#I wrote this in the past twenty minutes

[fandumb-thoughts]

I am writing this primarily so that I have something to type, to look busy of course. Busy-ness (because business is a completely separate word and busyness doesn’t quite look correct because of it) is the most imperative skill one might employ in most any position in life. Maintaining an active appearance allows others to look on with approval as well as find comfort in the assumed lack of attention those who are “busy” would pay to those around them. As such, it creates a net of security.

If I, for example, am to sit in the corner of a room I should have open a laptop and I should also be typing—for most activities on a laptop involve typing. I might pause in short increments or maneuver my fingers about the trackpads as if taking a moment to puzzle a phrase together or navigating an email inbox or article, respectively. What I absolutely must not do is sit in stillness and silence. It’s unnerving that one might sit without activity. Certainly they would grow quickly bored. Worse of all, it indicates an inherent laziness of character to have the time to further one's own productivity but squander it instead.

Even the most intelligent of activities are not safe. Reading a book, but especially one whose cover indicates that it may be a novel rather than an intelligent approach to self help or financial advisory written by middle aged individuals with only their personal lived experiences as reference, is seen as a luxury activity these days. To be seen reading is to be intercepted by those confused by the practice or those envious—“Oh, I would love to join you”—and as such is threatening to the nonchalant, professional, put-together facade everyone must aim to present to the world.

Unfortunately, I find myself to have a rather impressive typing speed. Not quite as much as a friend of mine, who regularly types near 100WPM, but a close second. I have reached 120WPM in a times test before, with a few small mistakes, but find my more comfortable and average speed to be about 90WPM which is still quick enough to occasionally inspire outside commentary about it. This is unfortunate because this little aside, to appear busy in the threat of anyone walking past the empty room I am occupying, is reaching quite the impressive length and I am running out of observations to continue on.

Perhaps I will open the book I have beside me. It’s dreadful but it is that or the poetry collection I have in my bag and that will raise eyebrows for miles around and I am trying to keep my low profile. Ironically, it might be best to look at my phone, so long as I hold it like I am far older than my age. The particular grip, reminiscent of an attempt to decipher ancient hieroglyphs that have degraded significantly over the centuries, gives the appearance of the ever-important responsibilities of business correspondence and family situations which might only be dealt with in the form of a messenger app. I would, instead, be playing a mobile game of the likes of Candy Crush.

[wetbananapeel]

| MomI'mSafe {detail} - Amay Kataria (2020) | South Asia Institute, Chicago, IL

[ohcorny]

it's interesting how the more we know about the world and the more we advance in technology, the more the line of speculative fiction shifts. like that thing about how moby dick is written the way it is is because people used to believe the ocean was so dense that it was impossible to get to the bottom and shipwrecks and bodies would just be stuck neutrally buoyant halfway down. that's CRAZY. but that is the world they thought they lived in, and they wrote about it like it was the truth. because it was to them!

and while you could of course still write as if that were the truth, or write as if people still believed that to be the truth, now it's speculative fiction, it's fantasy, it's sci-fi. it's not a lived reality or how water/atmospheric pressure works. it's different when you know better. a common example from now: writing about a world where androids and floppy disks are contemporary to each other is different when you're doing it because it reflects the times you live in, vs a past you are imagining with those features, because the world you live in has long abandoned floppy disks and still does not have androids. back then, the same concept was science fiction. to do it now is retrofuture.

i suppose the things we take for granted--like that the future aesthetic is white and plastic because that is the present state of technology--might seem just as outdated in twenty years, when things change again. to quote men in black of all things, "Fifteen hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was the center of the universe. Five hundred years ago, everybody knew the Earth was flat. And fifteen minutes ago you knew that people were alone on this planet. Imagine what you'll know tomorrow."

[katsu28]

home cooked meals & crashed dinner dates

pairing: oscar piastri x verstappen!reader

summary: your plan to finally make good on your promise of a home cooked meal for oscar's first win is thwarted by a certain older brother of yours. (3.1k)

warnings: general swearing, overprotective brother max. this is the long awaited part two to maiden wins & secret meet-ups, but can be read as a stand-alone!

a/n: we interrupt your (semi) regular programming of lando to give you more bf oscar!!! wrote most of this pre baku so no second win unfortunately

Everything is perfect. 

You’ve got Oscar’s favorite pasta dish simmering on the stove, a few appetizers ready on the counter, the table set up nicely for two, and your flat is pretty clean.

All that’s left to do is change into something nice and wait for Oscar to arrive, and your promise of a date night with a home cooked meal for his win will have been fulfilled. 

You’re more excited than anything. You haven’t seen Oscar since Hungary because you’ve both been busy, but you managed to find tonight as one night where neither of you have anywhere else to be, no one else to see. All you want to do is spend time with him and love on him as much as you can while you're alone together. 

The doorbell rings just as soon as you’ve slipped into one of your favorite dresses, and for a moment you’re confused, because Oscar isn’t supposed to be here for another twenty minutes.

And Oscar, bless his heart, is never early. 

You push the thought away as you go to open the door because hey, maybe he’s just as excited to spend time with you as you are with him. It’s the only thing on your mind when you pull it open to greet—

“Max? What’re you—” 

Your brother is nudging past you as soon as the door swings open wide enough, completely ignoring your bewildered state in favor of beelining for your sofa and plopping down onto it. He kicks his feet up onto the coffee table in front without a care in the world, settling into the cushions behind him with a loud, relaxed sigh. 

“Um, hello? This isn’t your home, you know! An acknowledgement would be nice before you come barging in. And a warning that you’re coming, but whatever, I guess.” 

He blinks a few times, cocking his head to the side. “Hi. Sorry, I forgot to text, but I figured you’d be home anyways, so…” 

“Right, but I actually have plans soon,” You reply, gesturing vaguely at what you know he knows isn’t your typical staying at home outfit, “as you can see.” 

“Oh, that’s a nice dress,” He hums, motioning for you to do a spin. You don’t humor him with one. Instead you walk over to where he is and shove his dirty shoes off your table, wrinkling your nose at just how annoying he’s being right now. “Bit fancy for a night in though, no?” 

“Thank you. But I’ve got plans,” You say tightly. He gives a firm nod. You wait for him to say something else, but he doesn’t, so you sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Maxie, but what are you doing here?” 

“Can’t I pay my favorite sister a visit without a reason?” 

You try again, with more urgency this time. “Sure, but any other time would be better.” 

Either Max really needs to get his ears checked, or he’s actively choosing to ignore your words, because he grabs the TV remote off the table, patting the seat next to him as he switches it on. 

“C’mon, watch Love Island with me. I’m three episodes behind and I need to catch up before Charles spoils it for me next time we play padel.” 

Frustrated to no end at his inability to listen, you cast a quick glance at the time. Oscar is meant to arrive increasingly soon, you’re no closer to getting Max out of your flat, and you’re a hair's width away from kicking him out with force. 

“Max, I need you to leave.” 

He chuckles, “Why?” 

“Why? Because I have plans, have you not heard anything I’ve said?” You huff, propping your hands on your hips frustratedly. Max sits up from his slouch, looking from you, over towards the food on the counter, the candles and silverware on the table. 

“Are you expecting someone?” He asks incredulously, brows flying high. “Oh my god, are you having a date over?” 

“Maybe. Okay, yes, so you need to go. Like, now.” 

Max ignores you (again), rising to his feet, mirroring your stance and expression scarily accurately. Sometimes you feel like you were meant to be twins in another life with how similar you are every so often. Then you think that he would’ve probably absorbed you in your mum’s womb had you actually been twins.

“Who is it?” 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business, really.” 

“Uh, yes it is! As your brother, it’s my responsibility to make sure whoever my baby sister lets all up in here isn’t a fucking serial killer, for starters.” 

“All up in here? You’re being ridiculous. I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you very much.” 

“Uh huh, sure. So what’s their name? What do they do?” 

“Still none of your business!” 

“You’re being evasive.” 

“Yeah, well you’re being invasive.” You level Max with a narrow eyed stare, crossing your arms over your chest. He does the same, but god is he much better at it than you. It makes you let out a sigh, digging the heels of your palm against your eyes. “I love you, Maxie, but I know how you get with people I’ve been in relationships with, and this one…he’s special, okay?”

His glare softens at the pure fondness in your tone, posture relaxing, arms dropping. He studies you for a few moments, like he’s gauging whether or not he should continue with his annoyingly overprotective older brother shtick or drop it all together. “Fine. I still want to know his name though. Full name, first and last. Just so I can do a little background research myself, alright?” 

“Oh, I think you know it already,” You mutter under your breath, more to yourself than anything. 

“What?” 

“Nothing!” You smile at him innocently, shrugging. “Will you go now?” 

Max lets you usher him towards the door, sounding a bit annoyed, but you’ll deal with him later. You’ve still got a bit of time before Oscar’s set to arrive to get Max out, thank goodness. “Yeah, alright. But don’t think I won’t make you call me right after whoever this guy is leaves.” 

“Yeah, sure, of course. Right afterwards, you got it,” You say absentmindedly. You pull open the door for him, well and ready to finally shoo him away—

And then there’s Oscar, one hand reaching for the doorbell, the other clutching a colorful assortment of flowers wrapped in brown paper. 

Fuck. 

Out of all your dates, this just had to be the one time Oscar showed up early.

He’s smiling softly, but as soon as the door swings open and he sees Max standing in front of him, his expression turns into that of a deer in headlights. If you weren’t so all over the place right now, you would’ve found it hilarious. 

“Piastri? What’re you doing here? And why do you have—” Max freezes mid-sentence, eyes ping-ponging between you and Oscar so fast you wouldn’t be surprised if they popped out of his head. “Oh, what the fuck? You’re dating fucking Oscar? And you,” He turns his attention back to the shaken looking Aussie, “you’re dating my sister? What the fuck!” 

“Um…hey, mate. I mean, Max. I mean—hi? Erm, nice to see you too,” Oscar says hesitantly, reaching up to rub at the back of his neck awkwardly. His eyes flick to yours helplessly, begging for a lifeline. 

“Hi, Osc. Don’t mind him, come on in.” You push Max aside with both hands, making room for Oscar to cross the threshold.

Though judging by the slightly nauseous look on his face, Oscar would much rather like to turn around and leave right back the way he came. Max, on the other hand, just stares blankly at the two of you. 

You ease the flowers out of Oscar’s grip, pressing what you hope is a reassuring kiss to his cheek in return. “These are gorgeous.” 

Oscar gives his head a little shake to get himself out of his stupor. “Yeah, I had the florist put together all your favorite flowers.” 

“I love them, thank you. Come with me to the kitchen? The vase is on the top shelf.” You slide your hand into his, tugging him in the direction you want to go and he follows, tearing his wide eyed gaze from Max’s as he stumbles after you. Once you’re safely in the kitchen and out of Max’s earshot, you turn to him. “I am so sorry for springing this onto you without warning, he just showed up like, ten minutes ago and I was just about to get him to leave.” 

“Um, yeah, no it’s—it’s fine. Just caught me off guard a little, is all,” He breathes, bobbing his head. “So he knows about us…?”

“Pretty sure he’s connecting the dots right now, yeah.” You sneak a peek out of the kitchen to see that Max hasn’t moved an inch from his previous position. His body is frozen in place, but you already know his mind is moving a mile a minute. 

You turn back to Oscar, setting aside the flowers on the counter. “I haven’t told him anything else yet, but I think at this point, we might have to. Only if you’re okay with it, though. I can still tell him to fuck off if you want.” 

Oscar’s hands slide up your arms, rubbing your shoulders soothingly, calmly. “I’m okay with it. I’ve had you all to myself the last five months, I’m ready to take the next step in our relationship.” He folds you into his embrace, strong arms wrapping around you tightly. Your cheek presses against the firm, sturdiness of his chest, helping settle you in that way it seemed only he could. “Are you?” 

“‘Course I am,” You say firmly, pulling back to look him in the eye. “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.” 

His lips curve into a small smile, eyes doing that little happy squint thing you love. “Yeah?” 

You kiss him instead of answering, short and sweet, before moving to leave. Max has moved to the living room when you make your way out of the kitchen cautiously with Oscar in tow, and he doesn’t seem to notice you’re both there until you clear your throat. 

His blank gaze flicks to yours, then Oscar behind you before morphing back into the calculating sharpness that you’ve grown accustomed to. 

You’re the one to break the silence. “So…I’m sure you have questions.” 

“That doesn’t even begin to cover it,” He grumbles. 

One thing about your brother, he talks a lot. A real motormouth, so to speak. And right now, he’s got a lot to talk about. He even slips into Dutch for a few minutes at some point, not even noticing when you lean over towards Oscar to translate for him. 

Soon enough you realize he isn’t even talking about your relationship anymore, but has somehow moved on to the faults of his own, which is a whole other can of worms that you really don’t care to discuss. Part of you feels like Max might be projecting a little bit, but you’ll worry about those problems later. 

It isn’t until he loops back around to the topic at hand grumbling something along the lines of you making a mistake by dating Oscar that you stop him with a glare and some choice words of your own. 

“I’m not going to sit here and let you judge me, Max. I am an adult, I don’t have to explain anything to you, let alone who I choose to be in a relationship with,” You say firmly. You’ll lay everything out plain and simple for your brother, who is usually one of the most observant people you know, so things are as clear as possible going forward. “I love Oscar, and there’s nothing you can say that will change that, so you need to find a way to be okay with this.” 

You’re too busy taking a stand against Max’s stubborn nature to notice Oscar right now, but if you had been paying any ounce of attention to him, you would’ve seen his lips quirk up into a wide grin, the straightening of his hunched shoulders. 

He’s pleased, to say the least. For a guy known by the world as being extremely flat and composed, he's nothing but expressive when it comes to you. 

Max, however, does notice the changes in Oscar’s demeanor. The crease between his brows lessens, because shit, he’s never seen Oscar Piastri smile that big before. Never seen Oscar look at anyone the way he’s looking at you now, even as you continue to lecture Max about boundaries. 

“Fucking hell,” He says, dragging a hand back through his hair. It gets you to pause, raising an expectant brow at him. “You’re right. I’m being a total asshole brother, aren’t I?” 

“Yes, you are,” You say pointedly, arms crossed. He drops down onto the couch behind him, hunching over and propping his chin up in his palm with a heavy sigh. 

Guilt tinges at you a little bit at the sight. You know Max means well. He loves you and wants you to be happy, but he gets a little too overprotective of you sometimes. It’s been that way since you were kids. He was away for races a lot, so when he was there he tended to overcompensate. 

You sigh, sitting down next to him. “You’ve always watched out for me, and I’ll always be grateful for everything you’ve done to protect me, but I’m not a little girl anymore, Maxie. It’s time to let me do things on my own.” 

“You’re making me sound so old right now and I hate it,” Max huffs dramatically. “But you have a point. You’re not a little girl anymore, but you’ll always be my little sister.” 

“And you’ll always be my big brother.” 

Max presses his lips into a thin line. “Guess I should leave now, huh?”

You nod faux seriously, patting his knee. He sighs, drags himself to his feet, sticks out his hand towards Oscar for a begrudgingly firm shake before he goes. Then he stops in his tracks about halfway to the front door, whirling around to face Oscar again.

“If you hurt her…well, I won’t even have to kick your ass, because she’ll have already done it for me,” He warns, pointing an accusing finger in his direction.

You fight a smile, because even though you know Oscar would never hurt you, you’re secretly pleased your brother recognizes that you can handle yourself. 

The Australian boy nods solemnly. “I wouldn’t dream of it.” 

“Don’t really know him all that well, huh?” Max teases, the first time he’s looked anything but downright distressed since discovering you’re dating Oscar. You offer him a guilty smile that he rolls his eyes playfully at as he pulls the door open. “Breakfast tomorrow? I’d like to know more about how absolutely fucking blind I’ve been to not know you’ve been seeing Oscar this whole time.” 

“Breakfast sounds good,” You chuckle. “Now for the hundredth time, please leave. I’ve got a date.” 

You let out the biggest sigh in the world as soon as the door slams shut, a little exhausted at the emotional roller coaster you’ve just been on. All this because you wanted to cook your boyfriend a nice meal for a special occasion. 

Oscar’s found his way to the sofa, inviting arms open, soft smile on his face. You plop down next to him with a groan.

You’re only now noticing he’s worn your favorite shirt today, the dark one that hugs his biceps just right and makes the cozy warmth of his brown eyes pop. 

“Reckon that went rather well.”

You scoff, both amused and skeptical. “Seriously?” 

“Well, in my head, I thought he was gonna punch me in the face, so…yeah, I don’t think it went too bad. All things considered.” 

“I feel like I’m always apologizing for things lately,” You sigh, letting your head fall onto Oscar’s shoulder. He exhales in the form of a chuckle, lacing his fingers through yours comfortingly. “And for some reason, my brother seems to be a common denominator. So, I apologize about him too, because we both know he’s too stubborn to say it himself.” 

“Seems like stubbornness runs in the family.” 

You knock your knee against Oscar’s without any real force behind it, rolling your eyes playfully. “Funny. Sorry you had to hear me argue with him.” 

“He’s just being an older brother. I get it.” He shrugs nonchalantly, totally unphased. “Plus, you’re kinda hot when you get mad.” 

“Ha! You’re into that?” 

“Guess I am.” 

“I learn something new about you everyday, don’t I?” 

Oscar just grins knowingly at you, pressing a kiss to your temple. 

“I love you too, by the way,” He says later on in the night, when you’re both standing at the kitchen sink. You’re washing dishes from dinner, he’s drying them with a dishcloth.

His tone is completely casual, offhanded, like the way someone might mention how nice the weather is today. 

You blink, brows furrowed in confusion. “Huh?” 

“Earlier, when you were chewing Max out, you said—” He pauses, rubs furiously at a wet spot on the plate clutched in his hands, cheeks going pink. “You said you loved me? Was that just to prove your point, or…” 

If you’re being totally honest, you hadn’t even realized you’d said it. You’ve never shared those three little words with Oscar before, but the more the weight of them sets in, the more you realize it’s true.

You’ve fallen in love with Oscar Piastri without even knowing. 

At the back of your mind, though, you think you’ve known all along. From the first time he’d uttered out an awkward hello in the paddock all those months ago, you were hooked. Since then, being with him was easier than anything else you’ve ever done. Sure, the secrecy and the constant on the go nature that came with being a professional athlete provided a few hurdles, but you like to think you’ve managed to handle them quite well. 

“Uh…hello?” 

Your focus is brought back to real time, where Oscar is looking back at you with a borderline nervous expression gracing his face. 

“Yeah, I do.” You smile warmly. “I love you, Osc.” 

You abandon the sponge clutched in your hand, dropping it in favor of reaching across the dish rack and cradling his cheek in your palm, kissing him gently. 

“Well, that’s a relief. Thought I’d just made a fool of myself right there.” 

He’s got soap suds on his face, one eye scrunched shut at the wetness from your hand, but you think he’s never looked more handsome. He could be wearing the most god awful outfit known to man and you’d still think he’s the best thing you’ve laid eyes on, because you love him and he loves you. 

And really, that’s all you need to feel right where you should be. 

follow @katsu-library to be notified when i post a new fic :)

[maxlarens]

53) holding the other’s jaw + logan

this is to make up for what i wrote last night viv hope u like ittt 😋🫢😌 @coff33andb00ks

You meet Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant in a dive bar in Austin, Texas and you don’t know if you have the heart to tell him that you’re in Austin specifically for the Grand Prix.

It’s cute that he assumes you don’t recognise him, it’s even cuter that he tells you he drives race cars and then assumes you still don’t know he’s an F1 driver. It’s a little sad maybe— especially when Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan are sitting in a booth across the room, trying and failing to take surreptitious glances at the two of you. But you’re trying not to think about that, probably as much as Logan also is right now.

You’re leaning with your back up against the bar drinking a vodka whatever, he’s standing in front of you. Ostensibly in line to get a drink, but he hasn’t stopped talking to you since you almost bowled him over trying to get back to your friends. There’s no drink in his hand that’s for sure, just an empty beer glass that he’s bringing back. You think that’s unbearably sweet— well, no, actually you think that’s hot.

You’re not the kind of person who’s into Formula One for the drivers. You’re into it because instead of watching football games like every other all-American family did, your dad used to sit in front of the TV every weekend to watch twenty men drive around a track. You’d grown up on the sport; the roar of the cars before they hybridised them, old-school turn names, fiery crashes ending in tragedy, the blood sweat and tears of teammate rivalry. Your dad complains that the sport has changed too much— but still he puts the races on every weekend.

You try to watch the sport for the cars, for the racing, but at the end of the day, you’re not immune to a cute guy. You follow most of them on Instagram (except the drivers you hate), find yourself smiling at promo videos and liking pictures that have nothing to do with the sport. Your dad is annoying about it, but you don’t care.

You especially don’t care when Logan Sargeant is smiling something crooked at you as he tells you he’s here with his friends. You nod, looking where he’s pointing, where you’ve already seen Oscar Piastri and Jack Doohan, you laugh a little, giggle really, and you lean toward him.

