#situations where i can express feelings so i just bottle it all up and try to deal with it on my own because people before have used me

[lymtw]

Toji invites you over with a simple text of:

You busy tonight, doll?

To which you respond with:

I don't think so... Not that I know of. Why?

He laughs through his nose when he reads your message. Even the way you text him has your timidness imbued into it. It's precious.

Come spend the night at my place. You told me you're off tomorrow, right?

I am, but are you sure? Driving home is not a problem for me. I can hang out and go home after.

You're staying. I wanna try something with you and it requires you to stay the night. You can't go home.

Oh okay! I'll be there in 10.

Drive safe.

Toji likes that you're very precise about the time you'll be arriving somewhere, and if you're ever late when it comes to spending time with him, you apologize profusely, nonstop. You won't stop blubbering about why you're late and how sorry you are for making him wait, even after Toji's expressed that he's more than understanding. He's the king of showing up late to plans, so he can't be a hypocrite and scold you when you don't do it often at all.

You're so sorry, though, and you don't shut up about it until he makes you shut up with a kiss. You're helpless, and you can't for the life of you figure out where to put your hands when you're so focused on the grip he had on your waist to pull you up against him.

He releases your lips, cracking a grin at the look of wonder on your face. He can't deny the pride that swells in his chest at his ability to disarm you and prevent you from having a total meltdown over a three minute delay.

Toji has gotten so much better at handling situations like these with you. It's only fair for him to gain satisfaction out of making you feel better. After all, you are a first for him. You're emotionally fragile, you're a nervous wreck, and your voice competes with the wind just to be heard. Toji doesn't set aside the fact that you're also beautiful, warmhearted, and you try for him. He sees your attempts to be affectionate. You'll slowly reach your hand out to hold his and then bail the second he catches you. He ends up having to interlock his fingers with yours because your embarrassment doesn't allow you to try again. He still appreciates that you leave your comfort zone for him and allow him to guide you towards new experiences.

"Stop with the guilty feelings, ma. We have all night and all day tomorrow. What's a couple minutes to ensure you get to me in one piece?" He says, comforting your droopy self. You look like a sad, abandoned puppy, now sporting rosy cheeks from his surprising gesture.

"Okay," you say, feeling a little more at ease. "What did you have in mind for tonight?"

"Follow me," he says, leading you through his living room to his kitchen. He pulls out a stool for you and points at it. "Sit." You want to laugh at the way he says it like he's teaching commands to a dog, but you know he doesn't mean it that way, so you obediently sit down like one anyway.

"Have you eaten anything?" He asks, silently hoping you have because he doesn't have anything to make you dinner. He would have to order in or pick something up.

"I ate a couple hours ago. Still pretty full," you respond, watching him reach up for something in his cabinets. There's now a tall glass bottle with a red label and matching cap sitting on the counter.

"How 'bout it?" He says, a large hand wrapped around the neck of the bottle. "We could go to the couch and watch a movie or something."

He's never seen you under the influence of anything, but based on your reaction, maybe he'll get a show tonight. He's always wanted to know what you would be like if you were more extroverted and outspoken. There's nothing wrong with the way you are, but if things keep going the way they're going between you and Toji, he's bound to meet your chatty alter ego at some point in the future. What better way to have this experience than in a secure place with someone who can handle their alcohol and take care of you if it turns out that you can't.

"Okay, sure." You giggle, excitedly.

You're a lightweight. Even the fruitiest, sweetest alcoholic beverage will quickly take a toll on you while you're sipping on it. Wine is a step up, so you'll have to try your best to keep it together for the sake of not looking sloppy in front of Toji.

Toji brings down two glasses, and pours out the deep red liquid into them. One for you, one for him. He hands the glass to you, and nods at your quiet "thank you".

Toji watches as you immediately take a sip. He sees the way your nose scrunches at what you consider to be a funny taste, but the second you put the glass down, you smile like nothing. You don't like it at all. You hate the bitterness, and the fact that it's made with fermented grapes lives in the back of your head.

"How is it?" He asks, holding back a chuckle. You're too sweet for your own good, pretending to enjoy this for him.

"I like it," you say, pressing your lips together.

"Yeah? I think it's kinda gross. Guess I was expecting more from a fancy ass bottle, but brands are gonna brand, huh?"

You giggle, almost involuntarily. You're one gulp in, and already you're starting to feel the effects.

One of your worst habits includes chugging drinks that don't taste good, just so you can get them over with. You even do this when your drink is messed up at coffee shop. You're too nice to ask the barista to remake it, so you suck it up and drink the incorrect beverage solely for the caffeine you hope it has in it. This time is no different. You hate the taste of alcohol. You don't do plain shots, you can't stand hard ciders, and wine is no exception, but you're doing this for Toji. He cracked open the bottle to share with you, so you're going to drink every ounce of the liquid in the glass, whether you like the taste or not.

You bring the glass to your lips again, taking a much larger sip. The glass is a little less than halfway now, and your eyelids are starting to feel a little heavy. Not in a sleepy manner, but you can't seem to hold your eyes open as wide anymore.

You exhale through your nose, shut your eyes, and then blink them back open to take note of your altered state.

"That was a lot. How are you feeling?" Toji asks, noticing a shift in your demeanor. You seem a little more sluggish now. You turn your attention to him, your eyes rolling when they turn to meet his.

"I'm good, how are you?" You ask, like it was the start of a conversation rather than an ongoing one. Your eyes almost shut completely when you smile at him.

"You're tipsy already, aren't you?" He asks, with a grin on his face.

"Pshh, what? No, i'm not," you say, contradicting yourself with a giggle. "Answer the question, baby. How are you?"

"Fine," he responds, lingering on the pet name. You've got loose lips, now. In any other circumstance, you would address him by his name. Most of the time Toji is the one giving you pet names, for the sake of flustering you. He loves the way you look at him when he calls you doll or sweetheart, somewhat shocked every time the words leave his mouth.

"Yeah? That's good." You pick up the glass one more time, sighing before you mutter, "'scuse me. Gotta finish this."

With that last sip, the glass was now empty. Even Toji thinks you drank that too fast, but he still has the courtesy to ask you if you want more.

"Mhm, I'll have a little bit more. Just a tiny bit." Toji pours as much as he did the first time, chuckling when you nod in approval of the quantity. "That's perfect. Absolutely, perfect. You're a genius, my love." You flash him a smile before starting on the next glass.

Toji was considering having another glass, but that was before you called him "my love" in a tone so warm that he felt like he just had a bowl of hot soup that was now settling in his stomach. That was before you smiled at him in such a free spirited manner. It was too late for him to see you in this state while completely sober, but he sure as hell wouldn't be adding anymore alcohol to his system. He can't miss something like this, so instead he leans forward on the counter, and intently watches your every move.

"I got something on my face?" You ask, dragging your sleeves all over your face. You examine your sleeves and they're clean. "You liar. You're looking at me like that for nothing." You squint at him, a slight scrunch in your nose to define your defensiveness.

Toji laughs, his focus now on the small pinch in your brows. "Don't go picking fights over nothing. It's not a crime to look at my pretty baby."

Your faux tough exterior immediately crumbles, the irked expression on your face dropping to the ground, at the sugary words he uses on you. Your face feels very warm, and now there's an indefinite blush on it. You can't stop smiling at the look on Toji's face. He's so focused that he's gone speechless, and you eventually break into a laughing fit because of it.

"Hey... i'm usually the quiet one. Why aren't you talking, pretty boy? Need me to shut up?"

The pet name has Toji glancing at your glass, noticing that it was full for less than five minutes. This was new— you being flirtatious towards him. He didn't have any complaints about it whatsoever.

Once again, the quantity of the wine in your glass was below the halfway mark. "Nah, baby. Talk to me. You must really like the wine, huh?"

"Mmm..." you lean forward towards him, with your elbow on the counter and your chin in your palm. "What makes you say that?"

He actually snickers this time, earning a sly grin from you. "You're chugging it like it's water. It's either you love it or it tastes like ass and you're dying to spit it out."

You pick up the glass again, one last time. "Let's find out if I like it," you say as if you're not on your second serving. You let the liquid hit your tongue, and you are instantly repulsed by the flavor. The glass is tilted all the way up, signaling that you've finished two cups of wine in less than fifteen minutes. Your cheeks are filled with the drink, blown up like a puffer fish, which makes Toji smile softly with anticipation for your reaction. Your tongue stays on the roof of your mouth, keeping the wine in your cheeks separate, to give you a break for a few seconds. You release the bubbles of your cheeks and your mouth is flooded with the bittersweet liquid. You swallow the burgundy mouthful and smile with your lips pressed together once it's all gone. The mouth drying effect of wine is your least favorite thing about it.

"So?" Toji prompts.

"It's-" you gag, clasping a hand over your mouth with wide, slightly teary eyes.

Toji's chest and shoulders shake as he contains his laughter, his lips pressed together tightly to stifle the smile threatening to show itself, but his eyes tell you everything.

"Wooo, sorry about that," you say, chuckling through the embarrassment. "It's good," you repeat, still muffled by your palm.

"Yeah? Want more?" Toji asks, holding up the bottle with a teasing grin on his face.

You almost gag again but manage to control yourself. "No, thank you. Any more and I'll doze off, and we both know that's not what i'm here for." There was a hint of sultriness in your tone, something Toji was not sufficiently familiar with. It was a completely welcome shift from your normally tentative way of speaking to him.

"I know why you're here, but I wanna know what you think you're here for."

You stand from your stool and lean more of your body onto the counter. Your hand reaches for his, and for the first time, you don't pull back before making contact with his skin. "To love on you, of course," you say, with those pretty rosy cheeks. Your eyes remained glossy and your nose was still red from trying not to bring the wine back up earlier, but Toji thought you looked so cute.

"Is that right?" His thumb brushes over your knuckles, feeling the softness against his rough fingertip.

"Let's go watch that movie you were talking about and you'll see what I mean."

Toji was loving this. Your confidence, your lack of holding back anything you had to say, it was truly baffling how you could be someone else entirely with just a couple glasses of wine.

You keep his hand in yours, and as if it were your house, you say, "come on," and drag him along to the living room.

This time you say "sit" and point at the couch. This time he's the obedient dog and does as you say, sitting on the exact cushion you were pointing at with a smirk on his face. He moves the couch pillow aside to make room for you, but you had another seat in mind. You take two steps towards him before slowly dropping yourself into his lap, straddling him.

"I see you're finally taking your seat on the throne, hm?" He grins, resting his hands on your waist. This is the closest Toji's been allowed to watch you giggle without you burying your face into his neck and it's a trip. He can see the details of the creases around your eyes and the lift in your cheeks as you smile. He feels fuzzy, and he didn't even finish his glass of wine, so he knows it's not that.

"Stop making me laugh and pick a movie, will you? I'm here for that, too."

He picks up the remote for the TV and turns it on. "How are you gonna watch the movie while facing me?"

"Actually,.. can I tell you a secret, baby?" You ask, wrapping your arms around his neck. Your fingers play with the hair that reaches towards the nape of his neck, combing through it gently.

"What's that, princess?" Toji asks, vert eyes flitting between your eyes and that sweet smile of yours.

"I don't wanna watch a movie. I... wanna look at you... and that's it." Your nails gently scratch the back of his head, eliciting a tingly sensation that makes chills run down his spine.

"That's cool, too," Toji says, turning the TV off again, not caring that it was on for less than a minute before you changed your mind. He sighs, adjusting his position beneath you. Your thighs are secured around his hips, your knees touching the backrest of the couch.

"You're so handsome, my baby. God, look at those eyes," you whisper in awe, before giggling and bringing your hands to his face. You trace the bags under his eyes with your thumbs while admiring the haunting shade of green that scopes on you. Toji's hand comes up to loosely wrap around your wrist. He's not there to stop you, he just wants to move along with you as you observe his face.

"I know I don't say this to you enough, but I find you..." you sigh, blinking slowly, "enchanting..." You lean in and kiss the left corner of his lips—his right, and feel the smooth, tattered skin beneath your warm lips. "and I love you," you mumble into the cicatrix. "So fucking much, baby. And i'm sorry that you'll never know exactly how much because you aren't me." You're looking at him with so much adoration and touching him with a delicacy that can't be put into words. It's a deadly combination, one that has Toji in a chokehold and forces him to soften up even more for you.

He tightens the hold he has on your waist, pulling you closer until your stomach is pressed to his, as a result. You being so affectionate towards him is making him feel really good, and you have no idea because you're too focused on appreciating him. He's subconsciously leaning into your touch, his softened gaze meeting your lovestruck one.

"Fuck. I love you, too, princess," he murmurs, squeezing your wrist in his hand. He pulls your hand down to his chest. "Want you to aim for my lips, this time."

"Okay," you say, smiling before closing the distance between your lips and Toji's. He can still taste the remnants of the wine you inhaled minutes ago, but it tastes much better and a lot sweeter on you. Toji can hear your high pitched little hums as you kiss him, happiness pouring into your kisses. You're trying so hard not to laugh in his face, and trying is the best you can do, right now. You never were good at hiding your smile from Toji. He can't see it, but he can feel the way your lips widen, and he's occasionally kissing your teeth when your sluggishness keeps you from matching his pace. With little pants leaving you, you drag your lips away.

He sighs, frustrated by the loss of your softness against him. "Baby..." he groans, the sound almost whine-like to your ears. He wants more, so much more of you, and you're ignoring him. You're too busy kissing his chin, and his cheeks, and the tip of his nose.

You drag your other hand down to his chest and keep your hands splayed out on it as you let your lips trail his jaw, lightly sucking on the skin. Toji can't help but think about how this version of you will be gone in the morning. You won't be as outwardly affectionate, you'll go back to second guessing every move you make with him and shrinking every time he steals kisses from you, instead of confidently kissing him back like you did a minute ago.

You make your way down his neck, pressing kiss after kiss on him before you move towards his ear. "I love you, Toji," you whisper, kissing the shell of his ear after. "Love you, love you, love you soooo much," you barrage, before throwing him off with a bite to his earlobe. You giggle like a menace into his ear, the warmth of your breath luring goosebumps out onto his skin.

He chuckles, repeatedly squeezing the soft skin of your waist between his hands. "Yeah? Tell me again," he murmurs snaking his hands beneath the back of your shirt. Your skin is very warm, and there's nothing to blame but Toji and that shitty wine for making your body react this way.

With uninterrupted hands, you course your fingers through his hair and lean in to bite him again, this time on his neck. Toji chuckles at how you instantly rush to soothe him with your tongue and a warm kiss, even when you inflicted zero pain on him.

"I love you, Toji," you repeat into the wet indentations you left behind. "My love... my handsome man... I cherish you, you know?"

Toji is practically purring at all the affection you're showering him with. The slurring of your words is blocked out and they remain clear as day to him. He manages to hum a deep little "mhm" to your last statement.

"It's just so hard to talk to you sometimes. You... you're so intimidating, sometimes. I don't expect you to understand..." you divert your gaze to his shoulder, not able to look him in the eyes as vulnerability takes sudden control of your emotions. "It seems like I don't appreciate you sometimes—all the time, but I do, Toji. I do appreciate you, and I can't ever say I love you enough to show it. Words aren't always enough."

Toji catches the waver in your voice and his eyes dart to yours. You're tearing up, and you're trying to still your quivering lips by pressing them together.

"Shit," Toji mutters under his breath. You have the saddest expression he's ever seen and it's messing with his heart. He pulls his hands out of your shirt so that he can swiftly pull you into his warm embrace. "Hey," he coos. You're shaking against him, holding your breath to avoid sobbing. Your lungs burn, but you'd rather feel that than make a scene of your tears. "Don't be sad, mama. What's with the tears, hm?" he murmurs. He can feel your tears dampening his shoulder, but the fact that you haven't made a sound is concerning. "Breathe or you'll die," he says, only half joking. He rubs a soothing palm against your back, his other arm around your waist.

You let out what sounds like a mixture between a choked laugh and a sob, slowly but surely regulating your breathing. You don't even feel like saying anything anymore because you know your voice will give way to even more pity.

"You're more than enough for me," Toji says, his chin resting on your head. "I know how you feel, you know how I feel. We're complete." He can feel the way you scrunch his shirt up into your fists. As if he would go anywhere without you. "I get you and you're stuck with me. Got it?" You silently nod against his shoulder in response. "Sit up and let me look at you."

You really don't want him to see you this way. Your eyes feel swollen and you don't feel presentable.

"I can't..." you say, barely audible. You release his shirt and let your hands go limp behind him.

"Why not?"

"I'm not pretty right now. Don't look at me."

"I'm gonna look at you," he challenges with a teasing grin.

"Toji, don't look at me."

"Too late, it's happening. Plan's already in motion," he says, sliding his arms onto your shoulders.

"Toji, don't-" He effortlessly pushes you off his shoulder and gives you a once over. You look defeated and you're unable to look him in the eyes, but at least he can see you now.

"Don't know what you were so worried about. You look the same but more blush-y." You finally give him your slightly reddened eyes, a soft smile appearing on your face. You look like your sober self. "Yeah, you look the same."

"Are you lying?" You ask, still not regaining the full strength of your voice yet.

"I wouldn't tell you if I was, but no, i'm not lying. You're so pretty." Toji wiped away tears that were stuck beneath your eyes, and you giggled. He washed away your sadness within a couple minutes. Toji always did this for you in exchange for your love and affection. He lifted your spirits when you didn't feel deserving of him, and with time, he got much better at recognizing the signs that came with this ridiculous idea you planted in your head.

"You're done loving on me? Already?" He asks in playful disbelief.

"You're not done with me? Do you actually want more?" You ask, hesitantly.

"Don't want more, I need more," he corrects, returning his hands to their rightful place on your waist. "Get all up on me, princess."

You giggle, leaning closer towards him to peck a kiss onto his cheek.

"Mhm, like that," he says, contently, when you pick up the pace and start smothering him. "Yeah, baby, there you go." His forearms go beneath your shirt, encircling around your bare waist and pulling you close to him like before. "Who's getting spoiled like me?" He says through a grin. You're holding back laughs as he continues to praise you for your affection.

"S-Stop," you say through a wheeze, not able to contain the sound any longer when you looked at him.

"What are you laughing at, huh?" He chases you this time, pressing his nose into your cheek before planting a light kiss into your jaw.

"You're so unserious," you say, turning your head as he keeps going with the kisses.

"Mmm... I'm serious about you," he says, feeling the vibration of your laughter against his grin. "So serious."

Your cheeks feel incredibly hot from how much you've been smiling. In this little drunken haze, things are so good. You're so happy, you're so affectionate, and you talk so much. This isn't like you at all, but it's not hurting anyone, especially not Toji. There was one minor slip, but you moved past it so quickly like the words never left your head to begin with. You're just so simple... so easy to take care of.

Toji notices the way your eyes are starting to lid with tiredness, and while he would love for you to doze off in his arms right then and there, you'd probably prefer waking up in a bed.

"Let's go to bed, yeah?" He suggests.

"What? No! I just got here... We can still talk, and kiss and- I'm not even tired."

Toji grins at the way you fight him on this, and he has half a mind to indulge you when you look so adorable, but he has to stand his ground. He's right.

"But, you are. You can't even hold your eyes open, anymore."

You feel sad again because the rest of the night would be going to waste if you both go to sleep early. You're there to spend time with Toji, and yet you feel like it's your fault your time is being cut short. You're thinking you shouldn't have drank the wine so quickly, if at all.

"Listen, doll," Toji says. He doesn't like the sadness that resurfaces on your pretty face. He doesn't think you should look that way because of him. "We're just gonna go lay in bed. We don't have to go to sleep. We can stay up as long as you want. Light on or light off, whatever you wanna do, let's just move it to the room."

You sigh, still not completely convinced that the night isn't over, but Toji managed to persuade you. "Will you carry me, please? My legs feel like jelly."

"Of course. What kind of person would I be if I let you stumble into the room on your own?"

You sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his waist, your face buried into the crook of his neck. "You'd still be my favorite person, but i'd be a little upset..."

Toji stands from the couch, humming in response to your quiet mumbles.

"...but not really upset. Just a little bummed. Not for too long, though, 'cause I love you, but I would expect an apology from you if I fell down," you draw out.

Toji cracks at your little ramblings. It's a ten second walk from the couch to the bedroom, and the whole time you were working through a hypothetical conflict.

"Yeah? You'd want me to say sorry?" He asks, setting you down on the bed.

"Mhm, and then I wouldn't be upset or bummed anymore," you mutter to yourself as you roll onto your back.

"That's fair. Want the light on or off?"

"Off," you blurt. "Let's tell scary stories," you trill, enthusiastically. You pull the blanket over your lower body until it reaches just below your chest.

Toji makes his way to the bed after turning off the light. He takes his shirt off, and out of habit lets it fall to the floor. "We're not telling scary stories this late at night," he says, joining you beneath the blanket.

"But, they're funny," you say, turning to face him. "I don't get scared, either."

"Depends on who's telling the story. I'm sure as hell not gonna feed you a nightmare, doll."

"Boo," you say, lowly. "Whatever, i'm over it already," you mutter, rolling your eyes.

Toji watches you grow more and more tired as you throw random, nonsensical topics at him. You're taking longer to respond by the minute, and you're dozing off while humming in thought. You shake awake each time it happens and try to keep the conversation going, but Toji just shushes you and tells you to go back to sleep.

"I can see the moon through the window," you mumble, looking past him.

"I know, shh..." he hushes you, again.

"There's only like... one star," you whisper, in awe.

"Baby, come here," Toji says, like he's about to lecture you about the rules of sleep, but really he's just thinking that if his body heat doesn't put you down, he's gonna have to stay up with you until you fall asleep on your own.

You scoot closer towards Toji, tucking your arms into your chest when he reaches out to pull you into him the rest of the way. His body exudes so much warmth, you feel like you don't need the blanket at all.

There was nothing left for you to say when you couldn't see or feel anything but him. It was as if you were gone the second he enveloped you in his arms. You were small to the brink of nonexistence, no longer there to tell him what your surroundings were, or to ask him thoughtless, silly questions. You were no longer there to fight off the sleep he only seemed to bring closer towards you. Feeling his warm skin against you made you change your mind about this invisible fiend that was pulling your eyelids down. You now welcomed the calls to rest from your steady heartbeats.

Your silence gave him the answer he needed, but for good measure, he poked at you with a whisper of, "Ma?" and waited a few seconds for your response. Nothing. He sighed and coiled around you tighter. Thoughts of the night ran through his head. Your soft, yet, occasionally bruising kisses and the imprints of your teeth on his skin, your unapologetic laughter, your certainty in using the pet names that claimed him as yours. He was weak for the amount of times you openly told him you loved him. It was a psychedelic dream, to say the least. One he hoped would continue once he followed you into slumber.

You woke up hours later, completely smothered by your bear of a man. All you could do was stare up at the ceiling, while you waited for Toji to wake up because he was literally breathing down your neck. His arm rested over your chest, his legs were tangled with yours, and his face was right beside your face. You weren't feeling the effects of the wine anymore, and luckily, you didn't have a headache or any signs of a hangover. You were back, which meant...

"What are you staring at?" A deep, raspy voice jolts you out of your thoughts.

You look at the handsome face next to you, and as if your heart can hear and see, it wakes up. "Nothing. Just woke up," you lie.

"Mm... you were staring hard at the roof. I thought it came to life or something," Toji chuckles. You smile, briefly, before looking at the ceiling again.

Toji releases you and flips onto his back, wanting to know what's so fascinating about the space you're looking at. "What are you thinking?" He asks, when he discovers nothing but blank space.

You take your time, not wanting to stumble over your words. Your heart skips a beat when he turns his head to look at you. In the time it takes for you to respond, you both could have gone back to sleep again.

"A penny for your thoughts?" he finally says, following the idiom with a question. "Did I even use that correctly?"

You can't help but laugh, nodding your head to answer his question. "I'm thinking about last night. Sorry if I said anything stupid."

Toji turns his body towards you again, thinking the only thing that's stupid is that he's still staring at the roof instead of staring at you. "You didn't. You were calm, from what I got to see, at least."

"So... boring."

"Not boring," he instantly catches. "You were perfect. You didn't have me running around chasing you, you weren't a brat—it couldn't have gone better, ma." He purposely missed something in his less than brief recount of the night to you. He can think back to the emotions that seeped through your little daze, and your insecurity about outwardly showing him love, all he wants, but there's no way in hell he's bringing that up to you, now. "You ramble a lot," he adds, a soft smile emerging on his face.

You can feel your cheeks warming up. "Oh god," you groan in embarrassment. "That's not- Sorry, that sounds... not so fun. Annoying of me, actually."

"Stop, it was cute," he assures, adding more fury to the blush creeping on your face. "Then you wouldn't go to sleep 'cause you kept seeing stuff outside the window."

You wanted to drown yourself in the blanket. Shame and embarrassment were winning their battle against you, as always.

"That was also cute," he says, watching the way your lips twitch as you bite back a smile. "You know my favorite part, though?" He says, grinning as he leans towards your ear.

"N-No, what?" You ask, trying so hard not to giggle.

"When you kissed me and told me you loved me," he murmurs into your ear like it's a dirty secret.

You snicker, the short sound of amusement evolving into laughter within seconds. You throw the blanket over your face and partially over Toji's face. The sight of your veiled body shaking with laughter lured out a couple chuckles of his own.

"That's funny?" He asks, pulling the blanket down, allowing you to see the sly grin he's sporting.

"A little bit," you respond, smiling— a remainder of your laughter.

"Silly girl. Come here," he says, dragging you back into his arms. "There's no reason you should be awake at six in the morning on your day off. Let's go back to sleep," he murmurs into the crown of your head. "We can go out for breakfast, later."

"Okay," you mumble, eyes shut already as you embrace the natural warmth of his body.

"One more thing," he murmurs. You don't raise your gaze, but your ears are open and you're listening closely. "Tell me you love me."

You didn't expect that, but you weren't going to deny him of such a simple thing. The words were easy to recite because you meant them with every fiber of your being. "I love you, Toji," you comply, immediately.

He sighs, contently, almost like hearing those words revitalized him. "Love you, too, mama."

That went out to every version of you.

[pucksandpower]

Do-Over

Logan Sargeant x Andretti!Reader

Summary: Logan drowns his sorrows after being dropped by Williams and passes out in 2024 … he wakes up slightly hungover and very much in 2022 (aka the time travel fix-it fic)

Logan’s hands are shaking.

He’s staring at the email on his phone, reading it over for the third time, hoping the words will somehow rearrange themselves into something different. But they don’t. The screen doesn’t lie, and neither does the cold, detached tone of James Vowles.

Logan, I’m sorry to inform you that Williams Racing has decided to terminate your contract effective immediately. Your performance this season has not met the team’s expectations, and the decision has been made to move forward without you for the remaining races. We believe this is in the best interest of the team as a whole. You’ll find the details of the termination and the necessary steps moving forward in the attached document.

His eyes blur, and he forces himself to blink, trying to hold it together. He knows what this means — his F1 career, the thing he’s worked for his entire life, is over. And it’s not ending with a bang, but with a fucking email.

A knock on the door snaps him back to the present. He looks up, swallowing hard as James walks in without waiting for permission, just like he always does.

“Logan,” James begins, his voice calm, almost clinical. “We need to talk.”

“I got the email,” Logan mutters, shoving his phone into his pocket. “Is this really how it’s going to end?”

James’s face is unreadable. “We’ve discussed this at length. The crashes, the lack of progress … it’s just not working out. The engineers and mechanics are frustrated. We’ve been more than patient.”

Logan feels a wave of anger rising in his chest, but he pushes it down. He knows it won’t help. “So that’s it? Nine races left, and you’re just … dropping me?”

“It’s not an easy decision,” James replies, crossing his arms. “But we have to think about the team. We can’t afford any more setbacks.”

“Setbacks,” Logan echoes, almost laughing at the absurdity of it. “That’s all I am to you? A setback?”

James hesitates, his expression softening for just a moment. “Logan, you’re talented, but this sport is ruthless. You know that.”

“Don’t,” Logan snaps, his voice sharp. “Don’t try to soften the blow now. You could’ve at least told me in person, before sending the damn email.”

James sighs, running a hand through his hair. “I know it seems cold, but this is the reality of Formula 1. You’ll land on your feet. You’ve got potential.”

“Potential,” Logan mutters under his breath. “That’s not going to get me back in a car, is it?”

There’s a tense silence, the weight of the situation pressing down on both of them. Logan feels like the walls are closing in, the air in the room growing thicker with each passing second.

