach up and straighten them with a sigh. “Honestly, you’d be lost without me.”

“Not true.” He says it reflexively, then pauses. His voice softens. “Okay, maybe. I’d probably just let them slide down until I walked into a wall.”

You smile faintly. “And there’d be no one there to patch you up.”

“Tragic,” he agrees. “Would bleed out on the floor, probably.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You’re so bossy,” he counters, shooting you a sideways look. 

“Admit it,” he says, voice full of faux-smugness, “you’d miss me if I died tragically and left you all alone.”

You hesitate for a second too long before mumbling, “Don’t joke about that.”

It’s quiet. The game music loops in the background as his Digimon wins the battle with a triumphant fanfare.

He doesn’t say anything.

You suddenly feel too warm under the blanket. The joke had been harmless, stupid even.

But something inside you twists, the same something that’s been unraveling lately every time he mentions another girl.

Another type. That’s not you.

“You know,” you say slowly, eyes peeling from the screen to his phone, which lights up with a notification, revealing one of his favorite gravure model’s latest issues as its wallpaper. “You could probably date any girl you wanted. Why do you partake in freak stuff like this? It’s anti-girl repellent.”

He makes a noncommittal sound. “Doubt it.”

“I don’t. You’ve got that whole genius-who-doesn’t-realize-he’s-hot thing going on.”

He glances at you, skeptical. “Is that… a thing?”

“It is. Annoying, but effective. Girls love it.”

He hums, clearly amused, cheeks slightly flushed. “Well, good to know I have options.”

You try to laugh, but it catches in your throat.

You shouldn’t ask. You really shouldn’t.

But you’re lying in his bed. Wrapped up in him like you belong here. And some part of you aches to know the answer.

So you pretend it’s a joke. You tilt your head against his shoulder, voice airy, teasing. “Hey, be honest—do you think I’m cute?”

He goes still.

His hand tightens slightly on the Switch. You think you’ve pushed too far, so you try to backpedal before he can respond.

“Not like… like that,” you say quickly. “I just meant, like, in general. Compared to those girls you’re into. Say, Waka Inoue. You know, long legs, shiny hair, cute face?”

His jaw tightens.

You’re still trying to play it off. “I mean, I’m not fishing for compliments. I just—was wondering. Curiosity. Science.”

He finally turns to look at you.

His gaze lingers. And for the first time all night, he’s not smiling.

You feel your breath stutter in your throat underneath his gaze.

Then he shrugs.

“…Nah.”

It slices through the air with quiet finality.

Your heart drops. You don’t let it show. Not fully. But it must flicker in your face, because he quickly looks away.

You laugh. It sounds forced.

“Yeah, that’s fair. I mean, I wasn’t expecting a yes or anything.”

He’s silent.

You shift away from him slightly, giving him space. “I should head home soon. We didn’t really get any studying done, anyway.”

“It’s late. Why don’t you stay the night?”

Usually, you’d accept his offer with a smile, but you really wanted to go home and wallow in your own self pity.

“It’s fine, I have something to do anyway,” the lie slips out of your mouth easily as you begin to pack your things.

And you miss the way he watches you—guilt in his eyes, frustration on his tongue. 

You knew it was time. Ten years of hopeless, fruitless pining had done enough damage to your heart.

It had started the day your parents moved next door. Satoru had been the loud, obnoxious, too-pretty-for-his-own-good boy on the playground who shoved candy in your hand and asked if you wanted to be friends.

You’d been doomed since day one.

And to make things worse, you’d both gotten into Japan’s most competitive university—together. Same neighborhood. Same school. Same train route. You weren’t just stuck with him. You were haunted.

But you were young. And hot. And allegedly in your prime. You couldn’t keep orbiting around a guy who still thought microwave gyoza was a food group and used your shampoo because it “smelled like you, so why not?”

You were sipping coffee with your two closest friends, and today’s topic was—unfortunately—your love life.

“Honestly, I can’t believe you’ve been stuck on Gojo for this long,” Utahime said, disgusted, as she stirred her latte like it personally offended her. “You could do so much better.”

“It was kind of cute in high school,” Shoko added “but now it’s just sad.”

You sighed, blowing on your drink. “I know, okay? It’s not like I haven’t tried. But he’s literally the only guy I’ve ever been close to. I don’t even talk to guys besides him.”

“That’s because he’s been gatekeeping you since the two of you met,” Utahime said flatly. “I swear, every time someone so much as glanced at you, he pulled that overprotective act.”

You wrinkled your nose. “That doesn’t sound like ’Toru…”

Shoko and Utahime exchanged a look. One of those knowing glances.

Utahime cleared her throat. “It doesn’t matter! What matters is you are hot. You’ve got the face, the body, the grades, the personality. You just need the confidence.”

You peeked up at her, unsure. “You really think so?”

Utahime leaned forward, smirking like she’d just won a war. “I know so. And that’s why I’ve come up with a plan.”

You narrowed your eyes. “A plan?”

She slammed her hands down on the table, eyes alight. “Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru.”

You blinked. “That’s… a long title.”

Shoko blew a slow stream of smoke. “It’s either this or pine until you die and haunt him as a love-sick ghost.”

You stared into your cup, sighing. “Fine. I’m in. What’s step one?”

Utahime grinned.

“Whatcha doing?” 

Gojo’s voice drifts lazily over your shoulder, followed by the soft rustle of his hoodie as he leans in. He’s far too close, obnoxiously so, his breath tickling your ear and his chin was nearly resting on your shoulder.

You don’t even glance up. “Studying.”

The two of you are supposed to be studying— finals loom overhead like a guillotine, but as usual, very little academic progress has been made. Mostly because your study partner is a six-foot-something genius who insists on sitting sideways in the booth, long legs tangled in yours under the table like it’s second nature.

He hums, skeptical. “Liar.”

You hum noncommittally, thumbing through the dating app Utahime suggested with vague disinterest. The guys blur together: not tall enough, too cocky, too bland, too not Satoru. One makes a joke suspiciously close to a Gojo classic, and you immediately hit unmatch with a scowl.

“Wait,” Satoru says slowly. “Are you on a dating app?!” He practically yells the last part. Half the cafe turns to glare at the source of the disruption.

You hiss under your breath, mortified, swatting at him. “Keep your voice down, idiot!”

His eyes widen dramatically, hands thrown up like you’ve stabbed him. “I leave you alone for two minutes and you’re already planning a life with someone named ‘Keita, aspiring DJ and spiritual healer’? I’m wounded.”

“You weren’t supposed to read that far.”

“I’m a speed-reader,” he says with a smug grin. “It’s part of the whole ‘genius’ thing.”

Before you can argue, he snatches your phone with a level of ease that tells you this isn’t the first time he’s done something like this. He grins like he’s won a prize.

“Satoru!”

“Relax, I’m not texting anyone,” he says, fingers flying across the screen. “Just… optimizing.”

Your heart drops. “What are you typing?”

“Nothing~”

You make a grab for your phone, but he effortlessly leans back, holding it above his head with those ridiculously long limbs. You glare at him from across the table, arm outstretched like a furious cat trying to swat at the moon.

“Give it back!”

“Patience.”

“Gojo Satoru—”

“Okay, okay!” he relents with a dramatic sigh, finally placing your phone face-down on the table like he’s done you a huge favor.

You snatch it up immediately, eyes scanning for damage. No weird messages. No unsolicited likes. No new matches.

“…What did you do?”

“I didn’t message anyone,” he assures, too innocent to be trusted. “I’m not that cruel.”

You narrow your eyes, suspicious.

“But,” he adds with a grin, “I didn’t know you were dating.”

“I’m not,” you mutter, clicking your phone off. “Just… considering it. Trying. It’s not going well.”

“Good.”

The word comes out too fast. Too sharp. And his face doesn’t match the light tone he’s trying to play off.

You raise an eyebrow. “Good?”

He shifts, leaning back in his seat, suddenly very interested in stirring the foam in his overpriced coffee. “I mean, it’s good you’re not settling. You should be picky. Guys are the worst.”

You snort. “You are a guy.”

“Exactly. I know what we’re like.”

You smile despite yourself, rolling your eyes. “I’m sure you think you’re the exception.”

“I know I am,” he says, winking. Then he sobers slightly, eyes flickering to yours. “I’m just… looking out for you.”

The sincerity in his voice makes your chest ache. You wish it was more than just him being protective in that big-brotherly, annoyingly loyal kind of way.

You take a sip of your coffee to cool your nerves. It doesn’t help. The words come out before you can stop them.

“You know with the way things are going… maybe you should just date me at this point.”

Silence.

It’s a joke. Supposed to be. But the second it leaves your lips, it tastes real.

Gojo freezes.

You panic. “I didn’t mean—like, I was just joking—”

But he turns toward you, eyes unreadable behind the fringe of snowy white hair. “Maybe I should.”

You blink.

And then, with infuriating ease, he grins.

“Anyway,” he says quickly, swiping your phone from the table again before you can stop him, “Yuto here looks like the type to ghost you after three dates and a karaoke duet. You can do better.”

You gape at him, completely thrown off, your heart slamming in your chest.

You don’t even notice what he’s done until later—until you get home and open your app to find that your bio has been changed.

Taken. Mentally married to a nerd since birth.

You want to scream.

Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru?

Yeah. Not going great.

Not at all.

You weren’t sure why you agreed to it.

Maybe it was the look in Utahime’s eyes—determined, dangerous, hopeful. Maybe it was Shoko promising she wouldn’t let you walk out of her apartment looking like a clown. Maybe it was the quiet part of you that wanted to see yourself through someone else’s eyes. Someone who wasn’t Gojo Satoru.

“Today,” Utahime had declared, curling the last strand of your hair like she was threading a spell, “is the first day of your Gojo-less future”

You laughed nervously, tugging at the hem of your skirt. It wasn’t your usual style—not the dewy makeup you weren’t used to seeing in the mirror, not the new haircut that made your eyes look almost too bright, not the blouse that left your shoulders bare in a way that made you feel strangely noticed.

But when you caught your reflection, your heart fluttered. You looked… beautiful.

When you stepped onto campus, the sun was out, the wind teasing the edge of your coat. You spotted him immediately—Gojo, slouched against the wall outside your lecture hall, nose buried in his Switch as he muttered something under his breath about evolving stats and attack modifiers.

He didn’t notice you at first.

Then he looked up.

His game froze mid-battle. His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again, like someone had unplugged his brain.

“Wha—” he said eloquently. “Wh—what did you do.”

You blinked. “Hi to you too.”

He stared, unabashed. His glasses were slightly crooked, his ears glowing scarlet. He looked like someone had just told him Digimon was real and living in your shoes.

He blinked. “You look like… like you skipped two evolution stages overnight. Straight to Mega. Like if Angewomon fused with… I don’t know, some kind of rare, limited-release goddess-type Digimon that only spawns on a lunar eclipse.”

You blinked.

Utahime’s voice in your head: You’re hot. Unstoppable. He’s going to be speechless.

And Gojo was. But not in the way you wanted.

You tried to laugh. “So I look like a cartoon?”

“A beautiful cartoon,” he said, serious now. “Like the kind of boss character they only show for two frames because animating her costs too much.”

Your heart stuttered. It was the sort of compliment only Gojo could give: clumsy and dorky, yet brilliant in its own way.

But the moment passed.

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away, sunglasses slipping slightly as he muttered, “You just… you look different. That’s all.”

Different.

Not better. Not prettier.

Just different.

You swallowed. “Yeah, well. Thought I’d try something new.”

“I didn’t say it was bad,” he added quickly, but the words felt unsure. Flimsy.

“I should… use the restroom,” you mumbled, turning before he could say anything else.

In the bathroom, you stared at your reflection. Your lipstick looked too bold now. Your lashes too heavy. Despite the change, you were still painfully you— the you Gojo teased during study sessions, the one he let borrow his hoodie when it rained, the one who sat next to him during endless all-nighters. And maybe that was the problem. You weren’t like those girls on the magazines. 

What you didn’t see, what you couldn’t see, was Gojo still standing outside the lecture hall, staring after you, Switch forgotten, game over screen blinking on the screen.

He didn’t even notice.

“You good, Satoru?” Shoko asked, walking by.

He blinked. “I think I just saw my best friend… and my final boss… and my future wife… all at once.”

Shoko snorted. “You’re a dork.”

Gojo just sighed, shoulders slumping as he muttered, “I’m so doomed.”

It’s a mild Friday evening when you meet him—Kazuya, the guy from your psychology class. He’s polite, articulate, and kind of cute. The kind of guy who asks if you prefer cats or dogs before ordering his drink, and actually listens when you answer.

Utahime and Shoko had insisted you say yes. “A change of pace,” they called it. “You need a baseline. Not every guy is going to be Gojo Satoru.”

Exactly. That was the point.

You’re sipping a matcha latte and nodding along as Kazuya explains his thesis on cognitive development when a very familiar voice cuts through the air.

“Well, well, well. Fancy seeing you here.”

Your stomach drops. You look up, and sure enough—

Satoru.

In all his tall, obnoxiously eye-catching glory, wearing a white t-shirt that was inside out and a grin like he just won the lottery. He's holding a bottle of ramune and standing directly next to your table, like he’s been there the whole time.

You blink. “What are you doing here?”

He shrugs. “Thirsty. Wanted a drink.”

“At this café? On this side of campus?”

“Yeah,” he says, tone innocent. “Weird coincidence, huh?”

Kazuya offers a polite smile. “You’re her friend, right? Gojo?”

“Oh, best friend. Lifelong. Practically her shadow.” He plops into the empty seat beside you without asking, casually tossing his ramune onto the table. “What’s your name again? Kaname?”

“…Kazuya.”

“Right, right. I always mix those up. You look like a Kaname, though. Or maybe a Yusuke.”

You stare at him, incredulous. “Satoru—”

But he’s already leaning over, squinting at the book tucked under Kazuya’s arm. “Ooh, Piaget. Bold move. Love that for you.”

Kazuya blinks. “Do you… like developmental theory?”

“I like being correct,” Gojo says with a cheeky smile. “Also, [Name] hates Piaget. She called him ‘the Freud of toddlers’ last semester.”

Kazuya turns to you in mild surprise. “Really?”

“I—I mean, yeah,” you mumble. “Sort of.”

Gojo beams. “Told you.”

Kazuya makes a valiant effort to steer the conversation back to safe, neutral ground.

“So, you mentioned you're interested in behaviorism, right?” he says, offering a gentle smile. “I thought Dr. Takeda's lecture on conditioned responses was kind of fascinating—”

“Oh, riveting,” Satoru cuts in, lounging back in his chair like he owns the café. “Nothing like bonding over Pavlov’s dogs to spark romance. Did she tell you she cried during Inside Out because the depiction of core memories was ‘psychologically resonant’? Real charmer, this one.”

You shoot Satoru a look. “I was twelve!”

Kazuya blinks, trying not to smile. “I actually thought that was pretty moving, too.”

“Wow,” Satoru deadpans. “A match made in neuroscience.”

Kazuya laughs politely and continues, undeterred. “So, uh, any research plans after graduation?”

You open your mouth to answer, but Satoru beats you to it again.

“She used to want to be a vet. Cried when she had to dissect a frog in middle school. Tragic day.”

“Is that true?” Kazuya turns to you, amused now.

“Technically, yes,” you mutter into your drink.

By the time your cup is empty, you realize you’ve laughed more at Satoru’s interjections than you have at anything Kazuya’s said. Not because Kazuya wasn’t interesting—he was. He was calm, thoughtful, well-read, and clearly trying. But next to Satoru, whose entire presence seemed impossible to ignore, Kazuya didn’t stand a chance.

Still, to his credit, Kazuya maintains a steady, if slightly strained, expression as he sets down his cup and finally says, carefully,

“So… is Gojo your boyfriend?”

The question hangs awkwardly.

You and Satoru answer at the same time.

“No,” you say quickly.

“Yes,” he says with a smile.

You both turn to stare at each other.

“I mean—no,” he corrects, waving his hands. “Just a joke. Hah. Obviously.”

Kazuya blinks. “Right.”

You can’t meet either of their eyes. Your drink is finished, your palms are damp, and the café is suddenly too warm, too small. You push back your chair and stand.

“I should go. Early lab meeting tomorrow.” It’s the weakest excuse, but neither of them calls you on it.

Kazuya stands too, polite as ever. “Thanks for meeting up. You seem like a really cool person.” He hesitates, then adds, gently, “I just think maybe you’ve already got someone.”

You freeze. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say.

Outside, the cold air kisses your cheeks like a reminder. It stings a little, or maybe that’s just the confusion burning in your chest.

Satoru’s already waiting for you. Of course he is. He’s leaning against the lamppost, silver hair catching in the wind. But his eyes are downcast, trained on the sidewalk.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Neither do you.

You exhale, watching your breath curl white in the air. “You didn’t have to crash it, y’know.”

“I didn’t crash,” he replies without looking at you. “I was invited.”

“By who?”