Deliberately.

“Yeah,” you take a sip through your straw, maintaining eye contact, “I know who you are, Logan.”

He goes red immediately. Pale cheeks turning a very pleasant colour. You lick your lips, lean back against the bar. He blinks his sparkling wet eyes at you, mouth gaping like a fish out of water for a moment before he snaps it shut and scrubs a hand across his stubbly beard.

“Oh— I—”

You wave his shock off, barrelling on to avoid anything awkward for him, “Sorry, should’ve told you.”

“No,” he shakes his head, apparently desperate to make it fine, to make it okay, “You’re good. I just— I didn’t expect someone so—”

He trails off, trying to start the sentence again. But you’re intrigued, very intrigued.

You cut him off, not rude, just insistent, leaning forward into his space, “What was that? Finish your sentence.”

His eyebrows go up in a flash. The blush on his cheeks grows a little more prominent. He’s biting down a little on a smile, on something.

“I—”, he flounders for words for a minute, you give him that minute in silence but you’re staring at him, a little fiery, a little intense, “I didn’t expect someone so,” he stops, whines something a little desperate, quiet enough that you’re not supposed to hear it, “cute, I guess. To know who I was.”

“You guess?”

He nods, slowly. Getting braver as he leans past you, deliberately getting in your space to put his empty glass on the bar behind you. You’re trying not to smile, you’re biting down on the inside of your lip so the biggest grin you’ve probably ever grinned can’t split across your face.

“Yeah, I guess.”

This is how you end up in a dark corner booth with Logan “oh, I drive race cars” Sargeant. This is how you end up making out with Formula One driver Logan Sargeant. You’re halfway in his lap, your legs a weird tangle as you try to fit yourselves into the space. But you’re hardly thinking about his knee digging into you or how you’re slipping off the seat every five seconds because Logan’s got a hand buried deep in your hair and another on your waist. His hand splayed against your back, a few fingers touching the bare skin at your hip.

He tastes like beer and ketchup and he kisses you like he’s starving. It’s slow, it’s deliberate but the slip of tongue and the way your mouths slide against each other is intoxicating. Makes your head feel fuzzy.

You’ve got a hand on the side of his jaw, the crook of your thumb hooked on his ear, fingertips pressing into his neck, the base of his skull. He tries to pull away from you— ostensibly to breathe, to say something. But you’re a little desperate, chasing his mouth and bringing your other hand up to his jaw to drag him back.

You feel him laugh a little into your mouth.

“What?”, you mutter, eyes closed, still kissing him, "Finish your sentence."

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, you feel his mouth move against yours as he speaks, hot breath fanning across your jaw, “Just. Do you maybe wanna get out of here?”

And this is how you end up in Formula One driver Logan Sargeant’s hotel room.

this is probably the most bordering on nsfw content that i will venture to in my writing just a heads up for people:)

[space-cowgirllll]

Tolerate It

pls enjoy this kinda angsty little thing I wrote a couple of months ago when I was really going through it in a relationship and have been too shy to post anywhere until today. I miiiiight have the second part to this halfway done. If this sucks I'm so sorry lmao it’s very lightly proofread and I have not written anything that hasn't had to be turned in for a grade in years.

Part Two

You sit alone at the table wondering how you ended up here. The dinner you'd spent the better part of the evening preparing grows cold as you sip on what has to be your third glass of wine. From your spot you can see Abby standing at the counter, speaking softly into the phone while she reads through the mail that had piled up over the last week. You pick at your food, hoping she'll join you eventually, but when fifteen minutes turns into twenty and then thirty five, you realize you're wasting your time. The laughter from the other room tells you the work part of the call ended long ago. Pushing your chair back, not caring when the loud noise earns you a glare from Abby, you gather your plate and blow out the candles at the center of the table.

Abby moves to sit on the loveseat in the living room after her call. It doesn't take long for her to get lost in the new book she had just brought home. Your eyes shift to the untouched plate of food still waiting for her in the dining room and then to the apple in her hand. The sound of  your throat clearing catches her attention.

"Your plate is still at the table if you want it, babe." You gesture to the lone plate at her usual spot.

There's a pang in your chest at the sight of the floral arrangement you'd chosen for the week. Behind that, strong wind pelts rain at the window. The gloomy weather a perfect representation of the storm brewing inside you.

"I thought I told you I had an early dinner with a couple of colleagues."

"Oh."

It comes out as a whisper. Not bothering to tell her she hadn't called you back after her lunch break. Again. You make a mental note to put the plate away before bed, knowing she'll pack it for tomorrow.

Your arms are elbow deep in soapy water, trying to rush through the last couple of dishes before she retreats to her study. The clanking of pots and pans fills the quiet space. You scrub at a particularly stubborn spot, trying to think of a way to bring it up without sounding too obvious.

"How was work today?"

"Fine." Your wife replies, not elaborating further.

"It's the twenty first, right?" There's some hesitation in the question.

"Yup."

Okay.

She doesn't look up from her book when you shuffle past her a little while later, placing a steaming mug on the coffee table. Her hand caresses the soft skin of your thigh and you perk up when she mumbles a soft thanks, placing a quick kiss on her temple. The sleeping cat on her lap stirs when you give him a gentle scratch behind the ear.

You settle into the sofa across from her and watch her read. She's in the cotton pajamas and fuzzy socks you'd laid out in the closet for her. It makes you feel ridiculously overdressed. Your hands fist the skirt of your dress, feeling foolish. There's a dark spot on the satin material from leaning over the wet counter.

The record player in the far corner of the room catches your attention. You miss the nights where she'd play you one of her favorites and dance with you around the living room before letting you sit on her lap as she read out loud to you. You never thought you would miss those boring medical journals. These days you're lucky if you get more than an hour with her before she locks herself in her study.

It hadn't always been like this. The two of you have been together longer than you've been apart. Visions of eleven year old Abby teaching you how to braid her hair for soccer practice flash in your head. Crawling into her bed in the middle of the night after another nasty fight between your parents. Summer vacations to her family's lake house. Her and her parents at every dance recital and play you'd ever been part of in high school. Realizing at sixteen that your feelings for the girl weren't so platonic. Then moving into the spare bedroom down the hall from her a year later after coming out to your family. Prom dress shopping with her and her mother, sneaking kisses in the tiny fitting rooms. The Anderson's were the family you never had.

Navigating young adulthood with Abby had been fun. You'd rented a tiny apartment in Seattle and paid way too much for it while attending university. It wasn't much, but it was home. You remember the dance parties in the tiny living room. The time the blonde begged you to let her keep the tiny cat she'd found in an alley on the way home one random afternoon. Going on dates and exploring the city. Staying up late and fantasizing about what life would look like in ten years. The look on her face as her thumb rubbed small circles on the exposed skin of your belly after you'd shown her your list of baby names. Getting married just after graduation.

Abby had never been too busy to show you how much she loved you, no matter how busy she got with school. Packing your meals for work, making sure your car had enough gas in it, organizing stay at home date nights whenever your schedules aligned. And you doing the same for her when she was up to her eyebrows in work for school.

The notes were your favorite. They had started appearing randomly after you'd been unexpectedly laid off. You'd been moping around the house for weeks, losing hope after not hearing back from any of the companies you'd applied to. Always in your favorite color, the purple post it notes could be found stuck to the wherever you'd see them first thing in the morning. The silly declarations of love and the affirmations always made you smile.

Those days were long gone. You were slowly going from high school sweethearts to two people who simply co-existed. No matter what you did or how hard you tried, it was getting harder to deny the lack of warmth in her eyes when she looked at you sometimes. Today proved what you had been too afraid to admit to yourself. The only person who had ever felt like home has slowly started becoming a stranger that slipped into your bed later and later each night.

Your eyes start stinging and you bite down on your lower lip. There's no way you're breaking down in front of her, not tonight. The warmth radiating from the fireplace does little to keep away the chill running through your body. Shaky hands bring the mug to your lips, hoping some tea would calm the nausea swirling in your stomach. You're not surprised to find yourself unable to keep drinking after a few tiny sips. Abby's favorite mug grows cold on the coffee table and you're positive she doesn't even remember it's there.

The sound of her phone ringing startles you both. Abby snatches the phone off the counter, a tired sigh leaves her parted lips when she sees who's calling. She jogs up the steps, intently listening to whoever is on the other end of the phone. You pick at the chipping nail polish on your left hand, watching the way your engagement ring glints in the dim light of the fire. Your stomach dips as you slip the stack off your finger, placing them in the small bowl on the coffee table.

"Are you going somewhere?" Your head shoots up to where she's standing in the threshold. The sight of her in a fresh pair of navy blue scrubs doesn't surprise you. Her loose bun traded for a tight braid that hangs over her shoulder.

"No. Why would I be?"

She gestures at your dress. Eyes roaming over your face, finally noticing the makeup you'd carefully applied hours before. You see her lock in on your empty hand, her sculpted brows furrow in confusion. Please say something. You beg, just wanting to understand why this is happening. Was she so busy she couldn't even bother to ask what's wrong? Did she even care anymore?

The constant buzzing of the phone in her tote bag answers your question for you. She shakes her head and turns to the door, stopping to slip her feet into her sneakers. You follow silently behind her, wondering if you should say something.

"Abigail?"

She hums in acknowledgment, not bothering to look up from her phone. Her fingers move at lightning speed across the touchscreen. Your nails dig into the palm of your hand, fighting the urge to snatch her phone and chuck it against the wall.

"What?" She asks again when you don't speak up. The look of annoyance on her face has you taking a step back.

"Nevermind," you turn towards the coat closet, pulling out her winter jacket. "It doesn't matter." You don't have to look back to know she's rolling her eyes.

"I should be back before you leave for work." You busy yourself with the already organized closet, pretending to move things around while she gathers the rest of her things.

"Be careful." You mumble, blinking rapidly to stop the tears from flowing. Not trusting yourself to say much more without your throat closing.

"Always am." She plants a kiss on the back of your head and heads out the door. It's only when you hear the sound of her car pulling away that you let yourself cry. No longer caring about the mascara that is certainly smearing.

Unsteady legs carry to the foot of the stairs where you collapse into a pathetic heap. Tears freely flowing down your cheeks, further staining the material of your dress. Your hands harshly pull at the fabric, wanting nothing more than to rip it off. The pins in your hair clatter loudly on the floor as you harshly pull them out.

Your sobs echo throughout the empty house. Pain radiates through your body, from somewhere in your chest to the tips of your fingers. The nausea has increased tenfold. You inhale sharply, resting your head on your knees. Watery eyes fixed on the front door your wife had just walked out of, this gut wrenching feeling of loneliness overwhelms you.

"Happy anniversary Abby."

[logansdoll]

Heyyy it would be awesome if you wrote a third part for “37” where Charles gives Logan’s memories back and we go through flashbacks of some of his best memories, his wedding, the day his kids were born…something like that, it would be very heartwarming 🥰🥰🥰 or even maybe coming back from the past and seeing his kids again

sunflower

part three of "37"

CW: fluffy fluff, all the feels, suggestive, profanity, takes place after the events of Days Future Past, very bittersweet, your daughter's a lil menace, your son's a lil cutie pie, angst if you squint, i never know how to end these things, etc.

"Logan, the mind is a fickle thing," Charles sighed, resting his hands on his desk with a solemn look. "I can't possibly guarantee that this will work, much less in one session—" "I don't care how long it takes."

Logan's face drew tight with the statement, his patience visibly wearing thin.

He'd been listening to the same bullshit for twenty minutes...

"I don't care if I need a hundred different fuckin' sessions. I'm gettin' these memories back," he spelled out, leaning forward in his seat and roughly tapping his finger on the desk. "It doesn't make any damn sense. This body's been in this timeline for fifty-fuckin'-years and it doesn't remember shit."

"Because it is your consciousness that is the problem, Logan," Charles groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. "That is what I've been trying to tell you."

Logan piped down for a moment, brows knitting together as he leaned back in his seat, taking an annoyed drag of his cigar.

"Your psyche is from a completely different timeline, and now resides in a completely different body. It's like asking to recall the memories of a random person walking down the street," the professor explained, again.

Sadly, he hung his head, greatly sorry for the misfortune of his friend.

"I wish there was something I could do, Logan. Truly. But I'm afraid it just can't be done."

But Logan didn't buy it.

Huffing a small plume of smoke out his nose, he glanced out the window, catching sight of you teaching a class on the lawn.

Using your powers, you grew a large sunflower out from the ground, the younger kids marveling at the sight as you began pointing out its anatomy, most of them enamored by the huge petals—which were bigger than their little six year-old frames.

And in a small pause in time, your eyes flitted up to meet his through the window, that heart-stopping smile finding its way onto your lips as you gave him a tiny wave.

It warmed him, experiencing your light for the first time in years without the threat of annihilation on the horizon.

Domesticity like this is something he'd craved all his life, and now that he had it in his grasp, he wasn't going to settle for anything less.

A stilling chill descended on his chest at the thought of your smile, and the countless others he'd missed.

Your tears of joy when he proposed.

Your frazzled excitement with the wedding planning.

Your radiance as you walked down the aisle.

He missed it all.

And he'd be damned if he didn't do everything in his power to try and get it back.

"Charles..." Logan started, stamping out his cigar in a nearby ashtray. "My whole life is standin' out there under that tree... and I can't remember a goddamn thing about her after 1973."

His tone turned cold, eyes sharp as he stared the professor down.

"I don't care if you have to rip my head in half... I'm gettin' those memories back."

The old man let out a sigh, accepting that going on like this would bring no other outcome.

He'd have to give the man what he wanted... consequences be damned.

'Let's hope he survives...'

"This will be violent," Charles stated off-rip, wheeling himself out from behind his desk. "I am essentially hammering your mind like a dam, making cracks in its defenses until it eventually gives way."

Logan nodded, watching as the man settled in front of him, raising his two fingers to his temple.

"Now... try not to move."

Logan shut his eyes, and in an instant, it felt as if his head was struck by a speeding train.

He let out a growl of pain as images began to flash behind his eyes, the next one always coming quicker than the last.

"Hon, which color do you think would go best with my complexion? Eggshell or Porcelain?" you asked, eagerly holding up two different swatches against your skin.

"You look beautiful in anything, baby," he stated as if it was the simplest thing in the world, wrapping an arm around your waist. "Either one is fine."

"As sweet as that is... it doesn't help," you huffed, playfully attempting to scold him.

"Fine then. Eggshell," he answered, quickly.

You raised a brow, an amused smile playing at your lips as you leaned in closer, "Are you just saying that to get me to shut up?"

He let out a chuckle, resting his forehead against yours, "Never."

Yes...

"Can't wait 'til this damn reception is over," he growled in your ear, lips dragging down your neck as you both hid in a nearby hallway. "First time I've been alone with you since I do."

"Logan..." you gasped, tucking your lip between your teeth in an attempt to muffle yourself as he tightly grasped your hips. "Someone'll hear..."

"Then I guess you better keep quiet," he smirked against your skin, giving your collarbone a soft nip.

It's all coming back...

"Logan..." you started, nervously, hands held firmly behind your back. "I have something to tell you... and I'm open to talk about it if you're upset..."

His brows furrowed as he turned away from his dresser, looking toward you with an air of concern.

"What's wrong?" he asked, his protective instinct spiking at the sight of your fearful expression. "What happened?"

Unable to say it, you slowly held up your hand, revealing a positive pregnancy test.

His eyes widened like saucers, throat drying at the tiny piece of plastic.

"You're... pregnant?"

You nodded, silently, his reaction not soothing your anxiety one bit.

But, as if on cue, he moved toward you, striding across the room and pulling you into a bone crushing hug.

"I'm gonna be a father..." he muttered into your hair, the phrase not one he thought he'd ever hear. "I'm gonna be a father..."

Wait...

"Logan!" you cried, tears welling in your eyes as you glanced up at him, scared. "I can't...mmmph fuck!... I can't do it! Hurts too much!"

"C'mon, baby, keep pushin'. You're doin' so good," he cooed, swiping stray strands of hair out your face as the nurse on the other side of the bed helped cheer you on. "Just a little bit more. You're right there."

With a grunt, you squeezed his hand tight, letting out a growl of pain as you gave another push.

Pop!

Logan's eyes shot wide, the man nearly biting through his tongue as he glanced down at his hand.

You dislocated his finger.

Though it seemed to be worth it as that final push was what did it.

"It's a girl!" the doctor smiled, carefully holding up the newborn.

Looking upon her small, chubbed face, Logan felt a sense of protectiveness sink into his chest—one that he only felt when things came to you.

In that moment, and every moment after that, he knew he would lay his life down for her, no question.

And she wasn't even a minute old yet.

I have—

"James! Get back here!" a little girl squealed with laughter, bursting into the office after a little boy, who looked terrified.

Logan snapped out his head with a gasp, shooting up from his seat and unsheathing his claws out of muscle memory.

'James...'

Quickly, Logan retracted his claws as the boy ducked behind his leg, gripping tightly onto his jeans as the girl stormed over.

She looked just like you, save for a few small details, and had a small snaggle-tooth poking out on her right side, only adding to her adorableness.

Not to mention the bone claws she had protruding from her knuckles.

"No fair! You can't hide behind Dad every time you're scared!" she furrowed her brows, upset.

"Mommy told you about your claws, Laura..." James mumbled, voice barely above a whisper as he shyly peeked out from behind his human shield.

'Laura...'

The boy was Logan's mirror image, looking almost exactly like he did at that age..

Apple doesn't fall too far from the tree...

Charles could sense the pieces clicking in Logan's mind, and figured lending a hand would be best after what he'd been through.

"Logan, these are your—" "Laura Marie Howlett!" your voice cut in, the little girl flinching at the sound.

Quickly, she retracted her claws, whipping around with a guilty smile, which was met by your less-than-approving glare.

"What have I told you about chasing your brother inside? And what have I told you about using your claws to do it?" you scolded, walking into the office. "You two are interrupting your father and Professor Xavier."

Logan let out a soft sigh, taking the moment to finally look over his family.

Like a slow moving stream, things were coming back to him, the feeling like a fog clearing from the recesses of his mind.

Every birthday.

Every boo-boo.

Every first.

Slowly but surely, they were all returning.

Without warning, Logan dropped to his knees, pulling the two kids into a tight hug, fiercely fighting off the emotion swelling in his chest.

"Daddy?" James squeaked, concerned.

"Are you okay?" Laura asked, confused.

He nodded, silently, the sight making your heart both burst and ache.

After all this time, your husband was truly whole.

Fifty years of suffering and agony had finally come to an end.

taglist !!

@catiwinky @seamlessepiphany @vinaluvsu @kellyxo1 @amandarobertsboyce  @captainloki1 @qveendiorsworld @sarahskywalker-amidala @mei-simp @oatmilkriver @br3nt-12 @bimboshaggy @lightsgore @edszn @couturewinx @sunroxic @notanotheroldman @bontensbabygirl @buckleysg1rl @marvelgirlie-4 @eljaynosine-triphosphate @nickf1 @pinkisokay @mercurysjoy

[lovesickhughes]

late nights | nico hischier

a/n: i have risen from the dead ! i wrote this fic inspired by one of my old ones from my previous blog and thought who better to write for this than our beloved nico ! not edited so i apologize for any mistakes ! i hope you enjoy & please send in requests ! 🤎

warnings: none! absolute fluff 🤎🧸

tags: dad!nico x fem!reader

word count: 1.1k

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

The wails of your newborn stirred you awake from your peaceful sleep. It had become a routine, the moment you had found a position that was comfortable for your healing body and your eyes grew heavy, the deafening sound of an upset newborn brought you right to your feet, rushing into the nursery to aid your newest addition to your growing family. What had made it even better, the clock on your nightstand had read three-thirty-five, exactly twenty-four minutes since the last time you had gotten up to soothe your daughter to sleep. 

You drag your hands down your face, then up towards your hair, entangling your fingers within and pushing it out of your face in frustration. Becoming a parent was something you had always dreamt of when marrying Nico. You knew from the moment your relationship grew serious that he was going to be the father to your children. But the extensive diaper changing, shocked you; who knew a small human could make that much of a mess, simply from breast milk. You knew you were going to be a good mother, learning each day that your daughter grew, but when all of your diaper changes, feeding, cuddling and soothing went to waste by the loud, heart-wrenching wails, it made you doubt your abilities. You questioned what it was that you were missing to decode the newborn, and how others made it seem so simple. 

You had tried every “New Mommies Club” suggestions, articles from professionals, and even resorted to your own Mother’s tactics; letting your baby cry herself to sleep. 

That lasted a mere five minutes before Nico urged you to check on your daughter, warning that he would find a way past the door you barricaded with your body, whether you were in the way or not. 

You listened to your daughter let out one more scream before both Nico and you cradled her and rocked her to sleep. 

You quietly padded your feet along the dark, hardwood floors of your bedroom, slowly pulling the door to the hallway open, being mindful of your husband, Nico soundly sleeping with his back turned to face away from you. However, that was after he had gained your attention by planting soft kisses to your shoulder to wake you and alert you of your crying daughter. 