“I’m sorry,” James says finally, and for the first time, he sounds genuine. “I really am.”

“Yeah,” Logan replies, his voice hollow. “Me too.”

James lingers for a moment, as if searching for something else to say, but there’s nothing that can fix this. Nothing that can make it right. Finally, he nods and leaves, closing the door quietly behind him.

Logan stands there, staring at the door, his mind racing. This can’t be happening. It feels like some kind of nightmare, one he can’t wake up from. But the harsh reality is setting in. It’s over. All those years, all that effort, and it’s over just like that.

He sinks down onto the couch, his head in his hands. His chest feels tight, like he can’t get a full breath. He needs to get out of here, but he has no idea where to go. Where do you go when your dreams have just been crushed?

His gaze falls on the bottle of whiskey sitting on the small kitchen counter. He bought it a few years ago, intending to open it after a win that never came. The irony isn’t lost on him.

Logan pushes himself up and walks over to the kitchen, grabbing the bottle and a glass. He hesitates for a moment, then shrugs and puts the glass back. What’s the point of pretending there’s any dignity left in this?

He twists the cap off the bottle and takes a long drink, the burn of the alcohol offering a brief distraction from the pain gnawing at his insides. He leans against the counter, staring out the window at the darkening sky. How the hell did it come to this?

He’s replaying every mistake, every missed opportunity, every race where he could’ve done better. It’s a torturous cycle, one that he can’t escape. He takes another drink, then another, hoping to drown out the thoughts, to numb the ache in his chest.

But it doesn’t work. The alcohol just makes it worse, amplifying the guilt and the regret. He feels like a failure. No, he is a failure. The team didn’t even have the decency to let him finish the season. That’s how little they think of him.

The room starts to blur around the edges as the whiskey takes effect, but he doesn’t stop. He can’t stop. He’s spiraling, and he knows it, but he doesn’t care. This is the only way he knows how to cope, the only way to forget, even if it’s just for a little while.

Hours pass, or maybe minutes — he’s lost track of time. The bottle is nearly empty now, and he’s slumped on the floor, leaning against the kitchen cabinets. His phone buzzes in his pocket, but he ignores it. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. What’s the point?

The apartment is silent except for the occasional sound of cars passing by outside. It’s eerie, this quiet, and it makes the emptiness inside him feel even more profound.

Finally, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. The screen is cracked from a previous fall — one of many — but it still works. There are messages from friends, from his family, but he doesn’t open them. He knows what they’ll say. They’ll be supportive, encouraging, but it won’t change anything. They can’t fix this.

Instead, he opens his camera roll and scrolls through the photos. Pictures of him in the car, of the team, of moments that once meant everything to him. Now they’re just reminders of what he’s lost.

He stops on a photo of himself, taken just after he signed with Williams. He looks so damn happy, so full of hope. He barely recognizes that person now.

“What a joke,” he mutters to himself, his voice slurred. “What a fucking joke.”

He takes one last drink from the bottle, then tosses it aside, not caring as it rolls across the floor. He feels the darkness closing in, pulling him under, and for once, he doesn’t fight it. He lets it take him, lets it drown out the pain, the regret, the fear.

And as he finally drifts into unconsciousness, the last thought that crosses his mind is that maybe — just maybe — he deserves this.

***

Logan wakes with a start, his head pounding, the taste of stale whiskey thick on his tongue. He groans, squeezing his eyes shut against the assault of the light streaming through the windows. His whole body feels like it’s been put through a blender — sore, achy, heavy. But it’s not just the hangover, it’s the weight of everything, of what happened yesterday.

He takes a deep breath, bracing himself as he sits up, his hands pressing into the bed beneath him. Except, the texture’s wrong. It’s not the rough fabric of his apartment’s couch or even the smooth, cool sheets he’s used to.

Logan’s eyes snap open, and he looks around, confusion crashing over him like a cold wave. He’s not in his apartment. The walls are different — cleaner, the color a familiar light blue he hasn’t seen in years. The bed is narrow, uncomfortable, with plain white sheets. There’s a desk pushed against the far wall, a locker in the corner with his name printed on it in block letters.

This isn’t his apartment. This is … his driver’s room. The one he used when he was driving for Carlin in Formula 2.

“What the hell …” Logan mutters, running a hand through his hair, trying to make sense of it. He must still be drunk. Or maybe he’s dreaming. But no — he can feel the dull ache in his temples, the dryness in his throat, the uncomfortable press of the mattress beneath him. This is too real to be a dream.

But it doesn’t make any sense. The last thing he remembers is passing out in his apartment after finishing nearly a whole bottle of whiskey. He was a mess. He is a mess. But here he is, waking up in a place he hasn’t seen since 2022, a place that shouldn’t exist in his present reality.

Panic starts to set in. He fumbles for his phone, which is miraculously still in his pocket. The screen lights up, showing the date and time.

September 10th, 2022.

His heart stops. That’s impossible. It’s been two years. Two years since this date. His mind races, trying to piece together what the hell is happening, but nothing fits. He’s not in 2024 anymore. Somehow, he’s back in 2022.

It’s the only explanation, but it’s insane. None of this is possible. It’s not even like those vague dreams where everything’s familiar but distant. This is his life two years ago, down to the worn fabric of the team jacket hanging on the back of the door.

Before he can spiral any further, there’s a sharp knock at the door. Logan barely has time to react before it swings open, and Gary Catt, his manager, strides in with his usual briskness, already talking before the door is fully open.

“Logan, I just got off the phone with Jost Capito,” Gary says, his voice all business, not noticing Logan’s stunned expression. “Williams wants you. They want to lock you in for next season. It’s the best possible scenario. This is it, Logan — this is what we’ve been working toward.”

Logan feels like he’s been hit by a freight train. This conversation — he remembers it. It happened. Gary, standing in this very room, telling him the exact same thing, with the exact same excitement in his voice. The memory is vivid because it changed everything. It was the start of his F1 career. And also … the start of everything that led to that email.

“Logan?” Gary’s voice cuts through the fog in Logan’s mind, pulling him back to the present. “Are you even listening? This is huge, mate. You’re going to be in F1.”

Logan’s throat is dry, his mind racing with possibilities, with consequences. He remembers how he felt the first time he heard these words — pure elation, followed by a rush of nerves. But now, with the knowledge of what’s to come, all he feels is dread.

This is his chance to change things. To make sure it doesn’t end the way it did yesterday. He’s been given a do-over, a second chance, and he can’t afford to mess it up.

Logan takes a deep breath, forcing himself to stay calm. “Gary,” he says, his voice rough from sleep and the alcohol, “I don’t think I should take the offer.”

Gary stops mid-stride, turning to face Logan with a look of utter disbelief. “What did you just say?”

“I don’t think I should take the offer,” Logan repeats, more firmly this time, even though his heart is pounding in his chest. “It’s too soon.”

“Too soon?” Gary looks at him like he’s just sprouted another head. “Logan, this is Williams. It’s F1. There is no such thing as ‘too soon’ when an opportunity like this comes around. What are you talking about?”

Logan stands up, pacing the small room, trying to gather his thoughts. How does he explain this without sounding completely insane? He can’t tell Gary what he knows — what he’s seen, what’s happened. But he also can’t go down the same path again. Not when he knows where it leads.

“I just … I don’t think I’m ready,” Logan says, finally turning to face Gary. “If I rush into F1 now, it could end badly. I need more time. More experience.”

Gary’s expression shifts from disbelief to concern. “Logan, listen to yourself. You’ve been preparing for this your whole life. You’re as ready as anyone can be. If you pass this up, there’s no guarantee another chance like it will come along. You know that.”

Logan shakes his head. “I know it sounds crazy, but … I have a feeling that if I take this now, it’ll be a mistake. A big one. I’ll end up in a situation where I’m not able to deliver, where the pressure is too much. And that’s not good for anyone — me, the team, my career.”

Gary is silent for a long moment, studying Logan with an intensity that makes him squirm. “Where’s this coming from? You were over the moon about this before. What changed?”

Logan hesitates, searching for the right words. “I just … I’ve been thinking a lot about the future. About what I want my career to look like. And I don’t want to be one of those drivers who gets rushed into F1 and then crashes out because they weren’t ready. I want to do it right. I want to be fully prepared.”

“You don’t get to be fully prepared in this sport,” Gary says, his voice dropping to a more serious tone. “This is Formula 1. It’s sink or swim, and you know that. You’re not going to get a better opportunity than this, Logan.”

Logan feels a knot of frustration tightening in his chest. He knows Gary is right, in a way. This is F1. It’s not supposed to be easy. But he also knows that if he takes this offer, if he goes down the same road, it’ll end in disaster.

“I get that,” Logan says, his voice firm. “But I’ve made up my mind. I’m not going to take the seat. Not this time.”

Gary stares at him, his expression a mixture of shock and confusion. “Logan, this could be career suicide. You understand that, right?”

Logan nods, swallowing hard. “I do. But I’d rather take that risk than go into something I know I’m not ready for and crash out in a blaze of failure. I can’t do that. I won’t.”

Gary runs a hand over his face, clearly struggling to comprehend what’s happening. “This isn’t like you. You’re not one to back down from a challenge. Why are you doing this?”

Because I know how it ends, Logan thinks, but he doesn’t say it out loud. Instead, he takes a deep breath and says, “Because I want to do this right. I want to have a long career in F1, not a short one that ends in disappointment. And to do that, I need to be smart about the choices I make now.”

Gary lets out a slow breath, clearly conflicted. “This is … I don’t even know what to say, Logan. You’re turning down a seat in F1. That’s not something you do lightly.”

“I’m not doing it lightly,” Logan assures him, though his heart is racing. “I’ve thought about this a lot, and it’s the right decision for me.”

There’s a long silence as Gary processes this. Logan can almost see the gears turning in his head, the calculations, the weighing of options. He knows how hard this must be for Gary to accept — hell, it’s hard for Logan to accept, and he’s the one making the decision. But he has to stick to his guns. He has to believe that this is the right choice.

Finally, Gary lets out a resigned sigh. “Alright, Logan. If this is really what you want, I’ll back you. But you need to understand the risks. This could close doors for you. Big ones.”

Logan nods, his stomach twisting with anxiety. “I know. But I also know that if I take this now, it could end up closing even more doors in the long run.”

Gary studies him for a long moment, then gives a slow nod. “Alright. I’ll let Jost know. But don’t expect him to be happy about it.”

Logan feels a mixture of relief and dread. “I won’t. But thanks, Gary. I know this isn’t easy.”

Gary gives him a tight smile, still clearly grappling with the decision. “No, it’s not. But you’re the one driving the car, Logan. Just make sure you know what you’re doing.”

Logan nods, watching as Gary turns and leaves the room, the door closing softly behind him. He stands there for a moment, taking in the silence, the surrealness of what just happened. He’s just turned down a seat in F1. The one thing he thought he wanted more than anything. But as the anxiety ebbs, a new feeling takes its place — determination.

This time, things are going to be different. He’s going to do it right, even if it means making the hard choices. Logan takes a deep breath, feeling a strange sense of calm settle over him. This is his second chance, and he’s not going to waste it.

***

The 2023 F2 season ends in a flurry of champagne, confetti, and flashing cameras. Logan stands on the top step of the podium, the P1 trophy clutched in his hands, a grin splitting his face. He’s done it. He’s proved to everyone — most of all to himself — that he was ready. This time, he didn’t rush, didn’t let the pressure consume him. And it’s paid off. He’s the Formula 2 Drivers’ Champion.

But as the celebration winds down and reality sets in, Logan faces a new challenge. Despite his victory, the F1 grid is full, and F2 champions can’t return to the series. He could take a reserve role, bide his time, wait for a seat to open up. But that’s not what he wants. He’s not willing to spend another year on the sidelines, waiting for an opportunity that may never come.

So when the offer from IndyCar comes, Logan doesn’t hesitate. He’s heard the stories — about the speed, the fierce competition, the thrill of racing on ovals. It’s not Formula 1, but it’s still racing at the highest level. And right now, that’s what he needs.

The decision surprises everyone. The media buzzes with speculation, but Logan remains focused. He knows what he’s doing. This is a new path, one that he’s chosen for himself, not because it was expected of him. He’s determined to make it work.

A few weeks later, Logan finds himself in the heart of Indianapolis, standing outside the office of Mario Andretti. The legendary name still carries a weight of history and reverence, even in this new world of racing. It feels surreal, like stepping into a different era of motorsport.

Inside the office, Mario is all business. The contract is laid out on the table between them, a simple piece of paper that represents Logan’s future. Mario goes over the details with the kind of thoroughness that only comes from years of experience, but Logan can barely focus. His mind is racing, thoughts darting between the past season, the unknown future, and the thrill of what he’s about to embark on.

“Everything looks good?” Mario asks, breaking Logan from his thoughts.

Logan blinks, then nods, forcing himself to concentrate. “Yeah, it’s perfect.”

Mario slides the pen across the table. “Then let’s make it official.”

Logan takes the pen, feeling the weight of the moment as he signs his name at the bottom of the contract. It’s done. He’s an IndyCar driver now.

Mario nods in approval, leaning back in his chair with a satisfied smile. “Welcome to the team, Logan. We’re excited to have you.”

“Thank you,” Logan says, meaning it. This is a new beginning, and he’s ready for it.

They shake hands, and Mario stands, motioning towards the door. “I’d love to chat more, but I’ve got to head out. My granddaughter’s picking me up for lunch.”

Logan heads out of the office, his mind still reeling from the whirlwind of emotions. He’s so caught up in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice the person rounding the corner until it’s too late. They collide, and Logan’s first instinct is to reach out, steadying the person as they stumble backward.

“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” he blurts out, his hands gripping her arms as he helps her regain her balance.

“It’s okay,” you reply, laughing softly as you look up at him. “I wasn’t paying attention.”

Logan’s breath catches in his throat as he looks down at you, the apology dying on his lips. You’re beautiful — stunning, even — with eyes that seem to sparkle with life and a smile that’s warm and inviting. For a moment, all he can do is stare, struck by how perfect you seem, like someone who’s stepped straight out of a dream.

“You alright?” You ask, tilting your head slightly as you study him.

Logan snaps out of it, quickly releasing his hold on you and stepping back. “Yeah, sorry again. I didn’t see you there.”

The door to Mario’s office opens, and the man himself steps out, his eyes narrowing slightly as he takes in the scene. “Everything okay out here?”

You turn to your grandfather, smiling brightly. “Just a little bump, Grandpa. Nothing to worry about.”

Mario’s expression softens as he looks at you, the sternness replaced by affection. “Good. I don’t want anyone getting hurt before lunch.”

You laugh, the sound light and carefree, and Logan finds himself smiling along, despite the awkwardness of the situation.

“Logan,” Mario says, turning to him, “I’d like you to meet my granddaughter.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat. This is Mario’s granddaughter? Of course, she is. It makes sense now, the confidence in your stance, the way you carry yourself. You’re part of a racing dynasty, just like Mario.

“Logan Sargeant,” Mario continues, introducing him to you. “He’s going to be racing with us next season.”

You offer him your hand, your smile never faltering. “It’s nice to meet you, Logan. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Logan takes your hand, feeling a jolt of electricity as your fingers brush against his. “Uh, yeah. Nice to meet you too.”

You glance at Mario, then back at Logan. “We’re heading out for lunch. You should join us.”

Logan’s mind goes blank for a second, and all he can do is blink at you, trying to process what you just said. “Lunch? With you and … Mr. Andretti?”

You laugh again, and Logan thinks it might be the best sound he has ever heard. “Yeah, with us. Unless you have somewhere else you need to be?”

“No, no,” Logan stammers, trying to regain some composure. “I’d love to join you.”

Mario claps Logan on the shoulder, his laughter booming through the hallway. “Looks like you’ve made an impression already, kid. Come on, let’s get out of here before the press catches wind of this.”

Logan nods, still somewhat dazed as he follows you and Mario out of the building. His mind is a whirlwind of thoughts — about the contract he just signed, the new chapter he’s stepping into, and now, about you. He can’t quite believe his luck. Not only is he starting a new adventure in IndyCar, but he’s also just met someone who, in the span of a few minutes, has completely captivated him.

As they walk to Mario’s car, Logan steals glances at you, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. You seem so at ease, chatting with your grandfather, your laughter punctuating the conversation. There’s a lightness about you, a warmth that’s infectious, and Logan finds himself drawn to it, to you.

“Logan,” you say, turning to him as you reach the car. “So, what made you decide to join IndyCar? It’s not every day an F2 champion makes that leap.”

Logan pauses, caught off guard by the directness of your question. “Well, uh,” he begins, trying to find the right words, “I guess I just wanted something different. F1 wasn’t an option, and I didn’t want to sit around waiting for a seat to open up. IndyCar seemed like the right challenge. Something new, but still competitive.”

You nod, clearly intrigued. “That makes sense. It’s a bold move, but I think it’ll pay off.”

“Bold,” Logan repeats, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It is,” you assure him, your eyes sparkling. “I admire people who take risks. Especially when they’re as calculated as yours seems to be.”

Mario clears his throat, a knowing grin on his face as he watches the two of you. “Alright, kids, enough shop talk. Let’s get some food.”

You and Logan exchange a smile before sliding into the back seat of the car. The conversation flows easily, despite Logan’s initial nerves. You ask him about his time in F2, what it was like racing on the different tracks, how he handled the pressure. Logan finds himself opening up more than he expected, the words coming easily under your encouraging gaze.

Mario chimes in every now and then, adding his own insights, but it’s clear he’s content to let the two of you do most of the talking. He watches with an amused glint in his eye, as if he’s already figured out something that Logan is just beginning to realize.

By the time you reach the restaurant, Logan feels like he’s known you for much longer than the short time you’ve actually spent together. There’s an ease between you that he’s rarely felt with anyone else, a connection that seems to have sparked almost instantly.

Inside the restaurant, Mario insists on taking the head of the table, leaving you and Logan to sit across from each other. As you settle in, you continue to ask Logan questions, but now they’re more personal — what does he do outside of racing? What’s his favorite movie? Does he have any hidden talents?

Logan answers as best he can, though he’s still reeling a bit from how quickly this day has turned into something he never expected. He’s just signed with IndyCar, but more than that, he’s sitting across from someone who makes his heart race faster than any car ever could.

“You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Logan,” Mario says suddenly, breaking into the conversation. “I’ve seen a lot of young drivers come and go, but you … you’ve got something special. Just keep your focus, and you’ll go far.”

“Thank you, Mr. Andretti,” Logan says, his voice sincere. “That means a lot, coming from you.”

“Call me Mario,” he replies with a wave of his hand. “We’re family now, after all.”

Logan smiles, feeling a warmth spread through him at the word “family.” It’s strange, how quickly things have shifted, how he’s gone from a solitary driver trying to make his way in the world to someone who might actually belong here, in this new place, with these new people.

As the lunch continues, Logan finds himself growing more comfortable, the initial awkwardness fading away. You keep the conversation lively, sharing stories about your grandfather, about your own life, and Logan can’t help but be drawn to your passion, your intelligence, your warmth. It’s clear that you’re not just Mario Andretti’s granddaughter — you’re your own person, with your own dreams and ambitions.

Eventually, the meal winds down, and Mario excuses himself to take a phone call, leaving you and Logan alone at the table. The silence that follows isn’t uncomfortable, but charged, filled with the unspoken things neither of you have quite put into words yet.

“So,” you say, leaning forward slightly, a teasing smile on your lips, “what do you think of Indy so far?”

Logan grins, feeling a boldness he didn’t expect. “Well, it just got a whole lot more interesting.”

You laugh, your eyes twinkling with amusement. “I’m glad to hear it. I have a feeling you’re going to fit in just fine here.”

“Yeah,” Logan says, his voice softening as he looks at you, really looks at you. “I think I am too.”

You hold his gaze, the connection between you growing stronger with each passing second. For a moment, the world outside seems to fade away, leaving just the two of you, caught in this moment that feels almost like fate.

Before the silence can stretch too long, Mario returns, his phone call finished. He glances between the two of you, his eyes twinkling with a knowing look that makes Logan’s ears burn. “Ready to head out?”

You nod, standing up and giving Logan one last, lingering smile. “It was nice meeting you, Logan. I’m sure we’ll see each other around.”

Logan stands as well, feeling a mix of excitement and nerves. “Definitely. I’m looking forward to it.”

As you and Mario head out of the restaurant, Logan lingers for a moment, watching you go. He can’t quite believe what just happened, but one thing is certain — his life just got a lot more complicated, and he wouldn’t have it any other way.

As he walks out into the bright sunlight, Logan can’t stop the smile that spreads across his face. He’s taken a leap into the unknown, and it feels like the start of something incredible.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, vibrating through the very core of the Speedway as Logan crosses the finish line first. It’s the 107th running of the Indianapolis 500, and he’s just won it. The realization hits him like a tidal wave, almost knocking the breath out of him. He’s an Indy 500 champion. In his rookie season, no less.

The engine growls as he coasts to a stop, and for a moment, all he can do is sit there, hands trembling on the steering wheel. His heart pounds in his chest, adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he lets out a breathless laugh, disbelief and elation mingling into something indescribable.

“Logan Sargeant wins the Indy 500!” The announcer’s voice echoes through the speakers, barely audible over the cheers of the crowd. He hears it, but it still feels surreal, like something out of a dream.

The pit crew rushes over, the celebration already in full swing as they haul him out of the car. He’s immediately surrounded by a sea of people — team members, media, officials — everyone wanting a piece of this historic moment. But through it all, there’s one thing on his mind. One person.

You.

He’s searching the crowd, trying to spot you among the chaos. His vision is blurred with sweat and tears, but then he sees you — pushing your way through the throng of people, a look of pure joy on your face. You’re clapping, laughing, your eyes shining with pride, and all Logan can think is how he needs to get to you.

But first, there’s tradition to uphold.

One of the crew hands him the iconic bottle of milk, the symbol of victory. Logan takes it, still in a daze, and tilts it back, taking a long swig. The cold liquid is refreshing, cutting through the heat of the moment, and he can’t help but laugh as he lowers the bottle, milk dripping down his chin.

Without hesitation, he lifts the bottle above his head and pours the rest over himself. The milk runs down his face, soaking into his race suit, and the crowd goes wild, the noise level somehow reaching new heights. He feels on top of the world — unstoppable, invincible.

And then he spots you again, closer now, just on the edge of the crowd. Logan doesn’t think, doesn’t pause to consider anything else. He just moves, pushing through the throng of people until he’s standing right in front of you.

You’re smiling up at him, eyes bright with something that makes his heart race faster than it did on the final lap. Before he can stop himself, Logan reaches out, pulls you in, and kisses you.

It’s the kind of kiss that’s been building for months — the culmination of all the moments, all the glances, all the unspoken words between you. You taste like the victory he’s just claimed, like the adrenaline that’s still pumping through his veins, like everything he’s been chasing since he first set foot in this world.

When you finally pull back, you’re both breathless, milk dripping from Logan’s face and onto yours. You laugh, and the sound is the sweetest thing he’s ever heard.

“You’re lucky I’m not lactose intolerant,” you tease, licking the milk from his lips with a grin that’s both playful and suggestive. “But honestly? It’d be worth it even if I was.”

Logan laughs, a deep, full-bodied sound that comes from a place of pure, unfiltered happiness. He feels like he’s floating, like nothing in the world could possibly bring him down from this high. Not now, not ever.

“Best win of my life,” he says, his voice rough with emotion, still holding you close, as if afraid that letting go might make this moment disappear.

You tilt your head, still smiling up at him with those eyes that have captivated him from the start. “I’d hope so,” you say softly. “You just won the Indy 500.”

He shakes his head, a playful grin on his face. “No, I mean this.” He gestures between the two of you, the words hanging in the air, heavy with meaning.

For a second, you just stare at him, the noise of the crowd fading into the background, the world narrowing down to just the two of you. And then you’re laughing, throwing your arms around his neck, pulling him into another kiss.

This one is softer, sweeter — less about the heat of the moment and more about the connection between you, the way everything just seems to fit when you’re together. Logan loses himself in it, in you, in this moment that feels like the culmination of everything he’s ever wanted.

When you finally break apart, the noise of the crowd floods back in, the celebration continuing around you. But it doesn’t matter. Nothing else matters except the way you’re looking at him, like he’s the only person in the world.

“Come on,” you say, tugging him towards the podium. “You’ve got a trophy to collect.”

Logan follows, still holding onto your hand, not willing to let you go just yet. The team is waiting, cheering him on, and as they hoist him up onto their shoulders, Logan realizes that this — this moment, this feeling — is what he’s been racing for all along.

Standing on the podium, the trophy in his hands, Logan looks out at the sea of faces, at the fans cheering his name, at the team celebrating their victory. But his eyes find you in the crowd, and that’s where they stay.

You’re smiling up at him, and Logan knows, deep down, that this is just the beginning. The beginning of something incredible, something he never saw coming but can’t imagine living without.

As the anthem plays and the confetti rains down, Logan lifts the trophy high, his heart full to bursting. He’s done it — he’s won the Indy 500. But more than that, he’s found something, someone, who makes all of it mean so much more.

And as he looks down at you, standing there with that bright, beautiful smile, Logan knows that he’s not just a champion. He’s the luckiest guy in the world.

***

The soft hum of the office fills the silence as Logan sits across from Mario, the weight of the moment pressing down on him. The past year has been a whirlwind — plenty of IndyCar wins, that unforgettable victory at the Indy 500, and the life he’s built with you by his side. It’s been everything he didn’t know he needed, but now, as he sits in Mario’s office, there’s an air of something significant, something life-altering in the way Mario looks at him.

Mario clears his throat, leaning forward on his desk, hands clasped. “Logan,” he begins, voice steady, serious. “I’ve been doing a lot of thinking — planning, actually — and I need to talk to you about something important.”

Logan’s heart skips a beat, the weight of Mario’s words sinking in. He nods, leaning forward slightly, feeling the anticipation coil tight in his chest. “What is it?” He asks, voice steady despite the flurry of nerves.

Mario takes a deep breath, then looks Logan squarely in the eye. “We’re buying Haas F1 Team. The deal’s already in motion, and we’ll be restructuring everything from the ground up to make our entrance into Formula 1 in 2026.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with implication. Logan’s breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he’s not sure if he’s heard Mario correctly. “Formula 1?” He echoes, almost disbelieving. His mind races, a thousand thoughts colliding at once. “You’re serious?”

“As serious as it gets,” Mario replies, his expression unwavering. “I’ve wanted this for a long time, Logan. And now, with everything coming together, it’s finally happening. But here’s the thing-” he pauses, his gaze locking onto Logan’s with an intensity that leaves no room for doubt, “I can’t think of anyone better suited to lead this team as our driver than you.”

The words hit Logan like a freight train. He stares at Mario, unable to speak, his heart thudding wildly in his chest. Formula 1 has always been the dream, the pinnacle of everything he’s worked for. The chance he thought he’d lost — twice, if he counts the strange twist of fate that had brought him here in the first place.

“Logan, I know this is a lot to take in,” Mario continues, his tone softer now, understanding. “But I believe in you. You’ve proven yourself time and time again, in F2, in IndyCar — hell, you won the Indy 500 in your first season. And I know you still have that fire for F1. This is your shot, kid. And I want you to take it.”

Logan feels the lump in his throat as Mario’s words sink in. The room seems to close in around him, the gravity of the moment pressing down like a physical weight. He’s had a lot of success in IndyCar, more than he ever imagined, and it brought him you — his reason to smile, his anchor in the storm. But Formula 1? That’s the dream he’s never fully let go of, even when he tried to convince himself otherwise.

He swallows hard, forcing the words out past the emotion threatening to choke him. “I-I don’t know what to say,” he admits, his voice thick. “I mean, this is … I didn’t think I’d ever get another chance like this.”

Mario smiles, the kind of smile that’s equal parts pride and encouragement. “I know it’s a lot, Logan. And it’s not an easy decision, especially considering everything you’ve built here in IndyCar. But I have no doubt in my mind that you’re the right person for this. You’ve got what it takes to succeed in F1, and I’m not just talking about talent. You’ve got heart, determination, and the ability to learn from your mistakes. That’s what makes a champion.”

Logan’s mind races, the possibilities spinning out in front of him. He thinks about everything he’s worked for, everything he’s achieved. And then he thinks about you — how you’ve been there with him through it all, supporting him, believing in him even when he doubted himself.

He takes a deep breath, his decision already forming in his mind, solidifying with each passing second. “Okay,” he says, meeting Mario’s gaze head-on. “I’ll do it. I want this, Mario. I want to prove to myself that I can do it right this time.”