“Fate. Karma. The gods of poor decision-making.” He shrugs.

You roll your eyes, but it tugs a laugh from you anyway. Stupid, annoying, charming Gojo.

“So,” he says after a beat, nudging your arm gently with his elbow, “how’d it go?”

You glance at him. He still won’t meet your gaze. His lips are pursed like he’s holding back a hundred words and none of them are funny.

“He was nice,” you admit. Despite being rudely interrupted by the white haired idiot beside you.

“Nice is boring,” he mutters, kicking at a loose stone on the pavement.

You laugh, soft and tired. “You’re the worst.”

He finally looks at you then, lips quirking into that smug, too-knowing smile. “But you like me anyway.”

You look away, cheeks burning, heart thudding like a traitor in your chest.

You don’t answer.

You don’t have to.

Despite Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru failing in every imaginable way, things were starting to feel… bearable.

Almost good, even.

Satoru still hovered a little too close, always with that same half-smile like he knew something you didn’t. And maybe, just maybe— his constant sabotage, the teasing, the jealousy, the way he looked at you like he was about to say something important but never did… maybe it all meant something.

You let yourself believe it, just a little.

And that was your first mistake.

It happens quietly, without fanfare or warning. Just a throwaway line between sips of lukewarm coffee and the soft shuffle of paper. You’re both at your usual spot in the library, surrounded by open notebooks and highlighted packets, pretending to study more than you actually are.

You’re halfway through underlining a term in your psychology notes when Satoru leans back in his chair, stretches like a cat, and says—far too casually:

“So, guess who asked me out?”

You hum absentmindedly. “Who?”

“Ayane.”

The name hits you like a slap.

You freeze, highlighter paused mid-sentence. “…Ayane? From the biochem track?”

“Yeah,” he says, practically glowing. “You know her, right? She's in your study group sometimes.”

You do know her. Of course you do. Everyone knows her.

She’s beautiful, with this effortless, clean kind of elegance—long legs, perfect posture, and that quiet, poised confidence that makes professors adore her and guys fall over themselves. The kind of girl who posts one blurry bookshelf photo and still racks up a thousand likes. The kind of girl Gojo always jokes about marrying.

But he’s not joking now. He’s beaming.

“She asked me out to dinner this Friday. She’s so smart, too—I didn’t even have to pretend to know what quantum entanglement was. It’s wild.” He laughs, brushing a hand through his hair. “I thought she’d never go for a guy like me, y’know?”

You force a laugh. “A guy like you?”

“Yeah. I dunno. Too much, I guess? But she said I was ‘refreshing.’” He grins. 

Your stomach sinks.

This is what you thought you wanted—for him to move on, so you could finally do the same. For Operation: Get Over Gojo Satoru to succeed, for real this time.

But now that it’s happening, it feels like someone’s slowly pulling your ribs apart.

“Oh,” you manage, smiling like you’ve practiced it. “That’s great. I’m happy for you.”

He doesn’t notice the way your voice cracks on happy. He just keeps talking, rambling about restaurant reservations and how she likes contemporary poetry and used to live in France. You nod in all the right places, but your thoughts are already slipping away.

Because it isn’t just that he’s going out with someone else.

It’s that he chose her.

Her with her flawless skin and quiet charm and the kind of beauty that doesn’t need to try. Her, with everything you’re not. And more than that, it’s that he made you believe you could have meant more to him—when really, he’d been searching for someone else all along.

You excuse yourself early, mumbling something about laundry.

He doesn’t follow.

You don’t cry until you’re halfway home, the cold air biting at your cheeks as your vision blurs.

For the first time in years, you don’t text him goodnight.

You don’t wait for a meme. Or a dumb joke. Or his usual, “Hey, genius. Sleep.”

You go silent.

And when he texts the next day, you don’t reply.

You skip your library meet-up. You don’t sit next to him in class. You even duck into the stairwell when you see his ridiculous white hair from across campus.

It’s not because you’re mad. It’s because you’re heartbroken.

And you can’t keep pretending it doesn’t matter—that he doesn’t matter.

You weren’t just losing your best friend.

You were losing the love of your life.

And he didn’t even notice.

It takes him three days to notice you’re gone.

Well—no. That’s a lie.

He notices immediately. The moment your usual seat in the library stays empty. When your laugh doesn’t echo in the café line. When your name doesn’t pop up on his screen at 2AM with some stupid meme captioned, “this reminded me of you, idiot.”

But he tells himself you’re busy.

Midterms, right? Stress. Coffee. You get like this sometimes, and he gets it. He really does.

So he waits. Tells himself not to be clingy.

But then Friday comes.

And he's sitting across from Ayane in some expensive, quiet restaurant where the napkins are folded like origami cranes and the water tastes filtered. She’s telling him about her research internship in Osaka, about enzymes and international grants, and all he can think is—

You’d be making fun of me right now.

You’d be kicking him under the table. Whispering some dumb pun about digimon. You’d be pulling faces every time he tried to pronounce the items on the menu. You’d be… you.

Ayane is lovely.

But she doesn’t laugh when he says something stupid. She just smiles politely.

She doesn’t ask about why his glasses are always crooked (it’s so you could fix them). Doesn’t tease him for double-knotting his laces like a paranoid grandma. Doesn’t call him “Sato” like it’s some private joke only the two of you get.

He walks her home. Thanks her for a nice evening.

Then he goes to the convenience store. Alone.

And he sees your favorite snack on the shelf and buys two out of habit.

He stares at his phone the entire train ride back.

No new messages.

Just the last one you sent days ago:

“Laundry. Rain check?”

And nothing since.

He waits. Another day. Then two.

You don’t show up to class again.

You don’t like his latest meme.

You don’t comment on the Digimon pun he texted you out of desperation.

You are silent.

And Satoru Gojo—brilliant, blind-sighted, the golden boy of theoretical physics, always five steps ahead—realizes, too late, that he’s been a fool.

That he didn’t just lose a study partner.

He lost the one person who knew him better than he knew himself.

The one person he couldn’t replace with rare Digimon pulls, half-solved physics equations, or overly sweet desserts.

And for the first time since he was a kid—

He’s afraid.

It’s been a little over a week.

A little over a week since Gojo Satoru has heard your voice. Since you shoved your coffee at him without asking, muttering “too sweet for me” when you really meant “I got this for you.” Since you poked fun at his stupid sock choices, or knocked your foot against his under the table like it was nothing.

And Satoru is suffering.

He's tried everything. Showed up to your house with excuses too weak to be called plans (“Hey, I brought your favorite snacks. I just... figured maybe you forgot you liked them?”). Waited outside your lecture hall until a security guard asked if he was lost. Took detours between classes hoping to catch a glimpse of your ponytail, your laugh, anything.

But you were always one step ahead.

You stopped answering his texts. Blocked him on that stupid dating app (which—ouch, even though you hadn’t used it seriously). You didn’t even show up to the library anymore. And even Shoko started looking at him with thinly veiled pity and a “you really fumbled the bag” look in her eyes.

Gojo Satoru is… just tired.

Miserable.

So when he finally finds you—not because he’s chasing you down this time, but because he’s walking the long way home, and there you are, sitting on the old swings at the park where you first met—it knocks the wind out of him.

You don’t look surprised to see him. Just... tired too.

“I figured you’d find me eventually,” you say quietly.

He swallows. His hands curl at his sides like he’s preparing for a fight.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says, like it isn’t obvious. “Why?”

You look away. “You’re smart. Figure it out.”

Gojo looks down at his feet.

“I didn’t know you felt that way.”

Silence stretches between you, heavy and stinging. The playground is empty except for the wind dragging a soda can down the sidewalk and the faint creak of the swing chain.

Then he exhales, ragged and unsure. “Look, I can’t—I can’t take this anymore.”

You glance up.

“I can’t either.”

Hope flares too fast, too naive in his chest. His shoulders drop like he’s been holding up the world. “That’s good,” he breathes, stepping forward. “Because the silent treatment—God, I thought I was going to—”

“I don’t think we can be friends anymore.”

The words stop him cold.

“What?” he breathes.

You laugh, but it’s hollow. Like something already broken. “Don’t you get it? I can’t be friends with you and pretend that nothing’s changed. That I’m okay just being your best friend. I’ve been in love with you for years, Satoru.”

His heart stutters. You don’t stop.

“And I love myself too much to keep hurting for someone who doesn’t even look at me that way.” Your voice cracks, but you push through. “Do you know how humiliating it feels? To love someone so much it aches, and still feel like you’ll never be enough?”

He opens his mouth. Closes it.

You wipe your eyes with the sleeve of your jacket, swallowing the lump in your throat. “You never even thought I was cute.”

He looks like he’s been hit.

“I’ve been chasing scraps. Leftovers. Mixed signals and stupid inside jokes. I—I can’t do it anymore.”

You finally meet his eyes, and that’s when he sees it: the hurt you’ve been hiding behind every smile, every brush-off, every joke you cracked to keep the silence from swallowing you.

And for once, Gojo Satoru can’t find a single thing to say.

Not yet.

Not until he stops you from walking away.

“Where did you get an idea like that?” His cerulean eyes search yours desperately. “I-I don’t think you’re just cute, are you kidding?” he blurts, eyes wild.

“Y-you’re breathtaking! Everything I’ve dreamt of and more! That night when you asked me if I thought you were cute, I only said no because it would be a divine crime to reduce to such. All of my fantasies have been centered around you since we first met on that playground—since you tripped over your shoelaces trying to race me to the monkey bars!”

Your breath catches.

He continues, desperate now, like every second of silence might kill him.

“I love you! And not like a brother. Like—I want to marry you. Like, small wedding in Okinawa, barefoot on the beach, you wearing that soft blue dress you like. I already planned it. Our firstborn would be a daughter, with your eyes, my hair. She’d be the boss of the house.”

You gape.

“Wait—”

“I’m not done!” he says, hands thrown up. “Then we’d have twins. Boys. Chaos gremlins. One would look like my twin and the other yours, and they’d absolutely terrorize us—but their sister keeps them in check, she’s fierce like you.”

You blink. A tear slides down your cheek.

“I want to move to Kyoto,” he says, softer now. “Buy a house with a dumb little garden. Grow tomatoes we’ll never eat. Live out the rest of our lives where it’s quiet.”

You cover your mouth, stunned. “You… really thought all that out?”

“It’s easy,” he breathes, “when all I can think about is you.”

He steps closer. The wind tugs his white hair into his eyes, but he doesn’t blink.

“I go to study nonlinear quantum field theory and all I see is your face. I try to cool off and play Digimon, and even that’s ruined—my lineup is garbage now! I only keep the ones you said were cute!”

A laugh bubbles out of you, fragile and watery.

“You idiot,” you murmur.

“I am,” he nods solemnly. “I’m the world’s biggest idiot. And I’m in love with you.”

Another tear slips down. He wipes it away before you can.

“Is it too late?” he asks, voice cracking slightly. “Please tell me it’s not too late.”

You stare at him—this man, this brilliant, ridiculous, loyal boy who had held your heart long before you ever admitted it.

“It’s not too late,” you whisper.

He doesn’t speak. Just steps closer. Gently and carefully, like he's handling something sacred, he cups your cheek in his hand.

Your nose bumps his. His breath ghosts over your lips.

“I’ve been waiting to do this for years,” he whispers.

And then, finally, he kisses you.

It’s not perfect, your cheeks are still wet, his nose bumps yours again, and his hand trembles just a little, but it’s warm and sweet and soft. It tastes like home. Like every unanswered question finally getting its answer.

When he pulls away, his smile is sheepish. “So… are we still doing the whole ‘Operation: Get Over Gojo’ thing, or?”

You laugh, heart full, forehead pressed to his.

“Mission failed,” you whisper.

He grins. “Good.”

And then he kisses you again.

art by leimiruu on x!

[bluebeary-jay]

Crawlin' back to you

Joel Miller x f!sunshine!Reader

Summary: you ask Joel for help while preparing for your upcoming date with another man. (or so it seems)

Tags: grumpy x sunshine, idiots in love, sweet sweet fluff, age gap, a drop of angst, peepaw is insecure abt his age :(, Jackson era, Joel is kind of slow but it's okay we still love him (pookie doesn't realize how hot he is), me dancing around the smut like i'm a fucking circus acrobat

Word count: 4K

A/N: sooo very long time no see 🙈 ever since the start of 2025 i'm telling myself to get back into writing but it still felt like a chore lol. but i REALLY wanted to finish this fic before tlou s2 drops so here it is!!! i'm really proud of how it turned out and i hope to write more in the near future. love you all so so much and as always, happy reading!! 💕

dividers by @saradika 🩷

Joel Miller didn't have friends.

He had a couple of buddies before the outbreak with whom he used to watch the game sometimes, but nothing more than that. Tommy didn't count, of course, because he was his brother and therefore had to be nice to him. The only other person who could put up with him was Ellie, but the kid was… a kid. As for the other people in Jackson, they were wise to keep their distance from Joel, not wanting to hang around a shadow of a man such as him.

He didn't mind. He liked the peace and quiet, and it didn't bother him one bit that everyone seemed to give him a wide berth, whispering about the danger that he was.

Well, almost everyone avoided him. You, the exact person that should stay far away from a man like Joel Miller, gravitated to him with an almost effortless ease. Even amongst all the hopeful people that created Jackson, you were the purest, brightest ray of sunshine, always helpful and compassionate towards anyone who came your way. And even though Joel wasn't exactly welcoming to you in the beginning, you never gave up and persisted – and eventually, befriended him.

And ever since the first time you spoke to him, he didn't stand a chance. You were young and pretty, and so charming with your innocent optimism… Before Joel realized, he was fantasizing about you during the lonely evenings, dreaming of your voice late in the night, and looking for you in the crowd when he was out of the house.

He was way too old to feel this kind of way, and every now and then it felt like he was balancing on a tightrope between being stupid and borderline creepy. Such a sweet girl like you wouldn't look twice at an old man like him if she knew the things that sometimes ran through his mind when he was seeing other men flirting with you, seeking the same warm light that Joel grew addicted to.

That was the poison mixed with your sweetness – even though it was irrational, with you everything seemed easier than it was.

…even falling in love.

And fall Joel Miller did. It was an embarrassing, tainted experience, especially when he remembered how much older than you he was. But he couldn't help it, and once this burning want became clear to him, he didn't really want to fight it, either.

You were everything he should stay far away from – young, pretty and so bright with your smiles, your hope, your innocence. A sinner like Joel Miller had no place in your life, and yet he couldn't muster the courage to let you go. It was selfish of him, he knew, but spending time in your company was one of the few brightsides of his life… and he didn't have many of those, lately. He genuinely enjoyed being near you – a lot more than he probably should.

That's why, when he noticed you skipping his way with a bright smile splattered across your cheeks, he felt his heart instantly lighten. It was a hard day of work at the construction site and he was relieved to finally be heading home, but just the sight of you made the weariness disappear from within his bones.

“Joel! Hi!” Something must have stirred you quite strongly, for you were practically bouncing with excitement. The words were spilling out of your mouth before he even had a chance to say hello. “I need your help, right now. Please.”

“Slow down, darlin’,” he chuckled, letting you drag him by the arm to a wall of the nearest building and away from the crowd. “You alrigh’?”

“Yeah, yes, of course.” You waved to someone passing by, totally unfazed – or maybe just ignorant – that you were being seen with him in public. “I just need your help.”

“Well, what is it?” he repeated the question and finally, you turned to face him. Joel couldn't help but match the pretty smile on your face, but it quickly faded when you blurted out your next words.

“I like someone.”

That short, simple sentence wrecked Joel’s world by the foundations. For a couple of seconds he just stared at you with his mouth slightly agape while you fidgeted with your hands nervously, but still overjoyed.

“Wh– uhh, sorry?”

“I like someone,” you repeated excitedly, as if your words weren't piercing right through Joel's heart. “And I need your help.”

All of the sudden, the world lost all its colors, as if all the meaning was sucked out of the universe just by your words.

Why it was such a surprise to him, Joel didn't know. Of course you'd sooner or later get together with someone. He should have expected it. You were young, pretty and such a joy to be around, people were gravitating towards you instinctively. Like moths to a flame.

Just like him – yet he was always destined to only get burned.

“Joel?”

You leaned closer and Joel's eyes instinctively focused on your lower lip worried between your teeth.  You were obviously oblivious to his feelings, as well as the effect you had on him – otherwise he doubted you'd tempt him like that, unknowingly making his mind fixate on how perfect your lips would have felt under his touch.

But no, it wasn't his caresses you wanted. There was someone else, someone far more deserving of you, and you were asking Joel only for his help. And though it hurt him – it killed him to lose this small sliver of affection you had been giving him so far – he nodded supportingly.

“Wha… what do you need help with, sweet girl?” he asked softly, trying not to show how devastated he felt inside. Joel had no desire to hear about whoever was fortunate enough to gain your favor, but again, luck wasn't on his side.