Walking the short distance to your daughter’s nursery across the hallway of your home, you push the door open, seeing your daughter maneuver beneath her zipped up sleep onesie. As you approached, and turned the dim light beside her crib on, you watched her mouth open with a distressed look on her face, letting out a tired cry, making your heart ache and tears well in your eyes. You wished it was easier, you wished you could have a simple solution to allow her to sleep, yet nothing seemed to work. 

Your bottom lip pushes out as you pout and reach to grab your daughter from her crib, bringing her close to your chest and instinctively rocking her softly. Her cries were muffled by her face being against your chest, but she still let out soft whines. 

You rubbed your hand against the fabric of her onesie, making more attempts to put her to sleep while pacing the room. By surprise, it hadn’t worked, so you walked towards the reading chair Nico and you had placed in the nursery when decorating for your expecting child. 

Pulling a blanket from the basket beside the chair onto your lap and up to your shoulders to provide your baby and you more heat and comfort, you hum her favourite lullaby to calm her. 

After finishing the song, you planted a kiss to the top of her soft, peach-fuzz hair, “my angel,” you cooed, “please do Mommy a favour and go to sleep, it’ll be so good for you.” you attempted, although you knew she wouldn’t understand a single word that came out of your mouth. Your daughter still fidgeted in your grasp, making small noises, which you knew meant she wasn’t tired. 

“Why doesn’t Mommy pass our little munchkin over to her Daddy so he can try to put her to sleep?” You hear from the doorframe. You look over to see a shirtless, half-asleep Nico rubbing his eye to come to his senses as he enters the room to where you were, reaching his arms out towards you. 

You frown with empathy, knowing Nico’s efforts were because of his delicate and precise attention to you. It’s what you loved most about him. He knows every little quirk and pet peeve you have, knows you inside and out, so when he watches you carefully hand your daughter over him, he gives you a sad smile, seeing the exhaustion written on your face. 

Your daughter was only just past three months old, and ever since she has entered the world, she has been destined to be Daddy’s princess, and Nico loved it. He knew there would never be a moment missed where he wouldn’t do anything for his daughter. 

Nico placed your daughter against his bare chest, whispering soothing words into her little ear as he slowly paced the nursery, and after only a few minutes of you watching Nico work his magic, your daughter was sound asleep in her crib, and the two of you exited quietly back to your own bedroom. 

Nico finds himself under the covers again, the duvet covering just up to his hips, exposing his bare and toned chest, and you slide yourself into bed, laying against his chest with his arm falling behind your back, rubbing your side. 

“I don’t get it,” you mumbled against Nico’s chest, feeling the vibration of your own voice reverberate against your cheek and Nico chuckles at your remark.

“She’s a Daddy’s girl, what can I say?” 

“It’s not fair,” you protest, “just wait until we have a boy, then he’ll be all over me and want nothing to do with you.” You affirm with a confident nod, lifting yourself up to look into your husband’s eyes. 

Nico only grins, revealing his mood-changing smile, making your heart melt. 

“So you want to have another? You just gave birth, which is pretty life-changing if you asked me.” 

You shrug nonchalantly, “only 2 more months until we can start trying again. I want to keep making mini-versions of us.” You smiled. 

“I would give anything and everything to continue growing our family with you.” Nico says as he reaches his hand to your cheek, pulling your face down to his and connecting your lips into a soft, but intimate kiss.

You both pull away at the same time, cheekily grinning at one another.

“Anything and everything.”

[enwoso]

I MISS YOU, I'M SORRY — alessia russo

based loosely off the song by gracie abram’s. i rewrote this three times and i’ve got it to where i’m happy with it. wouldn’t say it’s my best but hey ho. if there’s part that don’t make sense i do apologise i wrote some of this while being half asleep🙃

ANYWAYS hope you all enjoy! it’s a long one<33

masterlist

"i miss you" her raspy voice echoed down your phone, as she slurred over and over how she missed you. the sound of the music blaring in the background told you that she was out in a club.

whilst you were sat on your couch at home, in some old joggers and a hoodie which most definitely had toothpaste stains on it. love island playing as you were catching up on the last few episodes you'd missed, which was playing just as white noise at the moment.

"alessia, you need to go and find the rest of the girls." you said bluntly, the blonde having told you moments before her i miss you rant that she was out with the arsenal girls, which you probably could have guessed anyways after there win in the league early in the day.

but you also wanted to get back to your series, wishing you weren't having this conversation with your ex but you also couldn't find it in yourself to just hang up on her as you didn't want her to be in any harm — especially while she was drunk.

why did you still care?

"i miss you, y/n" she slurred out again, you could imagine the stupid dopey smile on her face as she said the words, her drunken ramble continuing, "i wish you were here, i miss your cute smile and, and those lips. i miss everything about you."

"alessia can you please just go and find the girls" you begged not wanting to carry on hearing her pleads but you also couldn't bring yourself to press the red button which your finger had loomed over for the past ten minutes.

"i'm sorry for everything y/n, i know you hate me but i still love you, i promise" the blonde slowly slurred out again as you could hear the pout in her voice as she spoke.

you didn't hate her, well maybe you didn’t, you hadn't quite figured that out yet where the blonde stood in your mind.

more just trying to space yourself away from everything that happened with alessia however that proved pretty difficult when you both played football, maybe not for the same team anymore but you'd still see her at england camp.

"alessia, please can you just tell me who i can call to make sure your gonna be safe?" you hated that you still cared, that you had stayed on the phone listening to her ramble drunkenly on about you for the past twenty minutes.

knowing that by the morning she wouldn't even remember it or anything she had said so why were you sat listening?

"can you stop callin' me alessia. i'm baby, less, darling, pretty girl, gorgeous—" she began to rattle out all the names you used to call her, opening up another wound you had spent months healing as with each words she spoke you could feel her opening more and more.

"alessia! will you just answer the damn question!" you yelled down the phone, cutting her off as the frustration growing in your voice was obvious, your patience was wearing thin. you didn't want to hear her voice anymore.

hearing the blonde mumble something about your bluntness, as she hummed on probably trying to figure out herself who would be the best option.

"lotte."

after the drunken call you'd gotten from your ex, you hadn't heard anything from her. not that you expected her too. she wasn't yours to be worried about, but it had left you confused especially over her words. they lingered in the back of your mind. what if she meant it. drunk words are sober thoughts as they say after all.

you knew now though you were just strangers who show up but don't matter enough to each other to be friends. however deep down you knew you had too much history to be just strangers.

weeks had gone since that night and you were arriving at england camp for the set of friendlies which were happening in sunny spain, arriving with the rest of the manchester united girls, you knew she was here. you'd seen it on instagram.

so once you arrived you could feel the tension rising in your shoulders and your chest. grabbing your key for your room and heading straight up there wanting to avoid any chance of running into her.

you hadn't seen her since december, in the home game against arsenal. you both didn't say a word to each other, you wouldn't even look in her direction. so the thought of seeing her again was sending you into hard drive, you weren't sure how you'd react, if you'd react at all.

getting yourself changed and flopping onto the bed you'd call your own for the next ten days. your body realxing into the soft sheets, as you began to flick through the channels on the tv hoping that something would take your interest.

however, you only got two clicks in when there was knocks echoeing through your room. a loud groan coming from you as you pulled yourself up from the comfort of your bed, dragging your socked feet towards the door and opening it.

"mary-"

"come on, everyone's waiting for you to come down" mary interrupted you as you looked on with a confused look, "what for?"

"cause we're watching a film as a team and if your not there then we aren't a team!" mary stated as if it was obvious reaching out to grab your arm as you nodded.

"wait! let me get my keycard!" you said quickly, stopping the door from closing as you heard a tusk of the teeth from the goalkeeper as she mumbled out her complaints. grabbing your keycard off the side table and slipping the card into your pocket, praying you wouldn't forget where you'd put it.

walking down the corridors of the hotel complex the FA had situated the team in, side by side with mary it felt a little eerie. something felt off but you couldn't quite put a finger to it.

coming out the elevator as mary continued to chat your ears off, about anything and everything. from telling you what she did last weekend to what she had for breakfast this morning. but you didn't mind, you would class mary as one of your closest friends in football.

she'd been there for you from the very first day you started at united, helping you settle in to helping you navigate your feelings after she happened.

although you didn't say it very often, you were very thankful for her and you honestly dreaded to think where you'd be without mary, even more so in the past few months.

which is why- you were brought out your thoughts as you felt yourself walk into something or rather someone.

"i wasn't looking- sorry" the blonde mumbled stumbling over her words a little as she looked up from her phone, a slight look of shock on her face when she realised who she'd actually walked into.

"s'fine" you said simply, taking in the blonde’s appearance a little. her hair scraped back in a low bun,

the shorter strands sticking out of the bun. she'd cut her hair again, you could tell. dressed in a grey hoodie and some blue england shorts, her legs bare as her socks covered her feet.

her blue eyes which you'd spent many of your nights getting lost staring into— why were you still stood there?

forcing your body to move, not before catching her disappointed look on her face at the few words you'd spoke to her. the blonde looking as if she was going to say something but her lips pressed back together as she carried on walking the way she was going originally.

"well.. that was a tiny bit awkward!" mary murmured as an awkward laugh came from her, you totally forgetting that mary was stood next to you as you tried to steady your breathing to go back to normal.

"well you could have warned me!"

after the awkward interaction with the blonde in the hallway, you’d noticed her small looks towards you before she would quickly look away. probably in fear of you catching her staring at you.

it was now down time and you were sat on one of the sun lounges, hoping to catch a few of the sun rays. with your book in hand and a fresh bottle of ice cold water you had your afternoon sorted.

glancing every few minutes or whenever a loud cheer came from the girls who were playing a game in the pool. your eyes immediately looking for the blonde before you would switch your eyes to someone else.

"why don't you just talk to her?" mary had noticed you looking towards the blonde, especially in the past few days. the goalkeeper being sat on the lounger just next to you.

she'd known since the day you joined united and no matter how many times you would say you were over the blonde or that you didn't care. mary knew that couldn't be further from the truth, she could tell. she's didn't need you to admit it out loud to know.

but mary had been put in a little bit of a hard position when the break up happened. as she was close with both you and alessia. hearing both sides of the story and giving you both advice which from the older girl you both valued deeply. however mary always claimed herself to be switzerland when asked who side to take.

the only side mary was taking was the side where both her close friends were happy whether that was the two of you happy together again, or if that was you happy with someone else. although deep down she was hoping for the first option!

"talk to who?" you tried the oblivious act, as you turned the page of your book. your eyes trying to follow the words on the page.

pretending you didn't know who she was talking about in hopes you would avoid the topic all together as well as hoping the conversation would change. but you also knew how stubborn mary could be.

"y/n don't play thick with me, you know who i mean" mary gave you the pointed look that told you she wasn't going to give up until you gave her an answer.

"maz i- i can't." you stutters over your words as you saw the sympathetic nod and smile that the goalkeeper sent your way. mary understood why, but she was also close with a certain blonde and knew exactly how she felt.

"but what's stopping you? i know that brain of yours has been whizzing with questions since you know, it ended on a sour note" mary began as you placed your book on your chest, turning over to face mary listening to her as she spoke.

"you don't have to magically become best friends or even be friends for that matter, just what have you got to loose by talking to her?" mary shrugged, as you hummed looking up from the ground. you knew mary was right you didn't have anything else to loose.

"mhm i'll think about it"

you were in london, not by personal choice. united had been playing chelsea in the fa cup. after a full 90' minutes on the pitch you had been longing for your bed since the final whistle blew.

but you'd gone out and had a few drinks with the girls to celebrate before returning to the hotel as the some of the other girls where going off into the next club along the street.

you'd just gotten changed and was about to begin brushing your teeth when there was a quiet knock ringing around your hotel room. at first you thought you'd imagined it but the knocks continued this time a little louder and more continuous.

huffing and placing your toothbrush on the side of the sink, "mary! i haven't got-" you opened the door thinking it would be mary asking if you had a spare key card for her room except it wasn't.

"oh" you whispered as you stared at the last person you thought would be standing at your door just past midnight.

"alessia what are you doing here?" you asked dismissively, wondering how she even knew where you were staying.

"um i was hoping to talk.. to you" you could tell she was nervous, her quiet tone which had replaced her usual confident tone not only gave it away but the fact she was swaying slightly from side to side. a thing she did when she was overthinking something.

"at quarter past twelve in the morning?" you pointed out tiredly looking at her as she timidly nodded before opening her mouth again.

"it's just- i've been wanting to talk to you for ages but it never seemed like the right time- and mary she said where you were saying-" she explained as you still held the same confused look still not quite grasping the fact she was stood at your hotel door at stupid o'clock in the morning but maybe that was also the alcohol in your system slowing your thought process down.

the blonde noticed the hesitated look on your face. "i'm sorry, this is stupid- i'll go. forget i was ever here. i'm sorry" alessia spoke fast, beginning to spin on her heel, not giving you a chance to respond.

but you quickly before she got to far away grabbed her arm pulling her back towards you. why? you didn't know yourself but something inside you was telling you to hear her out.

"no, i'm just a little shocked, you can come in" you said shallowly, moving out the way as the blonde wondered into your hotel room. taking a deep breath in as you shut the door behind you reminding yourself mental to have a chat with mary tomorrow.

"so?" you asked, hoping she would get to why she was actually here watching from behind as the blonde took a seat on your bed, you sitting on the one opposite her.

"i just wanted to see where we stand with each other-" the blonde started as you scoffed a small smile appearing on your face it dropped just a quick as you realised she was serious, "really?"

"yes y/n, look i know you hate me and you have every right to but i just want us to be civil or friends or something. i don't know" the blonde huffed as you nodded slightly with what she was saying.

a silence filling up the room, and an awkward silence at that.

"i miss you and i'm sorry for the way things ended" alessia admitted as your head snapped up. memories of the words she said to you when she was drunk flooding back within a second.

you paused, your head spinning giving you a slight headache, but that could also be from the shots you had taken mere hours ago. “i don’t hate you..” you whispered. this time the blonde looking at you her head tilted slightly sensing the fact you weren’t finished with what you needed to say.

“you don’t?” alessia asked, a slight bit of relief coming over her as you shook your head.

“i don’t but you really fucking hurt me alessia, i know you moved to arsenal for your career. and i’m not trying to take anything away from you for that cause i’ll admit your shining there. but i was your girlfriend. i thought you loved me and you just threw me to the side as if i meant nothing as if our relationship meant nothing!” you paused, taking a deep breathe as you continued.

“i had to ask your fucking teammates how you were doing just to know if you were okay cause you couldn’t seem to find the time answer my messages or calls..” you trailed off, your eyes starting to fill with tears.

“do you know what that felt like, to feel so un-important to someone that i cared and loved so much and someone who was supposed to love me.” you breathed out rubbing over your eyes to stop the tears from falling down your cheeks.

alessia looked at you were pure sorrow in her eyes, a sad smile on her face as she looked down at her hands playing with the gold ring that sat on her middle finger on her left hand.

“i didn’t know..” alessia whispered, still sliding her ring on and off her hand unable to look at you as guilt filled her body from your confession.

“of course you didn’t! you never made an effort once you moved to london!” you spat back, instantly regretting the out-lash as you pinched the bridge of your nose. before moving from sitting opposite the blonde to sit next to her on your bed.

“all i want is a second chance, just as friends nothing more. i meant it when i said i miss you” alessia confessed as you hummed. “i could say it a thousand times that i’m sorry for what i put you through but that won’t do it justice, i just want for our past to be put behind us.. and i would like to get to know you, the new you. if that’s okay with you.” alessia smiled as you nodded.

“so friends then?” you asked, alessia moving her eye line to meet yours her smile still on her face. “friends!” she moved slightly forward to hug you but stopped half way thinking she misread the situation spluttering an apology out as you shook your head wrapping your arms around the blonde in a friendly hug, pulling away after a few seconds.

“so do you still like ketchup with everything?”

part of you should have known you could never just be friends with the blonde. after the night where you spent with her in your hotel room talking the entire night, getting to know each other. rediscovering old habits and discovering new ones.

you found yourself wanting her attention. needing it.

after getting only a few hours sleep that night, you having a hard time saying goodbye to her after only just gotten her back in your life after so long. you didn’t want to say bye, again.

“i don’t want to go” you whined like a child as you slowly did your hair as a giggle came from alessia who was sprawled out on the bed.

“you have to though! we can see each other soon” alessia promised as you still sat tying a hair tie in your hair a huff coming from you. “but that’s too long!”

“it won’t be, either i’ll come up to you or you can come down to me”

and much to both of your promises only a week later after constant messages and facetimes, you found yourself at the blondes apartment in london. finding your first next free day and getting the first train down.

as you spent the evening watching a film, both cuddled up on her couch eating dinner which she had prepared and made before the night coming to a close and as you were going to the guest bedroom, her hand capturing yours and pulling you into her room.

you weren’t gonna lie it did feel weird to be this close to her after so long trying to distance yourself from her, but everything you knew lead you back to her.

you were lying on her bed face to face, as her hand gently came up to move the strand of hair from your face.

a small sigh coming from you, you felt at peace again. as alessia looked at you with nothing but love in those blue eyes of her, looking at you as if you were the only person in the world.

her hand dropping from your face, but before it could drop to its original place you grabbed it. lacing your hand between her, you noticing how your hands fitted perfectly together. together like a puzzle piece.

"i love you so much." she said quietly, a slight smile appearing on your face. but just as quickly as your hand laced with hers, she kissed you.

you responded with such enthusiasm that alessia was a little taken aback at first, but regained her thoughts and reminded herself of what was happening.

alessia was really kissing you.

you were really kissing her.

a feeling you'd been craving for just under a year, since the last time she set foot in your apartment in manchester. when she kissed you goodbye on the cheek, as you stood there shoulders sunken in and lifeless.

nothing could have meant more than her, nothing could have have more beauty than this moment. the way her hands pressed into your chest, the way her blue eyes fluttered closed. you fit into her like a glove, her kiss was like the beating of a butterfly's wings. so soft and wholesome until it became addictive.

and in those few moments you were reminded of why you fell for alessia in the first place. her scent was what you craved. you wanted to have her close to you, unsure where she ended and you began. you’d rather walk through hell again and again then lose her again.

her entrancing eyes, her captivating smile against your lips, her laugh when you did something silly, her hair which now hung just at her shoulder height as she looked at you, her raspy morning voice, her love was everything to you.

but your stupid, stupid lungs had to find air again, as you pulled away from her still lingering in close proximity to her. somehow alessia had moved position as she was now hovering over you, as she straddled you.

she was looking down at you with such an inviting warmth that you wanted to kiss her again, the silence still lingered as she pulled away you adjusting yourself to sit a little upright. a heat rising to your face.

"sorry, i-i shouldn't have..." you trailed of quietly looking at your fingers playing with the rings that you wore.

"what do you mean?" she said softly, watching the your worry struck face. "that wa- it's okay love"

"o-okay?" your voice was hoarse. you cleared your throat, laughing a little before she made the move to kiss you again.

"we'll take it slow, i promise. but i know what i want and that for you to be in my future and if i have to wait then that's what i'll do." alessia spoke with such reassurance and pureness, that made your heart beat just that little faster as you nodded.

a small smile coming onto the blondes face as she leaned forwards to place a gentle kiss onto your cheek.

"i love you, so much."

[sagechanoafterdark]

Shoot Your Shot, Cupid

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader Word Count: 3,770 Warnings: mature language, unbeata'd, soft Bucky, lets assume Sam set him up for this one, female coded reader, happy ending because we all deserve it, TIME SKIIIIIP, best friend with good intentions that shows up for one job and then disappears, speed dating, one obnoxious man, all the soft feelings.

Hello Kittens, and Happy Valentine's Day. It's been a while since I wrote... well anything and I was working on this for a couple of months but I think it's come all together now. Hope you enjoy it!

This couldn’t get much worse.

Tricked by your best friend.

Nay, betrayed.  

By someone you implicitly trusted.

There would be no forgiving this.

Never, not ever.

The dinner and drinks invitation a few days before the start of February was met with trepidation on your part. All Christmas season you’d feigned interest as Mellony, your best friend, thrust every single co-worker, neighbor, and wait staff at you to find you someone to share the holiday with.

You couldn’t blame her. After all, Mellony was blissfully happy with her fiancée and only wanted the same for you.

All that you could forgive.

But this?

This was a complete and utter betrayal.

A deep and unimpressed frown marred your face as Mellony took the sticky name tag off the table with her perfectly manicured nails. Peeling the back with an ear-to-ear grin and pressed it against your chest. “There,” she exclaimed with joy, lacing her fingers together. “Now you’re all set.”

Looking down at the beautifully scrawled letters framed by little hearts you couldn’t help but curl your lip and whine, “Mel, you promised.”

The blond snorted and rolled her enormous puppy dog eyes, “I never promised anything.” Looping her arm through yours she practically began to drag you through the convention center doors and past the sign that sealed your fate.

Cupids Bow Speed Dating Event.