Mario’s grin widens, and he stands up, offering Logan his hand. “Welcome to Andretti F1 Team. We’re going to do great things together.”

Logan shakes his hand, the reality of it all starting to settle in. He’s going to be a Formula 1 driver again. It’s terrifying, exhilarating, everything he’s ever wanted all over again. As he stands there, absorbing the magnitude of what’s just happened, he feels a strange mix of emotions — elation, fear, anticipation, and something else that he can’t quite name.

Mario walks him to the door, still talking about the next steps, the plans they have for the team, but Logan’s mind is half-focused on something else, someone else. As the door swings open, the conversation comes to a halt. The sight that greets them both brings a grin to Mario’s face and a burst of laughter from Logan.

You’re standing there, your ear pressed to the door, looking guilty as hell when you realize you’ve been caught. You straighten up quickly, trying to play it off, but the blush spreading across your cheeks gives you away.

“Eavesdropping, huh?” Logan teases, crossing his arms and raising an eyebrow. There’s a lightness in his voice that wasn’t there moments ago, the news already settling into a place of excitement rather than apprehension.

You bite your lip, trying to suppress a smile, but failing miserably. “I, um … I might have been curious,” you admit, your eyes twinkling with mischief.

Mario chuckles, shaking his head. “Looks like we’ve got a new team spy, Logan. Better watch out.”

Logan can’t help the grin that spreads across his face. He steps out of the office, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you close. “You know, you didn’t have to spy,” he says, his voice dropping to a softer tone. “I would’ve told you everything.”

You look up at him, your smile fading slightly as something more serious takes its place in your eyes. “I just … I wanted to know if it was good news,” you say quietly. “I know how much F1 means to you.”

Logan feels his heart clench at your words, at the sincerity in your voice. You’ve always understood him, always known what drives him, what keeps him going. He cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly over your skin. “It’s great news,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’m getting a second shot at F1, and I’m not going to mess it up this time.”

Your smile returns, bright and full of the same determination he feels. “I know you won’t,” you say confidently. “You’re going to do amazing things, Logie. And I’ll be right there with you.”

Logan’s chest tightens with emotion, the intensity of the moment overwhelming him. He leans down, pressing his forehead to yours. “I’m so lucky to have you,” he murmurs, his voice thick with gratitude. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

You laugh softly, the sound like music to his ears. “Good thing you won’t have to find out,” you reply, your tone teasing but laced with affection.

Logan’s heart swells, and before he can stop himself, he lifts you off your feet, spinning you around in a circle. You yelp in surprise, then burst into laughter, the sound filling the hallway.

He sets you down gently, your laughter fading into a soft smile as you look up at him. There’s a moment of quiet, the world around you fading away as the reality of what’s happening sinks in. Logan leans in, capturing your lips in a kiss that’s both tender and passionate, a promise of what’s to come.

When you finally pull back, breathless and smiling, Logan feels a sense of calm settle over him. Everything is falling into place, and for the first time in a long while, he feels like he’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

With you by his side, he knows he can face whatever comes next.

“Ready to take on the world?” You ask, your voice light but your eyes serious.

Logan grins, squeezing your hand. “As long as I’ve got you, I’m ready for anything.”

And with that, he leads you down the hallway, the future stretching out before him, bright and full of promise.

***

The sun is barely up, casting long shadows across the Albert Park Circuit, but the air is already alive with anticipation. It’s the first day of preseason testing for the 2026 Formula 1 season, and the paddock is buzzing with the usual mix of excitement and nerves.

Teams are unpacking crates, engineers are huddled over laptops, and the unmistakable scent of burning rubber is already in the air. But for Logan, walking through the paddock with you on his arm, it feels like stepping into a dream — one he’s worked too damn hard to make a reality.

He adjusts the collar of his Andretti jacket, the weight of the moment not lost on him. This is it. His second chance — though, thanks to the bizarre twist of fate, no one else knows it’s his second. Everyone around him sees a rookie, an American hopeful making his debut with Andretti’s new F1 team. But Logan knows better. He’s here with experience that no one can fathom, and he’s determined not to waste it.

As you walk beside him, your hand resting lightly on his arm, he can’t help but steal a glance at you. There’s a brightness in your eyes, a mix of pride and excitement that mirrors his own. “You okay?” He asks, squeezing your hand gently.

You look up at him and smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart do a little flip. “I’m more than okay,” you reply. “I’m with you, and we’re about to watch you live your dream. What could be better than that?”

Logan grins, feeling a warmth spread through his chest. You’ve been his rock through everything — the highs, the lows, the strange, unexplainable journey that brought him back here. He’s never been more certain that you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be.

As you make your way through the paddock, heads turn. It’s not just because Logan is here with the legendary Andretti team, but because of the woman at his side. He catches a few curious glances, some surprised, others appreciative, and he can’t blame them. You’re a sight to behold, and he’s proud to be walking in with you.

But then, out of the corner of his eye, Logan spots a familiar face. Oscar Piastri, decked out in McLaren colors, is standing near the entrance to the pit lane, chatting with a few team members. It’s been years since they last spoke properly — back when they were both climbing the ranks in the junior series, fighting tooth and nail for every inch of track.

They were close once, but life pulled them in different directions — Oscar to McLaren, Logan to IndyCar. And now, here they are, both in Formula 1, albeit on different paths.

Logan feels a wave of nostalgia, and before he can overthink it, he’s steering you in Oscar’s direction. As you approach, Oscar looks up, and for a split second, there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes before it melts into a wide, genuine smile.

“Logan Sargeant,” Oscar says, his Australian accent as thick as ever. He steps forward, hand outstretched, and Logan takes it, shaking firmly. “I’ll be damned. You actually made it.”

Logan chuckles, the sound more relaxed than he feels. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s been a long road, but here I am.”

Oscar’s smile widens, his grip on Logan’s hand lingering for just a moment longer. “It’s good to see you, mate. I was wondering when you’d show up in F1. Figured you were having too much fun in IndyCar to come back.”

“There was a lot to love about IndyCar,” Logan admits, glancing at you with a fond smile. “But F1 was always the dream, you know? Couldn’t pass up a chance like this.”

Oscar nods, understanding clear in his expression. “I get it. And with Andretti, no less. That’s a hell of a team to start with. You’re going to shake things up around here, I can tell.”

Logan shrugs, trying to play it cool even as his heart pounds with the reality of it all. “That’s the plan. But enough about me. How’s life at McLaren? You guys ready to give us a run for our money?”

Oscar laughs, the sound light and easy. “Always. McLaren’s been working their asses off, and I’m feeling good about this season. But don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because we’re old friends.”

Logan grins, feeling the competitive spark that’s always driven him reignite. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Besides, it’s been a while since we’ve gone wheel-to-wheel. I’m looking forward to it.”

Oscar’s gaze shifts to you, his curiosity evident. “And who’s this?” He asks, his tone polite but genuinely interested.

Logan’s grin softens as he looks at you. “This is my better half,” he says, his voice filled with affection. “She’s the one who keeps me sane.”

You smile at Oscar, offering your hand. “It’s great to finally meet you, Oscar. Logan’s told me a lot about you.”

Oscar shakes your hand, his smile warm and welcoming. “All good things, I hope.”

“Mostly,” you tease, throwing Logan a playful glance.

Logan laughs, feeling a lightness in his chest he hasn’t felt in a while. It’s good to be here, good to be surrounded by the familiar banter and camaraderie that he’s missed. He knows the road ahead is going to be tough — F1 is nothing if not ruthless — but with you by his side and old friends welcoming him back, he feels more ready than ever to face whatever comes his way.

Oscar steps back, his gaze shifting between the two of you. “Well, I’d better let you guys get settled in. But hey, we should catch up properly later. Maybe grab a drink after testing?”

Logan nods, appreciating the offer. “Definitely. It’s been too long.”

As Oscar walks away, Logan watches him for a moment, the memories of their shared past mingling with the excitement of the present. It’s surreal, being here again, but this time with the weight of everything he’s learned, everything he’s fought for.

You tug gently on his arm, pulling him out of his thoughts. “What are you thinking about?” You ask, your voice soft and curious.

Logan smiles down at you, squeezing your hand. “Just how different things are now,” he admits. “But in a good way. I’ve got a second shot at this, and I’m not going to waste it.”

You nod, your eyes shining with the same determination he feels. “And I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.”

Logan feels a swell of emotion, gratitude, and love that he can’t quite put into words. Instead, he leans down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

The two of you continue walking, the sounds of the paddock fading into the background as you focus on each other. The day ahead is full of unknowns — testing, strategy meetings, the inevitable pressure of proving himself — but with you by his side, Logan feels ready for anything.

As you make your way to the Andretti garage, the team members greet Logan with nods and smiles, and he can see the mix of curiosity and expectation in their eyes. They’re all in this together, building something new, something that has the potential to be great. And Logan is determined to be the driver they need, the one who can lead them to success.

You squeeze his hand, drawing his attention back to you. “You’re going to do amazing, Logan. I can feel it.”

He smiles, the confidence in your voice bolstering his own. “Thanks. I’m just glad you’re here with me.”

“Always,” you reply, your gaze unwavering.

As the day progresses, Logan finds himself falling into the rhythm of the paddock. The familiar sounds of engines roaring to life, the chatter of engineers discussing data, the focused intensity that permeates every corner — it’s like he never left. But this time, there’s a new layer to it all, a sense of belonging that he didn’t fully grasp the first time around.

He exchanges nods and brief conversations with other drivers as they pass by, some offering congratulations, others sizing him up as the new competition. It’s all part of the game, the unspoken dance of respect and rivalry that defines the sport. But through it all, Logan keeps you close, your presence grounding him in the midst of the chaos.

As the day draws to a close, Logan finds himself back in the garage, the car stripped down and the team poring over the data from the day’s sessions. He’s tired, the kind of exhaustion that comes from both physical exertion and mental focus, but it’s the good kind of tired — the kind that tells him he’s exactly where he needs to be.

You’re standing nearby, chatting with one of the engineers, your laughter mingling with the sounds of the garage. Logan watches you for a moment, a smile tugging at his lips. You’ve always had a way of fitting in, of making everyone around you feel at ease, and he’s grateful for that — for you.

As if sensing his gaze, you look over at him and smile, that familiar warmth in your eyes. You make your way over to him, and when you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms, holding you close. The noise of the garage fades into the background, leaving just the two of you in this moment.

“You did great today,” you say.

Logan holds you a little tighter, resting his chin on the top of your head. “I couldn’t have done it without you,” he murmurs.

You pull back slightly, just enough to look up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of pride and affection. “You’re the one out there driving, Logan. But I’m glad I can be here for you.”

He smiles, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your lips. “It means everything to me that you are,” he whispers.

For a moment, the chaos of the garage and the world outside fades, leaving just the two of you standing together, ready to face whatever comes next. Logan knows the road ahead won’t be easy, but with you by his side, he’s more than ready to take on the challenge.

***

The media room is buzzing with the usual pre-race energy, a mix of nerves and excitement crackling in the air as the drivers settle in behind the table. Logan’s seated between Oscar and Charles, the bright lights overhead casting sharp shadows across their faces. The backdrop behind them, plastered with sponsor logos and the official F1 emblem, feels almost like a stage, the press in front of them the audience waiting for their performance.

Logan shifts in his seat, glancing down at the bottled water in front of him. The press conference has been the usual mix of questions so far — how the cars are handling, expectations for the season, the general camaraderie between the drivers. But there’s an undercurrent, a sense that something more pointed is coming.

A journalist from the back finally stands, her voice clear and direct as she catches Logan’s attention. “Logan,” she begins, holding her recorder up, “there’s been some observation that every time you see James Vowles, your expression seems to … change. Almost like you’re not too thrilled to be around him. Any comment on that?”

There’s a moment of silence in the room, a collective breath held. Logan feels the gaze of every person on him, including the drivers beside him. He lets out a quiet laugh, trying to play it cool, but he can’t help the way his mind flashes back to the last time he’d faced Vowles, the man’s condescending tone, the cold dismissal that had sent him spiraling.

Oscar shifts beside him, giving him a sideways glance, probably wondering where this is going. Logan catches the edge of his own reflection in the shiny surface of the table and forces his expression into something neutral, even though the old bitterness is clawing its way up from the pit of his stomach.

“Bad vibes,” Logan says finally, his voice carrying just enough humor to keep it light, though there’s an unmistakable edge to it. “That’s what my girlfriend would say. He just … gives off bad vibes.”

There’s a ripple of laughter through the room, the tension breaking slightly. But the journalist isn’t done yet. “Bad vibes? Care to elaborate on that?”

Logan shrugs, trying to brush it off with a casualness he doesn’t quite feel. “You know, it’s one of those things. Sometimes you just don’t click with someone, right? It’s nothing serious.”

Charles, on his other side, leans into his mic, flashing a grin. “You’re not going to make us all paranoid about our vibes now, are you?”

The room laughs again, and Logan takes the opportunity to sip his water, hoping the moment will pass. But he can feel the weight of the past pressing against him, the memories of how it all went down before he’d found himself in this second chance. He knows better than anyone that this sport is a game of perceptions, of how you carry yourself, and he can’t afford to let the past taint his future.

Another journalist jumps in, steering the conversation toward safer waters — questions about the new car, how he’s adjusting to the Andretti team. Logan answers on autopilot, the usual lines about feeling confident, about how the team has been amazing. But in the back of his mind, he’s still thinking about that flash of disgust he couldn’t hide, the way his skin prickled when he saw Vowles earlier that day.

When the press conference finally wraps up, and the drivers are ushered out of the room, Oscar hangs back, falling into step beside Logan as they head toward the paddock. “So,” Oscar starts, keeping his voice low, “bad vibes, huh?”

Logan lets out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding, a half-smile tugging at his lips. “You know how it is,” he says, trying to keep it light, though he knows Oscar can see right through him.

Oscar just nods, not pushing any further, and Logan’s grateful for that. They walk in silence for a moment, the din of the paddock growing louder as they approach, engineers and team members bustling around them.

“Honestly, mate,” Oscar says after a beat, “if anyone’s going to bring some good vibes into F1, it’s you. I’m glad you’re here.”

Logan glances over, and there’s sincerity in Oscar’s expression that makes Logan’s chest tighten, the weight of everything he’s carried with him lightening just a bit. “Thanks, Oscar. That means a lot.”

They reach the Andretti motorhome, where you’re waiting for Logan, your eyes lighting up the moment you spot him. He feels a warmth spread through him at the sight, a reminder of what really matters.

You push off the wall you’d been leaning against, falling into step beside him. “So, how’d it go in there?”

Logan smirks, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as they walk. “Let’s just say my reputation for honesty might have gotten a bit more solidified.”

You tilt your head up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes. “That bad, huh?”

He chuckles, shaking his head. “Not bad, just … honest.”

You glance at Oscar, who’s still walking beside you, and give him a knowing look. “He always has to make things interesting, doesn’t he?”

Oscar grins, nodding in agreement. “Never a dull moment with this one.”

As you make your way back into the motorhome, Logan feels the tension of the day starting to ebb away. The familiar scent of coffee and fuel, the low hum of conversations around him, and the comforting presence of you by his side — it all feels right. Despite everything, he knows this is where he belongs.

Once inside, the motorhome offers a brief respite from the chaotic energy outside. The team is prepping for final checks, and Logan knows he should be focusing on the task ahead, but there’s something nagging at him, a need to explain himself, to make sure you understand.

You catch the way his brows furrow slightly, the way his grip on your shoulder tightens for a moment before he lets go. “What’s up?”

He hesitates, running a hand through his hair, looking for the right words. “I just … I don’t want to come off like I’m carrying a grudge or anything. That comment about Vowles — it probably sounded harsher than I meant it.”

You step closer, your hand finding his, grounding him. “Logan, it’s okay. Everyone has people they don’t vibe with. It doesn’t mean anything more than that.”

He nods, the tightness in his chest loosening as he looks into your eyes, seeing the unwavering support there. “You always know what to say, don’t you?”

You smile, squeezing his hand. “It’s a gift. Plus, you make it easy.”

Oscar clears his throat, and both of you look over to see him trying not to grin. “I’m going to leave you two to it. Just don’t forget we have a race to focus on.”

Logan laughs, shaking his head as Oscar heads out. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll be right out.”

When Oscar’s gone, Logan turns back to you, his expression softening. “Thanks for being here. Really.”

You lean up, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. “Always.”

As you both make your way out to the garage, the sounds of the team preparing for the weekend reach your ears, and Logan feels that familiar rush of adrenaline, the anticipation of what’s to come. The memory of the press conference, of Vowles, fades into the background. What matters now is the race ahead, the chance to prove himself once again, and the knowledge that whatever happens, you’re right there with him.

He glances over at you as they approach the car, and you catch him staring, raising an eyebrow in question. “What?”

Logan just smiles, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just thinking about how lucky I am.”

You roll your eyes, though there’s a smile playing on your lips. “You better believe it, Sargeant. Now, go out there and show them what you’ve got.”

He nods, feeling more centered than he has all day. With a final squeeze of your hand, he steps into the garage, ready to take on whatever comes next, knowing that no matter what happens on the track, he’s already won in the ways that truly matter.

***

The roar of the engines reverberates through the paddock, a constant hum that thrums in Logan’s chest as he steps into the Andretti garage. It’s yet another race weekend, and the energy is electric, a mix of anticipation and nerves hanging in the air.

The team is buzzing around him, mechanics fine-tuning the car, engineers buried in data, but Logan’s focus is on the familiar figure leaning casually against the back wall, arms crossed, watching the hustle with an almost serene smile.

Logan stops in his tracks, eyebrows raising in surprise. It’s not that Mario isn’t around — he’s a constant presence in the team, always keeping an eye on things — but he usually doesn’t show up this early in the weekend, and certainly not with that look on his face.

It’s a smile Logan recognizes all too well, a mix of pride and mischief that means only one thing: Mario knows something that everyone else doesn’t, and it’s going to shake things up.

Logan weaves his way through the garage, sidestepping the organized chaos until he’s standing in front of Mario. “You look like you’re up to something,” Logan says, crossing his arms to mirror the older man’s posture. “What’s going on?”

Mario’s smile widens just a fraction, his eyes glinting with a secret. “Now, what makes you think I’m up to anything, kid?”

Logan chuckles, shaking his head. “Because I know that look. You’ve got news.”

Mario doesn’t respond immediately. Instead, he pushes off the wall and motions for Logan to follow him to a quieter corner of the garage, away from the prying eyes and ears of the rest of the team. Logan follows, his curiosity piqued. Whatever Mario’s about to tell him, it’s big.

When they’re sufficiently out of earshot, Mario leans in slightly, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You remember how I told you a while back that we were working on something big for the team?”

Logan nods, his interest fully captured. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Mario’s smile turns almost wicked. “Well, it seems that James Vowles and Williams think they’re going to secure Adrian Newey for next season.”

Logan’s eyes widen slightly. Newey is a legend in the sport, the kind of designer who can turn a good team into a championship-winning one. If Williams were to get him, it would be a game-changer. “Wait, you said they think they’re going to get him?”

“Exactly.” Mario’s grin is practically gleeful now. “What they don’t know is that Adrian’s already in talks with us. In fact, we’re just about ready to sign the deal.”

Logan lets out a low whistle, the magnitude of the news sinking in. “You’re serious?”

“Dead serious. By this time next week, Adrian Newey will be working for Andretti.”

Logan can’t help the wide smile that spreads across his face. This is huge, a move that will send shockwaves through the paddock. With Newey on board, Andretti’s chances of becoming a front-runner in F1 just skyrocketed. “I can’t believe it,” Logan says, shaking his head in disbelief. “That’s going to change everything.”

Mario nods, satisfaction evident in his expression. “It’s a big deal, no doubt about it. But we’ve still got work to do. We can’t get complacent, not with what’s at stake. But this … this is a big step in the right direction.”

Logan’s mind is already racing ahead, thinking about what this means for the team, for his own career. The idea of driving a car designed by Newey is almost surreal. “When are you going to announce it?”

“Not until everything’s signed and sealed,” Mario replies. “But once it’s done, we’ll make sure the whole world knows. And Williams … well, they’re in for a nasty surprise.”

Logan laughs, the sound coming out more exhilarated than he intended. The idea of one-upping Vowles, especially after everything that’s happened between them, is deeply satisfying. “I can’t wait to see the look on Vowles’ face when he finds out.”

Mario pats Logan on the shoulder, the gesture filled with a camaraderie that Logan has come to cherish. “Neither can I, kid. Neither can I.”

As they walk back towards the main part of the garage, Logan’s mind is still reeling from the news. He’s been focused on the present, on making sure he performs at his best every time he’s out on the track, but this … this opens up a whole new realm of possibilities. With Newey on board, there’s no telling what they can achieve.

When you spot him from across the garage, the look on his face must give away that something’s up because you immediately make your way over, your expression curious. “What’s going on?” You ask as soon as you’re close enough.

Logan glances around, making sure no one is within earshot, and then leans in, his voice low. “Mario just dropped a bombshell. Andretti’s about to sign Adrian Newey.”

Your eyes widen in shock, and Logan watches as a grin spreads across your face, mirroring his own excitement. “No way. That’s … huge!”

“I know,” Logan says, still barely able to believe it himself. “This changes everything.”

You reach out, placing a hand on his arm, your voice filled with pride. “You’re going to be driving a car designed by Newey. Do you realize how amazing that is?”

Logan nods, the reality of it finally sinking in. “Yeah, I do. It’s … I can’t even put it into words.”

You laugh, shaking your head in disbelief. “You don’t have to. I can see it on your face.”

For a moment, Logan just stands there, soaking it all in. The garage is still bustling around them, the team oblivious to the monumental news that’s just been dropped in their laps. But Logan knows that soon enough, everything is going to change. This is the kind of move that can define a career, that can take a team from being contenders to being champions.

But more than that, it’s a chance for redemption. A chance to prove to everyone — including himself — that he belongs here, that he’s capable of more than anyone ever gave him credit for. The past is behind him now, and with you by his side, and Newey in the garage, the future looks brighter than ever.

Logan glances over at you, seeing the pride and excitement in your eyes, and feels a surge of gratitude. For the second chance he’s been given, for the team that believes in him, and for you, the person who’s been there through it all.

“We’re going to do something amazing, you know that?” Logan says, his voice filled with conviction.

You nod, your smile soft but full of certainty. “I know. And I can’t wait to see it.”

Neither can Logan.

***

Logan’s heart is still pounding from the rush of the race as he stands on the podium, feeling the weight of the Miami sun on his shoulders. The crowd roars below him, a sea of red, white, and blue as far as the eye can see, their energy pulsing through his veins. He can hardly believe it. A podium at his home race, in front of a crowd that feels like family, is something he’d dreamed about since he was a kid.

He turns, looking out over the crowd, his eyes scanning for you. You’re there, as you always are, standing with the Andretti team, your smile brighter than the sun. The mechanics are cheering, patting each other on the back, but Logan only has eyes for you. It’s like everything else falls away — the noise, the cameras, the pressure of the season — all of it fades into the background. All that matters is the way you’re looking at him, like he’s your entire world.

He takes a deep breath, the realization of what he’s about to do washing over him. His hands shake, just slightly, as he reaches up and touches the chain around his neck, feeling the weight of the ring that’s been hidden there for weeks, waiting for this moment.

Without another thought, he drops to one knee, right there on the podium. The world seems to stop as he looks up at you, the crowd going silent in his mind. He hears the sharp intake of breath from the Andretti crew, sees the shock on your face as you register what’s happening.

“Hey,” he says, his voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “I … I don’t know if I can put into words what you mean to me. You’ve been with me through everything — the wins, the losses, the crazy twists and turns. And I can’t imagine going through any of it without you by my side.” He pauses, the weight of the moment sinking in. “So I guess what I’m trying to say is … will you marry me?”

Your eyes widen, and for a second, you’re frozen in place, staring at him in disbelief. Then, as if breaking free from a spell, you laugh, a sound that’s pure joy, and nod vigorously. The next thing Logan knows, you’re being lifted onto the podium by the mechanics, tears of happiness streaming down your face as you launch yourself into his arms.

“Yes,” you say, your voice trembling with emotion. “Yes, of course, I will!”

The crowd erupts into cheers, the noise deafening as Logan slides the ring onto your finger. He pulls you close, his lips finding yours in a kiss that tastes like victory, love, and everything good in the world. The mechanics are going wild, chanting your names, and someone — Logan thinks it might be Mario — pops open a bottle of champagne, spraying it over everyone.

It’s chaotic, it’s perfect, and it’s a moment that Logan knows he’ll remember for the rest of his life. As he holds you close, feeling the warmth of your body against his, he realizes that this — right here, with you in his arms, and his home crowd cheering around him — is the true victory. The rest is just a bonus.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes. “You know,” he says, his voice low so only you can hear, “I always knew I was lucky. But this … this is something else entirely.”

You smile, the kind of smile that makes his heart skip a beat, and lean in to kiss him again. “We’re both lucky, Logan,” you whisper against his lips. “And this is just the beginning.”

***

The paddock is buzzing with activity, the hum of engines and the chatter of mechanics creating a familiar symphony that Logan finds oddly comforting. It’s the start of another race weekend, but this one feels different. There’s an undercurrent of excitement in the air, a mix of nerves and anticipation that has nothing to do with the cars or the track.

Logan slips away from the Andretti garage, his eyes scanning the bustling paddock as he makes his way toward the Williams garage. He’s done his best to stay clear of them ever since re-entering Formula 1, but today is different. Today, he has a reason to be there — a reason that brings a small, almost mischievous smile to his lips.

The Williams garage is a flurry of motion, mechanics and engineers huddled over laptops, surrounded by toolboxes and tires. The sight brings a wave of nostalgia crashing over Logan, but he quickly pushes it aside. He isn’t here for a trip down memory lane.

Spotting Alex Albon near the back, Logan weaves through the chaos, his steps light and easy despite the tension he can feel crawling up his spine. Alex is engrossed in a conversation with his race engineer, but when Logan steps up, he looks up in surprise.

“Logan!” Alex greets, his face splitting into a wide grin. “What are you doing here? Slumming it with the backmarkers?”

“Something like that,” Logan replies, his tone light as he pulls a small, cream-colored envelope from his jacket pocket. He hands it to Alex, who takes it with a curious tilt of his head. “Figured I should deliver this in person.”

Alex flips the envelope over, his eyes widening slightly as he reads the names printed in elegant script on the front — his and Lily’s. He breaks into a grin, already understanding what it is before he even opens it.

“No way,” Alex says, pulling out the invitation and quickly scanning the details. “You’re really doing it, huh? Getting hitched?”

Logan chuckles, feeling a warmth spread through his chest at the thought. “Yeah, we are. And we’d love for you and Lily to be there.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Alex replies, his grin softening into something more sincere. “Congrats, man. You two are great together.”

Logan nods, grateful for the genuine well-wishes. He’s about to say something else when a flicker of movement catches his eye. Glancing up, he sees James Vowles standing a few feet away, his expression unreadable as he watches the exchange between Logan and Alex.

For a brief moment, the past rushes back — the frustration, the disappointment, the sense of being discarded like a broken part. Logan feels a familiar pang of bitterness, but he quickly tamps it down. He isn’t that person anymore. He’s moved on, and he’s got better things — better people — in his life now.

Still, he can’t help himself.

He meets James’ gaze head-on, his smile shifting into something a bit more pointed, more deliberate. “Oh, James?” He says, his voice carrying just enough to be heard over the noise of the garage. “Seems like your invitation must’ve gotten lost in the mail. Real shame.”

James’ eyes narrow slightly, his jaw tightening, but he doesn’t respond. The tension between them is almost tangible, thickening the air around them. Logan holds his gaze for a moment longer, then shrugs exaggeratingly before turning his attention back to Alex.

“Anyway, hope to see you there,” Logan says, clapping Alex on the shoulder before stepping back. “Tell Lily we’re looking forward to it.”

“Will do,” Alex replies, still smiling but with a touch of unease as he glances between Logan and James.

Logan doesn’t linger. He turns on his heel and strides back through the garage, the small, satisfied grin still tugging at his lips. He can feel James’ eyes boring into his back, but he doesn’t care. Let him stew, Logan thinks. He’s got more important things on his mind.

As he exits the garage and steps back into the sun-drenched paddock, Logan takes a deep breath, feeling lighter, freer. The thought of the wedding, of you waiting for him back in the Andretti garage, fills him with a sense of contentment that he never thought he’d find in the world of Formula 1.

