#and it’s not like I have a functioning car so I can just go behind her back and start shuttling stuff out

[marinecorvid]

Our window to get the house cleaned up and get rid of everything we need to before landlord puts it on the market is RAPIDLY closing and my mother is picking the most time and energy wasting battles and I’m going to rip my nonexistent hair out

[flowersforbucky]

oil & water

bucky barnes x reader

word count: 5.8k

prompt - "If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so."

shout out to @ellemj for her encouragement with this ♡

warnings/tags: SMUT, vaginal penetration, oral sex (female receving), face sitting, mentions of violence, description of blood & wounds, no use of y/n, reader is afab, hurt/comfort trope, bickering & banter, friends to lovers, forced close proximity trope. 18 plus only!

“Roll your window up,” Bucky snaps at you as he turns down the music you had just put on moments ago. “The last thing we need is someone noticing the blood caked all over the entire right side of your body.” 

As if the lack of functioning AC in the twenty-something year old getaway car (an early 2000’s model Chevy Aveo is inconspicuous, according to Sam) wasn’t stifling enough in the south Georgia summer, the annoyance radiating from the brooding super soldier sitting next to you adds an extra ten degrees. 

Sure, Sam. Inconspicuous is the right word to describe a six foot, two hundred plus pound man with a metal arm cramped behind the driver’s seat of the equivalent to a clown car. Bright fucking cherry red and all. 

“It’s 103 degrees outside.” You glare at him from the passenger seat, where you’re using a tattered handkerchief found in the glove compartment to put pressure on the knife wound on your shoulder. “I’m going to have a heatstroke.” 

“You’re not going to have a heatstroke,” he rolls his eyes at you. “That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck.” 

“Ha-ha-ha,” you say under your breath, reluctantly rolling up the manual window with your still bleeding arm. “I got the fucking intel, did I not?” 

You remove the USB drive from its secure location in the cup of your bra and flash it at Bucky. “Though we’ll be lucky if this thing still works after being drowned in boob sweat, since you won’t let me keep the window rolled down.” 

“And nearly got yourself killed in the process.” He grabs the flashdrive from you and grimaces. “We’ll be at the safehouse in less than five minutes, if you can please just refrain from stroking out or bleeding out in the meantime.” 

You glance down at the once white handkerchief clutched in your hand. “I’m not making you any guarantees.” 

You're welcome for saving your ass, by the way, you resist adding. 

Jokes aside, the energy exerted in bringing down over a dozen HYDRA agents in combination with the July heat and the substantial blood loss from your shoulder wound has you feeling woozier by the minute. Factor in a few potentially fractured ribs and a dislocated knee and you're in pretty rough shape. 

As promised, just under five minutes later Bucky parks in front of a small trailer just outside the city limits of Valdosta. It's seen better days, but you don't mind as long as it has semi-functioning air conditioning. 

Bucky is opening your car door and offering you a hand up before you can take in your surroundings. You force yourself out of your seat, ignoring his outstretched hand and attempting to stand on your own, doing your best to ignore the borderline blinding pain radiating from your right knee. 

“Thanks, but I think I can–” 

Your vision goes fuzzy as you stumble forward, right into Bucky's chest. Your hand instinctively clutches the fabric of his shirt as you attempt to regain your balance.

“Let me guess. You're capable of stitching up your own shoulder, too?” 

He gently loops his arm around your waist, slowly walking the two of you to the front door of the trailer. You try to focus on keeping pressure on the gash on your shoulder and not the feeling of his toned body pressed against you. How does he smell so good after hand to hand combat and sitting in that sauna of a car? You're sure you probably smell like a wet diaper that's been left in the sun for–

Bucky opens the door and guides you inside. The interior of the safehouse is surprisingly homey and clean. It's still uncomfortably warm, but offers a nice reprieve from the violent mid-day sun. 

Bucky leads you into the small living space before maneuvering you out of his hold, where you all but collapse onto a suede sofa.

“I guess you do have some amount of good luck, after all,” you mumble, wiping sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand. 

“What are you talking about?” Bucky glances at you from over his shoulder as he flicks on the AC. 

“That happening would indicate that I have any amount of good luck,” you quote his sarcastic comment from the car ride. 

“Ha-ha-ha,” he fake laughs just as you did. He rummages through a few cabinets and drawers of the small kitchen before finding everything he’s searching for, then makes his way back to where you are on the couch. 

“Drink this.” He hands you a bottle of water that you hadn't even noticed him grab. For once you don't object to his instructions, uncapping the bottle and gulping down the contents as quickly as you can. 

“You're not having a heatstroke,” he assures you. “But you are going to have to let me stitch up this crater on your shoulder and pop your knee back into place.” 

You sit forward, removing the now fully soaked cloth that you've been holding to your shoulder for the last half hour. 

Bucky winces at the sight of it, handing you a dishrag before opening a bottle of rubbing alcohol. “You might want to bite down on–” 

“I know the drill.” You sigh before putting the rag between your teeth. 

He hesitates for a moment before pouring the clear liquid over the wound. You groan against the rag, your eyes squint shut in pain. You've had your fair share of broken bones and black eyes working in this field, but you don't think you'll ever get used to the pain of getting stitches without the comforts of saline solution and anesthesia.

“I'm sorry, sweetheart,” he murmurs, dabbing the cut dry with a paper towel. 

Your heart skips a beat at the nickname. “It's part of the job. I've come out of missions worse than this before,” you shrug, squeezing the dish rag he gave you until your knuckles go white as he makes the first incision. 

“Never because of me.” 

You glance at him, taken aback by the sudden shift in his tone. His gaze doesn't leave the thread and needle that he's using to close up the gash on your arm - his normally plump pout set into a hard line. 

“You know this isn't your fault, right?” You keep your eyes locked on him. “I saw that guy coming at you out of nowhere and I panicked. I wasn't watching my own back. That's my fault, not yours,” you say earnestly. 

“If you say so.” He glances up for a split second, giving you a tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Is that why you've been such a grouch? You're blaming yourself for me not being careful enough?” 

“Maybe,” he admits quietly. “Or maybe I just hate seeing you covered in blood for any reason.” 

You freeze at the bluntness of his words. You and Bucky have been partners on more missions than you could count at this point - you know that he would have done the same for you if the situation had been reversed; in fact, there had been times where he had taken the brunt of the fight in order to protect you. 

All of those instances suddenly flash through your mind. 

The time he used himself as a human shield when there was a bomb set off during a recon mission at a warehouse in Tokyo. Or when he football tackled you out of the direct line of an incoming dagger during an operation in Portland. Not to mention the time he left a job all the way in Prague unfinished because he merely suspected you had a concussion. 

You had always chalked it up to “that’s what partners do,” but the pained expression on his face as he refuses to meet your eyes has you questioning if there could possibly be more to it. 

No. You’re his partner. He’d do the same for anyone else. He wouldn’t want to see anyone on his team covered in blood if he could prevent it. 

The two of you sit in a thick silence while he finishes stitching you up. 

“There,” he says at last, clipping the excess suture thread with scissors. “Not quite as good as your stitch work, but I think it’ll hold you together.” His voice isn’t as strained as it was moments ago, though you can't help but notice it sounds forced. 

“Thank you,” you tell him, ignoring the way your cheeks warmed the tiniest bit at his compliment. “Now for the really fun part,” you add, staring at your throbbing knee. 

“You’re in luck,” he says, perking up a bit. “I’ve popped my own knees back into place an embarrassing amount of times, so this should be a breeze.” He repositions himself to have better access to your leg, moving off the couch to perch on the edge of the coffee table in front of you. You attempt to pull the tight fabric of your tactical pants up enough to give him unhindered access to your knee, but it’s too restrictive, immediately causing you to wince in pain. 

“Fuck,” you huff. “I’m going to have to take these off.” You pop the button at the top of your pants and begin to push them down your thighs before insecurity can get the better of you. You try not to think about the fact that Bucky's never seen you in such little clothing - pants now pushed down to your calves, only your underwear and the bra and thin tank top you wore underneath the tactical vest that you took off as soon as you were in the safety of the getaway car left to cover you. 

Hesitation flashes across Bucky’s face for a brief moment before he scoots over slightly, moving directly in front of you so that he can position his hands on either side of your kneecap. You’re painfully aware of the polar opposite feeling of his right and left hand - his flesh hand is warm and so much softer than you’d expect, his metal one icy and smooth. You aren’t sure which causes the visible goosebumps that now litter your skin.

Maybe it’s not his touch at all. Maybe it’s the way his eyes haven’t left your thighs since you exposed them.

Maybe it’s the fact that if you parted your legs just a few inches, he’d be nestled between them. 

Chill out, you berate yourself. He's just relocating your knee for Christ's sake. 

“On the count of three,” he starts and you brace yourself. “One, two–” 

“MOTHERFUCKER.” You yell out at the same moment your knee creates a loud cracking noise that echoes off the walls of the small trailer. “You said count of three!” 

“Would that really have made it less painful?” He shrugs, but doesn't move from where his knees brush against yours. “I think what you mean to say is “thank you, Bucky, you're a lifesaver and I'm now in your debt.” 

“In your fuckin’ dreams,” you scoff. “I'm going to wash all of this blood and sweat off of me.” You move to push yourself off of the couch, tugging your pants back up as you stand. You can feel his eyes trail up your body as you do, making you feel woozy all over again. You turn away from him, heading towards the hallway that the bathroom is likely located down. 

“I could have done that through your pants, by the way.” 

You freeze mid-step, glancing back at him over your shoulder. “What do you mean?” You snap at him. 

“Your knee,” he clarifies, a hint of undeniable mischief in his expression. “I could have popped your knee back into place through your pants. If you wanted to take your pants off for me so badly, you could have just said so.” 

Just when you thought the safehouse was starting to cool down, your entire body heats up a thousand degrees. You're racking your brain trying to think of a retort when Bucky's ringtone starts blaring from the kitchen countertop. He ignores it, his eyes not leaving yours for what feels like an eternity. 

You finally break the silence. “That's most likely Sam wanting to make sure we're not dead. Should probably answer it.” 

“Probably should,” he smirks, and at last gets up from the coffee table to answer the phone.

You scurry the rest of the way to the bathroom before he can look back at you again, ignoring the sharp pains that radiate from your ribcage and the now dull ache that spreads from your knee. 

You turn the water to cold, and don't get out until you've started to shiver. 

— — — — — 

When you exit the bathroom and step back into the connected bedroom in only a towel, you see that Bucky has done you the kindness of bringing in the bags that had been stored in the backseat of the getaway car. 

You dig through your backpack, pulling out a fresh t-shirt and pair of leggings. From the next room, you can smell the aroma of whatever non-perishable food that Bucky has scrounged together. Despite your growing hunger pains, you take your sweet time combing through your freshly rinsed hair. The thought of looking Bucky in the eye after your last interaction nearly makes you lose your appetite. 

What was I thinking? Oh right, I wasn't thinking at all, otherwise I wouldn't have just pushed my fucking pants down right in front of–

“Your five course dinner is getting cold.” Bucky raps his fingers against the bedroom door, startling you from your thoughts. 

“Be right there,” you call back to him, swiping some deodorant under your arms. You take a glance at yourself in the bedroom’s small vanity mirror and immediately wish that you hadn't – you're cleaner than you were by miles, at least no longer covered in your own blood as well as the blood of HYDRA agents – but your cheekbone is lightly bruised, there's a slit on your bottom lip, and the bags under your eyes make it look like you haven't had a decent night's sleep in a month. 

You take a deep breath and then walk back to the one room that makes up the kitchen, dining area and living room. 

“Beef or shrimp ramen?” Bucky asks as you climb onto one of the barstools on the opposite side of the counter from where he's standing. 

“Hm,” you contemplate, not meeting his stare and instead occupying yourself with another bottle of water that he's placed where you now sit. 

Fucker probably wouldn't fluster me so bad if he wasn't being so damn thoughtful.

“I'll go with shrimp,” you answer, remembering that beef is his favorite.

He slides the bowl across the counter and then hands you a fork. You finally get the nerve to look up and meet his stare that feels as if it weighs two tons. 

“So, what did Sam say?” You try to go for light conversation, twisting the fork around your noodles. “Are we free to get out of here once it's dark out?” 

“Not…quite,” he hesitates, now seeming particularly interested in his own food. “The car battery kind of died.” 

“What do you mean the car battery kind of died?” 

“While you were in the shower, I tried to move the car behind the house so that anyone driving by wouldn't immediately know that someone's here. It started fine, but as I was driving it around back it just.. stopped. Had to push it the rest of the way.” 

You let out a dramatic groan as he continues. 

“I called Sam again and he said the earliest they can send someone to get us is in the morning.” 

“Well,” you exhale, blowing a raspberry with your lips. “We can flip a coin to see who gets the bed?” You ask lightheartedly. This isn’t the first time that you and Bucky have had an overnight mission together, but it is the first overnight mission where the two of you haven’t had your own motel rooms or at least a safehouse with two beds.

He looks at you quizzically, furrowing his eyebrows. “You really think there’s a chance of me making you sleep on the couch? In your condition?” 

“My condition?” you laugh. “I’ve got a few stitches, I’m not dying of cancer.” 

“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way it’s uncomfortable for you to inhale and exhale? You’ve probably got a couple fractured ribs with the way you landed on that cement. If not fractured, then at least heavily bruised. You’re not sleeping on the couch.” 

Between his tone and the look on his face, you know it isn’t up for debate. You throw your hands up in faux surrender. 

“Serving me instant ramen and letting me take the king sized bed?” you say teasingly. “Keep it up and I'm going to think that you're soft on me.” 

His gaze on you is heavy as he takes a long sip of water from his own bottle. “Wouldn't that be a shame?” 

— — — — — 

The rest of the afternoon is spent with you lounging in bed, resting your injuries and reading some cheesy western romance novel that you found in the drawer of the bedside table. 

Bucky keeps to the living room, where you hear a violent sounding movie playing from a TV that has to be as old as you are. 

You tell yourself that you're staying in the bedroom because you need to take it easy and relax, but truthfully you feel suffocated by the tension that has been escalating between you and Bucky since you arrived here. 

A certain level of tension had always been there, you knew deep down. From the first time the two of you met almost two years ago. 

Bucky had been formally introduced to the team just a few weeks prior, and it was his first official mission. An undercover mission - just the two of you. 

Posing as an engaged couple at a party thrown at the estate of a notorious crime boss in order to obtain intel. Pretty straight forward - it was far from your first undercover mission. And then it was sprung on you at the last minute that the man who you'd only met once, less than a month ago, was to be your fianc�� for the evening. 

The bastard even went as far as to slip the fake engagement ring on your finger himself. 

“Natasha picked this out. She said it needed to be a princess cut, because that's what you like.” 

You chuckled as he went to slide the rock onto your ring finger. “What? You're not going to get down on one knee?” 

The mission went shockingly smooth, you and Bucky were in and out with the needed intel in just a few hours. But those few hours replayed in the back of your mind more often than you care to admit. 

The way his arm stayed wrapped securely around your shoulder or waist the entire hour that you mingled as guests. How he pulled you into a slow dance to discuss the plan for sneaking into the study on an off-limits floor. The musky smell of his aftershave and the spearmint on his breath. 

And especially the way he referred to you as his “bride” when introducing yourselves to people, on more than one occasion throughout the night. 

“And who is this absolutely beautiful young woman on your arm?” an elderly man with eye boogers and booze on his breath asks Bucky. 

“This is my bride,” Bucky introduces you, giving him your undercover name. “She is beautiful, isn’t she? Most beautiful woman here, if I do say so myself.” 

Saying that Bucky played his part well that night would have been an understatement. Saying that he played his part scarily well would be a more accurate assertion. 

After grabbing the intel and fleeing the scene, neither of you ever mentioned that mission again. Not the lingering touches, smoldering stares - not even the way he shoved you up against the wall of a corridor, cupped your face in his large hands, and kissed you senseless for half a minute when you came close to getting caught sneaking into the private office by security at the very end of the evening. 

“Do you think that was believable?” he asks nervously, his hands still clutching your face as he looks around the hallway for any lingering guards. 

“Ye-yeah,” you stutter breathily. “As believable as it possibly could be.” 

There’s a light knock on the partially open bedroom door that draws you back to the reality of the safehouse. You realize that you’ve been staring at the same paragraph in your book for the last half hour. 

"Yeah?” you answer, bringing yourself to a sitting position. 

Bucky peaks his head around the door, opening it further so that you can see what he is carrying. 

“I’m tired of watching old James Bond movies,” he sighs, glancing between you and the stack of board games in his arms. “I found these in the TV stand.” 

“I kicked your ass in Battleship last time we played,” you remind him. “Do you really want a rematch of that?” 

“How about we make a bet?”

— — — — — 

Half an hour later, you've eaten your own words, now owing Bucky a large meat lovers pizza from his favorite parlor in Brooklyn and two weeks worth of laundry duty when you return to the compound. 

“How'd you get so good?” you demand as he makes the winning attack. “You were so lame at this last time.” 

“Maybe I just let you win last time,” he shrugs with a shit-eating grin. 

You just shake your head in defeat, wincing as you stand up from where you had been playing on the shag area rug in the living room. 

“No,” you declare firmly. “No, I don't believe that. There's no way you'd willingly let me win anything. I've learned that the hard way during hand to hand combat training way too many times.”  

Bucky belly laughs from where he still sits on the floor, his gaze trailing after you. 

You walk over to where he has piled the board games on the coffee table, trying to find something you were confident you could win. 

Monopoly isn't fun with only two players, Risk takes too long — 

Your eyes lock onto a card game peeking out from underneath the Sorry! box. 

You pick it up, turning back to face him with a growing smile on your face.

“Absolutely not,” he says firmly. “I'm over a hundred years old–” 

“What does age have to do with truth or dare?!” You exclaim, sitting back down on the floor once more. 

“I haven't been roped into a game of truth or dare since the 1930's,” he groans. 

“Scared of what you might have to do?” You tease, unboxing the cards. “Or what you might have to admit?” 

He stares at you for a long moment, pursing his lips. The disapproval doesn't quite reach his eyes - you can tell by the way they gleam that he's going to cave. 

“Maybe a bit of both,” he admits. He tousles his fingers through his hair and moves to cross his legs at the ankles. “Fine,” he relents. “One game.” 

You squeal like a kid in a candy store as you shuffle the deck of cards and lay them in a stack between you. 

“Elders first,” you motion to the pile. 

He rolls his eyes, drawing one from the top – dare. 

“Smell another player's armpit,” he deadpans. You're instantly thankful that you remembered to cram a stick of deodorant into your backpack when packing for the mission. 

“Well?” You lift up your arm. “I'm the only other player here and it's not going to sniff itself.” 

Bucky sighs, leaning across the game to put his nose directly next to the opening of your t-shirt sleeve. “Lavender,” he observes after inhaling, giving you an approving nod. “As far as dares go, I got lucky.” 

“Lucky that I showered earlier,” you mumble as you draw your turn, your cheeks warming slightly. 

Truth. 

“Who was your last kiss with and what was it like?” 

Your heart plummets to your stomach as you read the words aloud. Bucky waits impatiently as you fiddle with the piece of paper in your hands. 

“Might I remind you, you are the one who wanted to play this game so desp–” 

You hold up a finger and make a shushing sound, silencing him as he grins menacingly. 

“My last kiss was almost two years ago,” you answer honestly, looking back down at the card to avoid his stare. He can always tell when you're lying, why even try? 

“With a man I barely knew,” you continue. “We had to pretend to be in love for the evening. It was a shockingly easy thing to do. When he pushed me up against a wall and kissed me as a distraction to security guards, I had to remind myself that it was an act. We never spoke about it again. But now two years later, I'm telling him that I think of that kiss often.” 

When you finally look up, you can't decipher the look on his face. Long gone is the mischievous grin from just moments ago, in its place is.. shock? Perplexity? 

“And why exactly have you not kissed anyone else since then?” He asks quietly. 

“Nope,” you say, popping your lips on the p. “That's not how the game works, you don't get to add sub-questions.” 

His eyes don't leave yours as he draws his next card.

His turn for truth. He glances down to read his question.

“Have you ever wanted to have sex with any of the players?” 

Forget your cheeks feeling warm - your entire body feels like it's on fire as you wait for him to answer. 

He chuckles, tossing the card on top of the other two that had already been picked. 

“Every goddamn day since I kissed her almost two years ago.” 

You aren't sure which one of you snaps first. You lunge forward at the same moment that he's leaning across the splay of cards to grasp your face in his hands just like he did in that corridor two years ago. The same hint of spearmint on his breath, a bit more stubble on his jaw, and a sense of desperation that wasn't there before. 

He moves his hands to your lower back, pulling you flush against him as you both sit on your knees. Your own hands find the hem of his shirt, your fingers dancing across the skin of his waistline. 

“I asked you why you haven't kissed anyone since we last kissed,” he murmurs against your lips when he pulls away, both of you breathless. “You don't have to answer, but that..” his mouth moves to the side of your throat where he trails open-mouth kisses across the sensitive flesh of your pulse point. 

“That's why I haven't kissed anyone else, either.” 

A pathetic, small moan escapes past your lips at his admission. In a split second decision, you take control. You place your hands across his chest, pushing him down onto the shag rug that you'd been playing games on just moments ago. He lets himself fall back, pulling you with him. 

You straddle him, positioning yourself directly on his already evident erection. You drag yourself forwards, and then backwards, desperate for friction - he groans beneath you, jutting upwards. 

The fabric of your pants between you feels like a prison. 

You scoot back a few inches - just far enough to give yourself enough room to unbutton his jeans. 

“Wait, wait,” he stops you as you're about to begin pulling down his pants and underwear. You freeze, petrified that you've crossed a line– 

“I haven't stopped thinking about having your thighs wrapped around my head since I saw them earlier,” he says as he hooks his hands around them and hauls you up to his chest. “Take these off and sit on my face.” He tugs on the waistline of your leggings. 

“If you wanted me to take my pants off for you so badly, you could have just said so,” you echo his earlier teasing. 

“I'm asking you now, sweetheart,” his voice has a strained edge to it. “Don't make me beg.” 

Though the notion of him begging has wetness pooling down your thighs, you're too eager to entertain it. 

You stand up, directly above him as he keeps his position on the floor. You shimmy your leggings down your thighs, this time completely removing them and tossing them somewhere behind you. He tugs his t-shirt over his head and throws it in the general direction of your discarded pants. 

With you still standing above him, he leans forward so that his face brushes against the inside of your thighs. He brings his hands to the band of your underwear, hooking his fingers and slowly pulling them down until they're at your ankles. 

You slip them off as he lays back down on the floor. A bit apprehensively, you sit so that your bare pussy is against his hard chest. 

“Just stop me if it's too uncomfortable or if you can't breathe or any–” 

He cuts you off by all but picking you up and hauling you up to his face.

“I wouldn't worry about that,” his voice vibrates against the flesh of your innermost thighs. He tugs you down just one more inch so that his mouth makes contact with your center. 

You gasp out in pleasure as his tongue begins exploring your folds. There's no restraint about it - he sets a brutal pace, alternating between fucking his tongue into your cunt and sucking on your clit. 

You're writhing above him, grinding your pussy against his mouth. You go to squeeze your breasts, pulling your t-shirt off when you realize it's the one clothing article you've yet to shed. 

When he realizes that you're now completely naked above him, he lets out an animalistic groan as he laps a thick lick up your center. 

The vibration, in addition to him now squeezing your ass with enough pressure that he's bound to leave behind fingertip shaped bruises, is enough to send you spiraling to your climax. 

You involuntarily squeeze your thighs around his cheeks, riding out your orgasm as he continues to wrap his lips around your throbbing clitoris. 

You go still for a moment, aside from your heaving chest, as you come back down to earth. 

You climb off of him, your jellified legs nearly causing you to collapse onto the floor next to him. 

He props himself up with one arm, looking down at you. His face is thoroughly glistening with your juices. 

You can't help but think he's never looked hotter. 

A proud grin begins to form across his features as you pull him down to you by the back of his neck. 

You kiss him with as much feverency as you can muster in your post orgasm haze, tasting the semi-sweet tang of your come on his lips and tongue. 

“It's your turn to get these off,” you demand, drawing back from the kiss to pull at the waistband of his pants. 

“Can I at least take you to the comfy bed before this goes any further?” he bargains. “You are still recovering from multiple injuries, you know.” 

“I can assure you that I've never felt better.” But you let him have his way. He stands before picking you up, lifting you so that you can wrap your legs securely around his midsection. His large hands planted firmly on your ass, he walks the short distance to the bedroom. Your nipples pebble as they press against his bare chest. 

He gently places you on top of the comforter before standing back, at last removing his jeans and boxers. His cock springs forward, slapping against his lower belly. 

Your mouth goes dry at the sight. If it had been a long time since you had been kissed, it had been even longer since you had been fucked. 

He crawls onto the bed, hovering above where you lay. You automatically open your legs to allow him between them. 

His eyes rake up and down your body, pausing on your breasts. 

"You're goddamn stunning.” 

Before you can respond, he's leaning down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Rolling it between his teeth, the sensation has you arching your back into his touch. You can feel the tip of his cock jutting against your core - teasing but not yet entering. 

He starts to line himself up at your hole, his eyes locking onto yours as he pumps himself in his hand. He brings his lips down to yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth at the same moment he nudges his tip past your entrance. 

There's a blissful burn as he cautiously buries himself inside you - you're simultaneously thankful that he's going slow and needing him balls deep. He pushes in, inch by inch, until you're filled to the hilt. When he can't get any deeper, he pulls back - and slams back into you all at once. 

You swear you can feel him in your stomach. You look down at where your bodies connect, the sight of him sliding in and out of you enough to have you on the edge of climaxing again already. 

He brings his metal hand to knead your breast. 

"Do you have any idea how many times I've pictured having you under me like this?” He coos. You gyrate your hips to meet his thrusts, causing his eyes to roll back into his head. 

“How many times I've thought about what your little moans would sound like?” 

Your only answer is a gutteral moan of his name as you wrap your arms around him and dig your nails into the flesh of his back. 

“Your pussy feels even more like heaven than I imagined it would.” 

His praises send you over the edge - you're coming for a second time, clenching around him as his thrusts grow messy. He fucks you through your orgasm before he loses control himself, burying his face in the curve of your neck as he spills into you. 

With you still panting and limp beneath him,  his movements gradually come to a stop but he doesn't pull out - instead he flips you to your side and maneuvers himself into a spooning position behind you. 

He peppers soft kisses along the skin of your shoulder, being careful to avoid your stitches, and relaxes beside you. 

“Remind me to dislocate my knee more often,” you joke, processing everything that just happened. 

He snorts, then tilts your head up to meet his gaze. “Remind me to play truth or dare with you more often.” He captures your lips in his, this kiss slower than any of the ones before. 

“I guess it would be weird to make you do my laundry for two weeks now, huh?” He teases, earning a laugh from you.

“You do still owe me a pizza, but I'll be happy to share it with you.” 

♡♡♡♡♡

my masterlist

[bunny584]

OBSESSED: TOJI

A/N: You’re booked. Busy. Filled to the brim with board meetings. Then your car decides to stop functioning. There’s one mechanic shop open and somehow they seem to only hire God’s sweetest eye candy. One of which keeps getting stuck in the back of your throat. Uh—I mean—

S/N: Toji Mother-Fucking (literally) Fushiguro. Idk why it took me so long to feature this green-eyed monster but I am foaming at the mouth for this AU, him, and his lil vampy co-worker. Toji girlies, can’t WAIT to rush Toji Tau Sigma this fall 🙂‍↕️

C/W: ….he’s his own CW. Mature, 18+. MDNI. 

Art credit: yashaliart_01 on insta

Music: for the love of God if you don’t listen to Obsessed x Mariah Carey I’m calling the coast guard. Reader wants to pretend Toji is not her newest vice so BAD. Ive never laughed so hard and been so painfully turned on writing a piece. SOMEONE tell me not to make this a series RN.

“Can I get a little help here?”

Toji grabs the rag nestled in the back pocket of his heavy work cargos. Charcoal ink stains the fabric. 

Bugatti engines are such a bitch. And make a mess like one too. 

“Hello? Am I talking to a wall or..?”

And just like that, you’ve earned yourself a few more seconds of silence. 

The mechanic’s Evergreen gaze and satisfied smirk peer back at him in the mirror. Not even a second passes before you ensnare him in your fiery scrutiny. 

Ahh, yes. Just his type. 

You are mean. 

With a sexy fucking silhouette. An angry merlot painted on those beautiful, pouted lips. A fresh manicure and keys to your Benz dig into hips that have definitely stopped traffic. 

The mirror image isn’t enough of a bite. Toji needs a real taste, so he turns around to lock eyes with his new favorite unsatisfied customer. 

“Mornin, doll.” 

“Nice of you to grace me with your presence! I was starting to think no one worked here.” 

Melodramatic, the way you narrow your gaze to bring his name tag into focus. It’s hot, though. All this sarcasm and irritation. 

“—Toji? Is it?” You hiss venom. Clearly there’s a point you’re in a hurry to make. 

But..

it’s 7:13 AM on a lovely Monday morning.  Birds are singing. The Red Bull he just downed was particularly delicious. Life is good, right now. 

Toji has all the time in the world. 

He’s in no rush. Especially when a stunning, uptight, bratty little thing — sorry, career woman — like you woke up and chose him to be your personal punching bag. 

And he’s built to take hits. From fists much, much larger than yours, gorgeous.  

“Toji, it is. What can I do for you, darlin?” 

And he knew that sweet, innocent pet name would dump diesel fuel all over those pretty flames. 

You ramble off your full name as if he is going to use it. By the time he’s through with you, you won’t have any use for it either. 

His name, though. You’ll have plenty use for his name. 

“…and when the stupid thing turns on this morning, the dash light won’t turn off.” 

Toji lands on earth just in time to clasp the car keys shoved into his chest. You’re gawking at him. Expecting a fury of motion and urgency. Because your charming little fingers demand it. 