“I made a plan to meet him,” you explained enthusiastically, grabbing his forearm. Joel looked at where your fingers touched his skin, barely listening to your words. “Tonight. And I need you to come with me.”

That woke him up from his reverie. Joel huffed and shook his head sharply, looking at you like you were out of your mind.

“No.” His tone was almost biting, but through his firm refusal, a trace of panic was slipping through. You pouted, squeezing his forearm lightly.

“Oh, come on, please? I just want to make sure everything’s perfect.”

“No,” Joel repeated, much weaker this time. “Hell no. Why would I–” Then, a dark thought bloomed in his mind and his face turned concerned. “You're worried he'd do somethin’ to you?”

“Oh, no, no!” It was your turn to shake your head, and you actually cracked a smile at Joel's worried tone. “No, he'd never hurt me.”

Your voice got softer; your smile turned serene. Joel wanted nothing more than to turn away when your eyes started to wander across his features, but again that proved to be too herculean of a task compared to the hold you had over him.

“He's kind,” you continued absentmindedly, and on the edge of consciousness Joel remembered your hand was still on his arm, tracing small lines with your thumb. “Respectful and thoughtful… A real gentleman.”

“A-and who’s he?” Joel found the courage to ask, breaking you out of your daydreams. You smiled happily again – that damned, sweet smile of yours – and removed your hand. He immediately started missing the feeling of your touch.

“You'll see.” You looked over your shoulder when someone shouted your name a street away, and waved from the distance. You gave Joel one last pleading look, clasping your hands together. “Come to the Tipsy Bison at 9. Please? You can just sit in the corner but I'll feel so much better and safer with you there.”

Once Joel looked into your beautiful, pleading eyes, he was a goner. He never could deny you anything either way.

Even when he would kill for a chance to go on a real date with you.

“Okay,” he finally caved in. “Alrigh’. I'll be there.”

The overjoyed smile you gave him was almost enough to soothe the hollow pain in his chest.

Almost.

Great. Fucking great.

Joel made another turn around the street, trying to build up the courage to approach Tipsy Bison. The flannel shirt he wore was itching uncomfortably, but he was already half an hour late and there was no time to go back home and change.

He regretted ever setting foot in Jackson. It was a nightmare situation for him, having to spend the evening in a room full of loud, drunk people and watch as you go about your date with another man. Joel thought a dozen times about making up some excuse as to why he can't chaperone your date after all. He even went as far as to beg Tommy to accompany him, just that he wouldn’t have to suffer alone, but his younger brother just gave him a pitying look, saying something about spending time with Maria tonight. Joel could always cancel, lie that he can’t make it after all… but then he remembered how hopeful and thankful you looked, and all his resolve was wavering again. He couldn't ever say no to you, even though he desperately wanted to.

He looked at his broken watch, sighing at the hour. He delayed the inevitable long enough, so with heavy steps he approached the bar at last. You asked him to go through the back door, for whatever reason, and he was too tired at the time to point out there’s nothing back there except for the kitchen and storage rooms. Whatever. You probably were already in the main hall, with your date, and either you were angry at Joel for being late, or not thinking about him at all. He wasn’t sure which one would be worse.

Once he stepped over the threshold, he carefully closed the door behind him. The racket from the bar was muffled here, but from the nearest room he could hear someone muttering. Joel swallowed heavily and cleared his throat to alert whoever was on the other side of the wall.

“Joel?” he heard your voice before you appeared in the doorway. At the sight of him your shoulders dropped and with confusion he noted that you didn’t look angry or disappointed – you seemed relieved. “Goddammit, finally you’re here. You took your sweet time, huh?”

Before he could answer, you walked forward and took his sleeve, half-dragging him behind you. Words of protest bubbled on his tongue, but they all died quickly when Joel saw the room you emerged from.

The storage shelves were decorated with fairy lights and in the middle of the room stood a small table with two chairs opposite each other. The only other source of light were a couple of candles on the table and around the room. There was food on the table – probably cold by now – and a bottle of wine. But most importantly – there was no one else in the room except for Joel and you.

While he was looking around like an absolute fool, searching for an explanation for this situation, you cautiously closed the door and walked around the man, coming to a stop by the set table with your hands clasped in front of you.

“...Well?” you asked after an uncomfortably long silence, letting out a nervous laugh. “What do you think?”

Joel blinked, not sure if you were talking to him.

“Where's the guy?”

You threw him a confused look, but truly, it was the only thing Joel could think of. He glanced around the room again, as if his mysterious competition was going to jump up from behind one of the shelves, but there was no trace of anyone else here.

“Your… your date,” he clarified after a moment and cleared his throat once more. A spark of understanding flashed in your eyes and you pressed your lips together. “It's late. Is he… He didn't set you up, did he?”

“That depends,” you finally answered softly, keeping your wary but hopeful eyes on him. “Are you finally gonna sit down?”

A cog clicked into its place in Joel's mind and he turned his head, not sure if he had heard you right. You smiled nervously and motioned to the table.

“The food’s probably cold by now, but I can heat it up. It’s your own fault, though, since I asked you to be here forty minutes ago–”

“I don’t…”

He didn’t understand. Nothing made sense, but he had to make sure, “So there’s no… there’s no date?”

You were clearly nervous, judging by the way you were fidgeting with your hands, but you sent him a shy smile nonetheless. “I mean, you’re here…”

Joel didn’t answer – frankly, he didn’t know what to say. So many conflicted emotions were swirling in his chest, blocking his throat from squeezing out even a sound. It created almost a physical pain between his ribs, especially when your eyes were still on him, so hopeful and patient.

After another pregnant pause, you let out a quiet breath and took a step forward, throwing him a lifeline since he clearly must’ve looked like an idiot. “There’s no one else coming, if that’s what you’re asking. I made all of this for you – for… us, maybe. I just…” You half-shrugged, and only now Joel realized how nice you looked, wearing a dress he never before saw you in, “didn’t know how to tell you.”

Joel swept his gaze over the room once more – the dinner, the lights, your pretty dress… and you. And it was all for him, apparently.

“Why?” he breathed, the weight of his age almost making him collapse to his knees. He desperately wanted to say something more profound than one word at the time, but his voice was failing him. Thankfully, you were always kind enough to fill in the silence.

“Why did I lie to you or why did I drag you here of all places?” You rounded the table, eyeing the decorations with a proud smile. “Well–”

“No, darlin’, why…” He shook his head. Everything felt too unreal, too sudden. And he felt so tired. “Why me?”

That made you pause and you turned to him with a surprised look, like what he just said was the last thing you expected to hear.

“What do you mean, why you?” you huffed incredulously, leaning forward against the back of the chair, and though you tried to look casual, the nervousness in the tension of your body was apparent. “You’re just… I mean, it must be pretty clear that I really like you… And I thought you might have felt the same. You know, with all the ‘darling’s’ and looking at me, and stuff…”

Was it a dream? You always looked like you were out of a dream, but something about this moment… the fairy lights, your shy demeanor, the words he never thought he’d hear from you… Joel didn't know if he was still alive or maybe that's what the afterlife looked like.

“...You could say something,” you half-joked with a trace of worry in your voice, obviously growing uncomfortable at his lack of reaction. “You know, Tommy only let me have this place ‘til midnight before they come by to restock the bar. We can at least eat and talk a little, right?”

“Did Tommy put you up to this?” Joel asked bitterly, unable to stop himself at the mention of his brother’s name. He recalled the look Tommy gave him earlier today, his excuses as to why he can’t come with him... What other explanation could there be for such a gorgeous, young woman to be interested in Joel of all people, if it wasn’t just a product of his kin’s poor humor? However, he instantly regretted asking you this when your soft smile disappeared altogether, and you wrapped your arms around yourself.

“You can just say if you don’t feel the same way,” you said dryly with an angry and hurt furrow on your brow. “No need to be a dick about it.”

You walked by him, apparently done with Joel’s accusations and grumpiness, but he quickly caught your arm before he could think better of it. You spun around, probably ready to tear into him, but he wouldn't hear a word either way – no while a vortex of doubts and questions raged in his mind. Joel didn’t know how or why you’d ever take interest in an old man like him, but he was now certain of two things.

One, you were telling the truth. For whatever reason, you really liked him – enough to plan and prepare a whole dinner date just for him.

And two, if Joel let you walk out now, he’d regret it for the rest of his life.

You must’ve noticed the change on his face when his eyes flickered to your lips because you froze, the words of hurt and disappointment drying out on your tongue. Joel swallowed and wet his lips, looking for any sign of hesitation or regret on your face, but there was nothing in your eyes but pure, fragile anticipation. He delicately put his hand on the side of your face, the rough pad of his thumb brushing your cheek slowly. Your eyelashes fluttered closed and you let out a shaky breath, and that was all it took for Joel to lean down and press his lips to yours.

The kiss started delicate, but almost immediately turned into a fervent, hungry thing, which you ardently reciprocated. Joel wanted to take his time, to test the waters and build up the anticipation until you were ready to beg for him, but he didn’t expect just how fucking good kissing you would feel – and how eager you were for his touch. The smell of you, the feel of your hands on his chest and arms… it was driving him crazy with want, and without thinking twice, he spun you around and pinned your back against the edge of the table, making you whimper into his mouth.

“Goddammit, baby…” The term of endearment slipped out before he realized it, but judging by your reaction you didn’t mind at all. Your breath hitched, making him smirk to himself as he started to realize just how much power he held over you. It certainly shouldn’t excite him as much as it did. “Are you absolutely sure that’s what you want?”

“Joel, if you don’t stop questioning me…” you started, and although your words were firm, your voice leaned into a deliciously needy pitch, the kind of which he yearned to hear for far too long. Joel groaned into your mouth, moving down to press hot kisses against the line of your jaw and down your neck, greedily drinking in the noises you were making.

“Tell me, darlin’,” he asked in a low voice, experimentally running his palm up your thigh under the pretty dress you wore. The effect was immediate, and you pressed your body closer to him, seeking his touch the moment it left your skin. “I need to know if you really mean all this.”

“For fuck’s sake, Joel–” You made a surprised noise as he hoisted you up and onto the table, but it turned into another needy whimper when he knocked your knees apart and slotted himself between them with ease. You glanced behind you, worried that you'll push the silverware off the table, and Joel took this moment to resume the onslaught on your neck, kissing and sucking every inch of skin he could reach. You choke back a moan as his touch made a shiver run up your spine. “Joel, please…”

“I need to hear it, sweetheart,” he murmured lowly against your skin, slowing down to tease you when he felt your heartbeat quicken up beneath his lips. “Need to make sure you know what you're gettin’ into.”

“I do, I promise,” you assured him fervently while your hands went to the back of his head, fingers tangling into his gray locks. “You have no idea how many times I thought about this. I wanted you for so long, Joel, please…”

“Wanted you, too, darlin’.” He put one of his hands on the small of your back, pulling your lower half closer to the edge of the table so you could feel what you were doing to him. “God, every time you smiled at me it was all I could think about… So kind and beautiful, never thought you'd look twice my way.”

You didn't bother to answer this time, instead angling his head up to kiss him deeply again. The doubt and fear were still present in Joel's mind, but he honestly couldn't focus on them with you in front of him. You were so warm under his palms, so pliant and eager, a literal putty in his steady hands. He could never imagine how incredible it felt to be wanted by someone so much, but at the same time he knew he had to take his time. As much as he wanted to keep going, to make you see stars and sing his name, it was more than just lust with you.

So when you reached for the buttons of his shirt, he gently grabbed your wrists and moved them away, finally regaining his self-control. You whined disapprovingly, but the crease between your brows quickly disappeared when Joel kissed your fingers softly, not taking his eyes off you.

“Shh, sweetheart, don’t rush,” he cood, earning a small disappointed pout. He had to close his eyes, lest he caved in. Fuck, the sight of you before him – your pupils blown wide, lips swollen from his ministrations, your heavy breath and the dress bunched around your hips… Joel was sure you’d let him do anything to you right now. And God, he couldn’t wait. “Let me do this properly, yeah? Have a nice date with you, then maybe take you home if you don’t change your mind…”

“We can skip the dinner,” you quietly offered, your breath still uneven and cheeks flushed. He huffed a laugh with fondness and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on your forehead, his own breathing also slightly erratic.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he murmured against your skin before taking your face in his hands. “Someone did say I’m a gentleman, no?”

You seemed to regret your previous choice of words, accentuating it with a disappointed whimper and a buck of your hips. Joel groaned and kissed you deeply again, almost able to taste all the impatience and desire on your tongue. Surprisingly, you didn’t fight him further and instead obediently slid off the table, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck to be as close to him as possible.

Joel was grateful for this moment of calm before even more excitement – and he didn’t mind spending it by watching you, standing so close and smiling up at him as brightly as the sun itself.

“You believe me now?” you asked teasingly, stifling your giggles when Joel rolled his eyes playfully. “Good. You will have to make it up to me, then.”

Worry crept back onto Joel’s face, but you were quick to calm him down with a tender kiss to his jaw, and then another one lower, on his pulse point. “You were late. If you got here on time, we could’ve been doing this at least half an hour longer.”

Joel chuckled and lifted your chin with his finger, before kissing you briefly one last time.

“Baby, let’s enjoy the dinner you prepared, first. After that, I swear I’ll make it up to you in however many ways you want.”

Judging by your smile, you didn’t seem to mind at all.

[pucksandpower]

A Royal Surprise

Max Verstappen x Princess of Wales!Reader

Summary: in which Max 1) forgot to tell his team that he has a girlfriend and 2) forgot to tell his team that the girlfriend in question is the future Queen of England … oops?

One of Red Bull Racing’s PR officers, Leslie, sits in the back of the conference room, her pen poised over her notepad as she listens to the team debrief. It’s a typical Thursday morning, with engineers and drivers discussing the upcoming race weekend. Leslie’s eyes flit between Max Verstappen and his teammate as they offer their insights on car performance and track conditions.

“The balance felt off in turn three during the sim,” Max says, leaning back in his chair. “We might need to adjust the downforce.”

Leslie jots this down, already planning how to phrase it for the press conference later that afternoon. Just another normal day at Red Bull Racing, she thinks.

But then, Max casually adds, “Oh, and by the way, you might see some extra security around this weekend. My girlfriend’s coming to watch the race.”

Leslie’s pen stills. There’s something in Max’s tone that makes her look up sharply.

“Girlfriend?” Christian Horner raises an eyebrow. “I didn’t know you were seeing anyone seriously.”

Max shrugs, a small smile playing on his lips. “Yeah, it’s been a few months now. We’ve been keeping it quiet.”

Leslie leans forward, her PR senses tingling. “Anyone we know?” She asks, trying to keep her voice casual.

Max’s grin widens. “You could say that. It’s Y/N.”

The room falls silent. Leslie blinks, sure she must have misheard. “I’m sorry, did you say Y/N? As in ...”

“The Princess of Wales, yeah,” Max confirms, as if he’s just mentioned dating a local girl from down the street.

Leslie’s notepad slips from her fingers, clattering to the floor. The sound seems to break the spell of silence that’s fallen over the room.

“Max,” Christian says slowly, “are you telling us that you’re dating the future Queen of England?”

Max nods, still looking far too relaxed for someone who’s just dropped a bombshell of international proportions. “That’s right.”

Leslie’s mind is spinning. Images of tabloid headlines and diplomatic incidents flash before her eyes. She stands up abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I need to make some calls,” she says weakly.

But before she can escape, Christian holds up a hand. “Wait, Leslie. We need to handle this carefully. Max, how long has this been going on?”

“About six months,” Max replies. “We met at a charity event in London. Hit it off right away.”

Leslie sinks back into her chair, her head in her hands. “Six months,” she mutters. “You’ve been dating the Princess of Wales for six months, and we’re just finding out now?”

Max has the grace to look a bit sheepish. “We wanted to keep it private for as long as possible. You know how it is with the media.”

Oh, Leslie knows. She knows all too well. “Max,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady, “do you realize what this means? The security implications alone ...”

“It’s all been taken care of,” Max assures her. “The palace has been very discreet.”

Leslie laughs, a slightly hysterical edge to it. “The palace. Of course. Because now we’re dealing with actual palaces.”

Christian clears his throat. “Right. Well, this certainly changes things. Leslie, I think we’re going to need to reschedule the rest of this meeting. Can you get started on a press strategy?”

Leslie nods numbly, her mind already racing with potential scenarios and damage control plans.

As the room begins to clear, Max approaches her. “Leslie? Are you okay? You look a bit pale.”

Leslie takes a deep breath. “Max, I appreciate you telling us. But next time you decide to date royalty, maybe give us a heads up a bit sooner?”

Max chuckles. “Sorry about that. If it helps, you’re handling it better than your counterpart at the palace did when you found out.”

“Oh God,” Leslie groans. “I’m going to have to coordinate with the royal PR team, aren’t I?”

“They’re actually pretty cool,” Max says. “A bit stuffy at first, but they loosen up after a while.”

Leslie shakes her head in disbelief. “I can’t believe this is my life now. Okay, Max, I need you to tell me everything. How did you meet? How have you kept this secret? What are the security arrangements?”