He spots you before you see him, standing with Mario and a few other Andretti team members, animatedly talking about something. Your laughter rings out over the noise of the paddock, and Logan feels his heart swell with affection.

It’s funny how things work out, he thinks. How life has a way of surprising you, of turning things around when you least expect it. He’s come a long way from that lost, angry kid who thought he’d never get a second chance. And now, here he is, standing on the cusp of a future that’s brighter than anything he could have imagined.

He picks up his pace, eager to get back to you, to tell you about the exchange with Alex and the little jab he couldn’t resist throwing at James. But as he draws closer, you turn and catch sight of him, your face lighting up in a way that makes his breath catch in his throat.

“Hey, you,” you call out, stepping away from the group to meet him halfway. “Did you get it done?”

Logan nods, a grin spreading across his face. “Yeah, I did. Alex and Lily are in.”

“And Vowles?” You ask, a knowing glint in your eyes.

Logan chuckles, slipping an arm around your waist as he leans in to press a quick kiss to your lips. “Let’s just say … he didn’t make the cut.”

You laugh, the sound pure and full of joy, and it’s the best thing Logan’s heard all day. “Good. You don’t need that kind of negativity at our wedding.”

“No, I don’t,” Logan agrees, feeling a rush of relief that you’re by his side, making even the most awkward encounters bearable. “And anyway, we’ve got more than enough people who actually care about us.”

You nod, your expression softening as you look up at him. “Yeah, we do. And I can’t wait to celebrate with them — with you.”

Logan feels a warmth spread through him, the same warmth he’s felt ever since the day he realized just how much you meant to him. It’s a feeling that never gets old, no matter how many podiums or victories he racks up. Because at the end of the day, it’s moments like this — simple, shared moments with you — that matter the most.

As the two of you head back toward the Andretti garage, Logan can’t help but think about how far he’s come. From the chaos of that first season in Formula 1, the heartbreak of being dropped, to the wild success of his time in IndyCar, and now, back in the sport he loves, with you by his side.

He knows there will be more challenges ahead — there always are in this world. But for now, he’s content to focus on the here and now, on the love he’s found and the life he’s building with you.

And as you walk together through the paddock, the sun casting long shadows on the ground, Logan can’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world. Not because of the cars, or the fame, or even the victories, but because of you — because you’re the one thing in his life that makes all the twists and turns worth it.

And he wouldn’t trade that for anything.

***

The roar of the crowd is deafening, a wall of sound that crashes against Logan as he stands on top of the podium. His hands grip the trophy tightly, the cold metal grounding him as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s done it. Logan Sargeant, the kid from Florida who almost lost everything, is now the World Drivers’ Champion.

The first American to do so since Mario Andretti himself.

He’s fought hard for this moment, clawed his way back from the brink of obscurity, and now here he is, at the pinnacle of motorsport. The champagne sprays around him, but all Logan can focus on is the sight of you, beaming up at him from the edge of the podium. You’re standing beside Mario, who’s wearing a grin as wide as Logan’s ever seen. You’re bouncing on the balls of your feet, hands clasped together, eyes sparkling with a mix of pride and joy.

He barely registers the other drivers beside him, the interviews, or the flashes of cameras. Everything narrows to you and the overwhelming sense of accomplishment swelling in his chest. You’ve been there through it all, from the moment he took that leap of faith into IndyCar, to the sleepless nights before his first season back in Formula 1. Every high and every low has led to this, and you’ve never wavered.

Logan can’t help the way his gaze shifts slightly to the left, where James Vowles stands at the edge of the crowd, arms crossed, lips pressed into a thin line. There’s a tightness to his expression, a bitterness that Logan recognizes all too well.

But as much as he’d love to revel in that small victory, he finds that he doesn’t care. Not really. The vindication is sweet, sure, but it pales in comparison to the sight of you and the emotions radiating from you like the warmest of suns.

You notice him looking at you, and you blow him a kiss, laughing when he pretends to catch it, holding it to his chest. There’s no place he’d rather be than right here, right now, with you by his side.

The ceremony starts to wrap up, and as the photographers move in closer for shots, Logan can see Mario nudging you forward. You’re waving your hands at your grandfather, as if to say no, you’re fine where you are, but Mario’s having none of it. The mechanics and team members part to let you through, and Logan watches with an ever-growing smile as you finally make your way up onto the podium.

When you reach him, Logan pulls you into his arms without hesitation, lifting you off your feet as the crowd goes wild. He spins you around, feeling the way you cling to him, your laughter ringing out in his ear.

“You did it,” you say when he finally sets you down, your voice thick with emotion.

“No,” Logan corrects, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “We did it.”

You roll your eyes playfully, but there’s no hiding the way your eyes glisten. “You’re unbelievable.”

“And you love me for it,” Logan teases, leaning in to press his forehead against yours.

“Yeah,” you whisper, “I really do.”

The moment is interrupted by Mario clearing his throat, and Logan turns to see him holding a bottle of champagne, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Now, are we celebrating or what?”

Logan laughs, grabbing the bottle and popping the cork, spraying the contents over you and Mario, who both shout in surprise. The rest of the team quickly follows suit, and soon, the podium is a chaotic mess of laughter, champagne, and pure, unfiltered joy.

As the celebrations continue around him, Logan takes a step back, watching the scene unfold. His heart swells with a sense of contentment he’s never felt before. He’s always been driven, always had his eyes set on the next goal, the next race, the next win. But standing here, with you by his side, he realizes that he’s found something even more important than all of that.

He’s found a home.

A family.

And he’s never letting go.

The night carries on in a blur of congratulatory hugs, media obligations, and team celebrations. But as the crowd starts to thin and the energy begins to mellow, Logan finds himself sitting on the edge of the podium, his legs dangling off the side. The cool night air brushes against his skin, the sounds of the city in the distance providing a soft backdrop to the dwindling celebrations.

You find him there, sitting in silence, and without a word, you join him. You lean into his side, and he wraps an arm around you, pulling you close.

“It’s still sinking in,” Logan admits after a while. “I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.”

You tilt your head up to look at him, your eyes filled with warmth. “You’ve earned it, Logan. Every single bit of it. Don’t ever doubt that.”

He nods, resting his chin on top of your head. “It just feels … surreal. Like I’m living in a dream.”

“Well, if this is a dream,” you say, a mischievous smile playing on your lips, “then it’s one I never want to wake up from.”

Logan chuckles softly, his heart swelling with affection. “You and me both.”

The two of you sit there in comfortable silence, watching as the final remnants of the celebration begin to fade. The stadium lights dim, and the night sky takes over, a blanket of stars twinkling above you. It’s peaceful, a stark contrast to the chaos of the day, and Logan can’t help but feel grateful for this quiet moment with you.

“I used to think winning was everything,” Logan says after a while, his voice barely above a whisper. “That nothing else mattered as long as I crossed the finish line first.”

“And now?” You ask, your tone gentle, inviting him to continue.

“Now I know that it’s not just about the win,” Logan replies, his gaze fixed on the horizon. “It’s about the journey. The people who stand by you, who lift you up when you’re down, who make the victories sweeter and the losses bearable. It’s about finding something worth fighting for, and never letting go of it.”

You smile, your fingers intertwining with his. “Sounds like you’ve learned a lot.”

Logan nods, turning his head to look at you. “I have. And it’s all because of you.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head. “I think you’re giving me too much credit.”

“Not at all,” Logan says, his voice firm. “You’ve been my rock, my anchor. I wouldn’t be here without you.”

You look at him, your eyes shining with unshed tears. “Logan …”

“I mean it,” he says, his voice gentle yet unwavering. “You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You don’t respond with words; instead, you lean in, capturing his lips in a soft, lingering kiss. It’s a kiss filled with promises, with unspoken words, and with a love that has grown stronger with every challenge, every victory, every moment shared.

When you finally pull away, Logan rests his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his heart full. “I love you,” he whispers, the words carrying the weight of all he feels.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice just as soft, just as full of emotion.

The world fades away as the two of you sit there, wrapped up in each other. Logan knows that there will be more challenges ahead, more races to win, more obstacles to overcome. But as long as he has you by his side, he knows that he can face anything.

Because, in the end, it’s not just about the racing. It’s about the people who make it all worthwhile.

And for Logan Sargeant, that person is you.

As the night deepens and the city quiets, Logan realizes that this is just the beginning. The beginning of a new chapter, a new journey, with you right beside him. And whatever the future holds, he knows one thing for certain:

He’s exactly where he’s meant to be.

And with you, he’s already won.

[bbydoll18xx]

I’ve Got a Wand and a Rabbit (Part 2)

You give Paige some guidance when it comes to self-pleasure.

Paige Bueckers x reader

Part 1

Masterlist

Word Count: 2.4k

Themes: mentions of sex, sex toys, and some ~self-pleasure~

A/N: hiii guys!!! I honestly cannot get over the love for part 1. That was probably one of my favorite things I’ve written since I’ve been here on tumblr, and I’m so glad you guys shared the love 💜😚

I hope part 2 doesn’t disappoint!!

Here we go!!

~

“You shoulda seen the way she was blushing! I’ve never seen her act that way!” KK roars to the rest of UConn’s women’s basketball team, the girls leaning forward in extreme interest as KK recounts how Paige had turned into a bumbling mess in your presence the day prior. 

“God, KK, shut up. I did not,” Paige whines, her face growing warm with humiliation. 

“There she goes again,” Jana teases, and the girls erupt into another round of laughter. 

“Y’all suck,” Paige pouts, walking off the basketball court and heading towards the locker room for a much needed reprieve. 

The taunting had yet to stop since she had stepped foot in the sex shop a week prior. KK and Ice had hunted down valuable information that a certain someone had worked there, and they had forced Paige to come inside, knowing you were standing behind the counter.

Paiges’ thoughts drift back to that day, as they had nearly a million times the past week, and she muses over the way your hair had flowed over your shoulders and your lips glistened pink.

Her crush on you was unwavering, the same way the ocean waves continuously kissed the shoreline. 

And despite what nearly everyone had perceived about Paige Bueckers, she was absolutely terrified when it came to expressing her feelings. Especially about you. So she bottled them up, settling for watching you from afar with a hope that maybe she’d muster up the courage to talk to you.

That was until her teammates had made the decision to do so for her. 

She really couldn't be all that mad at them.

Her crush on you had started three years ago. The two of you had shared a fondness for studying in the same area of the library, where it was quiet and away from the loudness of your respective roommates. Paige’s grades had always been good, but the daily motivation of seeing you, tongue occasionally peaking out in concentration and your body nestled in large, comfy-looking sweatshirts had Paige securing her place on the Dean’s List semester after semester. 

And with everything Paige did, she completely lacked subtlety when it came to you, and it only took a few longing glances in your direction for Ice and KK to connect the dots. 

~

“Oh, c’mon you can’t be mad at me,” KK whines, running into the locker room after Paige. 

Paige rolls her eyes. “Well, you ain’t gotta put me on blast.” She sits on the bench, putting her head in her hands.

“You’re being way too dramatic. She offered to show you how to use the damn toy,” KK stresses, and Paige’s face goes pink again.

“Soo,” she drags out the word with a thoughtful expression on her face. “Just take her up on the offer and boom you can have sex and then live happily ever after!” 

Paige’s eyes widen as KK, in the midst of her rambling, doesn’t see Coach Geno walk in behind her. 

Based on the look on his face, he had definitely heard KK, and he clears his throat, causing KK to whip around, her hand flying over her mouth as she pieces the situation together.

“Shit,” she mumbles under her breath, sending a weak smile over to Geno, who just waves her away, a disgusted grimace on his face.

But as Geno rambles on about how the practice went, Paige’s thoughts drift back to the way you suggested to help her. 

Would you really want to? Paige was navigating something completely new, and it was stressing her the fuck out.

If only there was a way to get rid of the pent up anxiety.

~

On the other side of campus, you were having a similar dilemma. You had been trying to work out what had come over you yesterday when you had boldly and uncharacteristically offered to teach Paige Bueckers how to use a vibrator.

The interaction plays in your mind for the millionth time, and you slap a palm across your forehead in frustration.

“I am so fucking stupid,” you groan, catching the attention of your roommate who was working on a paper at the seat across from you at your most favorite spot in the library.

“What’d you do now?” She asks, and you divulge her in yesterday's interaction with Paige, and her eyes widen.

“Dude, you have been drooling over her for the past three years, and you’re telling me you’re not going to wife her up?” She asks in a hushed whisper.

“I think she was just being polite,” you sigh. “We exchanged numbers, but I’ve been too scared to do anything.”

Charlotte shakes her head in mock derision, “I raised you better than that.”

You sit there a moment, contemplating. 

“Fuck. Okay, I’m gonna do it.” 

Pulling out your phone, you pull up Paige’s contact information, your fingers shaking slightly as they ghost over the keypad. 

“Hi, still need some help? If not, no big deal. Just thought I couldn’t leave a pretty girl stranded,” you read out to Charlotte as you compose the text, and she claps loudly in approval.

“God I hope she doesn't think I'm some sort of sex addict,” you moan, looking at the delivered sign under the text. 

~

Back in the locker room, Paige nearly chokes on a swig of water as your text appears on her screen. Aubrey, who is sitting next to her, slaps her on the back a few times, before leaning over to take a good look at what was causing the reaction.

Aubrey hoots loudly as she reads the text and promptly snatches Paige’s phone out of her hands to show it to KK, who had proudly deemed herself the captain of yours and Paige’s ship.

“FINALLY!” KK yells, fist pumping the air with great enthusiasm, and the whole locker room erupts into laughter again. 

Paige rereads the text. And then again. Your words were flirty and sure, just as they had been yesterday, and Paige is once again reduced to a blushing, simpering mess. 

She looks around the room, eyes wide and a shy grin on her face. “What do I say?” And the girls erupt again.

“Tell her you wanna fu—” KK starts eagerly before Azzi, who was sitting next to the younger girl, covers her mouth with a sharp look on her face. KK moves Azzi’s hand away, pouting and muttering to herself about how she’s “just tryna help Paige get some pussy.”

With pink cheeks and a pounding heart, Paige composes a reply, hiding her phone from the curious eyes of her teammates, hoping it seemed way more confident than she felt. You had a strange effect on her, reducing her assured ways into a bumbling mess, teetering on the edge of falling into madness.

And it was just the beginning. 

After all, you had yet to even touch her. 

~

That night you stand in front of Paige’s door with a pounding heart, determined to keep up the facade you had attached to your being, and as she appears on the other side, it is cemented. 

There was just something about seeing a bashful Paige Bueckers that makes your confidence soar, and you send her a cheeky smile, reveling in her mannerisms.

Paige leads you into her bedroom, and you immediately spot the purple vibrator laying atop of the comforter. 

You break the ice. “So what’s stopping you from finishing?” You ask, looking her in the eyes.

An embarrassed chuckle leaves those pink lips, and she rubs a hand over the back of her neck. “I guess I just keep gettin’ distracted,” she mumbles, and you nod in understanding.

“I like to think about someone,” you say boldly and pointedly. “If you close your eyes and immerse yourself into a fantasy, it’s almost like they’re there with you.” 

You watch as she takes a deep breath, like she’s mentally preparing for what she says next.

“Can I try again? And you can walk me through it?” 

The air leaves your lungs, surprised by her suggestion, and you agree before any other thought could cross your mind. 

The situation was something out of a filthy romance book, and as Paige undresses down to her boxers and her sports bra, you thank every star you had wished on the last three years for letting this happen. 

Paige settles onto her pillows, her chest rising and falling rhythmically, and with shaky hands, grabs the vibrator.

“P,” you say softly, and her eyes fly back open, meeting yours. “Use your hands first. Tease yourself, and let the arousal build up,” you suggest kindly, and she nods, putting the toy back down.

She runs her hands across her toned stomach, causing your own to lurch with want. Her hair was sprawled out on the pillows, and her bottom lip was red and plump from biting it, and despite just getting started, she looked completely fucked out. 

You secretly hope the image never leaves your memory.

Paige continues to tease herself, her fingers delicately dancing across the fabric of her boxers, and a quiet moan leaves her mouth. Her eyes are still closed in concentration, and you wished you could peer into her thoughts, hoping you were the object of her most intimate fantasies. 

And as if she could read your thoughts, your name leaves her mouth in a broken whimper that has you wanting to jump her bones and connect that sinful mouth with yours.

She’s panting now. Her eyes open, those crystal clear baby blues pleading for more. The unspoken words spoken between the two of you bridged a formidable bond, and you know at that point that this would lead to a whole lot more than offering friendly tips on masterbation. 

“Need more,” she whispers, her lithe body squirming on the bed hinting at her growing arousal. 

“Okay, baby, now take the vibrator and start at your tits and run it down your stomach,” you instruct, your voice nearly trembling. 

The quiet buzz fills the room before it’s cut with Paige’s whimpers as she runs the toy over her now exposed breasts. The pointed, pink peaks of her nipples make your own strain against the lace of your bra, and you shift uncomfortably in the gaming chair you are sitting in. 

The toy gets dragged over her belly, going lower and lower until it grazes the waistband of her underwear, and with a frustrated sigh, she lifts her butt to rip off the offending fabric. 

And now she was laid out bare in front of you, occasionally peeking at you, making sure you were still watching. 

You could not look away, and your body subconsciously leans forward toward the blonde girl. 

She places the buzzing toy on her clit, her back arching off the bed in response, moaning in pleasure. Her hips jump, grinding against the vibrator, desperately seeking an orgasm that had been denied from her several times over the past week. 

“Doin’ so good for me, baby,” you whisper, enthralled with the display in front of you, and Paige opens her eyes once more at your praise, sending you a needy look and a pout. 

“Keep going,” you encourage, and she adjusts the vibration, a higher pitched buzz ringing through the small room. 

Paige’s skin glows with a subtle sheen of sweat and arousal that you want to meticulously lick, and her whimpers grow louder as she squirms, her eyes never leaving yours. 

“Fuck, gonna cum,” she groans, and you bite your lip, her noises effecting every fiber of your being. 

And with a loud moan, your name leaves her mouth, along with a long string of expletives, as her back arches off the comforter again. Her chest heaves as the orgasm rips through her, and her eyes roll back in overwhelming pleasure.

Your gaze rakes over her, taking in the gorgeous woman laid out before you, watching as she slowly comes down from the high. 

“Oh my god,” Paige breathes heavily, suddenly feeling exposed and shy again. 

“That was probably the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” you admit, your own cheeks flushed with arousal, and Paige’s eyes trail to your peaked nipples straining against the fabric of your shirt. 

“I was thinkin’ of you the whole time. And that was the best fuckin’ orgasm I have ever had,” she responds, putting her underwear back on, much to your displeasure. 

“Thank you,” she adds shyly.

You shrug, moving to sit next to her on the bed, you run your hand across the flesh of her thigh, goosebumps erupting in its wake.

And before you can even make your own move, Paige connects your lips in an impassioned kiss that adds fuel to the fire that was raging in your core. The kiss was messy with unrestrained want and need, swapping unsaid words that had been brewing in both of your heads over the last three years.

The two of you had unknowingly fallen in love with the thought of each other, and now, here you were, falling right into each other. 

And it wasn’t going to stop there. 

~

The next afternoon, you are back at work, your mind continuously going back to the delicious display of Paige’s naked body. You had been on the edge all day, dying to get home to rub one out. Or four, if you were being completely honest with yourself. 

Sitting in the back room in front of the fan, desperately needing a cool off, you hear the familiar jingle of the bell on the front door, alerting you that someone had entered the shop. You take a few deep breaths, trying to compose yourself. 

It was hard to be cordial when you were surrounded by sex toys.

You walk out of the back room, your eyes immediately trained on Paige who was now standing at the front counter with a huge smirk on her face. 

Blushing you walk up to her, pressing your lips to hers, the taste of her mouth sending your body up in flames once more.

“What’re you doing here?” You ask breathily.

Paige gestures towards the package she had set on the counter with a wide smile. “Figured I’d add to the collection. Wanted to buy something for your pleasure,” she adds casually.

Your belly lurches as your eyes land on the strap on, a deep purple and six inches of thick rubber.

“Fuck me,” you breathe, feeling yourself drip with excitement at the thought.

“Oh, I plan to,” Paige grins, and she pulls you in for another kiss.

Things were just getting started.

~

This was a blast to write!! Also I am obsessed with shy, blushy Paige

xoxo katy

~

You can now read part 3 here

[hoe4hotchner]

So what do you think about hotch and reader being neighbors, and they ended up being very close to each other, reader watches jack for him during a case, bake him some goodies, they have each other's house keys for emergencies, etc.

I was thinking about every time the team can, one of them hosts a little game night for them. And it was hotch's turn as a host. I was imagining they go to his house right after a paper work day, for some reason the team enters his house before than him, and they caught reader red handed on his wine rack choosing a bottle to take home for a night (to be fair she was searching for the cheapest one so she could buy and replace it) and she’s like “wtf do I do???”

I want to see what you can do with this 😅

A/N: This was so much fun to write!!!! I love this ❤️

Link to my inbox

After a long day at work, you stopped by Aaron's house to “borrow” a bottle of wine, planning to replace it later. You were in your favorite pajamas, feeling completely comfortable in his home as you looked through his wine rack, trying to pick the cheapest bottle.

Just as you reached for a bottle that looked suitably modest, you heard the sound of voices and footsteps. You froze, heart pounding. Peeking around the corner, you realized it wasn't just Hotch—it was his entire team. They arrived together, earlier than you expected. Hotch had mentioned the game night to you in passing, but you'd forgotten it was today. Panic rose in you as you realized you were about to be caught red-handed in your pajamas, holding one of his wine bottles. This was certainly not the first impression and meeting you’d like to give or have with his team.

Before you could make a graceful exit through the backdoor, Hotch and his team walked into the kitchen. They all stopped a few steps short of you, clearly not expecting to find you there. The sudden attention made your cheeks flush with embarrassment.

“Uh… hi?” you said awkwardly, shifting the bottle in your hands. You had never met his team before, and the situation felt more than a little awkward.

There was a beat of silence, and then Garcia, stepped forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity and delight. Hotch had told you about everyone on the team before, but Penelope's colorful attire made you instantly recognize her. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise! You must be the neighbor Hotch is always talking about!” she exclaimed, her warm smile instantly putting you somewhat at ease. “Why don’t you join us for game night? We’d love to have you!”

You blinked, feeling a bit overwhelmed by the sudden invitation. You glanced over at Hotch, hoping for some guidance, but his expression was unreadable. He stepped forward, his gaze softening as he took in your nervousness.

“It’s okay, she doesn’t have to,” he said gently as if sensing your hesitation and not wanting you to feel pressured. But there was a tone to his voice, almost like he wouldn’t mind if you stayed.

You hesitated, looking at the group of strangers who seemed so close-knit, then back at Hotch, whose presence always made you feel safe. Finally, you nodded, offering a small smile. “I guess I could stick around for a bit,” you said, trying to sound more confident than you felt.

Garcia beamed and waved you over. You reluctantly let her lead you into the living room where the rest of the team had already gathered as you made your decision. You still felt a bit out of place, especially since everyone else seemed to know each other so well, but as the night went on, the team’s friendliness started to chip away at your discomfort.

Hotch stayed close to you all night, subtly making sure you were comfortable, and before long, you were exchanging light banter with him, the ease between you two gradually returned. It was obvious to everyone that there was something more than friendship in the air with the way you interacted, though neither of you seemed fully aware of it.

The night unfolded with laughter, games, and plenty of wine. The team, though unfamiliar at first, quickly became more welcoming, especially as the alcohol loosened everyone up.

It was well past midnight, and the living room was filled with the sound of laughter, slurred words, and the occasional clink of glasses. That was when Emily, clearly more intoxicated than the rest, suddenly pointed at Hotch, her eyes half-lidded but sharp with a drunken clarity.

“Oh come on, Hotch!” she slurred, her words loud and stumbling. “Just admit it—you like her!”

Her outburst cut through the chatter, and the room fell silent, everyone turning to look at you and Hotch. You felt your heart race, your cheeks flushed with a mix of embarrassment and something else. You glanced at Hotch, who looked equally taken aback, his usual composed expression slipping as he processed what Emily had just said.

The silence stretched for a moment too long, making the whole team burst into loud laughter, the drunken energy in the room amplified the teasing. Garcia practically doubled over, and Morgan was grinning from ear to ear as he nudged Hotch with a playful elbow.

Hotch, still caught off guard, managed a half-smile, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes as he met your gaze—a question, maybe, or a realization neither of you had fully acknowledged until now. As the night wound down, the tension from Emily’s outburst lingered, leaving you both wondering if there was more to your relationship than just being neighbors. Only time would tell.

Consider linking or reblogging if you enjoy my work.... I will kiss you on the forehead as a thanks ;)

[cherrywrecked]

what iffff g!p karina corrupting her innocent step sister wonyoung by playing a blindfold game whete she has to guess whatever’s in her mouth and rina takes advantage of that🫨then it escalates from there until she forcefully takes away wony’s virginity

i'm not sure about the forcefully part... i embarrassingly missed that part of the request... but here!

karina and wonyoung as step sisters would be deadly, honestly, but can you imagine being karina in that situation? a situation where the girl had been secretly crushing on her younger step sister? exactly.

it was supposedly one of their family game nights, but tonight, their parents had to leave halfway through it, being on call at work. it was just karina and wonyoung left together. the older one doesn't know what to do, she felt awkward… being alone with wonyoung like this. specially if she was just thinking of fucking the innocent girl before they went down to play with their parents? bullshit, right? the two of them were now left alone and wonyoung was obviously upset that their game had to end early.

“unnie, can’t we continue the game together? i’m bored.” wonyoung said with a pout, head resting against her sister’s shoulder as they sat next to each other on the couch. she was looking at the item in hand—a slim alcohol bottle they had in the living room. they were playing the game guess what’s on my hand! after all. maybe she was ovulating, but god… wonyoung looks utterly gorgeous tonight. was it her hair tied up in a ponytail or was it her satin pair of nightwear that made karina’s cock twitch under the throw pillow she’s using to cover her thighs? “are you that bored, wonyoung-ah?” karina says with a chuckle, one arm draping around wonyoung’s shoulder as she pulls her closer. “mhm! very. i want to continue our game earlier, or maybe make it more difficult?” wonyoung looked excited. her long hair swayed along with her body as she sat on the couch, legs crossed. “how about we play the game, but instead of using our hands, we use our mouths instead? but of course, no disgusting stuff, okay?” wonyoung was so firm with her words, it was cute and funny that it made karina chuckle. but was it really that, or was it the nervousness coming out of her in the form of giggles as she thought of something crazy?

“alright. who goes first?” karina, mirroring wonyoung’s position. wonyoung asks karina to go first and it didn’t even last long, karina guessed the item right away. “unnie! you’re no fun, how are you so good with your mouth?” wonyoung says with a pout. karina only looked at her, staring at wonyoung’s innocent face, trying to find any trace of malice from her expressions, but no. was wonyoung really really that innocent? it made karina want her more. “you’ll do better than me, wonyoung! trust yourself. alright, let’s have you wear this.” karina said as she carefully put on the blindfold on wonyoung. it was now or never.

karina asked a minute for wonyoung and the little girl only hummed, already making guesses in her brain what her unnie’s item might be. a notebook? it was easy to kiss around it… or maybe a spoon? she doesn’t know! she doesn’t have any idea at all. “alright, wonyoung-ah. open up.” karina, now naked on her lower half and stroking her slightly erected cock, she watches wonyoung open her mouth and fuck. the string of saliva against wonyoung’s teeth, her wet mouth… she wanted her pink lips around her tip so bad. “unnie, where is it?” wonyoung says, whiny as she was getting impatient. karina first brushed her tip along wonyoung’s lower lip. “mhm? that feels soft!”  wonyoung comments, eagerly kissing around the tip of karina’s cock. the older girl held her erection making sure none of wonyoung’s kisses would be missing. she was so fucking innocent, it’s funny and at the same time, pathetic. how can someone so beautiful be this innocent, pure… virgin. virgin. right! wonyoung has to be a virgin.

karina didn’t even notice wonyoung’s hands now wrapped around her length. “wonyoung…” karina mumbles and it doesn’t go unnoticed by the younger girl. “yes, unnie?” the little girl says in the cutest voice possible. “you can try sucking on it… you know, to feel it better?” karina felt disgusting. fooling her sister like that. but she can’t take it anymore. a gasp escapes her mouth when wonyoung encircles her lips around her tip, sucking on it. “unnie, what is it? i really don’t kn—” wonyoung’s words were cut off when karina unconsciously thrusted her hips and fucked her mouth. slightly choking on her cock, wonyoung pushed the girl away and took the blindfold off, eyes widened when she saw karina’s big dick in front of her. it was hard, pink, clean, and wet at the tip. “w-what are you… unnie!” wonyoung squealed, blushing as she pulled away, but karina was faster than she was. karina held her wrist. “wonyoung-ah. please. help unnie just this once, mhm?”

karina’s eyes were big and shiny, she looked desperate. wonyoung has to admit, kissing and even sucking on her unnie’s dick definitely wasn’t that bad at all… in fact, she could feel her core getting wet at the thought and sight of it. “b-but i don’t… i haven’t…” not letting her finish her words, karina sat next to her and guided her hand on her cock. “just wrap your hand around it… yeah, just like that. now move up and down slowl—holy shit. y-yeah, like that, wonyoung-ah… so good.” she fit perfectly around wonyoung’s hands. the younger girl already knew her step sister was different than her and it had always made her curious about… that. and she also already knew her sister was hot. fuck, even wonyoung’s friends are all over karina, but she never understood why they kept saying they would fuck her… until tonight. “unnie, i feel weird… here…” wonyoung, shyly points at her core which made karina giggle. ah, her innocence was driving the older girl insane.