So accustomed to time stopping and starting on your watch, aren’t you? 

“You’re so pretty.” Toji responds with a shit eating grin. 

Just for the huffing and puffing you’re currently displaying. Sputtering about how unprofessional he is. And how much work you have to get done. 

Adorable. 

Toji slips past your disdain and makes his way to the front door. Matte black G-Wagon with a champagne interior. The vision of you behind the wheel, scowling at traffic, in your tailored dress and stilettos makes his cock twitch. 

“She’s a beauty.” He calls from the driver seat. 

“That’s why I bought it. Can you please pick up the pace a little?”

Both arms are folded across your chest, eyes rolling at his wasted breath stating the obvious. 

You’re going to look phenomenal when he has those defiant arms pinned above your head. He’ll diminish those daggers in your eyes to tears. And make those puffy lips whimper for mercy. 

Toji will have you begging him to pick up the pace in no time. Your snarky comment was just a test run. 

The mechanic lets out a low chuckle, his eyes scan the dash for the source of your apparent distress. 

The tire pressure gauge. 

Really, gorgeous? This is why you’re screwed so tightly this morning? 

It should take approximately 3 minutes to fix. But there’s no way Toji is letting you slip away from his skilled fingers so easily. Not when you need to be unwound.

Unraveled bit by bit until you’re a warm, sweet, puddle of manners and gratitude. 

“Alright, babydoll—“

“My name is—“

“I’ll have my guys get to workin on it, sweetheart.” 

He can play this game all day. You scoff. Temporarily placated by his promise of a fix. 

“It’s an all day job, though.” Toji’s right hand man comes into view. 

The only other guy in the shop (on the planet) to get as much play as he does without meaning to. 

Women are insane about his stupid, empty-headed, love-drunk stare. And the purple rings around his eyes like the last time he got sleep was in his mother’s womb. Always giggling and asking about “the hot one with the pigtails” and “the pretty one with the tattoo on his nose.”

If he were a less confident man, Toji would’ve called someone else over. But the kid gets his antics. 

And today is going to be stuffed with them. 

“Choso! Can you take this beauty to the back for repair?” 

Dracula’s first born is sporting his hair down today. Already a bit damp from work. He gives you a once over, then offers a smile that evaporates underwear off of women. 

“Happy to. Which beauty am I taking to the back?”

“Ha, quit your lover boy shit.” Toji teases, and you sneer at his hypocrisy. 

“The car, big guy. Have it ready by 5:00, yeah?”

“5:00 pm?” You do a thing with your hands eventually landing on your hips. And Toji’s dick leaks like a virgin. 

“Well, there must be a courtesy rental. My first meeting starts in an hour.”

“I’m so sorry, miss. We don’t have that.” 

Kamo, you slick fuck. 

Choso apologizes with his signature puppy-eyes and half open mouth. Even you, made of sharp words and soft curves. Goddess of Fire and Ice, you melt under his gaze. 

Toji snickers to himself, while you stutter to a shockingly patient understanding. 

Something about the boy looking half asleep and like he can’t string letters together to spell his own name always does the trick. Leaving you wide open for the kill. 

“Tell you what, sweetheart.” Toji moves in with an assassin’s expertise. 

“Consider me your courtesy rental.”

“I’m sorry—what?” You flicker between the two smiles, rightfully suspicious. 

“I’ll get you from point A to point B, safe and sound.” The mechanic offers again with a broad smile, dangling his own car keys in his hand. 

Pensive eyes drop down to your watch. Board meetings start soon and he is offering a courtesy ride. 

“Fine.” Finally, a little submission. 

“It’s a 10 minute drive. The high rise on the corner of Koen and Mitake street.” 

The financial district. No wonder why you’re so tightly wound. 

“I know exactly, where we are going.” Toji beams. Beating your slender fingers to the passenger door. You barely mutter a ‘thanks’ before settling into the seat. 

You in your heels. And suit jacket. And handbag that costs enough to feed a large family for 6 months. Nestled so perfectly into his passenger seat. Toji can’t help but acknowledge how hard his dick is right now. 

The career woman clearly doesn’t approve of how fast he is hurling down corner streets. But you should understand, no? Places to be, and all that jazz?

“Uh, I’m sorry, where exactly are you taking me?” You perk up. Darting those beautiful warm eyes at the very short building in front of you. 

Not the corner of Koen and Mitake street, but Toji’s favorite coffee shop about 3 blocks over. The only place in the city that can get an Americano right - La Parisian. 

Toji grins maniacally. Pulling his sports car into a front row spot. 

“Point A, darlin.”

“Look, I don’t know what kind of game you are playing but I swear—“

“C’monnn. Lighten up.” He turns to face your incredulous expression. You wear it well, by the way.

“People stand when you walk in a room.” He continues. “They’ll still stand if you’re 5 minutes late and properly caffeinated.” 

Silence. Two huffs. A bitten lower lip. And one long, drawn out sigh.

“Fine. 5 minutes, max. Then I’ve got to get going I have—“

“Meetings baby, I know.” Toji finishes you off. 

He steps out of the driver’s seat fast enough to be at your door before your fingers touch the handle. 

The two of you walk in stride (in Toji’s mind) to the cafe. It’s adorable how you beeline towards the pastry display. Salivating over the various treats. Doing the thing women do, badgering the person manning the register about nutritional details. 

As if your figure wouldn’t make any living red-blooded human being fall to their knees. 

“What can I get started for you?” The barista probes. 

“I’ll have a soy London Fog latte, please.” You flicker over to the dessert you think you’re leaving behind. 

“And?” Toji probes. He taps the glass in front of the vanilla macaroon.

Another crack in the shield. You flash him a genuine smile for 0.04 seconds before turning back to the register.

“…and a vanilla macaroon, please.” You’re cute when you’re sheepish. 

“And I’ll have the largest iced Americano you can make, thanks.” 

Toji closes out the transaction and you two mosey over to a small table by a window. Your shoulders relax with the first sip of coffee. 

A satisfied grin tugs on your chauffeur’s lips. He knew what you needed the second he laid eyes on you. 

Much to your chagrin, and Toji’s delight — conversation flows like a bottomless well between you. The second something warm and another thing sweet landed on your tongue — the shield crumbled down. 

You’re an account executive. 

You work 80+ hour weeks. 

Live in an uppity neighborhood with a Doberman named Rocky. You got him because you like walking around at night to clear your mind. Having a dog taller than you on its hind legs and probably twice your size has eased your anxiety about that. 

You have a mean sweet tooth. 

And you’re single. Have been for the last year or so. 

“And not looking to change that anytime soon.” You reiterate, tossing him a look. 

Toji holds his hands up in feigned defeat. “I wasn’t plannin’ on it, sweetheart.” 

You’ve warmed up to his pet names, albeit against your will. But you’re there. The both of you harmonize light-hearted laughter. Fitting together like missing puzzle pieces.

“Your eyes are so green.” 

A rather obvious observation of your own, after a few moments of comfortable silence. 

As if your eyes don’t bend time. 

Toji catches his breath before responding. 

“They are…your kids could have ‘em too, if you want.” 

You burst into another fit of giggles. Unknowingly driveling rogue pastry on your chin. Babbling on and on about how ridiculous he is. And how cheesy his pick up lines are.

Meanwhile, you’re sitting there all high powered and intelligent. With a smile that makes him want to be a better man than he is. 

…and pastry all over your chin. 

Yeah. 

He’s going to marry you one day. 

Toji reaches over and swipes the macaroon off your chin. A sharp gasp tumbles from your lips, staring at his fingers. Which Toji slips into his mouth. 

He’s a betting man and would put money down on the fact that the dessert tastes exponentially better off of your skin. 

“Toji!!” 

“What else can I do for you?” Each word more smug than the last. 

“You could’ve told me I had food on my face!” Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you frown and Toji’s cock throbs to life. 

“Why?” The mechanic shrugs. “I wanted to lick it off instead.” 

The choppy inhale is music to Toji’s ears. You avoid him. Like the plague. Peeling your gaze away and planting it on the side window. Under the guise of people watching. 

But Toji knows better. 

He doesn’t miss the way you struggle to swallow your last bite. Or your thighs coming together so aggressively beneath the small table, rip tides break the surface of his Americano. 

“I felt that, baby.” Toji leans in. Shameless about the way he scans your face. 

Your lips should be outlawed.

The bottom one is marginally fuller than the top, so it naturally hangs a bit open. Inviting the most vile thoughts from his cock. Toji’s rational mind went to sleep the second you climbed into his passenger seat, princess. 

“What?” You sputter, gulping down the rest of your U.K. cloudy cappuccino, or whatever. 

“I don’t know what you’re referring to.” Your voice is steady, but the fidgeting and cagey eye contact hold the truth. 

Oh, really? 

“You’re squirming in your seat.” Toji counters, unblinking. Filling as much of your personal space as he can without tipping over. 

“Quick to cross your legs—“

“Toji!” 

Is your underwear as sticky as your face is flushed? Saliva pools in one direction, warm pre-cum pools in the other. 

“You are so out of—“

“All that talkin’ and you haven’t denied it once, doll.”

Toji’s palm digs into his crotch underneath the table. You are fucking his brain smooth with the raspberry blush along your nose and high cheeks. Sure, the sarcasm and ball-busting is hot, but this? 

The Career Woman suddenly so flustered and shy? 

You’re already thawed out. All he needs to do is dive in. 

Toji blinks back to reality when you rocket up from the table at warped speed. Your fingers clumsily fondle the zipper of your purse. 

“Excuse me for a minute.” You’re halfway to the restroom stalls by the end of your sentence.

The mechanic lasers down to the serpentine curve of your hips. Your plump, perky ass is just begging to be handled. It’s a felony, the way your work dress hugs your body. 

Is he really going to do this?

Heat slams into his groin. Wave after wave of lust slowly chipping at his teetering self-control. 

You might slap him. 

Call him a goddamn pervert. 

…and just the thought of either of those things makes his dick beat against his zipper. 

Fuck it. 

Toji is slick, how he maneuvers his way over to the restrooms. Both single-use stalls occupied, he walks up to you muttering some kind of pep talk to yourself. 

“Get your shit together.” You spit out. 

Amused, Toji leans against the wall behind you. Curious about where this cute little speech is going to go. 

“He’s a rando you met at a mechanic shop. For fuck sake, are you that horny?”

“Sounds like it, baby.” Toji takes the liberty to answer. You whip your head around and crawl out of your skin. 

Eyes wider than a newborn kitten. Mouth gaping as if you’re trying to show off how much you can handle. Toji swallows a groan. He can’t lose control. Not a chance. He has to savor his first taste of you like this. And every taste after that. 

Because, the weather in Hell is a balmy 0 degrees Fahrenheit and you are his, now. 

“I—uh, I—“ Your eyes dart over to the poor soul opening the bathroom door in slow motion. 

You think you’ve found an out, gorgeous?

Toji is faster and bigger than you are. Gripping the handle of the open door, ushering you into his new lair. Still choking on the shock of him catching your admission, you look to your left and right before diving into the empty bathroom. 

“Toji I…” 

Your back hits the wall and eyes settle on your hands. Shifty and nervous. Toji palms himself at the sight of you caged in like this. 

He’s disgusting, he knows that. 

And normally, he would ask permission. Being a gentleman and all. 

But there’s something too alluring about the way you’re trembling right now. The obvious conflict written all over your face, and heaving chest…and tense thighs…

His cock can’t take another second. 

And apparently neither can you. 

Because the second his fingers cup the back of your neck and his breath grazes your mouth you crash into him. Slotting your puffy lips into his, taking him by surprise for a millisecond. 

“Oh, T-toji.” You whine into his mouth. Grasping at his shoulders that are far too wide, far too muscular for your dainty grip.

Fucking, christ. 

Hearing his name like that. 

The gorgeous, high-pitched, pathetic plea trails down his ears to his aching sex and jerks it. If his cargos were any lighter you would’ve seen the pre-pubescent mess he’s making in his pants right now. 

But they aren’t. And you don’t. 

You mewl at how Toji nips at your bottom lip. Sinking it underneath his teeth until its swells to his liking. Melting beneath his large grasp, currently riding the dizzying lines of your hips and ass. 

“You taste fucking good, baby.” Toji mumbles into your warm cavern. Licking along the warm, soft ridges. 

“Ah-T..god.” You pull away and dive into his neck. Attempting to hide your utterly fucked out daze, but he won’t let you. 

Toji palms your ass with a tenth of his strength. You yelp and jump into his arms. He takes advantage of the momentum and lifts you high on his waist. Temporarily forcing you to look down on him.

Glassy eyed. Kiss abused lips. Panting and heaving. Cupping his face like your hands were made to. 

And something tight clenches in Toji’s chest. It takes a moment for him to shake it off, but it existed.

He’ll revisit that later.

“You look good up there, babydoll.” He pants, before setting you down on the sink ledge. He catches your chin in his hand before you turn away. Rooting you in place. 

“I…Toji.” 

Moaning his name like you’re begging for him to start and stop all at once. 

Your eyes descend to his lips. Watching the smirk blossoming across his face. Distracted enough not to notice his free hand shove up your dress in one swift motion. 

Your thighs recognize his authority and melt wide open for him. He kisses your tiny whimpers while nestling between them. 

“Mmmgh g-god please.” 

“This why you were so bratty this mornin baby?” 

Toji’s index and long fingers stroke your soaked, clothed core. Thin lace panties plastered to your warm sex. You wind your hips into his fingers. Batting your eyelashes up at him as if he’s going to give you what you want so easily.

He hovers his lips over yours. Pulling away each time you lunge forward for a kiss. Pouty and frustrated, you dig your nails into his neck and grind along his stationary fingers. 

“T-Toji, please…I’m so..ahh.”

“Needy cunt just wanted some attention, mm?” 

His fingers slip past your opening, and you offer up a soprano moan that shatters to stardust. 

Hedonistic noises fill the spaces between both of your punched out gasps. You’re fucking tight. Gummy, slick walls clamp down around his knuckles when he curves up to pet your pleasure spot. 

The steel pipe between his legs throbs against his thigh. Demanding friction. But one hand is cupping your chin and the other is so pussy drunk an army couldn’t pry his fingers away. 

“T..I—I’m oh fuck I—“

Toji bites down on your bottom lip. And you clench around him. Gushing more of your sweet arousal into his palm. And he damn near laps it up with his greedy tongue. 

“Shhh baby,” he coos against your jaw. 

“Can’t have everyone hearing the Executive getting fucked open by some mechanic’s hands can you?” 

There is a delicious irony in you treating him like a punching bag no more than an hour ago and now bucking your hips on his fingers, chasing an ever elusive high.

Sandpaper lines Toji’s throat. 

He wants nothing more than to bounce you on his cock in this bathroom. Fill you up with his cum and send you to your meetings full of him. 

But you haven’t learned your lesson yet.

“What did I promise baby?” Toji strains in your ear. His hand migrates from your chin to your neck, while his fingers ‘pick up the pace a little.’

His pretty little powerhouse. 

You babble a chorus of nothing. Unable to breathe, unable to think. Only drip. And leak. And squelch around his digits. Toji tightens the grip around your pulse point. Lulling your mouth open.  

“Talk to me, princess. What did I promise you?” He probes again, stealing air from your lungs. 

Tha—y-you would…p—point A.” Barely audible syllables tumble out of you. Ascending in pitch. Your hips reflexively try to pull away from your threatened orgasm.

“Keep going, I’m listenin.” 

“Oh fuck T..Toji?! I-Im c-im gonna—”

“I know, baby.” He smears wet kisses along your jawline. “ I can hear how messy your precious little pussy is. But I didn’t give you permission to stop. Keep going.”

Your walls spasm at his command. Followed by an angelic pitiful little whine. You’re close. So close. 

“P-P-point A to—“

“Point B.” 

Toji finishes your sentence as you reach nirvana. Full body convulsions. He slots his arms around the small of your waist. And it fits like it was molded for him. Like you were sculpted for him.

And he, for you.

The mechanic burns his gaze into your skin. Riding each choppy wave of your ecstasy. Such tiny, sexy sounds. Staccato breaths fanning his lips, his chin, his neck when you try to hide from his scrutiny. 

You are a goddamn dream. 

And his future wife.

Toji guessed it when the macaroon balanced on your chin for a full 30 seconds before he swiped it away and you accused him of defamation of character. 

But now? 

Watching you saddle this stallion of an orgasm. Clawing at his back with all the desperation of a pretty little damsel in distress. 

Distress at just his fingers, alone. 

What intoxicating melody will he unlock when he laps up the honey straight from your core? How will you gasp and moan and squirm when he single-handedly re-shapes your cunt to accommodate his size? 

He has no clue. 

But Toji will spend forever figuring you out. And mastering you.

The back of your neck fits beautifully into his grasp as he coaxes you from hiding. Pupils blown out. Cheeks flushed and warm. Tendrils matted along your forehead. Before he can speak, you beat him to the punch.

Of course you do. 

“I’ve decided,” You pant. The baseline spice returning to your grin. 

“That you might just be obsessed with me, Toji.” 

Both of you share a hushed laugh. Exchanging cotton candy breaths. But then his lips accidentally brush yours and Toji can’t help but dive in for a kiss. Fucking the warm cavern of your mouth with his tongue. 

You pull away before he’s ready, with a look on your face that makes him feel like a God. 

“I might be.” Toji whispers, partially against his will. His lips find the corner of your mouth. Careful to avoid falling victim to your pout again.

“Let’s get you to the other point B, baby.” 

The car ride to your office could make anyone queasy. 

Constant banter back and forth. Full bodied laughs. You mindlessly stroking his forearm with those angelic fingers riling his cock up as if it just now discovered women. 

You let out a small sigh, with slightly dropped shoulders when your office building comes into view. Toji doesn’t know how to interpret it. But for him? Reality is coming too quickly.

“So,” You start once the both of you are out of the car. Pretty face tilting up and Toji’s dick strains against its confines.

“What do I owe you, Mr. Fushiguro?” 

The way you say his name.

It takes the will of God for Toji to bite back his original response.

“Nothin, doll.” He’s wearing the same, dumb, love-struck face Choso wears on a daily basis. Shockingly, Toji couldn’t care less. 

“The tires just needed air. Choso will drop it off in an hour.” 

He would do it himself. But the urge to park in an empty lot and abuse the fuck out of his cock until a shred of clarity re-settles in his mind is a tad bit overwhelming, sweetheart.

Then your mouth drops in an incredulous ‘Oh’ and all Toji can picture is ruining the back of your throat. How pretty you are going to be wretching around his girth. Gasping for air. Choking on his cum. 

“Toji. Fushiguro.” You like using his name, don’t you?

“You held me hostage for a whole morning for some air—“

Toji kisses the rest of your complaints off your tongue. And you whine. Slot open for him with no resistance. Because under all that irritation and sarcasm, buried within the Trojan Horse, lays your supple, delectable submission. 

And he will take every opportunity to taste it. 

“I had a great time on our first date, babydoll.” Toji rasps against your swollen lips. 

The raging erection is threatening to embarrass him. There’s not enough restraint in the world to be around you any longer. Toji nestles your voice in his back pocket. The two of you watch each other with wordless, taken aback smiles as he takes slow steps toward his sports car.

Before the mechanic sinks into the driver’s seat, he makes a promise.

“Can’t wait for our second date, Mrs. Fushiguro!”

[earlysunshines]

sunshine girl

danielle marsh x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: you are not a morning person and danielle is an everything person—after working with her you start to like mornings a little more, or maybe just her.

warnings: grumpy x sunshine kinda?? ; reader is hyein's cousin ; soobin from txt and rest of nwjns mentioned ; pining and slowburn, like.. slooowburn ; sooo much fluff like soooooo much… ; loool anything else i didn't mention? ; barely proofread

a/n: fell in love w dani, caved, wrote... dreamy sigh... dani…

there is no universe or alternate reality with a twisted, psycho version of that you enjoys mornings. 

there is no way that you’d deliberately get out of bed just to hear the birds chirping and get up to open the curtains or whatever it is that morning people do to enjoy the grueling hours of 7 - 11am. 

do people actually do this? get up at 7am willingly without benefitting from it? the only reason you’re up is because you need that paycheck to keep you going. the image of the little envelope with your name on it and what you’ve earned renders you awake, at least awake enough to get yourself in the shower, dressed up, and ready to go for opening – you’ve never opened, and even worse, you’ve never met any of the staff that opened either. they can’t be worse than the closers, can they?

as you look in the mirror of your car, it’s palpable that the morning air hates you. your eyes are a little puffy, slight eyebags are visible, and your blinking is slower. you’ve got to get through this, it’s the only way to fit work into your schedule since your classes are all later in the day. 

when you arrive, there’s already someone in your unassigned but basically assigned parking spot – you frown as you back up into a different place. 

after you shift your car to park and check the time, realizing you only have five minutes left before you need to clock in for a six-hour shift, you close your eyes and let your body go limp against the seat. 

–

danielle’s head perks up when she hears the door opening. she halts her wiping of the coffee maker, then turns to see an unfamiliar face – a grin automatically finds its way to her lips.

“hi! you must be y/n?” it’s eight in the morning, you’re barely functioning, and you’re already hit with an overly enthusiastic, excited ray of sunshine; you can’t take the energy, not at this hour.

“yeah.” you respond bluntly, danielle isn’t really phased with the lack of energy that’s being thrown back. “you are?”

she answers with hands clasped together, “danielle! but my friends call me dani.” 

you’re not calling her dani, you aren’t her friend, and she’s just your coworker. 

you walk behind the counter and put your bag inside the cabinet, then grab your apron and put it on. when you turn to the side, you’re met with a shorter woman, her curious eyes, the beauty marks on her face, and a big smile. she puts her hand out and you shake it hesitantly. 

“it’s nice to meet you y/n! have you ever worked mornings?”

“no,” you mumble, unlinking your hands. “only closing shifts.”

“ahh, must be different? i’ll get you situated. i’m excited to work with you!” she says, then walks past you towards the door to the kitchen. she pauses before explaining, “the employees in the back take care of all the pastries other than the croissants and cookies, so we make them over here. i’m going to grab the premade dough and whatnot, you stay here– oh! and could you wipe down the machine? and then just run water for the espresso machine to get the pucks ready.”

you nod at her and she smiles again. you rub your eyes as she leaves your sight, fighting the urge to take a power nap on the counter.

–

the whole morning you’re in charge of drinks right until it hits two in the afternoon. luckily, you’re more fond of being stuck in your corner where the espresso machine is rather than taking orders and socializing with the customers – you wouldn’t be able to greet them as enthusiastically as danielle does with each and every one of them.

you don’t know how she does it.

there's another guy—soobin—who comes in an hour after you. he's a little older, quieter, but all smiles and talkative when it comes to danielle. even as you make drinks and keep to yourself, you can tell danielle's energy is contagious. hearing her and soobin chat freely as they restock pastries and bread makes you wonder if your mornings can be as bearable. if they can do it, maybe you can too.

soobin leaves an hour later than you and danielle, waving to both of you as you two walk out the bakery. 

you fish for your keys and start to walk towards your car, but then your head turns when you hear your name called out. turning around, you spot danielle waving to you, which urges you to stop in your place.

“hey y/n, i just wanted to say that it was nice working with you! i’m looking forward to more shifts with you, have a great rest of your day alright?”

paused in place, you struggle to form words, but you manage to respond a little bluntly, “thanks, i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“bye the way!” she plays with her fingers, “you’re super pretty.” 

caught by surprise, you pause for a moment, clutching the strap of your bag a little tighter as your ears start to warm.

“thank you.”

danielle grins again, and oddly enough, you really like how warm and smiley she is. she's like a beam of sunlight turned into a person. she waves once more before walking in the opposite direction, leaving you replaying the whole interaction in your head the rest of the way to your car.

a small smile finds its way to your lips as you sit in your seat, strangely enough.

–

minji is scribbling in her sketchbook when her roommate walks in, looking a little more giddy than usual.

“dani, hey.” minji greets her, smiling when she does. “how was work?”

“great!” danielle beams, right before plopping down next to her roommate on the couch. “there’s a new member – well, she’s not new, but she just switched to working mornings. today was her first shift with soobin and i, and she’s really good at making the drinks, better than when yeosang was on drink duty.”

“that’s great to hear dani.” minji responds, watching her roommate relax against the cushion. “new coworker seems nice.”

“yeah but,” danielle frowns a little, “she’s not that talkative. she has a tough shell, i really want to know her! she’s really pretty too, like gorgeous, stunning– wow.”

minji quirks a brow. “gorgeous?”

“yes! like, wow, i was taken aback. she looked tired too, but i’ve been tired and i’ve never looked that effortlessly wonderful. i mean, she was making drinks most of the time so she never faced me much. even then, the side of her face is nice and she’s just great to look at.” 

danielles roommate narrows her eyes at her. “right.”

–

the next morning you’re downing two shots of espresso like it’s vodka. danielle watches the whole thing with concern etched into her brow.

“are you okay y/n?” danielle questions, “espresso is strong, how do you do it?”

you nod at her and mumble, “it’s fine.” before you continue to clean the counter, not turning to face her. she frowns at you; danielle will get through that shell. 

soobin is in half an hour later, grinning at danielle as he puts his apron on and saying “hi” to you as well. you respond with a forced smile before plopping the last batch of cookies in the small oven on the counter. 

as soon as soobin is done taking the first few customers, leaving you to finish their drinks, danielle pulls him by the sleeve away from you.

“dani? what is it–”

“let’s go bag the pastries, come.”

“um, okay?” he walks over towards the shelves with her, putting on some gloves before asking, “why are you being so strange?”

“i want to get closer with y/n.” she says with a pout. 

“is that all?” soobin questions her–and this strange behavior. “i think she’s just timid.”

“you were timid too, but it took two hours into the shift for us to start talking about hedgehogs.”

“well, i like hedgehogs. you have to find out something you two like.”

danielle sighs defeatedly. “she barely responds to me unless it’s work-related!”

“you’ve got to give her time, people are different. she’s probably not a morning person? and maybe she sees this as just her job, maybe she doesn’t want to interact with others.”

danielle watches you from where her and soobin are after hearing you call out the name of the order. you hand it over to the elderly woman, who thanks you warmly and it earns a small, genuine smile from you. danielle finds your smile lovely, especially the small dimples on your cheeks that form. 

“you’re going to help me out, okay? we have to warm up to her.”

soobin sighs before bagging a cream bun. “okay.”

–

it’s painfully slow for a few minutes, so you walk out from behind the counter to fix up the pastries that the various customers have disordered. 

danielle follows and you jump when you turn to see her beaming at you. “hi!”

“danielle,” you tighten your jaw. “hi.”

“it’s slow on wednesday mornings, most people are already at work.”

“i figured.” you reply as you close the packaging for the rice doughnut.

“so, how are you this morning?”

“i’m fine, um, how are you?”

danielle smiles; the conversation is flowing in the tiniest bit, but still, it’s something. “just tired, i had a lot of work to do because one of my professors loves to assign things last minute, i stayed up quite late. are you in college too? i kind of guessed that we’re around the same age.”

“i just started my second year.” you answer.

she jumps a tiny bit to show the excitement over a commonality, you think it’s adorable.

“really? me too! what are you studying?”

“english and creative writing–” you cut yourself off when you catch a mother and her daughter in the corner of your eye, shutting down the conversation immediately when they start to walk towards the register. 

you throw a small smile at them and greet them warmly before tak ingtheir orders. danielle huffs, but she’s shining again once she’s realized that your shell has chipped just barely.

–

you don’t work fridays or the weekend, danielle has already been aware of that after checking the schedule. it would be weird in the eyes of, well, many people, but she checks everyones schedule just in case any mishaps occur, danielle is considerate beyond measure.

she’s attentive and notices many things – she’s like that with everyone, but you? you’re different.

sure, she’s attentive to the way soobin stumbles over the small bump under the door to the kitchen each time he has to grab something from the back, how he jumps each time the phone rings, and how often he bags the pastries backwards. with you, however, she notices a lot, she learns. 

two weeks after you two start working together, danielle has managed to learn three things about you.

one: you laugh whenever soobin slips up – or really any little mishap that happens with him (which occurs often) – but you always try to conceal your amusement. two: as soon as noon hits, you’re much more awake, which is when danielle sparks more conversation with you. and three: you both go to the same university, and you don’t know this, but she figured that out before you even told her after catching you in the dining hall from afar.

it’s not easy to miss something – or someone – that stands out so boldly, especially if it’s your charming visuals.

her job used to be something that she’d get done and enjoy while it lasted, but now that you’re thrown into the mix, a new challenge and person is clouding her mind throughout her days. she’s so tuned in to everything about you, for some strange reason. and one afternoon, the rare moment she loses focus – attention slipping away in the heat of a rush – danielle bumps into you, spilling a small cup of hot coffee all over your hand. 

you gasp loudly, clutching your hand and biting down on your teeth as tears start to form. “fuck–”

“y/n!” danielle almost yelps, earning the attention from the customers in the shop. “oh my gosh–” she places the cup on the counter before grabbing your wrist and running it under cold water. somehow, her holding your wrist seems to burn more. “i’m so so sorry, y/n are you okay? i’m so–”

you shake your head and push her hand away from your wrist, wiping away the small tear in the corner of your eye. “it’s fine, it was an accident. you should go help soobin out, there’s a long line.”

she can’t tell if you’re mad at her, it breaks her heart. the tone of your voice is always so hard to decipher, and as much as she wants to stay there and help you out – probably with another string of apologies – you have a point, she should do her job, but you’re burnt. danielle is much more worried about you rather than making money in the moment.

but still, your look and tone sends danielle back to the register, and before she tends to the customer, she looks back at you, pouting a little.

–

as soon as you reach the door to the drivers side of your car, you feel a tap on your shoulder. 

turning around, you’re met with danielle.

“did you need something?” you ask her, tilting your head.