For the next hour, Leslie grills Max on every detail of his relationship with you. She learns about secret rendezvous in Monaco, carefully orchestrated “chance” meetings at public events, and the challenges of dating someone whose every move is scrutinized by the world.

“And you’re sure about this?” Leslie asks finally. “Dating her ... it’s not exactly going to be easy for you.”

Max’s expression softens. “I know. But she’s worth it. We’re worth it.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a twinge of sympathy. It can’t be easy, trying to nurture a relationship under such intense pressure.

“Alright,” she sighs. “I’ll do everything I can to make this as smooth as possible. But Max, promise me one thing?”

“What’s that?”

“No more bombshells, okay? My heart can’t take it.”

Max grins. “Well, actually ...”

Leslie’s eyes widen in alarm. “What? What is it now?”

“Her father ... he’s a big F1 fan. He’s been hinting that he’d like to attend a race.”

The room starts to spin. The last thing Leslie hears before everything goes black is Max’s concerned voice saying, “Leslie? Leslie, are you okay?”

When Leslie comes to, she’s lying on the conference room couch, with Max and Christian hovering over her anxiously.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” Christian says, relief evident in his voice. “You gave us quite a scare there, Leslie.”

Leslie sits up slowly, her head still spinning. “Please tell me I dreamed all of that,” she mutters.

Max shakes his head, looking apologetic. “Sorry, it’s all real. Are you okay? Should we call a doctor?”

Leslie waves him off. “No, no, I’m fine. Just ... processing.” She takes a deep breath, her PR training kicking in despite her shock. “Okay. Let’s take this one step at a time. First, we need to draft a statement.”

Christian nods. “Good idea. What are you thinking?”

Leslie stands up, pacing as she thinks out loud. “We need to confirm the relationship without making too big a deal of it. Something like ... ‘Red Bull Racing confirms that driver Max Verstappen is in a relationship with Her Royal Highness, the Princess of Wales. We ask for privacy as they navigate this new chapter.’”

Max frowns. “Isn’t that a bit ... formal?”

Leslie sighs. “Max, you’re dating the future Queen of England. Everything’s going to be a bit formal from now on.”

“She hates that, you know,” Max says softly. “All the formality. It’s why she likes being with me. I treat her like a normal person.”

Leslie pauses in her pacing, struck by the vulnerability in Max’s voice. “You really care about her, don’t you?”

Max nods. “More than I’ve ever cared about anyone. She’s ... she’s amazing. Smart, funny, kind. When I’m with her, I forget about all the titles and protocol. She’s just ... her.”

Christian clears his throat, looking uncomfortable with the display of emotion. “That’s all well and good, but we need to think about the bigger picture here. This relationship could have major implications for the team, for Formula 1 as a whole.”

Leslie nods, her mind already racing ahead. “We’ll need to coordinate with the palace on all public appearances. Security will need to be completely overhauled. And the media ... oh God, the media is going to have a field day with this.”

“Hey,” Max says, placing a hand on Leslie’s shoulder. “We’ll figure it out. You’re the best in the business, Leslie. If anyone can handle this, it’s you.”

Despite her stress, Leslie feels a rush of affection for the young driver. “Thanks. I appreciate that. Now, let’s get back to work. We have a lot to do before this news breaks.”

As they settle back into planning mode, Leslie can’t help but shake her head in disbelief. A Formula 1 driver and a princess. It sounds like something out of a fairy tale or a cheesy romance novel. But as she watches Max’s face light up when he talks about you, she realizes that sometimes, reality is stranger — and more romantic — than fiction.

“Oh, and Leslie?” Max adds as they’re wrapping up. “About the King wanting to attend a race ...”

Leslie holds up a hand. “One crisis at a time, Max. Let’s get through announcing your relationship before we start planning any more royal visits to the paddock, okay?”

Max grins. “Fair enough. But just so you know, he’s particularly interested in the British Grand Prix. Says it would be ‘jolly good fun’ to present the trophies.”

Leslie closes her eyes, already imagining the logistical nightmare. “Max, I swear, if you’re joking ...”

“Would I joke about something like this?” Max asks innocently.

Leslie looks at him for a long moment, then turns to Christian. “I’m going to need a raise. And possibly a personal team of therapists.”

Christian chuckles. “I think that can be arranged. Welcome to the new era of Red Bull Racing. It’s going to be an interesting ride.”

As Leslie gathers her notes and prepares to face the whirlwind that’s about to engulf them all, she can’t help but smile slightly. It’s going to be challenging, stressful, and probably more than a little crazy. But as she watches Max’s eyes light up at the mention of your name, she realizes that maybe, just maybe, it might all be worth it in the end.

After all, who doesn’t love a good fairy tale?

[angelltheninth]

Can we get some Mark Grayson dating and first time having sex headcanons?

I finally caught up with Invincible season 3, so yes.

Pairing: Mark Grayson x Fem!Reader

Tags: nsfw, smut, established relationship, dating, cunnilingus, virginity loss, dry humping, creampie, scared of power use, breeding kink

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Wanna see how long Mark will be able to stay positive this time. I'm not giving him a big time window for happiness.

As if it wasn't nerve wracking that you're losing your virginities to each other, Mark also has to be mindful of his superpowers

When you say you're sure that he wouldn't hurt you he tells you the embarrassing story of him breaking sex toys because he got too into it, he felt too good

He doesn't want to hurt you, this was supposed to be about pleasure

To ease into things he wants to eat you out first

Worst case scenario he gets you off with his mouth and tongue and then jerks off

Rips your underwear off with shaky hands

Almost drools at the sight of your pussy, dripping and waiting for him

Keeps his body against the bed so he can rut wildly into it, the friction making his cock twitch with need

Mark moans as he tastes you, finally, his tongue pushed all the way inside your clenching hole

When you say his name and tangle your hands though his jet black hair to pull him closer he relaxed a little, confidant that he can at least fuck you with his tongue

One of his hands presses against your lower back and pushes you up, allowing his mouth to close around your pussy, his lips nudging your clit, his tongue licking patterns in and out of your pussyhole

Sloppy as he is he's not a quitter, he'll eat you out until you squirt on his face

His pride quickly melts away as you pull him closer and tug on his erect dick, angling him with your entrance

Mark pulls back, still not sure about this, how can he be sure he won't hurt you

If he was normal, like you, he wouldn't have these fears, of course he would still be careful but he knows there would be less need to freak out like he is currently

You don't want him to back out of this because of fear, you keep pumping your hand up and down on his cock, keeping him hard and hot in your hand

The solution you come up with is that you will ride him

He can stand still if he wants, or he can simply hold you, while standing on his knees and watching you fuck yourself stupid on his incredible cock

Mark almost comes as soon as you take him past the tip

One of his hands balances himself on the bed, the other is pressed against your hip, encouraging and soothing your nerves at the same time

If it hurts you can stop, he won't hold it against you

But oh boy did he underestimate how much you want to fuck him

As soon as he's all the way inside and you've had time to adjust to his girth you pull away, you hear him gasp as his slick cock is revealed and then you slam right back against him, his cock back in your cunt where it belongs

Mark is mesmerized, barely managing to speak full sentences, he's talking about your hot pussy, how much he loves you, how nothing has ever felt this good, how this is so much better than his wet dreams made him think it'd be

The repeated smacks of your ass against his abs drive him crazy and he smacks one of your ass cheeks, chuckling and moaning when your pussy grips him tighter

Something about how tight you are, how your velvety walls are pulling him in is driving him crazy

He gets the idea to creampie you, the need to see you swollen with his seed, the urge to have his cum dripping from your pussy, the fantasy of fucking a baby into you, the dream of having a family and being a good father

Overtaken by this desire he pushes his hips into yours when you pull away, hardly ever leaving his cock out

You feel so warm he never wants to leave, and seeing as your pussy is only getting wetter, dripping all over the sheets, you like him being inside you too

Mark cups your jaw and trails his hand down your neck, grunting out how much he loves you as he slams deep into you and floods your womb with his cum

The torrent of heat makes your body tremble, your pussy spasming around him, your hips moving faster and faster, encouraged by his words

His arms wrap around you before you can fall against the bed and he leans back, pulling you into his lap and kissing your neck and shoulder

Nothing ever felt this good, he's not sure anything ever will

Tells you how much he loves you, how much fun this was, and in the midst of your words of love and giggles neither of you notice how his hand is constantly rubbing your belly

[telephoniii]

Do you accept requests? I really loved the Really him thing and was wondering if you could do that but him reacting to reader being in a polyamorous relationship with Malleus and Leona? Srry id u not comfortable with it. I thought id ask cuz there are like no poly fics

I’ve actually been debating whether or not to do requests. That and I was thinking about making a masterlist! If people really want to request stuff/have a masterlist then lmk and I’d be down to do it. My verdict rn is; if you have an idea, feel free to send it. 🤷

Also! It's not exactly polyamorous, but I've got a longer fic in the works abt Leona and Malleus being love rivals for the reader. So if that interests you than stay tuned!!

Anyways, lets get to the fun and whimsical stuff!

I’m not poly myself so I’m really sorry if anything is misrepresented. I did decide to add more than just Malleus and Leona since I thought it’d be fun! I hope you enjoy :>

REALLY…HIM? (Poly Addition)

malleus and leona

Oh, you’re going to give this man a heart attack. Because what do you mean you’re dating the two most powerful yet reckless students of them all. Malleus and Leona? The two have a heated rivalry, do they not?!Do you have no concern for your safety?!?!The amount of sheer power these two hold together frighten this poor soul. He tells you to keep your distance if they start to fight. As a magicless student, you do NOT want to get involved if a duel were to break out. No, Trein wants you to RUN if that ever happens. Give him some time to get used to it. The sight of you next to Malleus and Leona in the hallways sends panic throughout his nervous system. After a month or so, Trein mellows out. He’ll start asking technical questions that you don’t have answers to. “If you were to marry them both, would all three of you be the rulers of Briars Valley?” ??? No clue, Professor. Can I get back to my test in peace now?

ace and deuce

He’s not surprised in the slightest. Trein always had an inkling that something was going on between you three. He just didn't want to believe it. Why? Because he doesn't like them. Well, scratch that. He doesn't like Ace. Is he supposed to jump for joy at the fact you’re dating the biggest slacker among all the first years? Trein has a habit of nit-picking them both and what they do. However, despite all the smack he talks, deep down he heavily approves of the relationship. He knows the two boys and doesn't doubt their loyalty to you. It's always been the three of you from the start and he views it as an unbreakable bond. So, even though he makes a face when you walk in with Deuce’s sports jacket and says you should take it off because it smells like sweat, he finds himself smiling when he spots you three sitting together at lunch just enjoying each others company. The way you all joke around and laugh together like you’re the only people in the world. He trusts them with your heart more than anyone else.

vil and rook

He actually thinks it's a pretty sweet relationship at first. You all balance each other out. Vil and Rook earned Trein’s seal of approval to date you from day one… and then Rook sends him a creepy letter thanking him for being supportive and— yep. Trein takes back that seal because what the hell. For the senders name on the letter, it was by both Rook and Vil, so Trein pulls both of them aside to talk about HIS boundaries. (He thought he didn't have to explicitly say, “Don’t stalk me before, during, or after school hours” but here we are) Vil is so confused the whole time. What could've possibly prompted this?? Then he remembers his boyfriend next to him who’s blissfully smiling and it all starts to make sense. With a sigh, Vil ends up apologizing to Trein for the whole ordeal and tells you about it as well. Rook gives you a kiss and promises to just watch Trein from afar. You don’t know how much better that is and it seems like Vil is thinking the same thing as he lets out a small groan. Trein is forever unnerved by your relationship— specifically because of Rook.

jamil and azul

Honey, are you being manipulated into this relationship? Which one of them is gaslighting you? Trein knows that they both have deceptive tendencies and is concerned. He’s not actively against it or anything, but he just keeps a close eye on the three of you. Jamil and Azul pick up on this and silently agree to each other that they want to prove themselves to Trein. Expect to get the ultimate royalty treatment everytime the Professor is around. One moment they’re playfully poking fun at you, the next they are cherishing the ground you walk on. (As they should) Unfortunately, it ends up having the opposite effect where Trein is even more suspicious and starts telling you to keep your distance from them. Jamil lets out a tired sigh an decides to do the mature thing by actually talking to Trein about their relationship with you. He drags Azul along with him and makes sure to keep him in check during the discussion. Jamil’s honesty takes Trein by surprise. Usually he wasn't one to make himself notable like that. Azul, reluctantly, ends up being honest about his feelings and relationship regarding you after Jamil. Afterward, Trein doesn’t say anything the next time he sees the three of you together. Instead, he just gives you a small nod and smile. Wow. Ultimate approval. Jamil and Azul high-five each other under the table.

[mercvry-glow]

a girls guide to shopping

parings. michael robinavitch x bratty!reader

summary. a shopping trip goes sideways after a teenager clocks your shit at a panty sale. thankfully your hot doctor boyfriend knows what's best.

warnings. age gap (robby early 50s, reader late 20s early 30s), reader gets punched, and passes out, hospital setting, robby is a little stressed and sassy but so is reader, pretty light overall, let me know if there's anything else!

notes. I love them your honor! sorry for not posting for a few days while i figured out these stories/dynamics. always feel free to request dynamics like these, I love them more than anything else! as always any and all feedback is appreciated!

wc. 1900+

Coming into the ER while you were supposed to be shopping was a total fucking downer. Once, the mall had been a magical place—a glittery,  pretzel scented wonderland where you could lose hours drifting between candle shops and designer racks, sipping iced lattes and swatching lip gloss on the back of your hand like a civilized woman.

Now? Now it was the place where you got decked in the face by some teenage gremlin in low-rise jeans over a pair of lace panties.

And because you were a grown adult, you couldn’t even swing back.

Tragic.

You didn't even remember hitting the floor. Just the sharp, burning pop in your nose, the stars behind your eyes, and then—darkness. The paramedics told you you were out cold for maybe ninety seconds, but it was long enough to wake up under fluorescent lights, head pounding and crop top slightly askew.

“We got a female, LOC for approx one minute,” one of the EMTs was saying now as they wheeled your stretcher through the ER. “Vitals stable, GCS fifteen, alert and oriented, just... uh... kinda pissed.”

“That’s putting it lightly,” you muttered, clutching the melting bag of ice someone had tossed at your face like it could fix your whole life.

“Can you tell us your name again?” asked the other paramedic—young, blonde, and way too chipper for your taste.

“Yeah. It’s ‘I want a lawyer.’”

He snorted. “Okay, feisty’s good. You remember what happened?”

“I got my shit rocked by a seventeen-year-old with acrylics and rage issues over a five-dollar thong. And I swear to God, if I have to get my nose redone, someone’s getting sued. Possibly everyone!”

The paramedic just chuckled again and turned to the nurse approaching the stretcher. “We got a real diva on our hands.”

“Do not diminish me,” you snapped, even as you adjusted your messy bun and adjusted your once cute, now bloodied, jacket. “I am a victim of retail violence.”

The nurse—a tan-skinned, shorter woman with dark hair, and a clearly unbothered attitude—just gave you a once-over. “Put her in Bay 3. Maybe Dr. Robby can talk her down.”

You blinked. “Wait. Did you just say Robby?”

The paramedic raised an eyebrow. “You know him?”

Oh, you knew him.

You dated him.

Michael Robinovitch: broody, brilliant, perpetually annoyed trauma doc. Your boyfriend. Also, the last person on earth you wanted to see you laid out in a hospital bed with smeared lip gloss and a possible concussion.

You shot upright slightly—then immediately winced and laid back down.

“Please don’t tell him it’s me,” you whispered like it was a state secret. “Lie. Say I died. Switch my name with someone else’s. Say I’m contagious.”

The nurse smirked. “Yeah, he’s gonna love this.”

That was the moment you knew you were screwed.

The curtains around North-3 weren't soundproof, but you were trying to pretend they werer. You laid there with an ice pack balanced across your nose and a mild headache blooming behind your eyes. The ER smelled like bleach and overworked nurses, and you were pretty sure one of your press-on nails had popped off in the ambulance.

The nurse—Princess, according to her badge—was updating something on the computer, tapping the keys like she’d done this a thousand times. She had a chill vibe, low braid, cute scrubs. Honestly, you respected her.

“So, just to confirm,” she said without looking up, “you fainted in Victoria’s Secret?”

You sighed. “Technically, I passed out next to a panty display. Slightly more dignified.”

Princess grinned. “Right.”

“I had a head injury,” you added defensively. “And that girl came flying at me like I personally wronged her.”

“You’re lucky you didn’t get trampled.”

“Thank you for your concern,” you said, deadpan. “I didn’t get to buy my stuff either.”

Princess chuckled. “I’ll put that in your chart.”

You slumped back onto the gurney, closing your eyes. This was officially the most embarrassing thing that had ever happened to you. Which was saying something, considering you once accidentally sexted your building manager.