“Yes, you did,” you reaffirmed. Glancing around the room packed full of men and women in a combination of sweaters, suits, and cocktail dresses. “You promised not to try and set me up with anyone again.”

“This is my speed dating event. It doesn’t count.”

“I can assure you it does.”

“Nooooo,” she practically sang, turning around on her heel with that adorable mischievous smile of hers. “I promised that I wouldn’t set you up with anyone I knew. Everyone here was vetted by my team. I don't know any of these people.”

Grumbling she began tugging you towards the stage as intro music began to play softly from the DJ booth. Mellony paused, gripping your hand tight and looking down at you as the DJ introduced her, “Please, stay? I just want you to find someone.”

“Mel,” you hissed with disapproval. “I don’t need to find someone.”

Whether or not she heard you was unclear as the music swelled and Mellony put on her famous razzle dazzle smile and waved at everyone as she took the microphone and the presentation began. Your eyes swung to the crowd of people, more than three dozen people silhouetted against the stage lights and it made you shiver.

This was going to be a disaster.

Twenty minutes later your mind was glazed over with the audacity of men.

With every new ding of the bell, you found yourself becoming more annoyed. The match-making event progressed easily. People were divided into groups based on results from a questionnaire, something you distinctly remember Mel presenting to you as a fun Cosmo quiz, while one group remained seated the others rotated around the room.

By some stroke of luck, you were one of the people destined to sit. But that also meant that total strangers would be coming to your table to chat with you.

In all your years of singledom,  you’d thought you’d heard it all. Too fat. Too loud. Too smart. Too opinionated. Those were old hat by now, and you weren’t immune to the bitter words from unimportant people.

“I suppose you’re an attractive woman,” the suit across from you said thoughtfully. His eyes never met yours, instead looking around the room likely for the next victim of his charm. “But I’m not really into your hair color. How would you feel about dying it?”

The question hung in the air as you waited for the man to look back at you. When his beady eyes returned to your face you couldn’t hide the disbelief, waving your hand in the air with an icy finality, “Absolutely not. You can go.”

He didn’t wait. Standing so quickly the chair scraped against the floor as he haughtily walked towards the bar. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you pulled out your phone and began to scroll social media waiting for the next bell in fifteen minutes.

Not the wildest thing you’d ever heard, but the gall of some people astounded even you sometimes. This also wasn’t the first event you’d been to that Mel had put on, you’d come to one or two as she’d begun her match-making service so you knew the ins and outs pretty well. But getting the same questions over and over was getting old fast.

What do you do for a living?

Where are you from?

What’s your family like?

What’s your perfect date idea?

BOR-ING!

Just once you’d like someone to ask you a real question, something thoughtful instead of the surface questions you’d find on social media.

You couldn’t believe you wore your favorite dress for this nonsense.

The bell dinged once again and the shadow of a new man sat in front of you.

“Hi.”

“Hello,” you said not looking up from the device in your hand.

“Come here often?”

“To a dating event? No,” the words were flowing out of your mouth easily. Canned responses for canned questions.

There was a heavy pause, “You seem bored.”

“That’s because I am.”

A muted scoff came from the other side of the table, “What would make it more interesting then?”

A long sigh escaped you as you continued scrolling on your phone, “If someone would ask me a question of substance, maybe I would give them a chance for conversation.”

Again a long stretching silence from the other side and you had to resist rolling your eyes.

“Alright,” he rumbled, leaning back against his chair. “Then what’s one gift you always wish you’d gotten, but never did?”

That had your thumb pausing on the endless scrolling you were doing. Finally, your gaze flicked up and your brain stopped working for a brief moment as you took in the disgustingly attractive man sitting your opposite.

Coffee color hair, and a chiseled jaw dotted with a five o’clock shadow would be enough to make even the most choosy of a woman’s breath catch. He was wearing a bulky leather jacket in a building that was pushing 80 degrees, which was odd but not overly strange.

But oddly enough you felt yourself getting drawn in. Not by his cheekbones, the cut of his jaw, the dimple in his chin, or even the semi-scowl he wore.

No, it was his eyes. Bright blue soulful eyes, that sparkled a little as he sat across the table from you. Eyes that told a story all their own and drew you out of your scrolling for the first time that night.

Pursing your lips slightly you thought, “Hmm, I’d have to say it’s a puppy.”

His eyebrow arched slightly, clearly surprised by your answer, “A puppy?”

“Sure,” you said with a slight shrug. “A puppy is something I’ve always wanted but never gotten as a gift from anyone other than myself.”

“What kind of puppy?”

“Oh I don’t have a preferred breed,” you informed, tilting your head a little at the odd conversation. “But as a child, it was what I asked for every year as a present. But I never got one.”

His lips turned up in a half smile and you thought you were going to melt in your seat, “Asking for one every year and not getting one, sounds a little disappointing. Was that just a Christmas thing?”

“Nah,” you laughed a little, fingers picking at a little piece of lint on the edge of your dress. “Christmas, birthdays, Easter didn’t matter. If gifts were being given, it was at the top of my list. Every year I’d be running to the tree and picking up presents, looking for one big enough. It’s a running joke with my friends that I’d marry the first man to give me a puppy for Christmas.”

A brisk laugh escaped him, his lips pulled into a charming smile that had nervous butterflies leap up in your chest. “A puppy for Christmas,” he rumbled thoughtfully. “I’ll have to remember that.”

The response made goosebumps prickle along your skin and you held back a shiver, wetting your suddenly dry lips, “What about you?”

“What about me?”

“What’s a gift you always wanted but didn’t get,” you paused briefly a coy smile stretching your lips.

His smile turned into a smirk as he once again leaned back in his chair, blue eyes darting back and forth over your face as he thought about it. It was going well, your impish smile growing along with his own. That is until his smile began to fall, bright blue gaze darting a little more frantically over your face before he licked his lips and an unexpected tremor sounded in his voice, “I think, I think it was a sled.”

“A sled,” you asked, leaning forward a little in intrigue. “Like a big plastic one with the handles? Oh no, I got it you’re definitely an inflatable snow tube kind of guy.”

A balk of laughter sounded from him, making hidden laugh lines appear at the corner of his eyes as they brightened with your playful banter. “Nah,” he exclaimed, waving a hand. “More like a wood and metal one. It had bright red skis and a wooden seat top. That sled was all I wanted as a kid.”

An amused giggle slipped from you, “I had a wagon kind of like that as a kid, it was a radio flyer.”

His fingers snapped as he pointed at you with a little bit of excitement, “That’s it! A Radio Flyer sled, with a rope handle and foot steering bar. Though I don’t think I’d ever get one now. I’m a little too old to go sledding down a hill.”

“Age is all about perspective.”

He snorted, “Tell that to my driver's license.”

Genuine laughter bubbled up from inside of you as you leaned forward in your seat, a teasing retort on your lips. Before you could speak, Mellony rang her little handbell and people began to switch places again. But your blue-eyed stranger lingered at your table.

“Talk to you again?”

He sounded, hopeful. “Yeah,” you croaked out pathetically. “Talk to you again.”

You watched as he stood from your table and made his way across the room to his next table while another man took his place at your own. A feeling of disappointment swelled as you lost sight of him in the crowd of people, the feeling intensifying as this new man briefly introduced themselves before launching into a long Tinder-level introduction.

Two more men sat at your table, barely holding your interest outside of normal pleasantries before Mel rang her handbell in rapid succession. “Alright everyone that’s the first round,” she called from her place at the podium. “We’re going to break for thirty minutes. There are hors d'oeuvres and refreshments at the bar. Please feel free to mingle!”

The room of people began to stand and mill around as an uproar of chatter began. Your eyes picked out a couple of men from your group, pairing up with others and heading to the bar. Cordial smiles turned into pleasant touches and sweetheart eyes as they went.

The Cupids Bow Dating Event was a success and you couldn’t help but feel the swell of pride for your friend.

“Hey, Sourpuss,” Melody greeted, looping her arm through yours. “You having fun yet?”

Your mind drifted back to your blue-eyed stranger, “A little.”

“Well, I don’t know if you know this. But the point of speed dating is to, you know, find a date. I was watching you, and you gotta talk to more than one person,” she sassed.

Your mouth turned down to a frown for a brief moment, “I talked to someone.”

“Oh yeah? What was his name.”

Your mouth opened and closed a couple of times as you realized quickly you’d never even got Mr. Blue-Eyes name, “Shit.”

“What?”

“I didn’t even get Mr. Blue-Eyes name!”

“It’s Bucky.”

Turning around there stood Mr. Blue-Eyes himself, err… you meant Bucky. There was no doubt your embarrassment showed on your face, but the little nervous laugh that slipped out sealed the deal.

Bucky smiled at you, “That is if it’s me you were talking about?”

Wetting your lips you shifted, suddenly nervous before meeting friendly blue eyes, “Yeah,” you squeaked before clearing your throat. “I mean, yes. I’m sorry I missed your name when we talked.”

He was nodding for a brief moment, his eyes darting over towards the bar before taking a few steps closer to you and leaning down. “There’s a restaurant down the street. They’ve got pretty good sushi. You want to get the hell out of here?”

“Oh, my god yes!” The tips of your ears felt hot as you wished the ground would open up and swallow you whole but Bucky didn’t seem to notice your embarrassment. Instead, he offered up his right arm and you looped yours into it without hesitation.

Melody’s brow shot up out of surprise, “B-but that was only the first round! There are still two more.”

“I don’t think we need a round two,” Bucky said, the same charming smile pulling at the corner of his mouth and making his eyes crinkle.

“Yeah,” you laughed, in a teasing tone. “This round just might go to Cupid after all.”

Three years later.

Lights twinkled in the living room of your apartment, it was god awful early and you’d carefully planned today. Christmas day and you’d been waiting for this moment for two years now. Quickly and quietly you snuck out of the bedroom where Bucky lay wrapped up in the blankets and made your way to the front closet.

It was hard being sneaky when your boyfriend was a super spy. But after a lot of careful planning, misdirections, and a lot of help from Sam, you’d managed to do it and Bucky was none the wiser.

Tiptoeing towards the hall closet that Bucky never used you opened the squeaky hinged door in just the way so it made no noise. Reaching blindly into the black of the closet you felt around, past the dozen unused coats, jackets, scarves, and hats your hand met the back of the closet wall. Sliding quietly until your fingers brushed the cold metal you were looking for.

Jackpot.

Fingers wrapped around your prize as you gave a firm but gentle tug. A pristine, adult-sized, bright red and creamy wood seat Flex Flyer sled emerged complete with an enormous red bow.

Stifling a giggle you set it down.

“What are you doing?”

A shriek tore out of your throat as you jumped what felt like twenty feet in the air.

“James Barnes,” you scolded, heart beating a million miles an hour. “What have I said about sneaking up on me?”

“You were being sneaky first,” he said, brows drawn together as he tried to look around you. “What you hiding doll face?”

“Nothing!” You lied, spreading your arms and legs to hide your surprise gift.

It was at that moment you heard the vibration from Bucky’s phone clutched in his hand, the man tried to not look sheepish as he not so covertly pressed the silence button.

Suspicion immediately filled you, “Bucky? What are you doing?”

“What are you doing?” He shot back, his brow knits in suspicion.

It was a standoff.

The two of you staring each other down in the dark of the hallway in your matching Christmas pajamas. Someone knocking on the front door startled you both before Bucky cursed under his breath, pointing at you, “Don’t follow me.”

His instruction surprised you as he brushed past you in the small hallway. You scoffed under your breath, “You’re in your PJ’s Buck, how far are you going?”

Bucky paused before going around the corner, “I mean it.” There was another soft but hurried knock and he cursed before disappearing.

A tisk of disapproval escaped you, but urgency filled your movements the second he was out of sight. Hands shaking slightly you hurried, pulling the sled out from the closet with as much silence as you could muster before dashing the Christmas tree. Stuffing the sled behind the tree, a few bulbs swinging back and forth as you fumbled to fluff the crumpled bow on Bucky’s surprise.

A cacophony of hushed grumbles and whispers came from the front door, you could have sworn you heard Sam as the door closed with a thunk and the lock turned. In a matter of seconds Bucky was coming around the corner again, an enormous gold box gripped in his hands affixed with a brilliant glittering green bow.

It was clear that Bucky didn’t see you immediately as he juggled the wobbly box and tried to remain quiet as he did so.

“Whatcha, got there?”

Bucky startled, socked feet skidding to a halt just at the corner of the couch as the box wobbled in his hands again. Frustrated and accusatory blue eyes narrowed, “What are you doing in here?” He asked in a hushed whisper.

“What are you doing in here?”

“You better not be shaking presents.”

“Please,” you scoffed. “I’ll have you know I haven’t shaken a present since I was ten. What’s in the box, Jamie?”

Bucky flinched a little, his one weakness was when you called him Jamie. His shoulders sagged a little as his grip on the box tightened, “This was supposed to be a surprise.”

“Oh I’m surprised,” you said with a laugh. The mantle clock began to ding for the early morning hour. Five AM came so early now. “Do you want to open our gifts now?”

Bucky pursed his lips, body jerking as the box tried to throw itself from his hands. “I think now is best.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach at the prospect of what the box could contain. But your eyes flitted over to the space behind the tree where you’d stuffed Bucky’s surprise and the anxious feeling grew tenfold as you thought about the question you were going to ask him once he’d seen it.

Clearing his throat Bucky nodded towards the Christmas tree and the traditional present opening space. Dutifully you sat down in the chair, eyes darting over behind the tree to where your gift sat. “Um, mine's not wrapped.”

“That’s alright,” he said, setting the box at your feet as it rattled all on its own now that it was on the floor. “Where is mine and we’ll do them on the count of three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers tapping the edges of your box. “Yours is behind the tree.”

You saw his eyes dart over to the tree and then back down to you, “On three.”

“Alright,” you agreed, fingers poised to rip at the bow on top of the gift. “One.”

“Two,” Bucky echoed, taking a step closer to the tree.

“Three!”

Your fingers began tearing at the bow on top of the gift box as it rattled against the floor. Pushing back the loose gold paper and terrible tape job before, POP!

Two of the most adorable brown eyes you’d ever seen stared up at you. You were stunned for a moment, staring down at the cutest little paws and wet nose you’d ever laid your eyes on.

“OHMYGODAPUPPY!!”

The shrieking sob spilled past your lips as you pulled the squirming pup into your arms, its tiny tongue licking and sniffing all over your face and mouth. Tears spilled from your eyes as the little bundle in your arms wiggled, squirmed, and kissed your face everywhere; its bottom wiggling so much they tumbled out of your arms and into your lap.

“Oh my god,” you blubbered, holding the precious little one to you. “Bucky! He’s so cute. Oh, it’s a she. She’s so cute, James. Oh god! Oh my god, I love her so much. I can't—I can’t believe this! This is real right? Do I get to keep her? Bucky?”

Looking up Bucky was angled away from you, the lights of the Christmas tree gleaming off of his arm as he held onto his new sled. His fingers found the tag as he stared at it in the dim lighting. 

He sniffled briefly before he began to read, “Roses are red, violets are blue, do me the—the honor—the honor of spending my life with you?”

Teary blue eyes turned towards you as you held the squirming puppy in your arms. “Doll,” he squeaked out with a sniffle as a few tears began to slip. “You…”

Looking up at him from your seat you reached into the side table drawer pulled out a distinctive black ring box and opened it. Inside, a single simple gold band that had Bucky’s breath catching.

“Will you,” you croaked out, clearing your throat a little more and juggling your new bundle of joy in your arms. “Will you marry me, James Buchanan Barns?”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he lowered the sled to the floor, and then himself. Bucky knelt before you, down on one knee, and reached forward towards the little puppy squirming in your arms. His fingers brushed against a tiny piece of string attached to the bow, you’d missed it but he lifted the dangling object for your inspection. A beautiful golden ring with what had to be the most enormous diamond you’d ever seen.

Your shocked watery gaze met Bucky’s impossibly blue eyes, “Only if you say yes too.”

The puppy leaped down from your lap, content to explore their new apartment as you slid down and onto Bucky’s lap. Arms wrapping around his shoulders and kissing him harder than you ever had before. Warmth blossomed in your chest as Bucky’s lips parted briefly with a light moan, kissing one another with dizzying urgency.

Gasping for air the two of you parted briefly, planting pecking kisses against one another lips.

“Is that a yes,” he husked, his hands sliding up and down your back.

“Yes, it’s a yes, Jamie.”

Grinning up at you, Bucky cradled you against him, “I didn’t know if you’d say yes.”

 “Of course I’d say yes,” you whispered, holding onto him tightly. “After all,  you did get me that puppy I’ve always wanted.”

A laugh escaped Bucky as he held you tightly and buried his face against your chest, his shoulders shaking in what could only be a relief, “Fuck, I love you so much.”

“I love you too, Blue-Eyes.”

END

[ja3hwa]

♡ 𝐒𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐁𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐞𝐝 | 𝐂.𝐒 ♡

Day Twenty - Priest/Demon Au

【Synopsis】 : There was a demon on the loose. Wreaking havoc in the small village that San was a priest in. And little did Father San know is that the creature was a lot closer than he would think.

『Word count』 :  4.03k

-> Genre: 18+ Supernatural. Angst. Gore. Suggestive.

Pairing: Priest!San x Female!Reader

[Warnings] : Swearing. Blood. Gore. Mentions of assult. Weapons. Demons and angels. Religion. Death. Making out. Sinning. Dirty thoughts. Thick flirtatious tension. Listen, I was deep in my feelings when i wrote this argh.

Note: Thank you to my dearest @skteezcursed for the help in this fic. Our late night brainstorms are always my favourite thing to do, hehe. ♡♡♡

Networks: @wonderlandnet @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity

Masterlist | Navigation | Kinktober list | Tip Jar ♡

San paced around his office, feeling himself grow more and more frustrated as the minutes progressed. He had been in this tiny, god-forsaken town for the past three months, searching far and wide, under every rock and pebble, and still, he was not any closer to finding this wandering demon. His agency had put him undercover as the new priest in the local church since sadly the old one had passed away from sudden circumstances, which San later found to be the said demon’s doing. He had hopes to find the creature and kill it before it hurt anyone else, but sadly, the challenge seemed bigger than he anticipated.

Placing his hands on the large spruce table, he takes in all his notes for the millionth time. The demon had a distinctive pattern, killing only men, twenty-five and over, locally born, ranging from all classes and backgrounds. But what did they all have in common? Why did the creature choose these men in particular? What was the trigger? San felt like he was about to rip his hair out if he couldn’t figure it out by the end of the fourth month. He slammed his hand down onto the table in a fit of rage. Feeling the heat shift into his spine at the thought, the demon could be anyone. That he had passed by it without knowing. It could stand right in front of him, and he had already probably missed it.

“Father…” Your sweet velvet tone snapped him from his thoughts. You were tightly holding onto your bible with one hand against your chest, prayer beads lacing through your fingers while your other hand held the large door open. Your expression was filled with innocence and worry. “I heard noises. I… Are you okay?” 

His heart skips at you, the sweet church girl, his face tainting a dusty pink ever so slightly. “Uh.. Yes. I'm just…working.” He rubbed the back of his neck, avoiding eye contact. He wouldn't admit it, but through these past months, he had fallen quite infatuated with you. Your smile began an addiction he sought out every day. 

Every early morning, you came into the church alone to pray before skipping to his office to ask if he needed any help. You were so kind and caring in welcoming him into the community. Making sure he had everything he could ever need shortly after he arrived. You were the only good thing to seemingly come out of this dull, mopey town. 

Looking at you cautiously step into the room, your eyes wandering to the decoration on the shelf that you had no doubt memorised already, an idea came flooding into his head. You were locally born, as far as he was aware. And you know of everyone, so maybe he needed to gather some intel from an inside source and who then, you, the sweet sunshine that cascaded over the grey hills of this village. “Actually… I would like to ask you a question.”

You stopped in your tracks to glance over at the man, showing no sign of any emotion. You were still, pondering even. Your eyes wide and curious but your lips held in a thin firm line. “Ask away, father.”

He almost lost the question from his shuttered tongue as he watched your mouth creep up into a loving smile. But alas, he cleared his throat, quickly looking down to graze over his notes. “I must confess something…”

Your body tingled in inquisitiveness, taking a step closer. “Yes…” you bit your lip slightly, fiddling with the beads in your tight grasp.

“I am not just a priest. I am a hunter of sorts.” He lifted up a piece of paper for you to take in your free hand, letting you look it over. The paper was old, aged marking the edges and face. It was information about demonology. Words that seemed to pop out the most on the page were ‘dangerous’, ‘demon’, ‘sinful’. This thing... This demonic creature was in your home, killing the men of your village. One by one.

“...So it’s true. There is devil work lurking in the town.” You gulped your hands, shaking slightly, handing the piece of parchment back to San. “Is anyone else aware of this?”

“No. You are the first and only person I’ll tell. This town doesn’t need to start going on witch hunts to try and find the creatures themselves.” San pinched his nose, just imagining it gave him a headache. He let out a sigh, picking up a few more sheets to place in front of you, "This is all I know. I was sent here to capture and eradicate the beast that has been luring men into the outwest woods. But for the life of me, I can't find the connection to all of the victims other than them being male."