“no, i just wanted to apologize for burning your hand, i’m so sorry.” 

you shake your head. “it’s alright, it was a mistake.” 

“yes, but still, can i make it up to you with coffee or pastries?”

“danielle,” you catch yourself and danielle by surprise when a small giggle slips out. you clear your throat before continuing, “we work at a bakery, i can always treat myself to both of those without charge.”

“well, i really want to make it up to you.”

“you’re really sweet, but it’s alright.” you catch your coworker off guard with the sudden compliment, there’s a small flush that spreads across her cheeks. “besides, my hand feels better.” you show her your hand, putting it out in front of her, it’s still red and swollen. “it’ll heal more. i’ll see you tomorrow, alright? get home safe danielle.”

danielle can’t really respond to you after that, you’re already waving to her once more before heading to your car. she watches you glance down at your hand, gently holding it as you do so. the guilt in her starts to grow even more.

–

hanni watches danielle storm into the house, rub her face with both hands, and plop onto the couch like she’s just gotten rejected by someone as if she were in some type of romance drama. 

“dani? what is up with you–”

“i’m a terrible person! my coworker probably hates me– i’ve been trying to warm up to her these past two weeks and then i go and burn her!”

hanni’s eyes widen, her brows raise, and her jaw drops. “you burned your coworker?”

with tired eyes and a bedhead, minji appears from the hall in an oversized t-shirt and sweatpants. she groans as she runs a hand through her hair, squinting her eyes. “what’s with all the noise? i’m trying to nap…”

“dani burned her coworker.”

minji’s a little more awake now, tilting her head. “the really pretty one?”

“yes!” danielle groans into the cushion, the bottom of her palms covering her eyes as she lies there defeatedly. when she takes her hands off her face, she opens her eyes to see minji and hanni hovering over as they stand, awaiting an explanation. “i’m a terrible person.”

hanni moves danielles legs over so that she can sit on the couch, putting her legs on her lap as the younger woman loses it. minji sits on the opposite end, putting her legs over on hanni’s lap as well and resting her head against a pillow.

“okay well why are you a terrible person?”

“i spilled hot coffee all over my coworker’s hand! gosh, i tried to apologize and everything, i even offered to compensate for the damage and she declined! y/n has to hate me…”

hanni looks over at minji to pout, then looks back at danielle. “hey, it was a mistake. what did she say?”

“well, she was really normal about it as if i didn’t just burn her hand, she brushed it off like it was nothing. i offered to have coffee with her or share some pastries but then she giggled and was all like ‘you’re really sweet but it’s okay’ and i don’t know, what if burning her hand makes her talk to me less and she hates me forever and–”

“dani.” minji butts in, making the younger one quiet down. “you made her laugh and she said you’re really sweet.”

“and?”

“and?” minji groans, sitting up on her elbows now. “dani, she said you’re really sweet. why wouldn’t she want to talk to you?”

“because i burned her? or maybe i’m annoying and talk too much but i really can’t help it-”

hanni puts a finger to danielles lips, dramatically shushing her. minji laughs at the action before hanni butts in, “dani, first of all; you’re not annoying. second; you’re literally the greatest person ever and i love you and if you ever stopped talking so much i’d have to i don’t know, die?”

minji snorts. “the hell?”

“what i’m saying is no one could ever hate you and honestly if she does; she’s not worth your time. plus, you shouldn’t waste your energy on someone who doesn’t appreciate you. you’re wonderful bro.” danielle’s eyes soften as she looks at hanni, and minji’s bottom lip protrudes from how sweet her words are. hanni sits danielle upright and puts both hands on her shoulders. “how about this: minji and i go visit you at work tomorrow and we’ll be the judge of your coworker.”

“you’d do that for me?”

hanni nods. “yes, but also please hook us up with some free pastries and drinks because i have to do a wrap around on this whole lecture so let's see it as an exchange, but also i love you dani and don’t want you losing your mind over this woman.”

“and i’ll be the judge of whether or not your coworker is as gorgeous as you think.” minji adds teasingly.

danielle smiles from ear to ear, making a small little noise as she pounces on hanni and hugs her like she’s her savior. minji laughs at the sight, smiling as well. 

–

you park near your cousin’s highschool, you always pick her up after opening shifts since the time aligns perfectly. you send a text to your cousin to let her know you’re there and your burnt hand sits on the wheel, so you take a few moments to examine it as you wait for a response.. 

minutes pass before your cousin arrives, knocking on the window and grinning at you, breaking you out of your small daydream.

“hi y/n, sorry i came so late, my teacher was being an ass.”

“language hyein.” you scoff, knowing damn well you curse like it’s your second language. hyein gets into the passengers seat and steals your phone, putting on a song as you start to drive again. “anyway, how was school?”

“oh god, it was so draining today. i swear my physics teacher wants me dead.”

“this is why you don’t take physics as a sophomore.”

“well someone won’t help me.” hyein rolls her eyes playfully, making you giggle. “anyway, school was just school. how was work?”

“it was alright, i kinda– well, my coworker spilled coffee on me. burned my hand a little but it’s not too bad.”

“the tall one? soobin? or was it the pretty one, your little work crush?” she raises her brows knowingly, smirking. 

hyein is one of very few people who you let loose around. despite your age gap, she’s your cousin, and your favorite one too. ever since you moved to live with her and her parents for school, you’ve gotten closer, spending hours rambling and practically getting glued to by the hip. she knew everything about you and what you felt.

she knew how you felt about your morning shifts; you coming home with a smile on your face after work was different. you dreaded work and the people you worked with for closing, all some stupid braindead men that you had to order around half the time. danielle and soobin were far from that. the duo eased your worries and actually did their job relatively well, you were able to do what you loved – stay stuck in the corner making all of the drinks – without worrying about the bakery. it was a breeze, you loved teh switch to mornings other than waking up at a time that has you quiet, moody, and only functioning after at least two shots of espresso.

hyein also knew about the interest you had in your new coworker danielle. you’ve never rambled about someone this much, calling her sweet, lovely, nice – not to mention the whole tangent regarding her eyes and pretty smile. hyein watched you chastise yourself for being so distant and avoidant because of your moods in the morning, comforting you for not being able to form decent bonds and friendships because of how early you had to get up.

you grip the wheel a little tighter. “danielle, it was an accident though.”

hyein eyes you. “so the pretty one.”

“her name is danielle.”

“point proven! you don’t just recognize your coworkers by how attractive they are you know…” hyein teases, “sometimes you talk about her and i wonder if my older cousin can finally be a normal person that’s capable of having a crush on someone.”

you keep your eyes on the road, but use your right hand to push her head playfully and ruffle her hair, earning a whine. 

“just because i think someone is pretty does not mean i like them. you’re so young, you don’t know shit about crushes and romance.”

“stop cursing.” hyein warns. the light turns red and you step on the break, then turn to look at her with raised brows. hyein laughs and cocks her head, giving you stupid puppy eyes. “i know when someone likes someone, or at least when they start to. you think she’s pretty but in a way that sounds like you’re an admirer.”

“what?”

“you tell me you can’t talk to her and look at her sometimes? y/n im sixteen, but im also not new to having crushes, ive been there. you like her.”

“do you want to walk home?”

hyein pouts, crossing her arms and making you laugh in the process. “youre no fun.”

“whatever.” you mumble.

when the two of you get home, hyein steals your keys to open the door to the house. she gets in first, obviously eager to do whatever it is that she’s up to after school — probably calling her friends or laying in bed.

you walk over to the kitchen and run your burnt hand under cold water, clenching your teeth slightly when you feel the stinging. 

in the drawer near you, there’s the first aid kit, over the counter tablets, and other health related items. you rummage through to find the burn relief cream, leaning against the countertop as you twist the cap open. you squeeze out a line of the cream that extends down to the base of your pointer finger, then you begin to rub your reddened skin. 

your thoughts drift to the moment of when you burned yourself—well, when danielle burned you. she had this look in her eyes, so pure and so regretful that it made you feel bad. 

she was so sweet with the offer, she’s ways so lovely. she’s honestly adorable. the way the words rushed out of her, the small pout on her lips and the fact that she offered to make it up to you. every nerve in your body wanted to accept the offer, but danielle shouldn’t have to pay or spend time on something to make things up to someone like you. it was a mistake after all. 

then your thoughts drift elsewhere, from the whole burnt-hand incident and then to the person who burned you–to danielle. she’s bubbly in the mornings and although you used to hate that, her smile and greetings started to wake you up a little more. the crinkle of her brow every time she catches you downing shots of espresso always makes you suppress a laugh, the expression is so adorable and she’s just so—

“stupid hyein,” you sigh to yourself.

youve been absentmindedly rubbing the burn-relief cream in the same spot for almost a minute, all because of your coworker taking over your thoughts. you begin to rub the rest of your hand and add another dot of cream to the lower area of your hand.

hyein’s called you out multiple times for having an alleged crush on your coworker, but you’ve always dismissed it. however, the words she’s said to you before ring in your head in the moment. you crease your brows and purse your lips subconsciously.

“maybe you can’t talk to her because you’re attracted to her and not because it’s 8 in the morning.” hyein shrugs, looking at you as you sit lazily on the couch. she’s lecturing you after another ramble about your day, the mere mention of danielle prompting her to quote on quote ‘educate you’ on what love is. “you talked to your friends perfectly during morning classes from what you’ve told me, maybe you’re just all shy and blushy and—“

you smack the palm of your hand on your forehead to stop yourself from thinking of that memory of you and your cousin.

“i don’t have a crush on danielle… what is she thinking?” you mumble to yourself. you halt your actions after the realization that you’ve just talked to yourself hits. you press a hand to your cheeks, feeling a weird warmth from your skin, making you shake your head and groan. “i can talk to her fine… just fine.”

 —

“morning!” danielle beams as she catches you walking in. you manage to shoot a small smile, danielle likes that you’ve been giving her more of those.

you put your bag in the cabinet, then put on your apron. without turning to face her, you start to speak, “danielle?”

she almost jumps, not expecting you to even interact with her. maybe you needed help with something? or a question regarding the new breakfast pastries.

“y/n, did you need something?”

you shake your head. “no, i just, um— how are you this morning?”

danielle pauses, you turn to meet her eyes and blink as you wait for an answer. your coworker short circuits momentarily before stumbling over her words as she responds, “oh, i’m— i’m great! tired of course, you know with school and all. thank you for asking y/n.”

“did you get enough sleep?” danielle looks at you after you ask that, wondering where all of this friendliness is coming from. she’s not against it though, maybe you’re just awake this morning.

“i tried to get as much as i could.” she says, then smiles. “is your hand okay?”

“it’s fine. i put ointment on it and it’s like nothing happened.” you assure.

without any warning, you disappear into the back, probably looking for dough to bake. danielle is still stuck in her place, blinking a few times before she runs the espresso machine. she wonders for a moment, furrowing her brow at the rare interaction that you started. but then, she’s grinning to herself just thinking about it all.

danielle wonders: maybe you don’t hate her, maybe her roommates were right. 

—

you hear a bundle of voices, three to be exact.  when you look up from the steam wand, you’re met with three women that all look your age—they all probably go to your university, or maybe the other one that’s also close by.

one of them walks up to the register, soobin greets them, but their attention seems to be on you for a bit.

“hi, is danielle here?” one asks. 

soobin nods, still looking at the screen of the register. “yeah, she’s in the back. did you need her?”

“we’re really close with her, could you grab her?”

soobin nods again, humming in response before he walks over to the door leading to the back. 

you continue to make the cappuccino that an older lady ordered a few minutes ago, creating a small lavender looking design with the steamed milk and pushing it out on the counter. 

“for park!” you call out, the lady comes up to the counter in seconds and smiles at you. she pats your shoulder and it makes your heart warm knowing she’s happy with it.

the three girls from before, they continue to eye you from the register until danielle is back, and when she returns, she starts squealing at the sight of them.

“you guys really came!” danielle beams, immediately reaching over to hug them as best as she can with the counter in the way. “what pastries did you all want? oh! i can also grab you drinks.”

the one with bangs nods, then orders for all of them. “mmm i’ll have an iced vanilla latte, minji wants a hot tea and haerin just wants a cookie and iced tea. you know she’s out early today? oh my god, as soon as we heard we scooped her up immediately-“

the rest of their conversation doesn’t process in your head as you start with the drinks. you had just put the puck in the machine, twisted it in place and started to pull the espresso before you feel a tap on your shoulder.

danielle meets your eyes and you feel yourself soften up a bit. 

she tugs on the cloth covering your shoulder just a bit before she speaks. “hey.”

“hi?” 

“can i introduce you to my roommates and our friend? you wouldn’t mind? would you?”

“oh, no— but i’m kind of… making one of their drinks right now.”

“oh, sorry— wait what?  i was going to make them—“

“well since they’re you’re friends i think they’d appreciate their drinks out earlier. and it’s okay, don’t be sorry danielle. i’ll do whatever if it’s not busy and when i’m done.” you swear you see a little more pink on her cheeks than usual, stronger than the blush she wears—you could be wrong.

“right, yeah, do your job!”

you stifle a giggle and purse your lips to conceal your smile, ultimately failing. danielle’s tone and mood are contagious sometimes.

(all the time.)

when you’re finished with the drinks — danielle had lingered nearby here and there as you made them — you placed them on the little counter for danielle to pick up. she had smiled at you, mouthed a “thank you,” and rushed over to sit down with her friends. 

it wasn’t busy at all, the only other customers in the bakery had been a corporate man that soobin was tending to. the man bought a loaf of milk bread and ordered a brewed coffee, soobin could handle all of that. he will handle all of that.

danielle sits with her friends at the table, giggling as she does so and looking as happy as ever. there’s a weird flutter in your stomach, like someone poking you there from the inside and it’s not that it hurts, it’s just odd. 

pretending to busy yourself is something you’re really good at doing, and plus, it’s a great way to excuse your glances toward danielle as she talks to her friends. she’s really smiley and giddy, it’s the cutest thing ever.

a few minutes pass and you’re still bagging some items, daydreaming as you do so. 

(danielle seemed to pop up here and there, strangely enough.

here and there turned into her being the star of the dreams.)

you’re in your own world until a faint “hey y/n!” is muttered into your ear, making you jump and almost elbow your pretty coworker.

“did i startle you? i’m so sorry—“ danielle starts, but you’re quick to cut her off as soon as she begins to apologize. 

“no, no. sorry i was in my own world.”

“i get that.” she chuckles, “hey, most of the things are bagged–i was wondering if you’d like to meet my friends? soobin is cashiering and he should be fine since it’s not too busy so…?”

you take a quick glance and look over at her friends who are looking at the two of you eagerly. the one with bangs has this smirk on her face, making you hesitate.

“please? i don’t know why but–” danielle lies, she knows why. “um, they want to meet you.”

“me?” 

“yes!”

you pause and honestly think of declining until danielle shoots her bottom lip out a bit. in no time you’re biting the inside of your cheek before responding with a nod, and you’re so grateful because she’s grabbing your hand—two fingers of yours—and leading you over to the small table near the windows.

danielle is gripping your pointer and middle finger lightly, but it feels like she has a hold on you as a whole. your body is all warm and fuzzy and your mind is hazy and her skin is really soft and nice and—

“this is y/n!” she introduces, letting go of your fingers. “y/n, these are my roommates hanni minji, and this is haerin.”

“nice to meet you all.” you greet softly with a small smile. they all stare and you feel yourself shrinking under all the pairs of eyes. you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue before clearing your throat. “are the drinks alright?”

minji scans your face, eyes tracing each and every feature before her gaze softens. she nods at you and responds, “they’re great, wonderful.”

you nod at her and grin again, looking down at the table to avoid any eye contact. 

hanni chuckles. “yeah this latte is actually amazing, danielle’s made me lattes before but they’ve never been this good.”

“y/n is really good at making the drinks, practically keeping the bakery in business. i bet our boss is happy with you in the mornings.” danielle completely ignores hanni’s teasing and adds to the praise, making you wave your hand and shake your head.

“ah, no, no. i mean i can only make drinks but danielle is really good at every aspect of her job, she’s wonderful with customers.”

“oh stop–”

“no, you are.” you look up to make eye contact with her, then look over to soobin, who’s brewing another batch of coffee. “soobin is great, but he’s really clumsy sometimes and it’s kind of funny catching him stumbling over words. you’re a natural.”

“you’re so sweet.” danielle mutters in awe before  lips turn up even more, her cheeks flush slightly and her friends all look at each other with smirks on their faces. 

“i um, i try–”

you hear the door opening and two pairs of very familiar voices make you turn immediately. turning around, you see your cousin and her best friend in a group with three others you just barely recognize. danielle spots this as well, she starts to stand before you pause her in the act.

“danielle, i got it.”

“it’s a big group y/n.” she continues to stand up, but when you place your hand on her arm lightly it’s like you’ve frozen her in place. minji and hanni immediately give each other knowing looks, and haerin observes the whole ordeal intensely. 

“it’s my cousin and her friends, you should stay and hangout with your friends. besides, you haven’t had a break today, relax.” your hand slides down to her forearm without any thought. despite the small action, danielle is flustered by it.

“you sure?”

“positive,” you affirm, then look at all her friends. “it was nice meeting you all.”

the group watches you walk over behind the counter, and as soon as you’re at a distance where they can talk without you hearing anything, danielle’s friends – minji and hanni for the most part – go ham on her.

“oh yeah she’s gorgeous.” minji chimes in, shrugging it off like you’re not the prettiest person danielle has seen. “you were right.”

just gorgeous? 

“yeah she’s really pretty dani. and also, she doesn’t hate you, there’s no way.” hanni says as she munches on a croissant, earning a punch to the arm from minji. hanni whines, croissant still in her mouth, “hey! what was that for?”

“finish chewing before you talk! you’re so gross…” 

“you didn’t have to hit me!” hanni groans, nudging minji with her shoulder.

haerin rolls her eyes at the two before taking a sip from her iced tea, watching danielle glance at you. haerin has known danielle for a while, the last time she had been like this was forever ago, this admiration can’t be something that’s purely platonic, not with those dilated pupils and puppy eyes. 

and you, you’re no different either. haerin watches you glance over to make eye contact with danielle, eyes softening and your teeth showing as you smile at her the moment you meet each others features. 

while minji and hanni continue to bicker, haerin continues observing. danielle is making it look like she’s invested in the bickering – which, she very much is; it’s always entertaining when the two argue over stupid things – but her mind is somewhere else.  

“danielle,”

“haerin?” danielle turns her head and hums in response.

haerin blinks. “you like her.”

minji and hanni stop bickering, their presence enhancing the shiver down her spine.

“no, no. i just think she’s really interesting, i couldn’t possibly–”

haerin shakes her head, putting a hand up. “you look at her like she’s… like there’s a halo around her head.”

“i–” danielle turns to glance at you again. you’re laughing with one of the girls, she assumes it’s your cousin that you mentioned. you flick the younger girl’s forehead and she groans, which earns the most pure, natural laugh and smile she’s ever seen on your face. you’re cute, especially when all of your teeth are showing as you laugh. when you make eye contact with your coworker again through waterlined eyes, your lips purse into a closed smile.

danielle is blushing, her cheeks burn, and the vulnerability is displayed right in front of her friends. she tries to laugh it off, but hanni’s jaw drops and she throws a hand over her mouth.

“oh my god.”

minji starts to chuckle. “she has a point, danielle. whether you know it or not, it makes sense.”

“i barely know anything about her, you can’t be serious.” danielle rolls her eyes and pouts. “even if i did, it’d be impossible to even do anything remotely romantic. she’s like stone.

“she was literally everything but stone from what i saw earlier.” haerin comments. “danielle, it’s okay to have a crush on someone, you know?”

hanni hums in agreement. “yup, and you really need to stop that flirting you do with us every ten seconds because it’s grueling and if you’re going to flirt, flirt with someone you actually want because everytime you say anything remotely flirtatious ten years of my life get taken away.”

minji snorts and danielle can’t help but do so as well. “wooow, my flirting is very wonderful thank you.” she crosses her arms and looks over at you again. “and what if y/n doesn’t like my flirting?”

“nah,” hanni sips on her drink. “you called her a good barista or whatever and i saw her like, malfunction for two seconds. she was blushing a little.”

“well she wears blush so–”

“dani, can you–” hanni facepalms. “just, shhh. she doesn’t hate you and you know what, you can build off of that.”

haerin shrugs before taking a few more sips of her tea. “yeah, she’s pretty and smiles at you sweetly. it’s not impossible.”

danielle takes one more look at you, you’re still chatting with your cousin and her friend seems to be joined in the conversation as well. the rest of the group of teenagers have left, so the place is pretty empty. you smile here and there as you clean the counter and wipe the machine, occasionally looking at the two girls who converse with each other.

“okay dani, i love you but i also need to get this lecture noted and also oh my god i have a report due tomorrow and–”

 hanni feels a finger to her lips, similar to how she shushed danielle the night before, but now it’s reversed. minji snorts and haerin laughs before danielle assures, “go, go. i’ll see you later and bring extra snacks hanni.” 

the group begins to clear the table, dismissing danielles efforts to leave it be so she can take care of it. they all bring their silverware and dishes to the little trays near the trash before walking over to the exit, each girl hugging danielle before they all leave the bakery.

when danielle turns around, she spots you still conversing with the girls, but tending to the daily housekeeping simultaneously. you look up and catch her in your eye again, displaying a small, toothy smirk at her.

danielle chuckles to herself, making you do the same even as she moves over to package pastries.

–

today is your offday, so you’d usually wake up two hours later than you usually do for work. but when your phone rings around the same time you’d arrive at work, you groggily reach over to squint your eyes at the screen, reading the contact name that is calling you at this time in the morning:

incoming call: danielle

“does she know im not working? shouldn’t she be off today too…” you mumble to yourself before picking up and putting your phone on speaker. “hello?”

“y/n, hi, did i wake you up? you sound tired, ah, i’m sorry.”

feeling bad, you lie to her. “no, i’ve been awake for a bit now. is everything alright?”

“i just wanted to ask, um, how far do you live from work?”

“less than ten minutes, why do you ask?”

“i’m sorry if this is a big favor but i’m supposed to cover for soobin today since he’s sick. i walked to work since i live a fifteen minute walk away, not too far, but i forgot the keys and it’s storming really badly…”

you’re a little more awake now after hearing the light rumble of thunder coming from outside, it urges you to rub your eyes. “danielle, are you safe from the storm right now?”

“i mean, i’m standing under the little roof thing near the entrance. water can’t get me from here.”

“jesus,” you mutter to yourself, then jump at the next sharp thundering sound that comes after. “i’ll be there soon, okay? i’ll pick you up and you can just give me the directions to your place. be careful, i’m on my way.”

“thank you so much, im sorry again–”

“no, no. it’s fine, i’ll be there, see you.”

before she can respond, you hang up on her, running to the bathroom to splash water on your face and fix your disheveled bedhead up. then, you run towards the entrance of your house and grab your keys that hang on the hook near the door, slide your slides on, and quickly run out.

it’s storming hard, and you’ve already gotten a clue on how bad since you had been pretty drenched from simply walking to your car. 

you speed through the neighborhood and into the main road to get to the bakery faster. desperately looking through the windshield for your coworker, you spot her near the entrance just as she said, then drive up as close as you can.

rolling down your window, a bit of water gets on your face, hair, and the top of your shirt – but it doesn’t stop you from yelling, “get in!”

in a few seconds, danielle is in the passenger seat, her hair visibly damp but not too wet. she runs a hand through it, and it feels like your heart just skipped a beat. her hair is wavy now, more than usual, quite curly. was it always like this? her hair looks beautiful, framing her face perfectly, strands sticking to her skin from the raindrops—like elements of a painting coming together to create something breathtaking.

“sorry, i would’ve asked my roommates but they had some important stuff for their classes and whatnot so they left earlier this morning. i also didn’t want to wake minji up, i know her lectures are pretty bad.”

how thoughtful of her. 

shaking your head, you respond, “it’s fine, i just don’t want you getting sick. i’m glad you called.”

“really?”

“u-uh, i mean, yeah. i’m still not the best at opening and you’re pretty much the best at everything so… soobin and i need you in the mornings. i know im off today but whoever is working this morning probably needs you.”

“aw, that’s so sweet of you.” danielle’s smile grows and grows as she notices everything about you in the moment: your hair is messy, you have some old, loose t-shirt on with some poorly scribbled figure of… you? then, a small giggle leaves her lips once she notices the dog prints on your pajama pants. 

your blush grows deeper with each passing second. “i um, didn’t have time to change. do you want to type your address in my phone or…?”

“you look so cute y/n.” it slips out of danielles lips, but she’s able to play it off well with the little tilt of her head and a sly smirk. it works wonders on you. “i like your shirt and pants.”

you cough to ease your nerves, then shift the stick of your decade-old, hand-me-down five seat toyota to ‘drive.’

“my cousin made it for me when i was still in highschool a while ago. sorry, that’s not important.” you facepalm yourself mentally. danielle thinks this little story is very important, but you cut yourself off.  “do you just want to tell me the directions?”

adorable, danielle almost says out loud. 

“yeah, turn left at the stop.” 

danielle spends the rest of the time staring out the car and gazing out to see the rain that pours down from above. you’re stiff in your seat the whole time, especially when she does that little thing where she glances at you with those pretty eyes occasionally. it’s a simple look and yet you’re flustered beyond words.

you reach an apartment complex and drive as close as you can to the entrance. she gets out and mutters a haste “i’ll be quick” before leaving you alone with a racing heart and flushed face.

when she returns, there’s an umbrella in her hands and the keys to the bakery. once she gets in, you start to drive back.

“danielle?” 

“mhm?”

“is your hair naturally like that?” you ask. 

“ah,” she moves a hand to her hair to run her fingers through, though not without a little struggle. “i straighten it usually, it’s easier to maintain. the rain must’ve made it a little curly again huh?”

“i think your hair is beautiful like that, really.” you admit, eyes stuck on the road. “you look good with any hairstyle.”

“why thank you! i could say that for you as well.”

you scoff playfully, shaking your head as you turn into the bakery parking lot. “right, like my half-awake head is even the tiniest bit alluring.”

she winks at you, leaning in just a bit closer. “i think it enhances the natural allure, no?”

words get stuck in your throat, danielle laughs, and then she waves at you as she gets out the car. the rain has stopped just in time for her to clock in and a little beam of light hits her in the best way possible. you can’t help but stare at her in awe. 

“thank you for keeping me from getting drenched, you’re the sweetest.”

“yeah, i mean, you’re kind of the pillar. our boss isn’t ever here, you’re practically the boss no?”

“you’re too charming, i’ll see you in a few days?”

your mouth opens but nothing comes out for a moment, not until a bright idea pops up in your head.

“i can take you home after work, don’t want you walking in these conditions.”

“y/n,” she starts, looking confused. “it stopped raining.”

“it’s whatever, you know what– i can drive you to work in the mornings.”

“oh, you really don’t have to. isn’t the gas money quite–”

“no, no. i’ll give you a call or text next week, it’s nothing. see you danielle.”

–

little did you know, this would turn into a routine–the small gesture of picking up danielle instead of letting her walk in the mornings.

sure, she got a little less cardio, but she managed to crack that shell open just enough to glimpse what was inside. and everything hidden by your reserved demeanor was everything that made her heart flutter and more. each feature and curve of your face, beautifully highlighted by the soft glow of the café lamps captivated her beyond measure. but what she loved most was your personality—every word, every gesture. it captivated her in ways she hadn’t expected, and she found herself falling deeper with each passing moment.

you were caring, sweet, and had lots to share. there was never a dull moment with you the moment she figured out how to get you to talk a little more.

as for you, mornings weren't dreadful anymore. you started waking up earlier than usual just to make it to danielle's on time. you liked this new routine—seeing danielle first thing in the morning, sharing a coffee with her, chatting while the pastries baked. the smell of fresh coffee and baking bread filled the air, making the workspace warm and inviting. just being in her presence was the perfect start to your day. her laughter and smiles made everything brighter, transforming mundane, tiring mornings into something special.

and what kind of cousin would you be if you hadn’t told hyein everything like the two of you usually do. hyein is on the other side of the couch starting at you smile as you ramble about this routine you’ve fallen into with heart eyes and a wide grin.

“i mean, i haven’t ever liked mornings since her.” you begin, your fingers starting to fiddle with one another. “and oh my god she keeps flirting with me! it’s actually terrible. do you know how hard it is to stay normal when she’s calling me what, a fucking angel first thing in the morning? and it doesn’t help that she’s literally gorgeous, i mean you’ve seen her; she’s straight out of a dream.”

hyein groans as she sits up. “well if you’re so in love, quit complaining to me, you’ve been like this since the month started.”

you sit up as well, furrowing your brows. “what?”

“just ask her out already! it’s clear she’s into you.”

“i think she’s just flirty though.”

“old and stupid oh, you piss me off.” hyein throws a pillow at you, making you yell ‘hey!’ before throwing it back at her face. she laughs before clinging the pillow close. “but really, at least a ‘friend’ date or something… it would bring you two closer. those morning rides aren’t going to lead to anything more than what you already have, probably. plus, soobin and actually working gets in the way of your little lovey-dovey stuff.”

you look at her, biting your lip as you ponder.

hyein is right, hell, she always is. for a child, she’s pretty good with giving advice and an even better listener. she’s your best friend and favorite relative all in one, it would be somewhat betraying to not take the advice.

“well, what if she’s taken?”

“oh my god…” your cousin throws her head onto the cushion of the couch. “she calls you pretty and flirts with you – girl, of course she’s single.”

“okay but… i don’t know.”

“well i know that you’re stupid as hell.”

“language!”

“just check her instagram or something? people with significant others always post something.”

you fall silent, biting your lip again before looking at her with an apologetic feeling in your eye. “i don’t have anything but her number…”

“oh y/n, that’s not a problem at all.” hyein rolls her eyes and scoots up next to you, leaning against your shoulder as you peer over to watch what she’s doing. she holds the phone up to your face to unlock it and taps on the intagram icon, immediately clicking  on the search bar. “do you know her last name?”