“want unnie to make you feel good, wony?” the girl nodded rather too enthusiastically and the next thing she know, they were now both naked, karina’s lips are now on her tits, sucking on it, even leaving marks around it. wonyoung could only moan and grope on karina’s thighs as she carelessly feel for her cock. “you’re learning really well, wonyoung-ah… but this isn’t fun anymore, is it?” wonyoung looked at karina with her sultry eyes, lower lip caught in between her teeth. “how about you lay back for me, mhm? there we go, open your legs, angel.” 

wonyoung lays there with her legs wide open. karina settles in between her legs as she stroke her cock in her hand while the other caresses wonyoung’s inner thighs, bringing it up to her pussy, obviously soaked as she could see wonyoung dripping. karina uses her hand to play with wonyoung’s clit, rubbing it in circular motions while her tip teases wonyoung’s hole. karina’s cock twitches at the warmth of wonyoung’s cunt and so does the younger girl who now can’t keep her legs open. overstimulated, lightheaded, horny, all she ever wants is her unnie. “i’ll make you feel good, mhm?” before wonyoung could even reply, karina already had her tip inside wonyoung’s entrance. a loud gasp escapes wonyoung’s lips. karina stays still, waiting for wonyoung to breathe again. and she does. it was karina’s queue to push deeper.

wonyoung’s mouth was left ajar, legs slightly trembling at the pain and pleasure she was feeling. but the pain was not only for wonyoung to bear, but rina’s too. she was too tight. like her cunt was never penetrated before. a shame, if karina would think about it, but at the same time, she was glad. right now, this cunt is hers, and for her to take only. “i’m going to move, mhm? stay still, princess, just trust me, alright?” karina’s voice was deep, sexy—wonyoung trusts her. the pleasure is just too much. more so when rina’s fingers ghost atop her clit as she started thrusting her hips. “u-unnie~! h-hnng… rina unnie…” wonyoung drags her words in between the moans. 

karina focuses on her movements, her pace moderate until it increases, earning more sinful, loud moans from her younger sister. “fuck, wonyoung… you’re so tight… fucking hell.” wonyoung can’t speak, not even think… they both focus on each other. wony can feel karina’s cock getting bigger inside of her, if that’s even possible. it twitches with every thrust, hitting that same spot that gives the most pleasure to the younger girl.

there was a familiar notch forming on karina’s stomach as she approached her high while wonyoung, she doesn’t know. she doesn’t know anything at all. but it was her body telling karina everything that she can’t say. the way the younger’s body arched and her hands clench around karina’s wrists, her legs locking karina in between them—she was close. “baby, hold it in… please, baby—fuck, you’re so hot around my cock, wonyoung. i’m close…” wonyoung nodded, not really knowing what to do but to clench her pussy around karina’s dick. this was the older’s last straw. the tightness and warmth of wonyoung. karina gives one last hard push into wonyoung before releasing her cum inside of the younger. wonyoung moans loudly, screaming karina’s name as she shook under the older girl. rina groped wony’s tits as she too, rides her high. her index finger and thumb rolling the sensitive nub.

the older girl slowly pulls herself back, the sound of her cock escaping wonyoung’s tightness made the younger gasp softly before she curls her body, legs closing, making karina’s cum and her own ooze out of the girl’s tight hole. it doesn’t miss karina’s sight, and fingers, apparently. rina uses two of her fingers, coating it with their cum before pushing wonyoung back to face her. “open your mouth, wony. we’re not done playing yet, aren’t we?” karina says with a sheepish grin plastered on her face while she shoves her cum coated fingers inside wonyoung’s mouth, forcing the girl to suck them clean.

[freakyformula]

pleaseeeee the honeymooners with lewis were soooo good 🙏🏻🙏🏻🙏🏻 you wrote him beautifully 😩😩😩 write more for him please im begging you

Since you asked very nicely, I will oblige <333

Saviour

Summary: You were supposed to walk home when you ran into a group of men. When Lewis sees what they do to you he can't let it slip.

Warnings: Sexual assault, fluff, Lewis being a sweetheart (is that even a warning?!)

Word count: 3,4k

Now, where do I start?

I was on my way home from a friend's house late one night, it must have been past midnight, me and my friend had a lot to catch up on and time slipped through our fingers. The night was uncommonly calm for a Saturday night in Monaco. I was slightly drunk, me and my friend had a couple of glasses of wine earlier, but I was still able to find my way home, or so I thought.

As I slowly walk along the streets of Monte Carlo, running into a few tourists here and there, them being way more intoxicated than me, at least they acted like it, smashing bottles into the sidewalk and talking loudly, I come to a stop at a red light.

I look around, there's not a single soul in sight. The only thing I hear is the familiar clicking sound of the traffic light. The air was chilly, I certainly wasn't dressed for the night with my short dress and blazer.

I click my high heels as I wait for what feels like forever for the light to change. I look around, but there's not a car in sight, what the hell am I waiting for?

As the light changed to green, thank fuck; I was freezing, I start walking along a small street filled with small artisan ice cream shops, cafées, and vendors. This street was usually filled with people, drinking their sangrias, mingling, and laughing, but now, I was the only one walking along it.

I can almost see my apartment building when I hear a whistle behind me, making me freeze in my tracks. I slowly turn around, only to see three of the drunk men I'd run into before.

"Where do you think you're going, loca?" One of the Spaniards asks. "We don't bite, you know." Another one chips in.

"I'm sorry, gentlemen, but I'd really want to get home now." I try to argue but to no avail. The men walk behind me, catching up quicker than I can react. I would run, but my high heels won't let me, and the wine certainly doesn't help either. "Stop, we just want to talk to you!" The third man yells.

When I feel a hand on my shoulder, I turn to see the three men looking over me with hungry eyes. They're conversing in what I only can assume is Spanish. They smell like alcohol and tobacco, all of them standing almost slumped over on each other. I was sure I could outrun all of them if I wanted to, do I take the chance before this situation escalates? My body fails me, and I can't move an inch.

The grip on my shoulder tightens, and one of the men, the one in the middle, grasps my hand. "Don't worry, we will take care of you..." He whispers as the man to my left moves behind me, sandwiching me between him and the man holding my hand while the third man seems to keep watch for any witnesses to their actions. Their hands wander, and I'm ready to barf on them all. I'm revolted.

I go berserk when their hands land on my breasts. I scream, I kick, I do everything in my power to get out of their creeping hands.

"Shut up!" The men try to shush me and the one in front of me places his disgusting hand over my mouth with an annoyed expression on his face. "Naughty girl." He whispers. "And naughty girls deserve to be punished."

And with that; a blow to the side of my face, and I'm on the ground, gasping for air. The pain rapidly spreads to my head, and my hand flies up to protect it from any more damage. The iron taste in my mouth makes me cringe, and I look up at my assailants.

The men, chuckling and talking in their mother tongue, lean over me. "Come on, it wasn't that bad." One of them laughs, grabbing my arm and pulling me onto my knees.

I'm dizzy, and it feels like I'm going to be sick any second. Together, the men get me onto my feet. "Now, where were we?" One of the men whispers next to my ear, lips brushing against my neck. I feel disgust bubbling in my stomach.

"What do you say, she's got a nice ass huh?" The men discuss my body as if I'm not there. When I feel a slap on my buttock, I flinch, but I don't have the strength to fight their touches. I shut my eyes and disappeared somewhere else, somewhere far away. I feel one of them slipping his hand under my dress, but I'm frozen. I can't move, talk, or fight. I just let it happen. When the men pull my dress off, my hands fly up to cover myself.

"What the fuck is going on?!" I hear a distant voice yell, followed by barking.

Then, everything stops. No lingering touches, no whispers in my ear, nothing.

I couldn't believe it. I'm suddenly ten times lighter. Am I in heaven? I thought to myself.

"Hey hey, it's okay. You're safe." I heard someone say, it sounded like they were miles away, but I could feel their touch on your arm.

That voice. Surely I've ascended to heaven, but I didn't dare to have a peek.

"Are you okay, miss? Do you need an ambulance?" The voice asks.

I collapse on the hard stone pavement when I realise that the voice isn't one of the men. I felt the voice grabbing me violently as I was about to hit my head on the ground.

My head is slumped and my eyes are shut, still in that lovely place in my head that I adore so much. "Gosh, you're trembling!" The voice exclaims, and I feel something hot and heavy on my shoulders, something that feels like a coat.

"Please, talk to me." The voice asks of me while I feel his hands on my arms, rubbing them to keep me warm. The voice is soothing and angelic.

I feel myself coming back, my imaginary world slipping away from me no matter how hard I try to grasp it. When I feel someone licking my face, I'm abruptly thrown back into the real world. The owner of the tongue is small and certainly has a very large and wet tongue. The sensation makes me chuckle, I must say, and I dare to open my eyes just enough to see the bulldog in front of me.

"Okay, Roscoe, that's enough." The kind man says as he tries to hold the dog off my face.

"They..." I start, still in shock, sitting with my arms crossed in hopes of protecting myself.

"I saw what they did, you don't need to tell me." The stranger says.

I reach out for the dog, which happily accepts my scratches. When I look up, I see him sitting on his knees before me. Never in my life had I seen a man that gorgeous. I'm stuck in his eyes as he chuckles. "Can you stand up? You'll get sick sitting on the ground like this. Here is your dress if you want to put it on." The man reaches for the tossed dress and waits for me to grab it. He offers his hand to help me on my feet again.

I hesitated to accept his hand, but eventually, I reached for him and pulled myself up. My legs are wobbly and I almost fall over again, but the man holds me up with his strong arms. "Shhh, you okay?" He whispers.

"Y-yeah." You reply.

"I'm Lewis, and you are?" He offers me a handshake.

"I'm Y/N." I say as I grab his hand. His handshake was powerful, and his larger hand swallowed my hand.

"I-I'm sorry, for this." I quickly follow up.

Lewis stops in his tracks and locks his eyes with mine. "Y/N, none of this is your fault. You know that right?"

"I know but-"

"No... No but's."

I shut my mouth upon hearing that and Lewis looks down at me with warmth.

"Come here, I'll carry you." Lewis says as he picks me up and starts walking with Roscoe in close tow. His musky cologne made my heart flutter, and the sensation made me blush which he surely noticed. His arms felt like home, for lack of a better word, and his smile made my heart skip a beat.

"Where are we going?" I ask.

"You'll see." Lewis quickly answers.

I lift my eyebrow, and he notices, followed by a sigh.

"Don't worry, we're going to my place. It's not far, I promise."

The thought of going to a stranger's place seemed stupid, but in my defence, I hit my head and blamed my lack of judgment on that.

As he carries me through the streets of Monaco, and we get to know each other, he smiles at me when we get to the topic of how we ended up in Monaco, of all places.

"Fate, really. I wasn't supposed to move here, but I was offered a job and took it without thinking it through." I explain.

Lewis is left silent and slows down as he processes my words.

"So... Now you're unhappy?" He asks.

"No. Not at all, I love it here, mostly anyway." I admit, and I give my head a rub, feeling a slight bump forming where I hit my head.

Lewis notices my change in mood, and stops. "You okay?" He asks, worry evident in his voice.

"Yeah, I think I hit my head harder than I first thought."

Lewis nods and speeds up his steps. "Let's get you something cold to put on that."

As we walk past one of the fancier apartment blocks, I audibly gasp at the cars parked outside. Lamborghini, Ferrari, Audi, Mercedes. "Why are we here?" I ask.

"Because this is where I live, Y/N."

What? This, is where he lived? I had so many questions. "Okay, Lewis, timeout! Let me down, please!" He does as I ask, the gentleman, despite his protests.

"Who are you?" I ask, expecting an honest answer.

"I'm Lewis Hamilton."

"Nice to meet you, Lewis Hamilton. Why do you bring me here?"

"This is where I live?" He says as if it's the most obvious thing in the universe.

"Okay... So, are you part of the mafia or something?" I chuckle, half joking.

Lewis lets out a laugh, and looks down at my smaller figure, "No, Y/N, I drive."

"Like taxis and stuff?" I ask, still not catching on.

Lewis blinks at me and continues. "No, I drive in Formula 1."

Now, I hadn't heard of his name before, but I definitely knew of Formula 1. Me and my family used to watch it when I was young. You know, the Schumacher vs Häkkinen era. I can feel my eyes becoming bigger and bigger as his words penetrate my mind.

"Formula 1?" I ask, needing confirmation.

"Formula 1." He nods.

"What the fuck, Lewis!" I can't help my heightened tone. "Why didn't you tell me before?"

Lewis's eyes are still glued on me; worry painted on his face, but still calm as a cucumber with his hand out in case I faint.

"Hello Florian, beautiful evening, is it not?" Lewis says to the doorman, as the man holds the door for us as we step inside the grand hall. I stop, just to take everything in, the marble floors, the handpainted paintings on the walls, and the huge crystal chandeliers.

"Come on, let's get you upstairs." Lewis says as he softly grabs my hand and leads me to the elevator. While we wait for it to come down, I bend down to scratch Roscoe, which he seems happy with as he leans into my touch. "He likes you." Lewis concludes and smiles at me as I look up at him. "He tends to be wary of strangers."

I hear a "ding" and the elevator doors open. Lewis leads me in with Roscoe following my footsteps, licking my bare leg as if he wants to comfort me.

"You okay?" He asks.

"Yes." I say, dragging out the "s". I smile at him to look more convincing, but in reality, it felt like I had been run over. I'm sure I looked a mess too, hence why he asked.

"Here we are." Lewis says and offers me his hand to take me to his entryway.

"I can walk just fine, you know that right?" I giggle.

"I don't take any risks." Lewis simply replies.

His keys clink as he pulls them out of his pocket and unlocks the door.

"Go ahead." He says as he ushers me into the hallway.

The smell of his apartment was expensive. I felt like I couldn't touch anything, as if I would contaminate the grandness of his space if I did. So I just stood there, like a proper fool.

"Please..." He chuckles. "Would you like something to drink? Perhaps some juice?"

I'm left in the hallway as Roscoe lazily walks in, and turns around to look at us. Lewis takes a few steps towards the kitchen and lends me his hand. "You're allowed to move, Y/N."

"I know, but..." I could feel myself blushing again. I felt so misplaced.

"Come on." He cheers me on, with a wide smile.

One step, two steps... My goal was his hand. After four steps, my hand landed in his, and he interlocked his fingers with mine.

I hadn't felt it before, surely because of the adrenaline, but now my body felt numb, and fatigue was quickly taking over.

When we make it out of the hallway, and into the main living room, that is connected to the kitchen, I can't help but gasp.

The room was spacious, and light. It seemed like the room was lit up even though it was in the middle of the night.

You weren't exactly surprised that a Formula 1 driver owned a penthouse, but in one of the fanciest districts in Monaco? This guy had to be really good.

"Lewis, which floor are we on?" I ask.

"We're on the top." He answers while he has his head in the fridge, looking for something for me to drink.

Sneaking forward on my tiptoes, I walk up to the huge window. "The view... Is phenomenal." I whisper to myself.

"Isn't it?" Lewis says, walking up from behind, with a glass of sparkling water in hand, making me smile and accepting the drink.

I take a sip and the water has a subtle taste of lemon. Refreshing. Lewis seems to take notice of how much I enjoy my drink and offers a refill.

As we stood at the window, looking over the Mediterranean sea, my eyes landed on something to our left. "Don't tell me you have a pool too?" I ask, feeling overwhelmed by how luxuriously this man lived.

"Of course." Lewis admits as he opens the doors to his terrace. "Come." He walks out, and the crisp air hits my skin as I walk out with him. I felt the cold cement against my sole when we walked further out towards the railing. There was a slight wind up here, but it wasn't chilly enough to make me cold, not with Lewis next to me.

As we are admiring the view, Roscoe walks out too, letting out a bark, demanding attention. Not from Lewis, but from me.

"Roscoe really likes you." Lewis says, rather flabbergasted, as he walks off. I follow his movements at the same time as I cuddle with Roscoe. His footsteps stop at the edge of the pool, and he turns around to face me, giving me a mischievous look, and jumps in with a loud "Woohoo!"

I slightly panic, thinking what the hell the man is up to, and Roscoe follows me to the edge, looking for him. The water was dark, and I couldn't see Lewis anywhere.

I bend over to see better and before I even get the chance to react, Lewis' hand is around mine, pulling me in with him. Roscoe is left at the edge, barking for us to come up to the surface again.

When I make it up above the water and gasp for air, Lewis laughs. "Sorry, I had to!" He says, holding his hands up in defeat.

I splash him with my hands, "I'm gonna kill you!" I giggle, before getting up. "You could've warned me, given me a chance to pull my dress off."

"There's no fun in that!" He says, him too climbing up.

We're both soaked and laughing at each other.

"How did we just meet? Feels like I've known you for longer than an hour." He asks.

His words silence me, not quite knowing what to answer. It was true, Lewis was fun, kind, and caring to me, and it felt like I had always known him.

"I-I don't know. Thank you, for saving me. I never thanked you."

"Don't worry about it, Y/N. Now, I'm sure you're tired..." He says as he walks up to me, grabbing my hand. "Would you like to spend the night?"

I was confused, what did his words mean, exactly? "What do you mean?"

"Oh... I didn't mean it like that. You can sleep in my bed and I'll take the sofa." He quickly chips in.

"Oh! Yeah, okay." I nod, sleeping over seemed like a good idea? Right?

"Let's get you something dry to wear, come on." Lewis says as he rubs your arms.

Your clothes are soaked and heavy when you walk up to his bedroom, and Lewis opens his walk in closet, inviting me inside too. "Tee and sweatpants? How does that sound to you?"

"Sounds perfect." I smile at him and look down when our gazes meet. When he hands over the outfit he put together, I look up at him, not sure of what to say. "Lewis... This is Gucci."

"Exactly." He says as he closes the closet doors, and that was the end of that discussion.

Lewis is left standing there, not quite sure of what to say or do next. "Would you like to take a shower, or?" He asks.

"I would like that." I admit, and with that, Lewis escorts me to his personal bathroom. "I-I'll leave you to it, feel free to come down if you need something."

I nod, and watch as Lewis leaves the bathroom and closes the door. The warm water hitting my body felt like heaven in contrast to the chilly water outside. I could really do with a warm hug right now, I think.

When I'm clean, thanks to his body scrubs and schampoos, I dress into his clothes, and hop into his bed. The sheets smell of him. I take an extra whiff before I get up again. As I walk down the stairs, I see Lewis lying on the sofa, cuddled up next to Roscoe.

"Lewis?" I whimper.

My call makes him instantly open his eyes and jump up from the sofa. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"

"Nothing, nothing... I just-" I start, not getting another word out before tears flood my eyes. "Oh, Y/N..." He whispers, and pulls me into his arms, hugging me tightly. We stay like that for, I don't know, 5 minutes? Him just holding me as I sob my heart out.

When we part, Lewis leads me to the sofa to sit down. "Talk to me, Y/N."

I couldn't find the words. No matter how hard I tried.

"I..." I started. "I was thinking of how badly things could have gone if you didn't save me." I look at him with an appreciative look.

"I know, trust me, I know. But things went well, and I'm here now. You're safe." He whispers in my ear. I close my eyes as he pulls me in again, and I end up essentially lying on top of him on his sofa.

When I open my eyes, I'm confused about waking up in a bed instead of a sofa. And there was no Lewis either, or Roscoe, for that matter.

I walk down the stairs, and as the Monaco sun hits my eyes, I see Lewis in the kitchen, at the stove. "Good morning, Y/N. Sleep well?" He asks as he turns a vegan pancake in the pan.

"Morning." I say as I walk up to him, stretching my body. "Slept like a baby."

"Good. Breakfast?" He asks with a grin and a wink.

[mikasa-imadebiscults]

Salutations!! I hope you are well❤️❤️

Could you do the Hashira reacting to a reader ignoring/avoiding them?

(AYY SALUTATIONS!! I am good and I hope you are too. Hope you have a wonderful day today)

Hashira’s Reaction to You Ignoring/Avoiding them

(Characters Included- All the Hashira)

(Warning: Nothing, just fluff and swearing)

🦋Shinobu Kocho🦋

- Shinobu finds it oddly out of character for you to just randomly start to ignore her. At first she tries to wait it out a bit, but eventually she loses patience and asks you what’s wrong.

- If you refuse to tell her, she will just keep being persistent on finding out what’s wrong. She knows personally how it feels to bottle up all your emotions and wear a facade and she doesn’t want you to go through all that pain.

🐍Iguro Obanai🐍

- Stands in a “🧍‍” way the first time you avoid him. Even Karburamaru looks at him, then at the direction where you went, back and forth in confusion. He takes that as a hint that you need some time and waits a few days.

- Will buy a few gifts for you and send them to you with his crow. He wants to approach you again but doesn’t want to make it worse so he’ll just wait patiently for you.

🍡Mitsuri Kanroji🍡

- Girl FREAKS OUT. She instantly starts overthinking about what happened. The first scenario that comes to mind is that you’ve lost someone close to you. So she goes to Shinobu to see if she knows if any of your friends and/or family passed away.

- When she learns that no one close to you died, Shinobu questions her on why she wanted to know. She tells her that you’ve been avoiding her and doesn’t know why, and Shinobu advises her to give you some time and you’ll come around. The advice did end up working and you eventually went back to her with the biggest hug as an apology.

🔥Kyojuro Rengoku🔥

- He stays calm in the situation, he tries to think of what made you upset. When he couldn’t connect the dots he walked up to you and expressed his concerns, and informed you that Shinobu can possibly help with some mental health if that’s what you’re struggling with.

- He has faith that you’ll return and that things will get better with your struggles. He makes a mental note to take you on a date soon to show his affection.

🔊Tengen Uzui🔊

- He will ask you straight up what’s wrong. At first he’ll make a joke and try to make you laugh to lighten your mood but when that doesn't work he becomes more serious.

- He asks you if you would be more comfortable with talking/venting to Hina, Makio, or Suma and maybe they could help and provide great comfort for whatever you’re dealing with. He will try to be persistent on finding out what’s wrong but Hina stopped him and told him not to overthink. He listened and waited for you.

☁️Muichiro Tokito☁️

- He would definitely be stunned. After he snaps out of it, he’ll think a bit on what he’s going to do before deciding to give you some alone time.

- He’ll be concerned for your well being though and it will show on his face that he’s got a lot on his mind. He was approached by Rengoku after a Hashira meeting, asking Muichiro what was on his mind. He gave him some friendly advice and words of encouragement and it helped him to approach you.

🌪️Sanemi Shinazugawa🌪️

- He’ll be like “What the hell did this bitch just ignore me?” and will call your name loudly and ask what’s the matter. It may seem like he’s pissed but in reality he just wants to get to the bottom of why you're acting strange (some would say he’s worried- because he is)

- After about a day he’ll start talking to you, trying to figure out what’s the matter. At first he’ll assume that someone else caused this so he’ll threaten to beat someone’s ass if they caused you harm.

🌊Giyuu Tomioka🌊

- He’s confused at first, then he starts to wonder if he did anything wrong to cause you to act like that. So he will go and buy you some small snacks as a way to make you feel better and as an apology just in case he did actually do something wrong.

- Awkwardly gives you the food and says something like “Here, for you.” He hopes that it’ll convince you to stop avoiding him and talk to him, even if you’re just ranting about your problems.

🪨Gyomei Himejima🪨

- It surprises him (surprise Pikachu face) but he figures that something bad happened or you received some sort of terrible news. He waits for you to come to him because he doesn’t wanna pressure you at all.

- When you finally crack, he’ll patiently listen while you tell him what’s the matter. He will give you some advice if you’d like and pat your head wholesomely.

Masterlist

[somber-sapphic]

HEY could you please do a jj and emily x reader sickfic 🫶

Cabin Fever

〖Summary: You're sick and are stuck on a jet.〗

〖Word Count: 1.4k〗

〖Pairing: Jemily x Sick Reader〗

〖Notes: Criminal Minds is my current obsession so I am perfectly happy to write this. In the future though if people throw in a prompt or two I can probably create a fic that's more suited to what you want :)〗

☾Masterlists☽

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You had started to get sick two days into the case and were incredibly glad that this Unsub had been so easy to catch. With enough cold medicine and tea, you’d been able to stave off the worst of your illness for just long enough to put a killer behind bars. 

Your girlfriends had noticed. The whole team had noticed. Even Garcia had been able to hear your congestion over the phone. You hadn’t really been trying to hide it. You were one of those people who got mushy when you got sick, you wanted to be held and taken care of. 

Had you been home you would have jumped at the opportunity to be coddled but you were working and with work came a more professional relationship with your girlfriends, even if you were sharing a room. But with work came responsibility and all that. 

Now at least you got to go home. You didn't have to look at the faces of dead people or interrogate psychopaths, you could just relax. The box of tissues in front of you was quickly running out with a small pile forming in a plastic bag beside you. Next to the box was a bottle of hand sanitizer, mostly there for Spencer’s peace of mind. The book you were reading had been set aside in favor of an audiobook and headphones, it was just too difficult to focus on the blurry words. 

You’d been given occasional worried looks from the team and Hotch had set a mug of tea down in front of you about an hour ago, but you hadn’t touched it. As nice as the warm liquid would probably feel on your throat you just couldn’t do it. The idea of putting anything into your body made you nervous. It was normal for you when you were sick. Plus, you hated tea.

JJ, noticing that you were getting worse, stood from her spot on the couch beside Emily and walked over to you with a soft warm smile on her face. That was a common expression when she was worried but trying to act like she wasn’t.

“Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?” she asked, slipping into the seat beside you. You glanced over with glassy eyes and offered a tiny smile, desperately wanting to be anywhere but in the air. The pressure on the plane was wreaking hell on your sinuses, your head and face throbbed, and each jolt of turbulence was like a knife in your skin. 

“Don’t feel great.” You admitted, your voice croaky and quiet. The blonde’s face twisted into a look of sympathy, and she reached out to take one of your shaky hands.

“Why don't you go sit with Em? She’s just reading a book; I don’t think she’ll mind some company.” She offered, glancing around at the mess around you. Her crystal blue eyes lingered on the ice-cold mug for an extra second longer than the rest. You could see the gears in her head turning but you weren’t sure where they were going. She knew from experience that you would not be consuming any hot leaf juice.

Emily looked up at the sound of her name, seeming as though she had no awareness of the situation prior. She was deep into a book that seemed to be in Russian which had probably captured her full attention. It wasn’t her best language, so she was taking every opportunity to get better. Mostly to beat Reid. The two apparently had a silent academic challenge thing going.

“Uhhh…” She hesitated, never having been one who really knew how to take care of sick people. The woman had very little experience with being taken care of, so she wasn’t always the best at it. It didn’t matter to you, you wanted her to hold you of course but you really didn’t need anything else.

JJ shot her a look that said, ‘do it or I’ll end you’ and Emily quickly scrambled into a sitting position so that you could take over most of the couch. She opened her arm and beckoned you over, hugging you tight when you crawled into her lap.

You sniffled thickly and a pained moan escaped your lips. Every part of your body ached and lying down seemed only to make it worse. Emily frowned down at you, not entirely sure what to do. JJ had wandered over to the back of the plane, going through the fridge to find something.