You looked over all the names, reading each autopsy report carefully. Your mind to a thought, no, it couldn't be.. could it? Looking up at San, you gulped. "Umm, F-father."

"Please just call me San." He grunted, tugging on his white band around his neck, feeling himself grow hot being frustrated and also being near you.

"I think I know the connection..." You picked up another piece of paper scanning while San stared at you intensely, waiting for you to proceed. "The first five victims. They had been accused of misconduct prior to their deaths."

You pointed to one of the names showing San, "For example, John Hart, he was reported for beating his wife." You pointed to another name further down the list, "Edward Smith's wife called assault on his husband, saying he raped his daughter, but there wasn't any evidence."

You turned the paper back to yourself, raking your hand through your hair, "All of these men have either beaten, assaulted, and raped women or have been accused of it."

San slumped down on his seat in defeat. A conflict shadowing in his view. All these men were pigs. That was the connection. "Great, so I have a demon playing god and smiting men for misdeeds...perfect." he placed his palm on his face, groaning in annoyance.

"What are you going to do now, fath—I mean San?" You took a seat on one of the chairs opposite the deck, resting your bible down on your lap as you sat up straight.

San clicked his tongue, glancing at you for a moment. He wasn't going to lie to himself. The way you said his name was music to his ears. A tone he would never get tired of. But he shook his thoughts to look at the papers littering his desk. "We're gonna catch a demon.”

Following the next few days, every evening you and San would meet up to discuss the case while also slowly gathering materials for the trap. You had told San any more information you’ve heard or if you heard of any more allegations about any of the town's men. Luckily no one had spread any new rumours about anyone which was good, leaving you both to focus on the task at hand. Capturing and then eradicating the demon. One particularly cold evening, you and San had spent a little bit too long searching through town books, not taking any notice of the sun lying to rest. It was only when you started to feel the chill on your exposed arms that you gazed out the window, seeing nothing but pitch night.

“When did it become so late?” Your voice barely above a whisper. San, who was only a few feet beside you, looked up from the book in his lap, suddenly feeling the coldness creep down his spine. 

"We should call it a night." San slammed the book a little too harshly, making you jump. He caught your reaction but decided it was best to bite his tongue. Instead, he stood up, holding his hand out for you to take, "I'll walk you out."

You took his hand gently, your soft skin making him gulp. The touch of you was electrifying, like a thousand little fireworks going off at once in his chest. His fingers wrapped tightly around yours, tugging you up off the library floor, but his tug was a little bit forceful, causing you to be pulled flushed against his chest. Your free hand coming up to brace yourself on his chest. "F-father."

"I told you to call me San. Please. I'm just San." He whispered his breath, pooling against your cheek. He watched the blush taint your cute features, your eyes widening as he inched closer. You smelt firewood, vanilla, and a beautiful mixture of floral scents. You were intoxicating.

"San...We are still in the church." You murmured, eyes slowly fluttering as you let him creep closer until his lips were a brush away. Your hand that landed on his chest lowered, feeling his strong muscles underneath his robes.

"I know..." He grunted through his nose. He snaked his hand from your wrist to your upper arm before taking place on the back of your neck while his other found place on your hip. "We aren't doing anything sinful."

"Hmm, but your thoughts would say otherwise." You smiled.

"You have no idea what I'm thinking about." He chuckled, his lips brushing against yours.

"I could take a guess.” You closed your eyes, sealing your lips on his, feeling an overwhelment of sparks crackling down your spine. San grunted through his nose as the kiss became rougher. His fingers tangled into strands of hair on the nape of our neck, while he swallowed every whimper and moan from you. It was like you were a deliciously wicked sweet treat. 

Forbidden fruit he was not allowed to taste.

He couldn’t explain it but it was like you were the only thing that mattered the minute he met you. Like you were the puzzle piece he had been missing “S-san” You tried to pull away from him but his grip was firm on you, “We are going to…” You felt his tongue against your mouth, “Get..c-caught.” You couldn’t help but smile beneath the desperate kiss.

He finally pulled away, groaning in disappointment. “I know…” He sighed letting his grip loosen. Your hands snaked up his body gently before you pulled away entirely.

“Walk me out?” You suggested what he had asked moments prior. San couldn’t help but feel himself grow in his slacks as he gazed upon your swollen lips and dishevelled hair. You were stunning in every possible way. He walked with you to the front of the church, his hand grazing your own every time your arms swung a little too close to one another. San felt like a schoolboy all over again, walking next to the girl he had a crush on.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” San smiled bittersweetly, turning to face you completely. You faced him also, shyly looking up at him with your cheeks tainted red.

"Tomorrow, San." You gave him a soft smile. Your fingers tangle with themselves as you patiently wait for him to say goodbye first. 

"Well, sleep well. I'll see you tomorrow..." The way your name fell from his lips made your heart thump as you nodded, leaning up to kiss his cheek gently. He swore he felt a tingle dance from where you place your lips on his cheek. Walking off into the village towards your home, san never took his eyes off you until you were out of sight. 

"Lord..." He sighed, feeling himself breathing properly for the first time all day. He felt a twinge in his body at the loss of your scent, but alas, he had work to do if he wanted to catch this creature. But a part of him began to second guess himself. Yes, demons are bad, killing anything they want. But this demon. It had a reason. And a stupidly good one for that matter.

It annoyed him at the confliction. All demons are bad. Right? They lust for blood and chaos. Nothing more, nothing less. As he stepped back into the large church entrance, his mind spun from all the thoughts. Something was wrong with this whole thing. Something he had missed, maybe? Pinching his nose, he felt lightheaded. His fingers danced around his nostrils, suddenly gasping. "Blood?"

Looking up to the aisle in the middle of the church, he saw the moon start to pool into the room through the round window by the altar. And then, as he took another step, his mind snapped. His eyes clouded over with black, and he fell towards the floor.

He was out like a light.

When San awoke, he could feel the stiffness in his neck. He must have been out a while. Groaning, he held his head as he slowly sat up. But what caught him off guard was he wasn't sitting where he fell. He had moved? Looking around his fuzzy eyes, he noticed he was right on the altar, leaning against the lectern.

Looking around, he tries to get his bearings. Noticing the moon has reached its peak, shining through the top window, indicating it was almost midnight. He had been passed out for almost two or three hours give or take. But what caught his attention was the overwhelming smell of iron. He touched the top of his lip, feeling the blood from his nose had dried. But this blood smelt fresh like it was right behind him...

In horror, he turned his head to see the gruesome sight that anchored his mind in dread—a lifeless man strung up on the cross behind him, the body pallid and still. A choked gasp escaped him, slamming his hand over his mouth as the image in front of him flooded his conscience. He went to move, but that was when he noticed his legs were bound. He struggled against him, confusion spiralling into terror. What was going on?

Just then, the church doors creaked open, and a familiar figure stepped inside. It was you, but the tender girl he had come to love now had an aura that chilled him to the bone. Her once bright eyes were shadowed, and your skin was tainted in a light shade of pink. "San!!"

You ran over to him. This is when he could finally see you properly in the moonlight. Little horns poked from the top of your head. "San. I thought... You're okay." You sighed, your voice sounding different. It was smoother, seductive almost, lacing with an otherworldly quality.

"What is this? What’s happened?” he stammered, heart pounding painfully in his chest. You were a demon. A lust demon to be exact. He'd never met a succubus in real life before, but he knew what they looked like through details in his demonology. 

"I don't know. I got a letter saying you were hurt and needed my help." Your voice cracked as you reached for his bonds, but when your skin touched them, it stung, burning your skin. They were cursed? "W-who did this?"

"I could ask you that." San's bitterness caught you off guard. 

"W-what do..." You looked down and saw your hands were shaded in pink, and in a flash, you ran for the silverware on the table seeing your distorted reflection. "Y-you can see me..."

"Yes.." San replied coldly and conflicted. How could you, of all people be a creature of the damned. 

"San, listen, please. I'm not the demon you've been trying to catch, I swear." You kneeled back down to him, but he shuffled away, making your heart flinch. "I've watched you since the moment you came into this town. Your love, your promises, and your weakness. You want to save things. Not kill them. You are caring. That is how I fell in love with you.”

"Love? Demons can not do such things." San's voice felt like venom on your skin, making tears pool in your eyes.

"They...I can. I did. You changed that for me." 

“No, I—I thought you were human,” he gasped, memories of laughter and warmth filling his mind, only to be replaced by dread. He missed so many signs. From the smell of you to the way you had with words. You were using him.

"San, I wasn't, I swear to you. I might be a monster, but I've never hurt anyone." You interrupted his thoughts, shuffling closer, your presence both magnetic and terrifying to San. "Please, San, you have to believe me."

San wrestled with his emotions as the reality of your true nature engulfed him. Were the demon he had been searching for, cleverly disguised and lurking in the heart of the town, feeding on the very compassion and affection he thought in no way could lead to sin? Or were you telling the truth? Were you just an innocent creature caught in the crossfire?

Looking at you, he can see the swirls of pink and crimson mixing with your human eye colour. The sweetness he fell for was still there. "I believe you."

You jumped into his arms, tears spilling down your hit cheeks as you nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

As the church pulsed with an otherworldly energy, San realised he had known he made a daring choice—not to fight or falter but to embrace the truth of who he was, who you were. Life wasn't all black and white. There were beautiful shades of grey that he never took the moment to gaze at before. He took a deep breath, taking in your sweet familiar scent before pulling you up by your chin to stare into the eyes of the creature he thought he had fallen in love with.

"I was wrong about you. I'm sorry." He declared, a newfound resolve gripping his heart as he smiled at you. But before you could say anything, a new voice. A deeper one echoed in the cold eerie church.

“No, Father. You are wrong. But not for what you think.” The man's voice was a cruel tone, dark and chilling. Both of you snapped your gaze to him, seeing he was not alone. Two other men were trailing close behind him. "And here I thought you wouldn't succumb to her charms..." His face was finally revealed in the light. "My best hunter."

"Winlock?" San's voice was laced with confusion. His mentor? "What are you doing here?"

"Oh, San. For an expert hunter, you never really got the wit down, did you?" The man chuckled, making the other two follow suit like some perfect chimed robots. Winlocks gaze glances at the hanging corpse, still hammered into the cross. He couldn't help but click his tongue.

"You know it almost pained me to kill these men. But desperate times called for desperate measures." The older man cracked his knuckles as he paced slightly. You shuffled closer to San, cuddling desperately next to him. For the first time in all your life, you felt fear.

With all San's strength, he pushed against the ropes, his spirit igniting in defiance. In this moment of battle between light and dark, he defied the very nature of the demon that he loves and found the depths of the confrontation. He felt a flicker of the love he had for you, now intertwined with anger and betrayal from his mentor, another he had loved in a way. Whatever you were, he no longer cared. No, all he wanted was you safe. Little did you know, you could hear San's thoughts loud and clear, pooling into your brain like a tidal.

"We've been looking for her for years. Laying traps, but no matter what we did, she wouldn't take the bait. That was until we found out she wasn't like other demons..." 

Without dropping your eyes from the man, you placed your hand just over the bounds on San. You began to focus on the ropes, whispering an incantation in your head over and over. 

"She's also a witch." Winlock snarked, snapping his fingers. One of the men quickly made his way over to you while the other seemingly grabbed out a book from the satchel that hung over his shoulder.

"S-san. SAN!!" The man grabbed you by the horns, yanking you backwards before dragging you towards Winlock. You cried out, trashing against his hold. San went to stand, but the bounds were still tight, and no matter how many times he tried to grab the rope, it burnt him.

"Don't you fucking touch her!" San barked.

"Awe, San. You really are a stupid little boy." Winlock grabbed the book from his henchman, flicking through the pages with a cynical smile. "Out of everything you could have done. Falling for a beast was not what I thought you'd do."

"She's not a beast!!" San could feel a tear break in his eyes as he watched you weep in pain as the grip on your sensitive horns tightened. Your claws scratch at the man's hands, but he doesn't move as if he wasn't affected by his flesh being ripped by your sharp nails.

"Well, this was all fun and all. But I think we should call it a night. I gotta thank you, though, San. Without you, we would have never caught her." Winlock began reading a page from the book aloud, the enchantment caught your attention, making you do as much as you possibly could to look over at San.

Covered in blood, tears staining his sharp features. Your heart broke as you hiccuped, "I'm sorry, San. I...I love you." It might have been too early to say it, but you didn't know when you'd ever be able to say it again.

"No no no no. Please. I love you." He grabbed his bounds, his hand sizzling against the cursed rope, "Winlock, don't do this. She's not a monster... you can't."

Winlock did stop his incantation as the floor began to shake, and the night started to stir. That's when the man behind Winlock stepped forward with a thick leather band in his hand. The man that held you tilted your head to the side, giving access for the man to click the collar in place. That was when San knew what Winlock was doing to you. He was bounding you.

"I'll find you..." Your name rang in the air as San cried, "I'll find you and break you free."

It was your turn to cry, hearing his thoughts. There was no doubt in his mind, nothing but determination and honesty in his words. "I'll wait for you."

The sound of the book being slammed closed reverberated against the walls. Yours and Sans's eyes snapped back to Winlock seeing him pull out a gun, "You should have said that San." His voice was cold, with his eyes empty.

Silence fell as the fire from the gunshot rang in your ears. Blood spilled out of San’s mouth as he choked it all over the altar. You screamed, a noise so loud it would shatter the hearts in a mile radius. The floor beneath you shook, cracking before opening. The last thing you could see before the floor swallowed you whole was your lover, dying on the doorstep of the religion he so desperately trusted.

San laid on his back, the wound in his chest spluttering the crimson liquid into the carpet. He could see the moon above him. Feeling the light raze on his skin. His eyes closed for a moment, taking in the tingling feeling. There was no more pain. Sadness washed away with every drop of blood that fell onto the stairs, and then he whispered out a stutter before taking his last breath.

"Forgive me, lord... I have sinned.”

[honeyhoshi]

scarlet, starlet pt. 1

summary: mingyu intends to make his girlfriend's wishes come true — all of them.

this a part of the man of the match universe

genre: professional football (soccer) mingyu, idol oc, porn with a little plot

wordcount: 3,251

pairing: mingyu x afab!reader

warnings: DDlg kink, d/s themes, both parties are safe, sane, and consenting adults, afab reader, lots of mentions of female anatomy, reader is implied to be significantly smaller than mingyu, making out, dry humping, finger sucking, fingering, squirting, huge mingyu, big dick gyu (canon), slight cum play, cum eating, exhibitionism, unprotected sex (pls dont do it, its not worth it), spit kink (bec i wrote it), creampie (also bec i wrote it), size kink go bbrrrr, bulge kink, dirty talk

author's notes: yet another work written for my lovely @madeforgyu! this is just part 1 of her birthday gift and is a part of the universe we have lovingly poured soooo much time and effort in. wuv u and all of that!

The excitement that comes with a new album and a comeback sometimes gets lost in just how complicated AM♡RE’s schedule has become. In between having to do pre-recording as a whole team, music shows would request certain members to be part of other variety segments which allowed other members to rest or even take on other schedules.

This led to fussy 4AM pre-recording sessions then running back to the company office to film overseas interviews and just napping during the car rides to and from one venue or another.  By the time the whole team made it back to the KBS building for the live broadcast, the only thing fueling you was adrenaline and obligation. It’s a so-so way of celebrating your twenty-fourth birthday.

You try to shake it out of your system when you think of the cute pink drink truck that was parked by the entrance to the studio that your fans were enjoying. You think it could be a lot worse because you did catch a glimpse of the many birthday ads all over Seoul as you moved from one location to another.

But still, it could be better too.

With all the last minute activities and schedules being fit into every free moment you had in the past few weeks, it had been difficult to really set any celebration plans into stone with your boyfriend.

Your boyfriend.

A pout makes itself present on your face the second you start thinking of him. Having Mingyu around would make everything that wasn’t ideal about your birthday just simply melt away.

At this point, a message from him would suffice. You’re no stranger to receiving and sending messages at odd times but after Mingyu’s good morning message, all your other texts had gone unread.

You’re wracking your head if he had mentioned anything scheduled today but you come up with nothing because you can clearly remember that he said he was taking the entire day off to celebrate with you.

The thought sticks even as you’re being ushered on stage and you only really snap out of it as you find yourself in front of the crowd, the rest of your members bowing and waving before you have to take your starting positions.

You shake it off, thinking instead of how you’re sure a message from Mingyu will greet you the moment you step off stage.

You’re greeted by something far better than a text message when the music cuts and you’re trying to catch your breath.

A large smile is still plastered on your face as the thrill and joy of performing courses through you. The cheers fill you with warmth and satisfaction, hoping that you had given a good performance for the live show’s crowd, but a voice cuts through the usual noise of fans.

There’s a booming voice coming from the side stage and a “That’s my girl!” that sets every nerve on your body aflame in embarrassment and pride in equal measures.

It’s your boyfriend.

It’s Mingyu.

A bright smile splits your face and you can’t help the flush that paints your face pink as the rest of your members turn to see the afternoon’s special guest. With everyone on stage giggling and whispering amongst themselves with their lapels turned away from their mouths, even the crowd was starting to realize that something out of the norm was going on.

You make your goodbyes quick, giving deep bows of appreciation, but the excitement coursing through your body can’t be contained.

Once your leader has deemed you polite enough, offering you a sympathetic smile and nodding towards the general direction of the backstage area, you can’t move fast enough.

You briskly walk towards Mingyu who, despite his effort at dressing to be discreet, is still the most eye-catching person in the room. Standing tall and proud in the hustle and bustle of the music show staff is the top scorer of the Cheongdam Diamonds, offering you the most wicked grin.

There are so many eyes around you. Looks of jealousy, resentment, and also awe are no longer strange when either you or Mingyu are in the room. Having both of you present just meant all of the above, but a hundredfold. None of that matters to you at all when you let out a squeal and jump into his arms.

You don’t care. You’ve stopped caring. Let them see.

You can no longer count how many bad ideas have become good ones when Mingyu whispers them into your ear. You can’t even remember a time you’ve said no to him and his clever ideas. Not that you ever would really, especially when Mingyu always makes it worth your time.

 It starts innocently enough, as it always does with you and Mingyu.

The second you managed to drag him into your dressing room, locking the door behind him, you had peppered his face and mouth with as many kisses as you could as he giggled and whispered birthday greetings every time your lips parted.

In no time, Mingyu had managed to wrap your legs around his waist and was guiding you as you slowly rocked your hips down onto his. The friction was so delicious even through all the layers of your stage costume but you knew that this would hardly suffice for either of you.

“I fucking hate these shorts,” Mingyu says with a grimace as his hands find their way to your ass, upset to find the layer of your safety shorts standing in his way.

Mingyu has always hated it when he would reach down and find your smooth skin covered with a seemingly offensive piece of clothing. On most days you barely wore any underwear around the house, just the way he likes it.

You love the little look of annoyance in his face and trace the lines of his eyebrows as you sit pretty on his lap, “They’re there to protect me.”

Mingyu can only snort at that.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Imagine if we stopped wearing these, then everyone would see what’s yours, Daddy.”

You feel his frown relax underneath your finger, “We can’t have that now, can we?”

“Nuh-uh,” You answer, allowing Mingyu to guide your hips. Even through the stupid safety shorts you could feel how his cock was pressing against the zipper of his jeans and Mingyu always knew how to find the cleft of your center to ensure that you were grinding your clit onto him.

“Why’s that?” He whispers against your lips, tongue flicking out to lick at your upper lip for just a split second.

You bite your tongue at the pleasure slowly building up between your legs and how he’s teasing you with his tongue, “Because this is yours.”

He makes a face of faux confusion before asking, “What exactly is mine?”

“This pussy.”

“Good girl.”

In no time, Mingyu has you strip for him and you stand before him, completely devoid of your costume. In the back of your head you can already imagine the frustration of the staff member assigned to assist you with getting fully dressed again, but the look Mingyu gives you has you pushing the thought away.

He’s sprawled on the couch as if he owned it and you’re dying to fall to your knees between his spread legs, but the second you move to do so, Mingyu grabs your wrist to stop you.

“It’s my sweet girl’s birthday today, so we’ll do all the stuff you like,” He says, standing up and crowding you against the counters littered with different makeup brushes and pots of eyeshadow and powder puffs.

“But I want to suck your cock,” You state as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mingyu chuckles and you meet his eyes. You’re entranced.

“I know you do, love. But I don’t want you to bruise your knees when I’m dressing you back in that little skirt.”

He has a point and you frown, “How about tonight?”

He smiles as he brings three fingers up to your mouth, “Okay, I’ll even let you choke on it. Now suck on Dad’s fingers, get them nice and messy.”

You immediately let your mouth fall open and start to lap at the three fingers Mingyu offers you, savoring the salt of his skin and the rough pads of his fingers. If you tried hard enough you could pretend they were his cock, hard and smooth and so so delicious. Your little daydream has you salivating in no time, coating Mingyu’s fingers and lubricating them enough for what he’s no doubt about to do to you.