“um, it starts with an m i think?”

“you don’t know her last name?”

“why would i know this?”

“do you have an app for your schedules or anything? oh my god, you’re seriously getting on my nerves… i can’t believe you managed to even have a girlfriend for that one year–”

you cringe at the mention of your history with women. “okay don’t mention that please… and fuck her, she was terrible to me.” you frown.

“sorry,” hyein know’s she’s hit a little spot, knowing your past with much detail, then continues. “anyway, let’s just search her up and…” she types in ‘d-a-n-i-e-l-l-e’ into the search and a few accounts pop up. she looks at the small profile pictures displayed and the first one makes her click her tongue. “found it!”

her page is pretty just from the first glance–you two haven’t even looked at any of the posts or highlights either. danielle’s profile picture is jus ther with a beanie over her head and looking at the camera with her pretty eyes and god you almost melt right then and there because no model could top her visuals. 

you reach over to scroll through her posts; she has thirteen in total, and a few catch your eye. one post, in particular, stands out: a single photo of her posing in front of a mirror, wearing a crop top that shows off her slim figure and a denim jacket hanging loosely off one shoulder. she looks absolutely stunning. as you stare at the image, lips slightly parted in awe, hyein looks over and sees your intense gaze. before you can react, you're interrupted by a playful pinch to your cheek.

“you’re so down bad.”

“i’m not!” you scoff, taking the phone out from her hands and scrolling yourself. 

there are photos of her with friends, snapshots of mesmerizing views (though none as captivating as her), pictures with her family, beach scenes, dogs, and several selfies—you find yourself lingering on those a bit longer. her entire page perfectly matches her energy; it's cute and vibrant. as you scroll, hyein catches you smiling to yourself, lost in the charm of danielle’s online presence.

one of her more recent posts, posted about three months ago, catches your eye. it’s her and haerin posing together with haerin’s face being cupped by danielle’s hand as they pose. the caption has your heart sinking a bit (a lot).

“beautiful, gorgeous, and lovely birthday girl💋👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 i love you lots sweetie”

hyein catches the whole thing live, watching your small smile turn into pursed lips. “that doesn’t mean anything y/n, friends can be like that.”

“they’re pretty close…” you swipe to see a picture of danielle’s nose nuzzled into haerin’s cheek and frown. “she’s taken.”

your heart sinks even more just looking at the picture longer, urging hyein to snatch your phone out of your hands and click on the mentioned tags. she finds haerin’s account – it’s public, thankfully – and roams around as you sit there defeatedly.

it’s not looking the best so far, not when hyein clicks on a post with danielle and her group of friends, and after hyein swipes to the next photo she’s met with danielle and haerin hugging each other, cheeks pressed together as they pose for the photo. you catch a glimpse before your head falls over on hyein’s shoulder like you’ve just come back from an unsuccessful war.

“it’s over.”

“y/n, lift your head up! i pose with my friends like this too… maybe she’s touchy.”

“not with me.” you pout. hyein flicks your forehead. “hey!”

“stupid,” she says. “maybe it’s because she likes you and is wary of boundaries. from what i’m seeing, you should initiate.”

“i can’t possibly do that.”

“you’re literally a liar.” she spits out. “as soon as your friends initiate something you’re clinging like a koala, even with me you’re like that.”

you fall over onto the couch, giving up and looking up at the ceiling; your life isn’t over because your really adorable, amazing, lively, vibrant, cute, helpful, captivating, adorable coworker is taken. 

(it’s over.)

hyein allows you to sulk for a moment before widening her eyes and gasping, “wait, i literally know haerin.”

“you do?”

“kind of. i just checked her account on my phone and a lot of people i know follow her, she’s that pretty upperclassman everyone likes. there’s no way she’s dating danielle, like, i have proof.”

sitting up immediately, you crunch your brows. “are you serious?”

“yeah. my friend is friends with her, she’s very much single and i don’t think she wants to mingle.”

“holy shit, you’re serious?”

“language~” hyein teases. “yes, i’m not trying to feed your delusions by the way–i don’t support homewrecking.”

you practically pouce at hyein and tackle her into a loving, grateful hug. she squeaks at the contact, but warms up into the hug. 

“i love you forever, i’ll buy you lunch and treat you to pastries and anything and–”

“it’s fiiinneee.” hyein pulls away and chuckles at you. “i just want to help you out and be happy. and after seeing danielle… she’s really adorable and you’re so giddy for her so she must be wonderful.”

“she is.”

“yeah, all you do is run your mouth about her.”

a laugh is shared between the two of you before hyein reaches for the remote to turn on the tv. you go back to your phone, clicking on danielle’s profile to stalk her again, lingering on posts of herself. you feel your cheeks burning and somehow the little glare your cousin gives you despite her not being in your vision or peripheral.

–

you’ve been reluctant on asking danielle out, even if it’s a simple ‘hangout’ or ‘friend date.’ she’s effortlessly charming as always with each interaction, even getting bold and watching you from over your shoulder at times – everything she does makes your heart beat and beat and beat.

danielle’s been equally flustered and enamored by how open you’ve been with her. the two of you have cracked jokes and shared small stories during the quiet moments with soobin, but danielle especially enjoys you just by yourself. there’s something much more tender about you when it’s just the two of you. you’re physically more touchy wth danielle, and she can’t really tell if it’s on purpose or you’re just touchy like that. you often shove her playfully in conversations, and when you both lean against the counter, you somehow manage to move over ever so slightly so that your arms are touching. 

your coworker has been attentive to all of this, unsure of whether this is just how you are and she’s overthinking things, or this being something more–maybe a sign that maybe you’re into her just a bit.

none of you question it really, and besides, danielles just as touchy. she sometimes leans her head on your shoulder – but very, very briefly – when something is amusing, and sometimes her hands find their way to your hair to fix it, or maybe even to your forearm just because. 

soobin is a bystander, the poor guy thinks it’s just how girls are and is completely oblivious that the two of you are fighting the thick tension in the air.

–

the last coffee beans were grinded, so you tap on soobin’s shoulder and tell him that you’re going to the back to grab more. he nods at you and sends you that pursed grin, you place a hand on his shoulder and thank him.

when you reach the small closet, you find danielle in the room as well, rummaging for packaging and more boxes for the pastries and desserts. she’s oblivious to your presence until you knock flicker the light on and off once, making her squeal and jump from surprise. your coworker turns around and hits the rack unknowingly, when she sees you, she starts to calm down.

“y/n! you scared me!”

you laugh. “sorry, i just needed some–”

above danielle, you spot a bag of coffee beans—at least three pounds heavy—starting to tip. before it can fall, you move without hesitation. you rush over, reaching out and getting on your tiptoes to catch it with one hand just in time.

a sigh of relief leaves your lips, but you catch your breath again as soon as you look back down.

danielle is close. her face is a few inches apart from you and your hand is still up to hold the coffee beans, making the moment much more intimate and nerve-racking than it actually is. she looks at you intensely, her lips parting before her eyes dart down to your lips. 

“y/n,” she almost whispers.

you gulp and look down at her lips, then away, putting your arm down and grabbing the coffee beans with you as you do so. your faces are closer now and you feel your heartbeat rapidly pounding against your chest, threatening to break through. danielle still stares at the features presented to her, pupils dilating.

you break the tension, looking away and stepping back, holding the coffee beans to your chest almost like you’re hugging them. your eyes dart around the room nervously, your cheeks burn like they’re steak being put onto a hot iron skillet, and you gulp one last time.

“the um, t-the beans… they almost fell on you.”

“yeah?” 

“i’m um, i need to uh– yeah, there’s no more grinds and i need to make a latte…”

“right.” danielle starts to smirk, looking at the aftermath on your face. “you do that then. oh, and by the way.”

“hm?”

she steps forward to push hair out your face and behind your ear, her fingers graze against the back of it. “your ears are red–and warm.”

“oh, um, maybe.” you mumble softly. danielle giggles at you before you leave the room, 

–

the two of you don’t speak on the incident the rest of the shift since danielle can tell you’re flustered and she’s also really good at keeping a conversation going. plus, work is in the way at times, so doing your job saves you.

after you two clock out for the day, both of you walk to your car and danielle watches you closely before looking out the window again. you feel a shiver down your spine as you get out the parking spot and the grip on the wheel is tighter the whole way to her apartment complex.

you park in front of the entrance, danielle unbuckles her seatbelt and says, “thanks for the ride.”

“it’s no problem.”

“i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“yup.” 

your coworker narrows her eyes at you, looking at you questionably as if she were expecting something different. she puts her hand on yours, smiles, then gets out the car. 

she starts to walk towards the entrance, and as she walks through the door you huff.

“i can’t be like this, fuck me. another lecture from hyein would kill me.” you groan.

you grab your keys, unbuckle your seatbelt, and get out the car as soon as possible. you sprint towards the entrance and look around for danielle, catching a glimpse of her walking towards the stairs, so you follow after her.

she’s already up a flight somehow right when you reach the bottom of the stairwell, you catch her hair just barely and shout up at her,

“danielle!” she looks down to see you breathing a little heavier than normal. “wait!”

“y/n? what are you doing here?”

“i– wait there.” you call out before running up the stairs. danielle doesn’t listen and starts to walk down as well, which leads to you running into her when you clash halfway, accidentally bumping her. “s-sorry.” 

“you’re out of breath.”

inhaling quickly, you nod. “a bit.”

danielle laughs. “why did you run after me?”

“i was um, i was wondering…” you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, struggling to make eye contact with her. “are you um, well, fuck, sorry– okay, um.”

“take your time.” she teases.

you giggle before looking into her eyes and composing yourself. “do you want to hangout outside of work sometime? i really… like working with you and talking and yeah all of it, but work kind of limits a lot.”

she looks at you with a growing blush fostering her cheeks. one good look at you–messy hair tucked behind your ears, the baby tee hugging you, your flushed face from running, the adorable look you give her as you wait for an answer – danielle nods and her teeth show as she smiles at you.

“i would love that.”

“really?” you ask, eyes widening. you shake your head and laugh to yourself before asking, “when is good for you?”

“i’m not doing anything right now, are you?”

“i need to pick my cousin up soon but that’s it.”

“okay! you should go pick up your cousin and we can head downtown?”

“oh, now? today?” you say in disbelief; danielle hasn’t given you a chance to plan or mentally prepare for this. you’re already winded, but this is like a tornado picking you up and throwing you over to another continent. “i mean, yes, that’s perfect, yeah.”

“pick me up later then, that alright?”

“i’ll text you when hyein– er, when i drop my cousin off.”

“perfect, i’ll see you then?”

“yes, mhm.”

–

you’ve never driven so fast, nor have you gotten ready so quickly. your cousin gripped the door handle tightly as you sped fifteen miles over the limit in a neighborhood, glancing at your concentrated, flushed face.

usually, hyein is the one rushing home after school since it makes her homesick. but today, the unexpected sight of you bursting into the house, darting to your room, and emerging five minutes later with a denim jacket, jeans, and makeup on left her wide-eyed.

hyein’s laying on the couch when she catches you fixing your hair in the mirror, clenching your jaw and taking a deep breath.

“what’s up with you.”

“danielle.”

“elaborate?”

“i dropped her home and asked her to hangout and then i was like ‘oh okay when?’ and she’s basically saying that now, today, like later. i have to pick her up like right now– wait, do i look good? too much? too little? is it–”

“you look fine y/n, very pretty. i think danielle will appreciate it.”

“you sure?”

hyein sighs and stands up, you’re a little taller then her, so she has to tilt her head up just barely to fix your hair and pat down your jacket. 

“stop stressing, it’s just a hangout, no? you didn’t say it was a date did you?”

shit. 

“i mean no, but–”

“okay so stop stressing and go pick her up!” hyein rolls her eyes at you. “you’ll do great kid.”

“who are you calling kid?” 

“blah blah blah, go get out the house.”

you look at her defeatedly, brows curled up and a pout played on your lips. hyein simply laughs at you before you grab your keys, tote bag, and head out the door.

-

you reach her apartment complex and spot her outside, waiting while engrossed in her phone. danielle jumps when a car honks at her, but then she sees you in the driver’s seat. a smile spreads across her face, and she runs over to you, her excitement palpable.

danielle gets in the passengers seat. “hello again.”

“hi.”

“downtown? are we going to metro or are you going to park there.”

“it’s a surprise,” you smirk mischieviously before starting to drive. danielle giggles and trusts your little ‘surprise.’

the car ride is filled with laughter as you two sing along to your favorite songs. despite having slightly different music tastes, there are many songs that you both enjoy and can belt out together until you find a good spot to park in the city.

danielle waits for you as you pay for parking, looking out at the social city and lovely views. but one view is lovelier than the city, lovelier than everything really. her lips turn up when she looks at you pressing the button and grabbing the ticket that’s dispensed out. 

you fix your hair. “okay, before we go to the surprise did you want to check out the stores?”

“i don’t go downtown too often, so i don’t know what’s good.”

“me neither,” you shrug, then look around. “the city is big, we can surely find something we both like. i hope you like exploring.”

“if it’s with you, then why wouldn’t i like exploring?”

you're caught off guard by the compliment, opting for a chuckle to hide how it makes your heart run a marathon and your tummy twist and turn.

three hours pass but you swear it’s only been thirty minutes. 

the two of you walked everywhere, exploring small cafes, charming clothing stores, and vintage record shops. danielle made sure to take as many pictures of you as possible, insisting on "capturing the moment" and telling you that you're "adorable." her reasons made you giggle nervously, each compliment warming your heart.

you hold onto danielle’s bag of clothes and trinkets she had bought – you practically had to fight her to simply hold the bag – as you lead her down an alleyway. she’s following you mindlessly, not questioning your sudden change in plans since it must be part of your oh-so-lovely surprise.

“i’ve had a lovely time with you, we should spend time together outside of work much more often.” she says softly, turning to look at you and smile. she’s glowing. 

it's five in the evening, and the sun is beginning to set, golden rays seeping through the little cracks in the alleyway. each beam enhances her already striking features. her eyes shine when they catch the light, turning her brown eyes into a mesmerizing gold. the wind tousles her curly hair, making her even more beautiful with each stray strand. the way her teeth peek out when her smile widens makes your knees weak—you could stare at her for hours.

she snaps you out your trance. “y/n, can i ask you something?”

“yeah, what is it?”

“did you not like me when we first met?” 

you two continue to walk, but you’ve fallen silent. looking down at the ground, you shake your head and turn to look at her again.

“no, no that’s not it.” you shake your hands in defense. “i’m just… not a morning person, and very cautious.”

she giggles, “what?”

“when i did closing, all my coworkers were terrible. it was a nightmare despite being awake at the time, you know? and it’s different waking up so early for me, i’m not a morning person in any way.”

“i’m aware.” danielle interjects, making you roll your eyes and shove her with your shoulder playfully. 

you look around the area, clicking your tongue as everything starts to become recognizable. grabbing her hand, you find a little exit and lead her to a small area overlooking a part of the city near the river. it’s beautiful, and danielle is mesmerized by the view.

from where you both stand, you watch her mouth fall open, her hand almost covering it. she sighs in awe, taking in the scene—the buildings with some windows lit and others dark, the flowers in full bloom, and the trees with vibrant leaves.

“y/n, was this the surprise?”

you start to walk ahead, then turn around and motion with your head for her to follow. she watches you sit down on a rock that luckily has space for two people. she sits down next to you, watching as you prop yourself up with both hands behind your back.

you both sit in comfortable silence, the golden hues of the sunset reflecting off the river and casting a warm glow over everything. danielle’s eyes dart from the view to you, her smile never fading. you catch her gaze and smile back, feeling a sense of peace and contentment. the moment feels perfect–it is perfect.

“this is the surprise, and also kind of my apology for being an ass to you the first few weeks of working.”

danielle admires the side of your face as you watch the view, the sun hitting you beautifully, tracing each feature she adores the most.

“i’m not a morning person, and i guess i was stubborn and always pissy. i didn’t want to talk a lot because i was scared of you and soobin – mostly you – being terrible like the closing staff.” you meet her eyes with your own. “but you’re far from that.”

she does that thing where her eyes soften and her lips form something between a pout and a smile, much like the time she talked about a puppy she ran into on the street. but now, the emotion of adoration and awe is much more intense. her gaze seems to hold a deeper meaning, reflecting the beauty of the moment and the bond you share. 

“y/n, you’re so…” she covers her face with a hand, concealing her blush. “you’re wonderful.”

“i just wanted to share a view i really like with you, since i appreciate you a lot, you know? and we’ve been getting close so… i just… yeah.”

avoiding her look, you turn to watch the view again. yeah, you’d much rather be staring at her while she admires the view, but you can’t possibly do that when the sun is exposing your crimson cheeks.

“can i take a picture of you?” she asks, pulling out her phone. “you’re just so gorgeous right now, i really want to have something to look back on later.”

look back on you? you?

“yeah, sure.” you respond bashfully.

she holds her phone up, then looks at you, grins, and says, “cheese!”

you chuckle and shoot her a lovely, toothy, beaming smile. “cheese!”

–

the two of you alternate between talking and admiring the view for another two hours until the sun starts to set. by then, danielle has ended up close to you, your arms touching purposefully.

as you walk back to your car, a gust of wind brushes past and danielle shivers. she's only wearing a cropped t-shirt and sweatpants, which isn’t ideal for the cooler night. without a second thought, you slip off your jacket and drape it over her shoulders, grinning.

“thank you, y/n,” she says, looking up at you through her eyelashes. “you’re not cold?” 

you shake your head, the warmth from the evening and the moment enough to keep you comfortable. “nope, i’m good,” you reply, enjoying the way she pulls your jacket closer around herself. it looks even better on her.

“i have a longsleeve on, and i don’t want you getting sick dani.”

her eyes widen and she gasps. “oh my god.”

“what?”

“you called me dani!”

you ‘tsk’ at her and shake your head, but smile to yourself. “yeah and?”

“you never ever call me that.”

“well i’m very fond of you now so… dani it is.”

both of you continue on to the car, enjoying each others presence while lingering close.

–

you reach her apartment complex and somehow those five – almost six – hours seemed like they weren’t enough. the last thing you wanted was the night to end, but here you are, parked in front of the entrance.

danielle hesitates in her seat, not wanting the night to end either. “hey, just to clarify…”

“yes?”

“did you… was this a date?” 

you melt. “at first i just wanted to hangout with you, but as soon as you got into my car when i picked you up i really wanted it to be. what did you think it was?”

she relaxes into the seat and lets out a sigh of relief. “oh thank god. you were so adorable and cute the whole time and the thought of this just being coworkers– no, friends, hanging out was dreadful.”

“well then, it was definitely a date.”

she hums before silence follows. you two sit there smiling like idiots at each other, the air filled with excitement and adoration.

“i’ll see you at work tomorrow?” danielle says it like it’s a question, but it’s guaranteed unless something deadly catches you by surprise. even then, you’d still make an effort to see danielle.

“yeah. i’ll pick you up too.”

“great,” danielle mumbles. without any warning, she quickly reaches over, placing a hand on the back of your neck and pressing her lips to your cheek. her eyes close, and you freeze in place as she hides herself by pressing her nose into your skin. “i really, really enjoyed everything. i like you so, so much.”

her voice sends a shiver down your spine, and the feeling is heightened when she kisses your cheek again, lingering before she pulls away.

she winks at you before waving. “have a good night, y/n. sleep well.”

your mouth is agape, and you can’t even move. you sit there, watching her walk back to her apartment complex. she looks back once more to wave and smile again. you’re flushed, your heart racing faster than any f1 car. you realize you’re the happiest you’ve been in ages.

–

danielle squeals as she enters the apartment, making minji and hanni – who are playing some card game – jump and yelp themselves.

“what the hell man?” hanni yells.

“oh my god it was a date.”

“well obviously.” minji responds, watching danielle flop onto the couch. “she ran for you just to ask to hangout, i don’t even do that for you guys.”

“maybe because you secretly hate us.”

“hanni shut up you’re no better.”

danielle kicks her feet, smiling like a little kid and sighing dreamily. minji and hanni give each other a glance, then shrug at each other. 

“she took me to this wonderful view and oh my god it was beautiful but not as beautiful as her like oh my god and talking to her is so fun and natural and she’s so sweet and–”

minji cuts her off, noticing the jacket she has on. “is the denim hers?”

“yes.” danielle says smittenly, she’s lovestruck. “and i kissed her cheek just now.”

“oh wooow maybe your flirting can get you places.” 

danielle grabs a pillow and throws it at hanni, making the trio all laugh together. 

–

work is normal the next day—well, for the most part. it's just much more annoying since the two of you can’t be hopelessly in love in front of soobin and all the customers. after all, it’s a professional setting.

you can’t help but steal glances at her whenever you get the chance, especially when she’s taking orders. she’s so sweet and friendly with everyone, and it only makes you fall for her even more. if hyein were here, she’d probably roll her eyes and pretend to gag at how hopelessly in love you are.

danielle catches you staring after she’s finished putting a customers croissant in their bag, smirking at you knowingly. 

“hey, do your job!”

“oh shut up…”

she laughs before grabbing your wrist, dragging you to the door to the back. she looks over to soobin, who’s cleaning the counters, and shouts, “we’ll be back! i need y/n to help reach something for me.”

he shoots a thumbs up before starting to wipe again. danielle leads you back to the storage room giggling, then closes the door to leave you two alone.

“hey, we’re still on the clock.” you warn.

“i know, i know.” danielle starts to wrap her arms around your neck, pulling you closer. “i wanted to do something i didn’t get to last night.”

you clench your jaw. “right.”

“mhm.” she says, staring at your lips. 

you couldn’t resist any longer. with a surge of giddy excitement, you close the distance between you and danielle, eagerly cupping her face in your hands. as your lips meet hers, they are just as soft and inviting as you had imagined, yet the reality surpasses any expectation. 

she pulls away first to mumble against your lips, “you’re lovely.”

“you’re even better.”

danielle closes the distance, you both smile against each other and savor the short amount of time you both have in the storage closet. kissing her is everything, she’s just perfect.

time seems to stand still as you both melt into the kiss, a tender warmth spreading through every inch of your being. it’s as if the world around you fades away, leaving only the sensation of her warmth, the taste of her lips, and the intoxicating feeling of being so close to someone you adore.

when she starts to cup your cheeks, you conclude that maybe mornings aren’t so bad–definitely not if danielle is in the mix.

[forzalando]

hi marissa! first, i hope you have a wonderful time with your family!!

second, could i request “i might have had a few shots” with max, where reader drunk calls him after a breakup? thank youu 🫶🏻🫶🏻

i feel like i took some creative liberties with this one! i wasn't sure if you meant reader and max breakup or reader calls max after breaking up with someone else - so i went with the latter and couldn't resist making them idiots in love😭. after writing the danny ric angst, i needed to heal my own heart lol i truly hope you love it, liyah! thank you for always being so kind, it was a pleasure to write for you! wc: 1.8k warnings: cursing (most likely), a little bit of angst, mentions of drinking/reader being drunk

Getting ahold of Max Verstappen was nearly impossible – his use of the custom “Do Not Disturb” function was impressive. He had custom settings for everything: a work setting, a setting for when he was streaming, a race day setting, but his most prized was his sleep setting.

Once local time hit 10pm, Max Verstappen was unreachable to everyone. Well, almost everyone. His family, Christian, and you were the only exceptions, which aggravated Daniel to no end. “I’m your best friend, too!”, he’d claimed. But it wasn’t the same.

Max wasn’t secretly in love with Daniel. He’d take your calls anytime, day or night.

It was nearing midnight – Jimmy and Sassy were sound asleep at the foot of his bed and he’d been watching some legal drama you recommended. He hated it, but for you he’d watch it forever and take notes just to have another thing to talk to you about.

At this point, the show had practically put him to sleep, but the loud chime of his phone and your contact picture lighting up the screen jolted him awake.

“Maxie?” You yelled into the speaker. “Maxieee, are you there?”

“I’m here, liefje,” he chuckled. “What are you doing up so late?”

“Th’girls made me go out,” you whined. “Said I needed to dance and drink the night away.”

“And did you?” Max teased - by the sound of your voice, it was obvious you had taken their advice.

You giggled and the sound made Max’s heart clench in his chest. “I might’ve had a few shots, but don’t tell anyone. It’s a secret. Can you keep a secret, Max?”

His heart clenched now for a different reason – he was the best at keeping secrets. He’d been in love with you for over a year and the only living souls who knew were his cats. And probably Danny, though he'd had the sense to never bring it up.

“For you, I would do anything,” Max declared. In your drunken state, you failed to recognize the full extent of the meaning behind his words.

“Perfect!” You hiccupped, stumbling slightly before your friend caught your arm.

It was silent for a moment – Max waited for you to say something else but only heard your breathing through the speaker. “Is everything ok? Why did you call?”

“Well, no. Wanna go home but everyone else wants to stay out. Can you come get me, Maxie? It’s cold outside.”

“Are you alone?” He asked frantically, jumping out of bed and throwing a sweatshirt on in record time. He shoved his feet into his shoes so quickly that his ankle rolled – his trainer would be pissed when it came time for tomorrow’s workout.

“No, Nat and Peter are outside with me. They’re good friends. But not as good as you!”

Max breathed a sigh of relief – grateful that your closest friend and her boyfriend were watching over you. Unfortunately, the relief didn’t keep his stomach from twisting at “good friend”.

“I’ll be there in ten minutes, ok?”

You shouted thank you gleefully and hung up – he could picture you jumping up and down in excitement, you’d probably fall over unless Nat and Peter were close enough to catch you.

Minutes later, he pulled up alongside the club and he’d barely made it out of his car before you were jumping into his arms.

“I knew I could count on you, Maxie.”

He gently put you in the passenger seat, buckling you in and grabbing a jacket from his backseat to drape over you. Once you were comfortable, content, and ready to go, he turned to your friends to thank them for waiting with you.

“Thanks for staying with her until I could get here.”

“No problem at all,” Nat smiled. “We all thought she deserved a night out after the week she’s had, but I think she’d rather just be with you.”

Max blushed, unintentionally ignoring that your friend had just let slip you’d had a terrible week and he’d had no idea. He thanked them once again, and slipped into his car to find you half asleep and cuddling his jacket.

He thought you’d be out like a light in moments and turned the radio down, content to sit in silence until he got to his place. He’d rather die than wake you up to find your keys when you looked so peaceful.

“Can I tell you another secret, Maxie?” You murmured, startling him when you broke the still silence in his car.

“Sure, Y/N.”

“Alec dumped me. And I’m not even sad about it.”

Your latest boyfriend – you’d been dating for a couple of months. Max wondered why you had called him instead of Alec, but he didn’t want to ask since he didn’t particularly like talking about your boyfriends, even if they were nice. As far as he could tell, Alec was one of the nice ones.

“I’m sorry. Is that why your friends wanted you to go out?”

“They thought I’d be devastated,” you said bewildered. “And I haven’t even cried! You know me, Maxie, I’m a crier. I had to pretend to be upset when I told them.”

Max laughed at that, looking at you as you laughed along with him. His dimple and shining eyes caused your heart to skip a beat, and your smile slowly disappeared.

Suddenly, you had a horrified look on your face. You knew why you hadn’t cried – it was because you didn’t really care that much about Alec. Sure, he was sweet, kind, and attractive, but something was missing. When he broke up with you, he was so gracious, telling you that he thought the world of you but that it would never work because you were clearly in love with someone else. You’d protested – told him the only constant male presence in your life was Max, your best friend. He’d just smiled at you and said “I know”, leaving you perplexed when he left the coffee shop you had met up at. Until now, you had no idea what he meant.

You turned away from Max, shocked at the revelation of your feelings, staring out the window until he got to his apartment.

“I thought you’d be asleep,” he explained when he saw your confused face. “Didn’t want to rifle through your bag for your keys or wake you up. The spare bedroom has fresh sheets anyway.”

You nodded, practically catapulting yourself out of the car and into his building. The speed at which you trekked up to his place was impressive, especially in the shoes you’d chosen for the evening, and Max began to sweat. Had he done something wrong? Were you pissed he didn’t take you home?

When he unlocked his door, you ran straight to the guest bathroom and shut yourself in. Max was disoriented – you didn’t seem that drunk, and truthfully you were only ever quiet when you were asleep.

While you were in the bathroom, Max put a change of clothes and spare toiletries on your bed, slipping out when he heard the sink stop running.

You smiled when you saw the pile Max had left on your bed, suddenly feeling very ashamed for abruptly ignoring him. The TV was on in the living room and after changing, taking off your makeup, and brushing your teeth, you felt slightly more sober and a lot more guilty.

“Max?” you whispered, slinking into the living room to sit beside him on the couch. “Can I tell you one more secret?”

“Of course, you can always tell me anything.”

“Alec broke up with me because he thinks I’m in love with someone else.”

“Well, that’s crazy,” Max scoffs. “He must not want to tell you the real reason or didn’t have one so he made that up. I mean, what guys do you know that he’s even met? Peter? Another one of your friends’  boyfriends? You don’t even have that many close guy friends except me and - ”

Max cuts himself off, slowly turning to face you. He doesn’t think he’s breathing, blood rushing in his ears and a tightness starts to spread throughout his chest.

You have a sad smile on your face and your eyes are downcast, playing with the sleeves of the hoodie Max had given you.

“I don’t think I even realized until tonight,” you whispered. “Looking at you in the car, watching you laugh, how you were the only person I wanted to call and you dropped everything to come get me. It just kind of hit me – who Alec meant, why none of my relationships have ever worked out.”

Max scoots away from you, and suddenly it’s painful to breathe. There’s an ache in your chest that almost burns –  like someone’s waving a lighter back and forth over your heart, each time leaving the flame against you a little longer.

“You’re drunk, Y/N, you don’t know what you’re saying. Please, please don’t do this.”