The others were all doing their own thing, collectively ignoring you. That was perfect because you really didn’t want attention from them. Especially not the facts. Never before had you been so glad that Reid was asleep.

“What can I do?” Your girlfriend muttered, lowering her voice for your benefit. You shrugged and shuddered, curling up more tightly against her. It didn’t soothe the pain in your muscles, but it temporarily stopped the shivering which made the pain worse.

Emily grabbed the blanket at your feet and pulled it up around you, doing the best that she could not to jostle you too much. She looked back over to JJ who had procured what she wanted and was (thankfully) returning to help.

“Sit up for a second love.” The media liaison coaxed, pulling you up gently with the help of Emily. She produced two small pills and your favorite color Gatorade, suppressing a smile at the amusement on your face. You were surprised that they had it, the only thing that you would drink when you were sick.

With little hesitation you took the pills, wondering why you hadn’t done so earlier. The fever that was currently doing the most damage probably had something to do with it, for some reason, you’d completely forgotten that things like Tylenol existed and had settled for cough medicine instead.

“Now, lay back down for a bit. We land in a few hours, try to get some sleep. I’m going to go work on wrapping some case notes up with Hotch, just take a nap on Em, okay?” She bent forward and kissed your hot dry forehead, mentally noting your temperature. Emily looked mildly alarmed but nodded when you turned to her, signaling that it was okay.

“Do you uh, want me to read? In English of course. It’ll be good to practice some translation.” she asked, patting the book that she had put to the side. You coughed quietly and rested your head in her lap, snuggling close. The worry melted off of her face and she rested one of her hands on the side of your head and began to stroke your cheek.

“If you want. M’just gonna lay here.” You mumbled, grabbing one of her legs to hug. Some part of you worried that she would leave and didn’t quite connect the facts that one she would never do that and two there was literally nowhere she could go.

“Alright. You rest, let me know if you need anything.” You closed your eyes as she picked her book back up and began to read silently, missing the smile from JJ. She’d been watching the exchange from afar, waiting to jump in just in case Emily fumbled it.

It wasn’t that she didn’t have faith in the profiler, it was just that she could be so incredibly awkward sometimes and JJ knew that what you really needed right now was someone to hold you. She itched to jump in and lie on your other side but the quicker she got her work done the better it would be when you finally got home.

“Everything okay?” Hotch asked, following JJ’s gaze. The blonde shook herself slightly and looked back down at the papers, sighing softly.

“Yeah. They’ll be okay. It’s probably the flu, I’m not sure if they got a shot this year. It’s been busy.” She breathed, dragging a hand across her face. The boss nodded sharply and returned to the work in front of him, not requiring any further explanation. That was good enough for JJ.

She went back to her work in silence, glancing up every so often to make sure that you and Emily were okay. While you felt like crap and the pressure in your body wasn’t allowing any level of comfort you knew that eventually you would. But for a while, you’d happily let yourself be cared for by these two wonderful women.  

[occamstfs]

Wouldn't It Be Funny?

Back again with a longer military tf, Hope you enjoy! - Occam

Curtis and Joseph were bored out of their minds. After growing disenchanted with university life the two were well into a gap year and have been finding progressively less stimulating ways to waste away their time. Without assignments piling up and biweekly mandatory lectures they were firmly adrift as the days of the week blur together. Curtis continues scrolling on his phone while Joseph, phone ever-so-recently dead, tries to think of anything to do while it charges back up.

“Wait! I think my brother left a stash of beer last time he visited!” Curtis looks up and squints at his friend, “the best thing you think we could be doing right now is day drinking alcohol your brother left here months ago?” Joseph makes a motion inviting Curtis to produce a better idea which goes unanswered as he rolls his eyes and gets up to accompany Joseph on this ignoble quest.

Joseph leads Curtis to the hall closet where he had apparently thrown everything his brother, Nick, had left after staying over for a couple weeks. There is some deodorant and other toiletries scattered about although the floor, first and foremost however, what catches Curtis’ eye is an army uniform laying in a heap, in the corner of the closet. There is just something about it. Any time he starts to move his attention away from it another question pops into his mind requiring a deeper inspection of the jacket. He wonders how durable the uniform actually is? It looks as if it's never been worn though he knows that Nick has certainly done some training in it. He simply must have a closer look.

Before he could act on that, the jacket he so craved was chucked at him as Joseph found his bottled quarry underneath. “Score! It’s almost full too, we can have two each and rock, paper, scissors over the last one.” Joseph heads to the kitchen well on his way to some palatable lukewarm beers as he continues to chat busily at Curtis. His roommate doesn’t hear him however as the only thing on his mind is the scratchy jacket in his arms. 

He almost blushes looking down and feeling it in his arms, quite a bit heavier than he thought it would be. Surely he should toss it back with the rest of Nick’s things but it’s such a nice jacket. Quite a shame it's gone so long just sitting in their unworn. Maybe he’d just toss it on as a prank. Yeah Joseph would love that, seeing his friend in this massive jacket. His body acts quicker than his mind though, swiftly putting it on, pulling the hem down to straighten it out and pulling the sleeves up so you can just see his hands out the end.

Curtis hears his friend opening bottles in the kitchen and grins as he pictures the look on Joseph’s face as he sees him wearing this. He zips it up and struggles to get wrinkles out of the pockets before the grand reveal. No reason to not try and look legit. For it to really be funny it needs to look good. As soon as the thought that this would be funny enters his mind however he has a sharp headache and groans. No longer able to recall the incongruity of the situation as he steps out to see his friend.

Rounding the corner Curtis quickly starts what is meant to be a comedically poor salute but instead executes one with the precision of a machine. This only heightens the comedy of it all from where Joseph is standing however, halfway through a bottle of beer he chokes and spits up the beer all over the counter. He takes a moment to recover from this waste of beer before looking up once more and laughing so hard he can’t stand up straight.

Curtis in turn clenches his fist hard enough to pop a joint as he feels aggressively defensive. Why is his friend laughing at him. His back tenses with more effort than he has sustained in months, and more strength then he has wielded in a lifetime, as he cannot let this slight go unreciprocated. “What’s so funny, Kid.” Joseph looks up to see Curtis with an expression of rage more genuine than any emotion he had seen of his friend in months. It is immediately met with a flinch and a recoil as Joseph can’t bring himself to his friends’ burning gaze, “Jesus Curtis is everything alright? I thought you were doing a joke?”

A Joke? Curtis’ neck spasms breaking him out of his statuesque posture and upon rubbing a neck more muscular than he thought possible, he remembers, of course he was doing a joke! Why else would he be wearing Nick's Jacket! Smiling as he remembers how good it landed, he heads over to his friend, “Sweet you already opened a bottle for me! What’s the move now, did you want to game?” 

Joseph, shell-shocked by this return to spirits, assumes that the whole thing was now some shit joke, hands his friend a beer and heads to set up his PS5, “sure whatever dude, can you get the lights?” Which Curtis quickly does, not noticing his arms definitively stretching much further out of the jacket than they should. Waiting for his friend to finish the setup Curtis paces behind the couch, each step louder than the last as he grows less careful of his footing and he continues to ever so slightly grow into this jacket.

“Can you chill dude?” 

“Oh! Sorry did-”  

“And why are you still wearing my brother’s jacket!”

“Your brothers-” Curtis pauses to look at the name stitched onto his chest and is also shocked that he’s wearing Nick’s jacket though decidedly not for the same reason that Joseph assumed. “Woah sorry kid? I guess I was cold? Do you want me to throw it back in the closet?”

“Just take it off dude! And stop calling me kid,” puffing as he sits back on the couch and starts to play some game Curtis feels like he should recognize before taking off the jacket and heading to put it in the closet. He scratches at his chin as he tries to work out what feels so off right now. Hanging up Nick’s jacket, sure not to leave any creases, he remembers that he’ll probably need to shave soon so he doesn’t get a mark at the next inspection, his rougher hands feeling around his sharper jaw to check the damage.

Returning to the living room he trips over what he assumes is his own feet but is embarrassed to find; Ah! It’s his jacket! Thank god he let his discipline slack here and not back at base. He picks it up as Joseph turns around hearing the stumble and begins to hurry him back before instead asking, “did you do something with your hair?” To which Curtis tilts his head like a dog before Joseph shouts once more, “Dude! Are you wearing my brother’s socks!?”

“No of course not they would never fit.” He says looking down to see the same army green socks he always wears, not Nick’s. “Well my feet do seem larger than I thought they were.” continuing as he bends down to inspect his feet, Joseph scrambles over to do similarly, though neither notices as they slowly inch even larger across the carpet. Instead Joseph is immediately thrown for a loop hearing a loud groan from his friend as he stands back up. Now almost a head taller than he was before bending down.

“Fuck dude you’re so tall!” Joseph reaches up to put his hands on his friend’s shoulders. Curtis was always taller, a fact Joseph was already none too pleased with, but this was ridiculous. He almost has to strain and as he does finally get his arms up he immediately finds thick traps under his friend’s strained shirt, “Asshole! Have you been working out without me!?” 

“Of course not. When would I? Or who would I even-”

“I mean, with recruiters right?” Joseph offers forth without the thought even consciously entering his mind. It made no sense to him but it was true. Suddenly it's as if some form of static fills the minds of both the men, a warm static buzzes through Curtis’ mind and body as he starts to unconsciously put the newly reclaimed uniform back on himself. Joseph experiences something far harsher in his own mind, the static is unbearably cold and punishing. He claws at his head, no longer able to hold two ideas of who Curtis is in his mind. And it is clear which reality is prevailing as Curtis slides his thicker arms into the jacket, flexing to make sure his uniform is fitting just right.

As he begins to zip up the jacket his pecs begin to make themselves well more than apparent. His decidedly larger nipples poking out as the apparently nylon shirt hugs his defined chest and he struggles to get the zipper closed without being uncomfortably tight on his pecs before deciding to just leave it unzipped for now. “Why would I be working with recruiters, lil’ dude?” He looks confused at his friend, or his friend’s little brother? Before smirking and seizing the chance, “If anything you’re the one who should be working with them, gotta be bigger than that to join up with us!”  He puts a hand on Joseph’s head messing with his hair, jolting Joseph back to this new reality.

“Curtis! Do you not think something weird is happening here!”

“Oh? Did your brother not tell you I go by Curt?”

“My brother? Fuck dude! It’s his jacket! You’re wearing his jacket again!”

“Ah no lil’ dude this one here is mine, check it!”

Joseph looks at the clear name tag on his chest clear as day with Curt’s last name on it, not noticing as he seamlessly uses Curt’s apparent preferred name. Instead he stares at a symbol over the center of Curt’s chest clearly also different than the one on his brother’s uniform. Curt smirks as he points to it himself, “Impressed kid? I’m already a Private First Class, not too hard to outpace Nick though. I mean love the guy but come on! Show some hustle! We enlisted together for a reason dude!”

Suddenly Joseph feels that this statement was a bridge too far. He feels a pit in his chest as he feels he has just lost something greater than he can understand going to slap the exemplar of a man in front of him, “Snap out of it!” Before even nearing a strike however his wrist is snatched out of the air and held fast above his head. Curt stares daggers into Joseph at this sign of aggression, this challenge. His eyes darken as his stubble grows out even more. Joseph feels Curt’s grip grow even darker watching as the hair on his arms darkens spreading out from the sleeves. He brings in Nick’s little bro closer to his face as his warm, heaving breaths distract Joseph from the pain in his upheld wrist before he lets go and guffaws, “You’ve gotta be quicker than that kid if you want to enlist with us! Where is your brother anyway? ‘S why I came over right?”

Joseph is perplexed as Curt lets him go, also unsure as to why this mammoth of a man is in his living room. They are quickly assuaged as Curt gets a text from Nick. “Oh you need a ride did ya kid? No problem! He just wants you to bring over the jacket he left over here and we’ll head on out.” Curt struggles to shove his feet in his combat shoes before finding himself distracted as the shoes push out to fit his ever larger feet.

Joseph’s mind remains a battlefield but it is clear which side is soon to rout as he heads to the closet where he just wanted to grab some beer. Inside he finds not only his brother's jacket, expertly hung, but a second one that looks almost supernaturally comfortable. He pauses before reaching out, feeling an existential aversion to the jacket hanging in his closet. before there’s a brisk breeze through the house and he shivers. Joseph quickly grabs his brothers and slides into the latter jacket, a tad too big but the world around him feels much warmer now that he has it on.

After suiting up Joseph quickly rushes back to his brother’s friend, quite wanting to make a good impression on the private first class. As he rushes his footsteps quickly grow in volume as his tennis shoes thicken into pristine combat shoes and grow far wider as his feet race to keep up, filling their increased space. Barely avoiding tripping over his now massive feet, he sees that Curt is of course not a private at all but his Corporal, as he freezes and salutes. His biceps straining his sleeves as his stained white shirt begins to slowly make room for the soldier’s expanding muscle. “At ease Joe, Let’s go ahead and head on out.”

Curt leads Joe out to his lifted truck and has him get in before loading a few more things into the bed of his truck. There is a load of clearly dirty towels in the back seat as Curt clearly has an issue bringing in laundry after his workouts. Although he doesn’t make it a habit of driving recruits so it’s not usually an issue. Sitting in the musky cabin does immediately cause issues for Joe however, as he puts the seatbelt on he feels his body start to expand in every direction it can. His pecs push against both his shirt and the seatbelt. He pulls his tight shirt down, straining it to the brim as he feels a sudden itch in his crotch. His hand already down there and finding it impossible to bring his attention anywhere else he sees his bulge push out, almost doubling in size as he scratches his increasingly overgrown pubes. He struggles to cover the impossible to miss bulge forcing his brother’s jacket over his crotch, the added pressure and warmth overwhelms him as Curt notices from outside

Curt watches as his new recruit’s shoulders broaden and his jaw widens. He slightly shifts in his seat, almost gyrating, running the hand not shoved in his pants through his hair, leaving behind a respectable high and tight demanded of any respectable recruit.

Curt slowly opens the door giving the recruit the briefest of chances to at least perform decency. Immediately wrenching the hand from his pants to salute, shouting “Sir!” towards his Corporal, eyes growing deathly serious as he touches a visibly sweat covered hand to his brow. Curt’s eyes glint as he notices the action flung Nick’s jacket off and exposed Joe’s still expanding bulge and unzipped pants. The two feel a hunger starting to grow in their chests as Curt hops into the driver's seat. Adjusting his rear view as he juts up once more in height, his jacket making it apparent to all he is now a sergeant, Curt begins to drive off towards the base. 

Curt puts his hand on Joe’s inner thigh, overstimulating the private who roughly clenches his jaw trying to keep it together. He feels pre start to soak through Joe’s fatigues as he starts to rub his thigh. Grunting as he too feels a powerful stirring in his crotch, his cock forcing itself further down his leg. “Wouldn’t want to stop at my place first, would ya’ Joe?” Joe stares at the sergeant ahead of him with a lust deeper than the can understand, and a hunger to grow even larger. Curt chuckles, “gotta release some of this energy before we break the new to Nick anyway.” He turns his car and begins to race towards his apartment on the base. 

As the heat in the car begins to fog up the windows the two men could not remember anything besides who they were since joining the army. After an anything but quick fuck, they would get back to work on the base. Curt distracts himself as he commands his troops and Joe gets ready for his promotion ceremony, ready to rub it in his brother’s face that he was already going to be higher ranked. The two follow orders flawlessly as they always have, performing their duties with rigor. The only thing more present on their minds than dedication to their fellow soldiers being the excitement for the next time they are to fuck.

[roturo]

COOL WITH YOU - gojo satoru x f!reader - + 4.5k words

summary: You never though throwing chocolate milk would lead you to being enemies with the popular guy at school, which led you into even a crazier situation.

warnings: smut; unprotected sex, cock warming, dacryphilia, pussy slapping, mating press, finger sucking, oral (f!receiving), marking, degradation kink, slut shaming, edging, teasing, sexual tension, overstimulation. Enemies into idk into lovers. UniversityAU, popular student!gojo satoru, fluff.

TUMBLR IS BASED ON A REBLOG SYSTEM. PLEASE REBLOG MY WORK.

It was a really nice day, really.

Nothing out of the extraordinary, normal classes, normal notes, everything was going great! Nice weather, and even your hair was having a good day!, but lunch time had to come.

You were walking through the cafeteria looking for the table you and your friends usually sit at. Walking with your tray through other people, you were about to make it, until you stumbled and say stumbled for crashed into an almost 2 meter man, food flying everywhere, and if that wasn't enough, your choco milk made a mess on his white t-shirt.

WHY DOESN'T HE WEAR THE COMPLETE UNIFORM?

You felt all the possible stares into you, couldn't even see with who you crashed, way too embarrassed for it. Mumbling a lot of 'sorry, i'm going to pay it for you' 'I can wash it for you, i'm so sorry.' 'I'll buy you a new one.'  You finally looked up and saw who it was.

Gojo Satoru. The popular guy in school. Might not be the smartest, but he has good grades. Not much of a troublemaker (he is), has dated at-least half of the girls in this school, and someway he still has a line of girls waiting for his turn.

He was next his best-friend. Suguru Geto, smartest guy in your class, he's more peaceful, just watches from a distance, a cute smirk,  hasn't dated half of the girls in school, but still has a long line of girls waiting for a chance.

Your face flushed with embarrassment as she saw that the dark liquid from your spilled bottle had stained his pristine white shirt. Gojo's expression was anything but pleased, and he snapped at you, "Watch where you're going dumbass!"

You tried to apologize, but Gojo had clearly made up his mind about you. From that day on, Gojo wouldn't miss any chance to humiliate you just like you did that day in the cafeteria.

He wouldn't let go of that day, calling you all types of nicknames related to it. ¨Milkie¨ ¨Choco-latte¨ and much more. Mostly throwing your books you had in your arms walking through the halls, always putting milk on your desk when recess was done.

He would often challenge you with difficult questions in class, and you would slowly find yourself doing the same. Days went over and you were now annoyed at his behavior. Who does he think he is? He couldn't treat people like he wanted to!

¨Can you stop?¨ Utahime stopped eating, dramatically putting the fork down. ¨Stop what?¨

¨Stop looking at fucking Gojo Satoru! It’s been like two months and you’re still annoyed at him.¨ 

Oh god. He's looking back at your table, Utahime said it loud enough so half of the cafeteria could hear. Feeling your face growing hot you looked back at your friend, her face showing how unbothered she is by the annoyed side-eyes you guys were receiving.

¨It's like you got obsessed with him or something! All you do is talk about him, how angry you are about him, how he did this, how he did that, do you like HIM or what?¨

¨Of course NO! I don't like Gojo-...¨

A small cough interrupted the small discussion you were having, looking up for the person who annoyingly stopped you trying to justify why you don't like the Gojo Satoru, was in fact, the Gojo Satoru.

He was standing in all glory in front of your table with his best friend, Geto, which seemed kinda unbothered with this whole ordeal.

You looked like a little kid being caught trying to grab another candy from the bowl after he got his daily one... which made Gojo chuckle.

How cute.

¨I'm sorry ladies for interrupting your chat, but me, and my friend Geto Suguru, wanted to invite you to our upcoming party this weekend. Right Suguru?¨ He nudged Geto, with his annoying smirk, at what Geto just nodded.

You were about to deny the offer, saying you’re not one of his easy girls to smash with, but Utahime was faster than you and said yes to the invitation and lent her phone so they could send her the place and time.

Oh, well, fuck.

Utahime greeted you into her house with her radiant smile, her eyes shining with mischief. "I would’ve killed you if you didn’t come!" she exclaimed, pulling you into her room. "Tonight, you’re going to have a great fuck and forget that annoying asshole!" You rolled your eyes because of her assumption of you liking Gojo. 

Utahime couldn't resist the thrill of the invitation, saying it’s ¨an event you have to live at least once at uni.¨ You spent hours preparing yourselves. Mostly, Utahime carefully choosing the perfect outfit and a dash of confidence to match. 

You and Utahime arrived at the party, the room buzzed with laughter, music, and vibrant conversations. You’ve been spending the whole night thinking of a way to take revenge on Gojo, and show Utahime proof you don’t like him. You have tried plenty of ways; winning at sports games, not a surprise he’s better than you, but it still pisses you off how irritating he is. You also tried beating him at exams, which somehow you did beat him on them, but somehow he gets more acknowledgment about having a 9 than you having a 10?

Does he fuck the teacher too?

Fuck.

Fuck…

Fuck!

That’s what you need! To fuck Gojo Satoru.

…

Not in that way…

Well, yes. But not him fucking you. You fucking him.

His whole ego is based on how every girl likes him, so… what if you do what he does to the other girls?

Geto greeted the both of you with a smile, offering you something to drink, which you denied, contrary to Utahime. You were having a small chat with your friend and a friend of hers, she was really nice, short haired, not that tall but not that short, she's a friend of Satoru & Suguru apparently… a pretty smile adorning her face while talking with Utahime, her name was Shoko.

And Shoko is really fun, really, but you couldn’t stop from distracting yourself, eyes following the tall frame, going from girl to girl all around the house. It infuriated you how they could be so clueless of the man they’re talking with.

You decided you needed to distract yourself and stop focusing on what he’s doing. Entering the kitchen was really calm, two people chatting while drinking. Preparing yourself a drink, you felt a small push in your shoulder, and it’s like destiny made you to never stop thinking about him, since somehow he was always there.

¨Oops, didn’t see you there.¨ His stupid face, with his stupid smirk.

¨Can’t stop disturbing me for one minute in your entire life?!¨

¨Me? Disturb you? You’re the one who won't stop looking at the other like some obsessed stalker!¨

¨Well, it’s not my fault you keep fooling those girls thinking if they let you fuck them they will be with you at least more than a week before you get bored!¨

He laughed at you, which only made you even angrier. ¨Are you jealous or what?¨

¨I’m not jealous- … don’t. Don’t you dare look at me that way.¨

¨What way?¨

¨Like you want to fuck me.¨

The tension in the room grew stronger, his stupid eyes were having pleasure watching you being angry at him being with other girls. You’re really pretty too, he never took the time to realize that. Maybe it's your fault because of the grembling face you put when you’re around him.

Thank god Suguru came into the room giving you a way out of this situation, calling for Satoru and you.

¨Hey, we need both of you to help us with something back there, Utahime and Shoko are there also. Utahime is really nice, but uhh… she might gotten a little too much drunk…¨

"Do we have to bring her?¨ Gojo said, pointing back at you with his thumb, not even looking at you, just at Geto. ¨You know I hate her." 

¨Yes Satoru, it’s her friend who we are talking about.¨

"I'm standing right here, you know..." 

"I know." You were about to hit Satoru if it wasn’t that Geto didn’t grab the both of you by the wrist and started walking away.

After leaving a very drunk Utahime in Geto’s room, Shoko staying with her, the two other boys (Most like Geto) invited you to go for some midnight ice-cream around the corner, at which, you had nothing to do, so you accepted the offer, who wouldn’t want ice-cream for free?

The three of you got your ice-cream, you were with Satoru while Suguru was paying for them.

¨Your ice cream looks delicious, let me try.¨

¨We have the exact same ice cream, for god’s sake!¨ Satoru was faster than you and gave a big bite (with no teeth) to your ice-cream, you grumbled at his stubbornness.

¨Hey, no fair! You have more sprinkles than mine!¨ You looked up at his face, finding ice-cream all around his lips. Unconsciously your hand caressed his cheek and with your thumb, you wiped the ice-cream off his mouth. Your finger resting on his lower lip, he slightly opened his mouth giving enough space for your thumb to enter, which it did. His tongue swirled around it, savoring the ice-cream he stole from you. Your eyes never left his and vice versa. His cheeks were slightly pink, his eyes were now a darker shade of blue thanks to his dilated pupils.

His hands found a way to lock between your waist, making you get closer to him. Your thumb left his mouth and slowly got into his chest. He smiled at you. A genuine smile from him. Not an evil trace on it. His eyes squinted a little, which made you also smile. 

¨Can y’all believe the old man wanted me to pay for an extra ice-cream we didn’t buy? I stayed like 10 min more trying to explain him we only bought 3.¨

Your face turned pale, as fast as you could, you pushed yourself out of Gojo’s embrace, he awkwardly coughed fixing his hair.

¨Are you guys okay?¨ Suguru looked confused but then looked at you and your melted ice-cream.

¨Oh shit. It melted. Your eyes locked with Satoru for a moment and moved on to the melted ice-cream. Did that really happen?

A week passed and Gojo couldn’t get you off his mind. The moment replaying every day, the feeling of your hand on his cheek never leaving. He was going crazy. 

Ever since Utahime and Shoko got closer, that meant hanging out as a group. It somehow got better? Gojo stopped with the bitterness and the hate towards you, it turned more into teasing?, it’s like he’s been feeling cool with you?

 It even turned into the both of you teasing each-other light heartly, it was fun.

During a late-night study session at Shoko’s,  you and Gojo got into argument from some science topic, you could sense the others were annoyed at the unnecessary pause of studying, leading them into grabbing their phones to go through social media, going for water, or even just start making small drabbles of drawings, knowing they couldn’t do anything about the both of you arguing because of your stubbornness.

Until Utahime snapped, ¨Oh my god, can the both of you just fuck so the tension could leave?!¨ that left the both of you speechless and blankly looking at eachother, red invaded eachother’s face because of how things turned out and how others point of view of the type of relationship the two of you have.

...

... Your walk home was… awkward but nice?

¨Listen. It’s nearing midnight and you're a female walking the streets alone, at least let me walk you home? As much as you annoy me I’d rather you not get murdered¨ You take in his words slowly nodding in agreement as you cross your arms, ¨fine.. nice to hear that you don’t want me dead.¨

So that’s how the both of you ended walking together to your house. It was a weird bonding experience you didn’t think you needed.

¨Wow you can actually be a sweetheart this time, what happened to the boy who was arguing with me today is pluto is still considered a planet?¨

You say lightheartedly but turn to glare in his direction anyway, watching as he rubs the back of his neck with a chuckle.

¨Yeah that was pretty immature. to be fair we’re just as bad as each other ̈

You nodded in agreement it really is a game of back and forth trying to outdo each other. You felt a sudden wetness on your face sticking your hand out and watching as your palms filled with water capturing the rain droplets within, the rain poured without any mercy but thankfully you could see your house just a little down the street, with the nice moment you were having with Gojo you bravely grabbed his hand with a giggle making a bolt towards your house, to your surprise Gojo tightened his grip running beside you as the rain soaked you both.

Catching your breaths as you stood on your porch, sheltering yourselves from the rain, breathlessly laughing as you straightened yourself looking up at Gojo who was just as drenched.

¨Who saw that coming?¨ He smiles pulling lightly on your hand that still stayed secured in his, you were only inches away from each other but the cool breeze and crackling of the thunder held a mysterious mood that drew you into him.

In what should have been forbidden your lips touched, tasting the water that ran along your face seeping into your mouth as you reconnected with Gojo’s pretty lips, it didn’t last long as a large gust of wind interrupted causing you to shiver and unintentionally find comfort in Gojo, pressing against his chest. You could feel his hand rubbing gently against your upper back as he stared down calmly, you finally pulled away from him jiggling with your front door and popping it open with just a twist of your key, frowning your eyebrows slightly as you turn to look at the soaking wet boy again watching him turn towards the rain and stepping closer as if he was about to make a run for it.

¨You don’t have to leave.. it looks pretty hectic out there, i can dry your clothes and you can leave when it’s safer, if that’s what you want?¨ Gojo seemed conflicted a hint of hesitation could be seen but his expression was mostly unreadable, he took one last look out towards the street before turning on his heels, walking into your house with a smile, ¨That seems like a better idea.. thanks.¨

You really didn’t know what you were thinking letting Gojo into your house but it felt right, ¨Your... hoodie¨, you say holding your hand out towards him.¨I can put it in the dryer¨ Gojo paused for a moment looking down, his lips shaping into a straight line as his cheeks puffed out. ¨I’m not wearing an undershirt¨ You let out a light oh before making your way into the laundry room, ¨here! You can throw a towel over yourself if you feel uncomfortable!¨ You yell out to him, turning around to be greeted with Gojo’s bare chest, ¨It’s fine I don’t need a towel¨ He plainly says handing you his hoodie, you quickly nod taking it and heading over to the dryer.

¨What about my pants?¨ You hear him say as you open the lid. ¨What about them?¨ You question turning around to see his slightly wet jeans, ¨They’re not that wet but I can do them too.. got that towel?¨, Gojo let’s out a chuckle unzipping his jeans.