“Look at that little mouth go,” He marvels, “So small, three fingers can barely fit. Are you sure you can suck my cock?”

You’re shaken from your thoughts and immediately a look of distress spreads on your face, “Yes, it can fit! I can make it fit. You’ll make it fit, won’t you?”

Mingyu’s fingers are barely out of your mouth as you try to convince him. The look on your face makes Mingyu smile. It’s horrible and mean and you love it so much.

“Yeah, I’ll make it fit. I’ll make sure my baby will take it.”

You preen at the promise and wait in anticipation as he pulls his hands away from your lips and pressing his mouth against yours.

This kiss was not exactly a typical one. Instead of pressing your lips together, Mingyu licks into your mouth, his tongue bullying its way inside and pushing your own tongue out of the way. He runs this tongue against the roof of your mouth and against your teeth until you slowly start to press your tongue against his.

You groan in relief as he finally eases up to kiss you properly but tense up when you feel one of his hands grab at your left thigh to lift it up and prop it up on the counter. This position has you spread wide open for him. He loves it when he can see all of you.

The slick that’s been gathering between your folds is surely visible in this position and it makes you clench around nothing as Mingyu pulls away to survey you in this position.

“So so pretty,” He whispers underneath his breath, not even to you, just to himself, “Going to destroy this tiny pussy.”

That’s as much warning as you get before he presses two fingers into you at once.

Mingyu is bigger than most men in all aspects. He’s tall and broad, having put in so much time to get his physique to where it is now. His sheer size followed everywhere else. His fingers were long and thick and the press of two into your core has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

Whether it was his cock or his fingers, you knew to always expect a stretch. And you loved it.

“Sooo good, Daddy,” is all you can muster as Mingyu sets a punishing pace that has you trembling in his arms in no time.

Each curl of his fingers sent a jolt down your spine that had you inching closer to the edge despite how Mingyu had just started.

“My pussy is taking two fingers so well,” He says, “I think three would be even better.”

You hate that he pulls his fingers out but you’re immediately placated when he brings the two fingers to his mouth to suck your slick off of them.

He makes a noise of delight before removing his fingers and leaning down. For a second you think he’s going to eat you out but instead Mingyu spits out the saliva and slick he’s collected in his mouth and lets it drip down from your clit. 

He moves back to take in the absolutely debauched state of your pussy, smiling to himself, pleased at how messy he’s gotten you, before spreading the wetness with his soiled fingers.

“Are you ready for three, little girl?” He asks, almost mocking. You preen at the nickname and at the promise of the stretch of three fingers inside of you.

Even with the preparation he had given you, he punches a deep exhale from you and he pushes three fingers. The fit is so tight that you can feel how the rough pads of his fingers are. He always did refuse to wear gloves when he lifted weights. Now you want to thank him for it, because the friction inside you makes you want to scream.

It doesn’t help how slowly he’s going either. He’s relishing in how your walls wrap around his fingers, how you tighten up when he slips in a little further. And when he crooks his fingers just right, he can feel how you’re getting just a little bit wetter, slicker.

“You take me so good,” He whispers against your lips, so close it's almost a kiss.

You’re breathless though, mouth slightly ajar, waiting for his tongue to slither between your lips. He doesn’t make a move though aside from a cocky smirk and an arched brow.

Mingyu lets his fingers continue on with their noble job of getting you closer and closer to the edge. Each push and pull of his digits inside you set your nerves alight, but the delicate movement of his right hands make you want to die.

Even as he’s coaxing and orgasm with three fingers on his left hand, the fingers on his right are tracing delicate swirls and unrecognizable patterns along your inner thigh. Every now and then they’d go higher, just by the lips of your pussy.

The pace is much too slow for your liking and you’re worried that your absence would start to seem suspicious. You weren’t at Mingyu’s training center where everything is kept under lock and key with a very well written NDA. You were at Music Bank where staff members were nosy and there was surely another girl group member roaming the halls, praying for your downfall.

“Daddy, faster,” Is all you can manage in between kisses on Mingyu’s jawline, licking a stripe to taste the salt of his sweat and that underlying tinge of just him.

You don’t expect his free hand to come and grip the underside of your jaw, his fingers long enough to reach both sides of your cheeks. He applies just the right pressure to squeeze your cheeks and force your lips into a pucker.

It would be cute if not for the look on Mingyu’s face.

“This is a birthday gift, angel. Be good while I give it to you, hmm?” He says as he begins to pick up the pace.

In no time the pace is punishing, the only thing slowing Mingyu down is how each push of his fingers back inside of you required a stretch and each time your walls made space for him inside you, you let out a little whimper.

When Mingyu presses his thumb against your clit, adding to the already intense pleasure, you can barely keep it together. In no time you feel the telltale signs of an inevitable orgasm.

No matter the method, every single orgasm Mingyu has ever given you was mind blowing, and this would be no exception. You feel the wetness dripping down your ass before you’re comprehending what exactly has happened, having difficulty in processing the immense pleasure coursing through you, your eyes slipping shut at the feeling of cumming all over Mingyu’s fingers.

Your walls tighten around him, even as you spill into his open palm and he continues to push in and out, droplets falling to the floor beneath you and between his feet.

Mingyu’s eyes are fixed on your entrance as he keeps you filled, pleased with how stretched out you are, ready for him to just slip in.

He pulls his fingers out only to move them to cover your clit, gently rubbing, keeping you on the precipice of pleasure, not allowing you a moment to come back to Earth. You’re in that heady space only he take you.

“Eyes open, baby. Watch daddy fuck his cock into you,” Mingyu says with a light slap to your face.

He moves and lifts your other leg up, maneuvering your hands that are wrapped around him to hold yourself open, keeping you fully spread open and seated on the dressing room counter.

Mingyu grasps his cock and gives himself one, two, three pumps to ease the initial need for friction, before he taps the now leaking tip against your clit. A pearlescent drop of precum falls on the hood of your clit and you watch, helpless as he harshly swipes at it with his thumb.

You hiss at rough handling but are immediately silenced when he brings the thumb up and shoves it into your mouth. He presses down on your tongue as if to wipe the cum off his finger. 

He grabs a fistful of the hair at the nape of your neck and smashes your mouths together. You love the way even his mouth seems to hold dominance over your own. The movements, no matter how unruly, are still just the right thing to get you going once more.

“We taste so good together, huh?” He whispers after fucking your mouth with his tongue. He pulls away slightly and lolls out his tongue to let a thick wad of spit fall from his lips down to your center.

The impact of the warm liquid has your gaping hole clenching around nothing.

It pleases Mingyu so much that he forgoes all the other teasing he initially had in mind and just guides the head of his cock to sop up the spit on your pussy before pushing in to the hilt in one thrust.

The blissed out sigh that you let out set him on fire.

Gone is the idea of long, languid strokes to stoke the fire in your belly. Instead he goes with a punishing pace that has high pitched cries slipping from your mouth.

His hands find the thickness of your ass to keep you in place, his hips doing all the work of rearranging your guts. In this angle and position, he can see how the head of his cock bulges in your abdomen slightly. It if was possible, he would have gotten harder.

Having already been so sensitive from hardly being able to come down from your first orgasm, Mingyu’s actions had you reeling into your second one in no time.

“My princess deserves to come already,” Mingyu says, slightly breathless, leaning his forehead on yours “Dad wants this pussy to never let him go.”

You nod in agreement, “It's yours forever. I love you.”

It almost seems pathetic for him to cum at those words, but it's a spectacular orgasm as he pulls out until only the head of his cock is inside you before he slams his hips flush to yours and letting himself flood your pussy with his cum.

You’re delirious as he keeps you steady,  pulling out so slowly to make sure you keep every single drop of him inside of you.

“Keep it in until you get home,” He says, “I want to slip right in the second you get through the door and still feel me inside you.”

You press your lips to his once, twice, and a third one for good measure before nodding excitedly.

“It’s your gift to me. I won’t let a single drop go to waste.”

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 GUYS I JUST READ THE CUTEST FAN ACCT FROM TODAY'S MUBANK WTFFFF

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 There's a special guest at today's live performance!! After the Midas Touch recording there was a really loud and DEEP cheeer coming from backstage. The members were all looking to see who it was ijbol!!

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 Ahreum was so happy when she figured out who it was that after bowing and greeting fans she left the stage but her mic was still on!!

huhu our baby was probably so happy and giggly as she always is! the op of the fan acct thinks its Mingyu!!

thank you Mingyu for loving and taking care of our precious Ahreum! 🥹🫧🩷

remy @ahreumtouch • may 8 CONFIRMED WTFFFFF 😭😭😭 Mingyu was seen leaving Music Bank today!!

SIR U R A FOOTBALLER U HAVE NO REASON TO BE AT MUSIC BANK IF NOT FOR UR IDOL GF!!

[stayinlimbo]

Unsaid (Not Unwritten)

pairing: lee minho x gn!reader genre/warnings: established relationship, hurt/comfort, previous communication issues being resolved, mentions of not feeling loved, forgiveness because they do actually love each other, like one swear word lmao, self-indulgent af because i have free will word count: 0.6k note:  is this based off a true story? yes. what's the moral? communication requires effort but is so worth it. i feel like i couldn't portray this fic in the way i wanted to but i tried my best ♡

Minho’s front door is chipping. That’s to be expected, considering the apartment complex is ancient, and his landlord is unwilling to give the place a much-needed paint job. You’ve never really taken the time to inspect the old wood or notice the small patches of discoloration, revealing the original color scattered along its expanse. You’ve never hesitated to knock on his door, either.

Stalling the inevitable is pointless; you know that. However, it doesn’t stop you from hesitating, hovering a fist inches away from the very door you’ve stood in front of for the past five minutes. The carefully folded piece of paper crinkles in your other hand, tightly gripped by your side as you take a steadying breath to calm your thumping heart.  

Eight rhythmic knocks echo against the wood. There’s no going back; he’s sure to know it’s you now.

Ten seconds, twenty seconds, thirty seconds. The wait has never been so daunting. There’s no one else in the hallway to see you rocking back and forth on your heels—no one to see your cautiously optimistic gaze glued to his door.

Forty seconds. Maybe he needs to prepare himself before he sees you. Fifty seconds. Or maybe this was a bad idea. You can feel yourself physically deflating. Maybe he doesn’t want to see you yet. One minute. But what if he didn’t hear you? Should you knock again? There’s no harm in trying.

You raise your fist again, and the door creaks open. 

You quickly shuffle backward a couple of steps in surprise, retracting your hand back down to your side. Minho peeks his head out of the door, his downcast eyes slightly widening and then squinting when they meet yours.  

Minho opens the door further, shuffling around the entryway to face you directly. He scans over your disheveled figure, a small consequence of rushing over to his place and taking the stairs instead of the elevator, with a pensive look. “What—“

“I’m sorry,” you say, cutting him off and watching his lips part in surprise. “I’m sorry I haven’t been making you feel as loved as you deserve.”

Minho slowly nods, his gaze softening and brows quirking up in a way you know it’s okay to continue. You give him a small smile, closing the distance between you until you’re less than a foot away from him. 

You grab his hand, gently turning it upward, and place the folded paper in this palm. “Because I do love you, even if I’ve been communicating it in a really shitty way.” 

Minho looks down at the paper, scribbled writing peeking out from the interior, and back at you in question. 

“I’m not good at verbally telling you how I feel, so I tried writing down everything I could,” you murmur, seeing a look of astonishment cross your boyfriend’s face. 

“Can I read it now?” Minho asks, smiling as he flicks his gaze between you and the letter. 

You lightly shrug, trying to ignore your warming cheeks. “If you want to.”

Minho unfolds the letter, bringing it closer to his face. You wait with bated breath, wringing your fingers in front of you as your boyfriend’s eyes trail over the letter you poured out of your heart and soul. 

“If you don’t like it, you can burn it,” you say, half-joking. 

Minho snaps his head up at your voice. “Do you mean it? Do you mean everything you wrote?”

“Of course, I do, dummy,” you laugh, sending him what you’re sure is the epitome of a lovesick smile. “I love you.”

Minho crosses the door’s threshold, wrapping his arms around your waist as yours simultaneously wrap around his middle. 

“I love you, too,” he whispers into your neck, pressing plush kisses along the skin. “Thank you.”

liked this work? want to let me know how i did? please like, comment, and/or reblog; they are greatly appreciated my asks are always open ♡

taglist : @linospuddin @linocz @spicyhyunn @inlovewithstraykids @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21

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[roosterforme]

Deployment Sucks but I Swallow | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley was used to having your undivided attention when he was about to leave for a long deployment, because you'd been spoiling him that way for years. When you spent the day with your friends and got home late instead, he wanted to be annoyed, but everything you do is just too sweet. 

Warnings: Fluff, language, oral, Rooster loves getting blowjobs from his wife, 18+

Length: 3200 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Check out my masterlist for more. Banner made by @thedroneranger

"Seriously?" Bradley muttered as he sat on his living room couch all alone with a beer in one hand and the remote in the other. This was his last night at home for the next four months, and you should have been here with him. You said you were having a late Sunday brunch with some friends and then coming home, but now it was dinnertime. He would be boarding an aircraft carrier tomorrow, Valentine's Day, at five in the morning, and he wouldn't be home until June. And yet you were still out with your friends while he stared at the enormous bouquet of roses on the coffee table that he got for you.

Every time he took a sip of his beer, the flash of his gold wedding band made him even more irritated. You'd never been like this in the past. Even before you and he got married, you would make a big fuss over him for several days leading up to his departure. He'd gotten used to that special treatment. He literally thrived when you used to run your fingers through his hair and tell him over and over again how much you were going to miss him the night before he left. And now that you weren't here in his lap, loving all over him, he was actually kind of pissed off about it.

He dug his phone out of his pocket, unlocked it, and tried his best not to be too snarky when he texted you again. 

Do you think you'll be home soon?

He waited twenty-one minutes for a response as the sky outside darkened even more and his patience waned further. "You're spoiled," he admitted out loud. But it was completely all your fault, because you'd overindulged him with your love for so long that now he was pouting when you finally wrote back.

On my way! I'll pick up dinner!

He groaned. If you were going to stop for food, it would take you even longer to get here, but he hadn't made anything, because he thought you'd have been home hours ago. So he texted you back the one thing that he knew would get his irritation across.

Fine.

But even that didn't seem to do anything, because you were all smiles when you floated through the front door thirty-four minutes later with a cardboard box in one hand and a bag from his favorite takeout place in the other. And you looked to damn gorgeous, he felt his resolve slipping. 

"Sorry I'm so late!" you said with a laugh. "I had such a long day."

Bradley tracked your movements from the couch with narrowed eyes. "Yeah. Me too. I thought you'd be home five hours ago."

"I completely lost track of time," you told him as your eyes settled on the roses. "Are those for me?"

"Happy Valentine's Day," he mumbled with a shrug, annoyed by the way his heart skipped a beat when you smiled at him like he was your only source of happiness in the world. But he couldn't bite his tongue as you set the box down and brought the food over to him with a smile. "What did you do after brunch? You were gone forever."

You nibbled on your lip as you ran your finger along one of the rose petals. "I was hanging out with Erika Fitch and Morgan Floyd for a little bit. We went to Erika and Reuben's house. I'm really sorry it took so long."

Bradley wanted to keep pouting and being cranky, especially since it sounded like Payback got to see more of you on Bradley's last day before deployment than he did. But when you bent to smell the flowers before dropping the takeout bag onto the table, you moaned his name softly before easing yourself down onto his lap. 

"Baby," he whispered, melting into your touch as soon as your fingers were in his hair. And then your lips found his, and he wasn't sure why he'd been so upset with you. You felt perfect in his arms, and you smelled sweet.

"I love you, Bradley," you whispered, and he buried his nose against your neck and inhaled. 

"You smell so fucking good," he moaned. "So sweet. Like candy. Delicious."

"Do I?" you asked coyly, raking your fingers back through his hair. "Or did you just miss me all day?"

"Baby, you know I'm spoiled," he groaned as you reached for his jeans zipper. "I wanted to spend the afternoon with you. I'm leaving tomorrow. For four months this time." 

"I know. I didn't give you enough attention today, did I?" you whispered as you eased the zipper down. "I'm really, really sorry. I wanted to, but I got sidetracked making you something sweet. I always want to be with you on your last day at home."

He kissed along your neck and breathed in the incredible scent again. "You made me something sweet? You smell like something sweet. Makes me want to taste you everywhere."

Bradley could hear the smile in your voice as he licked your collarbone while you eased your hand inside his underwear and wrapped your hand around his cock. "Your dinner will get cold if you don't eat it now," you whispered. 

"I don't care. I want my wife."

You moaned his name again, and that sweet scent was everywhere. "Then take me to bed, Lieutenant Bradshaw." Bradley's senses were filled with you as he carried you into the bedroom, and he swore he could smell chocolate as he undressed you. Your skin was extra sweet, and the scent clung to your hair.

"I don't know how you've made me this crazy for you," he whispered as he yanked his shirt off, "but I swear you smell like chocolate. Everywhere."

You giggled as you started to pull his jeans down, kneeling in front of him. "I know it's your favorite kind of snack."

"Incorrect," he grunted as you licked his cock before he stepped out of his pants and underwear. "My wife is my favorite kind of snack."

You took him between your parted lips and sucked on him like a lollipop before you whispered, "You're allowed dessert before dinner tonight."

Then Bradley had you underneath him in bed, your hands pinned to the pillow above your head as he licked your neck. "Next time I'm leaving, I want you with me all damn day. No brunch. No hanging with the girls."

You moaned his name as he slipped himself inside your wetness. "Anything you want. Anything."

He pressed his lips to yours as he filled you completely. "I want you."

--------------------------

Leaving the house with you at four in the morning on Monday was hard enough for Bradley, but the way you clung to him in the Bronco while he drove was making it so much worse. You had that box you brought home with you yesterday at your feet while he steered through the silent darkness. 

"I'm going to miss you so much," you whispered as the aircraft carrier came into view. "Four months is such a long time."

He was just happy you got home at dinnertime last night and let him love you nonstop. He hadn't stopped touching you long enough to reheat his dinner until almost midnight, and even then, you were nearby. Right now he was exhausted, but he'd have ample time to catch up on sleep when he didn't have his perfect wife with him.

"These four months are going to suck," he whispered as he parked near the docks, happy he'd given himself extra time to hold you before he had to board the carrier. "Happy Valentine's Day, Baby." When you unbuckled your seatbelt and crawled toward his lap, he groaned. "You still smell like chocolate."

"Do I?" you whispered with a smile as you wrapped your arms around his neck. 

With his nose buried in your hair, he asked, "Is it a new perfume or something? Because I definitely don't hate it."

Your soft laughter filled the interior of the Bronco as you shook your head. "No, it's not perfume. It's actually chocolate. I told you I made you something sweet."

Bradley was nibbling on your ear, his cock twitching in his khakis as your thigh pressed against his length. "What did you make?" he mumbled mindlessly, but then you were pulling away from him. He was scrambling to keep you in his lap where he wanted you, but you were leaning down to grab the box from the floor. You set it on the passenger seat and smiled at him as you reached inside. 

"I made you candy bars," you said, handing him a thick piece of sweet smelling chocolate that was wrapped up in clear plastic. "Sixteen of them. One for each week that you'll be gone."

Bradley examined the candy in his hand and smiled as he looked up at you. "It says World's Best Husband on it."

"That's because you are," you told him, kissing his cheek. "Happy Valentine's Day. I'm going to miss you so much."

He was sure he was starting to blush in the predawn darkness as you handed him another one that said I'm So Sweet On You. "Oh," he whispered. "Erika and Morgan helped you make these yesterday, didn't they?"

"Yes," you told him as he tipped the box to look inside at the rest. They were all unique with white candies used for the lettering. He picked up one that said I Love Rooster and another that said Thinking About You. 

"I love these, Baby. Thank you," he muttered as he kissed your chin. "I'm sorry I got snippy with you last night."

You ran your fingers through his hair just the way he liked and said, "The girls and I didn't think it would take so long to make them. I wanted to be home with you all day yesterday. I promise."

He wrapped his left arm around you and pulled you snug against him as he pulled one more candy bar out of the box. When he read it, he smirked and held it up for you to read, too. His voice was deep as he asked, "Did you really make me a candy bar that says Deployment Sucks but I Swallow? In front of the girls?"

You bit your lip and wiggled yourself around on his lap, clearly knowing what that would do to him. "Reuben and Bob saw it too. I've never seen Bob blush so much in my life."

Bradley's cock throbbed against you, somehow even more turned on by the fact that his friends knew you were thinking about sucking him dry. "Fuck," he grunted, running his thumb over the letters that spelled out his dirty Valentine's Day message. He glanced around and found that while other cars had started to arrive, it was still pretty dark outside. So he looked you in the eye with one eyebrow raised and rasped, "Why don't you prove it?"