When you look at his face, see the panic that’s masking heartache, you realize that he’s not moving away from you because he doesn’t feel the same.

He’s moving away because he does, and for how long, you don’t know – but the flame licks higher and higher until the burning reaches your throat when you understand that he thinks you’re too far gone to understand your own feelings.

“Max, I’m not – ”

He cuts you off, reaching out to cup your face with his hand. “In the morning. If you wake up, and you still want to have this conversation, I will listen.”

You nod and stand up from the couch, leaving him sitting under the glow of the television. The apartment feels colder as you walk towards the guest room, and when you stop to look back at him, his head is in his hands and it terrifies you. Max was the one person in this world that you could never lose – it would shatter you.

Sleep never came to you – tossing and turning in the plush pillows that you picked out because Max wanted you as comfortable as possible in his space. When the sun came up, you crept out of bed and didn’t stop until you were in front of Max’s door. You knocked twice, rocking back on forth on the balls of your feet.

The door opened within seconds – Max’s tired eyes showed that he got about as much sleep as you did.

“It’s morning,” you whispered.

“It is.”

“It’s morning and I still love you.”

He smiled at you, so big and so bright, it rivaled the Mediterranean summer sun. You wanted this moment captured forever – painted perfectly in a portrait done by the most highly esteemed artist in the world.

You threw your arms around his neck, sacrificing seeing the beauty of him to feel him in your arms. His soft breaths tickled your skin, and your giggles made him squeeze you even tighter.

“You don’t know how many mornings I’ve spent waiting to hear you say that.”

“You’ll never have to live through another one again, Max.”

[mrsrileywrites]

My brain unlocked a bonus to this story right here 👇

It turned out longer than I thought, hope you all enjoy, don't forget to interact, I want to hear your thoughts and suggestions.

TW: labor, medical inaccuracies, soft Simon (if I missed any just tell me and I'll fix it)

1,784 word

"Simon?.... Simon!" You whisper yelled to wake the hulking man sleeping next to you, Simon being a light sleeper sat on the bed immediately. "Huh? What is it love?".

"I-I think I peed myself" you whispered about to cry from embarrassment.

You had been feeling funny all day, the ache on your lower back worse than ever and a cramp-like pain starting at the top of your belly and moving all the way down along with a little pressure on your vaginal area, it felt like your baby was doing big stretches inside of you, "it's a big baby", you told yourself, "maybe he's just running out of space".

Simon flung aside the covers and got out of bed, he was on your side faster than a lightning, he helped you sit on the edge of the bed and you felt like you peed again, you gasped as your hands flew in between your legs. "Oh... Oh no!... Oh my God!" Your voice was laced with panic. "What? What is it? What is it, love?" Simon, who was kneeling in front of you, tried to keep it cool but he was panicking as much as you were.

"This... this isn't pee... my water broke" you looked as realization hit him, his hands that were resting on your thighs squeeze gently. "Okay... okayokay... uh w-we practiced this before" Simon tried to reassure you or himself, you aren't sure.

As your due date came closer and closer, Simon, having the military ways engraved in his brain, made you run drills where he would go over everything you needed to bring to the hospital once the moment came, he would set a timer and load everything on the car, you included, just to see how long would it take him, you just needed to sit and wait, he would haul you in his arms like you weighed nothing and carry you to the car as you giggled on his arms, "Don't laugh at me love, this is serious!" He would scold you trying in vain to suppress the grin on his face.

And so Simon, just like in his drills, stared to get all the essentials you both had packed together, except now, he was acting more like a headless chicken, running around the house, mumbling to himself, as he put everything on the car, he sat behind the steering wheel and fasten his seatbelt, he looked at the passenger seat and cursed under his breath, you weren't sitting there, he got off the car and run back inside, there you were sitting on the couch where he left you trying to hold your laughter.

"Shit love, I'm sorry." his tone apologetic as he scratched the back of his head letting out a soft chuckle. Your face contorned in pain as a contraccion hit you and he was at your side in no time. "Breath, sweetheart... Deep breaths" he coaxed you, his voice soft like a feather, so you did, you breath through the contraccion until it went away, Simon tried to lift you off the couch but you refused, "I can walk, Si... I'm fine" he wasn't happy about it but he compelled without a fuss.

He helped you get on the car and secured your seatbelt before walking around with long strides and taking his seat behind the steering wheel. He drove to the hospital, one hand firm on the steering wheel while the other rested on your belly, your hand on top of his.

In every red light he would look at you and asked how you were doing, he took deep breaths with you and rubbed circles on your belly to help ease the pain of each contraccion.

The arrival to the hospital was smooth and in a short period of time you both were settled in a room, Simon helped you take off your clothes and put on the garments a nurse brought for you.

You were on the bed, a tocodyamometer was placed around your belly to measure the length, frequency and strength of every contraccion, you hated it, it squeezed your belly and made the pain worst, Simon sat next to your bed, holding your hand, attentive to each and every movement, the nurses were nice, they came from time to time to check on you, other than that they let you be and share this moment just between the two of you.

The contractions came more often, you had less and less time to recover in between each one, pain flooding your body like a tsunami.

As much as you loved Simon's cheer size, in this moment you were not so sure. Carrying his child had been a nerve wrecking experience, "a bigger than average baby" said your doctor on every appointment, which only added to your fears and anxiety. C-section had been an option, your doctor put it on the table without judgement, it was necessary in some cases she said, and this may very well be one of those cases, but you refused, you decided you will listen to your body and try and do this as natural as possible unless that was the only option, Simon stood with you, not like he felt he had a say on the decisions regarding your body but he decided he would support whatever you choose no matter what.

As the nurses got you ready for the big moment Simon left to the bathroom to put on the scrubs one nurse provided for him, the biggest size they were able to find, Simon came back looking like a doctor, he stood next to the bed again and you cling to his arm, he brushed your hair with his hand, "I'm scared" you wailed to him and it broke his heart, to see you scared and in so much pain.

He leaned over and caressed your cheek, "It's okay love, you are going to be okay, you are so brave and strong, you got this... I'm right here, I got you." You nodded and it soothe him a little, he was scared too but he wouldn't let you know. He would be whatever you needed him to be and right now you needed him to be strong and supportive.

"I'm going to tell you when and I need you to push really hard for me, okay?" The nurse guided you to push with each contraction as Simon wiped the sweat from your forehead whispering sweet praises next to your ear.

"Push, push, push!" The nurse cheer you. "I can't, Simon... I can't, it hurts" you cried. "Yes you can, you are almost there, sweetheart" he cradled your upper body in his arms "Just a little more, one big push and it'll be over". So you pushed, you tried your damn hardest and suddenly you felt relief.

The world seemed to stand still for a second and then you heard a loud cry. "Congratulations" the nurse praised you, "such a big baby boy, well done mama" she put your baby on your chest and you hold it immediately, your mother instincts kicking in.

You looked up at Simon, he was speechless, tears blurring his vision as he saw you holding a carbon copy of him. He placed his hand gently on the baby's back and kissed your forehead and thanked you over and over, he was so happy and proud of what you just did he felt his heart burst at the seems.

The nurse took the baby to weight and measured him but also to get him cleaned up and dressed. Simon stood behind her and snapped a quick picture over her shoulder to send to the 141 and show off.

You got settled into the room again, the big baby looking tiny on Simon's burly arms as he cooed sweet words rocking him side to side, and much to your dismay, all the new born clothes you so carefully picked fit a bit too tight on your baby.

It was already close to noon so Simon decided to go back home and get the 0-3 months old clothes you refused to bring just in case. He put the sleeping baby on the basin, the sooner he left the sooner he'll be back.

You thanked the heavens for Simon's methodical brain and his insistence on organizing the baby's clothes by color and size because at least he would be able to find them easily since you wouldn't be there to point out he isn't able to find what's laying right in front of his nose.

Simon came back short after just to find the room empty, no traces of you or the baby. Simon walked to where the nurses were, his heartbeat ringing in his ears and his breathing shallow, a nurse guided him back to the elevator and towards the top floor, "intensive care unit" he read on the sign just outside the elevator which only added to the uneasy feeling brewing in his chest, his vision became clouded, why did they take you here? where's the baby? a tons of questions flooded his brain along with the rising panic.

The nurse knocked gently before opening the door to a room, Simon walked past her and stopped in his tracks as he saw you, sitting on the reclining chair, chubby baby sleeping snuggly in your arms.

You looked up at him and smiled, "Simon, they brought us here, they said something about a broken pip-" Simon took you in his arms and lift you with baby and everything to sit on the chair with you in his lap pulling you closer to his chest.

"Simon, you okay?" you asked a little shocked, "Mhm" he sniffled pressing his lips to your temple. "You weren't there" he spoke in a whisper but you could hear the fear in his voice "I walked into the room and you weren't there, I thought-".

The baby cried, hungry and bossy. You offered your boob and he latched sucking greedily, Simon caressed the patch of blonde hair on top of his head and smiled. "He's just like you" you cooed running your finger through his chubby cheek "He loves your boobs?" Simon teased you. "He's got a good appetite" you scolded him and he chuckled.

 

The day you got dismissed from the hospital came rather quickly and Simon got to put in practice everything he learned on the "car seat safety" class you both took.

The first night back home wasn't as bad as you thought it would be, Simon was right there to ensure everyone had a smooth transition into this new chaotic yet wonderful new stage on your lives turning fears into fierce protection.

(also I'm not very happy with the ending but my brain shut down and left me on my own 🥲)

[woso-dreamzzz]

Ausenal II

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You travel for an away game

It was a long drive up to Liverpool.

Like four plus hours kind of long.

Which meant you had plenty of time to do your homework.

Steph wandered around the house, picking up her bags and sorting through the last of the mail before turning to you.

"Have you packed your laptop?"

You nodded.

"And your calculator?"

You nodded.

"And your boots and your socks?"

You didn't stop nodding.

"Okay. Let's get this show on the road."

Steph drove you both to the training grounds. She looked at you in the backseat and adjusted her rear view mirror. "Did you pick up your lunch?"

You held up the little brown paper bag she'd packed for you.

Steph nodded. "Good. Right, onto the bus with you. I'm just going to pop in and grab some water from reception."

You nodded.

Away games like this were always the same. Steph let you have a little lie in as she double then triple checked your bag and made you your lunch. Then, she would wake you up where you would beg to just have something small for breakfast like a protein bar but she would make you eat a full meal. Next Steph would drive you to the bus where she would make you get on while she slipped inside to get you some extra water in case you got car sick.

Now came the next part of your routine.

"There she is!" Katie crowed from her spot next to Caitlin. "We've been saving you a seat."

She nodded to the seat opposite her and you sat.

This was normal as well. Leah and Alessia were set up at the table across the aisle, playing cards as Kyra kneeled on her seat so she could annoy Lotte and the new American signing, Emily.

No one would sit on your other side but Steph would definitely take up the seat in facing Kyra to make sure she behaved.

"What have you got today?" Katie asked as you got out your schoolwork.

You made a face. "Biology and Chemistry."

"Did you bring the funny calculator?" Caitlin asked, making grabby hands for it.

"I need it," You said.

"I only want it for a bit," Caitlin said," I'm going to send Macca and Lanni a picture of me writing boobs."

"You're so childish," Steph said in greeting as she arrived on the bus," Leave her alone. She has deadlines." She passed you over two bottles of water and looked at you sternly. "Drink one of them now."

"She means," Katie cut in," Make sure you finish it in the first half of the journey so when we get to the services, you can have a toilet break there."

That was part of the normal routine too and you just nodded.

You got to work quickly even as the bus turned into carnage the moment you set off.

At some point, Caitlin had grabbed your calculator and was amusing herself using the graph function after sending the boob picture to Macca and Lanni.

Kyra was still annoying Lotte and Emily even after Steph made her sit down and turn around.

Leah and Lessi's card game got progressively more aggressive as the time lagged on and you found yourself abandoning your schoolwork to watch.

"Cheater!"

"You can't cheat at Uno, Leah! You're being a bad loser!"

"I haven't lost yet and there's no way you had that many plus fours! You're such a cheater!"

"Just because you have bad luck doesn't mean that I do! Now pick up your cards or resign!"

"Hey."

You snapped out of your watching to look across from you. Katie raised a singular brow and looked down at your laptop.

"Didn't Steph say you had deadlines? Come on, get it done so you can relax on your way back."

You huffed and got back to work.

"And start drinking your water too! It helps with brain power!"

You diligently typed away, absentmindedly snacking on whatever Katie pushed your way and having to fight back you calculator from Caitlin.

When it came to the twenty minute break at the services, you were more than happy to escape into the fresh air.

"Hand," Leah said as she caught up with you, holding her own hand out expectantly.

"Leah," You began to whine but a firm look from her had you slipping your palm into hers.

Kyra snickered behind you and you felt your face go bright red. "Don't wander off," Kyra teased as she moved past," Wouldn't want to get lost, would you?"

"Kyra!" Steph snapped as she approached," No teasing! It's mean!"

You and Leah didn't stick around to hear anymore of the lecture because you were dragged to the toilet and then to the little store to pick up a new book.

You were distracted though and kept peering around Leah to look at the snacks.

"No," She said," That's not good for you. Come on, you're choosing a new book."

You picked up the next book in the series you were reading but made sure to take the long way back around to the checkout, purposely walking Leah through the snacks.

"No," She said again, waving a teasing finger in your face.

"Please?" You begged," I finished my schoolwork. And I ate the lunch Steph packed for me!"

Leah looked at you through narrowed eyes, studying you before sighing. "One snack. And not too big either. I mean it, this stuff isn't good for you."

You grinned and went to grab your favourite chocolate bar, dragging Leah with you when it was clear that she wasn't going to let go of your hand.

"Go on," She said, guiding you up onto the team bus again," You promise that you finished your work?"

You nodded.

"Okay. Go and sit with Lessi. Kyra can sit in your old seat."

Alessia was already waiting for you. At some point while you were away, she'd gotten out a blanket.

"Come on," She said softly, beckoning you closer," You look like you need a nap. You had to wake up early."

"I'm not a baby," You complained even though you were already taking your shoes off so you could curl up properly on the seat.

"Teenagers can nap too." Alessia wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you a bit closer.

"I'm not tired," You said," I've got a new book."

"The book can wait. We need you fighting fit for the match later. Kyra's already asleep."

You turned your head to spot Kyra face down on the table, eyes shut and drooling. You huffed and looked back at Alessia.

She was giving you one of those looks that you were more accustomed to seeing from Steph or Kim so you blew out all your air in a big sigh and rested your head on her shoulder.

"Good," Lessi said," I'll wake you up when we get there."

[horrorhussy]

I don’t think I’ll ever get over how funny Billy the puppet is from saw. Like there really is just no need for him, and yet, Jigsaws always gotta include him. And they’re always so serious about it to? Like there is no functional use for the puppet which would make you think it’s just for Jigsaws own entertainment, but I don’t think Jigsaw ever even so much at smiles in regards to Billy, every Jigsaw seems to take that puppet very seriously and I just cannot figure it out. Here are some of the times Billy is utilized which confuse the fuck out of me:

-saw VI in William eastons trial when Billy is used as a demonstration for that barbed wire hanging trap, I just think for all traps that need a demonstration this is not the one, as long as you understand gravity it shouldn’t be that hard to understand what’s going on here- also kinda funny that as soon as John Kramer dies, Hoffman just abuses the fuck outta dis puppet.

-Saw 3D, adding onto the last one, Billy gives the instructions to the impalement wheel from a cage?? I think Mark just really hates this puppet (probably just mad they have the same haircut)

-Saw III when Billy is staged to look like Jeff’s kid in that car accident, like what the fuck man lol.

-Brad and Ryan’s trap, where the hell did he come from?????

-Saw x and how Billy brings out the tools for the brain surgery trap, like John and Amanda have no problem walking around the victims in their traps before and after that but still, they have Billy roll out on his tricycle, hauling a cart of surgical tools behind him so this dude can cut out a piece of his own brain, instead of just having Amanda or John hand him the tools like the saw for the bone marrow trap.

[jymwahuwu]

Content warnings: yandere, angst(?), some descriptions of capitalism, you're locked up

Summary: You are a bakery owner and you and your shop are going to be evicted by the IPC. Unfortunately, Aventurine is the one handling the plans.

Note: I suddenly want to write this very much...sorry, I don't know what I am writing...🥹

According to the calendar of your home planet, you spent all your savings and bought a bakery three years ago.

Once upon a time, you had your own ideals, which were woven into unrealistic dreams in your childhood paintings. When you become an adult, you realize that adults use lies to pile up in school and blow up beautiful bubbles. Those lies are probably the beginning of your idealized misfortune. Your dream goes from unrealistic to another. Under consumerism, you want a property of your own, with one room, a large living room, an open kitchen, and a ceiling where you can sleep while looking at the stars. Approximately 8,000,000 credits. You deposit money into the Cosmic Bank. Staring at the rising numbers in the bank account with tired eyes, health has been replaced by some slowly rising numbers and countless nights.

Then, you collapse. Your ideal transforms into a spaceship for 1,200,000 credits. However, classmates and friends of Universe University in the same year shared on social media that they had gotten married step by step, had children, and had a lovely next generation from the artificial womb. The venue for their proposal was on a romantic planet with endless sea, sky and seagulls. A growing sense of comparison creates unnecessary suffering. Others tell you, go ahead, just like others, work, save money, buy a house, buy a car, get married, have children, bring new blessings to the universe, and believe in an Aeon you like.

Best is Qlipoth. They said. Everyone said so.

That's the Aeon that IPC fervently believes in. They may not necessarily know about the walls and protections made by Qlipoth, but people must know that IPC is a huge company involved in the economy of the entire universe. Their golden bodies symbolize enviable wealth in people's eyes.

But spacecraft are out of reach. You figured this out through a cheap and unpalatable 10-credit lunch and a scolding from your boss. You know you should set a more realistic goal.

Then let’s get a car with 30,000 credits. There are also jewelry for 50,000 credits. I'll go shopping after get off work. you said so.

You walked into the store and bought a car that met your expectations despite the salesperson's inner eye rolls and eager sales. Stroking its shell, eager joy surges into your heart, as if your hard work has been transformed into a visible reward. This is valuable. And jewelry, you buy a necklace that sparkles around your neck.

Your face was hot with excitement. There is value in this, keep it to yourself and it will appreciate in value!

Trembling with excitement, there is endless emptiness behind the joyful smile. Cosmic Express is responsible for delivering express delivery to your home. You browse the Internet and buy a list of unnecessary things to fill your misery and pain and stop the bleeding that might come out.

Then one day you quit your job after another scolding, knowing that you are just a cog in the functioning of society. You don't want to live like this anymore, but you don't know how to live without money and without getting married like others. You buy a spaceship ticket and wander off randomly. Romantic, casual and comfortable life. You think idealistically again to cheer yourself up. No matter where you go, you have to start a new life.

You arrive on a new planet, a beautiful and highly developed space society. The dome has a transparent dome woven from Qlipoth that envelopes the entire planet. You have heard that IPC has its headquarters here, but some say it is just one of its branches. Regardless, they obsessively imitated the architecture of Aeon Qlipoth, constructing a towering building with a beautiful transparent glass dome. It is stationed on the planet like a banyan tree, tirelessly absorbing money and energy.

You bought a small, independent bakery on one of the shopping streets, renovated it and prepared it for opening and used up almost all the credit in your bank account. But, you are happy, from the bottom of your heart, practicing your baking recipes and thinking about a bright future. On opening day, you put up a sign with a design on it. And greets all guests warmly. They smell the aroma of bread, follow the traces and step into your store, buying this and that bread and drinks. The aroma of food, warm bread, that is the breath of life.

-

One month after opening, Aventurine stepped into your bakery. When socializing at work, he accompanied his clients to drink and enjoy haute cuisine, with a charming smile. During lunch, he would choose a coffee shop or an elegant restaurant to sit and browse the stock market and invest. Those tens of millions of money came and went, only in exchange for a smile or a sip of coffee from him. Wonderful afternoon. Beautiful gamble. But that day, he smelled a different aroma of bread, and realized that a new store had opened in the commercial street.

He walked into the store and browsed the golden bread. Aventurine spent 2 minutes choosing toast and croissants, listening to the sound of money arriving on his phone. He glanced at you, who was in uniform and busy. It was inevitable that he thought from a professional and utilitarian perspective, wondering how this narrow store did not meet the requirements of modern business. Decoration, bread production, marketing, and store staffing. It would be foolish to hire just one clerk. Hiring just one more clerk can lead to more revenue. You obviously have your hands full.

He spent 2 minutes in line. When it was Aventurine's turn to pay, you gave him a warm smile, as warm as sunshine. These days, you remember some familiar faces of your customers. You're a little surprised by the new-faced customers arriving at the store.

You greet him and ask if he wants a takeout or just enjoy it in the store.

"Right here, thank you." Aventurine replied.

So Aventurine sat down, right in the bakery. He munched his bread and invested his money, living his daily life. Day after day, weeks and months passed. Occasionally, he pays attention to you. You always do all the work in the store, packing the bread, putting it on the shelves, and doing the cashiering. So one day, He asked out of curiosity. “Isn’t the bakery owner going to hire an extra employee?”

You opened your eyes wide and smiled awkwardly. "I-I'm the owner of this bakery."

Ah, so here's the answer. Aventurine nodded, you may not have more funds, but he accidentally started to invest and play, just like the play he had not completed in childhood. He loved investing, which was like finding a pearl in the ocean, playing Monopoly, playing with his assets. A desire arose spontaneously, satisfying his heart. "Have you considered expanding the store and staff? I see your bakery is very popular. I've witnessed many, but none like this, and swear there's some potential here."

"Really?" You were a little shy in the compliment. He was surprised at your naivety. "Thank you, but I have no plans yet."

"Oh, you're eating Brioche today." You looked down at the bread he selected. "You are a familiar face. Let me give you a discount. It only costs 200 credits."

Aventurine was about to refuse, but heard your question. "If you don't mind, could you tell me what you do for a living?"

He didn't understand the specific reason. Aventurine didn't want to reveal his work in front of you, so he muttered vaguely. "I'm in the gambling business."

"You mean the casino?" You blinked.

"Yeah, yes," he replied.

"That must be hard…" You recalled the casino in the drama, where the gamblers seemed likely to fight. He must have been mediating frequently there. After thinking about it, you gave him extra drinks and bread. “Here’s today’s special offer!”

Aventurine held the drink at a loss, feeling that the cold drink was radiating heat.

-

On a rainy and windy afternoon, Aventurine won't sit at your outdoor table. He returned to the IPC with the bread and pressed the button for the lift. One of the members of Ten Stonehearts saw him and asked caringly. "I can't see you eating in the office lately. Can you be full just by eating bread?"

"It's okay. I fill up easily." He smiled politely, even though he had eaten some more bread… He didn't refuse your offer.

He finished chewing the bread while scrolling through your bakery’s social media feeds on his phone. You like to update the bakery's social media and have accumulated about a few hundred likes per post. In the photo, you shared a new type of bread, and your passion for life is reflected in your eyebrows and eyes.

The department meeting is just after lunch. The holographic screen fluttered IPC's business plans and developments. IPC announced that one of its small plans was to acquire a new commercial street and all the businesses would have to move out. His eyes reflected the glowing words- your bakery is on that commercial street.

-

Gradually, that friendly customer who works at the casino becomes too busy to visit your bakery, or he finds a new restaurant. There's something empty inside you, like a piece is missing.

New signs were posted in the neighborhood, and other store owners who often borrowed flour and other supplies from each other knocked on your door and told you that the Interastral Peace Corporation was buying the street and that every store was going to be evicted. This will be the place where a new type of space commercial city will be built. Many companies will settle in and open stores. It will be beautiful and modern, just like other space commercial cities. You'd better discuss a compensation plan with IPC now and strive for better terms.

IPC may compromise, but with other economic systems of the entire planet, not with a small commercial street. They do what they say they will do.

Like a bolt from the blue, you repeatedly confirmed and asked questions. Why does it have to be here? Why? What are their plans? How much will the compensation be? The IPC wants the compensation to be as small as possible, and the shop owners will fight for it, but the court is on their side. So don’t be too tough in your attitude, be more diplomatic, be more worldly, and seek more benefits for you. they said.

Many shop owners have signed up for the compensation plan. You are one of the few shop owners who are too stubborn to embrace the world. Guard this shop like a dragon guarding the last treasure. As the deadline gets closer, you notice more rude customers, the ingredient supplier says they can no longer serve you, and some negative messages and reviews appear to smear you. There are also people in all-black uniforms looking outside your store. That's downright creepy.

But you are not afraid, what you are afraid of is that something will be taken away from you again. Those capitalists are used to taking something from you and then giving you something in compensation. Before it was salary, now it's compensation plans.

Occasionally, you bow to reality and pay attention to some new stores, but those prices cannot be bought with compensation.

One night, before you close the shop, you hear the sound of construction work, destroying the original shops. It's not loud and noisy, it's a new space construction technology, but you're terrified and just want to pack up and go home. You have filed a complaint with the court. Once again, you place your hopes on the ethereal, and then you see a figure appear at the window of the bakery.

Ah, it's that customer. He must be here to support you and buy bread.

You maintained your smile and greeted him, "I haven't seen you recently. Where have you been?"

Aventurine just stared. There was some compassion in his expression, and his features were soft. He knew that the gentlest of measures would not work. “…let me talk to you about the new compensation plan.”

You were stunned for a while. "…What do you mean?"

He hands you a card with neatly printed handwriting and the IPC logo.

“Aventurine, Senior Manager in the IPC Strategic Investment Department”

You held the card and read it for a while before looking up at him. Your throat was dry but tears were streaming down your face. The holographic screen projects a new plan, specially prepared for you stubborn, idealistic people, to provide better compensation.

"…Go away, I don't want to see you!" You paused for half a minute before getting angry and pushing him out of the store. What flows inside is anger at the betrayal, even though you know he doesn't have to support you. Aventurine's arms opened up to embrace you. You were shocked, struggling, and sobbing. "I don't want to see you…you are with them…I have nothing, and you still want to take it away…"

Halted like an emotional kitten, you whimpered, tired from sobbing, sleep overtook you and darkness enveloped you.

You opened your eyes and found yourself in a luxurious room, with stars visible on the ceiling and a soft quilt covering you. Pillow supports your head. You adjusted to the light for a few seconds, frowned, and moved your hands, but the sound of the chain sounded. You looked at the chains on your hands, stunned, shaking and struggling. "What-what's going on?"

"Ah, you're awake." Aventurine opened the door and came in. He touched your forehead, and you realized that the clothes you were wearing had also been changed. They were a set of pajamas. "What happened?" You shook the chain in your hand in confusion. "Someone attacked us last night?" "Um, it's not like that actually."

Aventurine comforted you and shushed you. "You're locked in. Shhh...shhh, don't scream. I know this may be hard to accept at first, but you'll see the benefits."

He explained, to your expression like a frightened little animal. "…For business purposes, I looked into your background. You've been having a hard time, haven't you? Now you finally have time to relax. This is one of my houses, and it's yours, too."

"I didn't ask you..." Tears welled up in your eyes. Are you going to be locked up? "I know." Aventurine stroked your head gently. "I know, now just relax. I'll take care of the bakery. We'll open a new one somewhere with the ocean, you know, new plans."

You noticed that he used the word "we," which made your heart feel strangely warm. You were speechless, closed your eyes, turned around, a tear flowed down your cheek, and the chain creaked.

This is your new reality, but at least you can rest, right?

[caesium-55]

—seven days. [ vi.i ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore

author's note: i dunno if this is good cuz i have to delete a lot of scenes to make everything fit djsjjj. AND pls listen to two weeks notice by leanna firestone. 🐝 anon shared it to me and AAAAAAAHHH it captures the main vibe of the fic

masterlist.

"New shoes?”

The shoes come in black and it features a sleek silhouette with a pointed toe and a golden heel that is shaped as the letters Y, S, and L. Max is no expert in shoes but he knows how to recognize a luxury shoe if he sees one.

“Pretty lil things, aren't they?” you bring your foot forward to flaunt it.

Max doesn't know if it’s the heels that makes your feet look pretty or if the heels look pretty because you have pretty feet. Contrary to popular belief, Max does not have a feet kink. He just knows how to appreciate the aesthetics of a body part.

“Three years of savin’ and I finally got ‘em.”

“Good for you?” Is that an appropriate thing to say to a woman who just bought nice-looking shoes?

Max sees Daniel hug you after the Azerbaijan GP. You have twinning smiles on your face. Max's curiosity grows. You pull away from the hug and wave goodbye, returning to the garage, to where Max is standing and waiting for you.

“What did you and Daniel talk about?” he asks and if he sounds like he’s demanding, he doesn't mean it.

You stop walking, finally noticing Max's presence. The smile on your face fades a little but it doesn't completely disappear. “Oh, hi? Congrats on the podium today, big guy.”

“What were you and Daniel talking about?” Max asks again.

“‘s not important.”

“I want to know.”

You give Max an odd look, probably questioning why he wants to know so badly. He doesn't know why either. He just wants to know.

“Renault has an open spot in their engineering team,” you finally say, smile growing wide. You’re literally vibrating in excitement as you say it.

Max feels like someone just poured a bucket of iced water over his body.

“Engineer? Why would you even apply in Renault’s engineering team?” he sees your face shift and he wonders if his question is offensive. It does not seem like it is. For Max anyway.

“I’m an engineer, Max,” you're gritting your teeth, Max notices.

Oh, Max realizes. This was why Christian mentioned moving her to the engineering team. He thought you’re going to be their manager or something. Do engineers get managers, too? Max doesn't know.

Max’s world shifts off its axis when he realizes the bigger meaning carried by your words. You want to leave.

“No.”

You make a weird face, “No?”

“No, stay.”

He is perfectly aware that he is in no position to ask this of you. If you want to be an engineer and chase your dreams, you can. No one has the right to stop you. That's your dream. That's your life.