The sound of hurried footsteps pulled your attention to the hallway.

“Where is she?” came a familiar voice. Calm, but rushed. Less annoyed than… worried.

Your stomach dipped.

Princess didn’t even glance over. “There it is.”

You opened your eyes, sitting up slowly. “He’s here?”

“Yup.”

“Do you know if he’s like—mad?”

Princess finally looked up at you. “He looked… like he needed to know you were okay.”

You bit your lip. “Ugh. That’s worse.”

The curtain pulled open gently—no dramatic whip, no scolding.

There he was.

Dr. Michael Robby Robinovitch. Brown hair slightly messy, like he’d run his hands through it on the way down, stethoscope hanging around his neck, scrubs just a little rumpled. His eyes landed on you immediately, softening the second he saw your face.

“You fainted over a pair of underwear?”

Your smile dropped. “Excuse me, I was attacked over a pair of underwear.”

A flicker of amusement crossed his face, but he didn’t laugh. He stepped inside quietly, pulling the curtain mostly shut behind him.

“Are you okay?” he asked, voice low.

“I mean, my face hurts and my dignity’s practically, but otherwise? Sure.”

He moved closer, reaching out carefully to lift the ice pack away. “Let me see.”

You let him, even though the swelling around your nose made you feel anything but cute. He studied you for a second, then met your eyes.

“Doesn’t look broken. We’ll scan just to be safe.”

You tried to joke. “If I need a nose job, I’m getting a cute one.”

His mouth twitched. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

He sat on the edge of the bed, resting his hand gently on your knee.

“I got paged when they brought you in,” he said quietly. “Didn’t know it was you until I heard the report and someone described you as all ‘crop top’ and ‘attitude.’”

You laughed, even though your head throbbed a little when you did. “Hell yeah.”

“I was worried,” he admitted, thumb brushing lightly over your knee. “You don’t just faint. That’s not you.”

“I didn’t mean to be dramatic,” you said softly. “I just… kind of blinked and hit the floor.”

“You don’t have to explain. You’re here. That’s what matters.”

You exhaled, letting yourself relax for the first time since the mall.

He looked at you again, a little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I?”

You smirked. “You really can’t, look what I get up too.” 

Robby didn’t move right away. His hand rested on your knee, thumb tracing quiet, reassuring circles through the thin hospital blanket. You shifted slightly, trying not to wince at the dull ache spreading from the bridge of your nose up into your forehead.

“Do I look terrible?” you asked, your voice lower now.

He glanced up from your chart, his soft brown eyes sweeping across your face—not with judgment, but with quiet focus. “You look like someone who took a hit and handled it.”

“So... still cute?” you teased lightly.

Michael’s lips curved, just barely. “Always.”

You smiled, then sighed. “This might be the most embarrassing day of my life.”

“Worse than the time you locked yourself out of the house in your underwear?”

“Low blow Mikey, low blow… and that was different. That was private shame. This is public, in my baby tee, with paramedics and nosy mall goers.”

He hummed softly, stepping back just as Princess peeked back in through the curtain, a clipboard in hand.

“Radiology’s ready,” she said with a kind smile. “You want a wheelchair or are you feeling steady?”

You started to sit up. “I’m fine. I can walk.”

Michael gave you a look—calm but pointed. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it.”

“I know,” he said, already offering a hand. “But let me anyway.”

You hesitated, then reached for him. His hand was warm and steady, and the way he hovered—not overbearing, just present—made you feel safe, even if your pride was still limping along behind you.

The walk down the hallway was quiet. The CT tech moved efficiently, guiding you through the scan with minimal small talk, and before you knew it, you were back in your bay, settling onto the stretcher again with a little more care than before.

Robby was waiting, flipping through a printout from radiology.

“Well?” you asked.

He glanced at you. “No fracture. No concussion. You’re just bruised, a little rattled too, but otherwise okay.”

You exhaled. “Good.”

He softened as he looked at you again, that quiet relief flickering behind his usual calm. “You scared me.”

“I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

Yet another nurse returned just then, handing over a water bottle and a stack of discharge instructions. “You’re free to go. Ice for the swelling, rest tonight, and take it easy for a couple days.”

Michael took the papers from your hands before you could even skim them. “I’ll go over these with her.”

You gave him a look but didn’t argue. It was kind of nice, having him take over. Quietly protective. Familiar.

They gave you a small smile. “Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

You nodded. “No more shopping trips. Lesson learned.”

Michael helped you off the bed with a gentleness that didn’t surprise you. As you reached for your bag, you felt his hand at the small of your back, guiding you without a word toward the exit.

“Thank you,” you said quietly, glancing up at him as the first doors opened.

He looked down at you, a soft smile tugging at his mouth. “Always.”

As the next set automatic doors hissed, the cool mid-day air brushed against your skin. The hospital parking lot glowed in the flickering daylight, and for the first time all day, things felt quiet. Still.

Michael walked beside you, not rushing, just staying close. You didn’t say much—didn’t really need to.

At your rideshare pickup spot, since you clearly hadn’t taken your car here. You stopped and turned toward him. He still had the discharge paperwork tucked under one arm, the other hand resting casually on the small of your back.

“You sure you’re okay to go?” he asked, voice low.

You nodded. “Yeah. A little sore. A lot tired. But I’ll be fine, hopefully.”

His eyes searched yours for a moment, not quite convinced.

“You passed out,” he said gently. “That’s not nothing.”

“I know.”

“If anything feels off tonight—headache that gets worse, nausea, anything weird—call me.”

You nodded again, a little slower this time. “I will.”

He studied you for another beat, then stepped forward, brushing a stray piece of hair from your cheek. His hand lingered there, warm against your skin.

“I mean it,” he said. “Even if it’s just a gut feeling. Call me.”

You smiled softly. “Okay.”

Then, without any rush, he leaned in and kissed you—just a quick, careful kiss to your forehead, right above the bruise forming at your hairline. Tender and light. Like punctuation at the end of a sentence that didn’t need words.

“Rest,” he murmured. “I’ll check in later.”

You watched him for a second before stepping back toward the car that had just pulled up.

And even though your face still ached and your head felt like cotton, you suddenly felt a little better than you had all day.

mercvry-glow 2025

[unluckiestmember]

how abt headcanons for the arcane women on a beach date? :0 feel free to add/remove anyone ^^

Coming right up!

Arcane X Beach Date with Reader!

Characters: Powder/Jinx, Violet "Vi", Caitlyn Kiramman, Ekko, Viktor, Jayce Talis, Mel Medarda, Sevika, Ran and Vander

Warning: Some slight suggestive themes and mild cursing. But pretty much SFW.

A/N: Aww, summer is practically over! I hope you guys had fun this summer and stayed safe! Whatever is next in the future, I hope we all have a great time and look forward to the rest of 2024! We only got three more months until Season Two guys, I know we can do it even if it feels so far. So let's hang in there!

Powder/Jinx

“Hey, hurry up and look over here, toots! I’m about to pull off the biggest cannonball!... Yeah, yeah, I’ll be fine- Now watch me!”

At the beach, Jinx is absolutely going to do everything under the sun, whether it be legal or illegal! She might not be the best swimmer, but she loves getting in the water, especially jumping in and getting her adrenaline going. And you better expect her to get you involved in a water fight! Just don’t expect her to play fair, girlie has a bunch of mechanisms she can make into weapons for your game and she’s not afraid to use them!

Sand castles are requested and being buried in sand is a must. A date at the beach with the Loose Cannon feels more like a hangout than a lovely day together in the sand, but don’t get it wrong. Jinx loves spending time with you at the beach and will sneak some kisses to your cheek or slam her lips on yours. She’s pretty sure your beach date is probably one of the best days of her life and it’s all thanks to you.

Violet “Vi”

“This is the perfect weather for a nice swim, babe. Hey- Race you to the other side. Last one there is buying ice cream!”

When you invited Violet to a date on the beach, she was more than ready, she was beyond excited! She is a perfect balance between playful and romantic, always flirting with you in regards to your swimsuit and even sneaking some seductive touches along your body. And right when she’s done or is about to kiss you, she’s quick to trick you by running away gleefully waiting for you to catch her or messing with you.

She’s not exactly the best of swimmers, but is willing to learn and get her feet wet just for you. If you both aren’t having fun talking to each other and exploring the beach side by side, then guests of the beach better expect to see a happy couple making out in the sand or getting affectionate. Peering eyes or none, a beach date with Violet is all you could ever ask for and more.

Caitlyn Kiramman

“Ahh, isn’t this absolute bliss, my love-... Did. Did you just splash me? Oh, you’re gonna pay royally for that.”

Caitlyn has been to the beach quite a lot in the summer with her family and always loved spending time on the coast. So when you asked her on a getaway there, she was immediately on board. During your date, she makes sure you are all okay, rubbing sunscreen on you and checking if all your equipment is accounted for. Caitlyn is more on the quieter side, having a picnic in the sand with you or laying in the shade and just catching the breeze.

But do not let this fool you; She can be playful and accept your requests to swim, especially since she’s a pro at it, or just play in general! She’ll always be open to exploring underwater with you or even making some sand castles together! When it’s time to go, Caitlyn almost doesn’t want to leave, but at least she has a sweet memory and new tradition to share with you.

Ekko

“You’re right, we all needed this vacation. Everyone’s happy and you’re happy, so I’m fine. Wanna take a swim with the others?”

Ekko has never been to the beach before. He’s only heard stories from Pilties that passed by the undercity and seen pictures of it, but has never set foot on one, and neither has the Firelights. Whenever he needed a swim or a getaway, he would just find a local lake or river to satisfy him and everyone else’s needs. So you can imagine his surprise when you set up a little vacation for him and his allies on the coast!

The leader of the firelights is beyond happy the entire time you’re by his side and showing off the beach to the firelights, engaging in small games of volleyball or tag with the young ones. Of course it’s still a date for you two, so he’s sure to give you all the love and care you could ask for when the kids or Scar aren’t taking up you two’s time. But even then, it is all in all a fun experience to share, whether alone or with the freedom fighters.

Viktor

“Aye! How is the water so cold? Maybe you should swim on without me… Don’t worry, I’ll keep watch-. H-Hey! Fine, I’ll join you, let’s just take it slow.”

It had been years since Viktor had stepped on a beach before you asked him on a date there. The once feeling of sand in his feet made him raise an eyebrow and the wind touching his skin had him a bit nervous with his body out. From the looks of it, you were sure at first that this would be a hard time to enjoy together…

But after a while and a bit of convincing to let loose with some encouragement, the scientist finally let loose a little and enjoyed all of the beach with you. He may not be able to swim, but walking in the water, holding your hand and feeling the small waves crash into his ankles? Now that was a piece of absolute heaven. And exploring uncharted territories with you to find the most beautiful of caves was beyond delightful. He would have to remind himself to come to the beach with you more often.

Jayce Talis

“What’s up? Are you admiring my muscles?... If you’re looking at them dry, I can’t wait to see how you’ll look at them wet. Now come on in!”

All it took was one date to find out that Jayce practically belonged on the beach with you! There he acted like such an excited child in his trunks running immediately into the water with your hand in his to feel the waves wash over you two. Don’t expect to do much outside of swimming unless you need something from your personal belongings, and even then Jayce will go grab it for you and head straight back in!

He isn’t much of a goofball swimming with you outside of small moments of teasing, but he does get quite handsy and flirtatious, holding your waist and pulling you close to kiss you. Everyone can practically put together that you are his with how affectionate he is around you. And he doesn’t care either because he doesn’t mind putting you on the pedestal where you belong. It’s a chill date, but a nice date regardless.

Mel Medarda

“Mmm, we needed this, sweetheart. A day away from the nagging, pointless fighting and having to meet expectations? It’s absolutely worth it.”

A beach date with Mel has got to be one of the calmest dates you’ll ever have in your life. Mel isn’t much of a swimmer, preferring to just walk down the coast with you. But even then, she spends most of her time sunbathing and simply taking in the ambiance around the both of you in relaxation. For some it may be boring, but for her just being near you and practically doing nothing is heavenly.

Of course she won’t be a prude though. Sometimes she’ll take a minute and collect seashells to take home with her as souvenirs. And if you do want to swim around or really utilize the beach, she will let you and simply watch you having fun lovingly from the sidelines. That is unless you want her to join you, then just ask and she’ll be right by your side enjoying every second with you.

Sevika

“Ran is challenging me to volleyball and I was wondering if you’d want to be my partner?... Thanks babydoll- Hey, Ran! Get ready to get your ass kicked!”

Sevika doesn’t go to the beach unless it’s with a group of friends. Only then with them and you as company is she gonna have the time of her life! Outside of work and in the sand, the muscular woman is a lot more relaxed and a bit playful with everyone, including yourself. She’ll do whatever you’d like as long as it means you both are enjoying yourself.

Want to play a few games? She’s all for it. Want to just kick back and take in the sun and the waves? She’s cool with that too! Nothing is off limits for the Right Hand of Zaun, and I mean nothing. Because if you feel it’s not exactly a date, then Sevika has no problem taking you somewhere a bit more secluded and showing you a great time~. At the end of the day, you’re sure to look back on your time with your girlfriend at the beach fondly and can’t wait for the next one!

Vander

“We should try and make this a tradition. You, me and the kids, come down to the beach every summer. They’d look forward to it every year. And so will I…”

Everytime you and Vander go to the beach, it is usually with the kids as an annual family outing. Yeah, the both of you have to babysit a bit and deal with the mindless teasing of the sumprats when you both get intimate, but you enjoy yourselves regardless. You love when the Hound of the Undercity plays tag with his adopted children, even dragging you in for the ride and getting a good adrenaline kick from it all.

You two always leave the beach excited for the next time around the following year with tired kids needing to be laid down. He makes sure to let you know how grateful he was to spend time with you and everyone else, nuzzling into you and whispering how much he loves you. Though you miss those days, you never broke that tradition, even when the world fell apart. No matter what, you always come back every summer to the beach to keep the memory alive…

If you got any requests for Arcane or X-Men '97, send them my way!

Likes and retweets are always appreciated! I love you all, stay hydrated and have a good day! <3

[toonice113]

The jacket ⋆ ★ L.Hughes

part 2

Pairings: Luke Hughes x Fem!reader

Genre: fluff

Summary: You weren’t expecting anything in return for your support, especially not this early in your relationship, but Luke had other plans.

Warnings:  brief mentions of drinking, 

Word count: 1.2k

⋆˚࿔ tina's note 𝜗𝜚˚⋆ I thought this was shorter lol, I can’t wait to see all the wag jackets this year also, new challenge drink every time you see the word ‘wag’ in the story (no seriously, how tf did i end up using the word so much and for what?). It’s my first time watching the nhl playoffs and im excited (also hope the devils make it far so we get bearded Nico for a while)

You’d met Luke on a dating app. You and your friends had decided to apply to Raya on one drunken girl’s night in, at first it was just a competition, seeing who would get accepted, then it just became a fun place to snoop around all together when only you and another one of your friends had gotten accepted.

When you got Luke’s first message you hadn’t thought much about it, replying to it with your friends’ help and then moving on, but then it became more messages being exchanged even when you were on your own. Your first time meeting had been really sweet, just a coffee date where you got to know each other, and at first you were hesitant because why would this professional athlete want more than just a hookup? But at the end of the date, once your coffees had been finished and the conversation had faded, he walked you to your car, asked for your number and wished you a good night with only a peck on your cheek.

You’d been dating for only a little over two months when the devils clinched playoffs. During those two months you had met his teammates, you’d met his brother accidentally before you had even started officially dating, and their partners a couple times, but nothing formal had happened. You knew about the WAG groupchat and the WAG fee and honestly, way more than you needed or wanted to know about WAG life, from your friends insisting you needed to study the world you were about to enter. 

When you and Luke first started taking things a bit more serious than just random dates here and there he had began inviting you to his games, giving you a seat in the family section for every game that his parents weren’t there for, a mutual agreement as you both felt it was too early for you to meet his parents, but recently that seat had been changed to one in the same section as the rest of the wives and girlfriends who had immediately taken you in as a part of their found family.

Still, with your newfound friendship during games with the WAGs, you were not really involved in anything outside of the game hangouts, you weren’t necessarily bothered by it, you had school to worry about and you knew your relationship was new and the state of it did not depend on whether your boyfriend payed a fee for you or not.

The first two playoffs games for the devils were to be played in Raleigh, so you were planning on inviting your friends over and watching the games with them, but those plans had changed when Nicole Laud messaged you asking if you would like to join the rest of the WAGs and their kids at the Markstrom’s where they were watching the first game. That’s how you had found yourself here, outside of the house balancing two big boxes of custom ordered devils cookies you had gotten from one of your friends who owned a bakery. 

“Hi! Come in, come in” Amanda welcomed you into her house “Let me help you with that” You thanked her as she grabbed the boxes from your hand so you no longer had to balance your purse, the boxes and your phone that you had forgotten to put back into your bag before.