You took the bar from him and set it back in the box with the others. "Right here?" you asked, running your hands down his khaki shirt and over his pins as you leaned in closer to him. Your lips were skimming the scars on his neck as you added, "Right now?" But he could tell you were absolutely into the idea as your fingers found his belt while you kissed your way up to his ear. "I would love to."

You were moaning softly as you opened the fly of his uniform pants and carefully pulled his hardening length free. Bradley eased the seat back as you worked your familiar hand slowly up and down his length, making him jump in anticipation as he kissed your lips. Another car parked directly across from him, and you were illuminated by headlights as you moved the box from the seat back to the floor and ducked down. 

"Fuck," he grunted, tucking his hands behind his head as the headlights went out and your lips met his cock. "God, you're such a good girl." You were stretched across the seat on your belly, and he could already tell you were going to take your time, just like he wanted. There was a full thirty minutes left with you after all. The Bronco smelled like chocolate, and your mouth was warm around him as he whispered, "Nice and slow."

You moaned in agreement, nodding your head as you took him deeper and deeper. Bradley's head tipped back as he inhaled and exhaled slowly. You dragged your thumb down gently between his balls as he tapped the back of your throat, and you held him in place for a few beats. Now he was starting to doubt that he could last as long as he wanted to when you felt this incredible. He felt you gag softly as you started to ease back, and he could see stars at the edges of his vision. 

"Holy shit."

When you withdrew him, he could feel your saliva dripping down his length onto his pants. You licked at his tip and rubbed soft circles along his balls with your fingertips. You knew just how he wanted it, and he was like melted chocolate in your capable hands and mouth.

When you popped him free, your voice was soft and needy. "You better think of this when you eat that candy bar," you whispered, glancing up at him as his length rubbed your cheek.

Bradley let one hand drift down to the back of your neck. "I always think about you, but I'll be thinking about this on replay, Baby. Sweet chocolate and blowjobs from my wife."

You giggled as you took him between your lips again, and the soft vibrations had him thrusting up for more. His fingers were digging into your neck a little bit as he tried to get control of himself while you bobbed. Someone walked past the Bronco as he moaned, but he literally couldn't care less. The back of your head had never looked so appealing before as you got sloppier, every thrust met with wet sounds that only made him throb. 

He was gripping his own hair now as well while you pushed his hips back against the seat. "Baby," he whined as you treated him to the swirl of your tongue at the base of his cock. "I'm gonna miss you."

You nodded and moaned again, and Bradley reached out to grip the steering wheel in an effort to keep himself still while you worked your magic. With every tap of his cock against the back of your throat, his balls tightened until it was almost painful. "No, no, no," he whispered. "Not yet." 

You responded by slowing your pace incrementally, dragging your lips along his full length and sucking until he popped free. "But you taste so good," you whispered up at him with a grin. "I want you to come in my mouth."

He shook his head, mesmerized by you as you nuzzled your face against his cock and balls. "Jesus," he groaned, reaching for the back of your head and stroking your hair. "You wanna taste me?"

"Mmhmm," you hummed loudly in the small space as he shoved his cock between your lips. 

"You better swallow it all down," he grunted. "Just like you promised."

With your hands wrapped around his base, you squeezed him gently, sucking just right as you ran your tongue back and forth. He was grunting unintelligibly, hips jerking off the seat slightly as his head fell back against the headrest. 

"That's my girl. That's my girl," he whined, doing his best to keep his hand gentle against your head as you took him right up to his orgasm. Then you removed your hands, and as soon as you took him deep, your lips brushing his pubic hair and his balls, he came. "Baby!" he moaned, thrusting gently as you sputtered. He didn't want you to waste it. He wanted you to get every single drop. 

Bradley tipped his head forward and watched you swallow him down as you made sweet little sounds, the smell of the chocolate bars still in the air. You licked around his tip and cleaned him up as your gaze met his, and Bradley whispered, "I love you so much," as he caught his breath.

"I love you, too," you promised him as he pulled you back up to sit on his lap. Bradley tasted his cum in your mouth when he kissed you and cradled you against his body. "I'll miss you like crazy, and I'll be living for your calls. And I can't wait to spoil you when you get home again."

You kissed him all over his face as he whispered, "I love how much you've spoiled me. I'll be thinking about you nonstop, Baby."

A few minutes later, Bradley wiped away your tears and kissed your cheeks one last time before he boarded the aircraft carrier, and he watched you disappear into the distance with the dock as the sun rose behind you. He had one candy bar for every week he'd be away from you, and he couldn't wait to read the rest of them once he got to his bunk.

----------------------------

You were waiting very impatiently on the dock for your husband to join you on dry land once again. Your palms were sweating as you held onto two candy bars all wrapped up in plastic, hoping they wouldn't melt too badly. You texted him to let him know where you were standing, and now you just had to wait. And wait. You'd already gone four months without him, so this was just cruel. 

Every facetime call had been the highlight of your week while he was away. Bradley had been sure to tell you which candy bar he'd enjoyed that week, laughing about what you'd written on all of them. One time, he even ate the bar that said Hottest Guy in the Navy on it while he talked to you. 

You couldn't wait to take him home and spend days catching up with everything you and he had missed while you were apart. But first you needed to be in his arms. Then you heard him calling your name, and you almost dropped the candy bars as your husband made his way toward you. 

"Bradley!" you shouted, and then you were in his arms, and his lips were on yours. You wrapped your arms around his neck, careful not to drop his treats. "I missed you!" 

"I love you, Baby," he rasped, kissing his way back to your ear. "How the hell do you still smell like chocolate?" he asked, and you erupted into giggles. 

"Because I made you more candy bars," you told him as you found his lips with yours again. 

He kissed you until you were breathless, and then he pressed his nose to your cheek as he said, "I'm so damn spoiled. What did you make for me this time?" You smiled and held up the two candy bars, and he read them out loud. "I still suck.... Want me to prove it?"

Bradley's brown eyes went wide, and his crooked grin left you giddy. "Well?" you asked. "Should we go home so you can find out for sure?"

"Hell yes," he whined, hauling you and his bag and the candy toward the parking lot. "My deployment sucked, but you suck so much better, Baby."

----------------------------

Happy Valentine's Day! It's not my favorite holiday personally, so I thought I'd make Bradley stress a little bit. Make sure you hug an aviator today! Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

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[wttcsms]

if you feel like falling (catch me on the way down) | TWO

ᝰ.ᐟ after getting your heart broken by professional soccer player, rin itoshi, all because he loved the game more than you, you officially swear off all men — especially athletes. your publicist doesn’t get that memo, though, and you find yourself roped into a fake relationship with yoichi isagi, who isn’t just a pro soccer player, but also your ex’s rival. things could get messy. ( fem!reader )

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pairing yoichi isagi x reader (endgame), past! rin itoshi x reader word count 5.9k chapter synopsis the busier your schedule, the less time you can spend thinking about rin. the only problem is, you see something you can't unsee. nothing a bottle of tequila can't fix, right? (spoiler: tequila isn't fixing a broken heart) chapter contains partying and drinking to cope, diet culture author’s notes i have nothing to insightful to add rn, but send me any asks discussing this fic and i will have a lot to say LOL

From: fumiko.gima@apextalentgroup.com To: [USER EMAIL HIDDEN] Cc: wfitch@everlanefitch.com, mai.sasaki@apextalentgroup.com, hideakitakeda@titansecuritysolutions.com, benji1968@gmail.com + 3 others Subject: 6/19 — [NAME] [SURNAME] AGENDA Attachments: 📎 [6.19 AGENDA.pdf]

All — 

Attached is the PDF copy of [Name]’s itinerary for today. Reminder that these times are STRICT. Stay on schedule. 

Fumiko Gima

Get Outlook for IOS 

Your first alarm goes off at 4:50 AM to what you assume is the noise they play on repeat in hell (By the Seaside, an Apple classic). After waking up, you roll over in your king size bed (the problem with always choosing to go big instead of just going home is the fact that when you’re all alone, the luxury of extra space just becomes empty space) to promptly hit the snooze button. You’ll allow yourself five more minutes of sleep (as a treat). When the second alarm you set up goes off at 4:53 AM (By the Seaside, once again), you scream into your pillow, and shut it off for real this time. You knew you weren’t going to give yourself the full five minutes, but it felt really good to trick yourself into believing that you would. You always start the day with this tiny disappointment; that way, no one has the privilege of being the first person to piss you off. 

At 4:54 AM, you slide your feet into your Ugg slippers, readjust the loose straps of your silk camisole, and shuffle into your marble-floored bathroom. You rub the sleep from your eyes, brush your teeth with your pink electric toothbrush, and wash your face. By the time you’re done with your morning skincare, it’s 5:06 AM. You honestly can’t remember the last time you did your own makeup, but you bring your makeup bag with you anyway. If there’s downtime between shoots, you’ll post a faux-GRWM TikTok where you apply three miniscule dots of concealer on your seemingly already flawless skin and add a fresh layer of the brand new, limited edition Rhode peptide lip treatment that Hailey Bieber’s team gifted you. They also gave you twenty grand to do so, with a personal “hey girlie, would love to catch up with you one of these days!! life has been so hectic, sorry for not keeping in touch x btw, i just came out with a new shade of my…” text from Hailey herself. (You replied back with a “yessss, we need to meet up soon!! Also, LOVE LOVE LOVE the new shade omg 😍” — neither of you have any intention for planning a meet-up, and you don’t “LOVE LOVE LOVE” the new shade as much as you “LOVE LOVE LOVE” to deposit a fat check.) 

You’re sliding into the backseat of the glossy black SUV parked in front of your driveway at 5:14 AM. Your chauffeur, Benji, holds open the door for you. 

“Good morning, Ms. [Surname],” Benji never drops the formalities with you, except for when he’s lecturing you. Thank God he doesn’t own a smartphone; if he saw half the things Daily Mail wrote about you, his voice would be gone from scolding you so much. Even if he’s technically on your parents’ payroll and is paid to make sure you get to and from places safely, it still feels nice to have someone who cares about you enough to call you out on your shit. 

The first stop is an exclusive, members-only pilates studio. If you’re home, you have to work out in the morning, no matter what. You like your routine. Out of all the things online magazines put out about you, it’s kind of embarrassing how the most accurate one is revealing how you stay “fit ‘n flawless even after going out every night.” Most people didn’t believe it. Rin got it, though. Rin would actually work out with you, when the two of your schedules aligned, and— Time to start your workout early! Nothing takes your mind off of matters more than focusing on the burn of your core and arms. 

By the time you finish your private session, you’re walking out the studio with your puffy tote bag slung over your shoulders. Your body is still a bit damp from taking a quick shower but not drying off properly, and Benji drops you off at your first business stop of the day — ELLE Japan.

You smile brightly as the team of makeup artists surrounding you shower you with compliments. One of the girls brushing on your foundation tells you that you have really nice skin. When she goes in for a second layer, you almost consider rescinding the thanks you gave her.

The set is hectic, as expected. No matter how long these people have been in the industry, no matter how big the host is, something always seems to be going wrong. Apparently, there’s been a mishap over in wardrobe, and ELLE’s people are not very happy with how this is going to delay everything. With your hair and makeup done, there’s nothing for you to do besides sit down, be quiet, and look pretty. 

Downtime is the last thing you want. You’re used to a busy schedule, but you convinced Fumiko to accept as many projects as possible. If you have to rank at the top of the list for celebrities who emit the most CO2, then so be it. You’ll pollute the whole damn planet if it means you won’t have a single second to be alone with your thoughts. 

At 9:00 AM sharp, you go on your phone to inform your manager that the agenda is fucked. ELLE Japan is definitely going to push back this session with you for at least a good hour, which means Fumiko is going to have to explain to Your Style (the YouTube channel name for a famous fashion commentator who’s amassed nearly twenty million subscribers) why you’re going to be late for the Zoom debrief on what you two are going to talk about in an upcoming video. At 9:02 AM, you receive a text.

juli ᡣ𐭩: u know i love u 

It’s two in the morning in Paris. When Juliette said she was going to visit her father, she said it was going to be a much-needed vacation — just something chill and lowkey, like going to all the designer stores and eating croissants on a balcony. Those were her exact words. 

juli ᡣ𐭩: [photo attachment] 

Somehow, from the neon strobe lights, bodies pressed against one another’s, and the way the image is blurry because she couldn’t get her phone to focus, it feels like Juliette’s “something chill and lowkey” morphed into club-hopping all over France. You roll your eyes with affection. You should’ve known her vacation was going to turn into this; as if Juliette would eat bread for pleasure — she’s been quoted for claiming that carbs are a necessary evil. She probably hasn’t even touched a croissant for the past week she’s been there.

juli ᡣ𐭩: showing u before TMZ posts it juli ᡣ𐭩: [video attachment] juli ᡣ𐭩: do not freak out. not worth it. juli ᡣ𐭩: ugh i knew this club sucked ass for a reason 

You wait for the video to load. It’s almost as blurry and unfocused as the original image she sent, but you can tell she had to zoom in pretty hard to capture what she wanted. It’s two figures with a minimal amount of space between them. One of them is definitely a girl; she has the build of the usual French models. A thin, leggy brunette who has mastered the intricate art of Just Had Sex hair. Perfectly messy, but could never be considered sloppy. She’s wearing a sparkly, tight minidress. The fabric shimmers when the strobe lights pass by her body. The person she’s practically pressed up against is a man. Tall, lean. He’s leaning down, presumably so he can hear her better. When the video clip ends abruptly (someone bumped into Juliette, and the video ends with shaky footage and a loud “putain!”), you replay it. And replay it. And then you play it again, just for good measure.

Each time you watch the stupid video, you find something new to notice. Her red lips brushing against his ear. The way his hand hovers near her hip. The way you’re certain she’s smiling when she speaks, like the smirk of a victor. The exact same self-satisfied, smug grin you sport whenever you get a guy right where you want him. Upon every rewatch, though, one thing remains the same: you’re constantly fixated on him.

Right now, it’s two in the morning in Paris. You know that when you weren’t in this fucked up headspace you’re in right now, you’d be in bed, snuggled underneath your blankets, by 11:30 PM. You know that when you felt your best, you could be in bed, whispering in the dark to the person you felt safest with, at 10:00 PM (at the latest, because you both would have a busy day ahead and needed the rest). He likes sleeping early because he likes being well-rested. 

So why the hell is Rin Itoshi at a club right now?

At 9:39 AM, ELLE Japan gets right back on track. Before your editorial shoot for a special anniversary edition of the magazine, they get you to sit down to do a video interview that they plan on posting all over their social media. 

“This is a very special edition that will be coming out, and you are not only having the biggest spread dedicated to you, but you’re also going to be on the cover. Knowing this, how are you feeling right now, [Name]? This might be the most high-profile photoshoot you’ve done so far in your career, and that’s saying something. You have quite the impressive resume.” 

The ring lights are shining directly in your eye. The stool they have you sitting on for this interview is uncomfortable, and you have to focus on remaining balanced. Your back is perfectly straight, and your hands are folded in your lap. You blink, and you see the video playing in your mind. You have God knows how much makeup caked on right now, and you still have a long day ahead of you. Rin is at a club right now. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl. Rin is at a club right now, with a girl, and they’re basically grinding against each other, and he might just have forgotten all about you.

You smile brightly. At 9:40 AM in Japan, you let everyone know, 

“I honestly think I’m the happiest I’ve ever been before in my life! This is a great way to establish a sort of, I guess, new era of my life and my career.” 

You turn to face the camera directly, giving them a dazzling view of your pearly whites. “Not trying to rush the process or anything, but I am definitely looking forward to seeing how this will all play out in the future.” 

You’re operating on autopilot for the rest of the day. The ELLE shoot wraps up close to noon. You forgo lunch, but knowing you and your tendency to skip meals, Benji refuses to start the car until you eat the lunch his wife packed for you. It’s light and refreshing — they want you to eat well, but they’re not cruel. Even if they want to bring you a feast of a nice, hot, home cooked meal, you’ll eat it out of obligation and then suffer the consequences on set when everyone asks why you’re so bloated. You don’t even taste what you’re consuming. 

At 12:30 PM, you hop on the Zoom call and pretend to care about discussing matters such as the lack of personal style affecting the younger generations. Every topic is a trivial topic to you. The only thing worth dissecting is that damn video. You should’ve asked those twenty million subscribers to help you analyze that, instead of nodding along when the YouTuber starts going on a rant about how Shein and other fast fashion brands are ruining everything. 

Late in the afternoon, you get another text. 

kenyu: So the team wants to host a belated birthday party for me lmao. Team’s planning on having it at 10 tonight kenyu: Sending you the address right now

A party is exactly what you need right now. Endless drinks, no need for rational thinking, and you’ll be (mostly) surrounded by people who think models are all vain and vapid. No one there is going to expect a decent conversation from you, and with the state you’re in, it’s a wonder how all your sentences are even making sense. 

You give Kenyu’s next message a like in response. You were expecting a club, but when you click on the address, Maps reveals that it’s residential. Rin is gallivanting around European nightclubs, and meanwhile, the best you can do are house parties. This is how the future is playing out? 

At least even at your worst, people still think you’re on top of the world. 

Maybe life without a man dragging you down and invading your space is for the best. After all, once you got done with all your professional obligations, it’s only eight at night. You’re used to going out with whatever makeup they did for you on set at your last shoot of the day, which is a shame. You have shelves full of makeup that’s been sent to you by different brands, and one of these nights, you plan on just messing around at your vanity. 

You like living alone, you decide. You can leave all the lights on if you want, and no one complains about it hurting their eyes. You have full control of the thermostat. You don’t have to fight for counter space in the bathroom. Plus, no one can see how you’re living. 

At 9:13 PM, you’re sprawled on the cool marble floor of your bathroom (squeaky clean thanks to the housekeeper you have come once a week), and instead of rewatching that dreadful video and subsequently crying, you had a quick retail therapy session. Your new Prada heels should be coming within the next two days. 

You don’t get Benji to drive you. Nobody bats an eye at a rich girl having a driver, but it does seem kind of weird to have him drop you off at a party as if you're a tween girl getting taken to the mall. If the house is owned by one of Yukimiya’s teammates, surely it won’t be too awkward if you had to leave it there because you got too drunk to drive yourself back home? 

Because — no offense to Yuki, you’re happy he’s getting another birthday celebration — the whole point of even going to this party is to get fucked up. You already know that Juliette had a point — if not TMZ, then at least Daily Mail will be all over Rin and that girl in the club. If that gets leaked, then you might as well have your own headline to combat his. Sure, lately you’ve been out partying, but that was with other models so it doesn’t raise too many eyebrows. Rin being caught at a club is basically him hard launching the breakup. You need to raise some speculation on your side of things, too. 

you: can you get someone to pick up my car from this address tomorrow morning? you: please :) 

When you see three dots appear, you smile for real. You can practically hear her sigh and see the shake of her head.

Fumiko Gima: Yes. Fumiko Gima: Be safe.

Aw, maybe your manager does have a heart. Right before you can send her a heart, she adds:

Fumiko Gima: Don’t stay out too late. You have your first shoot at 8 AM. 

This is the message you give a heart reaction to. Maybe everything really is just business with her. 

You suppose you can’t fault Fumiko for always seeming cold. She’s your manager, not your best friend. 

In this industry, her honesty is refreshing. You normally find this to be the case, but you really feel it now when you step into the mansion and hear a cacophony of laughter swarming you from all sides. At every turn, there’s a celebrity with a drink in hand. Everyone’s leaning towards each other, as if they’re so captivated with the other’s words. 

You see an actor leading a stumbling model up the spiral staircase. To your side, you see a baseball player chatting up the daughter of one of the baseball league’s board members. Upstairs, someone’s probably snorting a line off Yukimiya’s teammate’s bathroom counter. There are only three reasons why people in your social circle attend these parties: to get fucked, to get fucked up, or to make business deals. Considering the fact that you’ve been here for nearly five minutes and have yet to see a birthday cake — or the belated birthday boy himself — you’re pretty sure everyone here has lot the damn plot for the original celebration.

When you venture some more, you end up in the massive backyard. Some people are drunkenly making out in the pool, some people are watching them, and in a table in the corner, you spot a group of girls giggling and cheering as they all do shots. Perfect. This is exactly where you need to be. 

One’s a model; you’ve seen her on a couple pages you flipped through in Harper’s Bazaar. You go up to the table and give her a bright smile.

“Hey, girl! Or should I say Miss Bazaar?” You greet her like how you think people would tease a friend. She’s not your friend; you don’t even know her name. You know she knows your name — everyone here does. And it’s because of the fact that everyone knows you that she lights up when she realizes you’re speaking to her. 

A photo op with you guarantees that even if the headline coming out tomorrow is centered on you, she’ll still be in the frame. Daily Mail will add a caption naming everybody from left to right, and she’s planning on being the one captured right next to you. 

“[Name]!” She squeals, giving you a quick side hug. “How have you been?”

All your friends, the grand total of exactly two people, know how you’ve been. You grin, pointing to the bottle of tequila they have on their table. 

“After how this day has been, I honestly just need a shot.” You play it off like a joke, and as someone pours you one, you add, “Or maybe like five.” They all giggle before throwing back the tequila straight. They might think you’re joking, but this table full of strangers are the first people you’ve been honest with all day. 