But do you really need to leave?

Suddenly, this becomes like the Daniel situation all over again.

Max isn't sure the exact time you begin holding this much importance over his life that he’s suddenly afraid of your absence. Max still won't consider the two of you friends per se, but he does not want you in Renault. He wants you here, behind him, following him at all times. You don't have to follow Daniel to fucking Renault.

Renault just keeps taking everything from him. First, it’s Daniel, his best friend and teammate. Max will not allow himself to lose you over to Renault and their sucky cars.

“Funny how you think you got a say in this,” you do the thing where you shift your feet lightly so you’re facing Max fully, one hand on your waist while the other rests limp on your side, your head slightly tilts to the right. There's a bulge on your cheek, where your tongue is pressing inside it, and one of your brows is cocked.

“You don't have to go to Renault. You can stay here,” he adds and it almost sounds like he’s pleading.

“And what Max? Let all the money I spent in engineering school go to waste?”

“Do you not want to be my manager anymore?”

“No offense, buddy, but I’ll choose being an engineer.”

Fair point but Max is still hurt anyway. Why are people always leaving him? Is it that hard to choose him and love him? Is he not a good enough reason to stay? Maybe it's because he's not a world champion yet. Maybe it's because he's not someone praiseworthy yet.

“I will win next year. When I become a world champion, I’ll ask Horner to move you to the engineering team.”

Max hopes you believe him.

The 2019 season ends with Lewis Hamilton at the top. Valtteri Bottas is close behind him. After Bottas stands Max Verstappen.

He’ll understand if you're making your application letter to Renault at this very moment. And yet, you come knocking on his hotel door.

“You’re trashin’ the room again,” you say, not ask but say, when Max opens the door and this is like 2018 again when he trashed his entire hotel room for coming in fourth. You even wear the same clothes as last year—a Red Bull polo shirt and a black pencil skirt with the same cream tote bag with peach prints but the shoes are different. “Sour loser much?”

“Fuck you.”

“Fuck you, too,” you reply in a nonchalant tone, not even taking offense that Max has cursed you out. “Lemme see your hands. I have a cold canned beer.”

“I didn't punch the wall.”

Not yet at least. He’s definitely planning to, before you have decided to knock on his door.

“Well then,” you thrust the beer towards him. “Good thing’s beer has multiple purposes. Bruised knuckles? Beer. Bruised ego? Beer.”

Angrily, Max takes the beer in your hands. He really can't deal with you right now.

“Don't worry, man. You’ll be world champion one day. You have the makings of one,” you assure him and your words are too unexpected that Max stiffens. “Not this year but one day.”

“Why can't it be this year?” he asks after a few seconds' pause.

You shrug your shoulders, “Not your time yet, I suppose.”

Then, you turn around and walk away, the loud clicks of your black and gold heels echoing in the hotel hallway until it fades into silence, while Max stands there at the open door, a cold canned beer in his hand.

He’s trying (emphasis on the word trying) to prepare himself snacks so he can eat while sim-racing. It's the off-season right now and his mother and his sister have decided to visit his place in Monaco and stay for a few days before they fly together to Belgium and spend the holidays there. Daniel’s name appears on the notification bar of Max’s phone.

daniel: is [name] in monaco rn or did she go home for the off season

max: why would she be in monaco right now

daniel: she lives there

max: [name] lives in monaco?

daniel: you didn't know??

daniel: she’s been living there since last year

daniel: ever wondered why she comes by our building a lot?

max: how am i supposed to know

daniel: she's your manager

max: well we don't exactly talk about where we live

daniel: i cant believe you

daniel: shes been living there since she was my manager

max: that long???

daniel: i cant with you sometimes

daniel: neways do u have her number?

daniel: i think she got it changed a month ago and i forgot to ask her

daniel: she's not answering my messages in ig

max: yeah yeah i do

daniel: great

daniel: can u call her and ask if she’s in the country?

max: ok

daniel: cool cool

daniel: appreciate it,, man

You answer the phone on the second ring.

“Need anythin’, man?”

When will he hear you call him Max rather than man, dude, bro, big guy, big boy, darlin’ (teasingly), or loser?

“Hi [Name]. I’m calling because, uh, Daniel messaged me,” he begins. “He said you’re not replying to his messages on Instagram.”

“Oh, my bad, my bad. I’ll check it out later, still out playin’ ball right now.”

“He’s asking if you're in Monaco right now.”

“Yeah, yeah, I am. Flight’s still next week. Why’s he askin’?”

“Okay,” he doesn't know what else is there to say. “I didn't even know you live in Monaco.”

“Well, I do,” he hears someone yelling your name. “Aight, anythin’ else you wanna know?”

“Nothing. Nothing else.”

“Okay. Stay safe out there, my guy.”

“You, too.”

The call ends and suddenly, the world feels too silent.

max: yeah she's here

max: she said her flight is scheduled next week

daniel: perfect

daniel: i have her christmas gift with me rn she better be there when i land

daniel: i have to wrap this up on the plane

daniel: do you know how hard it is to gift wrap smth during a flight

Max’s brows furrow. Perhaps he has underestimated the depth of their friendship. They're close enough that they give each other gifts. Or at least, she’s close with Daniel enough that he buys her gifts.

max: safe travels daniel

Daniel arrives a day later, which coincidentally is the same day Sophie, Max’s mother, and Victoria, his sister, landed in Monaco as well. Max’s mother adores Daniel, which is not surprising because everyone adores Daniel.

“Join us for lunch, Daniel,” Sophie invites him. Max and Victoria stand behind her. The three of them are heading out for lunch when they come across Daniel, who is also heading out, at the lobby of the apartment building.

“Sorry, Sophie, but I have an appointment today with [Name],” Daniel scratches his nape and smiles apologetically. Sophie perks up at the mention of [Name].

“Max’s manager?”

“Yes, Max’s manager,” Daniel nods enthusiastically.

“Invite her, too! I’ve always wanted to meet her. She sounds like an amazing girl from what Max has told me.”

Max groans, “Mom, please.”

He may or may not have talked about [Name] during his calls with his mother. Mostly, it's complaints. His mother has laughed at him, used to hee son's constant complaining. Despite that, she still thinks [Name] is good for her son. It's good that someone is able to rein you in when needed, she said.

“Oh, I’m sure she’ll love it. How about I call her and we’ll meet you at the restaurant in a few?” Daniel says.

Everything is settled. Max has reserved a private room for the whole lunch meeting so he can enjoy the privacy of lunch with his family. Less than an hour later, you arrive with Daniel.

Max almost drops the fork when he sees you walking towards them, just a few steps behind the grinning Daniel.

You look different than usual. Max is yet to decide if it's a good type of different or not, because when his eyes land on you, he feels like a thousand elephants have begun a violent rampage in his chest.

You’re not wearing the usual Red Bull polo shirt—perhaps that's why Max feels odd because he’s so used to seeing you wearing it—and instead, you were in a bustier jumpsuit with a white long-sleeved button-up shirt under it.

It looks a little too tight in Max’s opinion, hugging your body in a way that Max thinks you cannot breathe. He can't even breathe when he looks at you right now.

Daniel and you stop in front of the table and Max’s mother stands to kiss you both on the cheek. Max then notices that you’re carrying two bouquets in your hand. Funny how they're so huge and colorful but for some reason, he hasn't noticed them since you walked into the room.

“For you, Ma’am,” you smile as you hand the bouquet to Max’s mother, who gasps in delight. “Welcome to Monaco.”

Then, you turn to Victoria and hand her the other bouquet, “For you, too, Miss Victoria. Welcome to Monaco.”

“Please, have a seat, you two. We’ve already ordered for you," Max's mother says. You and Daniel sit down.

You and Daniel quickly engage in conversation with Max’s mother. Victoria elbows Max, leaning over his ear to whisper, “You have a good manager, Max.”

“You just like her because she got you flowers," Max whispers back.

Victoria chuckles and the Verstappen siblings join in the conversation.

Lunch is a pleasant event. Everyone loves the food. Everyone laughs. Everyone is having a good time. However, good things always come to an end. Daniel has to leave early because he has an appointment. Max is supposed to drive Victoria and his mother to the department store because they planned on shopping together as a family and buy gifts for their relatives in Belgium. But since Daniel left and he was your ride going to the restaurant, that means you have no ride going home.

You insist that you can hail a cab or even walk to your apartment since it’s “just three streets away” but Max notices that your smile looks too forced and Max calls bullshit. Max may not know where you live but he knows you're lying. Thankfully, his mother seems to share the same sentiments and push you towards Max.

“Don't worry, honey. He’s a good driver. You're in safe hands.”

“I’m really fine, Ma’am,” you try again.

“Call me Sophie,” she says, her hand comes up to your shoulder and you flinch a little. “You take good care of Max. It's the least he can do for you. Also, I’m a woman, honey. I know the pain of walking a good distance in heels. Don't subject yourself to that pain.”

You don't protest any further and the four of you hop into Max’s car. Max drives Sophie and Victoria to a department store and drops them off. He kisses his mother’s cheek as they bid a temporary goodbye. Afterwards, he instructs you to type down your address on the GPS so he can drive you to where you live.

When he reads the address you input, he snorts. You whip your head around to give him a dirty look.

“Three streets down,” he says, amused. “Really?”

“Shut up, ‘s just on the other side of the city.”

“It's still far.”

The first few minutes of the drive is silent. You sit on the passenger seat with your earbuds in and legs crossed, leaning most of your weight against the car door so your back posture sort of resembles a person with mild scoliosis. Max hears you hum along the song you’re listening to, your fingers tapping along the rhythm.

Max taps your shoulder. You turn to him, pulling off one of your earbuds.

“Somethin’ wrong?” you ask.

Why do you always assume something's wrong when he calls your attention? Does he really only talk to you when he has a problem?

Max gestures to the AUX, “You can connect your phone to my car.”

You gasp dramatically, a hand pressing on your chest, “You’re givin’ me AUX privilege? Truly honored.”

Max rolls his eyes.

“But I don't think you’ll like what I listen to,” you add.

“Try me.”

El Alfa songs have electrifying and infectious rhythms and Max may not understand the lyrics but not understanding the song lyrics can't stop a person from enjoying a song. El Alfa songs are the type of songs that you’ll hear in parties and in the streets.

“By the way,” Max begins. The song changes into something else—Sofia, the title reads, sung by Alvaro Soler. It's a whole different vibe from the previous song. “Thank you for giving my mum and sister flowers today. That was very thoughtful of you.”

“Just trynna be nice,” you say nonchalantly. “Glad they liked it.”

“Also, you look nice today.”

You slowly turn to him. You have this weird expression on your face like you have an aneurysm but also indigestion and mild stroke.

“Did you eat somethin’ weird at the restaurant?”

“No, I didn't.”

“Then why are you playin’ nice?”

Max rolls his eyes, “I can punch you if you want.”

“Yeah, right, as if you can. Your mother raised you too well to throw hands to the ladies.”

Max closes his mouth.

“See? I’m right,” you continue. “You’ll fight any man on the grid but you won't fight me even though I annoy you every day. You're not like your father, Max.”

Max clears his throat awkwardly. He does not know how to respond to you. You're too… too… honest.

“But thank you,” you say. “Borrowed this from my roomie ‘cuz I don't own any nice clothes.”

You wear branded clothing way too well for someone to think otherwise.

The song switches. Danza Kuduro starts playing. Max knows this one. He watched Fast Five.

Max stops the car outside the apartment building, but instead of hopping off, you rummage through your tote bag—still the cream-colored one with peach prints, it looks so worn down now—and pull out a….it looks like a beaded bracelet but it's not closed on the ends.

“What's this?” he asks when you hand it to him. Red and navy blue beads—the color of Red Bull.

“Consider this as my gift for the holidays. I made Daniel one so it makes sense that I give you one as well.”

Oh. Max blinks at you then glances down at the little thing in his palm. Something warm blooms in Max’s heart.

“That's very thoughtful of you.”

Panic follows. His head snaps up.

“But I haven't bought you anything.”

“That's okay, man,” you smile and open the door. “Thanks a lot for today.”

You step outside and close the door after you before Max can even utter another word. Max watches as you jog inside the building. He shakes his head when you disappear from his vision, hangs the beaded keychain with his keys, and drives back to where he drops his mother and sister off earlier.

Sophie notices the keychain and compliments it. She asks his son if he got into the hobby of creating things out of beads. Max shakes his head and tells her that the keychain is a gift from you.

His mother visibly lights up, “You should get her a gift!”

Max gets into thinking. Yeah, he should.

He meets you a day before your flight to Texas in the lobby of the building where you live. You gave him a keychain. It's only appropriate that he gives you keys. (You don't seem very happy with the gift though for God knows what reason but Max is adamant on giving it to you and will not stop at a no.

“I want you close,” he says, surprised by the sincerity that exited his mouth.

“Well, I don't.” Your words sting a little. Max ignores it.

He ends up giving you a different key. You say the other key is too expensive. Max is not thrilled but it's still a key and this certain key, you accept. So Max is happy.)

Max flies to Belgium a few days after you and celebrates the holidays with his mother's side of the family. He calls your cell in the middle of the night, Belgium is six hours ahead of Texas so Max is sure it's around four in the afternoon from where you are. He does not expect you to answer as quickly as you did.

“Somethin’ wrong?” your voice sounds rough like you’ve been asleep.

“Hi, uhm,” Max clears his throat. He’s a little tipsy right now and his words are flying around in his brain. “Happy holidays.”

There's a pause.

“You called me for that?”

“Can you stop being mean? It's the holidays.”

“Are you drunk?”

“Kinda?”

“Well then,” Max hears a ruffle of sheets and suddenly, he feels bad for waking you up. “Happy holidays to you, too, bud. Appreciate the effort and the money you spent on making this call. International calls are expensive as fuck.”

They're not. At least, Max thinks they're not.

“Can I get your Instagram? The one you use to talk to Daniel?”

“My priv? Why?”

“Because I just want it.”

“Brat. You can’t follow that account usin’ your public account. PR has access to your account and they’ll see my shit. I don't want them to see my shit.”

“Then, I’ll make a private account and we’ll follow each other.”

He hears you sigh.

“You promise not to give PR access to that account?”

“Hm. I promise.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. Send me the details and I’ll follow you when I wake up, aight?”

Max giggles, “Okay.”

“Anythin’ else?”

“Nothing, nothing.”

“Aight, I’ll continue my nap. You enjoy yourself there.”

“Okay.”

Then, COVID happens.

[ace-race-ace]

Follow up to my original post about this ~~

Alain Prost became an F1 driver because of RPF ✨

Out of context this may seem far fetched but I have proof to bestow upon you all!

As I explained in my last post, Michel Vaillant is a French comic series written/drawn by Jean Garton (originally - now passed) which started back in 1957.

The series follows a fictional driver named Michel Vaillant and his various adventures in Motorsport. Michel’s dad has a car company (Vaillant) thus it’s his job the race in his cars. He does F1, Le Mans, Indycar…literally everything!

Initially, the races were vague, not outwardly mentioning specific drivers/races. But as popularity grew, the author started getting go-aheads and even requests to include real drivers and teams.

I would go as far as calling it a self-insert fic as Michel is extremely stereotypically perfect, great driver, a womanizer, successful, friends with motorsport champions - AKA completely typical to a Y/N character.

The author would go to multiple races every year to meet and talk with people in the paddock to get ideas/stories for his comics. Most notably, he was a great friend of Jacky Ickx and included him often in his work. This guy was literally writing RPF of his close friends!

Some quick examples as I don’t have the entire series on hand ⬇️ (he also drew them out of the car just couldn’t find any online)

Now how is this relevant to Alain Prost?

WELL - I picked up the first ‘integral’ of the og series (the first 3 comics in one album) and imagine my surprise when I find this:

Here’s my translation for you:

PREFACE BY ALAIN PROST - 4 time F1 world champion

Michel Vaillant has offered me a priceless gift: He opened the doors of motorsport for me. For this gift, I will remain eternally grateful to him.

I don’t know if a teen nowadays can understand what Michel Vaillant represented for the people of my generation. The TV rarely retransmitted the Grand Prixs, motorsport was a distant universe. I was twelve when Daniel, my older brother, brought home a Michel Vaillant album. I remember it like it was yesterday. Through reading, I could pierce into the mysterious world of motorsport, discovering all the ingredients: the cars, the men, the circuits, the way a team functions, the challenges, the intrigues.

Later, once I became an F1 driver, I re-opened my old Michel Vaillant. I wanted to know if the purity of childhood had embellished my memories. I was afraid of being disappointed, because I now knew behind the scenes. The charm was there once again…I actually even said to Jean Garton: it’s because he knew how to transcribe, era to era, the truth and the atmosphere of motorsport that Michel Vaillant remains relevant.

Then, I found myself (represented) in a Michel Vaillant album. It was magic: I had entered in the BD (hardcover comic) I read as a kid! I spoke to this legendary character, rivaled him on the track. I remember the reaction of my son Nicolas. He didn’t know much about my job. I didn’t want him to come to the tracks or watch the Grand Prixs on TV, in case I had an accident. Suddenly, I read in his gaze that I had climbed multiple step in his ladder of values. Not because I was world champion, but because I was shaking the hand of Michel Vaillant!

This is why it important for me to preface this ‘intégrale Michel Vaillant’. It is not simply a series of comics, but an incomparable piece which enables the discovery of motorsport from the inside, to enter this family which Michel Vaillant is now a part of. Without a doubt, it will inspire the champions of tomorrow!

DO I EVEN HAVE TO EXPLAIN?

Alain Prost, The Professeur, Senna’s main rival, most renowned French driver, became an F1 driver because of motorsport RPF. Without Michel Vaillant, he may have never even gotten into racing.

Hell, he even became part of the RPF himself! He really said:

So to anyone who says RPF is purely detrimental to the sport, think again!

Without RPF, Alain Prost wouldn’t be the legend he is. Senna’s career would also probably be very different!

Side note - the series is actually really fun! The drawings of the cars/covers are iconic!

Thank you for your attention ☺️

[pampushky]

ive been watching him for my entire life

Alpha! Lando Norris/Omega! Lauda! Reader - chapter 1 - 6.1k

TW: Scene of attempted SA, and the abuser never referred to by name. Sexism (but in the A/B/O sense). Self-harm and depressive episodes.

Themes: Exploration of what disabilities, PTSD, and chronic pain look like in the A/B/O world. If you have input about what that may look like, dm me. Slow burn. So much so you're not sure if it's even burning at times.

also yeah Loscar is canon it's my au I can do what I fucking want

Leave your feedback in the comments/feel free to dm me about that shit if you don't feel comfy dropping an anon or comment.

next part | masterlist | series masterlist

Mid January. 2024 Paris.

The hallway outside the trial room in the FIA headquarters is deceptively calm. Silent, save for the voices in the room behind you. You’d given your statement. Explained everything that had happened during your past two years at Williams, first with Nicholas Latifi, and then with Logan. Trying to do something with a car that was, in the kindest words, a tractor. Logan sits beside you, with a similar thousand-yard stare, just disassociating into space. Trying to trace the pattern of the carpet. 

“I should have been more— more perceptive,” Logan croaks, and you squeeze his hand, and shake your head. “Jesus. I— I tried to tell them everything. Everything I remembered from before–-”

“Thank you,” your voice is faint. Weak. Unlike you.

“Of course,” Logan squeezes your hand. You squeeze it back. “Always.”

You still remember the pit wall. Having to brush against his elbows occasionally. Knowing he did it on purpose some days, trying to provoke you. Going so far as to send you things coated in his scent when you were in heat, to try and provoke a bond sickness. Saved only by your brothers, curled close to you, letting you sleep in their arms as your fever raged. You were lucky your heats weren’t— weren’t consistently like that. More so just like a terrible fever and migraine, thanks to your medication. 

One pill to keep you from entering a real heat, morning. Two pills to help ease the brain fog from your head injury, morning and night. Another single pill to be taken whenever the pain gets too bad for you to function, any time of day. Anxiety medication, morning. Hormonal amplifiers to make up for the scent glands damaged by the fire all those years ago, morning and night. Scent blockers to mask your scent, morning. In total eight pills a day at your worst, perhaps nine.  

You croon nervously, despite knowing you’re safe here. That just inside the room behind you, past the heavy oak doors, are your grandfather and your uncles brothers. They’d never let anything happen to you. Not again. 

His elbow brushing against yours during the last lap of the race, encouraging Alex, despite his pace and his spot on the grid. Logan thanking you for being his engineer and friend during everything. You sit along the pit wall, silently, as celebrations rock the grid, and he appears in front of you, trying to make small talk, before following as you try to escape it, not wanting to talk to him, even as he looms behind you. His grip on the back of your neck, smothering the only bond you had, to Niki, to your pack. 

The near-toxic scent smothers you because of how close he is. Pushing you behind a stack of tires as you try to fight back, baring your teeth and thrashing while he manages to shove a need into your upper thigh, right through your pants. You yelp, and kick, trying to get any attention towards you, while most of the garage is empty. You feel him tearing at the collar of your shirt, ripping at it, pushing you into the tires. You bring your head into his nose, feeling the gush of blood against your face as he squeals and falls backward a few steps. 

You can’t smell anything besides his blood on your face, the metallic scent making you gag. When he turns to look at you, his face stained red, you growl, your lips drawn back over your teeth, trying to edge along the wall to get away from him. 

With a snarl, he leaps at you, pinning you to the wall, both hands wrapped around your neck, cutting off your airway. You thrash, and just as you think you’re going to pass out, the weight of his hands disappears from your neck. You stay where you are, leaning against the wall. Watching as Logan snarls furiously, pinning the other Alpha to the ground with ease, his long canines bared and coming close to the man’s neck, threatening to tear and rip and end whatever pathetic life he lived—

“I should have done more,” Logan leans down, his head in his hands. 

“You almost killed him,” you whisper, and that seems to startle the driver even more. “You almost killed him. I think that’s enough.”

The two of you sit in silence until Logan’s lawyer and his manager leave the room, closing the door softly behind them. For the brief moment that the doors are open, you hear him screaming his voice hoarse as the judgment comes ever closer. 

“The FIA won’t be pressing any charges,” The lawyer says softly while Logan continues to keep his head down. “Neither will—”

“Don’t say his name,” Logan looks up, interrupting the lawyer before he can even say something. There’s a fire in his words, a rare fury. “Don’t. I don’t— she doesn’t—”

“I apologize, I forgot about that.” The lawyer says, glancing over to look at you. You look presentable now. Nothing like the blurry images the paparazzi had gotten of you without any of your makeup to hide all the burns. Your skin looks more even, the uneven bumps and indents from the mottled scarring across your jaw partially hidden by concealer and foundation. The scars get more severe as they cross your upper cheek and the top of your nose. That’s the only part that’s harder to hide, even when you’ve covered it fully in makeup. 

“It’s time to go, Logan,” 

He looks at you with uncharacteristic panic. He’s the opposite of most alpha stereotypes. You’re glad Oscar’s found his way back to him, and that you’ve gotten to witness the sweet courtship start. He pulls you into a tight hug, and that’s when you finally crumble.

“You’re gonna be okay without me,” You whisper, voice shaking. “You’re gonna be fucking fantastic, Lo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Is all he can murmur, practically folding over you and holding you closer. “Maybe if I—”

“It’s okay. I’ll still be on the grid.”

“But it won’t be the same,”

“No. It won’t,” You choke out, as Logan pulls away. Both of you newly aged by the experience. You won’t be there to defend Logan from James. Logan won’t be there to understand the odd homesickness for a country you only partially remember, stuck between European and American. 

You feel small as Logan is led away by his manager and lawyer. His scent fading as the seconds turn to minutes, and then suddenly an hour has passed. Leaving you alone in the hallway until your brothers can get there. By the time they do arrive (two hours later), you’ve been chewing on your fingers and palms enough to make them bleed. Mathias and Lukas know you well enough to have already brought bandages and towels to help clean and treat the new wounds. Before this, you’d not been chewing or clawing at yourself for nearly a year and a half. Your therapist had looked devastated when you’d turned in the little chip she’d given you for not self-harming. 

There’s screaming from inside the room, before Niki bursts out, snarling a remark over his shoulder before he catches your eye, and softens. Your sire, despite his age, despite the fact that he has been told by his doctor many times that he needs to calm down, to be kinder to his aging body and new kidney, despite everything that should be holding him back, bends to knock his forehead against yours. One of his hands comes to the nape of your neck, softly rubbing the paternal bond he’d left there, claiming you as his child rather than a descendant. 

“Maus,” The feel of his scarred hands is familiar, comforting. His scent is even more so. Like spruce trees and slightly burnt sugar. Looking at you with red-rimmed irises that show his designation, his secondary sex, while he looms over you protectively. He sees the new bandages around your hands and the new bulkiness of your sleeves. 

“Oh, Maus…” Niki leans down, and croons 

If he wasn’t in active recovery from the kidney transplant, he’d likely be curling around you in his wolf form, just as he had done when you were little and first placed in his care after—

“You’re safe here. You’re safe.” 

It’s moments like this that you’re glad that your sense of smell was so destroyed after the fire. You’re grateful that you could only catch the faint scent of those within a small area around you. Because all you can smell is your father, your sire, who would burn the world down for you if it meant making you smile. That Mathias and Lukas— your brothers, not uncles, never uncles, too close to be considered just uncles to you— mark a silent guard beside you, Lukas in canine form, letting you hide your face in his dusty blond-brown fur. Mathias stands silently beside you, but with his hand held tightly in yours.

Memories of your first moments with them. The terror. Sleeping in the pillow forts and nests you’d built up until this very point in time. Always your guardians. Always by your side. In the hospital and beyond. 

You’re chewing on your thumbnail, claw extended, and Niki looks at you with a worried gaze, before softly reaching over and squeezing your shoulder.

The door opens again, and you hear shouting in a voice that haunted your dreams from within the room and then more of it, very quickly coming in your direction. Not the exit that you’d been told he would be made to use when the judgment was finally placed. 

You can just barely catch a whiff of the scent— overpowering and choking you as you tried to work, tried to examine all of the strategies that could help Logan succeed in last year’s car while the scent makes it hard to think, to breathe— before it’s nearly upon you entirely, with the Alpha who had made your past two years with Williams utter hell staring down at you, enraged, trying to push past your brothers to get to you, snarling and snapping at you as Niki shoves you forcefully behind him. 

“Tell them— tell them you accepted my courtship! You wanted this—”

Two officials start to drag him away. But you can still remember his scent. How weak he’d made you feel when you were trying to work on the car. Hating how he had purred and crooned with your every movement. Making sure you were always choking on his scent. Lukas rumbles in anger beside you, rising to stare down the man, hiding you from further view with his giant body. But of course he continues. 

“You accepted my gifts! You wanted this—”

No. You hadn’t wanted any of this. You’d just wanted to work on the cars. To help your friend grow and achieve. 

“As if anyone else would have you—”

Mathias snarls, and you can only pray that your grip on his hand is enough to stop him from lunging at the offending man.

“— you useless, crippled omega—”

Niki lunges this time, snarling, the old man’s frankly colossal canine form pining him to the ground with ease. Your sire's teeth just millimeters from tearing his throat out, stopped only by your panicked whine. Such a rare noise from you. You won’t have those you care about kill this man, this weak excuse for an Alpha. You don’t want to think of the heavy scent of his blood when you’re near them, seeking comfort from your family.

“Get him out of my sight,” Niki groans, when just a second later, court officers charge from the room. His canine form melts away, and he huffs, sitting down in one of the stiff chairs with a wince that you are hyper-aware of. Mathias looks at you with deep worry in his eyes. But you’re numb. Watching him get dragged away. Your thigh twinges from where he’d stabbed you with the needle. Part of it had broken off inside of you, removed at the hospital while the FIA officials tried to smooth things over. 

It twinges again when the verdict is read as you’re gently shuffled back into the room. He’s not allowed back in. It’s been shown he can’t control himself. 

“—Guilty on all counts, and shall be henceforth blacklisted from employment by all motorsports under the jurisdiction of the FIA. Omega Lauda shall be awarded a sum off—”

All you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears as you hold your arms tightly. Claws slowly sinking into the fresh bandages and redoing all the damage your brothers had worked so hard to fix.

Early February 2024. Woking. 

Lando knows he’s a big deal. He’s one of the most popular drivers, with a rabid fanbase that was willing to go to bat for him for just about anything, even when he was the one at fault. Edits were made when he so much as breathed. All that he doesn’t have is that elusive first win, but he has a feeling this season will be different. Be it how refreshed he feels after spending some time back in his childhood home with his parents and siblings, just to spend time as a pack for the first time in several years, all six of them together. 

His family is perfect. An alpha and omega set of parents, with two alphas and two omegas for pups, all rather successful. His brother, a former world champion in kart racing, now with a loving mate and the cutest pup in the world. His sister, a showjumper quickly rising through the ranks. All successful and perfect and beautiful. Lando can’t help but puff his chest out a bit, because that’s his pack. 

There’s an odd buzz in the air when he arrives, and through the giant glass windows, he can see how many people are gathered in the building, all wearing bright orange. As he comes closer, the overflowed parking has been filled. He parks his car in his specific spot, right next to Oscar, who’s already there, just not by his car. He’s just about ready to head to the on-site cafe when Andrea pops out of nowhere to drag him by his arm somewhere, cursing slightly.

“Mate— what’s got you in such a mood—” Lando whines, already feeling like the team principal is doing way too much this early in the morning. 

“Did you not read any of your emails or texts?” Andrea hisses, the Beta turning on his heels to grab Lando by both his shoulders, looking straight into the young driver’s eyes with a fury only seen when he’d been messing around in the garage and nearly broke the experimental back wing during testing in the summer. “Lando Norris, I could gut you right now—”

“What did I do?” Lando whines again, high-pitched and childish, and Andrea runs his hands down his face, cursing fluently in Italian, while also asking the Virgin Mary for patience, based on how many times he hears a hail mary tumble past the team principal’s lips. 