“Oh, I’m so glad you could make it” Nicole approached you 

“Oh my god these are so cute!” Emma Dillon exclaimed once the cookie boxes were opened and put out with the rest of the food and snacks, the designs of the cookies was simple but cute, one of the design was a white frosting with the player numbers, another one was based on their Jersey jerseys, another one was red frosting with the white NJ logo and finally your favorites, the ones of NJ’s head, yes the mascot, no you had no idea how your friend had managed to pull it off in such short notice but she’d done it. “Where did you get these? I might have to order some for the girls’ birthdays” 

“A friend made them actually” You say with a smile “She owns a bakery, I can give you her contact later if you want”

“Oh absolutely” 

Then came the awkward moment when the girls began talking about the WAG jackets, one that you were sure you were not going to receive, again, not that you were expecting one or were bothered by the lack of.  Nicole brought in a box from her car, pulling each jacket out with care and hanging them all in a rack Amanda had set up. You tried to distract yourself from the interaction by getting up and helping one of the kids get a juice refill while their mom enjoyed the moment with the other women.

“This is from Luke” Nicole approached you with a box while the rest of the girls gushed over their jackets on the other side of the room, she winked at you before retreating back.

Confused, you set the box on the table in front of you, pulling at the ribbon holding it closed and then opening it, on top of something wrapped in red paper there’s a note.

Wear this for good luck? 

The messy handwriting and lopsided heart makes you smile, you put the card down and unwrap the present underneath, your mouth falling open at the jacket in front of you, an identical version of the ones the women across from you are now trying on with the name ‘Hughes’ and number 43

“Y/N come here let’s get a few pictures” One of the WAGS calls for you, none of them make a fuss about you getting a jacket, all of them knowing from Nicole filling them in on Luke’s surprise, not wanting to make you uncomfortable by making a big deal of it, instead choosing to include you on their celebrations.

You send Luke a picture Nicole took of you wearing the jacket, clearly showing his name and number wishing him a good luck on the game, getting back a message telling you how beautiful you look and how they are surely winning now that you are wearing the jacket, that you are not really wearing anymore since you all took them off after finishing the pictures so they won’t be ruined before the home games but he doesn’t need to know that.

“Okay how do we feel about me posting this one” Aly asks the group when the game goes on commercial break, her phone is passed around with the girls agreeing and you grimace at it.

“Um I don’t know if I should be in the picture, I mean Luke and I are still pretty new and no one really knows about us so…” You speak apologetically at the fact that you seem to be the only one with a problem with the picture being posted 

“Oh honey, I think everyone knows” Reanne pats your shoulder and you look around the room at all the women smiling at you

“What do you mean?” You ask, confused

“Check your boyfriend’s instagram story” Reanne tells you 

And there, on Luke’s public instagram story, is the picture you had sent him before the game, a red heart emoji accompanying it, loud and proud for everyone to see that Luke Hughes is officially out of the market.

[littlelovelunette]

pls pls PLS hate sex with g!p sevika !!! and reader has nipple piercings <3

Love-Hate? No, Sex-Hate

Contains smut, inebriated sex, nipple play, cowgirl, degradation, slapping, spitting, g!p Sevika, restraining, rough filthy sex, mentions of blood, cnc, dubcon(?)

Forgive me for any mistakes, I'm really tired y'all

It had been roughly a month, you and Sevika had broken up. Life wasn't any different, just lonely without her.

No more breakfast in bed, someone to carry you when you drowned yourself in a bottle, no one to massage your heel clad feet back at home, no one to binge watch crappy thriller shows with.

Sevika's pride had always been an issue, and that was also the whole reason behind the breakup. You kept the shared apartment because Sevika's ego was far too high.

Even if she was no stranger to financial issues, she did have a small apartment before you both started dating in the first place, that's why she moved in with you. You were looking for a roommate so it all worked out just fine.

Now, you're stuck with the whole apartment to yourself and it feels lonely, sometimes scary. You needed to rebrand yourself. Renew your energy.

But you didn't know how to, until one day suddenly the thought of getting a makeover crossed your head.

You got your nipples pierced and hair cut short that time, and now that you stared at your naked form in the mirror, you no longer recognised the girl you saw.

You looked down at the piercings before letting out a small sigh. The doorknob rattled and a look of paranoia flashed across your face.

You grabbed your glock and put on a robe, holding it tightly as you peeked out of the window to see Sevika. What the fuck?

Why was your ex at your door? Sevika wasn't the type to beg for you to come back. If anything, she'd kidnap you.

You slowly opened the door, and then a gasp passed your lips when Sevika pinned you to the door. She reeked of alcohol, blood and sweat.

"Where the fuck are you comin' in here from?" You snapped.

Sevika's big hands palmed your tits before she shoved you inside wordlessly, shutting the door behind herself, "Fuck," Sevika groaned, "Got 'em pierced...?"

A small moan left your lips but you pushed her away, making for a run. Sevika grabbed you by the wrist, slamming you back against the wall. "O-Ouch," you whimpered but then Sevika grabbed your jaw, tilting it up.

She spat in your mouth, you could taste the whiskey on her spit, "Swallow," Sevika growled and you did. You shook your head earning a light yet firm slap to your left cheek, "I said, swallow, bitch."

Your eyes were tearing when you complied, swallowing her spit, "I don't want this, Sevika," you began but Sevika wasn't having any of it.

You were laid on the bed, legs spread and your pussy exposed.

"Oh, look, doll, you're so wet for me," Sevika reached a hand down and rubbed your pussy making your breath hitch and head tilt back.

"We can't be doing this," you mumbled and tried to close your legs but Sevika held them open forcefully, hands coming to open your pussy lips revealing the wet mess.

"Shut up, and take it," Sevika said, fingerings tracing the outline of your cunt, "You're so wet yet you have the audacity to complain?"

Sevika laughed, shaking her head, "Your mind isn't in balance with your body, sweetheart," the pet name was anything was affectionate, it was condescending.

Sevika forced you onto your feet with your wrists up in one of her hands, grabbing the duct tape off the bedside table she taped your wrists together.

"Sevika, stop!" You whined although you knew you wanted it but it was your ego holding you back from begging for it.

Sevika, a woman of her word, already have you hovering over the tip of her fat cock, "I can't, it's too big. It's been too long," you whimpered.

"You're scared," Sevika said, voice dropping to a soft whisper and you really thought she was going to empathise and go gentle. Sike.

"Take it, slut. Fucking take it," Sevika pulled you down on her cock, slamming it up tearing a scream out of you as the tip of her dick hit your cervix.

"I hate you so much, you always do this!" You said, your words punctuated with gasps as Sevika's thick cock pumped in and out of your pussy making your wetness squelch and create lewd sounds that made your cheeks paint red.

"Keep riding," Sevika said, hand moving to cup your breasts, her fingers moved over your nipples and pulled at the nipple piercings.

"O-ow!" You whined, your pussy clenching around her making Sevika's breath hitch.

She let go of your nipples before pulling them again making a loud moan issue from you, you whispered, "Sev, fuck the shit out of me, treat me like a fuck doll," your resolve crumbled as you begged.

You couldn't take this anymore.

Sevika smirked at you, flipping you with ease, big hands holding your waist as she pounded in your little tight hole, ravaging it completely.

The burning pain mixed with the pleasure caused you to almost start screaming loud enough for the entire neighbourhood to know who was getting pounded hard.

Your lips opened, only gasps and whimpers exiting the plump wet lips. You cried out, hands struggling against the duct tape as you felt Sevika bottoming out in your cunt.

"Fuck, harder," you begged, legs wrapping around Sevika's waist as she came to a rhythmix pace finally.

Still, it was too much. You gritted your teeth, legs giving away as your body tensed up, pussy convulsing and squirting your release.

Sevika's fingers dug into the flesh of your waist creating bruises you'd be questioning later whenever you looked in the mirror, you were at the verge of unconsciousness.

Sevika gave your cunt one last thrust, a hard one that caused her cock head to crash against your cervix deliciously, shooting thick ropes of semen and coating your inner walls completely.

Her semen dripped out of your pussy obscenely making Sevika smack her lips, "Loosened you up didn't I?" She scooped it up with a finger, shoving it back in, "Clench, pretty, can't let it go to waste now, can we?"

You whined but complied anyway, cleaning and trying to hold her load inside.

Sevika smirked a little, her grey eyes clouded with alcohol intoxication as she grabbed your face by the jaw, pressing in for a rough kiss.

Spit exchanging, tongues dancing.

Her teeth roughly biting into your bottom lip, specks of blood hitting your tongue made you whimper in the kiss, Sevika's grip tightened.

"Mmm..." You smiled a little in the kiss, Sevika undid the tape on your hands and then slowly pulled away.

"You're a mess."

[jayswhorex]

dick grayson's hands rested on your hips, feeling the thin fabric of the leather mini-skirt you had been dying to try on, "i dunno sweetheart it's pretty short" he says, laying his head on your shoulder. your giggles fill the dressing room as you try and admire the piece of fabric hugging your thighs. here you both stood in the changing of one of your favorite shopping centers in gotham.

you had asked dick if he could shopping with you and the man had no problem taking you out. the two of you were close friends, so this was nothing out of the ordinary other than the fact that the man was glued to him, even with you inside the changing room. he told himself that was just going to help you change, there was no shame in that right? but all those thoughts dispersed once you had answered his question "but it's kinda cute right, i need one for my date tonight?"

and there it was, the brief silence between you two that made it seem like there could be something more. any man with an ounce of shame or maybe some decency would've let go of you by now but instead, he gently began to kiss your neck as if what you just said hadn't fazed him. "date tonight? can't you skip it f'me doll?" he pleaded in a quiet tone, his hand now scrunching up the letter skirt and lifting it "dickie-"

he cuts you off with a firm squeeze of your hips, you could feel his body pressing against yours, his harden crotch pressing up against your thin stockings. you didn't have the will to push him away and to be honest, you didn't want to. "what? you can always reschedule" his kisses found a way to your shoulder "and if he's upset by that, then he knows he wasn't worth it" a small part of you found that to be a bit sweet but another part you remembered that dick knew exactly what to say to get you in bed and he was doing it right now "that's- that's not the point dick"

"when did he ask you out anyway," he asked trying not to lose his compromise, you were his friend there was no reason to lose his composure over this but fuck that he had all the reason to. "like about 2 weeks ago when you had to go back to blüdhaven for work," he thought in his own little way you and him were…something at least. and it wasn't the first time he'd ask for you to skip dates for him and it definitely was the first time he'd touch you like this and you knew it wouldn't be the last.

"so what about me?" dick's rough hands slyly moved to cup your ass, giving you a firm squeeze and without even giving you time to recover and be quickly reacher for your face forcing you to look at him through the mirror "m'not enough now?"

"dickie that's not what i mean"

"no i get it, i leave and you get a bit lonely" he teases, pressing his clothed cock again your thin stockings. a groan slips from his lips, feeling your ass against his cock. the two you had practically forgotten you were in a public changing room but that would back to bite you at a later time. watching from the mirror, you take in the image of dick unbuckling his belt. and his pants & boxers fall to his ankles. he takes his sweet time as he pulls down your stockings, watching you waiting patiently "you missed me, didn't you babe?"

you turned to face away but again he made you look at him, "yes, i missed you dickie" and with those words, dick held and waist and gently pushed into you, his hips rocking slowly, trying to find a rhythm. you held in your moans, but the few that did slip out were not intended. though they did give dick a bit more of an incentive.

you placed your hands on both sides of the mirror trying not to lose your balance as he thrusted in and out of you. one hand focused on making you look at the other the other, thumb stroking your clit. this was the worst part about sleeping with dick grayson. the more you let the bot fuck you, the harder it is to move on each time. "dickie please, a little harder, s'not enough"

"don't forget where we are sweetheart, there only so much i can do with making any noise" you huffed in frustration but you could tell dick himself was struggling not to let any groans but god you were so warm and tight, and even if he didn't make any noise, he was surely going to make a mess of you. he leaned in towards your neck, leaving sloppy wet kisses on the neck, he wasn't going to leave any marks not yet at least. those were for later, if you were going to stay with him "if you skip that date tonight-"

"dickie i don't wanna talk about him right now" through the thrusts and slaps of skin that filled the room, dick heard you loud and clear. out of reflex, he lifted your left leg for a deeper angle, a position he knew you feverishly enjoyed. you didn't exactly take pleasure in telling him what you wanted him to do so always took it upon himself to do what he knew you needed. and you knew no other guy would replace him and he knew it too and he wouldn't let you believe that.

and just like that your phone rings, while dick grayson is balls deep inside you, fucking you in a public changing room for crying out loud and you're getting a goddamn phone call and before you have a chance to decline it, dick answers it and you just know you're absolutely fucked. but dick hips don't falter for even a second, he continues to fuck you against the mirror, with not even a hint of remorse laced in his voice.

"ahh no sorry, y/n is a little bit busy right now"

"how about she calls you tomorrow?"

"a date tonight? well i don't think i'll be done with her by then…"

his hand let go of your face and instead gripped your hip tightly, a shameless groan leaves his lips, as his cock slips in and out of your folds at a vigorous pace. your nails dug into your palm as you bit your lip, holding in the moans that threatened to escape. dick had no problem letting your little date on the other end hear him enjoy the hell out of fucking you senseless. a part of you felt embarrassed by the way he was acting but another part of you was feeling too good for you to really care. the both of you were reaching your high, and all took was his next words and you came undone in a second, "gonna fill you right up doll"

you the line cut off and instead of being enraged, you were very much relieved. at least you didn't have to stand up to another guy or dump them due to dick being a "cocky asshole", those were tim's words really but to be fair they weren't exactly wrong. he attention averted back to you once he put your phone down whilst he was still cumming inside you, a mixture of both your fluids seeping down your thighs.

"still need to buy that leather skirt?" he asked with a sadistic smirk spread across his face, he still had you trapped between him and the mirror. "it's not like you're busy tonight, right?"

[societyfolklore]

Midsummer Cravings

Title: Midsummer Cravings Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary:  What was supposed to be a simple afternoon date—just coffee, something casual—A way to ease back in. Steve was meant to be a gentleman, meant to take his time. But the way you lick your ice cream, he never stood a chance.

Word Count:  3.9k

Warnings:  Warnings // Explicit Content //18+, Minors DNI, Kissing, Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected Sex (wrap it up!), Steve Being a Gentleman but…cracks.. Fluff & Smut Balance, (slight plot but mostly smut..) A/N: It's summer here and hot, so… plus decided to branch out and write for Steve! Hope you enjoy this sweaty, needy mess of a fic.

Natasha set him up.

"You busy next Saturday?"

Steve frowned, glancing up from the report he was reading. "No, why? You need something?"

Natasha smirked, arms crossed, the picture of smug amusement. "Well, you're not now."

His brow furrowed. "What do you mean?"

"You've got a date."

Steve blinked. "No, I-what did you do?"

She rolled her eyes, giving his shoulder a condescending pat. "Got you a date. You're welcome, by the way."

He ran a hand over his face. "Nat-"

"Oh, relax, Rogers. She's sweet. You’ll like her." Her smirk widened. "And she thinks you’re cute."

Steve sighed, already regretting whatever was about to happen. "This is a bad idea."

"No, what’s a bad idea is you spending another Saturday night in your apartment alone with your moral crisis and bad TV choices. This? This is a favour."

With that, she sauntered off, leaving Steve sitting there, rubbing his temples.

"It’s just coffee," he had told himself standing at your apartment door, running a hand over his blonde hair. He’d thought about flowers, but that felt like too much. Casual… that’s what everyone had told him. It was an afternoon date. Knocking you opened the door, the sundress you had one covered in little blue and white flowers. 

You smiled up at him, and he felt his stomach knot. The way the dress hugged in all the right places sent a flicker of heat through his chest.

"Hi." Your voice was almost breathless as you stepped out, and he hesitated. Was he supposed to hug you? Kiss you on the cheek? Shake your hand? He settled for an awkward nod instead.

"I know we said coffee, but I was thinking since it's so hot… there's this ice cream place a few blocks down. Did you want to?" You seemed a little shy, maybe just as awkward as he felt. Had Natasha been just as pushy with you?

"Sure, that sounds nice. Could use something cold."

And then you smiled.

The kind of smile that could have stopped traffic.

And just like that, his plan to keep things casual was already falling apart.

The two of you walked side by side, the warm summer breeze playing with the hem of your dress. Steve tried not to watch the way you moved, tried to focus on keeping the conversation going instead.

"So, what do you do at SHIELD?" he asked, hoping for something safe.

You glanced up at him with a light smile. "Records management. Down in the archives. I don’t get upstairs much."

Steve tilted his head, picturing you tucked away in the archives, surrounded by dusty files and glowing monitors. "Must be quiet down there. Doesn't it get lonely?"

You laughed softly. "Oh, I don’t mind it. I like being behind the scenes. It’s quiet."

Before he could respond, they reached the ice cream shop. He quickly stepped ahead, pulling open the door for you.