At 12:15 AM, they aren’t strangers anymore. In fact, you think they might be your best friends in the whole world. You don’t know the lyrics to the rap song blaring through the bass boosted speakers, but you’re laughing as you take another shot. The Harper’s Bazaar girl is doing another shot with you, but she has her phone in her other hand. She makes sure that the both of you are in the frame together, and a second later, she’s tagging you in an Instagram story you don’t bother to view. You’re not even following her. 

“Okay, so out of all the guys here, who looks the most fuckable?” One of the girls leans on the table for support as she asks this question. You can’t help but notice how glittery her lipgloss is. Wow, even after all the shots she’s taken, there’s no transfer. Impressive. “I say Theo Sachs.” 

“Who the fuck is Theo Sachs?” Harper’s Bazaar asks, and the whole entire table giggles. Honestly, at parties like these, laughing comes easy. In fact, you’re giggling right with them, even though you also have no fucking clue who Theo is. There’s just something so freeing in tequila-induced joy. 

“Um, the host of this party?” Glittery Lipgloss says. “Oh my God, girl, he’s like, one of the players for Bastard.” 

“The fuck is Bastard?” Another girl asks, adjusting her blue minidress. 

“The soccer team!” Glittery Lipgloss is too drunk to be fed up, but you’re sure she would be rolling her eyes if she could. 

“I didn’t know we had soccer players here. I only saw baseball players.” Blue Minidress frowns, before adding, “I would totally fuck one of the baseball boys, though. No preference whatsoever. Matter of fact, I could take the whole team.” 

Harper’s Bazaar laughs. “What about you, [Name]? Who are you taking home tonight?” 

Before you can think of something to say, Glittery Lipgloss groans. “Oh my God, she has a boyfriend.” She looks at you for confirmation. You don’t give her any, but thankfully Blue Minidress has her own insight to add to this conversation. 

“So what the fuck does that have to do with her question? [Name], who are you taking home tonight?” 

Nobody. Out of every party you’ve gone to this past month, you went back home, completely and utterly alone each and every time. It’s not even because nobody offered — they have — but because no matter how lonely you may get or feel, you don’t like strangers in your space. It took you three months of dating Rin to let him into the penthouse you were originally staying in, and that was with you being in love with him. 

Once again, you’re saved from answering when someone behind you goes, “[Name]?” 

You turn around, only to come face to face with Yoichi Isagi. On second thought, maybe this isn’t the rescue you thought it was. Drunk You can’t hold back your frown when you see him. He’s wearing a dark blue polo shirt and chinos. He looks perfectly business casual and could pass off as an off-the-clock investment banker instead of the world class athlete you’ve heard he is. Then you let out a little snort of laughter, which only makes him look more confused. You don’t want to tell him that it’s kind of funny how normal he looks. 

Not in a bad way. You’re surrounded by models for practically the whole day. Looking unattainably hot or having ethereal beauty is the one non-negotiable job requirement. Even Rin, with his stupidly long lower lashes and impossibly high cheekbones and his pretty boy resting sulking face, is serving standards some male models can’t achieve. Isagi looks like the type of guy you would have a crush on if the two of you were completely normal and attended regular high school together. 

But that’s not the reality you’re living in. Right now, you’re getting drunk with girls you don’t know, and every night, you’re making headlines. He’s a professional athlete that everyone at this table would gladly fuck just for a chance to be declared social media’s favorite WAG of the Week. The both of you could have your pick of anyone at this party, but you refuse to let anyone in, and you think Isagi might be one of those intense athletes who only care about their sport.

If that’s the case, he’s doing every girl a favor by not pretending he can commit to anything but soccer. You know someone who could use a few pointers. 

“Hi,” you mumble, and then you want to slap yourself because why the fuck are you acting like you’re nervous? But for some reason, you feel like you're a kid caught with their grimy hand in the cookie jar, like you’re doing something wrong.

“I didn’t know you’d be here.” 

“Well, it’s Kenny’s birthday party. Of course, I’d be here.” You cross your arms against your chest, feeling like you have something to prove. Before Yukimiya became his teammate, Kenyu was your friend first. Like, real friend, not just someone you leave supportive comments on their Instagram post type of friend. 

Isagi actually smiles when he hears that. “Funny. I think everyone but Yukimiya actually wants to be here.” 

You sober up a bit when you hear that. “Yeah, I couldn’t find him anywhere.” Not that you looked very hard. The minute you found this table of girls, you didn’t bother exploring the rest of the mansion. 

“He was upstairs with some of the guys. You know that he, uh, doesn’t really like these types of parties.” He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. 

“You don’t seem like the type to like these parties either.” If he was anyone else, you’d be saying this to flirt. You’re honestly not sure what your intention behind this comment was, either. You’re too drunk to decide if you wanted it to be an insult (some way to defend Yukimiya’s behavior?) or just you trying to make conversation for once (you’re not normally one for small talk). 

“Caught me.” Isagi smiles easily. From now and thinking back to Yukimiya’s birthday lunch, Isagi is rarely not smiling. You wonder if he means it. Surrounded by people who only let you drink with them because being seen with you elevates their own status, you decide that the answer to that is a probably not. “I was about to head out before I thought I saw you, and I wanted to come by and…” For a second, he pauses to choose the right words to say. “Just wanted to see if it really was you.”

“Well, you saw me. Guess your business is done here.” Then you swiftly turn your back to him, as if to abruptly end the conversation. Instead, you’re drunker than you realize, and your heel ends up being wedged deeper into the grass than you expected, and you lose your balance. You think you might fall, which would be so embarrassing, but maybe not as embarrassing as what actually ends up happening.

What actually ends up happening is that Isagi is quick to wrap his arm around your abdomen, pulling you close to him as he attempts to keep you steady and upright. The girls looked shocked, but then they burst into another round of giggles, and since you’re not joining in the laughter, all you can think about is how annoying they are. You squirm around in his grasp, ignoring the whiff of fresh laundry you get from being all up in his personal space (not by choice!!!; he’s the one that pulled you in, after all!), and he releases you. 

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks you. It’s hard to glare at him when he looks so genuinely concerned. 

“Never better.” 

“Do you have a ride home?” 

What does it matter to you? Is what you want to say. 

“I’ll call an Uber.” You lie, hoping that this will end the conversation once and for all. Seriously, Isagi just killed the whole vibe of the party for you. You want to go back to drinking. 

“But I thought you didn’t do Ubers.” When Isagi calls you out on your bullshit, you soften momentarily. You almost forgot that he heard about your weird thing of having strangers know your home address. Then, you go back to giving him the cold shoulder. Sometimes, it’s a warm and gooey feeling to be known. Right now, you want to drown your sorrows in tequila and be showered with fake affection by girls who probably don’t even like you sober. You didn’t come to this party to be known. You came here for revenge. 

(You’re not going to acknowledge how drinking your sadness away isn’t necessarily showing up Rin, but for nearly an hour straight, you hadn’t thought about him, and that’s good enough.) 

When you have no response to that (wit doesn’t come easy when you’re in the condition you’re in right now), Isagi looks at you imploringly. 

“Let me take you home.” 

You shake your head childishly, almost saying nuh-uh. “Just because you don’t like this party doesn’t mean I don’t like it. I’m staying right here.” 

He finally frowns. “Fine. I’ll wait for you to finish up here, then I’ll take you home.”

“I’m with my friends right now. Leave me alone.” 

He raises an eyebrow. “Really? Which friend is going to make sure you get home safely? Yukimiya already left early.” Despite the two of you not knowing what the other is thinking, you both give wry smiles about that statement for the same reason. The party is still going on strong, despite the guest of honor not wanting to show his face and leaving early. 

“These are my best friends.” You gesture to the trio of girls you know nothing about, besides the fact that they can keep up with your drinking habits. They all smile at Isagi, who waves back before turning his attention back to you.

“Really?” He asks. “What’re their names again?”

No one has anything to say to that, especially you. When the silence gets too awkward, Isagi clears his throat and also puts his foot down.

“I’m taking you home, [Name].” 

You look at the trio of strangers you just spent hours with. Harper’s Bazaar shrugs, and the other two look away. The sting of not knowing who they are, despite them obviously having enough notoriety to be invited, makes your “best friends” not your friends anymore. Whatever. 

“Fine.” You grumble, following Isagi to his car. 

“Did you have fun tonight?” Is what he asks you as he signals to make a turn. The clicking of the turn signal is the only thing that fills the silence in the car. 

No. 

Sometimes, it’s fun in the moment, but that’s only when you’re drunk enough to trick yourself into thinking you’re having a good time. You’re more like Yukimiya (and — gross — Isagi) than they know; the whole “It Girl dominates the party scene” vibe you’ve got going on… It’s just bullshit that your PR team mixes together to get people talking. The high of being adored by everyone in a room vanishes almost immediately the minute you go home and wash off your makeup. In the bright lights of your bathroom, you stare at the sad, lonely girl in the mirror. It’s too dark outside for you to see anything out the window, but you lean your head against the cool glass, and before you know it, you’re waking up…

To Isagi groping you?

You’re groggy and confused and trying to blink the sleepiness out of your eyes, but Yoichi Isagi is definitely all up on you. You’re shocked, honestly. He looks like such a sweet guy! No wonder he was so pushy in getting you home.

He’s holding you in some awkward side hug, and he’s patting down your waist, trying to slip his fingers through the fabric of your dress, and finally, because he must be a novice-level pervert who doesn’t know the first thing about female anatomy, you speak up. 

“Gross! You can’t even feel up a girl properly! No wonder you take advantage of drunk, vulnerable girls!” 

“Ah!” He jerks back, shocked that you’re awake. Serves the pervert right. He should be backing up. You took a month of kickboxing classes (your modeling agency thought it would be the next big thing, since all the Victoria Secret models kickbox — they were wrong). “I-I wasn’t feeling you up!” 

“Then why were your hands all over me?” 

“I was looking for your key! You were asleep, and you looked like you needed it, so I just carried you to your door, but it’s locked.”

Oh. Likely story. You’re not letting him off the hook just yet. 

“Obviously my front door would be locked, dumbass. Who doesn’t lock their house?” You point to the perfectly trimmed hedges by your door. “Key’s in the bushes.”

Since you’re making no moves to get down on your knees and rifle through the bushes, Isagi sighs and does it himself. When he holds up the key, you nod in thanks, take it, and then proceed to unlock the door using your fingerprint. 

He blinks. “What?” 

“What?” You repeat back, innocently. 

“You didn’t even need the key to unlock the door!”

“Yes, Isagi. Modern technology is something, isn’t it?” And because you feel kind of bad, you offer him the chance to wash up before driving back. 

“You’re really something, you know that?” Isagi says from the kitchen sink. You’re sitting on a stool by the counter.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It’s nothing bad.” He clarifies. “It’s just… Rin’s a pretty private person. We always wondered what his girlfriend must be like. Sorry.” He shuts off the faucet, dries his hands. “Ex-girlfriend, I guess.”

“How do you know that?” You’ve been racking your brain, wondering if Yuki spilled your secret accidentally. Or — even worse — Rin himself confirmed it. Rin never even told anyone explicitly that the two of you were dating, so it’s not plausible that he would go blab about the breakup. 

“Well, I didn’t really know for sure until I drove you home that first time.” He admits. “I just thought you made a weird face when I mentioned Rin during lunch, and then you started acting funny afterwards. Just had a hunch, that’s all.” 

Great. So, Isagi, who’s basically a stranger to you, could read you to filth. Is there anyone else that you haven’t been fooling? How embarrassing. Being perceived sucks. 

You don’t say anything else. You can hear Isagi mumbling about something, and you make a half-hearted noise in reply, but you’re sleepy and drunk and coming to the realization that you can’t keep fooling everyone around for long. There’s no point in dancing around the topic of your breakup. It’s getting tiring, anyway. 

It is pretty exhausting to be pining after someone who’s not coming back. 

Because that’s why you’re trying so hard to keep the breakup a secret. Partly for pride, but mostly because… You’re hoping that after learning everything there is to know about you, Rin Itoshi wouldn’t go so far to cut you so deeply by leaving you. Right? He understood your level of loneliness like no one else, and he related to it. For the first time in both of your lives, the two of you suddenly found the right person to fill in all the empty spaces. 

And then he left, and the emptiness just continues to grow in infinite amounts.

You groan as you move around, only to find that you’re moving on top of your bed. You’re tucked into your sheets, and your hair is splayed across your pillow. You turn your head and see a shadowy figure exiting out your bedroom door.

“You’re leaving, too?” 

Your throat is dry, and the words come out small. You hate this feeling of hopelessness and vulnerability, and the figure pauses in his steps. 

He hushes you gently. “You should go to sleep. You’ve had a long night.” 

“Fine. Don’t stay. I don’t care.” You burrow yourself further into your blankets. 

“Do you really want me to stay?” 

At one in the morning, covered in the darkness of your bedroom, you turn every shadow into Rin Itoshi. You don’t know what you mumble in response, but you know that whatever you said, it’s directed towards him.

[beomiracles]

hi Serene, my dear favourite writer ♥️ it’s my first request hehe and congratulations to 500!! 🩷🩷🩷

so imagine Soobin as obsessive stalker (he’s a rich rich guy) who kidnapped mc then mc got stockholm syndrome. He treat mc with full of love!!

feel free to write the plot but no angst plsss🥹 just sexy time is a must HAHAHA 🫦 im sorry, i read too many manhwa ig?😔

500 BASH SPECIAL

#serene adds ✎... favourite writer??? weird way to propose but, yes! for your first request you did not hold back, and neither did I...I do not know what kind of spirit possessed me when I wrote this heh, enjoy! (I think?)

wc -> 1.5k

pairings stalker kidnapper!soobin x afab!reader warnings kidnapping, drugging, bondage, slight dollification?, reader suffers from stockholm syndrome, fingering, unprotected sex + creampie, mirror sex, nipple play, ownership, soobin refers to reader as "bunny", breeding kink, bulge kink? ...if I missed anything let me know !

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS CAREFULLY :>

Your head pounds and you pull yourself into a sitting position as your groggy eyes adjust to the sudden bright light of the bedroom. The silk sheets rustle under your practically bare body, the only piece of clothing covering you being a sheer pink nightgown. — “Bunny, you’re awake!” Soobin exclaims as he closes the door behind him. Groaning, your gaze focuses on his blurry figure, fuck, just how much had he put in your dinner last night? 

“Sorry, sorry, so so sorry”, he murmurs as he crouches down by the bed. His large hands wrapping around yours, thumbs rubbing the pink silk ribbons that kept your wrists locked together. “Had to give you a little more, didn’t mean to make you pass out this long”, he whines as he grips your hands tighter. You blink down at him as your lips part slightly before you shake your head. “S’okay”, you chirp as you try to ignore the persistent thumping of your head. 

Soobin’s face immediately lights up as his head snaps back up to look at you. “I got you something”, he suddenly says as he rises to his feet, pulling out a small box from the bag he’d brought along. — “Here”, he hands you the box and you carefully lift it to your face as you study it closer. When you look up at him with a small pout he suddenly seems to remember himself as he reaches out to lift the lid off for you, the restraints on your wrist preventing much of your mobility. 

Your eyes widen as you peer down toward the two pink bows, biting your lip as you glance between the small gift and Soobin. — “I’ll put them on for you, yeah?” He urged as his arms wrapped around your body, hoisting you up into his arms as he walked you over to the body sized mirror by the dresser. 

Soobin loved pampering you, and he always made sure to take care of you well. You had to look absolutely perfect for him. — Sitting crossed legged on his lap, his hands run through your hair as he gently brushes it. You watch your reflection in the mirror, one of your nightgown straps had slid down your shoulder but Soobin didn’t seem intent on correcting it anytime soon. You pout your lips, freshly painted in a glossy layer of pink lipstick, just the way he liked it. 

You felt pretty. 

He takes his time while pulling the brush through your hair, occasionally bringing a few strands to his nose as he inhales your sweet scent. “You look so pretty, bunny”, he mumbles as he presses a kiss to your bare shoulder and you shudder. Humming, he parts your hair in two sections before he carefully wraps the pink bows around them. “Perfect”, he breaths as he lets your hair fall in front of your shoulders and down your chest. Soobin never cut your hair, it had grown long, reaching all the way to your stomach. 

His large hand slides up your thigh, and you watch through the reflection as he slips it under your nightgown. You had felt his cock prodding against you for the past twenty minutes, so you’re not surprised to find his fingers brushing along your folds in an instant. “Such a pretty bunny”, he groans as he pushes your pink gown up above your hips, forcing you to watch the way his long fingers push deep inside your swollen cunt. 

Soobin liked the thought of you always being wet, so he therefore made sure to stretch your pretty pussy at least twice a day. You liked the attention he was giving you, the effort he spent, the way he always made you feel so good. You had almost forgotten what your life was like before him, you didn’t want to remember, it was better this way. 

“Look at you, taking my fingers so well, bunny”, he coos as he withdraws them to smear your fluids all over your cunt, putting deliberately pressure on your clit and you moan as your hips jerk forward. His free hand tugs on one of your pigtails and you whine as your eyes screw shut. — It only makes him tug harder, “look at how pretty you look”, he frowns, “do you not agree?” 

You blink as your gaze travels across your figure in the mirror; your thighs tremble as you try your best not to squeeze them together. Soobin’s fingers slowly pushed inside your glistening pussy, it made a wet sound and he groaned as he felt you throb around his hand. Slowly you nod as your gaze drops to your tied wrists, your hands balling up into fists as his thumb circled your clit. Even your nails were painted, a fresh pink coat, Soobin had made sure that there wasn’t as much as a single dent in the color. 

“You ready to take my cock, bunny?” He suddenly asks as his hand withdraws from your core, making you whine, though you quickly nod as you raise your hips enough for him to undo the zipper of his pants. You’re unable to catch the smirk playing on his lips as he frees himself from his slacks, giving his cock a few quick pumps before he rubs his leaking tip against your folds, making you whimper as you push back onto him. 

A large hand on your waist keeps you in place as Soobin pushes the head of his cock against your clit, making you cry out as your thighs shake. “So eager”, he drawls as he takes his time dragging his tip along your folds, shuddering at the way you practically dripped onto him. “It’s barely been twelve hours”, he mutters as grips your waist firmer, “did you miss your owner’s cock that much?” 

Feverishly you nod as you trash against his grip, wanting nothing else but to sink down on him. “Pathetic bunny”, he grunts before slowly pushing inside. You wail at the familiar stretch, feeling yourself flutter around him as he buries himself deep inside of you. Resting his chin against your shoulder, Soobin’s eyes meet yours in the reflection of the mirror as he presses a kiss to your skin. 

“Show me how much you missed my cock inside of you”, he murmurs. Nodding, you carefully lift your hips before dropping back down on him, letting out small whines as you feel him twitch within you. No matter how many times he fucked you, you always felt unprepared for the stretch and your brows drew together as you felt yourself squeeze around him. 

His hand moves to push the second strap of your gown past your shoulder, the silky material easily sliding down your chest. Soobin loved every part of your body, you were a perfect little bunny, but if there was one thing his greedy mind favored it was your plump breasts. He could spend hours overstimulating you as he played with your tits, swirling his tongue across your nipples before pinching them between his fingers. 

You gasp as you feel his thumb brush over your perked nipple, and you hear him groan as he squeezes your breast in his hand. “Do you see how pretty you look in my hands?” He breaths, his hot mouth moving against your neck. — “Y-yes”, you whimper, clenching around him as he twists your nipple between his thumb and index finger.

His other hand travels down your stomach, sliding across the flesh of your thigh and up to your glistening cunt, entrapping his cock as you bounced on it. Your mind turns foggy as you feel his fingers stimulating your clit, your pink nails digging into your hands hard enough to leave marks as your pace increases, full with need and desire. 

Your legs burn in exhaustion and your movements grow sloppy as you struggle to maintain a steady pace. Soobin sighs against your neck, peppered in his love bites, making you look even prettier. “Please”, you whine as your thighs tremble, your orgasm within an arm's reach. “You’ve been a good bunny”, he muses as his kisses move to the shell of your ear, making you shiver as his hot breath invades your senses. “You can cum on your owner’s cock.” 

Bobbing your head, your glossy lips part in a small cry as you release all over him, feeling almost euphoric as your vision grows hazy. Large arms wrap around your frame as Soobin pulls you flush against his chest. His palm moving down to rest against the bulge in your stomach as he felt himself twitch deep within you. 

“M’gonna fill you up — make your belly swollen with my baby”, he groans as his hips jerk up against your sensitive cunt, making you whimper. “You want my baby?” He grunts as he picks up his pace. You meekly nod as you imagine the family you could create, your heart immediately fluttering at the thought. 

With a final snap of his hips he releases inside of your sore pussy, fucking his cum further inside of you as his hand splays across your stomach. “You’re gonna be such a pretty mommy”, he moans as he preppers kisses along your neck and shoulder, making you shudder against him. 

Soobin took care of you, he always did.

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