“You’re late. An hour late. Oscar, Zak, and I have been calling you for nearly that entire time and you’ve been silent.”

“...Late for what?” Lando utters. His phone had been dead, constantly forgotten to get plugged into the charger. Today had been no different. 

“O Maria, dammi la pazienza e la forza— your new race engineer is being introduced? Today?”

“What?! But I don’t even know who he is—”

“It’s a she, first of all, and maybe you’d know if you checked your emails—”

The conversation must be attracting attention, because soon, Oscar is also by his side, looking mildly disappointed in the older man. The omega’s scent has just the hint of rotting oranges, but other than that, it’s normal, like seasoned salt, charcoal, and oranges. 

“Wonderful first impression, really. She’s already thrilled to not have gotten to talk to you yet,” Oscar chimes in, and Lando groans, sending a withering glare in his direction that just bounces off of the Australian. “Now you just get to improvise your way through a panel about how excited you are to be working with her.”

“I don’t even know who she is!” Lando finally barks, his scent turning a bit panicked. It’s like a thunderstorm and a hot, dry heat, smelling how burnt food tastes.

“Mate, you’re fucking kidding me—,” Oscar starts, only to be interrupted by a polite cough behind Lando. 

“She is right behind you, Mr. Norris,” The voice is monotone. Icy. Damn near robotic. And he knows it immediately because you’re the current star of most engineering circles around the grid and the damn talk of every single person they’d interviewed to replace Will when it became clear Lando needed a change. You’d managed to pull decency and consistent points into Williams of all teams. It baffles him, honestly. How you’d managed that, he has no idea, but he assumes it’s through pure spite and fury.

You’re styled elegantly, with a tailored set of pleated, pale gray slacks and a cozy-looking, chunky knit black sweater, tucked into the top of your pants. Black dress shoes. Somehow, the slacks don’t even look bulky, cinching high on your waist, and it’s flattering how slimming the entire outfit is, despite all the known laws of fashion saying that this shouldn’t be such a flattering look. The neck of the sweater is in a mock style, clearly giving the statement of a private individual, hiding any possible claiming bonds. Your hair is in a perfectly messy but neat braid down your back, with two long pieces pulled from the top to slightly frame your face. 

So plain. But elegant.

Everything about you sets Lando off a bit. And he doesn’t know why. But you just tilt your head at him. As if he’s some puzzle for you to fix. It doesn’t help that he can’t get even a trace of your scent. Only the sterile odor that came with cleaning supplies and medicine. Almost like you’re on heavy medications or that you sleep in a hospital. It unnerves him. Lando’s heard a few rumors that you’re an alpha, and that you simply want to smell that way so as to not be assigned a certain stereotype or intimidate anyone.

After all, word on the grid was you left Williams because of how they’d handled the situation between the other race engineer and the anonymous omega colleague who’d been assaulted. 

So you at least had morals. 

“Oscar had mentioned you were…. A bit lax.” You murmur, icy eyes flicking up and down his form, your tone impassive and your stance closed off. “I hadn’t imagined you would be this bad, though.” 

“I’m actually quite good, normally.” 

“About checking your email and phone? Or should I put a tracker on you?” 

“Hilarious.” 

“I’m aware I am.” You say so dryly, so bluntly, that Lando feels one of his eyes twitch as a stylist manages to help pull him together to look somewhat presentable using the wardrobes saved. You just talk softly with Oscar the entire time, a fond look in your eyes as you talk to the Omega driver. 

Right. Logan. Oscar. You’d been Logan’s engineer before. You’d probably gotten to know Oscar through that. When Lando’s finally presentable enough, the stylist makes a final adjustment to your outfit by quickly weaving an orange ribbon around the end of your braid. 

“...I will not be wearing this when I am working,” you examine the ribbon, frowning. “You’re lucky to have me in this now.”

“What, don’t like papaya?”

“No. Red is better.” You just murmur, still frowning at the ribbon, before letting it go. “Vati won in red. All three times.”

“Well, change is inevitable,” Lando fakes a sigh, and this makes you scowl. “I like the orange better, anyway.”

“You’ve yet to win, anyway,” You dismiss his comment with a simple wave of your hand, and go to follow Zak out onto the stage, leaving Lando a bit baffled. Oscar just snickers, patting him on the back and leaving the Brit scrambling to follow the both of you. 

The press conference goes immaculately. You’re the darling of the media, who seem to love how dry you are with every single answer. Just like Niki had been, even when you border on insulting most of the journalists asking the question. You look about ready to choke yourself with the wire of the microphone in front of you when someone asks you your opinion on Rush. 

“She thinks McLaren looked better in red,” Lando grins, looking at you with a mischievous grin. 

“McLaren had more wins in red.” You say bluntly, causing laughter to erupt. Lando’s ears turn pink. “We shall see if that is to change.”

He’s quiet for the rest of the press conference, until…

“Any statement on why you left Williams?”

You go rigid. Just for a second. And from where you sit beside him, Lando catches just the tiniest scent of anxiety on you, under all the sterile, medicinal odor that permeates the air around you. 

“....I thought that was obvious,” You mumble into the mic, before clearing your throat. “I, ah, don’t take kindly to anyone— especially someone who was considered my partner— trying to take advantage of someone. So.” 

There’s a tremor to your voice, barely detectable. And under the table, you’re squeezing your knee. Your hand shakes as the question repeats in your mind. Any statement on why you left Williams? The crowd is suddenly not safe. As he looks at you from every face, every set of eyes now staring at you, even when you know he’s not there. There’d been heightened security, Andrea and Zak had promised that. Oscar was here, already with a nest in his private suite at the factory, prepared for you to crash in when the press conference was over. You try to speak, to play the part of the stoic Alpha the grid has assigned to you, but your tongue is dry in your mouth. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you see movement in the back of the crowd. Your hindbrain croons, and you feel yourself fighting off the urge to turn canine, to simply burst from the stage and run towards where you know is safe. He’s not there, Zak promised. He will never be anywhere near you again. 

You’re safe, you’re safe, you’re safe—

“What a stupid fucking question,” Lando blurts out, a snarl in his voice. “It’s obvious why she left. She has morals and doesn’t tolerate that kind of shit. Ask a proper question or fuck off,” 

Zak calls an end to the press conference quickly after, and you make your way off stage quickly, retching into a trashcan the moment you’re hidden from the cameras and watching eyes. Oscar is beside you, stroking your back, trying to comfort you, as he had that first night, curled beside you in your own nest while Logan sits on guard at the entrance to the room. Making sure that he won’t be there to find you. Even when he is being held by the FIA and local authorities for investigation, and Niki is already on a private jet to make sure you’re okay. You’re not in the hotel room in the UAE, you’re in Woking. 

“Fucking stupid twats,” Lando spits, as he walks off stage, and nearly misses the fact that you’re puking. It’s almost comical how he does a double take, and scrambles over to you. “Shit, are you good?”

“No,” you say dryly, head still in the trash can. “But— thank you, for your defense.” 

“Yeah— I— I’m assuming you knew, the omega. The one affected, I mean.” Lando babbles, and it dawns on you briefly that Lando doesn’t know. 

The only people who do know are just Zak and Andrea— it’d been a big part of the negotiations around you being hired— and of course, Oscar, who you’d called the first night after presenting. You’re partially thankful for that, because then it means that even fewer know your designation. He really hadn’t checked any of his emails. 

“You could say that.” You mumble, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. Oscar’s partially frozen, until he just continues to comfort you, wordlessly understanding that you don’t want to tell Lando. “We— we were close.”

“Fuck, I’m sorry. Please pass the message on that what they experienced— fuck, man, it’s fucking inexcusable—” Lando runs a hand through his curls, clearly stressed by the entire incident that had just happened at the press conference. So you keep your mouth shut, and clap him on the shoulder. Trying to act like the Beta or Alpha he thinks you are. 

“Enough about that. They’re— they got rewarded enough money to retire. They’re doing fine. Good therapist. Good house. Service dog to keep them safe.”

Your voice sounds so empty, but it’s not a lie. You’d been given enough money to quit nearly three times over. And you’d used it to start the search for a service dog that could help you with deep pressure therapy and watch your back in the garage. You’d needed a new one anyway, after your old dog had to be retired around a year ago. You’d needed one, doctor’s orders, to help you with you nearly-destroyed sense of smell, and the fact that you’re now deaf in one ear. 

“That’s—that’s good, at least,” Lando mumbles, but he doesn’t look convinced. 

An awkward silence stretches between you and the driver for what feels like hours, but is likely only seconds. He’s unconvinced. You know it. Oscar knows it. But frankly, Lando seemed to understand that questioning you right now is the least of his concerns. 

“What about a tour of the factory?” Oscar buts in, killing the silence just when you feel like you have to say something. Always the peacekeeper. Always the savior. “It could— could give you time to get to know each other.”

“No time for that, unfortunately,” Zak interrupts softly, uncharacteristic of his normal behavior. He refrains from touching you at all. Which you can’t help but be thankful for— already so different from Williams, and the disconnected behavior of the board. 

Had he heard the conversation? Did he understand what you were trying to pass off to Lando, at least for the time being? A glance in his direction as you brush yourself off reveals nothing. 

“Time for… a quick meeting. Just to get to know everyone better.” 

“I want to be there,” Oscar looks at the CEO, just as Andrea rejoins the group, looking a bit exhausted, after dealing with what would likely be a bit of a PR issue. 

“You were going to anyway.” Andrea sighs, rubbing his temple. “Shall we?” And you're whisked into a spacious conference room, decorated with the portraits of champions and drivers all around you.

McLaren is…. Interesting. Leagues different from Williams, as you’ve come to realize. It seems that every step further into the orange-hued team leads you further to this conclusion. It’s mostly discussions of the next month’s schedule, as it heads into the new year of testing before the season starts. You look at the calendar, making notes varying from calling Lando to be sure he’s awake at least two hours before anything starts, to avoid any issue like today happening, to then buying a mini fridge for your office to keep your food. 

“And about this morning,” Lando says bashfully, smiling at you in a way that shows he’s used to getting away with things like that, “Won’t happen again. My phone was dead, and—”

“Correct, it won’t happen again.” You say bluntly, and look at him over your laptop, before closing it. Inadvertently, your claws come out, and you start to pick at the edge of the table. An old nervous tick you've never gotten rid of. “It was unacceptable, and shows a severe lack of discipline on your part.” 

The table goes silent. Oscar is clearly trying not to laugh. Andrea and Zak look surprised by your chilly tone. 

“I mean, I suppose,” Lando says, frowning a bit at how blunt you are. 

“There is no ‘I suppose’, there is the truth.” You lean forward over the table to look at him. “Do you want to be a world champion, Lando Norris?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then start acting like it. You’re not the youngest on the grid anymore.” Your claw scratches against the edge of the table again, leaving a faint mark. “I’ll talk to your trainer after this. You’re going to do extra conditioning for every tardy arrival to a meeting, practice, whatever, starting with this morning.”

“That seems a bit much,” Andrea starts, but Zak lets out a low whistle. Almost impressed. 

“You’re treating him like a football coach would.”

“I’m treating him as he should be. He is an athlete. He represents a team. Such actions can reflect poorly.”

“It was one time!” Lando protests.

“Was it?” You challenge, raising an eyebrow. Lando has to stop himself from growling, reminding himself he must be civil. “Was it just a one-time occurrence last season, Andrea?”

Lando bites his lower lip. You’re much stricter than Will had ever been. Andrea just holds up his hands, looking back at him with an apologetic gaze while you prompt him to answer. 

“I admit… things have been a bit relaxed as of late,” The team principal scratches the back of his head, and you make a little tutting noise, before turning to look at Lando again. 

“Then we’re fixing it.” 

A long pause settles. And you start again.

“I do have… issues, with the way you run things here,” you scratch your claw into the wood of the table, a low rumble in your throat. The scent blockers you have on are distracting to Lando. He wonders, briefly, what your scent is like when it’s not so medicinal. “You need more discipline. Less media. It makes you seem… soft.”

“Soft?” Lando leans forward, tilting his head. You look back at him with your constantly blank stare, a slight frown on your lips, and icy eyes that challenge even the famous death stare of your sire. “What do you mean?”

You hesitate, looking to Zak and Andrea, who both gesture for you to continue. You then look at Oscar, who bites his lip and makes eye contact with you, and shrugs softly, as if permitting you to say what you were going to say.

“....you will take offense to what I’m about to say, I’m warning you.”

“Please, I’ll be fine,” Lando waves it off, grinning lazily. His nose twitches. The medicinal smell of your scent blockers is getting to him. Do you truly need to cover your scent that much? Are you worried that he’ll act aggressively because you’re also an Alpha?

“.... no. You won’t. I’ve seen your interviews.” You say dryly, and fold your arms. Lando balks. 

“I beg you pardon?”

“You don’t take criticism well.”

“I take it just fine!” Lando shoots back, feeling himself starting to get frustrated. Why did you have to wear them? Even if you are an Alpha, the medication provided by the FIA should be more than enough to keep anyone’s tempers from flaring.

“Then you won’t throw a hissyfit when I list out all my problems with the way you work?” 

Your tone is icy. Even. Perfectly calculated. 

“Oh, you know I want to hear about your issues with me,” Lando slams his hands down onto the table, and you just raise an eyebrow at him. He’s down to his undershirt, his fireproofs hanging at his waist as you stare at him. “So say it! Don’t hold back!”

Andrea just massages his temples as Zak looks like he wants to be anywhere else. 

“Only if you don’t throw a tantrum when I’m right.” You state, examining your nails from where you sit, as though this is boring for you. Monotonous and icily calm. 

Lando hates your voice. Specifically how robotic and monotone it sounds. What little he knows about you— which is as much as the rest of the world, with how private the Lauda family is— is that you apparently have some vocal chord and brain damage. Nothing substantial enough to impede your thought process or speaking to make you mute, but enough to have caused the monotonous way you speak. A small enough problem that Lando doesn’t feel like a total dick for what he’s about to say.

“Oh, just fucking say it, you robotic bitch!”

That gets your attention. You pause, slowly bring your hand down, and look at him. With that classic, terrifying Lauda glare. Your eyes pierce his soul, and for a second, just a second, Lando considers apologizing. Tucking his tail between his legs, his ears folded back. But then, he remembers who he is, and he meets your glare with his own, lips drawn back to bare his teeth. 

“Fine then.”

You push yourself up easily, and stand, looking down at him. 

“Firstly, you are incredibly arrogant. You take risks without properly considering the chances of failure. Whenever you do inevitably end up in a lower place than your high-and-mighty ass thinks you deserve, you then take it out on everyone but yourself, when it’s solely your own decisions getting you there.”

You take a deep breath in, and he can hear the rattle of it in your throat as you start to walk around the table towards him as if you’re stalking your prey. Glaring all the while. Eyes glowing in the light. Andrea has his head in his hands behind you.

“Furthermore, you’ve yet to win a single race. Just one. You are not a world champion because you’re a fan favorite and show extreme promise. Everyone is here because they showed promise at one point or another. You’re a brat of a driver with an ego boosted by all of the people who want to get into your pants and the fact that these fuckers,” You snarl when you whip your hand out to point to Zak and Andrea, who at least have the decency to look a bit ashamed, “…don’t discipline you enough.”

And then you stop, and pull him up by the collar so fast that he gets whiplash, looking you right in your eyes, and can see the angry, mottled skin of severe scarring just hidden under the concealer on your face. Zak still seems to be reeling from the comment you made about how soft they are on Lando, and the way that you’re bristling for a fight.

“Thirdly. You’re a fucking jackass who’s mad someone got called over here to stop your ass from having another hissyfit while being interviewed. I hope the food from the races this year gives you explosive diarrhea from all the spices.”

With that, you let go of his collar and storm out of the room, screaming in German the entire way out, while slamming the door behind you.

Andrea only groans, looking at Lando from between his fingers, while Zak has his head against the table. Oscar has his hands tightly threaded in his hair. But then you come storming back in, with something in your hand. Lando just barely manages to swat it out of the way, and listens to it hit the ground, sounding like an empty can.

And you throw your hands in the air. “Oh, so you can react when a Red Bull is suddenly coming at you! Now do it with the fucking car, dipshit!”

Lando feels his eye twitch once. Twice. And then he’s throwing the crinkled can right back at you, the two of you screaming at each other in two separate languages while Andrea pushes himself between you two, with Zak trying his best to mediate the situation. Oscar looks like he would rather be anywhere else than between the two of you, eyes straight to the center of the table when you’re both finally separated. His scent is sour and awkward. Lando’s smells of burnt rubber. Your teeth are still bared, scent hidden. And that somehow makes Lando angrier.

“Never insult my voice again,” You hiss at Lando, eyes burning as the Brit sits in the chair while you stay standing. Oscar is holding tightly to his shoulder, the omega’s fingers digging into his skin. “I’ll gut you like a fucking fish if you do.” 

The faintest trace of an American accent makes Lando’s head spin, as he watches you leave, stalking out of the room. And Zak looks at Lando, jaw hanging loose. “Uh. I think… I think we need a five-minute break.” Zak mumbles, looking a bit disturbed, before leaving to go talk to you. Lando just stands there, feeling his anger fade as Oscar slowly approaches him. Andrea has gone after Zak.

"Mate," The omega's voice trembles, with shock or rage, he isn't entirely sure which one, "What the fuck?"

tags: @the-holy-trinity-l @laura-naruto-fan1998 @amalialeclerc @st0rmzi3

[housecow]

i have a lot of cute ideas

my feeder travels a lot—he’s lucky enough to have a job that can take him all over the world. his cow, however, cannot really follow.

i outgrew a regular plane seat sometime after 300lbs. we discovered that after a particularly fruitful trip to spain; although eating our way through each city racked up a lot of steps, the funnel sessions and late night snacking really did me in. neither of us were really surprised that my hips just didn’t quite fit. rather, i could tell it was all he could think about the entire way back. his hand on my soft thigh, slightly clenched and almost possessive… the way his eyes flickered to mine and there was this look.

our trips together became rarer but neither of us minded. as i’d grown, a lot of what we used to do together faded. i couldn’t keep up on the hikes, biking was out of the question, and even the long walks we enjoyed wound up split by breaks so i could catch my breath.

throughout it all, however, my feeder just grew more enthusiastic. he’d tell me he was so proud after we made it back to the hotel each night. his hands would massage my softened shoulders, he’d hold the shake to my lips, and he’d coo into my ear, “it’s okay, i won’t make you do this again,” “there’s a buffet tomorrow morning,” or, “you can really feel how fat we’ve made you now, right?”

i’d melt with whatever he said and he’d fill me up, every way i needed. funnels and shakes, expansive platters of pastries… him inside me, i’m so full and he’s telling me how good i’m doing for him, my belly touching the bed while he’s breeding me…

neither of us minded when we had to do things separately. he’d be off on a trip, sending me photos of the views and the food (“wish i could be feeding you these!”), and i’d return the gesture. belly pics, selfies of my fatass planted on the couch working on the last bit of the gallon of ice cream that was supposed to last the week, meal ideas and articles and excitement about all he’s getting to experience.

the best part, however, is when he’d get back. over the longer trips i’d have settled in a bit too much. nothing was overly dirty, of course, but the fridge was overstocked with takeout. i’d finished almost everything and move on to whatever was next, absentmindedly leaving behind remnants of everything i’d made my way through. the trash would be full of boxes and candy wrappers, vegetable skins and soda cans, too. and he'd be able to see what it all did to me.

i was bigger every time he came back. it wasn’t too obvious, maybe just a pound or two, but it was enough to excite him. he’d admire the way i had to focus and gather momentum to heave myself out of the car, how my belly hang hit my thighs just enough to make a sound when i tried to move quickly, and how he could always count on me to gorge myself while i missed him.

he never made a comment though. but every time before he left the pantry would be replenished—zebra cakes, brownies, chips, pasta, sauce, boxed mac n cheese, everything he could think of would be left there for me.

he once said, “i won’t let a moment pass where you can’t reach for something to eat,” and it was true. a candy bowl mysteriously appeared on the coffee table one day, each time i reached the bottom it’d be refilled. the mini fridge side table was “cute and functional,” he reasoned, as he showed me where the sodas and premade shakes were going. i’d thank him, a soft kiss and several grateful expressions, before admitting that i was relieved at having one less trip to the kitchen now when i was settled in.

and he’d just smile. enabling a cow like me is easy, he just has to set the food out. i know what to do.

[jokeringcutio]

Stepdad!William Afton x (f) Reader - Telephone Cable (WARNINGS, SMUT)

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, stepdadxstepdaughter, while mom is away, (slight) choking kink, cockwarming, daddy's girl, unprotected s*x, creampie, daddy kink, praise kink, secrecy, Modern Day AU!, Henry giving William a call. AN: The first two paragraphs are a decoy. Underneath the read more is the real stuff. Based on this post

Sunlight peeped through the blinds, creating stripes of gold on the two intertwined figures. It was William’s favorite chair, so naturally, he’d sat down on that, drink in his hand, while the clock behind him ticked as he waited for your mom to go out.

The distant sound of her car became fainter and fainter. And then you and him were alone.

A smile spread on his face, showing straight teeth in a joyful but perverse way. A silent promise. And all he needed to do was pat his hand on his lap, and you came over to him like an obedient little pet.

~ * ~ You could feel the heat of his body against your back, the way his hairy hips rested against you from below. Your pussy squelched delightfully with each shallow thrust, and a low hum escaped his throat.

"You’re a real daddy's girl, aren’t you?" He whispered into your ear, his hot breath sending goosebumps over your skin.

You’d been on your stepdad’s cock for a little over an hour. Just there to function as a warm cocksleeve around his shaft, until his cock had grown hard inside of you and your body thrummed with desire for more.

You bit your lip and tried to nod, but the movements made it difficult. So instead, you answered by moving your hips against his own, lifting yourself a little further off his cock before you sat back down again. Your hands were on his legs, near to his knees.

You could see your reflection on the inky black television screen.

"So nice,” William’s low voice sounded, his hands tightening on your hips before this grip loosened again. He kept your hips deliberately still, making sure he had full control again. The thrusts he gave were shallow, as if he wanted to draw it all out, making the pleasure last as long as possible.

“Still so tight," he grunted, The gentle thrusts were not enough to bring you to the brink, but deep enough to make you shudder and your walls flutter around him. You could feel the ridges of his veins, the hot flesh of hard erection as it was buried inside you, the head pressed snugly against your cervix, kissing your womb and leaking the first drops of cum.

“Think I can make you come before your mom is back?” you heard your stepfather ask, his voice hoarse with delight. His hand squeezed your right breast, hidden underneath yoru sweater.

His hips still only moved leisurely.

“I think I’m gonna fill you up before she comes home. Have you carry all my seed inside your womb while she prances around, not knowing Daddy filled up her little girl good,” the mental image sent shivers down your spine and you bit your lip again. “Would you like that, huh? Keep Daddy’s secret?”

Your heart raced, the threat of him coming inside you while your mom was away only made the moment more exhilarating. Still, his hips only moved slowly and shallowly. The itch inside your core begged for more. And so did you. "Harder, Daddy," you pleaded, unable to contain your desire as you tried to move your hips. But his hands tightened on your hips, keeping you firmly pressed against him. He stopped moving fully now.

“Do you think you are in a position to make demands?” came the rough voice of your stepdad. William let go of your right hip to push his glasses back on his nose, the frame pressing against the skin around his eyes.

You whimpered sadly, wishing he would pick up his pace and let you come. Your eyes went to the clock. Not long before your mom would arrive home. You’d been on your stepdad’s cock for a little over an hour, cunt sopping wet and his shaft coated with your juices. Yet, he never let you properly ride him or come.

You just hoped he would have mercy on you and decide to make you come before your mom arrived home. You wanted to have your fill. No. Needed it.

He might love edging, but you loved it more when your pussy throbbed around him and pleasure washed over you. Nothing weird about that, right? You thought you deserved it with all the things he made you do.

“Didn’t I ask you a question?” he wondered, though the teasing in his voice was evident. He just wanted you to acknowledge his filthy desires.

“Yes, Daddy,” you moaned, eager to move your hips. He stilled them again, smacking the flat of his hand against your right ass cheek for good measure, an indication for you to keep still. Yet, your pussy squeezed around his cock, eager for more. You heard the gasp that escaped his lips -  he wasn’t left unaffected.

“I’ll keep your secret Daddy. I won’t tell anyone that you filled me up. Won’t tell Mom. Just, please, make me cum.”

“Well,” William drawled, the fingers of his hands gently stroking past the soft flesh of your hips. “Since you ask so nicely…”

You bit your lip, prepared for the ecstasy that was about to come. But just as William tightened his grip on your hips again and the muscles in his hips tensed, his mobile phone lit up with an incoming call.

You growled in annoyance, throwing the screen a glare. The name that lit up on the screen was a familiar one and your heart sank. It was his business partner, Henry. He would never deny Henry. It might be something important, especially as Henry was at work today at the restaurant they both owned.

As predicted, your stepdad picked up the phone, still holding you close, and you were just incredibly grateful that Henry hadn’t started a video call but a normal audio one.

“I’m sorry, Henry, could you repeat that again?” you heard your stepdad say, frowning while he pushed the glasses back on his nose again. His other hand, still on your hip, forced you slightly up from his cock only to guide you back down again with a squelch. You bit your lip to keep from moaning. Suppose if Henry heard…

“It’s really hard to hear you,” a pause. “Could be… Henry, can you call the landline instead?" he asked.

Another thrust, deeper this time, hard. His cockhead bumped against your womb’s entrance, involuntarily slickening your core.

And then William put his mobile phone down, screen facing the table. You could see just in time how the call had ended and glanced at William over your shoulder to try and measure his reaction to it all.

His eyes were hidden behind glinting glasses, his expression hard to see. But then he frowned and grabbed your hips harder. Your stepdad snarled in your ear: "You better keep quiet. This is an important call."

Your heart pounded in your chest, the anticipation building as the landline phone rang. William picked it up, and you noticed how the cable of the phone brushed against you, sending another shiver down your spine. Glancing over your shoulder you saw he must have noticed it as well, eyes focused on the cable.

He hooked the phone between his chin and shoulder, using both hands to guide your hips up and down until he found the right pace and angle.

"Hello, Henry," William said, his voice steady despite the situation. Your mind swirled with thoughts of what might happen next, the danger of being discovered only heightening the thrill. But you knew you had to keep quiet, not wanting to ruin this moment or jeopardize his work.

"William, we've got a problem at the pizzeria," Henry's voice crackled through the phone. "One of the arcade games is on the fritz again."

Thrust. You brought your hands up to your lips, covering your mouth with both of them as your stepdad decided that this was the perfect moment to properly start fucking you.

After being inside of your warm cunt for so long, this was the time. When you had to be quiet.

You silently cursed him inside your mind as he picked up a pace. The position in which you were in enabled him to hit you deep inside.

"Which one?" William asked, his voice steady even as he wrapped the telephone cable around your neck, surprising you. Your eyes flew open wide, hands darting from your lips to the cable. His strong hand pulled, tightening the cable around your neck, cutting off your flow of oxygen ever so slowly. You gasped as he forcefully made you ride him, guiding your movements with his hips and the grip on the phone cable.

"Whack-a-Mole," Henry replied. Slick sounds came from where your hips met, where his cock moved in and out of you with force. "It's been acting up all week, and I can't figure out what's wrong with it."

"Did you try resetting the system?" William inquired, gently tightening the cord around your neck. You struggled to keep your breaths quiet, focusing on the sound of their conversation.

"Of course I did," Henry sounded exasperated. Your cunt clamped down on William’s cock and you bit your tongue from crying out. Behind you, William transferred the cable of the phone to the same hand he was holding the phone in – not only tightening the cable around your neck but also leaving his left hand free.

That free hand circled you to rub against your clit, making you writhe on top of him as you tried to suppress a moan. Your walls started to flutter helplessly around his shaft, and he closed his eyes and nibbled on his bottom lip in reply.

"It worked for a while, but then the problems started up again."

"Sounds like a short circuit," William suggested, a wicked grin playing on his lips as he watched your eyes widen. "You'll need to open it up and check the wiring."

Thrust, squelch, thrust. Your breasts bounced underneath your shirt as he picked up the pace – no bra as requested. You felt your face flush in embarrassment, praying that Henry did not hear the wet noises that filled the room, and grateful that phone calls with smell hadn’t been invented yet. The room smelled heavily of musk, of raw intercourse and hot slick.

His fingers against your clit roughened, increasing the pace until his index finger slipped forth and bumped against your slick hole and his cock. And then his touch subsided, just in time to prevent you from coming.

You subdued a groan in annoyance. Nearly there, you thought. But the promise that he would make you come still lingered.

"All right, I'll give that a shot," Henry agreed, though there was a brief pause in which William’s hips didn’t move forth, but instead circled, stirring his cock - like a wooden spoon in soup - inside of you.

You gasped at the sensation, your hands loosening the grip on the cable and grabbing air instead as you threatened to fall forward. The cable pulled you back, the only thing holding you upright on your stepdad’s lap.

And then, with a devilish grin, your stepdad pressed his hips against you again with a loud squelch. His cockhead bumped against your cervix, eliciting a yelp from your lips. Although not loud, it obviously had been loud enough.

"Is everything okay over there?” Another pull on the cable took your breath away, preventing any more sound. Somehow, the suffocation was just enough to tip you over the edge. Stars started to cloud your vision, your walls clamping down hard on your stepdad’s cock.

Tears formed in your eyes as your stepdad humped his hips against yours, cock pressing against that delicate spot deep inside while you came.

You actually came.

The grip on the cable loosened and you brought your hands to your lips again to keep from crying out, walls trembling around William’s cock as your body was submitted to wave after wave of orgasm.

It felt so good.

And he didn’t stop or show mercy. He just kept fucking you as if he wanted you to betray your secret tryst.

“It sounds like there are some...odd noises. Are you playing with one of the new animatronics, hmm?" Henry said, indicating that William had promised to work on a new animatronic for their enterprise.