"Oh." You blinked up at him, a soft blush coloring your cheeks. "Thank you."

He cleared his throat, offering a small smile as he stepped aside. "Of course." He tried not to notice the way your hips swayed as you glided through the doorway, the breeze catching the hem of your dress just enough to make his pulse stutter.

Once inside you found a table by the window, where the golden sunlight made your skin glow. Steve returned with the ice creams, setting them down as he settled into his seat handing over your cone.

"So, do you like working for SHIELD?" he asked, stirring his butter pecan with his spoon.

You nodded. "I do. I mean, it's mostly records and data, but I like the quiet. I like knowing I’m preserving something important."

He hummed. "History’s important. Good to know someone’s keeping track of it."

You licked your ice cream absently, smiling. "For me, this job is kind of a happy medium between who I wanted to be and what was expected. I wanted to be a librarian growing up, but I come from a military family. This seemed like a nice mix that kept everyone happy."

Steve nodded, looking away for a moment. "That makes sense. Finding balance isn't always eas-"

He turned his head back just in time to watch your tongue flick out, swiping across the surface of your ice cream, slow and unhurried.

And suddenly, Steve-a super soldier who had fought literal wars-forgot how to breathe.

Christ.

“-y, easy.”

His grip on his own cup tightened, spoon clattering uselessly inside it as he stared at you.

You glanced up. "And what about you? I mean, I know everyone probably asks you about adjusting."

You licked another slow stripe over your ice cream, the movement unhurried, almost absentminded. Steve noticed the creamy texture melting over your lips, dripping slightly onto your fingers.

"Steve?" You raised a finger to your lips, checking for any stray ice cream.

Steve blinked, coughing as he looked down at his cup.

Focus.

"They do," he admitted, clearing his throat. "It's... a lot. Things move fast now. People, technology, expectations. But work keeps me busy."

You smiled. "Nat said you don’t get out much."

He scoffed. "She exaggerates."

"Does she?" You smirked, completely oblivious to what you were doing to him as you kept licking, your tongue curling around the cone, collecting the sticky sweetness.

"Yeah, she-"

You licked around the cone again, and he felt his cock twitch.

He shifted uncomfortably.

His palms felt sweaty.

His shirt felt too tight, so did his pants. 

And when you pulled back and swiped your thumb along the rim-your tongue darting out to collect the melting mess on your skin, ice cream dripping over your knuckles and fingers-he nearly fucking dropped his cup.

Because suddenly, he was thinking of something else.

Something just as warm, just as wet, just as milky-white dribbling down your fingers, over your tongue-

"-Nat's just trying to help me get back in the world."

And damn it

Steve shoved a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth, too fast, too much, the cold hitting his brain like a warning shot. He clenched his jaw, blinking hard, forcing himself to look away before he did something fucking stupid.

The walk back to yours was painful.

Steve barely spoke, barely breathing, his whole body tense. His dick almost chaffing,  straining itself in his underwear. He was thankful he'd worn loose pants for the heat. 

He couldn't quiet relax because every time you glance up at him, every time you giggle softly at something he didn't quite register, every time you adjusted the thin straps of your sundress, baring another inch of your golden, sun-warmed skin, his mind went right back to that ice cream shop.

To that tongue.

The way your tongue had run up across your own skin.

By the time you reached your apartment door, Steve felt wrecked. He just needed to get through a simple goodbye without embarrassing himself. Without-

“I had a good time,” you said softly, tilting your head up at him, your smile warm and sincere as you unlocked your door but didn’t step inside.

Steve opened his mouth, scrambling to pull himself together. “Yeah, I-me too. It was nice. I mean-uh-ice cream was a good idea. I, uh-”

You laughed gently, watching him fumble through his words, and something about the sound made his stomach twist. The moment stretched, his pulse hammering as he tried to find something, anything to say to end the night gracefully.

“Well, I-”

But then you kissed him.

It was sudden, soft, your hands resting lightly against his chest as you had to lift onto your toes to reach him. Your lips were warm, sweet, just the faintest hint of the ice-cream lingering there-

He exhaled sharply, hands finding your waist before he could even think, pulling you closer. His lips parted, tongue swiping over yours, and fuck-

You tasted perfect. Like vanilla and chocolate, like something sinfully warm melting on his tongue, and his mind snapped like a rubber band.

"I-sweetheart, I-fuck, I can’t-"

His voice was wrecked, breath heavy as his fingers dug into the soft curve of your hips. He should stop. He should pull away.

But he didn’t.

Instead, his hands slipped lower, gripping, lifting, as he pushed your door open without breaking the kiss. The moment it clicked shut behind you, he pressed you up against the wall, his mouth devouring yours, lips sliding hot and desperate against your own. His fingers dug into your hips, pinning you there as he deepened the kiss, every ounce of restraint he had left slipping through his fingers.

"Need you. Need you now."

His brain wasn’t functioning anymore. His body took over, instincts roaring to life as he carried you inside, his lips never left yours. It had been too long, it was like his body knew it. 

Your sundress barely made it to the bedroom. Steve pulled it up over your head with shaky hands, his breath coming fast as he tried to keep it together. He wasn’t thinking-couldn’t think-his body moved on instinct, pushing, pulling, needing. You fumbled with the buttons of his shirt, fingers clumsy in your rush to feel him, to get to the warm, solid muscle beneath. The fabric parted under your touch, and you shoved it down his arms. He groaned softly at the contact, at you, at the way your hands skimmed over his skin like you had every right to be touching him like this.

Too long. It had been too damn long.

His fingers dug into your thighs, gripping hard as he kissed you again, deeper this time, backing you toward the bed. You barely had time to gasp before he was on top of you, his body covering yours in a mess of limbs, heat, and frenzied kisses. His pulse pounded in his ears, his control fraying with every second that passed. You felt too good. Too soft beneath him. The weight of your hands, the way you pulled him closer, like you wanted this just as badly as he did-he was drowning in it.

Your hands slid down his chest, tracing every dip, every ridge, and Jesus Christ. Steve shook with restraint, barely holding himself together as your fingers teased lower. He was supposed to be in control. But under your hands, under the way you looked at him-flushed, waiting, lips swollen from his kisses-he felt wrecked.

Your fingers slipped around the clasp of your bra, and before you could undo it, his hands covered yours, stilling you. His forehead rested against yours, his breath ragged, chest heaving.

"I-" He exhaled, voice wrecked. "I wish I had time to appreciate this."

A shudder ran through you at his words, and that nearly undid him. His control was thin, fraying, barely there-but when the straps of your bra slid from your shoulders, he broke.

The bra barely hit the floor before his mouth was on you, everywhere. His lips dragged lower, worshipping with each kiss-tongue flicking over the delicate skin of your breast before he sucked, firm but slow, his breath hot and uneven against your skin. He groaned as your nipple hardened under his tongue, circling it before pulling it into his mouth, sucking in slow, deep pulls that sent heat racing down your spine.

The noise you made-soft, breathy, high- You sounded like some sinful fallen angel, completely wrecked, and Steve wanted to hear more. His grip tightened on your waist, kneading into your hips as he lavished attention on the sensitive bud, rolling his tongue over it before switching to the other, drinking in every sound you gave him.

His hands followed, gripping, kneading, pressing into every soft curve like he needed to commit you to memory. You were warm, pliant beneath him, and his self-control was slipping fast. He needed to keep moving, needed to have all of you-but fuck, he could stay here forever, lips latched to your perfect, sensitive skin, revelling in the way you melted for him.

His lips travelled lower, down your stomach, teeth scraping gently against your navel as his fingers curled tight around your hips, holding you still. Then, slowly, deliberately, his hands slid downward, fingertips grazing the delicate curve of your hips before slipping beneath the waistband of your underwear. He peeled the soft cotton down, his knuckles dragging against your skin as he worked them over your legs. His tongue tracing outlines of your bellybutton. 

His hands found their way back up, gripping your bare thighs, spreading you wider beneath him. He groaned softly, his lips pressing into the sensitive skin there, trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses as he moved higher, higher-

His breath fanned over your skin, hot and teasing as he kissed your bare stomach, lips pressing into the softness there, dragging lower with each exhale. His mind was hazy, dazed, drunk on you. He could feel how much you wanted this, hell, he could smell it-your arousal thick in the air, mixing with the faint traces of vanilla and summer heat that had clung to you all evening. It made his mouth water.

And fuck-he wasn't waiting anymore.

A groan tore from his throat as he grabbed at your hips, pressing a kiss just above where you needed him most, the small amount of fluff between your legs tickled his cheeks, his fingers digging into your skin to keep you still.

"Steve-" His name slipped from your lips, breathy and desperate, and he had never wanted to ruin someone so badly in his life.

And just like you had done with the ice cream, Steve's tongue ran up along your perfect, wet pussy, slow and deliberate, savoring every drop of your arousal like you were the most decadent thing he'd ever tasted. His groan vibrated against your core as he flattened his tongue, dragging it through your slick folds before swirling around your clit, teasing, tormenting.

You whimpered, hips twitching beneath his firm grip, and he tightened his hold, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. He was drowning in your taste, his tongue lapping at you with slow, measured strokes, each one designed to unravel you completely. The way you gasped, the way your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, had something primal snapping inside him.

"Forgot how good you girls taste," he murmured against your skin, his voice thick with hunger before diving back in, his tongue flicking, pressing, fucking into you with a need that bordered on desperation. The way you gasped, your thighs trembling against his grip, sent a bolt of arousal through him so sharp it nearly made him dizzy. He wanted to wreck you, wanted to make you come apart on his tongue before he even thought about taking you any other way.

His cock throbbed painfully against his zipper, straining against the fabric, and he couldn't take it anymore. As he licked into you, his tongue curling and pressing deep, one arm braced against the bed to hold himself up while the other fumbled at his belt. The metal clinked softly, fingers working hastily to undo the button, dragging the zipper down with a rough pull, sighing in relief as the pressure eased.

He groaned against you, the vibration shooting through your core as he slipped a hand beneath the waistband of his briefs, palming himself with a frustrated grunt. He was so fucking hard, aching, leaking for you, and the thought of finally being inside you-of making you feel as good as you sounded-had his hips jerking involuntarily.

But first, he needed to finish what he started. Needed to feel you shatter beneath him, needed to hear you call his name before he even thought about pushing inside you.

One hand slid from your thigh, fingers gliding through your slick heat before pressing against your entrance. His mouth stayed on you, tongue circling your clit in slow, torturous motions as he pushed a finger inside, groaning at how tight and hot you felt around him.

"So damn perfect," he muttered against you, his breath hot as he curled his finger, stroking along that spot inside you that had your thighs trembling against his shoulders. The noises you made-high, breathy, desperate-made his cock ache even more, leaking against his stomach as he added another finger, working you open, stretching you.

"Ah-oh God, Steve-" you gasped, your voice breaking into a whimper as his fingers thrust deeper, his tongue flicking in perfect rhythm. Your hands clawed at the sheets, at his hair, at anything to anchor yourself against the overwhelming pleasure he was pulling from you. The way you moaned, breathless and needy, sent a sharp wave of arousal through him, his cock twitching, his self-control fraying with every sweet sound you gave him.

You gasped, your back arching, hands gripping at the sheets, at his hair, anything to keep yourself grounded as pleasure surged through you. He was relentless, thrusting his fingers deeper, his tongue flicking and pressing in time with each motion. He could feel you tightening around him, your body tensing, trembling-

When you came Steve moaned at the sound, the taste that came as you called out his name, a wrecked, needy plea. He didn't let up, coaxing you through it, swallowing every sound, ever drop of your climax, until you were left gasping beneath him, dazed and ruined.

Steve wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes dark as he took you in-blissed out, flushed, glowing in the afternoon light pouring in. 

He couldn't wait another second.

His hands were on you again, gripping your thighs, spreading you wider as he moved over you, his mouth crashing against yours. Your nails digging into his bare shoulders.

His cock, heavy and throbbing, pressed against your wet heat, and he groaned, rolling his hips just enough to feel the slide of you against him.

"Tell me if it's too much," he rasped, voice wrecked. Steve was aware he was big now, aware he was enhanced and could hurt you if he wasn't careful. But he was needy, desperate, his hands gripping your thighs, his cock heavy and throbbing against you. "Tell me-"

You reached between you, wrapping your fingers around him, guiding him to your entrance.

"I want you, Steve. Now."

And that was all he needed.

With one slow, deliberate thrust, he pushed inside, stretching you around him, filling you completely. His breath stuttered, forehead pressing against yours as he finally, finally had you.

And it was heaven.

"Fuck-" Steve groaned, voice tight with restraint. You were so hot, so tight around him, gripping him like you were made for him. He could feel every inch of you, the way your walls fluttered around his cock, adjusting, squeezing, pulling him in deeper. His forehead pressed against yours, jaw clenched as he forced himself to stay still, to give you a moment, to let you take him fully.

But God, it was killing him. You felt too good, too warm, too perfect.

"Jesus, sweetheart," he exhaled shakily, his hands gripping your thighs like a lifeline. "You feel-fuck, you're squeezing me so tight. So damn perfect."

Your breath came in short, gasping moans beneath him, nails digging into his back as your legs wrapped around his waist.

"Steve-"

His head dropped to your shoulder, chest heaving, fighting the overwhelming urge to move, to fuck you deep and slow until you were a trembling, incoherent mess beneath him. His fingers flexed against your skin, control slipping by the second.

"Tell me I can move," he rasped, voice wrecked, pleading.

You whimpered, your hips shifting just enough to send a jolt of pleasure up his spine.

"Please-move-"

Steve let out a shaky breath, his forehead pressing harder against yours as he finally gave in, rolling his hips in a slow, deep thrust. The drag of him inside you was almost unbearable, the way your walls clung to him, hot and tight-

"Fuck," he groaned, his voice breaking as he pulled back and pushed in again, sinking to the hilt, stretching you around every last inch of him. "So good-so damn good, sweetheart-Jesus."

He took his time, gentle but deep, setting a slow, deliberate pace, savoring every slick glide of your body around his. His fingers dug into your hips, his control balancing on a razor’s edge. Every time he pulled out, he dragged against your walls, only to snap his hips forward at the last second, burying himself deeper, making you gasp, making you shudder beneath him.

The way you clenched around him, your nails digging into his shoulders, your breath hitching every time he bottomed out-it was driving him insane.

"You’re-fuck, you’re perfect," he muttered against your neck, his lips brushing against your skin. "Taking me so well-so damn tight, sweetheart-"

Your moans broke against his ear, breathy and desperate, sending another pulse of heat straight to his cock. He could feel himself everywhere, sensitive in ways he hadn’t been before the serum, his body attuned to every reaction you gave him. "AH Steve fuck." 

He wasn’t going to last long-not when you kept gasping his name like that, not when you squeezed him like your cunt never wanted to let him go.  jsut when Steve thought he couldn't take it anymore, you shattered again for him. The tight, rhythmic pulses of your walls locked down around him, spasming, milking him with each desperate whimper that spilled from your lips.

"Fuck-oh, sweetheart-" Steve groaned, forehead dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips, holding you tight as your body clenched around him, dragging him deeper into your pleasure. He could feel you coming, feel the way your entire body trembled beneath him, your legs tightening around his waist as you cried out, wrecked and shaking.

The sensation sent white-hot pleasure shooting up his spine, his own release slamming into him with dizzying force. His thrusts grew erratic, sharper, a few final deep strokes as he buried himself to the hilt, spilling inside you with a guttural moan. His body shuddered, hips pressing flush against yours as he emptied himself, his breath ragged against your skin.

He held you there, still connected, still feeling every aftershock ripple through both of you. His lips brushed against your temple, a shaky exhale leaving him as he whispered, "You’re incredible. Fuck, sweetheart-"

You let out a breathy, dazed laugh, blinking up at him with heavy-lidded eyes.

 "I-God, I didn't think-" You swallowed hard, your brain still fogged with pleasure. "I didn't think the date was gonna end like this."

Steve let out a low chuckle, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, his fingers lazily tracing over your waist. "

Yeah?"

You bit your lip, still catching your breath.

"I'm not... usually that girl."

His brows furrowed slightly, and he lifted his head to look at you, his expression soft, reassuring. "Hey," he murmured, brushing his knuckles gently along your jaw.

"You don’t have to explain anything to me. You’re not ‘that girl.’ You’re you. And this-now was just..."

He shook his head, unable to find the right words. It had been everything.

A warmth bloomed in your chest at his sincerity, the way he looked at you like this hadn’t just been sex, like it had meant something more. You exhaled softly, your fingers grazing along his cheek. "You're not just saying that?"

His lips quirked into a small smile.

"No, sweetheart. And you better believe this means you're getting a second date."

You laughed, a little more sure of yourself now.

"Oh yeah?"

Steve smirked, shifting just enough to press another lingering kiss to your lips.

"Yeah. But next time? I’m definitely buying you dinner first."