¨I’m not going to be naked, I do have underwear on after all, do you want me to wear a towel?¨ You went silent slowly extending your arm and making a gimme motion with your hand, ¨I don’t care it’s your decision¨, you say sounding a bit flustered, looking away nervously Gojo stripped himself of his jeans leaving him in his underwear. You throw his clothes into the dryer freezing suddenly before closing the lid, realising your own saturated clothes as you played with the hem of your shirt, “fuck it”, you whispered ripping your top from over your head, your pants following in hot pursuit letting them join in with Gojo’s clothes.

The dryer light blinked on watching as the session started not daring to turn around as you knew Gojo was still very much present, feeling a sense of embarrassment as you stood away from him semi nude, the only thing you didn’t know is that he was much closer than you thought feeling his hand smooth over your arm a slight tingling sensation could be felt as he pressed up against your bare back, ¨Aren’t you cold?¨, he said sliding his mouth near your ear, you slowly nodded feeling your words getting stuck in your throat, ¨I mean no, not really¨ You crackled out quickly correcting yourself, your whole body was heating up as the butterflies in your stomach did multiple backflips, ¨Well I am baby¨, you let out a rigid breath feeling your pussy contract within itself at the sudden nickname, you had no idea he could make you feel this way, ¨How are you gonna get warm?¨ You softly breathe out goosebumps arising from your skin as Gojo rubbed up and down your sides placing a few kisses against your neck, ¨I have an idea if you’d spread your legs a little?¨ You obeyed his words like a dog, running on your own horny adrenaline.

¨Are you okay with this?¨ You nodded, feelin his fingers come in contact with your pussy pushing your panties to the side as he swiped his pointer finger through your folds, he stopped clutching his hands roughly on your hips, his forehead laying on your shoulder blade.

¨How? You’re so wet, I barely even touches you.¨ Gojo said sensually pulling your hips towards him as he rubbed his hard against your ass, ¨I thought I’d have to do a little more but I think this is enough.. ready?¨

He kissed up your back adjusting himself a bit, ¨Ready?... for what?-¨, You struggled to say the last syllables as Gojo pushed the tip of his cock into you wrapping an arm around your waist and the other holding onto the dryer in front of you, pulling you upwards so he can angle your entrance just right so he can fully fit into you comfortably.

A gasp escaped you quickly holding onto the side of his thigh as he stayed still, the feeling of his long cock deep inside you made you wriggle pulling your heat away from him as he replants himself, the heat off Gojo’s chest and stomach burned into your back, ¨Now that’s warm¨, Gojo spoke, ¨And it’s tight too¨, He slightly giggled out resting his head on your shoulder.

¨Is it uncomfortable?¨ He quietly spoke in concernment Gojo’s worries fading as he finally feels you melting into him, ¨No it’s good¨ You say sheepishly feeling the slight shake of his arm as he continued to hold onto the dryer, another kiss being littered against your upper back upon hearing you.

It’s beyond weird getting this intimate with him but there always was some lingering sexual tension though. Nothing is really happening as you both stood in silence while Gojo kissed your body, leaving hickeys everywhere. Your body temperatures rising quickly but soon you started to feel Gojo’s movements, he awkwardly pumped himself into you stopping and starting his motions as he fought his urges, ¨Satoru?... If you’re going to fuck me just do it, this is nice and all but I know what we both want¨

You say trying to look at the boy who was still resting his head on your shoulder, you saw him perk up displaying a gummy like smile, ¨If that’s what you want who am I to deny you?¨

He jolted you forward banging you flat against the dryer giving you a sharp thrust as he grabbed a hold of your hair, bringing you back so he could kiss you, ¨You really want your enemy fucking you? Want everyone to know how of a cockslut you are? That Utahime was right? filthy.¨ 

You hum in pleasurable agreement a cheeky giggle escaping you as Gojo tilts your head to the side giving himself access to your neck, ¨Enemy? Do you really want to be calling yourself that when you started this? I think you’ve always wanted to do this, you love me¨ You say daringly, feeling incredibly unsatisfied as he pulled himself out of you spinning you around and finally coming face-to-face with him, Gojo’s hair now completely dry but nothing changed about his smirk.

¨You don’t need this” He unclips your bra way too easily wiggling it in front of your face like a trophy

“Don’t try putting this act on me, you’ve wanted my dick ever since you met me, those looks you don't give them to everyone.. probably why you love me so much ̈ You push him away playfully, covering your breasts and snatching your bra from him attempting to walk passed, Gojo re-attaches himself to you pulling you into a back hug as he kisses you roughly, biting your lower lip dragging slightly out making you whine.

“Don’t be stubborn, the laundry room is nice but why don’t you show me the bedroom?” You lean into him with a satisfied smile spreading across your face as you had every intention in bringing him to your bed, ¨Where do you think I’m taking you?¨

Nothing was stopping you, both fully naked in bed as Gojo’s face found refuge in between your legs licking up and down your slit and sucking on your sensitive clit, making infinity signs between them, holding your thighs apart to stop you from caging him in with each spasm of your body, “I’m gonna-“, you moaned out Gojo humming at your words removing his mouth from your heat and licking his two fingers as he dives them straight into your soaking pussy pumping in and out, “You’re gonna what?” He smirks, making a gesture of using his free hand to put on his ear to sign like he didn’t listen to you. Watching as you gasp at the sudden intrusion his smirk grew larger. ¨Oh! There! Satoru please I-¨

He stopped, smiling proudly and taking in your watery eyes, his smile soon turning into a sarcastic pout, ¨Aw, that’s cute¨ He laughed, pushing you flat against the bed as you leaned up to try and hit him, him being faster slapping your pussy.

¨Oh stop it! you’ll get what you want later slut, look what you’ve done to me¨ He looks down at his hard and angry cock begging for attention, rolling his fingers around his shaft as he covers his member in your juices.

¨Open your legs wider” Gojo hovers above you angling himself at your cunt, finally slipping back into your wet cunt, wasting no time in hammering into you giving you no chance in preparing for his speed, quickly wrapping your arms around his neck as he mercilessly rocks you back and forth but as Gojo lifted each of your legs up putting you into a mating press, which made the thrusters even go deeper inside you, turning you into a beautiful moaning mess.¨Ah! Look at you, you’re beautiful¨

Gojo groans out closing his eyes and throwing his head back in an attempt not to bust, picking up the pace as he fucks you raw diving his face into your neck as he concentrates feeling his heavy panting on your neck.

¨Don’t stop this time¨ You barely get out feeling your body getting to it’s highest point again, your back arching immediately as Gojo’s fingers had sneakily approached your clit rubbing your clit at lightning speed. You couldn’t breathe your legs spasming out and clenching around Gojo so hard he could barely move, your moans turning into a pleasurable scream as you reached your orgasm falling limp as you continued to pulsate around Gojo’s cock. 

He isn’t done yet. Taking in sharp breaths as he chases after his own high, you whine slightly from sensitivity but you weren’t going to stop him, thrusting a few more times till he pulls out in quickly, pumping himself in his hand as he aims his load on your stomach, moaning sweetly as he shoots his cum all over your lower half swiping his thumb over his head picking up some of the white substance and shoving it into your slightly agape mouth, ¨How does it taste sweetheart?¨ You start sucking his thumb without any hesitation making a loud popping sound as you pull his hand away.¨Delicious¨, you smile. 

With a satisfied chuckle Gojo collapsed onto your bed watching as he reached for anything to help clean yourself up with, ¨I don’t regret doing that you know…¨ He quickly says as he wiped up his mess, ¨I would’ve preferred if you cum somewhere a little less messy¨ You raised an eyebrow, ¨I meant having sex with you.. I’d do it again¨ You smiled, feeling the excitement run through you with just the thought of having sex with Gojo again ¨I’d like that too¨ He went a little quiet intensely watching you, getting closer to you, his lips crashed yours. This time it wasn’t rushed at all, he was moving his lips slowly, capturing every moment of it. Taking a small moment to breathe, he started kissing you again, then giving small pecks all around your face which made you giggle. He finally stopped with getting himself around your arms, cuddling you. 

He called out your name at which you just answered with a small sound out of tiredness. 

¨I think I love you.¨

[scribblesofagoonerr]

howdy, america! | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

my favourite fic to write. it did start out as a sick fic but then it turned into well, this.

pairings: leah williamson x reader!buddy x reader!monkey

summary: preseason has kicked off in america and it's chaos all round!

double the trouble masterlist

thank you @alotofpockets for the help with this one! there's also a special appearance from @lvnleah character Rory as well.

“Nana, it’s too hot!” You whine, not a fan of this hot and sticky weather in the middle of August, “I don’ like it!”

“I know sweetheart,” Amanda sympathises with your fussiness that you’re not entirely used to being in another country as she adjusts the little sun hat on your head, “How about you try and drink some water to see if that helps at all, hm?” She suggests.

“Okay,” You shift restlessly in your seat as you take small sips from the bottle that you’re handed, “I don’ feel good,” You whimper, unhappily.

You are so excited to watch the game, you love it usually. However, today's a bit different with the fact of the unbearable heat in America is that you’re not at all used too, it makes you feel all icky inside.

You don’t like it, not one bit.

You're sitting in the stands with your Nana as you watch the football match unfold as Arsenal take on Washington Spirit in a preseason game at the Audi Field. The sun is blazing down and the stadium is packed with fans all eager to see their favourite players on the pitch.

Donned in your own Arsenal football shirt as you sit perched on your Nana’s lap, with a pale pink sun hat on the top of your head to keep the sun out of your eyes but it didn’t help the fact that you felt uncomfortable with the newfound heat you weren’t all that familiar with.

“I don’ like this heat,” You whine in discomfort, continuing to get fussier as the minutes draw on into the first half of the game, “I feel icky!”

“Oh sweetheart,” Amanda coos, doing her best to comfort you despite the fact you’re just getting more restless by the second as the game goes on, “I know it’s a lot to handle. Shall we see if we can find a spot in the shade?” She wonders.

“I wan’ Mummy,” You whine upset, looking out to where Leah is standing on the pitch with her usual stern expression she always has.

“I know you do, but Mummy is still on the pitch at the minute,” Amanda explains, taking control of the situation to bring you into a more shaded area with hope that you might feel a bit better, “It won’t be long until you can see her, sweetheart.”

“Too hot Nana, I feel icky,” You continue to whine in discomfort, thrashing around in the older women’s arms as you feel a pain in your tummy, “I’m gon’ be sick, Nana!” The tears brim your eyes, wanting nothing more than to be in Leah’s arms again.

“Oh no, sweetheart,” Amanda furrows her eyebrows as she prepares for the worst case situation, “Just a little longer sweetheart. You can see Mummy soon, I promise,” She tries to keep you calm for the rest of the first half of the game.

Despite her best efforts to keep you hydrated and in the shade away from the sun too much, the heat only seems to make you feel worse. 

Amanda is more than thankful for the whistle at the end of the first half to be able to signal to Leah, who’s just finishing up with a small interview.

“I wan’ see Mummy now,” You murmur with a pout on your face, not entirely understanding why you can’t have her straight away.

“Hang on sweetheart, let’s see if we get her attention,” Amanda lightly sways with you in her arms, “Leah!” She calls out, trying to catch the blonde before she dips off into the changing rooms for the half time talk with the rest of the team.

Leah looks over straightaway, concern immediately crossing her face when she takes in your flushed cheeks and drooping posture, “Hello my little bubba,” She jogs over to the sidelines and gently brushes a strand of hair away from your sweaty forehead, “What’s the matter?” She questions, her worry evident for you.

“I don’ feel good, Mummy!” You immediately reach out for the blonde as your bottom lip quivers.

The blonde doesn’t hesitate to scoop you up into her arms and hold you close to her despite the heat, “Oh it’s okay, my little bubba. I’ve got you.” She murmurs, pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“I feel icky, it’s too hot!” You whimper in her arms, snuggling into her embrace despite the blazing heat that there currently is right now, “I gon’ be sick,”

“I’ve got you. You’re gonna be okay, bubba,” Leah kisses the top of your head and holds you in her arms, “It’s very hot here, isn’t it? It’s no wonder why you feel sick,” She adds.

“She’s been fussy the whole of the first half. It might be a good idea to take her indoors for a bit out of the heat,” Amanda suggests the idea, “I know you might need to go back on, so I can take her?” She offers.

“No, it’s fine. I’m not going back on if my little girl is feeling sick,” Leah declares without a second thought, “I’ll go and take her inside myself for a little bit, I just need to let Jonas know Buddy’s not well,” With a quick word passed over to the coaches about being subbed off for the game, you’re heading inside in Leah’s arms to a more secluded area where there is air conditioning available.

“I don’ like this feeling,” You whimper tearfully, “I wan’ watch Monkey though!” You mention your favourite person, you always like to watch her play football and now you couldn’t while you’re inside.

“I know you don’t,” Leah coos, settling down on a chair as she cradles you in her arms while the air conditioning works wonders to cool you down, “We can go and watch Monkey if you want too as long as you don’t feel too sick still?”

“Wan’ watch her,” You murmur quietly.

“Okay, that’s fine. We can do that,” Leah replies in agreement before she stands up again from her seat and carries you in the direction of the changing rooms, “How about we take a little quick shower first to cool you down and then we’ll go back out, hm?” She suggests.

“There’s my favourite little Buddy!” You hear your favourite person speak up as you turn your head and give her a small smile, “What’s wrong?” She asks, concerned.

“Buddy’s not feeling that great at the minute with the heat,” Leah informs the girl, brushing another strand of your hair away from your sweaty face.

Monkey’s eyes widen in concern as she sees you nestled in Leah’s arms, your small frame seeming even smaller as you clung to her and normally, you would be bouncing with excitement to see her, eager enough to run into her arms but today was a completely different story.

The heat had drained all of your energy, leaving you feeling icky and weak.

“Oh no,” The girl frowns, stepping closer towards you as her playful demeanour is replaced with worry, “You’re not feeling well?” She asks.

“Too hot,” You murmur, your voice barely above a whisper as you still hold on tightly to Leah.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Monkey pouts at your fragile state she’s not used to seeing you like, “I… I can stay with her if you need to go back on and play?” She offers, turning to look at Leah.

Leah shakes her head in disagreement, “It’s okay, I’ve been subbed off and I am going to sit with her,” She pauses, “Besides, little miss wants to watch you play when you get subbed on.”

“If you’re sure?” The younger girl offers, her usual energy subdued as she watches you with careful eyes, “I don’t have to play today. Buddy’s sick!”

“No, you’re going to play,” Leah replies against the idea, “Buddy will be fine, I’m going to be with her the whole time. Now, go head back out there and we’ll see you out there in a bit, okay?” She encourages Monkey to go back and join the rest of the team that are still sitting on the bench.

“Urgh fine,” The girl huffs reluctantly and shuffles out of the changing rooms in a sulk.

“What is she like, eh? Silly Monkey,” Leah laughs lightly and shakes her head about Monkey’s sudden mood change as she walks over to the shower and turns it on to a lukewarm temperature, before carefully placing you down in the shower as she lets the cool water spray over your body, “There we go, bubba. Does that feel better?”

Despite her teasing Monkey about her mood swing, her focus never once wavers from you as she takes care of you.

“Uh huh. Better, Mummy,” You nod as the water washes away the discomfort.

“Good, I’m glad,” Leah says with a warm smile, reaching for a towel to wrap around you as she turns off the shower, “Let’s get you changed into some fresh clothes and then we’ll go sit back down with everyone else.”

“Sit with Auntie Beth?” Your wonder, curiously.

“Yeah, I think Auntie Beth has been subbed off as well,” Leah confirms, her hands working quickly and efficiently to get you dried off and into a fresh set of clothes, “It’s a good job that I packed spare clothes, isn’t it?”

You scrunch your face up when you realise that you won’t be able to wear your own Arsenal shirt now, “I don’ get to wear my Arsenal top no more,” You mumble, a hint of sadness in your voice.

“It’s okay, I know that you’re still my little cheerleader, Bubba,” Leah kneels down to your level as she smiles reassuringly at you, “For now, it’s between one of these ones,” She says, holding up a couple of options for you to choose from.

You take a moment to decide before you finally point to one you like more, “Green one.”

“Green? Oh that’s a good choice, Buddy!” Leah praises, helping you into the t-shirt along with a pair of white shorts, and you were more than happy to go back out to find your aunties, “Ah, ah, not so fast. You still need some more sun cream on, little miss.”

“No, I don’ like it,” You grumble in protest and try to pull away from her, “Don’ like it, Mummy. it’s icky!”

Leah chuckles softly, her hands already applying the suncream despite your reluctance, “Oh I know, but it’s better than looking like a lobster now, isn’t it, hm?”

“Icky,” You mutter, making a face even if you know she’s right about that, but it still doesn’t mean you have to like it.

You definitely do not like sun cream.

“I know,” Leah agrees with a sympathetic smile as she finishes applying the sun cream to your squeamish body, “All done, see that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

“Gross,” You whine in response, shaking your head in disagreement.

“It’s not that bad,” Leah smiles in amusement, “Shall we go and see which of your aunties we can find now then?”

“Yeah, watch Monkey play!” You declare, your earlier excitement starting to return now that you’re feeling better.

“Yeah, she’ll be playing soon,” The blonde agrees with a fond smile, holding her hand out for you to take as you make your way back to the bench where you spot a familiar face sitting there, “Look who it is, it’s Auntie Beth!” She points out the blonde woman.

“Hi, Buddy!” Beth greets you with a small wave as she has Rory, sitting on her lap looking grumpy.

You’re not sure if it’s the heat or the fact that she’s missing Viv, but she’s definitely not having a good time in America.

You do miss Jordan while you’re out here though but you’ve been able to FaceTime her, Blu and Tater-Tot as well.

You’re excited to be able to see them when you’re home!

“Hey, pipsqueak!” You hear the familiar Australian voice of Monkey’s best friend and partner in crime, Kyra, “Where’s your Arsenal top?” She jokes.

“Couldn’t wear it no more,” You pout in disappointment, your fingers touching the hem of your new t-shirt which isn’t as cool as your own Arsenal one.

“Aw, no. That’s a shame, but don’t worry you still look cool in that one!” Kyra notices your glum expression and gives you a sympathetic smile, “And hey, you’re wearing green now!” She winks, trying to lift your spirits.

“Yeah, you’re reppin’ leprechauns’ colours now!” Monkey jokes as she chips in on the conversation, although you're not entirely sure who she is talking about.

“Oi, I heard that,” Katie chimes in, rolling her eyes playfully.

Monkey just laughs, “Good, you were meant to,” She says before she ruffles your hair knowing it’ll wind you up, “Glad that you’re feeling better, Buddy!”

“Monkey, stop!” You do your best to perfect the glare that is almost identical to Leah’s.

The girl holds her hands up in mock surrender, “Oh, now I know you’re feeling better if you’re scowling at me like Mum does,” She jokes, sticking her tongue out at Leah for good measure.

“Oi, watch it you," Leah fires back with her own stern look, though there’s a hint of amusement in her eyes, “Go on, go start warming up, Menace.”

“God, you’re always so bossy,” Monkey remarks, rolling her eyes dramatically but not without a smirk.

“Go on, go, Menace,” Leah says, pointing toward the sidelines with an exasperated shake of her head.

Monkey huffs dramatically but gets up from her seat, dragging her feet a little for the show, “Fine, alright, I’m goin’ now,” She mutters, throwing one last playful glance over her shoulder as she finally makes her way to the pitch.

“That girl sometimes, eh?” Beth chuckles amusedly after she watched Monkey’s theatrical exit from the seats.

“Tell me about it,” Leah replies, adjusting the sun hat on your head to keep the sun out of your eyes, “She’s a pain in the butt sometimes, but we love her, don’t we, Buddy?”

“Monkey’s my favourite person,” You declare confidently, snuggling closer to Leah.

Beth dramatically gasps in outrage, clutching her chest as if she’s been mortally wounded, “What? I thought I was your favourite person!”

“No, that’s me,” Katie pipes up from the other side of Beth, her tone playful.

“No, you’re both silly!” You giggle at the pair of them, “Monkey’s my favourite!”

“I’m offended,” Beth continues to faux upset as she keeps one arm around Rory, who’s still grumpy because she misses Viv, “I’m your favourite, right, Roo?” She asks her daughter.

“Yeah,” Rory agrees quietly, fiddling with the hem of her own Arsenal football shirt that had Beth’s name and number on the back of it.

“Well at least my daughter agrees,” Beth jokes, trying to lighten the mood, though she sneaks a glance at Rory, who’s clearly not her usual cheerful self.

Leah notices the exchange and leans a bit closer to Rory, “You know, Roo, I know you’re missing your Mamma but she’s going to be so happy to see you when you’re back home. I bet she can’t wait to hear all about your time here.”

Rory looks up to Leah with a small smile at the mention of Viv bringing her a bit of comfort, “Really?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Leah nods, her voice warm and reassuring, “And just think of the big hug she’s going to give you when you see her again. She’s going to want to hear every single detail.”

Rory’s smile grows a little wider, and she finally relaxes a bit against Beth, “I miss her,” She admits softly to the blonde.

“I know, sweetheart,” Beth says gently, rubbing her daughter’s back, “I miss her too, but Auntie Le is right. Mamma is going to be so excited to hear about everything that you’ve been up to.”

Leah gives Rory a warm smile before she looks between the two of you, “I think I might have an idea to cheer you girls up after the game,” She pauses, “I think we should get some ice cream! What do you think?”

“Ice cream!” You squeal in excitement, you sure do love ice cream a whole lot.

Beth laughs at your enthusiasm and peers down to look at Rory, “Oh ice cream does sound good, doesn’t it, Roo?”

Rory’s face brightens a bit at the suggestion, “I like ice cream,” She tells Leah with a small smile.

“I know you do,” Leah says, giving Rory a soft smile, “And you know who else likes ice cream? That big kid over there,” She gestures onto the field where the subs board is being changed for Monkey to go on to the pitch along with Kyra, Steph and Caitlin.

“Monkey likes ice cream a lot!” You reply in agreement.

“Yeah she does, so we’ll have to make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all before we get there.” Leah jokes, playfully.

“No, Monkey can’t eat it all!” You whine in protest, knowing that Monkey also likes ice cream as well, “You have to stop her, Mummy!”

“Don’t worry we will,” Leah laughs in amusement, “Look, she’s about to go on the pitch now so you can watch her,” She points with her index finger to where Monkey is racing onto the pitch.

“Go, Monkey! Go!” You shout enthusiastically, waving your little hand in the air in support of your favourite person.

Monkey spins around and looks over in the direction where you are and quickly waves back before she gets her head focused on the game, running all over the pitch with a burst of energy that matches her whole personality.

“Mummy, you and Auntie Beth look silly!” You can’t help but giggle at the current way that Leah and Beth both have the brightly coloured yellow bibs on their sun to protect their heads from the sun.

You don’t have that problem though, since you’ve got your own pink sun hat to keep your head safe.

“It’s the only way to keep us from getting too hot,” Leah tells you as she laughs, “I’m not fortunate to have a sun hat like you do, bubba.” She explains.

“Yeah, where can I get one of those lovely pink hats?” Beth chips in, her tone playful as she nudges you slightly.

“Mine,” You giggle at the blonde’s playful antics.

“I can’t see her,” You whine in protest, losing track of seeing your favourite person running with the ball.

“She’s over there, see?” Leah gestures to where Monkey’s running on the pitch with the ball under her feet, “Do you see her now, bubba?” She questions.

“I do! I do!” You squeal in excitement and clap your hands enthusiastically.

You find it hard to keep up with the rest of the match, the heat was relentless and despite Leah’s best efforts to still keep you cool and comfortable, it’s not long before you feel agitated again with it so your enthusiastic mood dips once again.

“It’s hot,” You whine pitfully, shifting around in discomfort.

“I know it is, bubba. It won’t be long until the match is over now,” Leah tries her best to reassure you, using a programme that she got her hands on to fan you and keep you cool again, “You don’t feel sick again, do you?”

“Nuh uh, just hot,” You grumble in disagreement with the heat. 

You miss home and the terrible weather, it’s not always hot there like it is here.

There’s a quick water break and you notice as Monkey comes bounding off the pitch, her energy still high despite the intensity of the game, though she spots you squirming in Leah’s lap and immediately notices your discomfort.

“What’s wrong, Buddy?” She jogs over, her face flushed but she still has her usual bright smile, taking the towel that she was just handed over to Leah to give to you as she knows you’re more in need of it right now, “This might help a little bit.”

“Thanks, Monkey,” Leah thanks the girl appreciatively, adjusting the damp towel over your shoulders to help you cool down.

“Anything for my favourite little buddy,” Monkey shrugs her shoulders, taking small sips of her own water bottle as she gets her usual mischievous glint in her eye, not thinking twice before she sprays a little cool water over you from the bottle, “Gotcha, now gotta go. Buh-bye!” With that, she drops the bottle and rushes back onto the pitch to carry out the rest of the game.

“M’ wet now,” You pout up at Leah, who chuckles softly and shakes her head.

“Monkey is a menace, isn’t she?” Leah asks, her eyes twinkling with amusement, “Don’t worry, you can get her back when she least expects it.” She adds, playfully.

“Yeah, I’ll get her back!” You smile cheekily, snuggling against Leah as you attempt to watch the rest of the match play out with the opposing team.

You’ve never been more grateful for a match to end as the heat is unbearable and once the final whistle blows, you peer up to look at Leah with hopeful eyes with the idea in mind to seek out Monkey on the pitch, and get your own back with the water bottle, “Can we go see Monkey now?” You ask.

“Come on, bubba,” Leah replies in agreement, taking a hold of your hand as she carefully helps you down the big steps that lead out to the pitch, “Do you see her?” She asks.

“Yes!” You spot her straight away as she has also spotted you and starts to race towards you, “I see her!” Letting go off Leah’s hand, you run towards her.

“Ah, my favourite little Buddy!” Monkey grins and lifts you up into her arms before she proceeds to spin you around, “Did you like the match?”

“Lots of goals scored!” You nod enthusiastically.

“Careful or she’ll be sick,” Leah states wearily as she finishes high fiving with the other team before she makes her way back to you both, “And then you’ll be the one to deal with it.”

“I know, I know. I’ve got her,” Monkey replies, holding you close to her as she walks back to join the post-match huddle with the team, standing on the other side of Leah.

“Proud of you out there, my girl,” Leah tells her, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead.

“What about me?” You ask, pouting at her.

Leah smiles and gently prieses you from Monkey’s arms, “I’m proud of you too, my little bubba,” She says, keeping you close as she listens to the post-match talk with Jonas and the rest of the team.

“Get down now please,” You ask politely, wanting to run about and kick the ball on the pitch now the match is over, you’re not so keen to listen to all the grown ups talk about stuff that you’re not sure about and maybe now Rory would play football with you?

“Don’t wander off,” Leah murmurs protectively, kneeling down to place you back on the floor, trying to pay attention to the post-match chat but more concerned about you wandering off somewhere unknown, though there’s a high chance of that happening when there’s a lot of staff here.

“Kick the ball with me, Roo!” You ask your cousin, who agrees with you and the two of you wander off to the stray football on the pitch, “Kick it, Roo!” You exclaim, pointing to the ball.

“I can’t believe you’re playing football without me,” Monkey gasps dramatically, making way to join your football game as you guess the chat must have finished now.

“I wanna join as well!” Kyra chimes in, joining the makeshift game with you, Monkey and Rory.

“Looks like your mini-me’s are putting you both to shame,” Caitlin jokes with Leah, seeing you put the ball in the back of the net before Monkey chucks you up on her shoulders to celebrate the goal.

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Leah laughs, shaking her head in amusement before making her way to greet her friend and follow England team mate, Esme Morgan.

You want to continue to kick the ball around, but your attention has been diverted to the white and red Gunner branded cowboy hat that Leah’s been handed, and so has Monkey’s as well.

“Howdyyyyy!” You hear Leah shout loudly from the other side of the pitch.

“Ooo, I want it!” Monkey bolts in the direction to where Leah is standing alongside Lia and Amanda on the other side of the barrier to block off the pitch.

“Wait for me, Monkey. I got little legs!” You whine and run after her, not wanting to be left out.

“Mine, I call dibs!” Monkey shouts aloud, trying and failing to reach for the hat on top of Leah’s head due to her short height, “No fair, gimme. I want it!”

“But it’s mine,” Leah retorts with a laugh, amused to watch Monkey try and get it from her, “Get your own hat, Menace.”