William grinned. “Perhaps,” he teased, another particularly hard and deep thrust. It betrayed that he was near now as well. That, and the hoarseness that crept into his voice.

"But you will have to wait and find out," William lied smoothly, giving the cord a playful tug. Your body reacted accordingly. "Don’t worry. My day off is well spent."

"Okay, if you say so," Henry said, still sounding a bit suspicious. "I'll let you know how it goes. Thanks for the help, William."

"Anytime, Henry. Good luck," William replied before hanging up the phone.

As soon as the call ended, he removed the cable from around your neck, leaving behind a faint red mark. His hands went down to your hips, forcing them up and down. Your tight walls were forced up and down his shaft, clamping down like a vice. His breathing increased.

You muttered nonsensical things, all soft whispers as the overstimulation was getting too much.

“Almost,” your stepdad mumbled, “almost, there, baby girl, almost,” and with a loud groan he came with one firm thrust deep inside.

You felt your body tremble as you came down from your high, breath returning to you as your pussy pulsed softer and softer around his throbbing cock.

Hot liquid coated your walls. And then there was silence. Just the ticking of the clock.

You moved gently on top of him, turning to face him over your shoulder and placing a petite kiss on his lips. His blue eyes were fixed upon you, following your gaze with affection. You knew he would deny it if you asked him, but he truly cared about you. This was more than just a primal hunger for sex. Your stepdad loved you, and you were starting to feel the same.

More and more with each day.

"Thank you, Daddy," you whispered, flushed and breathless from the exhilarating experience. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to the top of your head, his touch surprisingly gentle.

"Get dressed," he ordered firmly, his eyes glinting with a hint of danger. "Your mom will be home soon."

You obeyed without hesitation, standing up on trembling legs. His cock, for the first time in nearly two hours, slipped free from its confines: you.

It felt odd after having been filled for so long. You knew your stepdad loved to be close to you and to enjoy your warmth for as long as possible. And quite often that wasn’t long enough. It was why he wanted you to sit naked on top of him – whether just with your pants off or skirt flipped up, or perhaps naked in full. It didn’t matter, as long as he would be inside of you.

At first, you had thought it weird, but exciting. Now, you’d grown used to it, and you loved the feel of his stretch. You missed him when he was gone.

Slipping your panties back on, you made sure that William could see the evidence of his actions. The sticky cum that slipped out of you was dripping on the fabric of your panties, coating the crotch of your panties like paint. You left them deliberately halfway up your knees, waiting for all of the sticky liquid to have left your folds. Once the dripping stopped, and most of it had collected in your panties, you slowly pulled them up and pressed William’s hot cum against your core once more. As if your body could absorb it like this a second time.

Once your mom would be home, those panties would still be on, and your stepdad would still be inside and against you. He growled appreciatively, a predatory smile curving his lips.

"Daddy's good girl," he murmured, just as the sound of a car pulling into the driveway reached your ears. Both of you glimpsed outside, hidden by the blinds, to see your mom step out of the car, a bright smile on her lips. Your stepdad turned to you, flicking a knuckle of his fingers gently past your cheek; an affectionate gesture.

His blue eyes slid down to your now-clothed cunt, knowing his cum was still there. Then, William quickly left the room. You hurried to make yourself presentable, running a hand through your disheveled hair before retreating to your room, pretending as if you'd been there all along.

When your mom opened the door, you were behind your desk working on an assignment that needed to be finished soon. You smiled up at her, innocently. “Hi Mom, how was your day?”

AN: For @likoplays 8) Might do a different approach to the same prompt later on. Not betaread etc.

Taglist: @likoplays @2pacl0ve

AN: For more, follow me (:

~~ Support me on Ko-Fi - Masterlist - Request Box ~~

[morgluvsconnie]

BOUND, c.springer

chap.3 | language, kinda short (will make it up!!!) | chap.2

“when yo birthday again?”

“two days.” you sipped your margarita while looking up at connie. both of you were drunk, high, and out of it. you were at the bar spot once again, leaning against the counter. he did the same, looking down at you.

“you want sum?” he tilted his head.

“not from you.” you looked at connie through your lashes, smiling a little. he had a straight face for a few seconds, but started to smile. “don’t say ian ask you, ight?” he raised his brows.

before you could reply, a random guy came up to you.

“wassup.” he looked you up and down. connie frowned a little, backing up. “i guess ian here then.” he said under his breath, looking to the side and drinking from his cup.

“you fine, i saw you from over there.” the guy pointed backwards. you glanced back and looked at him. you had no damn idea where he was pointing.

“okay.” was all u said, taking a sip from your bottle.

“just tryna make sure you ain’t got no boyfriend. you pretty as hell.” the guy smiled. you smiled back and laughed. “thank you, but i got a boyfriend.” you tilted your head. connie looked at you with a confused face.

“ion see ‘em.” the guy looked around then at connie.

he looked back at you. “this him?” he frowned.

you looked at connie and connie looked at the guy. “if you ain’t cut off our conversation you woulda knew that.” he mumbled, looking him in the eye. the guy stared at connie for a second before squinting and looking at you. “ion believe it.”

“fuck you want us to do, kiss?” connie frowned again.

“he is my boyfriend. better luck next time.” you pat the guy on his chest, softly pushing him away. “you, you gotta work on your temper.” you pointed at connie.

“my temper? youn recall when you came to get that tattoo? and you welcome for helping you. shit.” connie shook his head and blew through his mouth. “crazy.”

“well ion remember. so.” you shrugged, taking one more sip from your margarita and turning around to go. “hol up, where you goin?”

“home.”

“you high. and drunk.” connie squinted.

“no i’m not.” you crossed your arms.

“look at yo eyes.” connie stared at you. you pursed your lips together. “i can’t cus i don’t have a mirror.”

connie scoffed. “you tryna get off, ight. go home if you want to.” he shrugged. “i will if you gimme my keys.” you held your hand out. connie looked down at his pocket and took the keys out. “these my damn keys.”

you looked at them. “oh.” you mumbled, reaching in your purse to get your keys. you laughed lightly at yourself and hummed. “okay, ima see you later.”

“you not driving home like that.” connie rested his eyes at you and grabbed your keys, walking off. “boy what the hell?” you frowned, quickly following behind him. “gimme my keys” you pushed him. “no.” he walked to the rest of the group. “aye sash. take y/n car home and catch mikasa back.” he tossed sasha your keys.

you frowned up at connie then looked over to sasha, furrowing your eyebrows. sasha shrugged her shoulders with a smile, making you roll your eyes and groan, and being forced to follow connie outside the club.

“you high too! you can’t drive me home.” you stopped at the door and leaned on the brick wall. “i can function when i’m high. ian even smoke as much as you. so come on.” connie kept walking.

you stayed in the same spot, making connie turn around and narrow his eyes before looking up at the sky and closing his eyes.

“every time you get drunk.” he mumbled.

“it’s not every time. i’m not drunk i’m just tipsy. i’m talking perfectly fine.” you looked the other way.

to you, you were talking perfectly fine. but to connie, it sounded stupid. real stupid.

“okay, you not drunk, you tipsy. now bring yo ass y/n.”

“noooo” you whined, turning away as connie walked over to you.

that’s when you felt yourself being lifted off the ground, and tossed over connie’s shoulder. “you so fuckin stubborn.” he mumbled, walking to his car.

as much as you felt like arguing, you just let it happen.

an attitude was planted on your face as connie drove you home. he’d glance at you every few seconds, making sure you were good. “stop lookin at me.” you mumbled, staring out the window. you picked up your phone to check the time.

“it don’t matter how many times you pick up that phone, it’s still gon be dead.” connie smiled, just to mess with you. you squinted and slowly turned towards him.

“shut the hell… up.” you blinked quickly before turning the other way.

of course he didn’t care about you being rude. you were drunk. he knew, obviously, how you acted when you were drunk. but he still had to let you know,

“ion know who the hell you talkin to like that.” he raised his eyebrows, eyes still rested on the road.

“you.” you rolled your neck and him before rolling your eyes.

connie leaned back, slowly nodding with a small smile. it was funny when you were mad. apparently.

“right here.” you pointed to the house nearby.

as he pulled in the driveway, he put the car in park and put his hands behind the seat. “get out.”

you look at him.

“i’m just playin, damnnn. big head.” he laughed, unlocking the car. as you got out, you closed the door behind you, walking around the car and looked back at connie, throwing up a middle finger.

connie smacked his lips and let the window down. “damn, no thank you?”

you walked to your door and got your house key out, which was with your mailbox key, and your moms house key. fumbling to find which one out of the three it was, you dropped them, getting frustrated.

you snatched them off the ground, stumbling back over to the car and passing connie the keys. “i can’t see which one says H.” you mumbled, waiting for connie.

he glanced at you and chuckled a little, giving you the right key. “don’t drink again.”

you waved him off and walked back over to your door, looking back at him. “thank you.” you said, unlocking you door.

“you good.” connie said back, letting the window back up.

chap.4

[hornyfor-redacted-onmain]

Secret Secret Chapter 5

OT8 Straykids x reader, ABO AU

Masterlist | Next Part

Sooyoung realized it immediately when she walked in.

“Oh wow, someone’s in preheat.”

You sighed. “Is it that noticeable?”

She dropped her bag on the counter. “Honey, it smells like you took a shower in unicorn pee.”

“Unicorn pee?”

“I can’t imagine anything else smelling so good and yet so overwhelmingly bad,” she said with a shrug, turning to rummage around the cabinets. “You going to take the day off when your heat hits?”

“Oh, um.” You shrunk down in your seat on the couch. “Not exactly.”

The alpha paused, turning around slowly with narrowed eyes. “What did you do?”

“Look, hear me out,” You started. “It’s only Monday. My heat will probably hit on Thursday, and then I’ll have to call in sick for two days.”

“Wow, two days off work. How tragic,” Sooyoung said sarcastically, still standing with her arms crossed.

You gave her a look. “However, if I can hold off my heat until after work on Friday, I can ride my heat out during the weekend. No need to call in sick at all!”

“Right. And go back to work immediately after your heat?”

You could tell that her alpha wasn’t pleased with the idea of you working after such a harsh experience. Most omegas took at least a few days off after their heat to recover, but it wasn’t impossible for you to function the day after.

Betas wouldn’t need a day off to recover.

“It’s only my second week at this job, Youngie. I can’t afford to be using up my sick days so soon!”

“And yet I know for a fact that you’ll use some other excuse the next time your heat comes up.” She paused, narrowing her eyes as she realized something. “Wait. The only way you’ll manage to delay your heat is with suppressants.”

You looked down.

“You know how badly those affect you!”

“It’s only two days!”

Sooyoung threw her hands up into the air. “Fine, you know what? Do what you like. You’re a grown adult capable of making her own stupid decisions. But don’t come crying to me at the end of the day when those symptoms wreak havoc on you.”

You watched through silent fury as your roommate practically stomped to her room. The door slammed loudly behind her, and you were tempted to comment on it just to get the last word in, but you held your tongue.

In reality, you knew she had every right to be worried. Heat suppressants were normally only used for emergencies, not because they had any negative consequences on the body itself, but because the symptoms were so horrible that no normal person would willingly subject themselves to them unless they absolutely had to.

Headaches, fatigue, heightened senses, heat flashes, brain fog, stomach cramps. Heat suppressants forced the production of pre-heat hormones and suppressed the actual heat from happening for a short period of time, but, as an unfortunate side effect, it enhanced all the pre-heat symptoms and dialed them up to a 100.

Compared to the milder heat symptoms (slick production and high libido) it seemed odd to want to endure two days of all that. But your heat would make your scent so strong, to the point that your scent blockers wouldn’t work anymore, so it was a necessity.

At least that’s what you told yourself.

-0-0-

You weren’t sure what to expect from the Alpha you were bringing home. The entire ride in his car, besides giving out directions, nothing was said between the both of you. Even now, awkwardly standing in your kitchen, he looked like he was losing the motivation he originally had, and you wondered if you would end up being left high and dry.

“Do you want some water? Or something else to drink?” You leaned against your counter, hoping that a simple conversation would help him relax.

He shook his head. “I’m fine.”

“You sure? You look like your seconds away from bolting.”

“Ah, am I that obvious?” He let out a chuckle, reaching up to scratch at his forehead. “I’ve never really done something like this before.”

You tilted your head in interest. “Oh? What makes me so special?”

He didn’t say anything at first, instead choosing to move forward until he was leaning against the other side of the counter. The two of you were close enough that you could reach out and touch him if you wanted, but part of you was curious to see if he would make the first move.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully.

“You sure it’s not my charmingly good looks?” You said it jokingly, but he rested his chin against his hand.

“No, it’s something else. Something … special.”

You felt your omega perk up at the compliment, and you could smell your scent begin to grow. You pulled back from the counter to stand up straight. If things were going to progress any further, you needed to take this back to your room. You didn’t want Sooyoung to have to deal with the scent of arousal lingering in the communal areas.

“Well then, mr. charmer. How about we take this to my room?” You held out your hand, and he took it.

His hand was warm and heavy in yours.

You opened up your bedroom door, and you found yourself staring at his ass as he passed. “What’s your real name anyways?”

“My real name?” The alpha looked around your room with a thoughtful look. “It’s not that important.”

You raised your eyebrows” What do I call you, then?”

“Hmmm.” You couldn’t see his face through his mask, but the way he gazed at you made you feel like you were being stripped apart to your bare bones, and you could imagine the curl of his lips. “You can call me Alpha.”

His scent began to come out stronger, like a breeze on a hot day, and you found yourself hoping it would linger long after he was gone.

You shut the door.

“Well, alpha,” You said, deliberately drawing the word out. “You going to wear that mask all night?”

He seemed to grow almost … shy. “I- actually, I think I’d prefer to keep it on.”

“It’s okay,” You assure him, not wanting him to feel insecure.

“I mean, I do want to kiss you,” He started, taking a step towards you. You could see the moment he hesitated to reach out to you, his hand dropping down to his side in a clenched fist. “If you want, that is.”

You let out a bark of laughter. “Oh sweetie, I’m pretty sure inviting you over was an invitation for much more than just a little kiss.”

This time he didn’t stop himself from reaching out to you, his hands lingering on your waist as his eyes flittered across your space. You reached up for his mask, the idea of kissing him the only thing you can think of. You wanted to know what he looked like. How soft his lips would be.

He grabbed your wrist. “I can’t let you see my face.” He sounded almost regretful.

“It’s okay,” You reassured him once more. “I can close my eyes.”

And you did. You stood there, eyes closed, and let your smile grow as he dropped your wrist, the sound of fabric shifting in front of you. For a second, he left you waiting. You didn’t open your eyes, but you did reach out to place your hand against his bare jaw.

His lips were as soft as you hoped they would be.

Your hands roamed down from his face to his neck, using your grip on his to pull him closer. It felt like he was inhaling your very essence, His scent covered you, and you moaned against his lips as his body pressed against yours. He smiled, lips still pressed against yours.

You pulled away from the kiss, but immediately pushed your face into his shoulder to keep yourself from the temptation of opening your eyes.

“You good?”

“I think it’s going to be a little hard to remember to keep my eyes close if you keep kissing me dumb like that.”

His chest rumbled as he laughed, grip on your waist tightening. “Sorry?”

“Hmmm, it’s not a complaint. Just an observation.” You pulled out of his hold completely, waving your hand in his direction. “Turn around for a second.”

You didn’t wait to see if he did as you asked, moving towards your closet with a goal in mind. It took a little bit of rummaging in the farthest corner of one of your drawers, but eventually you managed to find what you were looking for. You pulled it out with a shout of triumph.

“Is that a blindfold?”

“Yup!” You slapped a hand over your eyes and turned around, wiggling the cloth out in front of you. “Genius, right?”

“You just happened to have that lying around?”

The cloth was pulled out of your hands, and you turned around. “What can I say, I’m full of surprises.”

Warm arms wrapped around your waist. The heat of his body was hot against your back, and as his hands began to trace up and down your sides, you felt something in you shifting. You shuddered, body responding by releasing a wave of your scent, and he responded with his own scent of arousal that made your body feel almost pliant.

“So you are.” The blindfold was pulled over your eyes, and you shut them instinctively. The cloth brushed over your eyelids as he began to form a knot at the base of your head. “Tell me if it’s too tight.”

Your mind began to grow heavy as your omega pushed forward, the smell of alpha heavy on your tongue. When he finished tying off the blindfold, he leaned against your back, his mouth pressing a soft kiss to the juncture of your neck. You tilted your head to the side, an ache to feel his teeth pressing against the skin running through you and causing slick to drip down your thighs.

You let out a whine.

“Easy baby girl. I got you.”

His warmth disappeared, and you opened your eyes. The blindfold made it so that you could make out the shadows of the dark room, a vague shape of a person as they removed their clothes. You reached down to grab the hem of your own shirt.

“No, don’t,” He said, voice thick. “Let me.”

You grabbed his hands, using your newfound sight to reach out wrap your hands around his neck. This time, you were the one to initiate the kiss, eyes falling closed not out of necessity but on instinct.

“You okay?” He asked you again when your knees suddenly buckled.

“Like I said. Those kisses of yours are dangerous,” you breathed out.

He decided to take it as an invitation to pull you back in for another kiss, although this one was quicker and sweeter.

It almost felt like love.

His lips pressed against yours once, twice, and then a third time before he trailed them down to your jaw, sliding them slowly down to your neck. When he began to suck against the skin there, you pulled away with a whine.

"No marks, please. I have work."

He moved his hands under your shirt and began to pull it up. You could only barely see his figure as he leaned down, his lips reappearing against the tops of your now exposed breasts.

"I assume you mean no marks where they can be seen?"

"Yeah."

"Hmm." He pressed a kiss to your skin, tongue darting out to glide from the tops of your breast towards your nipples. He teasingly pulled against them as he passed, moving to press another kiss just to the side. "Is this okay?"

"Yes," You said, voice breathless.

He pulled your shirt off completely, pressing a kiss to your shoulder. He began to lead you towards the bed. Even without your sight, the mattress was familiar under your body, and you instinctively relaxed into the sheets.

You made grabby hands at him. He laughed, kneeling on the bed next to you and allowing your hands to roam across his skin. He still had on his boxers, and when you moved to pull them down, he grabbed your hands and pressed them gently down against the bed.

“Patience,” He told you, his voice rumbling.

You pouted, and he kissed your lips with another laugh. He continued where he had left off, his mouth on your breasts as his hands grabbed your thighs, pulling them apart so he could slot himself in between them. The motion pressed his clothed cock against your center, and you moaned at the feeling.

“Please,” you found yourself breathing out.

His mouth trailed kisses down your body, hands swiftly pulling both your pants and underwear down in one go. “Got to get you ready first, sweetheart.”

“Awfully confident in yourself, huh?” You joked.

“Hmm, something like that,” He drawled.

You expected him to get straight to it, but he took his sweet time. Laying kisses along your inner thigh, caressing your legs up to your hips. You wiggled your hips impatiently, but he just smiled against your skin.

“You’re doing a really good job at getting under my skin,” You told him, running your fingers through his hair. “If you don’t hurry up, I might just have to get myself off.”

He nosed your center, and your body flared up with want. “Good things come to those who wait.”

“Alpha, please.”

“That’s it.” He rewarded you by finally mouthing at your core, licking a stripe up to your clit where he sucked gently.

You were already wet with slick from all the teasing and foreplay, but his mouth on you made you gush, your core clenching around nothing, When he pressed a finger into you, you bucked your hips, and he laid a hand across your stomach to keep you from moving.

You let out a moan, fingers gripping his hair tightly as he ate you out. He added another finger, and the sound was filled with wet squelching sounds as he fingered you gently, softly crooking his fingers to press against your spongey insides as he sucked against your clit.

Your orgasm built up slowly, but it hit you quicker than you expected, your body writhing under him as you whined. He pulled away, his other hand reaching up towards his face, and you could only imagine the sight he made.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he said, finger rubbing small circles against your clit. “Could stay here forever.”

“Please, alpha,” You whined.

“Please what?”

“I need you.”

He moved up your body. “Need me to what?”

“I want you to fuck me,” You said impatiently.

He grabbed your body and flipped you over so quickly that it made your head spin, and you pressed you forehead to your pillow with a gasp, “Ask and you shall receive,” He told you, and you could feel him moving around behind you.

You lifted your hips and presented for the alpha, your omega instincts taking over. His scent intoxicated you, filling your senses and making you feel dizzy, wanting nothing more than to submit to him in every way possible.

He took his sweet time once again, rubbing his member through your folds before he slowly pressed into you. He was right to have prepared you because he was thick, stretching you and filling you up completely. You couldn’t even moan, like your breath had been stolen. Your fingers dug into your blankets, eyes shutting behind the blindfold.

“Fuck.”

The alpha gave you a second to adjust once he had bottomed out, rubbing against your sides gently. “You good, omega?”

“So good,” You mumbled.

When he started to move, it made you whine. He thrust into you slowly at first, but his hips began to speed up slowly, the sound of skin slapping filling the room. You let out a moan as his fingers gripped your thighs, sure to leave marks. You pressed your knees against the mattress and moved to sit up, hands reaching behind you in an attempt to feel his skin against yours. He pressed himself to your back without having to be asked.

His warm breath against your shoulder, mouth teasingly close to your scent gland, had you reaching your release quickly.

You let out a whine.

“Shh, I got you,” he whispered into your ear. His hands roamed from your thighs up your chest and towards your neck, fingers gently pressing against your throat. “God, you’re so tight.”

You whined. “Alpha, please!”

“Just a little longer. You can hold on just a little longer, cant you? Hmm? Don’t you want to be good for your Alpha?”

You were so close. Your body felt like it was on fire and your head spun, the darkness that seemed to engulf you left your nerve endings so sensitive, and you couldn’t see him, could think, couldn’t do anything more than accept the pleasure he was giving you. He seemed to know that you were at your breaking point, because as a whine began to build in your throat, he pulled away.

His fingers pressed right where you needed them most, and you found yourself spiraling.

“Cum for me, Omega.”

You woke up with a start, your mind still heavy with lust and sleep. It took you a moment to realize that you had been dreaming, and then you were falling back to your bed with a groan, swiping a hand down your face.

It was your memories from that night with Chan.

It seemed like your pre-heat sex dreams were making their appearance. Usually they were some random fantasies, but you supposed it made sense that you would be hit with a memory this time around.

Your thoughts wandered to the shirt still in your drawer. It almost seemed to be calling for you.

You let out another groan.

This was going to be a long week.

-0-0-

You were convinced that heat suppressants had to have been created as a form of torture.

The headache made every noise feel like a punch to the brain, not helped by the fact that your hearing was so sensitive that everything above a cough sounded like an airhorn to your brain. Even the painkillers you took that morning were doing little to dull the hammering in your head.

And yet, you tried your best to keep a smile on your face, made ever difficult from having to deal with the managers.

You had been thrown for a loop when you found out on Tuesday morning that Felix had gone into heat. It was all the staff members were talking about. You hoped that the idol’s heat and rut cycles weren’t normally a topic of interest for the company, but you understood why this time they all were freaking out about it.

Stray Kids’ comeback was scheduled for next week.

It would be hard for you to have to go back to work the day after your heat ended, but finding out that Felix was expected to be on stage and promoting less than a week after his almost made you feral.

“What do you mean the comeback will continue as planned?”

Jeonhui gave you a hard look. You knew that as a new employee, and only a translator who was in the meeting to be kept up to date with the upcoming schedule, the idea of speaking out was unheard of. But when the news that the comeback would still be happening on the expected date, your mouth opened before your brain could catch up.

The head manager, Soojin, gave you a puzzled look. “Is there a reason we shouldn’t?”

The entire room was looking at you, but you forced yourself to focus only on the manager. “Felix finished his heat less than a day ago.”

“Yes?”

“Even for a normal person, a comeback is stressful. Long nights, early mornings, practices and schedules and stage performances and interviews … do you really think that’s the best thing for an omega who just had their heat to deal with?”

There was a moment where Soojin looked almost understanding, his eyes soft and a small smile on his face. You thought that you might have actually gotten through to him. You thought for a second that maybe you could make an impact on this company, give them some knowledge of the artists they were supposed to be managing and caring for, and that you could actually change the way the industry worked.

But it shattered with his next words.

“I appreciate the concern, but I assure you our omega’s can handle the load just fine. We’ve had both omegas and alphas going back to work right after heats and ruts, and there’s never been a complaint in the past.” The other staff managers nodded along as if what he was saying was common knowledge. “If they needed more time to recover, they would have said something.”

You thought about the pressure building in your head, the way your skin felt like it was crawling, the constant cramped pain your stomach was enduring, all so that you wouldn’t go into heat. All so you could keep pretending to a room full of betas.

All so that those same betas could make decisions about omega’s and alphas they knew nothing about.

It made you want to scream.

“Maybe,” You managed through clenched teeth. “They never say anything because they know that if they do, the company would use it as proof that omegas are more trouble than their worth.”

Soojin and the other managers gave you a surprised look. From the corner of the room, Maya was given you a proud smile, but the other stylists around her looked confused and even annoyed.

“Why do you care so much about this anyways? What are you, an omega expert?” One of them said.

And his words felt like a bucket of water had been dumped over your slightly overheated body. You immediately bowed your head, realizing that you had brought more attention on your head than was necessary, and it was obvious you were fighting a losing battle.

“I’m just … worried. Just seems like those boys could use some rest,” You mumbled in excuse.

Stupid. How could you be so stupid.

Now everyone would know you as that one translator who argued about an omegas needs. At best they would think you were out of line, but at worst …

“It’s quite alright,” Soojin assured you, although the look Jeonhui gave you told you that the two of you would be talking later. “But like you said, comeback is stressful for all of us, including the staff. This is why we put in all the hard work! I want to take a moment to thank all of the staff for helping make this a possibility-“

And just like that, your little outburst seemed to be forgotten.

It didn’t make you feel any better to know that your words were so easily dismissed. As Thursday turned into Friday, you made the conscious decision to not take your heat suppressants that morning, knowing you would need your heat to start either than night or early Saturday morning if you wanted your heat to end by Sunday night.

You ignored the looks Sooyoung gave you as you left for work.

Just as promised, you had been avoiding her all week. When the cramps hit you late at night and you cried out, you muffled the sound with your pillow to avoid waking her. She didn’t mention the quickly dwindling supply of pain medication (you reminded yourself to pick some up after work).

It made a part of you ache to know you had disappointed your friend. But it also made you feel proud to know that you were still doing what you had dreamed of doing for so long.

You just had to keep moving forward.

Friday went by normally, and almost easier than the past three days. The suppressants started to flush out of your system around noon, and the symptoms you had been dealing with started to fade, making it easier for you to work. The heat symptoms would come around soon, but you weren’t too worried about it hitting you fully until you were back home.

You were just finishing up your last assignment of the day when you caught the scent of a familiar smell.

“Oh no.”

Minho appeared at your doorway within seconds, and you secretly cursed the enhanced sense of smell that had yet to wear off, because the strong scent of alpha had your omega perking their metaphorical ears up instantly.

He had probably just finished dance practice judging by the sweat covered shirt he had yet to change out of.

You forced your eyes away from him and back to your screen. “Can I help you?”

“I’m sorry.”

You paused your typing, risking a glance to look at his face. He looked straight faced, almost bored at first, but you could smell the shame that was hidden beneath the rest of his scent, and you turned to face him completely.

“What are you sorry for?” You asked him.

He looked away. “I yelled at you when we first met. It was … inappropriate.”

“You were protecting your pack,” You corrected him, turning back to your work. “You did what you thought was right.”

Minho continued to stare at you from the doorway, not saying anything. You finished what you were working on and began to wrap everything up so you could leave. In the few minutes it took you to do that, he didn’t say anything.

You grabbed the files you had to drop off to your manager before you left. “I’m serious, Minho. It’s fine.”

When you stood up, a few papers that had been caught under your files fluttered to the ground. Before you could move to grab them, Minho was there, picking up the papers and tapping them on the ground so that they would be stacked up together, lifting his head up to look at you.

And you immediately felt something in your stomach twist, and your head spun.

He stood back up, unaware of your internal freak out, and handed you the papers. You took them with shaking hands.

“Thanks,” You breathed out.

Minho frowned. “Are you okay?”

No, you wanted to scream at him. I’m going into heat and a stupidly handsome alpha was on his knees looking up at me and now I’m losing my goddamn mind.

But instead, you forced a smile on your face. “Fine.” It came out squeaky, and you winced. “I, uh. Gotta go!”

You rushed out of there as quickly as you could.

As if your day couldn’t get any worse, you completely missed an equally sweaty and tired looking Chan as he was walking out of the elevator, and he had to grab your shoulders to keep you from running him over. His scent, equally as strong, only made your chest ache more.

Chan smiled. “Ah, just who I was looking for!”

You eyed him curiously. “Wow, I’m really popular these days, huh?”

“What?”

“What did you need?” You asked him as you walked into the elevator. He followed you in.

“I wanted to let you know that I talked with Felix.”

“Oh, how is he, by the way? I heard about what happened.”

Chan gave you a soft smile. “Ah, he’s fine. He …. He wants to meet with you.”

The elevator opened, and someone stepped in. It was a random staff member you didn’t recognize, probably not even a stray kid’s staff member, but both you and Chan remained silent until she left. You turned to Chan as the elevator made its way up to your manager’s floor.

“I think we should wait until after your comeback,” You told him.

“Yeah, that’s probably for the best,” Chan sighed. “We’ll have enough on our shoulders this week.”

You scowled. “Ugh, don’t even remind me.”

He let out a laugh. “Ah, I heard about what you did yesterday.”

You covered your face in embarrassment as the elevator door opened. “Uh, I’m just going to go before I say anything even worse.”

Chan was still laughing as you left, but he called out for you before the doors closed. His smile was one of the last things you saw as his words reached you.

“Thank you.”