[f1cflcfic]

Won't Say I'm in Love (SMAU ft Lando Norris) part i

pairing: lando norris x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n); past carlos alcaraz x tennis player!reader (fem!y/n)

summary: As a general rule, y/n does not date athletes. You've been there, done that - would not recommend. Besides, you definitely don't do love. There's no time in the world for complicated feelings when there's a career Grand Slam to be won. But what if your heart just refuses to listen?

genre: social meda/mixed au, friends to lovers

note: this is RPF and is obviously in no way, shape, or form reflective of real persons

January 2025

[Excerpt post-match interview]

“I’m with Channel 9, Y/N – do you think that it’s fair to say that you were struggling a little bit this match, making more unforced errors than strictly needed?”

“Well, I won in the end, didn’t I?” Y/N answers, not unkindly. “I think that she’s a very strong opponent, so I had to take some more risks, which might result in some mistakes, but it also gave me the points I needed to take two consecutive sets. So no, I wouldn’t say I was struggling.”

“How did you feel going into the tournament here, knowing that there’s also increased rivalry amongst fans of Carlos Alcaraz and yourself? Does that reach you on the court?”

“I think there’s always fan rivalries, and it’s very normal to play some matches where you know you’ve got the public support, and sometimes you won’t. One of the things I like about the Australian Open is that there’s usually a really positive atmosphere in the crowds though.”

“But there’s obviously more eyes on you than on your opponent, doesn’t that have consequences for how you mentally prepare yourself?”

Y/N sighs. “I really thought we’d exhausted these type of questions already. There’s a long season ahead of us, and I’d really like to move on.”

“Hi, I’m here with ESPN. Congrats on the win today, and for getting into the semis. Last year didn’t end on the best note, and your early exit at the US Open cost you a lot of points on the WTA rankings. But you’ve certainly shown here so far that you’re ready to get back to that #1 position. What do you think has changed?”

“I really feel like I’m in a great place, I’m physically and mentally fit and just super focused. Of course I’d like to gain back the #1 position, but it’s honestly not really my main goal. My mentality is that each of these matches is just another regular match, until I’m holding a trophy in my hands.”

"Would you also say it's easier to excel when you're not constantly having to balance a relationship on top of everything else?"

"I think that greatly depends on the other person. But I'd say that the most important relationship for me as a player is with my coach, and I'm really grateful to have had Kim's support over the past year."

"Hi, I'm with Sports Inc., congratulations on your win. We saw you hit the fastest forehand of the tournament so far. Do you ever watch back your own matches to see where you can improve?"

"Thanks so much for the nice question. I don't watch things back, but usually if I or my team feel like there's bits and pieces we want to analyse, we might look for specific footage or film during practice. And what a nice stat, I didn't know, is that across the entire tournament?"

"Fastest average speed amongst all players, fastest forehand amongst WTA players. As you probably well know, Carlos leads the ATP players. Are there other players that you look up to or get inspired by?"

There's a tick in Y/N's jaw, and she whispers something to her publicist before answering the question. "I'm really excited to potentially play Coco if I get through the next match, because we train together quite often and can really push ourselves to play our best, most fun tennis. That'd also be great for the crowd, I hope. Thanks for everyone's time today."

Semi Final Australian Open, 2025

[Excerpt interview with Oscar Piastri]

"What a joy to have another Aussie athlete here in the Rod Laver Arena, enjoying some beautiful tennis today! Is this your first time visiting the Australian Open?"

"It is, actually. Which is funny, because I grew up around here. But it's definitely been amazing to come here and soak up the atmosphere, especially so close to home. So I'm super grateful to Mastercard for the invitation."

"Are there any players in particular that you're rooting for, or hope to see advance into the final?"

"Well, I'm of course rooting for our own, but I have to say that I'm also quite excited to see Y/N L/N take the win."

"She's also good friends with your teammate Lando Norris, isn't she? Had you two met before?"

"Yeah, she's also been to a few of our races. I'm honestly surprised that I got to see her here before Lando did - they're proper mates. And Carlos, too."

"Carlos?"

"Carlos Sainz. Yeah."

"So can fans of Y/N expect to see her at one of your races this year, too? Will she be in Williams or McLaren getup?"

"Gotta be papaya, of course."

Final Australian Open, 2025

Men's Final Australian Open, 2025

A/N: welcome officially to this new universe! I'm hoping to have part ii up next week and keep to a semi-regular weekly schedule.

part ii available now here

taglist (open): @linnygirl09

♥ likes, comments, reblogs are always very much appreciated ♥

[vervepain]

Supercorp head canon: Lena Luthor hates kale. It’s the literal worst. She just…hates heart disease and high cholesterol more. Which run in her family on both sides. And Lionel was diabetic. Lex was pre-diabetic but wouldn’t do anything about it. So Lena just eats super clean, gets her steps in, does three sessions of zone three cardio a week, and resistance trains.

Initially, Kara thinks these are all attributes of her CEO type-A lovable neuroses. Until Lena is waiting for her annual bloodwork…and has a panic attack. And makes a kale smoothie.

And that night Lena explains that Kara is actually correct, kale is vile but it’s a good source of fiber. And she went through a phase where she ate an unhealthy amount of raw spinach. Lena explains that her family has bad metabolic genetics. And Kara is just like:

So the kale will help you live longer?

And Lena half shrugs, nods, hopefully?

Suddenly, a change occurs. Kara Danvers cannot get enough kale. Have you ever had an air fried pot sticker? Kara just ate fifteen. And she had a side of bok choy.

Lena kind of can’t belive it. Because sure eating super healthy is something she prioritizes, but it’s a downer when no one else around her is doing it? Like Alex and Kelly eat healthy…but it’s not extreme. Nia sometimes makes questionable choices in energy drinks but generally Lena thinks she has a balanced diet. Kara eats as though she auditioning for the role of human dumpster in Dumpster Fire the Musical.

Until suddenly, Kara doesn’t. Suddenly when the super friends go out to eat and Lena gets a goat cheese salad, Kara gets one too. Kara always sees if they can add chicken though. Kara likes to make soups and that winter they eat hearty stews and delicious curries. And one day it just—Lena has to ask.

“Kara why are you eating like—?”

“Like you?” Kara says setting down the last plate she was drying. She walks over and lifts Lena onto the counter. So she can stand between her legs. “Because I like you?” She pecks Lena’s cheek. “I want you around forever. And if eating this way is going to help, you bet your bucket, I’m eating kale with every meal.”

Lena blushes.

“Not every meal.”

“No.” Kara says crinkling up her nose. “I also read in one of those books? About like marriage and family life.” Lena’s eyebrows go up. “You know books about how to be married and like raise kids?” Lena did know..:but not that Kara was reading that. “I just figure it will be easier to teach good nutrition habits to our children if you and I are on the same page about nutrition values now.”

Which is , great, but Lena is surprised to know Kara Danvers is planning to raise apparently multiple children with her, when last time she checked they were still platonic best friends.

“Kara, are we dating?” Lena asks.

“No, I don’t think so. Not yet. Soon though,” and then the Kryptonian turns around to finish putting away silverware.

“Would you want to go out on a date?”

“Yeah. I’m not picky. I mean,” here Kara gestures to Lena’s penthouse where Kara does basically live. “On Krypton…like we’d be considered married already. So um, I’m good with whatever. Dating first? Just straight to a wedding. Or even just filing a marriage certificate.” Lena is still on the counter, and it feels like the whole world has vanished from under her perch.

“You would marry me tomorrow?”

“Culturally, Lena, I married you ages ago. And I should have said something. It’s okay if you don’t want this. I will get my stuff out of here tonight, but—“ Lena leapt into Kara’s surprised arms. They kissed, twirling in the kitchen.

[loverindeepspace]

You have me // Xavier x Reader

I'm back! Xavier doesn't have enough fluffy fics so I'm here to serve you some fluff. Concept: (Pre-relationship) Tara sets you up on a blind date, Xavier gives you a reason not to go. Tags: Fluff, Sprinkle of angst, getting together, first kiss, possibly slight OOC Word Count: 1985 Masterlist

“You have to get out there! All I see you do lately is work, work and work!” Tara’s voice was on the verge of exasperation as she nagged on, “Ever heard of the work-life balance?”

“I do other things besides work! I do plenty!” You argue back halfheartedly, knowing full well that it wasn’t true. You’ve been swamped at work, wanderers seemingly more active than ever and the reports won’t finish themselves, missions after missions seem to come your way every day.

“Oh yeah? Like what? When was the last time you went out? Last time you went and did something fun? Met new people?” She may be right but you weren’t about to back down so easily.

“I hang out with you and Xavier all the time.” 

“We’re your colleagues, we don’t count… Well actually, on that note… How is it going with lover boy?” 

“Taraaaaa, please stop. Nothing is going on between us okay? We are simply mission partners and neighbours.” The grin on Tara’s face makes you want to shove her away, heat rising up your neck and flooding your cheeks. 

“Sureee sure, and you totally don’t make heart eyes at him every time he walks into the room?” And so you do shove her slightly, turning to walk away before more teasing comes your way, but she catches up to you quickly.

“Welllll, since you insist that you two totally don’t have feelings for each other, and you need a break from work… How would you feel about going on a sort-of blind date with a friend of mine? It’s Andy, if you remember him from the last group game night?” She trails off slightly, a mischievous glint still in her eyes. 

“A date? Tara, sorry but no. I don’t have time for dating, between missions and the reports I have to write, I barely have time to eat.”

“You say that, but you still make an effort to hang out with Xavier after work…” 

“That’s different, we live in the same building, it’s not like it’s out of the way…Besides, I haven’t even hung out with him in ages…”

“Come onnnn, it’s just one date, and it’s not like you have to get into a relationship with him if it doesn’t go well. Andy is a great guy, trust me! And god forbid, you might make another friend.”

She gives you her best puppy dog eyes.

Goddammit. 

A sigh leaves your lips as you smile at her in defeat, “Fine. Fineeee. One date. No harm in that right?”

With your words, Tara squeals in excitement, “Yes!! I’ll set you two up, don’t worry about a thing! I’ll send you the details later!!” 

You quickly say your goodbyes to Tara and start walking out of the building, ready to head home and get some sleep. It has been a long few weeks and your lack of rest has started to catch up to you. It was already dark outside as you left, your mind drifting off deep into your thoughts. You did feel slightly guilty about the date, your heart already belonged to another after all. 

Your relationship with Xavier was an odd one… You were neighbours, mission partners and close friends. You spent most of your time together, if not at your apartment, then at his. Movie nights, star gazing, take outs. And somewhere along the line, your feelings started to change, butterflies erupting in your stomach every time his hand grazed yours, heart fluttering when he got a bit too close, his deep blue eyes drawing you into a trance. 

For some time, you thought it might’ve been mutual. His teasing, his slight blush, the way he seemed so at ease with you. But you must’ve been wrong. He pulled away from you much more as of late, going on missions alone, your hang outs become few and far between, he seemed more distant by the day. You missed him honestly, even if he didn’t reciprocate your feelings, you wanted to still be his friend, hang out like you used to. The apartment always felt empty without his soothing presence and soft voice.

Maybe he caught on to you and your feelings and decided to let you down easy by distancing himself?

Maybe this date isn’t such a bad idea, maybe it’s time to move forward and not dwell on these feelings…

“You shouldn’t zone out so deeply when walking home.” A voice snaps you out of your thoughts, your arm swinging out in alarm ready to jab whoever snuck up on you, but was stopped in its tracks with a soft grip. You turn quickly to have a look at the person behind you.

“Xavier! Don’t sneak up on me like that!” He has the audacity to look amused as he lets go of your arm.

“I tried calling out your name but it seems you were so deep in thought you didn’t hear me,” raising his hands in surrender, he gives you an innocent look, a playful glint still shining in his eyes. A plastic bag hangs from one arm, filled with what looked like snacks.

You let out a long breath, adrenaline leaving you as you give him a joking glare, “You out for a snack run?” 

You walked side by side back to the apartment building, conversation flowing naturally, almost like he had never distanced himself at all. It was nice, cozy even, in the familiarity and ease it brings you. 

“Want to come up for a movie night? It’s… been a while since we hung out...” His voice trails off at the end, looking away almost… sheepishly? So he did notice. The avoidance was on purpose then.

But you didn’t let those thoughts take over, you meant it when you said you still wanted to be his friend, no matter how much it hurt. You smile quickly and agree.There was almost an awkwardness that sprouted in the air between the two of you as you stepped into his apartment. It was the same as the last time you were there a few weeks ago, if not slightly messier than usual.

“You set up some movies, I’ll order us some food… same as usual?” You say trying to lighten the atmosphere, as you sit on the couch, phone at the ready.

“Yeah… Sounds good.” He sits next to you, closer than he’d usually would, an observation that doesn’t go unnoticed by you, your heart skipping a beat. Fumbling with your phone, you order quickly and put it down on the coffee table in front of you as Xavier scrolls through the movies available, eventually settling on one. 

A… rom-com? 

You glance at him, confusion written on your face. That is definitely not something Xavier would usually watch, it’d normally be a sci-fi movie or the odd thriller, but a rom-com? That’s new.

Noticing your questioning gaze, he cleared his throat, “I’ve heard some great reviews about this one. Thought… I’d see what the fuss was about.” 

His eyes were fixed to the screen moments later.

His ears were red.

What’s happening?

Is- Is this-?

No. It can’t be. What did we say about giving yourself false hope?

But he’s sitting so close! And a romance movie? He’s blushing!

Stop. It’s nothing. This doesn’t mean anything.

 A chime of your phone broke the silence, the slight tension dissipating. 

Tara: All set up!! You good with tomorrow at 7pm? Andy will meet you at the Thai restaurant by work! :D 

Shit. You had forgotten about the date. You snatch your phone from the coffee table, hesitating in your reply, cheeks burning, Xavier’s laser focused gaze drifting between your phone and your face. 

“You okay? Was that Tara?” So he had seen the screen. 

“Yeah… funny story actually…” your voice is weak, “ she’s trying to set me up with her friend Andy. She… is organising a date for us…” You aren’t sure why you feel so embarrassed, it’s not like you are doing anything wrong, you and Xavier aren’t together in that way, so why do you feel like digging a hole and burying yourself in it? The redness in your cheeks deepens under the intense stare pointed your way.

“A… date?” He asks slowly, as if he’s processing the information, his face a blank canvas. You nod meekly, trying to gauge his reaction, but he gives nothing away. 

“With Tara’s friend? Someone you know?”

“Well, we haven’t really spoken properly, but he was there last time the group went out for drinks…” 

“So you’re going on a date with someone you don’t even know?” There was an edge to his voice now, his brow furrowed as stared at you. 

“Tara said he’s a great guy, and that I needed to get out there… So what’s the harm, right?” You don’t know if you’re trying to reassure yourself or him at this point. 

“If he’s so great, why didn’t he ask you out himself?”

“He doesn’t have my number?”

“Exactly. You don’t know him. You can’t know what his intentions are. This doesn’t sound safe.” He glances away, but still seems tense, jaw clenching slightly, the makings of a pout forming on his lips. You sigh slightly in response, the redness in your face starting to settle down.

“Tara’s right though, I need to get out there. All I do lately is work, missions and reports are taking over my life. I haven’t even seen you in weeks, so I gotta start somewhere right? Why not start there?” He stays silent for what seemed like hours, the movie still playing in the background but forgotten entirely. His brows remained furrowed, eyes unfocused, still turned away from you. The night crept on, tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. You kept glancing at him but not once did he look at you. 

“But why start with a date with someone you don’t even know?” Finally, he turned to you, his eyes observing you, searching for something.

“It’s not like I’ve got a line of suitors, might as well try to meet someone new right?” 

He pursed his lips in thought. 

“You have me.” 

He said it so softly, you barely caught it. 

What?

“...What?” You breathe out, eyes widening. Is he saying what I think he’s saying?

“You have me. I…” He takes a deep breath, reaching out for your hand that sits on your leg, “Don’t go on this date. I’ll take you out, if you give me this chance?” His eyes are searching your face, showing the nerves he’s working hard to hide. 

Your breath catches in your throat, “Xavier… What exactly do you mean?” Your voice is soft with disbelief, wary to let yourself hope just yet. He gives you a small smile, lifting his hand to tuck some stray hair behind your ear, keeping it there.

“I mean, I want to take you out on a date. I mean that I like you, I have feelings for you. I know I’ve been distant, I’m really sorry, I just couldn’t afford to lose you. You… You are my everything.” He is all you see, his face, his blue eyes, the light dusting of freckles, a light blush creeping onto his cheeks. This is happening right? He feels the same? 

You take that chance, the chance that these feelings are reciprocated, and you lean in. You lean in, until your lips meet his. It’s a gentle touch at first. And then he starts kissing you back, leaning in further and deepening the kiss. You feel his breath leave him as he sighs into the kiss, his hand travelling to your cheek, cradling you carefully. 

Eventually you pull away, air rushing back into your lungs.

“So, you’re not going on that date right?” He breathes out, a playful smirk playing on his lips. A laugh leaves you, as you pull him towards you again.