“No fair, I want it though– It would look better on me!” Monkey grumbles, doing her best to still and grab a hold of the hat, jumping and stretching her arms up.

“Fine,” Leah rolls her eyes with your favourite persons persistence and takes it off her own hat to plonk on her own, “There you go, Cowgirl.” She teases, patting her on the head.

“Thanks, Malfoy. You’re the best!” Monkey grins, happy with the hat for a few seconds before she shocks everyone around her and takes it off to gently place it on top of your own head, “Howdy, Cowgirl.”

“Cowboy hat!” You squeal in excitement.

“That was kind of you. I didn’t think you’d be willing to give it up so quickly,” Leah tells the younger girl, momentarily taken aback by Monkey’s sweet gesture to give it to you instead,

“It’ll help protect her from the sun,” Monkey tells her, trying to not make a big deal out of it, “Oh I’ll be back, I hear someone calling my name.” With that, she dips in the direction of a group of fans calling over to her, asking her to sign their shirts.

“Superstar on the pitch and fan favourite,” Lia jokes from where she stands beside Leah, speaking to other fans as well, watching out of the corner of her eye as one of the fans gave Monkey a white plush jellycat bunny.

“More like Menace,” Leah replies in amusement, taking the time to chat to Amanda in the stands as she lifts you into her arms so you can see her as well.

“Are you feeling better now, sweetheart?” Amanda questions in concern, not liking to see you so unsettled in any situation.

“Better now,” You nod in agreement, snuggling up closer to Leah while keeping the red and white cowboy hat on your head.

“It’s just a very hot day isn’t it,” Leah coos, doing her best to protect you from the harsh sun, “We’re going to get ice cream after this to help with the heat, aren’t we?”

“Ice cream!” You reply enthusiastically.

“Whoa, ice cream? That sounds great,” Amanda exclaims with a hint of playfulness in your voice, “You had better make sure that Monkey doesn’t eat it all.” She jokes.

“I heard my name,” Monkey pops up with the newfound white rabbit clutched in her hand, “Here you go, Buddy. This is yours,” She hands the rabbit to you.

“Thank ‘ou!” You take a hold of the fluffy rabbit and snuggle up closely to it.

“Hang on a second,” Leah says, shifting you to one arm while she uses her other hand to rest on the back of Monkey’s forehead, playfully pretending to check her temperature.

“What’re you doin’?” Monkey asks, confused, trying to bat Leah’s hand away from her face.

“Checking if you’re not coming down with something,” Leah responds, laughing slightly as she pulls her hand away, “Since when do you willingly give Jellycats away?”

“I’m just being nice!” Monkey insists, shrugging her shoulders, “It’s not a big deal, Buddy’s not having a great day and I thought it would cheer her up.”

“That’s really sweet of you to do something like that, Monkey,” Amanda states, kindly.

“It was,” Lia chimes in agreement.

Although Leah isn’t all that convinced, “What’re you after? If this is your way of trying to get out of being grounded after that stunt you pulled at home, think again,” She states, reminding the girl of what happened prior to your trip to America.

“It’s not I swear, I just… I thought it would cheer her up,” Monkey admits, looking sheepishly as she doesn’t know if anyone else is aware of what happened with the TV back home but she’s not about to tell anyone about it, regardless.

Leah eyes her for a moment longer before her expression softens, “Alright, I believe you. Now, how about we go and get that ice cream, huh?” She wonders.

Your own eyes light up at the mention of ice cream and you nod enthusiastically, “Ice cream!” You exclaim, clutching a hold of your new bunny, “Auntie Beth and Roo coming as well?”

“Course we are,” Beth pipes up from where she walks over to you all from the other side of the pitch with Rory in tow, “We wouldn’t miss out on the chance to get ice cream now, would we?”

“Ice cream!” Rory repeats enthusiastically, bouncing up and down on her feet, eager for the sweet treat.

Leah laughs at the enthusiasm, “Alright, ice cream it is. Before we go, we need to get changed out of our kits first,” She gestures between herself, Beth and Monkey, “We don’t want to be sitting in these sweaty clothes while we eat.”

Monkey groans playfully, clearly impatient, “Can’t we just go as we are? I want ice cream now!” She whines, dragging out the last word in complaint.

Leah chuckles at the younger girl’s impatience, shaking her head, “Come on Menace, it won’t take that long,” She reassures her, taking her by the arm and leading her back toward the changing rooms, with Beth and Rory following close behind.

You stay outside with Lia and Amanda, who keeps you entertained while you wait and it doesn’t take long before Leah, Beth, Monkey and Rory reemerge, now dressed in cooler, more comfortable outfits.

“Now we get ice cream?” You ask eagerly, practically bouncing on your toes.

“Yes, bubba, now we’ll go and get ice cream,” Leah confirms with a smile, ruffling your hair gently.

With everyone ready, the group heads off to find the nearest ice cream stand. You race ahead with Rory and Monkey, all of your excitement infectious as the adults follow behind, chatting amongst themselves.

“Ooo, I want mint chocolate chip!” Monkey calls out eagerly, practically bouncing with anticipation.

“Strawberry,” Rory chimes in, her eyes already scanning the ice cream options as you approach the stand.

Leah smiles down at you as you look at the bright menu in front of you, “How about you, bubba?” She asks, her voice gentle as she watches you contemplate the choices.

You glance at the colourful display of flavours, each one more tempting than the last, “Ummm… chocolate,” You start, then spot the bubblegum and your eyes light up, “Nuh uh, wait– I wan’ bubblegum, Mummy!”

The blonde laughs at your excitement, “Bubblegum it is then, bubba,” She says, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before checking what everyone else wanted in the small group and placing the order.

“Mm, this ice cream is great,” Lia says, savouring the treat.

Amanda nods in agreement with the Swiss woman, “Are you enjoying that, sweetheart?” She chuckles as she watches you dive into your ice cream with enthusiasm and end up getting it all around your face.

“Messy bubba,” Leah teases, wiping away some of the ice cream with a napkin as her tone is filled with affection.

“This has gotta be the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey exclaims, eyes wide with satisfaction.

Beth laughs and nudges her slightly, “I swear you say that every time you have ice cream,” She teases as she peers down at Rory, “How is it, Roo?”

“So good, Mummy!” Rory replies with a big smile, “I like it!”

“That’s cos’ it’s the best ice cream I’ve ever tasted!” Monkey states as a matter of fact, “Can’t prove me wrong on that one!”

“Alright, menace. It is good ice cream,” Leah rolls her eyes and laughs in agreement with your favourite person, taking another bite of her own treat as she enjoys the moment with everyone around her.

It was only the beginning of preseason in America, but she is determined to make it fun for you.

© scribblesofagoonerr

[night-raven-tattler]

Love beyond spoken words - part 1

Summary: Everyone has a way of saying "I love you" without using those three words.

Characters: Ace, Jack, Azul × GN!Reader (separate, romantic)

Other parts of the series: Jamil, Rook, Idia, Sebek

Warnings: food mention (Jack's part)

By opening the document, you agree to Mx Tattly's terms of source confidentiality.

-ˋˏ’✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

You had no idea how Ace was able to maintain an average of 80 for his grades, because it never seemed like he was paying attention in class

Even when he was hunched down over his notebook as if he was writing down notes, he still gave you the impression he was not listening to the lecture

...because he wasn't, really

A folded piece of paper fell on your textbook from the direction of the seat next to you, and if the red heart doodled on it was any hint towards who the sender was, you knew he wouldn't allow you to pay any more attention to the rest of the lecture

You unfolded the piece of paper, and the words written on it brought a small smile to your face

"Hey hot stuff, wanna ditch Deuce and Grim for a lunch date? □yes or □yes"

You decided to tease him a little, so you drew a third square with a "no" written next to it and crossed it, then you folded the piece of paper and tossed it in his direction

And watched how his confident smirk turned into an offended frown in less than a second

He scribbled down something and threw the piece of paper towards you once again, huffing just so he caught your attention enough to look at him and see how hard he was trying to act hurt

"Come on! I even called you 'hot stuff' and everything!"

You couldn't deny that the whole situation made your heart skip a few beats

Your banter was no secret to anyone: all of your friends knew you and Ace loved to push each other's buttons in an endless silly game of cat and mouse

Yet the written notes kind of made the whole situation have an intimate note to it

It was a game just for the two of you, only for your eyes to see, antitipation and excitement building up as both of you slowly added to your secret conversations

"So you call me 'hot stuff' only when you want me to do something?"

You scribbled back and threw the paper at him and watched how his eyes widened as they followed the words on the paper, and a bit of pink dusted his cheeks as well

He hesistated before he wrote down a reply, and he slid the unfolded piece of paper towards you

"I won't admit anything on paper so you have no physical proof you can show off to the others."

You turned towards him and rolled your eyes, showing him exactly what you thought of his reply

But then, he signed to you to turn the piece of paper around

And, as you did, you discovered another message from him

"I wouldn't mind telling you exactly what I think about your looks if you say yes to that lunch date."

You waited a few minutes before writing down on the piece of paper, letting Ace grow a bit anxious and impatient from your lack of response

He watched as you folded the piece of paper and placed it gently on his slightly open palm

And he had to hold himself back from fist bumping the air when he unfolded the piece of paper, revealing how you crossed out your previous "no" answer and marked the other two "yes"s instead

『••✎••』

Jack had a hard time expressing his more sentimental feelings outwardly, and you assured him that you still knew he cared about you

While he was not a poet or a novelist, he still wanted to learn how to express his care for you better

And one day, an idea finally came to him as he watched a few students exchange notes during class...

It all started when he ran to you during P.E. and silently handed you a water bottle before going back to where he came from

On the water bottle, you noticed a small sticky note, slightly wet from the condensation on the cold bottle, and the note had a message written on it

"Remember to drink water. I don't want to see you dehydrated."

You quickly looked for Jack in the small crowd of students, and when you finally spotted him, you noticed how he was trying to look everywhere but at you, while rocking a cute blush on his face and neck

One day, you forgot your notebook in the library, but luckily your knight in fluffy armor retrieved it for you

As you took it from his hands, you noticed the sticky note on it, but before you could ask anything about it, he walked away

"We have a test next Wednesday. If you need help with studying, you can ask me for help."

Jack was sweet enough for you to buy you lunch while you saved two seats for the two of you somewhere in a more secluded corner of the cafeteria

He returned to you with his lunch and your own - a whole grain bread sandwitch and a bag of assorted nuts

And the usual note you've started to get used to

"You look tired. Hope you regain some of your energy with this."

You looked up to him, who was trying to pick between looking at you and looking away from you

You smiled sweetly at him, unwrapping your lunch and starting to eat and chat, and Jack appreciated not bringing up his new habit right away

As much as he denied it, Jack liked to be admired and felt a sense of pride whenever you watched him outrun his track and field clubmates whenever you dropped by

His speed and stamina was something he obtained from his own efforts, but he couldn't help but wonder how much of the motivation he carried with himself daily was multiplied by your influence

Jack discovered he became more and more determined every day: to become stronger, to become a better student, to show you that you always have him to rely on in times of need

You waited until the club took a break to approach Jack; you handed him a towel and he mumbled a thanks before dabbing it on his sweaty face and neck

You also handed him a sports drink as you praised him for his hard work

The bottle was unexpected, but what surprised him more was the sticky note he noticed as he took the bottle from your hands

Even though the note was slightly wet from his sweaty palms and condensation, the message it sent was clear

"I'm very proud of you. Keep going! I believe in you!"

He shily reached his hand towards you and took a hold of your hand as his tail wagged happily, occasionally brushing your legs

『••✎••』

The contract on the desk in the Lounge's VIP room was unlike any Azul has previously seen

The paper was slightly wrinkled, the whole thing was handwritten, and the hearts at the corner of the paper were not part of any contract etiquette he was familiar with

Amongst the sea (pun not intended) of probably misused legalese he didn't quite know himself and a bunch of sentences written in overly pompous formulations vaguely resembling formal speech, a certain phrase caught his attention

"The contractee will be able to exchange 10 minute break times with any desired act of affection from the contractor, as long as the contractee provides proof of fulfilling the required terms."

The contractee being him, and the contractor being you, of course

Azul's face turned pink, and a small smirk appeared on his face

Even when you were away from him, you still dedicated time to make sure he was taking care of himself in the silliest of ways

Your little unprompted attempt at playing his own game was amusing, and his mind raced with all the ways he could take advantage of the terms you presented him with...

That's why you were summoned to him VIP room a day later

"I'm quite interested in your offer. However, I think we should discuss the terms of the contract further before we sign it."

You were both amused and surprised by how professionally Azul was playing along your silly little game, but you remembered he was in Octavinelle for a reason: he liked being entertained

And you had fun while drafting the contract, so you supposed your idea was entertaining enough

Still, you were happy he was so eager to indulge you

Game or no game, you were still determined to sign a contract with favorable enough terms

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'd like to propose a better way of defining the affection I'd be receiving, and I would also like to suggest offering different rewards for different timestamps."

Azul anticipated your stubbornness to influence you heavily in the negotiation, yet he didn't quite imagine the extent of your determination to have him rest

You did not even allow Azul to reduce the break time anywhere under 10 minutes

The terms you settled on were simple: 10 minutes for physical affection outside of kisses, 20 minutes for kisses anywhere outside the face, and 30 minutes for a kiss anywhere on his face

And when the piece of paper finally had both of your signatures on it, you stamped the paper with a kiss before handing it to Azul, whose face turned red at the gesture

You never expected Azul to take the contract as seriously as he did; you received at least one message a day of him telling you he was taking a break to drink some water and relax his hands

You didn't plan of breaching the contract either: you always did everything your greedy little octopus asked for

You got to spoil your boyfriend while he finally had a convincing enough reason to take a break: it was a win-win in your book

『••✎••』

[aziraphales-library]

hello good people who guard this library ✨✨

thank you for your work, it has helped me find many fics I love that I'd probably never find on my own

I recently read a fic called rude awakening:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/19243762

where some people from the discreet gentlemen's club are trying to figure out what the deal is with Aziraphale, and some of them even try flirting with him, until Crowley shows up and they realise "oh, he's taken"

I know my request is extremely specific but, do you know if there's any similar fics of people flirting with either Aziraphale or Crowley until the other one shows up and they realise they never stood a chance

Hi! Here are a few fics sort of along these lines...

nothing can get a look in on my baby by midnightdragons (T)

Aziraphale stood, then (using a miracle to ensure that his and Crowley’s table remained open and clean), and turned back towards the demon, slightly distracted as he made sure to disappear from Mr. Brown’s sight with a brief sigh of relief — a sigh that was quickly cut off as he was greeted with something much worse than the posh, stuffy carpet-store owner. Crowley was leaning against the bar counter, slightly slanted in his position as he craned away from a man who was much, much too close to him, enough that the demon would’ve been able to feel the heat of his breath on his face. 

An alternate scene of sorts. Aziraphale is the one to rescue Crowley from someone at the bar, with just a touch of angelic possessiveness; after all, no one hurts his demon.

Just be yourself by Mimisempai (G)

Aziraphale gets the impression that Crowley enjoyed their last visit to the pub and suggests that they return one night. What he didn't expect was that this time the situation would be reversed, and someone would take his place in front of Crowley, and he would feel this all-consuming jealousy...

Saturday Night in Soho by Zeckarin (T)

Kait simply wants to have a few drinks, and hopefully get lucky and bring someone home. There's a cute man with pale hair reading in the corner booth. What could go wrong?

A Devil's Touch by untimelysteph (T)

“Why did it bother you, angel?” Crowley asked with as much gentleness as he could muster so he didn't spook him. Aziraphale looked ready to bolt out of the shop at any moment. “Because, well, because, he didn’t ask, first of all, and no one should touch you without your express permission. And, for that matter, he isn’t worthy of touching you. No one is.” The angel was properly worked up now, his hands flailing animatedly as he continued, “That is to say, well, that I suppose I’m just not used to seeing you being touched like that. By… by other people. That, um, are not me.”

Just Kidding…..Unless? by Aziwaphale (T)

Crowley wasn't jealous that Aziraphale was getting hit on by that barista. And he certainly wasn't jealous when he found them talking at the bookstore. So why did he pretend that he was dating Aziraphale just to make him go away?

Trivial Pursuits by gildthelilli (T)

“Here’s some Wilde for you,” said Josh, sliding his hand upwards. “The only way to get rid of a temptation is to yield to it.”...Josh’s hand was at the crease of Aziraphale’s thigh. It gave a rough squeeze. Oh. Oh no. “No, really, I’m flattered, but I don’t -“ Aziraphale was starting to get desperate. Some excuse. Anything to shake this human off. His heart was beating fast, his hands began to tremble. “I think you do,” leered Josh. “Look at you. Don’t resist, Zira. Resist it, and your soul grows sick with longing for the things it has forbidden to itself.” “Joshua, I am not interested, you insufferable man…” Aziraphale trailed off as he looked around, frantic now. He looked to the bar, where a man – or something man-shaped in tight black pants - was pocketing his wallet and grabbing the bottle of scotch from the counter. Aziraphale swallowed, watching as Crowley began to make his way back over to the table. “I have a boyfriend,” blurted Aziraphale. ---- Aziraphale and Crowley go drinking at pub trivia when a man from another team takes an interest in Aziraphale. Crowley is not impressed. Shenanigans ensue.

And the one you mentioned...

Rude Awakening by Nonesensed (M)

Crowley disappears for close to a century and then comes sauntering back into Aziraphale's life, nearly bringing about a riot as he does. Aziraphale is suitably miffed.

- Mod D

[gunnrblze]

BEGGING SCREAMING for more keegan, logan, kick and hesh hcs

Maybe they are secretly in love with y/n

Ooh, that I can do. Ghosties secretly in love with you, how do they do? (•﹏•;)

Hesh- I think Hesh is the type to probably tell you his feelings, depending on who you are, though. If he works with you, it seems more unlikely to me that he’d readily confess. He has a lot of responsibility and probably wouldn’t want to risk that, especially if you’re not the same rank as him (bro is both a big rule follower and a big rule breaker too, just depends on the rule)

Howeverrrr, working with you aside, he’d pine for a while before he ever confessed regardless. Type to text you a lot, keep a steady little conversation going all the time. Pays very close attention to you, someone who will bring up a thing you said you were mildly interested in seven weeks ago…very in tune with you as a person. He’s a lover boy, but he would let his yearning go unsaid for years, would just be the Guy That Is There For You lol (he’d do anything for you just ask-)

Logan- secretly-in-love Logan strikes me being similar as Hesh in the way that if you do work with him, he’d probably be cautious of doing anything about it. But I think he’d be a bit more forthcoming at least with others. A situation where everyone but you knows he’s head over heels feels likely lol.

Logan would be his normal self for the most part, however when he can afford to be distracted, you definitely distract him, regardless of where you may be. I don’t mean this in a stalker-ish way at all, but I think he’d be the type to just watch you a little lmao. Not crossing any boundaries, but if you’re near, he loves to observe you, listen to you, etc. He’s a quiet guy, so he’d listen to you yap for three days straight if he could. He’d try to seek you out when he could, he just wants to watch you and be near (it would drive him fucking insane but he’s been there done that so he’ll make due)

Keegan- now this guy secretly in love might show it a little more non traditionally, as in not much at all. Typically, somebody can usually tell when a person has feelings for someone, even if it’s hidden well, but I think Keegan could genuinely have his feelings fly under the radar due to both how little he divulges things to people (word will NOT get around with this one lmfao), and the fact that I imagine he’d just be good at hiding it. Doesn’t let his eyes linger for too long, won’t necessarily treat you any differently, etc.

However, his down fall is the closer you are to him, whether physically or emotionally. His mood might shift in accordance to yours, albeit very slight since he’s not all that expressive. But if you really pay attention, you can see Keegan mirroring you, looking out for you, silently taking care of things for you, etc. Acts of service mf.

Kick- this guy in love, regardless of the secrecy status, strikes me as the type to just desire your closeness, in any sense of the word. Whether that’s him being in your general vicinity as much as he can, getting to know you more personally, expressing himself more deeply to you, etc…he desires all of you that he can get.

He also strikes me as a professional piner like Hesh lol. If there’s anything more important at stake, he can and will bottle his feelings up for as long as necessary. But make no mistake, he will stick around as much as he can (imagine a leech). He also tries to impress you a little bit, but not foolishly so. The way a man might flex his muscles for a woman to show off, but in a more subtle way. He’s a very intelligent dude, so maybe he slips a lil something self indulgent into conversation to gauge how much you give a shit about it lol.

[hunniebunnietarot]

"When I First Saw You"

First of all, I apologize for the delay on this reading:( I've been so unmotivated and busy, but I got it up FINALLY! If you can please tell me what you think of this reading or if you have any other suggestions. Enjoy!

Tarot Masterlist

~~~

How?

I’m seeing this as a situation where you are in need of assistance because of something(or someone) that is bothering you. This could involve an older woman that is bothering you and your person steps in to help before it gets too far. It won’t be anything too serious, just a misunderstanding between you and this older lady, where she is the aggressor. This might take place in a work environment where your manager will be antagonizing you and they step in simply because they can’t stand to see someone be mistreated. It is also possible that your future spouse won’t step in to help you in this conflict. This could be the cause because they see how well you can handle yourself, so they kind of hesitate but still keep an eye out so that nothing goes too far. Now, this conflict could be a long time coming as you have bottled up your emotions thus far through all of the mistreatment and unfairness. The saying “The straw that broke the camel’s back” comes to mind.

Also, for very few of you this could be a misunderstanding between you and your fs in the first meeting.

When?

This is just a confirmation of everything said before. You are feeling trapped in a situation with someone else and are being led to take action. You probably gave this person the benefit of the doubt so many times, but something just finally snapped. With that being said the months that are being highlighted here are November, March, and June.

How?

You might relocate due to a new job opportunity. I see you kind of getting back on your feet after some kind of loss. Specifically I feel like you’ll be moving somewhere that is known for its diversity. You will be wanting to nurture yourself after this hard time in your life, being held down by circumstances for so long. More specifically you could be going somewhere that is good for your spiritual/physical health, such as: a spiritual retreat, a temple, a spa, a resort etc. You could run into this person there. You will actually end up making friends with this person at first because you two may relate in some ways regarding your spiritual journey. You both could have a history of depression or anxiety, come from similar backgrounds, or be of the same sex.

When?

You will definitely be coming out of a bad period of (possible) depression. The good news though, is that you will absolutely be thriving when this person enters your life. Although you may be a bit unstable still, trying to find your footing, you’ll be well on your way. For extra confirmation: you may be the kind of person that has that extreme view of having to completely uproot your life to “start over”. Some of the people in this pile may be recovering addicts and learning to trust themselves again. Months December, October and August are highlighted here.

How?

I think a friend will set you and your person up on a blind date. They might think that you work too hard even though you’re already successful. Around the time this happens you may express to them wanting to be in a relationship, but never actually taking action to do so. So they take it into their hands and offer their help, whether you want it or not (I see them as kind of pushy and excitable). Your friend reminds me of Elle Woods from ‘Legally Blonde’. This may be a blind date or them just dragging you out of your comfort zone to have fun out and about. I also want to point out that your future spouse could be someone that you already know, meaning they would have already been aware of you(and vice versa) because of mutual friends. You may just know or recognize them in passing.

When?

Again, you will be experiencing a time of financial abundance. You will be guided to do something outside of your normal routine by a friend. You could be a workaholic and have one of those routines where you only go to work and then straight back home(same lol), so they suggest something different. The Summer months are highlighted in your spread: August, June and July.

How?

You will meet your future spouse through a family member, I think it will be someone from your father’s side of the family. It could be an emotional event, such as a wedding of one of your family members, and your person happens to be one of their guests. This means that they could be a friend of your family or the person they will get married to. Whatever this event is could take place in a different city, state, or even country then where you are on a daily basis(destination wedding). You could not get along with some of your family and have worries about your person being told bad things about you(really random but it's here). 

When?

The months present are April, November, and September. This time of your life will be quite restless feeling. You could be stuck in a “I miss those days” kind of mentality because not much will be working out for you when this person comes into your life. You are not satisfied with your circumstances.

~~~

More coming soon, I promise lol

[nameless-ken]

Aight, so I don't know if this makes a lick of sense, but I'm trying.

Basically, can you do a piece where Billy and Reader are at the gas station at the same time (not that they really realize it). And Reader is trying to start up her car just as Billy is leaving the store, and her car won't start and she has run out of quarters for the pay phone (or something, not important). Billy watches this go down and they bicker a bit until he is just like "So you want to freeze in a dead car?" Or "Do you want my help or not." (Something like that) IDK how you want it to end, I have no preference.

Not necessarily romance, more like they know of each other but haven't really interacted, and Billy is either just trying to be a better person or is helping because he thinks reader is hot and slightly expected her to be easier to woo.

Feel free to change anything. I'm just a sucker for bickering really.

It's usually hard for me to not write romance lol so this kind of friendly behavior was fun to write! Thanks for the request, hope you like it <3

Check out my masterlist for more!

Roadside Assistance

You're standing by your car, frustration mounting as the engine refuses to cooperate. It's the worst possible time for a breakdown—at a gas station, of all places. You've tried everything, but the stubborn machine won't even sputter to life. You glance around, hoping for a miracle or at least a pay phone to call for help.

Meanwhile, Billy exits the gas station store, a bag of chips and a bottle of whiskey in hand. He's about to hop into his own car when he notices your predicament. There's a moment of recognition that crosses his face as he remembers you from high school. 

"What's the problem?" Billy asks, not unkindly but also not so friendly, as he approaches your car.

You shoot him a frustrated look, feeling a mix of embarrassment and irritation at being caught in this situation. "My car won't start," you reply curtly, patience running thin.

Billy eyes the car for a moment before glancing back at you, an amused glint in his eyes. "Looks like you're having a rough day," he observes, a hint of sarcasm creeping into his tone.

You bristle at his comment, feeling a surge of defensiveness. "Thanks for the observation," you retort, your tone laced with sarcasm of your own.

He quirks an eyebrow, not backing down. "Need a hand?" he offers, his expression unreadable.

You hesitate, weighing your options. Pride wars with practicality, but ultimately, the cold air and the sinking realization that you're stranded win out. "Fine," you relent, admitting defeat. "But don't think I owe you anything."

Billy chuckles, a smug grin spreading across his face. "Wouldn't dream of it," he teases.

You roll your eyes, begrudgingly grateful for the lifeline he's offering. With that, cooperation takes precedence over bickering, at least for the moment.

Billy steps forward with a confident stride, a smirk playing on his lips. "That's the spirit," he says, leaning across you with a smirk as he pops the hood, his movements surprisingly deft. He walks back around, propping it open. 

He seems to know his way around an engine, which surprises you. Maybe there's more to Billy than meets the eye.

"So, what's the diagnosis?" you quip, joining him. 

He shoots you a playful stare before turning his attention back to the engine. "Looks like your battery's dead," he replies, his tone matter-of-fact.

You groan inwardly, cursing your luck. Of course, it would be something as simple as a dead battery. "Great," you mutter, running a hand through your hair in frustration.

Billy shoots you a sympathetic look. "Lucky for you, I come prepared," he says, his voice carrying a hint of reassurance.

You watch as he strides over to his car parked a few spots away, starting it up and maneuvering it in front of yours. He returns by your side triumphantly with a set of jumper cables held high. Despite your embarrassment at having to rely on him, a sense of gratitude wells within you. "Thanks," you mutter, feeling the weight of the situation lift slightly.

Billy shrugs off your discomfort with ease. "No problem," he replies casually, connecting the cables to his battery.

"Try again," he instructs, gesturing toward your car as you climb back inside. With a sense of hope, you insert the key once more, willing the engine to start.

As the engine roars to life, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. Maybe Billy isn't so bad after all. You shoot him a small smile of gratitude, silently acknowledging that maybe, just maybe, you misjudged him.

Billy returns the smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he meets your gaze. "See? That wasn't so hard," he says, a hint of smugness in his tone. You roll your eyes, but there's a small flicker of amusement in your chest. 

Billy steps back, a satisfied grin on his face as he watches your car come back to life. "Glad I could be of service.”

"Yeah, thanks again," you reply, genuine appreciation coloring your words. He waves off your thanks with a casual flick of his hand. "Anytime," he says, his voice surprisingly warm.

Maybe this chance encounter was exactly what you needed—a reminder that sometimes, unexpected allies can come from the most unlikely of places.

With a final nod of gratitude, you climb into your car, ready to get home for the night. As you drive off, you can't help but think that maybe, just maybe, this won't be the last time you cross paths with Billy.